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familyvideostevie · 6 months

Text

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable.

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets. You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her." Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something.

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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rubysunnday · 2 years

Text

nothing ever lasts forever

a/n: if any of you saw the edit i posted to everybody wants to rule the world - that's where this has come from

summary: Anthony Bridgerton refused to even entertain the idea that Y/N Elliot could become his viscountess. She was the perfect woman and a perfect friend. But that was precisely the problem. If he married her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love - and he'd made a vow to himself, that that would be the last thing he'd do.

"You, my lord, look as if you are contemplating murder."

Anthony jumped. He turned his head sharply to the right, looking at the woman who had just spoken.

Y/N Elliot beamed at him as she approached, holding two glasses of lemonade and a small plate of cakes. "Apologies, I did not mean to startle you."

"No apology necessary, I was in my own head. It has been a rather overwhelming evening, Miss Elliot."

"I have heard," Y/N said. Her lips quirked into a smile and she handed Anthony one glass of lemonade. "I would offer you some whiskey, but I do not believe that Lady Danbury has any out."

"I will take anything, at this moment," Anthony replied, taking a big gulp of the sour liquid.

Y/N stood beside him, looking out at the ballroom. She had known Anthony for a few years now - they had formed a bond at the Greenwich ball back in 1810 after Anthony had been forced to dance with a reluctant Y/N.

He had called on her the next morning to apologise for his foul mood and to ask her out on a promenade - strictly as friends. They had walked the length of Hyde Park and around the centre of London, talking non-stop about society and its ridiculous rules.

Ever since then, Anthony had sought Y/N out at every ball or party, looking for a companion who understood him and would not force him into a dance.

"They are not all that bad," Y/N said quietly, leaning towards him. Anthony glanced at her. "If anyone is to blame, it is their mama's for raising them that way."

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "I did think you young ladies were taught how to dance."

"Does not mean we are any good at it," Y/N countered. "Most of them are all looks."

"Yes, I did discover that... no one is capable of any worthwhile conversation," Anthony grunted, setting his empty lemonade glass aside and putting his arms behind his back.

"Ah, unfortunately, most mamas view intelligence as a negative trait. They would rather their daughter's butchered Beethoven than read a book."

"I would not mind the lack of conversation if they could play something nice."

Y/N chuckled, breathing in deeply. "Well, you might be asking too much of London's high society."

"All I want is a young lady who will make a good Viscountess and who will bear my children and look after my sister's. I do not need them to love me - nor do I want them to. I simply want a Viscountess."

Y/N tried not to show her surprise, nor slight horror, at Anthony's statement. Of course, she knew the man was a Rake - in fact, his announcement of his intent to marry that season had left her speechless. But she had thought he wanted to marry for love - not just for the sake of it.

"My lord, you make it sound as if you want a machine for a wife."

"Well, it would certainly make this entire debacle significantly easier."

Y/N moved, standing in front of him. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you even considered finding a love match? Instead of searching for the most suitable candidate as if it is a job you are trying to fulfil."

Anthony stilled. "It complicates everything. Love shall have no place in my marriage. Please excuse me, Miss Elliot."

Y/N opened her mouth, wanting to hold Anthony accountable for what he had just said, but the viscount was swiftly walking away and over to his brother, smiling politely at every young lady he passed.

"Was that Viscount Bridgerton I saw you talking to?"

Y/N groaned. "Mama -"

"Did he ask you to dance?"

"Mama -"

"Did he?"

"No, mama. You know our relationship is strictly a friendship - there is no romance there."

"Apologies." Y/N's mother put a gloved hand on her daughter's arm. "He seems to have rattled you, dearest."

Y/N sighed softly. "I thought..." she paused, trailing off. "I thought that, if he was not after love, he would at least be after friendship."

"Yet he has not looked at you twice since his announcement."

Y/N nodded sadly, closing her eyes for a moment. "Whilst I know I should not let it get to me," she inhaled heavily, "he is a man who deserves love and I cannot understand why he seems so determined to forsake it. To forsake love or friendship."

"He is an enigma, darling. I would not let it trouble you - he has clearly made his mind up about his future. Now," Y/N groaned, sensing her mother's change in tone, "how about I go and introduce you to Mr Thomas Dorset and you take a turn about the ballroom with him?"

"Mama, I do not -"

"Just do this for me," Y/N's mother said, squeezing her hand. "Please."

Y/N relented, slumping. "Fine."

Hyacinth was unhappy. It had taken her a few days to figure out why she was unhappy, but one look at her brother explained everything. She knew what Anthony wanted in a wife - well, not the full extent, but enough to know he was being an idiot.

"Hyacinth, you have been staring at me for the past ten minutes," Anthony said, folding the corner of his newspaper down, and staring back at her. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing, brother."

"Hyacinth -"

"Why have you not considered Miss Elliot for a wife?"

Anthony choked on his tea, almost dropping the cup as he spluttered and coughed. "Pardon me?"

"Well, I just thought, since you do not want to love someone, why not marry a friend? It seems like a reasonable agreement."

"Hyacinth, I... I am sure Miss Elliot has many other suitors who can offer her a happier life -"

"She does not," Francesca chimed in, sitting down next to her brother, a notebook in hand. She flipped it open and leafed through a few pages. "She is courting Mr Dorset, at the minute - a man, I know for a fact, she only considers a friend."

"She is courting Dorset?"

"That is what I just said - dear lord, have the debutante's deafened you with their pianoforte?" Francesca asked, scrunching her brow up as she stared at her brother.

Anthony looked down at his newspaper for a moment. "Since when was she courting Dorset?"

Francesca, taking pity on the fact her brother had clearly been blindsided by the news, slid a copy of Lady Whistledown his way, taking his newspaper from him. "It arrived this morning."

Dearest readers,

It would appear that this season has begun with a rather exciting development. Miss Y/N Elliot - the close 'friend' of one Viscount Bridgerton - has been seen promenading with Mr Thomas Dorset. It would appear that, despite his mama proclaiming his desire to wed, in front of every eligible lady at the Danbury Ball last week, Viscount Bridgerton has missed the most suitable candidate from his list: Miss Y/N Elliot.

Perhaps, should the Viscount read this column, he will take it upon himself to rectify things... before it is too late.

Anthony stopped reading as Whistledown moved on to talk about the unflattering orange and yellow gown Penelope Featherington had been sporting. He held it loosely in his hand, staring at Y/N's name.

"There is obviously more than just friendship between the two of you," Francesca said softly.

Anthony belatedly realised that Hyacinth had left the room and it was just him and Francesca. He turned his head to face her, letting his conflicting emotions show.

"Would it be so bad to entertain the prospect of becoming more?" Francesca continued, her tone gentle. "She would be an excellent wife."

"I do not doubt it," he said hoarsely.

"Then what is stopping you?"

Francesca looked older than she had before as she stared intently at her eldest brother. Anthony was suddenly hit with the realization that, at some point, Francesca had grown up into a woman. A woman who knew far more about the world around her than most would.

His sister reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Anthony sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Is it so wrong to fight for what you want?"

"I fight for the family that I have," he replied softly. "That is why I cannot marry for love. When father died, it broke mother. She was barely there, in the months afterwards. I was only eighteen, Frannie. And I was a Viscount and a brother and a father, all at once.

"I do not want to see anyone else suffer the way mother did. I cannot be the cause of anyone's grief. It is better for everyone if I marry out of duty and not out of love. Better for me, better for you, better for Y/N - better for the entire world, I am sure."

Francesca sighed. "As much as I disagree with you, I know when there is no changing your mind."

"I appreiciate that -"

"But will you at least talk to her? Before it becomes too late for anyone to do anything without a scandal coming down around us."

Anthony nodded, swallowing thickly. "I will. I shall talk to her when she comes to Aubery Hall in a few days' time."

Anthony was avoiding Y/N.

He had promised Francesca he would talk to her, but every time he saw her, the words he wanted to say died in his throat. She spent most of her time with Dorset, arm linked with his, laughing at what he said.

It was infuriating Anthony.

And that was precisely his problem. He could not marry Y/N, even out of friendship. Because he loved her far too deeply to be able to keep the distance between them. Anthony knew that he would succumb so deeply that the feeling would overwhelm him and his plan would fail.

He could not do that to Y/N. He could not be the reason she stopped smiling and became a shell of herself. It was not fair to her, no matter how deep Anthony's feelings went.

So, he stood at the side of the ballroom, trying to ignore how empty and dull it felt without her presence, and watched as she danced with Dorset and Fife and smiled in all the right places.

As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. Because even as his heart ached, she was still so beautiful.

He was beginning to see her in his dreams - and when his work became too mundane, Anthony began to hallucinate her laughter. He found himself unable to think about anything else but Y/N. Before, he had managed to contain it - to lock it away in a box and hide it. But now... it was everywhere and there was no catching it.

Sundays were often the quietest days in the Bridgerton household. Nothing really happened and it allowed Anthony a moment of calm to finish the work he'd had since Monday and to maybe go for a walk around the grounds, taking a moment to himself.

It had rained the night before, thunder rumbling out right above Aubery Hall. The majority of the guests staying within the giant house were in their rooms, finding ways to occupy their time until lunch.

Anthony, however, took the solitude and the slightly damp ground and decided to go for a walk. He went down to the stables, checking in on his horse. He walked around the gardens, stopping to admire the hyacinths and the lilies, and he strolled around the outside of Aubery Hall itself, reminiscing over memories lost to time for everyone but him.

"You are avoiding me."

Anthony swivelled on the top of the stone staircase, looking back at the door he'd just walked out of. Y/N stood there, dressed in a dark-coloured spencer jacket and a lighter-coloured gown.

"Miss Elliot, I -"

"Anthony Bridgerton, if you even dare try and lie to me right now," Y/N said, tripping over the hem of her dress as she stepped out onto the landing, "I will hit you."

"Your dress appears a little to long -"

"Mama had the hem dropped because I got new shoes and now it is too long when I wear my old shoes - stop deflecting. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I... I thought it best."

"Why?"

"I did not want to interfere with Dorset's courtship of you."

"That is the most terrible excuse I have ever heard. You were avoiding me before Mr Dorset even began courting me - in fact, you have been avoiding me since this season began."

Anthony shook his head, rocking back on his heels. "Miss Elliot, I cannot tell you why for I fear you will not understand."

"Not understand - Anthony, are you hearing yourself?" Y/N demanded, stepping close to him.

It was as if they were in a standoff. They were slowly turning, Anthony moving away from the stairs and to the door back into Aubery Hall, Y/N moving out into the open.

"Y/N, I cannot -"

"All season you have interviewed and insulted every single eligible woman in the ton. Every single one, except me." There was such fierce anger in her eyes that Anthony was actually taken aback. "Why?"

Because I love you. "Because I did not think you suitable."

Excellent response, Anthony, make the situation even worse.

"Pardon me?" Y/N said slowly, her voice dangerously calm.

"Miss Elliot, I doubt you would even begin to understand why I am doing what I am doing -"

"Of course, I will not - you are refusing to explain it to me!"

"It is not something I want you to trouble yourself with -"

"I am already troubled, my lord. I have been troubled all season because you refuse to even consider me as an option to be your wife! We are friends, are we not?"

"We are."

"Would it truly be so terrible to marry one's closest friend?" Y/N asked softly, her eyes begging Anthony to be open and honest with her.

Anthony was silent. He wanted to say that he would be honoured to marry her. That he would be marrying more than his best friend. But he could not allow himself to say the words.

The silence broke Y/N a little bit more. She inhaled sharply and took a small step back.

"I see," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I am sorry to have wasted your time, my lord."

"No, Y/N, wait, please -"

Anthony stepped forward, a hand stretched out to grab Y/N. Y/N stepped back, trying to move away from him. The hem of her dress caught the heel of her shoe, causing her to completely lose her balance. Unable to catch herself, Y/N's arms flailed, and her fingers brushed against Anthony's as she fell backwards.

Anthony felt as if time had slowed down. He could only watch as Y/N hit the steps, her head smacking with a sickening thud against the edge of the stone stairs. She rolled down to the bottom, her body limp, eventually coming to a halt at the foot of the stairs.

"Y/N!"

Anthony practically launched himself down the stairs, sending gravel flying as he fell to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over her body. He put a hand behind her head, gently feeling around, only to pull it away and find his hand covered in blood.

He rubbed his thumb against it, slowly processing what it was. As he looked back down at Y/N's unconscious form, he could see blood slowly seeping out from under her head, weaving through the gravel.

Anthony shook his head a little and forced himself to focus. He somehow managed to lift Y/N up into his arms, putting her right arm around his neck and letting her other rest on her stomach. She was a complete dead weight and he grunted as he stood up.

He stumbled back up the steps, ignoring the puddle of blood where Y/N had laid, and carried her back into the house. His voice kept catching as he yelled for servants to call a doctor and for someone to fetch blankets, his feet carrying him up the stairs and down the corridor.

Guests poked their heads out of their rooms, desperate to know what was happening, only to be ushered back inside by the staff. Anthony followed a maid down to the room Y/N was staying in. He heard Y/N's mother let out a horrified gasp, calling after her daughter as her unconscious, bleeding body was carried past her.

Anthony gently laid Y/N down on her bed, carefully lowering her head to the pillow, his fingers coming away stained with even more blood. He vaguely realized that the collar of his shirt and his cravat were both covered in blood, the once white fabric stained forever.

"She fell down the stairs outside," Anthony said as the maids rushed around, Mrs Barett, the housekeeper of Aubery Hall, effortlessly giving orders to the maids swarming the room. "Hit her head on the stone railing."

"Are you alright, my lord?" Mrs Barett asked, glancing over at Anthony as she undid Y/N's jacket, manipulating it off her body. "You are covered in blood."

"It... it is not mine," Anthony managed to get out, tripping over the words.

Mrs Barett stood up, pausing. She nodded grimly. "Alright. Lord Bridgerton, I know you do not want to leave her, but please can you step out for a moment whilst we undress her and check the rest of her body?"

Anthony nodded automatically and walked through the crowd and into the quiet corridor outside Y/N's bedroom.

"Anthony?" Colin said, pushing himself off the wall, and walking over to him. "Anthony, I saw you carry Miss Elliot inside. Are you... are you hurt?"

"It is not mine," Anthony whispered, looking up at his brother. "It is my fault. This is all my fault."

"Brother -"

"We were arguing," he continued, swaying slightly to the side. "We were arguing and she fell. She fell, Colin."

"I know," Colin said, putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "But it is not your fault."

"It is."

Anthony could see Y/N lying on the bed, now dressed in a night gown. She was still and her skin lacking most of its colour. Suddenly, someone blocked his view, putting a hand to the back of his neck.

"Anthony, look at me," Benedict said, his figure filling Anthony's view. "Just breathe."

Anthony looked up at his brother - the only one he had never truly had to parent - tears filling his eyes. "It's my fault."

"It's not."

"It is... it is," Anthony whispered, pitching forward.

Benedict and Colin both stepped forward, catching him between the two of them and carefully guiding him back into a chair.

"It is all my fault," Anthony repeated again, closing his eyes as he slumped into Benedict's embrace. "All my fault."

'It is not good news, I am afraid. She took a heavy blow to the head and lost a lot of blood. There may be memory loss and damage to her brain. But, with time, she should heal.

When will she wake up?

That, I do not know, my lord. '

Anthony threw his pen aside, rubbing his face and sighing. It had been a week. A whole week of bypassing Y/N's room and avoiding most of his family. The guilt was overwhelming him.

He knew he'd been awful to his family. They had been his outlet for the past week - receiving the brunt of his temper and impatience. Colin, especially, had become a regular contender.

There was a gentle knock on his study door and Anthony looked up, forcing a smile to his face at the sigh of Hyacinth poking her head inside.

"We are having tea," she said quietly, "if you would like to join us." She hesitated for a minute. "I miss you."

Anthony swallowed heavily, his eyes stinging a little. "Of course. I'll be there in a minute, Hyacinth."

Hyacinth nodded and quietly left the study. Anthony sighed, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. He didn't bother putting his jacket back on or unrolling his shirt sleeves - it was just his family.

He walked into the drawing room, sending a tight smile to the rest of his siblings. Anthony hovered awkwardly in the centre of the room, thinking of what to try and say to his siblings. All of them, aside from Hyacinth, Benedict and Francesca, were blatantly ignoring him.

"Anthony, come sit down," Francesca said gently, moving over on the sofa, creating a space next to her.

Anthony walked over to his sister, sitting down beside her. He looked up at Colin, who was looking everywhere else but at Anthony.

He and Colin had fallen out, again, over how much Colin wanted to splurge on another trip. It was always a sensitive topic - money and travel - but Colin never seemed to quite realise how privileged he was. Anthony hadn't meant to snap at him but it was the last straw.

"Colin, I wish to -"

"Did you hear something, brother?" Colin asked, turning to Benedict.

"Colin!" Francesca snapped, glaring at him.

"Our dear Viscount has already made his opinion of my activities very clear," Colin muttered, looking at his plate.

"Alright, that is enough," Francesca said, setting her tea cup aside. "You are acting like a child, Colin."

"How is this my fault?" Colin exclaimed.

Anthony closed his eyes as the bickering resumed once more. He knew he shouldn't have joined them - whenever he did he ruined the mood.

Violet could hear her children arguing before entering the drawing room. She had just walked past Y/N's room and seen her sitting up and smiling at her mother. Telling Anthony in front of everyone was probably not a good idea - but Violet was desperate for her children to stop arguing and she knew Colin was one harsh word away from completely alienating his elder brother.

Perhaps a show of emotion - real emotion - from her eldest would make them realise that he was still their brother.

"Anthony," Violet said, walking into the drawing room. The argument stopped abruptly as everyone turned expectantly to their mother.

Anthony's head shot up and he looked at her, his eyes wide. Violet could tell that, for a minute, pure panic gripped Anthony. But as she smiled at him and nodded once, the panic faded to relief.

"She's awake?" Anthony croaked, staring at his mother.

Violet nodded. "I spoke to her just now."

Anthony smiled tightly, nodding furiously. His face crumpled abruptly and he let exhaled shakily, covering his face with his hands. Every emotion he had been trying to hide for the last week hit him all at once and he just broke.

There was a slightly awkward silence as his siblings stared at him but Anthony simply no longer cared. A gentle hand rested on his back and he moved his hands away from his face, turning his head to the right and facing his sister.

Francesca looked at him, her eyes full of sympathy. She knew Anthony better than perhaps the rest of his siblings. Anthony leant back against the sofa, exhaling heavily. Francesca grabbed his hand with both of hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of his.

"It's ok," she said softly. "You can cry. It's just us."

Anthony smiled sadly, pressing his lips together tightly as he felt a sob threatening to break through. "I know."

Violet, who had been standing in the middle of the room, watching, walked over to him, perching on the arm of the sofa. "I know how hard your father's death was on you. And I can only apologise for how absent I was during that time. But you must know... despite everything I suffered during those months, I do not regret loving your father as much as I did.

"It is only because I loved him as much as I did that I ached as much as I did." Violet rubbed her hand up and down Anthony's arm, pressing a kiss to his head. "You cannot lose her, Anthony. Do not lose her."

Y/N set her book down on her bed and sighed. She looked out the window and out over the grounds of Aubery Hall. Anthony had not visited her since she'd woken up. She wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting from him but it hurt, nonetheless.

Knowing sleep was simply not going to come, Y/N clambered out of bed and put on her robe, tying it at the front. She gently opened the door to her room and walked out into the corridor, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb anyone else.

Y/N walked down the stairs and paused at the bottom, turning to look at Anthony's study. There was a gentle glow coming from under the door and Y/N knew he was awake. He was always awake.

She heistated for a moment, not wanting to cause him anymore anxiety. But her desire for closure and to know why he had been ignoring her, won, and Y/N padded over to the door, twisting the door knob and pushing it open.

Anthony looked up as his study door opened and he stilled as Y/N poked her head around the door.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Anthony said, standing up. "Should you not be in bed, resting?"

"I think I have had enough rest," Y/N replied. "It's late."

Anthony glanced down at his pile of paperwork. "I have too much to do."

"I can -"

"No, stay," Anthony said abruptly. He swallowed, pausing. "Please."

Y/N stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her. "I have questions."

"I know," Anthony replied, stepping out from behind his desk and approaching her, meeting her halfway. "I was a fool. You deserve to know the truth."

"Ok," Y/N said, nodding. "Where do you want to start?"

Anthony gestured to the leather chairs in front of his desk and Y/N sat down in one, gently straightening her rob. Anthony sat down in the one to her left and cleared his throat.

"When my father died... my mother was a ghost. She barely existed in the months afterwards and the grief almost killed her. Whilst she does not remember most of that time, I remember every waking moment. I can still hear her wails and screams."

Anthony paused, taking a shaky breath in. Y/N waited patiently, not wanting to rush him.

"When I married, I decided it should be free of the ravages of grief. Because I could never be the cause of such pain. No matter how hard-hearted and cruel everyone else may find me to be. My own family included."

He turned to face Y/N, his walls entirely broken. She watched him with an utterly serene, understanding expression on her face.

"Y/N, the reason I never considered you is because I love you," Anthony said hoarsely. "And I could not do that to you. My father lived until the age of thirty-eight and I can not see myself outliving him in any way. I did not want to cause anyone any grief when I die, which is why I searched for a marriage without love."

"By your estimation, you have nine years left?"

"Yes."

"OK, then," Y/N said softly, nodding.

"You're not going to tell me I'm being silly?"

"It is a perfectly reasonable reaction to have considering what you went through," Y/N told him. "I don't expect you to get past this either - you probably won't be able to, not until you turn thirty-nine, at least. But you cannot live the rest of your life in fear of this. You cannot let it control you."

Anthony sniffled, wiping his eyes furiously. "Y/N, if we only have nine years together -"

"Then they," Y/N said, standing up and walking over to Anthony, crouching down in front of him, a hand on his knee, "will be the best years of my life. Time does not indicate how much you love a person. Whether we have nine years together or twenty, I will love you just as much as I do right now."

Anthony closed his eyes, letting his head hang. His shoulders shook as he began to sob and Y/N gently pulled Anthony into her chest, guiding him to the floor. Anthony clung to Y/N as he sobbed, hiding his face in her robe.

Y/N and Anthony sat there on the floor, holding one another, in the dark of the study, crying. He had opened up to her and told her the brutally honest truth - and Y/N had caught him as he crumbled and kept him upright, never letting go.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine

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jokeringcutio · 6 months

Note

Otis breeding you as part of the family Halloween ritual 🖤

Otis B. Driftwood x Reader - (WARNINGS)

Halloween Breeding Ritual

Please read ALL warnings. Pairing: Otis B. Driftwood x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: When you and your friends ask for help, you end up as part of a horrific ritual. Warnings: Killer Family, murder, death of a friend, Sexual content, Non-con, Breeding. AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. There'll be less dark ones as well ;) 1.

The car, a useless hunk of metal now, stood desolate on the empty road. You stared at the flat tire, cursing your luck. What a way to celebrate Stacey's bachelorette party, lost and stranded miles away from civilization. Connor, Stacey's friend, shot you a mocking glance. "Nice going," he sneered.

"Shut up, Connor," you muttered, gripping your camera tightly. It was your solace in moments like these, capturing the world's beauty amidst the chaos. Stacey, oblivious to the tension, stood next to the car and held her pink plush bunny ears in her hands. They had been part of the fun costume you and the others had made her wear earlier on, but she had taken them off when you had all piled into the car.

You wished you were trapped on this trip with her alone. Stacey had always been your best friend. It was just unfortunate that you had to share the car with three of her other friends that you barely knew. There was Carrie, Connor and Heather. All people you had never really seen except on Stacey’s birthday.

"Hey, I remember seeing a house not too far back," Heather suggested, trying to break the tense silence. "Maybe we could ask for help?"

The group agreed, and with no other choice, you all began walking towards the supposed house. Connor walked beside Carrie, his girlfriend, whispering something in her ear as they laughed. He annoyed you, mostly because he was ever so present. His voice was loud, his smile dazzling, his physique one for the magazines. But he hadn’t been very kind to you during the trip. Carrie never really said anything to you either. This left Heather and Stacey, but they had been too busy talking about the upcoming wedding, how amazing Brad – Stacey’s fiancé – was, and Stacey’s dress.

Your footsteps crunched on the gravel with each step, the sun setting behind the trees, casting eerie shadows across the path.

As you came closer to the house, your heart raced. Junk littered the ground around it, a creaky wooden gate barely standing guard. The house itself looked like something straight out of a horror movie. Fitting, you thought, reminding yourself it was Halloween.

"Creepy place," Stacey said with a nervous giggle. “Looks like it came out of a horror movie.”

“I’m going to get you,” Heather shouted, crawling up behind Stacey while running her hand up Stacey’s back.

Stacey yelped while the others laughed. “Kill me gently,” Stacey teased. Her laughter was contagious, and soon, everyone joined in, making jokes about the ominous house. You bit your tongue though, and silently stared up at the house that you and the group now approached.

In horror movies the group of stranded young friends always made jokes before the killing started, you thought. No. You had to shake such evil thoughts off of you. This wasn’t a movie. This house was real, and the people who lived in it surely would have a working phone or a spare tire for you.

"Hey, since it is Halloween, we need a kid to collect the candy for us,” Heather said, grabbing the bunny ears from Stacey and placing them on your head. “Trick or treat,” she said laughingly. You frowned, displeased with the mockery, and instantly tried to take them off, but Heather tusked at you and you halted.

“Keep them on,” she simply said. But the grin on her face was anything but kind. “Yeah, don’t be a spoilsport,” Stacey added, sticking out her tongue before she stepped onto the porch. You lowered your hands and your shoulders sagged in defeat.

Let them mock you, you thought. If this brought them joy, then let them laugh and taunt you. After all, you needed to keep up the spirits of the group and God only knew how long you’d be stuck with them until you finally arrived at your destination.

"All right, let's get this over with," Connor said, striding towards the door. With a deep breath, he rang the doorbell.

As the chime echoed through the house, you couldn't shake the feeling that something dark awaited behind that door. The haunting tone of the bell reverberated through your chest, and your grip on the camera tightened. You tried to focus on the present moment, but it was difficult to ignore the lurking dread that threatened to consume you.

The door creaked open, revealing a blonde, matronly woman with kind eyes. "Oh, my! What happened to y'all?" she asked, her voice dripping with concern.

"Uh, we had a flat tire, and we're kinda lost," Connor explained hesitantly. He put on his most charming smile. It had an effect instantly, you could tell, for the woman’s eyes lit up at the display.

"Well, you poor things. Come on in, come on in," the woman insisted, ushering everyone inside. The warmth of the house was a welcome reprieve from the chilly night air.

As soon as the door closed, your heart pounded in your chest, but you tried to shake the feeling of unease. You were led into a cozy kitchen where a blonde young woman sat at the table. Opposite her, a man with long white hair stood leaning against the kitchen wall, a hand in his pocket.

“Well, I’m Mother Firefly,” the woman said, introducing herself. “And this here is Baby,” she said, gesturing at the young woman who was seated at the table. Baby looked up at you all with an excited and bright smile, and waved eagerly. Her cheerful greeting seemed to put some of your friends at ease. She seemed friendly. And she was gorgeous, you thought. She had that cheerleader vibe that many girls craved to have.

Then your gaze shifted to a brooding man leaning against the wall. His white tank shirt seemed messy, covered with spots of grease. His hair seemed unkempt and hung around his frame loosely. Mother Firefly continued, "And this is Otis."

At first, you thought the man to be old because of the grey long hair that fell around his face. But then you realized with a start he must be around your age. Because his grey hair was, in fact, white - as if all the pigment had been lost from it. And his face was much younger than you had expected. But when you saw the odd color of his eyes that only confirmed it. Otis was an albino man. Pale skin, pale hair. Eyes that seemed almost red.

Otis's eyes locked onto yours the moment he saw you, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. Something was unnerving about the way he seemed to study you. Suddenly, you remembered the ridiculous bunny ears on your head. Of course, that must explain it. You hastily removed them, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. What a foolish entrance you had made…

"Please, sit down and have some tea," Mother Firefly offered, gesturing to the chairs around the table. “We’ll get your car fixed in a jiffy. Let me call my son Rufus. He’s very good with tires,” she said, rummaging around to pour you some tea.

"Thank you," Stacey replied gratefully, and everyone took their seats.

“So, what brought you all out here?” Mother Firefly asked curiously while she pulled out a chair to sit down with you.

“Well, it’s Stacey’s Bachelorette party and we’re going to have a little holiday over the weekend,” Heather answered for the whole group. Here she took the time to introduce each member of the group., hesitating when she came to you because she had obviously forgotten your name. You quickly whispered it and glanced down shyly at your tea, not wanting to be involved in this whole conversation. Especially when Baby started to ask about all the juicy details.

It felt odd to hear the others tell about their romances and sexual exploits. It felt even weirder because you felt Otis’s eyes upon you the entire time the others spoke. Shouldn’t he be looking at them? Was there something wrong with you that he kept his sole attention fixed on you?

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. “So, our lucky bride-to-be ain’t no blushin’ virgin,” Baby recapped, pulling you out of your worried thoughts. You already knew Stacey and Brad had been it at like rabbits – hence Stacey’s cute bunny outfit – but you had not expected her to share all the details with a group of strangers. It somehow seemed disrespectful to you. Even if Baby seemed eager to know every little detail and even if her mother didn’t seem to be bothered by where the conversation was headed.

“How about you?” Baby suddenly turned to you and nudged you with her elbow. She waited, but you only glanced up at her with a frown.

“Not quite a talker, eh?” Baby asked, curiously cocking her head and faking a pout as she did so.

You felt your cheeks flush. “N-Not really into all of that,” you admitted hoarsely.

Luckily, the answer was enough, for Baby seemed to catch your distress and flashed you a comforting smile. “That’s all right, love. Nothing to be ashamed of,” and then, to your great relief, she turned her attention back to the group.

As you sipped the warm tea, conversation flowed around you. Despite the unsettling atmosphere of the house, the family seemed hospitable. During the conversation, you couldn't help but notice how Mother Firefly kept throwing you glances every now and then. It was making you worry that there was something weird about you. Was there something on your face? You felt your hair again but you had taken the bunny ears off. Mother Firefly seemed to have caught the gesture and flashed you a smile as if to say it was all right, but you didn’t feel as if it was.

And to add to your worry, Otis was growing increasingly moody. He grumbled under his breath and abruptly left the table, frustration evident in his tense body language.

"Please excuse him," Mother Firefly said with a sigh. "He's not used to company."

"Is everything okay?" you inquired softly, concern lacing your voice despite the churning unease within you.

"Everything's fine, dear,” she said, eyes gently upon you. “He's been working on one of his new art projects and your arrival just got him inspired. Just enjoy your tea," she reassured, her eyes flicking briefly to where Otis had disappeared.

"All right," you murmured, continuing to drink the tea. While the others kept talking, you felt a sudden drowsiness wash over you, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. Your fingers rested loosely around your cup as you fought to stay awake. What were they talking about now? Your friends' voices seemed to grow distant, and before you knew it, darkness enveloped you as you succumbed to sleep.

The sound of Otis's voice pulled you from the depths of slumber, his words seeping into your consciousness. "Those bunny ears... Oh man….they were a sign, I tell you."

Your heart raced as you realized he was standing somewhere near you, probably talking about you. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to find yourself in the middle of a demonic circle, surrounded by flickering candles and eerie symbols etched onto the floor. The air was thick with a sense of malevolence as if you had stumbled upon some sort of twisted, witch-like offering.

What the hell had happened? Were you having a nightmare? Why then did your head hurt so?

"Wh-what's going on?" you stammered, fear gripping your throat as the dull pounding in your head slowly started to fade.

"Welcome back," Otis sneered, his pale face looming over you, a bit too close for comfort. Black makeup traced lines on his pale skin, making him seem more like a cheaply painted skeleton. “You're just in time for our family Halloween ritual."

Otis sat hunched over you, his white hair tickling your skin, and you flinched. The foul stench of his breath, mixed with sweat and other undefined smells reached your nose. You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side, earning you a deep laugh from him.

“Seems my Bunny is eager to get started,” you heard him say, and tried not to think of the denigrating nickname he had thought up for you.

The sound of fabric crackling indicated he stood up. Faintly, you heard Baby’s voice in the background, saying something about it being time to have some fun. Muffled voices of your friends echoed somewhere in the distance. Where were they?

You slowly opened your eyes. To your relief, Otis had indeed moved away and stood at the edge of the circle. He was now wearing a large black cape, but his normal clothes were still underneath: the dirty tank shirt and the jeans with holes in them.

Your gaze darted around the room, searching for your friends. They were huddled together at one end, and to your shock, they seemed to be gagged and tied together. You saw the traces of blood on their skin and their clothes. Connor seemed to be missing part of his face, an ugly hole revealed the bone of his skull. It made your eyes turn wide in fear. Carrie, next to Connor, stood at such an angle that you couldn’t quite see her face, but you could hear her muttered pleas through the gag. Was she trying to tell Connor to stay alive? Or was she pleading for her own?

The group was bound by ropes that dug cruelly into their flesh. Despite their wounds, they were alive – but their eyes held a terror that mirrored your own. Especially when your eyes met those of Stacey. Your gorgeous friend. Ugly deep lacerations marred her perfect skin. You quickly tore your eyes away from her.

Footsteps signaled the approach of someone. By the sight of the shoes that came into your vision, you knew it had to be Otis again. But there was snickering from the edge of the circle and when you glanced up you realized there were more people gathered there. Not just Baby, but Mother Firefly stood at the side, watching you calmly. There were a few other men who stood there, making themselves comfortable. One, with the weird makeup of a clown smudged on his face, had taken his meat into his hand and was already battering it before the show had even started. What the heck was going on, you thought in alarm.

"Please, don't hurt them," you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks. "We didn't do anything to you."

Otis ignored your pleas, his fingers digging painfully into your arm as he dragged you into the center of the circle. You tried to resist, but your limbs felt weak, still heavy with sleep.

"Tonight, you become part of our family," he whispered menacingly, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to breed you, make you carry my child."

"Please, no!" you cried out, struggling futilely against his grip. You could feel your sanity unraveling, your mind consumed by terror. This man, this monster, could not mean to defile you in such a way. You were not ready for any of this. Not ready to be a mom, to have a child, to carry the offspring of someone as vile as him.

Someone who was hurting your friends…

"Shut up!" Otis snarled, silencing your protest. He towered over you, his presence both commanding and ominous. It was clear that your fate was sealed, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

A chant erupted from Baby and some of the other spectators. Wonderfully melodic, considering the foul ritual that was about to take place. You tried to cover yourself up with your arms, but Otis tore them away from your chest, revealing yourself to him.

While you’d been out, someone appeared to have swapped your clothes for something far scarcer. You’d noticed it when you’d felt the cold air brush past your naked arms and shins. You were donned up. Glittering panties and a revealing contraption that did little to hide your breasts, as if it were some kind of holster rather than a bra. Your breasts peaked out and must have been on display all along. But the worst of all was when Otis flipped you over and made you sit on hands and knees, and you realized there was a slight weight on your head.

The pink bunny ears. He’d put them back on, you realized with a sob.

A tear, and whatever flimsy panties you had on were gone. With his hands firmly on your hips, Otis shouted out a few inexplicable words, either in a language you’d never heard or some kind of made-up song. As the ritual commenced, the air crackled with dark energy, and you couldn't help but wonder if you would make it out of this nightmare alive.

"Welcome to the family," Otis hissed, his voice dripping with malevolence as he entered you in one firm thrust.

The world came to a standstill.

His cock was stretching you open, throbbing deep inside your core. You gritted your teeth and tried to keep from crying out loud, but it was hard. Your hands curled into fists. You felt Otis stare down at you, his gaze burning while he remained motionless.

Your spectators cheered. “For the family,” you heard one of them shout. You felt Otis’s cock pulse deep inside. Then, he moved. His body pressed heavily against yours, a dark shadow overwhelming your senses. His breath was hot and ragged, punctuating each thrust as he forced himself inside you. You couldn't help but let out quiet whimpers of pain, feeling utterly humiliated and helpless.

"Silence," Otis growled, his fingers pressing into your throat – just enough to make you gasp for air.

You were starting to see stars when his grip finally faltered and you could breathe again. Taking deep gulps of breath, you tried not to focus on the salacious wet sounds that came from between your legs. You tried not to think of what his man was doing to you, or how his cock was battering your insides mercilessly.

His low groans filled your ears, and you winced when he pulled your hair, forcing your head back up and your back to arch awkwardly. Your breasts swung with each thrust, up and down, delighting the viewers. You heard coarse curses and increasingly wet sounds as some of the other family members were coming to a climax. Spunk was shot through the air, landing a few feet away from you, tainting the satanic circle.

You were relieved it hadn’t landed upon you, but the relief was only short-lived when a particularly hard thrust made it hard to think, reminding you of Otis’s promise.

“That’s right, Buny,” you heard his voice rasp behind you. A slap against your hips before he gripped them tight again and forced you to move along his cock. “Let me put a little Firefly in that pretty little tummy of yours.”

You felt the burning of his gaze leave your back when he addressed your bound and gagged friends at the other side. “Hear that? Your friend loves to milk my cock.” A low chuckle escaped him. You were vaguely aware of Baby and some of the others laughing.

“Gotta milk my cock, aren’t ya, Bunny?” This one was directed at you, but it was hard to focus. His hand had slipped from your hip to your breast, kneading it hard. You gasped, unable to bite back your reaction. Your walls clamped down on him hard, earning you another pleased groan.

“That’s it, girl. Take every drop,” his hips slammed against your own, wet sounds mingling. It was an evil betrayal, but your body responded well to him. The pain between your legs ebbed away and was replaced by something more passionate; a sensation of warmth and pleasure. Your walls pulsed around his shaft, eager to cum.

“Fuck,” Otis cursed in your ear. “Gotta milk my cock so baby can milk your tits, eh? Gotta grow nice and full for us, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to say no, wanted to protest or push him away from you. But his thrusts grew more desperate, more erratic, and his weight was still forcing you down on your hands and knees. You couldn’t help but slump over once his hand left your breast to guide your hips again, and you rested your forehead on your hands, gasping with each deep thrust of the devilish cock inside of your core.

You felt him hit the end of you; felt how his cockhead pushed against your cervix as if he wanted to open you up completely.

A few more harsh thrusts brought back the pain through the building pleasure, and Otis came. He made sure to bury his cock deep inside, groaning as his cum shot forth. You gasped, tears rolling down your cheeks at the feel of warmth flooding your womb. Your body trembled, and though you knew it was physically impossible, your breasts started to feel tense and full. Your stomach ached and your pussy pulsed around Otis’s cock. You hadn’t come yet. Dammit. You’d been so close.

Having reached his climax, a twisted grin spread across Otis’s face. He pulled out slowly, a trail of cum and blood dripping down your cunt and onto the dirt floor below. Your pussy twitched, eager for release. Instead, all it did was push the cum forth for everyone to see. And as you rolled over to your back, you could tell through the hazy spell you were in that his family was still watching. How their eyes were primed on your opened legs.

Without missing a beat, Otis began chanting in an ancient, guttural language. The ritualistic words echoed around the room, reverberating through your very core – chilling you to the bone. You had felt empty and violated, but upon hearing his words, your body started to heat up again. Your pussy pulsed wildly, clamping down on something that wasn’t there. But it was enough. You came, shrieking in surprise as your body reacted violently to his chant.

Otis stood between your legs once more, pushing his already hardening cock inside you in one go. You could see his face now as he took you, see his discolored teeth and his lips curled in a snarl while he started to pick up a quick pace. You felt his heavy balls slapping against your ass. How had they refilled this quickly, you wondered in shock?

But another ripple shook your body as another orgasm washed over you. You cried out, loudly this time, not caring if anyone would see or hear. This was pleasure. Absolute, horrific pleasure. Your pussy pulsed around his shaft, begging him, milking him. Again. And Again. You felt as if there had been no end to your orgasm.

Candles flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Your friends whimpered in their bonds, their eyes wide with terror as they watched the horrifying scene unfold before them. With a final, triumphant shout, Otis finished his incantation, and with it, he came inside of you once more. The room seemed to shudder under the weight of his dark power, and you struggled to keep from collapsing beneath him.

Then, the room grew silent.

You lay twitching underneath Otis’s larger frame, body pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasm. His cum had oozed from your joined bodies, your pussy lips felt raw as they enveloped his softening shaft. He pushed inside a few times for good measure as if to remind you of your duty to bear his child. The devil’s spawn.

With lips parted in a silent gasp, you looked up at him and saw how he opened his dark red eyes. Slowly, a grin crawled upon his lips. He reached out a hand and tapped something above your head. The bunny ears, you thought with a shock.

“I think it caught,” he murmured only for you to hear. “But for good measure, we shall have to do this a few more times. Hope you're not allergic to my cock. You’re gonna be ridin’ it for a good while to come.” He chuckled at his own joke, but you felt no joy to join him.

Instead, your eyes went wide at the promise, realizing that Otis did not intend to lock you away until you’d given birth to a child. No. He was going to keep you as a little sex toy. A woman he could use for his own deprived pleasure. You’d have to do this again and again. The thought chilled you to the bone.

But Otis was already pushing himself up, grabbing your legs to pull them up while he studied the mess he’d made inside. Sticky sperm combined with your own juices were covering up your entrance. Your pussy pulsed, weaker now, but still enough to make it seem like it was gobbling up the mixture of cum.

The demonic man between your legs grinned at the sight and then shook his head before he let go of you. Your knees fell to either side, leaving your abused pussy on display. But you no longer cared for modesty. They had seen it all, hadn’t they?

As he turned away from you, Otis’s malicious gaze fixed upon your friends. “Well, thank ya’ll for coming to see our yearly Halloween ritual,” he said, although you wondered if any of your friends were listening to him. Most of them were jabbering nonsense behind their gags, squirming beneath their bonds in an attempt to either get away or plead for mercy.

Mercy, you thought sardonically. As if that existed in a place like this.

You rolled your head to the side and brought a hand up to your head. You ran your fingers past the soft fur of Stacey’s pink bunny ears. Cursed, you thought, as the afterglow of the sex finally left your body, and your senses started to return to you.

“As this is a yearly show,” you heard Baby’s excited voice but did not feel as if you had the energy to turn your head and watch them. “We have a little sacrifice to make to the Gods. Well, our God, anyway.” She sounded like a cheerleader all right. Especially when she excitedly shouted “Satan!”

You heard the desperate gasps from your friends at this revelation. They must know that their end was in sight.

“Now, usually, we only have the sacrifice part to look forward to. But I think your friend over there, provided that she’ll live long enough to bear Otis’s children, might be in for a treat each year, starting now.”

Wait the fuck. You held your breath. Did they just say you had to endure this sadistic ritual every Halloween from now on? You felt panic seize your heart at the thought that you would not only be subjected to this disgraceful treatment again each year, as long as you stayed alive, but that you would also be used as a cock sleeve by Otis the whole year round from now on.

You closed your eyes and tried to block out all sounds. Otis’s breeding Bunny. That’s all you were reduced to now. How could a small fun trip have gone this wrong?

"But as you guessed, your lives end here," Baby declared cheerfully to your friends. You heard them howl behind their gags in response. “Ah, don’t worry,” she cooed at them, almost lovingly. “Otis will make sure we get you all nicely prepped so you can stay with us in our museum forever.”

Her laughter pierced through the darkness of the night. Stalking towards them like a predator closing in on its prey, Otis and Baby made their way over to your friends. You did not see it. Did not deign to watch their suffering as their lives came to an end one by one.

Instead, you lay on the floor, in the middle of the circle, breathing heavily. You felt the cooling sticky goo between your legs and prayed it would not take. That you could escape this twisted house and make your way home. Start a new life there.

But as silence filled the area, the Firefly family crowded around you, smiling and cooing as if welcoming a newborn into their twisted fold. It was a sign that your friends were gone. Dead.

"Such a precious addition to our family," Mother Firefly crooned, gently stroking your hair.

You felt hands grasp your arms, helping you up.

"Otis's child will be strong," Tiny rumbled, his monstrous form looming above you.

"Congratulations, darling," Baby giggled, her eyes gleaming with a perverse excitement. "You'll learn to love it here."

You noticed that Otis stood quietly in front of you, staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. Fresh blood stained his hands and colored his shirt a deep crimson. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a forceful, possessive kiss that left you breathless and shivering. The hands of the other Firefly members forced you in place so that you were unable to pull away.

The taste of him was vile, like blood and smoke and mold. Nonetheless, he deepened the kiss. His tongue surprised you, brushing past yours until it hit the back of your throat, nearly making you gag. You tried hard to breathe, to cooperate with this demanding kiss. But once it finally broke, you panted heavily, bare breasts heaving up and down. Otis didn’t even look down at them. You felt his hand run through the back of your hair while his lust-craven eyes sought to meet yours. The darkness in them frightened you.

“Take my little Bunny to my room,” he commanded. The men who held your arms hoisted you up to your feet. A sickening quelch could be heard from your legs as globs of cum released from your core and dripped onto the floor.

“Might have to do it again, son,” you heard Mother Firefly say to Otis. It sounded so matter-of-factly… as if you were a cow that needed to be bred. Do it again? Your body flushed warm at the thought of Otis inside of you again. A physical betrayal. This wasn’t you.

Had his demonic ritual caused that effect?

You heard Otis laugh. “Yeah, that one won’t get away,” you heard him tell Mother Firefly. And as the men guided you away, you heard his ominous whisper follow you like a ghost.

“Welcome to our family, little Firefly. Enjoy your stay. I know I will…”

His words were a dark promise that echoed in the deepest recesses of your soul. The Firefly family's twisted games had only just begun. And as the night wore on, you knew one thing for certain: there would be no escaping the Firefly family. Not now.

Not ever.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#Otis Driftwood x Reader #otis b. driftwood x reader #otis x reader #Otis b driftwood x reader #otis x you #otis b driftwood #slasher x you #slasher fanfiction #horror movie fanfiction

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rainydayz-nstuff · 7 months

Note

I have come back again! This time I wish to request a farmworld Finn where his s/o had been with him from his Ice Finn era up to Fiona and Cake. I also want to see another version but with Fiona. I wonder how they would interact.

Since I saw your other request I’ll make that one more Fiona based while this is Farm World Finn based. That way, we get the best of both worlds.

When you were a young teen you had a mother and father. You were an only child with a huge extended family.

You never really had many friends since you spent most of your time by the river with a journal, or around your farm with the family.

You knew of Finn who lived nearby at his own farm.

Your families were considered business rivals, but there was never any hatred between anyone.

You were just grabbing a pail of water when you were shot back by the blow of an explosion. Your barn collapsed and you still to this day don’t know what happened to your family.

But they were presumed to be dead after that chaos.

When you went towards the danger, you found Finn with a strange crown on. His eyes were wide and almost fully blue.

And Jake… something was off with him too.

Your witnessed him freezing people and building up a structure using their ice blocked forms.

While whispering Jake snapped to your direction and Finn caught you.

Instead of being frozen, he instead trapped you in ice handcuffs, muttering things that your could barely make out. Things like “princess”, “home”, and “power”.

You blacked out at one point and when you awoke your saw two Finn’s and two Jake’s.

Even after you grew, you still think that part was a dream.

Finn grew weak, which chased the cuffs to melt where they could easily break.

You spent most of your time in the woods after that.

Years after that incident, you still stayed deep in the woods. Never talking to anyone, never seeing anyone.

That changed when you met a young girl who was barely a few years old. She had bright blonde hair and was adorable.

While holding her small hand you elf her out of the woods. Near the entrance you hear yelling, it was a grown man’s voice.

“Bonnie? Bonnie?!”

The little girl picked up her pace and she smiled with tears streaming down her face.

“Daddy!” She cried out before running to her dads arms.

He caught her before lifting her up. His mechanic arm turned into a weapon as he pointed at the edge where he saw another figure behind his daughter.

You were hesitant to step out, but his face… it was familiar.

“Finn? Finn Mertens?”

You stepped out of the woods and pulled back your hood. Finn stared at you in shock and horror.

He had tried to forget about you from his young age, still feeling guilty about what he had done all those years ago.

He stuttered your name before you stepped closer. He stepped back.

You smiled at him and he saw there was no hatred or resentment.

“It’s good to see you…” Your voice was quiet, but he could still hear it clearly.

After that night it sparked the friendship you once had before.

You moved in with him and his family, but the kids didn’t warm up right away, unlike Bonnie.

It was hard on all of them since their mom had just died.

But you wouldn’t replace her. You didn’t even think of Finn romantically… yet.

That all changed one day while you were helping his kids with cleaning the house. He saw how you interacted with them and it was… nice.

No worrying about them being alone, no thoughts of them growing without another parental figure.

He had taken you out to help with preparing the firewood when he suddenly wrapped his arms around you in a hug, your back pressed to his chest.

You leaned into the hug, your hand clasped over his. His chin rested on your shoulder while he sighed.

“… I’m sorry, for what I did.”

His words shocked you and you just leaned back more. “I never blamed you.” You whispered back.

After that day, you both started a slow and steady relationship.

The kids started to love you more and treated you as another parent to them. And you always mentioned their mother and how she would be proud of them.

You would never replace her and they knew and respected that.

One day you were watching the kids again when Finn entered with some ‘guests’.

One was an older man, a young woman, and a cat. But the cat was walking on its two legs.

Finn then walked over and put a piece of gum in the soup, the one his first wife had made the day she died.

You were stirring it up while Finn placed a kiss to the side of your head.

“This is Y/n, they’re my partner.” He introduced you. “Don’t mess with them.” He stated quickly before ordering his kids to set up the table.

You poured everyone their bowls of soup before sitting down with a smile.

Fiona, the young woman, looked at you in awe at how you could handle the whole house and kids with ease.

“Heh… you all should kiss.” Cake, the cat, muttered to Fiona.

The woman blushed deeply before you let out a laugh.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Yeah… Finn got jealous and protective of you whenever they spoke to you after that.

Hope this was okay! Probably could have done this differently.

#cartoon network #adventure time #adventure time x reader #cartoon #imagine #x reader #finn mertens #finn the human #finn x reader #fluff #farm world finn #gn reader

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justrainandcoffee · 11 days

Text

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 4

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Masterlist. Parts: one - two - three

Summary: The 64th games. Rose finally meets Snow. He's intimidating and smart as people say he was. It's true that she hates him, but it was also him who says something that is about to change her life. Alfie is facing the consequences of knowing the Arena before the rest of them.

Warning: None.

Words: 3k. || Alfie x Rose masterlist

The mansion resembled her own, but was much more luxurious and with more domestic staff. Alfie was with Hilda and Alex when they requested her presence.

Two well-dressed men with serious expressions led her to a car waiting in the street. No one told Rose what it was about, but the Capitol symbol embroidered on the lapel of their coats gave the young woman all the answers she needed.

And along with those answers came a lot of thoughts in her head.

Inside the car was a woman older than her with white hair and blue tips. Nails decorated with what looked like tiny diamonds and an expensive gold dress and matching shoes.

"I'm Hazelle Goodsigth," said the woman, "you're Mrs. Evert."

"Yes, I am. May I...?"

"President Snow asked to see you, Mrs. Evert."

Hazelle Goodsight looked Rose up and down as if looking for something to criticise, but said nothing.

"It's an honour," Rose lied, "but I don't understand why... I'm nothing more than a stylist. It's my husband who's in charge of the business. I would never..."

"That's exactly why Mr. Snow asked to see you, Mrs. Evert because you're a stylist."

"I don't understand..."

"He's going to explain it to you," Hazelle said, ending any interaction between the two women. And both bodyguards never said a word.

So there she was now, sitting in the lobby of the mansion, in a leather armchair and looking at a painting of a blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman with a gentle smile.

Her mind was with Alfie. She would have given anything to be able to seek refuge in his arms and soothe her anxiety. But she forced herself to concentrate. More than ever her alter-ego had to shine.

It was one thing to pretend to be at home with Lawrence's friends; it was quite another to do so with Coriolanus Snow, famed for his sharp mind and cold-bloodedness. If he suspected anything, the next time Alfie asked about her, he'd have to meet her at the cemetery.

"Her name was Ariana," said a voice behind him. A shiver ran through her body.

"President Snow," she replied, bowing her head.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Evert." Snow looked at her intently before placing a kiss on her hand. Then he turned his gaze back to the portrait "She was my wife. She died many years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It seems like she was a good woman."

"I appreciate that. And yes, she was. Sometimes too much so. Come with me, Mrs. Evert."

Rose followed Snow down a narrow but well-lit hallway with several vases filled with white roses.

"Did Hazelle tell you the reason for her visit here?" he asked still walking.

"A little yes, but not much."

"I'm looking for a new stylist, Mrs. Evert. The nice thing about the parade is that it gives me a chance to see what the different stylists we hire are capable of." Snow finally reached a white door which she opened and stepped aside to make way for her.

The room was larger than Rose had first thought. There were huge windows overlooking a flowery garden and the scent of said flowers filled the air, in tune with the summer that was felt in every corner of Panem.

"Have a seat, please, Mrs. Evert."

Rose still felt the urge to run out of there and her mind was still trying to process that standing before her was the person she hated the most and the cause of so much horror. Still, of course, she obeyed.

"As I was saying, the parade gives me the opportunity to study not only the tributes and their mentors but also the stylists. A lot of people think it's to show off the competitors, which is true, but to see their talent. And honestly, it's been a few years since district 9 stopped having the same designs and became part of one of the best."

"That's a compliment, Mr. President... I, I really love that. But it's no more than what they do in districts 1 or 2. That's talent."

"But there's no love. Doing great things without love, it doesn't make a lot of sense. I can see that the costumes are the best, but they don't appeal to me. I'm looking for something else." Snow's blue eyes seemed to be trying to read her mind. "I know your husband, he's been to dinner parties here more than once, but I've never seen you before.

"Because Lawrence prefers to go to those dinner parties alone. Men's dinners, he calls them."

Snow narrowed her eyes, "but that's not true. The invitation is extended to couples, if they have them."

"I didn't know that," Rose replied. "Lawrence isn't the most forthcoming of men because..."

Because he's a fucking asshole.

"...Because that's the way he is."

Rose knew about such dinners, but it was true that Lawrence had never bothered to take her with him. Ever since Rose had learned five years ago that her husband was one of those who paid to have sex with the winners of the games, she suspected that they did more than eat at these gatherings. And the very idea made her nauseous.

"I'll take care to be clearer, then," Snow said. "Separate invitations might make the message clearer. Your husband is a complicated man, but he helps with investments for the games. The dinners are just gratitude, not because I have any appreciation for him. With all due respect."

Snow was a charismatic fucking tyrant. And now that he stood before her, smiling, Rose could sense that. He had risen to the top of Panem as a young man and had stayed there ever since. No one who wasn't smart, charismatic, or insightful could have made it. And Snow was that and so much more. He was the Devil and hell was Panem.

"Lawrence pays for certain nights with Victors," Rose said. It was a statement that could cost her dearly, but she needed to see the old man's reaction with her own eyes.

"Yes, he does."

Of course Snow wasn't going to deny it, there was no need to lie when he knew the woman knew the truth. Nor was he going to deny reality. The upper class of Panem found the winners of the games fascinating. He just found one more method to make them pay for the districts' betrayal. It wasn't money that motivated him but pleasure in making them suffer "...But given your tone of voice, I assume he wasn't the one who told you."

"No. It wasn't him, I heard rumours and I didn't doubt them."

Snow nodded and looked at Rose, smiling sideways "Infidelity is not something I condone, though I don't care what others do either. But I am compelled to say this: for the right price any member of the Capitol can do the same," he said, "with any victor."

That was like a door opening in Rose's head. Snow caught her off guard, and that was something she hadn't planned for. The words hit her in the face without her realising and she was silent for several seconds. Rose looked at Snow and knew without him saying anything that he knew about her and Alfie. Even if he thought it was simply sex.

"...So, the suit," the man said changing the subject "I can count on you and your talent to be able to do something for the grand coronation of our new victor?"

If Rose thought she was going to be able to steer the conversation where she wanted it to go, she was wrong. Snow had always been in charge of the meeting.

"Of course, Mr. Snow. I need to take measurements, nothing more, and talk about the colours and textures you prefer."

Snow nodded. He found her company quite pleasant and to Rose's suprise he invited her to have dinner there. Some other people were also there. Just business and they talked about money and investments, so Rose barely talked. She listened to them, tho. But in reality, her mind was busy with his words

"With any victor..."

It was late. The ninth floor was in silence and the lights were out. Rose walked barefoot towards the kitchen and pour herself a glass of water.

Fuck.

People always talked about Snow like the most intimidating man you could met, but it was a different thing when you have him in front of your eyes.

He was charming but his gaze was so cold, empty and yet full of cunningness. He was the perfect example of a psychopath. A man perfectly aware of what he could cause on other people and with a dark side he couldn't hide. A charming manipulator.

He didn't invented the Games, but he was the one who perfected them and made that thousands of thousands of people considered acceptable the fact that kids were massacred every year. 1484 kids dead and counting since the beginning of the games and people were happy about that.

Rose felt the cold tiles under her feet while she walked towards his bedroom. She knew Alfie was still upset with her, but she needed a familiar face after that encounter. Carefully she opened the door, Rose saw his silhouette in the darkness. He was sleeping soundly and didn't hear her.

She left her dress on a chair and laid next to him. Her face was against his back and she could feel his perfume. That man was her whole world, even if it was a world she could have for a couple of weeks every year. She planted a kiss on his broad shoulders and then closed her eyes.

Alfie didn't notice her until very late when he rolled over the bed and saw her at his side. He hadn't seen her the whole evening and was worried about her, despite everything.

When he put an arm around her, she opened her eyes.

"I didn't want to wake you up. When you came here?"

"A couple of hours ago. It's okay, I wasn't really sleeping. I'm sorry I'm here… I- uhg… it was an awful day, Al. I just needed you. I know you're angry but…"

"Yeah. Well, sweetheart, I can't be angry with you for that long, can I? Time is something we don't have and I don't want to spend this year away from you. I thought about looking for you, but I didn't know where you were"

"I really love you, Al."

"I know and I love you, too."

A long and warm kiss was all they needed. Alfie was right, the last thing they had was time.

"Snow called me," she finally said, when he brought her against his body. "Fucking hell, Alfie… Snow. I almost shitted myself."

"Holy hell, Rosie… what the fuck! What happened?!"

"He wanted someone new to make him a suit for the award ceremony. No one knows who the victor will be, but they planned everything with anticipation. So, here I am… sewing a suit for that prick."

"Did you accept?!"

"It's not like I have any other options. You can't refuse to do anything when it's about him. Or you pay the consequences. And there's more…"

"Even more? What else happened?"

The bedroom was dark and yet Alfie could swear that he could see her brown eyes. So she told him "He knows we're having an affair." Alfie felt he was about to die.

"I didn't tell him," she rushed to say "he knew. Don't ask me why, because I don't know, but he knew…"

"Fuck me."

"But then he said something interesting," she stopped a moment and stroked his hand "he said: for the right price, any member of the Capitol can have any victor."

Alfie understood that statement very well. Sadly, he knew what that meant. He turned the light on to see her properly.

"Are you going to pay for my company?"

"I'm tired of seeing you once a year. I'm tired of us being apart. But I could never, ever, do that if you're not okay with this. I give a shit about the money, Lawrence has so much money that he doesn't know what to do with it… but I need to know if you agree. We survived five years apart we can keep doing this."

"That's contribute to the corrupt system you're trying to break."

"You think I don't know that? But I want to see you more often. As selfish as it sounds. I miss you! And It's a fuck up situation, Al. It's just I thought… I didn't want to offend you."

"You didn't offend me. You're just asking for my consent."

"Of course I'm asking for your consent!! I'd never forced you into anything! What the hell!"

"Then as a victor I can demand something in exchange of my services. I have only one requirement: if one of my kids, now or in the future, win the games I want you to promise me that you're going to pay for them. Exclusivity. So you can protect them from your husband and his friends," Alfie stared at her and Rose nodded.

"Yes. I can do that. But I'm not paying for your services, but for us. I'm paying for talking to you, for sharing a meal, for a hug or two… I don't want, if you don't wa…"

"Rosie, luv. I want," he interrupted her. "But they don't know about this. Let them believe I'm your sex toy."

She didn't want to laugh but she couldn't help it either. "Damn, Al, you're a very expensive sex toy."

"Well, darling, I know my value," he kissed her briefly "do you think that Snow has an eye on us?"

"Al, Snow has an eye on every one in fucking Panem. You, me, the kids and his own family… only controlling every single one of us, he can remain there."

"And yet, you're trying to burn him" Alfie said, at the same time one of his hands were brushing her ribcage.

"When you're an elephant, you ignore the ants. I'm just an ant. One of hundreds that are under his feet but he can't see."

The beginning of the games werealso the beginning of Alfie's nightmare. One more time.

When mentors saw the Arena, they turned their heads towards Alfie who was the only who didn't seem surprised by it. But only one dared to confront him.

"Well, of course you sent your tributes to a special training place! I asked myself why did you waste time sending them to a fucking swimming pool instead of training like the rest of us! It's clear now! Your whore told you the Arena! The bitch knew it!"

Aveline Young was staring at Alfie with hatred in her black eyes. Way taller than him, the black woman wasn't afraid of his angry face.

"That was my fucking decision, Aveline! I sent them there because I thought it was a long time since they created an Arena full of water. I was lucky!"

"Do not underestimate my intelligence. I know you since you were a tribute, I saw you become a Victor and a mentor. You were always the same until you met that woman. I understand you want a pussy, but you're fucking the wrong one!" Aveline stepped closer to him "she'll betray you. She's an Evert. No matter what she's telling you."

Alfie pushed her away from him "don't you dare to talk about her as you know her, Aveline. I'm not underestimating your intelligence. But you don't underestimate mine. And she's not just a pussy."

"Avie…" a new voice interfered with the confrontation between those two. "I don't think it does matter now. The games started and we already lost eight kids. We don't need more drama. And in the end it's not your business." Tommy Shelby was the one that talked.

"Well, your tributes are alive! Mine are not! And it's my business. Maybe they'd stand a chance if they had the same privileges as Alfie. What side are you choosing?"

"I'm not choosing any side! There aren't any sides here."

"Oh, please…" Aveline rolled her eyes.

But Alfie was out of his mind.

"Privileges?! What fuckin' privileges are ya talkin' about?!" Alfie growled and walked towards her "Do you think my previous kids had privileges because she's my friend? Did you see their violent deaths? Did ya see my girl last year? They stabbed her heart!! Do you think these ones, this year, have any chance of winning? For the smart woman we know you're, Aveline, you're a fuckin' idiot!" Alfie stared at her once last time before going to the elevator.

"Alfie! Alfie!"

A familiar voice was calling him, but he ignored the call. "Alfie!"

"Not now, Lucy."

The red haired woman stood up there, looking at him. Then, she furrowed her brow "You're going to listen to me, Alfie Solomons!" she grabbed his hand before he could put a foot inside the elevator. "Let me remember you what I told you years ago. Not every one here think like her. Volcano Girl can be very stubborn! I didn't believe you when you said you didn't know about the Arena, I think you knew and you trained your kids to win. But I'm not judging you and Tommy isn't judging you either. You're doing what you need to do to have at least one victor. And it's okay."

"Tell that to them, then! The ones who think like Young! They're fucking thinking I'm… what? A traitor? What if I knew before her about the Arena? I'm tired of losing kids! We're all tired of losing kids! And yet, there's no guarantee that any of mine can survive!! Even if I knew about it fucking days ago!! Fuck!! She's talking like i designed that fucking monstrosity! Like my Rosie designed it! Fuck them all."

Lucy chuckled "My Rosie?"

Alfie realised that he shouldn't say that, but it was too late. He talked without thinking. He was furious and was trying to defend himself and also Rose.

"You're fricking in love with her, Alfie."

But he didn't respond instead he pressed the button to call the elevator and faced Lucy one last time that day "See you later."

When Alfie entered their floor, he found himself alone. Nor Alissa nor Rose were there. He suspected that last one was busy with Snow's suit. Alfie opened her bedroom, sat down on her bed and sighed. He knew that things were going to be difficult. No one could give a fuck if Rose could have had another surname, a harmless one. The problem from the very beginning wasn't that she was married the problem was Evert.

Over his head there was the painting representing the Capitol and behind it numerous sheets of paper with information that could make the other victors shut up. But he didn't know that.

When he calmed down, he returned to the hall to see the rest of first day of the games. And he arrived just in time to see his boy, Alex, die in hands of the girl from district 4. Not long after that, Hilda drowned herself trying to grab a backpack.

Not even having special training his tributes could win. And yet, people said he had privileges.

Next part

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x ofc #tom hardy #alfie x rose #peaky blinders #hunger games au

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transingthoseformers · 7 months

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I picture OP finding the Tyranny empty. But it's not the horror show the Autobots expected to find. All the corpses and body parts are gone. The blood stains have been scrubbed and bleached as close to oblivion as the mechs inside could manage. And the ships log is interesting... since the last log was signed Damus.

Nickel's horrified and traumatized being on an organic world. She definitely wants to protect the Sparklings though. Tarn feels unworthy to approach the munchkins. Just he doesn't deserve to touch something so innocent. I feel like they'd be observing but would intervene to protect the kids.

The Maltos are protecting the Terrans as their own young. And Dot is clearly willing to take on anyone for her children.Well given the Cybersleved children and their link it's not suprising. But they're treating their partly-organic and inorganic offspring the exact same way, with love, kindness and firm discipline tempered by compassion and the reasons for the rules.

Megatron being close to the family has Damus uneasy. This is however a very different Megatron than any thing he's ever seen. There's a closeness but Megatron's admitting his mistakes.

The GHOST mess at whatever stage in the timeline he shows up, has Damus deeply concerned and Nickel triggered halfway to the Pit and back.

It would be interesting if one of the human kids and one of their Terran sibs were searching for an escaped Fluffy Ears and stumbled into Nickel having a panic atack. Poor Fluffy Ears just wanted to be Nickel's friend. The kids are trying to help her when Damus arives. They think the minibot is af new sib since she's curled up and they can't see her badge. Damus leaves cradeling an exausted Nickel but he got the story of how the Terrans came to be. He told the children the black box consortium murdered her home planet of Prion. One of them asks for his name and he tells them it's Damus.

The kids mention meeting Damus and Nickel to Dot and Bee. Dot and Bee however doesn't realize until Megs stops to visit that Damus was Tarn's actual name. And he was unmasked. Heck he might have changed his paint job and optics back to their original colors too. Plus Nickel no one knows who she is, and the kids weren't warned about Damus.

Ohhhoh they thought they were prepared (or at least as prepared as they thought they could get). They expected so many horrors, and they ended up finding one of the most oddly terrifying things: nothing :)

From what I know, I don't think (?) The autobots have interacted much with the DJD, so they're getting that feeling of being out of the loop the entire time.

y e a h Nickel isn't all that happy.

aWWW CALLING THEM THE MUNCHKINS YES

Plus, when was the last time Tarn was around a youngling?? That's right. He's not so sure about being around the kids.

oh Damus

This entire thing is such a trip for them, especially since they haven't had the last couple of decades of context regarding the cybertronians on earth, humans, and well yeah the Terran stuff.

Dot is ABSOLUTELY prepared yep yep

Damus has so many 💫opinions💫 about Megatron's life/connection with the Maltos (a lot of mecha and humans probably do)

Oh I can exactly see the not so nice comparisons that Damus and Nickel are making regarding GHOST (from my pov in analyzing the timeline, I'm imagining Nightshade in all their green glory so definitely after s1-1/3rd), and they're right for that.

So Nickel's freaking the fuck out because yeahhh. It would be funny as hell if technically it was Fluffy Ears who discovered Nickel, and well that's how the kids meet her and Dams. okay that also is funny that they assume she's another surprise child

Oh Damus providing context, that's definitely gonna have consequencesssss

The kids don't see a thing wrong with this, after all Damus and Nickel didn't seem like an immediate threat and it didn't click that they were decepticons (and even then, the kids probably would've still tried to be friendly.) Hell, Dot, Alex, and Bee don't even see anything wrong until they mention it to Megatron— and that's when you can practically hear his energon pressure skyrocket.

Damus sounds so pretty with his original optic and paint job colors.

#megs is frantically comming Optimus and Elita #maccadam #transformers #tfe tarn #damus #< same guy #tarn #nickel #transformers earthspark #tfe nightshade #tfe dot malto #tfe megatron #tfe bumblebee #tfe alex malto #we forget about him sometimes #tfe optimus prime #Optimus wakes up from a nap to twenty seven messages #earthspark damus au #sure let's go with that

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kayssweetdreams · 9 months

Text

A "Perfect" Vacation Ch 21

Meanwhile, Back on the Island...

The kids looked on in horror at Kaylo's change. "OK. This has Crazy Madame Prim WRITTEN ALL OVER IT." Leo yelled, making wild gestures at the girl. "Now Leo, it's improper to shout after all. Especially for a young gentleman." Kaylo said in a scarily calm voice. "But-I-HOW?!" Emma asked, horror in her voice. "I don't know. But we have to get help." Lora said. Unfortunately, they were surrounded by Ka Lā's security.

"You ain't going nowhere missy." One of them said, just as the kids all felt jabs at their necks. The last thing that Lora saw was Ka Lā holding one finger underneath Kaylo's chin. When the kids woke up again, they found themselves inside of what appeared to be a cold, metal, cell. Scrambling to their feet, Leo immediately ran to the door "HEY!! LET US OUT!!" He yelled, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Not a chance boy. You ruined everything last time, I won't let you do it again." Ka Lā said from the other side, glaring daggers into the kids. "Prim! But how?! And where's the real Ka Lā!" Mei yelled, shocked at how the same woman that was arrested on live TV was in front of them. "That stupid tropical harlot is currently taking my place in my little padded cell." Prim sneered, her eyes cutting at Mei.

"What did you do to Kaylo?! I know that we destroyed your purifier!" Rebecca asked, remembering how the Yuri, Kaylo, Dolly and her friends destroyed the Purifier back at the old school. "Oh yes. I haven't forgotten how you completely corrupted my daughter, and destroyed everything at my school. But luckily a...acquaintance of mine has decided to help me get back what I lost. Starting with returning my daughter to her former glory. And reversing the corruption in my former "students"". Prim explained.

It didn't take Trisha Jane long to figure out what Prim was going to do. "Don't you dare hurt Dolly! Or our friends!" She shouts. However, Prim just smiles "Oh don't worry Tracey Jones. You'll be joining them in the ranks of perfection too. Once Thea performs to the world and my acquaintance drops a special "gift" on your little town, Sweet little Timeville will finally become PERFECT! PERFECTVILLE!! Hmm...Has a nice ring to it." She said, an unhinged smile upon her face, making the group shrink back in horror.

However, her 'happy' mood was spoiled by another employee, who looked like he had been beat by a shoe scurried into the room "It's Thea! She won't go on! Unless you undo what happened with her daughter-" Prim glared at him "Thea WILL go on stage. One way or another. Her daughter is not getting in my way this time. I don't care if you have to drag her kicking and screaming. She. Will. Perform." Prim growled, scaring the employee. "HA! Good luck with that! Thea loves Kaylo, she won't sing a single note without you undoing what you did!" Mei shouted.

Prim glared back at the kids "I'll deal with you little delinquents later. Right now I have a imperfect diva of a singer to control." She seethed, stomping out of the room. The kids paled. Prim wasn't holding back this time. She. Wanted. PAYBACK. They knew that Prim's Purifier had a way to reverse the effects...but they didn't know how to reverse what Prim had done to Kaylo now. Especially since they had no idea WHAT it was she did this time. However. Before they could deal with anything, they had to escape first.

"There has to be someway out of here." Emma said, leaning against a wall. "Well...unless you have like a backup key or a way to pry the door open, I have a feeling that we're not going anywhere for a while." Lora said, looking out the window of their cell, hoping to see anything they were missing. "I wouldn't bother. I tried everything already." An Australian voice said. "Who said that?" Mei asked out, looking as much as she could in the cell. "Over here." The voice said again.

Mei looked to her right, and saw another cell, this one holding a teen with blue hair and a pair of goggles on his head, his blue eyes almost having a faint electricity to them "Who are you?" Leo asked, surprised to see another person in there with them "G'day. The name's Jett." He said from inside of his cell. Looking a little closer, Rebecca could see that he had a strange looking cuff around his neck. "Um...Not to be rude, but why do you have a cuff on your neck?" She asked.

Jett looked down at the cuff with distain. "Oh. That. You can thank the stupid muscle men that work with that woman. They put this demon-proof collar on me to keep me in here." He said. That got the kids attention. "Wait...did you just say Demon-Proof?" Rebecca asked. "Yep." Jett said simply, popping his P. "W-Why would you need a demon-proof collar?" Leo asked, his voice shaky. Jett looked them dead in the eyes.

"Because I'm a demon."

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Lora Jade belongs to @alex-frostwalker

Jett belongs to @jettthespeeddemon

#Balan Wonderworld #Leo Craig #Emma Cole

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dot-cant-write · 1 year

Text

An Ice Skating Outing (Sammy Lawrence x Reader)

A little holiday oneshot for Christmas :)

It was the holiday season again in New York. And within one little animation studio, you and your best friends were planning your Friday night out.

You were a long-time employee of Joey Drew Studios who worked as a janitor. A simple job, but a nice one because you were able to interact with all different folks within the studio. Your best friends were none other than Wally Franks and Shawn Flynn. Wally Franks was the other janitor of the studio, unfortunately tasked with cleaning up everyone’s messes (sometimes even your own, though you loathe to admit it). Shawn Flynn was a young Irish immigrant trying to make his mark in the studio. How he was going to do that with all those crooked-smiling Bendy dolls he made, you had no idea.

The three of you gathered in Heavenly Toys, discussing your plans for the holiday season. Wally brought up walking down to Rockefeller Center to ice skate and look at the classic Christmas tree after work. It was a tradition of yours, even though none of you could ice skate to save your lives. Despite this, you and Shawn excitedly agreed to this idea. Tomorrow, the three of you would have a rockin’ time around the giant Christmas tree.

------------------------------------------------

It was Friday morning, and you were helping Wally clean around the studio. It was your turn to clean the Storyboard and Music Departments. You had just finished up in Story, and as you waved goodbye to a fellow coworker, Dot, you made your way down the hall towards the music studio.

First, you made your way upstairs to Norman Polk in the projection booth. Truth be told, he never made much of a mess, but he did made good conversation. It was also just fun to watch the band perform. You and he had spent many days up in the projection booth discussing Sammy Lawrence. While Norman found Sammy strange, you found the composer fascinating. He was far from the usual cheery or simply tired employees often found in the studio. Sammy Lawrence was cranky and often pessimistic, but it was almost refreshing in a sense. Wally and Shawn, of course, weren’t glass-half-empty folks.

Today, they were recording a special holiday edition of Bendy the Dancing Demon. The music sounded beautiful, as always. It certainly helped that the music director was the one and only Sammy Lawrence. Pessimistic he may be, but Sammy knew music.

You still remember the first time you’d met. You’d been chatting with Jack Fain, the lyricist of the Music Department, during his break. (You refused to visit him otherwise- he worked down in the sewers, and it was far too stinky there.) Most of the time you tried to avoid the Music Department, thanks to Wally’s horror stories of the director. Wally forgot to mention he often got himself into trouble when he misplaced his keys, which usually led to him getting scolded by Sammy. Of course, on that particular day, yet another pipe burst while you finally had a chance to catch up with Jack. The recording room had begun to flood as a result. You and Jack had rescued as much sheet music as you could, and even a few instruments before the ink ruined the studio. You had saved as much as you could, though. Thankfully, it was more than enough to make a positive impression on the music director when he returned. Sammy Lawrence had a look of utter horror on his face as he made he way back from his break (back when breaks actually happened at the studio). You watched as Jack explained what had happened to the composer. When he told Sammy how you and him had rescued the sheet music, Sammy sighed with relief. You gently handed him the pile of music, and he simply said “At least one of these janitors is competent.”

Since then, you’d been less afraid of the Music Department. In fact, Sammy Lawrence tolerated you, which is more than most can say. Thanks to Jack and to your rescue mission, Sammy had allowed you to hang around. He’d been borderline friendly, which is about as good as you can get when it comes to Sammy Lawrence. The more you spent time with him, though, the more you developed feelings for the director. He was, after all, a handsome man. He had longer blond hair that often fell into cold blue eyes, and despite an icy exterior, something about him attracted you. Especially since he wasn’t so frosty around you anymore. While he didn’t exactly appreciate your outgoing friends, he all but admitted to enjoying your company.

Unfortunately, the composer looked especially stressed today. Probably another deadline due. You frowned. Maybe he needed a pick-me-up. That’s when a lightbulb appeared over your head. Maybe you could be the pick-me-up.

———————————————————————

“I’m going to invite Sammy Lawrence to join us tonight.” You announced over lunch.

“Are you kidding? You wanna invite mister grouch? The ultimate Scrooge?” Wally asked, flabbergasted at your suggestion.

“Consider the consequences! Ol’ Sammy is too much of a party pooper.” Shawn chimes in. Always has to get his two cents in.

“Oh c’mon, guys. Sammy can’t be that bad. Besides, I bet he’s lonely. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him to join us!” You defended, taking a bite of your sandwich.

Shawn waggled his eyebrows playfully. “(Y/N) just wants to go sweet on him, Wally.”

And that’s what you get for mentioning that the composer was cute to your friends one time.

Your face heated up. “Shawn, shut it. That’s not what this is about, I just think it’d be fun-“

“You can invite him, (Y/N), we’re just horsin’ around. But I’m bringin’ mistletoe!” Wally teased.

You stuck your tongue out at Shawn and Wally and made your way to the Music Department once more. It was lunch break for most, but if you knew anything about Sammy Lawrence, it was that he didn’t really take breaks. Not anymore, anyway. He was always somewhere in the Music Department, writing the next piece of music or meeting some deadline or another. Not to mention there was always the threat of a pipe bursting nowadays. Sure enough, Sammy was sitting on a stool by his music stand, scribbling into a black notebook.

You hesitated. “Um, hi, Sammy.”

The composer glanced in your direction, then went back to writing. “Hello. Do you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with Shawn, Wally and me to Rockefeller Center tonight? We were gonna go see the tree and ice skate.”

“No thanks. Deadline to meet.”

You frowned. “Oh, okay. Are you sure? Maybe you could use a break.”

“Deadline to meet.” Sammy repeated.

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to song writing then. Sorry to bother you.” With that, you turned away to rejoin your friends, thoroughly disappointed.

———————————————————————

Sammy Lawrence felt guilty. He wasn’t used to that feeling, save for the guiltiness of disappointing Joey Drew. Honestly, a nice stroll in the cold sounded pleasant. But Shawn and Wally weren’t exactly his crowd, and he did have a deadline to meet, even if he enjoyed (Y/N)’s company. Sammy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag, and slowly blew out the smoke.

“If I can finish this song…” he told himself.

———————————————————————

At the end of the day, you met once more with Shawn and Wally. The three of you clocked out (Wally praying for no more messes) and were grabbing your coats. As you wrapped your scarf around your neck, you heard a smooth voice come from behind you.

“Is that offer still open?” Sammy Lawrence asked quietly.

You whipped around to face him, ignoring an open-mouthed Shawn and a smirking Wally.

“Yeah, of course. Didn’t you have a deadline to meet, though?”

Sammy slipped on his coat. “Finished. And it’s goddamn Christmas. Might as well enjoy the season,” he pulled out a cigarette to light.

Wally clapped Sammy on the back, earning a scowl in return as he nearly dropped his lighter. “That’s what I’m sayin’! Now let’s get outta here!”

Together, the four of you left the studio. You noticed that Sammy Lawrence kept rather quiet during the walk. He seemed to be breathing in the cold. If he wasn’t taking a drag, that is.

“So, Sammy, you ever been ice skating before?” Shawn asked, pulling his hat lower over his ears.

“Used to on nights after Jack and I got out from the theatre. He’d drag me along before I had to drift for the night.”

“Are you any good then? The three of us are god-awful on the ice.” You chimed in, earning a “Hey!” from Wally and Shawn.

Sammy simply shrugged. “Not sure. Don’t do it anymore.”

“Well, we’re about to find out, music man.” Wally announced as your group arrived at Rockefeller. It was quite crowded out, but New York was always lively.

The tree was jaw-dropping. It didn’t matter how many times you had seen it over the years; every time was like the first time. The tree was lit up gorgeously this year, ornaments climbing its massive branches. Even Sammy paused to take in its magnificence.

“Wow,” breathed out Shawn. “Never gets old, does it?”

“Nope. Gotta be the best part of the season,” Wally replied.

Slowly, the four of you broke your gaze from the tree and made your way to the entrance of the ice rink, where tickets were being sold to skate. The four of your purchased your tickets and went to change into the skates. Wally and Shawn passed you a pair of skates, then winked at you. The pair disappeared into the crowd. That left you and Sammy alone on a bench as you laced up your ice skates. Of course. You should’ve known they would pull a stunt like that.

“Where’d they go?” Sammy asked as he laced his own pair of skates.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just being a couple of twits.”

Sammy chuckled. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Shall we?” He asked, standing wobbly and offering you his hand. You took it, and together you somehow made it onto the ice. Not without you practically tripping over the ledge to the rink, though. Sammy caught you.

“Thanks. Usually that’s the part where I’d fall on my behind and Wally and Shawn laugh,” you admittedly sheepishly as you tried to regain your balance.

“It’s fine. Don’t know why you insist on skating then, though.”

“Because it’s fun! It doesn’t matter how many times you fall, because we always laugh and help each other back up… eventually.” You smile at him and start to let go of his hand in favor of gripping the rail. Instead, Sammy held your hand a little tighter. You looked up at him, confused, but he refused to meet your eye. Blushing faintly, you started to skate with him.

The weather was absolutely perfect tonight. The lights on the tree at Rockefeller Center shone brilliantly in the New York night. There was a light breeze that ruffled your hair, and Jack Frost nipped at your nose. Despite the cold weather, though, you felt warm next to Sammy. You looked up at him, only to realize that it had begun to snow. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled down and landed in Sammy’s dirty blond hair. You also couldn’t help but notice how surprisingly graceful the music director was on the ice. Maybe it was his tall and lanky stature, but he seemed to have no problem gliding along the rink.

“Is there something on my face?”

Sammy’s question startled you into reality. A heat spread over your cheeks as you looked away. “Er, no, I just… got distracted.”

The composer gave a rare smile in response. “Mhm. I’m sure.” He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“Y’know, I’m really happy you were able to make it tonight.”

“Yeah well, just don’t tell Joey.”

“Mr. Drew won’t hear a word from me,” you assured him.

——————————————————————————————

You were just starting to get a handle on the rhythm of skating when Wally and Shawn skated around.

“Hey lovebirds!” Shawn chided.

“How’s skatin’?” Wally asked.

You gave a death glare to Shawn before quickly letting go of Sammy’s hand. “It’s going good. How’re you two holdin’ up? Bet you fell on your asses already.”

“We did!” Wally laughed. “All in good fun, I think.”

You nodded and smiled before Wally and Shawn took off again. “Gettin’ off the ice in fifteen!” Shawn hollered.

“Okay!” You shouted back. As soon as your friends were out of sight, you reached for Sammy’s hand again. He looked at you quizzically.

“So I don’t fall like a complete fool,” you explained. Definitely not because your hand was left cold without his. Definitely not because you simply wanted to hold his hand and ice skate and pretend that you were getting your happily ever after. Sammy Lawrence looked down at your hand in his, then back up at you. His lips upturned just slightly. You continued to ice skate.

“So… Why don’t you like Christmas?” You asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“It’s just… It gets busy. At the studio. And everyone is so annoyingly cheery. I’m not really happy, so why should everyone else be?” He sighed, before adding “I don’t really have any family to go to anyway. Jack always invites me over, but I don’t wanna be a burden.”

This was the most honest you'd ever heard him be with you. It was refreshing. You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’d bet Jack would love to have you. Anyone would. You don’t have to be such a Scrooge. Perhaps a little Christmas cheer is just what you need.”

Sammy chuckled in response. “Perhaps.” The two of you slipped back into the comfortable silence. Before you knew it, fifteen minutes had passed and it was time to find Shawn and Wally. That wasn’t exactly hard to do. The two of them were currently trying to make their way to the rink’s exit, and failing at it. You and Sammy made it to the bench long before they did. Finally, Shawn sat down next to you, and Wally nearly tripped onto the pavement.

“Why do we do that every year again?” Asked Wally, tugging off his skates.

“You tell me,” you replied, grinning.

“Touche,” Wally shrugged.

Once the four of you had changed out of your ice skates, you split the scene. This was usually the part where you and your friends would head home. You all exchanged glances.

“Well, I had a lotta fun, even if I landed on my rump more times than I can count. But it’s time to head home. I’m outta here!” Wally waved to you all and started his journey home.

Shawn nodded. “Same here. Got to get some rest. Night!”

And then there were two. You looked up at Sammy. “Well… I suppose I should be getting home, too.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Sammy asked suddenly.

You were taken aback by his question. “I- That would be lovely, actually. Thank you.”

—————————————————

The walk wasn’t too long, but it was certainly cold. You knew you should’ve brought a heavier jacket. One particular gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, Sammy shrugged off his coat and draped it around your shoulders. He seemed completely unfazed by the weather.

“Thanks.” You smiled gratefully at him, tugging the coat tighter around your shoulders. It smelled like cologne, ink, and cigarette smoke. Somehow, the combination was pleasant. Or maybe it was just what those smells represented. You walked closer to the composer, feeling warmth radiate from him. Soon, you made it to your door.

“Thank you again for walking me home. And for your coat,” you said, handing it back to him.

“Thanks for good company,” he replied as he slipped his coat back on. He said it genuinely and sincerely.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked.

“You know where to find me.” Sammy turned to leave, and you faced your door. But…

“Sammy, look at this!” You pointed upward at the overhang above your door. The composer faced you, and tilted his head as he glanced upwards.

“Mistletoe,” you both said. You laughed lightly. Wally and Shawn strike again. You didn’t know how, but you knew it was them.

“You know the rules, Sammy,” you continued, taking a step towards him. The music director looked at you, a deep blush spreading across his features. He looked positively flustered. Standing on your tip toes, you planted a kiss on Sammy Lawrence’s cheek. His eyes widened and he lifted his hand to gingerly touch the spot where you’d kissed him. Gosh, you wish you could take a picture of that moment.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.” And with that, you left the flustered composer on your doorstep.

You couldn’t wait to tell Wally and Shawn.

#i just had to write something christmas-y #working on another holiday oneshot too actually #sammy lawrence x reader #sammy lawrence #batim #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batdr

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imviotrash · 2 months

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I've started seeing more people appreciating Elizanne and making content of it, which I couldn't be happier about! So let me tell you how I came up with Joanne x Elizabeth, because it was actually really funny:

So I was working on my "100 yrs later" AU back in late July of 2023 and was figuring out what the individual style of each character would be.

So I worked on Joanne and later Elizabeth and it dawned on me that I gave them very similar styles (still different from one another but very similar on terms of aesthetics) and figured that they probably start being friends in my AU because of that.

So I thought a bit more about their dynamic and realized that they both present themselves very similarly, while also having a lot of contrasts.

They bounced off eachother well, TOO WELL.

It was like connecting two puzzle pieces from completely different sets, that fit perfectly with eachother.

Let me elaborate even further on that:

-Their contrasting skillsets (fencing and reading) and personalities (bubbly and timid) make for a quite interesting dynamic and also serve as an opportunity to learn more from eachother.

-Strong Gf protecting her boyfriend, need I say more?

-they're both very high femme and have a very interesting relationship with their gender, especially within such a highly gendered society. Elizabeth is struggling to be a cute girl while also being incredibly strong and Joanne is the exact opposite of that (very timid and quite cowardly). Both of them do not adhere to their gender roles to different degrees and on different levels. I think they can bond over that while also learning from eachother based on the experiences they were allowed to have, because of their gender and their individual education (-> Example: Elizabeth teaches Joanne to fence and he teaches her to dance or something like that)

-I think both of them could be a kind of "safe space" for eachother, a person where they're not afraid to be judged for being "too sensitive" or "too bubbly".

-they're both incredibly emotional and I think Elizabeth desperately needs someone she can confine in on an emotional level.

-They both have unfortunately been confronted with the horrors beyond human comprehension and I think it's nice that they can perhaps find some comfort in eachother because of it.

-I'm gonna be fr and just say that these two have some incredible fluff potential that should definitely be utilized. LET THEM BE HAPPY THEY'VE BOTH BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH!!!! I want these two to HEAL!!!

-O!Ciel is a lovely character of course, but I don't think her relationship with either of the twins is healthy, especially since they're all very young and very troubled. There isn't any open communication, she's only appreciated when she can be utilized for her skills, and other than that she's seen as more of a burden and a status symbol. Elizabeth deserves to be bubbly girly girl without having someone around her who's constantly rolling his eyes at her and truly appreciates and loves her outside of her role as a Bride and her skills. Her cute and bubbly personality is part of her character and should be loved like any other aspect of her.

- As a sucker for colour palettes it's also very nice to see a very vibrant character paired with someone with more muted colours.

-Red and pink is a very underappreciated colour combo in ships and it should be utilized more.

#TLDR: the ship is very gender #elizanne #vio speaks #that was supposed to stay in the drafts for another week 💀💀💀 nvm yall #enjoy your food a bit early

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illiana-mystery · 10 months

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WIP Wednesday

Since I gave you a taste of my work in progress for the Dafoeverse fics I've been writing last week, I decided to give you a dose of what I have written for the Molinaverse fics that have been put on indefinite hiatus.

Because I love yall, I appreciate your patience with my ever changing phases (like I'm the goddamn moon), and I've left you on read for far too long.

Also, side note, if any of you have suggestions about how I should go about continuing any of these WIPs, please let me know in the replies, my ask box, or DMs. Thank you! 😘

---

Covert Affairs (this one goes out to @freddiefredfive)

Rafi was talking to Donnie when they walked back in and Leo was nowhere in sight. Kazia figured he was back upstairs with Jeanine, so didn't think anything of it.

But the remaining brothers were talking and laughing loudly and didn't even notice that Tadeusz and Kazia were in the room until Rafi noticed the young woman.

He was staring offly hard with his big brown eyes that perfectly complimented his baby face and reddish cheeks.

He looked like Leo, but had skin as smooth as a baby's bottom and his hair was curly and styled nicely on his head.

Kazia could immediately tell that he probably thought highly of himself, since the threads he was wearing were of high expense and quality.

"Well, hello," he said seductively before he realized that Tadeusz was standing next to her.

Tadeusz scowled at him before he nervously laughed and put his head down.

But next thing he knew, he was grabbed by his collar by the older, taller, stronger man.

"Kazia's mine, got it?" he angrily said before he plucked his head.

"Yeah, yeah. I was just playing, buddy. You know Layla is my girl. I love her so much...I just wish she wanted to marry me..."

"I don't care," he sternly said. "Now, let's have a chat."

He dragged the poor young man away, much to Kazia and Donnie's horror.

"You like them rough, huh?" Donnie teased after.

"Not usually," Kazia admitted before pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and blushing. "But Tadeusz is different."

"If you say so," Donnie moaned.

Meanwhile, Tadeusz brought Rafi to one of the backrooms and threw him down before he closed and locked it behind them.

"Who's that Rudy guy?" he sternly asked.

"Tadeusz, do you have history with him or something? Why do you care?"

"My punching fist might be out of commission, but I'll use my other on your pretty little face if you don't answer what I asked you!"

"Okay, okay," Rafi flinched. "He's just a friend of mine. Well, actually he knew Layla first. They have mutual friends and when she introduced him to me, I knew he would be a perfect fit for our familgia."

"Oh, I see," he softly said as he paced. "So we don't even properly vet members anymore. Oh, silly me. Now, tell me Rafi, why do you think you can trust him?"

"I mean I am a good judge in character."

"Yes, Layla is a lovely girl," Tadeusz sarcastically said. "But you really aren't cut out for this life. What would you do if your brothers' lives were snuffed out...one by one? What if you had no one to hold you hand?"

Rafi was about to reply before Tadeusz cut him off again.

"Because I was once naive like you. I thought seeking quick, easy money would be heaven in Belarus...but it wasn't. I was betrayed many times and every time it became harder and harder to take their lives away," he coldly said.

"Until it wasn't anymore. It was just something that had to be done. You cross me, you die. It's as simple as that. So I say all of this to say, Rafi, you better watch that Rudy fella or I'll be forced to take both of you out, painfully...very painfully. Got it?!"

"Yes, of course."

"Good, glad we had this talk. Now come on. You didn't properly introduce yourself to MY Kazia."

"Right," he moaned as he trembled while getting up.

But Tadeusz just yanked him again and brought him back into the room by his arm. He dropped him again and the young man fell so hard it made both Donnie and Kazia jump.

"Hello, Kazia," he greeted. "I'm Raphael Scaglioni, but everyone calls me Rafi. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she softly said as he got up.

She shook his hand and then he went over by Donnie.

Kazia looked at Tadeusz confused, but he just put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

"Nie przejmuj się. Chciałem tylko zapytać go o Rudy ' ego." (Don't be alarmed. I just wanted to ask him about Rudy), he told her. "Rozumie tylko siłę." (He only understands force)

"Nie jestem zaskoczony," (I'm not surprised), she replied back. "On naprawdę wydaje się trochę przytłumiony." (He really does seem a little dim)

"To dlatego, że jest." (That's because he is)

"Prawo." (Right)

"Everything alright, Tadeusz?" Donnie asked as his little brother still hid behind him.

"Yes, everything is fine," he softly said.

Donnie didn't believe him though. He only spoke Polish, usually to himself, when he was angry or frustrated around them. Kazia nervously giggled before her stomach started growling.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Tadeusz assured with another kiss on her cheek. "Well, if you would excuse us, I'm gonna take Kazia back upstairs to eat and meet Layla."

"Of course," Donnie said before they both headed back up the secret staircase behind the replica Trevi Fountain.

The secret door closed by itself behind them once their feet touched the hardwood floor of the cafe and when it did, it startled Marla and Layla. They both jumped before they both smiled at the young couple.

Tadeusz and Kazia smiled back but Kazia noticed that Jeanine and Angelo weren't there anymore.

But there was one customer at one of the tables by the painted Union Jack that was munching on a croissant while watching videos on their laptop.

This person was wearing noise canceling headphones, so they were completely unaware of what was going on around them.

---

Jealousy

"I don't know what I want to wear," Alice whined as she frantically looked through all of her clothes hanging up in the closet.

Her husband, meanwhile, was sitting on their bed, just watching her.

He began to worry that she was gonna have a panic attack again, so he tried to lighten the mood.

"I don't see why you can't wear what you have on now. You look gorgeous."

Alice giggled.

"Thank you, Aldie. But I want to make a good first impression and an red and brown plaid overall skirt and creme shirt just isn't gonna cut it," she said. "I want to wear something a little fancier."

"I don't see what the problem is. We met Rodney before and in overalls."

"I know, but he has Shaye with him. I do want to start making some friends around here."

"She's no friend until I vet her," Alden grumbled.

"Of course," Alice quickly agreed. "I trust your judgment."

The way she said that made Alden worry again since she sounded like she was about to cry. So he got up and walked over to her, rubbing her shoulders again to comfort her.

"Alice, it's gonna be alright," he whispered. "Although we are safe, I still can't help but be cautious. I don't want anyone to hurt you the way he did again."

"Oh, Alden. It isn't that. I just...even far away from home I still feel unsafe. I hate that I can't just trust people anymore."

"Not all people are untrustworthy," he said before he moved his hands down to her midsection. "Just take a deep breath."

Alice did as she was instructed and as she did so, she suddenly felt herself being picked up and brought over to their bed.

She kept her eyes closed though and allowed Alden to put her down on the middle of the bed.

"Keep deep breathing," he instructed before he hiked her skirt up and slowly took her panties off.

Once discarded, he began to softly kiss her inner thighs before he finally went for the kill. Alice was still trying to keep her deep breathing up during all of this, but then her breath hitched as soon as she felt his tongue inside her.

She, at first, gasped before she got her breaths back up and began to deep breath again. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest as her lover kept going, teasing an amazing orgasm out of her. She tried to hold it back and tightly gripped the sheets below her, but eventually she broke and loudly moaned as she climaxed.

But she didn't just climax, she also squirted a little which amused her husband. She could clearly hear him giggling between her legs, before the sound of joyous slurping invaded her auditory sense.

"I'm sorry," she nervously apologized.

"Don't be," he whispered before he kissed her lower lips. "I haven't gotten you that excited in quite some time."

She giggled.

"Yeah, I haven't had that reaction since before...the first time...he appeared..." she realized before she started to cry. "I'm sorry, Aldie. I just...I just..."

Alden immediately picked himself up and grabbed Alice before he held her in his lap and began to sing to her again to calm her down.

"It's alright, Misu. I won't let him hurt you. I won't let him get near you ever again."

Alice didn't respond, she just kept crying with her head nudged on his shoulder. He gently rubbed her back, still singing a little to her.

But as he sung, his mind went dark...real dark.

He knew he would gain so much joy taking away the life of the man that hurt his wife so. But he had to stop himself.

He had to.

He couldn't risk going to jail. It wasn't worth it.

But yet, it felt so inticing. It felt like a sure fire way to get rid of him once and for all, but he knew Alice would be against it. It was her battle to fight, after all he was her old flame.

She never wanted to put Alden in the middle of this, but now here he was. Here he was miles away from the place he used to call home, consoling his anxious and brow beaten wife in their so-say dream home.

The man took everything from them. So was he in the wrong to want to cause him the most harm he could?

He still kept his singing up, well until Alice stopped crying and moved her hand to his cheek.

He just looked at her before she leaned over and kissed him.

"I love you so much, Aldie," she softly said.

"I love you too, Misu."

She lightly smiled and was about to kiss him again before her phone began to ring.

Alden kissed her cheek and reached for the phone that was closer to him before he handed it to her.

"Hey Nick," she greeted. "What's up?"

"I just finished watching your first local interview," he started. "I love the storefront. It's gorgeous."

"Thank you," Alden smugly said. "It makes a perfect bookstore."

"It really does. Nice taste, man," he said with a laugh. "Also I can't believe Lori Amato is your cousin."

"That's what I'm saying! I was fangirling a little too hard. But she's so nice," Alice chirped. "His whole extended family is so sweet. They've been nothing but friendly."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I also see that you have a lot of new fangirls, Alden. There are a lot of thirst comments on this video."

"I don't see why. I'm not the stern Dr. Bertanelli of Middleburg University anymore."

"So," Alice huffed. "You're still handsome and fine as hell and these girls agree with me."

"You're not mad?" he asked.

"Why would I be? I don't get jealous like you do," she joked. "They can say whatever they want, but at the end of the day, you're sleeping next to me."

He chuckled and kissed her nose.

"Also, I noticed that the amount of views and comments on our first video with Alden performing with us as Java Joe's has gone up by a lot."

"Really?" they both asked.

"Yep, really. We also have a lot of returning reviewers to our second performance with Alden. Most of the viewers are from Navassa, of course."

"Wow, well maybe we'll have to get the band back together...for the sake of the fans," Alden said.

"I'd be down. I'm sure Quinn would be too. Adam's a father now so it might be a bit difficult and then Mitzi and Maisie have their own band, Ungaii, now but maybe I could intice them."

---

Ring Around the Rosie

"Dinner's ready!" Sabrina called from the stairs while Otto and the actuators were setting up the dining room table and bringing the stew and the freshly-baked soda bread to the table.

As soon as Flo placed the last fork down, Rosie came down with Mallory in her grasp, while Margaux clung to her free arm.

She was giggling with them which made Sabrina smile before Rosie put Mallory down for both of the girls to greet their mother.

They both hugged and kissed Sabrina, then ran to the table and took their seats.

"They're such wonderful girls," Rosie told Sabrina as they walked to the table together.

"Yes, yes they are," Sabrina chirped before she took her designated seat.

Otto led Rosie to her seat while Harry cut the bread and Flo and Moe helped scoop the stew unto Margaux and Mallory's bowls.

"Daddy," Margaux asked.

"Yes, Rosie Posie?" he answered back while he took his seat, watching as Flo and Moe went ahead and put the stew in the adults' bowls too.

She giggled.

"What's this?"

"It's Irish Stew and Soda Bread," Otto answered. "Thom Donaghue's recipe."

"Who's that?" Mallory asked.

"My father," Rosie excitedly answered with a big smile, making the girls giggle. "And your father learned the recipe and now he's able to make it for us."

"He's never made it before," Margaux admitted.

"I wanted to make it for Rosie. To welcome her back into our family," Otto explained.

"It was my favorite meal my father would cook for us," Rosie added. "It was also the first meal he had with my parents. He was so nervous to meet them but then he and my father bonded over Tolkien."

"Who's Tolkien?" Margaux asked.

"He's a wonderful author. He wrote fantasy novels. His literature was a great escape for me when I was younger."

"He wrote The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings," Rosie added. "Are you familiar with those books?"

"I didn't know they were books. But I know of the movies," Margaux answered.

"Otto, you need to get them into the books," Rosie nudged. "Have I taught you nothing? They love literature. I'm sure they wouldn't mind sharing your love of Tolkien with you."

"How many books did you read to them upstairs?" Sabrina suddenly asked.

"Just three. But they are so inquisitive and curious. They're two bright little girls. Well advanced beyond their age."

"Thank you!" they both chirped.

"Would you be interested in learning more about Tolkien?" he asked them.

They both nodded, so he said, "Well, alright. Guess we're gonna be taking another trip to the library."

The girls both cheered.

"But until then, we can watch The Hobbit tonight if you would like. We do have Family Movie Night on Fridays. And Rosie, you're welcome to watch the movie with us."

"Where can we watch The Hobbit?" Otto asked Sabrina.

"We have a subscription with the parent company of our SmartTV. You can rent it or buy it on their website."

"Oh, well guess we have our movie for movie night!" he cheered.

Rosie giggled after taking her first bite of the stew.

"Otto, you really outdid yourself. This is really good."

"Thank you," he said with a genuine smile.

"You're welcome," she said before taking another bite.

"I suppose he used to spoil you too with his cooking."

"We would switch nights to cook, but when it was his turn. He always blew me away. I'm not surprised though. Maria was a wizard in the kitchen. She always had the best side dishes at my family's parties."

"Maria was close to your parents?" Sabrina asked Rosie.

"Oh, yeah. After his father died, she would come around all the time. We loved having her."

"How nice," Sabrina cooed.

"Sabrina," Rosie started. "I must say I love the way you decorated this home. Otto told me you picked out most of the decor and I'm impressed. Also I love the crushed flowers hanging on the walls in the guest room. It just takes me back to our old apartment and my old office at the university."

"I figured you would," she said. "We actually bought those for our old apartment when it was just us two. Otto told me how much you loved crushed flowers so I decided to get them since I love them too."

"My mother and I used to make scrapbooks of different flowers we would find around the yard," Rosie started. "I would pick them and show them to her before we would crush them and add them to the book."

"Small world," Sabrina chirped. "That's what I used to do with my grandmother back in Atlanta."

"No way!" Rosie chirped. "Well, now we have another reason why Otto fell for you."

"I guess so," she joked. "But wait, are you from NYC?"

"No, no. I'm from Rochester but moved to NYC when I got accepted to Columbia University."

"Oh, gotcha. I'm from Atlanta originally, but moved here to pursue my dreams of being on Broadway. Of course my dreams changed when I met Otto and especially when we had the girls, but I love my life. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Glad to hear it," Rosie said. "It's funny because my dreams changed too when I met Otto on those steps. I was planning on moving to Belfast and being a professor there, but then he knocked me off my feet with his science know-how and dorky smile."

"Am I that charming?" he asked before blushing.

"Don't flatter yourself too much," Rosie warned. "No one looks good with a big head."

"Fair," he moaned before taking a bite of his soda bread.

"Mommy," Mallory asked.

"Yes, Muffin?"

"Can Rosie stay with us?"

"Yeah, can she?"

"Well, I hope she can. Your father did set up the guest room all nice for her."

"Rosie?" Margaux asked with big puppy dog eyes. "Would you like to stay with us?"

"I would love to," she answered before looking at Otto. "I see she has your puppy dog eyes."

"Yeah, she's my little twin."

"Daddy, can she tell us a bedtime story tonight?" Margaux asked.

"Am I not good enough to read you a story anymore?" he asked with a whiny tone. "I thought you liked Story Time with Sailor Aubrey."

"We do, daddy," Margaux assured. "But we..."

"Margaux, how about this. What if Sailor Aubrey had a first mate? How about we have Story Time with Sailor Aubrey and First Mate Annie?"

"Anne is her middle name," Otto whispered to Sabrina, noticing her confused face.

"Yay! I like that! Can we do that, daddy?"

"Sure we can, Rosie Posie," he told her. "Thank you, Rosie."

"Of course. I hope you don't mind, Sabrina."

"Oh, no. I don't. I let Otto handle story time. I handle bath time."

"Okay, good. The last thing I want to do is ruin your groove."

"Oh, no, you're fine, Rosie. Thank you for being considerate though."

"No problem," she said. "So what's for dessert?"

---

Jolly Ol' Saint Otto

Imag'n Toy Boutique was not too far from their Chelsea townhome, so it was a quick, quiet drive.

Their parking lot was behind the building, so Otto slowly turned the corner and parked in the empty space next to the back entrance.

He got out of the car first, taking in the crisp cool air as his breath was first taken away in a wisp of cold smoke as he took a first.

His actuators, who were once out and free huddled next to his vehicle's heater, quickly tucked themselves tight inside his big coat, jittering from the cold sensation they were forced to feel.

And although Otto was freezing and shaking in his coat, he couldn't help but adore how adorable Sabrina's reaction was to the snow.

The whole ride there she was silently humming Christmas carols while watching the snow fall, making his heart skip a beat.

Slowly, he opened her door and helped her out. She giggled and twirled around in the snow fall after she was released making her cold husband laugh in delight.

Swiftly, he joined her before she ran over and hugged him. He tightly hugged her back, enjoying the fluffinest of her coat as well as her natural warmth before he remembered the task at hand.

"We should have a snowball fight," she cooed as they walked gloved hand and hand to the front entrance.

He chuckled and answered, "After we finish shopping. I think there's probably enough snow in the parking lot to do that."

"Okay," she happily chirped.

They didn't even manage to fully get through the front door before the owner jumped out from the back to greet them.

She had a very happy attitude with a big white smile to boot. Her very curly red hair was bouncing in the reintroduced wind that the open door brought while her blue-green eyes twinkled in the bright lights about her.

"Hello, welcome to Imag'n!" she cheered before she realized who was standing in her doorway.

It was like she lost her train of thought as she stared at her customers, immediately noticing the actuators popping out of the bottom of Otto's coat to enjoy the warmth from the store's heater.

She squealed and ran over to them.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I can't believe you're in my store. I'm such a big fan, Sabrina."

"Oh," she chirped. "Would you like..."

"Yes!" she immediately answered before she took her phone out of her pocket. "I just want a picture."

Sabrina nervously giggled and replied, "Okay."

Flo moved over by them and picked up the woman's phone much to her surprise. Meanwhile, the others came over to observe her before Otto told them to come back by him.

Reluctantly, they obeyed and Flo was able to take the pictures in peace. She took three and then handed it back to the woman, but her claw stayed opened with a faint glow of yellow.

"Ooh, these are really nice," the lady chirped. "Who knew the tentacles were this good at photography?"

All of them screeched at her comment before Sabrina pet Flo's claw and corrected her.

"They're called actuators. They hate being called tentacles," she said before the other three came by her and pet her cheeks in response.

"Wow, they really like you," she observed. "Not that I should be surprised. I watch your podcast all of the time and they're always all on you."

"You're an Actuatually fan?"

"Am I? I started watching it after I saw you perform as Giselle. You were amazing. And honestly, you two make such a cute couple. Relationship goals."

"Thank you, I think," Otto responded.

Sabrina giggled.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she jokingly asked. "I'm Elinor Whittaker. But you can call me Ellie. I'm the owner of this establishment."

"Oh, we know," Otto remarked. "I read about your grand opening in the Post."

"Funny, I thought you would have said The Daily Bugle."

"I don't read that trash," he grumbled.

"Right," she moaned. "Well, I assume you're here for the little one. I heard the news. Congratulations. You two are gonna be wonderful parents. Now if you just follow me, I'll take you to the baby toys."

"Actually, we're here for..." Sabrina started before Otto stopped her.

He insisted that Elinor take them to the baby toys, despite Sabrina's look of frustration at him.

Elinor didn't notice though and led them to the back of the store nearby the many Lego building sets that were displayed based on difficulty.

The baby toys, which were on the adjacent wall, were displayed flawlessly with each type of toy being put in a certain place.

The sensory and teething toys were right in the center of a buyers focal point while the educational toys were to the right and the plushies and dollies were to the left.

But Otto's eyes lit up when he noticed a plastic toy boat that looked a lot like the one he had as a child.

However, he reserved his excitement until Elinor finally left them alone to browse.

After she left, Sabrina started to softly tease him about the fact that they weren't there to look for toys for Margaux. But he was so fascinated with the boat that he didn't even register her teasing.

Slowly he grasped it in his leather gloved hands and just took in the amazing craftsmanship of it.

Although it was just plastic unlike the wood carved one his abuela gave him decades ago, he still could admire the beautiful paint job reminiscent of his old toy.

He hypothesized that whoever made this really want to put a nice little touch on it.

Sabrina soon noticed his fascination and the little admiring twinkle in his eye, which made her warmly smile.

Leave it to Otto to find the simple, little things in life so intriguing, she thought.

But she did admire that about him as well though.

"Starlight, we should get this for Margaux."

"Octi, we came here to shop for..."

"I know, I know," he playfully huffed. "But I want our little girl to have a piece of my childhood."

"Piece of your childhood?" she asked curiously.

"I used to have a toy boat just like this," he happily explained. "But it was handmade...wood carved. My abuela made it for me. She painted it almost exactly the same."

"Your abuela was a woodworker?" she asked in a surprised tone. She knew that his mother, Maria, was half Spanish so the fact that he called his grandmother 'abuela' didn't confuse her, but what did confuse her was how fondly he spoke of her.

He rarely talked about his family other than his mother, but it was a welcomed info-drop nonetheless.

"Yeah," he said with a bright smile as he kept looking at the boat in his hands. By then the actuators also fully crept out of his big coat and admired it too, their lights glowing as pink as Otto's pale face.

"She was a woodworker and a potter. Her mother was gifted in the work of clay and her father was a carpenter. She was the third of five girls and my great-grandfather was afraid that he wouldn't have anyone to pass the skill on to. But she grasped it real fast and helped him at his shop until she met my Opa. He was on a European tour and they met at a Cafe. They fell in love and eventually moved here. My mother grew up not too far from here."

"You never told me that."

"It never came up," he said with a chuckle. "Maybe I'll show you on the way back home."

"I would like that," she replied. "So I guess you really loved that boat."

"I did. I took it every where I went when I was little. My Opa was an boating enthusiast. He had his own boat that he would take me on all of the time and we even participate in some boat races near the Hudson. We won a couple of tournaments."

"Hmm, so that's why you're so good with your hands," she hummed. "It was all in your hereditary."

He chuckled.

"Yes, well that and many summers with abuela and opa."

---

If you haven't seen my Dafoeverse WIPs and are interested in reading them, you can read them here.

Stay tuned for some Otto & Sabrina and Alden & Alice fics that I shelved until further notice. As well as my long-overdue WIP for Closing Time!

But until then, Happy Reading!

#wips #wip #wip wednesday #work in progress #molinaverse #fanfiction #fanfic #alfred molina

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