#How to build a survival kit

[beardedbastardoutdoors]

Don't Get Caught Unprepared: A Step-by-Step Guide to Building Your Own Survival Kit

Feeling pumped and prepared after putting together my very own survival kit using the step-by-step guide from our latest blog post! 💪🏼🎒🔥 Who's ready to take on anything that comes their way? #survivalkit #preparedness #excited

‍ Introduction to Survival KitsWhy You Need a Survival KitEssential Items for a Survival KitWaterFoodShelterFirst Aid SuppliesLightToolsCommunicationBuilding Your Own Survival Kit – Step-by-Step GuideStep 1: Determine your needsStep 2: Choose your containerStep 3: Gather your suppliesStep 4: Pack your kitStep 5: Test your kitChoosing the Right Container for Your Survival KitMaintaining and…

[divine-donna]

all you need is more radaway

save a horse. ride a cowboy. ;)

anyways i really loved the tv show and i love the game. and ghouls are just chef's kiss. or maybe that's because i love monsters. sad that i finished it so quickly. :(

perhaps i can put what i learned in my western class to good use lol

character: cooper howard aka. the ghoul

it's never easy surviving the wasteland. you don't know how you managed to survive for this long. perhaps because you seemed to have been blessed with incredible luck.

and building up endurance, of course.

you felt little to no side effects from the radiation of the food you were eating. which just meant you had a lot of radaway and rad-x stocked up.

to make ends meet, though, you had to start hunting. scavenging and scrapping by wasn't enough. you needed the extra caps.

thus your rivalry with another bounty hunter was born.

"well, well. aren't you far from home, sweetheart?"

you were used to comments about your outfit. a vault suit. yes, you came from one. you had been exiled after your father was revealed to be managing the experiment behind it. the child pays for the sins of the father always.

"you're not the first and you won't be the last." you pull the head off the body as clean as possible.

"now i don't know if you should do that."

"and why not?"

a bullet flies past you and burrows itself into the ground. you finally look up. a cowboy hat. the face of a ghoul. his gun pointing right at you.

but you weren't afraid.

"because he's my target." he pulls out a piece of paper. "and he's mine."

"seems unfair if i did all the work. and you just collect his head and the prize." you pull out the same piece of paper. yours is a little more worn out though. and covered in dried blood.

"that's the way of the wasteland sweetheart."

"if you believe so."

your hands were fast. two bullets lodged into his right left and when he looks up, you're gone.

of course, you learned from the best: western holotapes. you really liked them when you were growing up. claimed to want to be a lone hero.

in some ways, you were. the wasteland was just a new version of the wild west, wasn't it?

"spaghetti? like...the pasta?"

more like spaghetti western. he knew that, of course. but no one in the wasteland knew what a spaghetti western was. they were remnants of a past long gone and one only accessible by holotapes in the vaults.

"that's their name." the person says. "why? you have business with them?"

"perhaps." the ghoul was looking to return a favor.

"don't even try. they're far more formidable than you think."

"we'll see about that."

your rivalry was an exchange of bullets, more often than not. thankfully, you always stocked up on bloodbags and could make a stimpack from your heavy (but useful) travel chemistry kit. you were smart like that.

surprisingly, it became something to look forward. mostly because the ghoul preferred if he tried killing you, so he managed to get you out of a tough situation by killing the other people trying to kill you.

and you returned the favor. there was something satisfying about lodging a bullet into him again.

unfortunately, this left you two stuck on a job once. captured by raiders. you had been knocked out with a drug. and he had collapsed from...something.

"fuck." you mutter, pulling at the ropes binding you. your luck had run out for the day it seems, because your arms were tied to the ghoul's around this godforsaken pole. the metal was also uncomfortably rubbing up against your skin.

"you got a knife or anything sharp?" he looks over at you. it's rare to see him without his cowboy hat. his head was rather smooth.

you chuckle a little.

"something funny?" the ghoul asks.

"nothing. you're just...shaped like an egg."

"very funny."

"let me guess. your answer is no?"

"i don't have a knife up my sleeve, sadly. think they took it."

"shame." the ghoul shimmies something out of his own sleeve. he flicks the blade out and begins sawing at the rope. "watch your fingers."

you keep your fingers tucked in. eventually, the rope on your wrists comes undone and one arm soon after. the rest comes off and you rub your skin. "fuck these guys. always hated raiders."

"well, we both got sold out. we need to find that thing now. or else we'll be dead by sunrise." he tugs on the door of the jail cell and clicks his tongue.

"i don't have sharp objects. but i do have these." you pull out the bobby pin taped on the inside of your sleeve, alongside a mini screwdriver.

the lock wasn't very complicated, so you picked it with ease.

as you both are grabbing your equipment, you hear footsteps up above. light ones and heavier ones. and the sound of a muffled, altered, robotic voice.

the brotherhood of steel was worse than raiders, honestly.

"you go left, i go right. how does that sound?"

"i don't usually like taking orders from my rivals." he reloads his gun. "but for you? sure."

the event left the both of you soaked in the blood of your enemies. on the other hand, you guys left with plenty of loot and an idea of where your target was: dead. at the bottom of a lake.

it was a journey to get there, wherein you learned the details of each other's lives. you didn't think he was paying much attention to your sentences. after all, you came from a vault.

and yet, you saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

he seemed less keen on sharing details about his life, aside from his former name. cooper howard.

undeniably, as a fan of westerns, you recognized his names. from the holotapes.

"they had those?" cooper shakes his head, taking sips of water. "no way."

"yes way! it's where i learned to shoot."

"from watching my movies?"

"yes!"

"that is...a pleasant surprise." cooper leans back.

"that also makes you over 200 years old."

"that it does. something wrong with that?"

"no. the wasteland changes people." you maintain your attention to your suit, sewing a tear up. "just...you're looking for something, aren't you? everyone's always looking for something up here."

"are you looking for something?" his voice hardens and he sits up straight.

"i was. and then i found it. and i stopped." you tie the thread to seal the stitch and then tear the thread with your teeth. "i hope you find what you're looking for though."

"well, that's awfully kind of you, sweetheart."

"i have a name, you know."

"what is it?"

"(y/n)."

getting personal in the wasteland was something cooper wasn't adamant about. but the circumstances seems to call for it.

"guess we're even now."

the body of water was daunting. it was murky and dark. you pursed your lips and dumped your bag. "well. guess we have no choice."

cooper looks over at you then quickly turns around when he sees what you're doing: taking off your suit and going down to your underwear. "what are you doing?"

"i'm going to go get that head. that's how we get paid, right? easy three thousand caps. 15 hundred split evenly." you stretch.

"i think you might die."

"i'll be fine. i've done it before." Aquaperson perk.

"i can also swim, you know."

"i'll be fine cooper." you pop a rad-x pill just in case. "be back in a bit."

you dive like a swan, making minimal splash into the water. your form disappears beneath the darkness.

you're gone beneath the water for over an hour. cooper's heart was beating against his rib cage. you should be out by now. it should not be that hard. did something get you? things lurked beneath the murky waters always.

"fuck!"

he drops his equipment and begins stripping down, until he is just in his pants. he would need to dive after you. if you were dead, then so be it. it was fun while it lasted.

suddenly, you emerge. you take in the oxygen of the surface and hold the head up high. "got 'em." you swim over to the shore and walk out of the water.

there was something about how...wet you were that got him feeling hot and bothered.

"something happen down there?"

"couple of mirelurks. no big deal. which reminds me." you set the head on the ground and go back into the water. within minutes, you're pulling out the bodies of the mirelurks you had killed. "dinner."

while cutting the mirelurks open, you observe the way he walks around you. his muscles bulging a little as he cuts a mirelurk open and takes the meat. he was kind of...attractive?

"were you going to come after me?" he stops cutting hearing your question. "in the water, i mean."

"so what if i did?" cooper averts his eyes.

"that's sweet of you. i didn't know you had a soft spot for me."

"i don't."

"sure." you can tell he was lying through his teeth.

dinner was a nice, cozy meal. it was delicious. a nice surprise considering the nature of the wasteland.

cooper notices the way you're looking at him. and he looks at you the same way.

though how does this work exactly?

"do you want to..." you try to find a decent way to say this. fuck is a good term. but it felt a little vulgar in the moment.

cooper already knows what you're asking. "absolutely. if you can handle it." he smirks.

it's so cute when he smirks.

you glance over at your bag, looking at your stash of radaway. you had plenty. plus your stash of rad-x too.

"i absolutely can."

[trans-axolotl]

US Harm Reduction Resources

continually updating, not a complete list. feel free to add on any resources you find helpful.

Free Safer Supplies:

Each organization will have different supplies, but generally, harm reduction orgs provide things like syringes, safer snorting + smoking kits, Narcan, condoms, lube, and wound care supplies. Each org has different policies for how to get supplies--some do deliveries, some have drop in centers, some only do one to one needle exchange, some are more flexible.

Next Distro: mail based syringe provider for certain states. Also mails free Narcan.

NASEN: national map of syringe providers

a lot of harm reduction collectives aren't going to have their information listed on big national websites--it's always worth searching "harm reduction in my area" and seeing what's around you. Even if you don't live in a big city, there might be a harm reduction organization in your state that can help you find someone closer to you. there's a lot of rad people doing underground work who want to be there to help you who aren't as easy to find online. If there's street medic collectives, mutual aid groups or groups like Food not Bombs in your area, you can ask people in them who might know where to find harm reduction services in your area!

Drug Users Unions:

Drug users unions are activist groups made for people who use drugs, by people who use drugs! Drug users unions do advocacy work to end criminalization, as well as providing vital community support. Many drug users unions are also inclusive of sex workers and work to decriminalize sex work as well. You can search for "drug users union" in your state.

Urban Survivors Union: National, has resources for creating drug users union

Chosen Few: Drug users union for Black drug users in DC

San Francisco Drug users union

Sex Work Advocacy Groups:

Organizations that do decrim advocacy and provide support for sex workers.

Sex Worker Outreach Project USA- National, has chapters in many states.

Black Sex Worker Collective

Sex Workers Project

How to Use Safely:

Guides, videos, toolkits for safer use!

Harm Reduction Coalition Resource Library

Getting Off Right: A Safety Manual for Injection Drug Users

Safer Crack Smoking

Safer Snorting

Safer Hormone Injection

Levels of Risk: Veins

Wound Care video w/ ASL

How to Use Fentanyl Test Strips

DanceSafe-testing kits, including reagent testing kits!

Erowid-shares experiences people have with different drugs, dosages, what things to expect

Bluelight- another forum for discussing experiences with drugs.

Drug Interactions Checker

Sex Work Resources:

Tricks of the Trade by L. Synn Stern: tips for street based sex work

A Quick and Dirty Sex Worker Safety Toolkit

Girls Do What they Have to Do To Survive by YWEP

Dis/Organizing: How We Build Collectives Beyond Institutions by Rachel Kuo & Lorelei Lee

Tryst Blog

Hotlines:

Never Use Alone: 877-696-1996. Overdose Prevention Hotline--Volunteers stay on the phone with you while you use and call emergency services if you overdose.

HIPS Hotline-​​​1 (800) 676-4477. Emotional support for drug users and sex workers. Does not work with cops.

feel free to add on more resources. love + lube <3

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Taste of Sugar (Part 1 of 2)

Alastor x reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Part 1 rated M, Part 2 rated E 18+ for adult content

TW part 1: Light jealousy, trauma related to past food insecurity, trauma recovery.

TW Part 2: Explicate smut, see part 2 for details.

Almost 4k words for part one. Ps- Fuck you Nonny, this is what you get for trying to tell me what I'll write

~<3 Love, Kit.

As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

A Taste of Sugar

You found yourself in Hell after a rather uneventful death that made of for its lack of excitement with lasting trauma. Now, sitting in a circle in a hotel that functioned more like a rehabilitation center and refuge than actual hotel, you were expected to recount it to the fellow residents that had become more like friends. 

It was Charlie’s latest grand idea of how to build trust and bonds between the group and process negative feelings that could hold each of you back from redemption. You didn’t think that was how redemption worked but whatever, it wasn’t your reputation on the line and it got you a safe room to sleep in and three meals a day. 

The others had grand stories of murders, crimes and addictions that all landed them in the grave, one way or another, often taking others with them. They had spoken of dark indulgences. 

Now they teased you, your crimes amounting to nothing compared to theirs. Damned for the simple crime of being born poor and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to survive. 

You had died fairly young, having lived most of your life on the streets only to starve to death, alone, cold and in the dark. The shelters were full and the food banks near useless without somewhere to cook the food. Stealing food could only get you so far when you had little to choose from. You died dreaming of a warm meal, cooked at home. You died begging to world for a simple snack cake to quiet the pain in your stomach. You died alone, cold and hungry. 

The divine didn’t seem to care that you only stole what you thought you needed to survive. Really, not even that considering you starved to death. Maybe you didn’t pray enough. Maybe you didn’t go to the right church. Maybe you didn’t give away what little food you had often enough. 

Explaining that felt like shining a spotlight on every way you failed. You failed in life and you failed in death. Not good enough to get into heaven and yet you were also not bad enough to have a respected place in hell. Weak, unless and fueled by fear of once again going without. 

“So, that’s why you’ve always got snacks?” Angel pointed out, making you blush hard in shame. The trauma of your life hand a lasting grip around your actions even in death. 

“I’m trying to be better about it,” You felt shame in how you tended to hoard snacks in your room, rarely actually doing more than a little nibbling at them. Charlie did a great job of ensuring all residents had access to three meals a day, though someone was almost always missing from one meal or another. “I know I don’t have to worry about starving here, it’s just hard.” 

In the shadows of the hall, red eyes watched the group. A smile stretched in the distance as they discussed how the traumas of life leaked into the afterlife and the ways you could move past your traumas. 

He couldn’t say why he was drawn to you. You were little more than a lost doe and yet you plagued his mind. He wanted to cast you out so you’ll leave his thoughts as much as he wanted to keep you as a little pet for his own amusements. There was time enough to figure out what to do about the conflicting urges. For now, he can simply watch from a distance, from the shadows.

Rosie had told him that in her expert opinion he was ‘catching feelings’ when he had lamented his inability to settle on a course of action. That aggravated him more than anything else, well almost. The utter glee at the concept was more annoying by just a touch. 

He was above romantic sentiments just as he was above the carnal desires of the flesh. Rosie was mistaken, Alastor decided as he also made the decision that he would do nothing about you. There was no reason to let you plague him any longer. Simply look away, move on with his days and it would pass. 

Without the desire to do anything about this strange draw to you, Alastor settled on watching you from across the room. He watched as you ate, as you threw out the occasional small package of snacks.Turns out, he wasn’t very good at looking away from you. 

It didn’t escape him how you would frown, discussing your decision with Angel. You had decided you would no longer hoard snacks and oh, how proud of you the group was. 

You were growing. Healing. Blooming. 

If you’d talk to him, he’d tell you that very thing. Yes, he decided as you gave away snacks that he would tell you just how proud he was of you when you presented him with a part of your stash. 

He watched and he waited as you gave out cakes, crackers and cookies to everyone else. 

But never to him. No, it was always Angel and the other residents you shared your spoils with. Not once had you sought him out to offer him a cracker, cake or cookie. Not that he indulged in processed snacks or sweets on anything but the rarest occasion but that didn’t stop his shadow from bristling in annoyance behind him. 

He wanted to be offered. To be recognized. To be thought of. To be noticed. 

But he didn’t have feelings for you, he told himself. And that’s what he kept telling himself as the purging of your stash came to an end, drawer empty and flow of snacks becoming a trickle, an occasional treat purchased with the intention of sharing.

Oh, how you’d healed. 

~~~~~<3

The first time it happened, you nearly stepped on it. Someone had left a simple plain cardboard box in front of your room door without so much as a note attached to it. Inside were two equally simple cookies. Nothing large, nothing fancy. 

Setting them on your desk, you debated eating them or not. They looked good but when you had asked around, no one knew where they had come from. 

“Guess you’ve got a secret admirer,” Angel had teased you. “If the cookies are good, you should date them.” 

You didn’t know how you’d pull that off without knowing who left them though. Surely they were safe to eat, it’s not like random people came and left the hotel.

What’s the worst that could happen, if they were drugged? You were safe in your room. If they made you sick you had a private bathroom. You were already dead so what’s the harm?

The cookies were good, it turned out. You had nibbled on them over a few days, spreading out the treat. It seemed as soon as they were gone though, a new box appeared at the door. This time with a handful of crackers, some sliced cheese, fruit and sliced cured meat.

This continued for months, treats that were simple, modest and only enough to last for a few days. No matter how quickly or slowly you had consumed the gift, the night you discarded the empty box always brought a new box in the morning. 

~~~~~<3 

You leaned against the counter watching Alastor work. It was late and though you were not hungry, you often found yourself in the kitchen. Just being able to go down and look at the food you had access to had been helping you resist the urge to hoard food in your room when ever you felt that anxiety claw at you. 

It helped too, that you had been able to look forward to the small snack boxes that showed up. 

“Something on your mind, Dear?” Alastor didn’t look to you as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes on ingredients he was measuring out. 

You hadn’t expected to find him in the kitchen. It was late and those who didn’t leave to party were asleep. Husk was even passed out at the bar. 

“Not really,” You said after a moment. 

“The food is all here,” Alastor said with a hum, “If that’s what you’re here to check.” 

“Oh, No! I-”

“We’ve all got our quirks.” Alastor cut you off, pouring water into a bowl and adding yeast. 

“What are you making?” You asked rather than face admitting that he was right about what you were there to do.

“Beignets,” Alastor said, mildly annoyed.

“Those are like donuts, right?” You asked, hoping that you had imagined the sound. 

“Indeed, they’re similar.” Alastor kept his words curt. 

“For breakfast tomorrow?” 

“At this hour, it’s today.” Alastor swallowed his annoyance at the endless questions and lied, “Yes, for breakfast.”

“I’ll go, sorry for bothering you.” You stepped backward as you took the hint, smile falling from your face. 

“No,” He answered too fast, bitter sigh huffing through his always present smile, “I’ll need someone to try the test one.” 

“Oh.” 

You sat, watching Alastor work. He mixed flour into the liquid. This was a way you had never seen Alastor before. It crossed your mind that he probably didn’t let many see him with his coat and gloves off, smile turned soft and flour dusting his dark hands. 

But he was letting you. 

His coat was draped over the back of the chair you sat in, brushing against your skin as you shifted positions. His gloves were folded neatly and discarded on the table. He worked with his sleeves rolled up and a tune filling the air as he alternated between humming and softly singing to himself. 

It was beautiful. You were engrossed watching him work. The sound of his voice seemed to wrap around you, caressing you with warmth. 

You’d never spent much time with Alastor. You knew he was a deer, like yourself but until now, you’d thought his only deer trait had been the antlers and ears atop his head. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would have a little fluffy tail to match your own. 

It should have, you had fluffy ears to match his though with your longer hair, it was more obvious that they were indeed ears. You watched as his red and black tail moved with him as he put the dough in the icebox to chill.

“What now?” You asked, leaning back from him. 

“We wait, my little doe,” Alastor sat front of you across the table, leaning into your space across the small table.

“For how long?” You ask, not sure what to make of spending so much time with him. 

“A while,” Alastor said, “But I assure you the wait is well worth it.” 

“But you don’t like sweets.”

“You know what I like?” Alastor’s dark hand, stained by blood that could never be washed away dramatically rose to rest over his heart with a flourish as he leaned forward even more. “I’m ever so flattered.” 

You stuttered, not sure how to backtrack. Alastor laughed at your flustered stuttering before taking pity on you, pointing a long claw tipped finger so close to you that you swore he was going to stab you with his nail. 

“You, my dear, do enjoy sweets however.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, face warm. He knew that you cared for sweets. You were tired but seeing this relaxed side of him was thrilling. That chased away most of the fatigue, driving you to stay and find someway to push the conversation along. 

“I didn’t know you liked to cook,” You struggled to decide how to fill the silence.

“I’ve always found it rather enjoyable.” Alastor cocked his head to the side as he watched you. “My mother taught me.” 

“That must have been nice.” You weren’t sure what to say, having never really gotten to experience the love of a mother yourself. 

“It was.” Alastor watched as you leaned forward, resting your head on your arms. There was something about you that he couldn’t put down. “Did your mother not teach you to cook?” 

Your ears sagged atop your head at the question, earning a raised eyebrow from the man across from you. “She didn’t teach me much of anything. I was on my own since I was fourteen.” 

“Oh, Dear,” Alastor said as if he didn’t know that already, “How dreadful.” 

“I never really had enough food for learning to cook to be a thing.” You shrugged your shoulders, not lifting your head as you stretched out your arm to use it as a pillow. You shifted, allowing you to face him even as you used the side of the table to lounge on. 

“But you do now.” Alastor pointed out as he sat with you in a kitchen full of food.

“Full of Charlie’s and the hotel’s food.” You said, “I couldn’t risk wasting it. It’s enough that everyone shares with me what they make and,” You shake your head awkwardly against your arm, cutting off the thought.

“And?” Alastor pressed. 

“Someone’s been leaving little boxes of treats at my door. I wish I knew who it was.” 

“Why?” Alastor leaned back now, putting distance between the two of you, “Does the origin of a gift matter?” 

“I-” Your eyes teared up as your voice strangled in your throat. You sat up, not sure why you were being so open with him. 

“You~?” Alastor asked in a sing song tone as a tear slipped from your eye and ran down. His eyes followed it as it cut a path down your cheek. It was maddening to him, what you made him feel. How watching that tear captured his attention, yet he raged at the fact that it was born from pain in your heart.

“I’ve never had anyone give me treats like that.” You said, wiping the tear away much to his disappointment. 

“Never? Surely a suiter gifted you treats while courting for your attention.” Oh, why did saying that raise bile in his throat? 

“I’ve never-” You laugh, not sure why the idea of discussing this with Alastor made you feel uneasy. “There was never any suiters. No boys. No one.” 

“I struggle to believe that.” Alastor laughed as he stood from his chair, “Come my dear, wash your hands and join me.” 

You didn’t know what he wanted but Alastor was a man to be obeyed. While you were both deer, he had far more power than you could ever dream to possess. If he wanted to demand your help, you had little choice but to comply. 

Sure, the hotel offered a sense of safety but if Alastor wanted to squash you like a bug, shared demonic traits or not, there was nothing that could stop him. Well, Charlie would but she was asleep. 

Alastor had the counter floured and a small portion of dough out as you joined him, drying your hands. “Where’s the rest?” 

“That’ll be fried up in the morning, if it passes our test.”

He pulled you in front of the counter before stepping close behind you. It was hard to ignore the overwhelming presence of him looming over your shoulder as he reached around to grab the rolling pin only to pass it to you.

“Roll it out until I say,” He directed as he covered the pin in flour only to place it in your hands. 

As you worked, his hands rested on either side of you against the counter, boxing you in from behind while not touching you at all. It was hard for you to ignore how close he was. 

It was like the man was taking over your mind, something you hadn’t expected considering you hadn’t given him much thought in the months before. The smell of his cologne seemed to surround, making your head light. You weren’t sure why you were reacting to him like this but it left your nerves buzzing. 

Now all you could think of was the way his breath caressed over your ears, the way his hands looked without the gloves, dusted with flour, the sound of his voice as he hummed and the smell of his cologne. 

“There.” Alastor said, taking the pin from you and replacing it with a dough cutter. “Squares, about the size of your fist.” 

Cool air swept around you as Alastor moved away, checking the pot of oil heating on the stove. You’d only just begun to relax under his looming presence and now he was gone and damnit, you missed it. 

There was just enough dough to form two squares with some left over. Alastor scooped them up before dropping them in the oil. You stood next to him, watching as the oil came to life around the dough. 

“How long do we cook them?” You asked over the sound of the violently bubbling oil.

“Not long.” Alastor said from too close behind you once again as inky black shadow imps swept up the flour and crumbs, wiping down the counters.

On the counter, he set a plate with a rack over it and next to that was a sifter atop a container of powdered sugar. You were boxed in by Alastor as he rested his hands on either side of the fryer, looking over your shoulder as he once again boxed you in. 

“Now.” He said softly, “Scoop them out and put them on the rack.” 

You were timid, scared of being burned as you fished for the squares with the spoon made of wire. 

“Hurry, hurry!” Alastor cried, voice carrying a musical note as he only made your nerves worse, “You don’t want them to burn!” 

Finally, you got them out. Oil dripped off the puffed up pastries as they quickly drained the excess oil off. Alastor grabbed the sifter only to put it in your hands. He moved you as if you were a puppet, placing the sifter in your hands over the rack, steam wafting up to caress your hand. You stood still as he poured a few spoonfuls of powdered sugar into the basket. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He teased. “You can manage to turn the handle, can’t you?” 

“Yeah,” You stammered over the word, mind buzzing with the anxiety of having Alastor, the powerful, blood thirsty Radio Demon spending so much time in your immediate space. Your hands shook as you turned the small metal handle, causing the wire bar inside the sifter to spin, agitating the powdered sugar and helping it fall in a smooth, clump free shower over a square. 

Alastor used his hand on your forearm to move the sifter over the other pastry when he had decided there was enough dusting on the first. You didn’t know if there was any science to how much sugar each got or if he was simply measuring with his long dead heart. 

Once both were covered enough for his taste, he plucked the sifter from your fingers and set it aside. 

“What now?” You asked, unsure still of what was going on. 

“Now you try one.” Alastor said, plucking a square up. When you went to grab the other, he roughly shoved the rack out of your reach. 

“What? Why did you do that?!” Your brow furrowed as you looked at the rack, now well out of reach before looking back at the man standing too close to you. “How can I try it if you won’t let me grab it?”

“Open.” Alastor commanded as he ripped the corner off the beignet in his hand. 

“Wha-” Your question was cut off by the soft, warm, sweet taste that invaded your mouth somewhat forcefully. 

It was delicious. 

“Well?” Alastor asked as you swallowed the bite. 

You hadn’t noticed Alastor rip off another chunk of beignet but found it pushed between your lips the moment you attempted to praise the taste. This time, instead of retreating, his thumb rested against your lower lip as you took in the bite. 

His nails were long and pointed claws, not the thick claws that encased the fingertips of his gloves, but still dangerous. The sharp point of his thumbnail poked between your lips as he watched you chew for a few moments. 

You were spellbound by the way he looked down at you. What exactly was happening, you had no fucking clue but the air between you and Alastor was thick with something you couldn’t begin to understand. 

His touch left your lip to rip another chunk off the beignet slowly as you watched him. His dark bloodstained hands were covered in the white powdered sugar and flour, softening their appearance.

“It’s good,” You whispered as he slowly brought another bite to your lips. 

This time he offered it, waiting for you to open your mouth and take what he was offering on your own, knowing full well who was offering it. Somehow, it felt like something far more than a midnight snack was being offered to you but what?

“It’s been you,” You said, not asked as Alastor presented another bite that you took willingly as soon as you spoke. 

His thumb again lingered on your lips, sugar damp with oil and sticky on his skin smearing. 

“Yes,” Alastor said after a pause to toss the remaining portion of the beignet on the counter and wiping the hand that had been holding it on a hand towel on the counter, cleaning it of some of the sugar. Yet his other hand didn’t leave you. His thumb remained on your lower lip, feeling every twitch and breath. 

“Why?” You whispered, his thumb slipping against your lip and coming dangerously close to falling into your mouth. 

“You never offered me anything of your stash,” Alastor spoke softly.

“You don’t like sweets,” You hadn’t wanted to waste his time when you had made the decision to dismantle your stash. It had been a emotionally difficult choice, one that you had made before and never stuck to for long until now. “Or junk food.”

“You ignored me.” Alastor’s thumb slipped, running along her lower lip but never leaving it. “I thought if you had better options…”

“I’d share them with you?” Your voice was coming out so soft now, Alastor’s tall ears cocked forward to better pick up your words. 

“But you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t share them with anyone.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to share them with anyone.”

“Why?” 

“I wanted to keep them all to myself. They were too good to share. I-” 

Alastor’s thumb slipped into your mouth, cutting off whatever you had been about to say. Sticky sweetness exploded across your tongue as his thumb caressed it. You could feel the point of his nail against your tongue, a hint of danger coated in sweet sugar. 

Your mind was numb as you caressed the pad of his thumb, rolling the tip of your tongue under his nail softly. You were not sure what he wanted from you. The idea of overstepping Alastor’s unspoken boundaries was terrifying. This was uncharted waters. A side of Alastor you had never seen or even dared to dream of seeing. 

Alastor watched you as you stood near frozen. “Under some circumstances, I enjoy a sweet.” 

~~~~~<3

See part 2 for the smut.

[fountainpenguin]

Ahasbands are great in Last Life because you get Mumbo throwing out fun lines like "Wanna kiss?" with no build-up and he calls their marriage "tactical" and he just wanders around being happy-go-lucky, giggly, and throwing his husband under the bus.

Then there's Martyn who covers Mumbo during a crime scene, canonically wears some kind of commitment ring, is one button click away from trading his life for Mumbo's, and he kinda tails Mumbo around the map and occasionally mutters things like "I get it- I'm your husband, so I'm just supposed to know" and "Did you forget you're married?" and "Yeah, whatever- I'm taking the ring off."

Mumbo is married first to his commitment to the bit. Specifically the part of the bit where Martyn spontaneously announced they're married and no one else knows what's going on. It's a secret; a gag; a hidden easter egg. Mumbo's not going to play it up in front of people lest he break unspoken rules or be embarrassing. Mumbo keeps flitting around while Martyn dogs his heels with the first-aid kit like "?? Why is he not playing with me?"

Mumbo never denies the marriage or rejects it it any way. He pretty much just asked Martyn "Are we friends?" and Martyn told him "We're married" and Mumbo was like "Oh, okay" and went skipping off again. Mumbo doesn't even dispute it, he just thinks it's hilarious and satellites around Martyn for a while because he makes him laugh.

The marriage bit survives only as long as Mumbo's entertained and Martyn's willing to overlook how little he's getting back. Mumbo contributes nothing but puns and attempted murder.

I've never seen such a peculiar dynamic... Like, possibly unrequited love but also happily married for easy access to jokes and laughter?? One husband trying to keep this marriage together while the other is like "I am silly and have no thoughts except how much I want to blow you up, please it would be funny." incredible, no notes.

Martyn would stab himself to give a life to Mumbo, but if Mumbo had the power to kill Martyn in a snap of his fingers, he would. but also he loves him because Martyn's silly and killed too many chickens and covered up a horse theft. It's like if a god kept a mortal around for offerings and entertainment. you get me.

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt.5

As usual my thanks go out to @samkerrworshipper and @valewosomtb for the support and every other person who find a little joy in this series ❤️

Lucy wrangled you into the backseat of her holy Cupra while Ona easily slip into the driver seat. The blonde manoeuvred the Car safely through traffic and they arrived Camp Nuo shortly after leaving the house. Normally Lucy and Ona would walk the short distance but with state you were in that would be an impossible task.

“Come on Bubs... we're here... time to head to Alexia” Lucy said smiling trying to get your attention as you continued to be engrossed with the fidget toy.

Lucy nudged you lightly and you looked at her “Huh?”

“I have to go into work...you'll stay with Alexia, okay?” your sister explained for the second (third?) time

“Can't I stay with you... I'll be good, I promise” you say with big pleading eyes

“Not today Bubs... tomorrow okay... you will have fun with Ale” Lucy said softly as she coaxed your high ass out of the car.

She took your hand to steady you once again as she led you into the building leaving Ona with two kit bags and your “Survival Kit” as Lucy dubbed it. Once inside Lucy made a beeline for the gym knowing Alexia always came in early so she could drop you off at Gym care. She pushed the door open with her foot not trusting you to not fall over once she let go of your arm.

“Alexia... your day kid is here” she announced grinning while you looked around stunned like you've never saw a gym before

“What an earth happened?” Alexia exclaimed taking in your slightly swaying form “I saw her three hours ago – she was fine!”

“Yeah well...” Lucy rubbed the back of her neck embarrassed “... I may or may not have overdosed her painkillers... now she's high as a kite and doesn't really know what’s going on”

“You WHAT?” there it was – Captain Alexia appeared once again

“It was an accident because I misinterpreted the dosage...” your sister defended herself

“Woah” you exclaimed in awe as your eyes land on the Barca captain “You're pretty”

There was a short silence before Lucy bursted out laughing and Alexia looked confused at you. You stumbled towards her stopping just in time to not crash into her as she steadied you and you got really close to her face

“So pretty” you mumbled out “Why are you so pretty.. you have like... insanely brown eyes”

“Ehrm... thank you?” the Spaniard said bewildered by your actions “We've... met before?”

“Don't even bother... she'll won't remember anyway” Lucy was still laughing finding extreme joy in your high state at this point “Just... go with it... oh... and you remembered how I said to let her do weights if she wants... please don't let her”

“Lucy!! Vamos!” Keira yelled down the hallway in passing which caused you to turn around quickly nearly falling over if it wasn't for Alexias hand yanking on your shirt successfully pulling you back against her before letting you go again.

“Keira!” you shouted out happy trying to follow

“Nope...” Lucy said quickly stopping you as she stood in front of you “She called me, not you... you stay with Alexia... be good for her, okay Bubs?”

“You owe me Bronze... you owe me BIG time” Alexia grumbled at Lucy while your sister already was on the way out of the gym “Don't tell Mapí about this.. she'll find a reason to get out of training and land her annoying ass right here in the gym... I don't need a second child in here”

“I might be irresponsible sometimes, but I'm not that irresponsible... I wouldn't do that to you” Lucy held her pinkie up in a promise as she slipped through the door leaving you behind

“Okay Cariño... looks like it's just the two of...” Alexia turned around again just to find you gone “I swear I will get grey hair because of her...” she continue to mumble as she looked for you.

You were inspecting some of the stuff standing around.

You were about to touch a promising looking red button as you heard Alexia behind you

“Don't touch that” the Captain said strict as she softly pulled you away from the treadmill

“Did someone ever tell you that you have pretty eyes?” you slurred as the blonde sat you down on a bench in the corner of the gym.

“I've been told” Alexia mumbled wrecking her brain what she could you to keep you occupied while she did her rehab

“Do you have a partner, pretty spaniard?” you looked at her curious with glassy eyes

“Yes” Alexia answered shortly still trying to find entertainment for you

“What's his name?” you continued to question

“Her name is Olga” the blonde answered distracted

“Olga... lucky bitch” you said nonchalantly before trying to stand up again

“Sit” Alexia said strictly and raised an eyebrow at you

“Should I bark too?” you looked at her confused “I can roll over... I can do that really good” you nodded your head quickly

“Just... please stay seated” the blonde massaged her temples. This was going to be a long LONG rehab session. Right on cue the door opened again and one of Barcas physios – Valeria entered the room.

“Oh... we have company today?” the dark haired woman said surprised

“Are you Olga?” you looked up with glassy eyes at the new person in the room

“No... my name is Valeria and you are?” she smiled politely

“A guaranteed headache” Alexia mumbled before smiling at the physio “This is y/n … she's... a teammates relative” she introduced you not knowing how comfortable you or Lucy were in letting people know your relationship. She knew Lucy was a very private person so she kept it as casual as possible.

“Okay... should we get started?” the physio smiled as she set up some stuff for Alexia to work with

“Yep... I'm ready” you exclaimed happily as finally someone understood your need to move – which you thought you did but in reality you were still sitting in the same spot Alexia parked you in

“You just sit there and let the drugs wear off” the Captain said as she started to stretch

“Drugs?” the dark haired woman asked alarmed

“She sprained her wrist and her relative read the dosage of the painkillers wrong and gave her more than she should have – result is this 16 year old delirious girl” Alexia answered knowing that Drugs were an absolute no-go in club policy and that Valeria would have to report it if she had the suspicion of drug abuse by players.

“Jesus Maria... I wondered why she looked so... spaced out” Valeria chuckled

“Yeah... and I offered to babysit while she was still sober and got a stoned kid delivered to look...” the captain began to say as she saw you in the mirror crawling towards the leg press “DON'T touch that” she interrupted herself as you whipped your head around caught

“It looks interesting... you look boring” you said sheepishly

“30 minutes ago I was pretty” Alexia mumbled which caused the physio to laugh quietly

“Pretty spaniard?” you mumbled confused

“Yes?” Alexia answered distracted as she did her next exercise

“When are we done with training?” you whined

“Cariño... we just started” Alexia said concentrated “Maybe Valeria has a tennis ball for you or something” the blonde looked at her physio pleadingly

“I've got a stress ball?” Valeria offered the player the said item

“Look Cariño.. a stress ball just for you” the blonde smiled sweat starting to form on her forehead

“Uuuuhhh... stress ball” you exclaimed happily as you stumbled over towards the Barca captain

“Careful!!!” the blonde warned you starting a new exercise

You suddenly got distracted with your short attention span as you noticed the physio – again. You approached her cautiously. Alexia watched you ready to step in when needed or Valeria got uncomfortable.

“Who are you again, not-Olga?” you asked carefully

“Valeria... I'm a physiotherapist here with Barcelona” the dark haired woman answered warily.

You hummed approvingly before taking another cautious step towards the dark haired woman.

“Cariño” Alexia warned still not leaving you out of her sight

You stood now far too close to the physiotherapist – at least for her liking. She took a small step back as you lifted your hand slowly before you poked her cheek

“You look so soft” you mumbled mesmerized as you continued to poke her cheek softly

Valeria looked at you surprised but didn't stop your actions. Alexia groaned loudly being embarrassed by your antics.

“Thank you, y/n... that's a very nice thing of you to say” the physio chuckled now seeing that you really don't mean any harm and just being totally spaced out

“So many pretty soft woman... and I'm stuck with my sister” you sighed theatrical which caused both women to laugh.

“Do you want the stress ball, Cariño?” Alexia asked changing the topic before you could name your sister and destroyed her plan of keeping your relationship to one of the players a secret.

“Can I have pizza?” you asked hopefully grinning like a maniac at the blonde

“Lo siento – no pizza Cariño... but if you like I can make some paella at the weekend” Alexia tried to offer you a compromise

“Low silence?” you questioned gotten hung up on the spanish phrase not even listening to what the captain had offered you

“Lo siento...” Alexia repeated slowly as she took a water break “It means “I'm sorry” or just “Sorry” in spanish”

“You guys are weird” you shrugged your shoulders before you let yourself plopp down on the ground not without Alexia jumping forward grabbing your injured arm holding it so you wouldn't use it to support you. You shrieked frightened looking with big eyes up at the blonde.

“It's okay... I just don't want that you hurt yourself further Cariño” Alexia explained softly as she slowly let go of your arm since you now where seated on the ground.

“I don't think we'll get done more, Alexia... why don't we stop for today and you go for your massage” the physiotherapist now interrupted your interaction.

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea” Alexia sighed out looking at your half closed eyes while you had problems staying up right. She started to pack her bag before turning around looking at you. She crouched down in front of you softly stroking your cheek

“Come on Cariño … we're done for today. I'll just get my knee massaged and then we can go see your sister again, okay?” she spoke softly not wanting to startle you

“Can I get ice cream while you get your knee fixed? There's a REALLY good place on Wilmslow Road... it's called Moonlight... they have cookie dough and ice cream and oh my heavens their crepes are to die for... sooooo good” you smiled widely and Alexia would swear on her mothers live that you started to drool.

“You can go with your sister later, Cariño.... now we need to get going to my massage session” Alexia smiled softly at your confused state as she helped you up and guided you out of the gym towards the relaxing massage room

“I don't like it here” you slurred as you saw several massage beds “Looks like a hospital”

“Not a hospital Cariño....” the blonde spaniard chuckled “... just a simple massage room... hola Camilo – Cómo estás?” Alexia smiled at the dirty blonde man who smiled right back at her.

“Estoy bien, gracias” he smiled as he gestured towards the recliner

“Are you Olga?” you asked from behind Alexia trying to look over the midfielders shoulder which doesn't really work since you were about a head smaller than her

“Shush” the blonde silenced you started to get embarrassed immediately again “Quiet”

“Huh? Quién es?” the man asked as he spied around Alexia who decided to pull you next to her

“Y/n...” she answered as you looked at her confused

“Yes?” you said thinking she talked to you instead of introducing you to the other physio.

“Not you, Cariño.... Camilo asked your name...” Alexia explained as she sat down on one of the beds ready for her knee massage “Sit down Cariño...”

You flopped down next to Alexia on the ground as she looked down on you

“There are enough free beds and you choose the ground?” she raised an eyebrow at you

“They're reserved... there towels on them” you blinked rapidly

“They're not... just sit down on one of them” Alexia reassured you softly and you pushed yourself into a standing position again before basically falling face first on the bed next to Alexia.

The spaniard looked baffled but let you be hoping she could enjoy her massage without you interrupting her relax time. Camilo just started to massage Alexias knee as she heard light snoring from the bed next to her

“Seriously?” the blonde asked in disbelieve as she looked over to you

Your injured wrist was hanging off the bed your face turned away from her and you were dead to the world

“Cariño... despertar” Alexia whispered softly as she stroke slowly over your cheek trying to wake you up.

You grunted and turned your head away which caused the blonde to chuckle as she didn't give up switching to scratching the back of your neck.

“Come on, Cariño... it's time to wake up and deliver you back to your sister” she cooed at you

“Lucy?” you mumbled SLOWLY waking up – still very much very high

“Yeah... training is over, she's waiting in the locker room for you... let's get going, hm?” Alexia smiled slightly still scratching the back of your neck lightly

“Five more minutes” you mumbled sleepily as you pressed your nose further into the towel covered massage bed

“No come on... you can sleep at home...” Alexia got a little more persistent switching to slightly nudge your shoulder

You whined pathetically and tried to get away from her which caused you to nearly fall off if it wasn't for Alexia to pull you back by your shirt

“Aye dios mio” the blonde rolled her eyes pulling you up in a sitting position “I feel the nap have made it worse”

You grinned widely and swayed a little bit from left to right. The Barca captain pulled you further up until you were “standing” and held you securely by your hips

“Let's get you back to your sister... you actually showed me I don't want to have kids for at least another five years” Alexia mumbled pushing you forward carefully out of the room and down the hallway towards the locker room. She grabbed around you to open the door without letting go of your waist.

“Bronze” she yelled inside and immediately several heads shot up towards the voice of their captain.

“She's still in the shower” Ona said as she stood up walking over to you and took your swaying form Alexia leading you over to sit you down in front of Lucys cubicle “Just stay here, Bebita... Lucy will be back very soon” she said softly patting your head

“Mhm” you hummed smiling with a stoned look on your face

“What's wrong with her?” you could hear Mapí whispered and you turned your head and waved at her

“Hi colorbook spaniard” you grinned dopily

Half the locker room started laughing while Mapí looked a little hurt and confused. Keira studied your face before turning to the tattooed spaniard

“Don't take it personal... I'm pretty sure she doesn't even know where she is... Lucy overdosed her pain meds and now she's very VERY high” the english woman said

“Keira” you suddenly bursted out happily trying to stand up so you could get to her

“Stay down, Bitsy... I'll be over shortly, okay?” Keira said as she started to put some shoes on

“I have shoes too... see” you smiled holding up your hand

“Very nice shoes, Bitsy... they look good on you” Keira – of course – picked up on your state and just went with it.

“Thank you... I got them at the place on Cheetham Hill.... I love that shop... Lucy took me there a lot... and she always got me something too, you know... back in the day when she still cared about me” you started to ramble getting sad at the end

“She still cares about you, Bitsy... what makes you think otherwise?” Keira looked a little shocked at your “confession”

“Naah... she has her own life now....” you waved Keira off “... and a new girlfriend... did you know that? She's spanish”

“These topic changes giving me whip-lash” Keira mumbled before answering you “Yes Bitsy... I know... she's very nice too... and she's sitting right next to you”

You turned to your side – the wrong side – looking at Aitana and after a short moment “Damn... my sister has game... you pretty”

You could hear Keiras hand connect with her forehead as Mapí fell of the bench laughing

“Wrong side Bitsy... other side” Keira said desperately

“Oh... my bad” you mumbled and turned to Ona “... you? I met you before... why didn't you tell me you the new girl?”

“I'm... sorry?” Ona said knowing it has no worth trying to convince you that you already knew since Lucy officially introduced the two of you – telling you “This is Ona.. my girlfriend”

“Why would you date my sister?” you squinted your eyes sizing her up

“Oh now it gets good” Mapí grinned excited “Choose your answer wisely Batlle – she's out for blood”

Even Keira couldn't help it and started to grin – even if she tried to hide it.

“Ehrm...” Ona started taken aback but you already lost interest in her answer looking at her expectantly

“Do you speak French?” you asked her – changing topic again

“Why would she speak French? You don't speak French, Bubs” Lucy interrupted your “conversation” with her girlfriend drying her hair with a towel

“Elle a l'air d'être bonne avec sa bouche” you answered in nearly perfect French shrugging your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ...” your sister exclaimed shocked about what you just said “... why would you say something like this?”

“What did she say?” Mapí asked interested

“I said..” you stared but Lucy silenced you by putting her hand over your mouth

“NO!” she exclaimed horrified “Don't repeat it... please”

“Let her talk, Luce” Ona said not knowing what Lucy made a fuss about

“It's embarrassing...” your sister tried to warn her girlfriend before letting you go

“I said... what did I say??” you started but then lost your train of thoughts looking up at Luce for help.

“Nothing important” Lucy said quickly sitting down next to you changing into her sweatpants

“Buzzkill” Keira grinned from opposite you two

“Believe me... it wasn't something I want to hear my baby sister say ever again” your sister groaned turning towards you “And since WHEN do you speak French? Or is it just your mushed up brain that speaks French?”

“Jérôme taught me” you said grinning getting distracted by a piece of pre-wrap.

“Uh... is Jérôme your boyfriend?” Patri asked grinning

“Don't have a boyfriend... have a girlfriend” you mumbled totally engrossed with the piece of wrap

“I knew that” Mapí exclaimed victorious

“A girlfriend hm Bitsy...” Keira hummed smiling slightly “... you do take after your sister after all”

“My girlfriend is pretty” you mumbled distracted

“So is mine” Lucy defended herself

“You dating pretty spaniard??” you looked at her shocked

“Of course I do... I introduced you” your sister said desperately

“Before you get into a fight, Lucia” Alexia interrupted you both as your head whipped towards her voice

“Hi pretty spaniard... you are so pretty... you could do better than my sister” you slurred grinning widely

Lucy noticed you called Alexia “pretty spaniard” and became big eyes concluding you thought she was dating her captain totally forgetting you called her that when she herself delivered you. There was a stunned silence in the locker room before all of the players bursted out laughing – including Ona, Alexia and Keira.

“I... don't even know what to say” Lucy said giving up on having a half normal conversation with you shaking her head

“I still don't know who Jérôme is” Patri said after she stopped laughing whiping tears from her eyes.

“Yeah Bubs... who's Jérôme?" Lucy jumped on the wagon grinning

“Jérôme Reisacher” you shrugged your shoulders now “choosing” Aitana as your victim studying her very closely “You're flawless...” you mumbled after a few seconds

Aitana looked a little uncomfortable but smiled politely “Thank you”

“Jérôme Reisacher is a Coach at Bayern Munich” Mapí said confused her phone in her hand

“How do you know a Bayern Munich Coach?” your sister asked you just as confused as Mapí

“Visited Georgia...” you said and a soft smile came over your face.

Lucy accepted your answer shrugging her shoulders. It wasn't something unusual for her that you go around visiting her Lioness teammates. Millie Bright, Mary Earps, Alessia Russo, Ella Toone the list goes on for miles – you grew up with a lot of them and had a pretty good relationship to nearly all of them. So she didn't think anything about it when you said you visited Georgia in Munich – she put it down as never been to the city and wanted to visit. So she completely missed how your face changed into a loving smile. Unsurprisingly it DIDN'T go unnoticed by Keira.

“Georgia, hm?” she asked you grinning widely her eyes shining mischievously

“Mhm...” you nodded smiling

Now Alexia caught on so did Ona and Ingrid – the only one who still hasn't have a clue was your own sister

“Georgia is a good soul, Kei... I rather have her hang out with G than with Tooney” Lucy defended her little protégé.

“Oh I have no objection with them hanging out...” Keira grinned at Lucys obliviousness

“Then what was that “Georgia hm”??” Lucy asked imitating her ex-girlfriend

“You simply can't be that dense, Lucy Bronze” the english woman said bluntly

“What do you me...” your sister started as it suddenly hit her like a brick her face changing to a surprised face

“There we go... NOW the light is on and someone just came home” Keira said rolling her eyes

“GEORGIA??? GEORGIA STANWAY IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND????” Lucy yelled at you shocked

“Ssssshhhh....” you tried to silence her panicking “Stop yelling... Lucy might hear you and then I'm dead... and G too”

“I... I... I... I...” your sister stuttered not knowing how to process this information “When... how... how did this start?”

“You can't tell Lucy.. promise” you looked at your sister not realizing you looked at your sister

“I promise” Lucy said quickly trying to get as much information out of your stoned brain

“Started last year just before the Euros... I mean... nothing happened but.. it kinda started there – if you understand” you answered honestly “Lucy didn't had a lot of time – I mean I understand, since she's like the oldest person ever play at such a high level... she needs to train a LOT... but I was there too, you know” you started to tell your sister everything “... so I started to spend more time with Ella, Less and Georgia... we had a lot of fun... I started to feel different around G tho... never acted on it... Lucy would kill me if she knew G and I are dating... after they won the Euros, they got drunk... all of them... REALLY drunk... I talked to Mills about it.. she said to just go for it... so I did... went over and kissed her... G.. not Millie... that would have been weird... that's how it started... but please... PLEASE don't tell Luce... she would really freak and we thought we wait with telling her... we thought about calling our first born Tough... she won't kill us if we name our first born after her...”

You just spilled everything without even realizing it. Lucy was shocked – and in a way hurt. You repeated so often not to tell her because she would kill the both of them that in a way it hurt her a lot. The locker room was dead quiet. No one dared to say anything or breath too loud waiting for Lucys reaction to your confession

“You could always talk to your sister, you know” Lucy said carefully trying to keep you under the impression to talk to a stranger so you wouldn't panic

“I don't know if I could... I'm going to visit her soon but she's busy... she plays for a big club now and they play a lot of games and she has no time... don't want to distract her or be a burden” you mumbled getting sad thinking about it

“Dios mio... that turned sad quickly” Mapí whispered seeing your sad face

“She'll always make time for you” Lucy tried to reassure you

“I don't think so... she didn't show up for my birthday, you know... that really hurt... she said her flight got cancelled but it still fucking hurt” you started to sniffle

“I'm sorry... I'm really fucking sorry, Bubs” Lucy mumbled into your hair after she pulled you into a hug

“But that was also a good thing, you know” you mumbled against her shoulder

“Oh yeah? Why?” your sister asked interested

“Now she doesn't know about my tongue piercing I got from Tooney and Less... and partly Mearps... did you know you can get a LOT of things when you're friends with Mary Earps” you grinned and your happy stoned self was back

“You have a WHAT??!!” Lucy exclaimed “I'm going to kill all of them”

After your short run down depression road which made everyone in the locker room sad your newest confession made them laugh out loudly again

“See it positive Bronzey...” Mapí laughed patting Lucys shoulder “... at least her girl can't get her pregnant”

“It's not like we didn't try” you grinned loopy “...THAT was a good night”

“Ooooh goooood” Lucy groaned horrified “Please stop talking”

“It was” you defended not knowing what the problem was

“Stop talking... Lucy might hear you” your sister pleaded with you

“Uh... UH... yeah... that wouldn't be good” you said quickly looking around.

Mapí couldn't stop laughing having an absolute field day – not even Ingrids and Alexias glares could stop her

“I love stoned Baby Bronze...” the tattooed spaniard declared “We need to keep her on that level”

“Absolutely not” Lucy growled “And we're leaving right NOW”

“Can the flawless spaniard come too?” you asked hopefully pointing at Aitana

“Why would she want to come with us?” your sister asked you confused

“I don't know...” you shrugged while Aitana shook her head scared

“She needs to go to her home...” Lucy tried to reason with you “We take Ona home”

“Who's Ona again?” you looked around the locker room until your eyes fell on Keira “Oh... hi Kei” you smiled widely

“Ona... my girlfriend” Lucy stressed pointing at Ona who didn't know what to do at this point

“Hi Bitsy” Keira waved back at you smiling finding it extremely funny how you kept Lucy on her toes without even realising it.

You followed Lucys desperate pointing looking at Ona “Hey.... we met before, right?”

“Okay... now it's getting ridiculous..” your sister huffed out pulling you up and into her side “We're going home now and you'll sleep your high off... I don't want to know what else you spill at this stage”

You waved to everyone as your sister pulled you out of the locker room hoping Ona would just follow

“Bye pretty spaniard... hola flawless spaniard... bye colorbook” you yelled before the door closed behind you successfully separating you from the rest of the team.

Lucy manoeuvred you towards her car as you stopped dead in your tracks “THAT's your car?”

“Yes... it's nice innit?” your sister grinned

“Can I drive?” you asked hopefully

“Maybe tomorrow... you're tired” Lucy opened her car before throwing her keys to Ona signalling her she has to drive.

“Oh yeah... I forgot I'm tired... sorry Luce” you mumble slumping against her more

“No problem Bubs... I've got you” she smile proud at herself that her plan worked while she helped you into the backseat “You okay on your own or do you want me to sit in the back with you?”

“With me” you mumbled nearly asleep

“Okay....” your sister said softly before closing your door and walking around the car to get in the other side.

By the time she entered the car you were already sleeping which made her smile.

“That was quick” she grinned

“She's hurting Lucy” Ona said quietly

“I don't think so... the painkillers are still very much in her system” Lucy said quietly as she carefully took your good hand

“Not physically... emotionally” the blonde answered “As much fun as she is in her state... she doesn't have a filter – which means earlier she told you that she's hurting... that you're hurting her”

“I'll talk to her about it, I promise... It hurts me too that she thinks she can't trust me with things... or that I didn't even noticed how she distanced herself from me because I was so in my zone about winning the Euros... we need to talk about it... when she cleared up a little more” your sister said and Ona noticed that it really bothered her girlfriend

“It's not your fault” the spaniard tried before she got interrupted

“Of course it's my fault... I should have been more attentive... I should have noticed” your sister said bitterly

“No... I mean yes... but also no... yes, you should have been more attentive but you were focused – she could also have said something... if not at the Euros because she didn't want to distract you then after... but she also choose to run away from the confrontation – so no... it's not just your fault” Ona said calm. The rest of the drive was quiet as Lucy was caught up in her own thoughts, you snoring lightly your head resting against the window again and Ona driving.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Cabin

(the timeline is a lil weird in this so just go for the vibes, Pre-K verse. Fem!reader)

Based off this AWESOME ASK! so here's my lil take on it <3

“Think ‘m dyin.”

“You’re fine.”

”UGH- oi, th’ light- oi, Beth? That you? callin me, LT, they callin me.”

Simon doesn’t bother to look up from the tablet to his wounded comrade, who would be alright with some TLC and a long night’s sleep. Currently, he was trying to find somewhere they could all rest, somewhere safe, which seemed to be an easy task- as he knew this forest like the back of his hand. (After living in a town not even ten miles away for close to seven years) Not to mention, he happened to know where there was a cabin, which should be empty.

Technically it wasn’t his cabin, it had been your brother however when your brother moved he left it to you. And since it was the middle of the summer and the cabin didn’t have AC, Simon assumed you were most likely happily sitting at home with the kids, on an air-conditioned covered porch.

With that in mind, he made his decision to lead his team towards the cabin. It would be a bit of a trek, but it was the best option they had, it wasn’t far from where they had to leave the truck- the mission had been odd, just to accompany some international weapons dealer, and since they were the closest they had been assigned. Long- story short, it went to hell and they somehow made it back in one piece. They had to wait for pickup, to be treated, and then for the debrief, so he couldn’t quite just go home, though he wanted to.

“Since when do ya own real estate?” Kyle remarked as they approached the cabin, lit up by their flashlights and the moon that hung, he had gotten out with a broken rib and a graze on the arm- luckily he didn’t fall from any high places this time. It was a quaint thing, made of wood with a cute chimney, and a nice porch. A big red garage not too far away from it and a dirt path leading to the neat porch.

“Not mine.” Simon replied bluntly back, handing his backpack to Kyle, and then told them he would grab some emergency packs and the first aid kit from the garage. With one flashlight tucked under his arm, he went around the back of the garage while the rest went into the cabin, as he also told them the spare key was under the chair leg. He remembered building the garage, yet somehow he still would grumble about how loud the door was.

Normally the garage was barren, give or take the Christmas decorations you would have him store in there, a rack with his tools and weapons. As well a year’s worth of rations, and camping gear, both mundane and survival- to put it simply it had everything he would need if he simply needed to vanish for a while. Though he hadn’t needed to in a long moment, not since he met you and Ollie- and perhaps that could be summed up to he didn’t quite want to anymore, either way- he flipped on the flickering light expecting a vacant garage.

No. Instead, he found your car sitting in the darkness. He knew it was yours because only your car would have that dent he caused in the front fender. Within a millionth of a second everything began to make sense- you had said you had a project you were going to surprise him with, ‘take it off his shoulders’ as you gleefully had put it before he left. The air conditioning, you had taken on the task of installing the air conditioning while he was gone. Which meant you were in the cabin with Ollie and he just sent a team of men in there, armed.

All the same, he had taught you to fend for yourself, enough to where when he ran through the front door to the sight of a knife to Johnny’s neck and a panic-riddled fear within your eye. He wasn’t shocked by it. He quickly told Kyle to drop the gun, harshly at that, to which Johnny replied-

“WHA? Bonie’s go’ a knife-” “Simon?”

His eyes flash over to yours and almost out of habit, his hand went to take off the mask, to assure you, “S jus me, let Johnny go, baby. Jus me.”

“Oh my god,” You very quickly drop the weapon of opportunity and without much else warning you turn around on your heel to go down the hall, opening up the coat closet to pick up the three-year-old- who was still baffled on what was going on and why you told him to go hide.

All the while you were doing that Johnny very slowly looked back at Simon, a look of exasperation across his expression- because- well two things actually; he had technically seen the man’s face before, but never in good lighting and it wasn’t because Simon was trying to show his face it was more of a random moment post-OP. Secondly; “What do ya ‘ean ‘Baby?”

“ISTER RILEY!” The three-year-old shrieks with glee before any questions are asked and before any can be answered, the child in his blue dinosaur-themed PJs and his mob of hair messy from bed, yet he seemed as awake as one could be. Ollie tried to wiggle out of your grasp, failing so he frowned and looked to you, “Momma wan go ‘Ister Riley.”

You stand at the end of the hallway, beside the old couch and you look over the three men, one you happened to be in a relationship with, and the other two you had no earthly idea of their existence till two minutes before, where they rudely woke you up with clanking boots. You only glance the two over before returning your gaze to Simon, who is very slowly approaching his movements calculated, as if he knew a sudden movement would scare you. “Who…who are these people?”

“On my team, I didn’t know you would be ‘ere,” His voice was hushed, as if he didn’t want them to hear his words, as he got closer Ollie began to lean out of your grasp to move to him- and normally you would allow the transfer, yet not then. Which Simon was very aware of, “Needed somewhere to crash for the night, I didn’t know you ‘ere here. I wouldn’t have-”

Before he could finish his apologies, your voice was whispered through the silence, “You’re all bleeding, what? Do they not have medics? I thought- you told me you had people to take care of you.” Sure, you were very angry and more importantly scared, feeling unsafe in your own home and if not a bit betrayed, yet…for the moment you were willing to overlook that.

“Back at base, luv,” Simon was quick to reply, “Waiting for someone to ‘ick us up ‘n take us.”

You take a moment to process his words and you nod, “Johnny and Kyle?” Your husband very slowly nods, so you look back to the two beaten-up men, who were standing as if they were watching their best friend get yelled at by their parents. After a moment of breathing and slowing your heart rate you give a meek smile, “Hi, I’m sorry, that was a…well an awful introduction, I swear I’m nice.”

They were both quick to deny you being the guilty party, Kyle taking off the cap within a millisecond as he spoke, “No! We must’ve scared ya to death, completely rational reaction, Missus.”

Johnny nods and motions to Kyle as he adds on. Watching as Simon very carefully moves to stand behind you. He knew his best friend, and he somehow didn’t know of his secret wife- suspicions yes, yet he was tickled pink that he was correct. “Wha’ Gaz is sayin, you did not’in wrong, bonnie, fact o’ it is-”Ollie’s face crinkles as Johnny speaks and he moves his head to look back at Simon, seeing him from an upside-down view, “Ister Riley why does he talk weird?” As if on cue you move Ollie to sit happily in Simon’s arms and give a weak laugh to distract them both from your son’s rude question.

“Tea?”

—

“And Missus?” Kyle said after about ten minutes of silence, the night was peaceful, Ollie going from Simon to Johnny the entire night and asking about every question imaginable (”You fight bad people?””I do laddie.””Da’s so cool.”….”Wha’s your name?””Johnny.””Nuh-huh.””Nuh-huh?””Yea, ‘Ister Riley called ya someden different earlier.””Ah, Soap, tha’ my speical nickname.””SOAP??”) and you fussing about how crappy their medic was, they didn’t have one, and getting the first aid kits and clean clothes out, the night was oddly…pleasant.

Simon, who currently had a sleeping three-year-old against his chest, looks up from his tea and then clears his throat. “Wha’ bout her?”

Johnny had spent the last forty minutes thinking about it all, and he had figured out the timeline, or he thought so, so he looked to Simon- a look of pure shock and a little bit of mock upon his face, “Whatcha ‘ean ‘wha’ bout her? LT got a wife n kid ‘n we ‘ere nun wiser!”

“Tha was what I was hopin for,” Simon said dully in return, moving to stand up, an arm under the boy, and then giving you a soft smile as you came back from the garage, blankets in hand. “Gonna put Olls t’ bed.”

As your husband tells you what he was doing you give him a little nod and then set the blankets down on the couch, looking back to the very intimidating men, who were somewhat pleasant as you got to know them. “Unfortunately one of you will have to sleep on the floor. Si’s got a little cot thingy but I hate that thing so I will subject you to it. Trust me, the floor is better.”

Johnny laughs, “Nah we’ll jus cuddle on and we’ll be fine, Missus.”

“No, we will not.” Kyle deadpanned back, glaring at Johnny before looking back to you, “Thank you for opening your home.”

You smile at him, finding it easier to do so after a few hours, “Well after having to endure Ollie for hours it’s the least I could do.” It was a joke that they both caught onto, laughing lightly at it, though the air wasn’t stiff it was most definitely a bit awkward.

“Speakin of Ollie, is he-”

“Oh, he’s not Simons.” You quickly finish the thought, fully knowing that was going to be the question out of the Scotts mouth, then you clear your throat, walking to the kitchen as you spoke, “I mean- sorry, I met Simon when Ollie was about a year and a half old, my ex divorced me after Ollie was born and since he had been on deployment I didn- anyway sorry,” You wave your hand and grab your mug, “and Simon was volunteering at the school I worked at- for um, well John, you both know John of course- anyway, I needed a babysitter for Ollie and he offered and then…well the rest is history.”

“Ghost volunteering at a school?” Kyle echoed to clarify, “an the kids weren’t scared of him?”

“Terrified,” You reply, a laugh in your voice, “It was cute, he was cute, he’s good with kids, he won’t say he is but he is and oh lord, I…” A slight faltering and you shake your head, “Anyway, I’ll let you both sleep. You know where the bathroom is.”

With a few goodnights, you walk down the hall, leaning on the doorframe to the smaller room, which had a pull-down bed that had Ollie’s favorite racecar-themed blanket atop of it and a few select toys you had let him bring on the two-night trip. As you listened to the very faint conversation you stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment between the father-figure and the boy.

“I like Misser Soap and Misser Kyle.”

“Mm, thos’ are my brother’s laddie, so ‘m sure they’re happy you like em.”

“If…if dey brother then- then they like Uncle Mark?”

“…Yeah, sorta like your Uncle Mark, alright, you get to sleep, yeah? Fore mum has both our hides.”

You move to stay in the hallway as Simon kisses the boy’s forehead and tells him goodnight for the billionth time, and you turn your head upward to look at him as he closes the door behind him. He looked tired if anything, so maybe you would wait for your scolding. Silence, as you had learned very quickly on within your relationship, was the cornerstone of who he was. Whatever you may want to be said he was already aware of, anything you wanted to be expressed he was already expressing in his own way. With that in mind you move to where he could easily wrap his arms around you, tucking you into what he felt was like a safe embrace.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Not scared of you, scared of what would happen without you.”

(annd yeah, that's all. Feedback, comments and all that mean so much to me <3)

[peppermintquartz]

The second time Tommy meets Philip and Margaret is not under the best of circumstances.

Maddie is wrecked with worry, Jee is confused about why her daddy can't sleep at home and why her Uncle Buck isn't here, and Tommy himself is approximately three broken Kit-Kat bars from completely snapping.

So when the Buckley parents show up at the hospital, Tommy is not in the best of moods.

"Why are you here?" Margaret says when she sees him, instead of asking "How's my son?"

"Because I'm waiting for the outcome of the surgery," Tommy says, pretty curtly, but after fourteen hours following a full shift he is about to keel over. He's seated right now, having no further energy to pace, with his elbows on his knees, his head aching from the fluorescent lights and endless activity all around him, and his heart steeled against the worst possible outcome. "I mean, it's certainly not for the ambience."

"Maddie called and told us that Howard and Evan were in the building when it collapsed," Philip says before Margaret can react to the sarcasm. "We wanted to be here for Maddie."

"For Maddie, of course it's for her," Tommy says, and he is so beyond sick with worry that he can't force aside the irritation nor hide it with civility. "She's gone home with Jee-yun. I promised to keep her updated. If you're looking for her, I suggest doing so tomorrow morning when she's had hopefully at least an hour of sleep."

Margaret glances at the light above the operating theater doors and wrings her hands. "How long has it been? I can't bear this."

Tommy doesn't even look at his watch anymore. "Fourteen hours, thereabouts. Howie's just come out two hours ago."

A whole building. A three-storey building. Howie was on the top floor, so he was freed from the rubble first. Evan was on the ground floor. The 217 and the 124 had been on the scene, Tommy flying five casualties from the wreck directly to hospital, one of whom was his friend. All the while he had to internally battle the screaming need to claw apart the debris, with his bare hands if necessary, to get his Evan out of there.

Philip hugs Margaret. "He'll survive. He's always done so, since he was a kid. You know how it is with him. Scrapes and cuts and falls. He'll come out of this without trouble."

"I can't bear waiting here," Margaret whispers again. "You know I don't like..." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

"I know, I know it feels like it's Daniel inside, but it isn't."

And Tommy loses it.

Logically, he knows that Philip is merely trying to reassure his wife. Logically, he knows that they are trying; the mere fact that they are in hospital to check on Evan and Howie is a statement that they are trying.

Every other part of Tommy, however, explodes with incandescent rage.

"Daniel? Daniel?! Evan's in there, fighting for his life, and you can't even focus on that?" he spits out. "The only reason why I am even talking to you is because you made Evan. You brought him to this world. And you don't deserve him. Every day I see how much he loves, how openly and how bravely he loves, and to know that you both treated him the way you did... And now you come here, to the hospital, and you talk about being here for Maddie and, and thinking about Daniel, instead of your son who could've died today!"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Tommy realizes that he's on his feet, his fists clenched, towering over two older persons who are shrinking away from his six foot two frame. Suddenly drained, Tommy licks his dry lips.

"Go see Howie," he says in a low voice. "You probably can't go in yet, but find out what you can to tell Maddie."

Philip clears his throat. "You'll let us know when Evan is out?"

"I'll call Maddie." Tommy sits again and stares at the wall opposite. Green. Dull, lifeless, bland hospital green. He hears the Buckleys walk away. "Philip, wait."

"Yes?"

"Sorry about the outburst. Also, you're supposed to call him Buck. Remember that."

Philip sighs again. "Of course. We'll see you later, when Ev- Buck is out of surgery."

[awkward-walking-potato]

Bruised not Broken: Part 1

This is about a Non mutant Cagefighter Logan and a Nurse reader.

Logan’s vision blurred as he stumbled up the worn steps of his apartment building. His body ached with every movement, muscles screaming from the punishment he had endured in the cage. Blood trickled down his brow, warm and sticky, mixing with the sweat that clung to his skin. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a sharp reminder of the cracked rib beneath his bruised flesh.

He fumbled with his keys, hands trembling from a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion, but they slipped from his grasp, clattering loudly against the concrete. Logan cursed under his breath, leaning heavily against the doorframe as he bent to retrieve them. The world tilted, and he nearly lost his balance, catching himself just in time.

“Logan?”

The voice was soft, familiar, and it pulled Logan from the fog that clouded his mind. He turned his head, squinting through the dim light of the hallway. It was you—his neighbor. You were standing in the doorway of your flat, concern etched deeply into your features. He tried to straighten up, to appear less broken, but his body betrayed him, and he sagged against the wall, barely able to hold himself upright.

“Are you okay?” you asked, already stepping forward, closing the distance between you.

Logan tried to nod, tried to brush it off as nothing, but the words wouldn’t come. His pride, always his downfall, was at war with the undeniable truth that he was in no shape to be alone tonight.

You didn’t wait for his response. One look at his battered face, at the way he was barely holding himself together, and you were guiding him gently toward your flat. He tried to protest, to tell you he could make it to his own place, but the strength to argue had long since left him.

“Come on,” you murmured, your arm steadying him as you led him through the door. “Let me help you.”

The moment you crossed the threshold into your flat, Logan’s body gave out, and he collapsed onto your couch. Darkness threatened to overtake him, but he fought to stay conscious, to stay aware of where he was. He wasn’t used to this, to being cared for, to being vulnerable in front of someone else.

You moved with a practiced efficiency, retrieving a first aid kit from your bathroom. You were a nurse, he remembered, though you rarely spoke about your work. Logan had seen you coming and going in your scrubs, the fatigue in your eyes at the end of a long shift, but he had never imagined you would end up treating him like this.

You returned to his side, kneeling in front of him, your hands gentle as you began to clean the blood from his face. Logan hissed at the sting, but he didn’t pull away. He watched you, watched the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly as you worked.

“You’re lucky it’s not worse,” you said quietly, as you applied a butterfly bandage to a deep cut above his eyebrow. “You should really be more careful.”

Logan let out a rough, humorless laugh. “Careful isn’t exactly my style.”

You didn’t smile. Instead, you met his eyes, your expression serious, almost sad. “It should be. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Logan looked away, unable to hold your gaze. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain that this was the only way he knew how to survive. The fights, the pain—it was all he had left.

You finished bandaging him up, your touch lingering for a moment as you checked his pulse, your fingers brushing against his wrist. Logan could feel the warmth of your skin, the steadiness of your hands, and it made something inside him ache, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the words almost foreign to him.

You nodded, standing up and pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over him. “You can stay here tonight,” you said softly. “You need to rest.”

Logan wanted to argue, wanted to tell you that he didn’t need your help, that he could make it back to his own flat. But the truth was, he didn’t have the strength to leave. So he nodded, letting himself sink into the comfort of the couch, the warmth of the blanket.

You turned off the light, leaving him in the quiet darkness of your flat. As you walked away, Logan felt a strange sense of peace settle over him, a calmness he hadn’t known in years. For a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to relax, to let his guard down.

But even as sleep began to take him, a part of him knew this was temporary, that by morning he would be gone. Because that was who he was—someone who fought, someone who ran, someone who never stayed in one place for too long.

And as much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to stay with you, to let himself believe that maybe he deserved this kindness, Logan knew better.

So when the first light of dawn crept through the window, Logan pushed himself up, every movement a reminder of the night before. He looked around your flat, taking in the small details—your books, your plants, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. It was a place full of warmth, of life, a place where he didn’t belong.

Quietly, carefully, Logan slipped out from under the blanket, his body protesting every step. He didn’t leave a note; he didn’t say goodbye. He just left, disappearing into the morning light, leaving behind the fleeting comfort of your care, and returning to the only life he knew—the one in the shadows, where pain was his only companion.

Tag list

@littlemissoblivious

[sserpente]

Happy Ending

Synopsis: Out of all people you could have been assigned to for your lifeguard training, it had to be Billy Hargrove. You hate the guts out of his cocky and flirty demeanour and during your lessons, Billy has no mercy and it shows—muscle cramps torment your entire body after another intense training session, and (un)fortunately, Billy takes notice and offers to give you a massage. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Request from anon. You asked, I delivered! But hear me out… what if he gave RC a seductive massage beforehand? ;-)

Words: 2654 Warnings: pure, shameless, and filthy smut

“Ugh…” You groaned, rolling your shoulders. Your lifeguard training was killing you. You’d be as stiff as a piece of log by the time you’d made it through the final exam. That’s how you’d end up saving drowning folk. They’d just use you like a piece of wood.

But you were determined to push through, if anything to prove a point. Billy Hargrove aka the pain of your existence, was pushing you to your fucking limits. Out of all people you could have been assigned to… well, technically, it had been a fifty-fifty chance. But boy, would you have preferred Heather over him.

Billy was a cliché on two legs. A cocky boy from California with abs, a womanizer, and a classic jock—not to mention he preferred to resolve disputes with his fists. You knew what he stood for and what his intentions were with the women he wooed and you hated yourself for being insanely attracted to him. Nothing good would come out of giving in to his recurring flirting attempts. He knew exactly what he was doing—knew about the effect he had on women and he was bathing in it. His ego was too big for his head, that was for sure; and the fact that during your lifeguard lessons, Billy repeatedly had his hands all over your half-naked body didn’t exactly make things easier for you.

You groaned once more, attempting to stretch a little. You had absolutely no idea how you had survived the past hour.

“You okay?” Billy came walking into the changing rooms, still wearing nothing more than his red swimming trunks. He was chewing on gum, a sly smirk playing on his lips when he noticed your struggles. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yeah… just tense. Muscles cramps.”

“I wasn’t going too… hard on you, was I?” He asked, playfulness playing in his voice. Damn him.

“No… I’m just not used to excessive workouts every day.” You realised your mistake, or rather, your poor word choice, the moment he started grinning.

“Oh, you’re not?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, stop it already. I hate you, remember?”

“I can help you, you know,” he said, unimpressed by my complaint and clearly still amused.

Raising your eyebrows, you glared him down suspiciously. “Oh yeah?”

Billy nodded. “I know a few… massage techniques.”

Your eyes widened and you took, no, jumped a step back.

“Absolutely not!” Billy’s hands slowly gliding all over your body, kneading away the knots? That… that sounded horrifying, it sounded… really hot. Which was why you could, under no circumstances, agree to it.

“Come on… Are you scared it could be… good?” He leaned in close and you cursed internally. Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I’m afraid of, for Fuck’s sake.

“No. I just… I don’t need you of all people to massage me, Billy. If I need to release some tension, I’ll go to a professional.” You winced, again slapping yourself mentally for your poor word choice. Billy chuckled.

“Follow me.”

You didn’t know why but you did. Billy led you to the lifeguard office in the back of the building. There wasn’t much in here—just some equipment, first aid kits, a surprisingly neat desk, and a low treatment table for injured pool guests.

“Lie down, stomach down.” He pointed at the treatment table. You hesitated. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. So why the fuck did you move toward it and did as you were told?

“Is it just your shoulders and your back?” Billy went to grab something from the sink area—you could only assume it was some sort of massage oil. You doubted this was part of the equipment here, he must have brought it himself at some point.

“Yeah…” you croaked out.

You tensed, staring at the wall and avoiding his gaze at any cost when Billy slid the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders and then proceeded to pour some massage oil into his hands. He rubbed them together, the soothing sound sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine, and then… you felt his hands on you.

Billy’s fingers were surprisingly soft and yet, they went to town firmly. A moan escaped your lips when he located the knots and began to massage them away.

“Told you I’m good,” he purred. You groaned by way of a response. Because the fucker was right. It felt amazing. He felt amazing. Billy knew exactly what he was doing—you didn’t even protest when, after a while, he pulled your swimsuit down further to reveal the entirety of your back. Up and down his hands went, exploring your bare skin and working away all of the tension his training had caused in the first place.

You could get used to this. You could fall asleep to this. Fall asleep and dream of Billy’s hands further down… no, stop! That’s exactly what he wants to achieve!

You were about to protest and opened your mouth when he travelled south with a start, testing the tense flesh on the back of your thighs. He tsked at you when his thumbs rolled over the knots and tense spots.

“I don’t think you were completely honest with me, doll.”

“I’m fine…”

“Flip over,” he suddenly said.

You ripped your eyes open, only realising now that you had closed them. You were naked from the waist up. If you turned around now, you’d give him a full front-row view of your tits. He wished, huh?

“I’m good, Billy.”

“Flip. Over,” he repeated. His voice was darker now, almost a little intimidating and… taunting in the most delicious and fuck, sexual way.

Grunting, you pulled your swimsuit back up just enough for it to cover your breasts and rolled on your back, meeting his blue eyes and staring daggers at him. He only chuckled.

“You’re really cute when you’re pretending to be angry.”

“I’m not pretending. I am angry.” Angry at how good it felt. Angry at how good he made you feel.

Billy smirked and poured some more oil into his palms. Next thing you knew, he was working your thighs so thoroughly that you tensed up in order not to wriggle around.

“Relax, babe…” Ha, easy for him to say. You had no doubt that he was enjoying this, perhaps even more than you were. Especially when his thumbs moved toward dangerous territory. Again and again, he grazed your inner thighs just a little too close to where you kept claiming he didn’t have an effect on you. A circumstance that was getting harder and harder to deny because fuck, you were growing wet. You could already feel the heat pooling between your legs, your breathing quickening.

And before you even knew it, your legs fell open further, inviting him in. It was over there and then. Fuck it. Fuck him, literally. You could only hope he had locked the door behind him. He won. He fucking won.

Your lips parted as Billy’s hands took the invitation. You bucked your hips the moment his thumb brushed directly over your still clothed clit, your nails digging into the treatment table, though this time, he didn’t tell you to relax. Instead, he did it again. And again. And again.

For a brief moment, he paused. And then, when you didn’t protest, he slowly pushed the thin stripe of fabric out of the way to reveal your glistening pussy to his greedy eyes. You were panting at this point, lost in the pleasure he was promising you without even speaking a word.

His fingers were slippery with the massage oil, his left thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped when you felt him push two fingers inside of you. He fucked you languidly, savouring every single second and you bucked your hips and arched your back, meeting his thrusts, silently begging for more.

You almost flinched upon hearing his seductive voice again. “I think that swimsuit needs to go, doll. It’s in the way… and we wouldn’t want to get massage oil all over it, now would we?”

Biting your lower lip, you hummed in agreement. All of a sudden, you did not mind him seeing you topless anymore at all. Quite on the contrary—it turned you on even more knowing that you’d be lying before him completely exposed, all his for the taking.

Billy did all the work for you. He removed his fingers from your pussy and chuckled when you whined at the loss. He then hooked his fingers into the hem of your swimsuit, pulling it all the way down—at an antagonisingly slow speed—to your ankles. You kicked them off, unable to hide your trembling. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this aroused, except, perhaps, this one time you’d been unable to fall asleep and instead decided to masturbate to the thought of Billy fucking you. Shit, you were a goner. A complete and utter goner.

“Jesus, I knew you’d look even hotter without the swimsuit.”

You moaned in response, still unable to meet his gaze. You kept your eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when his left hand cupped one of your breasts as if they’d been made for him. His other hand returned to your slick cunt. Sweet, wet noises echoed through the otherwise empty room as he fingerfucked you all the while the hand on your breast kept teasing your hardening nipple. By the time he moved on to the other breast, you were breathing heavily, a warm knot tightening in your stomach—fast.

And yet again, you had to admit… Billy knew exactly what he was doing, working you toward what already felt like the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. His voice alone almost tipped you over the edge.

“Do you wanna come, babe?” he rasped.

“Please…” You barely recognised your own voice at this point. Begging Billy Hargrove for an orgasm… you’d most definitely lost your marbles.

But before you could slap yourself for your horny stupidity, you fell. Billy made you see stars, his fingers working your cunt like an instrument and hitting all the right keys. You clenched around his fingers, drenching them in your juices as your toes curled and you came hard.

He made sure help you ride it out before he released you, wet hands gliding all over your bare body. He massaged your breasts for a little while until you came back to your senses, your eyes still closed in pure and utter bliss. You didn’t protest when he tilted your head and stroked your neck.

For just a brief moment, he stopped touching you. Then, you felt something hard pressing against your parted lips. You didn’t care what you were, didn’t care that he was a player and would move on to the next girl after this. You didn’t even care that you were supposed to hate him. You wanted Billy and you wanted him now. His cock in your mouth seemed like a good place to start.

Moaning with relish, you closed your lips around his tip and sucked gently, testing the waters. You’d given a couple of blowjobs before but with him, you felt the odd need to impress with your skills. The results were almost immediate. Billy sucked in air audibly when you took him deeper, tongue darting forward to tease his slit. He pushed forward slightly—surprisingly patient, he let you take him inch by inch at your own pace until you rolled over to taste him properly.

You were done for the very moment you tasted a salty drop of precum on your tongue. Accompanied by another moan, you started bopping your head up and down, your left hand busying itself with his tight balls. You released him with a smacking noise, right hand covering what you could not take, and suckled on his tip like a popsicle before licking over the entire underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…” Billy threw his head back just when you opened your eyes. Pleased with his reaction, you repeated the motion and then took him in your mouth again, faster this time. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting forward now and slowly taking control. You let him. You let him fuck your mouth until your gag reflex hit and your eyes were watering and yet, when he pulled out of your mouth, leaving your lips swollen and tingling, you made a disappointed noise.

“Where?” was all he said. You bit your lower lip and nodded toward the desk. He didn’t need to elaborate on his question. You knew exactly what he meant and quite frankly, you were too far gone to back out now.

“Condom?” you breathed out as you slid off the treatment table and approached the desk naked, your limbs still trembling a little from your intense orgasm earlier.

“Yeah…” You figured he went to grab one from his bag stored away in the corner, always prepared for a quick fuck with a girl he’d wrapped around his finger for sport. As much as you attempted to force yourself to, you couldn’t complain about it. Not right now. Not when you were desperate for him to finally fuck you and get that remaining tension—the tension between the two of you—out of the way.

Billy didn’t disappoint. His blue eyes were dark with lust when he returned to you without his trunks and quite an impressive erection still glistening from your saliva under the thin latex of the condom. He flipped you around so your hips hit the edge of the desk and bent you forward, fingertips ghosting over your spine.

You shivered, your lips parting to beg him to put it in already when he knocked all air from your body. Billy sank himself into you with but one eager thrust, a groan escaping his lips in the process. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you in place for him as he began to fuck you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge back in so forcefully your breathing became uneven.

Your hands reached for the opposite edge of the desk to hold on to something, your legs almost dangling in the air. On your tiptoes, you kept your arse lifted to meet his hungry strokes. Hunting his own pleasure now, you could all but let your eyes roll the back of your head. He was fucking you so good… Billy hit all the right spots inside you and his stamina… fuck, all of the other guys you had been with would have creamed their pants long before you could have brought your lips anywhere near their dick.

It felt good… it felt so good… oh god.

“You gonna come for me again, babe?”

You nodded and hummed in response, too dazed for a coherent answer, feeling yourself tightening around his hard cock right before you exploded a second time. Pleasure coursed through your body, filling you from head to toe.

Billy grunted. He fucked you through your climax relentlessly, stilled only moments later when his own release overwhelmed him and he emptied himself into the condom. Shit, for a second you wished you’d have asked him to fuck you raw just so you could feel him coating your walls with his seed. You whined when he withdrew. But there was always a next time. You’d make sure of it.

You were certain now that you didn’t actually hate Billy Hargrove. You had hated how much you had wanted him.

“I think I’ll need a… ‘massage’ after every training session from now on. Your lessons are so exhausting,” you said, panting.

Billy helped you turn around and stand up straight, naked bodies pressed against each other. He grinned, his lips ghosting over yours. “You know what, I think so too, doll.”

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

[adviceformefromme]

💖PROTECTING YOURSELF FROM LIFES CURVE BALLS AS YOU GLOW UP - PRE-2025 RE-INVENTION SERIES [WEEK 14] - 💖

So you’re trying to glow-up, change your life? Life, being life naturally start’s throwing those damn curve balls and before you know it you’re back on the floor fighting for dear life to get it together and get back on your feet. During this time, weeks if not months have passed, and so you feel behind, you feel like every time you get it together life pulls the rug from under your feet and you’re right back in square one.… So what’s the solution? If you’re absolutely serious about changing your life before 2025 you need STRONG FOUNDATIONS. Where are your roots currently? What practises do you have in place to help you stay grounded when you get hit with one of life’s inevitable problems? What and who is your support system?  In order to thrive you need need your STRONG FOUNDATIONS in place.  The basics:  Sleep, Eating, Diet, Exercise  As obvious as these seem, you really have to dive deep into each area to make sure you are covered by each subject. Are you sleeping properly? Is your diet nourishing you and supporting you? Are you hydrated? Are you moving your body daily and doing exercise? I say these are the foundations because when life starts trying to take you down, if any of the above are not strong enough you will easily start falling. No daily exercise? The anxiety will build up in your body and have no where to go, depression will host itself within your body and slump you further. The lack of orientation from not having enough sleep will only amplify the moment problems start arising. IBS, gut issues, rashes, disease will prey on your body when you are already lacking a healthy gut and immune system. However, if your diet is on point your gut is thriving, you’re on those pre-and-pro-biotics, you’re hydrated, you’re energised you are not a weak target for disease. You have strong foundations. 

Support system:  God /Spirituality,  Therapist / Mentor / Coach, Friends / Family/ Pets

First and foremost God. The moment this relationship starts to weaken, you start forgetting to pray, or spend time with God in meditation you become an easy target for mental and emotional suffering, things that were not in God’s plan can easily take hold of your life, and thats why following God and walking in faith and his purpose for your life will protect you in all seasons. Having a therapist, mentor, or coach in your corner is how you win. If you don’t have any of these, start seeking a mentor, invest in therapy, seek coaching. This is how you continue to grow and have empowering support as you do, the moment you are in difficulty you have reliable and insightful support on hand to guide you. Finally family and friends and pets offer that loving support needed to survive and thrive in the good and bad times. Toolbox:  Meditation, Affirmations, Healing Books, Youtube / Podcasts, Journalling,  Online courses 

Your toolbox is your handy kit that you strengthen before the storm. You are already meditating daily, you are already in your affirmations, speaking life into yourself each day, so when you get triggered because the guy rejects you or dumbs you, you are not so wounded. You know if it's not him it will be someone else, you are in detached energy, you are on your healing journey, you are already reading the books that keep you grounded in self development and wisdom. You’re journaling daily and taking courses online to strengthen your inner wisdom. You are not an easy target for life's problems and stresses. You are rooted in God, in loving support, in your own self love and care practises...and if you aren't there yet. This is the blueprint. Let this week be one of resilience, of remembering who you are and standing firm on your practises and staying close to your toolbox so you are prepared for what's next. Remember it's not about avoiding the problems, they are part of live, it's learning how to ride the wave and not drown that is the key.

Beautiful sounds by Jhene Aiko to end the week...

[poeticpascal]

Stay (Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: After being betrayed by a FEDRA agent, losing your belongings and getting severely injured, you have no choice but to steal and kill your way to survival. But when Joel and Ellie become your next targets, you never could've imagined how they'd save you in more ways than one.

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+ content, MDNI, PIV sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), violence, descriptions of killing, descriptions of injury, guns, blood,

A/n: eek, I'm so in love with this fic! I'd love to know what you think, and if you have any Joel x reader ideas, requests are open so send them my way! :)

As the sun sets beneath the tree-lined horizon, you can’t help but think about how worryingly close to death you are by now.

Spring brought cold winds and heavy rain, washing away the den you’d managed to live in for a few months. It’s a wonder it lasted that long, really.

You could’ve managed. You’ve managed for years now; your whole life, in fact. You never could remember your mother or your father, if you had siblings, if you had friends. All you know is you were 6 years old when Outbreak Day destroyed the world, and you’ve been alone from then on, lucky enough to get brought to a QZ and lucky enough to escape it when you were 15.

You could’ve managed the shitty weather, until you were betrayed, by a FEDRA agent no less. One you’d dealt with for a few months now, smuggling whatever drugs he wanted into his QZ in exchange for the food and medicine and warm clothes they had there. You never wanted to go back, could never let yourself get locked behind those walls again, but you had to admit their resources were far better than any you could attain out here, alone in the infected world, and so you made it your business to get your hands on it.

It was a week ago now. The agent - whose name you never bothered to learn - must’ve been caught with the gear he got from you. Of course, FEDRA let him off easy, as long as they gave him a name. Your name.

So instead of pocketing a new med kit and a crate of food, you got beat, shot at, nearly tortured before you could make your escape into the shrubbery and away from the small legion of agents that came for you. But not before the agent you’d dealt with led them to your base, where they burnt your every belonging, every piece of tattered material and weaponry and sentimentality you owned.

And so here you are, no food, no clothes but the ones on your back, one gun with just a few bullets left and a blunt knife hidden in your boot. And you’re fucking pissed.

Pissed that you’re dying. Pissed that over a decade of fighting, looting, trading had been burnt to ash in just moments. Pissed that the bullet wounds in your torso weren’t enough to kill you, but just enough to let you live in agony, spurred on by hunger and dehydration.

Even the small stashes you’d spent years placing strategically around a good 25-mile radius were useless without a map of their locations. Which you had made, obviously - you haven’t survived this long out of luck. You’re smart, you know how to traverse this world, and you know how to protect yourself. But everything got fucking burnt.

So perhaps you don’t know how to protect yourself at all, because you’ve spent the last week wondering how you could’ve been so stupid as to let this happen.

It’s not like you’d trusted the agent. You don’t trust anyone.

But you worked with him, and somewhere along the line you must’ve slipped, told him where you keep your base, let him choose a meeting point when it should always, always be you to choose. You can’t even remember what it was, what error you made. Untreated bullet wounds do an awfully messy thing to your mind.

You collapse through a string of branches and shrubbery, landing with a wet thud on the muddy path. You’ve stumbled into a clearing, and with as much strength as you can muster, you pull your cheek away from the dirt and look up to see the old building you’ve been looking for. A small, weak smile tugs on your lips. A glimmer of hope.

It used to be a doctor’s surgery, as far as you know. Written on the decayed wooden sign was ‘Dr. Hardman’s Healthcare Services’, though it was so faint it was almost unintelligible, and the cracked blue floor tiles gave a clinical air to the place, even in its decrepit state.

Obviously, it would have been looted beyond recognition within a week of Outbreak Day. 

But there were those stupid enough to go in and search it anyway. And that’s why you always came back to places like these over the years.

The first time you did it, you were 16, not long free of the QZ and still getting to grips with life on the outside. With surviving. It was a different building, a warehouse somewhere near Philadelphia as far as you remember. One you hoped would have something left, anything worth taking. It didn’t - but it did have people. Other looters, a small group of around 3, all of whom had split up to search while leaving a pile of rucksacks near the front entrance. It was incredibly easy to take what you needed, and you learned then the brilliance of lying in wait for others to bring their resources to you, and taking, and running.

It was sleazy, and you’re not proud of it. But it’s the only way you could survive those first few years, before you cemented your foundations, able to source your own food and build solid relationships and make decent trades that let you survive.

And now, you have to do it all again, because your shit’s all burnt and your blood’s surely depleting and breathing is starting to get really difficult.

You just hope it’ll be simple, that they won’t even realise what happened, ‘them’ being whichever unlucky soul happens to stop by first. Not because you’re afraid to kill - you accepted a long time ago that it was something you had to do to survive - but because you really don’t think you can survive a fight. 

You don’t even pick yourself up from the floor where you fell. You’re just about hidden below the bushes, with a good view of the building, and the mud you’re lying in has warmed up from your body heat, providing much needed comfort as the rain continues to pour.

You spend a few hours like that, falling in and out of sleep, when you finally hear voices. Two, you think, though you raise your head to see properly and sure enough, there are two people making their way up the path to your right. It’s an odd pairing; there’s a man, tall, rough-looking with his beard and messy hair. The other is a woman, a girl even, she can’t be more than 16, you think. His daughter? Perhaps. She’s excitable, almost galloping up to the house, shouting back at the man who seems to only grumble in response.

They’re far enough away that you’re confident you won’t be seen, but close enough to just about hear them, straining your ears against the rain’s pitter-patter.

“This place is creepy, dude. Do we have to stay here?” The girl whines, spinning herself around a pillar that stands at the entrance, childlike.

The man grumbles, stopping before the steps of the building, looking up at it with a hand rested on the strap of his rifle. You’ll have to get them while they’re asleep, you think.

“Yes, Ellie. We do. I’ve gotta stash of some things left here, and it’s the only proper shelter for miles.” His voice is low, southern you think, and undoubtedly appealing. Not what matters right now.

“But Joel-”

“Just get inside.” The man, Joel, enters first, clearly protective of the girl - Ellie, you think he called her - as he finally gives her the go ahead to follow him in. The door shuts, and your head falls back to the ground, knowing it’ll be a few hours yet before you can make your move.

Joel and Ellie. You remember their names as you start to fall back asleep, figuring if you had to kill them later on, it’s the least you could do.

You’re nice like that.

You really regret the whole ‘lying face down in the mud for 6 hours’ thing once it’s time to actually get up. Everything hurts, the rumble of your stomach aches against the wounds that puncture it, and the dirt has soaked through your clothes and onto your skin so thickly that it almost weighs you down.

But it’s now or never, so you all but drag yourself towards the building, doing everything you can to hold back the whimpers that threaten to break through your lips.

You enter the back way, a quieter one, where the frame is empty of a door and - hopefully - where you’d be able to sneak in without detection. The front entryway was too obvious, too bold, and if they expected anyone to come in, it’d be through there.

There’s an upstairs, but it’s pretty miserable, even by the current day’s standards. You’re fairly confident they’ll have stayed downstairs; the reception area was particularly favoured among the less experienced travellers, though from Joel’s apparent knowledge of the area and the gun on his back, you suspect he’s not one of them.

You’re right; they’re not in the reception, so you continue to tiptoe through the halls, checking through windows and the gaps in doors before finally hearing a slight rustle coming from the end of the corridor.

You smirk, slightly endeared to these two; they’d made a good choice. One you always make whenever you spend the night here. They’re in the clinic’s bathroom - for some reason, bathrooms in any building were always forgotten by looters. As if no one would think to sleep there. It’s a small but cosy space, close enough to the front door to make a quick escape, but just hidden out of way enough for it to be easily the safest spot to hide.

There’s also no window into the room for obvious reasons, and while that’s served you well many times while you stayed here, right now you curse as you plan your next move to get in and out undetected.

The rustles are quiet, not the movements of someone awake, but turning in their sleep. You wrap a hand around the door handle, giving you full control of its swing as you open it as slowly as you can manage, your other harm held tight against your aching torso.

The door opens easily, silently, and you’re grateful. Joel is lay closest to the door - his protectiveness on show again - using his bag as a pillow. Dammit, you think. The girl, Ellie, is lay against the back wall, her frame noticeably much smaller than his from where you’re crouched, watching from the small slip in the door.

You search the room, the hint of desperation you’ve managed to push down for this long finally creeping up on you, your head suddenly going dizzy.

Then, you see it.

Ellie’s backpack in the corner of the room, by Joel’s feet, tucked under one of the sinks. Within arms reach if you can just fit in at the right angle.

You push your arm through the gap, trying to find balance with your free hand while not leaning against the door so much that it opens further and inevitably hits Joel, waking him. If the guy’s as experienced as you think he is, your pained, whispered gasps alone may be enough to do that. But you carry on, twisting at the elbow and pressing your cheek against the doorframe, flailing your hand until it finally, finally brushes against the dense material of the bag.

Relief floods you, and for a moment, you almost don’t feel the pain anymore. You strain further, your fingertips pulling the bag towards you just enough to be able to properly grab it, and you’re almost reckless with the way you snatch it through the door and back away quickly.

You stand on shaky legs, not even thinking to check the contents of the bag; you just needed to get out now. You head for the front door, letting the wall guide you there as you lean against it for support, the dizziness stirring in your head once again.

Then, you hear it.

The unmistakable sound of the safety being taken off a gun. One you’d produced yourself too many times to count.

“You’re gonna put that down, and you’re gonna walk away. ‘Else i shoot you.” 

It’s him. The man, Joel.

His voice is far more gruff now than it was before, when you were outside. You turn to face him, still clinging to the wall, the bag still in your hand. His expression is a mix of anger and nonchalance; like this was more of an annoyance to him than anything else. He just wanted a good night’s sleep, but here you were, padding through the shadows and stealing from them.

He’s about as happy as you’d be in this situation.

“Put it down,” he repeats himself, louder this time, the unwavering aim of his pistol pointed right between your eyes.

He must’ve woken up Ellie, because you hear movement from the room behind Joel, and next thing you know she’s creeping out the door with her eyes wide open. “The fuck is going on?”

Joel curses, rolling his eyes, and you just watch their strange dynamic unfold. “Get the fuck back in there. I’m just dealing with a little… problem,” he turns back to you.

You really didn’t want it to end like this. You never do. But this is the way it goes, more often than not. Still, the girl’s spunky, with more life than you’ve seen in anyone for a very long time. And he, well… he’s hot, and if that isn’t a good enough reason to feel bad about killing someone, you don’t know what is.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you can pull it off. You’ve been in this situation a thousand times - gun pointed at your head, no escape route in sight - and you’ve left every time with your pockets full and a handful of dead bodies behind you.

You brace yourself to launch, to throw the bag at the man then draw your gun just as fast, but you’re cut off by a shriek-like sound from the girl, “oh, shit.” She’s looking at you, but at your face; you follow her eyes down to your abdomen, and yeah… shit.

You’re bleeding. Like, really bad. You’ve been bleeding for 7 days now but this is a fresh, gushing stream of blood that spurts from the left bullet wound and mixes with the mud that cakes you into a dirty, sticky mess.

The dizziness hits you again, for longer now, and you stumble. Any escape plans are long gone as everything blurs together, nothing but one tall shape and one short one visible before you, and Ellie speaks again, “dude, is she… dying?”

Yeah. Maybe.

The two exchange more words, but you don’t hear them. They could’ve been screaming into your ear, just one inch from your face, for all you know. Your senses cloud completely, you think you feel yourself fall, and then… everything turns black.

—------------------

You groan, fighting the heavy pull of your eyes to stay closed, completely disoriented. Your eyes flicker open for moments at a time then shut again, your brain seemingly not ready to wake up yet. You’re already going into overdrive, though. 

Because you feel really fucking weird.

You’re warm. The room you’re in is warm. The bed you’re in is warm. You haven’t slept in a bed in years, and yet here you are, soaked in sheets as light as clouds and laying on a mattress that cradles you like a child.

The pain is gone. A dull ache sits in your abdomen, but it lulls, more like a stomach ache than a week-old and most likely infected bullet wound. 

You feel good.

Weirded the fuck out, but good.

You use your strength to lift an arm, groaning again, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a gasp from across the room, and suddenly there are feet hitting the floor and a loud shout, “Joel! She’s awake!”

The voice is familiar, probably the only thing around you that is, but you can’t place where. Its owner has left the room as you finally scan it, pulling yourself to sit upright. 

The room’s actually really, really nice. It looks normal, like the bedrooms you saw in those old Hollywood movies you’d managed to find one day. You’re lay on a king-size bed, set inside a carved wooden frame, with matching side-pieces and a dressing table directly across from you. There’s a white wardrobe to your right, and just beyond that, a large window where the curtains are blowing back slightly, letting you see out into the neighbourhood. It’s quiet, but pristine. It’s normal.

It’s weird. To your left is the only door, presumably where the other person who’d been in there with you left from, making that a no-go in your escape route. Window it is.

You swing your legs off the bed with a whine, the ache in your stomach intensifying. It’s only then that you notice the bandages wrapped around your torso, perfectly neat and clearly fresh. Like someone had been replacing them.

You hear two sets of footsteps, one is quieter but quicker, running up the stairs outside your room. The other is much heavier and slower, and the juxtaposition of them both causes a sudden flash in your mind of the pair you recently met -

“Hi,” Ellie says, having reached the top of the stairs and charged into the room before you could even comprehend your own trail of thoughts.

You just stare at her, in what must’ve been the most confused and annoyed expression you’ve had in your life. She stares back, with a mischievous look on her face that both sets you on edge and endears her to you at the same time.

Joel appears then, the same scowl on his face as he’d worn before you passed out, terribly unimpressed as he stares down at you on the bed.

For fuck’s sake.

“Where am I?” You ask, given up on your plans to get out of there. Your body’s too tired.

“Bill and-” Ellie starts, but Joel quickly shuts her up with a sharp glare. “Oh shit, erm, it’s a secret. Can’t tell you where you are.”

You roll your eyes, looking around the room again before setting your eyes back on the two. “Why am I here?”

“We saved your lucky ass,” Joel replies, his tone almost mocking. He shifts from the doorframe, walking towards you and folding his arms, stopping only a metre away from where you sat. “Shoulda’ killed you when I had the chance, but this little pain in my ass,” he nods towards Ellie, “insisted we save your life. After you fuckin’ stole from us.”

“To be fair, she didn’t get very far,” Ellie quips, then addresses you directly, “you fuckin’ fainted, dude. I thought you were dead!”

Joel just grumbles at her interruption.

You squint, leaning your head back in a poor attempt at a stretch. Your body is screaming at you to move, to walk around, to remember how to function. You push the desperation down, not ready yet to try anything, not with those two just staring at you.

You push them instead, unsure, untrusting. “You’re saying you just decided to save me? Just like that? After I stole from you?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, smiling. Joel grunts again. He does that a lot, you’ve noticed.

You huff, looking away, unsatisfied with their answers. “Should’ve let me die.”

Joel sighs, unfolding his arms and throwing his head back in annoyance. He points at Ellie, as he makes his way out of the room. “Fuckin’ told you this was a bad idea.”

He leaves. It’s awkward. Ellie just continues to stare at you as you hang your head, hands clasped in your lap, trying to figure out what to do next.

“We literally saved your life, you know,” Ellie breaks the silence. You look up at her as she continues, “you were so nearly dead. It was so weird. You were literally-”

“Yes, yes, I get it.” You interrupt her, rubbing your aching head. It’s silent for a little longer, still awkward, and you let out a sigh. “Thank you. For - for saving me.”

She smiles. A big, cheesy grin that somehow lifts your mood with its genuinity. Then she gestures to the door, the one Joel had disappeared from minutes before - “it’s him you need to thank. He’s the one who carried your sorry ass 3 miles to get here.”

You laugh, something foreign to you after all these years, and she giggles back. The air between you both seems softer now, lighter, and the tension that filled your body when you woke up has dissipated completely. You think she can sense that it has, too.

“Frank told me to tell you there’s fresh clothes in the closet, and the shower’s out the door and on your right,” she points in the vague direction she’d described. “We’re having a barbeque later, just come downstairs when you’re ready.” 

You nod, and she leaves you with a final smile. You take another look around the room and sigh, wondering just what you’d gotten yourself into.

—------------------

Bill and Frank are fucking lovely. Bill’s a little grumpier than his partner, but just as sweet all the same, and you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the little life they’d built together.

When you came downstairs after your shower, you’d bumped into them in the kitchen, preparing food and drinks to bring outside for the barbeque. Frank explained how things worked, how they live off the land, growing and making everything they could ever need to live happily here forever. How Joel had helped them stay safe, setting up the large metal gates that surrounded their small, solely-occupied community. It sounded like he really cared about them, and then Frank told you about Ellie, how Joel had taken her under his wing and they were travelling together on some sort of mission that they couldn’d built together.

That was a few hours ago. You were alone now, sat in the living room, listening to the soft music of the radio and the laughter of the group outside. You didn’t feel like joining them; they wouldn’t want you there, a looter and murderer, and even if they did you weren’t the type to make friends. It’s a dangerous habit in this world.

So instead, you sit on your own in the house, feeling a little sorry for yourself and really craving the sausages you could smell cooking outside.

You hear something behind you, turning around to see Joel traipsing in through the back door. He kicks his shoes off, making you smile at the politeness from such a rough, grumpy man, and stalks through the house towards the kitchen. He stops when he sees you.

The two of you just stare at each other, for a good few moments, the kind that feel like hours.

“What’re you doing in here?” Joel asks. You can almost sense something honest in his tone. Like he genuinely wondered why you were here, alone, and not out there with them.

“Thinking,” you just reply, quietly.

“‘Bout what?” And there it is again, that earnest intrigue.

You shrug, not sure what to tell him. “What to do next, I guess.”

Joel furrows his brows, and begins to stride towards where you sit on the couch. He walks slowly, hands buried in his jean pockets, before taking a seat on the chair across from you and relaxing into the cushion.

It’s strange seeing him act so casually, so normal, when just days ago he’d had a gun pointed at your head and every intent of pulling the trigger.

You suppose he feels the same about you, sat on a floral-print couch, covered in a far-too-big plaid shirt and - for lack of a better word - sulking.

“So what’re you gonna do next?”

He’s looking at you, fiercely so, his eyes unwavering from yours. You don’t know whether to look at him, or the floor, or your hands fidgeting in your lap - his stare is uncomfortable and intoxicating, all at the same time. You opt for your hands.

“I don’t know. All my shit’s gone. That’s - that’s why I was there. At the clinic. Ste-… taking your stuff.” 

Joel pushes out a breath of air, almost a laugh but not quite. It’s not mocking, though - not like his tone was earlier. It’s understanding, like his way of telling you, “I know.”

And then he says it. “I know.”

You just nod, and he continues, “you gotta be more careful out there. Anyone less caring than Ellie woulda let you die there on that floor.”

“I’ve done this my whole life,” you shoot back. “And if it weren’t for - fuckin - this” - you point to the bandages round your torso - “I’d have killed you both and left you with everything you have.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of something playing on his lips, like the beginnings of a smile. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and maintaining his stare. His brow is cocked upwards.

“Well, ain’t we lucky you had your little problem there, huh?” You scowl at him, finally meeting his eyes and being almost surprised by the sheer depth of them. There’s pain in those eyes, you can see it because it matches your own, and yet there’s a kindness in them that you’d not seen in the man until now.

“And what about you?” You ask, feeling bolder now. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

“The kid made me help you,” he answers with speed, like he’d rehearsed it. You can tell there’s something on his tongue, something waiting to spill, and so you stay quiet. Coax it out.

“And… those wounds, you didn’t get them from some average Joe’s gun. And someone your age, someone who must’a grown up in this hell… you don’t go stealin’ from people like me for the fun of it.”

You nod, offering him a small smile, one that says thank you. You think it’s the only form of thanks he’ll accept. 

“I did want to kill you, though.” Joel says, so casually he could’ve been telling you about the weather that day.

You huff. “And I wanted to kill you.”

His eyes stay trained on yours, and you don’t look away this time. It’s close, intimate. “I really don’t like you.” He seems to lean in as he says it.

“I don’t like you either,” you reply, mirroring the sly turn of his mouth.. Your answer seems to satisfy whatever it was he was looking for, and he nods.

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

In unison, you back away from one another. “Yeah,” you say, though it’s redundant. “We are.”

With that, Joel stands, offering his hand to you. You just stare at it, unsure of what he wants. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing outside. “Come and sit with us.”

You think on it for a moment. You still don’t know what you’re going to do next - where you’ll go - and you certainly don’t want to make friends. But here’s this man, with his calloused hands and the scars on his face that tell a thousand stories, and you just can’t seem to say no to him.

So, you take his hand, letting him help you through the doors and onto the lawn where the three others sit drinking and lauging. There are a few burgers and hot dogs left out, which you eye up hungrily, making Joel laugh. Bottles of wine and whiskey sit on the table, a few cans of soda for Ellie, too, and two empty chairs sat round the camp fire waiting for yourself and Joel to sit down on. A feeling of joy spreads through you at that, the fact they’d thought to leave a chair out for you. You try to ignore it.

—------------------

The night is filled with laughter, and drinking, and telling stories of a world long gone that make your heart hurt and your mind spin with wonder.

Joel’s distant, and you have a feeling that’s just how he is, the type who prefers to watch and listen than be the loudest person in the room.

Ellie, for whatever reason, has taken to you quickly. You think it’s because you’re one of the first women she’s hung out with in a long time, someone she can relate too, and for all the attention she gives you, it’s nice in a way. Albeit overwhelming.

That’s what all of this is, really. Overwhelming.

Because you don’t live here. It’s not your home. None of your things are here. None of your things are anywhere but that wretched pile of ash, most likely collapsed in the rain and buried in mud by now.

And though you won’t admit it, it hurts. It hurts to have lost it all. It hurts to have to start again. It hurts to have these people, these great people, showing you so much hospitality and knowing you’ll have to leave because this won’t work. It can’t work. Friendships can’t work, and by god, whatever it is you’re starting to feel for Joel cant work either.

You’ve stayed at Bill and Frank’s for four days now. Three nights from when you woke up. And in that time, you’ve found yourself drawn to Joel in a way you’ve never felt before. He’s distracting. He talks, and even without having to try, you hang on to every word he says. You wonder if he feels the same way. You don’t talk much, at all - only if you absolutely have to. And yet when you do, he’s there, listening.

The one you do talk to, more than the others, at least, is Ellie. You see some of yourself in her, you think. Someone lost in a world that had given up on her before she even had the chance to try.

And that scares you, too. If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s someone to look up to, and yet that’s all the kid seems to do.

It’s something you think about as you pack your bags.

You’re not stealing anything, per say. Except the bag. And the things you’re putting in it.

But it’s what you need to do in order to leave, and get out of their way for good. If that means losing a shirt or two and a pack of sandwiches, then so be it.

It’s late, around 3am, when you’re sure everyone will be asleep. You tiptoe down the stairs, holding the back tightly to your side, checking behind you every few minutes knowing that Ellie’s as sneaky as she talkative.

You slip through the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a brick. You curse yourself for not packing a coat, it must’ve slipped your mind as you rushed, but it’s too late to go back now.

You head down the patio steps, your only priority now being to get out of there as quick as you can. You’d managed to disable the security on gate 1, it should mean you can slip out pretty easily, and then it’s back to your old life again. Back to survival.

You didn’t think you’d feel as sad as you do right now. You’ve been alone for so long, convinced yourself that it’s what you wanted… but loneliness never felt like this. It never hurt. And now, as you make haste away from Frank and Bill’s house, away from Ellie, away from him… you wonder if the bullets hurt less.

Until you’re stopped, that is. 

“Where the hell are you goin’?”

The similarity to your first meeting with Joel isn’t lost on you.

Except now, as you turn around to face him, it isn’t anger drawn across his features. It’s hurt. Real, deep, hurt. Heartbreak, you’d be inclined to call it, if you didn’t know better. If you thought that was possible.

His eyes drop down to bag you’re holding, clearly full, then up again to meet yours. His expression saddens even more, somehow.

“You’re leaving.”

It’s not a question.

So you don’t answer.

It’s hard to tell if he expects you to or not. But in this agonising silence, he calls your bluff, because he knows you have something more to say.

“I have to.”

He shakes his head, and answers just as quickly as he had a few days earlier in the front room. Except it’s not rehearsed. It’s raw, and desperate, and pleading. “No you don’t.”

Tears brim in your eyes, stinging. “I do. I do, Joel. It doesn’t work. Friendships don’t work. And this-“ you stop yourself from gesturing between you, from finishing your sentence at all. He knows what you were going to say. But he still pushes you.

“And what?” He begins to walk towards you, as slowly, as painfully, as usual. 

The words are gone from your mouth, I forgotten but unspeakable, too powerful to tell him. But he knows. He knows.

And before you know it, he’s reached you. It’s the closest you’ve been yet, closer than when he sat across from you on the couch. His breath fans your face. Your fingers brush his, and you tell yourself it’s not on purpose.

“And what?” He whispers, not because it’s nighttime, or because you’re already so close. But because he’s scared.

Then he kisses you, leaning in so heavily you think he’s trying to fuse you with himself, to keep you there forever. And in that moment, that’s all you want. You kiss him back, dropping the bag and wrapping your arms around his neck while his go to your waist, the kiss deepening and his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You moan, spurring him on, his crotch now pressed flush against yours. You let one hand fall from his neck, glide down your bodies and slide between you, palming his already half-hard cock. Joel groans into your mouth, bucking his hips and kissing you so desperately that your teeth collide and you miss one another’s lips at times. Neither of you care.

Before you can realise what’s happening, Joel’s sweeping you up, hooking your legs round his waist and holding you up by your thighs. He’s careful to never break the kiss, to never let go of you, and you hardly recognise the movement as he begins to carry you back inside the house.

Your escape bag is left behind on the grass.

Joel’s careful as he brings you upstairs, quiet, though his need for you never falters. It’s hot, passionate, and his grip on your thighs leaves bruises that you hope will last forever. 

He nudges his bedroom door open with his back, letting you fall in, entangled together. He finally breaks your kiss, the both of you gasping for the air that your noses alone weren’t enough to breathe. 

You land on the bed, bouncing softly below Joel’s gaze. He’s quick to climb on top, guiding you backwards so your head hits the pillow, just as soft as the one you’ve been sleeping on the past few nights.

And then, for the first time since he discovered you trying to leave, the two of you just… stop. Joel lifts a gentle hand to your cheek, brushes his calloused thumb across it, watching you with a cocktail of amazement and care and the same fear you saw before in his eyes. 

It’s sweet. It’s gentle, and soft, and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you it’s something more. The same something you weren’t able to say when Joel caught you leaving.

Now, you don’t know what love is. 

You’ve never known what love is. You’ve seen films, old pirated copies you’d been able to find on your travels, that you watched tucked away in a camping tent on the DVD player you looted from some old store. You’ve heard music, sweet tales of love and loss, told through melodies and lyrics that seemed too much like fairytales to be true.

You don’t know what love is, and yet for all the stories you’ve watched and heard, this feels pretty damn close.

You don’t know how, but Joel sees the struggle behind your eyes. The way your mind spins at a million miles an hour.

“Hey. You okay?” He whispers, his southern drawl sultrier than ever.

You nod, but it’s not enough. “No, come on. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, Joel,” you breathe, and he seems appeased. 

“Alright.” He kisses you again, much slower this time, letting your lips slide together like they’d been made to fit just right.

The kiss becomes heated, the same passion rising within you both again, and Joel reaches for the rim of your shirt, pulling it over you with a quick check for your agreement. You lift your arms, letting him expose your already braless chest, and you’d be lying if you said the way his eyes light up and his cheeks fill with blush didn’t fuel your ego.

You take his shirt off next, then reach for the zip of his jeans, but he stops you. You look up at him, confused, and he just smiles before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Not yet.” He murmurs, before kissing down your neck and onto the plane of your chest. You moan, hands tangling in his hair as he leaves marks across your skin, finally reaching the peak of your breast and sucking it into his mouth. Quiet gasps fall from your mouth, sensual, basking in the feeling of his hot tongue on your nipple.

“You like that? My mouth on your tits?”

Another loud moan leaves your lips at his words, dirtier than before and making wetness flood at your core. Joel grins - your eyes are closed, but you can feel the stretch of his mouth on your breast, and your grip on his hair tightens in response.

He finally, finally starts to move to where you want him. His fingers are painfully slow as they work to pull your jeans down, revealing your soaking wet cunt to him, and the groan that escapes his throat at the sight only makes you more needy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.” He moans, spreading soft kisses along your public bone, centimetres from where you need him. “How bad d’ya need my tongue, honey?”

You could scream at how badly he’s teasing you, but you’re able to hold it, responding in a way you certainly weren’t proud of. “So - so badly. Please, baby, please.”

Your hands flex in his hair, tugging on the strands haphazardly, and the way his breath speeds up against your core lets you know he likes it. On your word, he delves into your cunt, dragging his tongue over your folds and burying it in your clit.

“Shit, shit, Joel - ah -“ your moans are getting louder, more needy, desperate as he tortures your cunt and licks across your bundles of nerves again and again.

You arch your back off the bed, not even in control of your own body at this point, his tongue now plunging so deep inside you that you can hardly remember your own name.

He fucks you with his mouth, moving his lips against your hole as his tongue curves around your walls, curling in a way that makes you whine so loud you fear any one of the others in the house would hear you. Joel doesn’t seem to care though, his only focus being on you, your pleasure, your screams for him.

“J- Joel, please, I’m gonna -“

You regret warning him. You regret the words as soon as they fell from your mouth because he fucking stops.

“What? Baby I-”

He shushes you, climbing back up to meet your lips, calming their begs with sweet kisses. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. I gotcha.”

His hands roam over your sides, teasing the edge of your breasts, one still wet from his mouth and sensitive in the cool night air. He kisses you again, making you moan as the taste of your own wetness hits your tongue, and you’re sure you can feel his cock swell against you at the sound.

He must feel it too because he desperately pulls his jeans off, throwing them behind him with no care for where they land. He does it without breaking your kiss, a grace to his movements that mesmerises you, leaves you victim to whatever he wants and needs as long as you get to feel his skin and his touch and his taste.

“Have you done this before?” Joel’s words are croaked, broken apart by the tightness you left in his throat, by your words and your touch alone. So much so you hardly hear him, too lost in the realm of desperation to register that he’d spoke.

“Baby?” He taps your chin, making you finally open your eyes and look up at him, drowning in the brown husks that meet your gaze. “Baby, have you done this before?”

You swallow, nodding your head so quickly that it makes you dizzy. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to grind against you, his bare cock slipping between the wet folds of your cunt, threatening to slip inside while leaving you so empty you could cry.

And it was true; you had done this before. Not many times, and only when necessary. The first time was before you left the QZ, with a boy your age who was just as curious about what all these new feelings and hormones actually meant. FEDRA was terrible at many things, and sex education was one of them. Another time was with a FEDRA agent - ironically, you thought - one who’d promised you food and shelter but left you in the dirt as soon as you smuggled in the pills he needed.

You’ve done this before, but you’ve never done this before. You’ve felt skin on skin, sweat dripping down your neck, a tongue in your mouth that felt foreign but explored your body all the same.

But you’ve never felt this passion. The way your body cries when it loses his touch. The way your mind is alive with sensation and need, begging to feel his fingertips and hear his voice in your ear again and again until the coil inside you unfolds and you give yourself, endlessly, doubtlessly, to him.

You don’t know how he knows. And you don’t know how you know that he knows. But Joel’s eyes pierce yours, his breath falls into your open mouth, and there’s just something in the way he looks at you that tells you his every desire is the same. 

He needs you like you need him.

And so he begins to pump his cock, moaning into your mouth as you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck once again. Where he feels most secure against you.

“Shit, I-” He mumbles against your lips, half incoherent, and you break the kiss. Your eyes search his, looking for whatever it is that’s tripping him up, and it’s only then that you realise just how much he’s begging for you. How his hips grind against yours with so much need that he could cum right there and then, you think.

And fuck, it turns you on.

“Need your cock, Joel. Need your big cock filling me up so badly.” You moan into his mouth, not even kissing him anymore, just letting your heavy breaths fall into the cage of your lips pressed together, perfectly fit.

He buries his head in your bare neck, revelling in the soft skin that greets him there, a canvass for his touch as he peppers kisses and bites across your throat and over your collar bone.

His hands settle on your hips, draggin you as close to his own as possible, and you wrap your legs around his waist again on instinct. He presses his forehead against yours, willing his eyes open, though you watch how they flutter and it makes you need him more.

Joel whimpers, catching himself from falling as he brings up to your cheek, stroking it gently. “You can do this, baby?’

Your heart warms at his words, blooming flowers only made for him. “I need it. Joel, I need it, I need you-”

Before you can finish, he’s heard you, pushing the bulging head of his cock into your cunt as you try to stop a scrambled scream in its steps. Joel’s head burrows further into the crook of your neck, teeth bearing down on the skin so hard that you’d scream if you weren’t already incapacitated by the fullness of his cock inside you.

You moan in unison, gripping him like your life depends on it as he bottoms out, tears brimming in your eyes as he draws himself away from you and slams back inside again.

“Fuck, Joel, so fuck - so fucking good,” your moans break the thick sound of skin on skin, as Joel slams into you again and again, aching your hips and scrambling your brain into nonsense. He groans, the hand that rested on your cheek now balanced on the pillow beside your head, allowing him to fuck you harder, deeper than before.

Sweat paints your skin, reflecting in the moonlight that seeps through Joel’s curtains, matching the thin veil of the man above you. You wince as the headboard begins to smack against the wall, hitting it again and again, making the unyielding pace of his hips all the more heady as you drown in his sounds and his scent and his thrust.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck,” he’s getting closer, you can tell, and it takes everything you have not to come right there on the spot.

Instead you flex your hips, meet his thrusts with legs still tight around his waist, pulling him further, deeper inside you. “Need to fucking - ah, ah - J- Joel I need to cum.”

His head frantically nods, still buries beneath your jaw, before he musters the strength to emerge from his new-found home in the crook of your neck and meet your eyes once again. He rests his forehead against yours, both sweaty and sliding, but neither of you care as his hips rut faster and faster into the warmth of your cunt.

“You- fuck, you can cum, baby. Need ya to come for me babygirl.”

At his words, your desperation unfolds, tethers of pleasure unraveling from your core and tightening around his cock, still fucking inside you without respite. He groans, his pace finally faltering as he feels your warmth coil around him, welding his hips against yours where he finally releases ribbons of thick, hot cum inside you.

Joel collapses on top of you, careful to rest at least some of his weight on the hand beside your head, but otherwise burying as much of himself into you as he can. His cock stays inside your cunt, plugging you with his cum, and in your post-orgasm haze you can hardly think as you bring a hand to the back of his head, stroking his hair and letting him rest atop your chest.

“Don’t leave.”

You don’t hear him at first. Truly, you don’t. You know he’s said something, felt the vibrations of his whispered pleas on your skin, and yet you’re still so caught up in the sweat and the smell and tingling of his body on yours to even register his words.

But he’s desperate. He’s sad, and hurt, and hopeful. Hopeful that tonight meant as much to you as it did to him. Hopeful that you weren’t about to continue your plan and leave into the night, as much of a ghost as when he’d found you.

“Don’t leave,” he repeats. “Stay.”

For all the shades and emotions and words you’ve seen in his eyes, there’s something in them now that you can’t place. You wonder if he even knows what it is himself.

You just nod, gasping slightly as he takes your small, delicate action as all the confirmation he needs to move, keeping you tethered together as he rolls onto his back and pulls your limp, shaking body on top of his.

Joel’s hands finally move from their vice grip on your waist, one wrapping tightly around your back, holding you to him, the other cradling your head. You crave him, his touch, and leave kisses on any expanse of skin you can find on the scar-riddled chest you find yourself huddled against. The one you wish you’ll never have to leave.

It’s hard to say how you know you’ll fall asleep first. Maybe it’s because he continues to move, to soothe, as you drift off in his grasp. Maybe it’s because he has his mouth pressed against your ear, whispering promises of togetherness that melt into a dream of hope and sweetness, one that stains the very sheets you’re lay in.

Maybe it’s the way he’s fucked you so good, you can hardly keep your eyes open.

Whatever it is, it works, and your eyes drift shut in the wake of his touch. You hold him, sinking into his softness with an ease you’ve never felt before, and his last murmurs before you finally fall into your dreams fall into the air like smoke.

“Just stay. Please, stay.”

[6rookie-writer0110]

Feels like I can't move

Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Request- While leon is on a recon mission he stumbled upon a base and started looking around until he finds a photo of him and his husband, confused he starts searching harder and being so deep in the search he doesn't notice someone coming up behind him. The person then grabs Leon and pins him to the ground and saying how did he find this place Leon recognized the voice and called out readers name and reader stops what he's doing and let's Leon go.

Leon managed to escape from a hurdle of zombies. He has a cut on his chest and arm but he didn't get bitten. It's getting dark soon and he doesn't have bullets left, or shelter to hide for the night. He runs towards the base and it's a steel fence, he sees a lock and it is opened. He opened the gate and then locked the gate, now zombies wouldn't get inside. He runs inside but he doesn't see anyone and the lights are dimmed. He keeps walking around then he sees an empty room, he walks inside. He starts to search for the first-aid kit while searching, he finds a photo on the ground. He picked it up and he was speechless and he is feeling confused. In the photograph, it's him and his husband and he has been separated from his husband.

He didn't notice someone sneaking up behind him. The lights are dim and you don’t notice it's Leon. You grabbed him and then pinned him to the ground, and you put the gun on his head, and your knee is on his back.

“Who are you!?” You yelled.

Leon recognized your voice.

“Y/N, it's me, Leon!” Leon yelled.

You put the gun away and get up, and then he turns around. You helped him stand up then he started to touch your face.

“It’s really you, Y/N,” Leon said.

“I missed you so much, Leon,” You said.

He hugs you tight and you are happy to see him. Then you felt his lips on yours and you started to kiss him back.

“I love you, Y/N,” Leon said.

“I love you too. What happened to you? Are you bitten?” You said.

“No, I’m not bitten. I got cut by the glass while trying to get away from the zombies. Are we safe here?” Leon said.

“It’s a long story. Follow me, I have a first-aid kit” You said.

“Are you here alone?” Leon asked.

“Yeah, the others left on their own paths. I stayed behind because I wasn't sure where to go so I could find you” You said.

“I was Carlos, Chris, and Claire but we got separated because The Umbrella Corp, found our location, and we separated from each other so they won't take us. Before coming here, a hurdle zombie saw me and now I'm here. They were going to help me look for you” Leon said.

“We are together now and we won't be apart again,” You said.

He kissed you again and he pulled you closer to him. You take your husband to the other room and he takes off his jacket and shirt. He sits on the bed and you grab the first aid kit, and then you start to clean his wounds and you put bandages on him.

“How did you end up here?” Leon asked.

“After we were separated, I found some people who I thought were trying to survive and help others, but they were the opposite. I did make a friend but they killed her but we managed to stop the others before killing us. We had to lure them into a trap to go outside and they got eaten. She got shot in the chest and I buried her in the back. This place has video cameras everywhere and silent alarms” You said.

“I’m sorry about your friend. I'm glad she helped you and I’m sorry I didn't find you sooner” Leon said.

“I’m not mad at you because you didn't find me sooner. I'm just happy that you are alive and here” You said.

“Me too,” Leon said.

You show him around the base. It's a massive building with many rooms and it has a weapon a room. You showed him the files of what they have been doing to other people. You give food to your husband and he starts to eat it fast.

“Slow down,” You said.

“I haven’t eaten in two days,” Leon said.

You giggled and he continued to eat fast. Leon was dirty and he was happy to take a hot shower, and you found spare clothes in his size.

✬ ✫ ✬ ✫

You and Leon are lying in bed together. You are lying on your back and he is lying on his side, and you are holding his hand.

“Remember the first day we met?” Leon asked.

“Yeah, I do. i will never forget that day” You said.

“I was surprised you said yes, Y/N. I just wish this didn't happen at all with zombies and the umbrella corp” Leon said.

“I know, but we can't change it. You pretend to be lost in the building even when you have the badge on” You smiled.

You met Leon at the station. He pretended to be lost in order to keep talking to you. He did ask you out and you said yes, dating for one year you and Leon got married. Many people said it wasn't a good idea because you haven't been dating him for long. But you and Leon didn't listen to anyone and just got married.

You kiss him on the lips and he has his hand on your cheek. He moves closer and he doesn't stop kissing you and he starts to smile.

“If we could stay here forever, I would be happy with that,” Leon said.

“Me too. We have everything here including weapons” You said.

He nods and he lays his head next to your shoulder.

“The weapons will help us fight the zombies even stronger zombies. But we have to find our friends” Leon said.

“I know. But this time we won't get separated from each other, there nights I couldn't sleep because i was thinking about you” You said.

“I couldn't sleep, either. Let's rest” Leon said.

“Yeah,” You said.

You fell asleep first and he stared at you. He doesn't say anything and he gently touches your chest and he kisses your forehead.

“Nothing will keep us apart, Y/N I promise” Leon whispered.

He closed his eyes And he went to sleep. In your sleep, you move closer to him and he has his arm around your body.

———

The next day… you and Leon woke up early. You and Leon started to get ready and ate some food. You start to pack some items inside the backpacks while Leon checks out the weapons.

“Babe, we can't take too many guns,” You said.

“I know, we have to travel light. I wish we could take it all but we definitely have to take the knives for backup” Leon said.

“Good idea. But where are we going?” You asked.

“Good question. We didn't get a chance to talk about where we would meet up or they went before finding me” Leon said.

“Do you have a plan?” You asked.

You and Leon stare at the map.

“I think we should go to the city. Chris, used to live there” Leon said.

“Let's go there then,” You said.

“Alright. Are you ready?” Leon said.

“No, but I’m with you now so I know we will be okay,” You said.

He grabbed your hand and you feel safe with him. You and Leon leave the base through the back where there are fewer zombies.

[xx0acidicorchid0xx]

some notes on wolverines (mustelidae) and Logan

cause new hyperfixation (its been goin on since a few weeks ago). gonna preface this by saying i have only seen the first x-men movie, and whatever else i found on tiktok n tumblr through my hyperfixation hoarding, so if anything is wrong or actually canon (or not canon) I'm sorry

notes under cut:

wolverines, while technically weasels, theyre the largest terrestrial weasel, and can weigh 26-50lbs.

Logan, is 5'3, but weighs at least 300lbs due to the admantium skeleton (195lbs without, meaning this small furry smelly man is just pure bulk)

wolverines are muscular n stocky and have thick fur (also waterproof n oily to prevent frost n such in them harsh canadian forests), are native to canada but can be found in similar environments, and are described as lil balls of violence and are extremely territorial around their food, family, and themselves (only out of necessity in order to survive the winter wastelands they live in). they also lack social skills and pack behavior like wolves

Logan, hairy beefy man, born in canada, described as an asshole, is violent n aggressive, but also severely traumatized. now with the fur, wolverines are nicknamed skunkcats because of how much they reek (they also mark whatever carcass they stole or found so nothing else can take it from em or where they buried it). if Logan (who canonically reeks) has waterproof n oily fur, it must be real difficult getting him to shower (not to mention he doesnt like getting wet) and also the water will not be able to get to his fucking skin because hes built to survive canadian woods.

wolverines are also commonly found in trees, as they use the height to locate prey and eventually pounce onto said prey

from some of the panel screenshots ive seen, Logan isnt unfamiliar with climbing onto trees

wolverines have been known to take on animals 3x their size, such as fuckin Moose, polar bears, elk n caribou, etc etc (only difference here between the mustelid and Logan is that there is no known attack on a human by a wolverine).

while wolverines have semi-retractable claws, Logan's claws are fully retractable. they (both the animal and Logan) have huge paws/hands, for the animal, its to prevent sinking into the snow

along with the thick waterproof fur and stocky build, theyre latin name gulo basically means glutton, so they have to eat a fuck load in order to maintain their body temp (usually they just eat their weight or very frequent small meals, but larger stuff is common), also theyre carnivorous but will eat anything they can find or kill, usually carcasses from avalanches n such, aka opportunity eaters

i have heard that Logan eats a shit ton, especially meat, but only large meals when alone, and small meals more frequently at the mansion. with the body heat thing, it must be super hard for him post-adamantium to keep his body temp at a normal range without literally sitting in the sun all day.

despite the aggressiveness they develop in the wild, when domesticated (which ive heard/read is super easy than you would think), they become very attached to one person, who usually is the trusted handler. they exhibit very cat-like behaviors, except wolverines actually like being picked up and wearing harnesses, they also like pets (but again, the trusted handler thing). they can become calm when hearing a high pitched obnoxious voice, and can go into a kind of trance when their gums are rubbed.

not sure about the cat behaviors n harnesses n other shit for Logan, but with the voice thing: Wade. thats all i really need to say about that

wolverines are naturally polygamous, but do come back to the female every so often to help raise the kits. theres a video of a wolverine male leaving out a moose leg near a female's den so she can have something for the kits to eat

this man gets passed around the x-men mansion like coleslaw at a southern get together dinner, aint no way hes monogamous. he does worry about the women he basically adopted and raised (rogue, laura, jubilee i think, yukio?,, i cant name any others but theres several)

wolverines also have the ability to smell a frozen carcass from over a mile away (and lemme tell ya, unless you have an excellent sense of smell, frozen anything doesnt have a smell except sharp)

this man can canonically smell emotions, and be able to tell the difference between Mystique and Storm just from smell Alone.

wolverines are very vocal, usually this kinda snarl/snort/growl/mumbling/chuff sound

not sure about comic Wolvie, but Hugh Jackman (and Logan, obviously) does snort n growl n roar n other shit like that

wolverines' mating rituals often include fighting multiple times, and mate Only after the female is confident in the male's fighting (males who return several times are more likely to mate than males who only fight once or twice) and that the female doesnt submit too easily. this is so the female and male can ensure the produced kits are strong enough to survive

self explanatory, minus the producing kits (that i know of)

also fun lil fact, wolverines' back molars are rotated at a 90 degree angle, so they can gnaw through bone easier (supposedly this is a common trait for mustelids)

not sure about sideways molars, but Logan does canonically have longer, more animalistic canines

most of my notes and how i worded some stuff is taken from wolverine expert Steve Kroschel, and tumblr user @/icarusredwings, as they have Amazing notes and headcanons on wolverines and Logan

[solargeist]

A small inbox fic for Runaway nun au :3

Also, since you mentioned in a previous ask that Grian "reveals" to Xelqua that he's a guy, I'll assume that Xelqua thought that Grian was a girl, and will thus refer to him as a "she" and "Sister Grian" in this ok? :D

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Xelqua was confused. Why was Sister Grian looking so terrified and dragging him out of the convent? Xelqua didn't want to go. He liked it here. Everyone here were nice. They cared about him when no one else did. They took him in when no one else did. He was all on his own before the convent took him in. And he was certain that the same was for Sister Grian. He had heard that most of the nuns in the convent were orphans who were taken in and raised in the convent.

So why was Sister Grian so set on leaving? And in such panic? And taking him with her?

"Sister Grian, I don't-" Xelqua began.

"Xelqua, we don't have any time!" Sister Grian insisted, taking a firmer hold on Xelqua's wrist and continuing her way to the entrance of the convent.

"What do you mean?" Xelqua pressed, trying to fight back. "Why won't you explain anything to me?"

"Xelqua, please." Sister Grian stops and turns to look at him. "I know that you're scared, but you have to trust me."

"No!" Xelqua protests and tears his wrist from Sister Grian's grip. "I don't understand what's wrong!"

Sister Grian crouches down infront of Xelqua, looking at him with a gaze that was filled with so much fear and concern that Xelqua halts.

"Xelqua, I know how scared and confused you are, I really do. But if I stop know, even for a moment, they'll find us."

"Who will find us?" Xelqua asks.

Sister Grian hesitates. "The others, you know, Mother Aerther, Sister Flora, Brother Kit, you've met them before."

"But why would that be a bad thing?" Xelqua frowns. "They're all nice! To everyone! They like you a lot! Espechially Mother Aether!"

Sister Grian winces. "I know, I know." Xelqua knows that she doesn't mean it. "But this is something that you don't know."

"Then why won't you tell me?" Xelqua argues.

"Because we don't have enough time!" Sister Grian yells. She never yelled before. Sister Grian was always so quiet and reserved.

Sister Grian notices how Xelqua flinches at her suddenly raising her voice. "I'm sorry... But I'm scared and confused too... This is something that I didn't even think that they'd be capable of actually doing."

Before Xelqua can open his mouth, Sister Grian intterupts him. "I'll explain later, okay? But, please, trust me for now, okay?"

Xelqua hesitates. He does trust Sister Grian. Sister Grian is one of the nuns in the convent that he likes the most. But he doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay here.

But, somewhere deep inside, Xelqua knows that if he and Sister Grian parted ways, none of them would like it.

So Xelqua decides to trust Sister Grian, even if he doesn't want to. "Fine." He huffs. "But if this all turns out to be a giant mistake, I'm not forgiving you!"

An obvious wave of relief washes over Sister Grian's face and she picks him up, mutter a "Thank you" as she does. Then she starts running. A second later Xelqua realizes why she was running.

Sister Grian wasn't only running to get out of the convent, but also because the building was on fire. Xelqua's eyes widened in horror, and he started squirming in Sister Grian's hold.

"Wait!" He yells. "The others are still inside the convent! They'll die!"

But Sister Grian keeps running. "Don't worry about them, Xelqua." She reassures him. "I'm sure that they'll survive."

Xelqua takes one last look over Sister Grian's shoulder and stares at the burning convent, the first place that he called home, the first place that so many called home, going up in flames. Xelqua wants to turn back, he wants to drag Sister Grian with him.

What if the others thought that they were stuck inside the burning building?

He wants to go back with Sister Grian and reassure them that they were alright. He really wants to. But the way Sister Grian had pleaded with him to come with her made him silently watch from Sister Grian's arms as the burning convent, and the paniced screams of the others, the abbot yelling out orders to stop the burning, the faint worried call for Sister Grian and him who are nowhere to be seen, get further and further away.

this rly is a horror movie actually, Grian has to balance all his own emotions and Xelqua’s while trying to keep them both safe

I like how everything is unveiled to him, rather than being told anything directly

Xelqua’s whole world is turned upside down in one night : (