#is link really that stupid or is he doing it on purpose to get the master’s goat? koh is livid in part because he CANNOT TELL

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’  - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy. 

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods. 

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.” 

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless. 

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always. 

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson. 

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.” 

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly. 

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?” 

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?” 

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

[pinkiemachine]

Superman: Origin Story! 🎉

Part one involving what became of Krypton and the rest of the El family will be linked below.

Lara and Cal crash landed together on Earth (specifically, outside of Smallville Kansas) in the summer of 1977 with their escape pod badly damaged, and Lara bleeding out. As luck would have it, a young couple was driving through that part of the country and saw what they thought was a plane of some sort crash land. John Kent jumped out of the car and went to check to see if there were survivors and found a Kryptonian escape pod, steaming and smoking, with a woman and baby inside. Lara could tell that she didn’t have much time. Attempting to speak to John (though, he didn’t understand her language) she asked that he would take care of her son and bring help. Along with Cal, she also gave John a small, hand-held device that he couldn’t figure out the purpose of. Then… she died.

John was left standing there, not knowing what to do for a few seconds. Ultimately, he figured he ought to bury the body out of respect, so he ran back to his wife to give her the baby. By that point, though, there were already dark shapes on the horizon. Martha spotted them. Black helicopters. The Kents got in their car and sped away as quickly as they could, not wanting to get tangled up in whatever conspiracy this was. John didn’t take them back to house that night. Instead, they kept driving until they reached his sister Emma’s house where they would lay low for a while.

Martha was still holding baby Cal and she couldn’t bear to let him go. She had suffered a miscarriage just a week before and immediately fell in love with the boy. There would be no getting rid of him now. They decided to name him Clark, after a word John thought that the woman in the pod had tried to say to him.

After the black helicopters had gone, and after the crashed pod had mysteriously disappeared, John and Martha went back home and continued on with life. Naturally, they had a million questions, but answers would be very tricky to supply unless they wanted to poke their noses into uncertain places. So they kept to themselves. Clark, meanwhile, was growing up fast and strong. Literally. By the time he was two, he was lifting things he really shouldn’t be able to, running faster than they could keep up with, and falling out trees on purpose (not sustaining any injuries) because it was fun. This was their first inkling that Clark might not be human. (After all, Kryptonians do look a lot like humans.)

I would also like to mention that in this version, Clark has siblings. Yes, a few years after saving Clark, Martha gave birth to another son, Micheal. Then came Sean, then Rueben, and finally Suzie. They all worked together on their father’s farm, though it was kind of an open secret who did most of the work. Clark would out-perform his brothers constantly, and it had become quite the sore spot in the family. But, when the tractor breaks down, who’re you gonna call to get it back to the barn? Probably the superhuman son who can lift it with one hand and fly. They did have a lot of good times as well. They got up to so much stupid stuff…heheh… story for another time.

Clark was told from a young age that he was allowed to use his powers on the farm, but nowhere else. Especially not in town. John and Martha were worried the black helicopters might come back. So Clark did his best, but rumours still abounded. Some of the other kids in his class at school even called him an “alien” because of how weird he acted sometimes. Naturally, he had been told his origins by this point. When he was six, his parents sat him down and explained about the pod and his mother and John gave him the small device that Lara had given him. The moment Clark touched it, it activated. It was a holo-photo projector, and it displayed a portrait of the El family, baby Clark included. This was proof that Clark was from the stars, and from that moment onward, he became obsessed with outer space. By the time he was in middle school, he had star maps and rocket posters pinned up in his room, he tracked down every scrap of alien news and conspiracy theories that he could find, and tried to send out radio signals into deep space with his own dinky, homemade system in the family tree house. He loved his adoptive family, he did, but he also wanted to know what had happened to the rest of his birth family. Were they out there? Did they know where he was? That he was alive? He had so many questions!

Alas, time flew by, and no answers appeared. He had a falling out with one of his brothers (involving Clark losing control and accidentally hurting one of the family dogs with his laser vision) and after high school he left to get a degree in investigative journalism, later taking a job at the Daily Planet in Metropolis. He still talked to his brothers and sister and Ma and Pa, but he felt alienated. He didn’t really belong anywhere. That’s why this job was so important. He would scour the ends of the Earth to find answers.

Little did he know, though, that the escape pod and Lara’s body had been taken by the government and were being experimented on. Head of the classified project currently: Amanda Waller. Most invested investor: Lex Luthor.

Part one here 👇

[noirandchocolate]

Master Kohga peels bananas the correct way (from the ‘bottom’) and when he sees Hylians doing it wrong and then complaining when there’s strings or the stem end is mushy from being yanked down too hard he is so mad. These losers. How do they not know this. Babies know it. How dare these fools disgrace the name of the mighty banana?

[makeyoumine69]

Clingy!Patrick Bateman x Insecure!Fem!Reader | NSFW HEADCANON

— A/N: This is the winner of my poll about headcanons, you can leave comments about what headcanons you want me to do in the future, hope you like this one!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

Being Bateman's lover was not easy at all — the constant attention, the greedy looks and flirtatious smiles from everyone who saw him actually made you sad, even insecure.

And Patrick knew that, and he didn't really like it, so no matter where you were — at his or your family's house, at some random party or dinner — his strong hands were always on you, stroking your back, squeezing your hips and groping your ass. Sometimes he'd even get his hands on your breasts, and you'd squeal with surprise and embarrassment, but Bateman would just chuckle and try to play with your nipples through the fabric of whatever you were wearing, especially if you didn't have a bra.

If you ever told him that you were insecure or even afraid that he was having an affair, it would certainly boost his ego and he couldn't help but laugh at your worries, while the sadness and pain would tear him apart from the inside because of how many times he had told you that he had his eyes only on you.

Your anxiety would only encourage him to be more overprotective and intimate with you, even though Patrick never liked the intense physical contact during sex, he would let you hold him tight as he fucked you senseless. He would let you pull on his silky hair while he devoured your soaped pussy, moaning as you grinded against his face. Marking would become his favorite kink, after each passionate love session he would admire the result of his work, tracing his fingers along his bite marks. It would hurt but you could take it because you were his good girl.

Even one mention of another woman — Jean, Evelyn or Courtney — would be enough for him to bend you over the back of his white couch, pull up your skirt and give you several hard slaps on your butt.

"Mhm! Pat-Patrick!" You moaned as you felt his long fingers work between your legs, smearing your wetness along your delicate petals.

"Have I told you how much I hate it when you say things like that?" Bateman growled into your ear after kissing the length of your neck. "Have I told you that, brat?"

"Yes," your voice trembled with the excitement of his firm hips rubbing vigorously against your dripping cunt. "I'm sorry, Daddy!" You whimpered, trying to get up, but he pushed you back, pressing your face against the couch and grabbing your throat.

"No, no, no, little one. You're not going anywhere until I say so." 

With that, Bateman would undo his pants with ease, grunting from how painfully hard he was — his throbbing dick would pop out of his expensive underwear, and he wouldn't care to prepare you properly after your bad behavior.

Savagely, Patrick would thrust into your little hole up to his heavy balls, burying his digits in your soft skin and closing his eyes from the blissful sensation of your hot, soaked pussy.

"F-fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart," he hissed and gave another long stroke, reveling in your lewd sounds as you tried your best not to cum here and now — you didn't want to feed his ego any more, because this bastard was arrogant enough. "Mmmm, I'm gonna fuck all those stupid thoughts out of your head!"

His low panting echoed in your voice like a hypnotic melody, and the only thing you could do was to bend even lower and spread your legs for him as he railed you hard, spanking your ass and yanking your hair. 

Bateman always kept his word and maybe one day you would finally believe you were his only one, yet sometimes Patrick thought you were doing it on purpose as you just loved being fucked like a whore.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[ssweetleaf]

old money.

pairing— mean old money!steve harrington x fem waitress!reader

w/c— 3.2k

♡ summary— whilst serving table number three for the evening, a certain someone catches your eye, though he soon turns out to be an asshole. you want more.

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, mean dom!steve, he’s an asshole, bathroom sex, so kinda public i guess??, pussy eating from behind, degradation, calls reader stupid once, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v (use protection!!!), breeding kink, cream pie, no aftercare, little bit of spanking, bad ending, i repeat, BAD ENDING!!!

a/n— please let me know what you think! i kind of hate this and there’s like not much plot but enjoy!

˖ ࣪⭑

Life was repetitive.

You’d wake up, leave your sorry excuse of an apartment just to go to work— some fancy-shmancy restaurant that served over-priced food and too-expensive wine, home for the big-wigs and the rich. And then you’d go home, back to your roommate, back to your creaky bed and your ceiling that had a suspicious amount of mould growing— back to your less-than-perfect lifestyle, dreaming of being one of those little flings that hung off the million-dollar men that stepped foot into your workplace, money signs everywhere and diamonds around your neck.

Shit— a girl can dream, right?”

And that was how it went, over and over and over again, letting slimy men pet at your ass and maybe show them a little too much cleavage, flutter your lashes at them all coyly just to earn a rather hefty tip at the end.

You were starting to get pretty sick of it…

“Good evening, gentlemen, is there anything I can get you started with?”

It was late and you were serving table three— a big gaggle of bozos you assumed to have more money than you’d ever have in your life, keeping your eyes wide and speech sickly sweet, leaving a little sway in your hips, keeping your eyes on the prize at the end. God, you hoped they tipped well.

There was six of them, clad in fine suits and sparkling tie clips, already fishing around in their pockets for a light, cigarettes hanging limply out the side of their mouths. Though one stood out in particular, chestnut hair that almost touched his shoulders, honeyed eyes all hooded and swarming, angry looking, especially with the way his eyes furrowed—

“Hey, you listenin’ t’me?” You shook out of your stupor, your cheek ticking when he clicked his fingers in front of your face, earning a few chuckles from his little rat-pack when he leaned back to say, “Jesus, can’t get the service these days, am I right?”

“Apologies, Sir,” you replied, “what can I get for you?”

You would’ve almost said he was handsome until he opened his mouth, his stupid flashy cuff links glinting from the lamp that perched in the middle of the tablecloth, monogrammed SH, his initials, you supposed. He called for the finest scotch you had— the most expensive, ordering a round of glasses for the table and the whole bottle to be served, nothing less, finishing off his sentence with a quick, ‘stat’. He definitely wasn’t asking, though you couldn’t let that deter you, he definitely had the money, you knew that by the size of his Rolex.

So you made priority for his table, serving their spirit on a silver tray and handing each of them a crystal tumbler, finely cut with intricate details and pretty patterns— not that they gave it any notice however, quick when ushering you to pour like they hadn’t the time to do it themselves.

It was all going smoothly, moving around table three and trying to gather the least attention possible, pouring the same two fingers of whiskey, until you got to him. Shy under his gaze you leaned forward, feeling the heat of his gaze on your tits and he was quick to sit up suddenly, causing your hand to slip. A little spillage, nothing drastic, and with the way his lip quirked you knew he had done it on purpose.

“Really are testin’ my patience tonight, sweet cheeks—” he cocked a brow, one arm spread along the back of his chair, “you tryin’ to get yourself fired?”

Oh, fuck off.

“No, Sir,” you spoke quickly, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard just to stop the tears slipping from the embarrassment. “I’ll clean it up right away— excuse me.”

Back and forth, back and forth. To and from their table, spilt scotch all cleaned, soaked up by the crisp white of the serving cloth, the swift dabdabdab had your tits jiggling from underneath your uniform, and you tried not to clench your thighs together when he leaned back to get a good look at your ass.

You couldn’t be serious, getting hot under the collar for some rich asshole, finding yourself all too sugary-sweet once again, gazing at him from beneath your lashes when he ordered his main, sharp jabs flitting from the tip of his tongue when you stalled or stuttered— it only had you down worse for him.

You really were pathetic.

Eventually, the night had started to round off to a close, tables emptying, though the bar still busy with drunk men hunched over in their stools, it was most probable they were complaining about their wives, trying and failing to flirt with the barmaids.

You hurried back to the table you were waiting on, plates ridden from the cloth and piled high next to the sink in the back, ready for the poor dishwasher to see too, placing down the wooden box they had requested, flicking up the golden hinges with your thumbs to reveal their pompous cigars, cutting the caps off and handing them out one by one.

“Light it for me, would ya, honey?” Him again, staring up at you all dark and handsome, it had you inwardly swooning and you made sure to give yourself a slap once you got home.

“Yes, Sir.” You opened the lighter, silver and sleek, watching the flame come to life and flicker while you cupped a palm to shield any draughts. His lips looked so pink, pursed around the thick stick, his gaze heavy and set on you, sucking his cheeks in when he took his first drag, inhaling into his lungs and puffing it out right into your face.

Prick.

You excused yourself, almost finished for the night, eager to have a smoke and then get to bed— probably touch yourself over the thought of him- SH, whatever his name was. You wondered what it could be, the thought of asking him crossed your mind and you quickly shook it away, totally pathetic and really, really embarrassing.

You would never ever stoop so low and try to get with him— no matter if his bank account included seven digits, or his face was the prettiest you’d ever seen, he wouldn’t be able to afford you…right?

˖ ࣪⭑

“Oh, fuck— Steve!”

You weren’t sure what it was that caused you to comply with his request, a short, snappy, meet-me-in-the-bathroom-in-five kind of thing, smirk prominent on his lips, a toothpick limply hanging from his mouth, much akin to the cigarette the first time you had pressed eyes on him.

But whatever it was, it had you pressed against the counter in the woman’s bathroom, skirt hiked up and panties around your ankles, his face snug against your pussy from behind while he devoured your cunt as if he hadn’t had a full three course meal beforehand.

You had learned through teeth-filled kisses that his name was Steve— Steve Harrington. And you almost rolled your eyes at what an asshole-y name it was.

The whole ordeal was messy, his spit slick with your arousal, slipping down his chin and the length of his throat, saturating his once perfect shirt and tie— you were no better, makeup already ruined, lining your cheeks in long, black streaks, clumping your lashes from the constant tears that ebbed over your waterline. You made contact with your glassy eyes through the mirror, staring at your dumbified state before they started to roll back at a certain mean suckle to your clit.

You reached behind you, pushing your fingers into his chestnut hair, going to give the roots a little tug before his palm came down on your ass in a sharp smack.

“Not the hair.” He was stern, words muffled from your pussy and you would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the constant attention to your puffy clit. “Stupid girl.”

Steve’s tongue prodded at your hole, slipping inside with ease at how slick you were, the sudden intrusion causing you to clench around his appendage and you moaned out at the way it flexed against your walls.

You were surprised he even took the time to use his mouth on you, considering you thought he’d be selfish while you fucked, but the thought occurred to you that he enjoyed it— Steve Harrington ate pussy for his pleasure— it made a lot of sense.

“Please—” you whined, arching your back and simultaneously pushing your ass in his face, driving his tongue deeper into your cunt and he audibly growled at that— clutching at both ass cheeks and keeping you tight in place, right where he wanted you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He spoke, it was almost hard to hear, especially over the way he slurped so crudely at your juices. “Wan’ me to pay more attention to that pretty little clit of yours, baby?”

You nodded, clutching tightly onto the edge of the sinks, knuckles aching from the constant tensing and you gazed at the door, no lock, just an emptying bar, and you hoped no woman wanted to use the restroom.

The mere thought of someone catching you in this position had your brain in a tizzy, swirling in a haze all hot and bothered, the prospect of losing your job not even encompassing your mind at all.

He stuck to his word, suckling the pearl of your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue against it and burying his face even further, shaking his head from side to side so filthily and urging a gasp out of you.

You knew he was smirking into you, you could feel it. Smug bastard.

And once you could feel the rope inside your belly tighten, tighter, tighter, so ready to snap— eager to cum and make a mess of his tongue, leave him to gulp down your cream and leave a little kiss to your clit as a thank you…he pulled away, biting at the fat of your ass and suckling his teeth marks into the flesh, your orgasm dissipating, the pleasure leaving your clit as achy as ever and the rest of your body completely unsatisfied.

You gulped down some much needed air, staring at him with wide eyes and a stuttering mouth, words stuck in your windpipe when you tried to speak, instead you hoped your expression conveyed what exactly you wished to tell him.

What the actual fuck, Steve?

“What? You thought I was gonna let you cum?” He cooed, mocking you with a pout and two condescending taps to your cheek once he got to his feet. “Y’seem a little desperate, honey, barely had my mouth on y’for two seconds.”

The smirk was back again, and yeah, maybe it had been the best head in your life, but it definitely wasn’t two seconds until you needed to cum. So yeah, fuck you, Steve.

There was a mindless pout on your lips, and you realised that must of been what he was mocking, your thighs rubbing together, still so slick and sensitive from your ruined orgasm and the way he spoke to you— all condescending and mean, it made you clench around nothing, made your cunt throb the more he spoke to you in that way.

“Please?” You were surprised the words managed to slip, staring back at him and craning your neck to see and it made him chuckle.

Steve clutched your chin between a thumb and forefinger.

“Aw, my poor girl—” he cooed, all sickly sweet and nothing like him, there was something behind it, a different meaning, though you weren’t sure what. “You wanna cum real bad, don’t ya?”

You nodded, sniffling back your un-shed tears and giving him your sweetest heart eyes, all wet and starry.

“I’ll let you cum, hon, don’t you worry.”

He gave another tap to your cheek, a little harder this time and you couldn’t ignore the little glint in his eye and the twitch of his cheek— then pressed a wet kiss to your mouth, an exaggerated ‘mwah’ coming from him at the action.

Finally, he started to work on his belt, fingers fiddling with the buckle to pull it free from the loops, pulling at the button to his slacks and unzipping them completely, letting them slip to his thighs.

And it was quite shocking, actually. Not only was he not wearing underwear, but his cock was huge— you hadn’t a clue how he even got that thing in his trousers in the first place, and you were even more baffled as to why you hadn’t had a good look at it before.

The tip was stupidly pretty, gleaming with pre-cum and you watched while he smeared it around with his thumb— his shaft all littered with thick veins, trailing down to heavy balls, so round and full of cum.

Shit, you thought, he totally had a reason for being such an asshole.

Steve pressed a big palm to your ass, spreading you open as much as he could with a single hand while his other held the base of his cock, pressing it against your opening and feeding it through with a chesty groan.

You could feel your walls stretching around him, trying to accommodate his impressive size all while he split you in half— he was mean about it too, pushing to the hilt and not giving you much time to adjust before pulling out, just to slam himself back inside.

So deep, so heavy— bordering on painful, but your pussy weeped for him and his pretty little massive cock.

“Fuck, look at you, bet you haven’t taken cock like this before, huh, baby?” He let a moan slip, and you were sure it was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard. “So fuckin’ pathetic, lettin’ me use you like a little whore.”

Your eyes were practically rolling to the back of your skull and you reached behind you, grabbing blindly at any part of him you could find, until he brought his own hand up to press it to the small of your back, holding it there and using it as leverage to fuck himself into you at a heavy pace.

He had the audacity to chuckle at the way you cried out, struggling under his grasp though pushing back against him with each thrust to get even deeper, desperate for him to fuck into your cervix and fill up your tummy with his sticky cum.

“Shit— Steve—”

“Can barely string a sentence together, sweet cheeks—” he grinned, “you must really like me, huh?”

You were babbling expletives and nonsensical verses, staring back at him through the mirror with watery, swarming eyes— clenching around him like a vice, almost too hard and he struggled and spluttered at the new found sensation.

“Fuck, that’s it—” he moaned, dipping his mouth to sponge sloppy, wet little kisses to the back of your neck. “You want that tip, baby, you gotta earn it. Gonna give you a big one, too, if you’re a good girl.”

There was a double meaning — you were sure, whining out at his filthy words and it was when you eventually stared back at your reflection that you agreed with him.

You were pathetic.

Tears streaming, lips all bitten and pouty, cheeks sheened with sweat and your hair stuck to your forehead— the weight of your tits about to fall out of your bra, the buttons on your blouse already popped off mere minutes before when he got his hands on you.

‘I’ll buy you a new one’, he’d said.

Money. Money. Money. Money. Money.

That was all he was, all he spoke about, all he cared about.

You were close, embarrassingly so, keening into him when the mushroomed tip of his cock jabbed into that special spot, the thick veins sliding against your gummy walls and splitting you in two.

“G-gonna—” you could barely get your words out, sobbing into the stuffy bathroom and leaning forward to press your forehead against the cool mirror.

“Gonna what, huh? Speak up, hon.” You could hear his smirk and the way the corner of his lip lifted, all clicky and slick, and you would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t so inebriated from his pretty cock.

“Cum.”

“You wanna cum?” He cooed, pulling out right to the tip to slam back inside you, heavy and hard, pushing you forward and bruising your hips. “How badly? Gotta let me know how much of a whore you are.”

“So badly, Steve— make me feel so good, better than anyone else—” you babbled dumbly, “wanna feel you cum in me, too.”

“You fuckin’ dirty girl.” His stomach muscles clenched, length throbbing at your want, “wantin’ a stranger to cum inside you— just isn’t good enough, sweetheart.”

He tried to click his tongue at you, wanting to mock you and tease, though the tut soon morphed into some kind of stuttered groan when you clenched and fluttered around him continuously.

“F-fuck, you really wan’ it, huh?” His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, and his hold on your arm grew lax. “You really want my cum— fill you up and get you nice ‘n’ round, hm?”

You nodded fervently, helping him out and doing most of the movements yourself, his mouth agape and face flushed when you stared at him through the mirror while he watched the space where the two of you met.

“Have to wait until I cum, then you’ll have your turn.” He rushed out, grabbing a good hold of your hips, kneading at the fat before pressing his chest to your back— starting his pace back up and fucking into you like a mutt in heat, chasing his orgasm with a heaving chest and a pumping heart.

One, two, three long pumps, he stilled inside you, shooting his load deep inside and stuffing you full of that old money prodigy, and you took it greedily, milking his cock of every last drop, whining out at the warmth that flooded your cunt.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby— can’t waste a drop, gotta keep it all in.”

You expected him to continue after he had stilled and calmed down a little, get you off and make you cum— however as soon as his high had worn off and all the sparkles and stars in his irises had started to fade, he pulled out of you, long, stringy lines of cum connecting you to him and his cock was slick with your arousal, a thick ring of your cream slicking the base.

Steve reached for your panties that were still hooked around your ankles, pulling them up and letting them snap sharply around your waist, tugging them snug against your pussy so his cum saturated the already dampened cotton.

Speechless, you watched him tuck himself back inside his slacks, pulling up the zip and popping the button before reaching into his back pocket and tugging out his leather wallet, thick and bulging with notes and credit cards and he flicked through the hundreds, taking a wad out and pressing them flat on the counter next to you.

Your tip.

“You promised—” you squeaked out, referring to how he had promised you dearly that he’d let you cum once he was inside you. Fucking lying little son of a bitch—

With one final slap to your ass he headed for the door.

“See ya around, sweet cheeks.”

✰

tagging <3—

@lou-la-lou @paladinshenanigan-blog @bleachvibez @qardasngan

[munsonsbabygirl]

even hotter

part 1: pretty hot | part 3: hotter than ever

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader 

Summary: Being mad at Eddie makes for a pretty unforgettable night. 

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it people!), oral + fingering (f receiving), car sex, riding, some hair pulling, slight overstimulation, creampie

wc: 3.4k

a/n: i think i need to go touch some grass after this

(photos found on pinterest)

Eddie doesn’t call. 

Not the day after, or the day after that, or even a few days after that. At first, you think he’s just being coy. You get it—play hard to get and you’ll fall right into his lap the next time you see him. But after a full week goes by without anything from him, you’re angry. You don’t hear a peep from him until he’s walking into The Hideout for Corroded Coffin’s second set the following week.

So when he saunters into the bar again with his bandmates, you ignore him. 

He knows you’re mad at him. You’re not exactly hiding it. You refuse to look at him, purposely avoiding his attempts to talk to you by busying yourself with anything and everything so you wouldn't give in to his guilty puppy dog eyes. It’s a hard thing to do, considering how every time you look at him, your mind flashes back to the last time you saw him, just after he’d fucked you against the wall behind the bar. You want nothing more than to jump his bones again, but you won’t. You want him to stew in his guilt. You’re petty like that. 

Eddie finally corners you in the back office when you go to grab a few more rolls of quarters for the register before Corroded Coffin’s set, sneaking in behind you and closing the door. You turn to him, arms crossed over your chest as you fix him to the spot with a withering glare that he shifts uncomfortably under. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, fiddling with the heavy silver ring on his pinky. 

“You should be.” 

“I’m an idiot.” 

“You are.” 

“I know. I wanted to call you too. I just—I’m not good at this.”

“I know. I wanted to call you too. I just—I’m not good at this.”

“I know. I wanted to call you too. I just—I’m not good at this.”

“This?” 

“Feelings.” 

“Feelings?” You really feel like a parrot right now, just repeating everything Eddie says, but nothing he’s saying is making any sense. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Y/N. But every time I even looked at the phone, I chickened out because…fuck, I don’t even know why!” Eddie groans, linking his hands behind his neck as he paces back and forth in front of you. “All I know is we had sex once and I shouldn’t be thinking about you all the time, but I am. And I’m a complete dick for not calling you, and I’m sorry.” 

“You’re still an idiot.” You huff, but you’re a little less mad than before, and he can tell, because he makes his way across the room, looping his arms around your waist. His nose dips down into the crook of your neck immediately. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He murmurs, punctuating each apology with a kiss to your skin. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

There’s that nickname again. 

You hate it, but you can feel your anger start to melt away at the allure of his stupid pleading chocolate brown eyes, the stroke of his thumb against your cheek, the firmness of his chest pressed against yours. Even though you're a little hurt he didn't call after he said he would, you can't be mad at him anymore. 

Not when you were the one who told him you’d be here for him even if he didn't call. Not when you could feel yourself starting to get wet the second he walked in earlier. 

“Let me make it up to you.” He insists, sliding his hand around the nape of your neck. You roll your eyes, but he just nods sharply and pulls you closer, so close that you can feel every part of him pressed up against you. And you mean every part. Eddie’s sporting a semi, pushed flush against the front of your jeans. 

You’d be lying if you said just the feeling of it didn't make your thighs clench a little bit. Even though you're still slightly mad at him, he's still hot, and you're still longing for him to dick you down again like he did last week. 

“How?” You’re sure your voice is a little too breathless, but you don’t care. 

Eddie’s eyes scan the tiny office, landing on the battered couch in the corner and smirking. Without responding, his hands snake around your waist, backing you up until you’re against the cushions with him shoved between your legs. You’re slightly confused, but when he sinks down on his knees, everything becomes clear. 

His gaze meets yours in a silent question of ‘are you okay with this?’, and you just lean forward, pressing your lips against his heatedly in lieu of a response. He kisses you back fervently for a little bit, then pulls away, instead opting to kiss a trail down the valley of your tits, right down to the strip of bare skin between your top and the waistband of your jeans. 

“Let’s get these off, shall we?” He hums, shimmying your jeans down your legs and tossing them off to the side. He’s eye level with your embarrassingly soaked cunt now, eyeing the wet patch on the front of your panties with a smirk. “This wet for me already, baby? And here I thought you were mad at me.” 

“Fuck you, Eddie.” 

“We’ll do that later. But right now is all about you.” 

“What are you gonna do?” It’s more of a rhetorical question than anything else—you both know what he’s about to do. 

He just slides your underwear off and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket, mumbling something about keeping them for later before running his thumb along your slick folds. Your breath hitches when he rubs over your clit achingly slow, too slow for your liking. 

“Do something, Eddie, please,” You plead, nudging him in the ribs with your foot. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

That seems to flip a switch in him, because the smirk falls right off his face, replaced with a darker, more serious look. Your first thought is that you’ve angered him. Part of you feels bad, but another part of you wants to see where this might take you. 

However, you’re fully not expecting it when he sinks two fingers into you without warning. 

You let out an involuntary moan at the sudden but very welcome intrusion, bucking your hips up against the knuckles he has buried deep inside you. The cold silver of Eddie’s rings kiss your clit with every perfectly paced thrust of his deft fingers, making you clench around the digits almost instantly as he fingers you expertly, like he’s done this a hundred times over. 

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” He chuckles darkly, reveling in the way you’re beginning to fall apart from just him fucking you with his fingers. “Pussy’s sucking my fingers right in, just the way you like it, huh?” 

“So good, Eddie, so good,” You nod, rocking against his fingers mindlessly. If you’d known he was this good with his hands, you would’ve let him do this last week too. It makes sense though—he’s a guitarist, and guitarists are good with their fingers. You just didn’t know they could be this good. 

“I’ll give you one better, baby, don’t you worry.” Eddie guides your legs over his broad shoulders with the hand that isn’t currently occupied, yanking you closer until your cunt is right in his face. His tongue darts out to wet his lips momentarily before he leans forward, flicking his tongue over your clit once, twice, then a third time. A cry falls from your lips at his actions, an even louder one when he takes the sensitive bud into his mouth. Tendrils of pleasure ripple through your body like arcs of lightning as he sucks on it, and your eyes squeeze shut, heels digging into his shoulder blades as he forges on like it’s his life mission to make you come. 

Your fingers unconsciously thread into Eddie’s messy curls, pulling him deeper against you with such a force that he lets out a growled ‘hmph’ that sends a delicious vibration through your already clenching pussy. 

Your orgasm hits you fast, hard, and unexpected like a sucker punch. One second you’re pleading Eddie to give you more, next thing you know, the rope in the pit of your stomach snaps, sending you spiraling into ecstasy with a cry. 

“There you go, Y/N, you’re okay. You’re good, you’re fine,” Eddie soothes, stroking your knee as you come down from your high. You let go of your grip in his hair, weak hands falling to the cushions on either side of you. “You did so good for me, baby.” 

When you’re finally able to pry your eyes open again, Eddie’s sitting back on his haunches, tossing his hair out of his face with a shake of his head. 

“Am I forgiven now?” He asks innocently, licking your cum off his fingers with a devilish smile. It’s another rhetorical question—he knows he is. 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” 

“Fine. You’re off the hook, Munson.” 

“Glad to hear it.” He nods, brushing his hands off on his thighs before bringing himself to his feet. 

From here, you can see that his semi has turned into a full blown boner, straining against his jeans very obviously. You might be petty, but you can’t let him go onstage like that. 

“Sit down, Eddie.” Eddie obliges instantly, eager for any source of relief from his throbbing dick. He switches places with you on the couch like he can’t get there fast enough, watching you reach for his belt buckle with wide eyes. 

But before you can touch him, there’s a pounding at the door behind you, then a rather annoyed voice. 

“Eddie! You in there, dude? It’s eight o’clock, we gotta start the set!” 

Eddie jams the heel of his palms against his forehead, dragging his hands down his face frustratedly. “Yeah, okay! I’ll be right there, Gareth!” 

“Well, this is awkward.” You chime in quietly, rising to your feet. “We should go.” 

“No, no, no, I’ll be quick! So quick, I promise.” He pleads, clasping his hands in a begging motion. “Please, Y/N—baby—I can’t play like this!” 

“Not sure you really have a choice, rockstar,” You smirk, crossing the room to grab your jeans and pulling them back on. “Your fans await.” 

“Oh my god, stop it. Can you please help me out here?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but Gareth’s voice sounds out again. “Dude!!! Come on!” 

“I’m fucking coming, man!” Eddie yells, pulling himself off the couch with a grimace aimed at your smug smile. “I hate you. I hate you so much.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Okay, I don’t. But you’re so fucked afterwards.” 

“Looking forward to it.” 

—

Corroded Coffin plays a pretty good set tonight. Well, as good as it can be when their lead guitarist has a mean case of blue balls. 

You can tell Eddie’s trying hard to focus on the music, but he gets flustered every time he locks eyes with you and remembers your panties burning a hole in his jacket pocket. It doesn’t do his boner any favors either. 

You’re starting to feel aroused again too. Every time his fingers stretch across the strings quickly in a riff, you think about those same fingers pumping in and out of you mere minutes before. Every time his hand tightens around the neck of his guitar, you wonder what it would feel like wrapped around your throat. 

And by the time their set is over, you’re more than ready to jump his bones again. You’re not in charge of closing up the bar tonight, so you’re clocked out and waiting for Eddie at one of the tables in no time. 

Eddie can see you waiting, so he’s eager to pack up as quickly as he can so he can finally get some sweet, sweet relief. Only this time, his bandmates aren’t letting him off the hook so easily. Gareth and Jeff are taking forever arguing about who’s turn it is to load the van, eventually turning to Eddie as the determining vote. He’s not paying an ounce of attention, too occupied in his own unholy thoughts to give a damn about their dilemma. 

“Here, just fucking take the keys,” He shoves his car keys into Jeff’s palm, “And work it out together. Take the van for the night. I don’t care. It’s yours. Don’t crash it. I gotta go.” He doesn’t even wait for their response before he’s bounding across the dingy bar, grabbing your hand and yanking you out the front door. 

“My car’s down this way.” You breathe, matching his brisk pace. He just nods, following you down the deserted street to the only car parked in a block radius. Perfect. Your fingers fumble for your keys, but as soon as you get your car unlocked, you climb in with him pressed right up against your ass. 

Your clothes are stripped off before he swings the car door shut, but he hasn’t managed to get his jeans halfway down his ass yet before you’re straddling him, pushing your mouth against his in a very insistent kiss. Although surprised, he manages to kiss you back with the same energy, even more so when you drag your bare ass against his hard on. His breathing spikes at the sensation that travels its way down to his toes. 

“Wait, wait—I don’t, um, I don’t have a condom this time.” He mumbles against your lips sheepishly, halting your tantalizing movements. 

“What happened to wrap it before you tap it?” You’re half teasing, tugging gently at his bottom lip with your teeth. 

“I forgot.” 

“It’s okay.” You assure him, too focused on needing him inside you to really care. 

Your fingers curl into his hair for the second time tonight, this time pulling his head back against the headrest behind him, angling it sideways to reveal his pale neck. You’ve been wanting to mark it up all night, and now that you’ve got him in your clutches, you don’t hesitate in attaching your lips to the side of his throat, to the corded muscle that flexes every time he swallows. 

Eddie murmurs something unintelligible that turns into a strangled groan at the feeling of you sucking a trail of hickies into his alabaster skin, abandoning his thoughts in favor of letting his eyes flutter shut. It seems like a lifetime until your hand delves into his boxers, taking out his leaking cock. You slide it along your wet heat teasingly, and Eddie whimpers.  

“Holy Ozzy,” He groans, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs as you finally sink down on his cock until he’s entirely buried inside your pussy. You barely give him a second to adjust before you start to bounce up and down on him, gripping the headrest behind him for extra leverage as you ride his cock at an immediately swift pace. “Jesus fucking—you’re gonna, fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N.” 

“Not my goal, but I’ll take it.” You purr, grinding your hips in a circle to accompany your downward motions. 

Eddie thinks you really are trying to send him to an early grave now. With the way your tits bounce right in front of his face and your cunt squeezes his cock in that blissfully familiar way that takes him back to the first time you fucked, he’s surprised he hasn’t busted a nut yet. He’s honestly not really sure how much longer he can last.

Neither of you have the words to describe the bliss you’re in, the only sounds being skin slapping against skin and the wet sounds of your mixed arousals, with the occasional moan or grunt thrown in for good measure. 

Somehow, you think this might be even better than the first time Eddie fucked you. Maybe it’s because you’re both unbelievably horny

But it doesn’t stop there, because Eddie somehow musters the energy to plant his feet on the carpeted floor of the car and slam his hips up into you on your every downward bounce. 

“Eddie, please, please,” You beg, throwing your head back. “Make me come!” 

“Come all over my cock, baby, you can do it,” He huffs out, angling himself so he somehow manages to spear even deeper into you. His cock pushes up against your most sensitive spot with ease, drawing a high pitched cry slash moan slash scream (you’re too fucked out to even understand what noise it was) from the depths of your soul. 

It only takes a few more good thrusts before you’re falling apart for the second time tonight, trembling uncontrollably with the force of your orgasm.

To make matters better (or worse, maybe), Eddie continues to fuck up into you as he chases his own release, clamping his hands on your hips at your attempts to quell this overstimulation. 

“Just—shit, just wanna let you know, I’m like, super close, and I dunno if you want me to, y’know, finish inside you,” Eddie groans, sounding more and more like he’s struggling with every thrust, “So…let me—let me know where you want it.” He cringes right after, internally berating himself for how dumb he sounds right now. 

“Come inside me.” You moan shakily, bracing your hands against his heaving chest. 

“What?” 

“I said, come inside me.” 

Fucking hell, you don’t have to tell him again. He can feel his balls draw up in anticipation, and then he’s gone, spurts of his hot seed painting your clenching walls a milky white. 

“My fucking god, Y/N. You’re unreal,” He breathes, voice muffled from where he’s buried his face against the flushed skin in the space between your boobs. “Christ, you’re so unreal, baby.” 

You sigh dreamily, looping your arms around his neck and pressing your nose to his hair. Despite the whole car reeking of sex and sweat now, his tangled curls still smell very faintly of shampoo. He’s gone soft inside you, and when you lift yourself off him, both Eddie’s cum and yours comes gushing out of your wrecked cunt, dripping onto his jeans. You’re both in a post-sex haze, eyes locked on the sight of the cum leaking out of you. 

“That’s so hot.” He whispers, lips quirking up into an exhausted smile. 

You feel like you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from settling against Eddie’s side, nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder comfortably. He freezes for a split second, and you’re hit with the sinking feeling that you’ve just made things weird, but he recovers quickly, patting blindly on the seat until he feels the familiar smooth leather of the jacket he’d discarded earlier and situating it over your naked body. His arms wind around you, hands resting on your hip. 

You’re both silent for a long time, neither one of you moving until Eddie reaches out towards the fogged up window next to you, tracing something in the condensation. When he’s done, you see that he’s written the word ‘HI’, and a chuckle bubbles from your lips. He’s still a big dork, even after he’s given you two—no, three—of the best orgasms you’ve had in your life in the short time you’ve known him. Maybe you might like this dork a little more than you originally thought you would. 

“Hi.” You murmur, bumping your cheek against his collarbone. 

“So…I feel like we need to talk about some things.” 

“Can it wait until I can feel my legs again?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” There’s only a short silence. “Would you say this counts as fuck buddies?” 

“Eddie.” You chide, slapping his chest weakly. 

 “Sorry, sorry,” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, making the split second decision to tell you how he really feels. “It’s just—I think I like you, Y/N.” 

“You think?” 

“No, I know I like you. And I know we haven’t talked about this, and I’m entirely aware I could’ve just screwed this whole thing up, but—” 

You’re quick to shut him up with a kiss, sliding your hand along the expanse of his jaw. When you’re satisfied, you pull away, and his eyes flutter open, lips parting in confusion. 

“I like you too, Eddie.” 

“Really? I mean, that’s cool. It’s cool. Everything’s…” 

“Cool?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Come back to my place tonight.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie inevitably stays the night at your place, and it’s safe to say there isn’t much sleeping being done. Any talk of where you stand as an item could wait until the morning, and as you’re lying naked (again) under the covers with Eddie’s limbs tangled with yours and his nose pressed against your neck, you think everything will turn out just fine. 

[aziraphales-library]

Do you have any recommendations for accidental marriage fics between Crowley and Aziraphale.

I loved marriage lines and was wondering if you knew of any fics similar to it.

Here are some...

Ineffable Husbands by ImprobableDreams900 (G)

Aziraphale finds an old marriage certificate in one of his books, and it has two very familiar signatures at the bottom...

Sealed by Aethelflaed (G)

London, Three weeks after the Apocalypse: Crowley finds a certain document tucked away in a forgotten book. Mercia, 1020 CE: An angel and a demon meet to finalize an Arrangement... “I’m still not sure,” Aziraphale said slowly, “that the Arrangement need be so…formalized.” “Fifteen years ago,” Crowley snapped, sweeping his wing behind him, “you said you weren’t sure you were comfortable with a nebulous agreement. I don’t know what more you want from me, Angel.” “But it’s hardly appropriate for an angel to enter into a contract with Hell.” Aziraphle carefully placed the document to the side.

Slow by write_away (T)

It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions. You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it. It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart. Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

Vows by Bookwormgal (T)

Crowley certainly didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't something that he exactly planned. But a moment of desperation and stubbornness gave birth to the creation of something new. A bond forged of power, hope, devotion, love, and promises that he would never break. It isn't often that a demon metaphysically half-marries an angel.

The Next Time We Wed by seashadows (T)

“Guys, I’ve looked at the marriage license,” Anathema said, “and I’ve gotten copies of our notices and everything. The names on the documents aren’t Newt’s and mine anymore. Apparently they never were. They’re yours.” When a drunken attempt to help a friend gets Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally married, their decision to fake it instead of fix it changes their relationship in a way neither of them realizes the other wants. Over the course of a few short months, two supernatural beings discover that there are plenty of things they don’t know about each other, two humans finally get married (again), and everyone learns how to be a little braver.

Legally Binding by Valvopus (M)

Aziraphale wakes up and wishes he wasn't naked in a bathtub with Crowley. He really wishes he remembered what happened the previous night. Crowley just wants to fix things and make sure Aziraphale doesn't stop speaking to him again, because they seem to have done something truly stupid. An accidentally married AU. This fic is mostly set before said marriage. Each chapter is immediate aftermath of waking up married, alongside the backstory of their developing relationship.

And I assume this is the one you mentioned (but please include authors and/or links!)...

Marriage Lines by Bil (G)

Crowley said, voice very carefully even, “So, were you ever planning on telling me that we were married?” In which Aziraphale finds an unexpected surprise, contemplates parchment and copperplate, visits a picture framer, and eventually gets his happy ending.

- Mod D

[icameheretoreadstuff]

Shut up

Pairings: Fp Jones II x reader

Warning: 18+, Public Smut, Explicit sex, Explicit Language, Rough Oral, Spanking.

Summary: basically, youre pissing off FP Jones the serpent king just to get into bed with him.

A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr.

You walked up to Fp, he had just come back from an errand. You were in the woods with the serpents, drinking beer and just celebrating some stupid shit you didnt care about. You only cared about him right now, you wanted to run up to him and just kiss him. You've wanted to do that since forever really, but he always keep such a wall up and dissmisses you all the time. Your friends told you this yesterday, that he keeps looking at you longingly but looks away when you look over to him. They asked you if you were into him but you didnt know how to respond.

But you knew you felt this urge to just take his pants off and have your way with him. His smile, his hair and hands, the way he talked about importaint things to his fellow serpents. The way he kicked ass, and gosh he was just god damn frustratingly handsome. But now you were going to confront him if he had anything against you or something, cause really, why did he always look away like that?

your whole body was electrefied, just the thought of keeping him close to you and tasting his lips were making you think unclearly. "FP" you said bluntly, he looked over to you for a second as let out a shaky breath. "what" he simply asked, and then he leaned on a rock nearby as he crossed his hands and looked over to where everyone else was.

You walked closer to him, he inhaled and closed his eyes for a moment as he looked down and his chest blew up. "what?" he asked again as he exhaled a shaky breath.

"I want to talk to you about something that's been bugging me" you finally said. He still wouldn't look at you, but you walked closer up to him. "You never look me in he eye anymore, you're never alone with me for more than a couple of seconds" you stated and looked at him, studying him. His neck was so fucking distracting.

"whats the deal, FP?" He sighed and still refused to look at you but said, "nothing, I need to go" he said simply and were on his way to leave before you gently pushed him down on the rock again.

He looked at you confused "what are you doing?" he asked as if he couldnt tell where this conversation started. "why do you do this to me and only me?" you asked again and pushed him a little harder this time, he rised up and held his hands up in defense as he shaked his head "im not in the mood" you pushed him once more. "what's your deal, huh?" you chuckled "We used to not have any problems with getting along, for the sake of the serpents" you pushed him once more in his chest, this time a little harder. "but now you purposely ignore me" you pushed him once more, but this time he stopped you with his hands on your shoulders.

He slowly grabbed your hands and held them together. "stop that" he said, you managed to get your hands loose as you pushed him once more. "tell me the truth you sissy" you chuckled. This time you could see he started to get angry. "there you are!" you joked "can we talk for real now?" he shaked his head in frustration and tried to calm down, but then you pushed him once more. "Y/N, STOP" you froze as you could tell he really was angry now. "can you please just talk to me and not-"

he grabbed your head and leaned closer to you, "youre so god damn demanding" he shaked his head "I cant just talk to you just becuase you want me to" you looked at him, the frustration was building up inside you. "why the fuck not" you whispered. "I'm not sure I want you to know yet" he whispered back. You gave him a warning look, "fock you" you nearly shouted "stop" he said as he laid his hands on your chest, grabbing your jacket "fock you" he sneered "fock you" you said once more.

he pulled you close and leaned closer to your ear and breathed in your perfume as he grunted "no" he leaned his chin into yours "fuck me" you said and leaned back so you could see his face. "y/n, stop" he said "no" you whimpered.

You leaned closer so that your nose were perfectly placed right infront of the tip of his nose. He began panting slowly and deep. "you smell so god damn good, you hands on my body feels so right" you whispered. "stop" he whispered. "The things I want to do to you-" you bit your underlip. "the things I want you to do to me" you couldnt help but feel his chest tighting up and his hips moved closer to you, so you stood even closer together.

You grabbed his hands and placed them on your waist, making him hug you. "I want you so bad" you said as you playfully licked his underlip. "I want to lick you more than just your underlip" he grabbed your waist and moved them tightly down to your ass. "I want you to tell me the truth" you said. "you know the truth" he simply said. "I want to hear it from you" you said and moved down to his neck and playfully licked him, kissed him softly on his gorgous neck and then you moved up to smell his hair.

He smelled so fucking good. He let out a sound that made your knees weak. "I-" he started and then he finally grabbed your ass hard which made you let out a moan. "want-" he pushed his hips hard into your core "you" he let out a sigh as he lifted up your ass playfully and smacked it. "more than you know" the words he was saying was making you slowly thrust into him "finally" you chuckled. "Everytime im alone with you, everytime I see you- I just wanna-" his voice broke as he thrusted into you. "then do it" you said and leaned closer to his mouth again. "Guide me into the woods and do me right here and right now"

He leaned back and let out a grunt, he took his free hand and combed it threw his hair as he took a look at you. "I have struggled so badly to not do this with you" he chuckled out in frustration. "do what?" you asked innocently as you took his hand, wanting to guide him to a place where you could finally just kiss the fuck out of him.

"y/n, you should be with somebody else" he said. "fuck no" you whispered and dragged him with you into the woods. You didn't stop until the chatter from the party started to tune out. You stopped and let go of his hand, he was standing right behind you. you slowly took of your jacket and let your hair fall over the shoulder.

You took off your top and turned around to throw it in his face. he grabbed it and layed it on a rock nearby, while not breaking the eyecontact. He took of his jacket as he gazed on your boobs making him hum. He threw his jacket and his shirt on the rock as he walked over to you and crashed his lips into yours.

One of his hands grabbed your boob, which made you moan and you let your hands grab his biceps. He licked your upper lip, grazed his lips unto yours as he kissed you deeply while inhaling. you grabbed one of your hands around his neck and deepened the kiss. You enjoyed tasting his lips, his tounge and then you did the one thing you’ve always wanted to do. You playfully bite his upperlip.

He smirked and grabbed your ass. Then he spanked you, he pushed down your skirt to the ground. You whimpered as a result as you kissed him while you couldnt wait for what he planed to do to you. He spanked you on your ass and turned you around, he bent down and took a bite on your asscheek. You leaned into a tree as you pushed your ass upwards, signaling him to do whatever he wanted.

He grunted and bit your ass once more, and then he guided your legs to stand more apart from each other. He spanked you lightly and moaned at the sight. He dragged down your panties slowly and moaned as he spread your asscheeks, revealing your core. He bent closer and kissed your core sloppy and licked your core with a flat tougne. This sent vibrations throughout your body like a heatwave.

You let out a moan. "shh" he chuckled. "fp" you moaned, the sensation of him tasting every inch of your core was making you let out all these sounds you couldnt hold back. He spanked you as a result "sh" he whispered as he licked you slowly from the begining of your core up to your ass, and bit you on your asscheek. "fp" you moaned, he spanked you once more "Im going to spank you everytime you make a sound" he warned with a smirk. He leaned twoards your core and took his long tounge and inserted it, you let out a moan and started to thrust yourself into him.

He playfully sucked on your lip. "I want you to cum on my tounge, love" he whispered. he turned you around sat down on the ground on his knees, as he took one leg at the time on each side of his shoulders, so your core were even closer to his mouth. your back was up against a big tree and he was pushing you upwords and held your hips so you wouldnt fall.

He put his tounge inside you once more. "fp" you moaned, the position you were in with him was making you moan uncontrolably. you couldnt hold back anymore. You began pushing yourself down on his long tounge. you grabbed his hair as you started to thrust yourself on his tounge. He pushed himself closer to your core sucking and licking at your lips, as he looked up on you. You grabbed one of your hands and pinched your nipple as you moaned.

He moaned while his tounge was still inside you, his voice sent vibrations throughout your clit. You began panting hard and deep, feeling the climax closing in. He roughly thrusted his tounge inside you as you let out all theese sounds which you couldnt hold back anymore. The sounds he was making with your core was driving you harder and harder twoards the climax. "FP!" you said again, and again as you hit climax riding out your high.

He let you down carefully as he had a look on his face you had never seen before. "I'm so horny for you right now, thats the hottest thing Ive ever seen, Never once have I imagine it to be like this" he whispered twoards your lips and kissed you deeply. He whispered "taste" he simply said, and then you kissed him deeply. You moaned and licked his tounge, then he grabbed your nipples and licked them, he playfully sucked on your left boob while moaning, which made you moan.

"I want you so bad" he shaked with excitement. He pulled back and opened up his buckle. you grabbed the skirt on the ground and sat your knees ontop of it for more comfort. you looked up at him "I wanna taste you so bad" you whimpered, he smirked and pulled down his pants and then his boxershorts. his long shaft bounced out and your gaze went straigt to his shaft. you whimpered as you grabbed his shaft and tried to consume his long shaft.

He moaned and his head fell backwords. his hips started to thrust sowly as you managed to bob your head. You licked his shaft from the end to the top. "y/n" he moaned and grabbed your hair into a ponytail.

You moaned as you put his shaft into your mouth until you felt his balls under your chin. Tears started to come down your cheek as you grabbed his bouncy ass. You guided him to thrust you slowly into your mouth as he moaned your name. "you feel so good, babe" he moaned. "Im going to cum if you keep this up and I havent even-" before he could finish he moaned and thrusted hard into you.

He pulled out and grabbed your hands, guiding you up. "I want you to cum on my dick" he whispered "I want to hold you while fucking your brains out" he moaned. He grabbed your legs and held you close up twoards the big tree. He began panting slowly as he put his shaft slowly inside you. "fp" you moaned and he tried his best to go slow to let you adjust to his size, but when you moaned once more he couldnt help himself. He thrusted himself into you and began finding a slow but hard rythum. "your sounds are driving me insane" he whispered into your ear as he kept thrusting inside you, you guided your hands on his shoulders to have something to hold on to.

he let out a sigh as he pulled you out slowly and then slowly inside you again. "y/n" he moaned and then he kept thrusting into you until you began to feel your breath become deep and hard, He found a slow rythum at first before he thrusted harder and harder, in a fast rythum. He kept up the pace until you climaxed. "youre so beautifull" he said, and then he grabbed your ass hard while thrusting hard into you like a maniac until he pulled out and guided his shaft twoards the ground and climaxed on the tree.

He let you down safely from his grip as he kept panting. "that was amazing" he said while still looking at you. "youre amazing, and I think I want to do this again" you said while closing in on where he stood "and again" you said as you smirked "and again" he agreed.

[gintrinsic-writing]

A Fuckless Year

It’s just a kiss, Legend tells himself. Just a kiss. One stupid, little kiss. This is, like, the least frightening thing I’ve ever faced. 

Oh hells, who is he kidding? This is terrifying. 

Ravio leans in ever so slightly. “Pardon? You, uh...” 

“What?” Legend blurts uncomfortably.

“You said good night, and then you…” Ravio clears his throat lightly. “You paused and looked at me. With your eyes.”

Legend almost laughs. Instead, he makes a sound like a dying frog, then waves both hands in denial. “How else am I supposed to look at you, idiot?” he asks, knowing exactly what Ravio meant. 

“Shrill,” Ravio accuses. Legend hopes the chain can’t hear them from the guest bedrooms. “You only ever sound shrill when you’re guilty!”

“I was—” Legend clears his throat and purposely makes his voice deeper. “I was not shrill. I’ve never been shrill in my life.”

Ravio pinches the bridge of his nose. The tips of his ears are endearingly pink. “Link…”

It’s just a kiss! You’re the goddess-damned Hero of Courage! Act like it! 

But instead Legend stands there like a loser, palms unreasonably sweaty, heart racing like it hasn’t since the last time fought that pig Ganon. He inhales slowly and counts to three, prepared to, well, do something, maybe, but Ravio suddenly holds out a hand. 

“Hey,” Ravio murmurs, expression soft and achingly affectionate, “let’s go to bed.”

Legend’s jaw drops before he can help it, and his entire face burns. “B-bed?” He yanks off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. He can’t seem to decide where to stare. “You—But I—We haven’t even—We should at least kiss first!”

Ravio’s face goes through at least four stages of grief, by Legend’s rapid approximation. Ravio slaps his palms together as if about to pray, then presses his fingertips to his lips. His eyes are comically wide. “Link, my hero, my best customer, my regular headache—what?”

“You were the one who said let’s go to bed!” 

Legend slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as he finishes shouting. They both wince in tandem, eyeing the stairs, but there’s no noise from the others. Legend just knows there’ll be embarrassing hell to pay come morning, though. He drops his voice to a whisper: “You said bed. Did you—Oh fuck, you didn’t mean…?”

“No!” Ravio whispers back. “I mean, not that I’m opposed, but.”

Legend’s throat is so fucking dry. “You’re not opposed,” he repeats dumbly. 

“Of course not! But just then, I meant sleep. Which people do in bed. You have a bed. Your own bed.” Ravio’s ears droop as his own dumb words catch up to him. “It was simply an invitation to retire for the night, separately!”

“But,” and Legend can’t seem to move past this point, Din burn him, “but you’re not opposed?”

“Ohhh my Goddess!” Ravio hisses. “What are you, some closeted creep? If you must know, then yes, I’m interested. I have been for a fucking year! Or should I say, a fuckless year, thanks to you and your stupid—your stupid—” He grips the air as if strangling some invisible menace. “You’re inept!”

Legend doesn’t think his self-esteem can get any lower at this point. “It’s not like you’ve been giving clues,” he begins weakly, but clearly that’s the wrong thing to say.

“Haven’t been giving clues? Haven’t been giving clues!” Ravio half-shouts. “The discounts? The lingering smiles? The robe slipping off my bare shoulder?”

Legend remembers that. He’s remembered it many, many times. “...Oh.”

Ravio throws his hands up in despair. “Oh, he says! Oh!”

The silence that follows is painfully, painfully awkward. At least on Legend’s part. “So…”

Ravio’s jaw works in silence for a moment. “Yes?”

Legend thinks dying must surely be less painful than this. “A kiss?”

Ravio holds up a finger threateningly. Legend wishes it wasn’t such a turn-on. “I swear to every Goddess in existence, after all you’ve put me through, if this isn’t the best kiss I’ve ever had, I’ll sell your hide for a single rupee.” 

“Wow,” Legend breathes. “You really know how to make a guy feel confident.”

“And I don’t need your stupid—”

Legend pulls Ravio in by his robe and slots their mouths together, kissing like each taste is a breath, like each spark is a measure of adoring warmth on an otherwise chilly night. He chases Ravio’s mouth and is chased in turn, until suddenly he realizes he's pressed against a wall and gasping from lightheadedness. 

“Rav,” he begins, having no idea what he actually wants to say. 

“Maybe…” Ravio takes a moment to simply breathe. “Maybe more than one rupee. Maybe fifty.”

“Fifty?” Legend repeats incredulously, then laughs. He hopes the others don't wake, but he doesn't really care if they do. “That’s it?”

Ravio licks his lips and presses closer. “Maybe a hundred, I’m not sure.”

“Sucked the math right out of you, huh?” Legend jokes, only belatedly realizing what an opening he has given the greedy salesman. 

Ravio’s grin is downright devilish. “Now there’s an idea.”

Legend prays. 

—

Part 2 (sort of nsfw)

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 19: Purpose

You and Ellie wait for Joel to come back from patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-18 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Light smut. Minor depiction of injury. Mild description of canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 9.6k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

May, 2012 

“You’ve been acting weird this trip.” 

It was a nice night, the air warm but not so warm that it made a fire unpleasant. The sky was clear and it was like every star that had ever sprung into existence was overhead, sparkling for you and you alone. 

Mark had brought an unreasonably good haul with him this trip. Enough batteries that you’d be supplied for years at the rate you used flashlights, several packs of guitar strings, salt, sugar, several bottles of rum and vodka, thread and scrap fabric. His packs were laden with hard to find goods and you weren’t sure if you bought his excuse that the settlement he’d been living with had stumbled upon a really good stash and he felt like he should share the wealth. It seemed like there was something else going on.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he shrugged. “Actin’ how I usually do.” 

“Sure,” you scoffed, sipping on some rum that you’d mixed with the pressed apple juice you’d made earlier that day. “Because you always go back and forth between fuckin’ me stupid and staring off into the distance.” 

You had to admit, there were some perks to being some of the last people on the planet. Things like not needing to worry about being disturbed if you wanted to fuck outside by a bonfire on a gorgeous night. You were wearing nothing but a button down and panties, sitting on a blanket, the skin between your thighs slick with your combined release. Mark had pulled his jeans back on but hadn’t bothered buttoning or zipping them, his boots still sitting off to the side. You had a feeling he’d be naked again before too long, apparently going for a new record for how many times he could fuck you in the span of a week. 

“Seriously though,” you frowned a little, watching him closely, his brown eyes sparkling in the firelight. “Are you OK?” 

“Just…” he sighed heavily, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees. “Going to miss you, is all.” 

“I’ll miss you, too,” you shrugged. “But there’s going to be some good shit to trade in about a month or so, think I’m going to get a really good round of greens this season…” 

“Can’t come back in a month,” he said, not looking at you, looking into the fire instead. You frowned. “I’m not sure when I can come back.” 

“What?” You frowned. “What do you mean? Why not? I don’t…” 

“Shit’s changing,” he said. “At the settlement. A lot of big changes. Don’t think I’m going to be able to get away for very long and…” 

“I can come to you,” you cut him off, heart clenching at the thought of losing the only regular human contact you had now. The thought of losing Mark. “I know you always come here but…” 

“Won’t work,” he shook his head. “Not with… there’s going to be too much going on, wouldn’t be the right time. And come on, you really going to act like you’re going to leave your animals to fend for themselves or leave your gardens unattended when you’ll need to be out harvesting damn near daily to stock up for winter? We both know better than that.” 

“How long do you think…” 

“Six months at least,” he cut you off. “Maybe a year.” 

“A year?” You gaped at him. “You can’t be serious, you’re really going to…” 

“I’m serious,” he finally looked at you, a pained look on his face. “Trust me, it’s not… This isn’t something that I want, OK? This is something that I have to do. It’s the right thing to do, the only right thing to do. But I’ll come back to you when I can. As soon as I can, I’ll come back.” 

You looked into the fire now, trying not to cry. These few weeks a year with him were sometimes the only thing that kept you sane. The only thing that kept the fragile link you had to your humanity intact. And he was leaving you. 

“Yeah, well,” you almost spat it. “Maybe I’ll just pick up and fuckin’ move in the mean time. Been getting bored out here anyway…” 

“If that’s really what you want,” you could feel his eyes on you. “But… I really hope you don’t. I would… I think losing you might kill me. Not knowing what happened to you? Not knowing if you were safe and happy? That would kill me. I love…” 

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you snapped, whipping your head around to look at him. “You wouldn’t just walk away for a fuckin’ year if you gave a fuck. Don’t act like I’m anything more to you than…” 

“You don’t get to decide what you are to me,” he snapped back, voice heated, his hand finding your face, fingers gripping your skin so tight it almost hurt. “Just trust me when I tell you there ain’t much that would keep me away from you, alright? This isn’t what I fuckin’ want. But it’s what I have to do so I’m doing it. And I’m asking that you still be here when I’m able to come back to you because all I want to do is fucking come back to you! So please, let me!” 

His lips crashed into yours before you could respond and you kissed him back, wet and angry, all teeth and tears as he ripped your panties down and all but shoved himself inside you, not bothering to take off his jeans this time. He fucked into you hard and fast and desperate, like if he used enough force he’d somehow make you believe him, make sure you stayed. 

After, you lay side by side, facing each other just inches apart, his fingers trailing gently through your hair.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” You asked, voice thick.

“I’ll send people who pass through your way,” he said. “You should have enough of what you can’t hunt or grow yourself for a while but you trade plenty outside of me, anyway, and I’ll make sure I send enough to make up the difference…” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you cut him off. 

He smiled. 

“I’ll make sure they’re your type.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved him lightly. He laughed a little and the two of you just looked at each other. You knew that, if he was telling you this now, after he’d already been here a few days, he was planning to go back soon. Maybe even the next day. Your heart ached - physically hurt - at the thought of him leaving, of losing him for so long. 

“This isn’t what I want,” he said softly, as though he were reading your mind. 

“Then don’t do it.” 

“I have to,” he said, his hand stilling, holding your face gently, as though you were something precious. “But I will come back to you. I promise. I’ll always keep coming back to you.” 

When you watched him ride away the next day, it was the last time you ever saw him. 

August, 2026

You’d never really been in this situation before. 

In all the years since the outbreak started, you’d never been the one stuck waiting for someone to come back from outside. You never knew for sure when Mark was coming back so you were never anxiously waiting for him to show up. The rest of the time, when someone was with you, you’d always been the one to go. You’d been the one who knew the area, been the one who was best equipped. At most, you’d go out together and be there when an infected attacked or some power hungry asshole took a shot at you. Hell, even a bear. It was the wilds of Wyoming, after all, it wasn’t only monsters of the human and inhuman kind you had to be concerned with, mother nature did her best to come out on top, too.  

But Joel being gone like this made you nervous. 

You weren’t sure if it was just because you weren’t used to him being gone, if you were just more comfortable having him close than anywhere else now, if there really was something wrong and you felt it somehow - even though that made no sense. 

Regardless of the reason, you were worried. It was hard to focus on anything. You couldn’t work with the horses that weren’t fully broke yet, they sensed it too easily and started trying to throw you. You found yourself just clenching your teeth a lot without truly realizing you were doing it, just suddenly aware that your jaw was sore before forcing yourself to relax. 

The second night Joel was gone, you were playing guitar at home and trying not to think about it. The closest thing you had to compare it to was the first few days Marisa was gone. When part of you thought she was going to change her mind and walk back in the door one evening as you sat by the firelight and grab you and kiss you and say she was back and she was going to stay. 

That never happened. 

But Joel was going to come back. That was the plan, that was always the plan and Jackson hadn’t lost someone on patrol in a while and you had no reason to be this nervous and distracted. Joel was going to walk into the stables and grab you and kiss you. And it was all going to be OK. 

There was a sharp little knock at your door, the knock Ellie made when she was second guessing that she should be there. You’d come to know it as the knock she made when she wanted to talk about something but was too afraid to really do it. You set the guitar down on the couch and jogged to the door, Ellie already knocking again, a little relieved that you’d have the excuse to not be sitting there alone. 

“About time,” Ellie rolled her eyes, pushing past you into the house. 

“Nice to see you too, Kid,” you smiled a little, closing and locking your door before trailing after her, drawing Joel’s shirt tighter to yourself as you did. “What’s on the brain? Dina troubles?” 

“You know, not everything is about a girl,” she flopped heavily on your loveseat, one leg dangling over the arm rest, the other planted on the floor. “There’s more to life than sex. Not that you would know. Gross.” 

You snorted. 

“So what’s going on?” You asked, grabbing your guitar and flopping on the couch. You gave it a strum. “Trying to figure out the meaning of life or something? You’ve got that look.” 

“Do not,” she rolled her eyes in the way that only teenaged girls were somehow so skilled at. 

“Do so,” you played a few more quick random chords. “C’mon. Share. Know you want to.” 

You kept strumming quietly, watching her tap her foot impatiently. You kept your mouth shut. If you waited her out, she’d talk. Ellie was a special kid but she was still a teenaged girl. She’d spill it eventually. 

You were right. 

She’d only been there, silent while you played really nothing at all, for a few minutes when she huffed and sat up in a flurry of messy hair and overly long shirt sleeves. 

You looked at her, brows raised. 

“I’m worried, OK?” She looked at you, her brown eyes big. They were wide and soft and open and, even though you knew she wasn’t related to Joel, her eyes reminded you so much of him in that moment. How he looked at you when you played guitar and he was close, how he looked when he told you things about himself that you weren’t sure anyone else knew. They were both usually so guarded, so terrified of being vulnerable, but they got the same look in their eyes when they let themselves be open. 

You stopped playing. 

“About what?” 

She gnawed on her lower lip for a second. 

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about,” she said. “What you told me about what parents do for their kids… I never had parents. Like… ever. It’s not like I had some when I was little and they fucking died or something I just never had them. No one ever… I don’t know, loved me and shit. I never had it so I never really thought about what that would be like. But Joel… he loves me. Right?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled a little sadly at her. You wished you could go back in time and find the little girl who was Ellie all alone and love her then, love her the way she deserved to be. “He does. More than anything.” 

She nodded slowly, like she was processing it. 

“I guess I never understood what that would mean,” she said. “That it would mean someone would choose me over… well, over anything at all I guess but over the entire fucking world? It doesn’t feel right.” 

You shrugged. 

“Love is crazy like that,” you said. “Especially the kind Joel has for you.” 

She nodded again. 

“I still don’t know if I can forgive him,” she said slowly. “But I can try to understand him. I think I can understand him and see why he thought it was the right thing…” 

Her voice trailed off and she bounced her leg and picked at the seam of your couch cushion before she looked at you, her eyebrows drawn tightly together. 

“But what if I never get a chance to tell him that?” Her voice cracked a little and she swallowed hard. “What if something happens and the last thing I said to him… I was so fucking mean to him before he left, Bambi, I was so fucking mean and I…” 

“Hey,” you said gently, setting your guitar down and going to sit beside her. “It’s OK, Honey. It’s OK. Joel loves you, he would never hold it against you and, deep down, he knows you love him, too. But it’s all a moot point, he’s coming back and he’ll be fine. You’ll get a chance to talk to him and tell him how you’re feeling and it’ll be OK.” 

She nodded and pressed herself against you, her face against your shoulder. You tucked her below your chin and held her close. Ellie was such a force of a person, always so brash and strong, but she felt so small and fragile in your arms then, every inch the child she tried to pretend she wasn’t. 

“You had parents, right?” She sniffed, inching closer to you on the couch. You adjusted around her, her legs draped over yours. 

“I did,” you smiled a little into her hair. 

“Did you guys get along?” 

You laughed a little. 

“Not really,” you said. “I was a lot more like my dad than my mom but my dad was closer to my brothers. He was fine with me ranching as a hobby but didn’t want me to be a rancher, didn’t like me working with the horses as much as I did. My mom wanted me to be more like her and I just wasn’t. It caused a lot of friction. But…” You sighed and gave her a little squeeze. “We loved each other. Even when I was mad at them I knew they loved me and I loved them. That’s the point. It’s not always easy and that’s OK.” 

She just nodded into you. 

“Don’t know why I’m so worried,” she fidgeted with her hands but stayed pressed against you. “Not like he’s never left Jackson before. Fuck knows we faced worse shit than whatever he’s going to run into out there. I’ve just got this feeling…” 

You didn’t tell her that you did, too. You didn’t want to freak her out. You didn’t want to think about what it might mean that both of you felt off about it. 

“Want to stay over again?” You asked, hoping she’d say yes. You weren’t sure you wanted to be by yourself at that moment, either. “We can dance party.” 

“Yeah,” she laughed a little. “That’d be good.” 

You let Ellie pick the music before you raided the more modest VHS collection and put on Fargo. She passed out curled up next to you on the couch and you just watched her for a moment, her legs tucked up against her stomach, arms crossed over her chest. You understood why Joel would kill to protect her, why he’d choose her over the possibility of a cure. She wasn’t your daughter but it felt like she could be. You’d protect her like your daughter. She needed that, deserved that. 

You got up slowly from the couch so as to not disturb her and got a blanket from your hiding place bed, draping it over her. You curled up on the loveseat and fell asleep there, keeping her close, keeping her where you could keep her safe until Joel came home. 

Ellie was reluctant to go to school the next day and she showed up at the stable just a few minutes after classes ended for the day. 

“Here to draw Shimmer?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Duh,” she rolled her eyes. “Why else would I be here?” 

You smiled a little as you got the horse out of her stall and put her out in the paddock, Ellie perching on the fence with her sketch pad and pencil. You checked on her periodically, just glancing out to where she sat, catching her watching the entrance to the stables more than once. Waiting for Joel to come back. 

It wasn’t like you could blame her. You were watching for him, too. Especially once other patrol pairs started coming back. Julie and Thomas came back first, just before dinner. They said they hadn’t run into any trouble, not even any infected, so they weren’t surprised they were the first ones back. You busied yourself getting their horses settled as they headed to their respective homes to get cleaned up after spending three days on the road. It was only another hour before the next pair, Will and Beth, came back.There had been some trees down on their usual path, the aftermath of an early summer storm, they suspected, and it took time to figure out the best way through. 

“Want to go pick us up some dinner?” You asked Ellie as twilight was on the horizon, which meant it had to be nearing 8 p.m. Joel still wasn’t back. “I’ll hold down the fort?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, OK.” 

You watched her set out to the mess hall and, when she was out of sight, got in Renaissance’s stall. She gave you a questioning look, her ears turning on her head, her body still sweaty where she’d born a saddle and rider for three straight days. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you said gently, reaching out to scratch her chin. She pressed into your touch and you stepped closer to her, resting your forehead against her thick, warm neck and breathing deep, centering yourself. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous, I really don’t.” 

She huffed. 

“I know,” you said, giving her another scratch. There had always been something about horses that calmed you, something you were grateful you could rely on now. “I don’t know how to do this. How to be in a relationship like this. I’ve never done this. Maybe this is just what it’s like? But… He can’t end up like everyone else. He just can’t.” 

She nudged you gently with her large head and you stepped back from her. She lowered her head and pressed it against your chest, chuffing as she did. You scratched her neck. 

“I know,” you sighed. “I know.” 

Casey and Monica came back while Ellie was gone, the second to last group. Only Joel and Tommy were left outside. You tried not to think about that. Monica’s arm was bleeding and she was limping. 

“What happened?” You frowned as you took their horses from them. 

“Ran into fucking raiders on day two,” Casey said, taking her pack from the saddle of her horse. “Just a small crew, we caught them off guard so we handled them pretty easy but held us up a bit coming back. Mon sprained her ankle, couldn’t keep her foot in the stirrup too long, had to take a lot of breaks. We’re the last ones, right?” 

“No,” you said, chest tight. “No, Joel and Tommy are still out there.” 

Monica’s eyes went wide. 

“Joel and Tommy are still out?” She asked, incredulous. You nodded. “Shit. They’re usually the first back, handle their shit quick…” 

Your stomach turned. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Casey said, noticing the look on your face. “They went the same path as that summer storm, they’re probably just running into damage, making it hard to get through… It’s Joel and Tommy. I’m sure they’re fine.” 

“Right,” you said, giving her a tight smile. “You’re right.” 

Monica leaned on Casey and you watched the two of them head toward the clinic just as Ellie came back, frowning as she watched them go. 

“The fuck happened to them?” She asked, handing you a sandwich wrapped in paper and an apple. 

“Raiders,” you said, going to the spot you liked to plop down at when you were taking a break while working. Ellie trailed behind you. 

“Shit,” she said, her brows drawn tightly together. “You don’t think…” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, taking a bite of your sandwich. It tasted like sand in your mouth, making your stomach churn. “We don’t have any reason to worry. It’s fine.” 

You brushed down every horse in the stable, asked Ellie to tell you every pun she could remember, reorganized the tack even though you ended up not really changing anything because you ran a pretty tight ship to begin with. 

It was nearing midnight when Maria came to the stable, William looking groggy and half asleep on her hip. 

“Thought I might find you here,” she said. 

You shrugged. 

“Like it here.” 

She nodded slowly, looking between you and Ellie. 

“Alex at the gate is going to come get me as soon as they sight them,” she said, her grip on her son tightening a little as she said it. “Want to come wait at mine? It’s more comfortable than here.” 

The gate giving you a heads up would be faster than waiting at the stables. They’d see them coming. 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah, let me run home and grab and change of clothes if it’s OK that I use your shower, I smell like horse…” 

“Course,” she smiled. “You too, Ellie?” 

“Yeah,” she jumped down from the stall door she’d been perched on. “Yeah, I’ll come. I don’t… Sounds shitty to just be by myself.” 

You literally ran to your house, grabbing a shirt that smelled like Joel and the coat, too, for good measure, as well as some clean jeans and some sweat pants before you ran to Maria’s.

You’d never been inside Maria’s house before but, in that moment, you didn’t care. The need to know that Joel was OK was stronger than your fear of being in a space you didn’t control. 

You took the fastest shower you ever remembered taking and settled in the living room next to Ellie, who immediately leaned against you, pressing her nose into Joel’s shirt. Maria sat, watching the front door, her foot bouncing impatiently off the rug in front of her. 

“Has this happened with them before?” You asked quietly after a minute. 

“No,” Maria shook her head. “But we haven’t lost anyone on patrol in a very long time. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re fine.” 

She nodded to herself and Ellie curled her legs into her chest. 

“Hey Kid,” you said after a minute. “Best guitar part. What is it?” 

Ellie sat up from you a little, frowning. 

“Is now really the time to talk about that?” She asked. 

You glanced at Maria, who figured out pretty quickly what you were doing. 

“I think so,” she said. “Curious to know your thoughts since Tommy’s taste is… questionable.” 

You snorted. 

“He asked me to play Freebird once,” you said. “So cliche.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes and thought for a second. 

“Maybe Crazy on You by Heart,” she said eventually. 

“Good choice,” you nodded. “Knew you’d pick up some good taste through proper education…” 

“OK my taste has always been good,” she said, sitting tucked into the corner of the couch now, her legs crossed in front of her instead of curled protectively in on herself. “You don’t get that much credit!” 

“Sure, sure,” you waved her off. 

“I just had limited access before,” she said. “Not my fault I was stuck with the music I could find in a fucking QZ man!” 

You huffed a laugh. 

“Seems like you had more options than I did…” 

“Yeah but you had horses and freedom and shit,” she said. “Fair trade.” 

You laughed at that. 

“Maybe so,” you said. 

“Got another question for you,” Maria said, not giving Ellie a chance to respond. “What’s the best pun? Seems like you’re the expert so…” 

“That is so subjective though!” Ellie replied, her eyes getting wide. “You can’t ask me to pick just one…” 

You and Maria took turns trying to distract her until she started falling asleep sitting up. Ellie eventually slumped over, her head going in your lap. You trailed your fingers through her hair and you felt her doze off, her breathing going into the steady, gentle rhythm of sleep. 

Maria watched you, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw clenched. 

“You OK?” You asked quietly. 

“No,” she said, voice so soft you had a hard time hearing her. “And I won’t be until he’s back.” 

You laughed once, quietly, darkly. 

“Stupid question, I guess.” 

She laughed the same way back. 

“It feels like I got cocky,” she sighed. “Like I was feeling too comfortable here, like I forgot how bad the world has become. Life here was too good for too long. Too much like what it was like before. Guess the apocalypse decided it needed to remind me of who was in charge.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I know it’s not the same, Joel isn’t to me what Tommy is to you but… I feel about the same. Like I was getting to close to living with people again and something had to remind me that there’s risk with that.” 

“The world fucking sucks sometimes,” Maria said. 

You smiled tightly. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, it does.” 

You weren’t sure what time it was when you ended up dozing off, too, your head lulled over on the couch cushion, hand still on Ellie’s hair. That’s where you were when there was a loud knock on the door, jerking you out of your shallow sleep. 

“Wha?” Ellie sat up, groggy, as Maria fumbled for the door, almost tripping over her own feet to get there. You all but jumped off the couch once Ellie was off your lap and the three of you were clustered around the door when Maria yanked it open, breathless. Alex, a younger man who often kept watch at the gate was standing there, panting. 

“They’re back.” 

***

He couldn’t die. 

Not out here. Not like this. 

Not when it would also get his brother killed. 

Not when he hadn’t fixed things with Ellie, when she still hated him, when she didn’t fully understand what she meant to him. 

Not when he’d never told you how he felt about you. Not when he’d never said that he loved you, not when he’d never told any woman that he loved her.

Not out here. Not now. Not like this. 

It was all Joel could think as he and Tommy fought off the small band of raiders who’d come out, guns blazing. 

The fact that they survived was luck. 

Luck that they knew the area better than the fools who attacked them, that they had an idea of where to go to seek cover or how to cut around and attack from another position. Luck that these idiots were young - hardly more than boys, really, probably lured in with the promise of food and shelter and sex from whoever they could take - and were hardly sharp shooters. Luck that, while they’d been caught off guard, they’d been patrolling long enough that they knew how to react fast and react well. 

Luck that, the shots that did land, weren’t critical. 

But they were enough to slow them down. Joel had been shot in the thigh, Tommy the arm and it was a battle between trying to move fast enough to get back to Jackson before blood loss caught up with them while controlling their mounts and stopping often enough to change the emergency dressings on their wounds as they bled. 

The thought of you kept him moving. Your eyes, your smile, your voice as you sang while he played guitar. The way you trusted him enough to let him be close to you, the way you cared for the horses, the way you loved Ellie. He was going to make it back to you. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was making it home to you. 

Joel wasn’t sure what time it was when they rode up to the main gate, hardly able to stay sitting up on the back of his horse. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” Patrick, one of the men who was guarding the main gate, rushed forward and caught him as he all but fell off his horse. “What the fuck happened?” 

“Raiders,” he said, breathless from the pain and effort of staying on the back of his mount when he was this injured. 

“Ran into a band of ‘em about a day and a half out,” Tommy said, voice strained from pain. “Right near the turn around point.” 

Carter, another guard, got to Tommy, who waved him off. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just get the horses to the stables, I gotta get my brother to the clinic…” 

“Can you help him?” Patrick asked, shoulder in Joel’s armpit as he helped him stay on his feet. “I can run ahead to the clinic that way…” 

“I got it,” Alex yelled from atop the wall. “I’ll get the doc up!” 

Dr. Palmer was bleary eyed but awake when Joel and Tommy made it to the clinic. 

“Shit,” she swore, looking at the two of them. “Alright, let’s get the two of you settled and then I’ll assess…” 

She put Tommy in one makeshift exam room and Joel in the other and, for the first time since the attack began a day and a half before, Joel felt like he could breathe. 

He’d made it back. Tommy was alive and he’d made it back to you and Ellie. 

“Joel!” 

It was as though his thoughts had summoned his would be daughter, her small body hurtling at him after she burst through the door. She slammed into him and he caught her as she clung to him, crying into his chest. 

“Hey, Baby Girl,” he said, arms going around her and holding her close. There was the faint smell of hay on her hair, a smell that made him smile. For a moment, he wondered if he’d actually made it back. If, maybe, he was dreaming. If Ellie being happy to see him was a final gift from his dying mind as he bled out in the forest. “You’re OK, I’ve got you, you’re OK…” 

“I know I’m OK,” she pulled back from him with a sniffle. “It’s you we’ve been worried about, you dick!” 

“Joel.” 

Your voice was so quiet, he barely heard it but, the next thing he knew, you were against him. He hadn’t really been able to get a proper look at you, nothing but a blur of hair and one of his plaid shirts as you ran for him. Your arms went around his neck and your body pressed against him and Joel felt you take a deep, shuddering breath as he clutched you close. 

Ellie must not have talked to you, you weren’t disgusted by him, still wanted to be near him. His lips brushed your cheek.

“I was so afraid,” your voice was quiet and thick and he held you somehow tighter, your body between his legs. He ignored the pulling, throbbing pain at his thigh. It didn’t matter. Not when it meant having you close. 

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he said softly. You were so warm and soft and fuck, he loved you. “Didn’t mean to worry you…” 

You stepped back and tried your eyes on the sleeves of the shirt he’d given you. You put your arm around Ellie and tugged her against your side as she tried to pretend like she hadn’t just been crying, too. You looked him up and down, your eyes ranging over him, frowning when you noticed the blood at his thigh.

“I’ll be fine…” he began, but you cut him off. 

“Someone shot you,” your eyes were all wide and doe-like, looking from his thigh to his face and back again. You reached for the injury before you seemed to think better of it, instead putting your hand on his knee. 

“Ran into some raiders,” Joel said, keeping his voice calm. “We took care of ‘em, but they got some hits in. We’re alright.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded as Dr. Palmer came back in, looking surprised to see you and Ellie there. 

“I’ll need you two to wait outside,” she said. “These rooms are tight enough, I need some space to work.” 

“But…” Ellie protested but she interrupted. 

“I’ll take good care of him,” she smiled a little. “Promise. It’s OK.” 

“C’mon Kid,” you kept your eyes on Joel as you started steering Ellie toward the door. “We’ll stick close, it’s OK.” 

He watched you go until you closed the door behind you, eyes lingering where you’d been, like touching the space you’d occupied with his sight would keep you there longer. 

“Let’s get you fixed up,” the doctor smiled, pulling a seat up alongside him. “Get you home with your girls as quick as we can.” 

Joel felt like he should argue the classification for a moment. That you and Ellie were his in any way, that he’d ever be worthy of being something to either of you after everything he had done, all that he had wrought. 

But he wanted you and Ellie to be his, wanted to live in a moment where that was true. Exist in a space that you were his woman - his to come home to, his to look after, his to love - and Ellie was his daughter, a girl he loved and looked after and guided through life alongside you. 

“How’s Tommy?” Joel asked after a minute as she cut the denim away from the injury on his leg and started cleaning the wound. 

“Better off than you,” she said, sounding a little distracted. 

“Good,” Joel said, nodding slowly. “S’my fault. Got distracted. Should be me paying for it.” 

“Seems like it’s the raiders’ fault,” she said absently. “It looks like the bullet is in a good spot so I’m going to try to pull it out and get things all bandaged up. It’s going to hurt…” 

“It’s fine,” Joel said, gripping the edge of the table, looking at the door. You were close. He just had to get through this and then he’d get to be with you and Ellie. “Had worse.” 

She nodded and set to work, Joel gritting his teeth through the pain as Dr. Palmer rooted around in his leg. He was right, he’d had worse, but it still hurt like hell. But he didn’t want to freak out you or Ellie, he’d rather the two of you think that everything happening in this room was calm and painless as the doctor pulled the bullet free. She held it up in the small tongs so he could see, the metal shiny with blood. 

“Sure is a little thing to have caused so much trouble,” she said, turning it in the light for a moment before dropping it on a small tray with a resounding clatter. “Let me make sure you don’t have any damage beyond the obvious and then I’ll get you cleaned and bandaged up.” 

Joel just nodded, still watching the door as she worked. 

“You know,” she said after a while. “I’m glad to see that you and Ellie seem to be patching things up…” 

“That’s a… new development,” Joel said. “Hopin’ it sticks.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“Also glad to see that you’ve found someone here besides your brother,” she said, adjusting Joel’s leg so she could wrap the wound. He frowned and she seemed to sense it. “You’ve done a lot for this community, Joel, but you have a tendency to keep to yourself. Which is fine, of course, so long as you’re happy that way. But you deserve more if you want it. Nice to see you have that for a change.” 

She sat back and looked at his leg, giving it a nod. 

“Come back in a few days,” she said. “Me or Carol will take a second look at it, make sure it’s healing well. Take it easy in the mean time, you lost a lot of blood. Let someone take care of you for a change, OK?” 

Joel laughed a little. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She opened the door and you and Ellie both jumped up from the couch. But you stayed put for a moment as Dr. Palmer left, Ellie closing the door behind her so it was just the two of them. 

“Hey Kiddo,” he smiled a little. “Sure is good to see ya.” 

“Good to see you, too, old man,” she smiled a little in return, her back pressed against the door. “Can I talk to you for a second? I know you’re probably tired and shit but…” 

“Course,” Joel frowned. “What’s on your mind?” 

She pushed off the door and shoved her hands in her pockets as she stepped closer to the exam table, watching her feet for a moment. 

“I, um…” she trailed off before taking a deep breath and looking him in the eye. “I talked to Bambi. I told her everything. The real reason you brought me west, what happened in the hospital… all of it.” 

Joel’s heart clenched but he nodded slowly. Christ, what you must think of him now. He had to explain it to you, he could explain it to you, make you understand why, he could.  

“That’s OK Baby Girl,” he said. “Not fair of me to ask you to hid things from people you care about and… I still think you need to keep why I brought you here a secret but she’s safe. She’ll protect you.” 

“I know,” she nodded. “But… She said some shit to me about it and it made me think and… I don’t know that I’ll ever think you did the right thing in that hospital, Joel. But… I guess she made me think about it differently. And I can try to understand it, what you did. I want to understand it, I want to be able to have a relationship with you again. I don’t want to be pissed at you forever…” she took a deep breath and looked at her feet for a moment before looking back at him again, tears shining in her eyes. “I’ve missed you. And it scared the shit out of me, thinking that you might not come back and the last thing I ever said to you was something so fucking shitty and I’m sorry I said it and…” 

“Baby Girl,” Joel said gently, trying not to cry himself, his chest tight. “Come here.” 

Ellie nodded, her jaw set, and she pressed her face into his shoulder, her arms going around his waist. He held her close. She felt so small against him. As strong as she was, as tough as she acted, she was still just a girl. His little girl, the same little girl he’d fought to protect, the same little girl he’d brought across the country, the same little girl who had become his reason for existing. 

“It’s OK,” he said gently. She nodded into his chest. “I’ve got you Baby Girl. I’ve got you.”  

He held her for a moment, until her breathing slowed to a more normal rate and her tears slowed. She pulled back from him, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. 

“I don’t know what I’m ready for yet,” she said, shoving her hands in her back pockets. “I don’t think… I don’t think I can just go back to how it was before Salt Lake City. But maybe you, me and Bambi can have dinner or something.” 

“Whatever you want, Kiddo,” he smiled. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.” 

She nodded and sniffed, looking a little calmer now. 

“I’m going to head home,” she said. “But… I’ll come by tomorrow and see how you’re doing. If that’s OK.” 

“Course,” he nodded. “I can’t wait. I love you so much, Baby Girl. I really, really do.” 

She smiled a little. 

“I know,” she said. “Or, well… I think I’m starting to. I’m… I’m glad you’re going to be OK, Joel.” 

She leaned in slowly and gave him a soft peck on the cheek before hugging him one more time. 

He watched her go, you right there when she opened the door, giving her shoulder a squeeze as she passed and you closed the door behind her. 

“I could have sworn I told you to come back in one piece,” you smiled a little, arms crossed as you closed the distance between the two of you. 

He laughed, smoothing his hand over your hair, gently holding the base of your skull in his large palm. His leg suddenly hurt much less. 

“You did,” he said, tilting your head just so, kissing you softly. “Tried to listen but…” 

“Think you can make it home?” You asked. 

“Might need to take it slow,” he said. “But I’m not sleepin’ somewhere you aren’t for any longer than I have to.” 

He leaned on you for the short walk to his house, the trip easily taking three times longer than usual. Neither of you spoke, Joel focused on breathing through the pain and the effort it took to move, and he was relieved to make it in the front door. 

“If you tell me where sheets are, I can fix up the couch…” 

“Baby,” Joel cut you off. “I’m makin’ it up those stairs. Told you, I’m not sleeping somewhere you aren’t and that means we are in the same damn bed.” 

“Joel…” 

“Rode a day and a half with a damn bullet in my leg,” he said. “Can handle some stairs.” 

You just smiled a little and shook your head but helped him up to the bedroom, too. 

“See?” He said, panting for breath as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Told you, I’m fine.” 

“How about I get you some water and something to eat before you pass out,” you shook your head a little, leaving him alone for a moment before coming back with a tall glass of water and a pear. 

“Here,” you held it out. “Start with this. I’m going run you a bath…” 

“Really don’t need you to take care of me, Baby.” 

You leveled him with a glare. He laughed a little. 

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Sweetheart.” 

Joel drank the water and ate the pear before making his way to the bathroom. 

“What are you doing!” Your eyes went wide when he leaned against the door frame. 

“I can walk down the hall on my own, sweetheart,” he half smiled at you and you turned off the water to the tub before going to him, unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers brushing his skin. He traced the outline of your face, your skin soft below his callused touch. “Baby. I’m OK.” 

“Scared the shit out of me,” you muttered, sliding his shirt off of him and draping it over his arm. You lowered the toilet seat and pointed him there and he tried to not smile too big as he obeyed. He’d never seen you be a caretaker before, at least to anything besides the horses. It was almost reassuring, seeing your reaction to his coming back. Like it was confirmation that you felt for him the way he felt for you. Like maybe what Ellie had said hadn’t horrified you. 

You helped him out of his jeans and underwear, carefully pulling the fabric over his injured leg before helping him in the tub. 

“Leave the hurt leg outside the bath,” you said, helping him sit down, one leg in the water, one leg on the tile floor. “Something tells me that’s not supposed to get wet.”  

“Think you’re right,” he replied as he settled into the water. You sat on the ground next to him, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt and grabbing his washcloth and the soap. “Baby…” 

“Hush,” you replied, wetting the cloth and covering it in soap before running it over his skin slowly, methodically. Joel watched you, watched your brows drawn together in concentration, finding every inch of him, the tender pressure of your touch as you washed away the sweat and the dirt and the blood. When you brought the cloth back to his already cleaned chest, he gently caught your wrist and your eyes flew to his, all wide and deep with tears at the edges. He brushed his thumb over the delicate structure of your veins, feeling the thrum of your heart through your blood. 

“Baby,” he said softly. “I’m OK.” 

“Joel,” your voice broke and you all but collapsed against him, your head going to his chest, your body pressed against the cool porcelain of the tub. He wrapped his arms around you as best he could without pulling you into the water with him. Your wracking, choking sobs made his heart ache and he pressed a long kiss into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of you as he did. “I was so scared, I had a bad feeling and I just… I can’t lose you, too, please don’t make me lose you, I can’t…” 

“Not goin’ anywhere, Sweetheart,” he said, holding you. “Always gonna come back to you, can’t stop me.” 

You laughed wetly against him, your breaths evening out and calming down. After another minute you sat back, dabbing your eyes with the back of your wrist. 

“Sorry,” you sniffed, shaking your head a bit. “Probably think I’m crazy, acting like this…” 

“You and Ellie were all I could think about out there,” he said softly. “Kept thinking I had to get back, had to fix things with her. Couldn’t die with her hating me that much. And I had to… I had to tell you that I love you. Couldn’t let some raider fucks take me out without you knowin’ that.”

“Joel,” you breathed, the washcloth slipping from your hand and into the water. You damn near climbed in the tub with him, kissing him desperately, your wet fingers knotting in his hair. He held you close, the water from his skin soaking into your shirt but you didn’t seem to care. You eventually separated from him, panting for breath, his hands still on you. Your eyes searched his, your nose brushing against his own as you breathed, your hand moving to his face, your thumb tracing his cheekbone. He could feel the callus on your skin, the ones from riding and playing standing out in contrast to the softness of the rest of you. “Joel, I love you, too. So much it scares me, I’ve never loved anyone I haven’t lost and I can’t lose you, Joel. I can’t.” 

He tugged you closer, so his forehead was on yours, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“I know, Sweetheart,” he said softly. “Can’t lose you, either.” 

He kissed you, gently at first, but it grew needy and desperate before too long, your hands ranging over his naked, wet skin, slipping below the water before wrapping your fingers around his now hardening cock. 

“Baby,” he whispered in half-hearted protest. 

“Am I hurting you?” You sat back from him enough to look over his face, frowning. 

“No,” he said and you brushed your thumb over his slit, making him moan. “Just… don’t know that I’ll be able to properly return the favor.” 

You smiled a little and shook your head, kissing him again, your hand starting to work him up and down. 

“Let me do this for you,” you said softly before pressing your lips to his again. “Don’t worry about me. I want to take care of you, make you feel good.” 

He moaned into your mouth as you stroked him, your hand so much smaller and softer than his own, your lips sweet against his. He wanted to swallow the taste and feel of you, pull you into himself where he could keep you with him, make you a part of him so he’d never have to be without you again. He involuntarily thrust up against your hand and he felt you smile as you kissed him, your tongue slipping between his lips to find his own. 

You worked him harder, faster, kissing him more forcefully, pressing the parts of you that could reach him tighter and tighter to him. When he came, his whole body got tight and needy with the heady pleasure of it, his come spilling into the water as your hand slowed. 

“Fuck, Baby,” he managed, slumping down in the tub, your hand still on his now softening cock. 

You smiled and pressed one last soft kiss to his lips. 

“C’mon,” you said, getting up and drying your hands before pulling the towel from the rack. “Let’s get you to bed. Sun’s going to be up soon, we need some sleep.” 

Once you pulled him to his feet, he put the towel around his waist and you helped him down the hall again and to the bed. Joel didn’t bother with pajamas, just climbing in naked, watching you as you undressed, eyes ranging over your every curve, longing to touch every inch of your smooth skin. 

“Sure I won’t hurt you?” You asked, frozen with the blanket in your hand as you were about to climb in bed. 

“You won’t,” Joel said. “And I need to be next to you. Leg can deal with it.” 

You smiled a little and shook your head but climbed into bed anyway, turning out the light on your way. You tried to keep your distance at first, not melting against him the way you usually did when you got into bed, but Joel pulled you to him anyway and he felt the familiar contours of you relax into him when he did. He put his arms around you, holding you to him. This was where you belonged. Here, like this, where he could feel you and know you were safe. 

After a few minutes of silence beside you, he took a deep breath and brought up the thing that had him so distracted when on patrol to begin with. 

“Ellie talked to you,” he said softly, not really asking it. He knew the answer was yes. 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“She did.” 

He held you tighter. 

“You’re still here,” he said. 

“I am,” you said. 

He kissed the top of your head and you pressed yourself closer. 

“Ellie said you made her think about it differently,” he said slowly. “Can… Can I ask what you said? How you’re feelin’?” 

You took a deep, shaky breath. 

“I told her that you did what any parent would do,” you said, your voice soft, cracking ever so slightly. “I told her that, in that scenario, you never really had a choice. That isn’t a choice. Of course you’d save your child. There isn’t a world to save without her in it. I asked her if she’d have let the Fireflies kill William. If she’d have let them kill you. She seemed… I don’t think she understands it yet. I’m not sure she really can, at her age. But I think she will. And I think you did the right thing, Joel. I’d have done the same thing you did.” 

Joel nodded and took a deep breath of his own, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I…” his voice broke and he took a second to center himself. He needed to make sure you understood. He needed you to know this part of him, too. “I had a daughter. Before. Before Ellie, before the outbreak, I had a daughter…” 

“Joel,” you whispered, your fingers finding his hair, brushing through it soothingly. He gave you a squeeze. 

“Her name was Sarah,” the tightness in his chest felt like it might crush him but he kept going. “She was… she was amazing. Best thing that ever happened to me, just the best fuckin’ kid. She was so damn smart, so sweet - still not sure where the fuck she got that from - and so funny. Her mom left us both when she was a baby so it was just the two of us but I liked it that way, just me n’her. She was mine, she was all I needed. She made life worth living. But… In the outbreak…” 

He blinked back tears. 

“Don’t matter how it happened, I guess,” he said after a moment. “All that matters is I didn’t protect her as well as I should have and she died in my arms and it damn near killed me. In a lot of ways, it did. Kept wishing it had been me instead of her or, at the very least, that it would have taken me, too, so I wasn’t stuck tryin’ to live without her. Being without her was… it was the worst kind of hell. I went numb to everything, fuckin’ everything. Sometimes wondered if I was alive at all, didn’t seem like I was. Didn’t have a reason to be. And that’s what life was until Ellie. And that girl, that smart ass little girl… She’s the first thing that made me feel like there was still life to be had after Sarah. 

“I wasn’t supposed to love ‘er. Pretty sure that’s why the damn Fireflies asked me to take her to begin with, didn’t think I could get attached to anything. Figured I’d be fine handing her over to die, long as they paid me well. When they told me what would happen to her, what they needed, I… I couldn’t do it, Baby. I couldn’t let ‘em hurt her, kill her. Don’t give a shit about some theoretical fuckin’ cure - wouldn’t give a shit if it was a sure thing, either - if it meant she wasn’t going to live go see it. World’s not worth it without her. I couldn’t survive losing her. I couldn’t. I couldn’t fail her, too, I had to protect her. So that’s what I did. I saved her. And… and I lied to her about it. Knew she’d hate herself for it, she carried a lot of weight on her shoulders because of her immunity - she acted like it was her whole purpose, saving the fuckin’ world - and I couldn’t put that on her, too. But she learned the truth and I don’t blame her for hating me for it. Still… I don’t regret it. Never have, not for a single goddamn second. Don’t care how much she hates me as long as she’s alive to do it. That’s all that matters. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. It’s worth it. Always will be.” 

Your fingers stilled in his hair, tangling in it at the back of his head and you pulled him toward you, your lips meeting his, so soft against him. He just kissed you for a minute, concentrating on the feeling of your skin on him, the feeling of you in his arms. He could feel tears on your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” you said quietly, pulling away from him, your voice thick and wet. “I’m so sorry you had to live through everything you have, that you had to survive without your child… But I’m so happy it didn’t take you, too. I’m so happy you made it here, that you found me and I found you and… I love you, Joel.” 

He pulled you impossibly closer, his fingers sinking into the softness of your skin as he clutched you tight. 

“I am, too, now,” he said. “Her… her and you. Makes sense now, why I lived. Needed to find the two of you. Got everything I need with the two of you.” 

Dawn was edging into the horizon when you fell asleep in his arms and he just watched you breathe in the hazy light of the early morning. He watched you like that for a long time, until exhaustion took hold and he couldn’t anymore and he fell asleep wrapped up in you, bathed in the light of day.

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank y'all so so much for being patient with this chapter! I've had an absolutely insanely busy few weeks. I'll probably be posting a bit less frequently for a week or so yet but expect this to be updated at least once a week in the mean time. I really appreciate you being willing to wait for the next chapters. Please know that I'd much rather be writing this than working, believe me!

I'm going to be doing a bit of a review of the story map for this part of the fic this weekend and I should have an angsticipation timeline update for those curious very very soon!

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Thank you for being here and for reading my work and hanging out in this corner of the internet. I love it here because you're here.

Love you!!

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[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith stares.

Constantly.

He always has. Even at the Garrison, Lance can remember him just staring. Endlessly. Like he was looking right through you, or like he was staring straight into your soul. Sometimes both at once. He’d never spoken one word to Lance before they went to space, but Lance remembers that stare with complete clarity. (Probably because he was on the other end of it more than he’s willing to admit, with all his attempts to get Keith’s attention.)

The staring doesn’t stop when they get to space. It doesn’t stop when they accept their roles as teammates, when Keith finally starts participating in their (totally justified!) rivalry, when they begrudgingly decide that maybe they can peel back on the arguing, a little. When they realise how well they work together. When they start working together on purpose, and some of those stares come with a small smile, a quirk of the lips, really, that brightens indigo eyes and shows the tiniest peek of crooked incisors. (When tragedy strikes, and the stare is blank. After tragedy, when the stare only gets blanker, and they don’t talk about what happens next but when Lance comes into his room after days of no response, sits with him quietly, brushes the tangles out of his hair and reminds him there are still reasons for him to get up. When they really become a team, just the two of them, red and black and the leader and his right hand.)

When the stares only gets softer and softer, and when Lance is the subject of them more and more frequently.

“What?” Lance snaps one day, frustrated and embarrassed and tired of being the only one that Keith looks at so closely. “What are you even looking at? You’re always staring at me, man, like you’re trying to fuckin’ read my soul, or something. It’s weird.”

Lance feels bad as soon as he says it. It’s defensive and mean and he tenses, preparing for Keith’s upcoming scowl, the argument.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead Keith smiles. Not one of his quick ones, a barely-there quirk of the lips, but a real grin, wide enough to make his eyes squint and face brighten. The fondness bleeds from him; Lance couldn’t miss it if he was the densest person alive.

Slowly, like he’s given Lance time to back away, he reaches foreword and tucks Lance’s hair behind his ears, even though it’s too short for that and doesn’t do anything, even though it’s clearly all about the gesture, an excuse to touch Lance gently.

Lance’s breath stutters on his inhale. Keith doesn’t pull away, resting his hand on the side of Lance’s cheek, not quite cupping it but not quite not cupping it, either.

“God, I’m so lucky,” Keith murmurs, almost too quiet for Lance to hear. (But no. Not impossible. Keith could’ve said it at one decibel and Lance would have strained himself to injury trying to hear it.)

“What?” Lance asks hoarsely, well aware his face is flaming.

Keith only smiles wider. “How could I not stare at you?” he asks, like Lance isn’t losing his whole mind.

Lance clears his throat. Then again, and again. And a fourth and fifth time for good measure because what the fuck.

“Keith, what — what’s going on —”

“I am so lucky,” Keith repeats, firmer this time. He has the same stupid look on his face, like he cannot help but he besotted with Lance, somehow. He opens his mouth again and Lance knows that if he has to hear whatever mushy thing Keith has cooked up then he is going to melt into a puddle of flaming goo. Lance shoots out and slaps his hand over Keith’s mouth.

“Stop speaking,” he orders, face flaming. “Explain what the hell has gotten into you.”

“Those are opposite instructions,” Keith says, muffled, because he is a jerk. His eyes are sparkling in amusement.

“I am going to whoop your ass, Kogane.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls Lance’s hand off his face and then links it in his, holding them in his lap. He rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles as he speaks. “You remember the mall food court? Two days ago?”

Lance tilts his head. “Yeah?” He doesn’t know what the hell that has to do with anything. They had a supply run a couple days ago, loading up on cleaning mods and food supplies and million other things, and he and Keith had stopped for lunch at the food court slash restaurant.

“You, uh, you remember that waiter?”

Lance frowns, trying to picture a waiter. All he can really remember is how Keith had laughed so hard at one of his jokes that soda had spewed out of his nose. He feels bad, but he can’t picture their waiter at all.

“No?”

Keith scowls. It’s such a stark difference from his sappy look before that it’s startling. “That weirdo, stuck up shithead who wouldn’t leave you alone. He called you pretty boy three separate times.”

Vaguely, Lance remembers some light flirting as the waiter set down the cheque. He can’t even picture the guy’s face.

“I mean, not really. I get called pretty boy a lot.”

He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it makes Keith laugh. He looks relieved, like he’s been worrying about Lance and the waiter.

Like he’d been jealous.

The sappy look is back on his face. “Just made me think, is all.”

Lance’s throat is dry again. The air is charged, and Keith is staring again, eyes tracing every inch of Lance’s face.

Something is going to change tonight. He can feel it.

“Think about what?”

He’s leaned closer without realising. Keith smiles, noticing, and his hand comes back up to Lance’s cheek. This time he cups it blatantly, running the edge of a calloused thumb over Lance’s cheekbones.

“How lucky I am,” he murmurs, repeating his sentiment from earlier, “that we’ve got such a pretty boy on our team. On my team.”

Lance face flames. His first instinct is to deny it, vehemently, to ask Keith what the hell his deal is. Something ugly rears in his head, something hurt — how dare Keith make fun of him like that. How dare he mess with Lance about something he’s sensitive about.

But there’s not an ounce of meanness on Keith’s face. He’s looking at Lance in a way that can only be reverent, like Lance is the only person on the castle, the only person ever.

He remembers all of a sudden that Keith is the most honest person he knows. Keith, who can’t lie if he tries, who’s emotions are written all over his face all the time, who’s easy to rile up because he wears his heart on his sleeve, who puts every ounce of effort he has into everything he does. Who fights this war even though it’s hard for him because he loves everyone so much.

Lance blinks, and is more surprised than he should be to find his face wet. Keith’s face creases a little in concern, and he gently wipes the tears from Lance’s cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance laughs wetly, more incredulous than anything.

“Mullet, if you don’t kiss me right this fucking second —”

Keith laughs. He doesn’t hesitate a second more, leaning in and pressing his lips to Lance’s, gently at first, then like he can’t get enough.

His eyes are closed, as he kisses.

Lance almost misses the staring.

[takadokii]

✴ what the heart wants !! ‧₊.࿐

summary You try to test your luck and have a vulnerable conversation with Satoru. But all he's thinking about is kissing you, and he doesn't understand the concept of crying anyway. pairing high school!gojo satoru x f!reader tags soft fluff, comfort, gojo doesn't know emotions (canon) warnings reader mentions that they cried last night, one nono word word count 810 links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

"When was the last time you cried?" 

The question caught Satoru off-guard. Sometimes, words would leave your mouth that would make him feel so small and stupid. He straightened his back, standing tense and tall. A million thoughts raced through his head about what could have possibly prompted you to ask such a silly question.

Did he look like he cried recently? Are you asking just out of pure curiosity? What made you think about that right now in the first place?

"I cried yesterday when you punched me, remember?"

You punch him again.

"Stop fooling around, you know what I mean...like really cry." You don't look at him when you say this. Trying to get Gojo's mood to match yours was about as easy as getting him to shut up for more than 5 minutes.

But tonight, you felt extra vulnerable for no apparent reason at all.

"I don't remember. It's been a while. I probably haven't cried since I was five." 

You hum in acknowledgement, your hand running up the material of the sweater you had worn that night, fingernails brushing against one of the larger loops in your knitted sweater.

And because it's Gojo, of course, this rare, vulnerable sentence must be followed up with a 3-minute monologue with the sole purpose of sucking his own dick.

"I mean... What would I even cry about? I'm pretty. I'm talented. I'm funny and smart. I have no reason to waste my tears. Tears of joy, maybe. Because I was born so pretty and smart and talented and-"

"I cried last night," you interrupted Gojo with a shrug. It was spoken with so little emotion like you were just throwing it out there. A quick, fun little life update as if you were telling him about a new show you started last night.

"...huh?!" Gojo was shocked. He was unable to process this information, as well as unsure what he was supposed to do now. Because, unbeknownst to you, in his eyes, you were just about as talented and intelligent and maybe even a little prettier than him, so this didn't make any sense.

"Why would you ever need to cry? Who made you cry?!" This sentence left his mouth in a way more harsh, belittling and "invalidating your problems" kind of tone than he had intended.

This was Gojo Satoru, after all, of course, the question is who, what else could there be but people that hurt people?

You, knowing he was just a spoiled, confused little child on the inside (and the outside), recognised his intention behind the sentence anyway and answered.

"I don't know...I just wanted to."

"Wanted to?" Gojo was beyond confused. Crying had become a distant concept to him a long time ago. Usually, whenever he felt overwhelmed or hurt, his emotions would skip sadness and instantly transform into annoyance or anger. But for you, it seemed freeing.

For Gojo, crying was a line that mustn't be crossed, a door unopened, its key buried in a drawer in the room he grew up in.

"It's okay to want to cry. Nothing to feel guilty about. The heart knows what it wants."

But for you, crying was something good, letting everything you had carried with you seep out, wipe it away with a tissue and let it dry out, long forgotten in the trash.

You had learned not to let it overflow or push yourself to test how much you can carry. Sometimes, you just felt weak, and everything else felt heavy, and you had accepted that.

Of course, Gojo Satoru wouldn't know what that's like. He had never felt weak in his life, and something inside of you told you that you wouldn't live to see many instances in which he would.

"I felt much better after," you elaborated, seeing him go through the mental turmoil you hoped to ease his mind, "I feel much better now."

Gojo doesn't understand. He understands so little he doesn't even know where he'd begin to attempt to understand.  

He's physically distraught by the confusion you had just set aflame in him.

"Well...if you ever cry again, you better not come to me because I am not at all emotionally capable of handling that."

You roll your eyes but grin nonetheless, nudging him with your shoulder before stepping closer and pressing yourself into him. Instinctively, Gojo raises his arm, letting you slip underneath as he places his hand on the sleeve of your sweater.

One of his fingers gets stuck in a loop, his eyes get stuck on your smile, and he tries hard not to kiss you right then and there.

Continuing to stare, a fluttery hot feeling formed in his chest, and he realised just how braver you were than him for giving in to what your heart wanted.

thanks for all the love on my latest one shot! :)

i hope the layout of my collection isn't too confusing, I'm working on making it more manageable and easy to understand!

i've put a lot of heart into this universe, the dynamic and my characters so I'm probably just thinking too far ahead.

i'm very happy i've started this and i can't wait for you all to see what i have in store!

love, jae 🩵

[weebsinstash]

Was thinking of something you said about Luci. Like him crying when he sees you coming you back to the hotel all marked up. Even better idea, him regularly spying on you using the orbs/balls from episode 6. Probably started as a way to learn more about you and make sure you're safe but quickly became something else....

Like you say him seeing you after? How about him watching you get fucked crying his eyes out and touching himself?

Like he's so upset it's not him, but he can't NOT watch and listen! He needs to see what you like so he can be perfect for you, and make sure you're safe. So what if he touches himself? How can he not when it's you he's watching and hearing? Even if it's with some sinner scum.

I misread Luci as Lucci and I was like "HOW DO Y O U KNOW I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT ROB LUCCI, I HAVEN'T EVEN POSTED ABOUT MY CP0 READER X LUCCI ESPIONAGE IDEA YET--"

I was thinking about Lucifer, you know, how we tend to think of him as Charlie's dad and just "the Devil" but I think we can kind of forget, he's also the Cardinal Sin of Pride, and I keep brainstorming on how he's probably INSANELY JEALOUS AND POSSESSIVE AND WOULD BE TRYING TO IMPRESS YOU ALL THE TIME

Can you even imagine like. He's peeping on you getting railed by someone twice your size and that person can absolutely scoop you up and throw you around with how big they are and here's Lucifer uncomfortably reminded of how short he is. bonus points if before this you and him had an argument and you shit all over his height just to piss him off and now he's seeing you fuck some huge dude. Give him that emotional damage with the backstab buff

The thing with Lucifer is that, he's short, yeah, but like. He's also ungodly strong. I'm too lazy to link the post but people have pointed out that he literally was not even remotely phased when Adam was throwing him against a building and trying to hurt him, like actual frames of Lucifer just kinda sitting there o.o, totally unbothered. And this could go one of two ways! You could get protected and rescued by him and, he scoops you up into his arms and that makes YOU feel small (in a sexy way)

OR

you kinda like, not infantilize him per se, but you figure, since he's "this little goober" that he would never like, ACTUALLY do anything scary, but. Honey he's a grown man who wants you as a serious partner and he's extremely prideful and attached to you and you're, constantly picking other people over him 💀💀💀 you're irritating him on purpose, you're giving him sass, you're FUCKING OTHER DUDES and I can see him totally snapping, "you think I'm not serious about you?! I'll show you!!" and just, yoinks you up, snatches you away, you're magically appearing either AT THE ALTAR WITH HIM LIKE, WEDDING WITH AN ENTIRE AUDIENCE, or straight into his bed where he proceeds to show you exactly why he deserves to be your king

(Tbh I've grown a sudden uh, taste for "yandere character suddenly reveals they're gonna marry you" and I mean with a whole ass engagement ring and WEDDING especially for Lucifer and Alastor recently 😩 WAIT LUCILILI POLY WEDDING-)

Still obsessed with "i bet she doesn't even see me as a man" Lucifer vs "he definitely doesn't even see me as a woman haha I'm gross :)" Reader where little Luci Goosey finds out you're just, straight up either hating yourself or have been rejected too many times to even find yourself desirable, and the second he realizes it's not even him that's 'the problem', he's taking matters into his own hands. Like something slips out of your mouth, "why would anyone want me, I'm, I'm dorky and stupid and gross and ugly" and Lucifer is just like, "OH!!! Aw honey you just have depression :) oh golly we have so much in common--"

I also just. Really like the idea that he's basically got full control over Hell and can get in your head and know what you're thinking and feeling if he REALLY wants to. Got another ask in my drafts I'm about to get to that delves more into the idea of him and Lilith HELLA abusing their dream controlling/pocket dimension powers in a definitely not "you didn't know you had a secret second life in your dreams that was 100% real" kinda way...

[therealdogsinmymind]

✩ Turnabout ✩

18+ MDNI

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

AO3 Link | Word Count: 5,206 | Chapters 1/1

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Synopsis: Jinwoo comes home injured and you’re brimming with excitement at the idea of being able to tend to his wounds like the good old days, however things get a bit carried away…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo/Male Reader, Sung Jinwoo/You

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tags: Reader POV, Male Reader, S-Rank Jin-Woo, Minor Injuries, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Established Relationship, Cock Tease, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Premature Ejaculation, Dacryphilia,

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Picture from @oo0mika0oo ‘s icon edits

It’s not often that S-Rank hunter Sung Jinwoo suffers defeat these days. Frankly it just doesn’t seem to happen anymore, and you’d never admit it to anyone but you wish just a smidgen that sometimes he would come home bloodied and bruised like he used to when he was an E-rank hunter. You miss taking care of him; kissing his wounds better and knowing that you serve a purpose in his life. You’re not really sure what your purpose is these days; you mostly cook for Jinah and wait for Jinwoo to come home from fighting whatever big bad he’s facing. Not that he does most days.

You’re not expecting today to be the day he comes home, uncharacteristically beaten down. You find yourself brimming with delight when he appears from nothingness behind you, smelling of dirt and blood. It’s fucking gross, but the point is that he’s disheveled and that’s a rare sight. You don’t turn around, you can’t, he’s taken to slumping over your back; however you can see him in the reflection of the window, his face is busted up.

”Tough fight?” you hum the question, internally vibrating with joy that he’s come home to you seeking comfort.

”No. Just unnecessarily long,” he sighs into your hair. You want so badly to turn around and look at the full damage but he has you trapped under his weight. You’re sure he wants to wallow in his displeasure at having been injured so you’ll have to make do. You reach back and card your fingers through his hair, it’s lightly coated in dirt but not too bad. He sighs softly at your touch, leaning into it. You wonder what he got up to while he was gone. You missed him so much it almost doesn’t feel like he’s really here but the warmth seeping into your back is solid proof.

“You’ve been gone for a week, y’know?” There’s a slight melancholy air to your tone that you can’t disguise. He tenses up and you can’t help but feel bad for kicking him when he’s down like this. “It’s fine, I know you’re busy. I just wish you’d call.” Jinwoo tightens his hold on you as if you’ll wither away at any moment.

”I was inside a system gate, I’m sorry my love, I didn’t intend to be away for so long.” The stupid fucking system, sometimes you hate it, you know it saved Jinwoo’s life but sometimes it feels like it’s also trying to take everything he has. It’s taken large chunks of his emotions, he’s had to fight to regain some sense of some of them. It’s taken his time away from his family, his normal life, and one day you fear it’ll take him away from you entirely. It’s just some kind of game after all.

You pull yourself away from that line of thought. ”Like I said s’fine. I used your black card, so we’re even… sorta.” You pause for a moment, before explaining further, “It’s a gift from both of us to my mother, her birthday is next week.”

He sighs into your hair before kissing your head, “My love, you can use that for whatever you want. I don't care. I would actually prefer you do.”

”Yeah well…” The thing is, you still flinch when pulling it out, the concept of spending money scares you. After spending so many years where you and Jinwoo’s family barely scraped by, it's a hard feeling to shake. “Anyway that’s not important, you seem tired. Why don’t we sit, hm?” He doesn’t fight you, seemingly content to let you guide him to the couch. Once in a while he doesn’t argue when you try to get him to sit down for two seconds and it’s a fucking blessing but you don’t suspect it’ll last long. 

Sitting him down on the couch you take a step back to assess the damage while he leans his head back and closes his eyes. His legs are spread wide and his arms are sprawled across the back of the couch, he seems exhausted. He’s notably tired and visibly frustrated, you assume he’s annoyed with having been injured. There seems to be blood on his shirt, you wonder if it’s his, but hope not. Most glaringly his face is busted to shit. His nose seems to have some dried blood under it, he clearly scraped his cheek and it looks like he has a black eye forming. Not to mention he’s absolutely filthy, but otherwise okay. Smiling crookedly you step between his open knees, placing one hand on the back of the couch for balance as you lean over him and place a whisper of a kiss on the corner of his mouth. You miss intentionally to get his attention then start to pull away in tease.

“Mm, do it right.” He snakes a hand behind your head and brings you back in. Pulling you into a soft kiss that clearly resonates ‘I’m home, sorry I was gone, I’m here now.’ It’s an I love you in its own right. 

You kiss him softly for a few moments before pulling away just enough to whisper, “Let's take a shower.”

He huffs a laugh against your lips, “That bad?” 

“Well you’re covered in blood for one... But I’ll wash your back so don’t worry about it m’kay?”

”You don’t have to do that,” Jinwoo says, gently tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah but I want to… Are you saying you don’t want to see me naked?” You reach up and your hand captures his mid-air. You press it to your cheek and he strokes your skin with his thumb.

Jinwoo shakes his head in defeat, ”Hard bargain.”

”I’m known for those,” you grin.

He pulls you in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last but still airing on the soft side. It’s wet and hot but slow, no real sense of urgency behind it. When you part he bumps his nose against yours, “You’ll let me cook after?”

”You’re injured so that’s gonna be a no, but you can cook tomorrow. Make me breakfast in bed or something.”

”I can do that,” he says with absolute seriousness. 

”That was a joke.”

”No, you’ve put the idea in my head now, I’ll think of it as a quest.”

”Oh shut up.” You’re laughing regardless, maybe the system is good for something once in a while. You offer him a hand and you swear to yourself that you’re fully prepared to pull him off the couch but you know you aren’t that strong, he’s deceptively heavy. Your hand stays offered anyway and he takes it mostly just for the sake of touching you, getting up entirely of his own right. He holds it for a few seconds, squeezing it gently once, and then lets go before striding towards the bathroom. You note that he walks away with far too much grace and ease for an injured man. For fuck’s sake the guy could at least pretend to be phased. It seems like he took his two seconds on the couch and now he’s good. Shaking your head you follow him, pulling your sweater and shirt off in one movement behind his back; maybe you can at least surprise him a little. You slip your shorts and underwear off much the same way, struggling a little to not make noise or stumble in your walking as you do so. All that’s left is your stupid little over the knee socks because your legs get unbearably cold but pants were the devil's invention. You have no way to take those off easily but that's okay, you suspect he won’t mind. 

You say nothing, letting him flick the light on to the dressing room and turn back to you on his own. Jinwoo’s about to say something but as he sees you he pauses hard, completely short circuiting for a moment. You have to hold it together at the slack-jawed look on his face. 

“Hi,” he says stupidly, fully acting as if he’s never seen you naked before. You lose your battle, as his response makes you bust out in a fit of giggles. 

“Hi, baby- You good?” 

“Yeah…” Jinwoo says, dazed, “I just forget how lucky I am.”

”Alright smooth talker…” you roll your eyes, you really don’t think you’re all that special; especially not when he has celebrities and S-rank hunters with their eyes on him. He seems to know what you’re thinking so he grabs your hand, dragging you further into the dressing room. You toss your clothes near the washing machine and let him pull you along. He pushes you against the sink and boxes you in. You don’t even have to meet his eyes to know he’s looking at you with that intensity that you fell in love with. 

He seems to struggle with his words for a moment, you know he’s not always the best at fully expressing himself these days, it’s okay you can wait. Eventually Jinwoo lets out a soft breath and says, “I love you.”

You blink at him, wide eyed. He doesn’t say that much, he shows it in other ways, but he rarely says it. You smile softly, reaching up to caress his cheek for a moment, “I love you too.” 

He captures your lips as soon as the words are out of your mouth; this kiss is different from your last. It’s wetter, harder, Jinwoo slips his tongue into your mouth quickly. He slides an arm behind your back and pulls your hips flush, your bare cock rubbing against his pants, it forces a moan out of you. The sound seems to get lost in between your lips but the way his grip tightens means he heard it just fine. His other hand grabs your thigh and hikes it up so you’re left resting in his hands lest you want to balance one leg alone. You know he’s insanely strong but it always makes your cock throb when he lifts your full weight like it’s nothing. Then as if hearing your thoughts he uses his grip on your back and thigh to lift you onto your toes so you truly have to rely on his strength alone, unable to support yourself in any meaningful way. His injuries are momentarily forgotten by you as you’re too busy whining into his mouth and gripping tightly at his shirt. 

Thankfully things shift and it’s his turn to moan when his hand adjusts itself on your thigh and comes in contact with your stocking. You can’t help the small bit of laughter that bubbles from your lips, forcing you to pull away from the kiss.

Surprisingly, Jinwoo speaks before you can, “Remind me to get you more of these…” He plays with the hem of your stockings, they begin to slip down past your knee a bit and his breath catches ever-so-slightly. “They’re good.”

”You’re so ridiculous.”

”I’m a simple man.” 

“Yeah baby, I’ve noticed.”

Jinwoo doesn’t bother with a retort, opting to kiss you instead. You let him kiss you breathless for a few minutes until you pull away and mumble against his lips, “You’re wearing far too many clothes.”

”I can fix that,” he mumbles back. He seems loath to pull away from your lips, kissing you again and grinding his hips against your bare cock, almost certainly just to hear you moan.

He pulls away, setting your leg down gently and gives you a second to find your balance before he steps away, pulling his shirt over his head as he moves. You usually try not to boost his ego too much but you find your eyes raking down his chest regardless. He smirks and you roll your eyes, caught red handed you guess. He does seem to have a blossoming bruise on his ribs but no blood so that’s good at least; it must not have been his. Jinwoo shucks off the rest of his clothes and you pointedly don’t watch just to avoid giving him the satisfaction.

When he’s done he moves back into your space and you hum, thinking about what you want to do; this is supposed to be about him after all. If you give this man an inch he’ll take a mile. You can’t let him take control, he'll aggravate his injuries for certain. Instead of letting him pin you to the counter again you take his hips gently and spin the two of you around. When you push him against the counter he raises his eyebrow, curious enough to let you do as you will. 

It’s then that you sink to your knees, glad for your socks, you’re sure your legs would be freezing otherwise. You hear Jinwoo suck in a sharp breath and you hold back a smile. Instead you lick your hand, letting a dollop of spit fall out of your mouth into your palm before you take a hold of Jinwoo’s cock. He hisses as you begin to stroke him slowly, twisting your wrist every so often, bringing him to full hardness. Occasionally you swipe your thumb over the head but largely you stay away from any movement that could really bring him to the edge. Instead you choose to pepper his hips and thighs with kisses. 

He whines a little, “You- hah- you're being mean…”

“Oh?” you hum, your tone lifting in a way that makes Jinwoo stiffen.

“No- You're not mean. You're not mean I didn't-”

“Baby if you want me to be mean-” your hand lightly squeezes the base of his cock right before you lean forward and give the head a small kiss. His hips jerk a little but it's a miniscule reaction in comparison to the moan that's torn from his chest moments later when you properly wrap your lips around his cock. 

“Please, please-”

You pay him no mind, instead taking care to suck slowly and softly at the head of his cock. Sounds of distressed pleasure spill from Jinwoo’s lips as he contorts over you. You pull off of him with a pop and sigh in mock disappointment.

”Baby you’re going to hurt yourself. You’re injured!”

“I can fix that! Will you stop fucking with me please and thank you-“

You bite him unkindly high up on his inner thigh to which he jerks again. “You want me to take care of you! You came slumping back to me after you got your ass beat so sit there and be good! Stop bitching and maybe I’ll be nice to you, fucking hell.” You know that’s not true but sometimes being mean to him is the only way to get him to shut the fuck up.

”Yes, dear.” He drags a hand down his face, acting resigned to his fate as if he’s not about to get his dick sucked. 

You eye him dubiously, usually you love his spirited nature, but right now you’d much rather he just relax, he never does that these days.

You wrap a loose hand over his cock and stroke it gently, the barely there pressure a tease of a touch more than anything. “Jinwoo…” you coo softly, your fingertips running up his cock lightly, “Will you let me take care of you? Pretty please?” you ask nicer this time, trying to soften him up to the idea of not pushing himself for fucking once.

Jinwoo sighs in that way he always does when he’s about to tell you no, so you lean forward lick a stripe up his cock before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue over the tip. He takes a shuddering breath and seems to pause in his answering so you pull off and plead again, “Please, baby? I like taking care of you, you know I do. Let me?” You don’t waste time before putting your mouth back on his cock, he hasn’t even answered yet but you need to keep him in your good graces. Is this a little manipulative? Definitely, but god forbid this man be kind to himself so maybe you need to take drastic measures. 

“Okay- okay, you win-” he concedes, voice a little strained, hands gripping tightly at the counter. That was actually easier than you thought it would be. You wonder if he’s wound up after a whole week in a system dungeon, doesn’t time pass differently there? You can’t remember. Regardless, you'll do what you can to help. 

  You hum around his cock, delighted due to his obedience, happily taking him deeper into your mouth in turn. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels good almost too much so. Sometimes you wonder if you’re a little too far gone for this man. Sitting with half of him in your mouth for a moment, the rest of his cock in your hand, you wonder what kind of face he’s making. Is he finally being patient? He’s stopped bitching at least. All that you hear from him is heavy pants as you begin to bob your head. He whines a little as you rub circles into his hip with your thumb, a silent plea for him to not buck his hips. When you’re pretty sure you’ve gotten the message across you take his cock down to the base. It invades your throat and you struggle with its size, trying desperately to accommodate and not pull off entirely. Jinwoo gives a choked moan and pride surges through you despite your current struggle.

You must accidentally dig your nails into Jinwoo’s hip as suddenly there’s a hand on the back of your head holding you there. “Shh, it’s okay you’re doing amazing,” he says, panting slightly, “When you pull back breathe through your nose. You know how to do this, you’re almost there, just relax.” You squirm under his hold a little, not because you want him to let go, it’s the opposite really. His sweet words flood heat to your stomach and you’re reminded very quickly that you’re not wearing any clothes when your cock throbs. You manage to further relax your throat, but you get to a point where you absolutely need to breathe so you tap his leg and he lets go of your head. You pull back slightly, making sure to keep half of him in your mouth while you take a breath, before taking him back into your throat. You gag around him a bit, drool sliding down your chin faster than before. 

“Can I grab your hair- please-“ he begs, voice strained. 

You take a moment to suck on the tip of his cock before pulling off entirely, “Mhm, go for it. You can move my head around if it would help you feel good, I know it’s been a while since I’ve done this…” Not that that’s your fault, he never fucking lets you, always too determined to fuck you within an inch of your life. 

“I- You’re doing perfect I just…” you raise an eyebrow at him, Jinwoo never gets this embarrassed you wonder what it could be. 

“If there’s anything-?” You want him to feel good. 

“Can… I cum on your face?” You hum in faux contemplation, you’re going to say yes but it feels good to see him stare at you longingly, eyes blown wide, red splotching his cheeks. 

“You wanna mark me? That it?” You stroke his cock slowly, it twitches in your hand, how delightful. 

“Yeah,” he says, nearly choking on the word. 

“Mm, sounds nice. Go ahead baby, take what you need.” You say sweetly, taking a steadying breath before you take the tip of his cock into his mouth. Barely a moment later he grabs a fistful of your hair and shoves your head down onto his cock entirely, forcing himself into your throat. You gag harshly and a loud moan escapes him, echoing through the room. With one hand on his hip to steady yourself, your other hand sneaks down to your own cock, finally granting yourself some relief. You fist your cock and tug at it harshly, now that you’re finally touching yourself you’re unwilling to build up slowly; you’ve been waiting long enough. Jinwoo uses your mouth not aggressively but it’s forceful enough to make you gag on every thrust, tears streaming down your face.

“F-fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry…” he chokes out, tightening his grip on your hair before he pulls you off for a second. “Breathe.” You take a few harsh gasping breaths, then he guides it back into your mouth and quickly shoves your head down; breaching your throat once again. This time he doesn’t pull your head off, he keeps you there, squirming. You dig your nails into his hip and tug rapidly at your own cock, twisting your wrist on every stroke, getting more desperate as Jinwoo uses you. You can’t even see him anymore, tears flowing too openly. You fear you must look like a mess. With spit pouring down your chin onto your chest, cheeks soaked with tears, cock spilling precum over your hand; truly this man knows how to reduce you to nothing. You’re glad that Jinwoo seems to be enjoying the show at least. More than enough proof coming in the form of him panting, whines escaping him whenever your throat constricts around him.

Eventually he yanks your head back, tugging at his cock quickly, your spit making his hand slide across his skin with a quick slick sound. You kneel at his feet gasping harshly, your own pleasure paused momentarily. You close your eyes and the sound of his broken moans mingle with your gasping breaths. It fills the air and for a second it’s all you know.

“I-” he starts, just slightly too late, cumming on your face without any real warning. You whine quietly, you love him so much. You wish you could see the blissed out look on his face but you know he wants to look at what he’s done to you for a minute. 

Unable to help it, your tongue pokes out and licks a drop of his cum off your lip, it’s terrible, truly. You don’t mind if it’s him though. Especially because he moans a little at the sight. 

“There’s ah, hold on.” Water runs for a moment and then a warm wet cloth gently dabs at your face, notably your eyelids, he must not have wanted you to get anything in your eye. “You can open your eyes now.”

You blink your eyes open a few times even as he continues to wipe softly at your face, cleaning tears off your cheeks and saliva off your chin. He looks at you intently as he cleans you up, determined to do a good job, he’s too sweet sometimes.

“You didn’t cum,” he says, matter of fact.

Shrugging, “I was more focused on you, I’m not concerned.” You’re hoping he drops it but you suspect he won’t. You will your boner to magically fucking disappear.

“I am,” he insists and you don’t have time to stop him before he moves and drops to his knees beside you.

“You’re injured-ah!” Your protests about his health are cut off when he takes your cock into his hand. He strokes it twice before running his thumb over the tip and you give a choked whimper, bucking your hips. 

Grasping for his wrist you try desperately to pull his arm away as he strokes your cock but you feel weak all over. “You- I can’t- Jinwoo!” As you call his name you fold over, spilling cum over his hand. You sob broken syllables that sound like a mantra of pleas as he continues to jerk at your cock until tears are streaming down your face again. 

When you bat weakly at him he finally lets go of your cock and you lean against him, panting. He presses a kiss to the side of your head and you whine, if he says a single fucking thing about this you swear to god; you'll have to kill him.

“That was faster than usual,” he comments idly, as if talking about the weather. 

“A week! You were gone for a week!” You smack him tiredly, you know it doesn’t phase him at all but it’s the thought that counts. This is why you didn’t want him to touch you, you were entirely too wound up, you knew if he put his hands on you at all you’d embarrass yourself. He sighs and kisses the side of your head again, mumbling an apology into your hair. You sigh in return and nod against him despite the pit it sets in your stomach. You wish he wouldn’t do that now, you hate apology sex, that’s not what this was supposed to be. 

You try to push yourself off the floor only to find your legs weak, man fuck Jinwoo, you hate that guy. Your face goes red as you mumble, “Help me up…” you tack on just for good measure, “And if you laugh I’ll kill you.” 

“Of course, of course.” He stands with a grace that you envy and proceeds to not help you up but instead sweep you up into his arms. You make some vague noises of protest that he ignores and he laughs quietly. He sets you on the counter and kneels to slip your socks off, he really is acting like he’s not hurt at all. You didn’t do much to help, did you? 

You sigh, disappointment filling you, so much for caring for him, things really have changed. He’s going so many places you can’t reach; what are you supposed to do with that knowledge? What will you do the day he doesn’t need you anymore? It feels like that day has already gone and passed and you’re not sure why he keeps coming home to you. 

“You’re getting in your head,” he says from where he’s knelt before you. 

You hum and give a noncommittal shrug, unsure where to even start. Hopping off the counter you softly mumble, “I’m going to shower.” When you shuffle past him you enter the bathroom and make a point to gently close the door behind you, despite the original intention of a shared shower. It’s a quiet sign that you want to be alone. Despite this, he enters a few moments later, once you’ve turned the water on. You sigh, he’s terrible at reading signals, or maybe he just prefers to ignore them. 

”Hey,” Jinwoo starts as he wraps his arms around you from behind, flattening himself against your back. “Did I hurt you?”

There’s no point in hiding it, ”No… yes… it’s not you, I just miss meaning something to you.” He makes a wounded sound that you can hear clearly over the water. It’s surely warm enough by now but his arms tighten around you and you’re unable to step under it, trapped in his hold. 

Resting his chin on the top of your head he asks quietly, “Why would you ever think you don’t?”

You sigh restlessly and pull yourself from his arms, “You know how I used to have a purpose? You would come home beat to shit after a raid and I would take care of you? That doesn’t happen anymore! I even had one job today and I fucked it up! I barely did anything for you! I didn’t even tend to your wounds…” You find yourself breathing heavy, tears beginning to spill from your eyes. You sniffle hard, wiping at them aggressively. Digging the heels of your palms into your eyes you wail your biggest fear, “ I don’t have any use to you anymore!”

He tugs one on one of your wrists, pulling on it gently and persistently, until you let it fall away and look at him. ”You don’t need a use, dumbass. You’re not a tool. You’re the love of my life,” he says it so straight faced you physically reel back, accidentally stepping directly into the shower stream and scaring the crap out of yourself. You jump out of your skin when the water touches you suddenly. Jinwoo has to use his hold on your wrist to pull you into his chest, keeping you from falling. 

Your tears freeze up out of shock, “You don’t have to be mean about it!” You cry, shrilly, “I’m wallowing!” You push off his chest and scrub any remaining tears off your face.

”You’re being stupid!”

”Ouch!” The mood feels worlds lighter, Was that it? Did you really think of yourself only as a tool? You feel like this insecurity won’t go away overnight but at the moment you feel less like you’re drowning so there’s that. Regardless of your lighter mood you sigh, “I still think you should get beat up more often, I like taking care of you.” It’s mostly a joke but there’s a crumb of truth to it, maybe you guys can compromise somewhere. Perhaps he could come home for dinner more often or something, you’ll talk to him about it later.

”That’s…” he pauses for a while before he sighs and goes on, “I didn’t get beat up.” He rubs the back of his head, a nervous tick he’s never quite kicked. “I tripped leaving the system gate. Busted my face on a pile of rocks if you can believe it…” He can’t meet your eyes, looking anywhere else as his face goes quickly red.

You blink at him, wide-eyed, “No fucking way…”

He groans as if he’s dying, ”Do you think I would make that up for fun?”

You can’t help it, laughter bubbles out of your throat and escapes you in uncontrollable bursts. You can’t breathe, you’re going to die, holy shit there’s no way. Oh man, you shouldn’t be laughing at him like this but it’s just so human. 

You have tears in your eyes as you tell him, “I love you so much- you are so uncool.”

Jinwoo’s head whips towards you, cheeks still red, “Says the guy who-” 

You nearly choke on your words trying to get them out faster than he can, “Do not finish that sentence!”

He holds up his hands in surrender before scratching at his chin, “You know… I thought it was kinda cute.”

You turn away quickly, padding over to mess with the water temperature, “What was that? I can’t hear you over the water!” 

Jinwoo silently comes up behind you, which shouldn’t even be possible with the wet floor, bullying you up against the wall. He boxes you in from behind and speaks into your ear, “If you’re that pent up… How many orgasms do you think I can wring out of you?” You shudder against him and open your mouth to speak but only a whine comes out when he places a loose hand on your throat. Not to choke, just resting there and feeling your pulse more than anything. “Let me take care of you this time, hm?”

“Hah- Jinwoo-” you whine. This man fights dirtier than anyone you’ve ever met. Maybe you can’t say anything, you did the same shit earlier, turnabout is fair play and all. 

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 14 (Link's Parents Play BotW)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

(AO3 link)

Ch 14: Fallen Knight - Carnage

Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.

When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.

It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.

You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.

Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.

He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.

He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.

His daughter was dead.

Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—

Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.

He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??

What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—

Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!

It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.

You made a mistake when you made me.

The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.

Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.

The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.

As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”

Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.

When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.

Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.

Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.

They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.

Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.

The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.

Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.

The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.

The world came crashing back down on him an instant.

You just killed a man.

Well, he was clearly going to attack first!

You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.

At least check him for supplies.

Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.

Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.

A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.

“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”

Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.

“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”

Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…

Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.

Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.

“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?” The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.

Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.

As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.

A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.

A shrine was nearby?

Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.

How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!

But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.

The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.

But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?

Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.

Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.

The tower. Just get to the tower.

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.

From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.

Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.

Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.

Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.

Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”

“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”

“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?

They didn’t have time for that.

“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.

“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”

Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”

“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”

Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?

After all the effort you and that delegation put in…

Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.

The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.

“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”

Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.

However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.

“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”

“A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.

Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.

The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.

Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.

Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.

Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.

The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.

Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”

I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.

Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.

Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”

Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.

No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.

When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.

“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”

“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.

Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.

“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”

This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.

“Til—”

“I know, I’ll be quick!”

“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”

“There’s a light!”

“There’s literally nothing.”

Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”

Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.

Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”

Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?

Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”

“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”

“Correct.”

At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?

No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.

“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.

The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.

“It’s too bad there aren’t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”

Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…

Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.

“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.

Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.

“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.

Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”

His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.

“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”

Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.

“What?” Tilieth asked.

“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”

Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.

Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”

He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.

The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—

Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.

The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.

“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”

“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.

Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.

He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.

Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.

“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”

“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”

Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.

“Honey? You okay?”

Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.

“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.

Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.

Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”

Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”

Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.

It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.

His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.

That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.

What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?

What would he find? What if he didn’t return?

What would happen to his family?

You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?

Right?

There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.

For Link.

Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.

He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?

How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.

He’d killed a man today.

Could he have avoided it?

It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.

But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?

Am I a murderer?

He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.

Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.

Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.

He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.

He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.

A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.

Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.

Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.

His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.

Central Hyrule stood before him.

It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.

No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.

It was all barren.

Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.

What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.

Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.

Thunder. Thunder.

The sky burned.

The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.

Abel’s breath caught in his throat.

The world around him was deafening.

There was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?

Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.

Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.

He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.

Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—

Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—

Bokoblin!

Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—

His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.

In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.

Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.

Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.

The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.

Go! Go, run!!!!

Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.

Thunder rumbled.

Thunder clapped as lasers fired.

It was pouring.

The sky was aflame as people screamed.

It was deafening it was deafening.

Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—

Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.

Where was it where was it—

Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.

Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—

Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—

Abel felt his heart stop.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—

Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.

“TILIETH!”

He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

“NO!”

Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.

[klbwriting]

Who Am I Really?

Chapter 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence and attack in this chapter

Summary: Orm is traipsing around the surface when he decides to visit an animal shelter. While there Atlanteans soldiers attack. Orm is able to fight them off before they can report him back to Atlantis, but in the process he loses his memory

Notes: Hello! This is one of 2 fics that I will be posting! This one will be posted daily in the morning. I hope you enjoy! Comments/critiques are appreciated!

Orm Marius was many things. He was a disgraced king, a mighty warrior, a proud Atlantean, but a good surface dweller he was not. He couldn't figure out why they did so many stupid things. Why did they throw out perfectly good food? Why didn't more of them know how to grow things, how to make things? He had grown up with servants yet he knew how to grow his own food, mend his own armor and clothes, make sure there was not unnecessary waste. He couldn't understand why surface dwellers weren't taught these simple things. He wandered the land, learning more about the corruption and hatred they held also. Arthur liked this place? His own mother loved someone from this hell hole? How? Then he started noticing something else. He noticed community gardens that were flourishing, with volunteers helping to harvest and give the food to those in need. Atlantis could learn from that. For all their merits about being environmentally conscious and able to take care of themselves they didn't do as well taking care of each other. He saw a news story on one of those TV's about a house fire and neighbors coming together to raise money to make sure the family affected could build a new house quickly, offering their own homes to stay in while they waited. And finally, he found a person who did something he could not even imagine. This person saved animals. Marine life seemed never ending to Atlanteans. They would eat every part of the creature but they weren't pets. When his first animal companion, a sea turtle, had died, his father had found him mourning and had made sure he understood that animals were nothing to mourn. The scars on his back were enough that he never mourned another creature again. This woman fascinated him.

He entered her shelter, a small compound by a lake he had been camping around, just to watch her and how she interacted with the small creatures. She smiled happily at him, introducing herself.

"I'm Y/N, can I have your name and reason for your visit? Are you just looking or adopting?" she asked, bringing up a clipboard. Orm frowned a moment.

"I'm Orm," he said finally, knowing this surface dweller wouldn't know who he was from anyone else coming in. "I was just looking, never had a pet before, wondering what all the fuss is about." Y/N nodded, writing his name down and pulling a sticker off the clipboard. She put the nametag on his chest. "What is that for?"

"In case you need help, I just met you, I'm not going to remember your name after one meeting," she said. That was a lie. She had seen Orm's blue eyes and knew she wasn't going to forget him, but she still needed to be professional. Orm nodded slowly and she blushed a little, making him smile. She was pretty and by the blush he figured she might find him pretty as well.

"What is the purpose of this place?" he asked. She smiled a friendly smile now, it lit up her face. She waved him through to a door towards barking.

"I started this shelter slash adoption center around five years ago. I've always wanted to help animals but wasn't really smart enough to be a vet, not steady-handed enough to be a groomer, so here I am, trying to save strays and get them into forever-homes," she said, walking them through a hallway with what looked like dog apartments in it. "This is the inside sleeping area, it links to the outside through that little door. In the summer we keep it open all the time, the outside area is contained and they can sleep or just sit out there as long as they want." Orm stooped down by a few of the dogs, looking into their eyes. They looked well fed, even happy. They had some toys, blankets, beds, everything you needed to be comfortable. Just no home. Orm understood that right now. He followed Y/N as she moved to the next area. She finished the tour of the dog wing before standing by another door. "Would you like to see the lakeside play area? I'm really proud of that."

"Ya, let's take a look," he said. He didn't know why he was so pulled to this place, to this person, but it felt like home here, among these other strays. He felt welcomed and like he could be happy here. They stepped outside and he stared. The lake was shimmering in the early sunset, glittering. It was clean, not like other lakes he had seen, and there was a large fenced in area that had dog play equipment and even went so far that the dogs could run into the shallow water if they wanted. "This is nice."

"Ya, I love animals, but I love the water too. There's something so freeing about floating, letting the waves carry all your worries away with them," Y/N said. She frowned, squinting her eyes as she looked over the water. "Is someone swimming?" she muttered. Orm frowned, looking closer. Atlanteans. Three of them. Soldiers if the gear they were wearing was any indication.

"Go inside, lock the doors," he said. If his tone wasn't so commanding she might have argued but Y/N did as told, going inside and locking the doors. She started even getting the dogs inside and locking the doggy doors to that side of the compound. She then sat in a corner and waited, listening to the sounds of a fight, something beyond a human brawl, going on outside.

Orm surveyed the three soldiers around him. He had a chance against 3, anymore he might have had real trouble, but 3 he could handle. They all pounced at once, but even without a weapon, he was ready. He bent, building the strength in his legs, and when he felt hands from the first attacker he twisted, bringing his fist up, sending the first soldier flying back several feet, knocking him into a tree, forcing his sword out of his hands. Orm would need to get that before the soldier fully recovered. He turned his focus to the other two, kicking one backward as he moved to grab him, then punching the other in the stomach to double him over before bring his elbow down on the back of the neck, disabling the water apparatus to suffocate him. That was one who was completely down now. He turned, seeing the first soldier scrambling to get to his weapon. Orm ran faster, grabbing it and slicing. Two soldiers were taken care of. Now just the last one. He turned, seeing the other one with a pulsar of some type. Orm looked around, grabbing the body of the Atlantean he had slain, throwing it towards the other one. He caught the body and fell back, rolling into the lake. The body drifted off on its own while the still living attacker recovered. Orm moved to the other body he had created, throwing it as well. Y/N didn't need a mess when she came back out. The attacker dodged this one, moving to climb out of the water again. Orm repositioned the sword, getting ready to throw it. Just as he launched it at the final attacker, the attacker fired the energy weapon, hitting Orm in the chest and knocking him back into the solid wall of the shelter. The last thing Orm saw was the attacked falling, sword impaled in him, into the water and sinking. Then Orm himself sinks into darkness.