#minor moose warnings

[cleo-fox]

Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

*

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say. 

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

*

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tva loki x reader

[metal-mouse]

Don't Ever Leave

pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!MC (M/F pairing)

themes: 18+ minors DNI. smut. fluff. so, so many tropes. pourn with plot. confessing feelings. idiots in love.

warnings: smut. p in v. unprotected sex. a hint of body worshipping. f receiving oral. not even an attempt to pull out.

summary: 7.1k words of whatever this is. It has been one year since you have graduated from Hogwarts. You've returned to Hogsmeade for some shopping, and you run into a familiar face. You spend the afternoon catching up with Garreth Weasley, when a rain storm rolls in preventing you from returning home.

note: I'm thirsty for Garreth Weasley and I'm a filthy slut for tropes. This got way longer than I expected it to. Editing? Never heard of her. Unicorns shed their horns like moose because I said so. I'll make a Garreth stan out of you if it's the last thing I do 😤

tagging @the-ominis-gaunt and @cuffmeinblack bc the red haired boi.

s/o to @anto-pops for letting me yell in the dms and also being an enabler and a pot-stirrer. luv u.

You called one last good-bye to Albie Weekes as you left his shop stepping into the cool November air. It had been well over a year since you’d last stepped foot in Hogsmeade, and it was nice to catch up with some old friends. Your next step would be visiting Parry Pippin, who had been most fond of you while you were in school. You’d always helped him make deliveries to Fatimah Lewang, which had gotten you a decent amount of pocket money. He had always paid you handsomely for having to deal with that unpleasant woman. You made your way up the street towards the potions shop, savoring the sights and sounds of the bustling village. Seeing students wander the streets talking and laughing filled you with so many fond memories. You could almost see yourself with Sebastian and Ominis, or perhaps Garreth Weasley, walking through the village and stopping in at the shops. 

Your mind lingered on the idea of walking through Hogsmeade with Garreth. The two of you had formed a very close friendship in your sixth year. You had been immensely fond of him, and something deep down inside of you had always hoped the two of you might become more than just friends. Besides Sebastian and Ominis, he was the one you spent the most time with. The amount of time the two of you had spent flirting was obscene, with delicate touches and priceless banter. Garreth had been quick to blush, and how you loved to make him blush. 

You got to the entrance of J. Pippin’s, and were jolted by the door opening suddenly. A man with a friendly face and a messy head of red hair bumped into you. 

“Garreth?” You said, momentarily wondering if you’d accidentally summoned him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, and then frowned at his choice of words, “er… I mean It’s lovely to see you!” He added quickly. You couldn’t help but smile at the blush that bloomed across his cheeks. 

“I needed to buy a new broom, I figured I’d come and visit some of the other shopkeepers while I’m here.” You said. 

“Still up to trouble, I gather?” He asked. 

“Naturally.” You gave him a wink. He laughed, and opened his arms for a hug. You embraced him briefly before stepping back and inspecting him. In the year since you’d seen him last he’d grown out of being the boy you knew. He was taller, his shoulders broader and he looked obviously strong under his clothes - which you noticed were very well tailored. The boyishness of his round cheeks had lessened, his cheekbones and jawline more defined now. You’d thought him handsome while in school, but now… he was breathtaking. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” Garreth said, his eyes searching your face. 

“I only live over in Feldcroft. It’s not that far a journey. I’m more surprised to see you here.” You said. A sullen look flashed across his face so fast you almost thought you’d imagined it. 

“Feldcroft? Are you living with Sallow?” He asked, an unexpected bite to his voice. 

“Anne Sallow, yes. Sebastian and Ominis moved to London to be closer to work. What have you been up to?” 

“Oh… right! I… well… it’s a little embarrassing.” His hand reached up to push his hair back. 

“What, are you shoveling dragon dung for a living?” You asked. He shot you a scandalized look.

“No, I’m Parry Pippin’s assistant.” You arched a brow at his response. That seemed like a respectable job to you. 

“Why would that be embarrassing? Mr. Pippin is an excellent potioneer.” 

“Speaking of Mr. Pippin, he is patiently waiting for one Mr. Weasley to go gather his ingredients.” Parry Pippin’s voice made you nearly jump out of your skin. You looked over to the shopkeeper, who had his hands on his hips and a little frown on his face. Garreth’s face flushed again. 

“Hello, Mr. Pippin!” You reached out and shook his hand. 

“It’s lovely to see you dear, now, if you’re insistent on distracting my assistant, why don’t you make yourself useful and help him collect the ingredients I need? He could use someone to watch his back.” Mr. Pippin said sternly. It was your turn to blush. You looked over to Garreth who had a hopeful look on his face. You nodded, it wasn’t like you were expected anywhere else - not with Anne visiting Ominis and Sebastian - and there was no way you could say no to that face. You would certainly rather be with him than be in the frigid sky on your way to an empty house. After a final sharp word from Mr. Pippin, Garreth started on the road that would take you towards the Forbidden Forest. 

It felt a little surreal, to be walking down that familiar path with Garreth Weasley. Truth be told, you hadn’t anticipated running into any of your school friends. You hadn’t really been close with many students under your year, and most of your friends were busy with their new jobs. Natty was back in Uganda, Poppy was running around the wilderness looking for beasts, Ominis was apprenticing in Diagon Alley, Sebastian was working in the Auror’s office… Even Anne seemed to be spending more and more time in London. 

You did think it a little amusing that you found yourself yet again protecting someone while they entered a dangerous location. It had become a habit during your school years, and it seemed to be carrying into your graduate life. The villagers in Feldcroft often asked for your help when it came to potentially dangerous situations. 

“I needed a job so I could save up and open up my own shop - Mr. Pippin was looking for someone to help out around his shop, it just seemed right.” Garreth said, jolting you from your thoughts. His tone was a little dejected, as though it was a disappointment for him to not own his own shop. 

“It certainly gives you good access to ingredients for your experiments. You’ve only just left school, you have loads of time Gar. You’re brilliant, I know you’ll have your own shop in no time.” You said encouragingly. He really was brilliant at potion-making, despite his unfortunate mishaps with his personal experiments. 

“You think so?” He asked, a little smile on his face. You nodded in response, returning his smile. His green eyes seemed to sparkle as he held your gaze for a moment - before promptly tripping over his own feet and stumbling. You moved on reflex, your arms wrapping around his, and hauling him upwards so he didn’t fall down. 

“Even if you can’t walk in a straight line to save your life, yes I do think so.” You said, laughing at him. His face was red as he joined in your laughter.

“I can walk perfectly straight, thank you very much.” 

“Hurt your pride, did I?” 

“At least I can reach the top shelf.” 

“That’s a low blow, Weasley.” 

“Yes, because you’re so close to the ground.” 

You and Garreth bickered back and forth as you walked along, without realizing you were still holding onto his arm. You loved spending time with Anne, and you did appreciate your neighbours in the village, but this was wonderful. It had been a long time since you’d laughed like this. Before you knew it, you stood at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest. You dropped his arm, pulling your wand out of the hidden pocket inside your coat. 

“Alright, I’ve got to find unicorn hair and hopefully some unicorn horns. They’re shedding this time of year.” Garreth said. 

“Really? That’s not going to be easy. I know where some unicorns stay, but it’s very deep in the forest.” You said, frowning a little. You’d gone to see the unicorns several times during your time at school, especially after you’d chased all the poachers out of the woods. You wondered if they would remember you - and if they would just run from Garreth. 

“You know where their den is?” He looked at you with an amazed expression. 

“Well, Poppy Sweeting wasn’t the only one who was fond of magical beasts.” You said, stepping through the gate towards the forest. You’d never shown anyone the Room of Requirement, preferring to keep it your own little sanctuary. There was no way Garreth would have known about your beast rescuing services. He merely tilted his head in agreement and followed you through the gate. 

It had been a long time since you’d set foot in the ancient feeling forest, and it was just as unnerving. Despite going into the forest countless times, the feeling of it was something you’d never gotten used to. It was always so unnaturally quiet, despite the abundance of life you knew dwelled under the dark canopy of trees. Garreth’s hand quietly found yours, and you didn’t have it in you to tease him about it. The forest could really be scary. You didn’t speak as you guided him down the path, trying to remember the way to the unicorns all while listening carefully for the tell-tale signs of trouble. You navigated the twisting paths, taking the route which you recalled to have the least amount of spiders. 

You both froze when a spine-chilling howl echoed in the distance. Garreth’s hand tightened over yours. You had no idea what sort of beast had made that horrible noise, and you weren’t in a rush to find out. Dark mongrels you could handle. Werewolves, you weren’t all that eager to try and fight. Anything else… Unless it was small and easily defeatable, you truly weren’t interested today.

“Please tell me we’re not going towards that.” He whispered to you. You shook your head, looking towards the direction of the noise. It was, thankfully, in the wrong direction. 

“I can’t believe he wanted you to come here alone.” You whispered, unwilling to speak any louder. You wondered in part if that was because of Parry Pippin’s cowardice. The man wasn’t exactly known for his bravery, which was showcased so brilliantly in the delivery job he’d given you. If he wasn’t able to face Madam Lewang, how in the world would he have faced the forest and its denizens? Perhaps you’d have to have a talk with the master potioneer upon your return. You gently tugged on Garreth’s hand and started walking again - increasing your pace when another howl echoed. 

“You never said what you’re doing now that school’s done.” He said quietly, clearly desperate to break up at least some of the tense silence. 

“I’m not really doing much these days, I mostly help around Feldcroft and take care of Anne. St. Mungos reckons they’ve nearly got a cure.��� You said, stepping over a large root and turning slightly to make sure Garreth didn’t trip over it. After everything you’d done, from stopping the Goblin rebellion to destroying the poacher trade in the Scottish Highlands, you figured you were owed a well deserved break - not that you were doing much relaxing. 

“That’s wonderful to hear, I always did like Anne…” He trailed off, as though there was something more he wanted to say. Heavy footsteps made the ground tremble slightly, and you shoved Garreth into the shadows against a tree before pressing against him trying to make the pair of you as inconspicuous as possible. He made no noise as a troll thumped across the path. You were steadily growing more annoyed with Mr. Pippin by the minute. What if he had been alone? It was inexcusable! You at least knew you could take on a fully grown troll. He may have been decent at defense against the dark arts, but Garreth had never fought a troll on his own. Hell, even Sebastian struggled and that was with your help. It was a tense few moments before the troll moved deeper into the forest.

“Come on. He didn’t see us.” You kept the steady pace up. 

“This is awful. How in the world are you still alive? I am so sorry for asking you to collect ingredients for me all the time.” Garreth hissed as he followed you. You snorted, his requests for you to go into the forest were often the least dangerous adventures you went on. The forest got darker as you ventured deeper, and now you really had to be on your guard. You jumped when something wet and cold dripped onto your face, and looked up with your wand out. You sighed when you felt more drops and realized it was just raining. You wondered if you’d lost your nerve, which was not helped when Garreth huffed a laugh at your reaction. 

“Not a word out of you, Weasley.” You shot a glare over your shoulder. 

“Are you frightened of the rain? Do you need me to protect you?” He teased. A stick cracked nearby, and with a nervous gasp he moved closer to you. You smirked a little, not even needing to tease him for his face to go red. You fell into silence once more, hoping the rain would stay light. If it was storming by the time you were due home, you weren’t going to be happy about it. Hand in hand and wands at the ready, you and Garreth pushed on into the darkness. 

You smiled when you heard the soft nickering of horses. You pulled Garreth to the side behind some bushes, quietly casting the disillusionment charm on yourself. He did the same, and you guided him forwards a little. You let go of his hand, beaming at the sight of the unicorns in front of you. You could feel him looming over your shoulder, his fingers gently pressing against the small of your back. It was a stunning sight, to have so many of these rare beasts all in one spot. 

“They’re beautiful.” He bent to whisper in your ear. You nodded despite the fact he couldn’t really see you. 

“Stay here. I want to see if they’ll let me approach them.” You whispered back, stepping away from him and removing the charm. You stepped forward slowly, letting yourself be seen by the unicorns. A massive white stallion moved forwards, staring you down with deep-set eyes. His coat was majestic, it almost seemed to glow despite no light hitting it. You stopped, and lifted your hands carefully. A loud whinny made you look to your left, and you gasped when Hazel the unicorn trotted happily towards you.

“Hazel! You look wonderful, my friend.” You said, smiling at her as she stopped before you. You lifted your hand and gently stroked her forehead. She truly did, her coat was shining bright as ever and she was plump from eating well. You flicked your wand, summoning a horse brush to give her a nice brush down. You momentarily forgot about Garreth as a few other unicorns you recognized moved in closer - including Hazel’s mate who you had named Ares, and the now-grown foal they’d had just over two years ago that you called Honey. You were laughing now, greeting each of them and letting them all take their turns with your brush and summoning little treats for each of them. 

You took a moment to glance around the clearing that they lived in, and indeed there were a few horns littered around the ground. You looked over your shoulder to where Garreth was hidden behind the bush, and carefully beckoned to him. The unicorns froze, going on high alert as he took a careful step into the clearing. 

“This is Garreth, he’s my friend.” You said, the word friend leaving a slightly bitter taste in your mouth. He came to stand beside you, careful not to move too quickly. He didn’t want to frighten them. Hazel moved a little closer to you, assessing him carefully. You swore that she understood everything you ever told her, and when she turned her head towards you and then back to him you felt that she knew just who he was. You held your hand out for Garreth’s, and he placed his hand in yours without hesitation. You lifted his hand, gently pressing it to Hazel’s forehead and stroking it downwards in the way she liked to be pet above her nose. You watched him while he repeated the motions you showed him, reveling in the awed look on his face. His green eyes were wide, and almost sparkling. A smile slowly spread as his nerves faded, and he met your gaze. He was so handsome it almost hurt. To see him so happy to be doing something that you loved… you hadn’t expected it to make your heart pound like this. 

“Hello! It’s lovely to meet you.” Garreth addressed Hazel, and you thought you were going to drop dead at the way that made you feel. You thought about how so many witches and wizards completely disregarded beasts and their intelligence, and to see someone so important to you regard beasts with respect… you were getting flustered with the overwhelming urge to kiss him. 

The rain really started to pick up now, and you were reminded that you stood in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, probably surrounded by dangerous creatures. You and Garreth got to work, he searched for fallen horns while you brushed unicorn tail hairs out carefully. 

“You know, this has turned out to be a very pleasant adventure.” Garreth said conversationally, coming closer to you to help with harvesting some tail hairs.

“Are you only saying that because Pippin won’t be complaining about his unicorn ingredients now?” You asked with a grin. 

“Not at all! It’s nice to see you again. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t sure I would. I’d assumed you would disappear wherever Sallow went.” He said, giving you a nervous glance. Your brows furrowed as you thought about what he’d just said. Why in the world would he assume that? 

“With Sebastian? What do you mean?” You asked. 

“Well… It wasn’t just me who thought this, of course, but I thought you would end up marrying him. You two were always so close.” He said awkwardly. You were close with Sebastian, and you had been through a lot with him, but not once did you see him as a romantic partner. You could understand why others may have thought that; the man was an unbearable flirt after all, but he’d never sought you romantically either. In fact, you’d played wing-man for him far too many times to count. 

You shook your head, “Sebastian and I were never romantically involved, nor will we ever be. That would be like kissing my brother.” You cringed at the thought of kissing Sebastian. Garreth was quiet for a long time. You looked over at him and saw him deep in thought as he gently brushed Honey’s tail. 

“Oh… so, you’re not… involved with anyone?” He asked, tilting his head cautiously. 

“No, Garreth, I am not.” You said. Your love life was indeed woefully empty. Some part of you still clung to the idea of somehow being with him. Why would he even be bringing this up? Did he truly care about your love life, or was he being polite?

The rain was lashing down now, leaving you both absolutely drenched while you worked. The unicorns began to retreat deeper into the woods now, looking to find some sort of shelter from the rain. You had started to shiver from the cold rain, chilling you down to the bone. Hazel was the last to leave, leaning against the palm of your hand one last time before turning and walking through the trees into the darkness. It was bittersweet, seeing the unicorn go. You resolved to come back and visit more often - you’d handled the forest as an inexperienced witch, you had so much more skill and experience now to navigate the twisting paths. You looked around, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and gain some sort of warmth. The thick clouds in the sky and the rapidly setting sun bathed the surrounding forest in an impossibly dark shade of black. 

When the clearing was suddenly bathed in light, you turned to see Garreth holding his wand with its tip shining brightly between his teeth as he finished stuffing unicorn hairs and horns into the satchel he’d brought with him. He looked at you, and you squinted as the light hit your eyes. 

“You’re blue! Come on, let’s get you somewhere warm and dry.” He said, taking his wand out of his mouth. You frowned, not happy that your little adventure was coming to an end. Garreth was right, you were freezing. Your hands had gone numb, and you could feel your teeth starting to chatter a little. It was going to be a long trip back to Feldcroft. You lamented your loss of the Hogwarts floo system, an annoying decision Phineas Nigellus Black had made upon your graduation. 

“I’ve g-got to p-pick up my br-broom from Alb-bie. Got t’ f-fly home.” You stammered out, the cold effectively locking your jaw. A powerful gust of wind made the trees swish and made you even colder. 

“Don’t be stupid. You’re going to fly home in this? You’ll catch your death.” Garreth shook his head, holding his hand out. You took it, and he apparated before you could even put another word in. 

You looked up at the little cottage you stood in front of, blinking in surprise. You supposed Garreth did have a point - the wind had picked up far too much now, flying would be dangerous. You’d go see Sirona again and see if she had any rooms available. Garreth unlocked the door to the cottage and practically dragged you inside. The door closed behind you, and the lamps flickered to life lighting up a cozy little living area. Garreth wordlessly waved his wand towards the fireplace on the wall adjacent to the door and it roared to life almost instantly flooding the room with delicious warmth. 

You moved closer to the fire, looking around the room as you did. There were two narrow bookcases crammed full on either side of the fireplace, and a squashy green armchair and matching loveseat with a small wooden table in front of the fire. On the next wall was a potions station complete with an extensive storage system. On the other side of the room was a small kitchen with a little dining table that had only two chairs. A door on the very back wall led to what you assumed was the bathroom. It was a charming little house, somehow very maximalist despite not having much for decor - how typical of him. Leander Prewett had once described their dormitory to you, and he apparently hadn’t changed much in terms of taste. 

“Are you listening?” Garreth’s voice jolted you out of your snooping. You looked at him, shaking your head. 

“I wasn’t, I’m sorry.” You said, your jaw still tight. Your wet clothes were extremely uncomfortable. 

“I was saying that I’ll find you something dry to wear, just follow me.” He sounded equal parts amused and concerned. You nodded, and followed him up the narrow flight of stairs that led up to a loft. A four poster bed lay under the window, with a desk on one of the other walls and a large armoire across the room from the bed. The walls up here were much less bare, with the Gryffindor coat of arms hanging above the desk, and banners from different Quidditch clubs decorating the walls. He also had some artwork on the walls, including photos from school. You turned, and watched him open the doors to his armoire and dig through it looking for some dry clothing. He tossed a soft looking green jumper onto the bed, and dug around a little more before pulling out a pair of pyjama pants. 

“Thank you.” You said, taking the pants out of his hand as he walked towards you. You set the pants on the bed next to the jumper. You were too cold and too uncomfortable to care that he was still in the room as you began to fumble to take off your soaked clothing. Garreth made a startled noise, whirling around and looking away from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asked in a panicked tone. 

“Don’t care. Too cold.” You mumbled, shedding your wet clothes onto the floor and pulling the jumper over your head. It was an immediate relief. It was massive, hanging almost to your knees, and so warm already. You pulled on the pyjama pants which were far too big for you. You took a step forward to pick up your wet belongings, and the pants promptly dropped right to your ankles making you giggle. Garreth turned around at the sound of your laugh, and saw the pyjama pants pooled at your feet. 

“A little big, I suppose.” He said sheepishly. You waved him off, picking up the pants and putting them back onto the bed. You’d just go without, you were fully covered - what difference would it really make? 

You took your wet clothes downstairs so he could get changed in peace. You pushed open the door to what you thought was the bathroom and were pleased to see you were right. Along one wall was a rope with some clothes already hanging to dry, you just added yours to the mix. You took a moment to towel dry your hair, before standing directly in front of the fire to capitalize on the pleasant heat with your eyes closed and hands outstretched.

“Enjoying yourself?” Garreth asked, and you nodded without opening your eyes. He chuckled and nudged you to the side so he could also capture some of the warmth of the fire. You blinked your eyes open, looking up at him. His hair hung in his eyes, messier than usual thanks to the rain. It was strangely intimate, seeing him in a comfy jumper and pyjama pants with wet hair. It was something so mundane, but it felt… personal. You forced your eyes back to the fire with a newfound determination to just never look at him ever again. Your eyes slowly closed again, this time from the day’s journey catching up with you. Garreth huffed another laugh, and hooked an arm around you to help you back up the stairs to his bedroom. 

“You’re asleep on your feet, you can just sleep here.” He said, helping you sit down on his bed. You didn’t protest, allowing him to pull back the thick quilt while you made yourself comfortable. Garreth mumbled something about delivering the ingredients to Mr. Pippin, and he disappeared. In his absence, you couldn’t fight the sleep. You were so warm in his soft bed surrounded by the smell of him, and you drifted off to sleep. 

There was no way to tell what time it was when you were startled awake by a loud clap of thunder. 

“It’s only a storm.” Garreth’s voice came from the floor. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and blinking. The room wasn’t completely dark, the light from the fire downstairs gave the loft a dim light. As the blankets fell from your shoulders, you shivered against the cold air. 

“What’re you doing on the floor?” You asked. 

“You’re in the bed?” He said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. You rolled your eyes and beckoned towards him.

“Don’t be stupid, you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to anyways.” You grumbled. Sleeping on the ground? You were adults, you could share a bed. You’d only bite if he asked, anyways. He stood up and sat down on the edge of the bed beside you. You absently reached out and fixed his hair so it wasn’t in his eyes. His eyes searched your face with a cautious expression.

“Am I a fool?” Garreth asked you suddenly, making you frown. 

“A fool? What for?” You asked.

“For thinking that there is something to that look in your eyes. That there is some part of you who might want more,” Garreth’s hand closed around your arm and you stared at him stupidly, “there have been so many times I’ve wondered if I should just kiss you, or if it’s all a hopeless daydream. This past year without getting to see that look has been agony. I haven’t known if it was all in my head, if you were with Sallow or someone else, if I ever stood a chance.” An agonized look passed across his face in the dim lighting and he looked away from you. All of your breath left your body like you’d been punched in the chest. This day truly had taken a turn you’d never expected.  

“Gar…” You murmured. 

“A week ago, I’d thought that I could try to move on, and now you’re here. You’re in my house, you’re in my clothes, in my bed… I feel like I’m going mad.” His voice was thick with emotion, and his distress was visible. His hand left your arm. Garreth reached towards your face, but hesitated and started to pull his hand back. You took it and brought it to your cheek. 

“I..” You opened your mouth, cursing your sleep-addled brain for being unable to come up with a reasonable response. You wanted to tell him how you felt about him. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, and you’d been hoping and wishing he’d say he felt the same about you. A flash of lightning showed Garreth’s pained expression as he awaited your response. There weren’t enough words in the world that could adequately describe the way he made you feel. You would rearrange all the stars in the sky if he asked you to, and you didn’t know how to tell him that. 

“I love you.” You whispered instead, and watched as Garreth’s expression changed from stunned to bright as sunshine. You let out a gasp as he lunged forward and kissed you with so much fervor he knocked you onto your back. He pulled back and started to apologize, so you wrapped your arms around him and tugged him back down as you kissed him. Garreth’s strong arms held you tight against him. His kiss was sweet as honey, and you poured every drop of emotion you held into it. You might not be able to tell him how you feel, but you could certainly show him. As your tongue brushed against his lower lip, Garreth let out a groan that seemed to settle right between your legs. You wondered what other delightful noises he was capable of, arousal swiftly spreading through you. 

You spread your legs a little bit, and he fell right between them with a surprised noise. He lifted his head a little, looking at you with a look of disbelief. You could see the want in his eyes, but you could also see the hesitation. You gently squeezed his waist with your bare thighs, and you could see his cheeks going an even darker red. 

“I want you.” You whispered, tugging him down for another kiss. Garreth relented with a gleeful look in his eye, his hands gripping your hips holding you in place as he gently ground against you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue lazily exploring your mouth. His broad hands slowly moved under your borrowed jumper, stroking over your skin slowly and gently. The feeling of his skin against yours was heavenly, and he already had you wanting more. It was unfair that he had this effect on you. 

“You have my heart, darling.” Garreth murmured against your lips, his fingers curling slightly into your skin. You couldn’t stop your smile, your heart beating just a little bit faster. You’d waited years to hear those words. Garreth’s lips trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He nipped gently at your pulse. His hands worked in time with his kisses, pushing up the jumper to expose more of your skin to him. Impatiently, you pushed him back a little bit and pulled it over your head, dumping it onto the floor. Garreth’s green eyes scanned you up and down, his jaw slack. You wondered if you’d caught him off guard by being completely bare under his jumper. 

“You’re beautiful.” Garreth breathed out, his hands reverently running over your skin without restraint. Your back arched as his warm hands cupped your tight breasts, massaging you. The slight roughness to his hands made the most delightful sensations on your skin, you let out a small string of moans as he gently tweaked your already sensitive nipples. He continued to grind against you, becoming more breathless himself. You looked down, watching him work his hands over your skin. He moved them lower, and lower, making sure he touched every inch of your skin with his burning hands. You were panting now, wriggling under his touch as his hands smoothed over your belly and down onto your thighs. You ached for him, needing him to give you some sort of relief to the pressure that had built up between your legs. “Please, Garreth, touch me.” You whined out. 

“I am touching you,” He said with his most charming grin, “I’ve wanted this for years, I intend to take my time.” He whispered in your ear, before giving your neck a sharp nip. 

“Bastard.” You said, despite the smile that played on your lips.

“Do you have any idea what someone like you does to a teenage boy? Seeing you every day at school and not having you was torture” His tongue traced up your jaw and you whimpered. You captured his lips in another kiss, wondering if you could tempt him into giving you what you wanted. He groaned against your mouth at the feeling of your kiss, you pulled out all of your favourite tricks, proving to him you could do many things with your tongue. Your wicked little plan seemed to be working, until Garreth pulled back and looked at you with soft eyes. He began to press kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, the tip of your nose, oh-so-gently over your eyelids, and onto your forehead. He held your thighs in a bruising grip, contrasting with the sweet kisses that now were trailing down your jaw, onto your neck, then down your collar. You were a whining mess as he massaged circles on your inner thighs and kissed every part of your body until his lips hovered just below your belly button. His hands on your thighs tugged you so your lower half was dangling off the side of the bed. 

“Please Garreth.” You whispered, certain you’d burst into flames if he didn’t do something. He looked up at you with hungry eyes, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Anything for you.” He promised, getting on his knees and guiding your legs to rest on his shoulders. He held them in place and licked a firm stripe against your soaked, aching heat and moaned. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a loud moan of your own. He concentrated on your aching clit, his tongue swirling around it carefully before he gently wrapped his lips around you and sucked. You arched into him, crying out loudly because of this. He let out a hum of appreciation, squeezing your thighs. You propped yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. His eyes were closed, and his head dipped and you felt him tonguing at your soaking hole before he moved back up to latch onto your clit again. This time, his tongue flicked across your sensitive nub while he sucked it and you swore violently, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. Your hips bucked, and he planted one of his hands on your belly to firmly hold you in place. Your core tightened, pressure building inside of you as he kept up the same motion. 

“I’m– Oh Merlin– That’s…” You couldn’t string a sentence together, and the pressure reached its peak and you cried out as a mind-shattering orgasm crashed over you. Your thighs clenched tight around Garreth, and he let out a moan that added to the sensation of his tongue and lips while you rode out your orgasm on his face. He only stopped when your legs twitched, and he was laughing softly as he pulled away from you. You stared at him, your jaw slack. He was a mess, and he was beautiful. The lower half of his face was shining with your slick, his cheeks flushed, and his smile was more than a little arrogant. Your eyes scanned down his body to the bulge in his pants, and then back up to his face. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, almost reminding you to move. You pushed yourself back enough that you could sit up and reach out for him. 

“You, taste amazing.” Garreth murmured to you, stepping in closer so you could reach him. You palmed the bulge in his pants, and he let out a flustered breath. You hadn’t the patience to toy with him, that would have to come another day. You wanted him inside of you now. You pulled his pants down, looking up at him while you did so. His thick cock sprang out, and you let out a little eager whimper at just the thought of him being inside of you. You looked up at him, and he was watching you with love and hunger in his eyes. 

“Come here.” You said, pushing yourself back on the bed and spreading your legs a little bit in invitation. Garreth flashed you an eager smile, pulling his shirt over his head and dumping it on the floor. He stepped out of his pants and crawled onto the bed between your legs. You wrap your arms behind his neck, and lick from his chin up to his cheek tasting yourself on his skin. Garreth let out a strangled moan, and tilted his head to capture you in a scorching kiss. You can almost feel that he’s reached his limit, and now he needs reprieve from his aching arousal. He grinds into you, his head dropping as he does so. You reach down, and guide him to what he seems to be so desperate to have. 

“Oh fuck.” Garreth hisses as he slowly presses into you, his teeth gently clamping down on your shoulder. You couldn’t even make a noise as your eyes squeezed shut at the sensation of Garreth’s thick cock stretching you out. As he fully sheathed himself in you, he stopped moving. 

He lifted his head, looking down into your eyes. His adoration was clear in his eyes, and it caught you a little off-guard. You’d taken men to bed before, but not once had it been someone you loved. This emotional connection you felt to Garreth… It made this feel so much… more. 

“I love you, Garreth.” You reached up and traced your fingers along his jaw. Garreth’s hips began to roll slowly, and he gave you a sweet kiss. He thrust into you with a slow and deep rhythm that had you whining and clawing at his back. The delicious way he stretched you out, paired with the way his pelvis ground against your sensitive nub had you in ecstasy. He clearly felt the same, with the pants and quiet moans that escaped his lips at every movement he made. 

“You feel amazing, Darling,” Garreth whispered to you, “You take me so well. You’re perfect.” He continued with his little praises as he ground into you. He picked up his pace ever so slightly, the steady thrusts had you clenching around his cock already. His forehead dipped and pressed against yours, his hands on your hips as he pulled you against him to get as deep as he could. You planted your feet on the mattress, lifting your hips to help get a new angle. Garreth’s groan was sinful, he sat back on his knees and abruptly began to pound into you. Your eyes rolled back, your pleasure peaking again.

“Right there, shit… right there.” You panted out, and Garreth obliged your wishes. You screamed out his name as your knees buckled and you came hard. The bolts of pleasure had your eyes screwed shut and your mouth making incoherent sounds. He caught you by the waist, holding you up as your walls pulsed over his cock. He fucked you, his groans becoming more and more guttural as he chased his own pleasure. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as his head fell back and he came, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He allowed you to fall back on the bed now, flopping down beside you. For a long time, the only sounds in the room were the storm still raging outside and the sounds of you and Garreth trying to catch your breath. Eventually, you got enough energy to roll over and nestle into Garreth’s side, with your head on his chest. You stretched up and kissed his jaw, and his arms wrapped around you. 

“I don’t want morning to come.” Garreth said, his voice soft. Morning meant returning to reality. Garreth would have to go to work, and you’d have to return to Feldcroft. 

“Mmm, neither do I.” You agreed. You didn’t want to leave. You knew that you’d made a promise to take care of Anne, but she was spending so much time in London these days that you almost wondered if she would just move in with Ominis and Sebastian. 

“Please don’t ever leave…” He said. 

“I’ll have to get my things.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll help you with that. Mr. Pippin won’t mind if I take a couple days off.” 

“And I’ll have to tell Anne.” 

“I’ll write a letter to send by owl right now.” “And then there’s the matter of you meeting my parents…” 

When Garreth didn’t have a quick solution for that, you let out a little laugh. You would stay, regardless of how much work you’d have to do. You never wanted to leave his side again. 

“Will you stay?” He asked. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Garreth. I’m staying right here.” You promised, kissing his cheek. With a cheeky grin, he rolled over and loomed over you and captured you in a deep kiss, his hand smoothing along your waist. Yes, you’d stay.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley smut #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley one shot #hogwarts legacy one shot #m/f pair

[wandafiction]

Just Us - Series List

Y/n is a multimillionaire. Wanda Maximoff is a divorced mum of two twin boys who is trying her best. What happens when their paths cross at a club and Y/n takes Wanda home for the night?

Warnings: This story is an 18+ read, Minors DNI, contains talks and description of Death, Accidents, Injury, Child Loss, Abuse (Physical and Emotional), Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Suggestive themes, Smut (Each Chapter With Themes Explained), Angst (Lots of It), And Some Fluff Thrown in because I felt bad. Top Reader, Bottom Wanda

Each chapter will come with their own warnings.

This is a story that I have put up on my Wattpad and my Ao3 and thought I would share it here for more of you wonderful people. I do hope you enjoy this read. There will be mistakes here and there and maybe some incorrect translations.

So this is an AU story with the MCU characters. So the ages and story lines with be changed and different from that in the movies. 

I will right some history for each character as the story progresses just so ages and other things make sense. 

All the Character's in this are played by their respective actors and certain aspects of the MCU have been added in. But once again its not going to be an alternative marvel story it is a completely different universe. 

I don't own any if the MCU characters.

Master List

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Yours or Mine

Chapter 2 18+ - First Time

Chapter 3 - How Much

Chapter 4 18+ - Beautiful

Chapter 5 - Accent

Chapter 6 - The Twins

Chapter 7 - Just Add 8

Chapter 8 - Panic Attack

Chapter 9 - Sounds Like A date

Chapter 10 - Happy Tears

Chapter 11 - Twenty Percent

Chapter 12 - Favourite Colour

Chapter 13 - Ex-husbands Clothes

Chapter 14 18+ - Trust is Not Like Candy

Chapter 15 - Morning Bliss

Chapter 16 - Sisterly Advice

Chapter 17 - Lunch Date

Chapter 18 - Not By Blood, By Choice

Chapter 19 18+ - Frozen Peas

Chapter 20 - Scarlet Witch

Chapter 21 - Iron Man

Chapter 22 18+ - Love Language

Chapter 23 - The Friends

Chapter 24 - Hela's Kitchen

Chapter 25 - The Question

Chapter 26 - From Second To First

Chapter 27 - Mr Blue Sky

Chapter 28 - Protective Friend

Chapter 29 - It's Real To Me

Chapter 30 - Pile On

Chapter 31 18+ - Water Fight

Chapter 32 - Head Scratches

Chapter 33 - Billy's Discovery

Chapter 34 - Superhero Trio

Chapter 35 - Pancakes and L Bombs.

Chapter 36 - 10 Out Of 10 Dive

Chapter 37 - Tickle Monster

Chapter 38 - Sarah Stark

Chapter 39 - Love Persevering

Chapter 40 - First Meeting

Chapter 41 - Hear, Listen, Take It In

Chapter 42 - Touch

Chapter 43 - Mockingbird

Chapter 44 - Family

Chapter 45 - Search Party

Chapter 46 - Bowl Of Popcorn

Chapter 47 - Pet Names

Chapter 48 18+ - Trying Something New

Chapter 49 - French Braids

Chapter 50 - Not Taking Advantage

Chapter 51 - To Understand Someone

Chapter 52 - The Row

Chapter 53 18+ - I Need You

Chapter 54 - Your Flaws Are Your Strengths

Chapter 55 18+ - Jealousy

Chapter 56 - I Can't Be Here

Chapter 57 - Stephanie Grace Turner

Chapter 58 - Zak The Waiter

Chapter 59 - Declarations

Chapter 60 - Clingy

Chapter 61 - Triple Chocolate Brownies

Chapter 62 - Watch Me

Chapter 63 - Grown-Up Conversations

Chapter 64 - A+

Chapter 65 - Dynamic

Chapter 66 - You Don't Get It

Chapter 67 - Conditioned

Chapter 68 - Selachimorpha

Chapter 69 - Beed Stroganoff

Chapter 70 - Ruby-Throated Hummingbird

Chapter 71 - Realisations

Chapter 72 - Princess

Chapter 73 - The Talk

Chapter 74 - Black Widow

Chapter 75 - Can I Join You

Chapter 76 - Люли, люли, люленьки

Chapter 77 - Moose

Chapter 78 - Aurora Borealis

Chapter 79 - Calgary

Chapter 80 - Mirror

Chapter 81 - Massage and Important Conversations

Chapter 82 - Banff

Chapter 83 - Strawberries

Chapter 84 - Bayushki Bayu

Chapter 85 - Cookies

Chapter 86 - Control

Chapter 87 - Hyper Puppy

Chapter 88 - Treehouse

Chapter 89 - 312

Chapter 90 - Forgiveness

Chapter 91 - Always Feel Good

Chapter 92 - Your Third Love

Chapter 93 - Daddy

Chapter 94 - Home

Chapter 95 - Stalker

Chapter 96 - Can't Catch A Break

Chapter 97 - Mile High Club

Chapter 98 - Happy

Chapter 99 - Halloween

Chapter 100 - What's In The Box?

Chapter 101 - Hired

Chapter 102 - I've Got You

Chapter 103 - Missed Morning Message

Chapter 104 - Someone I Would Like You To Meet

Chapter 105 - Sis

Chapter 106 - Soulmates

Chapter 107 - Eleos

Chapter 108 - I Called Her Mom

Chapter 109 - Suka

Chapter 110 - How Have I Made It Worse?

Chapter 111 - What Scares You?

Chapter 112 - I Thought I Was Helping

Chapter 113 - What If They Leave?

Chapter 114 - Yelena!

Chapter 115 - Puppy In Training

Chapter 116 - Your Wish Is My Command

Chapter 117 - Morning Sex

Chapter 118 - Safe

Chapter 119 - Work On Yourself

Chapter 120 - Happy Thanksgiving

Chapter 121 - I Hate This

Chapter 122 - To Be A Deer

Chapter 123 - Is Love Enough?

Chapter 124 - Let's Go Out Out

Chapter 125 - Feeling Of Rejection

Chapter 126 - You Should Hate Me

Chapter 127 - You Ready?

Chapter 128 - Pietro

Chapter 129 - Questions And Opinions

Chapter 130 - What Are You Up To?

Chapter 131 - When Pigs Fly

Chapter 132 - Science Lesson

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda smut #wanda maximoff smut #bottom wanda #bottom wanda maximoff #sub wanda #sub wanda maximoff #top reader #bottom wanda x top reader #sub wanda maximoff x top reader #bottom wanda maximoff x top reader #sub wanda x top reader #marvel au #Just Us Series

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The Taste of Love (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Vampire!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Some Fluff | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: Every handful of centuries, Minho found himself someone that was willing to let him feed off of them. It usually wasn’t planned, it sort of just happened. This time, that person was you, the baker that had just moved into town. He wanted nothing more than to have a taste of you, in more ways than one. Warnings: Minho’s POV · blood (duh) · vampire shenanigans (good ol’ blood sucking) · reader is implied to be chubby, but there’s not that much focus on it · possibly inaccurate mediaeval terminology · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: will i ever get tired of vampire!minho? no, i won’t. this is all just some monsterfuckery, as usual. don’t look at me 🫣 special thanks to @comet-falls for reading this before anyone else and letting me know it didn’t suck💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: implied/referenced sexual acts · some sort of bloodplay, but this is a vampire fic, what did you expect? · explicit oral (F.Rec)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Ever since Minho was turned, he’d had trouble dealing with his feedings. 

For long periods of time, he’d settled on a vegetarian diet, hunting deer, or moose, or any possible animal he could find in the woods. Every couple of centuries, though, he’d be lucky enough to find someone fucked up in the head enough to let him feed off of them. It was something he tended to avoid, because he’d inevitably grow attached, and getting attached to someone that aged and eventually died was something that took an immense toll on the tiny bit of humanity that was left in him.

Sometimes, though, it was unavoidable. Or, at least, it felt like it to him. 

The first time you crossed his path was during the very early morning, way before the sun rose in the horizon. Minho had just fed, he’d had so much the poor cow didn’t even make it. He was seemingly satisfied enough to go on for a few days without any more of his crimson sustenance, but the second you walked past him, his mouth went dry.

What an intoxicating scent, you had… Enough to cloud his reason completely, enough to make him turn around and walk after you–discreetly, of course. If years and years living in hiding had taught him anything, it was the art of discretion.

Minho knew it was wrong. That what he was doing was beyond creepy and immoral, but he needed to know who you were, he just did. So he followed you until you made it to a building, a new bakery that had settled in town just last week.

Soon after, the smell of baked goods started to emanate from the building’s chimney. It was pleasant, but nothing compared to the smell of you.

Minho left the place shortly after that, right before the sun started to show his head in the sky, and, as he walked the familiar paths to his manor in the outskirts of the town, he figured it was time for him to open himself up again. Now, it was just a matter of courting you, in hopes that you’d give him the time of day.

Trying to get someone’s attention while being a creature of the night wasn’t exactly easy. That was something Minho quickly came to find out after he turned. Which was why, the only times he was able to see you was either in the early morning when you went to your bakery and started preparing your goods, or in the late evening when you finally closed shop and made your way home.

The first time he tried to approach you, a friend of yours suddenly came out of nowhere, and Minho, admittedly, felt a bit shy, so he decided to try some other time. He’d lived for centuries, he was stronger, more dexterous than any human, and somehow he still felt uncomfortable around strangers sometimes. He often called this curse of introversion the remnants of his humanity.

He continued to try, though. He was persistent, but each attempt always failed. To this day, he found it both amusing and mortifying that the evening he finally got to meet you, to actually speak to you, was also the one he made a fool of himself. What was all vampiric dexterity worth for if he was still able to trip over his feet and fall face first to the ground?

Thankfully for him, you had quite the sense of humour, and his mishap simply made you laugh and offer your hand to help him to his feet. Your reaction made it so Minho didn’t feel half as embarrassed as he usually would, so it was easy for him to recover and start chatting you up.

After getting acquainted with you, Minho reached the same dilemma he always had in situations like these… He wanted you. Not only that delicious nectar that flowed through your veins, but also everything that laid under your clothes, and, most of all, your company.

He knew he had to reveal his true self to you, and if you wanted him back, vampirism and all, it’d all be smooth and dandy. However, if you didn’t, he’d have to make a choice… Respect your decision and leave you alone forever, or do as many of his peers did, to give into his instincts, drink you up, erase your memory, and carry on with his life as if nothing had happened.

When he had been recently turned, Minho didn’t even entertain the possibility of taking someone’s blood without their consent, but, after having lived as long as he had, morality was a concept that seemed to shift and drift into a muddier construct. He’d always thought that, if he ever did something like that, then that’d be the moment he’d known that tiny bit of humanity in him had left him completely.

Luckily, when he did gather the courage to tell you the truth, even if you had been a bit shaken at first, you clearly liked him enough not to care about it. If anything, you were immensely curious about it all. ‘How old are you then?’, ‘Were things as bad back then as they said?’, ‘Did it hurt?’, ‘Does it hurt now?’

Minho answered any and every question you had for him, as honestly as he could–although, ometimes, he believed that if he was too honest or too straightforward he’d scare you off. ‘I’m really old’, ‘They were even worse’, ‘It did hurt. A lot…’, ‘It does not hurt as much anymore. Only when I am hit by sunlight or when I have not fed in a long time…’

When you inquired about his feedings, he simply told you of his vegetarian diet. He didn’t want to go too deep into it. You didn’t need to know which animals he drank from, nor how his vegetarian diet made it so he had to feed at least once a week, as opposed to how human blood would keep him satisfied for a whole month. 

He decided not to ask you to let him feed off of you just yet… Just like it happened when he wanted to tell you about his vampirism, he was also apprehensive of asking you to become his main source of sustenance.

After all, to Minho, not only did it feel like a major commitment, but, also, you could very well push him away due to the proposition, and he honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. Although, losing you now was something he couldn’t afford. He was too used to walking you to your bakery in the very early morning, to spending evenings talking with you…

Regardless of his very obvious attraction, he genuinely enjoyed your company, and this was probably the most understood he’d felt after a long, long time. And also, to him, it felt like you were enjoying his company, too.

The first time Minho kissed you, it had been a spur of the moment thing. He was notorious for overthinking these things, for wanting the situation to be absolutely perfect, but you just smelt so good, and you looked so cute, and your heart was beating so fast in your chest there was no way he could’ve stopped the words from coming out of his mouth.

‘I really want to kiss you…’

Lame, basic, completely void of flourish or romanticism… But your heartbeat still quickened, he could hear your blood rushing through your veins, all the way to the utmost sensitive areas of your body. For a brief moment, he wished you could feel that reaction in him, too. He was certainly feeling it–or, at least, something akin to it, even when his body had long since been incapable of showing it.

‘Are you sure? I am no longer chaste…’ 

How ludicrous. As if something as trivial as that mattered to him. He’d lived for so long, he’d realised chastity was on its own a ridiculous concept. Almost no one was chaste after reaching a certain age, either because of the thoughts in their heads or the actual physical implications of the fact. Which was exactly what he told you.

If Minho’d had a working heart, he was sure it would’ve leaped out of his chest the second you pulled him to you for a kiss. 

Your lips were soft, warm, they had a faint taste of strawberry–surely from one of your jam-filled pastries–and an undeniable taste of you. As he kissed you, as he held you close to him by the waist, Minho realised he was cursed now.

There was no way he wouldn’t be bound to you after this, after savouring the feeling of your warmth against his body, of your soft flesh under his hands… Things escalated further than he had ever expected that night, but he wasn’t going to complain, not when the sight of you, vulnerable, completely bare on his bed, was everything he could’ve ever dreamt of.

Minho knew then that he was ready to spend the next handful of decades with you, for as long as your mortal life lasted, or for as long as you wanted him to.

The first time you brought up the topic of feeding to him, Minho almost didn’t believe his ears.

‘Have you ever thought of feeding off of me, my love? Of drinking me up?’

It was not only the two questions themselves, but also the way you’d asked them, and your overall body language as you did, that made him think he was delirious. You didn’t sound scared, nor disgusted. If anything, there was a lingering curiosity in your tone, and, most importantly, a dangerous tint of sultriness, maybe even arousal, that hung to your every word.

‘Of course I have, my dear. More times than I could ever count…’

Minho had no reservations when he answered your queries. How could he, when you had shown him nothing but acceptance and love throughout these past handful of months? When you seemed to have absolutely no qualms when it came to his monstrous ways?

‘Would you like to do it?’

If he had the ability to, he was sure he would’ve fainted right then and there.

Of course he would like to do it. Scratch that, he would love to do it. There was barely anything he wanted more than to taste the scarlet liquid running through your veins, to have the undeniable taste of your humanity on his tongue.

What was seemingly an innocent walk along the stream in the forest had just turned into, quite possibly, one of the most satisfying feeds he’d had in centuries.

Minho sat on the ground, under one of the many trees that seemed to provide you two with an odd sense of privacy. Odd, because you were pretty much still in an open space.

Interestingly enough, even when Minho was a monster, he was still just as part of nature as you were, and, that night, all that booming life surrounding you in the forest simply protected you both; it let nature take its course.

With you straddling his lap, with one of his hands on the small of your back, and the other on the side of your neck, Minho pressed his lips to your pulse point, almost salivating at the minute thumps of your heart against his skin. You shivered in his hold, keeping your hands on his shoulders to maintain your posture.

“Do not make any sudden movements, darling. I do not want to hurt you…” He mumbled against the fragile skin, humming in satisfaction once you nodded. “If it becomes too much, say it. Or squeeze me if talking is too difficult, alright?”

You hummed, nodding again. Minho seriously hoped he’d be able to stop if you showed any signs of discomfort. He hadn’t had human blood in so long he wasn’t really sure how he’d react. Killing you was a very real possibility, he’d told you already, but you still wanted to go through with this. Being honest, he was just a weak man, incapable of passing up the opportunity when it was so boldly presented to him, even when it could possibly take your life.

So he delayed no further. He located the safest area he could on your neck, one where not too many important veins resided, and after a couple of tentative licks on your skin, his fangs enlarged. He lightly dragged them over your throat, letting you feel not only their presence, but also their sharpness.

“Take a deep breath. Do not move too much”, his voice was barely a whisper, but he knew you heard him clear as day.

As soon as you took that deep breath he’d asked you for, his teeth sank on your flesh, piercing the skin like it was a knife cutting room temperature butter. You didn’t move, but the moan that came out of your mouth was more than indication enough that you’d felt it all.

When your taste flooded his mouth, Minho couldn’t help but moan as well. It was all so much better than he had imagined. His whole body trembled, he felt as if he was burning up from the inside out in the best way possible, and he just closed his eyes to enjoy the taste of you.

What an absolutely delectable taste… So much so he had to remind himself to stop before it was too late. He was sure he had drank a bit too much for comfort, but you didn’t protest, you didn’t move one centimetre out of place, you just let him take as much as his heart desired, either because you trusted him that much, or because you had your own personal gains from this exchange–after all, no one just simply offered themselves to a vampire unless they had their own carnal reasons for it.

After soothing the pair of puncture wounds with his tongue, Minho finally pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes. What he found was your blown pupils, your lips slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths, and even though his fangs were still very much at their full length, you immediately cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a heated kiss.

It was messy, desperate, he was sure there was still some of your blood on his mouth that was now smearing all over yours, and he had to be careful not to hurt you with his teeth, but you didn’t seem to mind or care at all. You just kissed him like you needed him to breathe, and he let you indulge, mostly because he himself wanted nothing more than to have you as close as he possibly could.

Minho was constantly grateful that you’d crossed his path all those months ago, that you decided to move to this specific town in the first place. Not only did you let him drink your blood, but you also brought an irreplaceable spark to his lacklustre immortal life.

He tried not to think too much of the future, of the moment you’d inevitably pass away. There was no point in grieving this far ahead, he needed to remind himself that, yes, it would happen, but there were hopefully still many years before it did.

Enjoying the present was of the utmost importance. Especially when the present was you on his bed, with your legs over his shoulders and his mouth attached to your plump, warm centre.

All the sighs, and moans, and deep breaths, always reminded him you were here, you were his, and that you trusted him. You trusted him enough to bare yourself to him, to move in with him to his previously lonely manor in the outskirts of town, and to let him feed once a month from any area of your body he wanted to.

Feeding off of a human’s neck was usually the most traditional way, but when Minho found a suitable partner, he always liked to get creative. He’d admit there were spots he usually preferred, that he enjoyed much, much more than the neck. The softer the area was, the better. It was always much tastier, especially so once pleasure was coursing through his partner’s veins.

Thankfully for him, you had plenty of those softer, squishier areas, and you also had no reservations when he wanted to sink his teeth in them. He was trying his best not to get ahead of himself. Getting his fangs to their full length when he had his mouth between your legs was incredibly inconvenient, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt you, and he was certain that the sharp tip of his teeth would damage such a sensitive area of your body.

With a hand on your belly, and the other on your thigh, Minho let himself enjoy the taste of your arousal on his tongue. Your grip on his hair was tight, but you made no move to push him away; if anything, you were pulling him further into you, as much as he could be, keeping him there for as long as he’d let you.

Licking his way up to your clit, he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, parting his lips enough to flick it with his tongue. The moan of his name that spilled from your lips made his head spin. Your legs trembled with his motions, especially so when he finally brought his hand from your thigh close to your core to spread your juices with two of his digits.

Minho teased you for a bit, dipping just the tip of his fingers into you only to remove them a second after, increasing the pressure and pace of his tongue. At least, he tried to tease you… It was hard to do so when you begged so sweetly from him. Never in his long life had he enjoyed the sound of the word ‘Please’ coming out of someone else’s mouth as much as he did now, even more so when you called him your love, your darling, your heart. 

My, my, my… Every time you addressed him as such he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit human again. If he had a working heart, he was sure he’d feel it swell in his chest. Yours, yours, yours… He was yours. For as long as you lived, he’d be yours.

When Minho finally stuffed those two digits within your warmth, the sight of your head falling back against the pillows was enough to let him know it was time. He was thirsty, and he was ready to give in to his primal needs.

He removed his mouth from your skin, but he kept massaging that sweet spot within your walls that had your toes curling with need. “Going to do it now, my love. Hm?”

You nodded. “Please, darling…”

Minho hummed, giving your clit one more affectionate kiss before he replaced his mouth with his thumb. If he could die, you’d be the death of him for sure.

He kept rubbing precise circles on the apex of your thighs, dragging his fingers within your clamping walls. At least, as precisely as he could while he attached his mouth to your soft tummy. Already, his fangs made an appearance, it didn’t take much for them to whenever he knew he was about to puncture your skin. It was second nature at this point.

Sometimes, Minho liked to start with your belly. Yes, start. He’d developed a bit more self control since he started to feed off of you, so he used that to his advantage, to feed off of as many parts of your body as he could.

When his teeth sunk on your flesh, you exhaled a shaky breath. Oh, how sweet you tasted whenever his fingers were on you like this. He could not only smell your arousal, but also taste it on his tongue when he started to drink you up. It was intoxicating, fulfilling, it was absolutely everything to him.

Before he could get carried away, Minho pulled away from your tummy, swiftly reattaching his lips to one of your thighs instead. He repeated the motions, puncturing your skin, drinking your essence, soothing the wounds with his tongue only to move along to the next area.

By the time he was full, you were trembling, whining, begging for your release. So he cleaned the remnants of your blood with the back of his hand before his lips found their way between your legs once again. Minho tried his best to will his fangs to decrease in size, at least enough for his own comfort. At this point, he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t mind, if anything, it’d probably turn you own, but he still wanted to be careful.

As soon as he started to suck on your swollen nub, as soon as the pace of his fingers increased, unintelligible noises of pleasure fell from your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to finally find your release, swearing and saying his name time and time again. Minho loved to feel your warmth around his fingers, especially as it spasmed with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Somehow, it always made him feel even fuller than when he fed.

When he was sure you’d enjoyed as much of your pleasure as you could, he finally removed his fingers, and he simply kissed his way up your body, until his lips finally found yours. You sighed, a content sigh that had him feeling tingly all over, just as you hugged him close to you and pressed tired kisses on his lips.

“Feeling fine, my dear?” Minho mumbled between kisses, relishing the fast pace of your heart against his chest.

“Mm… Just a bit lightheaded”, you mumbled back, dragging your fingers through his hair, making him shiver.

After a few minutes of kissing, of reassuring words against the other’s skin, Minho pulled himself away from your tight hug so he could fetch you some food. It was important for you to replenish your body, the healthier you were, the more he’d be able to feed, but most importantly, the longer you’d live.

As he fed you your meal, as he engaged in conversation with you, Minho reminded himself once again how important it was to live in the present, to not worry about the impending future of your relationship. You were on his bed, laughing, smiling, joking about how he’d almost made you a colander tonight, telling him story after story of odd encounters you had with your customers, and, for now, that was more than enough for him.

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[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 11

“a wolf in sheep’s clothing”

A/N: another emotionally charged chapter that has left me in a puddle of my own tears 😔 there’s only 2 chapters left (crazy, I know) writing this story has truly been a journey for me, and it’s bittersweet knowing that it’s ending soon. As always, thank you for reading, and thank for betaing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

~word count: 6.2k~

Summary: Angie goes missing, another letter, and two brothers letting the past go.

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: ‼️DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping of a minor character, minor character death, talk of suicide, anxiety/PTSD episode, angst, grief, guilt, emotionally charged conversations, protective!joel, Tommy is a girl dad in this universe (not canon but I hope it becomes canon) no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

A wolf in sheep’s clothing: someone who hides malicious intent under the guise of kindliness

-

They moved like cloaked shadows in the night. Swift, sure-footed, silent. Cody couldn’t let him down. And with Joel’s blood still crusted underneath his fingernails, and spattered on his shirt, he led the way to Angie’s quiet home.

She put up a valiant fight, nails acting as claws swiping through the air. She didn’t want to die, not yet, not now. Please, just one more day.

Her nails made contact with his cheek, slicing through the skin, drawing blood to the surface. Her screams died in her throat when his ready fist made contact with her fragile face. Out cold. Still.

Cody is messy, always has been. It’s a detrimental price to pay, but he can’t let him down.

Her door is left ajar. Sticking out like a sore thumb come morning.

When she awakes, her head throbs, it pulses. Her eyes blink, stinging with pain as she becomes conscious of her new surroundings.

The woods.

Two men are arguing as she struggles to move, only to find that her wrists and ankles have been bound together with rope that has been tied so tightly, it bites into her skin.

“You’re a fuckin’ fool, Cody!” The man yells, striking Cody across the face.

He’s an abuser. He’s been one since the end of the world. Maybe even longer, but he can’t seem to remember the moment he chose the path to abuse. To harm. To kill. It doesn’t matter, he has no means to atone himself.

“A goddamn, trigger-happy, fool!” He hits him again, shoving Cody against a nearby tree. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea the risks you’ve just put out on the line?! Huh! Do you?! I asked you to do one fuckin’ thing! One goddamn fuckin’ thing! You’ve always been messy, Cody. Fuckin’ never cleanin’ up after yourself!” He yells in his face, and Angie’s blood runs cold.

She knows that voice.

She knows.

“I thought—I thought you would be proud of me!” Cody shoves back, body switching to defense mode in an instant. “I TOOK DOWN THE FUCKIN’ MOOSE!”

The other man sneered, shaking his head, and laughed. It's a bone chilling laugh. Cruel. Unkind. Sadistic.

“You fuckin’ moron. You didn’t kill him.” He scoffs.

“That old fuck is dead. I killed him!” He insists.

“Killed him? No. Wounded him? Sure. It takes a hell of a lot more to take down a moose than just kicking him in the fuckin’ head!” The other man places his hands on his hips, his tone is nothing short of condescending. “What do you think is going to happen when he wakes up, Cody? He’s gonna come straight for you.” He jabbed at his chest.

“He’s dead. I killed him. I killed Joel Miller.” Cody’s voice wavers the more he thinks back to the moment his boot connected with Joel’s face. Was he dead? He appeared to be. He must be. He has to be.

“Ah. Are your actions catching up to you? Are you beginnin’ to realize that you have managed to jeopardize everythin?’” The other man scoffs before his attention is drawn to Angie.

“You were supposed to bring her to me. You were supposed to bring her home, where she belongs. I asked you to do one fuckin’ thing, Cody. And you failed. You failed me.” He tsks, tongue in cheek. He crouches down in front of Angie’s trembling frame. She tries to escape, but there’s nowhere for her to run. She’s ensnared, and running out of time. The backside of his hand strokes against her cheekbone with a horrid softness that is anything but soft.

“Instead, you bring me this pathetic excuse of a life. Angie, isn’t it? What a doll. I really enjoyed your cookin’, sweetheart. I think I’ll miss that the most.” He chuckles, leaning in as his nose brushes through tendrils of her hair. “I could..keep you alive.” He whispers as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “I could..but then that wouldn’t teach Cody a lesson, now would it?”

“Please—please. I—I—don’t want to die. You don’t..have to kill me.” She pleads, eyes squeezing shut.

“I don’t.” He agrees. “I don’t have to kill you, Angie. I could keep you as my own. You could replace her, and the constant hole I feel in my pathetic heart after she left me. “I was so good to her, Angie. So good..and she left.” He sighed almost as if he was feeling a moment of empathy for what he was about to do.

“I—I could replace her. I could. Please. I would never leave you. You don’t have to kill me. I’ll stay with you. I’ll—I’ll love you the way that she couldn’t.” Angie begs, and this is his favorite part. The moment where his victim begins to believe that he’ll spare them, that he’s not really a monster. That they’ll live to see another day.

“Oh, Angie, you haven’t really been payin’ attention at all, have you?” He sneers. “You’ll never replace her. You stupid fuckin’ bitch.” He spits, and a glob of saliva lands on her trembling cheek.

He looks over his shoulder at Cody just as a flash of lightning strikes above and illuminates his face in bright light. He faces her once more, fingers brushing across her face. He’s gone in for the kill, like a snake attacking in the grass.

She pleads for her life one more time. Hoping, begging..until it’s over.

He snaps her neck swiftly, in a blink of an eye as her body falls to the ground with a sickening thud. A single tear rolls down her cheek, landing in the dirt below. Her eyes are unmoving, body twitching, and then going still. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt her now.

She’s disregarded like trash on the street, nothing more than a sack of flesh in his eyes.

Raindrops begin to steadily fall as he stands above her body looking down at it with disgust. “Get the fuck back to Jackson, and bring her to me.” It’s a threat, and Cody knows what his fate will be if he returns without you.

When 20 minutes turned into an hour, that’s when the fear began to trickle in and fester like an open untreated wound. Ellie hadn’t returned, and there was no sign of Joel. You were alone and beginning to imagine the worst possible scenarios in your head. Ellie told you to stay inside, keep the doors locked, but that prodding voice inside of your head was growing louder, and louder. You could only tune its harshness out for so long before you would inevitably snap.

Ellie isn’t coming back.

She’s out there all alone, and you’re gonna continue to be a sitting duck?

Joel’s dead, I bet. He’s dead, and it’s probably all your fault. How’s that make you feel inside, Beanie? You killed them. You killed them both.

You had picked the skin around your cuticles to the point where they were raw and bleeding. Joel and Ellie were okay. Nothing bad happened to them. That voice inside of your head wasn’t true. None of it was true. It couldn’t be.

Ellie said she’d be back. She’s okay. Nothing happened to her. She found Joel and they’re on their way back now.

I didn’t kill them.

They’re alive.

Are you sure? Let’s face it, something happened to them both. The two people that you love the most in this world are dead and it’s all your fault.

Your fault.

Your fault.

Your—

“I DIDN’T KILL THEM!” You yelled suddenly as your emotions bubbled over.

It felt like every wall in Joel’s home was beginning to close in on you as if you were an unsuspecting bug that was about to be crushed under the weight of a shoe.

It felt like all the air in your lungs had been snatched, and you were suffocating, clawing for air.

That’s how you found yourself stumbling out back onto the porch, hunched over, heaving with tears streaming down your cheeks. The voice inside of your head only seemed to grow louder and louder as images of Joel and Ellie laying in a pool of their own blood flashed cruelly in your mind. You blinked, and blinked, and blinked, but the picture was as clear as day, and it wasn’t going away.

You don’t remember how you ended up in Joel’s shed surrounded by the comforting aroma of sawdust, pine, and Joel. He cloaked your senses like a warm hug, or a hot cup of tea with honey soothing your throat. You collapsed into his chair, hugging yourself for dear life, and then, the voice was silent and you were still, frozen on the spot, numbed.

-

What the fuck am I supposed to tell Beanie?

Hey, so I don’t want you to freak out or anything, but Joel got his ass handed to him, and he’s beat up pretty bad.

When I found him..I thought he was dead.

But don’t worry, he’s not gonna die! He’s fine. Joel is fine.

Ellie’s footsteps were trailing a good foot behind Jesse’s and Liam’s. The weight of her own gun felt heavy in her palm. Rain had steadily begun to fall and soaked the dry earth beneath her worn down converse. Tears began to blur her vision when images of Joel lying in a pool of his own blood attacked her mind.

“El?” It was Jesse. “Y’okay?” He had slowed his footsteps so she could catch up. And when she was close enough, he reached his hand out and gently squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m fine, Jesse.” She went to brush his hand off her shoulder but refrained because she knew he was just trying to comfort her.

“Are you sure? Tommy didn’t really tell Liam and I what happened but—”

“What did he tell you?”

Jesse paused and let out a sigh. His eyes met hers in a brief stare. “Somethin’ along the lines of Joel getting the shit beat out of him in public. He didn’t say by whom.”

I know who the fuck did it.

“Yeah. Some fucking cowards probably jumped him.” Yeah, some cowards alright.

“He’ll be alright though, right?”

“Joel is as stubborn as a mule, Jesse. He’s going to be fine.”

Jesse nodded and took a step back to give her some space. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

When they reached the front steps to Joel’s home, Ellie was nudged out of the way when she reached for the door handle. Liam muttered under his breath about it being some standard protocol to which she scoffed under her breath, withdrew her gun and shoulder checked him for good measure.

Ellie’s blood ran cold when she did not immediately find you on the couch in the same spot that she left you.

“Fuck.” She muttered under her breath, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?” Jesse came up beside her, his own gun drawn at his side.

“I left Beanie right here, Jesse. Right here on the fucking couch!”

If anything happens to her, Joel will never forgive me. Never.

“You’re sure you left her on the couch, Ellie?” Liam interjected, pushing past both of them.

“You think I’d fuckin’ lie about that? I left her on the couch.” She snapped back. “I told her to stay here and keep the doors locked.”

“I’ll check upstairs. Liam, you and Ellie check the kitchen and do not go outside without me.” Jesse said firmly. He was looking right at Liam with a stern glare.

Liam was half tempted to flip him off but refrained from doing so. It wouldn’t have been worth it in the end.

He and Ellie did a full sweep of the kitchen and lower level while Jesse went upstairs and checked every room.

The trio met back at the foot of the staircase.

“The only place we haven’t checked yet is Joel’s shed outback.” Ellie said with a huff to mask her nerves. “She wouldn’t just..up and leave for no fucking reason. Unless someone was here, or she was suspecting someone.”

“Joel’s shed? Why the hell would she go there?” Liam scoffed under his breath. “Ellie, we sweeped the whole fuckin’ house. She’s not here.”

“Fuck you, man. Don’t pick up an attitude with me. Do you have any idea what that woman means to Joel? Huh? Course you don’t. If something happened to her—”

“El, breathe.” Jesse said calmly. “We’ll do a sweep out back, okay? I’m sure she’s there. I’m sure she’s fine.” He reassured her.

Ellie inhaled a shaky breath of air and nodded her head in Jesse’s direction. Once she was regrouped enough, she took the lead and headed towards the back door with Liam and Jesse in tow.

The rain was coming down with a blinding force now and obstructed Ellie’s vision momentarily as she cautiously approached Joel’s shed. A bright flash of lightning illuminated her face before it was casted back into darkness.

Please. Please, be in there. Please be safe, Beanie.

Jesse and Liam had their guns aimed at the ready when Ellie grasped the shed door handle and pushed it open.

You were caught like a deer in headlights when Ellie, Jesse, and Liam came into view. Your hands trembled around the loose grip you had on Joel’s letter to Bill and Frank.

Ellie immediately lowered her gun to her side with a visible sigh of relief and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. “Beanie? Fuck. What are you doing out here? I thought I told you to stay inside. I—I thought something had happened to you!”

The look on your face is all Ellie needs to understand that you don’t remember.

“You don’t remember anything..do you, Beanie?” Her tone is soft compared to the way that her heart is beating out of her chest.

You shake your head and bite down harshly on your lower lip as you look between Ellie, and the two men beside her. You’ve seen Jesse around before, but Liam is unfamiliar.

“Can you guys..give us some privacy?” Ellie speaks quietly to Jesse and Liam.

“Holler if you need us. Okay, El? We’ll be outside.”

“It’s fuckin’ raining. We’re gonna get—” Liam’s bitching is cut off by Jesse forcefully grabbing his bicep and pulling him back outside into the pouring rain. He pulls the door shut behind him leaving you and Ellie in total privacy.

“Ellie..where’s Joel? What happened?” You questioned immediately and Ellie let out a deflated sigh. Her shoulders slumped in a defeated motion.

“He’s..hurt, Beanie. But Tommy’s with him. He’ll be alright. He always comes back home. Even when he’s hurt, nothing stands in his way.” Ellie’s doing her best to reassure both herself and you. She walks further into the shed and finds herself sitting along the edge of Joel’s workbench next to you.

“What happened to him, Ellie?” You look over at her, eyes glassy with tears that are threatening to spill. “How do you know for sure that he’ll..come home?”

“I don’t know exactly what happened to him. I found Tommy first, and he discovered Joel laying in the dirt outside of your home. He was covered in blood. I—I thought he was dead, but Tommy reassured me that he wasn’t.”

She rests her hands along the dust covered table and looks down at her lap. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she looks over at you. “Because..before Joel took me to the Fireflies base, there was a time where I thought he was gonna die on me. I remember bein’ so afraid of losin’ him. I didn’t know what the fuck I was gonna do without him.”

She swallows hard and blinks back her own tears. “He tried to push me away. Told me to go back to Tommy’s and leave him to die. I refused. So, I did everything I could to help him get better. His wound was infected and I knew he needed medicine fast. I risked my life for him not knowin’ if he would make it.”

You reach for her hand and entwine your fingers just as her tears begin to fall. “Somethin’ terrible..happened to me after I got Joel the medicine he needed. And I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again, truthfully.” She sniffled and squeezed your hand gently.

“I remember stumbling outside in the snow covered in blood, and he was there. I thought he was a ghost, Beanie. But he was there, and he was holding me.”

“Ellie..” you trailed off.

Your teary eyed gazes met as the rain pelted down along the roof of the shed.

“Do you need a hug, kiddo?” You asked softly. Ellie was like the daughter you never had, and like Joel, you’d put your life out on the line to keep her safe. It’s what empaths do. They put others feelings above their own. And right now, Ellie needs you.

“Yes.” She murmured. “I need that more than ever right now.”

You set the letter down off to the side and stand up just as Ellie slips down from where she’s sitting on the edge of the table. You gather her up into your arms and hold her tight. You didn’t need the full story to understand what happened to her before Joel brought her to the Fireflies. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m here for you, El.”

She wrapped her arms around you with her tears soaking into your shirt while you rubbed soothing circles into her back with your freehand cupping the back of her head, cradling it gently.

You held each other like this as the storm outside roared on. Ellie was the one to ultimately pull away from the hug and quickly wiped at her eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispered, “I really needed that.”

“Of course, El. I’m always here for you.”

“What’s this?” She gestured to the letter resting along the table and reached for it.

“It’s another one of Joel’s letters.”

“Joel’s been..writing letters? To whom?” She picked it up gently.

“To those he loves most.” You said softly.

“Can we..read it together?”

You nod and pull the chair up closer while Ellie begins to read the letter out loud.

Bill and Frank,

By now I’m sure you realized that I found your letter. I know that you and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but I did consider you a friend. Someone who I respected, trusted, and in a way, admired. I never got the chance to tell you just how much I respected you, Bill. I think back to the first time we met, where yours and mine clicked instantly. I don’t think I ever saw Tess smile as much as she did that day. You and I were both pretty pissed off about it, huh? But hey, whatever makes those we love happy, right?

You were one hell of a man, and I’m honored that I had the pleasure of knowing you, even if the time was cut short.

So, I’m gonna tell you something because I know that you’ll understand.

I found two people in this shit-hole world that mean somethin’ to me. I lost a daughter, but I gained another. She was just cargo to transport to the Fireflies, but as much as I saved her, she saved me. Her name is Ellie, and I think you woulda loved this kid. I pushed away feeling anything for so fuckin’ long, and then she came into my life and showed me that I still have a heart. Her and I? We’ve been through hell, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep my kid safe.

And then, I fell in love with this woman who has a heart of gold and a kindness that I never thought I’d feel again. She reminds me of Frank. Artistic, soft-spoken, and this breath of fresh air that can melt even coldest of hearts. Her name is Beanie, like coffee beans. She and I actually briefly knew one another in Austin. She owned this coffee shop, Cuppa Smiles and every-time I’d come in with Sarah, she’d put a stupid little smiley face on my morning latte. Well, we met again…and I fuckin’ love her silly little latte art. She’s my person, Bill. And even though I feel I am undeserving to love someone as beautiful as her, I’m so fucking grateful. This is all to say you’re right. You and I do have a purpose in this world, and that is to protect the ones we love. To keep them safe. And god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way, right?

Godspeed.

-Joel

By the end of the letter you and Ellie are both feeling new waves of emotions. Joel Miller loves you, and you’ve known it for a while now, but to see it on paper? Well, there’s really no feeling to describe it. To love and to be loved, is one of life’s greatest treasures.

“Did you ever get to meet Bill and Frank?”

“No, but I do know for a fact that Bill was a fuckin’ badass. He had a whole wall of guns in his house!” She couldn’t help but giggle at the memory of Joel grumpily telling her no when she implied on taking one of the guns for herself. Dude. There’s a wall of them.

You could picture Joel’s face now, and it too made you giggle because oftentimes he was rather grumpy over just about anything.

“Oh my god, you shoulda see how much of a mean motherfucker Joel was when I first met him!” She’s truly reminiscing now and there’s that childlike wonder to her again. All giggles, cheeks stained with tears, but she’s smiling a big toothy grin.

“Why don’t you tell me all about the first time you met Joel?”

And so she does, starting with the first interaction where Joel basically threw her into a wall in front of Marlene and Tess.

Well, I guess that’s what I got for spookin’ him. Shit really fuckin’ hurt, but I’m glad he and Tess showed up when they did. Who knows, maybe you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now if they hadn’t.

I’m really glad Joel and Tess showed up when they did too.

“Hey, Beanie?” Ellie suddenly asks as the rain is beginning to lighten up for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Did you grow up listening to Linda Rondstadt?”

“I did.”

“What was your favorite song? If you had to pick one?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one, El. Long Long Time.”

She just smiles.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Joel’s eyes are barely open and his face is visibly swollen and puffy. But he’s alive, he’s breathing, and that’s all Tommy can really focus on.

“Joel? Hey, how we feelin?’”

Joel cracks a smile, a painful one that has him wincing from the minimal movement. “Like I jus’ got hit by a fuckin’ bus.” He attempts to joke, but it falls flat when he realizes that Tommy is holding the letter.

“Yeah, well, y’look like dogshit, Joel. Doc said—”

“Don’t give a fuck what Doc said, Tommy.” He doesn’t mean to be short, not really, he’s just in a lot of pain.

Tommy falls silent. His eyes cast downwards and focus on the words written in the letter. The fluorescent light catches Tommy’s face at just the right angle for Joel to see the dried tears along his cheekbones.

“Tommy..I—I saw Sarah.” Joel’s voice cracks as the two brothers briefly make eye contact.

“Whad’ya mean you saw her, Joel?”

“She came to me in my dreams. She had daisies in her hair..She looked so beautiful. My baby girl.”

Tommy rests the letter along his lap and reaches for Joel’s hand. He gives it a firm, yet reassuring squeeze. His freehand immediately rises and he quickly wipes away fresh tears that have begun to fall. “She was so beautiful, Joel.”

There’s a moment's silence sans Joel’s labored breaths, and Tommy’s sniffles that fill the stagnant, all-too clean air.

“I thought..you were dead, Joel. All I saw was you layin’ in the dirt. Not movin.’ Covered in blood, and all I could think—And then I saw the gun, and for a minute I thought that maybe—” he takes a shaky inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. “But then I couldn’t find the entry wound, and I felt so relieved. So fuckin’ relieved.”

“Tommy, after all these years? After proving to you that I’d do anything to keep us alive? Why would your first thought be that I finished myself? Ellie needs me. I’d never do that to her or to you. Why would I cross the country to find you to only then shoot myself?” Joel doesn’t mean to be so harsh with his words, but despite all the years that have gone by, that guilt lives freely on his conscience. It’s plaguing, and reminds him of a scab that never quite properly heals because he’s picked it over so many times. It’s hammered into his skull with a rusted nail.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—”

Selfish.

Selfish.

Selfish.

A man loses his only daughter in a brutal way, and he’s got nothing to live for. No path guiding him. No light at the end of the tunnel. No hope. Nothing. It was ripped from him the same way the rain of bullets ripped through her body.

“I have everythin’ to live for now, Tommy.”

It hits Tommy like a freight train at maximum speed. It thrashes like a fish breached on land, depleted of oxygen, slowly dying, baking in the sun. His feelings bubble over, and he doesn’t try to hold them at bay.

“Because the day you tried to kill yourself still haunts me. I couldn’t think rationally in the moment because I was brought right back to Texas. Right back to your home. Right back to the second I heard the gunshot and your body hittin’ the fuckin’ floor.” Tommy whispers the last part as tears blur his vision.

Joel reaches for his hand, knuckles bruised and crusted in blood and dirt. His body aches all over, but he pushes through the pain and grabs Tommy’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere, Tommy.” His words are firm and hold true.

Tommy can only nod as he glances down at the letter once more. More tears have begun to flood the paper and blur Joel’s penmanship, but even though ink isn’t permanent, the words read like a script in his brain.

“When..did you write this letter?” Tommy finally asks.

“Shortly after I wrote the letter to Tess and after what happened at the Tipsy Bison.”

“And you meant every word in this?..”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re right. I did grow resentful. I couldn’t understand why you thought that..killin’ yourself was the only option. As if somehow that would bring Sarah back. I did think you were being selfish, and that was wrong of me. I know that hurt you more than you’re willin’ to admit. And I’m sorry, Joel. For all of it.”

“Y’gotta understand that I did think that it was the only option I had. I fuckin’ lost my daughter. She died in my arms. I was a shell of a man, and you—“ he took a deep breath as his tears began to freely fall. “Y’made me feel so guilty after. So fuckin’ guilty. The guilt consumed me. I knew that you weren’t sleepin’ much after that. Always thinkin’ that I’d attempt it again. Always on edge because of me.”

“It felt like we were walkin’ on eggshells around each other for years. There were so many times that I wanted to bring it up and apologize, but fuck, as if we had any time for that, right? Tess and I..we talked about it once, in private. She told me I should jus’ rip the bandaid off, but I never did.” Tommy admitted.

“Yeah, and then you left me for the fuckin’ Fireflies after everythin’ I did to keep you safe. To keep you alive, you left. Always wanted to be the fuckin’ hero. Didn’t matter what I said, you weren’t gonna listen.” Joel snapped.

“I jus’ wanted to try and make a difference in the shitty world that we live in! To erase injustice and make up for all the shit we did. All the people we murdered. I didn’t want to live with—”

“Didn’t want to live with knowin’ that there’s blood on your hands, Tommy? Those things we did? We did them to survive. It was either them or us. I have my regrets too, y’know.”

“We killed innocent people, Joel.” Tommy said somberly.

“Why did you cut fuckin’ communication with me? Huh? What was the reason? I’m your fuckin’ family. Your flesh and blood. And while you were livin’ all cushy with your new wife, bacon, and a warm fuckin’ bed, I was scared shitless that my brother was dead.”

“if I tell you the truth, you’re going to hate me.”

“I’m your brother, Tommy. I could never hate you. Jus’ tell me the reason. I don’t want a bullshit excuse. I want the fuckin’ truth.”

“Maria had some influence on my decision. She reassured me that cutting communication off with you would maybe be for the best. It was selfish of me, Joel. I just never expected—”

“Me to come fuckin’ lookin’ for you? Nothin’ was gonna get in my way of findin’ you, Tommy.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Look, it was gettin’ to the point that everytime we’d talk, the conversation was always just so fuckin’ negative. That shit started to really eat away at me. Maria started to notice how it was affectin’ me, and she suggested that maybe...I was holdin’ on too much. At the time it felt right to cut contact off with you.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Tommy, the world fuckin’ ended. What the hell was I supposed to be positive about, huh? Christ! The only positive thing in my life outside of Tess was knowin’ that you were alive! And then you took that from me too. I swear, that woman had rose colored glasses on the second she fuckin’ met you.” He snapped.

Tommy could already feel himself recoiling from his brother's words, and that utter feeling of shame came trickling in and knocking at the door. “I know I took that from you, Joel. I swear it wasn’t done outta malice.”

“No. You just wanted to move on with your life and I was holdin’ you back. The second you met Maria, fell in love, and got everythin’ you ever wanted, you pushed me away. Your own goddamn brother.”

“And I feel fuckin’ shameful for my decisions! The second you fuckin’ showed up here outta the blue, I felt that shame. I’m sorry..for all of it. But I’m tired of feelin’ this way, ain’t you?”

“Of course I’m fuckin’ tired of feelin’ this way, Tommy. Half the time I don’t even feel like I belong in this community. That I’m always gonna be an outsider. And I think your wife is partially to blame. I respect Maria, I really do. But she ain’t have any rose colored glasses on when it comes to me. I think that’s the most frustratin’ bit. Is that your wife judges me for the things I did to keep us alive, yet she refuses to acknowledge all the fucked up shit, and all the people you killed, Tommy.”

“I know you and Maria ain’t ever seen eye to eye. I don’t agree with the way she’s treated you either. She and I have talked about it. I’ve brought up how she treats you differently. I jus’ haven’t gotten through to her yet, but I’m workin’ on it. I can’t make her change her mind about you, but what I can do is defend you, tooth and fuckin’ nail. Jus’ like how I shoulda after the altercation at the Tipsy Bison.”

“I jus’ want you to feel…proud to be my brother again, Tommy. I don’t wanna keep walkin’ on eggshells and feelin’ like I ain’t belong in my own family. I love you so much, and I jus’—I want us to be okay. I don’t wanna fight anymore, I don’t wanna feel this resentment and guilt all the fuckin’ time. That’s why I’ve been writin’ these letters.. They’re healin’ me. They’re helpin’ me forgive.”

“Fuck.” Tommy sniffles. “You think I ain’t proud to be your brother, Joel? You’re still my fuckin’ hero, and you’re my fuckin’ family. My flesh and blood. I love you so much, and I’m sorry for hurtin’ you. I’m sorry for pushin’ you away. I’m sorry for bein’ selfish. For holdin’ so much resentment against you and the things we’ve done. I want us to be okay. I want us to be brothers again.”

“And I forgive you, Tommy. I’m sorry too. ‘M sorry for puttin’ you through hell. Shoulda apologized a long time ago.”

“We both should have. I never thought I would have the opportunity. I never thought I’d see you again.”

“You and me both.”

“Is..that why you ain’t really open to bein’ in Willow’s life? I try’n not bring her up because I know you’re still mournin, but it hurts that my brother doesn’t want to be involved in my daughter’s life.”

“Jealousy is a bitch, Tommy.” Joel said with a sigh. “Y’get to be a father to a little girl, and I lost mine. It ain’t right to you, or your daughter, but the grief still stings.”

“But Joel, you are a father. You might not be Ellie’s blood, but you’re her dad. I understand that you’re still grieving. Hell, I am too, but I want you to be in Willow’s life. I want you to be my daughter’s godfather..”

“..you want me to be her godfather? Tommy, I’d-I’d be honored.”

“Of course I do. I want that more than anythin.’”

“I wanna hug you, but everythin’ fuckin’ hurts.” Joel forces a laugh past his cracked lips. It comes out hoarse, rough around the edges.

Tommy hugs him anyway. It’s a gentle yet grounding caress and when the two brothers part, Joel knows he has to tell Tommy what really happened.

“Tommy.” He starts. His jaw ticks, nostrils flare. “It was Cody.”

Tommy’s blood runs cold. His fists clench, and his brows furrow. “What’re you talkin’ about, Joel?”

“Cody. He was outside of Beanie’s house. I saw him and immediately grew suspicious. He wasn’t alone. There were two other patrol guys with him. Alex and Oliver. There’s a whole fuckin’ pack of them. Cody and I got into it..he knocked me out.”

“They were lookin’ for Beanie?”

“Yes. But we ain’t have no tellin’ on how many of them there really are.” Joel gruffly said.

“Well, there’s four that we know of, right?” There was no time for Tommy to mourn this realization. Men that he trusted were just a bunch of wolves in sheeps clothing. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Pungent. Betrayal. Anger.

“Tommy, we can’t lose focus, alright? We gotta bring these fuckers to justice. You and me. You want your daughter growin’ up in a world where sick fucks get away with shit undetected? You wanna be a hero, right? You wanna make sure your baby girl grows up only knowin’ love and safety. Cody thought he could bring down a moose, but he’s in for a fuckin’ surprise. I say we pump ‘em full of lead.” For good fuckin’ measure.

“I’ll be damned if I let her grow up in a world livin’ in fear with men who would jump at the opportunity to hurt her. We need to alert Maria immediately. I wanna do more than just pump ‘em full of lead. I wanna make them fuckin’ suffer.”

Ah. There he is, there’s the Tommy that I know.

Joel was already getting ready to swing his legs over the side of the bed when a very exasperated Jesse appeared outside the door. His cheeks were flushed, and it looked like he was barely holding it together.

“Jesse? What’re you doin’ here? Did Ellie make it home safe?” Tommy asked as he stood up from Joel’s bedside in a haste.

“She’s fine. Liam and I walked her home and then we found Beanie.”

“Found Beanie? What the hell does that mean, Jesse? Y’better start talkin’ or so help me–” Joel was cut off swiftly.

“She’s okay, Joel. Ellie and Beanie are fine. But Tommy, Maria is lookin’ for you. Angie’s missing. She didn’t show up to her breakfast shift, and it looks like someone broke into her home. We suspect that foul play was involved, and Maria is calling for an emergency council meeting.”

Tommy and Joel slowly looked over at one another. Angie was missing. Jackson was no longer safe, and it was up to the two brothers to protect the community, and those they loved most. Tommy nodded in understanding, and it was as if he was reading Joel’s mind in real time.

“Looks like we got a meetin’ to get to.”

-

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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#fic: slow hands #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #protective joel #joel miller story #joel miller series #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[goodbuckcharlie]

Volleyball>> hockey

Warning: minor cussing

Notes: this is just an introduction to Randi and Ally really. I wanted to post this sooner but I also wanted to finish a few parts because I want to make this a series :)

Best friends brother masterlist

@/ Ally_hughes

Liked by _alexturcotte, Colecaufeild, tatemccrae and 325,789 others

Caption- volleyball>>hockey

Tagged- @/Randi.Kingston

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@/Randi.Kingston- you fr exposed me in that last photo

@/ally_hughes- it’s my job as your best friend to keep you humble.

@/Randi.Kingston-well then consider yourself unemployed 🖕

@/markestapa- ooo the girls are fighting

@/_quinnhughes-I hate to be the one to break it to you but everyone in your family plays hockey.

@/ally_hughes- That’s why I’m the best Hughes around💪

@/Jackhughes- The only reason you started playing volleyball is you can’t skate to save your life.

@/ally_hughes- nah I’m built different

@/trevorzegras- 🏒🏒🏒

@/colecaufield-🏒🏒🏒

@/_alexturcotte-🏒🏒🏒

@/edwards.73- 🏒🏒🏒

@/jaime.drysdale-🏒🏒🏒

@/lhughes_06-🏒🏒🏒

@/randikingston- 🏐🏐🏐

@/lhughes_06- I meant to say 🏐🏐🏐

@/umichfan1- Luke changing his answer to match Randi. He’s so in love.

@/devsfan3-Girl you are reaching so hard.

@/umichgirl6-no I think she’s on to something here

@/randi.kingston

Liked by dixiedamelio, tysmith_6, jaimedrysdale, and 467,560 others

Caption- a bad bitch and baddie friend

Tagged-Ally_hughes

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@/ally_hughes- damn we are so hot

@/edwards.43- damn you are so hot

@/lhughes_06- tf u just say?

@/randi.Kingston- don’t mind e moose he talks out of his ass, but he is right Ally is hot

@/jackhughes- it’s past your curfew✋

@/ally_hughes- get out of here boomer

@/randi.Kingston- im going to block you grandpa

@/trevorzegras- don’t let the photos fool you, these two are not as nice as they look.

@/masonmctavish- they are nice they just don’t like you

@/trevorzegras- impossible I’m an absolute delight to be around

@/_quinnhughes- I hate you

@/trevorzegras- I DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING TO YOU.

@/lhughes_06- miss you both ❤️❤️

@/ally_hughes- we all know that you mean “I miss you Randi 💋💋.”

@/randi.kingston- miss you too moose

@/jackhughes- he’s giggling and kicking his feet like a little school girl

@/dawson1417- yeah and he’s muttering to himself like a dork

@/lhughes_06- I am not @/jackhughes @/dawson1417

@/luca.fantilli- last night was wild💪

@/lhughes_06- you were with them?

@/rutgermcgroarty- a couple of us were but apparently we didn’t make it on the ig.

@/randi.Kingston- you guys didn’t make the ig cause it was girls night and you just happened to be at the same bar as we were and then joined us for late night wingstop✋

@/luca.fantilli- I thought our time together meant something

@/edwards.73- you said what we had was special

@/dylanduke25- last night was the best night of my life and you’re saying it meant nothing.

@/lhughes_06- you guys are ridiculous

@/edwards.73- that’s a funny way of saying you’re jealous.

@/lhughes_06- I’m not jealous

@/markestapa- oh so you wouldn’t mind if we told you we are on our way to her dorm rn.

@/edwards.73- you did not just call mark and say “no” and then hang up?

@/umichfan6- hit me like a volleyball mami.

@/umichfan1- I’m 65% convinced this is Luke on a burner account.

@/luca.fantilli

Liked by edwards.43, lhughes_06, Brendan.brisson and 14,409 others

Caption- girls night 🤪

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@/_quinnhughes- why is Edward’s holding my sister like that in that last photo?🤨

@/edwards.73- we were watching a scary movie and she got scared.

@/luca.fantilli- bruh we watched frozen

@/ally_hughes- terrifying

@/_alexturcotte- #freerandi

@/ally_hughes- what’s not photographed is Randi running around like a mad women, Luca sitting on her was the only way she would sit

@/luca.fantilli- more like poor me,she bit me

@/randi.Kingston- I did not bite you

@/lhughes_06- I was never invited to girls day when I was there.

@/ally_hughes- this is your fault, you told your friends to keep an eye on us and now they don’t leave us alone

@/randi.Kingston- moose next time I’m in Jersey we can have a girls night.

@/jackhughes-thats a weird way to ask him out on a date

#hockey imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl #nj devils imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #umich hockey #umich imagine

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-02-22

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Loki Odinson stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ Clandestine F*cks by lokisgoodgirl • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Courting Disaster by michelleleewise • 14+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You are the cousin of THE Tony Stark, so when you enter a relationship with the God of Mischief himself, you are determined to keep it low-key, much to his chagrin. But your lover's meddling brother has other plans…."

✑ Virgil￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by coldnique • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Use Me as You Please￨Prt. II￨Prt. III￨Prt. IV by lokisprettygirl • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When Loki gets mad, he loves to take it all out on you, and you absolutely love it."

✑ A Calm in the Storm by joyful-enchantress • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "You escape to the rooftop [searching for] solitude, [in an effort] to forget about a certain trickster god..."

✑ Absolutely Dripping by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F᜶E〕 •

Summary: "A very wet towel-clad god interrupts your prank."

✑ Accidental Confessions by lokidokieokie • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "After [collecting a mysterious] vile, the team unwinds on the quinjet back to the Tower. What happens when Tony decides [it's] a good idea to unleash whatever [is] inside?"

✑ Admit It by fluffyfantasticducky • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Loki likes you more than he's liked anyone before, [only he's too proud to admit it]. So when it turns out you already [know], will he [find the courage to confess]?"

✑ Aren't We a Pair by lizmaximoff • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "After being transported in the midst of battle, you're left to ponder on the nature of yours and Loki's relationship. What happens once you're reunited?"

✑ Asgard's A** by give-me-a-moose • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki catches your eyes wandering to a certain teammate. That gives him some ideas."

✑ Blame It on the Rain by ijuststareatstuffhereok89 • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "You and Loki... can't stand one another, and after one-too-many pranks [go] awry [amid] your 'merry war,' [Fury punishes you both] with menial labour, and the weather reports are predicting a literal storm to supplement the one stirring within you…."

✑ Bonded by michelleleewise • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "After an incident on one of your missions, loki makes a decision...."

✑ Butterflies by beyondspaceandstars • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Who knew that pulling pranks would lead to love confessions?"

✑ Carrara Marble by coldnique • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: After believing you'll need to postpone your anniversary, Loki surprises you with a trip to Louvre.

✑ Chains by tiltheendwilliwrite • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✑ Chardes by clandestineloki • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "The Avengers are in a very heated game of charades, and Tony decides it’s time Loki knew how much you like him."

✑ Chilling Love by coffee-with-bucky • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Your ice powers eventually reveal Loki's Jotun form."

✑ Close to You by michelleleewise • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "You work in stark tower and have fallen hard for a certain god, but he would never feel the same... would he..."

✑ Commitments by michelleleewise • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Your feelings for Loki have grown the closer you get, so you decide to ask him out..."

✑ Crush by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Fed up with his brother's moping, Thor "resolves" the situation by informing you of Loki's feelings towards you, prompting the god to retreat in embarrassment. You chase after him, but will he believe that you share his affection?

✑ Drunken Words by lokidokieokie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "If there was one thing that… always [got] on your nerves, [it's] what the press... dubbed 'Stark Parties'..., what else could you [and Loki] do besides get plastered and reveal all your secrets?"

✑ Eavesdropper by oliwrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki cant help but overhear your conversation with Natasha"

✑ Feelings

✑ Finest Asgardian Ale by lizmaximoff • 18+ • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "It's Wanda Maximoff's 30th Birthday party, and a little bit of Asgardian liquor leads to some secret confessions coming to light."

✑ Green Dress, the￨Prt. II by peacefulpianist • 〔E᜶F᜶C〕 •

Summary: When Stark invites you to one of his infamous parties, Nat suggests you wear the green dress you bought months ago. Perhaps it will be enough to inspire a certain god to finally make a move.

✑ Green Knit Sweater by springdandelixn • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You're angry because of Tony's stupidity, [luckily] Loki has a way to calm you down."

✑ His Colour by rorilisa • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "[You challenge Loki's 'ownership' of green with your] very own green dress... [leading to] months of flirtatious comments and sexual tension [to] finally reach a breaking point."

✑ I'm Yours by lokisprettygirl • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When you catch you boyfriend Loki flirting with a supermodel at Tony's birthday bash, you snap."

✑ Injured

✑ Intoxicated by clandestineloki • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 •

Summary: When you accidentally inhale for an aphrodisiac in front of Loki, you flee, not wanting to be around him and your current state. However, he finds you offering a solution to what else you.

✑ Knight in Shining Leather by coldnique • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: When you're in over your head, Loki swoops in to save you from disaster.

✑ Let's Just Have Fun by irishhappiness • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You just wanted to have fun but your boyfriend decided differently."

✑ Light as a Feather by clandestineloki • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "...some ropes, a blindfold, and you and Loki in absolutely no clothes. The possibilities are endless."

✑ Mischief Mission by lizmaximoff • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "In the heat of battle, Loki transports the both of you into a weird a spot."

Movie Night

✑ My Little Princess by tricksterlokilaufeyson • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: {…}

✑ No Expert by give-me-a-moose • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Loki ends up in the med bay, and you swear [you'll] kill him."

✑ Not Fair by peacefulpianist •

Summary: {…}

✑ Sinful Desire by michelleleewise • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 •

Summary: You had pined for Loki for some time, accepting that it was a dream, when an accidental encounter brings new revelations...

✑ So Beautiful by lokiisdaddyblog • 18+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When being amongst Gods and Goddesses leaves you feeling a bit insecure, Loki reminds you just how beautiful you are."

✑ Sound of Love, the by fluffyfantasticducky • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Loki now an Avenger, is quite the reclusive and introverted member in the Avenger's compound and for someone who likes peace and quiet, it's ironic how smitten he is for the loudest member of the team."

Stop and Smell the Flowers

✑ Suprise by michelleleewise • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Not sure if you were coming down with something, you decided to go to the doctor..."

✑ Thinking of You by michelleleewise • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Every time you see Loki, your thoughts run wild... unbeknownst to you, he can hear them too..."

✑ Wait a Minute by give-me-a-moose • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki discovers a new side of you, [causing] a moment of crisis."

✑ Warming Embrace by christinebloodwrittings • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Loki usually doesn't like to have blood on his hands, but when it comes to you, he throws his rational thinking overboard."

✑ Welcome Home by lokisgoodgirl • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki comes back early from a mission. Smutty, sleepy mischief ensues..."

✑ What Ails You by maple-seed • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Loki is your [best friend], which leaves you struggling when you want something more."

✑ What's Your Type?￨Prt. II by lokisprettygirl • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: Gossiping, with Wanda, never lead to anything good. When the topic shifts to your taste, in men, you can't help but think about a certain dark, charming, yet mysterious God.

✑ Whisky, My King? by loving-barnes • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Loki finds an unexpected surprise [waiting for him] in the compound's library."

✑ Adore You by lokisgoodgirl • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Allow Me by lokisgoodgirl • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Always Forever by infinitystoner • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Black Cat by dyns33 • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Boop by coffee-with-bucky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cheerleader by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cold Coffee by coffee-with-bucky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ End Credits by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Even Gods Dream by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Favourite Mortal by mostly-marvel-musings • 〔F〕 •

✑ Frigga's Wedding Gift by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Frogs

✑ He is Sober by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Have a Confession by oliwrites • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Looooove Youuuu by michelleleewise • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Put a Spell on You by goddessofmischief • 〔F〕 •

✑ In a Different Light by psychospore • 〔F〕 •

✑ Jealous by iamnotorginalphil • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Just Friends

✑ Kindness by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 •

✑ Little Mischiefs by lokiisdaddyblog • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Loki's Bachelor Party by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Loki's Special Night by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lovers' Perjuries by idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ My Beloved by christinebloodwrittings • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Naughty by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Not the Alcohol by asgardwinter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our Future by your-highnessmarvel • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Public Display of Affection by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Purrr... by michelleleewise • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sensitive Soul by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Seventeen Lemons by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ So Innocent by clandestineloki • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Star by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tough Human by asgardwinter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Truth or Dare by michelleleewise • 〔F〕 •

✑ What the F*ck Are You Wearing? by iamnotorginalphil • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Worthy by peterman-spideyparker • 〔C〕 •

✑ Yeah "Friends" by peterman-spideyparker • 〔F〕 •

✑ Being in Love w/ Loki

✑ Dating Loki would include… by witchthewriter • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Loki Odinson Master Index

Authors: @anonymousfiction211 || @asgardwinter || @beyondspaceandstars || @christinebloodwrittings || @clandestineloki || @coldnique || @dyns33 ||@fluffyfantasticducky || @give-me-a-moose ||@iamnotoriginalphil || @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 || @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 || @infinitystoner || @irishhappiness || @joyful-enchantress || @laufeyamp || @lizmaximoff || @lokidokieokie || @lokiisdaddyblog || @lokisgoodgirl || @maple-seed || @michelleleewise ||@oliwrites || @peacefulpianist || @peterman-spideyparker || @psychospore || @rorilisa || @springdandelixn || @tilltheendwilliwrite || @tricksterlokilaufeyson || @witchthewriter || @your-highnessmarvel ||

#Loki x Reader #Loki x Female Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki x You #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader #Loki Laufeyson x Y/N #Loki Laufeyson x You #Loki Odinson x Reader #Loki Odinson x Female Reader #Loki Odinson x Y/N #Loki Odinson x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #Marvel Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfic #Loki Fanfiction #Loki Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston Fanfic

[thornsnvultures]

ooey gooey ♡

Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every morning, Bucky comes to your store for terrible coffee and maybe something a little sweet on the side.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, pining, lots of food talk, fingering, dirty talk, pet name (sugar), mild angst, Sam's a little shit but a great (accidental) wingman :3c

a/n: this was written for @buckysbirdie 's #BirthdayBashWritingChallenge 💖 and the prompts I picked were: "🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes 🪵 Moose Tracks: Lumberjack 🍮 “I have to leave.” 🍩 “Rock paper scissors for it.” 🌰 “Don’t get shy on me now.” 🍓 Mutual pining 🍫 Friends to lovers"

Birdie, this was so much fun to write, I hope you like it! 💖

a/n 2.0: unbeta'd, moodboard by me, edited by me. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't :)

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

Your lumberjack was here again. Well he's not yours exactly, but a girl could dream.

Every morning Bucky Barnes would roll up to your small town's only general store in his big red pick up truck before work at the lumber yard. And every morning you would watch from your perch behind the counter as he'd meander through the short shelves in search of the ancient coffee maker. The coffee that machine produced could only be described as sludge, but he filled a cup to the brim every morning without fail.

You'd told him on more than one occasion that you admired his iron gut for being able to withstand it day in and day out. His usual response was that it was strong, that it put some extra hairs on his chest. Then he would puff said chest out and thump it with a closed fist and the two of you would laugh while your thighs clenched together at the thought of running your fingers through whatever amount of hair really did reside on his thick chest.

You never saw him in less than a thermal Henley or his thick fleece lined coat. Yes, even in the summer time he wore long sleeves. What hid underneath those layers was another in a long list of mysteries you wanted to unravel about the gentle giant.

Most mornings you were the only one who spoke out of the pair of you. Rambling about your weekend plans, past or future, or whatever hijinks your precious cat Turkey had gotten into the day before. But Bucky was always there, listening intently like whatever you said would be the most interesting thing he'd hear all day.

"Ms. Linda said she needed help setting up for Bingo Night at the VFW hall so of course I offered to help since her husband was so generous fixing the hole in the awning above the stoop."

Bucky poured a generous amount of creamer into his cup of sludge. He may boast about not minding the taste, but you saw how many fixings he added every morning.

"Bingo Night, huh? I could see you up there calling numbers for all those old biddies," he smirked at you as he popped the lid on. "It's a shame I can't come, maybe I could've gotten lucky."

A laugh bubbles up and out of you before you could stop it. He can't be serious. He can't be...flirting?

Bucky Barnes does a lot of things. Takes the trash out for his elderly neighbor, offers to shovel the stoop out front of the store when the weather gets rough, and drinks the garbage coffee you make every morning, among many other things. But one thing he's never done before was flirt with you.

You don't know how to respond. You've always liked the man but he's never shown any interest in return. Never taken you up on an offer to get drinks or visit the actual coffee shop in town that makes actually good coffee.

So instead, Bucky's been a good friend. A good, kind friend that had no interest in you in a sexual way. Which was fine. But that kind of talk coming from him out of the blue was baffling.

Why is he flirting with you now after all this time?

The bell above the front door jingles, pulling your attention from his eyes watching you above his styrofoam cup.

"Buck, c'mon we gotta get a move on." Bucky's friend and coworker, Sam, stands in the doorway tapping the silver watch on his wrist.

"Sammy, why're you rushing? Got a hot date?"

Sam laughs and shakes his head.

"No, ma'am. Me and 'loverboy' here have to get in this truck and get a move on. Got a delivery up north to make."

If Sam sees the shocked look on your face, he doesn't say anything about it. You're too shocked to even comment on the 'loverboy' nickname he gave to Bucky just now. Bucky never goes out on the road anymore. Not since the accident that took his arm. He doesn't talk about it much, but everyone else in town sure does. How he had been on the road too long on his own and fell asleep at the wheel. You stopped listening then, when anyone but Bucky decides they have a right to tell his story. Like somehow he died that night and his ghost haunts the lumber yard.

Sam reaches in front of Bucky and grabs the last Ooey Gooey butter cake from the stand by the register.

"Now wait a minute-"

They're Bucky's favorite, he always grabs one before he heads out in the morning.

Sam halts at the door and turns around, slowly beginning to unwrap the package.

"Rock, paper, scissors for it," Bucky practically shouts over the rustling of plastic wrap.

"Bucky, you don't have to-"

Before you can finish your sentence the cake is back on the counter and the men, boys really, are pounding their fists and chanting the words to the game. Bucky's metal fingers open to the shape of a pair of scissors while Sam's stay closed to form a rock.

"Eyyy! Better luck next time, champ." With a smile pointed your way and a, "see you in two weeks," Sam slaps two dollars on the counter and heads back to the truck parked outside.

"Damn."

Bucky looks so cute when he pouts. He'll argue and say he doesn't pout but how else would you describe the way his pink lips purse and the space between his eyebrows crinkles? He's a pouter for sure.

You tell him to wait there for a moment. You've got something better for him in the back. His eyes roam your body like he's searching for...what? You don't know. You're not sure if you want to know with the way he's biting his lip.

You make your escape to the back room just left of the counter and Bucky can't help but follow. Like if he takes his eyes off you for one moment you'll disappear.

It's dark in the storeroom, only enough sunlight to illuminate the desk and chair in the makeshift office that takes up half the space. The other half is full of boxes of snacks and other necessities waiting their turn to be stocked on shelves.

You quickly grab the box you were looking for and turn, bumping into a curious Bucky in the process and spilling half its contents onto the floor.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, sugar."

Bucky hurriedly bends down to help you pick up the contents of the box. Did he just call you "sugar"?

"It's...fine. Thanks, Buck."

In your arms is a cardboard box full of the butter cakes that Bucky grabs every morning with his coffee.

"Is that..."

"Take them."

Bucky reels back, and that cute crease between his eyebrows returns.

"All of them?"

"Well," you shrug, "Sam said 'two weeks' right? How many do you want for two weeks?"

"Sugar, I can't take that many."

You nudge the box into his arms which he accepts reluctantly.

"If you take all of 'em you won't have to fight over them with Sam."

"He can't have any."

"Bucky!"

You laugh until you realize he's not joking. In fact, Bucky looks quite serious.

"Not if they're from you. He can't have them."

The blue of Bucky's eyes are dark, murky like the lake that sits a few miles outside of town.

You didn't think he would be so possessive over a box of sweets. Or that your kind gesture would mean so much.

"Bucky?"

The box falls to your feet, spilling packaged cakes onto the floor again. But you're not worried about picking them up this time because Bucky's suddenly on you, his hands on your face and walking you backwards and into the desk at your back. You don't even mind the pain when your butt bumps the wooden edge when you feel Bucky's lips on yours.

His stubble is prickly against your skin and he tastes like burnt caffeine but you can't get enough. The rough pads of his fingers caress your cheeks, years of hard labor imprinting on your skin through his touch. The metal of his left hand is colder than you were expecting, but only on his fingers. His palm is warmed slightly from holding his coffee, a meek simulation of the warmth pouring off his right.

You don't think you'll ever forget how he lights up your senses. How he sounds when you slip your tongue past his lips to curl around his. How he shivers when you run your hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck where his hair is short and bristly under your fingernails.

Suddenly you're being lifted, placed on the desk behind you with a gentle thud.

"You don't know what you do to me, sugar. So damn sweet."

His hands are on your waist now, his fingers digging into the dips of your curves to pull you closer so he can nip and lick at your neck, your jaw. He's starving for you and all you can do is roll your head back to give him space to feast.

"I should've given you that box sooner."

Bucky's breathy chuckle blows past your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. Your gasp spurs him on, moving to lift your baggy work t-shirt up before you stop him.

"Everything okay? Don't get shy on me now."

You run your hands across his shoulders marveling at how massive he is, how small he makes you feel. How safe. But you're unsure and Bucky can tell.

"I've wanted you for so long, sugar, just thought you could do better than someone like me."

His shoulders shrug under your palms. You want him too, so badly.

"Bucky that's not -"

"I know, I know it's silly. But I've been seeing someone. A therapist," he rushes to clarify when you raise an eyebrow at him. "She said I deserve things that make me happy. That what happened to me doesn't mean that I'm too broken to be happy."

Bucky leans into your hand on his cheek as he speaks. His eyes are searching yours and you hope he can see the love you hold for him there. And you do, you love him. As much as you can from seeing him every damn day for the past two years. He's grown so much since he came back home after the accident and you're hoping you're on his list of things that make him happy.

"You do deserve those things, Bucky."

His fingers trace a pattern you can't decipher under your shirt.

"Do you know why I come in here every morning?"

"Is it not for the coffee?"

"To see you."

He presses a kiss into your palm.

"I see you and the rest of my day is sweeter for it, sugar. The only thing better would be seeing your pretty head on the pillow next to mine when I open my eyes every morning."

You'd damn near slide off the table if Bucky didn't have a hold on you.

"Now, I want to feel you before I'm gone and losing my mind in that cab with Sam for two weeks. Will you let me, sugar?"

"Yes. Please, Bucky."

Your shirt is on the floor by the time you're finished speaking and Bucky's ripping your leggings down. It's good you have a spare pair of sweatpants in your locker just in case because they're definitely ruined.

You don't care if you have to work naked if Bucky's keeps mouthing at your chest the way he is now. The delicious burn of his stubble offset by the hot, wet suction of his mouth around your nipple is driving you insane. Your hands tug at his cropped hair, your body shaking with the force of your need for him.

"Bucky, please. T-touch me."

He doesn't waste any time teasing, just pushes your ample thighs open and presses a finger to your weeping slit. You cry out, grinding against his finger as he marvels at how wet you are already.

"All this cream for me, sugar?"

"Fuck, yes Bucky. It's yours."

He kisses you, stealing the moan that pours from you when he sinks his fingers past the lace covering your pussy.

Bucky groans, pulling away from your mouth to stare down at your puffy lips. His fingers circle your hole and he can feel you clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill you. But not yet.

Instead he slides his two fingers up and circles the swollen bud of your clit. The pressure and the wet sound it makes has you writhing on the desk, clawing at Bucky's arm as he works you over.

"That's it, sugar. My fingers feel good?"

"Yes," you can't help but shout.

Belatedly, you realize that the front door of the store isn't locked and anyone could walk in and hear, or even see, the two of you like this. It should make you push Bucky away and straighten yourself so you don't startle some poor shopper but if anything it makes your gut curl tighter. More of your juices spill and you don't hold back your cries of pleasure.

"So loud, sugar. What if someone saw you like this, huh? Coming so pretty for me, making a mess all over this desk."

Bucky shoves his two fingers inside you and you cry out even louder. Gripping the desk beneath you for dear life as he pumps into you hard and fast, finding that spot deep inside you that you could never reach. He curls his long, thick fingers into it and your eyes roll back.

"Listen to how wet you are. Give me what I need, sugar. Come for me."

Bucky's fingers pump into you two more times before you're screaming, pulsing around his digits until you can't move anymore.

You watch as Bucky slides his fingers free and into his mouth, sucking up your juices like the most delicious candy treat he's ever had.

His light touch makes you jump when you feel him slide your panties back in place.

"What about- "

"When I get back. Can't leave Sam waiting for me out there longer than I have. I already get enough of his teasing over you." Bucky smirks and tugs on an exposed nipple.

"Hey! That's not my fault!" You laugh and smack his chest.

Bucky laughs and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm and placing it over his heart.

"I have to leave, sugar."

"Come back to be, Bucky. I'm not done with you."

You're smiling but there's worry in your eyes.

"I'm not done with you either," Bucky winks. "And I'll be alright. Sam will be with me. He's a pain in the ass but I trust him with my life."

You sigh and lean into his chest, soaking up as much of his warmth and his scent before he has to leave.

"I'll call you. Every morning no matter where I am on the road. I'll call and we can talk while I eat my favorite breakfast," you smile when he points to the discarded box on the floor.

"Sounds wonderful, Buck," you press a kiss to his pec right above his heart. "And if you get lonely at night in those dusty, old motel rooms you can call me too."

He scoffs and smiles at your cheeky grin.

"Jesus, maybe my sugar ain't as sweet as I thought she was."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fan fic #plus size fic #plus size!reader #plus size reader #bucky fic #bucky smut #bucky fan fic #bucky fanfic #my fics #BirthdayBashWritingChallenge #running away before i hate it #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes headcannon #bucky one shot #bucky headcannon

[stitched-mouth]

is it ok if i have a Robin Arellano x fem reader? lets say shes dating Moose but he treats her like shit but Robin always had a crush on her so he’s kinda like mr steal yo girl 💀

He’s Mr Steal Your Girl

Pairing: Robin Arellano x Fem! Reader.

Summary: Robin is Mr Steal Your Girl.

Warnings: Cheek kisses? Pet names? Mention of DV (Moose abuses the reader).

Writing Time: 1 hour (it’s short but I was writing real slow for some reason).

Word Count:

Format: HCs.

A/N:

Thanks for requesting! I made this HCs and a little more at the end as a treat, hope you enjoy.

I had to Google Moose because I forgot about him completely.

I am a smut writer, however works with minor pairings or sfw requests will always be sfw. Robin and Moose are minors so this is sfw.

• I have no idea why you’re with Moose.

• Boy is a weirdo.

• And an asshole.

• You didn’t like how he treated your or anyone in the school.

• So you had decided it was time to break up with him.

• But to be honest, you was a little scared of him.

• If you broke up with him, there was many possible outcomes.

• And none were good.

• So you had become the quiet fearful girlfriend who now just watched as your boyfriend kicked the shit of innocent people.

• Last time you got involved you ended up with a bloody nose.

• Staying out of it was the best way not to get hurt.

• That was until Robin Arellano had decided one day that he had had enough of your boyfriend’s shit.

• He saw the way Moose treated you and other people so he decided to do something about it.

• Robin made sure Moose regretted being such a bully.

• You had never seen someone fight your boyfriend before and win.

• So you was eager to get to know this kid.

• You followed Robin to the bathrooms afterwards, not caring about being a girl in the boy’s bathroom.

• Robin was washing the blood of his hand and looked up at you when you stepped in.

“This is the boy’s bathroom, beautiful, the sign is on the door.” Robin told you as he looked down again.

“I saw it.” You nodded slightly, “But just wanted to…um..”

“To what, Princess?” He turned off the tap and dried off his hands whilst staring at you, definitely checking you out.

“Thank you.” You finished, “Yeah… he’s a dickhead and needed an ass kicking.”

“No problem sweetheart. It was my pleasure.” Robin smiled.

You moved closer to him, “It was really cool.”

“You think so?” Robin smiled again, “I can do other cool things, not just kick ass.”

“Could you show me?” You asked.

“Of course. But how would your boyfriend feel about that?” Robin raised an eyebrow, still smiling though.

“He’ll take a hint when he sees us together and leave me alone. Or you could kick his ass again?” You replied.

Robin nodded, “Ok, it’s a date then.”

He pecked your cheek before exiting the bathroom, leaving you with butterflies.

#some rare sfw content from stitched #stitched #stitched talks #stitched writes #the black phone #robin arellano #robin arellano x reader

[caspers-delusions]

Psych Whump Masterlist

💉💉💉

This is going to be my go-to list every time I find something with medical or psych whump in it that I want to remember. I'll reblog it frequently and try to keep it updated but it's going to start small because good psych whump is so hard to find. (This in no way endorses medical abuse, I'm a mentally ill individual but I love consuming psych whump in media. Just about everything in these movies, books, etc are at the very least morally gray so consume at your own risk. Also, I only enjoy these things in fiction. Irl it makes me sick to my stomach, I know bc I've experienced some of this.) I'll try to add trigger warnings for each one but I might miss some so I apologize in advance. If you have any recommendations please message me! I'm scouring the internet for good psych whump but medical/sickfic whump is also wanted.

Movies:

A Cure For Wellness: Guy gets tricked into becoming a patient at a "resort" that's really a mental hospital in disguise that uses its patients for nefarious means. CW: incest, medical abuse, teeth falling out, sexual assault, some weird eel shit ^^There's probably more but I haven't watched the film in a while.

TV Shows:

Moon Knight: Whole season of psych whump, the main character has DID and loads of past trauma. Has a huge ancient Egypt theme and the MC gets (kind of) forced to accept psychiatric care. CW: lots of ableism, mental break, psychotic episodes, forced institutionalisation, child abuse, restraints

Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten: German soap that's been running since 1992. The specific episodes that have good psych whump are from 26.5.2017 to 01.06.2017. Extremely hard to find online, only some clips/gifs exist as of now that are easily viewable.

Perception: Schizophrenic professor who teaches at a university spirals and gets put in a mental hospital. He has a caretaker friend who helps him and the professor also sees hallucinations of an ex-girlfriend who helps him solves mysteries. CW: extremely inaccurate portrayal of schizophrenia, delusions, paranoia, and really any mental illness for that matter; lots of ableism, I think I remember one character calling the professor a freak, people treat him really badly

Books:

House of Leaves: This book is a fever trip but the MC (kind of?? The book has multiple authors, it's honestly very confusing but it's great) suffers from declining mental health and spirals hard. CW: child abuse, lots of sexual content, mentions of a caretaker beating a child, mentions/delusions of sexual assault, death of a dog (it was brutal, huge warning), mentions/descriptions of suicide and attempted murder

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: This is chock-full of psych and medical whump, it all takes place in a psychiatric hospital (I've actually been to the one in the film! -Not as a patient) CW: huge amounts of abuse from staff, doctors, nurses, there's also a scene where SA is implied on a patient, the MC is there after being convicted of SA'ing a minor and he's pretty unremorseful (the MC is a dick though anyways), racism, ableism

OG Works (not mine):

Redwood Psychiatric Insitute: Forced institutionalization, great read and it has just about every trope I look for in fics all packed into one series. Please give it a read, it's fantastic. Source - https://www.tumblr.com/only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are/706656298337435648/redwood-psychiatric-institute-masterlist?source=share by @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are

Fanfiction:

Into Your Arms: This is a Star Trek fanfic that follows a girl who has a severe eating disorder and mental illness. It's not the normal kind of sickfic or psych whump I go for but the aftercare in this is topnotch. Source - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185897 by moose-misses-sweets on ao3 CW: suicide attempt, severe eating disorder, abusive partner, cutting/self harm

Summarized List

Movies: 1. A Cure For Wellness TV Shows: 1. Moon Knight 2. Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten 3. Perception Books: 1. House of Leaves 2. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest OG Works (not mine): 1. Redwood Psychiatric Institute Fanfics: 1. Into Your Arms

Note: If something you made is on this list and you want me to remove it, please message me and I will. I don't check messages very often but it doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, I just forget I have a tumblr sometimes.) *Extra note: this was originally posted on my side blog @ennead-of-whump but I'm slowly integrating that blog into this one. I'm now only going to be using my main blog @caspers-delusions which means I'm only going to update this masterlist post from now on.

#whump #psych whump #medical whump #psychiatric whump #recs #mental illness #masterlist #list #recommendations #moon knight #perception #into your arms #redwood psychiatric hospital #one flew over the cuckoos nest #house of leaves #a cure for wellness #new blog same person #gute zeiten schlechte zeiten

[in3rci4]

Can I Get An Angst With All The Boys, Basically They Never Believed The Reader, And They Get In An Argument Because They Thought Reader Drew Over Gwen's Homework ( I Saw It On TikTok ), And Basically In The End Moose Confesses It Was Him, But It's Too Late, After The Reader Said : " I'd Rather Get Kidnapped By The Grabber, Then Stay With You Assholes, You Think Everything's My Fault ", Reader Gets Kidnapped, And Like I Said, Moose Confesses, But It's Too Late, And They Regret It But It's Too Late? Sorry IF It's Too Much To Ask, You Don't Have To Do It If You Don't Want To, But I've Never Seen Someone Do That, So I Would Love What You Comes Up With ❤️❤️

Jsjskskdkdkk this is gonna be interestingly hard to do , but I appreciate that you trust my writing and sent your request , i really needed so I don't slow back 😭🫶

" IF I ONLY I KNEW , THE LAST TIME WOULD BE DIFFERENT "

PROMPT : Reader is confronted by the The Black Phone boys about something they didn't do , and that would be the last time reader would be seen alive before getting kidnapped killed by The Grabber

Characters included : Finney Blake , Gwendolyn Blake , mention of Susan / Suzanne { Gwendolyn's friend } Bruce Yamada , Amy Yamada , Robin Arellano , mention of the two jackass dudes on Gwen's vision about Vance , Vance hopper , Griffin Stagg , Billy Showalter , Buzz , Matt , Patt , Moose ( idk his last name )

Author's note : I'm really sorry if this isn't what you wanted , but I believed that in some cases it would be practical or better to write in different yet similar situations excluding Gwen's direct participation or writing the exact phrase you told me and changing it instead for every character, hope you like it anyway , I really enjoyed writing this 👍✨

WARNINGS ! : ANGST , DOMESTIC VIOLENCE , MENTION OF KIDNAPPING , DEATH , MINOR ABDUCTION , LONG ASS HEADCANONS , BULLYING , UNFAIR SITUATIONSHIP , RACISM , SLUT / FAT SHAMING , EATING DISORDER ¿? , THREATENING , ANIMAL ABUSE / DEATH , GAS LIGHTING ¿? MANIPULATION ¿? HOMOPHOBIA , MENTION OF SUICIDE , NO USE OF Y/N , PLATONIC / GENDER NEUTRAL READER , POSSIBLE SPELLING MISTAKES , VIOLENCE , BLOOD , ETC

FINNEY BLAKE

His little sister is someone that will share everything with him , her celebrity crushes , her latest gossip , her favorite new book , etc , and he would listen everytime even if he didn't care that much about it

But Finney noticed that she was more quiet lately , but Gwenny would always say she was tired , and that's it .

Until one day she confessed his older brother that she had some of her notebooks pages scratched , tore apart and with really awful drawings and messages , some really gruesome to describe a little girl . Finney was of course mad , because did not only Gwen hide something from him , but there's someone messing with his sister that he knows she didn't mess with first

Gwen defended herself saying that she was trying to find who did it but she couldn't do it , until yesterday , when she asked her classmates once again who did it and they said that someone older enter her classroom when her backpack was still there

Suzanne , her best friend , added new information about the situation : She saw you entering to her classroom with color papers rolled up

He knew you from the mathematics class , so when he saw you escaping trough the empty hallways , he followed you , and decided to confront you

" Stop it , I need to talk with you "

You turned around and saw him grabbing tight his backpack shoulder strap

" You need to stop doing those things to my sister , she's only a 6th grader and didn't do anything to you , it's not ok to draw those disgusting things and write that stuff on Gwen's notebooks , you're older than her , you should know that "

On Finney's perspective , he was in front of a kid of his same age that has been bothering his sister not only in a anonymously way , but in a constant way too , trying , no , decided , to make them back off from her

But in your perspective , you woke up and didn't have the opportunity to eat even an apple as a breakfast because your parents started to bark at each other again and then you , when they couldn't find the keys of the car and saw you existing on your house

Who would guess that the only time you entered on a 6th grade classroom was to put some color papers for the kids by your art's teacher orders ?

You obviously got offended , and started to tell your version of the story , you were not only dealing with your family madness once again , but this too ?

When he saw you not backing off and not telling " the truth " he told you to stop playing the innocent / victim card and just accept what you " did"

You couldn't simple just pretend you didn't call slut shaming names to a child .

His insistence , the way he was talking , gas lighting you like your parents did before , triggered something in you that made you started to blurry your vision and just walk away when your tears started to fall down your face

Not exactly aware where you going , you walked away from school , and sat on the edge of the side walk hiding hour face in your arms and legs

That's when you heard a strange voice say

" Why's the river dear child ? Would magic make those tears disappear ? "

2 weeks after that encounter your missing person poster was all over the town .

One of those days once again , Gwen finds in her notebook a bad quality drawing of you dead with a speech bubble that had " It wasn't me" written on it

Finney was ready to walk home side by side with Gwen but she had a serious expression on her face this time , without saying nothing , she takes her notebook and shows the drawing of you to him

The siblings could never look at your photos again without feeling guilty , 3 days after you went missing the unholy trinity bastards of Buzz , Matt and Patt admitted the fault , making them feel stupid for not thinking about them as suspects of it in the first place

Specially Finney , who can't stop thinking that he was the last person that saw you alive , yet that time he made you cry , he made you go away

He was the one that has the fault for your gone , and he has to live with the feeling . All .His . Life .

BRUCE YAMADA

Coming back from chilling on a friend's house Bruce goes upstairs to change clothes on his bedroom but when he was on the hallway of the second floor he hears quiet sobs coming from his little sister's place

Confused , he puts his ear close the door to hear better and knocks at the girl's door , but there was no answer , she continued crying

Slowly , he opened the door of her bedroom , and found his little sister Amy sitting on the floor with her cheeks all wet from so many tears dropping from her eyes . Bruce had to admit that lately he and his sister weren't close like they used to , him being a teenager and stuff

But even then , he sat next to her and rubbed her back asking what happened and why she was so sad , he was expecting the reason to be a broken toy , a nightmare , a heartbroken from her playground crush , anything

Anything... Except that someone of his class was making fun of her and breaking her favorite school notebooks and pencils , the ones she cherished the most , and threatened her to stay quiet ... The little girl being too scared of even mentioning the names of the responsable... Or responsables...

" Don't worry Amy , I will make sure they stop bothering you , I promise "

The next day when the teacher sat down to look over some papers he asked permission to talk with everyone in the classroom about what happened , and find out who did it

" Y'all probably know I have a little sister , Amy , yesterday when I came back home she told me that someone in this class was mocking her in all possible ways and breaking her stuff like favorite notebook or color pencils . If you have a problem with me , I have all the time of the world to solve however you want to , i don't care , but messing with my sister and 6th grader kid ain't right , you're supposed to know better than that , unless y'all cowards that will stay silent and not tell me the truth in the face "

The teacher was too shocked to speak with the sudden serious attitude of the star student and the people sitting on their desks were unsure to speak or react since they didn't want to messed up more and makes things more difficult more than the situation already is

Until a girl said that he should go and tell the same exact thing to you , the " guilty " one , that has been gone the entire class after asking to go to the bathroom and probably knew he was going to find it out

You in the other hand were going about to have a breakdown and didn't want it to be around everybody that categorized you as the " ugly quiet kid " from the back of the classroom , you wanted some time alone , and went to the bathroom , where you cried over those horrible thoughts in your mind until your eyes were to dry to drop more tears

You washed your face and tried to compose yourself to not look " recently sad " and did your regular breathing exercise in these cases . Now done , you went outside the bathroom , and just in a few steps , you saw Bruce

You tried to give a closed lips smile to give the " I'm ok / friendly " facade , but he didn't return the gesture , he was in fact , not as happy and smiley as the usual Bruce , he was .... Different

" You should've know I would find it out sooner or later , when did I did something wrong to you ? What Amy's had to do with this ? Why involved her ? Why mess with her instead of just , I don't know man , tell ME those things ? "

You were confused and disoriented , you couldn't put the pieces together of why Bruce was being this harsh or what he was talking about , all you did was stare

" You're not gonna say something ? You have nothing to say after breaking her stuff , telling her to die , to stop eating and to leave the country where she was born ? To a innocent little girl instead someone of your age ?"

You tried to defend yourself but it was useless , the entire group blamed you to keep the spot away from them from being guilty and nothing could change Bruce's mind about it , after all , if you were innocent , why you went out of the class on the first place ?

You didn't have the energy to keep arguing or to stay while the principal or teacher called your parents and wait for the worse to happen , for something that you didn't do , so you walked out from school and decided to head straight to your best friend's house , your only safe place

But you never got there .

That night after the Yamada's were done eating dinner , Bruce knocked her sister's door , opened when he got Amy's permission and with a smile , he told her

" Hey Amy , I just wanted to tell you that I already told the bad person to stop bothering you and they promised to stop doing it , you don't have to worry anymore "

But the smile soon fade away when Amy's asked her older brother if he told the boyfriend of the girl to stop too

And then he realized what he done ... His mistake ....

That girl was his rival baseball team pitcher's girlfriend , and since they were afraid to put anything up with Bruce due his popularity , they came for Amy instead

He would ride his bike on the way to school hoping to see you again , to apologize and start over , but he never did , he never had the chance , only your missing posters like a painful reminder of who you were are .

ROBIN ARELLANO

He's used to be called all type of names , he's a dark skin hispanic boy living in the 70's after all , although he doesn't let himself be down for it anymore , and instead he learned to be proud of who he is

So when he would see racist slurs on his desks or papers with written messages on it on his backpack , he would only sigh because how tedious it was to clean those from his desk and sometimes laugh at the creativity of some insults

But the anonymous dutch bag didn't only stayed with him , oh no ...

Not surprised at all , it wasn't Finney who would admit having insulting messages written on papers that had a long list of homophobic slurs hided on his backpack , but Gwen , who told him what was going on with his friend

With a mixed feeling of anger and sadness , he only told his buddy that It'll be over as soon as he found who's the coward behind all this , and thanked the girl with candies

It was harder to find the fucker this time , no face , no voice , no nothing , except one thing , their hand writing

He may not be math's smart , but he's for sure an astute dude . When nobody was looking and the teachers were eating lunch , he entered the classroom and started to check one by one the hand writing of Finney's classmates , comparing them with the last " letter " that they left for him

Unlucky you , your hand writing was almost exactly like the one in the paper , and with your name already known , Robin was ready to clarify some stuff with you

On your way to school you heard someone calling your name , and by your surprise , the one calling you was the second toughest kid in school , and that caught the attention of other students walking on the streets . Walking towards you , calm yet with a serious expression Robin said

" You know my friend Finney , right ? Your classmate ? The one that has to deal with your bullshit every fucking day ?"

Oooooh's were heard from the kids and you honestly started to get scared because the situation felt unreal to you

" I'm getting tired of telling this over and over , you know ? Fuck with Finney again .."

He stops , just a few steps from you

" I'll fuck with you . Get it ?"

You couldn't just stay silent so you spoke your yourself

" Excuse me but I don't have any idea of what are you talking about "

For you he only nodded in silent after you talked , in the other hand , it was taking all of Robin's inner strength to not smack your face for pretending to be clueless about this

" Finney had to deal almost A MONTH with your paper shit that has your hand writing on it , so stop pretending you're innocent , cus you ain't "

You still couldn't believe what was going on , the whispers between the crowd that you didn't know when did it formed started to get louder , but your voice was still stucked in your chest that was pumping from the adrenaline

" Don't believe me ? I'll show you "

Suddenly your arm was grabbed and everyone gasped , Robin takes a paper from his Jean's pocket and shows you a paper that has the message " Better kill yourself like your mother did faggot trash " with yes , an identical copy of your hand writing , now how can you explain yourself at this ?

As soon as the young chorus started to scream for " Fight !" you feared the worst , so unintentionally your eyes started to water up and you plead to be left alone , that it was mistake , that it wasn't you

But he didn't believe you , instead , he started to shake you while keeping the paper close to your face

" If I ever saw your hand writing again on this shitty papers I'll make you read every fucking message you wrote after I beat the shit out of you in front of everybody in school , understood ?"

You tried to explain , you tried to make him understand that it wasn't you who did everything that he said

" I said , UNDERSTOOD !?"

Defeated , you nodded , and he let you go with a disgusted expression . Not being able to handle more eyes staring at you , you walked back to your home hoping your parents were still there and didn't went to work yet , so you could at least have a shoulder to cry on

But you never went back home .

1 week before Moose and Robin's fight and 3 after your disappearance another message was found on Finney's notebook

" your cocksucker friend got the wrong one fairy bitch"

Moose got what he deserved right after , but at what costs ?

You were gone , and everytime Robin walks in the street and sees your photo on the missing posters can't stop wondering why he didn't did the right thing and looked further instead of just blaming you

But nothing that he has to say would bring you back , ever .

BILLY SHOWALTER

Billy would focus only on paying attention in class , do his homework , study and repeated all over again , it was like that since he left the football team , and it wasn't bad either

He was on the middle ground between popular and invisible , and he was thankful for it , because he didn't have to deal with a lot of people or assholes that saw him as inferior to them

But everyone has to taste suffering once in their life , right ?

At first , in his desk he would find the usual vulgar drawings and slurs that were similar as the one written all over the men's bathroom walls . They were easy to erase , no big deal

Then the messages had his name on it , but he didn't felt like a personal attack to him , his name is a common name between boys , no panic

But the messages started to be written on his notebooks and school manuals , and those were harder to erase or ignore like the previous one

Billy was pissed , he didn't had the energy to deal with a bully and his school material ruined after working so hard in keeping it on shape , but his " consolation " was that the one doing this didn't even have the courage to show their face .

They were miserable people with free time on their hands that decided to make him their target , they must be really bored to choose him though . And nothing works better for these type of garbage than ignore them

The last part being ... half true .

When the insults got boring , repetitive and easily forgettable , the no name writer took a more serious turn , took the challenge of making him mad on their own hands

His concern grew up faster when the messages talked about jumping him in the hour of his paper news delivery , writing his house direction repeatedly and scary drawings of dead dogs

Now he couldn't let it slide . Not with his dog , not with his best friend , not with her . He needed to put a stop to this , needed to find who

He packed his stuff more slower this time watching over his shoulder wich classmates were faster to go and who stayed longer to leave

And you , he never noticed before , always were the last one to leave

He went to the cafeteria to buy a snack and time and went back to the classroom , he walked into the classroom and , oh surprise , you were there again

Billy didn't understand why you hated him so much , he doesn't mess with anybody on this god damn school , but now he doesn't have time to listen your reasons , now you will listen to him

" You better stop writing that shit on my notebooks and manuals or I will tell the teacher about your sick messages "

Confused , you tried to come back to reality after you zoned out for so long to understand the situation

" I'm sorry ? What messages ?"

He step closer but never too close to you , frustrated

" Oh come on man , you're the only one that stays after class in this place , the only one that takes a eternity to walk outside the classroom , I'm tired of your fucking bullshit ! I don't fuck with anybody or you in the matter , AND YET , I have to tolerate my notebook and manuals ruined because of you ! "

You tried to speak to clarify the situation but he interrupts you with a much louder voice , you never thought it was possible to see him like this

" I better not see you at the streets or I'll throw a god damn paper new on your face , less than anything to my dog , you better not touch my fucking dog or I'll do worse than that !"

Oh no .... A ... Dog ? .... Like .... The once you had but lost recently ?

Before Billy took his backpack from the chair , he looked at you one last time

" My parents and I work hard to get what I have , you know ? ..."

You felt sorry... This isn't your fault , it's so sad what he's telling you , but-

" I don't care if you insulted me or whatever , but don't fuck with animals , they can't defend themselves... So you better watch out what you do "

That left you with a bad taste in your mouth , someone wanted to hurt his pet , his companion in his daily life an mornings of delivering

School's over , you waited for your parents to pick you up while you were thinking of what Billy told you , you really needed to tell him tomorrow that you ain't the one he's looking for . You only stayed alone on the classroom because you were grieving by your own the death of your dog

But the day tomorrow never came for you .

The same day of your kidnapping , your classmates waited for Billy to throw rocks at him while he was riding his bike , he almost fell down , and Harper almost looses her eye for those bastards

When he came back home and his mother started to patch him up , he couldn't stop thinking that he barked at you for no reason , that he didn't even let you speak for yourself , how stupid he was for letting Harper be hurt by his incompetence

Seeing your photo on the paper news was like a kick on the stomach

" I'm sorry for what I said to you ... "

But it was just a piece of paper , while the real you was buried 3 feet under the ground of that man's basement .

GRIFFIN STAGG

Griffin at first was the perfect target for bullies . Kind , non confronting , quiet , a "weak " book worm that didn't anyone either to stand up for him . With time , the same bullies got bored of him , as if they were expecting a more dramatic reaction from him , but no , he would just let it happen , and that took the " fun " of bullying him they thought

And for for many years , he would be invisible for everybody , he told himself he liked being left alone and have his privacy , but deep down , it was the acceptance to the fact that he didn't have any friends , and nobody wanted befriend him neither , not like he felt he had a lot to offer

But at least he was in peace to study , eat and read whenever he wanted to . At least he has that .

Or well , he had .

He would found his backpack on the trash can , maybe a bully confused his backpack with another poor bastard ?

But It kept happening , so that was not a confusion anymore .

Sometimes his notebooks would be all scratched all over the pages until it was full black , some manuals of his had broken pages as well His mom better not find that out

Different from the past , he tried to make it stop this time . He tried everything , changing places where he kept his things , carrying his backpack whenever he could , even changing locker combination and writing them down on a secluded notebook

But no matter what he did , how he did it and when he did it , his backpack would always have a horrible surprise waiting for Griffin to see

It was almost like some poltergeist was messing with him at this point .

He was already frustrated from so many bullshit going on , but what sent him to the edge of explosion was that the book he got from the library , " The little prince " by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry , got dipped in presumptuously dirty toilet water , a book that he needed to return or else the librarian would not allow him to take books anymore

The moment he thrown the book away back into the trash he rushed into the bathroom and cried from anger . Griffin could only ask himself , why ? Why someone wanted to ruined his life so bad ? Why after so long jerks remembered his existence ? Why or why this is happening to him ?

The next day after he had P.E he saw you taking his backpack out of the trash , and since he had so much frustration accumulated inside him , instead of rationalizing you helping him , he saw you as the persecutor of his misery , blaming you without second thought

He grabbed his backpack with disgust and anger and looked at your other arm where you held your books .... And saw the name of his recently bought book " Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury "

" Hey , that's my book , give it back ! "

You put both of your arms in front of the two of the books , the story and the big grammar manual

" What !? no ! it's mine ! I was just trying to get the backpack out of the trash ! "

He dropped his backpack harshly , he was not having it

" Cut me some slack , will ya !? I only wanted to read and do my homework like a normal person in school and you had to make my life a living hell ! The librarian lady don't trust me anymore because of you ! Give me back what it's mine !"

You tried to protect the book with your arms but Griffin with all the strength his body was grabbing your arms and trying to open them , you were really struggling to keep fighting much longer

The moment you dropped the books he took as fast as a light switch the one he was looking for , but you didn't want him to go away with your favorite book , so you both started to pull harder to get it

But the book was teared apart as you both fall into the ground , you with only the half of the cover , and he with the broken book

" Look what you've done ! You ruined another book again ! "

Frustrated at the boy's attitude you got up from the ground and went after the teacher's to call your family because " you started to feel sick " , and lucky you , they were planning on taking you out for lunch

Your family noticed that you were more quiet than usual , but you only said you were tired ... Tired of regretting to help someone and get your stuff stolen so much

Outside the restaurant , you saw trough the window a puppy that started to look around and seemed lost , you tried to tell your family about it , but you couldn't see exactly where did they go

You went outside , it was just a one sec thing .

You called the puppy and put your hand close to it so they could smell you . The puppy started to cry and move it's paws , as soon as you started to pet it they started to lick your hand , tickling your skin and making you giggle

In one sec you got outside to pet that cute little puppy , and in one sec , the bad wolf , the so called The Grabber , took you away .

Griffin wanted to kick himself when he saw the same book that he broke inside his backpack , deciding to tell his mom once for all what was going on so she could help him buy a new version of the book and give it to you

2 days later , your missing posters were all over the school path , making the boy scared of how fast this Grabber was taking kids away , making the boy sad for having two copies of the same book because he didn't checked his backpack first

Later on lunch break he found his backpack once again in the trash , hearing a group of girls giggle behind him

He wishes to go back in time to make things different , but that's something that happens on books stories only .

VANCE HOPPER

There was no doubt Pin Ball Vance Hopper was the toughest kid in school , and he knew it , proud of his status that gives him the ultimate " Don't fuck with me " power

A lot of people had tried to take his title away , many wanted to have the privilege to say they defeated him , but the more time would pass , the more feared he was , because he would win again , and again , and again .

So that being said , nobody wanted to even look at him in the wrong way , walking on eggshells whenever he's around , and that's how he likes it or how he got used to

Now tell me , if everyone in the entire school knew to stay on their fucking places , why the fuck he had his pencils stolen and broken in two ?

Now , he wouldn't wait to find out who , oh hell no , he's not gonna tolerate that shit happening

He started to ask and grab by the shirt any poor idiot that looked at him more than 2 seconds when he demanded explanations , but they would always answer the same thing

" No please , don't hurt me !" " I'm sorry , I don't want any trouble ! " Chill man , I don't know what are you talking about !" " please stop you're hurting me ! " And bla , bla , bla , bla , bla

But it didn't only stayed on messing with his pencils , no , no , no , the motherfucker started to write his locker all over with threats and a colorful variation of insults

But nobody saw who did it , nobody saw nothing , nobody sees shit when you need it , and that made Vance even more cranky than he already was

The no name no face fucker pulled up a move that nobody has dared to do before , touch his drawing notebook .

He couldn't find it anywhere , students were scared for their lives even if they didn't even knew that thing existed when he started to shout like a furious demon , teachers couldn't calm down the problematic student or make him explain calmly the situation

And then he walked out from the class , from school , without saying anything else , only coming back the very next day with a crowbar to open himself every fucking locker until he founded his notebook .

Teachers yelled at him to stop terrified , students were on a distant circle shocked about what they were watching but too nervous to stay close to Vance Hopper with a possible weapon on his hands , you being part of that confused and scared crowd

He opened 9 , 10 , 11 lockers , and no signal of the only drawing notebook that he has , number 12 .... Your locker , it busted open , and it inside had a similar looking notebook of his . He grabbed the notebook , checked the pages , and he confirmed that he got back what he was looking for

But Vance needed an answer , now .

" Whose locker is this , huh !? WHOSE FUCKING LOCKER IS THIS !? WHO STOLE MY FUCKING NOTEBOOK !?"

By your surprise , the people got away from you and kept starting at you in a way of saying " This is the owner of the locker "

He dropped the crowbar and speed walked towards you , and since you knew you wouldn't be able to defend yourself in any way, you started to run away , and so did him

You felt your feet almost slipping away , his angry breathing and foot steps sounds behind you , along with the distant sounds of the students keeping the track to see your public execution

You don't remember how exactly you did it , but you lost him , and got away hiding behind the school block's back place

Tired and with your legs and lungs burning , you lay yourself to the wall and try to compose yourself , never acknowledging that you were on the school's block , yet outside on the street

With your eyes closed and a body that had already gave everything to escape before , it was easy for the bad man to kidnap you inside his van .

The school suspended Vance for a week , nothing new he would say , but this time the police was more rougher than before the time they came for him

The majority of the people thought that the young man Hopper had something to do with your disappearing , and the police did too , but he told them the truth , and said he didn't even knew you were gone if he was on his house all day and that was .... Half true

He saw your missing posters all over the neighborhood , but he didn't care that much , he kept living his life while trying to beat his damn high score , another kid was lost in the town , so what ? He's too strong to be kidnapped anyway .

The police set him free , and he went to the Grab n' Go once again

Inside , Mrs Ellen wasn't there , and his dear pin ball machine had .... Had a crack on the glass of it !?

He looked around to see if somebody was there as well , but nobody was on the sight

If The jungle queen machine could speak , it would cry over the graffitis they made over the tigers on the sides

" Motherfuckers .... "

Two familiar boys entered inside the mall , one with straight brown long hair and other with a black curly hair and a bandage on his right arm

" Remember us dip shit ? We told you were coming for you "

The two had a pocket knife and a thirst for vengeance , vengeance that they should have kept anonymous

Angry like a wild hungry animal , he fought the two kids with his bare hands until carving once again on their arms with those tiny ass knifes whatever shit would come to his mind as if the first time wasn't enough for them

The kids ran away trying to keep the balance on their step , but failed due how fucked up their faces were and the pain on their arms

Vance sat tired on the ground with his hands covered in blood . Him seeing those two dumb shits run remembered him the last time he saw you

We really ain't nothing in this life , isn't ?

He chased you for nothing , and God knows where the fuck you are now , probably dead , never able to see the sun again

The lady of the mall screams in fear to see the blond messy hair kid like that after getting out from the washroom

" ... I would say I'm sorry if I could or if you were still alive , but that wouldn't change shit . What it's done , it's done .... "

The junior Pin Ball wizard thought as he heard moments later the police siren coming for him .

#the black phone #tbp headcanons #tbp fandom #tbp #finney blake #robin arellano #griffin stagg #bruce yamada #billy showalter #tbp vance #vance hopper #gwen blake #amy yamada

[n1ghtm4r3-p01s0n]

The Ultimate Emo/Scene Name List - WARNING: Long post, and make sure you read the trigger warnings!

Having trouble coming up with a name for yourself? Do you planning on using a part of your real name but can’t find a word to go with it? Well, worry no more!

Today, I’m here to provide as comprehensive a list as possible! I’ve scoured the internet, and some sources have some problematic suggestions. So, my goal is to break down possible names into easy to understand categories. Obviously, this will be a VERY long list, so keep that in mind. There is also a section purely made up of words used in the past that are to be used/reclaimed at one's own risk/discretion due to the words being used to oppress or belittle various minority groups. I will also be sharing my sources at the bottom for stuff I used from online, alongside any trigger warnings that may be needed. Without further ado, let’s go! Also feel free to reblog with suggestions to add!

TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the suggestions include elements of horror, violence, weaponry, gore etc.

Animals

Rex (as in T-Rex)

Stegosaurus

Wolf/Wolfe

Kitty

Bunny

Lynx

Hawk

Eagle

Moth

Spider

Raven (also applicable to pop culture - see Raven from Teen Titans and Raven Queen from Ever After High)

Claw/Clawed

Fang

Animal

Beast/Beastly

Carnivore/Carnivorous

Jurassic (as in the Jurassic Period, also applicable to pop culture (see Jurassic Park))

Snake

Chameleon

Jungle

Hyena

Cheetah

Fossil

Sabertooth

Skink

Deer

Vole

Weasel

Ferret

Moose

Ermine

Shrew

Mouse

Rat

Corvid

Magpie

Pigeon

Bee

Wasp

Butterfly

Tarantula

Velociraptor

Serpent

Viper

Cat

Rattlesnake

Cobra

Bat

Monsters

Vampire

Werewolf

Zombie

Monster/Monsta/Monstar

Ghoul

Demon

Angel/Angelic

Reaper (also applicable to foods (Reaper Pepper))

Ghost

Fallen (as in Fallen Angel)

Curse/Cursed (in reference to witchcraft)

Hex (in reference to witchcraft)

Boo (common saying associated with Halloween and cartoony ghosts)

Bone (in reference to skeletons)

Sacrificed/Sacrificial (in reference to religious rites)

Dead/Deadly/Death/Deathless

Immortal

Alien

Extraterrestrial

Anomaly/Anomalous (also applicable to pop culture, in reference to the SCP Foundation)

Damned

Eerie

Creepy

Exorcism/Exorcist

Ghastly

Imp

Succubus/Succubi

Incubus/Incubi

Undead

Abominable

Devil

Supernatural (also applicable to pop culture, reference to Supernatural TV show)

Paranormal

Sacred/Sacrament

Specter/Spectre

Banshee

Poltergeist

Siren (also applicable to music, see Sleeping with Sirens)

Dragon

Dragon Slayer

Kraken

Archangel

Starship

Halloween

Dragon Slayer

Angelface

Mermaid

Pop Culture

Jigsaw (as in Jigsaw from the Saw franchise)

Ghostface (from the Scream franchise)

Krueger (as in Freddy Krueger from Nightmare on Elm Street)

Myers (as in Michael Myers from the Halloween franchise)

Voorhees (as in Jason Voorhees from the Friday the 13th franchise)

Chucky (as in Chucky from Child’s Play)

Lala (nickname for Draculaura from Monster High)

Hyde (as in Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde)

Lestrange (as in character who shall not be named from franchise by TERF author that shall not be named)

Lockhart (another character from the franchise mentioned above)

Coraline (as in Coraline by Neil Gaiman)

Jinx/Jynx (League of Legends character)

Blitz (Helluva Boss character)

Loona (K-Pop group, Helluva Boss character)

Shadow (as in Shadow the Hedgehog)

Killer/Killa/Kyller (as in Jeff the Killer)

Grim/Grimm (as in Grim Reaper and the Brothers Grimm)

Eldritch (as in Eldritch Horror)

Eevee (from Pokemon; you can use any Pokemon you like)

Hellraiser (as in the film by Clive Barker)

Jabber (as in Jabberwocky from Alice in Wonderland)

Wonderland (as in Alice in Wonderland)

Jedi (from Star Wars)

Necronomicon (Evil Dead franchise)

Avenger (in reference to MARVEL's The Avengers)

Scourge (see Warrior Cats and Sonic Comics character)

Zelda (from Legend of Zelda)

Skellington (as in Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas)

Phantomhive (as in Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler)

HelloKitty (Sanrio character)

Akira (anime film of the same name)

Memetic (term used by the SCP Foundation)

Blackheart (as in the Ghost Rider villain)

Colours/Shades

Crimson (Red)

Black

Neon

Rouge (also applicable to pop culture)

Ruby

Violet

Indigo

Cyan

Blue

Rainbow/Rainbows

Porcelain

Green/Greene

Weapons/Violence/Semi-NSFW

Blade

Razor

Knucklebuster

Uppercut

Scar (also applicable to pop culture, Lion King character,)

Eyeball (body part)

Torture/Tortured/Torturous

Torment/Tormented

Fatal/Fatality (also applicable to pop culture, Mortal Kombat)

Brutal/Br00tal/Brutality/Brutally

Berserk/Berserker (also applicable to pop culture, see the anime 'Berserker')

Chainsaw

Hacksaw

Bear Trap

Grenade

Bomb/Pipebomb/Timebomb

Dynamite

Acid/Acidic

Heroin

Marijuana/Mary-Jane

Cannabis

Alcohol/Alcoholic

Booze

Vodka

Brandy

Whiskey

Blood/Bloody/Bloodied

Flesh

Gore/Guro

Raw

Casualty

Crackhead

DrugAddict

Erotic/Ero/Erotica

Explosive

Execute/Execution/Executor

Beheaded

Decapitation/Decapitated

Flailing

Gutting

Handgun

Hangman

Homicide

Hostage

Hurt (also applicable to emotions)

Pain/Pained/Painful (also applicable to emotions)

Jackknife

Laceration/Lacerations

Attack

Murder/Murderous/Murderotic

Massacre

Assassin/Assassination

Regicide

Cannibal/Cannibalism

Cyanide

Pothead

Suffocate/Suffocation

Steroid

Puncture

Violence/Violent

Wound/Wounded

Bruise/Bruised

Serrated

Gruesome

Autopsy

Asphyxia/Asphyxiation

Curbstomp

Assault

Battery (also applicable to technology)

Annihilation

Addict/Addicted/Addiction/Addictive

Arson/Arsonist

Ambush

Crucifixion/Crusifixion

Tequila

Beatdown

Throwdown

Arsenic

Collision

Manslaughter

Bite/Bites

Plants

Belladonna

Nightshade

Wolfsbane

Rose

Lily

Sakura

Toadstool

Thorn (also applicable to pop culture, see Thorn of the Hex Girls from Scooby Doo)

Hazel

Foods

Cupcake/Kupcake/Cuppycake/Kuppycake

Strawberry

Lollipop

Candy

Cocoa/Kokoa (alternatively; Coco/Koko)

Chilli

Cheyenne (as in Cheyenne Pepper)

Cookie

Pumpkin

Jawbreaker

Jerky

Juicebox

Caffeine/Caffeinated

Treat

Macha

Skittles/Skittlez

Ambrosia (also applicable to mythology (food of the Greek gods))

Smoothiecake

Smoothie

Teacup

Slushie

Coffee

Sugar/Sugarrush

Space

Luna

Stellar/Stella (also applicable to pop culture, Helluva Boss character)

Nova

Mars

Pluto (also applicable to mythology, Roman counterpart to Hades)

Galaxy

Meteor/Meteorite

Nebula

Stardust

Star

Mythology

Persephone (Greek Goddess)

Hel (Norse Goddess)

Fenrir (Norse God)

Thanatos (Greek God)

Baba/Yaga (Slavic folklore character)

Artemis (Greek Goddess)

Freyja (Norse Goddess)

Cerberus (Greek Creature)

Hades (Greek God)

Loki (Norse God)

Medusa (Greek folklore character, can also reference the piercing)

Satan (Ars Goetia demon)

Beelzebub (Ars Goetia demon)

Athena (Greek Goddess)

Lucifer (Ars Goetia demon, Bible figure)

Technology

Error

Hack/Hacker

Analog

Digital

Malware

Virus

Corruption/Corrupted

Java

Machine

Mechanical

.exe (or similar file extensions, such as .sai, .txt, .rar, .szs, .psd etc)

Robo/Robot/Bot

Animatronic

Electronic (also applicable to music)

Automaton

Automatic

Systematic

Syntax

Emotions

Heartbroken

Heartless

Depressed

Lonely/Loneliness

Hopeless

Helpless

Ache

Envy/Envious/Envied

Hatred

Jealous/Jealousy

Lust/Lustrous

Shock/Shocked/Shocking

Panic/Panicked/Panicking (also applicable to music, see Panic! At The Disco)

Cowardly (also applicable to pop culture, Courage the Cowardly Dog)

Rage/Raging

Scared

Confusion/Confused

Wrath/Wrathful

Minerals/Crystals/Metals

Onyx

Amethyst

Obsidian

Titanium

Steel

Sulphur

Mercury (also applicable to mythology)

Uranium

Garnet

Pearl

Topaz

Quartz

Iron

Silver

Jewel

Gem

Crystal/Krystal

Diamond

Amber

Azure (also applicable to colours/shades)

Elements/Natural Phenomena

Blaze

Fire/Fiery

Flame

Hellfire

Ember

Poison

Venom (also applicable to pop culture, Spider-Man character)

Drowned/Drowning (also applicable to pop culture (Minecraft mob) and weapons/violence)

Hurricane

Typhoon

Tsunami

Earthquake

Tornado

Storm

Thunder/Thunderstorm

Blizzard

Dust Devil

Toxic

Volcano

Eruption/Erupted

Electric

Spark

Frozen

Hail

Ignite/Ignition

Lightning

Magma

Night

Sunset

Twilight

Aurora (as in Aurora Borealis, can also be applied to music if you wanna reference the singer AURORA)

Inferno

Frost/Frosty

Music

Metalhead

Melody

Megalovania (song from Undertale)

Brightside (song by the Killers)

Hatsune/Miku (in reference to Hatsune Miku)

VOCALOID

Synthesizer

Orchestra

Symphony

Rave/Raver

Rock

Anthrax (also applicable to 'Use at Own Risk')

Bring _ The Horizon/_ Brings The Horizon (reference to Bring Me The Horizon)

_ Eat World (reference to Jimmy Eat World)

Jitterbug (phrase used in 'Wake Me Up Before You Go Go' by Wham and title of Hachiya Nanashi VOCALOID track)

Jitterdoll (niki VOCALOID track)

Serenade

Breakdown (also applicable to 'Use At Own Risk')

USE AT OWN RISK

These are names that have been used in the past BUT often rely on oppressive stereotypes involving women, mental illness/disorders, LGBTQIA+ people, Indigenous people and so on. Some of these are also just straight up mental/medical conditions and medications. I would advise only picking one of these if it is a term you wish to reclaim for yourself. Do so at your own risk.

Insane/Insanity

Delirious

Demented

Psychotic/Psychosis/Psychopath

Nuclear

Bitch

Whore

Crazy

Hallucinate/Hallucination

Haywire

Suicide/Suicidal (also applicable to pop culture - see Suicidal Sadie CreepyPasta)

Mania/Manic

Maniac/Maniacal

Paranoia/Paranoid

Savage

Mad

Fag/Faggot (only reclaim if you are LGBTQIA+)

Mental

Xanax/Xamax

Schizophrenia/Schizophrenic

Dementia

Genocide (added to here and not to 'weaponry/violence/semi-NSFW' due to the current genocides happening in the world)

Warfare (added here for the same reason as above)

Asylum

Amphetamine

Hooker

Neurotic

MISC IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

A

Accidental

Axis

Ambitious

Amazing

Apocalypse/Apocalyptic/Apokalypsis

Abyss

Abdomen

Amor/Amore

Ambition

Apparel

Atomic/Attomick/Attomik

Atrophy

Alluring

Asshole/Asswhole

Abrasive

Atelophobia

Arachnophobia

Abstract

Adorable

Anonymous

Audacious

Antorcha (Spanish for 'torch')

Avenge

B

Baby

Bang

Blah

Boom

Brigade

Bombard/Bombardment

Blast

Biohazard/Biohazardous

Beauty/Beautiful/Beau

Bow

Bottom Jeans

Barbie

Babycake

Babydoll

Break/Breaks

Brave

Bacteria

Bandaid/Bandage

Blackout

Bittersweet (also applicable to foods and emotions)

Barbaric

C

Catastrophe/Catastrophic

Claustrophobia/Claustrophobic

Crash

Chaos

CreepyPasta

Crunch/Crunchy

Chuunibyou

Coward

Chick (also applicable to animals)

Carnage (also applicable to pop culture, see Spider-Man villain)

Chaosbaby

D

Daring (also applicable to pop culture)

Devious

Darling

Disaster

Daydreaming

Destruction

Doll/Dolly

Decay/Decayed/Decaying

Dark/Darkened

Deceit/Deceitful

Daily

Dial

Deutschland

Danger

Destroy

Discord

E

Ecstatic

Ecstasy

Emergency

Extreme

Echo

Exposure

Enchanted

Endanger

Enigma/Enigmatic

Epidemic

Endemic

Egotistic/Egotistical

Entropy

EatsZombies

F

Frightful

Foul

Foe

Futile

Flash

Flicker

Feeble

Funeral/Funerary

Forsaken/Forsakened

G

Girly

Gab

Gangster

Glitter

Gorgeous/Goregeous

Gluttony

H

Havoc

Hazard

Heartbreaker

Heist

Hiatus

Hoax

Hyper

Heart

Horizon

Hollywood

I

Impolite

Immature

Ill

Iris

Infection/Infected

J

J'Adore (also applicable to pop culture, see Jade J'Adore from Bratzillaz)

Jailbait

Jaundice

Jaywalk

Jeopardy

Jingle

Jive

Joint

Jubilate/Jubilee

Junction

Juxtapose

K

Katastrophe/Katastrophic

Krunch/Krunchy

Kawaii

King

Kitching/Keching

Killjoy (also applicable to music, see My Chemical Romance)

L

Lush

Loathe

Lovely

Lucky

Legendary

Light (also applicable to pop culture, Light Yagami)

Luz (also applicable to pop culture, Luz Noceda)

Love/Luve/Luv

Leper/Leperacy

Litterbug

M

Macabre

Macroscopic

Mafia

Magnetic

Malady

Malice

Mutiny

Malediction

Marauder (also applicable to pop culture - won't say the name but you know what franchise this was popularised in)

Medical

Membrane

Mesmerize

Metallic

Mortician/Mortuary/Morticia (last one applicable to pop culture, in reference to Morticia Addams)

Mortified

Mystery

Myth

Mayday (also applicable to popculture, see Mayday from No Straight Roads and the Helluva Boss character Verosika Mayday)

Malevolent/Malevolence

Millionaire

McCrackin

Monstrawrface

Miracle/Miraculous (also applicable to pop culture, see Miraculous Ladybug)

Morgue

N

Ninja

Notorious

Nocturnal/Nokturnal

Naughty

Nasty

Nihilist/Nihilistic/Nihilism

Nightmare

Necro

Necromancer/Necromancy

Necrotising (in reference to Necrotising Fasciitis)

Nefarious

Neuron

Nerd/Nerdified

O

Overdrive

Original

Outcast

Odd

Obscure

Obsolete

Obsession

Oblivion

P

Prince/Princess

Punk

Plastic

Parable (also applicable to pop culture, see The Stanley Parable)

Pandemic

Pirate

Q

Queen/Queenie

Queer

Quack

R

Random

Revenge

Reckless

Royal

Riot

Rebel

Rude

Rawr

Rad

Rotten

Ravenous

Ruthless

S

Sabotage

Scary

Silly

Sadist/Sadistic

Sahara

Salivate

Spectacular

Synthetic

Supercharged

Surrender

Stethoscope

Sublime

Sterile

Stealthy

Spinal

Spiffy

Sinister

Scoundrel

Scandal

Shell

Scene

Spookbat

T

Tears

Tragic/Tragedy

Terror

Trick/Trickster

Temptation

Terrible

Twisted

Trash

Tenacity

Trauma/Traumatised

Temptress

Tuberculosis

U

Unusual

Ultimate

Usurper

Urban

V

V.I.P

Vendetta (also applicable to pop culture, see V for Vendetta)

Velicious

Victorious/Victory

Vandal/Vandalism

Vain/Vanity

Vile

Vortex (also applicable to pop culture, Helluva Boss)

Void

Vengeance/Vengeful

Valentine/Valentines

W

Wacky/Whacky

Wicked

Wonder/Wonderful

Wise/Wisdom

Wreckless

X

Xtreme/X-treme

Xx/xX

XoXo/XOXO/X0X0

X-ray

Y

Young

Z

ZigZag

Zero (also applicable to pop culture, see Nightmare Before Christmas character)

SOURCES

http://esgbeauty.blogspot.com/p/scene-names-directory.html?m=1 (TRIGGER WARNING: site listed actual genocides as name suggestions (e.g. Holocaust) or elements related to genocides/wars (e.g. Kamikaze) - view at your own discretion. For this list, I opted to remove these suggestions as I think these are remnants of the edgy humour of the 2000s that is best being left behind.)

Some of these suggestions came from my friends and members in Scem0 K1dz (Discord server).

https://thescenebible.blogspot.com/2021/10/blog-post.html?m=1 (Currently working on slowly adding anything from here.) TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of names involve mental disorders, medical conditions and medications. I will be including some of these, mostly in the 'Use At Your Own Risk' section.

#long post #very long post #for reference #resource #resources #emo #scene #scemo #scenemo #2000s emo #2000s scene #emocore #scenecore #emo kid #scene kid #rawring 20s #rawring twenties #emo revival #emo renaissance #scene revival #scene renaissance #emo king #emo queen #scene king #scene queen #emo boy #emo girl #scene boy #scene girl

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 2: The Distance]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, discussions of sex, discussions of drugs, discussions of murder, very indecent discussions in general, alcoholism, incompetent flirting, taxidermy, Taco Bell.

Word count: 5.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @meadowofsinfulthoughts @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove​ @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​

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The answering machine beeps. ��Bitch, pick up,” Heather says through the speaker. And then: “Bitch!!! Pick up!!!”

You dive for the phone on the kitchen counter. Your dad gets there first.

“Hey, Heather!” he booms cheerfully. He takes a bite of a gooey chocolate chip cookie and swipes crumbs from his beard with the back of his hand. Your mom, smiling and sly, sips her Earl Grey tea at the dining room table. “Yes, yes, well I am loath to remind you that I live here too. Uh huh. Okay. Did you want to speak to my daughter? Or were you secretly hoping to get me? I could tell you about my riveting mailbox renovation project. There’s also a cow moose that’s been coming around recently, she’s a princess, I got a big ol’ salt lick and put it out in the backyard for her. No, Heather, no, a cow moose is just a female moose. It’s not a new species or anything. Lord have mercy. Okay, here’s ladybug.”

He passes you the phone. You pretend to glower at him, not very convincingly. “Hi, Heather,” you say.

“I am mortified.”

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it. He was in the Marines, he’s probably heard worse.”

Your dad bellows: “I sure fucking have!” Then he guffaws in a baritone rumble as he meanders over to the table, polishing off his cookie. Your mom chuckles and shakes her head as she flips a page in the latest issue of Alaska magazine. There’s a salmon on the front cover. No points for originality.

“Anyway,” you tell Heather. “What’s up?”

“Are you finally going to go tonight?”

“Go where?”

You can hear the hopeful, baiting smile in her voice. “Ursa Minor.”

The bar. The bar Aegon asked me about. He came by the clinic yesterday afternoon to pick up Sunfyre and the Nova, that’s what Jen said; a work friend dropped him off and he dashed inside and left just as quickly. You had been busy in the exam room vaccinating Ms. Finnegan’s Saint Bernard—no Cujos allowed in your neighborhood—and thoroughly unavailable to socialize. Still, he hadn’t bothered to wait around to say hello. This bothers you. This bothers you a lot more than you wish it did. He doesn’t care about me, he doesn’t remember me, he’s too busy being a serial killer to talk to me, the possibilities are truly endless. You twirl the mint green phone cord around your fingers. “Umm…”

“You have to go,” Heather begs. “Everyone’s going to be there. Joyce, Kimmie, our whole clique from high school. And Trent! And Trent’s hot friends! He really wants to buy you a drink. Like really, really wants to buy you a drink. He’s been asking about you constantly since you moved back home. It’s pathetic, actually. Take pity on him. Let him spend his whole paycheck on your Bacardi Breezers, and then if you’re still not interested you can ignore him to your heart’s content. I wouldn’t blame you. I know he’s a dumbass.”

Trent. Heather’s brother is two years older than you and a peripheral figure of your life—like a comet that clips by Earth every few decades—for as long as you can remember. He even called a few times when you were at Colorado State for vet school. He’s tall and popular and buoyant, a long-haired former quarterback who took your high school to the state championships and still holds semi-legendary status in Juneau. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him, nothing at all…except that Heather’s right. He’s kind of a dumbass. You don’t feel any particularly ardent yearning to see Trent, no gnawing curiosity. But if Aegon might be at Ursa Minor… “I do love Bacardi Breezers.”

“Yes, I remember,” Heather says, her words warm with the memories: her bedroom floor at 2 a.m. surrounded by Just Seventeen magazines and nail polish bottles, picnics on the summertime shores of Dredge Lake, your parents’ backyard on early-autumn nights illuminated only by the crackling firepit. She’s a thread woven through your life like a vein through flesh.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“Booyah!” she hollers through the phone. “8:00?”

“8:00.”

“Wear something slutty.” And then Heather hangs up.

~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t wear something slutty. You wear a very uneventful chunky teal sweater. Aegon is dressed in a black crewneck sweatshirt, cuffed jeans, and Doc Martens combat boots. He’s sitting at the bar when you walk in, the bells on the back of the door jingling. Ursa Minor is drowning in an ocean of multicolored lights, tinsel, garlands, tiny ceramic Santas, at minimum three medium-sized Christmas trees; Dale must have gotten into the holiday spirit early this year. The taxidermy deer heads on the wall have ornaments suspended from their antlers. The whole place smells like pine and peppermint. Shania Twain’s Any Man Of Mine is piping from the stereo. You and Aegon exchange a microsecond glance as you hang your parka on the coatrack—there’s a girl perched on the barstool beside him, you recognize her from around town but can’t recall her name—and then you cross the room to join Heather in her booth.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she sighs defeatedly upon seeing your apparel. Heather is wearing low-rise jeans, a chainmail halter top, and no bra. She has arranged her hair with numerous butterfly clips.

“Wow, you’re basically JLo!”

“Wow, you’re basically retired.” She sips her Sex On The Beach and shoves an ice-cold glass bottle towards you, dewy with condensation and conveniently already opened. “I ordered you a Bacardi Breezer. I had to take a guess on which flavor you’d be in the mood for, I know it changes several times per minute. Is coconut okay?”

“Coconut is awesome.” You start chugging. You steal a glimpse of Aegon and his…friend? Girlfriend? Date? Booty call? Fiancé? Wife? She’s chatting away obliviously. He’s nursing a rum and Coke and staring at you with his bleary, black-ringed eyes. “How’s it going, Joyce?”

Joyce is nestled in the far corner of the booth and engrossed in a fantasy novel. There’s some hunk riding a horse on the front cover. “Hey,” she says without looking up. She flips a page.

“Do you want anything?” Heather asks her.

“Yeah, a lobotomy.”

You say to Heather, smiling: “If I’m retired, what’s Joyce?”

“Dead,” Heather replies. All three of you laugh. Then Heather props her elbows on the table and tinkers with her rhinestone choker so it can catch the Christmas lights, glittering and casting scintillations. “You like my new bling?”

“Oh yeah, it’s super, it’s off the chain.” You half-listen to her lament the lack of shopping options in Juneau—Ketchikan has a Walmart now, apparently, but that’s nineteen hours away—while conducting covert reconnaissance on Aegon and his unspecified companion. It is genuinely baffling that you care this much, but that doesn’t make you care less.

“Um, hello? Hellooooo? Earth to grandma? What the hell are you staring at…?” Heather twists around to see Aegon at the bar, very sloshed and very obviously still watching you. “Him?!”

“Do you know him?”

“I know of him. He works on the same boat as Trent. I’ve never really talked to him. But I’ve heard plenty of things. Very…intriguing things. Titillating things.”

“What have you heard?”

“The bottom line?” Heather grins, conspiratorial. “He’s a mattress.”

“A mattress…?”

“Good for sleeping on and not much else.”

This bothers you, it sends hot blood to your face and your stomach into freefall, though if asked you wouldn’t be able to articulate why. Heather notices and backpedals rapidly.

“I mean, he’s cute, I guess. If you’re into guys who look like they live in a dumpster and have scurvy. He sort of reminds me of Kurt Cobain…except I think the hair is real.” She gasps. “He could give you little Kurt Cobain babies! Cobainbies!”

“I don’t want his Cobainbies.” You down the rest of your Bacardi Breezer.

“You are kind of acting like you want his Cobainbies.”

Aegon says something to the girl beside him. You gaze at him morosely. “He’s a drunk.”

“Great, Alaska has one of the highest rates of alcoholism in the nation, he’ll fit right in.”

“He’s not staying.”

“Just because it won’t be a long time doesn’t mean it can’t be a good time.” Heather wiggles her thinly-tweezed eyebrows, then observes your lack of amusement. “Alright, forget it. I’ll shut up. I wouldn’t be your best friend if I wasn’t trying to help you get laid, you know.”

“Go help Joyce get laid.”

“I’d have better luck with Pope John Paul II.”

“Go help Kimmie get laid.”

“Kimmie’s probably getting laid right now.”

As if a demon summoned by a Ouija board, Kimberly Barbieri gusts into the bar. Every friend group has a Kimmie. She is dramatic and irritating and captivating, she is effortlessly carnal, she is forever regaling you with the volatile ebbs and flows of her love life and enlisting you in her schemes: who to ensnare, who to shun. The rest of you are the supporting cast of characters and have been essentially since kindergarten. You all pity her and yet are viciously envious of her.

“Ugh!” she huffs as she throws her Kate Spade bag down on the table. You, Heather, and Joyce peer up at her with anticipatory smiles. The main character has suffered a new development. Aegon tosses Kimmie a casual appraisal and then turns back to his rum and Coke.

“Yes?” Heather prompts.

“I’m so done with Brad. I mean, I’m really done with him this time. Our three month anniversary? And he takes me to Taco Bell? Taco Bell?!”

“As if!” Heather offers, urging her along.

“As if!” Kimmie echoes in vehement agreement.

“Was Brad aware of the aforementioned anniversary?” Joyce says.

“He should have been!”

“I love Taco Bell,” you say, purposefully incendiary. Heather winks at you. This is the game you’ve played since before you could spell your own names.

“Really?” Kimmie has one hand on her hip, the other gesturing erratically through the air. “You’d be happy if your boyfriend of three long months took you to Taco Bell? You’d be real fucking psyched about that? You’d be planning the goddamn destination wedding in Barbados?”

“Oh yeah.” You are stone-faced; you are the best at feigning earnestness. Joyce is biting back giggles from behind her book. “I would do some very unwholesome things to a man who bought me Cinnamon Twists.”

“Are you on drugs?” Kimmie says. “Are you smoking crack? Are you huffing paint? Have you turned into that kid with the LSD stickers that they warned us about in high school?”

You reply, deadly serious: “I’m just a slut for Cinnamon Twists.”

“I can’t talk to you right now. I need a beer.” And that’s something else that guys unfailingly love about Kimmie: she drinks beer. She flees to the bar.

Heather’s smile dies as her eyes drift to Aegon. She sips her Sex On The Beach meditatively. She asks you, her voice low: “You think he’s the Ice Fisher?”

“No,” you say immediately.

“Oh come on, he showed up right before the murders started happening, that’s a coincidence that bears discussion.”

“It’s not him.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

You scramble for an explanation. “He’s not big enough,” you decide. “The Ice Fisher is someone who can throw a dead body over one shoulder and lug it for miles through the wilderness.” And that’s probably accurate, but it’s not the real reason you don’t think Aegon is a killer. You couldn’t put the real reason into words if you had years to work on it. At the bar, Kimmie is shamelessly flirting with Dale, who is your parents’ age and closely resembles Robin Williams when he was first rescued from Jumanji. Aegon imparts some final words to his companion and she leaves him, not entirely thrilled.

“How did you two ever cross paths?” Heather asks, mystified.

“He has a dog.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense.”

“Why is it so unbelievable that we might have bumped into each other once or twice in this oh-so-charming, close-knit little haven of a community?”

“Well,” Heather says. “Because you’re so freakishly smart and successful and mature and responsible, and he’s…” She smirks. “Definitely not any of that.”

You glance over at Aegon. He glances back. You both look away. “He’s not so bad.”

“You should go talk to him.”

“Is Kimmie somehow not enough entertainment for you?”

“Dayum, he’s watching you again,” Heather marvels. “You should definitely go talk to him. You know, if you’re totally sure he’s not a serial killer.”

“Should I really?”

“Yes.”

You consult with Joyce. “Should I really?”

Joyce speaks without halting her reading. “Yes.”

You look at Aegon. He gives you a teasing little half-smile. Are you gonna? That smile says. And as Kimmie is coming back from the bar, you go up to sit two stools away from Aegon.

“Dale, can I get an appletini?”

“Appletini?” Dale’s brow wrinkles with confusion. You may not be a frequent Ursa Minor attendee, but you know Dale reasonably well. He’s a casual friend of your parents and a familiar face at holiday parties, town events, and trips to the grocery store and post office. “No offence, ladybug, but what the hell is that?”

“An appletini,” you repeat, crushed. “I saw it on tv. It’s a new cocktail, it’s this neat bright green color, they have it in New York…and Los Angeles…and…and…”

“Do you know how they make it in New York and Los Angeles?” Dale asks.

“No,” you admit sadly.

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Forget it. Just get me a mango Bacardi Breezer.”

“That I can do,” he says chipperly, pops the cap off, and slides the bottle across the bar to you. You take a swig.

Aegon chuckles. “Embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing?” you fling back, smiling despite yourself.

“Your drink of choice is a Bacardi Breezer, that’s really fucking embarrassing.”

“I like all the tropical flavors! It makes me feel like…” You close your eyes, momentarily dreamy. “Like I’m on a beach somewhere. Like I’m in some gorgeous, warm, exotic place.”

Aegon finishes his rum and Coke and spins the empty glass absentmindedly with one hand. Dale fixes him a new one. “Where’s your favorite beach? Besides that one.” He points towards the harbor. “That one doesn’t count. Nothing in Alaska counts.”

“Then I’ve never been to a real beach,” you confess.

“What!” Aegon gapes at you. “Never?!”

“Never. Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ.” He blinks dazedly and drinks his rum and Coke. He is profoundly, unmistakably drunk.

“Did you drive here?” you ask.

“Nah. I walked.”

“Stumbled, you mean.”

He grins, showing his teeth. “I crawled, like the rat that I am.”

“Maybe you should try being sober sometime.”

“I don’t do well when I’m sober.”

“You work like this?”

He shakes his head. “Just enough to take the edge off. I can’t lose my job. Then I’d be in real trouble.”

“Have you always been a…?” What’s a diplomatic word for alcoholic? Before you can make an attempt, Aegon understands what you mean.

“Since I was fifteen, yeah. More or less.” He shrugs and stirs his drink with the little plastic toothpick with a maraschino cherry speared on it; the ice cubes clink in the glass. He bites into the cherry and slides it off the toothpick with his teeth, chews it, swallows, licks the glistening red juice from his lips. “I’ve been better than I am now. I’ve been worse.”

“How much worse?”

“Why would you want to know that?”

I want to know everything about you. “No reason.”

He evades you. “How’s the mailbox?”

“Mid-renovation. My dad is making a new one that looks like a moose.”

“That’s cool of him.”

“He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“You like your parents,” Aegon says, as if this is something curious, noteworthy. “You get along with them.”

“Yeah.” You pause before continuing, not knowing what he’ll think of it. “I still live with them, actually.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Well, I mean, it makes sense for now, because I just moved back to Juneau over the summer, and their house is right next to the vet clinic, and my dad’s always there when I need advice, and I’m the only child and they’re sort of really attached to me and maybe I’ll start looking for my own place soon but I just figured that in the meantime—”

“Hey, Appletini,” Aegon interrupts, smiling. “I think it’s awesome that you like your parents.”

“Really?” you say, hopeful.

“Really.” He drains his rum and Coke. Dale hesitates; he doesn’t make another until Aegon thumps his empty glass against the counter, wordlessly demanding one. “Why didn’t you take some time off to travel after you finished vet school? California is just a quick plane hop from Colorado. You could have spent a week or two in one of those gorgeous, warm, exotic places you’re so enamored with.”

“I thought about it…but the scheduling didn’t work out. My dad was retiring from the clinic, I was taking over for him, it was more important for me to be here.”

Aegon seems to find this incredibly entertaining, like there’s some joke you aren’t in on. “You took over your dad’s business.”

“Yes, I did.”

He nods, strangely wise, his blue eyes on you. “And you’re kind of happy about that, but you’re kind of stuck too.”

Goddamn, isn’t that the truth. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.”

You study him. His white-blond hair is tucked behind his ears, except for that one undomesticated lock that always seems to escape to rest on his cheek. His eyes are hazy and swimming yet intelligent, almost cunning. He’s staring right back. He’s studying you too. He’s beautiful, you think. He’s sad and funny and magnificent and ruined all at once. How is that possible?

“What were you gossiping about with your friends over there?” he asks, flicking his thumb towards the booth where Heather, Kimmie, and Joyce are currently gawking at you.

Sex, love, drugs, whether you’re a serial killer. “Taco Bell,” you reply.

The front door flies open and a boisterous gaggle of young men flood into Ursa Minor: flannel, cologne, cigarette smoke, heavy thuds of work boots. You recognize most of them. There’s Matt, and Rob, and Gary…and Trent. He spots you and beelines for the bar.

“Hey!” Trent greets you enthusiastically, flipping his lustrous hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head like a horse. Then he addresses Aegon. “Sup, bro?”

“Sup.” They bump fists. Aegon nearly misses.

“Congratulations on finishing vet school,” Trent says to you, beaming a bit too dazzlingly. “I don’t think I’ve really seen you since you got back. How are things? How are your folks?”

“Things are good. My parents are good. Everything’s good.”

“Good!”

“Totally.”

There is an awkward silence. An increasingly awkward silence. Trent is not deterred. “Can I buy you a drink or something? A Bacardi Breezer, perhaps?” His gaze drops to your nearly-empty bottle. “Um, another Bacardi Breezer, perhaps?”

“So Heather has been disclosing all my secrets.”

“I’m sure you still have some,” Trent replies, flirtatious. Aegon’s eyes widen as he gnaws on his plastic toothpick.

“That’s a tempting offer,” you say. “But I’m stopping myself at two drinks tonight. It is a Wednesday, after all.”

“Yeah, a Wednesday,” Aegon agrees, slurring. “What kind of loser gets wasted on a Wednesday?” Then he bursts out laughing and almost falls off his barstool.

“Definitely another time though,” you tell Trent. Like when pigs fly.

“Oh, okay, yeah. Sounds good. See you around.” And Trent, former football star extraordinaire, saunters off to join his friends at the pool table. There’s a massive bull moose head mounted on the wall right above it; it’s adorned with a red Santa hat. That Don’t Impress Me Much plays from the stereo.

Aegon leans over the counter. “Hey, Dale, would you happen to have anything that’s not Shania Twain? Please and thank you.” Dale grunts, then reaches beneath the bar to get his 6-inch-thick binder of CDs. He scans through the transparent plastic pages and eventually makes a selection. CDs, not cassettes. Very high-tech.

“So you go wherever you want to,” you say to Aegon. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Just about, yeah.”

You gulp down the last of your Bacardi Breezer. And next comes your theory: “But you never stay longer than six months.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Exactly.”

“What happens if you stay in the same place for more than six months?”

“My ghosts start catching up with me. One ghost in particular.”

“Is that a metaphor, or…?”

“Oh, I love this song!” Aegon shouts, slapping his palm on the bar and then lurching out of his seat. You listen: it’s The Distance by Cake. He sings along loudly, out of tune. “The green light flashes, the flags go up, churning and burning, they yearn for the cup—”

“This song?! The NASCAR song?!”

“It’s not about NASCAR, it’s about a journey!” His hands reach for you but stop short. They hover in the space between you, open and inviting. “Sing it with me, come on. As they speed through the finish, the flags go down, the fans get up and they get out of town.” He holds up an index finger. “The arena is empty except for one man, still driving and striving as fast as he can. Let’s go, Appletini, sing it!”

“No way, not happening.” But the ice of your face has thawed and melted into a massive, flush-cheeked grin. People are staring as he staggers around the floor: your friends from their booth, his friends from the pool table, Dale from behind the bar, the assorted middle-aged locals from their tables cluttered with Budweisers and bar snacks: peanuts, pretzels, Chex Mix, mini bags of Utz chips.

“The sun has gone down and the moon has come up, and long ago somebody left with the cup, but he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns, and thinking of someone for whom he still burns.” Aegon claps his hands. “Sing it, sing it, sing it!”

You leap off your barstool and join him on the floor. “Yes!” Aegon cheers, pumping his fist in the air. Heather, Kimmie, and Joyce are shellshocked, their mouths hanging open. Who says you can’t be the fun, spontaneous friend on occasion?

You and Aegon sing together, stomping clumsily around the floor: “He’s going the distance, he’s going for speed, she’s all alone—”

“All alone!” Aegon adds, cupping his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn.

“—All alone in her time of need, because he’s racing and pacing and plotting the course, he’s fighting and biting and riding on his horse, he’s going the distance…”

You use your empty Bacardi Breezer bottle as a microphone. Aegon plays air guitar oddly realistically, his fingers scaling an imaginary fretboard. You are reminded of his jade green electric guitar, pummeled and unused and slumbering in his dreary apartment. He stays near you but never touches you, never even tries to. His hair shags over his eyes. His cheeks are pink, gleaming, healthy-looking. The song ends and you stand there together in the sudden quiet, still breathing heavily, your eyes on each other, planning out which places you would touch first if such a thing was in the cards.

At last, Aegon speaks. “You want to go to Taco Bell with me?”

“What, right now?”

“Yeah. Right now.”

“Okay.” After two Bacardi Breezers, you’re probably alright to drive, but you are not in the business of taking chances. Fortunately, there is another option. Juneau’s only Taco Bell is just a few blocks from Ursa Minor; you can easily walk there, and you’ll certainly be fine to drive after a half hour and some food. You fetch your parka off the coatrack. “Where’s your coat?” you ask Aegon.

“Captain Morgan keeps me warm.”

“You are unbelievable.” You leave him momentarily to say goodbye to your friends. They sit in the booth gazing up at you with stunned wonder. “I’m going to Taco Bell with Aegon. I probably won’t be back. I’ll drive him home afterwards.”

“Aegon…?!” Kimmie exclaims.

“It’s Greek.”

“Uh. Okay.” Heather’s words are halting. “Um…have fun, I guess? Use a condom. Be safe.”

“Yeah, don’t get murdered,” Joyce says.

“I don’t think he has the requisite hand-eye coordination for strangulation at the moment. But thanks for your concern.”

You pay your tab, collect Aegon from the bar—he’s guzzling down one last rum and Coke, wiping escaped drops from his chin with his knuckles—and walk with him under dim streetlights and infinitesimal stars to the glaringly florescent, green-red-yellow beacon of the Taco Bell. Aegon insists on paying. His bills are rumpled and stained. Five minutes later, you’re sitting in an otherwise empty dining room doling out menu items like Christmas gifts, the labeled wrappers crinkling: a Mexican pizza and tacos for Aegon, a Gordita and Cinnamon Twists for you, a Nachos Supreme to share, two large Mountain Dews.

“What’s your favorite beach?” you ask him as you eat.

“San Diego,” Aegon replies, drowning his Mexican pizza in hot sauce. “Sapphire water, golden sand, cliffs you can climb all over, sea lions everywhere. They’re adorable, they bark like dogs. But they’ll attack humans. Trust me, I know.” He sucks hot sauce noisily from his fingers.

You consider him, crunching on Cinnamon Twists. “So this is what you do. You get a girl in every city and leave as soon as you’re bored with her.”

He is amused, mischievous. “Are you applying to be my Juneau girl?”

“No. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re half-right.”

“Which half?”

“The girls don’t usually last six months.”

“So more like two girls. Or five, or ten.”

Aegon smiles and says nothing. He shoves a loaded nacho chip into his mouth, never taking his eyes off you.

“You’ve told me a lot of things that don’t paint you in an especially flattering light,” you say. “Why?”

“I’m not honest with many people. Figured I’d try it out with you.”

“How’s it feel so far?”

“Not too bad, actually.”

Seconds tick by. The hushed lull—punctuated only by chewing and straw slurping—is not awkward at all. “You could stay, you know,” you say. “Here. In Juneau. Not forever, but for a while.” Long enough for me to figure you out. Long enough for me to decide what to do with you.

“No.” Aegon is resolute.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,” he says, then pivots. “Besides, if I was going to stay anywhere it wouldn’t be freaking Juneau, Alaska. There’s nothing here. You have one decent bar, you have one Taco Bell. You don’t have a mall, or a movie theater with more than three screens, or an arcade, or a Barnes & Noble, or a halfway decent beach…for Christ’s sake, you don’t even have a friendly neighborhood scam psychic with a neon sign in their living room window.”

You’re smiling. “So that’s something you’re into. Scam psychics.”

“I’m just saying it adds to the ambiance.”

“Okay, but anyone could do that. I’ll be a scam psychic, there, boom, that box is checked.”

He chuckles, incredulous. “Oh really? You? Reading palms and tarot cards?”

“Yeah, totally. Give me your hand.”

He lays his left hand flat, devouring a taco with his right. Shredded lettuce rains down onto the table. “This is going to be good.”

You trace the lines of his palm with your fingers, skimming them like a whisper. His fingertips are calloused, you notice. Goosebumps rise up on his arm. “Hm. Hmmmm. Yes, yes, I can see many things.”

“Tell me, oh clairvoyant Madame Appletini.”

“Your liver is sad.”

He explodes into laughter, pushing his hair back from his forehead with his right hand. “Truly a singular insight.”

“And! You love dogs because they don’t judge you for your many shortcomings.”

“Right again. Okay you only get one more, you’re cutting close to the bone here.”

You draw a feather-light circle around the perimeter of his palm. He shifts in his seat, watching you, abruptly serious. “You’re not the Ice Fisher. And it hurts you that people think you are, because you’re actually—somewhere underneath all that disturbingly delinquent, self-destructive behavior—kind of a decent guy. In fact, you’ve never hurt anybody.”

“Wrong.” He snatches his hand away and changes the subject. “Here, here, let me do you.” He motions to your left arm. You oblige him, stretching it across the table. He begins by massaging your palm, kneading it with both hands. You are suddenly warm all over, feverishly warm. Then he cradles your hand in his and inspects the lines of your palm, his thumb gliding weightlessly over them. “You possess a supernatural sense of responsibility. This is both a blessing and a curse.”

“That’s probably accurate. Aim for a more shallow observation next time.”

“You would marry a Cinnamon Twist if you could.”

You giggle, almost inhaling a mouthful of Mountain Dew. “Yes, totally. I would take it to Vegas. Elvis impersonator and everything.”

“Now this,” he says, pointing to a crease that cuts your palm in two. “This is fascinating. Groundbreaking. Revolutionary.”

You lean closer. “What does it say?”

Aegon is still clasping your hand, but his eyes are fixed on yours. They are groggy yet bright, so bright. He is smiling. “You want me so fucking badly it’s eating you alive.”

Your jaw falls open, but you don’t say anything. Neither does Aegon. You just stare at each other from across the table, not hearing the wind outside, not feeling the time passing. He’s right, you realize; it dawns on you like a dream remembered from the night before. I think he’s right.

Someone clears their throat. A Taco Bell employee has approached the table with a broom in one hand and a dustbin in the other. He is wearing a psychedelic striped shirt: lavender, aquamarine, pink, white. He looks sick of life. “Hey, we’re closing the dining room in five minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Aegon says nonchalantly. He drops your hand and starts in on his last taco. “We were just leaving anyway.”

Carrying your half-full cups of Mountain Dew, slurping and chatting about the attributes of Juneau, the two of you wander back to Ursa Minor without acknowledging what Aegon said. You drive him home through a sea of cold, black nothingness, everything beyond the Jeep’s windows silent and still. His apartment building is only a few minutes away from the bar. The ride ends much too soon. A lyric from The Distance is wheeling around in your skull: In his mind, he's still driving, still making the grade. She's hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“How’s Sunfyre?” you ask, your Jeep idling outside his apartment. You are genuinely concerned, but also making conversation so he won’t leave yet.

“He’s great. Want to come up and see him?”

You almost say no, because of all those cautionary tales women are told from childhood about men, strange men, drunk men, too-kind men, all men: that they’ll get you alone and off-guard and then they’ll paw at you begging for things you don’t want to give. They’ll lull you into a false sense of security—compliments, feigned vulnerability, hot chocolate, Taco Bell—and then strike like lightning, quick and flare-hot. But when you say yes and follow him upstairs, Aegon doesn’t try anything. He stands in his tiny, drab living room with his hands in his jeans pockets, a whisper of a smile on his face, just watching you as you check Sunfyre’s stitches and tease him about his cone and scratch his soft floppy ears. Sunfyre wags his tail and then rolls over on the scuffed hardwood floor so you can rub his belly.

“He’s in heaven,” Aegon says.

“Yeah, dogs really like me.”

Aegon drags his hands through his strange silvery hair, staring at the wall. “So do alcoholic Greek guys.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x you

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 17 | Friends to Lovers

Touch Me, Sit With Me, Tell Me To Stay | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,634 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Out of the Empty (Supernatural), Grieving Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: The day the car dies, Castiel thinks that he (and a great many humans, too) would give up so much to be loved half as well as Dean loves Baby.

Heartcatcher | Maetheheller (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,975 Main Tags/Warnings: Nick Nelson from Heartstopper is a dean Winchester parallel, hand jobs, frottage, best friends to lovers, Charlie Dean Cas movie nights, The Boys references Summary: Charlie, Dean, and Cas have a Heartstopper “movie night” and Dean doesn’t expect to relate so much to Nick Nelson, or find the courage to confess his feelings to Cas, his blue-eyed best friend, but sometimes good things do happen.

aperture | ilarual (AO3)

Rating: General Word Count: 5,000 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends To Lovers, It's Not Actually Unrequited They're Just Both Idiots, Oneshot Summary: Dean keeps a photo collage of all the people he loves. Castiel is barely in it.

when the stars align | @twinone1221

Rating: General Word Count: 20,550 Main Tags/Warnings: Camping AU, Mechanic!Dean Winchester, Teacher!Castiel, Car Trouble, Stargazing Summary: Camping was something Castiel’s family loved for different reasons. Amelia loved to cook over an open fire, Jimmy enjoyed hikes the most, his niece Claire preferred riding her bicycle, and his son Jack always asked for stories while stargazing. The plan was simple. Drive to the lake, spend some time with his family, eat some good food, sleep under the stars and then drive back in time for work on Monday morning. It was the perfect plan for a perfect weekend. Then his truck broke down.

Love As Blue And Rainbow Feathers | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 37,388 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Season/Series 13, Major Character Injury, Wingfic, Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Light Angst, Fluff, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: Narrowly escaping death in an alternate reality? Grievous injuries with only the most outrageous solutions available? Pranks as a form of flirting? Unresolved sexual tension driving everyone else nuts? Teaching a toddler how to fight an archangel and actually stand a chance of winning? Juggling a bunker of refugees and the problems in Heaven and the threat of the devil himself? Only on any day ending in Y for the Winchesters.

The barista and the bookshop | @abi-cosmos

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Coffeeshop AU, Mutual pining, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending Summary: In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop. Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird. Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren't ready for. In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what's it gonna be? Peace or freedom?

The guy next door | @castielific

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 61,653 Main Tags/Warnings: AU!Neighbors, AU!NoSupernatural, Dean Smith, baby!jack, TheEnd!Cas, minor Cas/OC, Dean has a sexual identity crisis, single parent!Cas, miscommunication, self esteem issues, emotional constipation, angst with a happy ending, pining, friends with benefits Summary: When Dean Smith quit his job at Sandover, he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He definitely didn't plan for his hippie neighbor and his four years old kid to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #friends to lovers #day 17

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 10

“the lone moose”

A/N: disclaimer before we get into this chapter, this is a very emotionally/mentally heavy chapter that might not be suitable for everyone. The main topic of this chapter and the next is focused around Joel’s attempted suicide and Tommy’s C-PTSD. This content maybe triggering for some, and if that is the case, please do not read if you feel triggered. Warnings will be marked appropriately. Take care of yourselves first. And as always, a huge thanks to my beta @angelofsmalldeath-codeine 🤍

~word count: 6.9k~

Summary: the wolves of Jackson are lurking

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: !DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! thoughts of suicide, semi-graphic depictions of attempted suicide, brief moment of stigmatizing suicide (Tommy’s reaction) canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of an injury, semi-graphic depictions of childloss (and the trauma that comes with it) angst, grief, guilt, anxiety, heavy topics, anger, overwhelming emotions, C-PTSD responses, fear responses, no age gap, readers nicknames is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors DNI! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!

Slow Hands Masterlist

Two days had passed since Joel and Ellie took the steps together to make up. Joel already had a visible pep in his step, and a lightness in his eyes that Tommy hadn’t seen in his brother for over 20 years. Joel’s back still ached, but the pain was subdued.

Patrol was long and uneventful. The two brothers only had a handful of evidence gathered to present to Maria, but neither would give up hope. After untacking Tex and Timber, Joel and Tommy turned both horses out in one of pastures just outside the stables. Tess was grazing alongside the fence when Timber and Tex went to greet her.

A wave of melancholy washed over his features as he watched Tex and Tess nuzzle one another affectionately. He thought of you, of course.

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy asked alongside him with his arms resting along the wooden fence. “Y’wanna have a drink with me real quick at the Tipsy Bison before y’head home?” He rasped softly.

“I’d love to, but I promised Ellie we’d have a movie night tonight. Can’t go and let her down, y’know? How about tomorrow?” Joel suggested with a grin.

“Ah, movie night with the kiddo. Hey, I think that’s great that y’all are movin’ forward. Tomorrow sounds good.” Tommy responded with a genuine smile. It was a relief that he and Joel were growing close again. He missed his brother terribly.

“Yeah, and Beanie as well. I let Ellie pick out the movie. Think she said we were gonna watch Curtis and Viper 2.” Joel stifled a chuckle as he glanced down at the toe of his boots.

“Aw shit, that’s a good one! Well, you enjoy yourself, okay? Adios, big brother. See ya in the mornin.’” Tommy reached over and gave Joel a side hug before he pushed himself off the fence.

“See ya in the mornin, Tommy.” Joel mumbled to himself with a smile slowly creeping over his lips. Truthfully, he was rather excited for this movie night with you and Ellie. He couldn’t picture a better way to spend his evening than with his two favorite girls.

“Hey, Tex? Y’keep a good eye on your gal tonight. Y’hear? I’ll see ya in the mornin’, pal.” He spoke softly as his horse lifted his head from where he was grazing. He let out a snort in response as his tail swished away at the pesky flies.

The weight of Tommy’s letter in Joel’s pocket felt ten times heavier than when Joel first had written it. He thought about making a quick pit stop at the Tipsy Bison to give it to him, but tomorrow was a new day. He’d give the letter to Tommy first thing in the morning.

Ellie’s carved wooden fawn was tucked away in the inside pocket of his flannel. He brought it on patrol to show Tommy, and because he liked having a piece of his baby girl with him. Tonight he’d give her the gift, and to you, his precious star, something that twinkled like the night sky; matching charm bracelets. Two golden hearts dangling from the chains. Appearing brand new, untouched. The names Peggy carved into one, and Steve into the other. Lovers from the past, and now lovers in the present.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on your pretty face when he would present the bracelet to you. He said one last goodbye to the horses. He’d pass by your home en route to his own as he usually did every evening after patrol. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he noticed a figure looming in the distance. He squinted his eyes through the harsh rays of the setting sun. He approached the figure with cautious steps.

As far as he was concerned, no one ever hung around your home like this. It raised suspicions immediately. His boots crunched under loose dirt as the figure stopped their pacing and seemed to pause in thought.

“Cody?” Joel’s tone ran cold, edged with a sharp suspicion as his footsteps stopped a foot away. A balmy breeze sifted through his salt and pepper streaked tendrils.

The younger man looked around for a moment as the gears in Joel’s brain began to work on overdrive. He knew Cody, or so he thought. He believed Cody was a good man. They shared many meals, conversations—

“Have y’seen Beanie around by chance?” Cody asked casually as he ignored the obvious suspicion that Joel was facing.

Joel’s hackles raised on instinct as he watched Cody lean up against your fence with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Haven’t seen her since this mornin.’” Joel responded flatly. He knew right then and there that he had to play this cool for the time being. He didn’t need Cody knowing that he was onto him.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway, old man.” Cody muttered the last bit as he turned on his heel to walk away.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ around her place anyway? Y’know I could have you—”

“Reported? Yeah, sure you can. What would you even report me for, Miller? Cody scoffed. “All you had to do was not get yourself involved. Coulda just kept your nose out of things, but that’s not how you play your game, right?” He turned to face the older man once more just as a distinctive crash was heard from inside of your home.

Joel moved quickly, but Cody was quicker. Stronger, and trigger happy.

Cody was pouncing on the older man like a predator does to their prey. They tousled in the dusty dirt before Cody had him pinned down. His fists rained down on Joel’s face and the pained groans only seemed to spur Cody on further.

“Just had to go and get yourself involved with that fuckin’ cunt, huh?!”

Joel tried to fold his arms over his head to block out the swift punches to his face. Cody was ruthless, and Joel wasn’t as strong as he once was. Years ago he would have snapped Cody like a toothpick, but his age was beginning to catch up with him and this was the result.

Through gritted teeth Joel attempted to use his weight to throw Cody off of him, but it was no use. “I’ll fuckin’ kill every last one of you. I’ll rip you limb from fuckin’ limb and scatter your remains to the wolves—”He growled.

“Yeah? And how do you propose you’re gonna do that, Joel? Y’ain’t the one with the upper hand here, old man! You’re not takin’ this from me! Imagine how proud he’ll be when I not only bring in the moose, but your precious Beanie too.” He sneered conceitedly.

That’s all Joel needed to get a second wind of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He growled between his teeth as he used what little remaining strength he had left to force Cody off of him. He was reaching for his concealed pistol tucked in his belt loop under his shirt, when Cody kicked it from his grasp just as the two men inside of your home came rushing out.

“Jesus! fuck, Cody! What the hell are you doin?’ This wasn’t part of the plan!” The one man, a burly fellow with scarred tissue from third degree burns that covered nearly half of the left side of his face yelled urgently. Through the rushing of blood, and pain stabbing every inch of Joel’s face, he recognized this man too. He recognized the man next to him as well, smaller in stature, but stocky. Alex and Oliver.

“Fuck the plan! I’m not gonna waste this opportunity!” He sent the heel of his boot right into Joel’s gut causing him to double over into the crimson speckled dirt with a pain ridden grunt. “Well?!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Was she in there or not?!”

Alex and Oliver slowly looked over at one another before their shoulders simultaneously slumped inward. “No, but—”

“FUCK!” Cody snarled out of sheer frustration. He couldn’t let him down. He was told he couldn’t show up empty handed. It wasn’t an option.

Just as Joel’s fingers weakly grasped the handle of his pistol, that lay only a short arms distance away, Cody sent his boot right into his face. There was a sickening crunching sound of bone matter and cartilage being crushed as Joel’s body stilled. He was knocked out cold from the impact as blood leaked down his face and soaked into the dusty earth beneath him.

Neither men moved as Cody began to pace in contemplation. He paid no mind to the consequences he would face for his actions.

“Cody, we need to get the fuck outta town right fuckin’ now! If anyone sees—”

“And show up empty handed?! Fuck no.”

“Cody, she wasn’t there. We have no fuckin’ clue where she could be. C’mon, let’s just go back and regroup before someone shows up and finds Joel layin’ in a pool of his own blood.”

Cody ignored his counterparts as he continued to pace in a tight circle. He suddenly stopped when the lightbulb went off in his sick mind. He turned towards the two men, with a smirk that could only be described as sinister, “Angie.”

Ellie was curled up against your body with her cheek pressed gently into your shoulder. Her eyes flickered towards the windows in the family room. She watched the last bit of sunlight dip behind the horizon as a warm summer breeze blew through the beige curtains.

Joel should have been home by now.

She waited with alert ears for the sound of the front door to squeak open any minute now. It never came.

She shifted against you before your gazes met. “Beanie, he should have been home by now.”

You understood full heartedly that this movie night was important to Ellie. This was the first time that she and Joel were going to be spending some quality time together after everything they had gone through. This was a big deal.

“Kiddo, I’m sure he’s on his way now. Maybe he and Tommy just got caught up in something?” You wanted to reassure her and yourself that Joel was in fact on his way, and maybe he was just running late.

“Beanie..he—promised. What if he’s ditchin’ me? God, this was so stupid.” She went to bury her hands in her face, but you stopped her.

“Ellie, he’s not ditching you. He would never do that to you. He loves you. I’m sure he’s just running late is all.” Your own fears began to crawl up into your subconscious. What if something was wrong? What if something had happened?

Ellie wanted to believe you, she really did, but her own fears were making an appearance as well. It didn’t help the fact that her last conversation with Joel had been about his suspicions of Lucas..

“I’m gonna go check the stables, okay? You stay here. Lock the doors.” Ellie was up from her spot on the couch before you could even attempt to stop her.

“Ellie,” you started, voice wavering from the building nerves, “be careful, okay?”

The teen looked over at you with a small, yet confident grin, “Always am.” Her face twisted back to a serious one as she tucked her gun in her hoodie pocket. Joel surely would have scolded her if he had seen it.

You listened to the soft click of the door opening and closing. Your eyes drifted over to the unoccupied spot on the couch where one of the pillows was smashed down. Joel’s spot. .

Please. Please just be running late.

Please be okay, Joel.

Tommy found himself reminiscing on the good ole days as he nursed his glass of beer. Condensation dripped down the outside of the glass like tear drops on cheeks. The noisy chatter that encircled him was drowned out by his thoughts. Joel had always been the protector, the planner, the guardian. And as a young boy, Tommy viewed Joel as his hero. His own beacon of light through the darkness. And when Sarah died? It all changed. He was angry. At the world. At himself. And now, here in this peaceful community, he was getting to see those small glimpses of the old Joel that had laid dormant for so many years.

The Joel that he knew and loved so deeply.

He left his glass half empty as he said his goodbyes to some of the patrol guys, and the barkeep before he walking towards the door.

He was heading in the direction of the home he shared with Maria when he noticed a mass laying just outside your home. He thought that his brain was playing a cruel trick on him, and the approaching dusk might have also played a role in what he was seeing.

Gravel and dirt particles crunched beneath his heavy boots as he started his approach. As he drew nearer, he was able to make out the outline of a body. And, oh—god

Tommy remembers the moment he heard the shot ring through Joel’s house as if it had happened just yesterday. While he gathered supplies in the garage, his big brother was upstairs with the barrel of a revolver pressed against his temple.

How could Tommy not have known? How could he have missed the signs? The indications that Joel was thinking of taking a drastic measure to end his life. How could he have missed it?

“Joel!” A younger Tommy Miller yelled in fear. He threw down the tool box in a haste. Tools of all shapes and sizes clattered to the concrete in a harsh crescendo.

“Joel! Please, no. Please.” He chanted weakly under his breath as his feet carried him up the staircase. He stumbled on the top step as a wave of nausea made its presence known.

“Joel!” He yelled again, more desperately than the last. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brother so soon. He couldn’t. Not when just days ago they laid Sarah to rest. He couldn’t do this without Joel.

Sweat pooled at the back of his neck the closer he drew to the ajar opening of Sarah’s bedroom. He held onto the wall for support as his knees began to inevitably buckle from the dread crawling up his throat.

“Joel.” He croaked, “please. Please be alive in there.”

With a shaky breath, and through a mess of tears, Tommy pushed open Sarah’s bedroom door.

“I missed.” Joel murmured in disbelief. Disappointed that he couldn’t just do one thing fucking right. He couldn’t just follow through with his promise. His final wish to be with his daughter. His baby girl.

His palms trembled as his dull brown eyes flitted down to the revolver still in his grasp. He paid no mind to the blood slowly trickling from the right side of his head. Just a graze. Missed completely.

“Joel, what the fuck did you do that for?” Tommy wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, yell, all of the above? “You’re bleedin’, brother.”

“Oh.” Joel responded flatly. He brought his fingers up towards the right side of his head. He hardly flinched when his fingertips dragged through the flowing blood. He brought his hand back down to his eye level, fingers soaked in crimson. Then, the ringing started. Tommy’s voice started to sound fuzzy from the right side. “I flinched, Tommy. Thought I could do it. I was so sure—”

“Joel. Stop it, please.” Tommy nearly begged his brother as he cautiously moved in closer.

“I wanted to die, Tommy. I ain’t have anythin’ left to live for.” He refused to make eye contact with his brother purely out of shame.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—” His words were bitter, jaded, sharpened with intent to harm. “I fuckin’ need you, Joel. I need my big brother to keep us alive. Is he still in there?” He pointed to Joel’s chest, symbolizing his heart.

When Joel finally brought his chin upwards to face his brother, the look on his sunken features shattered Tommy right down to the core. A broken man, father, brother. The same man that helped Tommy with his homework. The same man that taught him how to ride a bike. The same man that Tommy viewed as his hero. Where was he now?

“He died along with her.”

“Joel!” Tommy felt his voice get lodged in his throat at the sight of his older brother laying motionless in the crimson stained dirt. Panic began to swell and fester like an untreated wound the second his eyes landed on Joel’s handgun just an arms length away.

“No. No. Please— what happened, Joel!” He sank to his knees alongside him. “We were just—talkin’ about how much you were lookin’ forward to the movie night with Ellie and Beanie, remember? You said that you would see me in the mornin’, dammit!” He yelled, slamming one of his fists in the dirt before he took a shaky inhale. “Remember?”

He wouldn’t hurt himself, would he? The thought flashed through his mind briefly. He remembered finding Joel in a pool of his own blood after Sarah died. Tommy brushed away strands of Joel’s hair that were congealed together with blood. His brows furrowed intently when he found there was no bullet hole in Joel’s skull before he pressed his middle and pointer finger right against Joel’s pulse point.

Please. Please. Please still be in there, Joel.

When the faintest pulse was detected, Tommy let out a visible sound of relief. His big brother was alive, but Tommy knew he had to act fast.

“S’alright, big brother. You’re alright. Gonna get you fixed up.” He murmured to himself just as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Tommy?..” It was Ellie. Her voice wavered at the sight of her uncle and father on the ground. “J—Joel?!” Her eyes were wide with oncoming tears brimming when she locked in on Joel’s unmoving body.

“Tommy, wh—what the fuck happened?!” She blinked away her tears just as Tommy stood up from the ground. “Is he fuckin’ dead, Tommy?!”

“Ellie, I don’t know what happened. I was on my way home and—found him like this. He’s alive, kiddo. He’s alive, but we gotta get him to doc right away.” Tommy never felt like he was all that great at taking on the protective role, but his niece needed his comfort and reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Ellie wasn’t listening to a word Tommy was saying. All she could focus on was Joel’s bloodied face and still body. Her emotions were consuming her entirely before she felt Tommy’s warm embrace wrapping her up. She let her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him for dear life.

“Ellie, I know you’re scared, kiddo. But I need ya to be strong for me, and for Joel. We gotta get him to doc right now. I need you to help me carry him okay?” He spoke in a soft tone, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s gonna be just fine. Your old man has always been a fighter.”

She squeezed her uncle tightly before pulling away from his embrace. She wiped what remained of her tears away on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’ll—I’ll take his legs?” She questioned rather than suggested. Seeing Joel like this, bloodied, weak, on the verge of—

“Ellie, he’ll be okay.” Tommy firmly reassured her again. He bent down over his brother and gently hoisted him up under his armpits while Ellie lifted him up by his legs.

Joel felt like dead weight, but his brother and daughter’s determination helped them power through the dull ache and strain in their muscles.

Tommy hated hospitals just as much, if not more than his brother did. The pungent stench of bleach, the droning hum from the overhead fluorescent lights. It was unappealing, cold, and overall a dreadful experience. But out of all of the late night visits to the ER after another bar fight, this by far was the worst of all to see his brother unconscious, dried blood crusted on his skin. Yet appearing peaceful while Doc checked his vitals and any signs of internal injuries

Ellie was seated next to her uncle nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Her leg was bouncing up and down frantically, until Tommy gently placed his palm over her knee in an attempt to soothe her.

“Well, he might have a bit of bruisin’ to his ribs, and his nose is definitely broken, but it’ll heal. There’s a chance he might be concussed, but I won’t know that for certain until he wakes up.” Doc said while tucking his clipboard under his armpit.

“I’ll stay here till he wakes up. Don’t want him wakin’ up alone.” Tommy said with a slight nod in Doc’s direction.

“I’m staying, too.” Ellie was defiant, of course. It was in her nature, and she couldn’t fathom not being by her dads side—

“Ellie, I’m gonna go and find someone to walk you home, okay? One of the guys on patrol..maybe a couple, given the circumstances.” He needed to make sure his niece got home in one piece, first and foremost.

Ellie clenched her fists, lips pressed tightly together as her eyes met Tommy’s in an intense stare. He could see residue of dried tears on her cheeks, and fresh ones beginning to brew like an oncoming storm. “Tommy,” she started, voice low, yet stern. “I’m not fuckin’ leaving him. I’m not. You can’t—”

“Ellie, I know you want to stay here with him too, but somethin’ about this ain’t right. You and I both know that there’s been some suspicious activity happenin’ as of late. Joel is goin’ to be okay, kiddo. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Her lower lip wobbled under the bright fluorescent light. She wanted to be angry at her uncle for telling her what she needed to do, but he was right, and there really wasn’t another second to waste. “Don’t you dare even think of leavin’ his side, Tommy. Don’t you dare.” She wiped her eyes along the back of her hand before making the final decision to get up from where she was sitting.

“I won’t, kiddo. I promise.” Tommy reassured her.

She walked over to the right side of the bed where Joel was lying and gently ran her fingers through a few stray curls that were stuck to his forehead. Dried sweat, dirt, and blood littered his hair and face. She leaned down, whispering something while she pressed her lips to his temple, squeezing her eyes shut.

Please don’t die.

Tommy left the room to give Ellie a bit of privacy. He flagged down a nurse in the hallway and quickly explained that he needed someone to ensure Ellie safely got home. It was decided that two patrol members would escort her home.

When Tommy returned, he was with Jesse and Liam waiting outside the open doorway.

“Ellie?”

Her head snapped in the direction of Tommy’s voice as she quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears.

“Jesse and Liam are gonna make sure you get home safe. Okay, kiddo?”

“Sure.” She muttered. Agreeing with her uncle didn’t mean that she had to act happy about it. Despite her feelings, she made a point to hug her uncle before she left the room.

Don’t leave him. She reminded him.

Sunlight warms his skin, birds chirping in the high treetops, a soft breeze rustles through his hair, kissing his temple. He knows this place, where he stands. It’s—

“baby girl?” He chokes out, stumbling forward in an uncoordinated motion.

She’s there. She’s alive. She’s got daisies in her curls.

“Dad?”

He nearly drops to his knees right at the spot where he and Tommy dug her grave all those years ago. He stops in his tracks as she turns around to face him. She’s wearing the same clothes that she died in, except there’s no blood. No bullet wounds. She’s untouched. Bright, glowing under the rays of sunlight.

“Are you really here? C-can I hold you? Are those daisies in your hair? Baby girl, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble past his lips like an avalanche of word vomit. His heart lurches in his chest, leaping from the confines of his ribcage.

Sarah’s feet carry her swiftly to her father before she’s wrapping her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly with her cheek pressed firmly against his chest. “I’m really here, dad.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Joel’s arms wrap around her immediately, hugging her to his chest as tightly as he can, he’s trembling, tears blurring his vision, dripping down his cheeks and landing softly on her head of curls. He pulls away only to gently cradle her face in his strong, calloused, gentle hands.

She’s here. She’s alive. His baby girl.

“Dad..you—you remembered our favorite spot?” Her smile is beautiful, radiant, full of life.

“Of course I did. Our hikes, the fresh air. We—we loved it out here. I—I never forgot. Baby girl, I haven’t forgotten you. I—I think about you everyday. I’m so sorry. I miss you..I miss you so much.”

Her hands come to rest against the patches of his now graying beard. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize. I’m okay, I’m happy. I miss you too, dad. I miss you so much, but Ellie, she needs you. I’ll always wait for you, I promise. I’m always going to be right here.” She drops one of her hands from his face to then point to his heart. “I’m always with you.”

His face falls as his thumbs gently stroke her cheekbones. He’s not ready to leave, not yet. Not so soon. Too soon. He needs more time. Time. Time. Time.

Ellie.

“You—you would have loved her, baby girl. She reminds me so much of you. Her smile, her laugh. I see you in her. She’s—she’s my blessing. My second chance..my light in the darkness.” He sniffles, leaning down so he can press his lips to her forehead.

“And she needs you more than ever now, dad. She needs you. You have to forgive yourself, okay? Please promise me that one day, you will forgive yourself, dad. Promise me.”

“I promise you, baby girl. I promise. Daddy loves you, okay? He loves you so much.” There’s so much more he wants to say, so much more he wants to tell her, but there’s not enough time. He knows it.

“Dad, I love you so much. Tell Tommy I miss him too, okay? I’ll see you again one day, when the time is right.” She hugs him one last time as he buries his face into her mess of curls, holding in his sobs as more tears begin to fall.

“When the time is right, baby girl.” He murmurs.

—

“Well, brother. Guess it’s jus’ you and me now, huh?” Tommy wants to laugh, but he can’t. His emotions are all fucked. Everything is so fucked.

“That kid of yours really loves the hell outta ya. You’re like two feral cats.” He continues, forcing himself to stand and walk over to his brother's bedside. “And I know how much you love her.” He murmurs as he glances down at the nightstand where the contents of Joel’s pockets are laid out.

The two charm bracelets, the wood carving of a fawn for Ellie, and a folded piece of paper now tarnished with blood and debris.

“One of these for Beanie?” He asks while gently picking up one of the charm bracelets. “I’m so happy you listened to my advice and went to her coffee shop. I jus’ had this feelin’ that you two would hit it off.”

“You love her, huh? Like..really love her? I’m glad, Joel. I’m glad that you’re finally allowin’ yourself to love, and be loved. If anyone in this fucked up world deserves that, it’s you.”

He sets down the charm bracelet alongside the other before he picks up the wood carved fawn. One of the delicate ears had broken off during the fight, but it was fixable. “Ellie is going to love this when she sees it. You’ve always been..a giver, Joel.. Always thinkin’ of others before yourself. Puttin’ your heart out on the line. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so grateful that you met Ellie when you did. You saved her, but she saved you just as much. Turned that cold heart of yours into somethin’ good again.”

He placed the fawn down gently before he eyed the folded piece of paper. “Y’still writin’ those letters? Have they been helpin?’ Y’know, I thought about writin’ a couple myself.”

Something in his gut tells him that this letter..is meant for him.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat as he reached for the piece of paper and picked it up with trembling fingers. He sees his name written on the outside, and his vision goes blurry with tears. “You..were gonna give this to me tomorrow when we said we were gonna meet at the Tipsy Bison?”

He slowly sinks down along the side of the bed, unfolds the letter and begins to read it silently.

Tommy, this is the third letter I have written thus far, so hopefully this comes across the way I have intended it to. Ever since we were just two little boys scraping our knees up on the playground, telling each other secrets, and holding each other tight when mom and dad would argue into the odd hours of the night, I always found myself being protective over you. I ain’t even sure if it had anything to do with age, and more to do with the fact that it’s been instilled in me since birth that I'm a natural protector. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

I’ve never told anyone this, but the day you told me that you wanted to join the army, and make a difference in the world, I wept. I soaked my pillow with my tears that very same evening cus’ I realized I couldn’t protect you anymore. You were eighteen, and ready to take on the world. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to go, and I know that war changed you. I know what it did to you, and you were no longer the little boy hiding under the covers from the thunder and lightning. You were molded into a man right before my eyes, but you’ve always been my little brother, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.

I know you blame yourself for the night that we lost Sarah. I still remember the grief in your eyes. You tried so hard. So fuckin’ hard, and I’m so sorry for what I became after she died.

A stray teardrop fell along the thin paper as the word ‘died’ began to blur from the sudden moisture.

You literally had to pry her cold body from my arms because I refused to let go. Even when we dug her a shallow grave near the woods she loved to hike in, you had to stop me from crawling into that goddamn hole with her.

24 hours. 1 day since the outbreak. 1 day without his baby girl

“She’ll be happy here, Joel. She gets to rest in her favorite place.” Tommy murmured as he set the shovels down next to the grass covered earth that would soon be dug up to create a shallow grave for Sarah to finally be laid to rest. The younger Miller brother hid his grieving behind a stoic face. He didn’t want Joel to see how much pain he was in. He wanted to be the strong one for once in his life, especially since he blamed himself for Sarah's death. If only he had been there sooner. If only he had acted quicker, maybe she would still be alive.

Joel was unmoving as he held his deceased daughter, who had long since grown cold and stiff in his arms. She was wrapped in a sheet, as Joel couldn’t bear to see her unmoving eyes any longer. He had shed his last tears, as he watched his brother begin to dig a shallow grave. As the minutes ticked by, Joel was realizing that after Sarah was to be buried, he no longer would be a father, and the thought made him feel queasy. What did he have to live for if he was no longer a parent? What was the point?

“Tommy..” Joel croaked, “I–can’t let her go.” He choked up as the weight of the world was beginning to press down on his shoulders. He held Sarah close to his heart where his chin came to rest upon her covered head. “Tommy, we–”

“Joel, we have to let her go. Brother, please. She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to bring her back. I’m sorry.” He was. If he could go back in time and take Sarah’s place, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Joel’s eyes began to glaze over with fresh tears as he began to frantically whisper to Sarah as if she could hear him from the other side. “S’okay baby girl. You’re okay. Daddy has you, and he’ll see you soon. I promise. I’m coming for you, baby girl.” He pressed a firm, promising kiss to her covered head before he slowly lowered himself onto his knees along the edge of the hole in the dirt. He could feel stomach acid rise up his throat at the thought of the earth, and mother nature consuming his baby girl. He wanted to go with her.

Tommy watched with a heavy heart as he watched his older brother gently place his baby girl into the shallow grave. His own tears began to silently fall as images of a newborn Sarah flashed in his mind. He remembered the pure joy and love that radiated from Joel the moment he got to hold his daughter for the first time. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

As Tommy willed himself to begin shoveling the dirt he dug up into the grave, he watched in horror as his grief-stricken brother nearly had crawled into the hole. He dropped the shovel in a haste as he grabbed ahold of the underside of Joel’s shoulders and yanked him back.

The soul-shaking, torturous, anguished sound that cascaded from Joel’s mouth, was one that chilled Tommy’s blood. It could only be described as a grieving parent refusing to let their only child go.

Tommy still has nightmares of it.

I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t just fuckin’ pull myself together for both of us. I know how scared you were, Tommy. I was scared too. I was terrified. I was supposed to be the big brother then. The one who had all the answers. Who could come up with a plan at the drop of a hat to keep his little brother alive. Instead, you had to fill that position. You stepped into that role because I gave you no other choice. If you didn’t force me to leave that spot where she died, I would have rotted there with her. I never thought for a moment about the pain that you were feeling. I lost a daughter that night, but you lost a niece, and a brother all in one night.

48 hours. 2 days since the outbreak. 2 days without his baby girl.

It was Tommy’s idea for him and Joel to return home to gather up as much food and supplies they could get their hands on. Joel was apprehensive, but Tommy reassured him that they wouldn’t have to stay long. So, Joel reluctantly agreed. Their neighborhood was dead silent with no signs of life to be found. The bombs that the government had dropped only impacted the major cities, and left the small neighborhoods untouched from their destruction. It would have just been another day if it weren’t for the familiar bodies scattered in the street. Both Tommy and Joel avoided looking at the deceased body of Nana Adler as they crossed their front yard.

“I’m gonna grab what I can from the garage, and then I'll meet you inside? Grab a couple of backpacks and stuff it with clothes, and anything else you think we might need. Okay, Joel?”

The older Miller brother could only meekly nod as a non-verbal response. He was too focused on remembering that he had stashed a revolver in his office drawer for safe keeping. At least it would be quick.

Tommy was unaware, clueless to Joel’s plan to end his life. He knew his brother was mourning, but he never had thought about the drastic measures he would take to be reunited with Sarah.

As Joel ascended up the stairs, memories of his life before the outbreak leaked into his mind. A five year old Sarah running down the stairs to avoid bath time after playing outside all day. Sticky with sugary sweet syrup from a popsicle, and dirt and twigs stuck in her head of curls. Joel patiently demanded that she needed a bath. Well, Sarah had other plans of course and Joel would have to catch her first.

He could hear her gleeful giggles now; almost sweet music.

Soon, baby girl. I promise.

His footsteps were soft, and undetected as he padded down the hall to his office area. His hand grasped the handle as he slowly turned it and pushed the door open with ease. Everything was right as he left it. Blueprints for a new project he and Tommy were working on. A school paper from Sarah that she had left for him to proof read. A stale cup of coffee. Tommy’s note tacked to the corkboard that Joel kept from when they were kids. A life preserved in time. He reached for the note as he gingerly plucked it from where it was pinned. He folded it carefully before slipping it into his pocket. He wanted to have a piece of his brother with him, always.

Joel didn’t feel nervous as he opened the file cabinet drawer that contained his concealed revolver. He greeted it like an old friend as he grasped it firmly in his palm. The coolness of the metal diffused his clammy skin. He could do it here, he thought silently. No, he wanted to be closer to Sarah. To be comforted by her familiarity. So, he left his office and went straight to her room.

As he brought the barrel of the gun to his temple, he felt calm. He felt ready. More ready than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt sorry for leaving Tommy to fend for himself, but he knew that his brother would survive, and he’d be better off without him anyway.

As his finger hovered over the trigger, he observed Sarah's untouched room. From the crumpled sheets along her bed where he had tucked her in for the very last time, her discarded backpack, her posters, trophies from soccer, and all of her photographs. Photos of her and Joel. Her and Tommy. She was the happiest kid ever, and that’s how Joel wanted to remember her.

As his finger gradually applied pressure to the trigger, he flinched. The bullet missed, and grazed the right side of his temple. His right ear was profusely ringing as he dropped to the carpet like a bag of bricks. He could faintly hear Tommy’s shouts and footsteps racing up the stairs as blood slowly trickled down his face.

Tommy, I was selfish. I was selfish for wanting to take my life and leave you to fend for yourself. My baby brother. The same brother I swore to protect till my last dying breath. I was a coward, Tommy. A weak, selfish, pathetic coward. I wanted to take the easy way out. The cheap way. I just hope you still don’t hate me for it. I hope you don’t hate me for putting you through the trauma and pain of almost losing me too. Sometimes I wonder if my attempted suicide triggered your thirst for blood. As if I am the direct cause for the carnage you partook in when we joined Tess and her raider group. Sometimes I wonder if all those times that we murdered people, that you pictured me on the other end of the gun. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the brave big brother that you always believed me to be. I’m sorry that even over twenty years later, I’m not me. I’m not the Joel that you looked up to. I’m not sure if I'll ever be that version of myself again, but I am ever-so grateful that I am still your brother. Your flesh and blood.

I hope that one day you’ll be proud to be my brother again. Till then, I'll always have your back.

-Your big brother, Joel. The one that held you when things went bump in the night.

Tommy isn’t even aware of how much time has passed while he reads Joel’s words over till they're practically burned into his brain. He doesn’t feel the shifting of the coarse sheets, or see Joel’s fingers twitch at his side.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

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#fic: slow hands #dead dove do not eat #tw suicide #tw sui attempt #tw canon typical violence #tw child death #tw ptsd #tw injury #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller story #joel miller series

[divine-knight-hand]

I don’t like to use the f-word, but let’s be real, we all have our preferences. Here’s a list of all my favorite fics! The ones I cherish closest to me. The ones I never fail to come back to. Each fic on this list scratched a certain itch in my brain, and I didn't want to risk losing them.

This is honestly for my own reference, but I figured I’d share the wealth. You’re welcome in advance~

*These are also listed in no particular order!!!*

Key: ☁️ - Fluff ❤️ - Smut (18+ only!!!) 🌐 - Only on AO3

❤️ Desire’s Last Defense by @give-me-a-moose

Relationship: Loki x Female Reader Words: 4,063 Summary: When Loki gifted you a new flower to research, neither of you knew what to expect.

❤️🌐 In Flames by HollynRed

Relationship: Loki x Female Reader Words: 3,273 Summary: Loki goes into heat when you are unprepared. Tags: Mating Cycles/In Heat, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Needy Loki, Pre-Thor (2011), Asgardian Reader (Marvel), Sweet Loki (Marvel), Soulmates, You've been together for centuries and this happens sometimes, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, One Shot, Asgardian Magic (Marvel), Sex, Romance

❤️ Devoted by @superficialdomina

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Words: 2456 Prompts: Rooftop, rain Warnings: Smut. 18+; minors DNI. Sub!Loki x Domme!reader; established D/s relationship. P in V. One slap. Loki is a good boy.

❤️ Lesson Not Learnt by @fandxmslxt69

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Despite how many times Loki told you to behave yourself before this party, you couldn't help causing a little bit of trouble. (or, alternatively, friendly flirting with Matt causes Loki to flip out and fuck you to heaven and back) Warnings: Loki he's a warning. SMUT SMUT SMUT LIKE FILTHY SMUT. Swearing, a lot of sex, like a lot lot, um...oral (m and f receiving), praise a LOT of degradation (dont look at me like that) umm. Literally just. Smut okay disgusting filthy stuff

❤️ Poker Face (Part 1 of These Wicked Games) by @mochie85

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1.7K Summary: Will you win a game of strip poker against the god of mischief? Warnings: Explicit. No details of smut, but heavily implied.

❤️ Unnamed Laundry Fic by @x-emoloverofthings-x

Pairing: Michael Afton x Female Reader Words: 1,263 Tags: EXPLIXIT Content, 18+, Female! Reader, Creampie (this is a work if fiction, practice safe sex and use condoms yall), Michael you perv ;)

#fic recs #smut fanfiction #fluff fanfic #fluff #smut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #michael afton #michael afton x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfic #fnaf smut