#and the rabbit looked pretty dead when he first took over

[toh-tagteam-au]

I really like how Thanks to Them makes Belos physically and literally represent his core character traits of manipulating people and discarding them the second they fulfill their purpose and are no longer useful to him by making his main powerset in the episode possessing things and then discarding them, usually completely stripped of life.

#not comic #toh spoilers #toh #the owl house #i know we dont actually know whether or not the deer was dead when belos first possessed it #and the rabbit looked pretty dead when he first took over #but im using the context from hunters possession aftermath to sort of fill in the dots here #plus im pretty sure the crew would show belos kill and consume alive woodland creatures onscreen if they could get away with it #so. yeah #remember when i said belos was difficult to write #now that we know everything about him hes just... very simple

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention. 

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 6k+

A/N: For this chapter, I played with the idea of having Zoro’s POV. It felt necessary for the story progression that I had in mind. This chapter was a tad fun to write, and I hope that translated well into the story. Originally it was going to be longer, but I realized I wanted to save the dinner to go with all the action to end the Episode 3-4 story arc. Thank you guys so much for the love you’ve given this little story. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

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This place is a maze. 

That thought rang true with every hallway you entered and the endless number of rooms within. With every step you took inside Kaya’s large estate, those words kept echoing through your head. How many guest suites could one house possibly hold? But also, why would you ever need so many?

You’d been wandering the halls for what felt like an eternity. Your head poked into each room after a brief knock. Yes, a brief knock before plunging head-first into someone’s private space wasn’t much of a warning but at least you were knocking. 

And all of this just to find Zoro who may or may not help you expose whatever metaphorical skeletons this butler had stuffed in his metaphorical closet. Or an actual closet. The possibilities felt endless. 

You weren’t even sure how you were going to explain to him exactly why you were searching for him without sounding like a creep. You would just have to cross that bridge when you came to it. 

You were about to give up trying to locate him because you were pretty sure you’d just passed that same exact clock for the second time in a row. You let out a raspberry as you placed your hands on your hips. Was it plausible you were lost? Inside a ginormous house like this? Yes, it sure as shit was. Maybe you should’ve been dropping breadcrumbs to find your way back to your own room when this was over. 

Rolling your tongue around your mouth, you looked down to your right and realized there were only two more doors left. What could it hurt just to look? You were already down here anyway. 

With a shrug, you moved towards the second to last door near the end of the hall. You weren’t in a rush to check what was behind either one, but you were also not leaving any stone unturned and all that. If your earlier dozen room checks were any indication of what to expect, you were willing to bet that you were going to find absolutely nothing waiting for you. The joy of joys. 

You were just a few feet from the door when you heard the lock click. The sound caused you to stop dead center, facing the door like an absolutely terrified rabbit caught in the headlights. What were the chances that whoever opened that door was going to be Zoro? And what were the chances that he would be willing to listen to what you had to say? 

The possibility of your questions being answered ebbed the panic in your chest down just a tad. Enough that when the door finally opened and Zoro was, in fact, standing before you, you silently thanked the universe for your suddenly award-winning luck. 

That was until you realized he was just standing there. In a robe. A silk robe with his swords slung over his shoulder and because of his current hold on his swords, said robe in question was flashing a peak of his chest. You immediately wanted to take back your previous thank you letter to the universe. 

This should be illegal. 

The worst part? You were pretty positive from the way Zoro was staring at you - his eyes taking you in from top to bottom lord HELP you - he did not seem as impressed with you as you were of him. Why in the hell couldn’t you say a word? Yes, he was attractive - stupidly so - but he was also just another guy. 

A guy in a thin silk robe and hair still damp from a bath. 

You watched as Zoro’s body began to relax, or relax as much as someone like him could. It was when he let out a sigh as if your very presence was keeping him from something important, that you felt your feet remove themselves from their spot in the carpet and spring you forward. 

There was a split second when Zoro’s eyes registered your movement. His eyebrows raised up in surprise as the almond shape of his eyes widened just a tad before he braced for whatever you were about to do. Zoro was planning on an attack and his body was primed to force you back. Instead of violence, he was met with your hands shoving him back inside his room with your foot kicking the door swiftly closed behind you. 

Once you knew you were both securely back inside the room, you stopped shoving him. You waited for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room before you looked around. It would be embarrassing if you’d done this and someone else - Nami or Luffy or anyone else really - had been inside with him. The only thing you noticed, however, was his previous clothes strewn across the room. 

When your eyes ventured back to Zoro you found his earlier shock replaced by what you could only guess was his usual stonewall expression. 

“Look,” he began the timber of his voice causing you to jump. “You seem nice and all, if not a little disturbed, but I’m not interested.” 

You looked up at him with your confusion knitting your brow together. 

“Not interested?”

You weren’t sure why it took you that long to realize what he meant, but it was dawning on you at warp speed and your confusion was quickly replaced with horror. 

“Oh my god! No, no! I was not trying to like, do anything to you like that.”

The disbelief in his eyes told you plainly he didn’t believe you, and by the tick in his jaw something was bothering him about your statement. 

Shit! He thinks I’m a perv 

You wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die there. You followed his eyes as they trailed down his chest to find your hands were very much still attached to him, practically groping him. 

“Then why are your hands still on my chest?”

A small squeak of surprise left you as you dropped your hands down to your sides and shook them like it would be enough to get rid of the feeling of cupping his very pronounced…chest. You took a step back from him in hopes that giving him space would save the entire interaction. 

“Sorry about all the ugh…touching,” you mumbled. “But I did come here to speak to you about something.” 

“This is going to be good. Is it to convince me you weren’t trying to grope me?”

“God, you aren’t going to let it go, are you?” 

Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. When you finished, you opened your eyes again and gave him the best smile you could muster. 

“Okay, let’s start this again. I,” you motioned towards yourself, “have come to ask you if you noticed anything weird.” 

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at you. His arms moved to lock his arms across his chest somehow exposing the peek of flesh from the robe even more. 

“You mean weirder than right now?”

You purse your lips together tightly as you try to exhale all the annoyance from gathering in your body. 

“Let’s just move on from this moment, ok,” you began. “I came to talk to you about the butler.”

Without warning, Zoro rolled his eyes and dropped his arms from his chest. His swords clanging against his leg reminding you that he wasn’t making any move to set them down anytime soon. 

“Here we go again about the butler,” he groaned, and the very sound shouldn’t have sounded as enticing as it did.

Focus! 

“Oh, save it!” You snapped. “I saw you, okay? The way you looked at Klahadore before you followed your friends inside. You looked at him like you recognized him. Like you’d seen him before somewhere.” 

Zoro regarded you coolly. The hardness that had disappeared while he’d teased you earlier slid back into place until he was as unreadable as stone. 

“I’ve never seen that butler before in my entire life.” 

“Why are you lying?” 

You couldn’t keep the exasperation from your voice or how your desperation was starting to creep back in. Could you have been wrong about Zoro this whole time? Did you just see what you wanted to see?

No. You know what you saw and you were not going to be called crazy. You took a step towards him and weren’t surprised when he didn’t move back. Instead, he tilted his chin, his full pouty lips still very much pouting, as his eyes carefully watched you. 

“You know, that I know, that you looked at that guy and went, ‘hmph, something’s not right there’.” 

Yeah, that felt like a solid argument. 

You waited under Zoro’s cool gaze for him to reply. For him to show any sign of anything, really. He was literally the most unmoving person you’d ever meet, and you were starting to wonder if he was even real. The shitty part about waiting in silence, besides the uneasy commentary your brain was beginning to make, was the smell of the vanilla and sandalwood that wafted off him in mini waves that assaulted your senses. 

You were so intently transfixed by trying to match his unblinking gaze that when he finally moved his head down to be eye level with you, you’d almost jumped out of your skin. 

“Is everything okay with you? Do you suffer from any brain damage?” 

You wish you could say you handled the next few seconds with grace and poise. Things that all upstanding future doctors did when faced with adversity. However, that was most definitely not you, and you weren’t able to keep an exacerbated yell of frustration from cairning past your lips. 

“Oh! You are literally the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

“And you are the most perverted woman I have ever met,” Zoro shot back, this time taking a step towards you. 

If he was trying to intimidate you, he should’ve tried back when you weren’t ready to tear him limb from limb. 

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Who just pushes a semi-naked man into a room so they can grope him?”

“I wasn’t trying to grope you! I was trying to interrogate you for information!”

God, that sounded so much worse. 

“That sounds a lot worse, actually.”

Of course, Zoro would state the obvious, and was he - was he smirking? Your eyes rapidly blinked as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing because as fast as you’d noticed it, that devilish smirk had disappeared. Now Zoro once again looked as serious as before. You began to move back towards the door with your hands up in mock surrender. 

“You know what - fine! If you don’t want to help me, that’s your choice, but you know I’m right. And I’m going to prove that something is wrong here with or without your help.”

You shot one last look in his direction before turning on your heel and giving him your back. You were at the door, your hand on the doorknob when Zoro surprised you with a question of his own. 

“Why ask me to help you?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you expected to see that smug smirk on his face or to get the cold shoulder. What you found instead were eyes so intent on you - waiting for your response - that it caused your lungs to collapse. A million replies played over through your mind, but only one of them mattered. 

“Because out of everyone here, I thought you would believe me the most.” 

It didn’t matter if it was the answer he’d been looking for or the one you thought would win him over. You meant what you said and you hoped he’d felt your admission genuinely. If Usopp didn’t want to believe you, and if Zoro, who you still believed knew or at least felt something was off here, wasn’t going to be able to help you, you would just have to do it yourself. 

Did you know what that entailed? Hell no, but Naan didn’t raise a quitter, and you weren’t going to roll over and just give up just because it was hard. Not when someone’s very life depended on you. 

——————

After your incredible failure of finding a co-conspirator to help you on your quest for answers failed with flying colors, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself. Usopp no doubt must have snuck in by now to see Kaya - sans your “gift” - and the others were probably in the ridiculous closet looking for dinner attire. While you could’ve gone just to socialize with everyone else, Kaya had sent a dress to your room. 

Sham had looked absolutely miserable dropping it off and that was a joy all on its own. 

You considered heading to the closet just to see Luffy again. Luffy radiated optimism like sunshine; at the moment, that sort of unyielding optimism was the mood booster you needed. 

Unfortunately, you knew Zoro must have made his way there by now and you weren’t necessarily ready to face him again. The disappointment was clinging to you and that’s what you hated the most. You didn’t understand why you’d seemingly put all your eggs inside the Zoro basket. Just because he’d looked at Klahadore weird didn't mean he’d sensed something off. 

Shit, Klahadore was weird and deserved every side-eye glance he got. 

All it meant for you was going back to the drawing board for a new plan. One that was going to be able to get you next to Kaya. At least long enough so you could perform some kind of assessment. 

You rounded the corner to what you hoped was the hallway your room was down. The earlier thought you’d had about getting lost turned into an accurate one. You’d spent just as much time trying to get back to your room to get ready for dinner as you had searching for Zoro. 

Zoro.

Even just thinking about him made your jaw clench with fresh irritation. What was more infuriating than your most recent conversation was the fact you could still feel the strength of him in the hollows of your palms. The sharpness of his jaw and the high sculpt of his cheeks- 

No! Absolutely not, you chastised yourself. 

It was maddening how little he believed you - mocked you - and yet, here you were acting like some lovestruck teenager. He wasn’t that handsome. 

You were lost in your thoughts to the point you weren’t aware of your body's attempt to warn you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and a sickening feeling began to rot in your gut and made sure all the imaginary - very imaginary - butterflies disappeared. 

The goosebumps that rose along your exposed skin informed you that the grand hallway, filled with all its riches and fine cherry woods was as ice cold as the dead. Has it always been this cold and you just never noticed? Or the eerie silence that made the manor feel more haunted than alive. 

Your feet involuntarily came to a halt in the middle of the hall. You couldn’t explain the panic that was building in your chest, but it felt like you were being watched. Your heart rate sped up until you could practically feel it thundering against your ribs. 

“You are being silly,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just an old house.” 

“Old houses do have their quirks, don’t they?”

You wish you could say that when Klahadore spoke from behind you, you’d reacted with grace. With dignity. What actually happened was you screamed sharp enough it could raise the dead. 

The whiplash you gave yourself as you turned to face him was dizzying. You wanted to kill the fear that widened your eyes and pressed your brow into your hairline. Your mouth was painfully dry as you took in his presence and the absolute shit-eating grin he wore. 

He enjoyed seeing you afraid. 

“Oh dear, Doc, did I give you a fright?”

Klahadore gently tipped the frame of his glasses with the edge of his palm. You wanted to smack them off his smug face. 

“What do you want, Klahadore?”

You struggled to regain your composure. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you afraid. It was what he wanted after all and didn’t take much to notice. He was already trying to close the few inches your retreat had given you. 

“I was simply wondering why you were wandering around the manor. You’ve been showing highly suspicious behavior ever since you and your friends arrived.” 

Your eyes narrowed in on him and as you held your head high. 

“Have you been following me?”

“Oh, come now, don't be silly. To have someone followed means you’re worried about what they’ll find, and you? You are the last thing I would be worried about.” 

Klahadore dropped his head down until he was eye level with you, but somehow used his size to remain imposing. A thinly veiled threat to remind you exactly what he thought of you; nothing. 

The first time you’d ever received an insult from Klahadore had been just like this. Alone and away from anywhere Kaya could hear him. He’d made sure that Usopp and you were together just so he wouldn’t have to repeat the insult twice. 

“I know you two must feel exceedingly special having Miss Kaya ask for you to come keep her company, but I’m afraid this will be the last time you ever come over unannounced or not. We can’t allow her image to be tarnished from being seen with unwanted children.” “Unwanted?” Usopp had been so confused - he knew he was wanted; wanted by Kaya and you. Klahadore saw in that confusion an opportunity to place doubt in his mind and completely tear him apart.  “Yes - unwanted. So unwanted that your father never returned, and your mother chose death as a final way to be rid of you.” “You son of a bitch!” You’d snarled and snapped. You were only kids.  The world had taught you early on about hardships and fairness; how the world and the people in it could lack kindness. But Naan always made you look for the good in the world, and in the people who sometimes allowed the ugliness of others to warp them into someone they weren’t.  It was a concept child you never understood. Teenage you were barely beginning to grasp it, but when Klahadore spoke those words so full of hate and venom at your best friend: there weren’t enough flames left in hell to cover up your rage.

The memory of that day left a black mark on your soul and you find it replaying at the most inconvenient of times. A harsh reminder of the first time you’d ever considered murder as a means of healing. The world would have to be a better place if someone like Klahadore wasn’t in it. Right? 

Naan, as always, talked you down from doing something rash. From allowing someone like Klahadore to have the last laugh and ruin all the plans you had for your life. 

But Naan wasn’t here to talk you off that ledge or to remind you who she knew you were. Your rage shouldn’t define you. Looking at Klahadore’s retreating back, you weren’t all too sure if it wasn’t you because if he ever showed up needing any form of medical attention, you weren’t so sure if he’d leave on his own two feet. 

A body bag would suit him nicely. 

You watched him until he completely disappeared leaving you alone once more inside the hallway. It felt weird to take those first steps back towards your room. To go inside and see the dress Kaya had sent to your room and know you were going to put it on and share dinner with that man standing in the same room. 

There had to be a way to show everyone here exactly who Klahadore was, and you would spend the whole dinner trying to do just that. 

———————

He’d been searching for a drink since his interaction with you back in his room. Zoro wanted to call you crazy - hell you acted crazy enough, but you’d done something he hadn’t expected. 

You’d surprised him.

He didn’t want to admit it then but he did get a weird vibe from the butler. The minute his eyes landed on Klahadore it had sparked a nagging feeling of a memory he just couldn’t quite place. 

And you’d noticed. 

After you’d left his room, he couldn’t shake the conversation you’d forced him to be a part of. Teasing you had been easy. He’d expected you to be a bleeding heart, but as you’d turned to leave, stomping your feet and spitting back words that stung for just a second, it had been Zoro’s turn to notice something about you. 

It was the fire of your determination that piqued his interest.  

While Zoro wasn’t sure why you held such a stick up your ass exactly about the butler, he was positive you had a reason. Besides the fact he couldn’t seem to pull up a clear memory of why the same butler piqued his own interest, and that was beginning to piss him off. 

What was even more annoying was the fact you’d brought it up enough that he’d asked Nami and Luffy if the butler seemed familiar. He didn’t know why he’d asked. If it had been more for him or for you. 

That pissed him off more. 

You seemed to be good at that. Pissing him off and getting under his skin. 

When he came downstairs, Zoro expected you to be there already. A quick glance around the room informed him you weren’t there, but a row of flutes filled with what he hoped was alcohol most certainly was. 

He carefully set down his strap of swords and moved closer to the drinks. No one else made a move towards them and, for a split second, Zoro was worried maybe the flutes were nonalcoholic. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the delicate crystal and quickly brought it to his lips. 

The smell of the liquor hit him first and his muscles relaxed instantaneously. 

God. This was exactly what he needed. 

“Zoro! You gotta try this!”

Zoro didn’t bother looking because he’d seen the appetizers being served when he came down the stairs. He wasn’t impressed. Plus, if he was going to make it through this evening, he was going to need way more booze than what was inside these little Crystal flutes. 

“I got all I need right here,” he replied and brought the glass up to his lips. 

The first sip erased all the tension that had been binding up his muscles. The next pull from the glass relaxed him completely, and he downed what was left in one giant gulp. He placed the now-empty flute back down on the tray and swiftly grabbed another. 

Zoro was vaguely aware of all the chatting going on around him. The sound of Usopp and Luffy sharing stories and Nami doing whatever it was Nami did during fancy dinner parties. He meant what he said - he did have everything he needed to make it through this dinner inside these glasses. At least, that’s what he thought until the sound of a heel echoing off the step brought his attention to the top of the stairs. 

He was sure the new flute with his latest drink was at his lips. Zoro inhaled the sharp scent of liqueur with every breath he took. He just couldn’t seem to make his elbow bend enough to drop it from his face. 

You were making your way down the staircase, oblivious to the world around you as you came down with a hand carefully placed on the railing. 

The dress you wore was covered in article flowers; all of their small bold colors were bright against the backdrop of black chiffon. The top of the dress left your shoulders exposed, and the style you’d chosen to wear your hair, with beads of pearls intricately placed within each strand, made you seem ethereal. 

You looked like moonlight inside a garden; soft and wild and for the first time Zoro forgot that breathing was important. 

Once you reached the last step, your eyes finally moved up from the safety of your feet. Zoro was vaguely aware the rim of the glass was still resting on his bottom lip, and that he’d yet to take a drink. He felt frozen - helpless - until your eyes found his rooted frame - helplessly waiting - and the smile that curved your lips brightened up the room. 

It was in this second that he realized he was fucked, and the annoyance of that realization was enough for him to finally upend the glass in one large gulp. 

——————

Zoro had looked at you for less than a millisecond before he’d upended the contents of his glass in one large gulp. His disinterest was evident enough throughout his entire body. With one last glance in your direction, he turned back to the waiting tray of glasses. 

Well, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expected. 

The disappointment scraped raw across your chest as you watched Zoro take up another glass. His gaze was steadfast at the wall as he downed whatever was inside. What felt more disappointing was the fact you’d cared. 

For all intents and purposes, Zoro was an asshole. So, it begged the ever-present question: Why did it bother you so much? 

Yes, you’d painstakingly gotten ready around the dress Kaya left inside your suite. Was it your usual taste? You weren’t all that sure, to be honest. It’s not like you’d ever been invited to any fancy dinner parties before. You weren’t sure if this was the proper form of dress or if you’d gone overboard with your hair. 

At least Nami had a feather inside her hair and it looked as if she’d given her blood-orange hair some curls. She looked absolutely gorgeous and you made it your mission to tell her.

“Wow, Doc you look-“ Usopp began. 

You turned beaming towards your friend as you waited for him to acknowledge your hard work. Maybe at least Usopp, of all people, would say something nice. 

“Different.”

You could practically feel your smile deflate at the edges. 

“What did you put in your hair?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of meat. 

“Oh yeah, I was wondering what looked different. It’s the hair,” Usopp confirmed with Luffy. 

The both of them smiled and nodded at one another as if they just solved world hunger. Your tongue rolled around your cheek as you debated on what to say. Maybe you’d expected to much out of a bunch of men. 

“They’re pearls,” you huffed. 

“That’s silly,” Luffy chuckled. “Why would you ever put pearls in your hair?”

“It’s to look nice.”

“I never knew hair needed accessories,” Usopp offered before taking a bit of his appetizer.

“Nami put a feather in her hair,” Luffy offered before taking another bite. “Maybe you guys can talk about putting random stuff in your hair.” 

There was no way this conversation could be real, and yet…

Luffy was still wearing his genuine smile while he and Usopp continued to enjoy the appetizers Sham passed around. This evening was turning out to be the last time you’d ever consider wearing anything like this again. What was even worse was that out of the three of them, Zoro was the only one properly dressed. 

While Usopp went with his usual no shirt underneath his jacket, Luffy was wearing just a petty coat and miraculously found dress slacks that didn’t even reach his ankle. They looked like their usual selves, just dressed in black. 

But Zoro…

No! Absolutely not.

“I’ll go look for Nami so we can discuss…putting things in our hair.”

“That’s great! I’m sure it will make her happy. She seemed frustrated earlier when she asked for help.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you mumbled, as you turned to find Nami speaking to Merry. 

Well, it looked like that was going to be a bust too. Man, she really did look very pretty, though. You were considering what your options were. You weren’t comfortable just injecting yourself into whatever conversation Nami and Merry were having, especially not when she was rubbing his arm like that. 

Luckily for you, the sound of Klahadore announcing Kaya’s entrance kept you from having to go with your final option, which was to get a drink. Next to Zoro. 

You all collectively turned to watch as Klahadore helped Kaya make her way down the stairs. You couldn’t help but smile up at her and her current choice of attire. While she’d made you look like a garden, you could only assume she was the sunshine that hovered above it. The only problem you had with the golden silk material was that it somehow made her sickly pale skin appear paler. 

She must have picked the color in hopes it wouldn’t do that, but all it did was raise the alarm bells in the back of your mind. You’d allowed a pretty dress and a fancy meal to cloud the real reason you’d come in the first place. Instead of being a doctor, you were playing dress-up. 

You were still scolding yourself when Kaya finally made it to the end of the staircase. Her smile was bright and happier than it had been in a long time, as she regarded Nami and the dress she’d chosen. It hadn’t even registered that any of the clothes you currently were wearing belonged to her deceased parents. You made a mental note to make sure to take extra special care not to ruin the dress with any droplets of food. 

“Oh, Doc, I’m so glad I picked this,” Kaya breathed. “You look absolutely magical.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at the dress again. It was an incredibly delicate dress. A work of art to be worn on the body. Maybe that was why you felt like such an imposter wearing it. 

When you looked back at her, you tried to give Kaya a convincing smile. One you could even make yourself believe you felt worthy to have it on. 

“Oh, Kaya you are too nice,” you replied, only for her to shoot you down with a wave of her hand. 

“Nonsense. Usopp is always telling me about all the good you do for everyone. It’s time you let yourself be appreciated.”

Your earlier response to Kaya’s welcoming smile was one of your own, but at the mention of your supposed good deeds, you felt it tighten into a grimace. 

It means nothing if I can’t even help you.

Up close, her color wasn’t pale - it was ashen. The whites of her eyes were devoured with a yellowish tint and - 

Like the parasite he was, Klahadore was there pulling Kaya gently by her elbow to lead her back to the conversation between herself and Merry. Your eyes followed him as he made sure to plant her a few feet in front of you; her back excluding you from following to join. 

Once he made sure she was safely away from you, Klahadore stationed himself a few feet away next to the penguin pillar at the base of the stairs. He thought he was sneaky and that he had stopped your trained eyes from being able to do a quick evaluation.

Unlucky for Klahadore you were quicker than he thought. 

You were getting ready to head over to him when you caught Zoro walking back over to the tray. He was doing his usual of placing down an empty glass only to grab a fresh one, except this time he was talking. To Klahadore. 

What a fucking liar!

You couldn’t think straight as you watched the exchange. The way Klahadore overplayed the flabbergasted victim. You didn’t have to be close to them to know what Zoro was asking him, because just like you’d suspected, he did seem familiar to Zoro. 

It felt like you could breathe fire, you were so pissed. 

At some point, Klahadore ended the conversation by interjecting himself into someone else’s conversation. You didn’t care what it was. They could’ve been discussing flying pigs for all you cared. Your eyes were still honed in on Zoro who regarded you for a split second before he sat back down in the parlor’s middle seat. 

You started making your way towards him when Klahadore called out it was time to eat. You suddenly weren’t hungry. 

Zoro must have sensed you coming for him because in one swift move, he was out of the seat and standing. The strap that held his katana’s back over his shoulder as he followed Sham behind the double doors.

“You son of a-“

“Doc!” Usopp whisper-shouted as he nervously took your hand in his. “Sit next to me. Please.” 

You were still seeing metaphorical red. Your brain firing rapidly on only one main thought and that was to get a hold of Zoro and throttle him. 

It wasn’t Usopp’s fault that Zoro was a dick, and he looked genuinely terrified. Stuffing your current bad mood as far down as you could muster (you were about to see said moss-haired reason for your fowl mood in t-minus two seconds), you planted on a smile and gently took Usopp’s hand. 

“What kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t?”

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed. 

The both of you followed closely behind Merry and the others as you were all escorted inside the dining room. Merry quickly took his seat at the end of the table, and you noticed rather quickly Zoro had claimed the seat closest to the door. 

Without thinking, you took the seat beside him and motioned for Usopp to take the last one. The one directly beside Kaya. For a moment, Usopp looked at you wide-eyed and uncertain. You did your best to make him comfortable. 

“You got this, Usopp,” you whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

His response came in a small nod that did little to erase the terror that shined in his eyes. You gave his arm a light squeeze for reassurance before you straightened up in the chair. Glancing over, you watched as Zoro poured what looked like a freshly opened bottle of wine into a glass. 

You waited patiently for him to finish and when he went to set the bottle down you made your move. With a slight lean to your right, you swiped your hand out to grab a hold of the glass. Zoro caught the movement too late, but you now had his full attention. His nostrils flaring the only indication that he was irritated by your sudden drink stealing. 

Good. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned. 

His dark eyes never left your face as he waited for you to answer. 

“Being petty.”

To bring the point home, you tilted the glass in his direction in a silent salute. You made sure he watched as you brought it to your lips and took a sip of the blood-red wine within. 

Zoro’s jaw ticked in irritation as you gave him a devious smirk, and when Sham came by Zoro waved her over. 

“I need a new glass.”

Now the smile that graced your lips was genuine and you made sure Zoro was aware of it. It was time to have a little fun of your own and that included hogging as much of his alcohol as humanly possible. 

------------------------

As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

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[justagalwhowrites]

I saw this video and I feel like something like this would be fun to read! I have to ask would you ever consider writing a kidnapper!Joel fic?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Dfp6Na/

Hi Bestie!

So.... Yes :)

Not quite the vibe of the linked video but I hope you enjoy it!

Run Rabbit: Part One

It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.) This will be in two parts.

Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller

Warnings WHOLE FIC: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 8k

PLEASE NOTE: part one does not get smutty ❤️

Part 2

November, 2004

“You can have whatever you want, please!” 

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you tried to keep quiet from your place below the floorboards. Your boyfriend, Zach, had tucked you into the crawl space when he ran in from hunting with three men on his tail. 

“They don’t know about you,” he’d said, breathless. “Stay quiet, I’ll get us out of this.” 

But even a year into the apocalypse, Zach wasn’t a great shot. It wasn’t long before he was out matched and the men were breaking down the door to the cabin you’d been holed up in for a few days. 

“Seemed awful keen to protect whatever it is you got,” one of the men said. “How do we know you’re not gonna just come and try to take it back?” 

“Should just kill ‘em,” another man said. “Don’t gotta worry about it then.” 

“No, no, I swear I won’t,” Zach pleaded. 

“Prove it,” the final man spoke for the first time. “Got no reason to trust you now, why should we leave you alive?”

You kept your hands tight over your mouth, trying not to cry, trying to stay quiet, hoping they’d leave Zach alive. 

“Because I have something better than supplies!” He yelled it, his words flowing together as he stumbled over them. 

“Like?” The third man said. 

“My girlfriend,” Zach panted. Your breath caught. “She was a nurse before, in an ER, she can keep you alive, you can have her, please…” 

“And where is this girlfriend?” The first man said. “You seem awful alone here…” 

You hoped Zach was just buying time, that he wouldn’t actually tell these animals where you were. 

You were wrong. 

“In the closet,” he said. “There’s a crawl space there, I told her to hide there while I took care of things here. Please, she’s worth a lot, she’s good at patching you up, she’s real pretty, you can have her, you can have her…” 

The sound of his begging almost covered the thud of boots as you heard the closet door creak open and the floor over your head disappeared. 

“Well, would you look at that,” a large man with shaggy curls and a patchy beard - the first one who has spoken, you thought - smirked down at you. “He’s not full of shit.”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes wide. “No, please…” 

The man ignored you, grabbing a fistful of fabric at your chest and hefting you up from the crawl space with a grunt. He dropped you on the ground and you tried to scramble away only to have another man grab your shoulder and throw you down. You landed on your backside, a different tall, broad man with dark curls looming over you. 

“Where you think you’re running to, little rabbit?” He smirked, the second man who had spoken. You pulled yourself back from him, looking for a way out. The third man, blond and pale and the youngest of them, stood over Zach, a gun pointed at his head. He started humming Run, Rabbit, Run as he smiled at your boyfriend, glancing your way, prowling toward Zach. A predator enjoying his prey. 

“So,” the first man dropped your pack that had been in the crawl space next to you at your side with a thud, making you jump. “You really a nurse?” 

“She is,” Zach answered for you. “She is and you can have her, please…” 

“Zach!” Tears tightened your throat. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, not looking at you. “I’m sorry, but I can’t…” 

The man who pulled you from the crawl space sighed, pulling a handgun from his side, going up behind Zach and pressing the barrel to his head before pulling the trigger. Your scream hung in the air longer than the crack of the gun, the salty, metallic taste of Zach’s blood on your tongue as his body slumped to the ground. 

“Hey,” the man who shot Zach dropped to one knee in front of you, grabbing your face roughly, gripping your cheeks in his large hand. There was blood on him, too. “You really think that piece of shit is worth screamin’ and cryin’ over? He was sellin’ you, girl, he ain’t worth any grief of yours.” 

He released you and looked over his shoulder to the other dark haired man. 

“Tommy, got something we can hold her with?” The other man - Tommy, apparently - started going through his bag. He looked toward the blond next. “Vince, gather what you can, we’re heading out in 10. Made a lot of noise here, don’t want to wait and find out what that attracts.” 

“Are you going to kill me too?” You asked quietly. 

The man who seemed to be in charge cocked his head at you. 

“Now why would we go and do a thing like that?” He asked. “Your boyfriend might have been scum but he was right, you’re valuable cargo. You’re gonna be a good girl for us, right?” 

You weren’t really sure what to say to that, your heart beating so hard and fast you were sure this man could see your pulse in your throat. 

“Don’t really matter either way, does it?” He said as Tommy handed him some rope. “You either cooperate or you’re more trouble than you’re worth and we just kill you. Don’t make much difference to us. Hands out, wrists together.” 

You just looked at him and he sighed, pulling his sidearm out again and putting it below your chin. The muzzle was warm and wet from where he’d just killed Zach and, for a moment, you thought you were going to vomit. 

“Didn’t I just say I’d kill you if you got to be more trouble than you’re worth?” He said. “You’re already a lot of trouble by bein’ and extra mouth to feed so I recommend cooperating before my temper runs out. So. Hands out, wrists together.” 

You obeyed and the man wrapped your wrists in rope tight enough that you had no hope of wriggling out but not so tight that it was painful, just uncomfortable. He wrapped his large hand around the cluster of rope between your wrists and yanked you to your feet. 

“Got anything on you I should be worried about?” He asked. “Be a lot easier on you if you tell me now than later.” 

“Knife,” you said, voice shaky. “Right pocket.” 

“Good girl.” 

He reached into your pocket and pulled the weapon free, opening and examining the blade. 

“Know how to use this?” He asked, brows raised. 

“I’ve used it,” you replied. He nodded and closed it, putting it in his pocket. 

“Be a good enough girl for a long enough time and maybe you can get it back,” he said before turning to Tommy. “I’m gettin’ a head start with this one, heading north west, back to site. You know the way.” 

“I know it,” he said. “We’ll clear out quick, catch up soon.” 

The man who had you grabbed your pack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder before bringing his rifle around to his front, nudging you forward with the muzzle. 

“Let’s go,” he said. “Try and take off and I’ll shoot ya. And I don’t miss.” 

The man kept close to you, nudging you along in front of him and you tried not to trip on roots and overgrown brush but you’d only been walking about 20 minutes when you failed, falling with a pained grunt. The man sighed and grabbed you by the collar, pulling you to your feet. 

“You OK?” He asked, gun pointed at the ground and not at you. 

“Yes,” you said, even though your hands were scraped up and your knees hurt and you had your boyfriend’s blood on your skin and your throat hurt from screaming.

“Keep movin’,” he ordered. 

You kept looking back over your shoulder at him. He reminded you of a guy you dated once who was in the army. He never looked in one place too long, head constantly turning, looking, searching. There were threats, he knew that. He also knew how to see them coming. The gun was tilted toward the ground but close and ready. You were waiting for him to change his mind about you, to shoot you, too. Part of you wondered if this was part of a game for him, if he was going to walk with you just long enough to lull you into a false sense of security before shooting you. Maybe he liked the fear, the surprise. Maybe he’d given too much away by killing Zach and now he couldn’t get what he wanted from you. 

Maybe that was better than the alternative.

You were only walking about an hour when the other men, Tommy and Vince, caught up to you. The man you were with turned and pointed the gun, noticing their approach before you did. You froze, only realizing that it was probably a good time to run now that his attention was elsewhere once it was too late. 

“Just us, Joel,” Tommy called as they climbed up the hill you’d just made it up yourselves. “No trouble behind us.” 

The man - Joel, apparently - lowered the rifle and the men joined you. They had four packs between the two of them, two you didn’t recognize and two backpacking bags that you recognized as yours and Zach’s. Your stomach turned. 

“Not a terrible haul,” Tommy said. “These two had decent gear and must have just taken somethin’ good. A lot of jerky, good stock of ammo, some medical shit.” 

Joel looked down at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“You know how to use the shit in those bags?” He asked. You just looked back at him. He sighed and grabbed a fist full of your hair, jerking you close to him, making you squeak in shock. “Don’t play dumb, girl, you know how to use that shit?” 

“No,” you said sarcastically, not sure where the guts for that came from. “I enjoy hauling around shit I can’t do anything with.” 

Joel’s jaw tensed and you weren’t sure if he was about to yell or laugh. 

“Not gonna get far with an attitude like that, little rabbit,” Tommy said, but he was smirking a little. “Lot better for you if you just answer the questions when we ask ‘em.” 

You looked between the two men closest to you for a moment. You wondered if they were related. Their eyes were the same, same hair, too. They would have been handsome in another context, one where you weren’t afraid they were about to kill you. 

“It’s mine,” you said after a moment. “We were backpacking when the outbreak happened, we didn’t even know for a day or two, we were in the middle of the mountains and there weren’t other people around. I know how to use it all.” 

Joel released you. 

“Good to know you ain’t completely useless,” he said. 

“You mean outside the fact that I can save your life?” You bit out. Again, you weren’t sure why. 

He snorted. 

“Outside of that. Keep movin’.” 

With the other men there, Tommy took the lead and you followed, Vince and Joel behind you. You could feel Vince’s eyes on you, the cold, lecherous feeling of his gaze making your stomach churn. 

Night was starting to fall by the time you reached a cabin that showed greater signs of people than you’d seen in what felt like forever. There was a stack of wood on the front porch, a line between the house and a tree that looked like it was meant for drying clothes, barrels placed to gather rain water. You stopped, staring at the small structure. 

“Inside,” Joel said after a moment. 

“I have to pee.” 

He sighed. 

“Vince,” he said. “Take her to piss. Don’t fuckin’ touch her unless she tries to run, got it?” 

Vince groaned but nudged you off to the side of the house with the muzzle of his gun. You looked around, trying to get a lay of the land, see what a good route out might be. There was a small path that looked like it would take you deeper into the woods, eventually up into the Smokies. That was fine. If you could get your pack, you could survive out there for at least a week or two on your own, maybe find a settlement or something. You’d never had to survive on your own, you’d never hunted or shot a human being. Zach had handled that. You weren’t sure how long you could really make it on your own but you’d rather give that a shot than leave yourself to whatever these men had in store for you. 

“Here’s good,” Vince said after two minutes of walking. You held out your wrists and he raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m a fucking idiot?” 

“I can’t really pull my pants down like this,” you said. “I’m not a man, I can’t just whip my dick out…” 

He stomped over to you and unbutton and unzipped your jeans before yanking them down to your knees, ignoring your surprised sound before going back to your hips. His fingers trailed over your skin, sinking into the meat of your ass and making your stomach churn, before he pulled your panties down, too. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering on you, before he stood up. 

“There,” he said. “Happy?” 

He walked a few steps away and turned back to look at you. 

“I can’t go with you watching.” 

He shrugged. 

“Not my problem. You have to go bad enough, you’ll go.” 

You glared at him and held his gaze before squatting and peeing, missing toilet paper and privacy more than you had since the damn outbreak started. You straightened up when you were done and stood there, still looking at him. 

“Afraid you’ll have to come pull up my pants, too,” you said. “Since your boss apparently wants you to wait on me hand and foot.” 

A muscle in the man’s neck twitched but he stalked over and yanked your clothes back up, harshly buttoning and zipping your jeans before shoving you back toward the cabin hard enough that you stumbled. 

Inside, Joel and Tommy were sitting at a rustic table, a fire going in the nearby fireplace. There were two Nalgene bottles of water on the table and a bag of jerky between them. The jerky you recognized. You and Zach had made it just a few days earlier. 

You tried not to think about it. 

“He behave himself?” Joel asked, stretched out with his legs far in front of him. 

“You’re really gonna take this little cunt’s word over mine?” Vince asked. 

Joel just kept looking at you, ignoring him entirely. 

“Asked you a question girl,” he said. “He keep his hands to himself?” 

You glanced at Vince who was staring down Joel, his blue eyes hot and angry. You looked back to Joel. 

“He was fine,” you said. 

“Good,” Joel said, getting up, grabbing a bottle of water and going over to you. He put one of his huge hands on your shoulder, guiding you to the nearby couch and nudging you down onto it. 

You obeyed his unspoken command, lowering yourself slowly down but not relaxing into the cushion, staying on the edge of it. 

“Open,” he ordered. 

Your eyes narrowed. He glared back. 

“Open your mouth,” he said when you didn’t obey. 

“You put your dick in my mouth I’ll bite it clean off.”

Joel squared his jaw and held up the bottle of water. 

“Don’t got a smaller bottle right now and you can’t hold this with your hands tied. Don’t want you droppin’ dead from dehydration after we went through all the trouble to get you here so open your goddamn mouth.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before you obeyed. He unscrewed the top and poured the water on your tongue, crisp and cool and making you aware of just how thirsty you’d become in the few hours you’d been with him. 

“Good girl,” he said. “Was that so hard?” 

Eventually, he stopped and you closed your mouth, wiping your lips on the back of your tied hands as he closed the bottle. 

“Don’t gotta worry about that shit from us,” he said. “Prefer when a woman begs for it, not about to take it from one who ain’t.” 

“Because I can trust what a group of murderers says,” you snapped. 

“Murderers,” Joel shrugged. “Not rapists. Hungry?” 

“Why?” You asked, tongue still sharp. “Going to be kind enough to give me scraps of the food you stole from me?” 

“Something like that,” Joel said. “If you’re gonna try to starve yourself to death, just let me know. Save you the trouble and put you down quick instead.” 

You watched him for a moment. For some reason, you trusted what he was saying to you. That he wasn’t going to hurt you - at least, not like that. That he was intending to keep you alive. 

“Not hungry,” you said eventually. 

Joel shrugged. 

“If you change your mind.” 

You sat on the edge of the couch cushion as the men took inventory of what they stole from you, what they killed Zach to take. You tried not to cry. 

It’s not like you’d been especially close to Zach when the outbreak happened. You hadn’t said “I love you” yet, you’d been dating for a month and a half and fucking for just a few weeks of that. 

The backpacking trip had been a spur of the moment thing for both of you. You had some vacation time to burn before the end of the quarter, his job was flexible and you’d bonded over a shared love of the outdoors. You’d ignored the words of caution from your girlfriends when he wanted to take you hiking for a second date, the two of you ending up exhausted but proud as you came to the end of the seven mile trail he’d selected. He kissed you there for the first time, his lips salty with trail mix and sweat and a view of a valley swelling with shades of green spread out below you. 

You were somewhere in the mountains when the world collapsed. You didn’t even know it had happened until you returned to where you’d parked your car to find the windows smashed and the inside looted, a body missing a chunk of its skull not far away. You’d ran to it on instinct, dropping to your knees beside them to check their pulse even though it was clear that there was no way they would be alive. Their skin was cold and there were fibrous, vine-like tendrils swarming in their brain. 

It had been you and Zach from there. He was more of a survivalist than you. He knew how to hunt and trap, taught you how to skin a rabbit and process a deer. You weren’t sure if you’d truly come to love him or not, if the feeling you had for him was just what happened when you went about surviving the end of the world with another person and became dependent on them for your very life. 

But you were certain that he hadn’t loved you. Not really. If he had, he never would have given you over to these men. 

You’d never have done that to him.

Maybe you did love him. You weren’t sure you’d ever know. 

“Sleep here,” Joel ordered as the day fully shifted to night and Tommy and Vince started readying for bed. “I’m keepin’ watch for now. We were gone long enough, some dumbasses might think they can move in. Don’t try anything.” 

He went onto the porch and you stretched out on the couch, the other men going into what you expected were bedrooms at the back of the cabin. Your hands were still bound. You stared at the dying embers of the fire, the orange glow, and cried. 

***

Joel needed Vince to stop acting like a shit head. 

The man didn’t seem to understand the position he was in. He was the least valuable person here. He was young, he was dumb and he was disposable. 

He just didn’t seem to realize it. If he kept looking at you like you were something he could take, he’d find out just how disposable he was.

Joel came in from his watch about 5 a.m. to find you whimpering quietly on the couch. He sighed. 

“You really still crying over that jackass you were with?” He asked as you sniffled quietly. 

“Shut up,” your voice was thick and wet. 

“He ain’t worth it,” he said gently, sitting in the armchair that was near where your head was. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering. But then, he’d never really taken a captive before. He usually just killed people or turned them loose. You were valuable enough to keep and sending you out into the wilderness alone seemed crueler than holding onto you. He just had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do with you now. “He didn’t know who the fuck we were or what the fuck we’d do with you - lot worse out there than us, little girl - and he handed you over on a silver fuckin’ platter. More than happy to trade your pain for his sorry life.” 

“He’s the only person left that I knew,” you said softly. It was the first truly genuine thing Joel had heard you say. Except, maybe, when you asked if he was going to kill you. “I’m alone now.” 

“Not alone, little girl,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was reassuring you. He shouldn’t care. “You’re better off.” 

“Why do you call me that?” You asked, lifting your head ever so slightly from the arm of the couch to look at him. “I’m not a little girl…” 

“Little compared to me,” he said. 

You scoffed and sniffed at the same time. 

“You’re a giant,” you said. “Everyone is little compared to you. Don’t see you calling Vinny there little boy…” 

Joel laughed a bit. 

“Maybe I should. And you’re a girl.” 

“I’m a woman,” you said, a spark of defiance in your tone. “I don’t think I’m much younger than you, if I am at all.” 

Joel frowned a bit at that. 

“How old are you?” He asked after a moment. 

You thought for a second, like you were doing the math. Which was fair. It’s not like he’d celebrated his last birthday, either, his stomach twisting at the thought. He had to think about it, too. 

“I’m 33,” you said. “How old are you?” 

He was surprised. Not that you looked terribly young, now that he thought about it. More that human faces lacked much definition to him anymore. Anyone older than a teenager looked about the same until they started going gray. You just seemed younger. 

“I’m 37,” he said. 

“Yeah, I’m not a girl,” you said, putting your head back down. 

“You could tell me your name,” he said. 

You scoffed. 

“Then I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you, little girl,” he said. He could feel you glare at him. 

“I had a whole life before,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Joel. “I had a house and a job and friends and I used to go to dinner and to concerts and buy the people I loved presents. I had a life before.” 

He realized then why he’d thought you were younger. You were, possibly, the most human person he’d come across in a year. Some small spark of divine mortality - the juxtaposition of life and a kind of death that was still possible - there in your eyes that didn’t exist in others. It seemed naive, in a way. Made you seem younger than you were. But he wasn’t sure that was it. Maybe you weren’t naive. Maybe part of you was just clinging to your humanity harder than anyone else left. 

“We all did,” he said, voice harsher than he’d really meant it to be. There was part of him that wanted to snap that tie in you. It was unfair that you got to keep it when he didn’t. But it was a kindness, too. You’d survive better without it. “You move on. Go to sleep.” 

He went to the room he shared with Tommy who was unconscious, sprawled out on the bed and snoring. Joel took the sleeping bag on the floor and stared at the ceiling, trying to make himself not listen for the sound of you crying in the next room. 

Things were surprisingly smooth with you for the next two days. Vince was a fucking idiot and got a nasty cut on his arm that you tended to, giving him stitches while he leered at you and Joel ground his teeth. 

He felt better with you tied. Your wrists, at the very least, but during the day when the men were coming and going, Joel bound you to a chair at the table. 

“Comfortable?” He asked the first time he did it. 

“No,” you spat, face scrunched in anger that was so fierce it was almost cute. If Joel even found things cute anymore. “I’m not.” 

“You gonna lose a hand from me cuttin’ off your circulation?” He asked instead. You just glared at him. “Good. Stay put, like a good girl.” 

“I hate you,” you seethed at him. 

Joel shrugged. 

“That’s fine,” he said. “Don’t gotta like me to keep me alive, do ya?” 

He went outside to gather wood. 

By the third night, you were yawning and looked barely conscious before the sun had even set. Joel frowned. 

“I keep telling you to sleep,” he said. “You ignoring me for fun or you think exhausting yourself is good for your health?” 

“I’d love to sleep,” you snapped. “But something about having my wrists bound keeps me up at night. Maybe it’s the discomfort, maybe it’s the looming threat of death, who can say?” 

Joel pulled Tommy and Vince aside after dinner, the men standing in the dirt outside the cabin, snow starting to drift down. 

“She hasn’t tried to hurt anyone yet,” Tommy shrugged. “Don’t think she’s gonna go far if she gets away and doesn’t seem like the kind to kill us in our sleep.” 

“Don’t like it,” Vince said, glaring at the cabin for a moment before looking back at Joel. “Can’t trust her as far as we can throw her…” 

“No one said shit about trust,” Joel cut him off. “But we can’t keep ‘er tied up forever.” 

“Fine,” Vince shrugged. “We can put her to use then kill her. Won’t need to tie her up then.” 

Joel could hear the blood in his ears. 

“Suggest that one more time, little boy, and see how long you last,” he straightened up as he said it, the full six inches he had on the younger man all the more apparent then. “You want to do that kind of shit, find someone else to run with.” 

“Fuck, sorry,” he raised his arms in a moment of surrender before crossing them again. “Just don’t come crying to me when she slits your fucking throat.” 

“Can’t cry if she kills me, can I?” Joel said, stomping back toward the house, pushing past Vince on the way. 

You were still bound to the chair. He wordlessly unwound the rope and you relaxed your elbows, stretching your arms as best you could with your wrists still tied. 

“Hands up,” he said. You frowned, just looking at him. “You heard me, you want me to untie you or not? Hands up.” 

You practically flung your wrists at him and he tried not to laugh at you as he loosened the knot and pulled the rope from your wrists. 

The second you were free, you rolled your shoulders and closed your eyes, groaning at the feeling of it. 

“God that’s good,” you moaned before you started flexing your fingers and rotating your wrists before you glared up at him again. “What? You try being tied up for days, see how you deal with it.” 

“Rather not,” Joel said, winding up the rope. “Better be a good girl, don’t try anything stupid.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said as you spread your arms wide and sighed. Joel found himself smiling a little for the first time in he didn’t know how long. He stopped himself. 

“Actually get some sleep,” he said, voice gruff. “No good to us exhausted.” 

He left you alone, taking the bed in he and Tommy’s room that night and Tommy taking the floor. It took effort to not listen for you moving in the front room as he drifted off. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep when Tommy shook him awake. 

“Joel,” he said urgently. “She’s gone.” 

***

Absolutely none of this was ideal. 

You were exhausted, the only thing keeping you upright the adrenaline that ran through your whole body. You didn’t have supplies, your pack and all its valuable contents in the bedrooms of the men. You were stuck running through snow, leaving a clear path to follow until the woods got dense enough that the snow hadn’t piled up much. 

But you had to go, you had to go now, now, now, right now. You couldn’t spend another night there like that, not when you had the option to get away, not when you had the use of your arms back. 

Your body wouldn’t let you sleep, even for an hour or two, even just for a night to try to make a break for it tomorrow. The second Joel had freed your hands it was like you could feel every part of your body in sharp, acute detail. Every frayed nerve, every thrumming vein, every peaked hair was stark and clear. You couldn’t relax enough to sleep. You had an opening, a chance. You had to take it, you had to. 

You didn’t even have your knife. 

But you had your body and you knew how to push yourself over long distances in the mountains. You’d been good at it before, too. You’d hiked most of your life, knowing how to get yourself to make it to the top of the next ridge even when your calves were burning and your lungs felt on the verge of collapse you knew you could make it. 

All you had to do was do that now, through all the exhaustion and all the panic, and put as much distance between yourself and those men as possible. 

You’d find some way to keep yourself alive eventually. There’d be supplies or a settlement. Something. You were sure of that. 

Mostly. 

Your breath rose in a cloud in front of you and you broke away from the trail into the brush of the woods, thankful that the moon was bright enough that you could have some sense of where you were going. 

You were just starting to relax a little when you heard it behind you. A sharp, shrill whistle. You froze. 

“Come on out, little rabbit,” Tommy called. “Not gonna hurt you…” 

“Shit,” you whispered as you panted for breath. They sounded pretty far away but they’d catch up eventually. 

You scrambled through the forest until you reached a cluster of ferns that was thick and full and you ducked into it. If you stayed quiet and still, they’d walk right past you. You could stay put for a while and then find your way from there. Simple. 

You tried to not shake from cold and fear as you heard the signs of the men getting close. There was the crunch of sticks, the rustle of leaves and the eerie sound of Vince humming Run, Rabbit, Run. The glare of a flashlight trickled between the ferns and you held your breath, the humming getting louder. 

For a second, a glorious second, you thought you were in the clear. Vince had passed your hiding spot, poking through the brush closest to the trail with his rifle but you were just far enough off the trail that he missed you, and you relaxed. 

Then you heard the snap of a twig. 

“Found you.” 

You spun, Vince turning the flashlight on and shining it in your face, all but blinding you. You threw up a hand instinctively to protect your eyes and he grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of your hiding spot and almost pulling your arm out of its socket in the process. 

You yelped in pain, you couldn’t help it, and he all but threw you onto the trail. Your eyes were still adjusting to the light but it took you a moment to realize that he had his gun trained on you. 

“Knew you’d take off on us,” he said, panting a little. You put your hands up and looked for a way out. “Knew you’d be more trouble than you’re worth…” 

You backed away from him, more on instinct than anything else, not able to watch where you were going and you shrieked as you tripped and fell back, landing hard and barely catching yourself before your head smacked into the rock of the path. You rose up on your hands quickly, scrambling back from him as best you could but he was standing, could see where he was going. You didn’t have a hope. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Please just… just let me go, you already have my supplies and…” 

“Can’t let you go with you knowing where we are,” he replied. “And you were already more trouble than you’re worth in my opinion…” 

“I stitched up your arm,” you said, tears stinging at your eyes. “I helped you…” 

“And those two idiots won’t even let me fuck you,” he cut you off. “What good is pussy you can’t fuck, hm?” 

“Please,” you said again. 

“That’s not an answer,” he prowled closer, the muzzle of his rifle so close you could almost touch it. Your heart was in your throat. “Think I’ll just kill you, bet that pretty head of yours would make all kinds of nice colors when I blow it off…” 

“Hey!” Tommy snapped, his gun up and pointed at Vince. “Know you’re not threatenin’ to kill her, not when we all agreed to keep her alive.” 

“You agreed,” Vince snapped. “You and your asshole brother, not me.” 

“That asshole has been keepin’ your sorry ass alive,” Joel growled from behind you. Your head whipped around to see him there, looming large over you. His gun was up, too, pointed at Vince. “You need us a whole hell of a lot more than we need you. You can do what I fuckin’ say or you can move on. But you keep pointing that gun at her and you ain’t gonna have much to move on with.” 

The three of them stood there for a moment, Vince aiming at you, Joel and Tommy aiming at him. Your heart felt like it was going to break your ribs it was beating so hard. 

Vince lowered his gun. Tommy did the same but Joel left his up. 

“Joel,” Vince said but Joel cut him off. 

“Don’t like men who don’t listen,” he said. “Not worth shit to me if you can’t take orders. Said you could join me and my brother if you did what you were told.” 

“I told you she’d run!” Vince snapped. 

“Don’t give a shit,” Joel said. “You think nurses pop up every five fuckin’ feet? She’s valuable. To us and to people we come across. Worth a little trouble. Worth a whole hell of a lot more trouble than you. Know your goddamn place.” 

He lowered his gun and looked down to you. 

“You alright, little girl?” 

You were too shaken to fight the nickname. Instead, you just nodded. 

“Good.” 

He slung his rifle on his back and reached down, yanking you sharply to your feet, the movement so rough it shocked you. Once you were on your feet, he grabbed you by your chin, his callused fingers harsh on your cheeks, and pulled your face close, so close that you’d expect him to kiss you if he were your lover. 

But he wasn’t that. He was your captor. 

“Thought I told you not to try anything stupid,” he asked, his face almost eerily calm but his tone on the edge of anger. “You seem smart enough to know better, give you an inch and you decide to take a mile. Several, in fact. Maybe Vince is right, maybe we should kill you…” 

“Joel,” Tommy said cautiously but Joel threw him a glare and he quieted. 

“You really think you can do better than us out there? Hm?” He demanded. “You think you can survive all on your lonesome?” 

“No,” you said, fighting to not cry. You hated that you reacted this way, that when you were scared or mad your first instinct was to cry. “But I could find…” 

“Find what?” He cut you off. “Find someone else who’s willin’ to stick their necks out for you? Willing to feed you, shelter you without takin’ more from you?” 

He released your chin and you slumped back from him, massaging your face and working your jaw, trying to right it. 

“You’re damn lucky to be with us, little girl,” he snapped. “Real damn lucky. Better start actin’ like it instead of running off like some scared little rabbit. Hands out.” 

“But…” 

“No,” he shook his head firmly. “You lost the privilege of using your fuckin’ hands without my permission. Hands. Out.” 

You obeyed, arms trembling, and he bound your wrists together, the ropes finding the same indentations they’d made on your skin before. He dropped your wrists once they were bound and you looked at him as you still fought to not cry. His eyes met yours, sharp and cold. 

“You’re mine now,” he said harshly. “Sooner you figure that out, the easier this gets for you. Move.” 

The walk back to the cabin felt long and, when you got there, you went to lay on the couch but Joel stopped you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, shrugging out of his coat. 

You frowned. 

“Going to sleep…”

“Not there you’re not,” he said. “You’re sleepin’ with me, you don’t get to be unsupervised anymore.” 

Your eyes went wide and you shook your head. 

“No, no, please, you said you weren’t…” 

“Wasn’t offerin’ to fuck you, girl,” he cut you off. “You’re sleeping where I can fucking see you so get in my bed.” 

Your whole body shook as he nudged you to one of the back rooms. You hadn’t been in one of these before. You had no idea how to try to escape if you needed to. It was stupid of you, you realized now, to trust Joel when he said they might be murderers but they weren’t rapists. Just because they hadn’t forced themselves on you yet didn’t mean they wouldn’t now. 

The room wasn’t huge, a queen sized bed in the middle and a sleeping bag on the floor. There was a door - to a closet, you assumed - and a dresser with some picture frames on top. 

“Shoes off,” Joel said. 

“Please,” you said softly. “Please don’t do this, I…” 

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t offering to fuck you?” He asked, sounding exasperated. “I don’t want you tracking dirt into the goddamn bed. Shoes off, get in on that side, one by the dresser. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you will.”

You obeyed and curled as tightly in on yourself as you could, facing away from him. You felt the bed dip as he climbed in, the heat of his body close to yours. But he didn’t touch you. 

“Actually sleep,” Joel muttered after a moment. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him. He was flat on his back, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. The opposite of someone who looked like they were about to grope you the second you passed out. 

Still, you rolled to face him, curled tightly on yourself, and watched him until his body loosened and his breaths evened. Tommy snored lightly from the sleeping bag on the floor. You weren’t sure if their unconscious state made it feel safe enough to rest or your body gave out from exhaustion but, the next thing you knew, it was morning and you were alone. 

You sat up slowly, hands still bound, an unfamiliar blanket draped over you that hadn’t been the night before. 

You made your way slowly, cautiously, to the main part of the small house. The men were talking in low voices around the kitchen table and you hovered for a moment, not sure if you wanted them to notice you or not. 

But Tommy was the first to see you there, a slow smile spreading over his face. 

“Well hey there little rabbit,” he took a sip from a mug. “You look rested.” 

“Probably wore herself out taking off,” Vince muttered. 

“Gonna be just you and me today,” Tommy said, ignoring Vince’s comments. “Those two are headin’ out to do some business.” 

“Business?” You asked, brows raised. “Is that code for murder?” 

“Our business is none of yours, little girl,” Joel said, drinking from a mug of his own. “You stay here, behave yourself, and maybe we’ll bring you something back.” 

“Rather not get anything that comes from killing,” you said. “Thanks though.” 

Joel just rolled his eyes and shoved back from the table. 

“You’ll take what I give you and you’ll like it,” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He put two fingers below your chin and tilted it, forcing you too look him in the eye. “Gonna take off on me again? Or do I need to tie your legs up, too?” 

You gritted your teeth. 

“No.”

“Good girl.” 

Tommy helped you use the bathroom and you sat on the couch with jerky and sore wrists and resentment as you watched Joel and Vince get ready to head out to do… whatever it was they were about to go and do. 

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do to pass the time. You’d had some books in your bags but you weren’t about to risk pissing off the men for a little entertainment. 

But Tommy didn’t let you sit in silence for too long, flopping down next to you on the couch as you tried to find patterns in the peeling paint of he wall. You looked at him, cagey. He smiled. 

“You’re cute when you sleep.” 

You frowned. 

“What?” 

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he said again. “All curled up and shit, just like a little rabbit.” 

You shrank back from him and he put his hands up. 

“Not gonna touch you,” he said. “Unless you wanted me to.” 

“Well… I don’t.”

He shrugged. 

“Didn’t expect you would,” he said. 

He was quiet again for a few minutes before he spoke again, a gleam in his eye when he did. 

“Wouldn’t happen to play poker, would you?”

You didn’t but he seemed happy enough to teach you. But you couldn’t hold the cards well with your wrists bound and, after a few minutes of struggling, Tommy glanced toward the door like he was half expecting Joel to walk through it. 

“Gimme those,” he said, holding his hands out. You thrust your wrists at him faster than you were proud of and he laughed a little, taking hold of you gently. He paused before starting at the rope. “You’re not gonna take off on me, right, little rabbit?” 

“Not at the moment,” you said. 

“Good,” he replied, untying you. “Not a fan of keepin’ you all tied up anyway…” 

You turned your wrists, the bones popping as you luxuriated in the movement. 

“Thank you,” you said, massaging one wrist and then the other. 

He shrugged. 

“The game is Texas Hold ‘Em,” he said, dealing. “We’ll play a few hands open and then see how you do…” 

It was oddly easy to forget that you were being held captive when playing cards with Tommy. He was lighter than the other men, more like people you remembered from before, making easy going conversation about things that hadn’t mattered in more than a year. 

“I’m still mad that I didn’t get to see the second Matrix,” you said, watching as Tommy put the flop on the table. 

“That, darlin’, was a blessing,” he replied. “Wasn’t nearly as good as the first.” 

“I heard that, but still,” you said, looking at the seven of clubs, three of hearts and king of clubs on the table and trying not to smile at the seven of spades and king of hearts in your hand. “I think it might have been better than I heard. And maybe it would have made more sense when the third one came out…” 

“Maybe,” Tommy said, putting the turn on the table. Ace of diamonds, no good for you. “But I dunno, you seem too smart to like something that shitty.” 

“Bold assumption,” you smiled a little and he smiled back. 

“Before I put the river card out,” he said. “How about we make this interesting?” 

“Interesting,” you frowned. “Interesting how?” 

“I win, you tell me something about yourself,” he said. “You win, I’ll give you something you want. Can’t be a weapon but something else.” 

You looked at him, brows raised. 

“C’mon, little rabbit,” he gave you a cocky smirk. “Let’s have some fun.” 

You looked at your hand again. 

“Alright,” you smiled a little. “Let’s do it.” 

The river was the king of spades and you tried not to smile too wide. 

“Alright,” he said, looking like he was holding back a grin himself. “I’ll show you mine then you show me yours.” 

You shrugged and he smiled as he put the king of diamonds and the three of spades on the table. 

“Full house,” he said. “Kings over threes.” 

“Damn,” you sighed. “I just have the kings…” you lowered the card, looking disappointed and enjoyed Tommy’s excited expression for half a second before you put the second card on the table. “Oh, and the sevens. Sevens are higher than threes, right? I mean, I only went to nursing school, I can’t be sure…” 

“You little shit,” Tommy laughed. “You’ve got a damn fine poker face on you! Alright, what is it you want?” 

“My books,” you said immediately. “I had two, I think, in my pack. I’d like them. Please.” 

“I can get you the books,” he smiled. “You sit tight.” 

He brought you the books and you played another hand with the same stakes. And another. And another. And more after that.

You got some hair ties and clean socks out of the deal. Tommy got to know your favorite food and what you liked to watch on TV back when there was TV. 

After a while, he looked at the books that you’d set aside on the table. He picked up the top one, Slaughterhouse Five. 

“Think this was on my reading list in high school,” he said, looking over the back of it. “Never actually read it though.” 

“It’s good,” you said. “You missed out.” 

“Read it to me,” he said, holding it out to you. 

“Read it to you?” You asked, brows raised. “What are you, five?” 

“Never much enjoyed reading,” he shrugged, still holding the book out. “But I like listening. Like listening to you well enough. C’mon, little rabbit. Tell me a story.” 

You considered him for a moment. You felt oddly safe with Tommy. You weren’t sure if it was because he was showing you kindness and one of the only three people left in the world you knew now or if he was actually safe. You weren’t sure you could trust anything you were thinking and feeling. 

But reading to him didn’t sound bad. 

“Can we move to the couch?” You asked. 

He laughed. 

“Think we can manage it.” 

You settled on the couch, you folded into a corner and Tommy stretched out. He watched you closely as you opened the book. 

“All this happened, more or less…” 

You fell asleep on the couch before Joel and Vince made it back but you woke up in he bed, Tommy snoring next to you. 

Part 2

A/N: Hey yeah so... this was supposed to be a one shot but it got away from me. So now it's two parts. Part two up sometime within the next week or so ❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #run rabbit #dddne #dubcon #raider!joel #raider!Tommy #dead dove december #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Forest guardian

Daryl Dixon x reader

You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.

Yet another AU, mentions of canibalism, also Merle is gross.

The bald man behind the counter of the shoddy store was probably the grossest dude you had ever seen, cleaning what looked like blood off his hands while he kept so openly staring at your tits in the low cut top and following you around with his intense gaze as you picked up some items from the racks. "Dontcha worry, doll. Had ta quit skinnin' rabbit when I heard ya come in. S'legal in these 'ere parts." He reassures you, and after you paid you sadly needed to interact with him even more, seeing you weren't familiar with the roads and needed help finding your destination.

"Oh, tha' cabin's over 'ere on tha' road. Can't miss it, sugar." He doodled a little house on the map for you. "Gotta park righ' 'ere." 'here' was marked with a small X. "Road ends, rests'a sand path, too narrow fer cars." With a filthy grin he pointed at the map and marked the location of the place you rented to spend a week in nature to heal. You needed to be away from society for a bit and booked this crazy cheap place in the middle of the woods close to a gorgeous lake. It surprised you there weren't any more cabins like that around, the area was so nice it would make a perfect luxurious vacation spot. Still, that gross man's voice rung in the back of your mind. "Now dontcha go swimmin' in tha' lake, missy. Pretty lil' thang like yerself'd gon' get snatched up ne'er ta be seen 'gain."

On the way to the cabin, following the route you were suggested you passed the lake and watched the sun cast a beautiful gleam over its surface.

'This really is too gorgeous to go swim in.' You mind wondered to the cabin as you closed in on its location, turning the last corner before the road cut off and your small path through the tree line became visible. Not wanting to walk the path twice you stacked everything you took onto your body and started to lug your stuff forward, seeing you had to round the cabin to make to the front door.

The cabin that looked nothing like the photos on the website.. "Oh of course I got catfished by a fucking cabi--"

Stopping dead in your tracks you dropped your bags and sent yourself forward, up the wooden porch and down on your knees.

A man laid passed out in the door opening of the cabin, his breaths shallow. Every item he wore was covered in dried mud and stained to hell and back. A dead rabbit laid beside him, probably dropped from his grasp when he went down. Kneeling closer you looked him over for and wounds and found a deep gash on his side when you turned him over, and saw what looked like a stab wound on his upper arm.

Underneath long, greasy hair there was a large gash on his face, long healed over and leaving an angry scar over an empty eye socket and one side of his mouth was torn open.

You wanted to stare but needed to help this man first, going to find your first aid kit and cleaning the wounds after dragging him onto the cot in the corner of the ratty cabin.

"I'm sorry." You murmured at the man who didn't even hear you as he was out cold. Applying the disinfectant to his wound had you wince along with the soft twitch of his body and a wave of panic washed over you.

What if he woke up, with you hovering over him? You had spotted the throwing axe strapped to his waist, along with two large hunting knives and suddenly prayed you wouldn't end up on the wrong end of those.

When he didn't wake you continued to clean and bandage his arm, and thanked yourself for throwing a pack of butterfly stitches in your bag and carefully stuck them over the cut over his side with one hand as the other held it closed between your fingers.

Wrapping his arm was easy, but having to unroll the bandage around his waist was proving to be a challenge, having to shove your arm underneath his body to pass the bandage to your other hand multiple times.

The invasive movements had moved the man's body and it surprised you he hadn't woken up by the time you tied off the end.

With his wounds patched you could only sit around and wait. You got scammed by a too good to be true offer on a cabin and the first thing you had to do after getting creeped out in the shop was patch up a stranger's wounds yourself because the area had no service.

Curiosity got the best of you after a moment and you went to snoop around the place, passing time by going through cabinets and drawers.

At the third drawer you opened you felt like you stumbled on a goldmine. A black wallet and chain, and a passport laid pushed towards the back.

"Daryl Dixon, huh." Both the ID and the passport belonged to the man, and other cards in the wallet held the same name. It had to be him.

You gave the pictures a long inspection, turning to go compare to the passed out man behind you.

Instead, before you got the chance to turn a hand came and snatched the items from yours. "S'mine, thank you very much."

With a shriek you turned to face the voice and were met with the iciest blue eye you had ever seen.

The open drawer dug into your back as you tried to move away from him.

With the stabbing feeling your gaze turned back to the drawer, hoping to close it but something familiar caught your eye. So instead you dug your hand to grab at a flyer, and with it pulling out a stash of attached papers that scattered over the floor and made Daryl take a step back.

The paper in your hands was filled with the same photos as the cabin rental showed. "The hell?" It was a sales flyer, it told about the building plan for a large amount of cabins surrounding the lake. You looked past the flyer to the floor, bending down to look at the various news articles about the area.

"JUST ANNOUNCED: NEW LUXURY VACATION HOMES." That one spread information about the upcoming tourist attraction.

A smaller piece announced a delay due to "disagreements from locals." You thought if Daryl and the shop guy were those locals.

Then a large, gruesome front page spread.

"MASSACRE AT BUILDING SITE. PROJECT CANCELED."

The title did the article no justice, the first sentence warning people to stop reading if they were easily nauseated, and continued on to go into detail of the events where a whole building crew was murdered mere hours after their scheduled arrival at the site. The murders deemed "too gruesome to share in more detail.".

More articles of missing campers and words of the mysterious serial killer in this area were scattered around and that sudden panic from earlier arose again.

You were dead. It was a fact at the time you first thought of it and it was still a fact now that you saw all this. With shaking breaths you slowly looked up at the man still standing before you.

His hand rested on the handle of his hunting knife, fingers not yet curled around it. His one eye staring, clearly deep in thought.

"That's you, right? The killer?" Your fingers rested on a smaller article, looking further up at his face.

A quiet acknowledging grunt left him as he turned around and ignored your further words.

Daryl's mind raced with opinions, facts and other voices that all called out different things.

He killed trespassers. Humans were bad for these woods, they shouldn't exist here. Except for him and his brother. But this one healed him, patched up his wounds and made sure he didn't die. You weren’t here to harm..

His wandering mind had led him outside, lighting a cigarette and deciding to return the favor and rummage through the bags you brought, fishing out a tub of cookies from your backpack.

From just outside the doorway you heard the familiar click of the tub clasps opening, followed by a loud crunching.

“Huh. HEY!” Getting up from the floor you made your way over to the man and snatched the box from his hands. “Those are mine, thank you.” Your tone mocked his from before and Daryl grunted in protest.

“Why’re ya ‘ere anyways?” You huffed in response, a hand on your hip and pointing the one with the box at where he still sat in front of your pile of bags. “Obviously I came here on vacation, but I guess I’ll be driving home again since I got scammed…”

You had moved to start packing up your first aid kit and moved over to stuff it back into your backpack but pausing, and handing the kit to Daryl. “Why?” He spoke around lungfuls of smoke before blowing it out away from you. “Got ‘nough a’those layin’ ‘round.”

‘Why’re ya tellin’ her tha? She saw yer a killer. Why aint she dead yet?’ The voice in his head blended with his brother’s, scolding him like he was so used to, but still not believing you were harmful enough to kill.

Besides, you knew how to tend to wounds which was useful.

Hell, even going out to find his brother to bring him an outdoor oven and ingredients to make those cookies and keep you around just fir those was enough to dispel the voices.

You were standing in front of the storage space at the back of he cabin and you were worried. Why were you following this killer and not just leaving your stuff behind and running to your car? You’d never speak of this and find some excuse on the way home. But still you kept standing there next to him as he opened the door and showed the huge collection of useful stuff. All taken from trespassers.

“You’re killing me aren’t you?” The words weren’t supposed to leave your mouth and a hand clamped over it immediately after, eyes on him in fear as tears threatened to spill due to the panic you were causing yourself. But then again, would it really be that bad if he killed you? No more shitty jobs and cheating boyfriends. No more crying yourself to sleep over bills and food.

“Yer dif’rent.” You barely caught his words when he disappeared into his stash and throwing a soft fuzzy blanket at you. “Feel tha’ one. Ya like tha’?” You hadn’t throwing the item until it hit you in the face, grabbing to catch it before it hit the ground and being taken off guard even more by how soft it was. It calmed you, rubbing it against your cheek. At the sight of the tab on it you gasped, taking a closer look at it and staring back at Daryl, your previous worries entirely overridden by the shock. “Why do you have a hundred dollar blanket in your shed?”

He only shrugged. “Sum whiny whore had it. Guess ‘er boyfriend thought campin’ at a pretty lake was gon’ get ‘em laid or sum’n.”

“Bitch was fuckin’ disgustin’.” A shudder ran along his spine at the memory of cutting her open. “All ‘er curves fake, no meat left on ‘er bones tha’ was edible. Damn fillers leakin’ out of ‘er flesh over the fire.” He just rambled about it like it meant nothing to him at all while you stared. He ate them? You were getting hungry just now but that feeling faded just as quick upon hearing him talk.

He saw the disgust on your face and decided he needed to shut up. “Ah, sorry. Ain’t normal people talk.”

His apology really came out of left field and had you swallow a giggle, but failing and sputtering out a laugh. “Why even are you telling me all this?” Despite your laughs it was a serious question. “I mean, what if ai leave and call the cops on you?” Not that you were going to, but you got curious and had already decided you were fine with however this day was going to end. If this guy as gonna roast you over a fire then so be it, you weren’t scared anymore.

“Who says yer leavin’? M’keepin’ ya ‘ere with me. Yer dif’rent.”

Different. There it was again, he’s called you that more than once now. “Who says I want that?”

“Y’aint runnin’ yet.” He put his pointer fingers together in a counting gesture. “Ya patched me up. An’ yer not scared a’me ‘n ma face.”

It’s true. When you first saw his face it shocked you a bit, but mostly you were curious how someone could survive a wound like that. You nodded thoughtfully, not entirely aware you did so and earned a smile. “I aint plannin’ on eatin’ ya. But ya gotta respect ma rules or I’ll change ma mind ‘bout it.”

“If you’re talking about eating people you better end me now, there’s no way I’m doing that, ever.” You held your hands up in defeat with the blanket tossed over one shoulder. “Go ahead.”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to laugh. A deep, rumbling laugh that had you squint at him. He laughed?

Your calm around the offer for him to kill you right where you stood surprised him. You really didn’t care if he took you out. He respected that, so as long as you were fine with his ways he had no reason to get rid of you. “Dontcha worry yer pretty lil’ head ‘bout tha’. Aint gon’ make ya eat ‘em. ‘Nough small game ‘round ‘ere fer ya. I’ll keep ya fed.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Yeah, rabbits and squirrels weren’t part of your menu now but as long as he wasn’t feeding you humans.

Talking about eating made the grumble in your stomach make another appearance, this time accompanied my the unmistaken noise of hunger. A huffed laugh and a nod towards the front door had you both back inside where Daryl still had his rabbit he had started skinning at his makeshift kitchenette across the room rom where you sat on the bed eating your leftover sandwich.

You observed him from a distance. How he skillfully took apart the animal and separated the meats while keeping an eye on his fireplace in the meantime.

“Hey, c’mere.” Without looking up from his work he waved one hand above his head to get your attention. He made sure you got the pieces you wanted, and prepared them to your liking. The way he was roasting them over the fireplace was almost like an inside barbecue.

“Smells nice.” You had moved to sit next to him beside the fire that roasted your dinner.

You ate together and spent the time after in quiet togetherness. Daryl cleaned up the rabbit’s leftovers and spent some time doing god knows what outside while you stayed in. You sat on the bed fidgeting with your clothing and the soft fuzz on the blanket he gave you. For a short moment you wondered what you were still doing here, why you hadn’t gotten up and started walking away, but now your mind was blank, staring mindlessly at the floor. You didn’t even notice Daryl come back in. He just suddenly appeared in your view, dropping a stack of bedrolls and sleeping bags at your feet and beginning to roll them out. When you realized his implications you let yourself fall. Ack with a sigh. You really had been here since early in the afternoon and still hadn’t made an effort to leave and were about to spend the night in a killer’s cabin in the woods..

You wondered if all these setbacks in life had officially driven you mad.

After you offered to take over from Daryl to “make your own bed” he only scoffed and tapped your ankle to make space. “Makin’ ma own bed ‘ere. Ya keep the cot, s’fine.” You went back and forth a bunch of times but he kept insisting you kept the bed. Why was he so kind?

You tossed him his pillows and got a quizzical look that followed you as you went to retrieve the ones you brought from your duffle bag at the door. With an understanding grunt he moved on, unzipping a sleeping bag and laying it over the bedding and left through the curtain beside the kitchenette.

You were about to lay down and zone out when he walked back through the curtain, ducking b something out of one drawer lower than you got before when you got there and move back, keeping what was in his hand hidden from your line of sight, but you caught something in his mouth for a second. “Wait. Hold up.” Oh fuck. His mind told him he fucked up by grabbing that magazine. You were gonna ask what he grabbed and there was no way you needed to know what he was planning to do behind that wall. You sat up and watched as he peeked his head from behind the curtain to look at you with a raised brow, faking his best annoyed look. “Hmm?” With a toothbrush between the scarred end of his lips he waited for you to speak.

“You brush your teeth?” You were seriously confused now. “You, a serial killer living in the middle of nowhere, brushes his teeth.” You pointed at him, hand palm up in disbelief. He rolled his one eye at your wording and took the thing from his mouth and pointed it back at you in an almost threatening way. “Yeah, so?” He spoke around a mouthful of foam. “Ya will keep up too when ya gotta yank out a rotten tooth ‘n can’t eat nut’n but soup fer weeks.” He scoffed at your assumption of his hygiene just because he killed people. “Gotta keep clean ta eat. Can’t eat, can’t hunt. Can’t hunt, can’t keep them woods ‘ere safe.” His tone was serious, he meant every word and made it clear these woods meant much to him. Enough to kill for. After he was done he turned away again and the room fell silent once more, taking it as your cue to crawl under the soft blanket Daryl gave you and sleep for the night.

#sometimes I write #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd au

[felswritingfire]

Homelander x Chaotic! Hyper Fem!Reader

The Homelander brainrot is real and I hate it with my whole being. I want this man dead, he's so pathetic. Anyway, I haven't watched The Boys but I'm hooked on his character thanks to falling down the rabbit hole with Character.Ai and all the talented writers for The Boys fandom, like? Absolutely scrumptious works. Also I just really wanted to write for a chaotic reader, the hyper fem part came after lmao

TW: This was written with a AFAB reader in mind so there's descriptions of Reader wearing a skirt, no pronouns specified; Homelander's creepiness is considerably toned down for this, but he does break into reader's apartment and actively stalks them; Reader says some saucy stuff; Cussing; Homelander has a panic attack/mental break down; Reader is a horny virgin; Age Gap, it's only mentioned once or twice, but it's still there and prevalent; Gen Z humor- reader is a Gen Z baby, they're in their early 20s

"You didn't tell me that Homelander had a slutty ass waist." The words caught him off guard. They were whispered. Somewhere in the crowd. His eyes fought to stay glued onto the press speaker, his smile twitching ever so slightly.  The comment had hung in his head, floating around like a phantom, even as he took the stage and did his speech perfectly. Like always. He preens as the people clap and cheer for him.  Then the voice chirps out, in the safety of the cheering and the noise: "Homelander? More like Sluttylander, am I right?" He hears a scoff after that, zeroing in on the conversation now: two women. No older than their mid 20s. "Hey, I mean that respectfully." "You know he's like 20 years older than you, right?" "I'll bend him over and make him call me daddy. I'm not a coward." A cackle. He had scanned the crowd while keeping a smile plastered on his lips. He was curious what foul mouth little shit was talking. Until his gaze lands on… you.  You look like the cat that got the cream as you look at your friend who has to hold onto you for support as she giggles and laughs. Your bright eyed gaze moves from her back to him just to tense as you catch his gaze. "Um," you elbow her- Renae- to get her attention and she giggles before she looks and she's freezing too. "He isn't looking at us is he?" She shrugs. "I don't know…" she trails off. You squint before covering your mouth with your hands, talking just loud enough for Renae to hear you but no one else. "Blink twice if you can hear us." It was a joke. There's no way- And then he's blinking. Once. Twice.  "Oh bitch-tits." You want to scream, grabbing Renae's wrist, pushing through the crowd. "Fuck, dude, this is going to be my thirteenth reason, I swear to fuck-"  He watches the two of you go. He shouldn't be interested. You're just some snot nosed kid. But… how you spoke, the chaotic-ness of it all. The way the light caught your hair, the curves of your body, the way that skirt flares up as you scurry away... he's intrigued to say the least…

💫 Homelander wasn't normally so… interested in the general public, but he had been quick to commit your face and voice to memory. He had actually stumbled upon you, finding out you worked at some high-end retail job. You dealt with snooty people and all the while kept up that pretty little customer service smile despite the clear signs of barely concealed frustration searing under your skin. He could smell the heat of your blood and watched you through the building's walls when you went on break and sat down stiffly, just to scream into your hands. It started out as something funny because he found your misery amusing and then the descent into madness started.

💫 It was like he went through the five stages of grief. At first he had convinced himself that he keeps watching you out of sheer amusement. And then he started to take in more pieces of you: how you took care of things you treasure; how you cared and cooed at the plants that were in your house; how you talked to that damn fish that your treasured so much; your little mannerisms- things he started to find… cute. Then it was denile: no he didn't find you cute he found you amusing. He laughed when you seethed about your toast burning; how you had a breakdown as soon as you got off work because the crushing weight of living in a capitalistic society came crashing down on you; how you talked to yourself like you were having a full blown conversation with another person- you were amusing. And then came the realization and then rage: how dare you make him feel like this? You were just a sniveling little thing. He was a god. How dare you? And then came acceptance. He was… casual when he accepted it. Like all the turmoil had fallen off his shoulders. He was watching you, taking in how you nurtured your "plant children", how you talked to them and wiped the dust off their leaves. It made his heart flutter.

💫 After that, his casual viewings become much more of a time investment as he pays closer and closer attention to you. Every waking moment he has when he's not busy juggling the press and Vought, is spent watching you. Taking in information and storing it in his brain for safe keeping: what you like to eat; your favorite type of plant; your dream vacation; what type of fish you have (you have a betta. He searched them up. He learned all about them to feel closer to you). 

💫 Soon enough, observing isn't enough. He starts to go into your apartment when you're not home, looking at the coziness of your space. Taking in the scent and looking at your plants and your Betta fish that flares his gills at him. It makes him snort in amusement. How cute. He'll lay on your bed, shoving his face into your pillows and inhaling deeply, moaning in contentment. 

💫 He also starts to "coincidentally" run into you on the streets. He finds it so funny each time you gawk at him. A "holy fuck!" Leaving you as you gesture wildly, "it's fucking Homelander!" 

○ He's not too keen on your potty mouth, but he supposes he can let it slide. He's just as bad.

💫 He smiles his charming little smile as he'll make small talk with you, his hands on his hips as he takes you in. He loves knowing how much stronger he is than you and he has to fight hard to keep from popping a boner. You're so fun to talk to, you say the most out of pocket things:

"Yeah, like, almost got stabbed by a homeless man today. Like, 0/10 would not recommend." You said, looking at your nails. Frowning about the nail polish already chipping. "Yeah, well, not many people put 'being stabbed' at the top of their list of things to happen to them." He replies with a laugh, moving closer to you, taking in that mellow perfume you wear. "I mean, I'm down for knife play, but I'm a classy slut. You have to take me to dinner first." He's flabbergasted. He loves it.

💫 He begins to insert himself into your life, taking up more and more of your free time, you don't even notice it at first. How he just… starts spending time at your home. How you two begin a ritual of movie night every Saturday (he forced Vought to make that day his off day. He was not to be called under any circumstance short of the world going to implode on itself). You have so many emotions in that body of yours and he finds it amusing when you gasp or a look of disgust crosses your face at something a character did. You'd be horrible at poker.

"What the fu-" He has an easy smile on his face as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and places his hand over your mouth. Not threateningly. More playful than anything. You simply hold onto his hand with both of yours as you watch the screen. 

💫 You catch him off guard all the time. Your girly appearance gives nothing away to the chaotic tendencies. You were the closest thing to an actual agent of chaos he's seen. He once watched you, while you were with that little friend of yours- Renae- run across the street as a group of men cat called you, swinging your purse at high velocity speed, yelling: "I'll fucking end your bloodline!" The men were terrified and scurried off screaming "crazy bitch!" You had given Renae a thumbs up, proud of yourself. He also watched you steal a pro-life abortion sign "saying Jesus wouldn't want this" and javelin throwing it into someone's backyard pool before bolting down the street, cackling. Both times in heels. Both times he was weirdly turned on. 

💫 He likes how girly you dress. He loves it actually. He loves all the soft pastel colors you wear and the pleated skirts. It makes you look soft and delicate and he's obsessed with it. He has a tendency to pull at the hem of your skirt, flick it up slightly. You just give him a dead stare and lift up your skirt. "Shorts, bitch." You do it every time and he thinks it's funny.

💫 He hates that you're home screen is a collage of Soldier Boy with that stupid cursive font saying: "my daddy is super dead, but he could still hit it <;3". He hates it and then your lock screen is of your fish.

"Why do you have that?" He asks with disdain.  "What?" She asks looking up at him. He rolls his eyes. "Don't play stupid. Why is he your wallpaper? He's dead. He's been dead." Sure, that was his hero but like hell he wanted to see that man's charming smirk on your homescreen. "Soldier Boys is hot." You say it with all the seriousness of someone telling a prophecy. Homelander's eye twitches. "And I'm not." "No. You are. With your slutty waist." She assures him. "But Soldier Boy is the OG daddy." He scoffs. 

● He ends up stealing your phone later on when you're not looking and changing the wallpaper himself, having memorized your password.

💫 For as flirty and raunchy your mind was, you were oddly freaked out of genuine touch. The first time he tried to make a move on you, you screamed and almost gave yourself a concussion with how you fell over the arm of the couch. He was stunned until you explained you had issues with romantic touch. "Daddy issues, am I right?" She tries to play it off with a laugh. He is not laughing. Later, though, he starts to find it amusing, taking the chance to make you squirm and blush is so funny to him. He revels in your pain and embarrassment.

● He has killed people who had done the same. Like, actually snapped a guy's neck for it.

💫 He is NOT thrilled when you talk about wanting to rail fictional characters. He actually gets pouty. Genuinely gets pissy. He tries to ban you from watching anime.

"But. Toji hot." "I don't care if 'Toji hot'. He spits. "Toji is a fictional character. You need a real man that knows how to please you." You look at him, eating a spoonful of cereal despite his protests about eating it so late. You chew slowly and swallow. "Toji's got that potent dad nut. It works, John." Homelander practically chokes on his spit at that.

💫 He lets you call him John. He likes when you call him John. Call him John.

💫 He actually tries to be better for you because you've voiced how you didn't like when people get hurt. He tries. Key word tries to be more aware, to be a better person. Just for you. 

💫 Absolutely goes insane if you praise him. It's all he wants and all her craves. You've casually complimented him once and he's latched onto it ever since. He's infatuated with your praise. He's like a puppy, looking to you after he did a good deed, looking to you when he does a chore right. It's almost better than sex for him. Almost.

💫 He's elated when you let him lay in your lap. Despite how squeamish you were about sex, you craved physical touch and, guess what? So does he! He's obsessed with laying down and taking in your sweet scent, your fingers playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone. He adores the casual touches you leave on him, adore every time you hang onto his arm. He knows you don't mean anything romantic, but it still fills a hole to have a genuine companion that cares about him in his life. 

💫 You've helped him after a breakdown, when his mind felt like it was splitting and his ego was taking in a mind of its own- and then there you were. In all your pretty, pastel colored and pleated skirt glory.

"John?" You say softly, not approaching him just yet. Giving him the space he needs. "Do you need a hug?" He's breathing hard. He didn't know why he came to your apartment. He thought he was going back to his penthouse in Vought towers. But no. Here he was. And you're standing there, confused about your pretty features. The chaotic side of you is completely gone for the moment. He just stares at you. Of course you'd run to some bitch. A voice hisses in his head. We're a god among men and you come crawling to some fucking-  He squeezes his eyes shut. Your eyes soften. "Come on." You say, your voice soft and gently. A soft coo to him. "Let's sit you down." You open the door wider for him and he trudges in, looking completely drained. He sinks into your couch and you disappear into your room and come out with a fuzzy blanket. The one you wrap around the two of you have movie night. You drape it over him, gently. "It's ok, sweetheart," you say. "I don't know what's happening but you're safe now." He almost scoffs. No one could touch him. He was The Homelander. But… how you said it. It made his chest ache with something heavy. "Can… Can you hold me?" He practically whispers. "Of course, honey." You open your arms up for him. He immediately melts into your hold, his head pressing against the crook of your neck, his hands desperately clinging to the back of your shirt. He sucks in a breath of your scent before he breaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his sobs into you.  He's not a pretty crier. But who is? You run your hand through his hair. Your cheek resting against his head. It feels strange to see a man that could be your father break down. But you had a feeling he was a mess on the inside. All that bravado and charisma making up for an abysmal childhood.  It takes him a while to calm down. His puffy eyes blinking, his blue eyes glassy, he sniffles.  "Oh, sweetie," you coo, swiping your thumb under his eyes to wipe the tear streaks away. "You look like a mess." You say softly, not to make fun of him. Just to state an obvious fact. He sniffles, glaring at you.  You smile at him and he melts.

💫 He won't let you paint his nails, but he wants to paint your nails. He has a pension for picking colors related to him. You make fun of him for it. 

💫 He lets you put accessories in his hair. ONLY when it's movie night. He did accidentally go to a meeting with a hair clip that has rhinestones that spelt 'JUICY' on it. The Seven stayed silent and he was embarrassed as hell when he saw it in the mirror of the window.

💫 HE IS ACTUALLY TRAUMATIZED WHEN YOU FIGURE OUT HE WEARS A BODYSUIT OH MY GOD. HE SUFFERS. THAT'S HOW YOU GET HIM BACK FOR MESSING WITH YOUR FLUSTEREDNESS.

"What's up, my cute stick bug." "Shut the fuck up."  You are the only person allowed to poke fun at him about that. Anyone else would get obliterated.

💫 If you involve him in picking out your outfits, he has hit Nirvana. He has truly seen heaven. He actually has a pretty solid eye for clothes. But he will take the opportunity to coordinate an outfit that has colors that compliment his hero outfit. If you notice, he'll play dumb.

💫 Anyway, congratulations, you have an OP friend. Until he isn't content with just being friends any more….

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

#the boys tv #the boys #the boys amazon #homelander #the boys homelander #the boys x reader #homelander x reader #x reader #fem reader #afab reader #kinda nsfw. #tw: age gap #tw: cussing #tw: stalking #tw: breaking and entering #not a reblog. #I messed with one thing and now this fuck ass is eating up my life #shoot me in the foot now I swore no mommy issues man would give me this many emotions and here I am #I AM FULY AWARE HE'S A HORRIBLE PERSON DON'T WORRY #IT HAUNTS ME #Also this is under the pretext of Reader not realizing how much of a piece of shit he is #But I kind of churned these out so... #if you want a part 2 totally ask #I wanna write one with Soldier Boy #also if he was played by anyone else other than fucking Jensen I'd beat the shit out of him. No shield would save his ass from my wrath #say goodbye to your knee peepaw #READER ALSO DOESN'T KNOW THE FULL EXTENT OF HIS MOMMY ISSUES. AT ALL. #READER KNOWS HE HAS ISSUES BUT NOT HOW BAD

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 9

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: a little bit of angst and self-doubt, a little bit of backstory, self-serving pretty flowery apologies, and i made the boys kiss again

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.7K

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He’s about ready to own up to it when Autumn walks in, admit what he’s done and face the consequences. He’s pissed her off before and survived — he doesn’t doubt he can do it again.

She sidles up beside him at the register and he’s going to tell on himself when she says something that makes his eyes widen. “Nick texted you?”

His mind reels, wondering how she knows. When he glances over, he’s expecting anger in her expression, or at the very least annoyance. Instead he finds her smiling at him, expression soft.

“How did you know?” he inquires, wracking his brain for an explanation but coming up with nothing. His stomach turns when he envisions Autumn pounding on the door of Nick’s house, or barging into the bar, berating a stranger for something that shouldn’t be her problem. Autumn, as always, coming to his rescue when he can’t do it himself.

He feels sick.

“Do you remember my friend Jasmine?” Autumn offers, and there’s a beat when he questions the relevance of the question. He remembers her vaguely — she and Autumn were friends while Noah was living in Baltimore, a coworker from the university. They’d met once, when Noah came home for the weekend, but he didn’t stick around. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. He was happy that she had someone like Jasmine to fill the void he’d left when he vanished.

He distantly wonders why they don’t see each other anymore before his heart drops, remembering what happened to her. He sees her face, his mind traveling to the photo on the end table in Nick’s living room. Her pretty dark hair, her kind smile.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t connect it, and he feels painfully foolish. Not knowing what else to say, he nods.

“He’s a good guy, Noah,” Autumn utters, a sigh on the edge of her voice as if she hates to admit it. He knows that she’s right, and just recently he would have done anything for her to think so, but right now it makes him feel like he’s out of people on his side. He still needs her on his side. “He’s been through a hell of a lot, but he wants to fix this.”

He imagines how the conversation might go tonight. His mind conjures the image of an apology, at Autumn’s instruction, but yet another letdown. It isn’t the first time someone hasn’t wanted him, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Already, he’s itching to disappear again. Asheville might be nice this time.

It already took everything in him to come back here. It took even more out of him to open his heart again, and he really thought he’d picked the right one this time — it felt right, didn’t it?

His mind shifts suddenly back to the last time something felt right, the overwhelming joy he’d felt, and rapidly to the look on Aiden’s face when Noah had the nerve to ask if he wanted to get married, to the bellowing laughter and the pity painted across his face that read oh, you poor thing. When he got home from work the next day, half of the apartment was emptied out. He didn’t see him again, but every inch of Richmond stunk of the 3 years of memories they made together.

He knows what it’s like to want to disappear. He knows how hard it is to come back. It isn’t the same, but he knows how it feels for your life to stop dead in its tracks.

It’s a little past 8 already, anxiety bubbling up in his gut as he’s pacing back and forth across his living room. There’s a part of him hoping that Nick doesn’t show, leaving Noah to fill in the blanks on his own, fizzling out slowly and painfully but without a direct and detailed hit to his ego.

Autumn and the guys have gone out to give them privacy, and the thought of being left alone for even a moment after Nick shatters him all over again makes his chest ache. He doesn’t want them to be here to watch it happen, but he still wishes they’d stayed. He can’t be by himself.

His spiral is interrupted by three knocks in quick succession.

He’s nauseated, shaking with nerves, but he can’t deny that he misses Nick. He misses his face, his voice, the way his lips spread into a smile seemingly against his will. At least he’ll get to see him one last time before he disappears from Noah’s life for good, another black mark on his romantic history.

When he swings the door open with shaking hands, he finds himself unprepared for what he sees on the other side. Nick, looking more timid than Noah’s ever seen him, with a hastily put together bouquet of flowers and the most hopeful expression in his eyes.

It’s not at all what he expected.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late, I—” Nick starts, unsteady on his feet and jittery. Noah won’t let himself get his hopes up, but the urge to reach out and touch him is almost unbearable. This was a terrible idea. “I didn’t ask Aut what flowers you like, so…I hope you like hydrangeas.”

He envisions Nick at the shop, agonizing over which flowers to choose to let Noah down easy. He imagines him speaking with a kind stranger who passes by behind him, asking for advice, hurriedly placing together blue hydrangeas, baby’s breath, eucalyptus leaves, and hoping for the best as he rushes out. It’s a lot of effort to put into a heartbreak.

And Noah does love hydrangeas. An awfully pretty flower to sit in a vase on his coffee table to taunt him as he agonizes through his loss.

He guides Nick inside and tries not to let his mind drift backwards to their last encounter on this couch. It’s a struggle every time he’s in this room, not letting himself relive every moment, the floating feeling to the sinking, empty nothing.

They should have done this somewhere else. He’s not looking forward to adding another painful memory to the living room’s history, especially if he wants to stick around after this one.

Each second Nick spends fiddling with his hands instead of making eye contact and getting on with it drags. The bouquet sits sadly on the coffee table and he wonders if he should busy himself with putting them in a vase with water, a distraction from the impending whatever, but he doesn’t want to waste the water. He should probably throw them out.

“You can rip the band-aid off, Nick,” Noah starts, and he isn’t expecting the surprised and hurt expression that casts itself across Nick’s face. His eyes get so sad, concern obvious, and it’s only then that Noah wonders if this might be a different kind of visit altogether. Even through the overwhelming feeling of dread, he feels awfully soft for him. “It’s okay, Nicky, I’m listening.”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t want you, or that you weren’t making me happy,” Nick starts, and Noah feels as the weight begins to lift off his shoulders, as the tightness in his chest loosens. Nick takes a few deep breaths, a sort of shaky breathing that Noah recognizes. He doesn’t want to let himself have hope, but he watches as the nerves he recognizes in Nick take a different shape than he’d expected. “I haven’t been that happy in a long time, Noah, and I didn’t think it was something that I deserved. It scared the shit out of me.”

It’s against Noah’s own will when the tears start falling. There’s a tiny but clawing part of him that still thinks this is bad—that these flowery, pretty apologies are just an elaborate setup for a letdown that makes Nick look good at the end of it all. When Nick reaches out to place a shaky hand hesitantly on Noah’s knee, still speaking but Noah can’t make out a single thing through all the whooshing in his ears, Noah feels hope for the first time. He forces himself to focus.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” Noah says, and the smile Noah loves shows itself for the first time this visit—a wide grin spreading across Nick’s face although his nerves are still so blatant. Nick reaches out to touch Noah’s face, and he almost wants to shy away but doesn’t. He lets Nick trace a thumb over his cheek, wipe away his tears, just in case this is the last time he can have this.

“I know I still have a lot to do to make it up to you, but you deserve to be really happy, and I want to be the one to make you happy,” Nick says, and there’s such sincerity in his tone that it’s unmistakable. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, too, and Noah knows he means it. “If you’ll let me give it a try. I may not be any good.”

It’s something they’ll have to talk about further. They’ll have to spend a lot of time working through it, and Noah will have to give him a lot of shit, but his focus narrows in on one thing. And that’s having him.

He scoots himself closer to Nick, watches him relax as Noah places a hand on his cheek. 

“I would never ask you to unlove her,” Noah says, to which Nick is quick to nod. “Just talk to me. Make a little room for me.”

“I promise I will,” Nick responds, placing a hand over Noah’s on his cheek and the poor thing is still shaking. Noah hasn’t felt so steady in a long time.

He pours his heart into the kiss they share, finding himself praying that they can keep this. That for once, he can get what he wants. He feels that hope grow just that little bit bigger when Nick’s lips move to his cheek, a sigh of relief pressed into the skin of Noah’s face.

“No boy has ever bought me flowers before,” Noah whispers, feeling Nick’s grin spread once more, pulling Noah ever closer.

tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski . @baddestomens . @itsafullmoon . @collapsedglasshouses

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

[bokkura]

I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF I HAD TO . chapter two

synopsis :: lee heeseung was your first love, if you could count a ghost as a love. he made you feel adored, he made you feel special. all despite the barrier between your worlds. but this all comes crumbling when your death day rolls around, and it’s revealed heeseung had toyed with your heart. being in love with another on the other side the entire time. now you’re stuck heartbroken in the land of the dead, with only a few newfound friends to help you.

and a really beautiful dead ice skater.

pairings :: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre :: ghost!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

masterlist.

you didn’t see sunghoon much after that. you thought that maybe he was really good at the ‘keeping to himself’ thing. but you’re also really good at being nosy. so you have a feeling your extra attention towards him made him more conscious of your presence.

yunjin reassured you that when sunghoon realizes he’s piqued anyone’s interest he hides like a scared rabbit. it’s believable, like your friends had said they’d given up on him after he had well distanced himself. but it wasn’t going to stop you.

maybe it makes you hypocritical, because you know that’s what you would want. eternity of having your own little bubble. you wouldn’t want someone going and bursting it. at the same time you envy him, and he intrigues you.

you started actively following him. is it stalking if you’re both dead? he’s not in any real danger.

“you’re kinda weird for that,” jay’s breath on your ear has you jumping, hand flying back to swat at him. he was referencing to you watching sunghoon read, jotting down the books he liked to get a gist of what he was into.

“it’s not weird, it’s thoughtful.” you smile at jay, “if i know things about him then i can discuss his interests with him.” you didn’t yet realize what was keeping you so drawn to the boy. but it wasn’t coincidental you found him so similar to you, and you were treating him how you’ve begged to be treated your whole life.

jay laughs and turns to you, leaning his head on his hand. “or maybe he’ll think you’re a creepy stalker girl and have more of a reason to stay away from you.” you scoff at him, continuing your act of kindness. you weren’t going to let him get to you. anything you wanted you got, and you want to know more about this sunghoon character.

but it was hard when every time he spotted you he moved. sometimes he even gave you a dirty look, though you count this as progress. “hey! he’s looking at me.”

“he’s probably trying to curse your bloodline in his head.”

you glare at jake, “he’s acknowledging i exist. and my bloodline can’t continue idiot.” you didn’t care how many times people tried to rub you off when it comes to sunghoon, you have determination. and plenty of time.

you’ve always been the person to give your all into something. especially someone. it’s the reason heeseung left you so heartbroken. it’s the reason you’ve been walked all over your whole life. but you never learn your lesson. it’s a part of you that’s just hardwired in. you act like you don’t care but you really really do.

the next day you take it a step further, you’re seeing what he gets to eat. now maybe you really look like a stalker. always showing up at the diners and stores he goes to, always there when he’s at the library, always there when he’s in the forest. but that be chalked down to coincidence, can’t it?

you like to eat and shop, and the forest is pretty. does it help that he’s also easy on the eyes? maybe… but that’s not why you’re so interested. you just got your heart broken! no, sunghoon just really reminds you of yourself. you find solace in that. it’s crazy how it took death to find him.

you had your own little notebook full of things about sunghoon that you bought for a definitely outrageous price at a gift shop downtown. jay said they’re always praying on new ghosts, something you wish you knew before. he keeps telling you everything is the same, but most people will tell you otherwise to profit off of it.

in your defense you have one for jay, yunjin, and jake too. you’re not weird, you’re just sentimental. but this backfired on you anyways.

you had gone into the forest today, just taking a walk to clear your mind. you took your notebook with you to think of how to approach him. but when you left your things by a nearby tree to pick the pink poppies you saw, they were gone amongst your return.

you hear a scoff behind you, jumping like a scared cat and turning around to see sunghoon with your book in hand.

“look,” he shoves it in your hands, pinching the top of his nose. “i don’t usually do confrontation but you’re really freaking me out and i’m going to need you to stop stalking me.”

your cheeks burned and you puffed your lips out in an embarrassed pout. “that wasn’t what i was doing…”

“then what were you doing?”

he was actually asking you. standing there waiting for a response. he’s not acting much like how your friends had claimed.

you opened your mouth to speak but shut it quickly. for some reason when you look at his face you can’t speak. maybe it’s his sharp look, or maybe it’s because you don’t do confrontation either.

“i was trying to get to know you more.” sunghoon looks at you expressionless. you don’t like how hard it is to decipher him sometimes. even if you’ve only done it from afar.

“a simple ‘hi’ never hurt anyone.” sunghoon starts waking away after that and you scramble to gather your things. you’re not losing your chance here.

“be honest, would you have given me the time of day if i actually approached you?” sunghoon stops and turns around slightly, giving you an odd look before he starts walking again. he makes a weird hand motion you assume is to get you off his tail but you refuse. you’re going to be that annoying person until you get answers.

you continue just walking behind him in silence for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts so you can phrase yourself right and don’t wind up sounding like a true stalker.

“look, you’re a lot like me! i think we could get along.”

sunghoon laughs dryly, “you take me as a stalker too?”

you sigh loudly and make a fist at him behind his back. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“no i don’t, i don’t know you at all. i don’t know if we’re similar. i just know you creep me out.” you scowl at him, you wish he could see you. you wish you could see him so you can scold him to his face.

“what was the point in gathering all kinds of things about me in a weird little notebook have to do with becoming my friend? wouldn’t that rub me off more?”

he has a point. but again, you saw yourself in him. you were doing what you would have appreciated. someone taking their time to know you. but maybe you did get a little ahead of yourself.

you just hum in agreement, going to bite your lips as you look down to your feet which suddenly became much more interesting.

“okay,” he turns around abruptly, causing you to bump right into him. he quirks his brow at you and you step back with an apology. “i’ll think about it, just no more following me. please?”

you can’t help but smile at your accomplishment, this was easier than you thought. your friends were full of shit you have to say. you nod eagerly and hold your hand up for a high five. sunghoon just stares at you, blinking slowly.

“do you not know how?” you grimace, you don’t know when he died. have high fives always been a thing?

“i’m not stupid. i just don’t want to.”

you squint your eyes at him and lean forward, “then why are you just standing there?” sunghoon’s expression doesn’t change, so you grab his hand and slap it. “there, that easy.”

it was in fact not that easy. sunghoon lied to get you off his back. he didn’t decide to be your friend, he didn’t even think about it. he avoided you like the plague just the day after. you haven’t even seen his silhouette in days.

yunjin pouts at your solemn state, “i told you sunghoon is like that.” she puts a reassuring hand on yours.

“are you really trying to pull an ‘i told you so’ on me right now?”

“no! i mean—” yunjin sighs and repositions herself to face you on the bench. “don’t take it to heart. he’s just a weirdo.” you still pout despite her reassurance. yunjin was your favorite, she was the sweetest. but you couldn’t help but feel dejected.

“that’s the second ghost that’s done her dirty!” jay elbows jake at his remark, giving him a wide-eyed look. but it surprisingly made you laugh, the irony. you’re a little too easily attached to people. or maybe you’re a sore loser.

but you’re stubborn. you’ve been here two weeks and your friends already know it. you’re not stopping here, you always get what you want.

taglist: @adoredbyjay @natalunae @bluriki

#bokkura :: psh series #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon #park sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon fic #sunghoon x y/n #park sunghoon x you #sunghoon x you #enhypen x you #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fic

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Down the Rabbit Hole at the El Royale

A/N: Have I had this plot line rolling around in my head since I saw Bad Times in theaters years ago? Yes. Do I know this will get like twelve notes? Also yes. But I liked writing it. So, maybe you guys will enjoy reading it.  Pairing: Miles Miller/F!Reader Word Count: 5.4k

Trigger Warnings: violence, organized crime, drug-use, war, murder—please do not read if any of this will upset you!

Summary: Five times Miles is excited to see you and the one time he wished he never met you OR a mysterious woman walks into the El Royale.

The first time Miles saw you, he had thought you were some sort of silver screen starlet, lost on her way to California. You walked in and pulled the silk scarf from around your hair before shoving it into the pocket of your coat. After filling a cup of coffee and grabbing one of the small packets of sugar and creamer, you walked to the front desk with a breezy smile that waned the smallest bit when you spotted him behind the desk.

“You’re new,” you said. It wasn’t a question. Your (pretty) eyes tracked to the nametag on his chest and nodded, as if his name suited him. Before he could say anything else, you placed a crisp ten dollar bill beneath the coffee and slid it toward him. “You look like you could use it.”

Heat tracked up Miles’ cheeks as he shyly took the cup and set it beneath the counter. He’d happily drink it later. “Let me get you your change,” he said, looking away, sure he could start a fire with the warmth burning on his face.

“Oh, get yourself a piece of pie with it. You look like a cherry guy. Am I right?” Leaning over the counter with another smile, Miles could smell your expensive perfume. Light and floral.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I do like it.”

That earned him a laugh as you leaned back. “Good. The guy before you liked pecan and only pecan. No taste whatsoever.”

You were distracting and beautiful and around his age, if he was willing to bet. And a repeat customer, apparently. He didn’t even need to tell you to sign the ledger before you asked for Room 3 in Nevada. You had the cash ready and you waved to him as you left, your high heels tapping lightly on the well-worn carpet before you disappeared. Miles waited for just a moment before grabbing at the ledger just to see your name. And there it was, just beneath the couple who had checked in two days ago.

Carole Lewis. He didn’t think the name suited you.

And then the phone in the back office rang. Miles was quick to answer it, already knowing what the low voice on the other end was going to ask. “Room 3. Nevada.” The line went dead before he could say anything. It always did. But just this once, Miles wanted to ask what you could possibly be doing to warrant being recorded. Maybe you actually were a starlet. Either way, Miles dragged his feet down the dark hallway and toward Room 3 and set a new reel in the camera pointed at your room. As the camera started to whirl, Miles let himself one moment of selfishness.

Just this once, just for a little, he wanted to look, too.

You opened your pristine suitcase and took out a small briefcase and set it on the small nightstand. You frowned, perfect lips pulling down at the corners before you glanced at the mirror as if feeling Miles’ stare. Then you moved the small bag on the nightstand just a fraction; making sure the broad side of it was tilted. As your fingers drifted across the case’s locks, your mouth twisted to the side and Miles would swear he saw tears in your eyes.

You were gone in the morning. The only trace of you was the faintest trace of your perfume in the air of your untouched room. The key to room 3 was tucked neatly back into the cupboard behind the desk as if you had never checked in at all.

**

The second time Miles saw you came a handful of weeks later. He had been expecting literally anyone else when he heard the front desk bell ding. But there you stood, just as beautiful as last time, with dangling diamond earrings and that same floral perfume. You also had a cup of coffee and a slice of pie from the machine for him. “I see you’re keeping the old place in good shape,” you said, with a smile. There was another ten dollar bill under the coffee. “I was a little worried they’d run you off.”

“Not yet,” he said, voice softer than he intended.

“Good. I’m selfishly happy I get to see a familiar face.” Your smile widened just a fraction and you once again asked for Room 3 in Nevada, handing over more cash for your stay. And he was once again tasked with setting up the camera outside your room. Again, you set a small briefcase on the nightstand and angled it strangely before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The tiny skirt of your dress rode up the slightest bit and Miles had to pull his eyes away from the long expanse of skin just on the other side of the glass.

That night, when he checked in a man and woman who were definitely married and not to each other, he checked the ledger. You had signed Dr. Mouse. He barely had the other couple out of the lobby before he saw your car, a powder blue Mercedes, roll out of the parking lot. When he went, selfishly–again, to check the camera pointed at your room, the small briefcase had been left behind. When he went to “clean” your room the next day, it was gone.

You had your secrets, too.

**

The third time Miles saw you came during the last snowfall of the season. It had been a few months since you had vanished from your room again and it seemed the months had brought you trouble. The familiar silk scarf and oversized sunglasses did little to disguise the swelling of your cheek and the cut he saw arcing over your brow. Your knuckles were wrapped beneath your gloves that you tucked into your thick coat’s pockets so you could hand over the money for the room.

“Still want Room 3?”

You smiled; it wasn’t as wide. Probably to avoid opening up the split on your lip. “You’re so good to me, Miles.”

He blushed and turned to grab the key, trying to ignore how his heart was inching its way up his throat. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly, the points of the Nevada keyring digging into his palm. “Is there anything I can-”

“You wanna know what happened?” You asked, looking at him over the edge of your sunglasses as he gave a jerky nod. Humming, you took the key from him and stood straight. “I hit something stupid.”

Yes. You had secrets. Miles was abundantly aware of that when he watched you sign “J. Abberwock.” He watched you walk away, another question on his tongue but he held back. He’d already overstepped. And he was sure he was going to be asked to spy on you again. He knew it. But when you paused at the door and turned back to him, he still hoped that you would say something. Anything.

“I may need a bit of cherry pie tonight. Want to join me?”

The phone rang in the back office but for the first time, Miles let it get to the second ring. “I-I’d like that.”

“Good. See you in an hour.” And, as promised, you appeared an hour later and bought several slices of cherry pie and a cup of coffee of Miles.

“None for you?” He asked as you pushed the cup toward him.

“I can’t stand the taste of it. But I’m sure you have a long night ahead of you.” You had taken off the scarf and sunglasses and the dim light of the hotel’s empty lounge only served to exacerbate your injuries to Miles’ eye. But, as you steered the conversation toward television shows and then toward music and the other guests you had encountered at the rundown hotel, Miles couldn’t bring himself to ask again. He understood needing an escape.

You were funny. And smart. And kind. And had the terrible and wonderful habit of touching the back of Miles’ hand whenever he made you laugh. His poor heart nearly hopped out of his chest when you reached up to push an errant strand of his hair off his forehead when he was telling you a story of a drunk groom who had run away from his wedding a few counties over. The words stalled on his tongue for a moment as your gentle fingers swept across his skin before you tilted your head to the side, wordlessly allowing him to continue with his story.

“You ever think about it?” You asked as he finished.

“What?”

“Getting married. With a face like that, I’d be surprised if you don’t have a string of broken hearts in your wake.” You giggled at the blush you coaxed out of him.

“N-no. I mean, one day. Maybe.” He wanted that. He wanted a different life outside the hotel. He wanted someone to tell his secrets and sins to and hear theirs in return. He wanted to love and be loved. And your pretty eyes always seemed to take center stage in those fantasies.

You hummed around your next bite of cherry pie, licking your lips free of the sticky red sweet. “I could see it. You’d make a handsome groom—a better husband than most have these days.”

“And you?” He asked quietly, half hoping half dreading your answer. “Do you want to get married?”

You sighed. “Maybe. One day. Hard to do in my line of work.”

And before he could stop himself, Miles asked, “what do you do?”

Your smile was all teeth. It reminded Miles of one of the coyotes that had stepped into a trap on his family’s farm back in Indiana. “I’m a transport specialist, of sorts.”

Miles didn’t think transporting anything was supposed to be dangerous. But then again, hotel desk clerks usually didn’t have to send reels of film off to a post office box for things he wasn’t allowed to ask about—so, maybe you had another thing in common. And, when Miles felt sleep finally start to wash over him as the needle rolled out of his grip, he could only think of how soft your touch had been.

**

The fourth time Miles saw you was over a year later. He had nearly given up on seeing you again after that late night talk. He knew it was ridiculous. He hardly knew you. He didn’t even know your real name and he hated how long it took him to realize you’d always signed in with some sort of Alice in Wonderland pseudonym. But that did not stop his mind from conjuring your face, both bruised and unblemished, when it hazed with drug-induced sleep.

You had made a mark on him, for better or for worse.

And when you walked in on a cool Spring evening, Miles couldn’t hold it against you. You were wearing another short dress; your boots, shiny and probably expensive, made little noise as you crossed the lobby to lean across the desk again, and your smile was just as bright as he remembered. “Hey, stranger.”

And that was it. Miles found himself sitting across from you at the same booth you’d occupied last time, sharing a rhubarb pie because the machine was out of cherry. Neither of you seemed to mind. And it was you who brought up your absence. “Had to take a few jobs on the east coast for a bit.”

“Was there less stupid for you to hit out there?”

You snorted and halfheartedly whacked his arm. “Plenty of stupid on the east coast. Just a different kind. But there were no Miles Millers on the east coast so it was decidedly less fun.”

A familiar warmth bloomed in Miles’ cheeks as he stabbed at the remnants of the pie with his fork. “You’re makin’ fun of me.”

“I’m not,” you said, earnest and honest as your hand settled over his on the table. “I missed you. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

Miles looked up at you again. The low light was making your eyes sparkle and he could still smell your perfume. And maybe Miles could be brave again. “I missed you, too.”

Your answering smile was dazzling. And you just kept smiling at him as you continued to trade stories of your lives. Yours seemed decidedly more exciting, even if he would wager that you were only telling him half of it, but you were just as interested in what he told you, too. The stories about rowdy guests, of the food delivery men being caught eating half his promised delivery, all of it. Any of it. Just to keep that smile on your face. But the third time he yawned just before midnight, you were the one to suggest him going to bed.

“Will you be here in the morning?” He just wanted to see you in the light of the morning. Just once. Just to know you were near for the night. Another bit of selfishness.

You gave him another smile. “Maybe, Miles. Maybe.”

He thought about your smile as he watched you walk away. He thought about your smile as he shucked his ill-fitting blazer and grabbed the familiar bag and needles rattled in his drawer. He thought about it as his body sagged, veins thrumming. It was the last thought he had before sleep finally claimed him. You and your pretty smile.

“You are a good man, Miles Miller,” a voice whispered to him. A warm hand pressed against his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. This was a nice dream. It was you, sitting on the edge of his makeshift bed, so close he could smell your perfume. Yes, this was a nice dream. Your skillful fingers carefully took the needle from his arm and undid the tourniquet before pressing your fine silk scarf to the crux of his elbow.

“Pretty…” He murmured, the syllables slow like molasses on his tongue.

You pulled the threadbare blanket over him and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. “You deserve more than this. Good, sweet man.” Then, with a press of your beautiful lips against his temple, you were gone.

Miles woke the next morning and felt his eyes sting with tears as he saw the blood speckled bit of silk crumpled beneath his arm. It hadn’t been a dream. He walked on unsteady feet down the dark, familiar hallway to Nevada 3 and his entire body sagged when he saw the familiar sight of your still-neatly made bed. You were gone. Again. A flash of pink caught his eye and Miles turned, heart in his throat.

See you soon!

You’d written it backward, in your lipstick, just out of frame of the camera in the corner of the mirror. This was for Miles. Just for Miles. You knew about the cameras and you didn’t care. And you said you would see him again soon. Miles let himself smile as he loaded up the film. You’d see him soon. He glanced at the ledger and saw you had signed in as Kat Cheshire.

**

Miles wished the leap of his heart was out of joy when he saw you for the fifth time. But it wasn’t. You stumbled in, hand pressed to your stomach but Miles could still see the blooming crimson on your pretty white blouse. He threw the desk open and grabbed at your sides, ignoring your pained hiss as he dragged you back into the maintenance closet and let you crumple onto his unmade bed before grabbing at towels and a bottle of antiseptic. You were quiet as he set to work, barely a grunt of pain as he started to stem the bleeding before dumping half the bottle of antiseptic on the wound.

“Bullet or knife?” He asked.

“Knife.” A grimace marred your features as your head tipped back. “Lousy aim. Doesn’t feel like they hit anything important.”

“This happen often enough for you to know that?” He asked. But he could already see the scars twisting up and down your torso.

“Something like that,” you said from between gritted teeth. “And what about you, huh? Where’d you learn to do this?” Your pretty eyes were unfocused but still trained on him.

“The war,” he whispered after a long stretch.

And you only hummed. “Bet it taught you a lot of things you shouldn’t’ve had to learn.”

Miles couldn’t look at you, only peeling the towel back for a moment to make sure the bleeding had at least slowed to a trickle. “Do you know how to sew this shut?”

You nodded as your hand covered his on the towel. “My Grammy would whoop me for the shit knots, but I know how to make sure it’s closed.” The following laugh had an extra bit of blood pooling in the towel.

Someone hit the bell out on the desk but Miles didn’t budge from your side. At least, not until the toe of your expensive shoe nudged against his knee. “Go. I got this.”

“Not gonna disappear on me this time?”

And you fucking smiled. “Not this time.”

The entire time Miles gave his speech to a man who looked suspiciously like a congressman and two women who weren’t his wife, his mind was on you. You in his room with a needle and floss digging into your skin. You in his room and surrounded by a few of his deepest shames. You in his room.

Your smile seemed a little less strained when he finally handed over the key to the honeymoon suite and hurried back to you. He knew the phone would ring in a moment, it always did with guests like that. And you were here, too. It would be a two camera night. But that didn’t matter right now.

You did.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you stood near his rumpled bed. Your blood stained blouse was open now; he could see the twisted loops of the stitches you had sewn and how blood had soaked into the band of your pretty pink bra. “Can I have Room 3, again, please?”

The phone rang.

An hour later, you were back in the lobby in a new shirt and a familiar sparkle in your eye as you leaned against the front desk. Two slices of cherry pie were pushed in his direction. “I think I owe you a bit of an explanation.” For the first time, your smile was timid. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

The pair of you spoke for hours. Hours. He told you everything he could. Everything he had buried. Everything he carried. And you told him just the same. It had been a pair of cruel twists of fate for both of you to fall into your lines of work. Miles had needed a job, something quiet and stable after the war had ripped him apart. Management had preyed on that, knowing he needed this job. And you had come from the wrong side of the tracks and witnessed something you shouldn’t have. You cut a deal, work for them and make more money than you could have ever dreamed of or take a short trip in the back of a van. It was an easy decision. And you were good at it: making sure people paid what they ‘promised’ and delivering it to places like the El Royale where it could be given to the people who were expecting it. Sometimes people needed to be convinced to hand over what they had been told to pay. It wasn’t always money. And you hated knowing that the weight of folded bills differed greatly from…well, other things. The cameras pointed at your room were supposed to be a precaution, to make sure you didn’t take anything from the case and the right person picked it up. Apparently the people Miles worked for knew the people you worked for and had an agreement. Or they were the same people. Neither of you were entirely sure.

“Meeting you has been a silver lining,” you murmured. “You’ve been my bright spot.”

And that was probably one of the saddest and kindest things Miles had ever heard. He had never been anyone’s bright spot. Not since his number was called and he was shipped out. But here you were, in the dim light of the El Royale, holding your secrets up to his like some sort of burnt offering. The song you had picked on the jukebox was coming to a close and Miles almost smiled when you had first picked it, Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit.” It seemed to suit you. But as the final notes rang out through the lobby, you were quick to skitter back toward the jukebox, steps a little stilted but still graceful. The next song started and you made your way back to him, slowing to a stop in front of him.

You stretched out a hand to him with a growing smile. “Dance with me?”

And Miles couldn’t tell you no. He stood and let your smooth hand slide into his as the other rested against his shoulder. His fingers twitched as he grasped at your waist and started to lead you in a muted type of waltz, still mindful of your injuries.

Then he listened to the lyrics.

And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much… Are you still mine? I need your love…

This was a love song.

Lonely rivers sigh, ‘wait for me, wait for me…’ I’ll be coming home, wait for me…

“This song makes me think of you,” you murmured, face turned away, but he could feel each syllable of it with your cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Is that weird?”

“No. No, it isn’t strange.” It was heaven in a sentence. Having you in his arms, surrounded by your perfume and feeling the warmth of you so close…it was heaven.

But the song was short, too short for what Miles wanted. He could have held you forever and the sad look in your eyes as you pulled back made him think you wanted that, too. He could have asked you to stay. Could have asked you to finally finally finally tell him your real name. Could have asked you to dinner. A real dinner—not just pie from the machine. But when your soft lips brushed against the corner of his mouth, all of those questions fizzled to stardust.

“I have to go, Miles. Stay safe for me.”

And then you were gone.

It wasn’t until he was checking out the congressman the next morning that he looked at the ledger. There, in your familiar handwriting, was W. Rabbit.

**

He would never get to learn your name, would he? He would never get to look at you in the morning light. He would never get to smell your perfume again. He would never get to tell you that he couldn’t listen to that song without thinking of you. He would never learn your name. And with the revelation that Father Flynn wasn’t actually a priest, it seemed that Miles wouldn’t be able to do anything he had hoped to do before he died.

Unforgiven and unfulfilled.

But at least you weren’t here. You were safe. Right?

“Found another one!” One of the hippies shouted as the front doors chimed. And there you were, being dragged in, blood and rain soaking you down to the bone. “This one killed-”

“The lady killed someone?” Billy Lee laughed. Laughed. “Are you sure?”

The other hippie nodded and threw you down to the ground beside the unmoving body of Emily Summerspring. “Beat them to death with my tire iron.”

Billy Lee walked over to you and shoved his foot beneath your ribs, turning you over with another laugh. “Aren’t you something else?”

“I’m something else,” you said, words bloated and slow. “And they were lazy. Easy to kill.” That all but smacked the smile off the hippie’s face.

“Tie her up. Put her with the others.”

You were unceremoniously dragged to your feet again and tied to a chair beside Darlene. Your pretty eyes widened as you finally took in Miles’ appearance. “Miles…”

No.

No.

No.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to be okay. Miles shook his head, feeling his chin quake with another sting of tears. He didn’t want to see you. Not now. If all your late night talks and pretty smiles meant that you ended up here, now, he wished he had never met you.

“Oh, are we on a first name basis with the bellboy?” Billy Lee asked as he draped himself over your shoulders once the ropes were sufficiently tight. “What’s the story there?”

“Leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t asking you, altar boy.”

You winced as the other man tugged at the dangling diamonds in your ear. “He’s my friend. And he isn’t a fucking bellboy.”

Billy Lee hummed and tugged at your earring again until your ear bled. “No. No, I think there’s something more. Friends don’t look at friends like that, do they, Boots?”

“Nah, I think he’s in love with her. But they haven’t fucked yet,” the youngest of the bunch answered, a southern twang almost softening the crassness of her words. Miles vaguely remembered her name was Rose.

It made Billy Lee laugh. “I think you’re right! There’s so much tension!”

All it did was make Miles’ stomach sink. Was this going to be another game to them? One woman was dead and the hippies seemed intent on having another round. He had already survived one round—would he survive another? Would you?

The room suddenly fell into darkness, the hum of the hotel’s power cutting out on the whim of the raging storm to pitch the group into an unsteady quiet. But as the hippies argued over what to do next and the fake priest and sweet Darlene were roped into the labyrinthine conversation about where the mess of money came from, Miles looked at you. There was a nasty gash at your hairline and the rain water had swept a bit of the blood down your face to stain the collar of your dress. But your eyes were bright and focused on him, too. Despite the absolute bloodbath that was sure to come, you smiled.

Wouldn’t that be the best thing for him to see before he died? Just your pretty smile. He may not get the opportunity to confess, but he got to see you one last time. And hopefully you would be able to walk away from all of this. That was what Miles wanted for you. He wanted you to see the morning light for him.

And Darlene started to sing, “Oh, my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch; a long, lonely time…”

Your eyes found Miles’ again and your smile was small this time, a quiet nudge that you remembered the dance you had shared with him to this song. This was your song. And that was all the time he would get to spend with you.

“And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much…”

But he wanted more. He wanted to leave this behind. He wanted to know how it truly felt to be yours, and you could be his. He wanted to know your name.

“Are you still mine-”

Darlene’s beautiful voice halted as Billy Lee spun the roulette table again. “I’ve heard better.”

The game had begun again.

Then everything happened at once. Father Flynn stood and slammed his head into Billy Lee’s face. Two shots were fired, missing their targets, as Flynn and Billy Lee tumbled through one of the fire pits. Darlene shoved herself back, toppling her chair and taking one of the other hippies down, too. Miles flung himself down, managing to crawl toward the safety of the lounge’s wrap around railing.

But where were you?

Miles turned his head and saw the toppled roulette table, the scattered cash, and the gun. And he froze. He couldn’t do it. 123 people already hung on his soul, he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t. He didn’t even realize he was saying it over and over again, out loud, until Darlene called out to him, kind eyes pleading.

“Miles, help us!”

Fire spilled out from the destroyed fire pits. The hotel was going to burn down.

“I can’t kill no more people,” he muttered, heart in his throat, angry flashes of dead men cycling through his mind.

“How many people have you killed, Miles?”

His next breath stuttered in his throat. “123.”

There was a long stretch of silence before Darlene managed to smile. “It’s all right. You don’t have to kill more people.”

Something settled in his bones with that simple set of sentences. He didn’t have to. There was no superior officer barking orders at him. There was no threat of a court martial. There were no empty promises of bullshit patriotic duty. He had no obligation.

But then you screamed. And Miles moved.

The gun was a familiar weight in his hand as his fingers curled around it and he pulled back the hammer. He watched the man drag you by the hair to stand near Flynn as Billy Lee pointed a shotgun at you both. Aiming was easy. And so was pulling the trigger.

Rose screamed and dove for Billy Lee’s unmoving form, hands framing his face as she sobbed. But Miles hardly heard it as he moved to shoot the other man, and then the woman who had tried to hide behind a lounge couch, before handing the pistol off to Flynn and hurrying to your side. A new bruise was starting to swell on your cheek but you barely acknowledged it as you started to tug at the rope still tying his hands together. He could smell your perfume, tinged with rainwater and blood.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your deft fingers faltered and your pretty eyes shot to his. “Sweetheart. That’s new.”

A familiar heat crawled up his cheeks. “Y-you never told me your name.”

“Will you still call me sweetheart if I tell you?” The ropes around his wrists fell to heap around your feet. He was free.

“‘Course I will.”

Another one of your smiles lit up your face before it quickly dropped as your hands slammed into Miles’ chest as you shoved him to the side. Before he could ask what you were doing, Rose had leapt at you, knife in hand. You managed to keep the blade from sliding into your stomach as the younger girl seethed. Your arms shook with the effort but you still managed to force her backward, boots sliding across the carpet, until her back hit the dividing wall. Miles didn’t see you move. Didn’t see your hands turn the knife around. Didn’t see you shove one last time. But Rose fell anyway. And didn’t move again.

Everything after that was a blur. Miles hardly remembered you gently pushing him into the passenger side of your car before peeling out of the parking lot as rain continued to lash against the windshield. He hardly remembered the mumbled goodbyes he gave to Flynn and Darlene before they went their separate ways. He hardly remembered how you promised to ‘handle’ management when they were bound to have questions. “They aren’t a fan of hippies either, you know. We’re going to be just fine.”

But Miles remembered the skies clearing and the dark of the night giving way to a lilac dawn just as you slowed to a stop in front of a small church a few hours later. St. Joseph’s Catholic Church — it was written in faded blue paint just above the door.

“I’ll wait out here, okay? Then we can go see this girl I know; she’ll make sure we get all that buckshot out of you.”

An hour later, Miles walked out of the church, soul a little lighter. And there you stood, leaning against your car in the morning light.

Miles stepped to your side and let his hands settle over your hips. Quiet as the wind, you whispered your name. Miles inched his way closer, shoes knocking into yours and making your smile widen the slightest bit. He reached up and gently cupped your face, mindful of your bruising, and was nearly giddy as you pressed further into his grasp. Then slowly, happily, he leaned in. He whispered your name against your lips and kissed you. It sounded right. You felt right. At that moment, Miles knew he’d follow you anywhere. Down any path, any rabbit hole, as long as you were at his side.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#miles miller x reader #miles miller x you #miles miller #bad times at the el royale #female reader

[ok-sims]

Good Omens 2 and playing with expectations

so I watched good omens for the first time in like 2020, had a blast but didnt really think about it again until s2 came out.

and now i realize that one of the things that caused me this obssession brain rot this time around is just how the whole season, but specially the ending, completely subverted my expectations, yet everything that happened is extremely coherent with season 1.

crowley has been asking aziraphale to run away with him for quite some time now. and aziraphale has been "choosing" heaven over him.

smaller things are very coherent too. crowley and taking part in nebula/planet/starmaking. aziraphale and forgiveness. crowley being "unforgivable". alpha centauri.

how can such a coherent finale surprise and smite me so much?

I guess part of it is the queerbait that many fandoms have been subjected to, historically (I was very much into sherlock back in 2014-2017, so you can see where I am coming from...)

but another part is how the final fifteen have a very different tone to the rest of the series. of course, there are some heavy moments in both seasons (the Golgotha being the main one), but those were taken from the biblical lore and not directed to aziraphale and crowley. while there is some drama between them in s1, it is never really serious .crowley was devastated when he thought aziraphale was dead, but we (the audience) knew he was fine. soon, they reunited and faced the end of the world together. there was the fight over holy water in the flashbacks, but we see then make up in the very next scene. so our expectations were set to having crowley and aziraphale have their conflits to be: silly and/or quickly resolved.

I guess that, along the fact that their feelings now have an undeniable romantic nuance confirmed to them, was my fall down the rabbit hole.

I did not expect the series to acknowledge so clearly, very much on screen, the romantic connection between them. before that, this was really heavy subtext, but the leap to text is still pretty uncommom in similar works. even more rare is having the characters kiss, because it leaves no room for subtext anymore. it changes the dinamic between the characters, as well as the perspective of the audience. tv often runs from this sort of change, because it is a risk, but I'm very glad the show took that risk and went with it without looking back.

the risk of changing the tone (even if just for the final fifteen) is also often avoided. "is this show not a comedy?" "isnt everything fine at the end?" so we were left with our expectations completly subverted in both aspects. and yet it all makes sense with everything good omens has showed us before. we were blindsided by the expectations that were firmly constructed for us, the audience, but the ending played out in consonance with the narrative built all through seasons 1 and 2. aziraphale creates situations just to have an excuse to see crowley. crowley is always coming to aziraphale's rescue, no matter what trouble this may give him in hell. btw, crowley could not care less for hell or heaven. "we can go off together, angel". "listen to yourself".

s1 and s2 are so very much in line. I'm glad good omens had the courage to take the leap and subvert everything we were expecting: be it subtext to remain subtext, or a comedy to have its conflit being easily resolved in time for the credits to roll in. and it did it all while making perfect sense for the narrative, with no last minute ill-planned plot twists. it's no wonder we haven't been normal about it since july: when was the last time you watched something like this?

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #ineffable idiots #good omens meta #good omens 2019 #good omens 2023 #aziracrow

[justalittleegg]

CC WEEKEND BASH DAY 2!!

I'm making this the same day as my day 1 post so it's not as hype.

@and-stir-the-stars

PROMPT: HAUNTING / FAMILY

This is set in my AU that I don't have a name for in which Henry goes crazy and commits murders because Charlie got cromched in the Bite of '83. Mike is his first murder as revenge. Basically a William / Henry roll swap.

Evan is CC. Evan's POV.

TW: murder,

______________________________________________________________

It had been three months since Michael was found dead in a back alley. Two deaths in the span of a couple months, it was strange, especially considering Henry's absence from work and... life, I guess.

I mean it seemed connected; Mike killed Charlie and now he was found dead in an alley, it had to have a meaning.

I couldn't be bothered looking for that meaning though. I couldn't be bothered doing anything actually. I didn't draw, I didn't speak, I didn't even eat much anymore. I mean, what was the point? With Michael gone life felt, empty.

I missed his jokes, his drawings that were way better than mine, and, in a way, I missed his senseless bullying.

You never realise what you've got until it's gone.

Before his death, I thought I didn't like Mike, the thoughts of his scares and his mask were all that filled my mind. But in retrospect, I had so many good times with him that feel so much more important than the bad.

Like this one time just after school. I was in my room, crying after a bad day at school. Mike came in, probably to scare me, but seeing me like that, instead he just sat down, took out a piece of paper, and began to draw. After a moment he lifted up the drawing. It was a rabbit in a top-hat and monocle. It was so silly it made me stop crying. He started teaching me how to draw like him; it's what got me into drawing in the first place.

I was at the pizzeria sitting at a table, alone, quiet. The only reason I was here was because there was no one to watch us at home. I had to be here while Dad worked.

Dad had gotten over it so fast, or at least it seemed that way. The pizzeria was temporarily shut down for a couple weeks while things were getting sorted out, both with the police and funeral services. I had been at two funerals over the past half year; Charlie's and Mike's.

Charlie's was just how I thought a funeral would be. People crying, boring speeches that never really said much about the person other than 'they were nice', and an overall vibe of sadness.

Michael's was different though. Sure people still cried but it wasn't the same. His friends were there; I didn't know they're names. They shared actual stories about Mike and actually knew him. I guess it's since he was older, he actually did stuff. It was just, less sad and more... bittersweet, I guess.

Elizabeth was here somewhere, probably with her friends. She had taken it well too, not as well as Dad, but still pretty well.

I don't know haw they can all just move on and act like it didn't happen, act like two of the people closest to us hadn't just died. I quietly stared down at the table and began to sob while kids played around me and concerned parents watched on.

Suddenly, a slender figure was in front of me. I looked up, it was the security puppet that Dad and Henry had installed after Charlie's death to keep people safe. It had a thin, black torso with long, striped arms. It's face had two large eyes, a wide grin, and curiously, tear streaks from it's eyes that I didn't remember being there.

It was holding a piece of the children's drawing sheets from the pizzeria labelled 'My Happiest Day!' in one had and a couple crayons in the other. It placed down the paper and began to scribble in a way I had never seen it done before.

When it was finished, I looked down at the sheet.

It was a drawing of a rabbit in... in a top-hat and a monocle...

Just like Mike had drawn.

______________________________________________________________

#crying child weekend bash #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddys #crying child #tw murder #murder

[quirkwizard]

Since you did villains, class a and b, yakuza, and the teachers, what Quirks from the pro heroes would AFO want, including ones from retired/dead heroes like Overclock and Foresight?

For the sake of this, I'm not going to cover "Fierce Wings", "Overclock", "Gigantification", and "Search" because we already know what he would do with those Quirks.

All For One: Telepath: Besides the potential for telepathic smack talk, having a way that he could secretly communicate to others would be an immense boon to him. It's simplicity lends itself to a lot of combination potential as well, like using "Radio Waves" to send his thoughts through electronics.

Lock Down: Something uncomplicated that'd fit right in with the rest of All For One's arsenals. What's more is that I think this could have a lot of potential with his other powers, such as using them with another Quirk to spread an affect around the terrain or locking an affect in the air.

Earth Flow: Considering "Earth Flow" may be one of the strongest Quirks in the series, All For One would certainly want to add it to his collection. It's not even that hard to use. Total control over the terrain and all that he needs to do is touch the ground. He'd have to be an idiot not to take it.

Minions: Foresight: This may seem like an odd pick for All For One to give to a minion, but I think he'd wouldn't want to deal with all the issues that'd come with it, it's complicated nature makes it hard to combine, and giving it someone else can make it so he can still use it while controlling where and when he wants to.

Fiber Master: All For One already said he wouldn't want this Quirk, but he may still have some use for it. Just pass it off for someone else to practice with it. I could see someone being an effective enforcer and assassin with a power like this, seeping their wires wherever All For One needs them to.

Foldabody/Pliabody: These are pretty simple powers, but would require too much work to really make use of for All For One. Now, giving them to spies would be an amazing use for them. They could sneak in and out of anywhere All For One would need them and not leave a trace they were there.

Nomu: Rabbit/Orcinus: Both of these are strong, but don't really offer any sort of unique benefits in and of themselves that they'd be worth giving out. Plus, with Nomus, you could help build around their weaknesses to help them function better, like an arm Quirk for "Rabbit" and waters powers for "Orcinus".

Dragon: Just a strong basis to build a monster around. It's already got a lot of traits that would be made their own Quirks all wrapped up in one package, leaving room open for others powers to work with and make it better. And honestly, I'm really curious to see how a dragon based Nomu would look.

Fat Absorption: This would be great working together other defensive powers, turning a Nomu into this giant wall, or other offensive powers, tacking advantage of the Quirks ability to redirect the damage it took. I'm not sure if Nomu need to eat in the first place, but it's a possibility.

Uncertain: Quad Arms: This really depends on how "Quad Arms" interacts with other Quirks. Because if can't utilize other powers, it may as well go on another Nomu. But if it can, All For One would have a grand time with it, giving more chances to take and combine Quirks together with extra arms.

Hellflame: I could easily see All For One deciding to throw this on some Nomu and forgetting about it given how powerful, yet uncomplicated and dangerous it could be. Though we have seen how immensely powerful this can be in the right hands, making it potentially affective as a minion power.

Rifle: This could in any three of the categories. It's basic enough for All For One could mix and match with it or a Nomu could use it without much issue. That being said, we all know how dangerous this can be when someone takes the time to master it, so it may be good on one of his assassins.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #All For One #Telepath #Lock Down #Earth Flow #Foresight #Fiber Master #Foldabody #Pilabody #Rabbit #Orcinus #Dragon #Fat Absorption #Quad Arms #Hellflame #Rifle #MHA Meta

[always-music0]

Run Rabbit Run.

Hannah would considers herself the unluckiest girl in the world,having being born into a tangled web of murderers and monsters that live in your closet and under your bed. Until one day an unforeseen issue makes its way into her already fucked life and now if she thought her life sucked it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

Pt.1

A Creepypasta/Twilight crossover 18+

There went many things that made me scared-

— I mean when you grow up with the people I grew up with you get used to the ice cold feeling in your veins when you cut it a little too close to the edge and death himself is only a few inches away waiting to free your soul from this purgatory plane we call earth. But when your friends are friends with the spirit of the dead the sweet relief of becoming stardust fades into the background, and when god turns his back on your soul just because of the people you associate with you kinda don’t even consider heaven an option anymore.

Now you may be asking yourself ‘how in the hell could someone be so unlucky?’ And I should be honest and admit that it’s sorta my fault and I happen to find myself in the wrong place in the wrong time frequently.

Take last week for example jumping from state to state and school to school with the three looneys I call my ‘caretakers’ even though for the most part I take care of them and I just happened to run into a certain organ eating demon on my way home from grocery shopping it took quite a lot of convincing to keep him from taking me with him and making the looneys fucking loose their shit, even though that would be pretty funny for the first ten minutes, but would ultimately get my ass beat but I also had to cough up the fresh liver I had gotten for the dog.

He was not impressed when I came home without a treat for him to sink his teeth in. Anyways my current situation was even worse cause the three fucking losers I lived with didn’t even believe me when I said the school I would be attending for then next ten months was crawling with vampires.

“Look Tim! You have to believe me!” I wined as I followed him outside the dog at me heels.

The house we were living in was pretty secluded besides a few houses a few acres away Tim scoffed and threw his bag into the back of his old ford f-150.

The old thing was partially rusted out and everything had been replaced maybe more that it should have but like Tim it never seemed to die even with the absurd amount of times they both have been thrown off cliffs .

“Listen here, I don’t give a fuck if they were goddamn transformers. We have a fuck ton of work to do around here and not a lot of time to do it. So your gonna take your perky little ass to that school everyday and stay out of our way and stay safe” he snapped

I flinched a little, I could tell he was getting a little annoyed or stressed one of the two

“ ok so you do believe there’s vampires?” I asked and when his eye twitched I smirked

“NO! There’s no creature like the vampires I know around here and if there were the boss would have already let us know!” He yelled walking over to Brian’s 1976 Bronco and thew the back door open. I trotted after him the dog followed me silently

“Well what if they aren’t like the vampires we know?!” I asked and he groaned took a deep breath and pulled out his cigarettes Putting one in his mouth he turned his head towards me.

I immediately fumbled for my lighter almost dropping it twice, if there was one thing Tim and his counter part loved was a well trained bitc- ahem. Lighting his cigarette he inhaled.

“Look” he started blowing out the smoke he just inhaled.

“If there is for some reason vampires at your school they must be harmless otherwise big man wouldn’t have you here” he tilted his head at me as though to say ‘ya even think about that’ I blinked. of course I thought about that, I would have been shipped off to stay with someone else entirely if that were the case.

“Yeah I guess…” I said slowly looking at the dog, his eyes met mine and his tongue rolled out as he started to pant, this Washington mugginess was getting to him.

“Look at me sweetheart.” Tim said and my eyes lifted from the dog to his.

“ we wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt you, not only is that our job it would kill us if you were hurt by something we didn’t know about” he said stepping towards me and eventually standing right in front of me. I could smell the cologne I had got him for Christmas and the cigarette smoke the reason I got him cologne. I met his eyes and they flashed darker as he switched and I tried not to wince as his hand shot up and griped my chin and squeezed my cheeks not tight enough to be painful but just to keep eye contact.

“Got it princess?” Masky said I nodded the best I could he grinned as Tim took back control patting my cheek

“Good girl” he said and turned back to the bronco reaching for another bag.

“Now be a good little thing and go bother someone else I have to fix the breaks on the ford and I definitely don’t want your annoying ass around when I do it” he commanded and I sighed flipping him off

“Go fuck yourself Tim” and walked away as he laughed at me The dog at me heels.

I suppose it could be worse, I mean the three fucking weirdos did a good job of keeping me safe although I wouldn’t admit that to their faces. What’s the worst that could happen?

A/N: Thanks for reading if you did! I know it’s littered with grammatical errors and run on sentences and it’s definitely not formatting correctly but I think meh who’s gonna see it anyways so why the hell not. But if you do read all of this thank you! Your wonderful and I will continue to post more parts as I write them<3

#twilight #creepypasta #x reader #marble hornets #tim wright #toby rogers #brian thomas #the cullens #kinda cringe #polyamory #? i guess

[infinities-and-binaries]

Elden Ring and Lessons in Life

--This was my victory shot in my first playthrough of Elden Ring, right after beating Radagon and the Elden Beast. Took me more than 3 days of trying. My build there is dexterity/arcane, equipped with an uchigatana and rivers of blood katanas.--

For most people, especially the ones who are completely disinterested and abhor video games, playing games is a shallow hobby and complete (and expensive) waste of time. However, to me (and I think for other gamers out there), Elden Ring came in an opportune time. The time when I needed life lessons the most.

Because of the pandemic, lockdowns and being on constant furlough, I searched for things to do during my indoor staycation. I have always been an indoor person but because times were unprecedented back then, I have to keep my sanity up and running. I have been always playing computer games but I needed something like a rabbit hole that I will play for a long time.

Enter Elden Ring.

I have heard of the game since February 2022. Around this time, I already resigned from my previous job, recovering from burnout and mental struggles brought about by losses I experienced in 2021. I was trying to dig deep within me - asking myself what direction I will be heading, moving forward.

I have seen gameplays from my favourite gamers like RadBrad. He jokingly said that he's a bit crap in soulsborne games like Elden Ring and looking back, after playing the game, he was - a bit and for hilarious reasons. Haha!

I rediscovered my Twitch after months of being inactive and followed people who play the game as well. I eventually made the decision to acquire the game as a birthday present. My partner asked me what I wanted to have on my birthday and I asked for Elden Ring and Spiderman. I played Elden Ring and oh boy, I fell down into one of the deepest rabbit holes I've ever been into.

--Me, after beating the notoriously difficult Malenia, Blade of Miquella. She was a dreaded boss in the game. It took me 35 tries with a summon (which is pretty useless anyway because she kills it first. Also she heals with every strike landing on you). I am looking forward to dance with her again, this time, without a summon.--

For a first timer who encountered a game like Elden Ring, sure, it was difficult and confusing. I always die even in the weakest of enemies. I dread facing the area boss. I was that anxious to the point, I scheduled playing Elden Ring during the day because my anxiety carries over to my dreams (I have a thing with nightmares because of a very anxious and active imagination).

I managed to find my way and style in the game. I managed to defeat area bosses after multiple times of trying. It all clicked one day. Elden Ring is a game designed to teach you how to take failures - both in game and real life - one of the most important lessons that you could ever come across.

Failures are part of life. These are not dead-end alleys, rather, they are detours / redirections to lead you to something better. All you have to do is to learn the lesson, gain your self-awareness, strengthen your self-confidence and temper your ego. I was at a point in my life that I was constantly receiving rejections from job applications and the job market that year was chaotic. Even finding a part time retail job proved to be very challenging. The lessons that I learned from Elden Ring carried and helped me with dealing with all these rejections and failures.

I know for a fact that a lot of people don't like Elden Ring because of its difficulty. I eventually learned that soulsborne games as a genre is notorious for its difficult games. Apparently, the kind of games that are not meant for the general populace. Masochist gamers are the kind of market for this genre. Well, in my case, let's call it a "living failure" or "failure enthusiast" (LOL).

-- One of my favourite quests in the game albeit, a sad one. Jellyfish was one of my early favourites as a summon. I later realized that Jelly's name was Aurelia. And her sister was waiting in the Stargazer ruins in the Consecrated Snowfields. After reuniting Aurelia with her sister, you will find their graves below the cliff. Turns out that the jellyfishes in the game are the souls of innocent children who perished in the Shattering. --

Moving forwards with 2022, I found myself at a crossroads again. I decided to return to university for start a degree in Computing/IT with the hope of majoring in Software Engineering by Year 2. Take note of this: I made this decision as a person with loads of self-doubt and math anxieties. I always doubted myself when it comes to the subject of Math. I was led to believe that I was a complete numerical numpty.

I have to dig deep. And this time around, Elden Ring gave me something to cling on.

Why not imagine Maths as a soulsborne boss? That the only way to go forward is to keep on trying with that belief in yourself that you will get it's patterns and beat it? Practice makes perfect isn't it? If you can beat Malenia, then you can beat your Maths soulsborne boss!

Of course. Dealing with maths needs constant practice and encouragement when you don't get the correct solutions. There is no best way to deal with math anxieties but face it head on. Because you have to - if you want to conquer that one.

In order to prepare for my degree, I recalled my younger student years, critiqued it for my silly mistakes, swore that I will not do it again nor procrastinate. But at the same time, I will be kinder to myself, understand how my brain learns as in meta learning and establish an effective study strategy. I have to let go of whatever I feared back then. And just jump into it.

So far, so good. I am in my current year 1 and to my astonishment, I re-discovered myself again. It gave me stronger motivations to pursue things - even if its the ones that make me scared.

Elden Ring saved my sanity. Elden Ring saved me and let me become a brave Tarnished, ready to face real world and the Lands Between.

#life #life lessons #life learning #studies #video games #elden ring #tarnished

[saturnaous]

hi. your turn. what if you talked about your ocs teehee. stares at you with sparkly eyes

ooohhhh. ohhhhhhh. hooohoohooohhh. you messed up. you messed up big time. I'm on my computer now and you have to bare this hellstorm you brought up. hoohhhh

okay first we're going over Morble. because he's been on my mind lately teehee.

okay where are my pictures of him hold on. hold ond

marby mooby mamb. . .

okay so he's three years old now. I have to say that. I made him a few days before my birthday. it's horrible. we were similar ages now I'm OLD and he's also a lot older now but at the same time he's NOT. why are you in sixth grade still marbs. why.

anyways. He was made after another spurt of my enjoyment of The Weekly Roll on webtoon; it's a dungeons and dragons type webtoon, Morble is inspired by Sir Becket(he's now Lord Becket. good for you Becket). Becket's a Paladin, Morble's a Paladin. I dunno. It's neat.

that's not the neatest part about Morble though! You see. He's from a modernish dnd-like world. so uhm. basically he's kinda boring. besides being like an orphan or whatever. wait no before I move on to other bits I'm just gonna go in order of what happens.

Morble's basically just a little guy. he's just a fella. uh. he has a brother and HAD. two parents OH ACTULLY I RELALY LIKE HIS PARENTS HOLD ON I HAVE DRAWINGS OF THEM.

Katty and Mavrick. I like them a lot. these are them at maybe like early to mid twenties? around the time they got together(they went to the same highschool but met in collage and really connected at that point. they're so awesome together). they are SO neat to me.

Kat is a nice lady; she's like 6'1 and has a real hearty laugh. She's so sweet and so cool I love her so much. Mavrick is fucking deranged. He's an absolutely spunky ball of chaotic energy. He has no self preservation skill and is just an absolute goober. He's great. Everytime I imagine these two I just think of the rabbits with the "rabbit obsessed with his giant girlfriend who's 4x times his size" because he IS. They are looking at eachother thinking "I love my wife". Marvrick you are so wife. it doesn't help that he took her last name. Katty and Maverick Moor. . .

Kat was a firefighter for the longest time. Mav was a chaotic fencer and fence instructor. he's stupid with it though. His ass didn't like wearing protective gear half the time because of his confidence and lack of preservation skills. He died of a collapsed lung oneday when Morble was about nine.

teehee. mav's a little fabric guy tho. he knits. he sews. he embroiders. uhhhmmm. In that second image of Morble up here with the purple background! He's wearing a red cloak! Maverick made it for him and was gonna give it to him for his birthday. neat. obviously he couldn't. Kat gave it to him because. Well. Yeah.

Morble had a hard time with his dad being dead. I mean. what's a 9 year old supposed to do when your dad dies. it kinda sucks. Kat was going over some family history and going through some old heirlooms and stuff. The Moor's are from a pretty long line of Paladins spanding at least 500 years back(heehoo. hold onto that information). Turns out! There's also a great helm made by one of these Paladins from 500 years ago. Katty pulled it out of storage or whatever and gave it to Morble because he thought he might like it. Because it's neat. Morble loved it. literally has never taken it off.

A couple months after Mav died, Kat died while on the job. kinda fucked up. It's totally my fault for that but. Morble doesn't have to know that. But sucks for him. his brother too but he's a 4yo he doesn't really. know what's happening. but still sucks.

Morble and his brother move in with their grandma and stepgrandma. I don't have anything on them. but yeah.

Fastforward when Morble's 12. bc they had to move they're in a new school and stuff. nobody knows about dead parents or any symbolism in anything. yeah. he's kinda bullied but he just kinda shrugs it off. he's not that kind of guy.

anyways. now we're getting tot he fun parts. Morble walks from school to his grandma's apartment. there's a neat little field kinda inbetween the walk. onepoint Morble noticed a little glimmer near one of the super old trees over there. dunno how he caught it but he did(plot reasonings are why). anwyays.

morble goes over. turns out it's a neat little ring. he grabs it.

BOOM. he fucked up. the ring is magic. he gets swallowed up into some weird current thing the only way I've thought about what it's like is. basically imagine the sky is a giant fuckingthing of water and you can't breathe. it feels like drowning.

once he gets oout of it and recovers from the drowning feeling or whatever. he's like. where the hell am I. Because it's completely different from where he just was. which was like a dewy day or whatever. right now he's in super tall fields with grass and shit.

well. heehoo. yk how I said paladins go back about 500 years in his family? well. heehoo. heehoo. guess what.

Magic ring was really fucking magic and wahoo! Time traveling. I know. Wild. I don't know what I was thinking when I made him do that but it's integral to his character now so I can't change it.

Turns out. there's a little Party down a head from the road he got spat out right next to. turns out. hoo boy. The paladin in the party is an ancestor of Morble's. Got the same helm and everything. turns out he's the guy who MADE the helm actually. His name is Hearth. Hearth Moor. he's pretty cool.

about. uhhh. I dunno maybe 10 years go by? yeah Morble basically gets situated to being 500 years offset from his actual timeline. he's been looking for a way to get back for the entire time but. there hasn't been much luck. so he's just chillin.

he's 22 at this point. He sticks with Hearth and the whole party which I only vaugely got. then they go to fight a red dragon for some reason. no biggie.

hearth fucking gets clobbered and dies. which sucks. they retreat. then morble has the bright idea of well. I'm gonna go fight this dragon myself and WIN. avenge him or whatever. like an idiot. you remember how your dad died, right, morby? you little fucker.

anyways.he goes and fights this dragon. and somehow! for whatever reason! motherfucker wins. chops off his head and brings it back into town. he almost died tho. bro's bleeding like all hell. so yeah he has to spend some time being not fucking dead.

okay you know how I did that serval vs brown tabby poll yesterday. well. that was on our next character, Coraline.

coraline. the baddie. she's so cool.

she's a serval now btw. the poll said so and I was digigng the design more than the brown tabby. anyways.

She's a bard! She's working at the tavern the party was staying at. She basically became Morble's nurse because. because. she'd sing him songs and shit. Her voice claim is actually. uhhhhhhh. The son Rich by Cosmo Sheldrake and the other person that worked on it. yeah.

Coraline joins the party whenever they get back on their feet. The Tavern keeps the dragons head because Morble said they could. They go from 'The Hollow Tavern' to 'The Hollow Dragon's Tavern'. p neat.

uh. yeah. Next two years Coraline and Morble get kinda close. they like eachother but Morble's fucking stupid. he's a shy little himbo. what a goober.

that's basically all I got on canon for him tbh. I like to twirl him around in my head. I have one pathway where Marby finds a way to go back to his timeline. when he's 12. he was missing for about two months tho. 12 years turned into 12 weeks. yeah. sucked for everyone around them. but mostly morble because he's now 24 in a scrawny 12 yearold's body and going to 6thgrade classes. and everybody thinks he's 12 and doesn't know where he's been for like two months and he won't tell anyone because nobody would believe him if he shrugged and said Yeahhh I picked up a magic ring and I was stuck 500 years ago for 12 years! No biggie!! yeah. Morble just kinda goes about like tho after that and becomes a highschool history teacher and works at the local museum. he's really neat. He also is super funky when it comes to his classroom decorations because he has a wall of swords and an entire replica of the suit of heavy armor he used to wear. he's also deranged and under his clothes and leather jacket he has like. jackchains, chainmail(lining his jacket), greaves, and. I think something else but I forgot what. he's wild. I just really like to put him in the salad spinner of my head and think about him with things teehee. twirls hair kicks feet.

yeah. you fucked up with this ask tho. I have more. I'm talking about Harry now. maybe Kinglen if I feel like it. let me get my things fo harry.

this be harry. harry hearthorn. I'm obsessed with him. he's so fucking funny. you'll have to excuse the things of Alphonse and stuff in that last one. I'm gonna be using. him for dnd <3

I love Harry. He's from a military type country or whatever. it's. it's not the best. they're like. I don't know how to describe it. think of amestris but less "we wanna take over the world" and more "we like war and we want more" or whatever. you understand. it's a weird one.

there's like three main branches of jobs. military, research and development slash the sciences, and basically 'entertainment'. entertainers are literally just everything that doesn't fall into the other catagories. these are like artists and show runners and broadcasters and radio hosts and other things of the sort.

school works in this place by being 12 years just like 'merican schools(EAGLE SCREECH GUNSHOTS FIREWORKS). but the first 8 you are just doing general stuff. the 9 and 10th are for pinning down what branch you're going into. and 11 and 12 are getting experience in your field. this is mainly getting mentorships and other stuff, witht he execption of the military branch

Military only has one place to go. If you're going into the military at 16, you're goign STRAIGHT To tht emilitary at 16.

Harry's mom was in the R&D branch, Harry's dad was in the military. they met at a bar. they're funny. both bisexual which is REALLY funny because Harriet is ALSO bisexual and Harry is bicurious-aspec. harry's mom is 6'1 btw. Harry's 6'5. justlittle stuff. I think I named her Maria. his dad is named Henry.

anyways. Harry and Harriet., they are siblings. Harriet is two years older than Harry. though it's funny bc their full names are Harrison and Harriet. but. Harriet is Harry. And Harrison is Harriet. they had a sense of humor.

ATM harry is 31. Harriet is 33 and a senior broadcaster at one of the shownetworks or whatever. Maria is retired. Henry died while on duty when Harry and Harriet were lke 12 and 14.

anyways. Harry wanted to go into the science or military branches. like his parents. His scores were leaning more to being althetic and shit so he got put into the military. he's been there like. ever since. he barely goes home bc he feels no need and because there's an active war(a really long one. . . neither side will stop. . . they really like war) and he just. didn't feel the need. but they forced him to go home a few times when he got like. shot and stabbed and stuff. yeah he's a g like that. did I mention he's a first lieutenant btw. he's a first lieutenant bc I said so.

anyways. his downfall is when onetime. after making a bad call sends the part of his platoon he's with through a part of whereever they are. one fo the younger guys. steps on a landmine. out of like, 14 soliders, only three of them survive. harry, someone else who was closer to the mine, and a younger one that was farther away and practically unscathed. Harry lost his leg and most of his hearing in his right ear and all of it in his left. teehee

anyways. after his main amount of recovery. he's still in the military but they don't put him on any active duty despite him BEGGING for it. because of the PTSD mainly and because he's depressed as fuck secondarly. yeah. basically it sucks for him really bad. he gets put on staff duty indefinetly. also I have to mention Harry fucks. severially. I mentioned that he's aspec. like. arospec. he is not acespec. he fucks.

anyways. basically he's depressed as fuck because. he accidently killed a bunch of guys and ptsd is kicking his ass. he tries to drink his worries away and doesn't care about what kind of trouble he gets into with the drinking and getting caught with girls and stuff. he gets put onto suicide watch after an incident with a lower ranking guy. yeah.

at that point they decide the best option is to just. give him an honorable discharge. so they do that. Harry has to move in with his mom and sister. he does that. everything sucks for him. yeah

at some point after his birthday he decides well. this fucking sucks. I hate this. I'm leaving. he grabs like his old uniform, and money, and a pack, and a pack of smokes and just. hitchhikes. out of the country. without fucking telling anyone. he calls Harriet and his mom after he's out of the country like "heyyy. I'm. I'm out west or whatever. gonna. figure something out here." and they're like WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MAN. WHAT THE HELL. but he writes them letters and calls them ebcause they can't really do jack about it. yeah

so. basically he's just hitchhiking till he gets to another country. which he does and then basically he tried to do some freelance work or something. then he finds a little group who are gonna basically take down the government. I dunno that's where the campaign is gonna start methinks. Harry might get himself a funny little dragonborn boyfriend. yeah. okay I have to shower and. actually do stuff teehee I rolls out of bed and went straight to my puter to talk about these guys. so teehe. I'm so hungry I need water.

OH OH HOLD ON. uhhmmm here's old art of morble. spannign from 3 years ago to a couple months ago. teehee

neat. the third one is the very very VERY first thing I did of him ever in existance. second one is one I did and the first one is a redraw from months later. the last one is me just doodling him months ago and pinning down his design again. I changed his helm bc it made no sense.

OKAY I’M GOING I’M GOING FALLS TO THE FLOOR AND ROLLS AWAY LIKE A LOG

#from the pouch #asks #ocs #my ocs #oc art #yeah sure that's good. teehee. prances away #I might actually come back witha reblog or two and talk about my other guys but my mom might yell at me if I don't shower now so buhbye #this got really sloppy but IDC IDC #OKAY BYE

[vinsmokewife]

Who is this person- chapter 3

On a quest to find love on a dating website, Sanji falls head over heels for a woman with an interest in...alternative relationships that sends him down a rabbit hole of completing tasks for a seemingly sadistic mistress. But what happens when she turns out to be more than what she seems?

Darkfic with themes of internalised homophobia, bad bdsm practices and lying about your identity to strangers on the internet. Please read with caution. This is NOT how BSDM should be practiced. Always practice Sane, Safe and Consensual practicesboarders on being considered dead dove do not eat material

read on ao3

authors note: sorry!! This took longer than I expected. I wanted to keep up with Kinktober over comic con so I was pretty much coming back from the hotel room after con, writing and then falling asleep infsfsf. Con was great btw. Any way, this is where things start to get explicit and will probably get worse and worse as the chapters go on. This fanfic (or what I have planned for it) will be boardering on Dead Dove content with the BDSM practices. Please only read if you are comfortable with that. Also, Zoro and Sanji are very questionable in this (especially Zoro) so that’s another thing. Anyway, please enjoy.

Chapter summary

Zeff unknowingly gives Sanji bad advice and Zoro meets a familiar face in the club

LOGGING IN: S POV

He had to take some time to think it over. By time, he meant well into the next day.

Sanji took seriously what Zoey had to say. Rushing into some sort of BDSM relationship was not the wisest thing in the entire world especially when you have not even met them. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Perhaps it was the first girl in a long time that’s seriously took his attempts at romance seriously. It just so happens that her idea of romance does not align with his idea of romance. He was all walks along the beach and holding hands and she was all leather and lace.

In the meantime, Sanji looked up what it meant to be in a BDSM relationship but it was hard to get an idea. There were so many different types of BDSM. So many different scenarios that he could be a part of with her.

She wanted to be in charge…so did that mean she wanted him as her submissive?

Men naturally lead. It’s in his blood to be chivalrous but lead relationships as that’s what men do but what he suspected she wanted from him went against all that. She wanted to lead and she wanted him to serve…so there was that to consider as well. Is that what he wanted too?

This was pretty distracting. Especially when he had to work today. No, Zeff didn’t give him a day off. Zeff did give him the evening off as to not take too much advantage but what good was that when Sanji acted like a zombie the entire day? Missing orders, making mistakes on orders and being too distracted with what was on his phone.

Zeff hadn’t noticed until one of the line chefs complained really loudly that Zeff better get his brat in order or they were going to lose customers. Now that was when Zeff began to notice all the issues and the fact that Sanji seemed like he was away somewhere else entirely. Where? He didn’t know but the old man was not having a crappy day because of Sanji. So, he gave another senior chef the charge for the moment before he stormed out of the kitchen. He told another waiter to take over from Sanji who was currently taking orders from a table.

“Sanji,” Zeff’s voice came over as Sanji was turning around. The waiter who was told to take over started taking the order from Sanji.

“Yeah? What? You’re not about to go back on your word about this evening, old man?” Normally Sanji and Zeff would have that kind of banter but by the look on Zeff’s face, he was not in the mood for that kind of banter.

“Enough of that. Get into the back office. We need to have a word,” There was absolutely no warmth in Zeff’s voice which was normal but there was even less which was really concerning for Sanji who watched him and went to the back office. Zeff came slightly behind, telling different waiters to do different jobs. It was obvious that Zeff was not in the mood for any of Sanji’s bull shit today. Well shit, tough crowd today.

Once there, Sanji turned to Zeff who closed the door. The office was small and kinda messy. The only time that either of them were in it was when they were cashing up. This was the office that all the back stuff got done but Zeff and Sanji both worked on the floor so they were rarely ever in this room.

“Okay. What the fuck is your problem today?” Zeff immediately went with that as he had all the grace of a reversing dump truck. Honestly, was this how it was going to go? Immediately, Sanji felt defensive. He didn’t think he was doing that bad today…right? Sure, he had made one or two mistakes, “You’re pissing the other waiters off and your pissing the chefs off. You don’t want to piss me off too, boy,”

“Nothing is wrong today!” Sanji had no problem getting in Zeff’s face either. He didn’t truly think that we was doing that bad but Zeff simply disagreed, “Sorry but if you hadn’t made me come in yesterday, I wouldn’t be as tired as I am,”

“Bullshit!” Zeff saw right through that almost expertly, “I’ve seen you work seven days straight with no breaks and work better than the horse shit that you are doing today. I have half a mind to send you home if you don’t tell me what is going on!”

Sanji felt his blood pressure raise. He didn’t want to be spoken to like that. For all the shit he dealt with in this place, all the times he bailed the old man out by covering shifts for him or staying late because he can’t be bothered cashing up his own restaurant.

“There’s nothing going on!” Sanji wasn’t about to explain his dilemma he was facing with Zeff. He barely knows how to work a phone better yet do online dating.

“Then you better get that suit off and go home then,” Zeff was fuming with Sanji. Although, Sanji could tell it was more annoyance that he wouldn’t tell him that something was wrong. He’d known Zeff since he was a child. Zeff is the closet person to him that he would call a dad. Sanji respected Zeff as a man and as a chef. The honest to god truth was that Zeff probably felt hurt that Sanji couldn’t confide in him, or that was at least Sanji’s guess anyway.

So, Sanji took a moment before replying.

“Fine.” Sanji finally gave into defeat, “I’m having…girl problems,”

There was a beat of a silence. Sanji swore that Zeff was probably going to hit him for being such an idiot about something so trivial especially when it came to girls. After all, Sanji was now in his 20s and still had very little luck with women.

But no hit came. Just Zeff letting out a hearty laugh that grated Sanji’s ears. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Ha! You’re getting all worked up over a girl. That’s what this is all about?”

Well, at least he wasn’t angry anymore.

“Oh haha. Laugh at me why don’t you. God, you get pissed because I don’t tell you then laugh at me when I do!” It was Sanji’s turn to be pissed off but Zeff defused it by giving Sanji a big old pat on the back.

“Oh no. I’m taking this completely seriously,” Nevermind that Zeff was still laughing at him. Completely ignore that fact entirely if you will, “What’s the problem? She ignoring you or something?”

In all of Sanji’s years, he’s never had a man to man talk about girls with Zeff. Not about a specific girl anyway. Zeff has always taught him to treat girls with respect but never has he went to Zeff about a specific girl. This was the first time ever and he found that super embarrassing as this was…well, Sanji was an adult now and shouldn’t have to tell his basically father about the girl he wanted to date.

Especially since this is about BDSM and he does not want to even know what Zeff’s thoughts on that are.

“Well…no, she’s not. She was but…” Sanji needs to word this in a way that is kinda close to the situation but doesn’t reveal all of the fucked-up situation that he was currently invested in right now.

“Well? Come on boy, spit it out. What is she doing that’s bothering you so much?”

“… I asked her if she wanted to be in a relationship with me and she told me to think about it…” Sanji sounded somewhat unsure.

“That’s just a test,” Zeff replied with a hearty laugh. He seems to be taking much amusement in Sanji’s suffering but maybe the old man was worth listening to, “I’ve dated many women. Trust me. They like to test men. They like to see what they will do when met with a little pushback. Men who aren’t all that interested will back off while the true fighters will fight to get what they wanted,”

And honestly, that made sense to Sanji. Maybe she just wanted to see if he would fight for her. Maybe that’s what this was about. Zeff…was making a lot of sense even if he didn’t know the story 100%.

“Huh. I didn’t think of it that w- Hey!” With that, Zeff gave Sanji a slap on the back, this is the closet that either or the men will get to have a proud dad moment with eachother.

“She’s just wanting the chase. You better give her that chase, you hear me,” Zeff said before giving him another firmer one, “Back to work with a clearer mind then,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

Sanji was met within himself a new determination about the whole situation. He went back to work but not before sending a quick message Zoey’s way.

S: I’m ready to talk when you are.

-

As a promise to Zeff, Sanji perked up as his shift went by a lot smoother. He seemed to have a clearer head.

He kept an eye on his phone but Zoey never appeared online. Which was probably a blessing in disguise considering that he ended up being pretty busy. It was around the late evening when he was finally finished his shift and surprisingly he did not get roped into closing up. He took Zeff’s advise to heart about Zoey so that when she replied, he would be ready.

And she did. Just as he was finishing his shift and stepping out of the place, she replied.

Z: Hello, Sanji.

Z: Let’s talk. Have you thought about what I said last night?

Sanji waited until he got home to his apartment to get back to her. He dumped his things by the door and headed straight for his bedroom where he sat down on his bed so he could concentrate on getting this right. He was going to take Zeff’s advice and apply it here.

S: I have.

S: I’m still interested in this. I know I’m not experienced but I’m willing to be taught.

S: I have an idea of what kind of relationship you want. It doesn’t scare me. I want to see what it is that you want inside.

Did that sound too cheesy? He wanted to make this work with her so badly. He knew it was maybe not ideal to jump into something so intense but he didn’t care. He wanted to see where things went with Zoey.

Z: Hmmm.

Z: Okay. I have an idea.

Z: What about a trial run? You commit to a week and we will see how we feel about it towards the end.

Z: It won’t be too intense. I will be your dominant till the end of the week and I’ll give you little tasks to complete.

Z: Nothing major.

Z: We can discuss the finer details. As this will primarily be online, I’ll need us to switch to another app.

Another app? Well, he supposed that made sense. Most people moved onto another app once they had established a connection anyway. That wasn’t weird or anything. However, he’s taking the rest of it in. Sanji doesn’t fully comprehend the gravity of what he’s agreeing to but he feels like if he gets to have a chance with her then he’ll agree to anything.

So, they moved to another app. A more private and secure app. He had to make an account, but it was relatively compared to setting up an account on a dating website. He observed a new profile picture this time. It seemed to be a selfie of the same woman from the dating app but with a little less…clothing. She appeared to be in her bra and was wearing a leather mask. She was…very attractive.

Anyway, she messaged first.

Z: So, let’s discuss the details.

Z: I’m going to create a set of rules in our relationship. Most of them are simple to follow. Most of them are there to make sure you are taking care of yourself.

Z: But there are rules.

Rules? He had read this somewhere that rules and rituals are a big part of these types of relationships. In his minimal research, he did see that there were some things that relationships tended to have rules.

S: Rules are fine with me.

Z: Good.

Z: I want to give you your first task. It’s very simple.

Z: But…I want to know your limits.

Z: I like to push limits but you will see that when we get there.

When you’ve never been in those kinds of relationships, it’s hard for you to know what your limits are. Sanji took a few moments to think that one out before he sent back.

S: That’s hard.

S: I don’t want to be hurt too bad.

S: Nothing involving piss or shit too. Or children or animals.

S: I’m open to trying most things even if I don’t know if I’ll like it

Z: Good. Then this should be a piece of cake for you then.

Z: I want you to film yourself masturbating for me. I need to see that you can follow a simple command.

Z: Here…have some pictures of me in return.

Did…did he read that correctly? He barely had time to think about that when she sent a few pictures. The same woman, the same bra and panties but as he scrolled through he pictures, the fewer clothes she had on. They had an amateur quality that was weirdly attractive to him as he took in the pictures. He wished he could be with her right now. She’s so unbelievably gorgeous.

S: Film myself?

S: And thanks ;) I like these a lot. You’re so pretty.

Z: Thank you.

Z: You have an hour by the way.

An hour? There were time limits on these things? He could do this. He had taken pictures of himself exposed before so why shouldn’t this be any different.

S: Okay. I’ll do it.

Here goes nothing.

LOGGING IN: Z POV

It was such a dead night at the club.

Being here was starting to become a regular thing. It was hard not to when the carnal desires get strong.

He was doing his usual having his beer at the bar and watching the conversation between himself and Sanji unfold. His face almost unreadable as he witnesses Sanji’s compliance into what he wants him to do. Was Sanji that…desperate for a girl in his life that he agrees to such a thing? It was bizarre and almost…bothered Zoro. The way that Sanji threw himself at women blindly…not knowing the true dangers.

It couldn’t possibly be the pang of jealousy.

He tried not to think about it like that because it wasn’t like that. It shouldn’t be about that but it wasn’t..right?

He had been waiting thirty minutes for Sanji’s response and honestly, it was making the swordsman feel conflicted. Was this…maybe a little too nasty? Was this probably the worst way he could have gone about this…? Maybe. However, there was no other way he would get this out of Sanji… Sanji hated him. Hated all men in fact (bar Luffy but Luffy was far too harmless for anyone to hate) so…

But wait, why did he want this out of Sanji anyway?

This was a terrible thing to be doing to someone but Zoro couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He sighed and finished the last of his beer. He wasn’t in the mood for this place tonight. Honestly, he was feeling a little apprehensive about seeing if Sanji delivered. He placed his glass on the bar and then turned to get up and then…

“Zoro?”

The voice of a familiar woman rang in his ear and then Zoro turned to see who it was coming from. The woman in question had a mask on with a very intricate design almost like a cat mask. At first, he didn’t know who she was despite her looking very familiar. Obviously, it wasn’t helped by the mask in question However, her long raven hair and her dress where indications of who she was…

“Robin?”

People sometimes wore masks to hide who they were. People who wanted some privacy and didn’t want people to know their face. Zoro didn’t care about that too much. If someone saw him her and was against it then they would be a hypocrite for being so offended. The woman nodded before sliding her next to Zoro and taking a seat at the bar which Zoro did the same because…well, he’s never met someone he knew here. While he never hung out with Robin as much, Robin was always the matriarch of their friendship group with Franky naturally being the patriarch.

“I thought you were dating Franky?”

For some reason, that was the only thing that came out of Zoro’s mouth, as if the two thing can’t coincide at once.

“I still do. He’s here actually. He’s setting up a bedroom for us upstairs. We’ve only started to recently come here. You?”

Was it embarrassing to admit that you are a regular in a BDSM club?

“I’m…a regular. But I don’t do much upstairs. Sometimes, but most of the time I drink here,”

Robin nodded curtly before ordering herself a glass of wine from the bar.

“Do the others know you come here?” She asked, curiously.

“No,” Zoro answered almost immediately, “This…isn’t something I share with most people,”

“Oh…” She asked, before looking at him seriously, “Does us being here bother you?”

That was a really weird question to ask. He didn’t know why it would.

“Not really. Bit weird finding out Franky is into BDSM but that’s about it,” Zoro said trying to add a little bit of humour to the situation. It didn’t bother him…but he didn’t want his whole friendship group knowing he came here most nights.

Robin laughed at his little comment, “I suppose I understand. I just wouldn’t want you to feel ashamed. We are all human and have urges…whether or not they are conventional or not,”

“I should say the same to you,” Zoro gestured to the mask but Robin shook her head.

“A different thing entirely. This is part of the play. Being anonymous in the crowd. I only spoke to you because…well, I couldn’t not when I saw you,” She clarified.

Zoro was about to talk again but he felt his phone ping. He looked at it only to see the heading.

Sanji sent a video. A 5 minute video.

Zoro’s head reeled with the possibility of what he was just sent. He didn’t even realise he was completely blanking Robin for a few seconds while she spoke but he politely excused himself.

“I’m sorry. I have a thing that’s just came up…” Zoro said, interrupting Robin mid conversation who just waved him off.

“That’s okay. I’ll see you around,”

Zoro couldn’t have gotten away quick enough but he didn’t have the patience to go to his apartment so he headed off to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. Zoro waited a few minutes as the gravity of what he’s done starts to sink in. He’s potentially just convinced his rival to send him a video of himself jerking off for some imaginary lady using images of some model from some paid subscription website.

And he really doesn’t understand fully why he’s done this. He just knows it’s deeply fucked up.

He debates quietly to himself opening the message weighing out the pros and cons. He doesn’t even have any malicious intention with this. He just…craves a side of Sanji that isn’t hostile.

But…why this?

He doesn’t know what to do with this video. But, his thumb moves on its own and opens the message.

The thumbnail of the video makes the hairs on his arms stand up. Sanji had managed to position his phone in such a way that Zoro could see Sanji clearly. Face and all, chest and most importantly, his waist. Sanji was surprisingly toned but not bulked up like Zoro was. He looked really different. But as he could see…

Sanji actually did as he asked.

But should Zoro even watch it? He doesn’t know. How far will this go? Zoro doesn’t know what to do.

It wouldn’t hurt to watch…right.

Fuck it. Zoro’s thumb presses play. The curiosity of the situation got the absolute better of him and he couldn’t help himself when he watched and listened to what he received. Sanji’s voice was…different. A lot more soft and a lot more needy than how he normally was. Normally Sanji was really aggressive or really rude toned but this sounded…pleasant. Pleasant to his ears at least.

That was the first thing he picked up on and that he was getting hard from it.

Jesus fuck. Sanji of all people was making Zoro hard. A man he’s despised since meeting him has made him have the urge to jack off.

This was…something. But would it really hurt if he…sorted himself out while simultaneously watching this video? It wouldn’t hurt anyone besides, it would be a waste of a video, right?

Zoro reached and grabbed his cock out of his pants and stroked himself in slow motions as he listened and watched. It was delectable watching Sanji move his hand like this. He was absolutely beautiful like this and this right here was so utterly fucked up.

His mind raced to places he knew would never be a reality. He wondered how Sanji would feel wrapped around his cock. He wondered how his mouth would feel. Those perfect parted lips with cum drizzled on them or his ass seeping with cum. His mind raced with all the things he wanted in that moment which made Zoro fuck his hips into his hand as he watched Sanji get more frantic with his hand movement. That needy and whiny voice, breathless as he vocalises his pleasure, he wished he could have him underneath him.

Holy shit. He would rail Sanji hard if he could just to hear him call his name.

With a noisy moan, his head slipping back, Zoro got to watch the blonde cum over his waist and hands with more whining which sent Zoro over the edge of cumming into his hand with a grunt. He watched as the video came to and end and then…

The post nut reflection started to hit in as he panted. All the negative feelings that his brain was holding back started to seep into his body now that the tension had been released.

He catfished Sanji into sending him pornography. He masturbated to it and loved it. Most damning…he didn’t feel bad about it. Or he did…but not enough to admit to it.

In fact, he quickly sent a message in response.

Z: What a good boy you are.

Z: Thank you for following your first command.

Z: I am so lucky to have such a good boy.

Zoro sent those messages then sat there, feeling so many conflicted feelings towards what he’s doing and has done. The worse part is he doesn’t think he can stop now. He’s going to have to keep going.

“Fuck.”

#one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fanfic #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #kinktober 2023

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The First and the End

The remade Adam storybook I mentioned before. There was meant to be a part where he meets lilieve, but i very quickly ran out of steam. hopefully one day i'll revisit the idea. she IS present here though. just. a shadow of what she once was.

Summary: During the Silence, a lonely man weeps for the world. His body is young but his grief is as old as time.

         In the beginning, the world had ended. What was once a planet of noise and color had been blasted and purged until there was nothing but scorched earth and ash.

         Some things had survived. Some animals, some people. But there were no more plants. There was no more water. The ocean was empty. The rain held only acid. There was nothing left for the prey to eat, and they died. In turn, the predators had nothing left to eat, and they were hunted out of sheer desperation. Eventually the people had nothing left to eat, so they died too. It was as if any sign of life was stamped out, as if the very act of breathing was a pollutant.

         For this reason the event was called the Silence.

         There was only one man left. He had to bury all he knew. He would wait by the graves for a few days in the hopes that something would emerge from the soil, but nothing ever did. Eventually the rations ran out, so he left.

         Where? Who knows. Somewhere else.

         He only took a stuffed rabbit with him. He hadn’t held it since he was a boy. Its cotton was sticking out and an eye was missing, but it was the only thing he had now. When he held it at night, he could sleep better. He could feel warmer, even if all he had was a tattered white coat.

         But a plush couldn’t do anything to ease its owner’s hunger. It couldn’t quench his thirst. It couldn’t stop him from getting sick.

         It couldn’t hold him when he cried. And the man cried loud and often. The man did not like to do this, but it kept coming out in bigger and longer floods. It was the only way for him to fill the Silence. He could weep into a ravine and pretend the echoes were someone else, just as broken as he. But he knew better.

         There was no one else. He was truly the last thing on Earth.

         He cried about most things. He would miss his family, anyone who cared for him and showed him kindness. He would think of the chittering animals that would never light up the night air again. He would think of the fish that died with the ocean, the huge expanse of water he always wanted to see but never could.

         But most of all he would think of the greenery that couldn’t grow anymore. He had always liked flowers, trees, leaves. None of that was able to grow anymore. They were bleached white by the Silence, turned back to the dust from which they came.

         Sometimes he would come across a flower, wilting and dry and dying. He would sit beside it as if he were a deathbed nurse, gently caressing it as if the leaves were hands he could hold. He would cup his hands under the falling petals so they could at least know touch before they disintegrated. He would do this until the last petal fell, and there was nothing but an empty, lifeless stalk.

         He sometimes cried over the stem, hoping his tears would water it back to life.

         They never did.

         As he kept wandering, he grew weaker. He knew he was going to go soon. All that was left was finding a place to lie down for the last time.

         So, he used the last of his steps to come to a cliff that once overlooked the sea. Now, it only stood high above an unfathomably deep canyon, bereft of everything but dirt and old bones. What was once the surrounding woods were now acres and acres of dead trees, clawed fingers stretching to the gray sky.

         The man had wanted to look at the sky as he passed. He wanted to see if he could remember how blue it once was, how pretty the stars were at night. He wanted to be surrounded by what was once woods and see if he could remember how verdant they might’ve been. Perhaps if he could remember, he would close his eyes with a smile.

         So, he laid down, his rabbit held close to his chest, and stared. He was so tired now. He wished he could see the stars again. No light pierced through the thick layer of ash in the sky anymore. In the day, the world was gray. At night, it became black as pitch.

         It used to be so pretty.

         …

         The man felt tears rolling down his cheeks once more.

         Remembering only made it plain how much he had lost.

         He missed the world. He missed it with the force in which a star was born. He may not have been on it for long, but this was his home.

         Now it was gone. None remained of the plants, the animals, the people he adored so much. He couldn’t braid flowers into crowns, he couldn’t feel soft fur from a beloved pet, he couldn’t laugh and speak with anyone anymore. He could never hold someone’s hand, he could never kiss the lips of a spouse, the heads of his children and hold them close. He could never show them the beauty of the world anymore. There was only emptiness, a barren scar. Silence.

         It was more than he could bear.

         He could only cry, a wretched screaming cry louder than he ever had before. His teeth were bared as he sat up, having found the energy to do so. He just hated seeing the world like this so much. There wasn’t even anyone he could blame, even if he was the type to do so. Anyone that pushed it to this point had died with it, only knowing the true extent of their hubris in a death knell. There was no one left to blame.

         There was only Silence.

         It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

         It wasn’t fair.

         The man’s eyes snapped open. He stood up. Almost on instinct, his very fingers began to dig into the thin flesh of his upper body. Steadily, more and more crimson blood was drawn, splashing down upon a shocked and starving earth. Eventually, with a squelching crack, he broke off one of his one ribs.

         It hurt. Of course, it hurt. It hurt so badly his vision became a haze of red, rendered pink by the gray. But he had to do something. Needed to.

         He had heard a story once about life emerging from a rib. He remembered people laughing about it, because what manner of life could emerge from something as small and insignificant as a rib? Nothing important, that’s for sure. Surely.

         But life was always important. Life was always worth the effort. Always.

         With the bloody rib in his hands, he looked to the trees. Staggering over to one, he dug at its base as best a hole as he could under the circumstances. He gently deposited the rib upon the loose earth, before burying it and patting the dirt as if he had planted a seed.

         (and perhaps it was)

         As soon as the first rib was buried, the man dug more into his flesh, shedding more blood, and pulling out more ribs. For a brief time, the air was punctuated with the sound of the cracking. The man did this for as long as it took to get all his ribs out, even as he lost more and more blood and his vision got hazier and hazier.

         He walked to each tree, burying each rib at each of their bases. He did this just as gently as he did the first, patting each mound even as his blood splashed upon them.

         When he was done, he took his rabbit and walked to the base of the largest tree, right at the edge of the cliff. Here, he dug another mound, this one much bigger. He was weakening steadily, dark spots scattering in his vision, but eventually the pit was complete.

         He stood at its edge, looking down with finality, when he heard a voice.

         “Why do you do this?”

         It was piercing, yet quiet. It rasped like a coffin lid, every word tinged with venom. The man did not turn to face it, even as he heard the branches above creak with weight.

         “Why do I do what?” he whispered back.

         “You break your very bones and rip your flesh. You spill your blood upon an earth too shocked to drink it. You do all of this, and for what? A dying earth, a dying you.”

         “I do this because I love this world. I do this because I cannot bear to let it die.”

         “It is a broken corpse. There is no point in reviving it.”

         “Why do you say that?”

         “This world was awful, evil. I looked down upon it and everything I saw was sickening.”

         The voice seemed to break at that, a mournful vulture’s cry.

         “Reviving it will only bring that back. Your love will mean nothing to the future peoples that will only drive this world to the brink once more. They will rip and tear at its innards until nothing is left. They will kill and eat their own, their young, because they only care for themselves. They will trample upon every living thing. This world will die once again, and they will have learned nothing.”

         The man paused.

         “…I’m sorry that happened to you.”

         The voice grew silent.

         “But…” the man continued. “I want to believe things will be better this time. I want to believe this world can truly prosper. I want to assume the best of people. I know this world is cruel, crueler than I can dare imagine, but I still love it. It was my home. And besides…”

         He smiled.

         “We have the capacity to learn, to change. It’s another thing I love about people. We hold so much potential inside ourselves, and yet we may never see it. We’re taught to hate too much, to hate ourselves too much. I want to create a world where there’s always hope. I want to cup this world’s face in my hands and tell it everything will be okay.

         Because it will be.

         I will make it so.”

         Without another word, the man fell into the grave. His rabbit fell beside him.         To any outside observer, it would seem as if he had just fallen asleep, a childhood toy clutched tightly in his arms.

#surrealism #original mythology #original writing #oc writing #weirdcore #tanzaku #dreamcore #creation myth