#even though this is not a responsibly selfish choice

[likeshipsonthesea]

i had feelings and wrote this post about shannon and i didn't wanna confuse it w eddie stuff but as she is ultimately a character in eddie's story i also wanted to go into the implications of this for eddie

do i think eddie was a bad husband? yes. does this make him a horrible irredeemable man who should take a vow of celibacy to protect the world from the burden of his romantic love? no.

but i think it's important that eddie actually deals with the reality of his relationship with shannon. i think we've got a start with this arc, and all the things he said to kim, but even then he starts out saying shannon was "the love of [his] life" when bestie, you didn't even know her.

they met in high school. they got pregnant unexpectedly and married just as fast. and then eddie left and they didn't know each other outside of a screen and brief visits for five years, then eddie was full of trauma and shannon's mother was dying, and then another two years apart, and then they were back together but didn't really talk outside of christopher.

by the time eddie re-proposed, he knew shannon as christopher's mother. that's it. he had no idea she wouldn't want another proposal. he heard "pregnant" and immediately went back to his 18-21ish self who knew nothing more than Responsibility. he didn't know shannon wouldn't want that. he didn't know anything about her--or at least, the audience didn't. where did she live? what did she do for work? what were her interests? from the beginning, the narrative--and eddie--treated shannon like a mother-shaped ghost to flit into and out of eddie's life.

and right as eddie was forced to look the truth of his and shannon's relationship in the eye, she died. how is he meant to consider all the nitty gritty rough edges and centers of their relationship through the rose-colored veil of grief?

i get why eddie hasn't tried to de-tangle all these feelings. it feels like he's shitting on shannon's memory. but i don't think eddie will ever be able to give himself to anyone until he realizes how formative his relationship with shannon was in all the wrong ways.

i'mma be bold here and claim: eddie didn't love shannon towards the end. he didn't KNOW her. he was happy to play family with her until she thought she might be pregnant again and then he immediately thought Pregnancy=Propose=Responsibility. it wasn't out of love for who shannon was as a person, it was out of responsibility.

and the shannon eddie married would've said yes, as she presumably did when they got married the first time. but the shannon of s2 didn't want that, a marriage of necessity. she knew herself enough to know she couldn't devote herself to eddie as a husband and christopher as a mom at the same time, and she chose christopher. i think eddie loves her for being christopher's mother, the way michael loves athena even though he isn't In love with her, but i don't think eddie knows the difference.

eddie thinks romantic love is responsibility and tradition and expectation and christopher's mother. he's learned how to live for himself and be better for himself but he hasn't learned how to LOVE for himself.

this doesn't keep him from making incredibly selfish decisions, like leading kim on or treating his love-interests like sex-giving mother machines, but i digress. eddie has learned how to break out of the roles he's played--perfect son, army hero, self-sacrificing single dad--but he's never stopped to think about the role he plays in a romantic relationship and the feelings that come along with it.

the kim arc is forcing him to look all of this straight-on and i love it. i hope they take it further. i need eddie to reckon with the fact that he and shannon failed each other, and that she wasn't the great love of his life because he didn't actually know her well enough to be in love with her at the end. i need eddie to look at how he acts as a husband/boyfriend and realize he's fucked up, to acknowledge how he's made bad choices and decide to make better ones.

eddie has so much to give, and i think he can make someone really happy if he manages to break out of the Husband role he's learned and really give himself truly to someone. and hopefully, it'll make him really happy too.

#eddie diaz #shannon diaz #9-1-1 #9-1-1 spoilers #i have so many feelings y'all #while i think this kim arc is objectively hilarious #i also think it's so good for addressing all of this #and i can't wait to see how they conclude it in the next ep #also i kinda wanna write an au where shannon Is pregnant #in s2 #and doesn't die #and still says no to eddie's proposal #and the fallout from that #hmm #so many au's so little time #manny fic first ofc

[bummie4dummies]

i personally think eddie's decision to take kim on a date makes so much sense for his character. this is a heavily traumatized man who has not properly processed the grief of losing his wife and mother of his child. this is a man who has been seeking to recreate the fantasy family he'd built with christopher and shannon in his mind - even though shannon herself was ready to divorce him before she died. this is a man who wants nothing but a second chance, an opportunity to try again, to make it work, make it better.

and then he sees kim, and his good conscience is clouded by potential. she looks exactly like shannon. she laughs like shannon. she's quick-witted, charismatic, magnetic. she's absolutely gorgeous. she feels so easy and natural to talk to. she isn't shannon, she just feels like shannon - eddie doesn't even know her at all. but to him, she might as well be a carbon copy. she is someone that is so easy for him to project all of his wants and desires onto. she is someone who could be just like shannon, maybe, at least for now. eddie wants to find out for himself.

this is a decision eddie is making purely out of his own wishes, and he is not thinking about it clearly; he is being straight-up delusional. this is one of the first decisions we've ever really seen eddie make that is so blatantly self-serving and selfish, even more so than leaving for the army. this isn't a self-defense mechanism, this is a self-sabotage. some sort of fucked-up penance, or maybe a willing step into purgatory.

for maybe the first time in his life, eddie isn't thinking about anyone else. he esepcially isn't thinking about christopher - imagine what chris would think if he found out his dad's dating a dead ringer for his dead mom (let alone that it's on top of dating marisol)? even if eddie's somehow justifying it in his mind - maybe chris would be happy about it too - he knows this is a terrible choice and he's doing it anyway.

he is desperate to recreate what he thinks he could've had with shannon, he is very much hurting and still in deep mourning, and he is still not being honest with himself about what he truly wants or needs to be happy with himself. he's also realizing that whatever he wants, it probably isn't with marisol. but instead of breaking up with her, he's making the choice to complicate things for himself even further. it feels like some sort of subconscious self-flagellation. very ex-catholic of him.

it's so interesting that eddie is doing this without considering the true repercussions. he is blinded by the fact that he has a chance to date 'shannon' again and isn't thinking about literally anything else. it's going to cause suuuch a mess and i am so excited to watch how everything unfolds. i think eddie needs a bit of a reckoning to be able to get fully real with himself, and i really hope this is the first domino that tips to knock over his entire carefully-constructed illusions, the streak of sun that burns through the clouds in his mind so he can find some meaningful clarity.

#i actually have soooo many thoughts right now and i feel like #this doesn't even really sum them up well at all lmao #but i just woke up and i needed to spew #eddie diaz #911 spoilers #911 abc #mine #also!! i think it's important for eddie to make 'selfish' choices #even though this is not a responsibly selfish choice #i hope it leads him to making choices that are *healthily* self-serving

[ellecdc]

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!readerCW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.” 

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore. 

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you. 

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy. 

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about. 

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right. 

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet. 

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet. 

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion. 

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off. 

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near. 

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them. 

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely. 

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you. 

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly. 

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you. 

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together. 

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no. 

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms. 

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper. 

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face. 

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month. 

#poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #wolfstar x you #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #self insert #reader insert #ask elle #marauders fanfiction #hurt/comfort #ellecdc fics

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 20: Choking

Pairing: ITZY Yeji  x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,582

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Going somewhere, huh?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

She’s a killer and a villain—those eyes strike daggers towards you to distance yourself away from her because if you don’t, then you’ll feel her wrath and you’re not going to like it. Stuck on an elevator, she seem repugnant about your demeanor, more so, your existence—you weren’t even lying onto that line but you guess that’s just how she judges you, and you’re in power to influence her with that as one word that comes out of your mouth is just drawing yourself closer to hell.

Of course, you love the risk and you’ll break it apart from her, no matter what happens.

“I don’t know why you are acting like this, Yeji?”

“And why the fuck are you even here?” Yeji retorts, laced with venom as her fierce eyes glared at you, making you pique your interest about her even more.

“I’ll attend a party, that’s why and you can’t stop me, Yeji.”

“I don’t fucking care—go on and just don’t be near me.” You can sense how she really despises you and it’s all going well according to plan—even though you know how she truly doesn’t like your presence, you can sense how it’s maybe a faux demeanor of hers and it’s a strong one. Maybe it’s just your way of clothing that she intensely disgusts because you caught her in the act—her eyes really lit up once she saw your body and you could only think of how she’s thirsty for you but of course, she needs to act tough because she’s always been like that.

“You know and probably, everybody knows in this company how I always like riding in elevators alone, unless it’s the specific people I want in and your stubborn brain probably didn’t know this, don’t you?” Yeji remarks and slaps you with what she’s entitled to and of course, you brush those off because the world doesn’t always go on her path, even luck not even lying on her side as always.

“I’m not stubborn and that’s not how it always works, Yeji—” Your choice of words infuriates her as she glares at you, her rage unable to be contained further as she lashes out how she’s so ungrateful to be in the same, compact space with her and god, you just want to shut that bratty mouth of hers.

“You shut the fuck up and listen—my dad is the C—E—fucking—O of this company and you wouldn’t dare to—oh!” The both of you yelp in response as the elevator thuds a little, knowing something’s off and that hint of anxiety kicking in because of the fear coursing down your veins.

“Fuck, we’re stuck in the elevator—oh no…”

“Yeah no shit, smarthead…” Yeji chides as the latter is filled with sarcasm, feeling uneasy as she doesn’t want to be late to the party upstairs and quickly contacts the emergency services but with an expected response, they wouldn’t meet Yeji’s complaints as you laugh because of her immediate panic and struggles.

“Twenty minutes? You’re joking, right? But please, can you just be quick cause’ I don’t want to die here because of suffocation! I’m telling this to my daddy!!”

You know that she’s over exaggerating and selfish, in all means because first of all: elevators are ventilated and you neither of you will suffocate because of this and second of all, she should’ve expected the slow service and just be patient, not acting like a goddamn brat just because of her connections and nepotism—god, you really hate her but you can’t lie, you find her incredibly hot and pretty that you just want to teach her a lesson that will sure make her a different person once you’re done with her but that would be settling on your imagination, for now.

“Stop over exaggerating Yeji, we will be fine here—”

“Shut up, loser! If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t happen! You’re such a walking bad luck, argh, gosh!” Of course, Yeji would always respond like her anger is boiling through the roof and holding a deep grudge against you—you barely know each other and she’s acting like a psychotic freak who's always thinking for herself and you, will change that.

“You know your whining wouldn’t help anything, Yeji.” You feign a little concern over her, knowing that having a calm disposition and being completely composed would make both of your minds in a better state but because of her stubbornness and the unwilling act towards your suggestions, it will just put some salt onto the wound as she whines more because of you and how she detests you.

“Just shut the fuck up—-hah, god…” Yeji rests her head onto the metal walls, feeling defeated as being stuck in an elevator are one of the last few things she wants to see and she’s not really having it. You know with the complete silence of hers, marks something that there’s something unorthodox happening in her—you could catch her taking a glimpse of your body and maybe even your crotch but she wouldn’t mind even interacting seductively towards you and you don’t mind it because time will tell about each other’s fate.

Well, maybe the stars are aligning and something’s swerving inside her—she’s being unorthodox as something disturbing the force—

“Props to you though, you have a nice body…” Yeji catches you off-guard, averting her eyes towards you as she presents a coy demeanor with her faint smirks from time to time. You don’t know what got into her but you wouldn’t complain, and it’s drawing herself closer to your plan and you’re absolutely loving where this may go but of course, you need to fake your demeanor and won’t switch up easily.

“And what got into you, Yeji?”

“Oh, come on. I know I acted like a bitch earlier and I apologize for that—” Yeji inches closer towards you, her strong, floral scent nudging against your nose as you can feel the heat emanating from her, captivating you even more but you fight against that urge of yours, for now. “—won’t you wanna have some fun for now?”

She’s clearly alluring you towards something you’re probably oblivious of—of course, your clever mind isn’t nowhere near that, and you know where this will end as your cognizant mind will take this as a golden opportunity for your deepest desires.

“Is this the way you really want to kill time, Yeji?” There’s no frivolous disposition that can be seen on your face as you’re faking your disbelief against her suggestive propositions. 

“Then what other way can you think of, hm?” You shrug, clueless about what could be the answer of your own question as she proves her point even further. “See? Nothing.I mean, we’re going to be stuck here for a while so…” Yeji inches closer towards you, feeling her hot, minty breath brushing against your nose as she smiles at you like a vixen, seducing with her sultry tone and her dainty fingers tracing circles at your chest. “Shall we have some fun?”

As much as you want to deny her, Yeji herself exudes such exuberance and hotness that you can’t resist—mostly her calm yet enthusiastic approach made for your decision and her beauty is beyond exceptional on your own books and you would love to get that fun with her, or rather, in her.

“You know—I know how you want to fuck me with those eyes. I can sense them, hm…” Her fingers run onto the hem of your sleeves up to your collar, subtly teasing you as her voice makes you melt and fall under her spell. “Maybe it’s time for a test, you know?”

You mock her, intimidating her as she just smiles with your constant rants, knowing that you’ll fall into the abyss of desires soon and you can sense it in her eyes, that’s why you want to play. “Do you think that’s going to work, Yeji? Oh please, make me~”

“You’ll see…” Yeji’s taunting gaze sends you into a state of captivation, where butterflies seemingly take over your stomach, making you fall for her attractive advances towards you and there’s no way in this world you’ll ever find herself unable to allure you. You know she’s growing impatient once she knelt down hurriedly and looked up at you, with a smirk as she’s about to be delighted with a treat that she’s been longing for. 

“You don’t mind this, don’t you?”

“Well, do your thing, Yeji—it’s like I can stop you from here.”

Yeji scoffs as her hubris intimidates you, knowing how you’ll easily bite into her trap and your words laced with sincerity. “Glad you knew that.”

Not going to play with such golden time, she treasures every second and gives you a sinister smirk before tugging your pants and unbuttoning it, deftly enough before you could even comprehend what she’s been really doing to you. Yeji’s hands swiftly caressed its way to your thighs, making your little member grow enraged, filling it with lust as she eyes on it like its prey, her voracious needs only clouded her mind to slobber all over it and savor every second of tasting it. “You know you made me this stressed? Then, I guess I’ll need to find a way to de-stress myself using you.”

Without uttering a single word anymore, she swiftly brings your boxers down to your ankles as she’s flummoxed with your erected-length, almost hitting her in the face. Her pupils gradually dilated, her eyelids fluttering as she’s attracted to the musky scent of your shaft and the incredible length on it and with her curiosity peaking, she brought her hands around the base of it and stroked it slowly. Her touch brings you down onto your knees (figuratively) as the coldness of it breaks the heated atmosphere that has been emanating because of such suggestive actions.

“You know, let me share one thing about me.” Yeji flickered her tongue against your sensitive head, tasting only a hint of you as she never broke her intimidating façade, making your ears piqued onto listening to only her. “I like choking on a good fucking cock like this, hmmm—mwah, this is so perfect to look at and god, you know how I’ve wanting this for a long time now…”

She does love choking on a good fucking cock like yours, moreso, sucking it as her lips peppered kisses all over the vicinity of your shaft, not leaving any area untouched with her soft, plump flesh. You can bet her lipstick stains will stay onto the base of your shaft for later, and you’re just anticipating that because she’s nearing her way there, now taking a desirable length of your dick inside her slutty mouth.

Even though she’s clouding your mind with the stupendous work of her vacuum of a godlike mouth, you can’t help but think on why her demeanor suddenly changed. You know it has to be the unbearable boredom or she saw something in you that she became starved—yes, your goddamn crotch was her weakness and it wasn’t even hard for that to be not obvious. Her constant eyeing and lip bites was just enough for a strong evidence of hungers towards you and you just can’t believe how everything escalated quickly right now—you just can’t believe the fact that the C.E.O’s daughter is basically giving you mind-boggling blowjob at an elevator and the best you can do is to savor every second on what her lips can muster.

“So hungry for my cock, hm?”

Yeji constantly slurps on your succulent shaft as it took her a second to respond, too concentrated on sucking you off and giving you the most intense pleasure of all time. “Yeah—no shit why I slurped so hard on this delicious dick of yours.” 

She continues her oral masterclass with more bobs as she takes you halfway in, slurping onto your length like it’s a delicious meal. She then grabs your hips for a better leverage on sucking you off and without anymore foreplay, it is time for the main event on why she even got into this mess in the first place. Constant bobbing ensues as the pace escalates ridiculously, you moaning in delight as you get to experience such fine pleasure from the beautiful orange-headed girl in front of you and you couldn’t really ask for more now. The hollowing suction of her cheeks tends to really make you feeble, pairing it alongside her talented mouth slobbering all over your shaft and making a filthy mess with her copious amounts of drool. You already knew how she loved the living fuck out of your cock when saliva inevitably seeps out of her mouth and lathering everything it meets around the vicinity and with that sight alone, is extremely arousing in levels you can’t even comprehend—add up the mascara running down her cheeks due to her tears running down because of her aggressive actions on your shaft, pushing herself over the limits.

You know Yeji won’t have enough nor even bother speaking at you when your addictive length is over her sight, ready for her slobber on and wanting her to pull out and give herself a breather, you mock her about how she’s not taking you whole and how she can do better than this. Everything that's happening right now is going well just according to your plan and you can’t wait for her to get baited to your trap as it’s just meters away from a surprise you wanted her to take.

“You know how I need to fucking taste every inch of you first, isn’t that ri—mmfh—mfh!!”

“Just shut the fuck up and choke on my cock, Yeji.” You know you can’t bear her talkative mouth to be all over the place, constantly ringing around ear when you can shut her up with a heartbeat, or rather, your entire length curried inside her slutty throat. You catch her off-guard with your actions but she doesn't complain but rather, further pushes herself more until her sharp nose is buried onto your pelvis, deepthroating you with hints of ease and struggles because of her constant gags.

Her iron will to penetrate herself deeper using her throat is phenomenal, and rather gave you the best oral service you’ve ever had as she bobbed her head furiously on your shaft, signaling her starvation onto it like it’s her favorite popsicle—this will be definitely her favorite popsicle to suck on, knowing how she’s enlightened on how succulent it is. She alternates between breakneck bobs up to five-second deepthroats which make you moan in need and your member throbbing violently because of its tightness.

She definitely loves choking on a good cock, she really does and this is just getting started.

“Fuck—your d-dick, it’s incredibly delicious—hmm, mwah, I l-love it…” Yeji continues to suck on your swollen slit, lapping the leaking precum coming out of it as her vixen eyes averted towards you, probably proposing to you something that you wouldn’t deny. “Give me your phone, quick.”

You can’t really comprehend what the hell is going through her right now—

“Come on, give me your phone! I don’t have all day…”

Well, you know what’s going to happen now and you would love to have a bad bitch like her to be just a call away on your contacts. Pulling your phone from the pockets inside your long sleeve suit, you quickly gave it to her as she grabbed it swiftly, going to your phone log and typing her number with a single hand and honestly, you’re impressed with her multitasking as it’s difficult to avert your attention onto two different things and giving them equal attention. You can clearly see the dexterity of her fingers as tapped the numbers correctly (probably) as she’s still ensuing a great pace with her other hand gripping your hips for the best leverage.

“Here you go…” Yeji then gives your phone back to you as you insert it in your pocket yet you’re in utter shock at what she just did and decided to really ask her about how worthy you are to save her number on your phone.

“But w-why? Didn’t you hate me for just breathing earlier?”

Yeji, again, didn’t respond attentively as she’s occupied in both ways: her mouth and her brain all averted onto her oral masterclass as after a few more bobs, she pulls her incredible suction of your constantly throbbing member, preparing herself to answer your profound question.

“This cock…” Yeji gives your length leisure strokes as you subtly moan in response, her hands really giving the paramount of pleasure as she continues her hand work all over your member. “Is my type, and you’re actually cute, honestly—I don’t know, should’ve not judged you that harshly earlier if you’re treating me this fucking beast.” She slaps her face with your rock-hard shaft as she continues her oral session with no time to waste. With an incredible pace already being ensued by her skillful mouth, you can’t help but just indulge to the gratification that she’s giving and to further make it worse, she doubled the time of her deepthroats between mind-boggling bobs, which completely makes you lose your own mind—most likely, in the verge of it but you’re doing your utter best to fight against it.

Knowing how close you can be with your member constantly throbbing onto her tight, pleasurable mouth, Yeji knows how she can make this mess a lot more filthier than what she has already done, further setting you up onto an arousing sight that will never forget.

“Why don’t you fuck my face to add up the mess, hm?” Yeji seduces you with her sultry voice as she lures you in to your deepest, lustful desires of filthiness and thinking about it, makes you even want to dive in to your temptations—you’re already given this golden opportunity, and it’s up to you to take it.

You should take it, you’re not going to lose anything about this but have everything to win it all—“Then I’ll fuck your goddamn face, Yeji—”

She gags on the spot as it comes with another one, constantly struggling with your entire length shoved down her throat as she encourages you even go rougher and with the given green light, you let the feral beast inside you go berserk.

You grab onto her orange locks, pulling it to form some makeshift-pigtails and further gave it all—you can find your hips ensuing a velocity that you thought you could never muster, as it goes rough on her mouth, pounding it like it’s going to be your last. This definitely wouldn’t be your last, and this will be your introduction to her own world as you continue thrusting into her mouth in full force, her constant sounds of her gags becoming apparent that it resonates around the elevator—you just hope no one would hear the profanities and sin the both of you are moaning about. You can see the filthy mess that has been all throughout her beautiful visage as the once fierce and modest vixen was now degraded into a perfect, sullied mess and it’s just the best thing to lay your eyes upon.

“You want to fucking choke on it? Then fucking choke it, Yeji. This slutty mouth is so tight I’ll pound this until your throat becomes sore, do you understand?” Yeji could only nod as your rampant thrusts makes her yelp because of your rough treatment—you know how much she loves this as the lustful glint in her eyes says a lot, now being converted to tears that adds up to the ruined mess that further ignites the heat of the sinful atmosphere. It wouldn’t be that long before your reservoir comes into a breaking point—you could feel yourself closing in and there’s no better way to end this on a complete filthy mess of a Hwang Yeji, on her knees, begging for your damn load to be deposited deep in her throat.

“Going to cum—you better take it all, Yeji—” She just constantly gags as the concoction of different, indistinguishable liquids are just all over the place sets up the most arousing part yet. You bury her nose into pelvis again, your balls pressed onto her chin as you unload everything you got, to the point of no-return and god, you’re just in heaven because of how enchanting this experience is.

Surprising enough, she takes it all as every spurt that shoots down on her walls makes her yelp in warmth but she fights to the urge of pulling out, not wanting to disappoint you in any means. She knows what she’s up to and a masterclass of her act, as she shows the abundance of your thick, warm semen at her tongue and suddenly, with two gulps, it all faded away from your sight within a blink of an eye, all stored for her to be savored by her stomach.

“God—that’s fucking delicious, not gonna lie to you, shit…” Yeji, still perplexed by what just happened, continues to compliment the taste of your seed as you smile because of it, your confidence now going over the roof. She smiles in return because of your harsh treatment on her mouth, loving every second she chokes and gags onto your whole length as she wants more of it but sadly, all great things won’t last for an eternity, meeting its painful demise as surprisingly, the elevator can now be felt working finally as you feel the both of you going up.

Now cleaning both of yourselves up, you prepare and make yourself presentable because of a freaky session the both of you went into by Yeji as she breaks the awkward silence. “Aren’t you going to join a party?”

“Nah, I was kidding earlier—I’m actually going to just meet someone way up the building but I guess we got stuck here so… yeah.”

Yeji nods as she further wipes her tears with some tissues, the elevator can be heard by a single ding, marking the arrival of her destination.

“I guess this marks the end of our meeting, hm?”

“I guess so…” You scoff as Yeji scouts herself out of the elevator but before she does so, she leaves words for you for further reassurance.

“I’m not done with you, meet me at the ground floor at 11 P.M. You better be there because I need to know you more, baby.”

And there, your heart beats unexplainably fast before the elevator doors close and you could just see her scrumptious frame swaying, walking like a model of your dreams and god, what a fucking experience you dived yourself into and it all feels like a damn dream…

---

“Didn’t really miss my call, hm—ohh…”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

You continue peppering her neck with kisses that further ignites the heat of the atmosphere around, making everything a runback on what happened earlier but this is way better and more intimate than ever before. Yes, this was just the girl who despised your existence earlier and is now equally naked as you are, sharing such intimate kisses and filthy talks meant to arouse the both of you, up to the roof.

“Was really hesitating at first but—” Your soft pecks releases the sultriest moans from her lips, voicing out how incredibly skilled you are with your lips and how you can make her feel good, yet you continue, “—I know how genuine your tone is, and probably, wishing for chance…”

Yeji looks at your eyes, endeared but full of lust as she speaks at you, “And that chance is fulfilled right now…”.

This is just phenomenal, no matter what you say. You still can’t fathom how this is real but you’re not complaining at any means but rather, cherish every second that passes with this beautiful woman. Now, with Yeji pulling herself out of your lips’ warm embrace, she can’t contain her primal urges anymore and with the scrumptious sight of her, the feelings are just mutual as she breaks another silence—“Fuck me now, baby. Show me what you got.”

Giving her a faint smile and then a smirk, you then let her lie down on the bed as she rests on but then, you got to know how she really wanted it as you want to treat her roughly but in her own accord. “I want it from behind, baby—where you can see everything you want to see~”

You never expected Yeji to lay such a perfect invitation for you, her lazy, sultry voice alongside her momentary alluring moves towards you just makes your heart be captivated and you can’t ask for more with that. With her constant wringing of her ass for you to further fall onto your deepest temptations, you brushed your full-erected cock onto the heat of her core, teasing her with a pace similar to being stagnant in which she whines because of your leisure actions.

“Don’t tease me, baby—I want it all rough inside me—please, ohh…”

As much as you want to do the opposite, the thought of being rough towards Yeji is turning you on so much that you could imagine all of the possible ways to really sully her into oblivion. That wouldn’t lay onto the cloud of thoughts as soon as you place both of your hands on her hips, caressing them to further absorb that lustful energy she’s emanating by her constant sways and within a second, it all went onto the state of utter bliss.

Like what Yeji said from the beginning, she wanted it rough with you then you’ll have it that way as your hips ensued such a ruthless pace, not giving her a breather as you caught her off-guard, constantly whimpering with your whole length ravaging her velvety walls without a break. Of course, you’re merciful, you won’t commit at such a ridiculous pace enough to break her but with her complete wetness, it didn’t become a struggle to pound her yet her inevitable tightness would like to have a talk, constant gripping on your shaft like it wouldn’t let go.

“You’re fucking t-tight, Yeji—god!”

“And you’re fucking big i-inside—ahh, m-me—but fuck me anyways!!”

Of course you will, as you completely disassemble her tough, bitchy demeanor into a state of submissiveness, further oscillating your hips onto a constant rampage of ruthless thrusts that makes both parties succumb onto their deepest desires—all committed onto the most sinful act possible in mankind. Her moans became orchestrated to the point it became a subsequent noise that’s music to your ears and it’s just making your arousal skyrocket up to the sky. With her buttcheeks constantly getting shaken like an earthquake because of such powerful magnitudes of your thrusts, you compose a proposition that will make everything elevated: slapping the porcelain skin of her butt would probably ignite the lust even more, and you did just that. Yeji loves how you’re going rough on her backside as the constant clashing of bodies denounce the deepest sinful act the both of you could possibly be into and she further encourages you for more but something’s breaking the lustful noise with her profound wants.

“Gosh—ahh, fuck! Choke m-me while you’re—gahh, f-fucking me, please! Fucking c-choke me—oh my god!!”

You saw that coming and thought she would actually forget about that because of your length constantly ramming her tight cunt which makes her brain go haywire and would only think of your constantly-rough treatment. You never knew a girl like Yeji would be into such a wild fetish and you can’t blame her for that—the fact that she treated your cock in her mouth earlier all sloppily and ruthless says the fact that both feelings are mutual, again.

With her wants all over the way, she didn’t even bother to talk as you fulfill her request, further pounding into her tightness while wrapping your hand almost around her neck with your palm onto her nape, further igniting the lustful asphyxiation that she’s been into. Her moans now are becoming broken because of the lack of oxygen as the thrill turns Yeji on, more than what you could expect and guess what, it’s maybe evident that it’s one of her real fetishes. You can find her tight cunt constricting around your rapid length as the utmost stimulation and lack of breath is overloading her senses, between the risky play of life and death coming to play as she moans erotically because of your actions. You don’t want a beautiful girl laying down unconscious as with her constant swears, you let go of your tight grip around her neck as she catches her breath as soon as you let her airflow be present again.

Formulating the right ways to make her arousal go up in the sky, you alternate your hands on spanking her buttcheeks and choking her neck, the play of her fetishes finally making the experience of sex more elevated, her subsequent moans letting you know how much she loves it. You could really feel the utter wetness that has been seeping out of her core right now, forming rivulets of her own juices and coating what it can around the vicinity—might as well change her bed sheets because Yeji wouldn’t help sleeping on a wet bed mostly because of her. Because of your ridiculous pace and your rough treatment towards her, Yeji can’t help raise the volume of her angelic moans and soon enough, her highly-anticipated high.

“Oh my g-god—choke m-me, baby—I wanna f-fucking cum while—you, ahh—choke m-me!!”

Then you’ll fulfill her needs because she’s the star of this show, and you’ll do whatever she requests you to do. You maintain your firm grip around her neck as your other hand grabs her hips, opting for a great leverage onto chasing her own high, ravaging her tight pussy like it’s her last. With your harsh onslaughts of ramming thrusts, it wouldn’t take long before she reaches her desired peak, coming closer to the promised land and then letting out series of sultry profanities—

“Fuck—I’m g-gonna c-cum, baby!!”

With the constant pulsation of her cunt, you know her high is approaching a near velocity as you gave her the final thrusts she deserves. Yeji, not minding her orgasm from breaking her apart, wants you to continue ravaging her pussy even though she’s in the ascending state of bliss, so euphoric that she can’t be arsed to think about anything but her orgasmic trance. You do as she says so and god, she’s climaxing hard, multiple streams of her own nectar flowing out around your constantly-ramming length as she screams in delight, further closing herself towards peak gratification.

“I know y-you’re going to cum s-soon—please—ahh, c-cum inside me—oh god, fuck!!”

She knows how close you are as she helps you to reach your own anticipated high, further fucking her scrumptious frame onto your raging length until it’s all too much to handle and you could only succumb onto the inevitable fate of your own orgasm. Releasing the grip around her neck, you gently grabbed her perky mounds and fondled it, making her whimper in need as you bury your entire length in her, filling her up to the hilt with multiple spurts of your creamy mess, painting every inch of her hugging walls white. You groan because of the intense pleasure coursing down your veins, every thrust opting to extend your orgasm as she’s too insatiable for you to stop yet your mind does so, inevitably slowing down your hips as your orgasmic trance is now meeting its demise, and you, utterly enervated and feeling euphoric. You slowly pull out of her as your member is getting flaccid, admiring the mess you’ve made between her snug hole as you feel like you’re in heaven right now and, god, this is splendid.

“You came a lot, baby~” Yeji is in subtle awe as she looks at the cum-filled mess you’ve deposited inside her but then, worry settles in and Yeji being clever, reassures you that everything’s going to be alright.

“You’re fine, baby—I’m safe today…” Yeji then grabs your muscular arms, pulling you into a torrid kiss as she savors the taste of you, making sure that both parties will be elevated into utmost affection and endearment. You then pull out right after as you admire her beautiful visage, every feature making you in awe as she’s the epitome of perfection and you couldn’t ask for more.

“God—I just can’t get enough of you, Yeji…”

“And I can’t, either.” You continue peppering her with kisses as you worship her neck with multiple pecks, making her subtly moan as she voices out her satisfaction with almost-inaudible moans. “You can sleep with me here, for the night—I need to know you more…”

You scoff as you're in utter shock, not knowing that it will end up like this—you may have or have not expected this outcome, to be honest—but nonetheless, you’ll take it. Yeji then gets up from her previous lying position, legs still a little wobbly as you wanted to help but she didn’t insist on it, letting you know that she can do it on her own yet you can hear her voice, calling you out and presenting another proposition.

“Another round in the showers? There’s plenty of room here, baby~”

And maybe you’ll end this stupendous day with another load buried deep inside her cunt—

#kinknuary 2024 #itzy smut #yeji smut #itzy x male reader #yeji x male reader

[crossdressingdeath]

A thing I wish DAO went into more: the way Alistair is in some ways incredibly selfish. Like, the way he refuses to take charge of the group is treated as kind of endearing in the text, but the game doesn't really get into what a massive burden he just... drops on the junior Warden present with no warning or discussion. Think about it: the Warden is heavily implied to be very young (possibly younger than Alistair, definitely around the same age), most of them have no real experience in leadership, several of them have no experience in the world outside their small corner, all of them have only been Wardens for a few days. And Alistair dumps leadership of the group on them and refuses to take any of that weight. Does your Warden like leadership? Are they any good at it? Is it exhausting and difficult for them? Alistair doesn't care! He doesn't want to lead, and that means you have to lead, and whether or not you want to lead has no bearing on that. It's not a discussion, there's no suggestion of sharing the responsibility of leadership as the Wardens of the group; Alistair metaphorically throws the responsibility at you and runs.

But if you go for low approval with Alistair it's basically all about calling him childish and immature, even though I think a much more compelling low approval dynamic is the Warden despising Alistair for putting so much on them with no hesitation, but being stuck with him (because they know as well as he does that they need all hands on deck Warden-wise) and stuck with that burden of leadership (because a Warden kind of has to be in charge of the group and even if one didn't no one else in the group would be very good as a leader in this situation, and Alistair has made it very clear that he won't take it). Even at high approval it would be very compelling to have this sense of resentment at how Alistair just assumed they'd take on the burden of leadership and refuses to take any of it for himself. But that aspect gets completely ignored in the story, you don't really get the chance to raise the matter aside from asking why you're in charge despite him being the senior Warden present a couple of times.

It also adds something really spicy to the fallout of sparing Loghain, though, because... Alistair forced the Warden to take on leadership. He made them be the one to make these hard choices. It's never been a discussion, it's never been the Warden's choice whether or not they take on responsibility for these tough decisions, Alistair always just expects them to do it. And now they've made a call he doesn't like, and he abandons the group on the eve of battle because of his wounded feelings? I'd argue that's as much a betrayal as sparing Loghain if not more so, and certainly more of a betrayal of Duncan's memory; Duncan understood that a good Warden must be driven by necessity, not emotion or even morality, and I feel like in the Warden's place he likely would've made the same call. They need Wardens around to kill the Archdemon, as many as they can get, and even one more could make the difference between victory and defeat. The Warden and Alistair may not know the details, but with the most senior Warden present saying they should make Loghain a Warden instead of killing him a logical assumption would be he has a very good reason for saying so and maybe they should listen to him! I would've loved it if during the argument with Alistair after sparing Loghain you could really get into that "You forced the responsibility of making these decisions on me when I never wanted or asked for it, you don't get to throw a tantrum now that I've made one you don't like" aspect of it, but you... don't. And that's a shame, because it takes a lot of depth away from his dynamic with the Warden.

#dragon age origins #alistair theirin

[heartpascal]

i was born waiting

▹— joel miller x daughter!reader

▹— summary: you’ve been looking for your dad for as long as you can remember, is this really him?

▹— a/n: hi! i started writing this september ‘23, so it has. it’s been a WHILE. so if this seems jumpy / not consistent then that is why! sorry!!! i have done my best!!!

▹— warnings: canon-typical violence and themes, weapons, parental death, witnessing parental death, aka insane amounts of trauma, death in general, she/her pronouns, reader is biologically related to joel but no mentions of appearance, no mention of her bio mother’s appearance either, fantasising about being dead (sorry), all hurt zero comfort, attempted murder, unrealistic expectations of someone you never met — please let me know if ive missed anything!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything), @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being @hqkon

MASTERLIST

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There are certain things from your childhood that you can remember vividly. Though, really, childhood is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? It’s hard to find the right word to encompass the way you had grown up, because you didn’t have much of a chance to actually grow.

From the moment you had been born, your life was a battle of staying alive to see another day.

That’s not to say that your mother didn’t do her best for you, obviously. But it was hard to raise a child as a child in the midst of a global apocalypse. You were bound to end up the way you did — moulded and hardened by the world around you, by having to pick up a gun at seven years old and use it to protect your mother. By never putting that gun back down.

For the past few years, you had known your mother was suffering. The world had been anything but kind to her, and age was hitting her harder than she had expected. More than the physical aspect, you knew it had been destroying her, the fact that you were now the one protecting her and not the other way around.

But what choice did you have? Her aging body had left her fragile, prone to falling and breaking even more frail bones. You could see the strain on her muscles, as they slowly decayed and shrunk, until they were barely there at all. You couldn’t let her carry the burden for you anymore, because you knew her body couldn’t handle it.

You had been preparing yourself for that moment, though. Making sure that you were ready, that you were strong enough for the both of you, strong enough to shoulder the burden she had been carrying for years.

When you were growing up, your mother had told you tales of your father.

She had told you all about how strong he had been, how he had been the best man she had ever known. She told you how he had cared for his daughter before you, how he had been the best father to that girl. When you were old enough to comprehend these things, you’d asked what had happened to him. “Is dad dead?” You had asked her, watching the way her face fell.

“I don’t know, honey. I hope not.” She had responded, smiling sadly at you, and patting her hand against your cheek.

It was hard for you to let go of that.

The uncertainty had haunted you for the rest of your life since that very moment, leaving you wondering for hours at a time where he could possibly be, why he would ever leave your mother to carry this responsibility alone. And in your more selfish moments, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t here to care for you as he had his daughter before you.

For a long time, you had convinced yourself that he was dead, despite what your mother hoped. And sure, you felt that loss, something like mourning weighing you down, but it was the only way you felt you could accept his absence. He had to be dead, because otherwise, why wasn’t he here?

But as you grew up, getting taller, stronger, you felt like you could rationalise his absence even if he wasn’t dead. After all, the apocalypse wasn’t exactly family friendly. You figured that if your mother didn’t know whether or not your dad was alive, that the same could go for him. He might just think that you and your mom died, years ago. After all, how many pregnant women survived the end of the world?

You have a feeling that the answer would have to be not many.

So, really, you and your mother being alive by now was nothing short of a miracle. It was a testament to your mother’s strength, her ability. She had succeeded where so many others had failed, and she had managed to keep both herself and you alive.

It’s a bitter kind of irony that you can’t do the same.

The last dredges of autumn fall away, leading into the coldest and harshest part of the year. Winter is hard — it’s full to the brim with fresh Infected, the ones not yet frozen solid, and resources are more scarce than ever. And this winter feels like something tangible, something which sends unending waves of dread through you.

Your mother gets weaker by the day, spending more time resting than moving, and you spend as much time as you can keeping her warm, finding food and water and pain relief for her broken arm that didn’t heal right. She’s exhausted, you can see it in her face, in her every movement. And you’re pretty sure it’s not just from the lack of rest. She watches you with dulled eyes, something like heartbreak reflecting in them.

For a long time, you pretend not to notice.

You pretend that you don’t see the way she lags behind, just watching you move away from her with speed she can’t quite manage any longer. You pretend that you don’t see the way she hesitates before taking her painkillers, or her food, or the last sip of water.

This year, the winter brings something worse than the cold. A bug, spreading across the state in a way that was familiar to so many. Not quite the Infection, but still able to take out people with ease.

When your mother catches it, you physically felt your heart clench in your chest. You felt it squeezing all of the blood around your body so quickly that you became dizzy with it. There’s a panic so deep that you can’t climb your way out of it. For days, weeks, you’re certain that you’ve lost her. That after everything, everything you’ve done, everything the two of you have been through, a cold would be the end of it all.

But then, she gets better.

The little strength she had before the sickness returns to her, bringing some colour back to her skin, some ease back to her breathing.

Religion wasn’t a thing in the apocalypse. Not really. But if you had believed in God, you would’ve thanked every one that might’ve existed for giving you this. This miracle. This small mercy.

The two of you are in an abandoned barn when it happens.

You’re dozing away, not quite asleep, but not awake either, when you hear the sound of old hay crunching underneath boots. If you weren’t so familiar with the lightness of your mother’s footsteps, you might’ve passed it off as her wandering. But these boots are heavy. They’re purposeful.

The gun in your hand means nothing when you jerk upwards, eyes snapping open and squinting through the light let into the barn by the rising winter sun. It’s an image that has since been ingrained into the back of your skull, replaying each time you close your eyes.

There, right in front of you, is your mother.

Behind her, a man, a gun pressed to the back of her skull.

Your stomach lurched suddenly in that moment, the small rationed dinner you had before dozing off trying to rise to the back of your throat, trying to race the rapid beating of your heart to see which would kill you first.

“Put down the gun.” He said, voice cold, throat dry from the winter air. The sound of his voice is printed in the base of your brain, echoing every time things around you still, go quiet.

He could be bluffing, you thought in the moment. His gun could be unloaded. It didn’t take you long to notice that the safety was off, but in those few moments, he had pressed the end of it harder into your mother’s head. You dropped the gun to the floor without another moment of thought.

You were nauseous, waiting to wake up, to realise this was all some twisted nightmare.

But you could see a look in your mother’s eyes. Acceptance. Defeat. It was almost familiar to you, so closely related to the look she had been giving you for months.

All this time, she had just been waiting to die. Waiting for something to come along and kill her off, to free you from having to take care of her. She knew that if it was up to you, that you would look after her for the rest of your goddamn life. If she lived any longer, she might just live long enough to see you die.

“Slide it over.”

You barely registered the cold pinch of metal against your palm as you pushed the gun away from you, sending it skittering over the rough ground and into the side of an old hay bale.

“Now your pack.”

There was a numbness to you as you gripped the backpack you had been leaning against, and chucked it towards where he stood behind your mother. It hit the front of his boot, but his eyes didn’t stray from where he stared at you.

“Turn around.”

You stared at him, teeth gritted together.

“No.”

There was a beat where both him and your mother just watched you. And then the surprise flickered across his face, apparently not expecting any resistance from you.

“Turn. Around.” He told you, firmer this time.

“No.”

“Okay then,” He relented, after a moment of consideration. His eyes drifted down towards your mother, who stared forwards at you. “This your daughter?” He asked, jerking his head towards you despite knowing your mother couldn’t see the movement.

“Yes, she is,” Your mother said, voice shaking, her breath clouding in front of her face as it reached the cold air. “Please, just let her be.”

He hummed, dropping his free hand down to rest heavily on your mother’s shoulder, his fingers clamping around it and not helping the way she trembled.

“So, your momma, huh?” He asked you, a smirk drawing up his face, showing smile lines around his murky blue eyes. His hair rustled in the wind, a piece falling down across his forehead. He stared at you, and you stared at him, not daring to say a word, still hoping that this whole thing was a dream. Muscles in his cheek twitched, pulling his skin taut and showing a scar across his left cheekbone. “Good.”

There was a moment where the sound didn’t register. A moment where you didn’t even realise it was your mother when the body slumped forwards. A mere moment where you didn’t think about it being her blood that splattered across your face.

The moments after that though, become blurry, hazed over, and you’re not sure it actually ever hit you that the body before you was your mother.

You’ve always had a hard time remembering that bodies were once people, that they once had lives and loved ones and thoughts and feelings. That they weren’t just bodies. So seeing her like that, as a body, not her, was wrong on so many levels. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did.

You heard the second gunshot, just a moment later, followed by a snickering laugh that you would never forget, before the pain bloomed in you.

It was buried by the shock, the complete disbelief, and you only felt the pain for mere seconds.

His gun — the one that killed your mother — was whacked across the side of your head a moment after, and that was the end of that.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Three months passed by, judging by the way the seasons turned, and you were on your own.

It was a strange feeling, really. Throughout the entirety of your life, you had never actually been alone. At least, not really. Your mother was always a small ways away, a mere shout from running to you. There had never been any true distance between the two of you until that day.

A sort of ache claws your throat each day, when you realise that it’s easier like this.

The only back you have to watch is your own, the only life you have to worry about belongs to you, and you have nothing to lose in this world. There was no terrible outcome if you were caught. Nobody else would be hurt, or suffer because of it. And you’re less likely to be caught now, when you don’t have your mother slowing you down. You don’t have to stop for the frequent rest breaks she needed, you can try to outrun Infected without worrying about someone lagging behind, and you only have yourself to feed.

If your mother had known how much easier survival was when alone, you hope that she would’ve abandoned you at birth. Because perhaps, without the burden of you upon her shoulders, she wouldn’t have fallen apart so quickly.

Sometimes, you like to think of a world where she was spared all of this. Never pregnant with you, for a start. So when the infection broke out, she would’ve only had herself to worry about. You think that maybe, one day, she would’ve been able to reunite with your father. If she hadn’t been carrying a child, she would’ve been able to manage the journey to where she believed him to be. You look at the picture that had been in the pocket of her coat for your whole life, the papers folded and clipped to the back of it, one word underlined: Boston.

You had reached a store in the weeks after that day, and when you found a map, it wasn’t difficult to notice that the direction the two of you had been heading in was to that very city.

It’s a long shot. More than a long shot, really, but you find yourself continuing in that direction regardless. You don’t know what you hope to find in Boston, whether it was your dad, or the man who had killed your mother, or perhaps just somewhere to take shelter for a while. You try not to hope for anything. You try not to focus on the fact that you might not even make it that far.

It keeps you up for days.

The uncertainty of it. The unknown. The fact that you’re walking your way to a city you know nothing about, almost certain that your mother’s killer was already there, and more than that, consumed by a fever that might kill you regardless of the where the journey took you.

The only sleep you get results in fever dreams, rippling, warping images that make your perception falter, feeling all too real until you notice that it’s not. And when you do wake up from them, it’s as if you haven’t slept at all. An exhaustion weighs heavily upon you, and your shoulders hunch over with it. There’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get rid of that endless feeling.

You hope—or wish, maybe— that if you reach Boston, the journey there will have tired you out so much that your body will have no choice but to rest. It’s a distant thought in your mind, though. You’re almost certain you won’t make it that far, because if the fever doesn’t get you, surely the Infected will.

It’s not as though you’re trying to get killed. But there is a kind of peace that comes with the thought. There’s an idea of rest behind it, hiding within the shadowy depths that make you scared. Would not having to fight in order to survive really be so terrible? You have this image in mind, of a never ending blackness, a void, somewhere that your thoughts and worries can just fizzle away. The small part of your fever-fried brain that has retained its rationality reminds you of the unknown. It reminds you that death could be worse than this.

You don’t like the thought. Not after that day. It’s a shuddering feeling, wondering if your mother is in some kind of unreachable hell.

By the time you’re even close to Boston, a few hours out at most, you’re out of ammo in the gun you’d found along the way. Out of food rations. No knife, no resources. You’re barely standing on two legs, kept up by the adrenaline, the knowledge alone that you’re this close.

When the tall walls of the QZ finally come into view, you start to feel some amount of hope. Which is a dangerous thing, but especially in a situation as dire as your own. You couldn’t afford any adrenaline fading, couldn’t afford to lose your cautious nature. You couldn’t make a mistake. One wrong move, one slight misstep, and you’d be as dead as your mother. Or worse, infected. Though this close to a QZ, you had some amount of relief at the knowledge that they should’ve cleared out any nearby infected. Runners, and clickers alike.

Your steps don’t falter for a moment. Partly because of your worry about the fever taking you out, but mostly because you’re certain that the FEDRA guards on watch on top of the wall will have spotted you, and you don’t want them to think you’re Infected, just because of your sickly appearance, and shoot on sight. Though, with FEDRA’s track record, it wouldn’t surprise you if they just shot you down regardless.

For a while, you’re not sure if you’re even awake, or if perhaps you were stuck in yet another fever dream. Everything felt so real and so not real simultaneously, it felt impossible to believe that you had actually made it.

Soldiers met you on your approach, calling out for you to get on the ground with your hands up. You called back some sort of response as you did so, practically collapsing to your knees and squeezing your eyes shut at the pain that followed. But despite all of it, despite the pain and the rough hands that grabbed you and pulled you forwards, through the gates and straight into a building, you had made it to Boston.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was maybe three weeks into being a resident of the Boston QZ that you caught wind of him for the first time. Or, at the very least, somebody who might be him. You didn’t know how common the surname Miller was, being a child of the apocalypse, but you kind of hoped the answer was uncommon.

“Goddamn Miller, again.” A man had muttered as you walked through the trading market. You paused almost instantly, pretending to peruse the feeble amount of clothes a woman had to trade. “Said we gotta go through him and Tess if we want anything, as if we gotta listen to them.” He practically spat out, glaring around as he spoke to the woman beside him.

“They’re the most well established smugglers in the whole goddamn QZ. Don’t have to tell you how, do I?” She asked, sounding more annoyed with her companion than she was with whoever Miller and Tess were. “Joel is as nasty as they come, Darren. Don’t get on the wrong side of him.”

Your heart practically stuttered to a stop in your chest, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. Could it possibly be a coincidence? Could there be another Joel Miller? One who wasn’t your father? Sure, it was possible. Plausible, even, considering the fact that you had absolutely no idea if he was here. Not any concrete idea, anyway. Your mother had believed as much, but who was to say she was right?

Besides, whoever this Joel Miller was didn’t sound like the man your mother had told you about. As nasty as they come didn’t have any relation to the heroic and kind and amazing father and man your mother always spoke about. Though, you knew as well as anyone what the apocalypse could do to people.

Darren didn’t say anything else to his companion. So, after a few more moments, you continued on your way, making the journey to the tiny box apartment that FEDRA had elected to you.

But even as you got there, sitting down on the poor excuse of a mattress, you couldn’t shake the conversation out of your mind. After everything you had been through to get here, what was it all for? Could you really make this journey and just never try to find Joel Miller? Your father? You could still remember the anxiety that had come when you first arrived, when you were strapped into a chair and scanned for the fungus that had taken over so many. You didn’t know what you were more scared of: the idea that it would flash red, and you’d be killed, or the idea that it would be clear, and you’d be sent out into the QZ, where you may just find the other half of your DNA.

You don’t even know if you want to find out anything about him. Don’t know if you could face that, especially after losing your mother. That’s been the hardest thing since being here, since having your own place, the fact that you’ve gotten it all without her. It feels… empty. For your whole life, she had been there at your side, making every short stay at whatever accommodation you could find feel like home.

Plus, even if you did consider trying to find him, and if it was him those people were talking about, then who the hell was Tess? What if she got upset at your appearance, your claim as Joel Miller’s surviving child? You’re not sure you can lose another parent.

Sure — Joel Miller wasn’t exactly your dad, he couldn’t be classed as a parent in the way that your mother was, but if you never met him, that could’ve been for any number of reasons. He could be dead. He could’ve thought you and your mother were dead, all these years. You didn’t want to face a reality where you met him, and he wasn’t present for you and your mother because he didn’t want to be. You’d rather live your whole life thinking him six feet under, than know he was out there, and just didn’t care about you.

The more you think about it, the more certain you are that Boston was a mistake.

It would all be different if your mother was alive. If she had brought you here, if she had been the one to hear the chatter about Joel Miller, if she had been the one to seek him out. But she was dead, and the only living connection you had to Joel was, too. Hypothetically, if you did seek him out, you didn’t know enough about him to prove your claim as his child, and without your mother, how could you make him believe you?

They had been a family, once. They being Joel, your mother, and your deceased half sister. You’d heard the tale of how Joel and your mother had met, of how it took months for him to finally feel comfortable introducing her to his little girl. Hell, you had heard almost as much about Sarah as you had about Joel. Your mother had certainly adored his daughter, and you’re somewhat sure that they had planned to have you, despite Sarah already being a teenager.

You don’t want to have to mourn a family you had never actually had. Perhaps, Joel and Sarah were out there, living their lives certain that you and your mother were dead, just as you and your mother had done.

Not that any of this even mattered — you didn’t even know for sure if it was the same Joel Miller! And even if it was, it’s not like Boston QZ was small. There’s absolutely no chance you run into the man who might just be your dad. No way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You find someone else, before you hear anything more about Joel Miller, and it immediately sends the thought of your biological dad to the very back of your mind.

After all, it’s not every day you see the man who murdered your mother.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. You had guessed that this was the place he was heading, all those moons ago. But to actually see him, here, in the flesh, alive and well despite all of the pain and heartache and devastation he had caused you? It was surreal. You had to practically pinch your skin from your body to make yourself believe he was real.

And it only really hits you now, that this man killed your mother. You had been so focused on surviving, on living to see another day, on healing and moving and getting away from her body, buried in shallow dirt outside of some abandoned barn. You can vividly remember the strength it had taken to pry the frozen dirt from the ground.

Sure, you had felt the guilt over it, the guilt over the ease that came with surviving without her, guilt over your very existence, but you’re not sure you had ever actually grieved over her. Not sure if you had ever let yourself be sad, be angry, be anything about what had happened.

But now, seeing him, you feel… almost too much.

All of the rage and grief you had squashed in favour of surviving another day, all of the sadness and fear, all of it. It all comes rushing towards you at once, hitting you in the chest, winding you. You gasp for breath on the street, ducking away for a moment, gripping your chest like you could physically hold your heart steady.

When you look back out at the street, you see him as he nears the corner. Panic grips you at the thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, of failing to avenge your mother. You follow after him before you can think better of it.

It’s strangely easy. You fall back into the life of a hunter like it’s the most natural thing you’ve ever known — and maybe it is. You’re healed up, by now, or about as healed as anybody gets in this world, and your shoulder only bothers you when you move it too much. Even with that, you’re pretty sure that you could take the man on. Now that you’re not hazy with sleep, caught off guard, held back by any sort of earthly tether.

You’re strong. And despite FEDRA’s harsh reign, their dire consequences for rule-breaking, you have a switchblade stuffed into your shoe. You could do it. You could kill him.

There’s no question about it in your mind, especially as you follow him from a distance, and he remains none the wiser. He takes a left, and a moment later, so do you. He’s clueless. It’s almost painful that he was the one who managed to get the jump on you. How could you have let this man kill your mother?

He skids to a stop outside of a doorway, so you slide down the wall of the building opposite and listen. He pays you no mind as he knocks twice on the door.

“What d’you want, Colin?” The man who opened the door asked gruffly, seemingly inconvenienced by the man. He sounded tired, or out of it, maybe.

“I need the supply.” Colin answered, and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down the back of your neck. It echoed in your ears, the words he said that day. Good. Everything in you itched, like thousands of critters had dug into you and made a home scuttling around your insides. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to end his life, and you wanted to make it slow. Brutal. Painful. Even if it meant you were hung by FEDRA tomorrow morning. It’d be worth it.

The man at the door sighed, as if deeply bothered by getting Colin what he needed, and disappeared inside. He emerged a moment later, empty handed. “I’m all out. You’ll have to go across town tomorrow.” The man said flatly, saying nothing as Colin swore, before stepping away.

You ducked your head down as Colin passed, all too aware of the man in the doorway watching you suspiciously. After a moment, he sighed again, and retreated inside, slamming the door after himself. It took almost no time at all for you to push yourself back to your feet, and take off after the man who had left.

Despite your pounding footsteps against cracked concrete, he didn’t pay you any mind as you caught up to him. He seemed focused on getting to wherever it was that he was unknowingly leading you to, glancing up at the darkening sky every other step. FEDRA’s curfew would be coming into play soon enough.

To your disappointment, he walked into an apartment building, about three blocks away from your own. It seemed that, unless you were willing to risk being caught and stopped, today wasn’t the day you would be avenging your mother. You vowed that tomorrow you would do it. You would kill Colin. No matter what got in your way.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

By the time curfew was lifted, you had been waiting by the exit of your building for an hour.

The switchblade in your shoe felt heavy with every step you took towards the home of your mother’s killer. It weighed almost as much as the picture in your pocket. All of it was heavy. But you acted as normally as you could manage, passing by patrolling FEDRA guards without them so much as glancing towards you.

You were waiting by his building when the door opened, when he stepped out, and headed determinedly in the opposite direction from which you had come. You followed without a moment of hesitation.

He made his way around town, trading with a few people on the side of the streets, handing them small wads of ration cards in favour of various items. Nothing dangerous, though. Not to you. He clearly was oblivious to your loitering figure, standing a few metres away, like some omen of death. Despite your shadow reaching for his shoes as the sun rose, he didn’t flinch.

It was irritating you, just how easy this was. You had been following the man for two days now, and he hadn’t even noticed. How had he gotten the drop on you? How had he managed to kill your mother? How had you allowed him the opportunity to do so?

There was nothing remotely special about him — no reason that he should have survived over your mother, no reason that he should have been granted mercy over the last twenty years. He didn’t deserve it. Not like your mother had. She had done the best she could, for years, for the only daughter in her care. And she had done it all alone. This man, Colin, he was alone, and he had no reason to hurt her. You were going to make sure he regretted it.

You loomed at the entrance of an alleyway as he walked down it, finally stopping at a dead end, leaning against the brick wall as if he was waiting for something. Or someone. You knew it wasn’t you he was waiting for, so you bided your time, cautious of someone happening upon the two of you. If they had business with him, they would care. If they didn’t, then nobody but FEDRA would care.

By the time you finally decided to move, almost an hour had passed, and Colin was facing away from you at the entrance of the alley, head pressed to the bricks.

It was strange, what the innate desire to hunt and kill could bring out in you, that it could make you move silently without thinking about it. It could make you reach for the blade in your shoe, without so much as a rustle of your clothes.

With a final glance back at the entrance of the alleyway, you grew impatient, and you attacked.

From an outside perspective, you probably looked like some kind of wild animal. You jumped at him, tackling him, pushing him sideways and landing on his back as his shoulder smacked the asphalt, and he howled in pain. It was like seeing a cheetah hunt an antelope, the way you bored down on him. If you could have widened your jaws, and ripped out his insides, you think you would have.

But without that ability, you could only press the cold metal blade to his throat, and feel him go still.

“Do you remember me?” You asked, voice flat and still, despite the way your heart felt as though it would beat out of your chest, and splatter down in front of his face. You were quieter than you had expected, too. You thought that the words would burst out of you, vicious and unending, but they were quiet. Calm.

Colin shook his head, as much as he could with the side of his face pressed to the ground, and a blade to the soft skin of his neck.

“Think about it.”

His eyes strained to try and get a look at you, and they widened as you leant sideways slightly, allowing him to gaze at your blank face. “Oh, shit,” He said, mouth fumbling around the words.

“Yeah, shit.” You repeated, waiting for satisfaction to seep into your chest cavity, waiting for the grief to fade away.

It didn’t.

Nothing changed, even as you pressed the blade closer to his throat, even as you watched his eyes dart back and forth, as you watched him try and formulate a plan to survive. “Listen, kid—” He started, throat bobbing against the knife, drawing the tiniest line of blood. You watched him bleed, and expected to feel more than numb.

He threw your weight backwards, sacrificing more skin on his throat to your knife. You went flying off of him, but you flung yourself forward faster than he could stagger up, and dug the knife into his calf as he tried to stand. His yell pierced the air, louder than any of the commotion yet, and likely drawing attention of people out on the street. You just hoped, distantly, that FEDRA wasn’t around.

His flesh and muscle moved as you pulled the blade free, and you didn’t flinch at the squelch of blood that left him alongside it.

Colin fell back to the floor, resulting in crawling along the asphalt without care for how the small stones cut into his palms, leaving streaks of blood. “You don’t gotta do this, man, chill out!” His voice had more emotion in it than it had back when he killed your mother, which was infuriating. “It wasn’t personal!” He insisted, crawling further as you got to your feet, prowling after him similarly to the wild animal you felt like.

You’d disagree with his statement, though.

He already had your pack, you had already relinquished your gun — the only thing you refused to do was turn so you could be executed. If you were going to be killed, you were going to look your murderer in the eye. Instead of that, though, Colin had decided to make it personal. He had decided to kill your mother, to spread her brains out on the ground in front of you, to cover you in her blood, rather than spare her. And then, worse, he had let you live.

That seemed pretty personal.

“You killed my mom.” You stated, getting closer as he turned so he was facing you, watching you get closer. “D’you remember what you said to me?”

He shook his head.

“You said good. You were glad that it was my mother. Admit it, Colin. Tell the world all about how not-personal it was.”

More than anything, you wanted to feel satisfaction for how badly he was trembling beneath you, for how scared you were making him. But you just didn’t. Fear wasn’t enough. Not for what this man had done to you.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He said, shaking, still shying away from you,

“No, you’re not. You’re sorry that I’m here, that you’re going to die. And that isn’t something to be sorry for.”

“Pl—Please, I have a daughter—a son, you don’t need to do this.” He begged, tearing up as he watched your grip on the switchblade tighten, watched you continue to approach. He was pathetic. Everything about him was pathetic.

“She had a daughter, too.”

His eyes widened as you leaped at him once again, digging your knife as deep as you could get it into his shoulder, feeling it graze bone as you pushed the hilt firmly against his skin, until you could practically hear the blood vessels breaking. He howled, a wounded animal, prey. And he did nothing as your fist descended against his face, once, twice, a third time.

It was just as you were losing count that somebody grabbed you, hauling you up and away from the body sprawled out on the floor, the puddle of blood slowly expanding beneath him. His chest was stuttering, but he had stopped groaning minutes ago.

“Well, shit.” A woman’s voice said, not sounding particularly authoritarian, so you figured she wasn’t FEDRA.

The hands grasping onto your arms released them shortly after, and you dropped to the asphalt, watching Colin’s chest closely, waiting for his breathing to stop. It didn’t seem to be slowing much, and you could feel that unending wave of rage coming back to you, overruling the numbness, and enhancing your need to have him dead.

You moved the slightest bit, about to launch yourself at him, but as soon as your foot was pushing you from your spot on the ground, the hands wrapped around your arms again.

“Fuck! Get off of me!”

“We can’t let you kill the guy, for fuck’s sake. We got business with him!” The woman spoke again, sounding increasingly irate as she moved to get between you and your mother’s murderer.

“He deserves to die. He deserves to be killed. Get off!” You practically roared, resorting to a state not unlike a feral cat, spitting and hissing, spine curling, trying to claw at the hands holding onto you. They stayed steady, even when you managed to scratch one of them deep enough to break skin.

The woman swore again, “Everybody deserves to die, get a hold of yourself!”

“Tess, ‘s probably best if we get him out of here.” The man gripping you said, voice straining slightly as he focused on keeping you restrained. He couldn’t do anything but hold on to you and watch as Tess dragged the guy, by his ankle, down the alley slightly, banging on a side door that you hadn’t even noticed. It opened, and the man inside swore before helping Tess grab the guy and haul him inside.

As soon as the door was safely shut, the man released you.

You walked to the end of the alley, gripping at the back of your head, swearing the whole way. You were probably screaming, given the way your throat was grating on every word, but the sound didn’t register.

“Joel, you’d better get in here.” Tess called, poking her head out of the door. You could hear the irritation in her voice, but it was immediately sent to the back of your mind as you realised what she had actually just said. You whirled around.

He wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

But he was… familiar.

You couldn’t help it — you laughed, almost hysterically.

“Are you kidding me?” You said, voice strained with laughter, “You are Joel? Miller?” You asked, wanting him to say no and be done with it all so badly, but you knew that he wouldn’t say that. It was ingrained in your blood, in your very DNA.

He stared uncomprehendingly at you, as if expecting a spark of recognition to go through him, but it didn’t happen. You saw Tess step cautiously out of the building, apparently prepared to have Joel’s back, no matter what your next move was.

“Who are you?” Joel asked, instead of answering your question, or even making a move towards where you had begun to cry. If only he fucking knew — he had just saved the man who had murdered your mother, who had murdered the woman who was, once upon a time, his wife.

You reached into your pocket, uncaring of the way they both reached for what you assumed were weapons, and pulled out the photo. The moment you unfolded it, revealing him stood next to your mother, it was certain. This man was your father. You held the photo out towards him.

“Joel—” Tess warned, as he stepped forward, but he dismissed her with a look, clearly communicating that he could handle himself. He wasn’t worried, despite the state Colin had been in when they had arrived.

He stared at the photo, brows creasing, face drawing blank, before he reached out and took it. His finger ran across the image of your mother, her bright smile, not a slither of grey to be seen in her hair. “How did you get this?” He asked, clearly in disbelief, denial, maybe.

You pointed to the woman in the picture. “That’s—was my mom.”

It could’ve been funny, months, maybe years ago, the way his eyes flickered between you and the image of her, as if trying to put together how much of the statement was true. You vaguely noticed Tess shift uneasily behind him, before approaching.

“Was?” Joel decided to ask, eventually, instead of whatever else was going through his head. He said nothing to Tess as she took in the photograph he was still holding onto.

“That man, he—he killed her. A few months ago.” You said, smiling, because you couldn’t do anything else. This was all too much. First, your mother is killed. And then when you finally find somewhere potentially safe, you hear about your father. And then before you could do anything about that, you see her killer! And then, before you could finish the job, your biological dad, Joel Miller, saved his life. It wasn’t funny, but you didn’t know how else to react.

You stepped back, sliding down the brick wall behind you until you were sat on the asphalt, and could hang your head between your knees.

“Oh fuck,” Tess said, connecting the dots as she looked between you and Joel rapidly, brows furrowed as she became increasingly concerned. “Don’t tell me that she’s—” She shook her head, turning away from the photo and Joel and you, running a hand through her greasy hair.

Joel was still processing, or at least that’s what it looked like to you. He was staring at the photo, strangely still, seeming blank of any and all emotions.

Tess paced for a moment more, before releasing a heavy breath. She walked past Joel, over to you. “Okay, c’mon.” She said, holding out a hand for you. When you hesitated, she waved her hand and barely refrained from putting it in your face. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you out of here before Colin goes to FEDRA.” You take her hand, surprised by her strength as she hauls you to your feet in an instant, releasing you immediately. She shook her head again. “Joel, time to go.”

He looked at her, and then towards you, nodding once. You said nothing when he put the picture in his own pocket, instead of handing it back. You hesitantly followed after Tess, wondering what your next move should be, and Joel followed after the two of you, looking stricken.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

None of you had said anything, the entire time Tess had hurried you through borders and to what you assumed was their apartment. It felt like it was miles away from your own.

The wallpaper was yellowed with age, slowly drooping down the walls, peeling away at corners, but it wasn’t the worst state it could’ve been in. The floral pattern didn’t really lend itself to the vibes of the apocalypse, though. Nor did it match either Tess or Joel’s stoic and tough demeanours.

You had no idea what to expect from this.

For as long as you could remember, your mother had told you tales of your father, of the great man he was, the great father he was. But here, on the other side of a worldwide outbreak of infection, you couldn’t quite match the image in front of you to the man in those stories. You had spent so long thinking of him as being dead, unable to do anything to find you or your mother from a grave, that to learn he was alive, and with Tess, it was a shock to your system.

Where was Sarah? Where was the half-sister you had heard so much about from your mother?

Despite Joel matching the name, and the photo that your mother had kept, it just didn’t feel like he was the man you had been imagining as your father. He didn’t seem kind or caring, he didn’t look like he had any love left in him. And maybe, you could have accepted that, if he had other aspects to him, if he hadn’t let your mother’s killer live.

“What happened the day of the outbreak?” You asked, finally, despite the way you ached to run away and cry, for your mother, for yourself, for the father you would never have. Joel just looked at you, rarely blinking as if you were a figment of his imagination, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“No, we are asking you questions.” Tess responded, clearly taking the lead on the situation, despite having no connection to you. It really shouldn’t have been her business. You scoffed. “Where did you come from?” She asked you, unblinking in the face of your disbelief.

You shook your head, “How is that even relevant?”

“Because I said it is.”

“I don’t care what you say. He’s my dad. You’re not my mom.” You replied, roughly, angrily, and you’re only more irritated when Tess doesn’t even react. You become furious when Joel says nothing. “Are you going to say anything?”

Tess went to speak, but you spoke again before she could utter a word.

“Not even about how you let my mother’s killer go? You don’t have anything to say about that?” You questioned, stepping towards him where he had taken a seat on the couch in front of that god-forsaken wallpaper.

There was an awkward lull in the room, each of you waiting for Joel to speak. He seemed unsure if he was going to speak at all, his brows furrowing further, and he pulled the photo out of his pocket to look at once again.

“She died, years ago. My—my kids…” Joel swallowed, and shook his head. He placed the photo down beside him. The photo meant nothing. You could’ve been to his house, and brought it here with you, never having met the woman he hadn’t seen since the day the world fell apart.

“Did you even look for us?” You asked him, head tilting, eyes stinging, wanting desperately for him to say yes, to say he scoured the world but missed you somehow. But looking at him, covered with scars, you could see he was nothing like the man your mother remembered. He didn’t care, not like she thought he had. The man in front of you wasn’t your father — he was a disappointment. He was your father’s shell.

Joel didn’t speak, swallowing harshly, seemingly unable to form any words.

“You’re nothing like she said you were.” You told him quietly, shaking your head, reaching by his side and taking the picture. You wanted to rip his half off, throw it at him, denounce him, tell him he wasn’t your father, that he was never worthy of your mother, but you couldn’t. It was the only thing that you would ever have of the father you should’ve had. The man your mother had loved. She’d already had so much taken from her, you couldn’t, even after her death, take Joel away too. He could live on in the memory. In pictures.

They didn’t say anything when you turned your back on them, shoving the picture in your pocket, and walking out of their door. You slammed it behind you, felt the walls of their apartment tremble with the force, and kept walking.

Part of you, a big part, wished that Joel Miller would have stayed dead. At least that way, you could have kept pretending.

#heartpascal writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader platonic #joel miller x platonic!f!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller hurt/no comfort #tlou fic #tlou angst #tlou one shot #tlou imagines #tlou imagine #dad!joel miller #dad!joel miller x daughter!reader #im shit at tagging anyways

[fushigurro]

𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / unprotected piv / noncon creampie, breeding + mentions of pregnancy / dom/sub dynamics / petnames (good girl, baby, sweetheart) / biting

“c’mon, be a good girl and let me cum inside this pretty pussy.”

he tries to persuade you as though he hadn't earlier promised that he would pull out, that he wouldn't attempt to sway you from your position of not being willing to take the risk and let him finish inside.

you vigorously shake your head and hum in disagreement at his proposal. toji's a dirty fucking liar but you somehow still find it in yourself to love him, to allow him to slide into you completely raw, knees almost up to your chest as he fucks you into the mattress because he has two different types of holds on you.

“aww, why not, sweetheart? you don’t want me to fill up that sweet little belly?" he punctuates every sentence with a heavy thrust, voice a malicious tease in your ear paired with an equally selfish grin. but then he moves to hold your gaze with a commanding intensity. "gimme fuckin’ words, baby. i need words.”

you gulp and gasp for air, his hips stopping long enough to allow you a moment to breathe. “i don’t want a baby.”

toji offers an amused scoff at your response. “yeah? s'that right?" he's convinced that a part of you is lying and that you wouldn't even think of letting him fuck you raw if something about the risk didn't appeal to you. "too afraid to be a mommy for my babies?"

those words ignite a flame of anxiety within you, but curiously enough also make you clench around him as he picks up the pace a little, holding back a growl as his fantasies wrack his brain.

"s’too bad," he says, tone growing more serious, "i think you’d be pretty good at it, even if you act like a brat yourself half the time.”

it almost doesn't sound like he's joking anymore, but how could he not be? there's no way toji could truly want a child—he can't even afford one, but all the possibilities make your thoughts go muddy and incomprehensible. you simply turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him straight on, flustered and overstimulated from previous orgasms, but he uses a strong hand to grab your cheeks and steer you back in the right direction.

“what the hell did i just say about using your words, huh? you better fuckin’ speak up or i’m breeding this tight little cunt right now." it almost seems as though he's offering you a choice with his hips speeding up and wrecking your insides like this. he's in control, but he's desperate, sweat beading along his forehead as he chuckles breathlessly. "hell, i might do it anyways with you suckin’ me in so good.”

gasping, your eyes go wide. “no, no, no!” you meekly protest, but it's too late—he pins your wrists to the bed and angles his hips to more accurately hit your deepest points, cock driving into you with even more purpose now.

“shit…” he curses and feels himself start to lose his composure, quickly slamming into you a few more times before halting balls deep and twitching his release out inside you. the hot, fresh surges of cum warm your womb as he stays rooted in place, determined to force his seed as deep as it can possibly go. in his mind, that’ll only make it easier for it to take and bring his current vision to fruition: you round and full with a baby that’s undoubtedly his. this is the image that flashes through his mind and makes his cock pulse with an orgasm that’s nearly paralyzing, teeth biting into the flesh of your neck like you're the pretty animal he's just claimed and mated.

once the storm has settled, his hot tongue licks over the mark in your skin to soothe it followed by a kiss and one more slow roll of his hips for good measure. "that's a good girl," the large pad of his thumb brushes the tears from your lashes as if he isn't the one who caused them. his hand is a little rough but still affectionate as it grips your face again and forces you into a possessive kiss.

toji pulls out of you with a wet squelch and a shit-eating grin. "gotta fight back a little better next time if you don't want me to get you pregnant."

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #cw breeding #cw dubcon #my writing. #re: toji fushiguro

[chlorine-and-daisies]

i don't think crowley was waiting because he hoped aziraphale would turn around.

aziraphale was manipulated to the point where he had no other choice, but even if he did stay with crowley, wouldn't it be a temporary, selfish happiness? not only would their beloved world be gone, but...you think god (or the voice of god) is going to destroy earth and just let angels and demons chill with the raptured souls for the rest of eternity? with a capricious god nobody is safe.

so i will argue that aziraphale's choice to hold onto hope and TRY to change things, even if it might be futile, was at least a little bit noble, that crowley understands it- aziraphale feels too much responsibility to heaven and earth to just run away with him while the world burns.

maybe crowley even adores that self-sacrificing leader side of him.

so he wasn't expecting aziraphale to turn around, but i think he stayed because he wanted to show that he's still there. even though he couldn't go to heaven he could at least see his angel off, wish him well with whatever plan he's trying to carry out there.

and maybe he didn't want storming out of the shop saying "don't bother" to be the last memory aziraphale had of him.

it's the same meaning as aziraphale's "i forgive you," the christian forgiveness, the "you deserve my love even though you are flawed, and i will not withhold it from you now"

finally i think the secondary purpose was that he was also letting the metatron know that he's watching, that if he touches a single hair on aziraphale's head there will be hell to pay.

#good omens #crowley

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— found family | inner demons prologue

pairings: leah williamson x teen reader

summary: reader discovers that family isn't always blood

This is a sort of prologue to inner demons, some background of readers' life in the early years when she transferred to the club.

Also, this is rewrite as I wasn't happy with the original that I posted.

There's always been tell-tail signs that you should've recognised, all throughout the past several years and yet you will still so obviously blind to it all.

It wasn't easy to come to terms with things, but the realisation of it all didn't sit right at all, and in turn you weren't exactly sure how to cope with it all.

It was clear as day for everyone else around to see, your mother was a complete narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighting. It was something that she had been doing your whole entire life, always making you out to be the bad day in every situation and acting like she was the victim.

How were you so obliviously blind to see that?

You guess your niave self choice to always refuse to believe it, it was the easiest option to just do that.

Looking back to the last several years, your childhood was full of moments like it, but of course you had always thought that your upbringing was completely terrible, it could have been a worse situation.

Growing up, it was only ever the 2 of you, you and your mum. Your parents split up when you were little, the seperation was messy and ever since that day, you'd always been to blame for the reason that it never worked out.

You had always wondered how exactly could it be your fault? You were 3 years old when your dad walked out, so how could it be like that?

"You were always to much to handle, Y/N. He couldn't cope," Your mum would make the excuse, all of them long nights when you would have your tiny arms wrapped around her and sob your little heart out when you asked where he was.

"I'm here, you've got me. You've only ever got me," Her words were imbeded in your head from the day that you'd decided to try and have an open conversation about the possibility of finding your dad, "Why go and find him? Haven't I been good enough. I'm the one that's looked after you for all of these years, and yet this is the thanks that I get in return!?"

It was always something like that, a way to guilt trip you and you always ended up feeling for it.

Her manipulation was completely toxic, of course you didn't realise it until later on in life.

Eventually, you just choice to accept that for the reason that you had such an estranged relationship with your dad.

"Aren't you happy for me? I made it, mum!" You exclaim, you were so happy enough to share the news with her, but you were left so dumbfounded by her response which left you feeling shame and judgement for even wanting to tell her.

The harsh statement of this current conversation with the older women is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and make you question every single thing in life.

"Yes, you have made it Y/N, but you know, you only have me to thank for that now, don't you?" Your mum once again found a wa to make it about herself, regardless of the situation.

It was always and only ever about herself, no matter what type of news you wanted to share with her. Why was so selfish to not care about you?

"I'm sure that you can find some way to thank me though," You listen to your mum continue to talk and you resist the urge to scoff, "After all of these years and the amount of money I have spent on football boots for you, you'd be nowhere if it wasn't for me and I think you owe me now, don't you?"

Her words stun you and there's a lot of emotions that are building up inside of you. Ultimately you feel confused, how can she manage to twist this to make it all about herself, but of course shes' quick enough to make an excuse to end the call when she grows bored of talking to you.

You should know better, every single phone call has the same pattern to end the same way and you always leave with a pang of guilt for making a life for yourself.

It turns out that this phone call was no different either.

You are so excited to spill the news of making it into the senior squad of the national team, however the excitement soon fades and now you're replaced by mixed feelings of confusion, anger and upset instead. You fight to hold back the tears during the initial phone call but now its' over, you feel on the verge of a breakdown.

You feel like your news is a big deal, you've only been a part of the arsenal women's first team for shy of a year but it feels like such a massive achievement to be selected to represent your country and straightaway, the first person you thought-- you wanted to call was your mum. You thought she was going to be so pleased for you, so excited about it but you can't be further away from the truth.

The conversation happened a week ago, yet you still couldn't let it escape your mind.

Ever since the phone call, you had tried to distance yourself from her but even that hurt to do. The women was the only blood related family member that you had, it had only ever been the two of you, sticking together through thick and thin.

"You seem quiet tonight," Your guardian and fellow team member, Leah, perches on the arm of the sofa as she looks at you in concern, "I'm about to start cookin' tea soon. How do you feel about chicken nuggets and smiley faces?" She wonders.

"That sounds good to me," You shrug your shoulders and glumly stare staight ahead at the wall in front of you, the TV is playing but you barely even pay attention to whatever it is that's playing.

Its' been a long day with training ahead of a crucial game in the season, but all you can think about right now is the conversation you had with your mum a week ago previously on a constant loop in your head.

You still can't help but think about the conversation; The bitterness, the manipulation, every single time you thought about it, it made you think of every single time that something else happened like this throughout the years.

Maybe your childhood wasn't as great as you really thought it was?

"Okay," Leah nods and smiles in agreement but she doesn't move away just yet, "Is there anything that you want to talk about at all, bubs?" You know she's only asking for a bit more insight on your current mood, after returning from her own rehab session to find you shut away in your bedroom, the entire shift in mood was concerning to her.

The usual car rides over the past week had been quiet instead of the raised music level and sarcastic comments that the blonde was used to, replaced instead by the quiet, dull mood with you slumped against the car door and staring out of the window.

Leah definitely knew there was something wrong with you.

"Nope, I'm fine," You stand firm on your reply, shaking your head and keeping your eyes glued on the TV screen, choosing to look anywhere other than at the blonde, who would be able to see right through you in seconds.

"Are you sure?" Leah questions, furrowing her eyebrows in concern as she could see the tears welling up in your eyes, "Bubs, what's the matter? You look like you're gonna cry," She notes, worriedly.

"I... I'm fine," You mumble, fighting to keep the tears at bay until you can escape to your bedroom and allow yourself to be vulnerable when you're alone.

You always feel complete shame to show any sort of vulnerability in front of anyone, let alone the blonde defender who has taken you under her wing ever since you joined during the transfer window of 2022.

Crying only shows signs of weakness, you refuse to be seen as weak.

"Okay," Leah exhales a sigh and taps your knee gently, deciding to drop the subject when she realises you aren't be open and talk about things, "Its' okay if you don't want to talk about it, but just remember that I'm always here to listen, alright? Anytime that you want to talk, I'm here,"

Unforuntately, you are too stubborn to not give in and blurt everything out there and then to her. You feel like you still need time to wrap your head around the idea and see things for how they really are now.

"Uh huh. Thanks," You murmer in repsonse, getting up from the sofa and shuffling away to the confined space where you can be alone.

Leah exhales another sigh and shakes her head, heading into the kitchen to make a head start on dinner but she can't help but still be worried about you. Of course the women knew better than to try and get you to talk if you didn't want to though.

The blonde has always been around to witness moments like this and the backlash of it, you hadn't told her outright what was going on but she already had an idea what it was about.

All of your upset stems down to the one person causing you to be like this and she hated it every time you were left upset when you spoke to her.

Every single time you and your mum spoke, you would always become quiet and be in a general bad mood, often resulting in lashing out at people around you as a coping mechanism.

You know that all the arsenal girls have their own opinions on your mother, but they would never voice them out loud to you, because you wouldn't agree with it, but you knew it. They know it wouldn't be fair on you as the youngest member in the squad, even after the countless times they had seen the girl upset by her own mums actions.

You were so grateful for every single of the girls on the team, Leah especially, she'd always been there for you since day one.

Ever since you moved in with Leah, there's been several nights where she would be the one to comfort you and pick up the pieces, waking up in the middle of the night to hear your heartbroken sobs and feel her own heart shatter every single time, wanting nothing more than to take away any sort of pain that you were experiencing.

It was heartbreaking for all of the team to witness and always sought out to comfort you, they knew no matter what they said, it still wouldn't stop you contacting our mum.

Ultimately, it was your own decision to make soon enough when you turn 18 and until then they would be there to pick up the broken pieces when your mum let you down.

It happened time and time again, unfortunately.

You have lashed out way too many times as a result of that.

None of the girls ever took it to heart of course, they were old and wise enough to realise that none of your anger was directly aimed towards them and there was much bigger issues to be dealt with.

They have always vowed to support you, regardless of what happens in the long-run.

"I... I should've realised sooner," You think to yourself as you lay crumpled up in your bed that following night, its' almost 4 am in the morning, but you were still wide awake with your thoughts spiraling.

You can't help but think about things, replaying every single conversation with your mum that you have had, the numerous times that you've started to talk to her and she's cut you off with her own problems.

Why was it always like this? It wasn't fair.

The first mistake was ignoring her gaslighting this whole time.

The second being that you believed her manipulation for years, always twisting things to make it seem like she was the victim in the different situations - first when you were a child and even now as your nearly an adult.

Why had it taken you so long to finally realise it after all of these years? Why couldn't you have just realised it sooner?

Without much realisation to the current moment, your sobbing aloud with a tight clutch of your pillow. The pent up anger is replaced by sadness and loss, your grieving the loss of a women who you have always seeked the approval off and now you realise you can never have it.

The phone call was the last chance, the reality of it all coming to light.

Every time you have now learned to understand that youwhen speak to her, it's nothing but a vicious cycle of emotional abuse, something you were so oblivious to believe.

As much as you didn't want to believe it, it's true. Its' clear as day of what it is but yet, you still find it hard to believe it.

It's your mum, your flesh and blood, so could she be like that?

The sound of your sobs were what woke Leah up, she's quick to pad out of her bedroom and push open your bedroom door to find you crumpled up in your bed, "Bubs?" The women stands in the doorway of your bedroom, her heart cracks to see you looking so distraught and vulnerable.

Without any hesistance, the blonde is quick move to be beside you on your bed and envelope you in a warm hug, "Its' okay, its' okay. I'm here now," She's quick to comfort you, she wouldn't ever stop doing that as long as you need her, "Let it all out, I'm right here," She adds.

Leah keeps you in her arms, gently rocking you as she runs her slender fingers through your messy bedhead, "Just let it all out, alright? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," She reassures you.

As always, she's patient enough to wait for you to calm down before she gives you chance to speak, she won't ever push you to talk if you don't want too.

"L... Le," You cry aloud, clutching onto her tightly. Your breath becomes more shaky as sobs wrack your body, trying to find the words but nothing wants to come out of your mouth right now.

"I'm here, it's okay," Leah repeats in a calming voice, continuing to try and comfort you in the best way that she knows, but she already knows it's going to be a long night ahead of them, or day rather.

An emotional night that will leave you drained tomorrow for sure.

A vicious cycle on a loop, once more.

"Ready to tell me what's going on inside that head of yours now, hm?" The blonde quietly asks with caution, already having a feeling that she knows the answer to that question.

There's a brief pause of silence in the room and the blonde thinks that you wouldn't talk, but regardless of that, she still continues to comfort you and reassure you that she's here and not leaving at all.

To Leahs' surprise though, you do start open up this time though and the words spill out of your mouth without you even thinking about it.

"I... It's my mum," You mumble quietly, making the mistake to speak aloud than think it like you thought you have done, "I... I should've realised. I should have done,"

Leah furrows her eyebrows on confusion, "What should you have realised, bubs?" she questions about what you mean.

Snapping your head in the blondes' direction, you bite your bottom lip and debate whether to be open with your thoughts that you have been trying to buried.

"I should have realised about my mum, she's so... she's so toxic," You admit as you try to fight more tears from spilling, "Why does everything I tell her-- Why does it always get turned back around so its' about her?"

There it is. You've blurted it all out in the open, your feelings were laid out now and there's no more hiding how you feel.

Leah smiles sadly and continues to hold you in her arms, "I... I'm sorry bubs," she speaks honestly.

"So many people, so many people have told me-- They've warned me, you've warned me about her, but I... I never wanted to listen, did I?" You confess, the tears spilling again and you don't care a less if you look like a blubbering mess right now, but you still can't stop the emotions pouring out right now, "And now... now I finally realise how its' always been. Why is she like this, Le?" You question.

"I can't say I know the answer to that one, bubs. I wish I knew," Leah replies, exhaling a sigh as she can't fathem herself how your mother can be like to her you, her own child.

The blonde feels so much for you, your still so young and she always wished that she can make the situation better for you.

"Listen, I know its' hard but you've got us. All of us girls here at arsenal, we're all here for you and you're so loved by all of us," Leah continues to tell you gently, running her slending fingers through your hair.

"I... I just want her to love me, and she just... she doesn't even care about my feelings!" You state, roughly trying to wipe at your tear stained cheeks to the point where you made them red and angry, "Why does she always throw everything back in my face? Everything that I have ever done, she makes it about herself. Always!" You cry.

"I know, I know it hurts... I know that it does," You keep your head buried in the blondes' chest as you hiccup from the sudden breakdown in the middle of the night, "And I'm sorry that you have to go through this. I'm so sorry, because it's not fair on you, bubs," She adds, trying to comfort you in the best way that she can for you.

The whole wave of emotions leave you feeling entirely exhausted in the end, you are trying to fight to keep your eyes open as you lie slumped up against the blonde.

"Come on you, lets' get you back into bed, yeah? I mean you're almost falling asleep on me here, bubs," Leah notes your exhaustion and is concerned for your lack of sleep, trying to get you to crack a smile even as it feels impossible right now, before she gently moves you to lie back in bed.

"M' not tired," You mumble, trying to protest against the idea of sleep.

"I don't think thats' true now, is it?" Leah chuckles, tucking you into bed, "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with this now, bubs, but you know that you have a family here with us. We may not be blood, but we really do love you so much," Before you know it, your eyes are fluttering shut but you don't miss hearing the blondes' words before she presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

You really had found your family here at arsenal.

© scribblesofagoonerr

#arsenal x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women x reader #scribblesofagoonerr #woso x reader

[skelliko]

★-Tokyo revengers

- their insecure

๑-Context: them thinking about their crush (you) but then they start to get insecure and self sabotage about not being good enough

๑- featuring: kazutora, chifuyu, keisuke, seishu, rindou

-for seishu it was so hard because I know that boy is perfect-

°- kazutora hanemiya

• everything, he thinks of every little thing about him but manages to miss the bigger parts about him that does need fixing. his main thought was that no one as good as you would want to be seen around someone like kazutora due to his delinquency, heck even if you've also done some bad stuff he's still afraid that he'd just bring you down and be an awful influence on you.

for someone who went to juvenile for 'accidental' murder and is in quite a dangerous gang, thats a good reputation to hold in terms of strength, but for wanting something other than fights and instead something innocent like feeling what it's like to be loved... that's difficult.

• he also still dislikes how his face looks, to others he's handsome. to himself, he's nothing but a shit show that he looks deep and hard in the mirror with a straight face but then his expression changes to disgust.

sometimes he thinks if you've also felt like that, he's asked his friends about that sort of thing and the response is always 'sometimes' but when he thinks about you being insecure he feels like he's gone mad because to him you're absolutely perfect.

°- chifuyu matsuno

• sometimes he feels as if he can't protect you, there are times where he pictures out scenarios and he's afraid that he can't keep you safe due to where gangs would get the innocent involved even when they have nothing to do with either of the two bickering gangs and that always ends badly.

he doesn't want you to become a target and he's scared that his strength alone wouldn't deal with anything and you'd get involved in something that you didn't have a choice in. due to that he's forcing himself to stay away from you but part of him can't, he calls himself selfish for talking to you and going out in public with you where anyone would be watching.

• he wants to make you his but how can he keep you as his when there's a lot of options to choose from? he's afraid that there's someone better than him, that eventually you'd lose interest in chifuyu and that's not because he doesn't trust your trust but he's seen other guys and how they easily attract and how they can go on the day confident, chifuyu can't and he can't see that it's not because there's something wrong with him but it's just because he's not a player and he can't see that for himself or others.

°- Keisuke Baji

• when it comes to Baji he knows hes a good looker and as well as the heart, but sometimes in school he'd see you walk in the hallways and he gets a little embarrassed that he turns the opposite direction in hopes of you not seeing him in his nerdy disguise just so the school doesn't kick him out or hold him back for his delinquency. his slicked back hair that he honestly spends time on and is proud in the moment, but when he looks at it for too long he has to hold back on scruffing it up and going to school like his normal self.

You're aware of how he looks outside of school but not everyone does, he's nervous that if you're seen talking to him then he'd just embarrass you, and because of that he thinks you're embarrassed to talk to him too and you force yourself to, even if you've held conversations for a long amount of time and you seem to enjoy it with a smile Baji has a little worm in his brain telling him otherwise

• held back a year for him failing his exams, sure someone being smart isn't exactly a top priority for some people but he thinks you're one of them and he curses himself for not having the academic smarts for it, he'd sometimes compare himself to someone else in his class and think 'how the fuck are they able to memories this and I can't?' In all honesty though academics is pretty hard when you've got other stuff going on too

°- seishu Inui

• his burn mark isn't exactly something that bothers him but whenever he thinks of you and gets a glimpse of the mark from a window he can't help but think that it bothers you. he tends to get a little frustrated about it and whenever he thinks too much of the mark his frustration ends up in sadness because all the memories of the fire and his sister come rushing in.

• whenever he looks at you he can't keep his eyes away, he's always in awe at everything you do. but what does seishu do? getting hurt in gangs here and there and making bad decisions for himself? he knows his skills and the good of him but he also knows his flaws and he can't stand that. he wants to do so much more but he can't, he doesn't know how to and he doesn't want to disappoint you in any sort of way yet he always manages to disappoint himself

°- rindou haitani

• sometimes he considers himself to be in his brother's shadow, he hasn't thought of it like that at all but rindou would pick some things out and then look at his brother and that sense of being younger than him equals to being lower, his older brother seems to always do great causing jealousy to grow. it's like regular sibling rivalry, nothing major but it does linger around his brain that maybe at somepoint if given the chance you'd run right over to ran inside of rindou

• rindou knows the reputation that he holds, the dangers that he keeps with his gang. and one of those dangers also happens to the innocent. he's been foolish to be part of those sort of things before and karma always plucks out the ones that finally find something to be happy about. he doesn't want you to accidentally get involved and get hurt or even killed.

considering that the haitani brothers are quite well known if anyone were to see the sentimental value that rindou has for you, then you will become a target from other gangs that want to take the brothers down. rindou looks through multiple of scenarios as to how or where that could happen and in all of those scenarios the date is all unexpected. rindou's afraid that he'd be the reason to you getting hurt from someone else and he won't be there.

 ♡---

#tokyo revengers #kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #baji keisuke #baji #baji x reader #kazutora x reader #chifuyu x reader #matsuno chifuyu #chifuyu #seishu inui #inui #rindou #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #seishu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers angst

[tirsynni]

I'm already seeing it: everyone complaining that Trump is going to win. Why? Because people are frustrated with Biden. So their response is... what? To passively let Trump win? Are you kidding me right now?

If Trump wins, I don't want anyone blaming Biden. Not a single person. Everyone has already made their position clear and have also made it very clear that they understand the consequences of those actions. Just instead of accepting blame, they're blaming Biden. For their own choices. For their own actions.

No. You need to be an adult to vote. Now prove you're an adult and that you can take responsibility for your own actions.

No matter how pissed you are at Biden, you need to recognize that non-Trumpers outnumber the Trumpers and it doesn't mean shit if non-Trumpers don't vote. Guess what. Trumpers are going to vote. They're going to go to the polls and they're going to vote. If they vote and you don't, guess how it's going to go, even if non-Trumpers outnumber Trumpers. Doesn't mean shit if your vote doesn't reflect that.

What do you think is going to happen with Palestine if Trump wins? If you're pissed about Biden's actions and inactions regarding Israel and Palestine, how are you going to feel about Trump? Because I promise, if you choose not to vote for Biden, you are voting for Trump, and he will be worse.

There is no third party option which is going to win against Trump. Your symbolic non-vote is a vote for Trump. If you don't vote for Biden, you are fucking voting for Trump, so I hope you're ready for that.

"But Biden --" I don't give a fuck. Be an adult. Accept that sometimes in life, you have to accept the lesser evil. There is no room for you to go "Well, I have to do what feels right." NO. That is self-serving, self-indulgent, selfish bullshit. You are helping no one but your own feelings. You will pat yourself on your back with one hand and stab your neighbor in their back with the other.

If you are really concerned about Palestine, vote for Biden, because I promise, he's still better than Trump. Vote in all elections, because they all matter and Trumpers are voting in all of them. Make phone calls. Raise hell. Sign petitions. Do whatever else you can. I fucking promise you, though, that for any of that to count, you need Biden in the office, not Trump.

Again, I don't give a flying fuck if you hate Biden. I sincerely don't. The US presidential election will be two party. Should it be? No. Doesn't matter. That's reality. The US presidential election will be two party: Biden vs Trump. We need to be adults, and we need to recognize what we're dealing with. I will say it again and again and again: any vote which isn't Biden will be a vote for Trump. Don't think to yourself, "I don't want to show the Democrats they have my support with all of this bullshit, so I'm going to not vote/vote third party/symbolically write something in." Be truthful with yourself. Be realistic. If you are pissed at Biden and decide that you aren't going to vote for him, say clearly to yourself, "I'm voting for Trump and all that entails."

If you really think that way, please let me know so I can block your selfish ass. Make sure to tell your neighbors that you're cool with fucking them over, because you need to do what feels right, and that means letting Trump back into office. If you want to brag about your integrity, then at least have the integrity to at least be that truthful with everyone.

#politics #us politics #I am so tired of this crap

[hotchfiles]

↪ day eight. choices — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [tell me to regret it] ❞

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: aaron prides himself of making good choices. until he makes one he regrets. content warnings: not proofread, pretty sure only one gender mark (miss) by the very very end, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, happy ending. light mention of sex. word count: 1.1k

      At first, Aaron prided himself on making good choices, at least after graduating high school. All his choices were thought out to the best outcome. His major, Law School, his job, Haley. 

      He then prided himself on standing by his choices. Even if the outcome wasn’t the best. Even if it wasn’t the easiest choice to make, he stood by them. He took the bullet, he accepted the consequences.  

      When Haley filed for a divorce he wanted to fight it, he did, but Aaron knew she had spent too much of her life dealing with his choices. He knew it wasn’t fair for her to fight for a broken marriage because his career was too important to him.

      Every single day he chose to pick up the phone, he chose to leave, he chose to work after hours. So he signed the divorce papers, letting her free to make her own life decisions. 

      Whenever the BAU faced repercussions for their actions on the field on any cases, he took the heat at all times, the eyes of the higher ups were always on him and he took advantage of that to let the team work more freely. If needed, he would take the fall and it would’ve been his choice. And he would be happy with it. 

      There was one decision though, one choice that he made that kept heaving on his mind. He made it, he thought it was the right one at the time and he was living through the consequences. 

      Still every time he saw your eager eyes or heard you laughing at something Emily said, that sharp pang in his heart would take his mind to the last time you truly talked.

      So much so he ended up calling you to his office, not thinking clearly, not planning it out. He just heard your voice at the end of the day, happy, laughing, apparently not suffering from the distance he had chosen to put between you two and for once he was selfish with every intention to be so. 

      “Need help with anything, boss?” The title tastes bitter in your tongue and it hits Aaron just the same. He was Hotch. And then Aaron. Old man. Babe and love. Never boss.

      Boss came after he told you your relationship couldn’t go on. It would hurt your career and his. Boss was now the only way you referred to him, as that was what he chose to be. 

      His attempts to lock eyes with you don’t go unnoticed, but they remain unfruitful as you focus on his desk and your fingers fidget with your necklace. 

      “Not exactly… I–I just wanted to talk to you. We haven’t spoken privately in a while.” Your eyes immediately find his, the hurt and the anger filling them in a way he never saw before, he felt it piercing through his soul and he almost regrets not thinking it through before calling you in. Almost.  

      “There’s a reason for that. We don’t have anything to discuss privately.” 

      “Does it have to be like this?” 

      “I don’t understand, what do you want me to say, Hotchner? That we can be friends? Pretend nothing ever happened between us?” You’re both glad the door behind you is closed, even if it’s late and everyone has left by now. Your voice is slightly raising more and more with each response you give him.

      That’s not what he wants, he selfishly wants to hear your voice crack while speaking to him, he wants you to tell him you miss him, to force out of his tongue what he desperately needs to tell you: That he regrets the choice he made that night.

      He regrets being afraid when you never were. That he’s sorry he pushed you away when you were always an open book. That seeing you seemingly happy and moving right on with your life was killing him because he couldn’t even begin to think of doing the same. 

      Aaron glances quickly at his window to make sure once more that the bullpen is empty and gets up, getting just close enough that you won’t leave. “Don’t you miss me? U–Us?” Funnily enough, his voice is the one cracking up as he speaks. 

      “Aaron, don’t be cruel.” Your voice is barely a whisper, not similar to the one you showed him minutes before, your eyes divert from him again, knowing that if you look at him too much you might tear up and that’s not you. 

      “I’m not doing that.” 

      “You are. You sleep with me, tell me you love me. You push me away, break up with me. And now this? Just… Don’t.” It hits him sharper than a knife how hard he hurt you then. He’s a profiler, he should’ve noticed it, instead he chose to notice only the happy smiley façade you put up to work every day so you could face him. 

      He usually wouldn’t do this in the middle of an argument but maybe he needs to start reevaluating how he makes his choices and this is one of those, so he pulls your hand and although you flinch at his touch you don’t pull away, so he hugs you tight, your arms are dead limbs by your side but his are strong around you, as is his cologne filling your senses, both bring you that familiar feel of safety. 

      “I’ve been foolish, and afraid and selfish. And possibly a handful of other adjectives. But I would never purposefully be cruel to you.” Aaron pulls away from the embrace only slightly, taking your face with both his hands so you can see how true his words are by the look on his eyes. You begin to feel your arms again, sliding them up to his chest where you feel the rapidness of his heartbeat. “I miss you, give me a chance to try this again?” 

      You’re not certain it will work, but you know that he means his words. And you know your heart is beating just as fast as his because just being embraced by him meant everything. So you nod once slowly, seeing his lips turn into a grin as he pulls you into a gentle kiss. 

      His lips taste like hope, hope he won’t make any decision he will regret again. But mostly, it tastes like cheap coffee, which causes you to laugh into the kiss. 

      “Is this all because I stopped bringing you coffee from the coffee shop?” Aaron laughs out loud, a laughter unlikely to be heard by most people, but then again, you are not most people. He shakes his head in disbelief at what you’re saying and licks his lips. 

      “You’re getting way too good at noticing details, miss liaison.” 

      “Just when it comes to you.”

#lari writes sometimes #lari march hotchness #marchhotchness #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[david-talks-sw]

"I blame Red Riding Hood's Mom!"

"Obi-Wan was a parent surrogate for Anakin, but was terrible at it. He tried to instruct Anakin in the austere, objective Jedi way, but didn’t notice that Anakin did not have a foundation of humanity on which a conscience and good decision-making are based. Obi-Wan looked on Anakin as a brother... but Anakin needed a father. And there was no father. [The Prequel Jedi] unprepared to deal with, to guide, someone who was deeply mired in that world." - Aaron Allston, Star Wars Insider #145, 2013

"Obi-Wan trains Anakin, at first, out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. [...] He's a brother to Anakin, eventually, but he's not a father figure. That's a failing for Anakin. He doesn't have the family that he needs." - Dave Filoni, Disney Gallery: Mandalorian, “Legacy” 2020

"Anakin— yeah he ultimately makes the choice to turn to the Dark Side… but he has not, like… all of the systemic support that someone should have - when they experience trauma at the ages that he has experienced trauma - like, he has none of that, there." - Mike Chen, Star Wars Explained, 2022

The above statements are provably inaccurate, but hey it's a take that can be had. Sure. There's always more that could've been done.

Thing is, Anakin's story is one about personal responsibility. Per George Lucas, the core message of Star Wars, as a whole, is about you - dear viewer aged 6 to 12 who are starting to think for themselves - learning to be more selfless than selfish, more compassionate than greedy.

Anakin's story shows what happens when you don't do that.

Blaming the Jedi Order/Obi-Wan for what happened to Anakin is the same as arguing:

"Red Riding Hood getting eaten by the Wolf is her Mom's fault! What was she thinking, sending a child out to wander alone?! Of course she got eaten by a Wolf, she a kid, she don't know better!"

You can argue that. You can argue that Red Riding Hood's Mom should've gone with her to see Grandma. But that's not the point of the story, the point is "kids, don't try to take the quick/easy path because it's usually dangerous, and don't talk to strangers."

And I've yet to meet someone who would unironically blame Red Riding Hood's Mom. Because it's obvious that doing so would miss the point entirely.

Yet we do have a big chunk of the fandom whose takeaway from the Prequels is that Anakin's fall is on the Jedi's shoulders, even though that also misses the point.

That only indicates, to me, that what it's really about is...

For one generation, coping with a dislike of the Prequels. Trying to make them make sense and coming up with a headcanon that makes them "good," and nuanced.

For the younger audiences (first the one the Prequels were meant for but now also the Disney-era one), it's just them reciting what they've seen in the movies... which have been recontextualized and retconned through media written by people coming from that previous generation listed in point 1.

#star wars #jedi order #george lucas #in defense of the jedi #meta #sw meta

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n)'s deal with the devil to save Nobara's life (Part V)

Part 1 - 4 of the Sukuna/Yuji x Megumi's little sister series can be found here

Pairing: Megumi's little sister x Yuji/Sekuna

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: You've been through so much at Shibuya, seeing the love of you get taken over by Sukuna and finally getting him back. But this time, it will be you who begs on her knees for the king of curses to arrive in order to save your best friend's life...

Warnings: This hurts like hell lol, I miss my girl so much , as usual language, my poor baby Yuji being absolutely crushed

„I need to get moving now”, Yuji mutters while lifting his trembling frame off the ground.

“But where? Please just sit down for a while, you’ve been through so much-“

“What about the people here at Shibuya, (y/n)? Not only did they have to go through a lot, but they also lost their lives here. I can’t just sit on the ground like an idiot while my friends are out there dying.”

You hate it. The way his eyes glimmer in nothing but grief, how his face lost the spark of joy.

But especially you hate that he’s right. You can’t just stay here and let everybody else do the work. Even though you want nothing more than to rest in Yuji’s comforting arms forever, it is your responsibility to find the others and help freeing Gojo-sensei.

That doesn’t include Yuji, though.

“No, you’ve done enough here. Let me go and find Nanami, okay? You…you need to rest…Yuji?”

He steps towards you, lips forming the most heart-breaking little smile you’ve ever seen while his hand gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you more than anything else, (y/n)”, he hushes for only you to hear, making your broken heart skip a beat.

Maybe everything will turn out alright. After all, you have Yuji by your side, right? No matter what Sukuna did, no matter what the two of you have been through, you will eventually make it.

Right?

He wraps his longing arms around you, pressing your frame against his chest. You let yourself fall into his touch, allowing your eyes to rest for a moment. This. This is what makes it worth all the pain. The feeling of Yuji’s body against yours, the way his breath caresses your neck ever so slightly.

“But if someone has to go, it’s me. You are the one who has done enough and I’m so sorry I made you go through all of this shit. You will stay here.”

Your shocked eyes dart open immediately, body trying to yank away from him while he holds you in place.

“I’ll get you when all of this is over. Maybe it’s hella selfish, but I can’t afford to lose you. Anyone but you, (y/n). I’m so sorry. So so sorry.”

Bad foreshadowing crawls up your spine. What is he trying to say? You swallow hard, glossy eyes searching for an answer in his worn-out orbs. No, this can’t be.

Yuji won’t just leave you here, will he?

“Don’t go where I can’t follow love”, you literally beg him, desperate hands grabbing his face longingly.

You just got him back, your Yuji, the love of your life. And now…now he wants to leave again, even though he’s been through so much? And you…He wants you just to stay here and wait for him? You shake your head vehemently. No way in hell. You won’t let him leave alone.

“I’m so sorry…But this time, I will leave you no choice. Please don’t hate me, (y/n). I’m doing this for you…”

You aren’t able to free yourself in time. With a swift motion he yanks you through the door of a nearby building, closing the door behind him so rapidly that all you can do is grab the doorknob.

It doesn’t open.

“Yuji!”

You can’t catch your breath, fists slamming against the metal door without mercy, eyes scanning the room for another way to escape.

But there’s no other door. Fuck, not even a window. This can’t be true, your boyfriend didn’t just lock you into a random building at Shibuya…You glide down the stone-cold walls, the tears in your eyes threatening to pool over.

What if something happens out there? Sukuna must have weakened his body, would he even be able to put up a fight? And what if a grade 1 shows up. Or worse…

You have to blink a few times, panic rising inside your throbbing veins. You can’t just sit here and do nothing. Even though he begged you to stay out of this, it is your responsibility as a jujutsu sorcerer.

As his girlfriend.

You take a deep breath. Calm your tingling nerves, get out of this building, search for Yuji and fight along his side. Even though he doesn’t want you there, even though he specifically instructed you to stay right where you are.

“I’m a Fushiguro after all”, you mutter to yourself.

This wall isn’t thick enough to hold you in. A single slash with your bare fist should be enough to tumble it down. You shake out your arms, desperately try to calm down your beating heart. You have to be brave right now. For Yuji, for your big brother Megumi.

For yourself.

With a swift motion you sprint towards the high wall with neck-breaking speed, pushing through it and falling onto the harsh ground underneath. Everything hurts, it feels like your whole body is on fire. Oh, how much you’d love to lay here for a while, to just stare into the dark night sky, inspecting every minor crater on the full moon above. But your body begins moving on his own, running down the empty and destroyed streets of Shibuya in order to find Yuji. Pushing through the pain, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall down your eyelashes. This is not the time to show any weakness, especially after standing your ground so bravely against Sukuna.

Sukuna…A shiver runs down your spine just by the thought of him. How he wrapped his arms around you, the way his dark voice brushed against your sensitive skin. It’s hard to believe that you survived meeting the king of curses. You, out of all the people here at Shibuya. You, when even special grade curses lost their lives to his cruel hands. Why? Why on earth did he let you live? It still doesn’t make any sense in your foggy brain.

Your ears perk up in an instant, screams and cries echoing through the hallway you run down. It almost sounds like…

No. The urge to throw up becomes almost unbearable, legs dashing even faster despite the scorching pain that runs through your whole body. This was Yuji, without any doubt. And you never heard him scream like that in your life.

“Yuji!?”

Your very own voice echoes back and forth unpromising, feet avoiding the remains of deformed people as good as possible. All these curses, some human corpses…You swallow hard. Mahito has to be here. And if Yuji is here too…

You have to hurry.

“Yuji!”, you scream on top of your lungs, noises growing louder and louder in your ringing ears.

There. In the distance, a few metres away, a head of pink hair.

“Yuji!”

“Kugisaki, run!”

The desperate tone in his voice, Nobara who just stands there and stares at him. Mahito…Two Mahitos…

“Nobara!” you shout, throwing your knife at the version of Mahito who runs towards her out of instinct.

No, he can’t touch her. If he does, she will become a curse herself. If he does, she-

“Kugisaki”, Yuji breathes out next to you.

It was a minor touch. Just the fingertips brushing over her left eye. But certainly enough to make everyone around stop in their tracks and staring at her in utter disbelief. You aren’t a fool. Good, how much you wish you were. But this slight touch is her certain death.

“Nobara.”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper. She isn’t just your classmate. No, Nobara is your friend, the only woman in class by your side, the one you shared your room with for months by know. She knows all your secrets, all your ticks, all the things that make you sad and happy. She is one of your best friends. And now. And now…

“I won’t let you die here!” you scream in frustration, eyes desperately scanning for a way out of this misery.

“Too late for that!” Mahito hollers at you.

What are you supposed to do? Are you even able to fix this? Mahito begins to laugh hysterically, imitates you in the most disrespectful way. That man…No, that creature. He is pure evil, without any doubt. Just like the king of curses himself.

Sukuna.

Your eyes widen, heart almost beating out of your chest. That man…

“Yuji.”

This is probably the worst idea you’ve had in your entire life. But Mahito, Nobara…It might be your only chance to save her.

“You need to switch with Sukuna. Right now.”

“What? What has gotten into you, (y/n)? There is no-“

“This might be the only way to save her”, you interrupt him sharply.

There is absolutely no guarantee this will work. Maybe he’ll just laugh at you like he did back then when Yuji begged for Junpei’s life. Your whole body begins to tremble, just the thought to meet Sukuna again... You shake your head vehemently, eyes darting towards the boy you love in determination.

This isn’t about you or your fears. Right now, Sukuna is the only person who can help you.

“I think I can do it. But you need to switch. Now.”

Yuji’s sharp and heavy breaths hang between the two of you, his hands grabbing yours so urgently that you can’t help but stare at him through glossy eyes.

“Promise me you’ll take me back, okay?”

“I promise”, you reply automatically.

The air around you feels thicker within the split of a second, everyone including Mahito standing death still in their tracks.

“Didn’t expect you want to see me again so early”, his dark voice comments dryly, his arm wrapping itself around your waist before you can stop it.

Your eyes meet his. The stone-cold eyes of the king of curses himself, the marks that cover the gorgeous face of your boyfriend. You want to scream at him, want to hit him with your best shot for making Yuji feel so horrible. God, how much you hate that man for what he did to him, how much you want him to pay for every sinful word, for every person he killed.

But instead, you take a deep breath in.

“I’m begging you to use your reversed technique on my friend.”

He tilts his head, a sly grin creeping up his face. Oh, so that’s what’s going on here. He has to admit, it was very brave of you to call him here. Don’t you know what he did back then when that brat asked him to heal that boy? Why on earth should the king of curses heal a pathetic human being?

“Well well, look who needs my help. Why would I do that, sweetheart, huh? Why on earth would I heal another of you brats?”

“Because I ask you to”, you reply in an instant, glossy eyes looking with his.

Your hands cup his cheeks. Fuck the way your whole body screams in your face to stop immediately, fuck the way tears start to spill out of your eyes again. This is about your dear friend, about Nobara. And you’ll do anything on earth to prevent her from dying.

“You mean like that?”

His hand brushes ever so slightly over a minor cut on your cheek, making it disappear in an instant. Your heart hammers against your chest, eyes widen in nothing but hope and determination. So he really is able to heal others. That means he can save Nobara too, right? He just has to.

“Please heal her. She’s one of my closest friends. Please Sukuna”, you breathe out.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Was it the fear that radiated to your veins, the overwhelming feeling of standing on the brink of losing it all? You can’t put a finger on it.

But before you are able to stop yourself, you throw yourself against his firm body, puffy cheek resting against his chest.

What is this feeling rising up inside his chest? Why does his heart suddenly skip a beat, why does your sudden touch run shivers down his spine? You, the girl he laid his eyes on my months ago. You, the bravest girl he ever witnessed, who threatened to kill herself if he hurts one of your friends.

You, now laying in his arms, completely shattered by the thought of losing your friend. But what is he supposed to do? Back then all he was able to do was laughing hysterically at the brat begging him to safe his stupid little friend. Yes, nothing seems more ridiculous to Ryomen Sukuna than saving human’s lives. But the way you silently sob against his chest, your eyes widen in nothing but horror and consumed by darkness…

Why does it make his fingertips twitch? Why does he want to chase away your tears?

“I will help you”, he finally speaks out.

Did he…Did he really say that? Your eyes dart towards him immediately, hope glistening in your orbs. Oh, you look truly lovely like that.

“But only under one condition.”

Your thoughts begin to race all over again. Of course, he wouldn’t help you without something in return. Maybe it was a mistake to ask him for aid, maybe you should just call Shoko, maybe it is too late anyway…

No.

Don’t second-guess yourself.

“I will do anything you want.”

“Anything, huh?”

“Anything”, you confirm without hesitation.

“Gift me your heart. Swear that you’ll never leave my side. Enter into a contract with me that binds you to me forever.”

You can’t believe your ears, ground pulled underneath your feet. That would mean…You feel like fainting when the true meaning behind his words hits you. You would be his slave until the end of time, until someone is actually able to defeat Ryomen Sukuna. You’d be cursed for life.

Is it really worth this? If Megumi and Yuji were here right now, they’d scream into your face, begging you to just walk away, search for another way out of this misery. Never in his life, Yuji would have allowed you to make a deal with the devil himself in exchange for another life. Not you, not the love of his life. Not you, the precious sister of Megumi. You don’t deserve this fate, you don’t deserve to be cursed like this.

But you have to make a decision.

“I will do anything you want.”

“I need you to swear it.”

He walks towards Nobara who just stands there and stares at both of you in horror.

“(y/n), don’t…don’t do that”, she breathes out.

You want to break down, scream out in agony, run away and never come back.

“I swear I will do anything you want if you save her.”

But instead, you just stand there and watch him grab Nobara’s face roughly with a single tear running down your face. Is this a new beginning or the end of it all?

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, (y/n). You will stay with me until both of us die.”

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[bonefall]

while i do agree with the sentiment that bloodclan should be more nuanced as an entity i still believe it is wrong to portray them as the necessary "response" to clan injustice (haven't read the books in years but i am pretty sure that bloodclan started with no connection to the clans) / an opposition to the clan's flaws. some of the thing scourge did was out of selfishness and bloodclan isn't the other colour of the black and white debacle with the clans. the clans are heavily flawed yes, but it isn't realistic to completely say that their structure had no redeeming qualities altogether and that all outsider groups is fundamentally better than the clans.

all clans and groups are flawed in their own way and i believe we shouldnt brush past the things that other groups (the sisters and what they do with their toms *cough cough*) did solely to be able to degrade the clans and their culture.

Buddy, you're setting up a strawman. I promise you that if you look into the reduxes I've made of BloodClan, Guardians, The Sisters, and the Tribe, you will see that I don't make any of them a "flawless" alternative to Clan life.

Nor do I say that the Clans have no redeeming qualities. In fact, you can browse the "Clan Culture" tag to see the various expansions I've made to show how these traditions, values, and technological advances make Clan life so alluring.

The overarching theme of BB is that the nature of culture is change. For better AND for worse.

With respect, I think there's something insidious in the wording of "the things the other groups did." We're talking about fan responses to a work that consistently demonizes and degrades foreigners to make the Clans look like the "best way to live," justifying xenophobia. These are not real groups, they are writing choices.

In the franchise with some pretty extreme examples of misogyny, the authors said "What if bizarro world where women rule and have no men... woag..." and only includes a single Clan-alligned member of this culture, with a BAD opinion of them, who can't even do his diplomatic job because he HATES them so much.

In the same franchise that shows Fireheart getting bullied, facing prejudice, and fighting a murderous tyrant who publically executes a mixed-race character, their endgame villain is an outsider, like him, but this one IS a godless heathen who HATES love and friendship and banned families.

In the VERY same franchise which made its first non-malicious group barely able to get through an arc without needing to be saved by Clan cats, totally unable to defend themselves, framed as "whiny" for not wanting their clearly 'inferior' culture to be forcefully changed.

And I'm re-stating all this because, again, no offense to you in particular Anon, but I've been seeing a few people with a sentiment like yours lately. Complaints into a vacuum that don't make targeted critique of anyone's fanworks, gesturing at this broad "woobification" which is apparently out there somewhere over the rainbow, saying things like "well Scourge is selfish" or "well Moonlight abandoned her 13 year old" as if we haven't BEEN knew.

As if we're not all directly responding to these choices. As if I haven't written ESSAYS on this topic.

Since this was about BloodClan in particular though, and you admit you haven't read the books in years, please go back and actually read Rise of Scourge before trying to make critique of the ways fanon rewrites its origin. It's EXPLICITLY a response to the Clans, in the text, that the Erins wrote, it is canon that fanon is working with.

And you want people to take that out and approach it a different way... why? Because it's so incredulous to you that a nation forms in response to a threatening neighbor? That a common enemy through invasions is a way that people might choose to unite, and encourage their new culture to value brutality? Because you don't like the idea of Clan Culture's XENOPHOBIC BATTLE CULTURE affecting surrounding communities??

Could YOU, maybe, be doing this "woobification" thing I keep hearing about? Can I play this stupid game too? What's our stupid prize? Can it be a lollipop? Do we get stickers

TL;DR, ok.

#bone babble #Warrior cats analysis #Warrior cats fanon #Bloodclan #''Ok yes scourge is practically cold war era xenophobic stereotypes and i understand that is a part of canon you dont like.'' #''But have you considered. Hes mean'' #Yes. Yes i have considered it. #If I get another take like this in my inbox im gojng to fucjing add a scene where he kisses babies and looks at the screen and says #'Mmm wowow thank u for the babygirl juice fire star :)' #JUST to annoy them #People gonna be funny to me? Im about to be Hilarious. #Also ANON just to be clear im annoyed because like. Ive been seeing this around. #Sadly today you are the Genocide Frisk to my Angry Sans u.u #I am taking ur ask and turning it blue and smashing it against walls #Man it would be cool to have bone themed powers... i am a bone guy... #But anon you're fine. Just like. Think about what I said ok?

[oonajaeadira]

I'll Leave a Light On For You

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards / Max Phillips

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n. (There is a little description, but it’s still you. Believe me, it will make sense. We’re dealing with the supernatural here.)

Rating: T. 

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons.

A/N: This is my entry for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. While I played one selfish card in my hand and wrote something of a companion to Light Only Shows You Where the Shadows Are, this can still be read as a standalone.

To my giftee, the amazing and wonderful @artemiseamoon : First of all, I admire you so much and I was really nervous to write for you. But I looked among your generous prompt choices (omgs thank you for so many good choices) and was surprised to find Max as an option. I wasn’t going to choose him at first but then my eye caught “past lives” and something in me zinged. Soul mates, angsty romance, second chance at love… and I’ve been itching to write an angsty Max. I know you are a fan of soft and whump, so all those elements had a party in my heart and here we are. I really hope you’re having a nice holiday and a good time off. Happy Secret Santa, Arte. <3

What we’ve been told is that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That’s almost correct.

The truth is…it’s not just your current life.

It’s all of them.

Max hardly remembers the fear, the pain, the cold of his draining. Even though he knew what was coming, bought into the cult, the human instinct of fight or flight is hard to dismiss no matter how well they’ve been prepped and it was to be expected. But it was a flash in the pan and once he came around to the undead side of things, those pesky human responses were all quickly forgotten.

For a time. Until he saw your light and–

Anyway. Human instincts. Pffft. Adorable. Trading the constant possibility of fear for that of glee, of rapture, of delight? Human instincts are trash. Not to mention their senses, poor suckers. The things they can’t see can’t hear can’t smell can’t taste? Tragic.

If only the feelings weren’t heightened too. It makes some things–some people–hard to ignore–

Feelings were something he could also have done without in his human life–the latest one anyway–and did whatever he could do to avoid.

It wasn’t until he died that he understood why.

As the life drained out of him and the delirium set in, there was a rushing sound, a pull through his soul like the drag of blood from his body, and he was laying, feeble, wailing, bloody and naked among the limbs of his mother.

But not the mother he so recently remembered, the one that showed her approval only when he provided her with some accomplishment worthy of crowing about to her society friends. No, this one was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she died of fever when he was only five years old.

Max saw it all, from within himself and without, remembered the pull of his heart and watched the tears fall down his little face as they nailed his mother’s body in a pine box and put it in a hole at the top of a hill under a tree.

He always imagined he heard her singing to him in the grasses after that.

The world welcomed a new century, and not long afterward, he was a young man, looking to take over his father’s wine fields. But the chance was stolen when an archduke was shot. Max–Pierre, as he was called then–and all of the close friends and cousins he had were thrust into a great war. 

He was the only one to walk out of the fray. And when he came home, he found his father’s fields had been burned and that nothing remained.

That was a dark time. Ten years of looking back rather than looking forward. Ten years–it went by so fast–while he watched the world around him try to repair itself and find its footing again, not realizing that the roots of evil still grew beneath the soil.

He kept his head down and his hands working wherever he could.

But then he met a woman.

And she was Pierre’s life. Max’s life. Before he was Max.

It happened in the winter, just before Noël. And her name was Yaëlle.

Max remembered that before she even told him as he watched the story of this strange old life.

Yaëlle. It means “beautiful one.”

“It also means ‘goat,’” she’d said. “That seems more fitting.” She never thought of herself pretty, and perhaps she wasn’t fashionable and maybe she was stronger than she was dainty, with a weak chin and curly dark hair she couldn’t control. But the light in her eyes when she laughed–and what a laugh, like a little bird–the sway of her hips and the confidence in her carriage, her air of easy care and comfort caught his heart like a surly bear in the prettiest trap.

She’d simply been passing through the marché de Noēl, looking but not stopping, taking the kerchief off her head so the snow could land in her curls, when a child approached her selling buns in the shape of a cross and she gave the child a franc before sitting down at the statue of some cardinal or other in the center of the square.

She could have sat on any of the other benches, but she chose to plonk down next to Max. Next to Pierre.

“You want this?” she asked, offering the bun. “Not really my thing.”

How could she have known he was hungry? That he was lonely? That he was facing the market rather than the river because he was trying not to succumb to his inclinations, a pull to walk out onto the thin ice and let himself be taken by the stream?

He was instantly entranced by her. He felt himself smiling. Something shifted within. A destiny.

“You sure?” he asked.

She peered at him, scrutinized his whole self like she could see a glow around him and was looking for its source.

She found it in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I already ate three hand pies today. The last thing I need is more bread.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. They talked. He ate.

On Christmas Eve when everyone was at the evening’s mass, she was there again, sitting alone, and this time it was he who had hot food and came to join her on the bench while the night was silent and cold and the stars were twinkling.

It was then that he learned why she was not in church–her folk did not observe Noēl. And she learned why he was not in church–he had lost his faith, that everyone he had ever loved was taken and there were not enough candles in the sanctuary to light for all of them.

“What if I lit one?” she’d asked.

“Who would you light it for?”

“For you. So you don’t have to sit in the dark.” When he was only silent, she said, “You fought in the Great War, didn’t you.” And when he looked away–when he shut her out–she continued. “My husband fought in that war. And he never could find his heart again. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he ever really did, not all the way. But I loved him all the way and when he put an end to his own life I thought I would have to do it too. Instead, I sat in the dark for a long time. It’s something I can see in a person. I can see you’re sitting in the dark.”

They stayed quiet for a time on the bench under the statue of the cardinal and when the church bells started to toll–signaling the magic of the empty square would soon be disrupted by the mass emptying into its streets–she stood and pulled her coat around her.

“My home is down that street, a little one with a red roof. It’s warm and I’ve plenty of hand pies--I made too many. I’ll leave a candle in the window until I’m asleep. You’re always welcome there, Max.”

And then she smiled and turned down the avenue where she’d pointed.

He blinked. Just before she reached the edge of the square he called out, “My name isn’t Max. It’s Pierre.”

She turned and gave a sly wink. “Good to know. I think once you get a belly full of my pies, you’ll let me call you whatever I want.”

He only sat long enough to watch the churchgoers file out of the holy service, many of them with people they loved, humming, happy, cheeks glowing in that way when one steps into a fresh cold world after being an hour or two soaking in the warmth. And once the square was empty again, he stood, gave only a fleeting look to the river, and then walked resolutely down Yaëlle’s street.

A little house with a red roof and a candle in the window.

He stayed for supper and came back many nights after.

And then one night he never left.

Max recalled the rest of that life with a lurking despair. While he couldn’t quite remember how it went, something in him carried it through to the life he’d just left…and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was yet.

A few years of joy, of the greatest love he’d felt since his childhood. Like the mother he’d lost, another woman who was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she couldn’t anymore.

They never celebrated Noël as the others did, but in their own way. For a handful of years they would go sit on the bench in the square and hand out pies to their neighbors and anyone who came to join them where they sat. They would listen to the singing in the church and watch the stars scintillate overhead. They would leave their shoes by the fireplace and wake up to find gifts they’d bought for each other with the little francs that they had. And they would never talk about what they would do in the future, because they knew it would be this and that’s all they aspired to and it would be a happy life.

And Max watched Pierre forget about the rot that still ran its roots through the soil.

And one day soldiers came to town when he was out in the fields and they took Yaëlle and some of the other dark-haired, joyful, bird-laughing folk about town and murdered them. By the time he returned for the evening, the soldiers had gone and left him nothing but a ravaged house and a body to bury.

There’s nothing he could have done, the mourning neighbors told him, the tide was rising. If he had fought them, they would have shot him too.

Pierre said that it would have been better that way.

Pierre stopped working in the fields when he started to hear his mother’s voice singing among the grasses again…now joined by Yaëlle’s sweet alto.

He had one more Noël in that life. He drank as much as he could take without falling over and stumbled out to sit on the bench in the square, weeping once the churchgoers had gone. He didn’t say a word, but Max remembered what Pierre was thinking then.

Love hurts too much. It is always taken. It’s not worth the trouble.

And then Pierre fell asleep on that bench and never woke up again.

There wasn’t much time between that first life and this one, maybe a few decades in the dark. Just long enough for a voice to reach him in the void–a voice he knew well and loved with his whole heart for only a short time–to say,

“That was a good first try, Max. Let’s give it another go, okay? Another place, another time, when it’s not so hard. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

____

Max’s life had been shorter this time. But he’d learned a thing or two and kept love at arm’s length. Sex was good and companionship was fine, but he wouldn’t invest in anything that could drain him in an instant and leave him destitute. 

Now power, that could fill the void. 

So when fortune smiled and he was given the choice, he swallowed hard and put his neck to the teeth, traded in his humanity for power that nobody could take away from him…and a heart that had no need for warmth.

He was wrong about that last point though.

And he didn’t even know it until he saw something that humans couldn’t see.

Heard something they couldn’t hear, a long ago and far away voice singing.

Smelled you on the wind.

Followed it to you–a woman, just another human woman–walking out of a bar along some street in the city.

And he saw a light glowing from within you.

You wore another face, another body, but all he saw was you.

Yaëlle.

Beautiful one.

He followed you that night, and several nights after. He was the reason that car swerved before it hit you, the reason you weren’t approached by that seedy guy at the club. He was the reason you kept looking behind you now and then and when you finally saw him–having dinner at the same restaurant, totally by coincidence, you on a friendly outing, him trying to charm a client into a contract–it broke his heart that you did not know him instantly.

He found he was surprised that he still had a heart to break. He’d been so fucking careful.

Max almost gave into the anger, the disappointment. Replayed the pathetic way Pierre let himself be brought down and tried to remind himself not to let himself be broken again.

But then he heard your voice in a way only those who walk in death can.

Let’s give it another go. I’ll leave a light on for you.

____

Heightened feeling is the one drawback of all this power. It’s one thing to latch onto a target, to fixate on some middle manager or accountant or IT specialist until there’s a good time to finally strike. That is an itch that can be satisfied with a well-timed, fear-seasoned, adrenaline-soaked kill.

But love sinks its fangs in and doesn’t let go. It sucks at something that can’t be drained, has no end, can never get enough. It can drive an immortal--a never-ending being of heightened existence--to madness.

There will come a day in the future when you’ll trust him for no good reason, when you’ll understand the monster he is and whisper under your breath against your better judgment, when you’ll invite him in. For dinner.

And he’ll come around again and again.

And then one day, he’ll stay.

And you’ll yawn ask him on the edge of sleep, “Why me? Of all these humans that you could easily enthrall and have without question, why choose this?”

Max will look at you in the darkness and see nothing but your light.

You won’t understand when he puts on a show of an irritated sigh and tells you, “You gave me another chance, sweetmeats,” but you’ll doze in his cold arms, absolutely confident as he is that nothing will ever hurt you again. Including himself.

And that night he’ll stay until you wake.

He won’t have you sit in the darkness alone.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader

[ecoamerica]

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