#suicide run challenge

[dismalzelenka]

.

#today i had a pianist during a rehearsal go “wow your voice you just have so much natural talent i mean some people really work for years—” #and i kinda snapped #and i was polite but also i unloaded the entire story of the last thirteen years in the cosmic joke that is my life #this lady got thirteen years of trauma in a twenty minute speed run #she Learned Things today about existential despair and the societal clusterfuck that is the Trans Experience #and how that intersects in the classical singing world in an incredibly challenging and fucked up way #and how i went from scooting under the door into a voice program with seven lessons under me #and then three years later proceeded to fling myself into a testosterone fueled vocal puberty in the midst of a professional singing degree #and lost the respect and support of most of the vocal and choir faculty because everyone thought i was committing professional suicide #if it werent for my own voice teacher (who at some point became the mother figure I'd never had) keeping me afloat i would not be here #i have c-ptsd from the shit i went through in the choir department #i had to drop out of school for a semester because my body just folded under the stress #i started getting migraines severe enough i was hospitalized twice with stroke-like symptoms #two weeks ago i had a former teacher from the early days deadname me in front of our colleagues #she tried to play it off as no big deal and it just reminded me no matter how successful i become in this field #no matter how much work i put in to overcome my past #its always going to come back and find me through people who refuse to learn respect #and somehow! im still here! im making a living in the field i trained for #how many people in my generation in the arts degree sector can say that?? by some metrics i am thriving but jesus goddamn #i clawed and fought and bit and dragged myself to where i am right now and had to find my voice TWICE and the worst part is #she meant well #the pianist i mean #and i was polite when i told my story but it was so important to me that she understood #no amount of talent would have gotten me here without sleepless nights and long hours and blood and sweat and tears and you know what #maybe i am a better person for it but dont compliment me by implying i have some inherent gift from a god i dont even believe in #dont tell me your god put me in this place to teach other people compassion #i didnt brush the door of death as many times as i did for the sake of someone else's enlightenment #its been a long 13 years. hell its been a long 2023. in the last eleven months ive had a fundamental upheaval #of everything i thought i knew and understood about myself #so yea im standing at the gate to hell looking the devil in the eye. try me bitch. ive endured worse.

[opbackgrounds]

This idea is so, so important to the series in general, and Brook in particular. There are times in One Piece where people die for noble causes, and others where people act knowing that there's a good chance that they could die, but knowingly choosing death over life is never portrayed in a positive light.

As someone who views One Piece through the lens of Romantic literature, this is really important because historically the Romantics, er, well, romanticized suicide and death and the historic last stand. It's doubly interesting to me as a Japanese story, with Japan having its own long, complicated history with the concept of honorable death.

One Piece directly challenges both of these ideas, with life and living being romanticized instead, even if that means you have to get on your knees and beg for it like Brook does with Ryuma later on.

And it's a tightrope that story has to balance. Nami willingly lived under to boot of the man who killed her mother for years, but there came a time when enough was enough, and both she and the village had to stand up and fight for her freedom. She carried that lesson to her fight with Enel, even though she was hopelessly outmatched and would have been reduced to a greasy smear if Luffy hadn't shown up to save her. Within the context of the story both instances were portrayed positively, with Oda indicating through his writing that she had made the correct decision.

But that's not what's happening here. This is Luffy being willing to run away at Sabaody because he knew the Pacificas were too strong. This is Usopp lambasting the samurai at Wano for rushing toward their deaths rather than living to fight another day.

It's Brook knowing he made a promise to a friend, and doing everything in his power to keep it, even if it meant looking like a sniveling coward groveling at the feet of his own shadow.

#opbackgrounds #one piece #ch456 #themes threads and throughlines #romanticism #brook #I love him so much #character analysis

[zarameraki]

˖°🦇 ࣪𖤐 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mention of suicide 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 bodyguard x senator’s daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 sarcastic mmc x fmc who’s tired of his bs 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 soft toji 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 toji’s not an ass for the first time 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 bathtub sex 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 5.9k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this is my first one-shot and of course it had to be about my favourite unhinged man. i promise it’s good, y’all. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

You hated being the senator’s daughter—burdened by the title you never chose. Despite the grandeur that surrounded you, you despised the life you were born into. The opulent dinners, the endless social events, and the constant scrutiny from the public were chains that bound your spirit.

If you had any spirit left to spare.

You yearned for a life of your own, away from the suffocating expectations that came with your father's political stature. You resented the polished façade you had to maintain, the carefully crafted image that hid your true self. The constant presence of the media felt like an unrelenting spotlight, casting darkness over your desire for anonymity.

The large ballroom was ablaze with sparkling lights and the murmur of conversations mingled with the soft strains of a live jazz band. You found herself at the center of attention, a reluctant participant in the grand social affair, unwillingly cornered by a persistent suitor your mother had chosen from the roster. Apparently, his family wealth and business ventures were the most fascinating topics he could think of.

You wore a forced smile and desperately sought a way out of the conversation. Your eyes darted across the room, searching for an escape route.

". . . you see, our corporation has been at the forefront of innovation for decades," the suitor boasted, gesturing expansively with his hands. "We practically built this city. My great-grandfather was a visionary, and my father has expanded our influence globally. I'm destined to take it to even greater heights."

“How wonderful,” you muttered. The suffocating aura of the suitor’s self-importance lingered in the air. Just as he reached out to place a possessive hand on your arm, a deep, graveling voice cut through the conversation.

“Careful,” warned Toji. His eyes, sharp and vigilant, locked onto your suitor’s hand, which froze in mid-air. “Take a step back, and we won’t have a problem.”

The suitor, momentarily taken aback, withdrew his hand with an affected chuckle. "Ah, my apologies. I was only admiring your bracelet. It's exquisite, really."

You shot Toji a glare as you replied, "Thank you for your compliment. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning home now. Senatorial matters to attend to, you understand."

His eyes narrowed, and he attempted to regain control of the situation. "But surely, darling, you wouldn't want to miss the grand finale of the evening. There's a surprise performance that my connections secured."

Before you could respond, Toji stepped forward, a stern expression on his face. "The evening is over, Mr. Mahito. She has other obligations to fulfill."

Mr. Mahito, a name you’d forgotten at his ‘hello,’ glared at Toji but wisely chose not to challenge the imposing figure. With a forced smile, he nodded and said, "Of course, I understand. Until next time."

As if.

Toji couldn't help but scoff under his breath, earning a side glance from you. "Does he ever run out of compliments for himself?"

You sighed. "He's harmless, Mr. Zenin. Just trying to impress, that’s all."

"Harmless, maybe, but annoying as fuck."

You eyed Toji with curiosity. "Why the sudden interest in my love life, Mr. Zenin? Jealousy, perhaps?"

He smirked, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Jealousy? Princess, I guarantee you, I'm far too professional for such bullshit.”

You shot him a playful glance. "You know, if you were a little less broody and a bit more charming, you might have a chance."

His facade cracked, and a genuine smile played on his lips, that scar stealing your attention again. "Charm has its time and place.” He opened the back door of the limousine and nudged you inside. “I prefer to keep you safe."

Toji was insufferable just as he was tall. Dressed in a compressed black t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled torso, he exuded an air of quiet intensity. The long, dark tendrils of his hair poked his half-hooded eyes that always carried a mist of amusement. He was a silent guardian who navigated seamlessly between your shadows and the limelight.

You remember the first day your father had introduced your newly assigned bodyguard. All you could do was ogle the devilishly handsome man and pray your father and his security detail didn’t hear you swallow too hard or sit with your legs clenched together.

You appreciated the fact that he was fantastic at his job. At least in the first couple of months. But after you’d started your fourth year at university, Toji practically glued himself to you.

It was like he was your shadow, and you couldn’t escape. You get it, Dad was a senator, and security is essential, but did they have to assign you the clingiest bodyguard on the planet?

You’d gone on a blind date a few weeks back with yet another pretentious finance head, and Toji had himself stationed on the table adjacent to yours. When your date had stepped out to use the bathroom, Toji leaned over the table, and you remember how his biceps had flexed and that infuriating smirk played at his lips.

"Princess," he drawled, using that irritating nickname he's given you. As if being the daughter of a senator automatically made you royalty. "You should smile more. It might help with those lines forming on your forehead."

You hoped he choked on his own smugness.

But then there were those moments when the loneliness crept in, and the isolation became too much to bear. In those moments, his sarcastic banter was a lifeline, a distraction from the weight of your responsibilities. You found yourself craving the very company you claimed to detest.

You caught him smirking as you glanced in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, you forgot about the suffocating expectations, the political games, and the constant surveillance.

It's just you and Toji.

The soft hum of the elevator filled the air as you and Toji stepped into the sleek, mirrored enclosure leading up to your apartment. You looked like you had just stepped out of a battle with a jungle cat. Your eyes, once vibrant, were now shadowed with fatigue, and your normally impeccable hair fell in disarray around your shoulders.

You sighed, the weariness evident. "I can't believe this day. Non-stop meetings, interviews, endless parties, and galas. I feel like I've been running a marathon in heels."

"Well, at least you made it out in one piece, Princess."

You fired him a tired glare. "Don't call me that. You know I hate it."

"Sure thing, Your Highness," he replied, a teasing edge in his voice.

As the elevator smoothly ascended, your legs wobbled, and you swayed slightly. Without thinking, you reached out for support, your hand landing on Toji’s muscular arm. He felt the sudden weight and turned to look at you, eyebrows raised to the roof.

"Whoa there, easy," he said, his voice softer than before.

You blushed an outlandish shade of red. "I'm sorry. I'm just so exhausted. I didn't mean to—"

Toji cut you with a grin, his tone filled with mock concern. "Princess, if you're going to faint, at least do it gracefully. No need to ruin my reputation as the best bodyguard in town."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I'm not going to faint. Just a moment of weakness. That’s possible for even women like me, you know."

He chuckled. "Well, weak moments can be dangerous, especially in this line of work. You never know who might take advantage."

The elevator pinged, announcing their arrival at your floor. You straightened up, a renewed sense of determination in your eyes. "Thanks for the concern, tough guy, but I'll manage." You punched in the key code of your apartment door, the security light flashing green. "You can head home now. I’ll be fine from here."

"Oh, absolutely, Princess. But you know the drill—protocol and all. Can't leave the precious cargo unattended until it's safely delivered to its destination."

Your patience was wearing thin as you turned and brushed chests with the jester in black. “Mr. Zenin, for the hundredth time, I don't need an escort to my front door. I can handle myself."

Toji chuckled, the sound low and teasing. "Sure, sure. But what if a rogue pigeon attacks you on your way in? Or a gust of wind blows too hard, and you lose your balance? It's a treacherous world out there."

“We are indoors. There’s no rogue pigeons or a windstorm.”

Toji wore his stubbornness alongside his pride. “Just doin’ my job.”

You sighed, realizing arguing with him was futile. "Fine, come in if it makes you feel better, but then you're leaving."

"Sure," he said, holding the door open with a flourish as you entered the sterile, monochromatic apartment. From the high ceilings to the marble flooring, it was all your mother’s idea. For God’s sake, it was your apartment. You wanted earthly tones, Persian rugs, and a cat. A European tabby. You have wanted it since the day you were born because being an only child was like living in a house full of ghosts.

Your heels hit the floor with a muted thud, and your shawl cascaded down in a haphazard swirl as you brushed it off your shoulders. You sunk into the plush armrest of the couch, sighing deeply as you closed your eyes, attempting to shake off the fatigue that clung to you like a second skin. You were beginning to regret the three glasses of champagne to tune out tonight’s event.

"So, I’m guessing you’ve got another glamorous night in the political arena tomorrow, huh?" Toji asked.

You opened your eyes, your gaze meeting his, and managed a weak smile. "You have no idea. Sometimes, I feel like I'm caught in a never-ending dance of smiles and handshakes."

He pushed himself off the doorframe and strolled toward you. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a decent dance partner. Just not sure about my smile and handshake skills."

You wanted to tell him he had a nice smile, that the scar really added a touch of mystery to him—a mystery that kept you on your toes. He also had really large hands that you found yourself staring at during meetings or drives.

You ran a hand through your hair, loosening a few strands that framed your face. Toji’s eyes lingered on you, a subtle appreciation in his stare. Without thinking, he stepped in front of you, his fingers gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

"You've got a talent for getting yourself into these messes, Princess," he remarked, his voice low and intimate. His touch lingered, brushing against your cheek and then down to your neck. Unintentionally, his fingers traced the soft skin.

Your breath caught, the unexpected contact sending a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes, finding a silver of vulnerability in his usually cheeky behavior. For a moment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Toji, realizing the accidental breach of boundaries, withdrew his hand, mumbling, "Got a bit carried away there."

Your tired eyes softened with a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "It's okay, Mr. Zenin. Just . . . let's just chalk it up to exhaustion.”

He straightened up. "Yeah, exhaustion. That's exactly it."

Nodding, you stood from your spot and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “You can see yourself out."

He raised a fascinated brow at the gesture, the scar curling up in a half-smile.

As you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling of Toji’s calloused fingertips circling from your ear, knuckles softly brushing your cheekbone and down to your neck. The sensation lingered, sending shivers down your spine.

You entered the bathroom, the cool tiles beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth building within you, turning on your bathtub’s faucet. The running water drowned out your racing thoughts as you undressed. Your fingers traced the curves of your body, and your eyes, filled with self-doubt, studied your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The image staring back at you was proof of years of dieting imposed by your mother's relentless pursuit of the perfect political image.

You sighed, shoulders slumping, yet the boulders of burden settled upon them refused to fall. As you raised your head, you caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection behind you. “What the f—” A chill ran down your spine as you turned around, heart pounding.

There, in the doorway, stood Toji, his green gaze fixed on your face.

“What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, wrapping your arms protectively around your breasts, hand covering your lower region.

Toji’s eyes softened, his usual sarcasm substituted by concern. "I heard you talking to yourself. Thought you might need some company."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That's not an invitation to barge in!"

“I'm your bodyguard, and part of my job is to make sure you're secure, even if it means guarding you in your own bathroom.”

“I'm perfectly safe in my own bathroom. Besides, you're not my babysitter."

Obviously, he ignored you and took a step closer to the tub, his eyes never leaving yours. He turned off the faucet just as the water was at the perfect level. His hand dipped in the steaming water. “Hot.”

“Oh my god, get out!”

“Get in.”

“What?”

“Get your ass in the tub.”

You rolled your eyes but didn't back down. "I'm not getting into that bathtub with you hovering over me like a hawk."

Toji sighed exasperatedly.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by a crack in his patience. "What's so urgent that you can't leave me alone for five minutes?"

He hesitated for a moment before smirking. "I want to wash your hair."

"Wash my hair?" you echoed.

"Yeah. I heard it's the latest trend in personal security."

You shouldn’t have chuckled, but you did anyway. Everything about this situation had blown out of proportion, escalated from zero to a million, and put an interesting mark on your otherwise professional relationship with your bodyguard.

Toji extended his hand, a silent invitation. You were at his beck and call in five seconds, lowering your hands from your bare body, and not once did he check you out. However, the tick in his jaw and the subtle flare of his nostrils easily gave him away. You accepted his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours—his touch was firm yet gentle. You gingerly stepped into the embrace of the steaming water, sinking low until it covered your shoulders.

Toji wet your hair before squeezing a handful of shampoo into his palm, his hands strong yet gentle as he began to work the lather into your hair. His fingers moved in rhythmic circles, massaging your scalp with a skill that spoke of experience. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warm water, created a cocoon of comfort. The tension in your shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a strange but welcome calm.

"Seriously, though, why are you doing this?” you asked. “Bodyguards aren't typically known for their hairdressing skills."

Toji flashed a wry grin. "Rumor has it that a well-groomed princess is a happy princess. Plus, it's in the fine print of the bodyguard handbook—section 37, subsection B: 'Haircare Duties.'"

“But I’m not a princess.”

“Not to me,” he murmured.

As the water streamed down your back, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the tranquility of his caretaking. "Mr. Zenin," you whispered, your voice a gentle hum, "this is a side of you I never knew existed."

He chuckled softly, continuing to pour water over your hair. "I wear many hats, Princess. Tonight, I'm just Toji."

Your eyes opened, meeting his gaze. “Toji.”

He paused for a moment, his hands still in your hair. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of lingering water droplets leaving the faucet. You could feel the shift in his demeanor, a subtle tenseness that hadn't been there before. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.

He cleared his throat, a nervous habit you had never noticed before. “First time you’ve said my name.”

Oh.

In a daring move, Toji let his fingers linger on your neck, his touch feather-light. Your breath hitched in your throat, or maybe it was his hand curling around your trachea that stopped it. He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours. If he kissed you now, you would never look at your bathtub as a source of taking your own life again. If he kissed you now, you would never look at him the same again. If he kissed you now, you’d drown in it. It would be the only time you willingly would without coming back up for air at the last minute.

Your hand reached up and cupped the back of his head as a green sign. Toji leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. The world seemed to hold its breath as he lingered there for a moment. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he parted your mouth with his tongue, seeking permission, and you welcomed him wholeheartedly.

But as quick as the kiss happened, the quicker he pulled back.

“Fuck.”

Your heart sunk.

Fuck, indeed.

Confusion and hurt flickered across your face as you struggled to comprehend the sudden twist in your actions. You hadn't considered the consequences, the potential risks that a romantic entanglement could pose to both of you. The weight of your privilege and his responsibility pressed heavily on both of your shoulders. "Toji, I thought . . .”

He suddenly stood, and you reached out with your hand, grazing his arm, frightened that he was going to walk away and leave you wallowing alone in your guilt. "Well, well," he drawled, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sardonic smile. Slowly, he tilted your chin up with a gentle touch. "I never thought I'd see the day when the senator's daughter would be so desperate for her bodyguard's attention."

A flush of embarrassment crept up on your cheeks, and you tried to pull away, but Toji’s grip on your chin remained firm.

“Desperation suits you, Princess," he continued, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place. "But remember, we're playing with fire here."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Zenin. Who kissed who first?"

His laughter echoed throughout the bathroom. "Touché, sweetheart. Touché."

You lowered your eyes, hugging your knees to your chest. “Whatever. You can leave now.”

“Leave? Not a fucking chance.” Toji’s boisterous laugh made you jump. He started taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. “It’s your turn to wash my hair.”

“W-What?”

He responded by unbuckling his belt and lowering his trousers, leaving him in his boxer briefs. Your hands covered your eyes when he was completely naked and incredibly erect. “What, you’ve never seen a naked man before, Princess?”

“Once,” you mumbled. You weren’t a virgin, a secret only you knew. It was during the first-year of university when you’d hooked up with one of your mother’s best friend’s son. Both your families had high hopes of an engagement, but you were against the idea. Thank goodness for that. He’d lasted about five minutes into the sex before collapsing on top of you. It was a painful disaster.

“You just signed a man’s death wish,” Toji said, settling into the tub with you. The water sloshed around him, cascading over the edges of the tub and creating small puddles on the marble floor.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper breathlessly.

"Taking a bath? Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be mean." He reclined against the tub's porcelain edge, the water clinging to the contours of his muscular frame. “Why are you so far away? Come here.”

Your body defied your intentions as it glided away from the corner, moving towards him. His left leg extended while the right one bent, with the cap of his knee emerging from the water. Your small hand cradled it, guiding you closer until you were seated just inches away from his erection.

Toji splashed water over your face, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Toji!”

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” He tilted his head back, accentuating the chiseled contours of his jaw. His chest resonated with laughter. “You’re so pretty when you blush for me.” His large hand slithered to your nape and tugged you forward, claiming your lips in a feverish, powerful kiss, where his teeth pulled your bottom lip and sucked on it. It frustrated you that, once again, he broke away first, leaving you to whimper. “Turn around. On all fours.”

The questions fizzled out on your tongue. “Are you going to . . .”

“Fuck you?” He arched an eyebrow, the damp strands of his hair swaying in sync with the tilt of his head. “Fuck yes.” His lashes lowered, giving his eyes a dangerously dark glint. “Unless you don’t want me—”

“No!” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “No, I never . . . I want you to.”

“To what?”

Oh, he was really a dick. “I . . . want you to fuck . . me.”

He wet his bottom lip. “How do you want me to fuck you, sweet girl?”

Your chest rose and fell in synchrony with the ebb and flow of the situation. “I don’t know. I’ve only had sex once.”

“Baby, there’s a major difference between having sex and being fucked.”

On cue, your legs instinctively clenched in an attempt to find relief. “Are you clean?”

Toji raked his fingers through his hair and made a spinning gesture with his finger. Your body followed the motion, turning away from him and gripping the tub’s edge. “Wanna know a secret, Princess?”

“Uh, sure.”

The heat emanating from his chest pressed against your back. “I got a check-up the day I was assigned to you.” A sentence that visibly made you shudder. Of course, the insufferable bastard had planned this circumstance ahead. “I knew that sooner or later, I’ll have the senator’s daughter naked and needy underneath me. That I’ll have my cock buried deep within the tight walls of her sweet, sweet pussy, as she milks every last bit of my come. That I’ll watch as it drips out her hole and down her soft thighs.” He extended his arm and delicately lifted the drain plug with his fingers, allowing the water to gracefully swirl away from the bathtub. “I jerked off to the thought almost every night.”

“So, you accepted this job just to get a chance to sleep with me?” Your confidence tanked, and your body prepared itself to leave the tub. “Go to hell—”

Toji wrapped his palm around your hair three times, pulling it taut as he drew you back, pressing you firmly against his chest. “I wasn’t finished talking.”

“Let me go!”

“Know what I do when I escort you to your apartment, Princess?” He wasn’t gentle with cuffing his hands around your neck, immediately silencing you. “I wait like a fucking dog outside until you’re asleep. Then, I walk back in, clean up around your kitchen and living room because you’re too tired to do your chores, and after playing your maid, I tuck you into bed. I watch you sleep, even letting you hold onto my hand, until the moon exchanges for the sun. And I’ve been doing this for the past six fucking months.” He jerks your head to the side, his glare cold and cutting. “So, no, Princess, I didn’t accept this damn job to fuck you. This was just a side perk.”

"Oh," was all you could manage to say. The mystery behind the polished kitchen sink, the mugs and dishes neatly stowed away, the meticulously organized closet, and the unexpected peaceful nights of sleep settling within you finally unraveled. The source of your newfound stability, one that encouraged you to gradually wean off your anti-anxiety medication, was none other than your bodyguard who, unbeknownst to you, had been quietly tending to your well-being in the shadows.

Toji's gruff voice murmured near your ear, interrupting your contemplation. "You're mine, not only in body but in soul, sweet girl. No one—absolutely no-fucking-one—gets to lay a finger on you when I'm around. I won't let you out of my sight, not even for a moment."

You nod, curving your cheek and giving him a simple, soft kiss. “Will you wash me afterward?”

“Every time.”

“Will you sleep alongside me?”

“Every night.”

“And day?”

“Every day.”

“You promise?”

Toji didn’t answer, and you didn’t want to push the fantasy any further given your roles.

You’d made up your mind and rested your head back on his shoulder, a smile naturally splaying at your lips. “Don’t hold back, big guy.”

Toji kissed the side of you neck and nudged you forward so you were gripping the tub’s edge once again. His calloused, rough hand ran down your spine and settled on one-half of your ass. “So soft here.” He delivered a forceful slap, firmly grasping the flesh between his nails, stretching your skin taut, then spanking you again and again and again until your pussy was practically salivating for his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so wet already, baby.” He spat on his fingers and slipped through the slit of your soaking pussy, circling your swollen clit in fast motions. “When’s the last time anyone’s fucked this neglected pussy? Made you spread your legs and rubbed your pretty, puffy clit?” You moaned and broke into choppy gasps, pushing your ass closer to his fingers. “Your private tutor didn’t teach you a lesson on patience?”

“Toji, please.”

“Shh. I know, I know.” He mocked your desperation, gathering your hair in his fist. “Let’s see how many fingers my sweet girl can take.” Toji drove in two digits before you could blink, a maniacal chuckle escaping him as he skillfully moved them in and out, savoring the sounds of your pleasure-filled cries. “Yes, baby. Oh, yes. One more, okay?” His ring finger forced itself in, eliciting a groan from both of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He rested his thick fingers inside your warmth for a minute, feeling you clench and suck him in.

“Toji— Too much—”

“Not enough, sweet girl.” He began moving, easily hitting the spot that had your toes curling inwards. “You can take it, baby. I know you can take it.” You proved him by grinding back on his palm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Such a good girl.” The squelching sounds crowded the bathroom, your release seeping out of you without you knowing. You cried out as he relentlessly thrusted his digits, gathering your sticky mess on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. “Taste how sweet you are.”

Your mouth covered his slick, white-coated fingers, tongue wrapping around them and suckling them deep towards the recesses of your throat. The sounds of you gagging made him grunt and sink his fingers ever further before pulling them out abruptly, strings of your saliva and release bridging the space in between.

Toji, with a sly grin, licked his fingers clean, shooting a playful wink at your flushed and flustered demeanor. “Delicious.”

Arm around your waist, Toji easily carried you back and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling his sturdy thighs. A rugged exhale escaped his lips, akin to someone who had endured a grueling day of manual labor. With muscles flexed, he extended his arms on either side, creating a protective barrier around the edge of the tub.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in your figure.

“Thank you.”

“No, baby. You don’t say “thank you” to me if I compliment you. You say “I know,” and move the fuck on.” He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, cupping the side of your waist. You jumped when he flicked at your stone-hard nipple. “You’re sensitive there, huh?”

You mumbled, “Everywhere.”

“Speak up, sweetheart.”

“Everywhere,” you said with a volume that made him tip his head back and study you through the hooded slit of his eyes. “What you did, with your fingers, it felt good. Really good.”

“I know,” he replied, winking. “Want me to make you feel fucking fantastic, sweet girl?”

You nod, anticipating his next—

“Sit on it,” he said languidly.

“What?”

“Sit on my cock, Princess.”

He truly had a way with his words.

And you had grown accustomed to them.

Rising on your knees, you stumbled forward and aligned yourself on his ramrod erection, white beads of pre-cum leaking from the pink tip. He gripped the base of it, allowing you to sink down on his long, girthy length.

“Shit,” he breathed out, head lulling back.

“You’re—You’re too big.” The words strained out of you as you sought a comfortable position to move in. “Oh, God. Toji, I don’t think—”

He swallows your following words with his lips, cradling your flushed face in his hands. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Get yourself comfortable because, in a minute, I’ll make you forget the word ever existed.”

“Oh, God.”

“Toji, baby. The name’s Toji. Fucking say it.”

“T-Toji . . . ”

He lowered his head and grasped your left breast, fondling it like a stress ball as if his stress levels were beyond the roof. You mewled when he pinched your nipple and stretched it out, heating it between his fingers. His lips latched onto your right breast, cheeks concaving as he sucked hard.

You were a lost cause at that point, watching him nibble the swollen bud between his teeth, giving you that devilish smirk. “Fuck, baby. Your nipple tastes so sweet.” His tongue circled around it, pulling it taught in his mouth. “Maybe I should make you a mother just so I get to taste the milk that’ll leak from them.”

“You’re so dirty,” you whispered, ignoring the sudden film reel of you and Toji and your children gathered around a Christmas tree in an apartment smaller than this, in a life quieter and more private than yours. You needed clinical help.

“I know you’re thinking it.” He released your nipple with a pop and kissed your lips. “Soon, sweetheart.”

Soon?

Toji didn’t allow you to overthink anymore before grappling your ass and raising it high off his cock, until only his tip remained in you. “Hold on tight.”

He pounded you down.

You yelped and stabbed your nails into his shoulders, shouting out, “Fucking hell!” which, obviously, made him burst out laughing, all while ramming you down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt.

“Toji—ah!”

Tears streaked down your cheeks, which he quickly wiped away with his tongue, kissing each eye as if it were your mouth. He thrusted up into you in a staccato rhythm, gripping your nape to keep you steady in place. Your high-pitched whines and empty complaints fueled him to push both of your limits.

“Don’t let this get to your head,” Toji gritted out, a layer of cockiness in his voice, “but I’ve never once fucked anyone in this position.”

Well, that made you feel special, you supposed.

Actually, it made you want to try harder to please him. If you did well tonight, you could try every position in his book. So, you pressed your hands against his pecs and swirled your hips in circles, slowing his thrusts so you could take control. He was fascinated by your body, by your sudden superiority, settling his hands on your waist while you rode him insistently.

“Look at you riding my cock, baby,” Toji muses. “Look at you go. Just like that, come on. I know you can move faster.” He admired the movement of your breasts, the sweat-beads that crystallized on your skin, how your drowsy eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt his cock twitch uncontrollably within your hot, sticky walls, felt the thick tip of it penetrate the spot that pushed you to the precise of your orgasm.

But your exhaustion caught up to you faster than your climax, causing your body to grow limp and slump against his chest. Toji embraced you, settling one hand on the back of your head and the other on your ass.

“You did well, baby,” he whispered into your hair.

“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t come.”

“Neither did you.”

You nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck, circling your shaky arm around his strong neck. “I’m close, Toji. I’m almost there. I promise.”

That’s all it took for him to drive back up into you, grunting expletives and praises in your ear—fuck, oh, fuck, ah, fuck, such a good girl, my sweet fucking girl, oh, your pussy is so tight, so pretty, made just for my cock—while holding you flush against his sweaty chest. You kissed his temple and clutched his hair, breathing in the scent of your lavender-honey shampoo and his natural musk. He continuously mumbled, “Come on, baby, come on. Come for me. Come on my cock, sweet girl.”

And you did. With a cry that hitched in your throat, with your nails dragging down his shoulder blades, with his teeth sunk into your neck, with your bodies sweat-struck and panting like wild horses.

Toji drew you back and ran a hand on your cheek, brushing away the damp strands sticking to your cheek. “Good?”

You breathed out through your open mouth, the organ inside your chest hammering to break out. “Fan . . . tastic.”

He smiled warmly, not the arrogant-cocky kind you were used to receiving, and pressed his lips to yours. No tongue, nothing. Just a simple, chaste kiss. “Time to wash up, Princess.”

Switching from the tub to the shower stall, you began to wash Toji’s hair with your lavender-honey shampoo. You anticipated his complaints, but all he did was sit silently on the seat, using a loofa to clean your body. He complimented the curves of your figure, even taking a sneaky nip at your breast, then chuckling at your reaction. Like a gentleman, he dried off your wet body, combed through your wet hair as he blow-dried it, and then it was his turn, but of course, he forced you onto his lap while you did.

“How’d you get this scar?” you asked as you two lay in your bed, naked with your limbs tangled with each other. For the past hour, all you’ve done is trace your finger over his brows, his sharp, pointed nose, and his lips. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“Family. That’s all.”

“Okay,” you whispered, snuggling your face under his jaw and wrapping your arm around his torso as far as you can.

“You’re clingy, aren’t ya’?” he teased, hooking your leg over his hip.

“Was I too out of character for you, Mr. Zenin?”

You felt his smile on your crown accompanied. “You’re not a character, Princess. You’re a real person.” His hug around your sore body tightens as if you’re about to escape any minute. “It’s overwhelming how real you are, Y/N.”

“Did you just call me by name?”

He raised a brow, voice laced with charming sarcasm. “Was I too out of character for you, Y/N?”

Your hand cupped his cheek, stroking the scar by his lip. “You’re perfect, Toji.” You kissed the wound, the middle of his lips, and the tip of his nose for a good measure.

“Stop acting cute and sleep, Princess. You’ve got a tea party in the morning.”

Groaning, you decompress in his hold. “Goodnight, Toji.”

“Night, sweet girl. Dream of me.”

“You, too.”

“Always.”

#jjk x y/n #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk toji x reader #jjk toji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw smut #tw sex mention #fem reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #i didn’t want to write mean toji bc we need more soft toji but i will write mean toji soo #zaraswriting

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

#whump: the musical #whump event #whump challenge #whump #whump community #whump writing #whump prompts #whump ideas #whumpblr #musical theatre #musicals #musical theater #broadway #broadway musicals #hamilton #newsies #les miserables #wicked the musical #falsettos #ride the cyclone #nerdy prudes must die #heathers #be more chill #dear evan hansen #moulin rouge #jesus christ superstar #cats the musical #six the musical #phantom of the opera #the great comet

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Don't give up yet, I'm not letting you | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, D- Don't give up yet, I'm not letting you.

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Back again with another part, I've had a really shitty day if I'm honest and so, umm, writing this now has sort of helped, I guess?

Once again nothing has been proof-read so yeah, it won't make any sense maybe and this ones' a bit longer than the rest but once I get carried away I just can't stop so this is definitely going to have a few more parts to this one. I just don't know how many that will be, so I guess we'll see what happens.

Thank you each and every single one of you for the response to this small fic series so far, I'm so glad that people are liking it so much.

The confession you have made leaves the room feeling a tense atmosphere, the girls will not let you give up so easily so they make a decision on your behalf to help you on the right path to get better.

tw: heavy angst, mentions of SH, MH, suicide and death.

"What... What does that even mean?" Katie furrows her eyebrows as she looks at you for a more logical answer.

"I'm tired, I'm so tired and I can't keep on fighting this battle anymore" You speak quietly, afraid to meet their eyes.

Each one of them really did mean so much to you, they all look heart broken with the what you had confessed.

Steph, the Aussie girl that made you feel so loved

Kim, your captain who always talked sense into you

Jen, the brave Scots' woman who you can rely on

Caitlin, the second Aussie that you love despite how annoying she is

Katie, the Irish girl who acts all tough but is a total softie

Beth, the blonde who gives great advice when you need it

Viv, the dutch who you cheers you up when she sneaks you ice cream

Lia, the swiss girl that gives you the best hugs sometimes

& Leah, the one who stuck around and made you feel at home

Your family, you would really miss them all.

However, you knew it was time.

It was the only way, you couldn't do it any longer.

The battle was too hard, it needed to end.

"Y/N, you're awake!" Vic burst into the room and broke the sudden silence before she spins and looks back towards the door. "Less! Kyra! Lotte! Laura! Y/N/N is awake!" she shouts loud enough to get the attention of the three remaining girls not in the room.

As right on queue, the rest of the girls all run in and smile widely when they see you awake and sat up in the hospital bed.

"Y/N/N, you're awake!" Laura says as she grins at you before she walks over and hugs you.

"Hi Y/N/N!" Alessia smiles brightly, glad to see you're awake.

"Y/N/N!" Kyra shouted aloud, right down the blondes' ear beside her.

"Ow, Kyra. That was right down my ear" Alessia grumbles as she glares at the Aussie girl before she shakes her head and walks over to your beside to exchange a hug with you.

"Glad that you're awake, Y/N. You gave us all a scare" Lotte came over and gave you a gentle hug before she ruffles your hair.

None of them 4 girls had caught the glum expressions on the older girls' faces.

"So how long do you think it'll be before your back on the pitch and we can prank everyone?" Kyra questions taking it upon herself to plop herself down on the end of the bed.

"Hopefully not too long" You take the chance to put a front on in front of the girls in the room. "I'll be back before you know it and thrashing you out there!" you give her a grin to hide the deep pain inside.

"How're you feelin' kid?" Lotte glances at you concerned.

"Oh you know, fabulous. Just had the best 24 hour nap" You can't help but joke with the girls even with them all looking so distraught. "Ah come on girls, cheer up. I'm not dead yet, you know?" You tell them.

"I'm sorry no I can't do this. I can't sit here and pretend that everything is okay and fine, when it's not... It's far from okay" Leah spoke up as she goes to move off the bed from where she sat beside you.

"What's going on?" Vic asks confused, having not been in the room previously.

"Y/N/N is tired of life, she wants to give up on it" Leah tells them as her bottom lip wobbles at she tells the rest of the girls what you had said.

"W... What do you mean?" Laura asks, confused and not understanding what the blonde means.

"Y/N wants to die" Leah drops the bombshell before she presses a kiss that lasts longer than usual and then starts to walk away.

"What?" Alessia gasps as her eyes widen in shock as she looks at you.

"Wait, Le... No!" You shot up as you try and latch onto her arm. "Le, don't leave me... I need you-- Please, come back!" you shout aloud as you thrash your arms around.

"I'll go and find her" Lia is quick to follow her, leaving the rest of the girls all still staring at you.

"Y/N, you need to be careful of your bandages or there'll rip" Steph says gently as she looks concerned about your well-being now while she moves to stand by your beside.

"I don't care, I don't... I don't care! Leah! Don't go, come back!" You continue to put up a fight to get out of the hospital bed. "Please, please, c... come back!" you scream at the top of your voice.

What have you done? You made her so upset.

You've made them all so upset, your a horrible person.

Why did you have to blurt it out like that? Your so stupid.

Stupid, selfish... You're nothing but a huge let down.

The voices inside your head was taunting you, you just needed them to stop.

Watching the one person that's always stuck by your side, walk away, it hurts you more that you realise.

More than any pain you currently feel, why did you go and say that?

"Calm down Y/N/N. You'll make yourself sick if your not careful" Beth tells you as she moves to stand on the other side of the bed as she pulls you into her arms for a hug as you just break down into sobs.

"I... I don't care, I don't... Leah! Come back!" Your now sobbing as you still try and do your best to get out of bed to go after the blonde, although it wasn't any good when you had so many different wires and monitors attached to you. "Le, please... please, don't leave me!"

Why did it hurt so much for her to walk away like that? You really were so selflish.

"Deep breaths, Y/N. Just keep on taking deep breaths" Steph adds in, trying to make it to the point where you didn't get yourself too upset that you were physically hurting yourself again.

"I'll be back" Kim eyes you wearily as she exhales a sigh before she also leaves the room to go and find the two girls.

"Leah?" Lia found Leah sat slouched down against one of the walls outside of your hospital room.

Leah peers up to look at the Swiss women, "I can't be in there right now" she mumbles quietly. " I... I just can't do it, I can't sit there and listen to crack jokes about death and be so optemistic when she... when she said something like that, I just can't" she explains to the older girl.

"I know" Lia replies in agreement and moves sit beside her.

"She said that she wants to die, Wally" Leah states as she stares straight out in front of her.

"I... I know" Lia repeats as she exhales a sigh and wraps her free arm around the blonde.

"She said she wants out of life... I... I-- Why?" Leah asks in disbelief as the tears threaten to spill.

"I don't know, Le" Lia mumbles and bits her bottom slightly.

"S...She said she wants to die, Wally" Leah voice quiviers as she repeats what they heard. "She's a teenage girl, s... she has so much more to achieve, so much more-- H... How can she be so depressed about life that she would rather be dead instead?" she questions distraught.

"She's suffering Le" Lia swallows the lump that forms in her throat as she hugs the blonde in her arms. "She's been suffering for a long time and we just didn't know, but we can help now" she tries to speak positive about it all.

"I... I thought she was doing better, she... she was doing better. I don't get it, what happened that made her do this?" Leah wonders numbly as she roughly wipes the tears away and shakes her head. "We can't let her die, we can't let her give up just so easily. She needs to fight... She has to fight!" she adds in.

"We will help her, we won't let her suffer in silence anymore" Kim speaks up as she joins the two of them as she exhales a shaky breath. "Y/N is one of our own, we'll be there for her and she'll get better" she tells them honestly.

"But how can we do that when she doesn't even want the help?" Leah questions as she shakes her head in disagreement. "You heard her in there, Kim! You heard what she said, she doesn't want to live anymore, she did what she did on purpose. H... How can we help her?" she questions as her voice breaks even more.

"We need to make a plan, we can come up with a way to help her... Even if she doesn't want the help" Kim declares with determination in her voice.

"But how do we do that? We can't keep an eye on her 24/7, when we have training and stuff, can we?" Lia glances at the Scots' woman in confusion.

"We keep her in hospital where she'll be safe" Kim tells the two of them.

"And how do we do that? I imagine as soon as she gets the chance then she'll bolt out of here" Leah scoffs and shakes her head, knowing you all too well and you were stubborn when it come to some things.

"We don't let her have the chance to do that then, still is still a minor remember? Technically that means, that you, Leah, since you're her guardian so too speak, you can make that decision for her and notify the doctors of your concern for her own welfare" Kim explains to the blonde, which was somewhat true now since you had moved in with her.

"Keeping her here against her own will? She'd hate me then for sure" Leah mutters as she rubs her hands down her face, feeling the stress of everything even more when the decision was resting on her shoulders.

"She might do at first, but soon enough she'll realise that you're only doing this to help her because you love her just like we all do" Kim gives the blonde a sympathetic smile.

"Kim is right Leah, this will be the best thing for Y/N" Lia speaks up after she had been quiet for a bit.

Leah glances between the two girls that she is sat with. "Is it, really?" she asks, still unsure about it all.

"You know it is Le" Lia states, knowingly.

Okay, maybe Kim has a point there then.

This would be the best decision to make right now.

"Alright, but how do we get here to stay here?" Leah asks, not knowing how to even go about this.

"First things first, we-- you speak to the doctors, you tell them that she cut herself and has admitted that she intended to do it. That's validation for the doctors to detain her for up to 72 hours at least" Kim explains the logical side of it all.

"That is something that I don't think she will like very much" Lia frowns, shaking her head as she listens to the older women.

Leah frowns and shakes her head. "A psych hold? I don't think she'll like that very much" The Swiss women tells her captain

"No, she won't but she won't have much choice if the doctors believe she's at risk of hurting herself again" Kim confesses to them as she exhales a deep sigh. "The doctors will run further assessment to determine whether they need to keep her in for longer and in the mean time, it gives us chance to talk to Jonas and the medical staff, fill them in what's happened and create a proper plan going forward" she adds in.

"And what if you determine that she needs to stay for longer than 72 hours?" Lia questions the Scots' woman.

"Then we cross that bridge when we come to it" Kim replies to the blonde as she moves to crouch down beside her.

"I know that it'll hurt to walk away and leave her here in the hospital Le, but you know as well that this is the right way, it's the only way for her to get better" Lia says honestly.

"Remember that Y/N is our family and we will always be there for her even if she will be mad at us about this" Kim adds in.

"Oh yeah, she is definitely going to be super mad about this" Leah chuckles in realisation about it.

Sure enough you would probably be mad with her, but Leah wasn't going to let you try and kill yourself again, not on her watch.

You were her family even if you were a complete pain is the ass sometimes, but you were her pain in the ass to deal with.

#arsenal x reader #woso x reader #arsenal women x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson x teen!reader #heavy angst #arsenal x teen!reader #woso one shot #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader

[softlyspector]

Moss & Mushrooms

Written for Haunted Hoedown !

Prompt(s): animal shapeshifter au + "he's a monster" + "he's perfect". With the additional prompts of "I accidentally called you into this world" + gothic au

Summary: You are alone, always. Then, one day, a beast emerges from the forest you've never dared to go into.

Pairing: shapeshifter!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~4.2k

Warnings: toxically co-dependent, unhealthy, literal nightmare relationship, body horror (also shapeshifter transformation type of things), graphic descriptions of violence, lots of blood, smut, marking, pain kink, light choking, intense biting, possessiveness, devotion and loyalty that threaten to go too far, mentions of death, suicidal ideation, intense loneliness, the reader wears a dress, the reader is described with having scars, bruises, only very lightly edited

A/N: I wanna say thank you to @psychedelic-ink and @inklore for hosting the Haunted Hoedown writing challenge because this really got the creative juices flowing and it was also just a lot of fun to write. Anyway! I'm throwing this into the void and running away. Thanks for reading!

Something monstrous looms. 

It has claws and teeth, bristling fur. 

It emerges from the shadows with a growl, from the depths of the ever whispering forest, the ever murmuring leaves. 

Wind whips the trees back as darkness encroaches on the garden. You stand on the edge of the balcony, the widow’s walk, and watch it emerge from the forest, the writhing mass of dark trees, battered by the brewing storm, the thorny, irritated air. 

The wind sears your skin, so cold it burns, so violent it tears. 

The sky churns violet, navy, midnight. White moonlight cuts through the clouds, fingers of forked lightning spear through the roiling mass. 

The creature writhes. 

A wolf the size of a moose, you realize. Larger than any beast should be. 

It’s nails dig into the earth, a howl like a thousand years of pain wrapped in velvet echo across the yard, across the churning ocean that crashes against the seawall on the other side of the house. 

Your belly knots up, a thrill tingles at the base of your spine. You are alone on the coast. Your nearest neighbor is miles away. At least, they used to be, anyway.

 A storm is rolling in, the power flickering already in the ruinous house you call home, gothic and stately and in utter disrepair. 

It’s falling apart. Any moment it may fall to the ground, it may sink into the sea. 

The wolf’s howl breaks off, cracks, snaps. 

What if it prowled closer to the house? What if it came onto the porch below? What if it threw itself against the door, shattered its way inside? What if it attacked you? Consumed you?

All the blood in your face rushes down, gathers hotly in your chest. It thrills you, the thought of being trapped by the beast, the thing crawling closer to the house, lithe body sleek in the moonlight, in the gathering storm. It thrills you to think of it snapping you open, prying you apart, ending your misery.  

You have the urge to go downstairs, open the door and invite it in. It could carve your heart out with its teeth, you could eat it together. Blood dripping from your chin, it’s maw. 

You would no longer be alone on this stretch of coast beneath you, threatening to consume you and leave your bones behind, like all the others that had come before you. You could live inside the wolf. 

The cracking, snapping continues. A howl begins again, then chokes off. The smooth coat of fur jostles. The creature stumbles, falls halfway across the garden. The noise continues, like twigs snapped and rocks thrown. 

You watch the grotesque movement, fascinated, blood pumping, heart racing. The howl transforms into a moan, and then, the cracking, writhing stops. Your eyes are wide open but in the space of a blink the monster is replaced with a man. 

Before you can really consider what you’re doing, you fetch up the lantern by your elbow and fly back through the double doors to the staircase that winds down through the many floors of the ancient house. 

Something laughs, but you don’t pause to find out what. The fluttering wings of cobwebs and dust chase you down, down, down. Moss and mushrooms sprout from the damp of the walls, watching with hungry eyes. 

You know as your bare feet hit the main floor and the white of your dress swirls around your ankles, that even if you had paused to think it over, you’d still be here, pulling open the back door as the electricity flickers out and the rain finally comes crashing down from the sky. 

The lantern falls from your hand and you bolt out into the rain. 

The beast, the man, is beautiful. 

You can tell even through the sleeting, hammering rain blurring your vision. 

The whole world is dark and wet. The whole of the earth is soaked in chilled blood. And you and the creature are the last of the warm bodies to stand atop it. 

You curl one hand under his naked bicep and pull.

The man is nude. He’s hard to make out in the dark and the rain and the howling, snarling wind. 

He follows you though, follows the touch of your hand, the press of your fingertips, like you are a glow of light in a dark tunnel and he the moth.  

The earth squelches beneath your feet, mud squeezes between your toes and tugs at the hem of your dress.

He follows you up the decaying back stairs, straight through the still open doors, gauzy curtains fluttering in the storm winds, ripping at their fastenings. 

As soon as you’re inside, the din of the rain is muted. The air is heavy with salt, like blood is in the air, like a sea of red has spilled across the dilapidated floorboards. 

All you want is to look at him, but violence breaks loose from the monster turned man.

His hands are large, veiny and thick and crushing when he backs you into a wall. 

He is naked in his entirety, and you can’t stop your eyes from spilling down his body. He cages you against the wall, thick forearms and biceps pressing you in tight. His chest is broad, littered with a smattering of wiry, dark hair. Scars criss cross his arms, his shoulders. Broad shoulders lead to a tapered waist and strong thighs. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, half hard and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. He’s big, thick. 

You should not want this monster, this man without a name that has been gifted to you by a storm that seemed to be conjured right out of hell. 

But he has been. He is yours. 

He has been gifted to you. 

Not the storm, you think. The forest. The dark green, solid black interior, has given him to you. 

You can feel him, feel his soul, like fishing line connects you, is tied to the ventricles of your heart and his. If you pull away, it will tear, it will rip. 

Your thighs ache. Tingling wanting sweeps from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. There’s a hollow space inside your belly, growling, hungry. Your pussy clenches and you almost reach for him. 

The force of the wind blows a window open, slams it into a wall where it shatters with the impact. You glance into the stranger’s face, your eyes jerking up to his. He’s dripping with rainwater, hair slicked back from his forehead, black and gray in the moonlight, in the darkness of the storm and the house and your heart. 

He looks, for all the world, like someone you once knew. 

You can’t place who, water dripping into your eyes. 

One hand curls around your throat, and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation. You shudder when your heels leave the floor. He lifts you until you’re left on your tiptoes, gasping. 

You’ve never been lifted before, not in any kind of way, and certainly not like this. He’s strong, much too strong. 

His eyes are dark, swallowed by black pupils. His teeth pull back from his lips in a snarl, white teeth flashing. 

Maybe you don’t recognize him after all.

The darkness in his gaze makes you want to sink into the blank spots flashing in your vision. You force yourself to suck in a breath, force yourself not to get lost like a little lamb. 

“Why did you call me here?” 

His voice is deep and gritty. It’s a voice you would like to plunge your hands into, tweak into a melody, or something far more sinister. 

“I didn’t,” you say. “How could I?”

He has crinkles by his eyes, the tops of his cheeks. His forehead is wrinkled with tension. His beard is mostly gray, his lips pink, like the only spot of color. 

He’s beautiful. 

And you want him so bad, you would let him pluck the veins from your body one by one if it meant he would keep looking at you, if it meant his attention was on you alone. 

His gaze slides from your face to your body. Your dress is plastered to your frame with rainwater, wet and sticking. The white has been made transparent and there’s nothing left to his imagination. You may as well be nude. Goosebumps race across your skin. 

The monster releases your throat and instead leans into you, his body so hot it burns. He inhales against you, his nose just below your ear. All you can do is hang on, dig blunt nails into the flesh of his shoulders. You feel the twist of muscle beneath your fingers, the sinewy pull of tendon along his spine. 

The scent of rain and earth surrounds you, blood and pine. Like the forest just bore him into the world, like he is new.  

Your taut nipples brush against his chest, lightning careening through your body. The ache between your thighs grows steadily, makes you twitch forward into him. 

His stiff cock presses against your center, and you feel him inhale against your throat, bitten off in a growl that rocks the floorboards of the old house. 

The earth shakes, like it’s thinking of cracking open to swallow you both down. 

When he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and throat, you groan. His bites so hard, your vision blurs with the pain. Your pussy clenches hard nothing and your hips rock forward into him, seeking pleasure to go along with the pain. 

“This what you wanted?” He asks when he pulls his mouth away, hips rutting against yours. He licks over the wound, breathes you in again. 

The wet fabric of your dress does little to dull the sensation, does nothing to protect you from the fire that looms inside. 

You had it wrong, you are not a flame to his moth. You are a raindrop against a forest fire. 

“I can fuckin’ smell what you want.” Blood sweeps down your neck in a heady rush, it soaks the front of your dress. His lips are red when he pulls back. 

You tilt your chin back and nod, drunk on him, on the storm lashing at the house. “I missed you,” you say, and somehow it’s true. The twine that connects you to him pulls tighter and harder until you cry out, and you have to wonder if you did call him from some dark otherworld, if you made him from clay and darkness and saltwater and now he’s yours. 

His eyes are familiar, the amber ring so small his eyes seem black. 

Iron hot hands grip your hips, jerk you against him.  

You’re nothing in his hands, incorporeal, like a ghost, like the world ended a long time ago and you’ve just been waiting to be found again. 

Moss blooms on your soul, overtakes your lungs and your heart and your ribs, it consumes you and the house and the whole world. 

There’s a tenderness in the way he lowers you to the floor, rotting planks of wood pressed into your spine. Your dress is rucked up around your waist. 

The bulk of him settles heavily over you, his tongue sweeps against the mark he left on your shoulder. Something agonizingly loud chases the gods across the sky when he growls at the taste. 

“We’re going to drown,” you breathe, air caught up in your chest. You clutch him closer, feel the bare press of his cock against your cunt for the first time, strong hands cradling your thighs, your hips. A shudder rakes up your spine, slices you open at the throat. 

The monster answers, “Missed you, too.” He tugs down your bloodied collar, gaze sinking into your skin, sticking like a knife in your ribs. One huge hand passes over your breasts, pinches your nipples between rough fingertips until you cry out. 

He’s inside you in one thrust. It hurts but that’s okay, because it means you aren’t alone. It means someone is finally at home with you.

He sets a brutal pace, grips you by your hips and then your ribs. Clawed fingers sink into your ribs, carve out pieces of your flesh, until more blood blooms. It's beautiful, like flowers opening in rain.  

He covers your mouth with his when you scream and the whole world breaks apart. 

He doesn’t know your name. He doesn’t want to know it. Doesn’t want to know what to call such a lonely little thing. Doesn’t want to know what to call something so powerfully alone, something so lost in loneliness it called him from one world into the next. 

The rain hasn’t stopped. It pounds against the side of the house, against the weathered, creaking wood. 

You carry a candle, body and hair and clothes dry now. The flame whispers gently, gutters between your fingers. Hot melted wax trails over your knuckles. 

“Is there something I can call you?” You crouch and tilt your head, kneeling next to him where he lies on the floor. 

He thinks he’s on the third floor, the hallway. He doesn’t remember how he got there.  

He’d give you his name if he remembered it.

The side of your neck is bruised with his teeth, the outline of his mouth indented in your flesh. The sight makes his cock jump. 

He feels like he knows you, but maybe you just feel familiar because he’s broken you from the inside out.  

He doesn’t answer and you don’t seem to expect one. Your warm hand touches his shoulder. 

He wants to have you again. He’s hungry for the nectar of your flesh. You taste like the sea, like the gales that blow against the creaking, ancient house. Like salt and rainwater and lightning. He wants to dig his hands into you, into the meat of your lungs so he can feel you breathing, into the chambers of your heart so he can feel which direction your blood flows. 

He wants to be the one to stop your heart mid-beat, so it could always be his. 

Breaking open your ribs, sucking the marrow from the interior, taking a bite from your soul—he thinks you’d thank him for something like that. 

Your scent has mellowed out a little. You smell just like you taste, and now it's undercut with him, with the muskiness of him and the lingering want between your legs. 

Thunder cracks overhead, splits the world in two. You don’t so much as flinch and he covers your warm hand. The storm seems to perpetually hover right above the house. It’s been days, and it’s still there. 

He’s still coated in mud and you, his bones still hurt from the transition from beast to beast. 

You’re tempting, lit in lamplight and the reflected glow of the moon. 

He wonders if the sun ever rises here. 

“You can stay,” you say. “I don’t know how you’ll get home.” 

You voice is like a song that reminds him—

Joel. The name comes to him with a flash of lightning. 

“Joel,” he tells you. He wants you to know.  

“Joel,” you repeat. 

His name sets off something dangerous in his mind, kicks something possessive and protective alive. 

His. 

His, his, his. 

You belong to him. 

He twists, and pushes you back. The candle in your hand tumbles to the floor and goes out. “Joel,” you coo again. “Joel.” 

He pushes your skirt up, sees the shine of want on your pussy, your pretty cunt, still puffy from the last time he fucked you. Your thighs are rubbed raw from his beard. 

He licks you there, sucks your clit between his lips. You moan, your hips buck, and he doesn’t stop. He wants all of it, that musky taste of you in his mouth forever.  

You taste like crystal seas, like blackened skies and fire and darkness. 

“Joel,” you say his name, you pant his name. Fingers tangle in his hair, yank so hard he snarls against you. “I want it to hurt.” 

So, he makes it hurt. 

The water in the bathtub is warm. He can see the steam rising around you in drafts. 

He likes looking at you, softly bruised on your thighs and hips, perpetual bite mark on your shoulder.

Joel likes watching the way you move. He likes the soft curves of your body, the peaks of your tight nipples, the elegant curve of your waist and neck. Your body is like a music note, or a question mark. 

The house feels swollen, waterlogged and dense. Laughter and voices twist behind doors that lead to nothing and nowhere. Fungi and moss and creeping vines claw at the walls of the house, rotting wood threatening to give out with agonized moans. There are moldering photos and paintings in the halls and bedrooms that he can’t quite look at. Rainwater seeps through the cracks in the ceiling. 

“It used to be beautiful,” you say to him about the house, running a pristinely white washcloth reverently over the bite on your shoulder, then the scratches over your ribs. His scratches, his marks. “The sky was always blue. Everything inside was clean and light and everything outside was green and fresh.” You look at him, sitting in the dark beside the bathtub. “But that’s all over, now.”

The thread coiled around his head gives a twinge. “You were married,” he says. He knows things about you that he shouldn’t and he wonders if he really came from otherworld, or if you created him with grief and love and loneliness.  

“He died,” you confirm. “The world ended. And then the rot crept in.” 

Joel stands and your chest hitches as you stare up at him. He pushes down the trousers you gave him, that fit him just right, and climbs into the water with you. 

You gasp and then tears are sliding down your cheeks. You must be wondering the same thing—if you called him here or created him.

It doesn’t matter. 

What matters is that you open your legs and let him fuck you again, water spilling over the side of the bathtub, soaking the floor. 

What matters is that you are his and he yours. 

Your eyes flutter closed, your lips part, when his hand closes around your throat. 

The house is like a prison, but you make it into something livable.

The moon and sun do rise, here in this foreign, familiar place. Candles weigh down every surface, and the lights stay off. Neither of you seem to want them on.

The sea crashes violently against the seawall, the sharp teeth of jagged rocks jut up from the bottom, like the mouth of Charybdis. You loom in the window some days, watching the swirling water with lust in your eyes, like you’d like to dive into it. 

He can’t help but notice the widow’s walk is on the wrong side of the house. It faces the forest, not the sea, like the house has turned its back on the world, too. The forest whispers, trembles. 

He always pulls you back from the edge, fucks you until you can’t take him anymore, until you’re crying and limp and the wire tied up inside him goes loose.  

You ask him to leave once. You tell him he could figure it out, how to go home, but his devotion to you is total now, his loyalty is to you alone. Home is here, in the house swelling with moisture, with you picking herbs and sliding your fingers along the crowns of fungi like they’re beloved pets. 

You are his altar, his god; the vision, the future. 

Even thinking about leaving causes something in his chest to pang so hard he doubles over, that thing tied to you.  

“Are you still lonely?” he asks, when his cock is inside you and his mouth leaves a new bite on your bicep. “I enough for you?” 

“You’re everything,” your eyes roll back, slip closed. He cups your breast in his hand, sucks your nipple into his mouth and thinks of the straits of his heart. Your chest heaves against his lips. He still wants to break you, to tear open your chest, just to live inside it. 

Devoted.

It’s a good word. He’d keep you safe, even from himself. 

Your pussy twitches around him, clenching weakly. “Am I enough for you?” You make him lift his head, hands cupped under his chin. “Could I ever be?” 

You don’t know. You don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know. 

You don’t know how devoted he is. That he would kill for you, die, that he wants to live amongst your bones now. 

The ancient house gives a groan, the rain comes down harder. He thrusts into you and you whine. “Will you leave?” Your voice is pathetically small. 

The house trembles, like it’s afraid too and is threatening to crumble into the sea with both of you inside. 

“Never.”

One day, the rain goes light and foamy, the sky turns slate gray. It's almost a sunny day.  

Someone else emerges from the woods. 

Joel turns to you. You’re still on the bed, snaked through with vines and green, naked, covered in him. His spend shimmers between your thighs, on your cunt. Sweat shines between your breasts and at the base of your throat and he wants you again. 

“What did you do?” He snarls. 

“Nothing.” 

He watches the man, not beast, stumble closer. 

Jealous heat rises in his chest. You’ve called forth another man. Consciously or unconsciously, he’s there. 

“What d’ya want me to do?” Joel sounds desperate and he doesn’t care. 

You don’t answer, you rise from the clean white of the sheets and go down the steps in all your naked glory. He follows, watches the jiggle of your ass, the movement of your back and waist, the weight of your breasts. The scars his nails left on your ribs reassure him. 

You belong to him, he is yours. He would kill you both, to keep you safe from others. 

No stranger would change that. Whatever your heart needed, that had conjured something else, another man, from the deep of the shimmering, knowing, rustling woods, he would become it, give it to you. 

The man is kind and soft. 

He needs help.

You talk to him, and Joel watches him lean in, eyes never straying from yours even though you are bare to the cold wind. “Is he hurting you?” The newcomer asks. 

Joel doesn’t hear your answer. He feels the wire around his heart tug, the sharp echoing sting makes you gasp and clutch at the railing. The new man has no reaction and all the jealous possessive feelings immediately settle. If his heart wasn’t tied to yours, he wasn’t meant to stay. 

He was a lesson for Joel. 

The man’s eyes go to Joel then to you. “He’s a monster, miss.” 

You shake your head. “He’s perfect.” 

You turn and walk back to him. You touch Joel’s shoulder, curl your fist into his t-shirt. “Joel,” you say softly. You touch his cheek. “I know why he came.” 

“I do too.” He stands there a moment longer, kisses your fingers when you press them against his mouth. “What d’ya want me to do?” He asks again. 

You glance over your shoulder, then back into his eyes. “I want you to kill him, Joel.” 

You watch the beast kill the man. 

Then, you watch the beast break its bones, reform its skin, to come back to you. 

And when he does, he tells you that was his lesson. 

His hands are stained red, blood seeps into your skin. Joel pushes into you, soft and slow. He doesn’t hurt you, even when you tell him to. “You need a kind hand, girl,” he tells you. “You’ve lived by the sea for too long.”

Tears come first, pleasure without pain for the first time in years comes second. 

He touches you with red printed fingers. The sheets are covered in the blood of a stranger that taught you a lesson. “Are you hurt?” You ask. 

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

He looks at you with those eyes, dark and knowing and loyal. He would never admit to that. Instead, he says, “I would do it a thousand times.” 

You stroke his cheek. “Do you think it was real? Do you think he was real?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Because I’m real, too.” 

The forest gave him to you, to each other, so it must be real. 

Joel must be real. You settle against him, and decide that’s true. 

But don’t you ever wonder, you want to ask as you kiss his bare chest, what is in the forest? What is in the sea? 

Don’t you wonder, you want to ask him, why you look so much like my husband? 

💕 Thank you for reading! Comments, replies, and reblogs are so appreciated. 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #haunted hoedown

[novasdarling]

I feel like this is an unhinged idea but Mahito with a breeding kink + actually getting reader pregnant with some monster baby

Hahahaha I like your thinking my dear.

Give Me

TW: Suicide Mention, Noncon, Forced Relationship, Baby trapping, Abortion mention, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy, Female Reader.

The sun was setting. Watching as the sky became darker and darker, as the night rolled in, and the day left. Watching as your safety was being ripped from you for another time. It wouldn't be long till he came. It never was. After all, he came every night like clocked work. Once the moon was bright and visible. He was there, Mahito. Ready to indulge in whatever sick fantasy or curiosity he had that night. Whatever his dead, twisted heart wanted at that moment, he got.

Mahito took pleasure in playing with you. Contorting you any way he wanted, making you do things you had never imagined were possible. Then in the morning when he left, he would leave you in your room begging for death. Pleading with whatever god there was to have mercy on you and end it all, but death would be a mercy from a monster like Mahito and no god seemed like it wanted to get in his way. At one point you had toyed with the idea of giving yourself the so-called mercy you prayed for. Pausing every time you held a knife. Imagining if you were brave enough to plunge it into your chest. To rid yourself of his grip by any means. Yet, you knew death wouldn't stop Mahito from having his fun with you. He made that clear. All it would do would make it challenging for him, but he would still continue.

There was no escape from this hell, neither in life nor death and as you heard the floorboards creak behind you. You recognised all that was granted to you was a monetary relief during the day. A few hours to recuperate and heal your wounds the best you could before it was stripped of you once again. A moment of relief that was now over as the daylight disappeared.

All there could be done now was to wait. Wait for him to come again. There was no see in running. He'd always find you, that much he had proved, but the wait wouldn't be long. The air was getting colder, dropping rapidly. A sign he was near. It was moving around you, engulfing your body as you sat looking out the window. The cold was creeping along your skin. Clawing its way up slowly. Taking its time to leave a trail of goosebumps along your arms until it reached your shoulders. The cold changed to pressure. Laying its weight wherever it had touched you. Sinking you into your seat. Forcing you lower, to fight back against it. The weight was taking a shape, and second by second, it was becoming easier to tell it was him. His hands and body were on you.

"My favourite part of the day."

It was no more than a whisper. Right by in your ear, you could feel his breath. Yet, somehow his voice sounded so distant. He wasn't fully there yet. He was still lingering in the air. Making his way to you slowly. Playing with you. Scaring you before he even got there. You were his favourite. One he would take care of so he could resume having his fun with as long as your feeble mortal body could hold on. After all, all humans died eventually. Mahito just hoped it would not be from the enjoyment you two had.

"The bed."

Abruptly the weight was gone, and the chill had left as well. Mahito wasn't with you now. Which meant he was waiting for you elsewhere. Waiting for you to follow his order and pursue him like a puppy. Like a good toy, he had called you that many times. A good toy follows orders and then gets rewarded.

There was still a part of you that said no, wanting to resist and stay seated or run, but the part that odd part that knew his anger knew no bounds would always follow his orders. Even if you wanted to die, there was still a strong part that wanted to self-preserve.

The bed he had said. The bedroom. He wanted you there. You knew what he wanted. Knew what the bedroom meant. Mahito had figured out sex a few months ago. Figured out what it was and why it occurred. Stating he was curious about it. Wanted to learn. Forced you to show him, and who were you to refuse the curse? To say no to him when he could so easily kill you and everyone you ever cared about, no wasn't an option.

Night after night he would come. Sex was still on his mind, even weeks later. Trying new positions, new technics. Him telling you where he heard it from, where he had seen it. One time he had claimed he learned this position from a couple he had watched before he killed them. Things got worse when he discovered porn. He learned even more. Forcing you to try everything with him. Every position. Trying to make you sound the same as the pornstars. It got even worse when he learned what a female orgasm was. Deciding to abuse it. Making you overstimulated every time. He was having fun while you were in tears. Mahito tended to share with you what his new desire was. being upfront and having no shame, forcing you into any role he saw fit, but this time was different. He was quiet about his true intentions. Not letting you know the truth. He kept silent about his new interest, instead playing it out without your knowledge. You always assumed since he was a curse, something not living, he couldn't force a child on you. That he was shooting blanks. So it didn't matter he was fucking you raw. That a child from a curse was impossible. After all, curses are made not born. That he was just having fun fucking you and filling you with his useless cum.

Making your way to him, your mind still toyed with the question of why had sex stuck. Though all you could really do was endure what he wanted to try this time and hope this fascination drifted away sooner rather than later.

You could hope, after all. That was all you had, hope when it came to Mahito. He always got his way, so who were you to make it harder? If you followed along with his wishes, it would be better. He would sometimes even reward your good behaviour by holding off on a visit or two.

Even as you dragged your feet, you were still were met by him eventually. Seeing his full form sitting on your bed. You knew what to do, following the same routine as the last couple of months. For you to strip and meet him is what he was waiting for. If he had his fun, perhaps it would be an early night. They were rare, but they were given. Though as you stripped, your might was racing. This little interest of his, sex, hadn't disappeared as soon as the others.

Your sweater came off.

Why was it still lingering? It had been months?

Your shirt followed.

Why was he so interested in having sex.? In fucking you every night until the morning light came up?

Then your braw followed.

The worst part was that he insisted on fucking you raw. At least he wasn't living. His cum was all for show, right?

Your pyjama pants came off.

His interest in seeing if he could turn you into something and bring you back had only lasted a few weeks, a month tops.

Then your underwear.

You were now bare in front of him. Standing there as your mind kept asking questions, unable to find answers.

"Come here."

Following his order, your mind still raced with questions, with distractions. As he caressed your body. Stroking and squeezing you. Especially relishing in squeezing your ass, chest and thighs. Laughing when you winced as he got too aggressive. Pain was funny to him. He laughed when you cried that he was being mean. Smiled when you told him the bruises that littered your body was from him. Got excited when you begged him to fuck you softer cause your body just couldn't take it. Human pain was funny.

It wasn't long until you were laying under him, you tried to black out his image. His face, the way the lines ran all along it and his body. The way he grinned at you when he knew you were scared. The worse part was his voice. Talking, commanding. Telling you how much he wanted you today while you were busy. He would describe your day, letting you know he had been watching from the shadows. That he was always there with you. You needed to block him out and shutting your eyes would allow you to get rid of one of your senses that were filled by him.

"Tsk tsk tsk." He had stopped fucking you. "Look at me."

Mahito wanted you to watch. To see his face as he fucked you. As he used your body any way he wanted. Look into his eyes as he filled you over and over. He wanted his toy to be present, to not ignore him or his actions. Looking into his eyes as he had his way with you. Fucked you until daybreak, until you were dripping with his cum. Unable to hold anymore.

This night was like the others, except he had a new position. The mating press. You were shocked he hadn't learned of this one sooner, yet, thankful at the same time. Mahito had you pressed in that position most of the night. Whining every time he finished. Only to continue again and again. His word began to slur as the hours drifted on. Not making as much sense as earlier. However, you could still catch a few orders and words here and there. Some of his words haunted you though.

"I'm going to breed you."

It stuck with you, simply because it made you think. At first, you assumed it was just him repeating words from porn like the others, but then you realized. When was the last time you had your period? Did you have one this month? You couldn't remember. Your body went stiff, realizing what was transpiring. You were late, who knows how long. You had spent so much time simply trying to survive Mahito, you never stopped to realize why you hadn't bled yet. All you could do now was lay there, lay there in fear and continue to let all those questions from before. Find their answers.

As the night turned to day and Mahito disappeared. You ran to your calendar, you had tracked your cycle. Searching through the months, looking for the last of the red boxes. Not this month, not last, no they only appeared three months ago. Three months you had missed your period. Three fucking months.

You raced to the store, hoping that if you were a regular pregnancy test would answer your question. Would this cursed creature even make a pregnancy test be positive? Would any test be able to read if you were or not? Once you got home you found the answer. It was yes, the test could pick up on the creature growing inside of you. It was positive. Mahito had done the impossible.

All you had were questions when it came to Mahito, this only added to them. He never made sense, never explaining his actions fully, but at least before you knew what was happening. This was unexpected. Could you get rid of it? Would an abortion work on this?

Looking at yourself in the mirror. Staring at yourself, analyzing your body. It was mad, but you still lifted your shirt. Gazing at your stomach. Running your hands along it. You couldn't be, this had to be a bad dream. No god, if there were any, could hate you so much.

"Fascinating."

Mahito has sprung into view in the mirror. Standing behind you, in the door frame. He was gazing at your stomach. Looking over it again and again as he stood there.

"What the hell did you do?"

You were scared now, fearing the worse. The way he looked at you was terrifying. As if you were a wonder of the world. Just something to be analyzed and examined. A look he had never given you before.

"I wanted to know if it was true."

You were just his little science experiment. His school project to be tested on. You weren't a person to him, just something for him to use. If that hadn't set in before. It had now. You wanted to scream at him, cuss at him, hit him. Anything to get your anger out, but what use would that be? He had gotten you this time and there was no way out from him. Not that he now knew.

Mahito made his way to you. That same smile never left his face, instead only getting wider. He was behind you know, holding your form against him. Resting his hands on your stomach.

"It's finally taken."

"Mahito...Please tell me-tell me i-it isn't-"

"Oh, sweetie, it is. You're carrying my seed." He was nuzzling his head into your shoulder as he whispered. Kissing in between words. As if you two were a happy couple with thrilling news.

Mahito had gotten you pregnant. He had fucked some fucked up thing into you. He was going to force you to carry this thing to term, to birth it. Would it even be human? Or even resemble anything like you?

"W-what is i-it?" You were holding back tears.

"Hmm... I'm not sure, but I'm looking forward to seeing it." He saw the fear in your eyes. "It's okay if this one isn't to your liking. We now know we can always make more."

He was planning more. Planning to fuck more fucked up creatures into you. Make you something to bread him as many monsters as he pleases.

"I don't want this."

It was a whisper, but you knew he heard. Refusing to look at him in the mirror. Instead staring at his hands on your belly.

"Hmmm, that's sad because I do. I want to see you grow big. Like those women I see. Barley able to walk properly. Not fitting into anything anymore. Yeah, I want to see you like that." His hands began to rub your stomach as he held onto you. "I want you as mine like any other man could have you and if that means fucking you until you give me a whole army of monsters." Mahito leant in more, kissing your cheek before continuing. "Then I happily will."

#yandere #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #mahito #jjk #yandere mahito x reader #yandere x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #yandere jjk x reader #mahito x reader #yandere anime #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere smut #jujutsu kaisen #nova writes

[justcallmesakira]

BESTIE IF U DONT DO THIS REQ N I WILL FACKING EAT UR MUTUALS

DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER!!

she has black cat energy and err makes suicidal jokes here and then but never does t and chuuyas always the one who pulls her away from dazais tendencies because he DOES NOT want reader to follow dazais steps and err dazai and reader have a 2 year gap and err basically dazai took her away with him when he left and thats were she sort of stopped talking BECAUSE BOOM CHIKA BOOM ODAS DEATH LEFT HER MORE TRAUAMATIZED THAN THE KIDS ASAGIRI BLEW UP!!! so errr crack and chuuya and reader is ummmm AHEM AHEM AHEM (cough coug)

AND BASICALLY MORI HAS THIS like obsession of bringing reader back to the mafia like he constantly says stuff like "Dazai, my offer still stands but please remember that i would really really love to see your dear sister back first" LIKE YKNOW WHAT I AM SAYING???????????

DAZAI AND HIS YOUNGER SISTER!

Sypnosis: you are the younger sister of Da-dazai! Is he a great brother or not? UPPP TO YOU! >< oh and maybe hide your secret vists with chuuya please!!

Genre: crack and heavy angst! (dont question it)

Warnings: suicidal themes! cans of gasoline, glitter bombs, reader is very quiet type, manipulation (for good use!)

A/N: yummy yummy

uh oh! this is gonna be so damn messy

so um first of all! i really think reader would be very intelligent like dazai like oh fuck! i just got under a whole rubble of rocks by some guy who btw is the enemy of my brother quick! think of something

and then theres this bsd aesthetic plan you make and just survive! to the shock of your horror... :D

okay but in all seriousness! he defiently jokingly gave you his suicide guide to if u ever felt inspired by him

VERY VERY NORMAL BROTHER ACTIVITY!!1

dazai stop influencing people around you to plug off them self challenge impossible: GO!!

if you do however join his meticulous activites kunikidas actually going to blow up

😇

but imagine how cute it would be a black cat energy young sis and a golden retriver brother like bish forget romantic relationships like dazai who sometimes forget he left his sister at work!

but ynkow mf dazai always wants to keep close to you because he was never really there (like my fake as friends🙄) back in the mafia! woohoo

so now you can asks him for whatever you want but now he actually feels guilty because you have now become the silent type and dont really talk that much

Great job dazai! best brother everr!❤️

Imagine running away from the mafia with ur lil sister then realising she doesnt even want to talk anymore and that you might actually failed as a big brother even after buying her a whole lotta stuff

COULDNT BE OSAMU DAZAI GUYS!!!

tell him to take you to an amusement park and he will! but dont be surprised if you see him trying to run to jump off a bridge because he does not have for the sake of god any money!

AYY dazai cosplaying toji to get milk? real or fake??? find out here!

dont click on the link :3

ANYWAYS he definetly tries his best to get you back to talking sure the only thing he could do is talk to himself with you beside him doodling some stuff but yknow...it genuinely makes him form a sad smile when he gets reminded that maybe if he were a better brother and actually comforted you it would have ended better

"I saw a cat today yknow! it had a black eye and orange patterns. Somehow it looked wise" dazai said relazing on the chair, his hands behind his head, the whole night of yokohama was quiet only the flicker of the dim light placed underneath the balcony ceiling could be heard.

The night was calm too, it had a soft storm-like feel to it. Dazai knew you were listening thats probably why he would talk to you all these months, no one else was there for him anyway. So its better than nothing.

All of a sudden amdist the silence several pokes tapped on his shoulder which made his eyes widen slightly. You held up your sktechbook infront of his face, a bunch of doodles of him and a full sketch of his side profile

"(Name)... This is amazing! Wow you could be a talented artist yknow!!" he said you didnt know whether he was just flattering you or not because of the emptiness in his eyes. Depression changes a person. But the slight flicker of light in his made it visible to your loud mind. Dazai was glad you made some progress.

Okay now hb your interactions with da agency??

I am pretty sure both you and him joined da agency together (gotta make sure his sister ACTUALLY doesn`t follow his steps!😋😋😋😋)

kunikida may act all cold around you and view u as some kid especially when you randomly make the most random ass suicidal jokes in the middle of a meeting but...

Lets say he sort of checks up on both of you every morning! cant let the dogs out now kunikida! you never know what they do....

iykwimyk

now yosano girlypop is the only person who shows genuine concern for you when you get hurt why? because she was bamboozled when she found out you are dazais sibling like

"huh- are you actually capable of being a brother? more so having family"

dazai be at the corner weeping because of the amount of slander

DESERVEDDDD😍😍😍

I can totally see fukuzawa patting both of you and dazais head after you two collaborated on a mission

IDWGDHYWDFYUDFILOVEFATHERRELATIONSHIPS

he prob randomly call you for tea i mean not too randomly but he likes your black cat energy

speaking of which ranpo and you bully da heck out of criminals before they ultimately mistake you for some god!! /nj

kenji and kyouka just chills around you and tries debating what you and dazai have in common.

belonging in the mental asylum. thats whats common between you two/nj again😁😁

With chuuya

NAWWWWH BRO NAWW☠️

Chuuyas gonna end upl like this emoji☠️☠️☠️

Okay maybe i am over exaggerating this but yknow dazai is like really smart

UNFORTUNATELY!!!

So he will definitely know when ever you two act a little🤭😝😘🤗😍🥰👍

Hes going to get tjat expression from chapter 114 and chew chuuyas expensive tuxedo!!

I bet after he finds out hes straight up going to give chuuya a flashback of stormbringer era!! 😍😁

#verynormalbrother

"W-w-w-what da SKIBIDI [name]??? YOU WILL NOT AND NEVER MEET CHUUYA AGAIN" "wow... and i thought you were trying to become a better brother :(" "YOUNG LA- i-" ":("

He was about to say lad

like manipulative ass brother like sister ig! :33333333

He prob had suspicions back in the mafia especially because of how you mostly stuck around chuuya when he wasnt there

YOUR FAULT BRO!!!

And then u rizzed chuuya up with double black eyes (get it?)

"You know [name] it still hurt me, though i promised i would never say it infront of your face but.." Chuuya said seriousness in his tone looking at you eyes "But please stop looking at me with those cat like eyes they deeply remind of someone and I DO NOT like it"

He ended this funny note with a genuine fear and irritation in his eyes. you only nodded and continued to stare at him, your eyes rivaling a black hole not that hole by the way.

A tingling feeling gathered in himself as chuuya looks at your blank stare "Dont look at me like that!" he raised his flustered voice, a small hue of pink appearing on his cheek which only grew as you held on to his sleeve, snuggling against it like a cat.

But before he could be more flushed a really dark aura crept up behind you and then, right then you knew you fucked up bad.

"i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-cant believe this!" your brothers voice perked up behind you genuine horror on his face as if he just saw his bestfriend die infront of him twice.

"Oh my fucki-" chuuya sighed, both of you are caught. "[name] ICANTBELIEVETHISOMGIAMGOINGTOENDMYSELFLIKEMYOTHERVERSIONFROMANOTHERUNIVERSEWHOLOWEREDYOURSTANDERDSICANTBELIEVETHISHIT" dazai rapped at super speed, an anger and shock unwordable enough for you to be confused at whatever hes yapping about. "DAZAI what the fuck??" now chuuya was confused too.

"ANDYOU, HERMANADAPUTA (sisterfucker in english) YOUUGLYSHORTMFWITHNOFLAGSNONOTHING,YOUTRUSTISSUED?IWILLGIVEYOUPRISONFORLIFEISSUES" "WHAT IS YOU BROTHER YAPPING ABOUT?"

And all you could do was watch in horror as the scene unfolds infront of you. But safe to say you got in big trouble when you went back home!

anyways dazais going to go full on 8 cans of gasoline on the portmafia if more is obsessed with you like him

and then you realised..

"fOr tHe fIrSt TiMe iN fOrEVer" he actually did/nj

Okay okay but in all seriousness (litearlly @justcallmesakira catchphrase guys!!) Dazai would genuinely become more protective of you if mori was targeting towards you.

i would run away to antarctica too if mori even tried interacting with me

SHES A RUNNER SHES A TRACKSTAR!!!!!🏃💨

But if you are intelligent then i guess you met fyodor too? And maybe some sort of rivalry goes on between you two like "oh its my brothers enemy, gotta help my bro blow him up!"

I have nothing much to say because dazai would make secret plans (which you alrdy know) to make sure mori doesnt get too close with you

Like oh he was planning to approach you that day? BOOM dazai is already there. Yeah like that

If mori says that however... Dazai will reply with a dark eyed gloom,tilting his head back creepily "You will have to need more then the whole of port mafia to interact with my sister"

Dazai hates mori alot and though he knows that you are old enough to handle situations that doesnt mean he wont care for his only sister. You are the only thing left that he can protect without feeling inhumanity or faraway.

A/N: HATE THISSSS NOOOUUU

Tags: @inojuuy @biscuits-spooky-corner @terururuko @little-miss-chaoss @saelique @silverbladexyz @typcallysid14 @nezuko-kamado-cute-demon

#sakira! #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou gay dogs #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya bsd #dazai with a sister #bsd siblings #siblings #dazai x reader #dazai x reader platonic #platonic love #family #bsd fic #bsd hcs #crack #bsd crack #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fanart #tw: mori #mori ougai #sakiras writing notebook!!!

[written-in-flowers]

Appreciated: Wooyoung x Fem!reader

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny bit of angst, romance

Word Count: 9k

Summary: After helping a friend out of her toxic relationship, her situation makes you appreciate your boyfriends even more than before. When Wooyoung makes a specific request, you indulge him.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of ATEEZ in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Tags: established relationship, polyamory, poly relationship, free-use fantasy, free-use kink, oral sex (f. receiving), breast play, nipple play, pet names, multiple positions, mentions of toxic relationships/toxic partners, sad but with a happy ending, talks of suicide but super brief and nothing happens, members being absolute angels and simps

Previously on Idol Companion

***

You didn't feel like going out tonight. After having dates with San, Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong, your energy bar ran low. You know this is one of the downsides to your job, and you should suck it up and get dressed. Wooyoung deserves as much attention as the rest of the group; you didn’t want him to think you didn’t like being with him. Most clients would pout or make a remark about you not being worth the time anyways. Then again, your boyfriends aren't like any clients you've had before. Sitting up from Wooyoung’s bed, all the tiredness you’d gotten from the day washed back over you. Your morning consisted of gym time with Yunho and Mingi, a few dance classes with your toddler group, running last minute errands and then lunch with friends. You’d come to Wooyoung’s apartment and crash onto his bed before he even came home. 

You knew Wooyoung won’t be bothered, but you couldn’t help feeling the anxiousness. You hated being the person who brought down their smiles or disappointed them. Leaving his bedroom, you found Wooyoung already standing in the kitchen with a can of soda in his hand. Long black strands pulled back from his face, Wooyoung wore a black shirt with matching shorts. Personally, you loved your boyfriends barefaced and casual. Something about their natural beauty attracted you, and you couldn’t help looking him up and down when you saw them. He lifted his eyebrows in acknowledgement and took a sip from his drink.

"I wanted to ask you something," you said, getting your own drink from the fridge. 

You noticed he’d paused, studying your expression before saying. "I do too, but I think we're thinking the same thing so you go first."

"Staying in for tonight?"

"Yes, please," he slumped against the counter, "I'm glad you asked. I really didn't feel like putting myself together and going out."

"Me neither," you leaned on the counter beside him. You popped open your drink, then took a few gulps of it before continuing, "I went to the movies with Yeosang last night. I went to the festival with Hongjoong the night before. I went to a concert with Mingi and San the night before that. I went to the gym, had some toddler dance classes, and then ran errands. I'm just…wiped out," you sighed deeply. "I'm sorry."

He smiled, "Don't be. Our schedule has been super crazy and dance practice ran longer today so I'm all bleh." He wrapped you in his arms, "Take out and a movie?”

“I’m tired of eating out,” you said, “I’ll cook something and we can pick a drama to watch or whatever.”

“You sure?” you felt his hand rub the small of your back, “I know how tired you are.”

“I can make something simple and quick.”

“Then, I’ll help,” he concluded. “I think there’s some meat leftovers we can finish, and we’ll cut up some veggies and rice? Simple and easy?”

“Alright.”

Wooyoung went looking for meat and vegetables in the fridge, while you poured a few cups of rice from a holder. You smiled softly to yourself at the relief of a night inside. Having eight boyfriends can be challenging at times. You realized early on that you’d bitten off more than you could chew with Ateez. You found yourself stretched thin from all the tour traveling, kpop conventions, fan sign events, dance practices, recording sessions, and group and solo dates. You lived with only Yunho and Yeosang, but you regularly drifted between the three apartments to be with all of them. It became a lot sometimes, but thankfully, they understood and helped lighten the load for you. Dumping the cups into the rice cooker’s pot, you began washing the rice out when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Busy cooking, you didn’t answer immediately. 

“Any show in particular you want to watch?” Wooyoung asked as he brought a package of meat to the island counter. You always let him cut and cook meat since he was better at it. Rice and vegetables are your expertise. “I saw this new zombie drama on Netflix. We could give that a try if you want.” 

“I don’t know about a zombie one,” you said, finishing with the rice and putting it to cook. “Everything is about freaking zombies nowadays. I want something different.” Putting the rice on, you grabbed the various vegetables Wooyoung brought to start washing them thoroughly. “There’s a drama about a woman who’s like a double agent for a mafia guy and the police. Mihee told me about it and she said it was good. If we hate it, we can just watch another one.”

Wooyoung stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “Nah. Sounds like something I need to pay attention to, and my brain is mush right now.” 

“Then maybe I should cut the meat,” you joked, bringing your vegetables and cutting board over to the island counter. “Your mushy brain might slip up.”

“And have you cut your finger again? I’m good,” he laughed. “I like my food to not have human blood in it.” 

He cut the meat into thin slices, while you carefully chopped the onions, carrots and celery. “We can try this boxer drama I saw,” he said, side eyeing you with a smirk, “As long as you don’t drool over the leads.”

You rolled your eyes, “I do not drool over the leads.”

“Yes, you do,” he laughed, starting to season the meat on the cutting board. “I remember how obsessed you became with Lee Dohyun when we watched Sweet Home together. Then you did it again with Wi Jahoon after Squid Games. You watched everything you could find and got all excited when your friend told you she went on a date with Dohyun.” 

“I couldn’t believe it!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t see him as being the type for that kind of service. She was so lucky.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung said, offended. He took the meat from the counter to the stove, putting oil into a pan. “I’m right here, you know.”

You giggled when he poked your side, and then you gave an apology peck. “Oh, you know I’m all yours.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket a second time, and you wiped your hands to at least see who called. Expecting your mother’s number, a pit of worry settled in your stomach when you saw the actual name. ‘Mihee’. Wooyoung focused on cooking the meat, so you answered her call. 

“Mihee-ah, what’s up?” you asked, making sure not to sound worried right off the bat. 

“YN-unnie,” you heard her soft-spoken voice squeak your name, and you frowned, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What happened now, honey?” you kept your concern in your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t handle this anymore. It’s too much,” she sobbed. “They’re so…I can’t be here anymore.”

“What did they do?” 

Lee Mihee, a short woman with bright eyes and a friendly smile, came up in the Companion industry beside you. Always bubbly and full of life, clients often noted her way of brightening up their day. She’d gotten into dating groups like you did, and did very well since she could mold herself to fit any personality. However, while you had ATEEZ, who were angels, she’d gotten with Galax1. You’d met them a handful of times at music bank shows and conventions and their vibe immediately threw you off. They’d been kind enough at first, since they doted and praised Mihee often, but from what she’s told you things changed over time. 

“Today was Chulsoon’s birthday,” she began, taking deep breaths to keep her voice steady, “And we all were going to go out for dinner.”

The name alone made you clench your jaw. Chulsoon was Galax1’s visual and main vocalist. A soft, fair-skinny boy with wide eyes and an angelic voice, he is the Yeosang equivalent. Except Yeosang is a real fairy prince, whereas Chulsoon is a goblin in disguise. He never fails to make a disparaging remark about Mihee, usually in a nonchalant tone. You nearly threw a shoe at him when he told Mihee she should lose some weight, since her dress was tight in the middle. 

“Yeseo was coming with us.”

You groaned at the mention of her name. It isn’t uncommon for groups to bring in more partners as they progress in their career. You knew groups that had three or four of them. However, the normal procedure is discussing a new partner with the group’s current partner. Mihee told you that Galax1 did not do that. They brought Yeseo home after a single meeting, and told Mihee that she’d be living with them. No discussion. No contract alterations. You advised her to go to the agency and renegotiate her contract, since they did not tell her they’d be adding a new girlfriend. However, you guessed she never did this due to the group’s leader talking her out of it. This situation might’ve been okay if Yeseo actually got along with Mihee, who is now the group’s Main Partner. Mihee told you she did not. She was spoiled, entitled, and demanded all the attention. 

“And she made a mess of things and embarrassed you?” you guessed ahead, dumping the vegetables into an oiled pan. Wooyoung scrunched his nose in a question, and you mouthed ‘Mihee’, which made him nod and continue cooking. 

“No, no, not that,” she said. “I get dressed to go to the restaurant with everyone, and Chulsoon sees me and-and says that I look too pretty and need to change because this is supposed to be Yeseo’s night. His parents are going to be there, and he wants to introduce them to her.”

Your jaw dropped, “He actually said that to you?”

“He-He did,” she replied in a sob. 

“Don’t tell me you actually changed?”

“I did. I didn’t want to ruin his birthday and Kwangmin told me that Chiwon’s mom was looking forward to seeing me.”

“Let me guess: Chiwon’s mom never said that?”

“No!”

Kwangmin was Galax1’s comedian who likes making jokes and is their mood-maker. Another skinny man with a dimpled smile, fans adored their ‘sunshine boy’. Little do they know, sometimes his “pranks” went too far and could be downright hurtful. Sadly, Mihee is usually his target. You hadn’t forgotten the time he’d pantsed her in public, her face beet red and tearful as the embarrassment filled her insides. Nor the time when he purposefully ruined her birthday party video by replacing all the nice photos with terribly altered ones. Each time he claimed it was a ‘joke’, but nobody was laughing. 

“I felt so stupid and humiliated,” she sobbed. “I almost did not go to the restaurant, but I’d already gotten dressed, so I went anyway. When I was…When I was…” you heard her take deep breaths. 

“When you did what?”

“When I was in the car, Yeseo kept complaining that I still looked too pretty and that she didn’t want me there,” she said. “She said me crying was just going to draw all the attention away from her.” 

“Ugh, that bitch.” You felt like going to their dorm and smacking the insipid bitch. “What happened then?”

“Chiwon told me to stop being a cry baby, and that not everything is about me.” 

Kwang Chiwon. You’d consider the group’s leader your worst enemy if you actually cared about him. In front of fans and cameras, he’s a hard working artist who cares about his younger members. Off camera, he proved to be a different guy; he tended to be Mihee’s worst tormentor. He could cut her down with a single remark. He’d break her things, then blame her for making him so mad that he did it. He never showed concern or care for her. You could tell how much he truly disliked Mihee. You guessed the Companion idea was not his doing, but his managers or his members. His cruelty hurt the most because Mihee had loved him the hardest. 

“I stayed in the car for a bit to calm myself down, but when I got inside the restaurant,” you heard her take more deep breaths before bursting into tears again. 

“Babe, babe, calm down and breathe, okay? Just breathe. Just breathe in and out.” You heard her breathing shakily, and she continued. 

“The host says my name isn’t on their party list and I couldn’t go inside.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, he said that it wasn’t there and I wasn’t allowed to go inside with them.”

“They did that shit on purpose,” you seethed, anger distracting you from the vegetables you’d put in the pan. Quickly, you put them into a plate before they burn up. “They never planned on you sitting with them. They did it to humiliate you, again. Mihee-ah, why do you stay with them? You can get out of your contract easily.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean ‘you can’t?”

“I don’t make enough from them to leave. They’re not as popular as your boyfriends. They don’t make a lot of money yet,” she said. 

A Companion’s pay is usually determined by the group’s budget. Since your boys make millions, you can live comfortably on your own, if you wish. Galax1 did not do so well. Hardly anybody really knew who they were, and you’re glad that karma turned back on them. 

“It’s so horrible here,” she sobbed. “They never think about me anymore. They make food, and if I’m not there with them, they don’t make enough for me.” 

This made you pause over your current meal. A meal you’re cooking with your loving boyfriend Wooyoung, who always made sure you ate well. You couldn’t picture them ever leaving you out of anything. Yeosang is incapable of being mean, and Yunho is too caring. Hongjoong, above them all, takes care of you as much as possible. 

“And I never told you about the time Kenny grabbed my arm hard and left a bruise.”

Kenny. The group’s ‘muscle pig’. You’d seen his muscles, and imagined him being capable of that. 

“They used to be so nice to me. I…I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know what happened.”

“You didn’t do anything. They’re the assholes. They’ve taken advantage of you too many times.”

You could never see Jongho making jokes at your expense, or San using his strength to physically harm you. 

“We used to all be so happy. I remember when Chulsoon used to make me pancakes after our date nights, and when Chiwon would let me sit in his studio with him to listen to his songs,” she lamented. “Kenny used to sing me to sleep when I had nightmares, and would take me out for coffee after our gym sessions. He doesn’t even want me going with him anymore. I don’t know what I did, Unnie. I don’t know where I went wrong or why they stopped caring about me. Everything is always my fault even when it’s not. I’m always the bad guy, the one in the wrong, the asshole. They hardly notice me or talk to me some days. They’re more concerned with their new pet than they are with me.”

“Then leave them and let her deal with their bullshit,” you told her. 

“Maybe I should terminate my contract.”

The words shocked you beyond belief. All thoughts of your night with Wooyoung went out the window in a single sentence. 

“No, Mihee-ah,” you said firmly. “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s not like anyone would care!” she cried. 

“That’s not true, Mihee, and you know that. So many people would care,” you replied with a plea. “I’d care. Saehee, Jihye, and Sumi would care. Your parents and grandparents would care. Your sisters, who adore you, would care. Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s the only way I can get out!” 

“No, it is not.”

“I can’t afford to leave. My contract isn’t up for another year. I…I have to do it.”

“No, you do not,” you told her. 

There are only two ways a Companion can get out of their contract without paying: they’re dignosed with a terminal illness or they try committing suicide. You’d heard of Companions ending up in hospitals because they tried ending their lives. A few of them actually succeeded. The idea of Mihee, sweet and gentle Mihee who never hurt anyone, doing something like that brought tears to your eyes. 

“Where are you?” you asked her. “Mihee-ah, where are you?”

“I walked back home. I couldn’t stay there. I didn’t want them to come out and find me,” she said. “It hurt so much. Everything they do hurts. It’s like they don’t want me around. They treat me like I’m a nuisance to them…I’m a punching bag when they’re mad. I’m a joke to them.”

“There are other ways to get out of your situation, Mihee.” 

“How?!” 

As you stayed on the phone with Mihee, you texted another friend of yours: Jihye. She lived closer to Mihee, and would get to her faster than you could. 

You: MIHEE WANTS TO TERMINATE!! 

Jihye-babe: OMG WHERE IS SHE??

You: at her place. I’m trying to talk her down now. I’m too far away to get there in time.

Jihye-babe: omw don’t worry

“You can go to the agency dorms and get a room,” you said, “And tomorrow we’ll go Sungmi and she’ll find a way to help you out. They should have records from your medical appointments. If you tell the therapist what you’re thinking of doing-”

“-I haven’t been going to my appointments.”

“Why not?”

“Chiwon says I don’t need to go. He says I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Mihee, please,” you sniffled. “Jihye is on her way to you.”

Mihee continued crying, and hearing her cries broke your heart further. Several awful visions went through your head as you listened. Not Mihee. You texted Sungmi, your agent. You told her everything Mihee said, and her response relieved you. 

Sungmi: I will get her a room in the residency building, and send someone to go pick her up. Jihye will be there?

You: Yes, she’ll be there. She can’t afford the fees right now, though. 

Sungmi: I’ll waive the dorm fees for now. I’ll arrange a payment plan with the bursar’s office tomorrow morning.

You: Thank you, Sungmi. 

“Sungmi is sending a van to come pick you up,” you told Mihee. “You can stay there for a while.”

“I can’t pay.”

“She’ll work that out later. We want you to be safe, babe. You’re going to be okay,” you comforted her. 

You felt so helpless. You felt useless. 

“They’ll come get me back anyways,” she sniffled. “They won’t let me go.”

“The agency will make them let you go.”

If there is one authority who could stop this, it’d be your agency. You’d joined The Eden Agency years ago when you saw their dedication to taking care of their employees and workers. You knew all the stipulations and restrictions they put into their contract clauses to keep everyone safe and happy. You couldn’t believe Galax1 somehow made it under the radar this long. Your hands clenched into fists as you stayed on the phone with Mihee, who gradually calmed down until you heard Jihye in the dorm. The savory scents of the food you’d cooked did not penetrate through your anger. How could they do this to her? You couldn’t fathom why someone would do this to a person they claimed to love.

“The van’s here,” Jihye’s voice came through Mihee’s phone. “I’ll go with her to make sure she’s settled in okay.”

“Keep me updated, yeah?”

“Totally.” She gave a sigh, “I can’t believe those assholes. Saehee and Sumi are gonna meet us at the agency. When can you be here?”

“In an hour,” you said, putting the vegetables on the counter with a concerned Wooyoung. “I’ll bring some food for her. She’ll be hungry and the cafeteria will be closed.”

“Good idea. I got a bottle of soju in my purse.”

You didn’t laugh, though you wanted to. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, cool. See ya.”

Both of you hung up, and suddenly you did not feel hungry anymore. Wooyoung stood on the other side of the counter now, chopsticks in his hand as he picked up a bit of meat to put in a perilla leaf. 

“What’s wrong with Mihee?” he asked, with concern on his face. 

“She…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. You felt as if saying it might embarrass Mihee. “She had a big fight with Chiwon, and he said a bunch of nasty things to her.” You picked up your own chopsticks, but only picked at the cooked vegetable sides. “She was having a panic attack, so I texted Jihye and Sungmi. She can’t keep living with them. They’re so terrible to her, and that new girlfriend of theirs is no help either.”

“I can’t believe she stayed with them this long,” Wooyoung told you after chewing his food. “I remember doing Kingdom with those guys, and they were so rude. They hated each other, and were hard to work with.” He snorted, “You should’ve heard the way they talked about you when you told that Kenny guy off.”

Yes, you remembered Kingdom. You also remembered Mihee doing her best to keep the six idiots happy. “What did they say?”

“He’d told San that we should keep a leash on our woman,” he snickered, “And that if we put your mouth to good use, it wouldn’t gab so much.”

You groaned, “Ugh, they’re so gross. What did you say?”

“San almost kicked his ass,” he said, eating his meat and leaf. “Hongjoong-hyung told him it wasn’t worth it and took him away.” He shook his head, “I felt bad for her. If they talk badly about other women, I can’t imagine the things they say about her.” 

“They’re so mean to her,” you told him. You picked at a bit of meat and rice, but barely tasted it. Your worry for Mihee ruined any taste you might’ve enjoyed. “I don’t know why a group would keep a Companion they obviously don’t care about anymore.”

You did, but you felt disgusted saying it in the open. So Wooyoung said it for you. 

“Because they want a free cook and maid,” he said, eating one of the sides you made with rice. “I’m sure they can be charming when they’re horny and want a quick fuck from her too.”

“Gosh, don’t say that. I don’t want to think about what that’s like for her.” You ate from each dish sparingly, “I don’t know what I’d do if you guys started treating me that way.”

“I do.”

“Oh?”

“You’d kick our asses,” he smirked and laughed before sipping from his Coke can. “We’d never fall out of love with you, babe. You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

You smiled, “Even if I wanted to leave tomorrow?”

“Even then. I’d spend the rest of my life trying to win you back if you did that.” 

You believed him. Out of all the members, Wooyoung took to you the quickest and easiest. Yeosang joked he skipped a few steps in becoming friends with someone, since by the next time you saw him, he already kissed your cheek and called you ‘love’. You told Yeosang that Wooyoung is simply an affectionate person who likes talking to people. When their debut came and Wooyoung could put his name on your contract, he became the most physically affectionate of them all. It’d been his opinion you trusted whenever you met a new person, since he picked up on vibes and moods fairly quickly. 

“So, I’m assuming drama night is being postponed?” He did not say this in a disappointed voice, but a playful one. 

“At least for a little while,” you winced. “I’m sorry, Woo.” 

“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” he assured you. “Mihee is one of your closest friends, and she needs you right now. I’ll be here when you come back.” He stood up to grab an empty food container, “Take her some food so she’s not hungry. Home cooked food is the best when you’re feeling down.”

You gave his cheek a kiss, then began packing food and snacks for Mihee while he cleaned. When you finished, you turned to see him by the sink. Everything paused all of a sudden. Mihee spends portions of her day cooking for her “boyfriends” and is then left to clean it all up. Your boyfriends never let you do anything on your own. Every time you cooked, one of them offered to help as best as possible, even if it was being Designated Food Taster. They might talk over who cleans up afterwards, but they never bring your name into it, especially if you’re the one who cooked. You couldn’t imagine any of them treating you how Galax1 treated Mihee. 

“Wooyoungie,” you called him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, angel.”

‘Angel’. A name so commonly given to you. What did Galax1 call Mihee? “If we all went out somewhere fancy together, would you make sure my name was on the list?”

“Psh, of course,” he put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, “We’d make sure your name is the first on it.”

“And would you ever tell me to change my clothes because you didn’t want me to deflect attention from someone else?”

“No,” he squeezed some detergent into the washer, then said, “Is this about Mihee?”

“Yes.” 

“YN,” he closed the door and turned it on, “Never in a million years would we treat you that way. In fact,” he walked over to you and held you in his arms, “We do our best to put your happiness first. It only works out that you’re always doing the same for us.” He kissed you softly, then said, “I love you, YN. Not just because the sex is incredible and you’re insanely gorgeous either,” you both laughed together. “But, you’re a kind, compassionate, empathetic person who would drop all her plans to go help a friend who needs her.” He gently rubbed your arms, scanning over your features, “I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, you know that. I can’t believe you’re even asking these questions.” He kissed you again, and said, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Hearing him say this warmed your heart, but also made it hurt for Mihee more. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was her. You slipped from his arms to grab your bag from the couch, and left out the door. 

Not before Wooyoung reminded you to take a jacket. 

***

They’d put Mihee in a room by the time you arrived at your agency building. The resident rooms are meant for the freelance Companions who only go on dates. Much like a university dorm, it came with a bed, desk, dresser, and a communal bathroom down the hall. With the cafeteria giving three meals a day, Companions could also get discounts at the agency cafe and on their health checkups. You’d enjoyed living there, since it brought you closer to people who did what you do and it helped you out during rough times. It’s why it’d been your first choice when considering refuge for Mihee, who’d been too distraught to think straight. Unfortunately, the dorm came with a fee that they’d take from every check you received. A fee Mihee could not afford immediately. 

“I’ll work something out with the bursar's office,” Sungmi told her as she settled into her new room. “You stay here and rest for a few days, alright? You’re in a safe space now.”

“Th-thank you, Sungmi-unnie.” 

Sungmi gave her a tight hug, patted her head, and said goodbye to you and the others. Jihye, tall with long blond hair, waited until Sungmi left to open her purse. “I brought soju,” she smirked, “We could all use a drink. You, especially,” she told Mihee and began searching for complimentary cups. 

“Have they contacted you at all?” Saehee, short and round-faced with a brown bob hair cut, took a seat on the bed beside Mihee. 

Mihee still wore the shimmery lavender dress she planned on wearing to the dinner. Her tears smudged most of her makeup, and her lip tint wore off and left her lip liner still there. You hated seeing her this way. You pulled out the makeup wipes you kept in your purse, and gave it to her to clean herself off. 

“No,” she shook her head, her voice still thick from sobs, as she pulled out a wipe, “I texted Chiwon, but he…”

“Left you on read?” Sumi asked reproachfully. She took a soju cup from Jihye. Sumin, tanned with medium length black hair, stood wearing her gym clothes still. Out of the five of you, Sumi worked out the most. “Ugh, he’s so disgusting. I don’t know why you’re so bummed. He’s not even that cute or that successful. I won’t be surprised if their group doesn’t disband in a year or so.”

“They embarrassed themselves with that last comeback,” Jihye snickered, handing you and Saehee a cup. You didn’t drink it. You didn’t think you could stomach anything else. “Like, that song of theirs. What was it called? ‘Dick Me Way’?”

You stifled a laugh, “I think it was called ‘Milky Way’.”

“Psh, could’ve fooled me. It did not sound like they were saying ‘Milky Way’.”

“I thought they might at least be curious as to where I went,” Mihee said to you. “They might not care, but I thought at least Josh would text me. He was always decent towards me.”

“Fuck Josh,” said Saehee, who downed her soju shot immediately. “He’s a dick too. I don’t care how nice he was to you. He still lets them treat you like garbage.”

You unpacked the food you’d brought for everyone to pick at while they talked. Mihee started extolling tales about the things her partners did off screen: how they preferred Yeseo over her, the mean remarks they made about her appearance, how angry they’d get if she made a mistake. It upset you far too much to keep on eating. You thought about what Wooyoung told you about your happiness being their first priority. If they commented on your appearance, it was out of concern and not maliciousness. 

Chiwon told Mihee she ate too much. Yunho would tell you that you didn’t eat enough sometimes, often bringing you snacks during shoots or water when he saw you didn’t drink enough. 

Kwangmin once gave Mihee an empty Gucci box as a present. Hongjoong took you to a fashion show where he made sure the designer had clothes for you to wear too. You’ll never forget his face when he saw you in the final outfit. 

Kenny once told her that she’d have to pay her own way to go with them on tour. Seonghwa always made sure you were included in tour plans because he didn’t want to leave you behind. You never paid a single cent. 

Her boyfriends did not care where she went, what she did or who she did it with. She texted their group chat hours ago, and none of them responded. If you go too long without contact, at least three or four of them will call to check on you. Mihee told you that they rarely spent time with her anymore. Your boyfriends would rather be with you than anywhere else. Mihee’s stories made every complaint you’ve ever made about your boyfriends miniscule and childish. So what if Yunho played games until late into the night? So what if Yeosang was a messy eater or Jongho did not always pick up after himself? They adored you. They loved you. They’d do anything you asked of them, and if they could not, they’d find a way to make you happy. You wished Mihee would find someone like them. 

You stayed with the girls in Mihee’s dorm until eleven o’clock when visiting hours ended. You put leftovers in Mihee’s mini fridge, kissed the top of her head and hugged her tightly. 

“Thank you, YN-unnie,” she said into your shoulder, her voice muffled by your jacket. “If you hadn’t done this for me…I don’t think I’d be here right now.” 

This made you hug her tighter. “I’ll come by tomorrow around two and we can go to your place together to get your stuff, okay? Get some rest.”

“I will,” she nodded.

With one last cheek kiss, you left Mihee’s room and met with Jihye and the others down the hall. In the elevator, she said, “Good on you to text me. When you told me she talked about ‘terminating…” she visibly shuddered, “I almost had a panic attack.”

“I was worried she might’ve already done it,” said Saehee, crossing her arms nervously. “I felt super sick thinking about it.”

“Me too,” Sumi agreed. “Is it messed up that it made me think about my own relationship? Like, I can’t see Yongbok or Changbin ever being cruel to me like that.”

“I don’t think so,” Saehee told her. “When she told me about Kenny almost hitting her once, I thought about Seokjin and how he can be sometimes. We might get into arguments, but he’d never try to hurt me or make me cry just to feel like he won.” 

“It makes me realize how lucky I am,” you said quietly as the elevator reached the bottom floor. “Yeah, it’s tough juggling eight guys on my own, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything else in the world.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

The four of you walked Saehee home first and then Sumi. Jihye went with you to the train station where you waited for the train to take you home. 

“Do you think Mihee will be okay?” asked Jihye. “I mean, they’re the first group she’s ever dated and she was so in love with them. What if they try to get her back or she can’t get out of her contract?”

“Sungmi will fix that,” you assured her. “If anything, I’ll pitch in some money to help her out. I’m sure Saehee will too, since her boyfriends are such big superstars now.”

“I’ll hand some over,” Jihye said. “I happen to know some cute clients who are into girls like Mihee, so if she ever has trouble getting on her feet again, I can slip their names to Sungmi.” 

You nodded at her suggestion, and put your hands in your pockets. “I just want her to be happy and safe. She deserves that.”

“She really does.” 

When the train arrived, you hugged her goodbye and went onboard. On the way home, you checked your phone for the first time since seeing Mihee. As expected, Wooyoung was the first to message you. 

WooWoo 🦊: Are you on your way home soon? It’s getting late. 

You: I’m on the train now. We lost track of time. 

You took a train selfie to appease him, but also because he’d ask for one anyways. 

WooWoo 🦊: Beautiful 😍 is she okay now?

You: Yeah, she’s settled into the dorm and I told her we’d go get more of her stuff tomorrow afternoon. Jihye only got the essentials, but she needs more clothes and stuff. 

WooWoo 🦊: I’m glad. I like Mihee. She’s sweet. Now, get home quickly. I have a surprise for you. 

This message prompted you to go into the group chat you shared with all the members. You mainly used it to discuss group dates or to idly talk about your days as a whole. Anything you had to tell them, you sent it there. As the train stopped at another station, you started typing:

You: My friend Mihee’s staying at the residency dorms at my agency because she talked about killing herself. She told me tonight all about how awful her boyfriends are to her and the terrible things they’ve done. It’s so disgusting it makes me sick. I feel so sorry for my friend because she’s a lovely person and very special to me, but her situation has made me realize how lucky I am. 

Tears started brimming your eyes as you continued. 

You: since the day we met, you’ve been nothing but good to me. Even when you had nothing to offer me, you still did your best to make me happy. You give me so much freedom, which a lot of Companions don’t always have. You don’t keep me on a strict diet. You don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear. You include me in everything you do, and never make me feel left out or unimportant. You never push past my boundaries and respect my privacy and space. When I’m with any of you, I feel safe. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me, and if you accidentally do, you make up for it and apologize. I feel special and beautiful and important when I’m with you. I love each of you so much, and I hope we’re together forever. 

The messages poured a few minutes after you wrote this. 

My Bear 🐻: you know we’d do anything for you, angel. You’re such a special person to me, I couldn’t live my life without you now that I have you. 

Yuyu 🐶: The last thing I’d ever do is hurt you. I love you too, baby ♥️

Hwa 🐰: why would I not include you in everything? You’re my angel, baby. 

Prince Yeosang 👑: I always want to be a person you feel safe with. I know you have your bad days, and I want to be someone who uplifts you. I love you, my princess ♥️♥️

Choi ⛰️: Noooo now I’m crying!! I love you so much, angel. I want us to be together forever too. 

Mingi 🦁: I love you too, angel. You’re the first person I think of when I’m down, because you know how to make me feel better. I don’t ever want to be without you ♥️

Choi ⛰️: we were so nervous when we first met you kekeke 

Joongie 🐱: you know I love you more than the air in my lungs. I could never hurt you, because hurting you would be like hurting myself. You’re a part of me. 

Hwa 🐰: waaaahhh hongjoong putting us all to shame!!

The one person who didn’t answer in the chat texted you privately instead. 

WooWoo 🦊: I’m sorry about your friend. I hope she is okay now. I saw what you put in the chat and I wanted to tell you something: 

WooWoo 🦊 : There was this book quote I read once that really stuck with me. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”. It stuck with me because that’s how I feel about you, YN. I feel like if we met in a different lifetime, you and I would still fall in love because we’re the same. It’s why you’re in every music video, because we’d love you in every universe. I love you, YLN YN. I love love love love love you. Come home soon. I miss you. 

You wiped the tears trickling down your cheek as you reread their messages. San recounted the night you’d all met. 

Two weeks before their debut, the boys’ schedule was packed with dance practice, studio recordings, promoting themselves, singing and rapping lessons. They did not have much free time, but management set up a date between you and them. You’d been going through financial troubles from your previous relationship, which left you desperate for a good gig. While going on random dates helped in the short term, it was contracts Companions typically sought out. You decided on a trial-run with an eight-member group to see how things went, and if it worked out, you’d sign a contract with them. A one-year contract where you’d be the sole girlfriend sounded promising. You’d handled groups before now, and a year-long contract is a reasonable starting point; you worked out anything longer after a few dates. You’d seen photos and videos of ATEEZ that KQ sent you, since it’s only fair you see what they looked like. The ‘99 line had all been 18 or 19, and Jongho turned 18 right before then. Only Seonghwa and Hongjoong could be actual romantic partners for you. They’d been so young back then, you realized as the train passed another station. They’d seemed harmless enough, and you really needed a good job. 

You never expected to be with them this long. But, when you met them at the barbeque restaurant that night, you really enjoyed their general vibe. You saw their close-knit brotherhood right away, and the genuine care they had for one another. It was something you noticed in groups from smaller companies; they worked and lived together, which built up a natural love for one another. That love soon stretched over to you. Smiling to yourself, you recalled how shy they’d been around you that night. Wooyoung, Mingi, San, and Yunho did a majority of the talking despite their nerves. The other members revealed later on you’d been much prettier in person, and it intimidated them. 

Walking home from the train station, you thought about those days fondly. You’d often meet up with them at the Han River, where you’d go riding bikes and eating street food together in the spring. They didn’t have much money to spend on you, but that didn’t matter to you. Their company soon became enough for you. You remembered a night when you went to eat after dance practice, and you’d sat specifically with Yeosang because he thought you wouldn’t be interested in him. Shy and anxious, you managed to get him to open up to you like a clam, and his shyness melted away. Once, you went to a convenience store with San and Wooyoung after everyone went to sleep. The three of you played hide and seek down the street. 

It’d been under a street light on the corner that Wooyoung kissed you for the first time. 

“Wooyoung, I’m back,” you said into the apartment, knowing well Jongho is too busy gaming and Hongjoong is likely still in his studio. 

He appeared from his bedroom, smiling at the sight of you. He kissed you as easily as he’d kissed you that night on the street. Wooyoung had taken you gently by the waist, bringing you to him and kissing you passionately.

“Glad you’re home,” he said, taking your bag to put on the hook while you slipped out of your shoes. “I have a surprise for you.”

“As you said in your text,” you replied. You couldn’t help the nostalgic feeling inside your chest. Looking at the man in front of you, it dawned on you how much he’d grown up. “Where is it?” you asked him, getting into your house slippers. 

“Come with me.”

He took your hand and led you to his bedroom. You gasped when you saw what he’d done to his bed. Having taken one of his plain white sheets, he’d tied a string across the top so it created a canopy, then placed fake electric candles around his bed to add light. Blankets from the couch outside, plus several plush pillows added more comfort to his large bed. A laptop plugged into the wall sat on a tray with snacks and drinks in a cooler next to the bed. A blanket fort. 

"Wooyoung-ah," you smiled at his setup, "This is so cute."

"What you said got me thinking about our first time together," he said, bringing you to him as he closed the door. "When we made that pillow fort to watch movies and then we…got all hot and bothered?"

You noticed the seductive tone in his voice and let him kiss you. "Well, if I remember correctly, you were the hot one. I was perfectly fine with hanging out."

"I couldn't help it," he said, bringing you over to the bed where he let you climb on top of him. You mounted his hips, deepening the kiss as you remembered the first time. "You felt so nice against me like this," he gently pushed his hips into yours, "I really wanted to wait for a more romantic moment, but I couldn't wait anymore. And…" he pecked your lips as his hands went down your body, "It isn't like you tried stopping me." 

"Maybe I didn't want you to," you sneered, starting to grind into him. "I meant what I said though," you said, "It really makes me appreciate how good you are to me." A thought then occurred to you, "I wish there was a way I can show my appreciation for you."

Wooyoung picked up on it right away, holding you by the waist as he rolled you on your back. In between your legs, you could feel him right up against your center. His shorts made it much easier to feel him through them, and you couldn't resist grinding into him. Suddenly, Wooyoung drowned all your senses. The fresh scent of his shampoo still clung to his black strands, and to the smooth, supple skin under his shirt. His body heat warmed you against the chill seeping through the nearby windows. Your love for Jung Wooyoung blossomed the night he kissed you under that light. It flourished when you both made love in his blanket fort, soft and passionate and completely wrapped up in one another. Your hands stayed at his shoulders, the bones and muscles tensing under your touch before flexing against it. Everything became Wooyoung. Like the very first time, the small enclosure he created turned the world into one for two.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck while your hands slipped under his shirt. “If you’re into trying new stuff tonight, that is.”

“I’ll do whatever you like,” you smiled, gyrating into him slowly so he groaned against your neck. “You’re always thinking of me when we do it. I think it’s only fair that I do things you like too.”

“I want you to watch TV while I fuck you.”

“What?”

“I saw this porn video the other night where the girl watched TV while the guy fucked her,” he explained, “And it was so hot. I want to try it with you.”

Free use. That is what he was talking about: partners having sex even if the other partner isn’t particularly horny. It’s in a consensual way, of course. “Oh?” you smiled, “But does it really count if I’m horny too?”

“You can pretend not to be,” he said. 

You considered it for a moment, then said, “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.” 

Wooyoung beamed and kissed you. He dragged the bed tray beside you, then put on a random movie he knew you liked. You supposed you’d simply lay there and let him do what he wanted while you focused on the movie. Spreading yourself out a bit more, Wooyoung laid on top of you as he kissed down your throat to the neckline of your shirt. The movie’s beginning credits started rolling right as he slid your shirt over your chest, and pulled your bra down under them. You tried keeping back the gasp when his warm mouth touched your skin, a wet tongue immediately circling your nipple. He kept your arms by your head as he flicked his tongue over each one, and you forced yourself to not grind into him. The tip grazed across the hard peaks once or twice before he suckled on them, a low groan emitting from his throat. You tried focusing on the film, a horror movie you enjoyed so you had something distracting you from the pleasure. But, it only just barely worked. As you watched young Drew Barrymore answer the phone while making popcorn, Wooyoung slid further down your body. 

You shifted around to let him pull down your leggings completely, leaving you in your panties and socks. When you felt him sliding off your panties next, you nearly gasped. He lifted your knees up to your stomach and started lightly swatting his tongue on your sex. You clutched the sheets, forcing yourself to focus on the teenage girl panicking as a killer plays cat-and-mouse with her. How did porn stars do this? Once you felt the flat of his tongue gingerly lick your pussy open, you moaned softly to yourself. Part of the free-use kink is that the other partner doesn’t react, but damn, Wooyoung’s mouth worked you so easily. So easily, in fact, you should be ashamed of it. Keeping hold of your thighs, Wooyoung focused his attention on the center of your clit where he rolled the tip around several times. 

“Name the killer in Friday the 13th,” said the killer on screen.

“Jason!”

‘No, you moron. It was his mom…’ you couldn’t help thinking. 

Right as Drew Barrymore is freaking out over her dead boyfriend, Wooyoung reached into his bedside drawer for something. You thought it must be the condom, since Wooyoung practiced so little patience when in the heat of his arousal. After a bit of fumbling around, a distinct hardness touched your entrance. 

“Which door am I at?”

‘Run, idiot. Get out of the hou-’

Wooyoung filled you right to the brim, and you couldn’t help giving a soft moan. Unlike San, who needed total silence to concentrate, Wooyoung had no problem focusing on you as the movie went onwards. Hands holding up your knees, he kept you in place while he pumped in and out of you. You looked over at him for a moment to see he’d removed his shirt and tugged down his shorts. He watched himself fuck you slowly, stretching your sex and filling you each time. You knew you weren’t supposed to acknowledge him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering. When he felt you looking at him, you turned your head to the laptop.

Two hands grabbed your chest, and he bent down to kiss and lick them while he kept his slow pace. You’d truly become a toy for him to fuck; a doll that fulfills his every whim. You loved it. Something about Wooyoung  having his fun with you while you remained indifferent to it turned you on. Soon, his hips snapped into yours quickly, his groans turning into grunts in each stroke. You tried not moaning, since you knew that was not part of this kink of his. You watched the movie, trying to pay attention to the parents finding their teenage daughter gutted and hanging from a tree. The movie moved onto Neve Campbell in her bedroom, typing at her old computer before her boyfriend came in through the window. 

Eventually, he withdrew and helped roll you onto your front. You wouldn’t lie: you quite enjoyed this position and they all knew that. They knew your body so well it was almost unfair. They never failed to pleasure you first during sex, and they knew they’d get a very nice favor in return each time. Straddling your thighs, Wooyoung spat on his tip and went back inside you. You nearly whined from how the new position had him touching your g-spot directly, and the force causing the bed to bump lightly against the wall. 

“Stay like that,” he huffed, returning to the same speed as before. “Just like that…”

You put your eyes on the laptop, but you barely paid attention to the screen. Wooyoung started bottoming up into you, and his weight kept you from pushing up to meet him. You purse your lips to keep back the mewls his long strokes created. How could he expect you to sit still while he took you this way? Your fingers dug into the soft pillow underneath you, clawing at the smooth fabric. You tried not showing any signs of pleasure, but you couldn’t help the need growing inside you. You badly wanted to push against him, pick up the speed and be the naughty, dirty slut he liked. But, this is what Wooyoung wanted, and you wanted him to enjoy himself too. 

In a few more thrusts, you felt Wooyoung stiffen against you. Falling forward, his forehead pressed right on the top of your head as he rode out his orgasm inside you. His damp breath tickled the back of your neck, and his moans drowned out any sounds from the film in front of you. Listening to him cum had your pussy clenching around him each time he sunk inside. Your need for release came almost painfully, the restraint being too much. When he dared to pull out, you immediately tackled him so he fell backwards on the opposite side of the fort. Wooyoung said nothing as you mounted him quickly and began riding him. 

“Someone couldn’t keep it together anymore, huh?” Wooyoung chuckled, holding onto your hips as you bounced on him. “My dick feels too good?”

“Way too good,” you whined, rolling your hips on him. You didn’t care if he’d already come, you knew he wouldn’t stop until you did too. “Play with my clit, Wooyoungie,” you said, “Make me cum, please?”

“Of course, angel.” 

Whirling his thumb around your clit and his tip prodding your g-spot again, you unraveled a few seconds later. Your body tensed in each orgasmic wave and you were soon clawing at Wooyoung’s chest from the force. Slowly, you fell from your climax as quickly as it arrived, and collapsed beside Wooyoung. A small pang of guilt made you frown. 

“Sorry,” you said to him. 

“About what?” he panted, looking over at you. 

“For not going through with the whole ‘free-use’ thing,” you replied. “I don’t know how porn stars do it, honestly.”

“You just need practice, baby,” he insisted. He rolled onto his side, and pecked your lips, “You still did so well. It’s not your fault you’re so…sensitive,” he smirked, pinching your nipple idly before kissing you again. “Trust me, I still loved it. Didn’t you?”

“I did,” you replied, turning on your side to face him. “We can always try it again later,” you suggested, “If you want to, that is.” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he grinned, bringing you close to kiss you deeply. He paused for a moment, brushing your nose with his, and said, “I love you, YN.” 

“I love you too, WooWoo.” 

He chuckled at the nickname and you kissed once more. You briefly thought back to Mihee, who likely ended up alone after sex with her boyfriends. Not you. Your boyfriends would never leave you without smothering you in kisses first. 

They simply adored you too much. 

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x fem!reader

[aizawasbrattyprincess]

w h a t’ s  m i n e  i s  m i n e

f!reader x ryomen sukuna (jjk)

tw: nsfw + non-con + monsterfucking + double penetration + breeding + dead dove: do not eat 18+ MINORS DNI

word count: 1.9k

a/n: Kinktober story #2 is with the king, Ryomen Sukuna. I can’t believe I haven’t written a Sukuna smut yet! Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this, but this is really dark, so please read at your own risk! 

⋆ Kinktober Masterlist

buy me a ko-fi?

゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋

“What did you say?” your father challenged, his voice low and dangerous.

Behind him, your mother was silently shaking her head, begging you not to speak your mind. You had obeyed all your parents’ wishes since you were young, never questioning or disagreeing because it was ‘best for you’ even though you hated it. This time, however, it was not an option. You knew your worth, despite being a daughter in a lower-class noble family, and you were not going to tolerate being married off to a family full of misogynists. As poor as you were, you would not stoop down to the current head of the family, Zenin Naoya, and beg your to-be husband to save you and your clan. You wanted to be selfish, just this once. Was it so wrong to search for your own happiness?

Mustering your courage, you firmly replied, “I said no, father. I will not marry him tomorrow.”

“How dare you, wretched bitch!”

Before you even realised it, he had slapped you hard across your face, leaving an angry, red imprint on your cheek. You were foolish to think that your mother would step in and help you. Instead, she had done the opposite, reprimanding you for being rude to your father. You couldn’t believe it. The look in their eyes was enough to tell you that they were both cowards, willing to give you up just so they could survive. They had never cared about you, and you only had yourself to blame for not noticing earlier. This life was cruel, and you have had enough. 

So you left and never looked back, grasping at your only chance at freedom. Ignoring the frantic pleas for you to return, you kept running into the deep forest, knowing no one, not even your parents, would dare to set foot in. No one was that suicidal. After all, there were rumours of a cursed demonic beast living in the forest which mercilessly killed humans should they enter its domain. Unfortunately, no one came back alive to confirm it. But you didn’t care. Whatever monster it was out there couldn’t possibly be worse than Zenin Naoya himself.

You didn’t know how long you had been on the run; all the trees looked the same, and it felt like you had been going around in circles. You were starting to get out of breath when it suddenly poured, the rain drenching you in seconds. With no lamp to guide your way, you trudged forward carelessly, hoping to find shelter in the darkness of the night. Thankfully, you quickly came across what looked to be an abandoned temple that seemed safe enough, so you went in without thinking twice. You could barely step forward without tripping over the uneven stone floor. Then, as if sensing your presence, the torches on the walls lit up all at once, startling you. You could finally see a long, winding corridor ahead of you, beckoning you to keep walking. Taking a deep breath, you kept close to the left wall until you reached a room that was completely bare, save for the empty throne in the middle. You could probably rest until the rain stopped, but something felt terribly wrong. You got the notion that someone, or something, had been watching you ever since you entered the forest.

“Well, well… What do we have here? A lost little bunny, seeking refuge from the storm.”

The low voice came from the throne. An attractive man with tattoos all over his body was sitting on it, legs crossed over the other and his chin resting on his right hand. You started to panic when the room began to transform — the walls disappeared altogether, and skulls and bones were scattered all over the stone floor that was now filled with a thick liquid resembling blood. Maybe it really was blood; you didn’t really want to know. However, everywhere you looked, you couldn’t find a way out. You were trapped.

“Who are you?” you questioned, failing to mask your shaking voice.

“Curious one, aren’t you?” he mused. “The name’s Ryomen Sukuna. I used to rule these lands thousands of years ago, and people revered me like a God. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Ryomen Sukuna. His name was all too familiar. He wasn’t just a monster. He was the King of Curses, responsible for millions of deaths in search of power and glory. It seemed like the rumours of him being resurrected were true after all. If you had remembered correctly, he was dangerous, highly intelligent and manipulative. There was no way you could fight, much less exorcise him. You were no sorcerer; you knew nothing of spells and the like. You needed to figure out how to escape his innate domain before he could make his first move. But with his piercing red eyes staring right into your soul, you froze, too scared to think or even breathe.

“N- no, I don’t think I have. Actually, I’m really sorry. I should probably get going now. My husband will get worried if I’m not home soon.”

“You think I’d let you leave here alive after lying to me? Know your place, lowly human,” Sukuna growled, and you knew you had messed up. “Don’t worry, you’ll make a fine meal.”

He rose from his throne, reaching his full height of over three metres tall and revealing his true demonic form. You hurriedly stepped back as he took a step forward, but all you were doing was prolonging your inevitable death. You didn’t want to die, not like this. However, if you hadn’t left home, you would be living and suffering for days on end, and dying by Ryomen Sukuna’s hand sounded like the much better choice. Accepting your fate, you stood still and closed your eyes, waiting for death, but it never came. 

You felt his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, “Hah, to think I would’ve forgotten the sweet smell of a virgin! I guess it’s our lucky day. I’ll have you as my mate instead.”

With brute strength, his four hands grabbed your clothes and ripped them to shreds, leaving you naked in front of him. Your pathetic cries as you tried to cover yourself up had Sukuna laughing. There was no use in yelling for help; no one would hear you, and even if they did, he would never let them get close to you. Sukuna would’ve loved to see you fight back or run away, taking great joy in the thrill of a chase, but he wasn’t complaining about how downright submissive you were. Poor little bunny, he had frightened you to the core. He picked you up with ease, the tongue of the mouth on his stomach eagerly licking your body to taste how delicious you were. It was cute to see you struggling in his hold as if you could get him to stop. You let out a little yelp as he roughly threw you onto the throne, caging you in his arms.

“You should be thanking me. I never let anyone else sit on my throne.”

Sukuna spread your legs wide open, taking in the sight of your pretty cunt, just waiting to be used. As impatient as he was, he couldn’t fuck you straight away without prepping you. He wouldn’t want you to break before he could have his fun. Getting down on his knees, Sukuna devoured your cunt while his hands busied themselves with playing with your breasts and rubbing your clit. You were ashamed at how wet you already were for a demon like him. No, you weren’t enjoying it. You couldn’t possibly be. Yet, your body felt unbearably hot, and you needed more.

“Fuuuck,” you moaned involuntarily, succumbing to his temptations.

“Bet that feels nice, huh, little bunny?” Sukuna chuckled, looking up to see your flushed face growing redder as he inserted three of his thick fingers inside your cunt.

The foreign sensation made your hips buck forward as another strangled moan escaped your lips. You tried to shove Sukuna away, but the increasing pleasure was starting to cloud your mind. Just before you could reach your high, Sukuna slipped his fingers soaked with your juices from you and removed his kimono, revealing his veiny cocks. It wasn’t just one, but two fat cocks of monstrous length with both heads flushed and dripping with precum. He placed them at your entrance, slowly rubbing against your folds.

“No, no, no! Please, don’t!” you pleaded, hastily shaking your head. There was absolutely no way those things could fit.

“Are all humans so dramatic? Relax, you’ll be fine.”

Sukuna flipped you over before you could protest again. There was a tight grip on your hips. Then, he split you open as his cocks thrust deep inside you, your belly bulging and walls stretched impossibly wide. It hurt so badly that you screamed, but Sukuna paid no attention to your pain, too obsessed with how small and tight you were. He couldn’t remember the last time he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Your cheeks were damp and streaked, and your legs nearly gave out, but Sukuna held you steady as he drove hard and fast. When you thought you could finally accommodate his size, it felt like he was growing thicker. You orgasmed unexpectedly, spurring Sukuna to bury all of himself inside you until his tips hit your cervix. Your head lolled back, and your body trembled, but he wasn’t planning to stop any time soon, his unrestrained pace making you see stars that you thought you were blacking out. Sukuna’s sharp teeth sunk into the skin on your neck, claiming you as his while one of his hands returned to your neglected clit, harshly rubbing it until you squirted everywhere. You thought you had heard him whispering praises in your ear, but your desperate whines were too loud to make out the words.

Waves after waves of pleasure washed away the pain, and it felt like hours until his hips began to stutter. With a final few thrusts and a satisfied grunt, Sukuna pumped his seed into your womb, stuffing you to the brim and not letting a single drop go of it to waste. He finally pulled out of your abused cunt and admired your exhausted body, littered with bite markings and dried blood, now slumped against the throne. Your eyes began to flutter close, and you were about to pass out when you felt Sukuna moving you. Draping his kimono over your body, he pulled you onto his lap as he sat on his throne. You leaned into his broad chest as he gently caressed your dishevelled hair, lulling you to sleep. Sukuna found it amusing that you were so quick to trust him, and all he needed to do was show you a bit of affection.

“When you’ve rested enough, I’ll fuck you again and again until the only thing you can think of is having my cocks in you all the time. But,” Sukuna warned, forcing you to look up at him. “If you're not pregnant in the next few months, I will enjoy torturing you to death for wasting my time. Understand?”

Heart sinking into despair, you were rudely reminded of the role you were made to accept. Perhaps this was your punishment for all your sins, and there was nothing else you could do but nod. Sukuna grinned at your compliance and rewarded you with a tender but possessive kiss.

“Now, sleep tight and sweet dreams, little bunny.”

゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋

#princess writes #kinktober 2022 #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #zenin naoya #requests are closed

[is-the-fire-real]

Another bit on the pro-Pal fandom, this one axiomatic

Being a good person is not the same thing as pretending as though you believe you are a good person.

Being a good person takes work. You have to do stuff. Doing stuff is hard. Doing good stuff is harder, because you have to put thought into determining what you think is good beforehand. That requires self-reflection, honesty, a willingness to challenge oneself, and taking in information from other people to verify that your concept of "good" is, well, good.

The nice part is that once you evaluate what is good and start doing good things, it becomes easier. You gain inner calm, peace, and even joy.

("Good" is not always the same as "necessary". Necessary work can be a slog, or it can be horrific. But there can still be a calming satisfaction at the core, the security that this is necessary and therefore worthwhile.)

Pretending to believe you are a good person takes less immediate work. You don't have to do anything that positively impacts the real world, and you don't have to do any of that annoying, time-consuming self examination. But in the long run, it's more exhausting. By far.

You are insecure about whether or not you are a good person. You're pretending to believe you are good. You can't feel secure in something you pretend to believe. That insecurity gnaws at you, especially when you engage in bad behavior--harassment, doxxing, posting gore, swarming tags, encouraging and promoting suicide among your fellow "activists", telling your opponents to kill themselves, stalking, spamming unrelated content with literal Nazi propaganda.

None of those are good things good people do. And you understand that. You would think someone was bad if they did those things to you. The cognitive dissonance between who you want to be and who you really are, as determined by your actions, is scary. It's painful. It rears up every time someone you have labeled a Zio colonizer scumbag asks you to please just stop and you remember a time when you begged someone--an abuser, a troll online, a 4channer, your parents--to just stop please just leave me alone.

That must feel terrifying, and again, it makes you insecure. It makes you question if you're doing the right thing.

So you do the work to pretend to believe you are good. And that's far more work than goes into being good.

You recruit others, and all of you agree that you will pretend together. Tabletop gaming has taught us how powerful this imaginative play can be. You all reassure each other that you are good and you are right. But since you're all lying to each other, that means you must spend more, and more, and more time every day telling each other that you are good, chasing that high, that feeling that you are a good person and your actions are justified.

You tell each other that your "opponents" in this "battle" are not people, so anything you say or do to and about them is okay. You look at lists of "dehumanizing tactics" and instead of internalizing what those lists are teaching you, you go: "Ah, so if I don't use the word 'vermin', anything I say should be fine!" And then you say it.

You do not smile over good news. You only smile when one of your opponents logs off Tumblr because you made the site unusable and unsafe for them. (The expression you make there isn't really a smile, but we'll call it that, since the corners of your mouth do turn upward.) You tell yourself you're just attacking Zionists and pretend you do not see how you're really going after Jews.

No self-examination; that would mean admitting that you're lying to yourself and others. Instead, you traumatize and exhaust yourself until you're psychologically incapable of self-examination. You watch snuff films. You stare at mangled bodies until you're weeping and physically ill (certainly, you're too ill to check whether the video is real, or if it was taken from this conflict).

You force your beliefs into your fandom spaces so that others, the bad people, cannot escape their complicity in genocide.

But more importantly, you do that so you can't escape.

You cannot engage in any fandom but the pro-Pal fandom because that takes imaginative energy away from your biggest pretense--that you're a good person.

You are NOT hurting people because you are striking a blow for Palestinians. You are hurting people, including yourself, because you do not want to do the work of becoming a good person. You are afraid that self examination, at this point, will reveal to you that you are exactly the sort of person you believe you are fighting.

That fear, that insecurity, that dread, that restless sense that if you ever rest or stop or think for just a moment, you'll discover something awful? That's your conscience.

I do not ask you to change your mind about your political opponents. Your defenses are already on your lips and in your mind; a thousand How Dare Yous for me hinting that you look at other people as people. What I will ask you is to consider this.

I came to young adulthood just as Bush was elected, and the Iraq War post-9/11 was the first war I really followed as an adult. I did what you're doing now. I forced myself to look at photographs of destroyed bodies. I looked at photographs of torture perpetrated by US soldiers. I blogged about it obsessively.

I told myself that I was Doing My Part to end the war. But really, it's that the anxiety of being an American during the war made me insecure over whether or not I was responsible for all of this, and therefore, a bad person. If I pretended my looking at snuff photos was activism, and that it was good, then I could pretend to believe I was good and shout "Not in my name" at protests. I could deny my responsibility.

What I really did was traumatize myself. It's been almost twenty years. I can still see some of those torture pictures in my head. In the end, that is the extent of the impact of my online activism. The blogs are all long deleted, and nobody remembers them.

Only my trauma remains.

I do not want this for you. I want you to be wiser. There is still time. You can stop.

Stop hurting yourself and other people. Do the hard work. Examine yourself and your actions. Consider what your own heart is trying to tell you whenever you start to get the shakes and your throat gets tight. Do not take that feeling out on random people online because they have a Magen David in their pfp.

Once you have done the hard work, it gets easier. You will be able to advocate and work for whatever causes you believe in because you know they are good, not because you're joining your friends in cosplaying goodness. You will still be traumatized, and you will still be sad, and you'll definitely still get angry. You will have to face how you've acted exactly like your own past abusers, and that's a real tough row to hoe.

But at the end, you will be able to advocate and work because you want to, instead of feeling as though you must in order to keep up the masquerade.

#free gaza #free palestine #palestine #politics as fandom #suicide #torture #trauma #worse than slacktivism #abuse #is-the-fire-real original #g-d damn it you've got to be kind #i understand you won't listen to this. it's okay if you don't #i may have addressed “you” but i was soothing my own conscience #because i think it's a good thing to tell people to stop harming themselves and others #and it's not my responsibility to change your behavior #it's yours #i'm also not addressing your antisemitic actions #not because you aren't doing that #but because that is between you and your dark night of the soul

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Not me getting back on my Greek Mythology bullshit, but I feel like a lot of adaptations of Herakles gloss over the part of his story where Hera literally mind-controls him into killing his family.

Like, Imagine having your agency, you mind, and your reason stripped from you so completely and utterly by a force you can't fight against or comprehend and that force makes you murder the people you love most in the world. Why aren't writers doing more with that! The horror of Herakles!

How he can't lift his fists or his sword or his club without seeing his families blood and brain stained across them! how he can't look in the mirror without seeing his children's faces staring back at him? How do you come back from that? From being a puppet, the weapon that murders your own family? Can a weapon grieve? Does it have the right to?

Hell, the only reason Herakles doesn't kill himself is because Theseus shoulders some of the weight of the crime by taking his hand. (Probably the most heroic thing Theseus ever does).

The Twelve Labors aren't a quest for glory, they're about a guy going on a suicide run by facing the most insane challenges the world can throw at him, but every time he triumphs he realizes that he doesn't GET to die. He has to keep going. He has to keep living. He has to live with himself.

And then, one day, when he completes another task, and he sees the grateful faces of the people he's saved, the lives he's made a little better, he realizes that he doesn't want to anymore.

#incorrect super smash bros #not a quote #not smash bros #mythology #Greek Mythology #Roman Mythology #revisionist mythology #greek revisionism #Herakles #Hercules #Heracles #Theseus #The Twelve Labors #The Labors of Hercules #Zeus #Hera #tw mention of suicide #cw mention of suicide #learning to live #Herakles is a story about learning to live again

[vampi-fixx]

just a bite.

modern!au vampire!scaramouche x reader

summary: being roommates with a vampire who craves you carnally just as much as he does for sustenance? awk.

word count: 4.6k 

tw/cw: 18+ only, afab reader, drinking, unintentional roommates with a vampire (he kind of just invites himself in. and never leaves), mutual masturbation, sex in exchange for blood, frottage, rutting, bodily fluids, bloodplay, blood drinking, scaramouche isn’t really so much bitter, angry scaramouche or calmer wanderer but more a blend of both? (he’s really just a stray cat who latches onto you), lots of banter, brief reference to suicidal behavior (scaramouche)

--author’s note: happy late bday scaramouche <3

“You’re leaving?” 

While two months ago, you wouldn’t think twice about stepping out to grab drinks with a friend, now things are different. Two months ago, after all, you did not have a half-starved vampire passed out on your doorstep, after trying to deny himself of his one source of sustenance.

Two months ago, after all, you didn’t invite said vampire into your apartment unknowingly, only to find yourself pinned to your doormat, his crazed, crimson-tinged gaze focused intently on your neck. 

Two months ago, after all, you did not have said vampire now lingering in your house as an unofficial guest after said unsuccessful attempt to drain you dry. 

(“You were the only one stupid enough to let me in,” he said drily, kicking his feet up onto your coffee table the day after, when you had awoken after his frenzy. Surprised you’re still alive, he’d said nonchalantly. As if he was not a stranger in your house. As if he hadn’t tried to suck the life out of you like some kind of vertically-challenged tick. He ignored your attempts to swat his feet off, instead crossing his arms and tossing his head to the side. 

A tick with an attitude, most definitely. 

“Besides… why should I pass up the chance for a free meal and board?”)

That free meal, as it turns out, is you. Modern day vampires are few and far in between, but they have to resort to any means for survival. Even if that means latching onto their unwitting victims for shelter. And a constant supply of blood. 

Just your luck. 

“Yeah,” you respond absently. “A friend invited me out for drinks.” 

“…Drinks?” 

Two months ago, you also did not know the telltale signs of his displeasure. The hard edge to his voice, the slight huff of annoyance he denies making. I don’t breathe anymore, you idiot. Perhaps it’s a tic he retained from his human days. 

Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom. Looking every bit like the helicopter roommate he is. “What time will you return?” 

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Eleven, maybe? Later?” 

You glance over at him to find his mouth curled into a thin line. He’s sulking. When he catches your stare, he turns away, waving a hand dismissively at you. 

“Whatever. You’re gonna regret it. You and I both know you’re not a drinker.” 

—

The annoying thing is, he’s right. 

Two hours later, you stumble through the front door after fumbling with your keys, during which you wondered why your ever so thoughtful roommate, who could certainly hear you, couldn’t just let you in. Like you did for him back then. 

Vampires apparently don’t believe in ‘an eye for an eye.’ Or, er, blood for blood.  

“Told you so.” His smug voice rings out once you’ve made it in. 

“Mm, shut it,” you say, kicking off your shoes by the entrance before trudging towards him. You rub at your temples irately, willing away the wave of dizziness that runs through you. 

Damn, and you didn’t even have that many drinks. Just one or two. The fact that your new guest knows you better than yourself is humbling. 

Mercifully, Scaramouche is quiet as he takes in your disheveled state. You’re expecting more reprimanding, but instead, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“The room is spinning.”

“You would’ve enjoyed a night in more.” He pats a spot on the couch.

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter despondently, plopping down next to him. Of course, he’s bundled himself up in all your good blankets. You’ve been wondering why they’re missing. Mr. Cold and Undead and Heh, Only Humans Would Struggle To Survive in the Winter reveals his true nature as the biggest blanket hoarder. Tugging at one of them earns you a shrewd glance, before he opens it up and drapes it across your shoulder. 

Some mindless telenovela drones on the TV as you drift off. You’re not sure why, but he’s taken an interest in watching shows that portrayed the difficulties of human relationships. It’s because I find them utterly foolish, he said. Why can’t your kind just learn to voice what troubles them? While he claims it’s like watching ants struggle to survive, you’ve caught him more than once engrossed in the passionate declarations of love and ardor playing across the screen. 

Before you know it, your eyes flutter shut. Darkness settles over you. You don’t know how long you’re asleep, but when you wake up, the show is long over. Groggily you lift your head up, realizing that you fell asleep on his shoulder. Again. You murmur out an apology which he brushes off. He’s staring at you expectantly, as if he was waiting for you.

“Hey. I’m hungry.” 

You stretch your arms out, before letting them fall back against your lap.

“And?” 

He looks at you as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a bite.” 

“Mm…” You gauge yourself. Drowsiness clings to you like a second skin. “I’m tired. No.” 

Scaramouche frowns. He removes himself from the blanket fort he’s built, facing you with an irate expression.

“You’ve offered it before,” he says blithely.

“Yeah.” You nod. “I did.” You still have the scar to prove it.

“Well,” he presses. “What’s the difference now?” 

You sigh, falling against the blankets he left behind. Since Scaramouche doesn’t exude heat, they haven’t leeched any warmth from him. You nuzzle into them, hoping vainly to warm them up somewhat. 

“That was after you fingered me.” 

He scoffs. “So that’s what it takes to get some food around here? Pleasuring your body? How easy.” 

“Hey, it’s my house–my rules. If you want access to the blood bank…” you say, gesturing towards yourself with one hand. The other tugs at the sleeve of your sweater, dragging it down to reveal the unblemished skin of your wrist. Territory he hasn’t marked yet. His gaze darts to it with a look of barely concealed hunger, no doubt able to smell the blood thrumming through your veins. 

“You gotta pay up.” 

He narrows his gaze. His voice is measured, as if he’s negotiating the terms of your agreement. “And this form of payment… is just your pleasure, right? You want nothing else?”

You shake your sleeve back into its original position. You don’t miss the flash of urgency on his face. He must really be hungry. Guilt registers briefly in you. Perhaps you shouldn’t tease him too much. 

“I would prefer it came as a package deal. My pleasure and yours combined. But…” You shrug. “It’s up to you. It’s your choice.” 

“Choice?” He lets out a derisive laugh. “You speak as if I have a choice. As if this existence gives me anything but the illusion of free will.”

He leans in, grasping your wrist. “You though? You’re always choosing to be a damn brat,” he mutters. He yanks your sleeve down, staring intently at your wrist. You’re sure he can feel your pulse spike. You trust him–mostly. Other than that first time when he appeared at your doorstep, he’s never forced his appetite onto you. 

But… in moments like this, you’re still highly aware of your roles here. He’s the predator who’s simply decided to play house with his prey.

“I can’t choose my diet. But you can choose not to be my next meal. And yet…” That same amused chuckle. As if he’s mocking himself just as much as you. “You offer yourself up like this before me.” 

He’s close. So close you can see his lashes flutter, can see the flecks of scarlet in his eyes. His bloodlust. 

“I trust you.” 

His gaze darkens. With his other hand, he grasps your sweater fabric at your chest, dragging you closer to him. “You really are a fool.”

Then he surges forward, his lips crashing against yours.

Scaramouche, you’ve learned, has two types of kisses: the first is mocking or teasing. Whenever you’ve done something that particularly annoys him (the list is quite long), he’ll deny you affection for as long as he can. Nipping your lips with his fangs, sometimes nicking you, brushing his lips against your forehead when you really want a proper kiss. But this–this is the second kind of kiss. 

Raw hunger. 

Like your very essence could breathe life back into him. Like he can’t get enough. Like he knows he’s damned to a life of eternal solitude but he intends to drag you down to hell on the way. 

He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. His hand on your chest slips underneath your sweater, tugging at the material. You know better than to keep him waiting. If he’s impatient enough, he’ll just rip it off. 

Once your sweater and shirt are off, Scaramouche wastes no time, his lips finding yours once more. He circles your breast with his palm, marveling at its suppleness, before squeezing harshly. You moan into the kiss, pulling back, until he surges towards you again. Where do you think you’re going? His other hand brazenly undoes your pants before diving in. 

Your breath hitches. This time you do pull away. 

“H-Hold on, bud, have you ever heard of foreplay?” 

He rolls his eyes. “You seem plenty wet down here,” he says, stroking over the damp spot in your panties. You squirm, more of your arousal pooling into the material. “Just a little kissing does this to you? Pathetic.” 

“Y-You’re one to talk,” you say, eyeing the bulge in his shorts. At your words, he shifts his weight, attempting to hide the obvious signs of his arousal.  

“It’s the thrill of knowing my next meal is so close,” he says offhandedly. Unconvincingly. 

“You could just say you’re excited, you know. That I excite you.” 

He glances at you curiously. Wide-eyed, in a false display of innocence (he’s anything but). “Now why would I say that?” 

You’re about to retort when he cuts you off, his thin, dexterous fingers slipping into your panties, stroking the slick, wet seam of you. You let out a shaky moan, your thighs clamping down around his hand.

“Ah-ah-ah. Don’t hide from me now,” he reprimands. With a firm hand, he yanks your pants and panties down part ways, trapping the material taut between your thighs. You’re rendered immobile, splayed open for his greedy touch. 

He brushes against your twitching clit, and your breath hitches. His finger slips inside you, the audible shlick of it parting your wet folds flustering you. Wriggling around inside you intently, he digs further and further until he nudges a walnut-shaped nub inside you. When he finds it, he thrusts into you with a relentless intensity, enough to have you lurching against him. 

“You’re so predictable.” There’s a hint of pride in his words despite their harshness. 

You pout at him but are interrupted as he slips another finger into you. Once he feels just how easily your walls take him, his fingers soon drenched by your slick walls, he makes a choked sound in the back of his throat. You grasp at the sleeve of his sweater, squirming against him. 

“M-More… please,” you whine. 

Scaramouche’s fingers probe you, his thumb circling your clit with intensity. He’s relentless in his assault. When he wants something, after all–whether that’s blood, or your orgasm–he gets it. He knows just the strings to pluck to make things happen.

You’re close, rapidly approaching the precipice of your pleasure. You tremble around his fingers, your toes curling. Your eyes slip shut, a cry of his name on the tip of your tongue. But just before you’re about to crash over the edge, he stops. His fingers cease all movement inside you, before slipping out. 

The loss is instantaneous.

You gasp, your eyes snapping open.

“Say it,” he demands.

“W-wha—why did you—“

“Say you’ll let me drink from you. Then and only then will I continue.” 

Your jaw drops. 

“I was—I was so close!”

He smirks cruelly. “I know. That’s why I stopped.” 

You pout. You shift your thighs, nudging his fingers inside you. 

“Should’ve known. I guess I’ll just grab my—“

His gaze narrows dangerously. “You’ll use none of those contraptions on yourself.” You know what he’s referring to–he’s well-acquainted with the second cabinet of your drawers, where you kept your collection of vibrators and dildos. 

You sniffle contemptuously. “At least she’ll finish the job—”

His hand grasps your thigh, squeezing. He’s frowning hard enough to leave a furrow in his brows.

“When…” He pauses, as if struggling to voice the words himself. “Are you going to admit that I’m all you need?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise. 

“Other humans… Contraptions–”” He spits the word out as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “None of them can compare to what I can do. None of them can make you feel the way I do.”

“Scaramouche…” 

“And you? You should be offering yourself to me,” he says, glaring. Seemingly over his oddly heartfelt confession. He looms over you, forcing you to lean back until he’s near straddling you against the bed. “A lowly human giving their life source to a demon of the night.” 

The first thing that you think of is: Damn, this guy’s ego is something else. Offering yourself? Lowly human? He certainly thinks of himself as a god.

The second is, Did this all start because of a sex toy? Is he really jealous over Miss Satisfy-Her?

“Someone’s on their high horse--” You yelp once his fingers pinch your clit. You whine.

“Now,” he asks, locking eyes with you. Asking for permission. “Will you let me?”

His fingers toy with your clit, waiting patiently for your answer. 

You nod, and he sighs in relief, muttering a thank you against your neck.

He leans in, his lips brushing your skin. His tongue peeks out, leaving wet trails against you. You shiver; it reminds you too much of another action, down there. It makes you think of what else his tongue could be doing. 

He laps at the curve of your neck, before inhaling deeply. His fangs prod your neck, before they sink in, piercing your flesh. A soft sigh against you. His fingers resume their minute movements inside you, his other hand clutching your shoulder as he sucks harshly. 

“S-Scaramouche.” 

The sound of him gulping down your essence fills the air. His fingers resume their movement inside you, dragging against your walls slowly, stretching you out. 

“A-ah–” you gasp. 

He moans brokenly against your neck, clutching you further to him. He’s gulping down your blood by the mouthful. With great effort, he pulls away reluctantly. 

“Your taste…” He sighs out. “There’s nothing like it.” His tongue laps up the blood seeping out of you, his venom to seal the wound. “Even with that human toxin inside you.”

His mouth is stained crimson, blood flecked acrossf face. He sees you staring and licks his lips slowly, a fang poking out. Heat pools in your gut. 

“You know, it would feel even better if you tried me down there—yowch!” You jolts when he slaps your clit. The action has your overstimulated flesh throbbing. 

“Filthy-minded human.” He rolls his eyes but the action is affectionate. His words have no bite to them.

He continues stroking you, and you reach out, your hand brushing the bulge in his shorts. You intend on making him feel pleasure too.

He stiffens at your touch, letting out a shudder. He’s always so sensitive after feeding. 

“Ha. Looks like I’m not the only filthy mind here,” you observe.

“D-Damnit. If you’re going to do it, you better do it right.” 

He ruts into your touch. The way he cants his hips up, his eyes fluttering shut, biting down on his lip–it’s as if he’s imagining fucking you, being inside you already. His fingers inside you turn crueler, thrusting with deadly precision against that spot that has stars dotting your vision.  It’s clear that’s also on his mind. 

“Y-You’re fucking my hand like it’s a-any empty hole.” Something about your crass tone has him bristling. His face aflame, he hisses at you:

“S-Shut it.”

You take it a step further, reaching inside his shorts. Once you grasp him fully, the whole throbbing, twitching length of him, he’s groaning, tipping his head back. The image of sheer debauchery. You’ve always thought Scaramouche was pretty–beautiful even–in a way that’s ethereal. He scoffed when you told him as much. 

(“Fixating on appearances is foolish. I need to be able to attract my prey, right?” he said, hiding his face from you.

“Are you blushing?”

“Shut it! Vampires can’t blush.”) 

But it’s more than that. You think that Scaramouche’s mannerisms, his temperament, his ego, are all delicate, like glasswork. But the way he’s fucking into your fist demands for you to treat him as anything but fragile.

You jolt when his hand reaches down to smack your clit. He smirks at the look you send him.

“Pay attention to me while I’m fucking you.”

“We’re hardly fucking—shit.” A moan tears out of you as he starts rubbing that spot inside you vigorously. You’re mewling out his name. 

“Scaramouche~”

Then his fingers are leaving you entirely. While you want to whine at the loss, he’s discarding his shorts, his cock springing up, pointing towards you. A string of precum leaks from its reddened tip.

“I’m not going to soil my shorts,” he says defensively. 

Scaramouche leans over you. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. His cock slides between your bodies, his oozing precum easing the friction. He’s all shaky gasps and stifled groans. 

In vain, you try to get him to put it inside you already, but he doesn’t. The most he does is move downward, angling it so the hard tip of his cock presses against the engorged flesh of your clit, makes you feel as if he’s fucking you. 

“I’m… I’m close.”

That’s all he needs to hear to bring his fingers back into the mix. The combination of his cock stimulating your clit and his fingers thrusting into you like he would fuck you is enough to have your thighs trembling, your pussy spasming around his fingers. You cum with a shaky cry of his name.

“Oh god, oh god yes. P-please! Don’t s-stop.” 

“Haa… more, more? Brat. Not once is enough to satisfy you, huh. Fuck. You’re so damn warm…”

His arms curl around you, his fangs sinking into your neck with a throaty moan as his seed spurts between your bodies. He continues humping you through it, making a sticky mess of your stomach and thighs. It goes on like this for several beats, Scaramouche’s thrusts against your sticky skin in tandem with his fangs sucking you dry.

Your vision dots at the edges. Scaramouche keeps sucking and rutting against you, as if you’re nothing more than his object to use. 

He finally releases your neck, lapping it up with his tongue.

He sits up, glancing between your bodies. He smirks at the sight–his cum painting a messy collage over your skin, your blood streaked across your neck. His cock surprisingly still hard. Us vampires don’t have the same limitations you humans do, he once told you. He hums, his thumb traveling up to your neck, smearing the blood further. 

He’s transfixed by the sight, his fingers trailing it down from your neck, circling your breasts, before making its way down to your clit, leaving a line down your abdomen. You shiver at the sensation, at the still hungry look in his glowing eyes.

Then he’s glancing back up at you. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already. That was just round one.”

“I’m still hungry. And you? Heh. That twitching, drooling hole of yours is just begging for more attention.”

As if he hasn’t just cum, his cock stays hard. His stamina a thing of legends. 

Scaramouche wraps your leg up around his waist. His cock slides through your slick, gathering your juices. A hand on his cock, he circles around your entrance, smirking once he hears you whine. 

“Don’t tease—” 

He thrusts into you fully, burrowing his cock into you deeply with not an ounce of mercy. It takes the breath out of you, has your hands scrambling for purchase around his neck.

The room is filled with the sounds of his hips smacking wetly against yours, interspersed by his grunts. Scaramouche pounds into you, his lips pulled back over his teeth, showing his fangs. His voice is strained through gritted teeth. 

“Take it… fuck. You take it—you take me so well.” 

His gaze is transfixed on the sight of the blood on you. He leans in to kiss your neck, willing it closed with his venom. But also to savor the taste of you. He groans like a man drunk on ambrosia.

You want to see the appeal. Scaramouche always looks so fucked out after he’s had some of your blood.  

You reach up, your lips brushing against his neck. Your teeth graze his skin before you bite down. He grunts, stilling his thrusts. Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to draw blood, but you hope to at least leave some kind of bruise, to see violet blooming across his pale skin. When you pull back, you’re disappointed to see that you couldn’t even leave behind a mark. 

You’re sulking. “No fair!” 

“Heh. Ha—Hahaha.” He’s full on laughing now, his thrusts picking up in speed and force. His hips dig into your ass as he’s practically bouncing you with his cock at this point. “Were you trying to mark me?”

The idea seems to amuse him greatly.

“Foolish little human. Your teeth aren’t nearly strong enough to pierce my skin.” 

You pout. “N-no kidding.”

At how upset you look, he seems to ponder something. His nails extend into claws, before digging into the side of his neck. Blood trickles down the smooth column of his neck, onto his fingers. Then he brings his fingers up to your lips, a strange look to his face. 

Hungry, yearning. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” Gaze half-lidded, he watches as your tongue slips out, tasting his blood. It doesn’t taste much different from yours—other than the fact that the taste is sharper somehow. The consistency of his blood thicker. It has the same iron, metallic tang. Scaramouche watches intently as you clean his fingers off, his cock throbbing insistently inside you.

As he pulls his hand away, you decide you want more. You lean forward, lightly nipping his neck where his blood pools out before it can heal. Lapping lightly, his blood coats your tongue. You scrunch up your face. The taste is not great, but Scaramouche moans helplessly against you, his hips sliding into you once more as he clutches you to him.

His pace is erratic, spurred on by the slick sensation of your tongue on his neck, at your teeth lightly biting down on him. 

“Mmfp. F-fuck…fuck!“ he exclaims as you press a kiss against his neck. Scaramouche attempts to pull out of you, but he doesn’t make it before he’s shooting ropes against your pussy. Moaning helplessly, he brings his blood-tinged hand to the base of his cock, holding it as his still-cumming cock thrusts against you once, then twice, catching on your rim of your pussy. He makes sure to cover you with his spend.

Utterly spent, his form collapses onto yours. The two of you lie in silence, the room punctuated by your heavy breathing. His cum already cool on your skin, you fidget as his proximity makes an even bigger mess atop you. The realization of just what you did earlier hits you, the taste of his blood lingering on your tongue. 

“So. That was… something.” 

He props his head up on your chest, his gaze boring into you. 

“You don’t… you don’t get the significance of that action, do you? Drinking my blood.” 

You blink at him several times. The lack of comprehension clear on your face has him scoffing. 

“Ha. Haha. You’re really something.” He props himself up on his hands, his state locked on your blood-stained lips. 

“For my kind, sharing blood is an intimate act.” He pauses, voicing the next words carefully. “One reserved only for… lovers.” 

His eyes meets yours, as if seeking your reaction to his statement. You can’t be sure but from the way he shifts uneasily…

It’s almost as if he’s afraid of your rejection.

“Oh,” you say finally. “Well, I thought that’s what we are?” 

He’s silent. Your fingers brush your lips, before brushing the side of his neck that he jabbed. It’s all but healed, leaving behind a faint scar.

You grin at him. “Blood buddies.” 

Something in his gaze sparks. He scoffs, turning away. “You really are an idiot…  My idiot, though.” 

There are a few things Scaramouche wants to tell you. Like the fact that vampires do not take mates easily, that the love of the undead is not something to take lightly. That sharing blood is not only an intimate act, but basically a binding one, absolved only by death. Not something as simple as being newfound “blood buddies.” But he sees your dopey, grinning face, and decides that those are things that can be saved for a later conversation.

For now, he will content himself with the fact that you’re in his arms, and there is nothing and no one that will get in the way of being here, where you belong.

His grip tightens around you. 

He’ll make sure of it.

That is… 

You make a face. “You know, your blood tastes kind of funky, Scaramouche.” 

Unless the thing getting in the way of your eternal place by his side is you. Yourself.

He bristles at the comment. “What insolence. I’ll have you know my blood tastes just fine.” 

“It’s just kinda… well, sharp. Thick. I hope I don’t have to drink more of it.”

“How dare you. I never should have given you my blood to begin with.” 

“Sorry! Maybe it’s a vampire thing.” He softens his stance, but his scowl is still present. He’s not appeased by your excuse. “I’m sure my blood would taste funky to me too.” 

“Well it doesn’t,” he says crossly. “It tastes like….”

Warmth. The sun. Life. Like being human again. 

“...It tastes alright.” 

“Hey!” You jab him in the shoulder. “That wasn’t what you said earlier.”

He gives you an unimpressed look. “And what was that?”

You scrunch your nose up, trying to recall. “Something something… ‘nothing tastes like you.’”

“Ha. That’s your misinterpretation. I meant no one tastes as annoying as you.”

You grumble, making a move as if to shake him off. He latches on tighter. 

“Just admit that you need me already,” you say crossly.

A pause.

“I do. Just as you need me.” He catches your sideways glance at your room, and grasps your chin. “And not any kind of human contraption.”

“Sure.” He narrows his gaze, but settles back, seemingly appeased by your answer for now.

“I can wait for you to speak your truth on the matter. I’m in no rush,” he says easily enough. Suspiciously easy.

“And besides… you may find your drawers to be conspicuously empty tomorrow.” 

You gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Heh. You don’t know what exactly I’m capable of.” 

#scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #vampire!scaramouche #genshin smut #genshin not sfw #tati writes #tw: blood #tw: bloodplay

[theetherealbloom]

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 6

Chapter Six: I Swear A Million Times To Hold You Just The Way You Like

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER AHH, (besties wrap it up!) Lowkey this chapter was poorly edited so sorry! Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk! (MINORS, please run away :,)

Word Count: 17.3k (I hope this makes up for the delay my bad)

A/N: HELLAUR HOOMANS! Thank you again for all the love and support you have given me for this series! I truly appreciate you all for being here <3 This chapter and episode feels a little bit personal to write since I am someone who also has PTSD, so when I watched Pedro’s performance during those difficult panic attack scenes, I truly felt represented and seen. For me, my PTSD is subtle and not overly loud or noticeable at first glance, so when I saw it being portrayed that way I started ugly crying pls--

Song: Sweet Disaster by Oh Wonder

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TLOU WORLD – 2023

THREE MONTHS LATER…

WYOMING WILDERNESS, HEADING WEST – DAY

It’s been three months since the incident, and neither of you spoke about what happened that morning in Kansas City. The past few months of walking West have proven a challenge as the seasons begin to change. As you suspected, you noticed Joel slowly let Ellie in; he taught her how to look for tracks and how to properly keep watch the first time he fell asleep. Her questioning, her loving attitude, her nasty language, everything entered his heart gradually. He hadn't planned on it, but he now cares for her. You, on the other hand, were already fond of her, you taught her the more “fun” activities. Like looking for more constellations as time passes by, continuing educating her ASL, and teaching a few of your favorite songs from your original reality.

You occasionally hummed as the seasons changed, trying to fill the silence and somber with music. Joel and Ellie didn’t seem to mind, you asked if they were bothered or annoyed but Joel grunted, “Better than Ellie asking a million more questions.” You simply chuckled while Ellie protested and began to defend herself. And then there were the moments you couldn’t quite label. Small touches between you and Joel, providing each other comfort now and then, knowing how bad the loneliness can get to anyone. A squeeze on your shoulder, the brushing of fingers, and if you were lucky, you’d get to hold his hand for a period of time as you trekked through the terrain. You swore there were times you felt his gaze roaming every mile of skin you had, but every time you turned to look he was already busy doing something else.

The branches have exchanged their leaves for white sleeves and all warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe. As gentle as feathers, the snow piles high, this world gets rewritten and retraced every time. After seeing Cody crawling with infected, you three headed out to the large forest to find out if Tommy is still alive and in hiding. Even Ellie tried to point out that there was a possibility he didn’t make it, but as Joel had said before, he was persistent.

You came across a cozy cabin hidden in the forest. Realizing you had no other options, you had to ask for directions to where you were at the moment. A quiet and nice old lady, named Florence had resided and mentioned she was with her husband, Marlon. After making the soup she told three of you that her husband wouldn’t be happy they were in their home. You peeked past the curtains and out the window you saw he husband returning from hunting in the forest, hanging out two white rabbits by the door. Marlon walked inside his home to find her wife sitting upon the rocking chair, her gaze slowly moving towards Joel, him with his revolver out while you and Ellie are upstairs, quietly watching from the mezzanine.

Marlon reluctantly places his bow and arrows on the side entry table, removes his gloves, and unzips his outer jacket, while Joel grumbles out, “And the gun.” Marlon grunts, “Who the hell are you?” Joel walks a bit closer while demanding for him to cooperate, he says, “Just someone passing through. Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it out of reach.” The senior does as he’s told and places it on the other table and asks his wife who was quietly watching the interaction, “Why didn’t you shoot him?” She continues rocking back and forth, “The gun’s all the way over there. He didn’t hurt me by the way.”

“Yeah, I got eyes.” He nonchalantly replies and spots the empty soup bowl on the wooden living room table, “You made him soup?”  Florence gives his husband an obvious answer, "Yeah, I did. It’s cold out.” He simply shakes his head and sits down on his own chair. “I’m looking for my brother.” Joel states and the other man replies and removes his cap, “Well, I ain’t seen him.” Your cowboy shakes his head, “I haven’t told you what he looks like.”

“He look anything like you?” He asks and Joel tilts his head, “A bit.”

Ellie taps your arm and whispers to you, “It’s you and Joel from the future.” You frown and shake your head as you whisper back to her, “No.” The young girl rolls her eyes, “Whatever, you should see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.” You blink at her, and you’re seemingly left speechless.

“Then I ain’t seen him,” He says, “He’s got a girl and his wife with him.” You hear Florence say and you nearly choke on air in surprise. Joel turns to look at her, pissed, and confused, and didn’t even bother to correct her. Ellie yells next to you, “Can I come down?” Joel raises his voice at her, “No! Ellie!” You couldn’t stop her as she excitedly runs downstairs, and you have no choice but to follow her.

The elderly couple laughs knowingly, Joel looks at you and Ellie, “What did I just say?” And you give him an apologetic look and Ellie replies, “Joel, come on. They’re like a thousand.” Marlon questions aloud,  “Who’s this little psycho and her mother?” Your mouth slightly parted open, about to inform him that you weren’t married to Joel and you weren’t her mother but Joel dismissed it, “Never mind them. I need you to tell us where we are.” He went to the middle of the living room, shoving the map in his direction, cheekily the man throws back, “If you got a map, why you lost?” Ellie’s lips turn downwards as she replies sarcastically, “Must’ve missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest.”

Marlon whistles out, “Holy.” And Florence chuckles, still enjoying the excitement that they haven’t had in years. Joel sighs and points out on the map, “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife’s.” Marlon glances back at his wife, “Did you tell him the truth?” She nods, “Yeah.” He raises an eyebrow at her, “Are you telling me the truth?” She doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah.” He lets out a deep exhale as he leans over, pointing where you all were currently.

Joel places his revolver back in his holster, his eyebrows are furrowed and he sighs in frustration, “Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” He sits down and you sit right next to him and Ellie mimics you both. “Hide? Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody.” Marlon replied as his wife gives her input, “I didn’t want to.” He grumpily waves her off and you lean next to Ellie, “Okay, there’s some truth in what you said.” She gives you a smirk in response.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother but if you’ve come this far, then you know what’s out there. You seen Cody?” Marlon asked while Joel clenches his jaw, and Ellie replies, “Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with Infected.” He hums in agreement, “Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation. Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.” Joel doesn’t give up and asks, “So you haven’t heard the name, ‘Tommy’?”

“Nope.” He simply says and Ellie questions, “What about the Fireflies?” Florence replies this time, “We get those in the summer.” The young girl frowns, “Not the bugs, the people.” Cluelessly the woman asks, “There are firefly people?” Her husband chuckles and Joel's frown grows deeper, creating harsh lines on his forehead, “You got any advice on the best way west?” The senior man doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah. Go east. But you never go past the river here.” He then points to a specific location on the map, the blue stream that flows across the paper, “Ever.”

“What’s past the river?” Ellie asked, brave and a little naive, the kind wise Florence replies, “Death. We never see who’s out there but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some infected, some not.” She turns to look at Joel, “If your brother is west of the river, he’s gone.” You lift your eyes to the man next to you, Joel has his eyebrows pinched, his gaze distant, and the lines by the side of his mouth are evident. Your heart sinks at the chance that the elderly couple might be right. “You’re not gonna scare us,” Ellie softly says and the woman answers, “Scared him.” Her husband chuckles and Joel scrambles to get out of there, not saying a single word, he’s grabbing the map and packs up the rest of his things.

You and Ellie are quick to follow after him as she comments, “You don’t seriously believe them.” Joel’s footsteps are loud with every crunch of snow, “They’ve lived here a long time.” He turns and you do too to see Ellie grab a rabbit, “Put that back.” Ellie doesn’t listen and swings the dead rabbit behind her back, “They don’t know anything. Never heard of the fireflies.” Joel unexpectedly stops walking, and you can hear his breathing become labored as he places his hand on the wooden fence, you angle your head to the right in confusion and concern.

Joel only hears muffled echoes as the ringing in his ears overpowers his senses, “Joel? Are you okay?” You softly ask and there is no response, you hear Ellie begin to worry as well and lines begin to form across your forehead. “Shut up.” His voice was barely audible as he places his hand on his chest. You jerk back, but you try to decode what was happening. Ellie then asks him, “Holy shit. Are you dying?” He shakes his head in response, “I’m okay.” But the world seems to spin around him, his vision feels blurry and the weightlessness he feels is unsettling, unable to process the news he had just heard and the possible chance his brother is no longer alive. The further he goes West, the more his paternal empathy is starting to merge Ellie and Sarah into one.

Yours and Ellie’s voices merge into one large echo as you both try and make sure he’s alright. “I’m fine.” You both don’t buy it, “No, no, but are you? Because just a reminder that if you’re dead, we’re fucked.” Ellie said, referring to both of you, which seemingly brings Joel grounded remembering he is now a caretaker and guardian to the both of you, he turns to you as he assures, “I said I’m fine. It’s just the… cold air all of a sudden.”

You don’t buy it one bit but you don’t want to diagnose him immediately so you keep silent and listen to Ellie speak as she marches on forward while ducking under the wooden fence, “All right, uh… let’s go and find Tommy and, and the Fireflies.” Joel grunts and looks at you and you avert your eyes from him, quickly following Ellie.

“It’s gonna be easy,” Ellie said, stumbling a little but marching on, “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

All the bruises seem to surface like mud beneath the snow, your feet dug into the snow, a small thin path of footprints lay behind me, telling me where you have come from, but not where you are going. The winds were cold, almost freezing your skin with a simple touch. The icy winds blew against your jacket, the fabric keeping you warm, enough to feel comfortable but not to keep your cold thoughts away. You knew about Jackson, but you weren’t entirely sure where exactly the town was. You silently hope Tommy was fine and nothing had changed.

You gazed around the land, nothing but unending snow and ice, almost a hint that this land had gotten incredibly secluded through the years. After the trees reached the sky, children laughed and played, and the sounds of birds chirping in the woods woke me up from my long rest. It was almost as if the world itself was a part of you, but now that everything has turned frigid and awful, you hardly recognize it.

You see a river stream to your left, Ellie stops to look at it and rolls her eyes as she sarcastically says, “The River of Death. Scary.” Joel sighs, “Don’t start. It’s too close to dark. There’s some caves along the river. We’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.” Ellie smiles, “Good. I’m starving. Should’ve stolen two rabbits.” You ruffle her hair a little bit and Joel replies, “We can get our own rabbits.” 

Ellie excitedly asks as she looks up at Joel, “You gonna teach me how? You taught Birdie.” You bite back a smile from the memory, his entire firm body was behind you, hands on either side of you, the ghost of his breath as he whispered instructions creating a trail of goosebumps. If you were being honest, you were very close to kissing him, but you were too afraid to mess it all up, to ask if he felt it too, and continued to wait for him to be ready. “Just keep movin’.” Joel dismisses her and the girl sighs in frustration and exhaustion. You look to Joel, your eyes gazing into his brown ones, hoping that if you stare long enough you could magically read his mind, then turned to trail after Ellie.

WYOMING WILDERNESS, CAVE – NIGHT

Your campfire appeared to echo the starlight and bounced off the walls of the small cave as if the flames so close and so distant had so very much to say to one another. It crackled and spat before hissing into life. Its lambent light stole away the velvet-black shadows dancing on the wall. As that dry, withered stump slowly releases years and years of energy soaked up from the sun, the air, and the ground around it, outcome bright lights, whispering hisses, sizzling pops, and a thick, intoxicating smell of musky smoke and pine needles.

You sit atop a large rock by the edge with Ellie, both of your heads are tilted up, black heavens are the perfect stage upon which the brightest of hues dance. You could watch the aurora lights for infinity and always see that it is new, a unique moment and beauty in all of existence. Rays of light fall from the sky, making drapes that stretch across the sky. And they are reminiscent of fluttering drapes or curtains in the wind. There is also a violet and a crimson trim at the bottom and top ends. Sometimes the hues are blended together and braided into one another. New beams of light streaming down from space cause the curtains to vanish and reappear.

Joel looks up to find you both whispering and giggling, you are pointing up at the sky and moving excitedly as you explained the glow from the stars and the infinite rays of light creating waves in the cold midnight sky. He watches Ellie lean her head on your shoulder and you gently rub her back, eventually giving her a light squeeze as a form of a side hug. He brings his fingers to his lips, and a shrill attention-grabbing pierces through the air, both of you swiftly turn your attention to Joel who says, “Come down from there. You’re both gonna break your necks.”

You and Ellie make your way down the high rock, and both of you walk to Joel who was sipping from his flask. Ellie curiously asks Joel, “Ahh… Can I have some?” He shakes his head at her, “No.” The fourteen-year-old whines, “What? Just to warm up. C’mon.” Joel looks at you, and you were surprised he wanted your input or permission. You simply nodded, letting him give the metal flask to Ellie which she receives with a bright smile, she raises it in thanks and takes a large sip. Her face twists into a sour expression, her eyes shut for a brief moment while her eyebrows meet in the middle, “Yep… still gross.” Ellie hands it back to Joel and he asks if you want some to which you respond with a shake of your head. She lets out a little cough and Joel quietly sips from his flask.

“So, I’ve been thinking. Let’s say we find the Fireflies, it all works, they draw my blood and put it through some of their fancy machines and make a cure.” Ellie says and you watch Joel shift his eyes a bit, trying to figure out where this is heading, “Okay?” Ellie raises her eyebrows as she asks aloud, “Then what? Like, what do we do?” Joel raises his defenses, trying to keep the invisible bricks intact steady, “Oh, it’s ‘we’?” Unintentionally you sigh loudly in exasperation, looking at Joel with your eyelids heavy, you nervously lick the bottom of your lip and cling to your patience as it slowly slips through your fingers like sand. Ellie also sighs and reforms her question, “Okay, fine. Whatever. You. Her. You both can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?”

Joel clears his throat, “It’s never been an option. Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land… a ranch.” Ellie encourages him to continue, “Cool. What kind?” He replies while he smugly looks at Ellie “Sheep. I would raise sheep. They’re quiet… do what they’re told.” Ellie rolls her eyes and nods, “Yeah, yeah. Okay. So, just you and a buncha sheep. Romantic.” You smile at the thought of him living a domesticated life, no more danger or violence, just simple and safe. Joel hesitates a little before asking Ellie, “And what about you? Where are you gonna go?”

She raises her head high, looking up at the full midnight moon glimmering bright along with the twinkling stars, “It’s probably cause I grew up in the QZ. Behind you, there’s ocean, and ahead of you, there’s a wall. Nowhere else to look but up. I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?” You create creases beneath your eyes as you smile widely, having a pretty good guess as to who. You and Joel say the same thing at the same time, “Sally Ride.” Ellie grins, “Sally fuckin’ Ride! Best astronaut name ever. How about you Birdie?” You blink twice, “What?” She raises an eyebrow, “What are you gonna do when after I save the world? Are you gonna try to go back to your world or whatever?”

You've trusted and refused every compass you've followed, and the same is true of an ever-changing concept of right. You wrap your arms around your middle, and your shoulders rise and fall as you breathe, “Um… I actually haven’t thought about that. I don’t know.” She looks at you with confusion and questions “Don’t you want to go back home?” Her inquiry causes you to shrink into yourself a little more, not wanting to answer, craving to distance yourself from Joel and Ellie’s gaze. You swallow nervously and look down at your worn-out boots, “I… Maybe. It might take a long time before I could figure out something. But to be honest Ellie, I never felt… at home there. So many things that I had before, but they don't matter to me now.”

Then it becomes quiet for a bit, you watch Ellie blink a couple of times, the crackling bright glow of the orange fire illuminating on side of her face, as she begins to question the future before her, she couldn’t help but wonder, “It’ll work, right? The vaccine?” Joel looks down unsure, “It’s a little late to start wonderin’.”

“I tried, with Sam,” Ellie says as she doesn’t bring her eyes to either of you, your eyes soften at her admittance, none of you have talked about what had happened, not wanting to dwell on the past too much, but to hear her finally bring it up giving you a sense of pride, for her to have the courage to speak about something so traumatic. Joel continued the conversation by asking her what she meant, “Tried what?” She still couldn’t bring herself to look at either of you, choosing to gaze into the campfire, “I knew he was infected. I rubbed some of my blood into his bite. I know, I know, it was stupid. But I… I wanted to save him.” Joel softly says, the wind carrying his words into the night, “Well, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that. Marlene, she’s a lotta things, but… she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.” Ellie doesn’t say anything as she nods and he takes a large gulp from his flask, throwing his head back as he does.

The fire crackles loudly, but Ellie’s voice could be heard as she asked, “You wanna take first watch or second?” Joel grunts out, “I’ll do both. Get some sleep.” You opened your mouth to dispute him, saying that you could do the first watch but he doesn’t let you get a single syllable in as he narrows his eyes at you, “No.” You huff in annoyance and say nothing. You and Ellie get up to go deeper into the cave as Joel says to the both of you while grabbing his rifle, “Dream of… going home to sheep ranches on the moon.” Ellie gives him another nod, “I will.” 

WYOMING WILDERNESS, CAVE – EARLY MORNING

The snow forest feels to the rest of the world like a gift waiting to be opened. Upon the ascent of the daylight, the wilderness is so bitter cold. It exudes a clean aura that invites the soul to pause for a minute and allow the sight to permeate the soul. You live in the moment, the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future you dream of even in the cold. The last of the morning stars were blinking out tragically above you. They glowed like bling-silver grains of sand in the early sky. It was a sight to see as their bejeweled splendor faded into nothingness. A ghostly, orb-white winter moon lingered there, eerily similar to a faint strobe light. A halo of brilliant golden encircled its waning brilliance. The sky around it was a vast sheet of grate-grey, with a plum-purple hue near the horizon.

You woke up a bit earlier than usual, and you found Joel passed out, laying on his side and using his jacket as a pillow. You could hear the birds squawking from above the trees, and see the campfire had dimmed. Quietly, you pushed yourself up and grabbed the rifle he had left beside him. You did the usual checks to ensure the safety of everyone, and to see if there were any tracks or unwanted animals lurking around. So far, luckily, you three were safe for the time being.

You made your way back to the cave, finding Ellie alert and awake. She looks at Joel and then back at you, and you raise your finger to your lips, indicating that she should let Joel rest and be quiet. The young girl nods in understanding, silently walking towards you, the both of you taking watch. You let Ellie practice what Joel had taught her and let her hold the rifle in the meantime. And she did everything perfectly.

As time passed and the sun began to rise from the east, you hear Joel mumble in his sleep. You tuned your ears to his whimpers and mumbling, catching the words, “Supposed to be me… Supposed to…” You frown in understanding and worry, you had your fair share of nightmares fueled by guilt. Joel startles awake, gasping for air as he pushes himself up frantically searching for his rifle, only to find you and Ellie standing guard. Ellie couldn’t help herself as she quips, “Still mumbling in your sleep. Birdie and I woke up early. You were passed out, so we both took second watch.”

Joel’s fury sprang to life as he stood up, “You gotta wake me up if that happens. Both of you can’t do things like this.” You felt a flash of irritation as you say to him, “But we can… ‘cause we just did.” He’s quiet for a moment, caught off guard by your reaction, then he speaks, “I’m responsible for both of you, okay?” Ellie is quick to throw back, “Then don’t fall asleep.” She began to recount detail and instruction Joel had given her before when he taught her while you proudly smirk at him, “What can I say, man? I’m a natural.” Joel grouchily nods, “Uh-huh.” And gestures to her to give him back the rifle, he nods at her in approval this time, “You wake me up next time.” Ellie rolls her eyes and smiles sarcastically, “Yes, sir. But you should know that Birdie woke up before me.”

Your eyes widen at her, “Ellie, don’t throw me under the bus!” She chuckles at you as Joel gives you a pointed look and you raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to try and argue, instead he just shakes his head, “Let’s get goin’.”

The cold air stung your cheeks and you pulled your scarf up closer to your face. As you looked around you took notice of the white blanket of snow covering the trees, ground, and mountains. The smell of damp pine trees made the air feel fresh and clean. The world around you was frozen in a glaring white quiet. Nothing made a sound, nothing moved, nothing sang. Winter's slavering teeth have vanished. Its piercing winds had stripped the trees of their final leaves, leaving them naked and brooding in a harsh world. They were groaning beneath the weight of the snow, encased in their medical coats. A great limb would occasionally groan, shatter, and collapse. It sounded like an explosion went off in the jungle. Apart from that, the woodland was engulfed in an eerie stillness. There was no morning chorus, sound symphony, or avian orchestra. The entire globe was encased in a dome of quiet. Winter's lethal grasp has strangled and suffocated all life on the planet. Snowflakes fluttered down on the three of you, sylph-like in their airy quiet. They glinted like crushed diamond dust as they landed. A shimmering winter scape of white and silver.

The sudden gunshot disrupted the peace of the forest, and the startled geese began to honk and fly off into the distance, Joel waits for a bit to ensure it was safe to cross the bridge, Ellie observes, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does, “The River of Death. Still no people.” Joel grumbles out, “Fine.” Then proceeds to stand up, and walk to the entrance of the bridge as you and Ellie closely follow him from behind.

As you continue to make your way across the bridge, Ellie tries to whistle like Joel, however, no high pitch sound comes out, just puffs of air. Joel turns around in confusion, and Ellie’s reply is muffled by her fingers, “I’m learning how to whistle.” And Joel looks at her incredulously, “You don’t know how to whistle?” She retorts, “Does it sound like I know how to whistle?” He says the obvious, “No.” You laugh, letting yourself enjoy the little moments of peace with the two. “Seriously, though, how the fuck do you do that?” Ellie asks walking a little bit ahead and you walking side-by-side with Joel, he harrumphs, “Talent.” And you lightly smack his arm at his response, and you swore you saw him give you a small smile, Ellie mutters, “Whatever. You should teach me how to hunt.”

“Huh.” Joel states, and Ellie mocks him, “‘Huh’. Like. ‘She’s a girl. She can’t handle it.’” Joel speaks as he trudges through the snow, “You can handle the shootin’. Not so sure about the dressin’.” Ellie sighs, “What’s the dressin’?” You and Joel walk a little bit past her and he replies, “The part where you take the guts out.” And your nose scrunches up at the thought while Ellie says, “Oh, yeah. Why do they call it dressing? It’s like you should call it undressing ‘cause it is. It’s like… undressing from the inside.” She paused for a bit to catch her breath before saying, “Still interested, though.”

The sound of water rushing fills your ears as you waddled through the snow, stumbling upon a large structure. Dams were mechanical temples that harnessed the victorious powers of water, power, and terrestrial fertility for human advantage. “Dam.” Ellie said, and you rolled your eyes in amusement while Joel tells her, “You’re no Will Livingston.” She quickly throws back at him, “Yeah, yeah, but who is? So that made electricity?” Referencing the Dam in front of them, Joel mutters, “Yeah. Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.” Ellie laughs, “You know, you could’ve just made something up. I would’ve believed you.” Joel answers, “Ask Birdie, she’s practically a walking encyclopedia.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or amazed at the fact you know what an encyclopedia is.” You quip at him with a smirk and his lip quirks up in a small smirk at you, and his eyes twinkle with mischief and desire as his pupils slightly darken, “Smartass.” You winked at him, “You like it.”

“Damn right.” He said with his eyes unwavering from yours, and you felt every atom in your body spark to life. Joel’s heavy breathing stirred the tiny hairs on your neck, sending a shiver into every cell of your body. Ellie disrupted you both as she makes a disgusted groan, “If the two of you are done flirting can we please keep moving?” The heat of embarrassment rushed into your face, leaving you speechless as you decide to break away from his stare and keep marching forward.

“Look at that river. It’s crazy blue.” Ellie said then was immediately quiet after, somewhere between then and now irony slipped its way into her vocabulary, laughter became an anecdote for guilt, sacrifice grew to be a band name for shame and unnecessary death became a nightmare that rode her piggyback. At this point, the thought suddenly struck her, “Hey, Joel, Birdie… what if this is the River of Death?”

Joel grabs the map from his jacket pocket and unfolds it, checking to see if Ellie was right. The cold wind harshly bit into your skin as you three stared at the crystal blue river. At first, you couldn’t see them, but you could hear them—the snapping of twigs, the crunch of snow, and the clopping sound of horse hoofs. There were more than one, more than three, and they were closing in. Joel tried to grab you and Ellie to run, but they were too quick, and organized, and had you surrounded in seconds with their guns and rifles pointed at you. “Get behind me,” Joel said, slightly pushing both of you behind his tall frame. You all raised your hands up, and showed no sign of aggression, Joel shouts, “We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble. We’re just passin’ through.”

“Drop the gun,” the harsh voice ordered in front of you, Joel does as he’s told and so do you. “Both of you… take five steps back.” the man says, and Joel tries to reason with him, “How ‘bout we just talk this through?” And the unknown man unrelentingly replies, “How ‘bout you shut the fuck up?” Joel's shoulders tense, “Okay, easy.” He turns to both of you, Ellie has her eyes wide open and mouth slightly parted, her hands slightly quivering and you trying to steady your breathing, “You’ll both be okay.”

You follow the orders given to you and take five steps back and you hear the man ask, “You been near Infected?” And Joel replies, “There’s no Infected out here.” He doesn’t buy it one bit and retorts, “The hell there ain’t.” He whistles and you hear a short, abrupt vocalization, relatively loud and high-pitched, changes in frequency, the bark of an excited dog, “Last chance for a bullet. If you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.”

The black large dog continues to bark and its handler removes his leash, he prances over to Joel, sniffing him up and down, jumps up to place his paws on his stomach, looks at him then whines, not finding any indication of the virus. The dog walks back over to his handler for a treat while Joel’s Texan accent becomes heavy, “Like I said… we’ll just move on.” The man still has his rifle pointed at you as he sits atop his horse, he nods over in your and Ellie’s direction, “Now both of them.”

Your heart drops, and you hear Ellie’s breathing become shaky. The flip in your stomach takes over all of your senses, you are frozen and unmoving as you watch the dog crouch lowly and growl at you and Ellie. Joel turns back to glance at you both and you’re worriedly looking at him. He turns around, not bringing himself to watch, the world becomes quiet, the silent ringing returns, and his lungs are clawing for air. It brings him back to that moment when the world took her away, his Sarah, the powerlessness and helplessness feeling that had followed him over the past twenty years. The weight of the world was placed on his shoulders that faithful day.

The sound of a high-pitched bark brings him back to the present, he hears you and Ellie giggle and turns to find you and her completely fine, happily rubbing and petting the dog as the creature licks and wags its tail. The man whistles and the dog is called away, you and Ellie stand up from the snow and hear the leader say, “You just bought yourself ten more seconds. What are you doin’ out here?” Joel quickly replies, “I’m just lookin’ for my brother. That’s all, nothin’ more.” A beautiful woman, whose skin was as rich and deep as any stately home mahogany, exclaims, “Ho!” And walks her horse forward, “What’s your name?” He answers breathlessly, “Joel.” And his name became the key, the password, and the answer, for them to escort you into their town.

You three were given and allowed to ride your own horses, the cold wind rushing past me. The sun’s rays of light are covered by the darkness of the clouds.  Hooves, galloping along the plush white snow, the loud clopping and crunch fill your ears as you hold onto the reins. In the distance, you see a large wooden wall with a giant gate, men and women stationed on top, ready to shoot any intruders. One of the men raises a red bandana, a signal to one of the guards on watch.

The large gate opens for all of you, the horses begin to trot at a normal pace as you take in the sight of Jackson. Underneath you are fluffy, cold snow. The sounds of slush fill your ears. You watch as the misty fog escapes your mouth anytime you take a breath. Every time you inhale a frigid prickle enters your lungs and every time you exhale the heat from your breath warms your lips. Around you are naked trees covered in powder-white snow, glistening in the daylight. The town is neatly arranged, and it felt comfortable and safe. You spot the Tipsy Bison on the right, a location you recognized, then bring your eyes to observe the people around you. A thriving and collaborative community, stable enough to provide and care for the elderly and children.

You continue on forward, spotting Tommy on top of the scaffolding, helping with construction work. You angle your head to look at Joel as he shouts at the top of his lungs, “Tommy!” His brother stops what he’s doing to look at Joel, then he proceeds to run down the steps leading up to the scaffolding, Joel urgently dismounts from his horse, and the people around town watch as the two brothers reunite, a large impactful hug from the both of them, secure and firm. Their shoulders move up and down as the two laugh loudly, finally, all of the pieces align and the balance is clearly defined, he sighs and settles down for the first time.

Tommy smiles as he asks his older brother, “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Joel looks at you and Ellie for a second before back to Tommy, replying, “I came here to save you.” Joel begins to laugh again, his chuckle a melody you’ve rarely heard before, a sound you keep in your back pocket just in case. 

You bring your gaze to Ellie, whose expression is mixed and jealous, sensing that she’s now a bit less important in Joel’s life. You look back at the two brothers, turning down the volume of your heart, the massive table of countless dominos, all lined up and weaving in and out of each other, every relationship and decision in every piece of domino, subconsciously shrinking the row of dominos the best you can. Eliminating your opinions or wants and desires, convincing yourself that this will be simple by just focusing on the needs of everyone else but yourself. The only form of control you’ve had looks like empathy to understand all sides.

MESS HALL, JACKSON COUNTY, WYOMING – AFTERNOON

The mess hall was large, warm, and inviting. The indistinct chatter fills the giant wooden cabin, lightbulbs twinkling from above, and dining tables lined up neatly. Ellie was sat in between you and Joel, she is scarfing down her food, eagerly eating everything that was on her plate and so was Joel. You were meekly eating, trying to not draw attention to yourself, as you quietly chewed on your potatoes. “There’s more if you need it.” And you soon come to realize that this must be Maria, the way Tommy’s body language is drawn and pulled close to her, you smile when you hear Joel reply politely, “Thank you, ma’am.” And you also offer your thanks to her and she nods in your direction in acknowledgment. Joel cuts into his food as he says, “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.” Ellie pipes in, “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal. This is fuckin’ amazing.” You wince in second-hand embarrassment and so does Joel, he turns to Maria, “Sorry. Ellie… let’s mind our manners.” Tommy smirks knowingly. At one moment, another girl furtively looks at Ellie, until Ellie loudly says “What?!” and scares her off. Joel’s lips turn down and his eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What’s wrong with you?” Ellie doesn’t relent, “What about her manners?” 

“She was just curious. Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.” Maria points out and Ellie nods, “Right… well, maybe I’ll teach them. And I want my gun back.” Maria shakes her head, “They also aren’t armed.” The young brave girl glares at her in response, Tommy decides to step in, “You know what? Uh… I think maybe ya’ll got a little off on the wrong foot.” Ellie raises her tone and points out, “She was gonna have our guys kill us.” Joel gives her a pointed look, an indication for her to stop being disrespectful but Tommy calmly responds, “Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. But it’s all bark. We’re just trying to scare off those who might wanna try us is all.” Ellie nonchalantly says, “Well you got a couple of ninety-year-olds who shitting themselves out there.” You and Joel chastise her quickly, “Ellie.” But she doesn’t care, “They say that you leave dead bodies around?” Maria doesn’t deny the ugly truth, “Those are the people who tried us.” Tommy adds, “A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad.” Maria narrows her eyes at Joel as she comments, “Not always, at least.” You feel your anger flare up from your chest as you grip your knife tighter, glaring at Maria for suggesting such a thing.

Joel swallows down his food and his shame, “Ma’am… we’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”  You place an elbow on the table, using your hand to hide your face in embarrassment as you squirm in your chair, you hear Tommy clear his throat, “Well um…” You peek past your hand and watch him grab Maria’s hand, spotting the wedding band on his left ring finger, “Maria is family, actually.” Ellie blinks in surprise as she says, “Oh, shit! Congrats.” You bring your eyes to Joel’s unmoving figure, frozen in shock from the sudden news as his breathing becomes unsteady, Ellie softly whispers to him, “Joel, say congrats.” The all-too-familiar cold tone is unmistakable as he grits his teeth to say, “Congrats.” There’s an awkward silence between the two parties, and you take a large gulp of your water and Tommy offers, “How ‘bout a tour.” You nod as you’re the first one to get up from your chair, not liking the possibility of conflict between the two brothers, “Yes, please.”

JACKSON, WYOMING – AFTERNOON

The town had a large plaza, and a giant vibrant Christmas tree in the center, Maria spoke as she walked, and the rest of you followed, “We settled here about seven years ago. Just a handful of us back then.” She points out a section of the town, “That section was already a gated community, so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.” Joel warily looks around, “And you said Infected?” Tommy nods, “Yeah, but usually in smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out there… it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope. Sub MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from half a mile out.”

“Can you teach me how?” Ellie asks and Joel is quick to respond for him, “No, he can’t. How do you keep this place quiet?” Maria replies, “Carefully. Being in the middle of nowhere helps. Not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.” Joel stares at his brother and Tommy shrinks away from his pointed look, you listen to Maria as she explains the purpose of each building, “House of worship, multifaith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as a jail, not that we’ve needed it.” Joel looks to one of the electric poles, “And you draw power from the dam?” Maria confirms his suspicion, nodding, “Got that workin’ a couple years ago. After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters… lights.” Ellie shakes her head, seemingly impressed, “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

The group makes their way to the farm, and a herd of sheep passes by, and Ellie points it out as she smiles at him, “Hey, Joel, check it. Baa.” Ellie playfully swings her arms back and forth as she asks Maria, “Are you, like, in charge?” She looks at Tommy for a bit before replying, “No one person’s in charge. I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting.” Tommy picks off where she left off, “Everything you see in our town… greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership,” to which Joel replies, "So, uh, communism." Tommy's knee-jerk reaction is, "Nah. Nah, it ain't like that." His discomfort with the term pulls from over a century of distortion of the fundamental principles of communism. “It is that, literally. This is a commune. We're communists," Maria states modestly, to which Tommy’s discomfort at the thought causes him to stagger a bit, to which you offer, “I can try and explain it later.” Tommy nods in thanks and you give him a reassuring smile.

“No way!” Ellie exclaims as she makes her way to the stables, Maria trails behind her and you follow the two ladies, “That’s our newest one. Couple months old. You wanna pet her?” Ellie’s smile is as bright as the sun and her teeth as white as the snow beneath you, wide and happy, “Yeah, what’s her name?” Ellie asks to which Maria replies, “Shimmer.” Your smile falters a bit, recognizing the name from the second game, but you shake it off, not wanting to keep looking into the future. “Shimmer you’re so beautiful,” Ellie says as she pets the pony gently, completely enamored by her beauty and gentle grace. Maria turns to Tommy and discusses the possible sleeping arrangement, “Well, I’m sure they’d like a shower, some new clothes. We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.” Her husband nods in agreement, “Yeah. It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since the ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.” Ellie carelessly remarks, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”

Joel has his eyes narrowed and annoyed, “We’ve been doin’ fine.” You get the slight feeling he’s being defensive, and Maria looks at you and Ellie, and tells her husband, “Well I’ll take her and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up.” Tommy then looks to his older brother for approval and Joel nods, “Yeah. Okay.” You and Ellie whip your head to face Joel, slightly unnerved and fearful of the unknown, and potentially Joel pushing you both away. “Joel.” Ellie says and he brushes her off as he walks away, “You’ll be fine.” Maria asks the both of you, “Shall we?” And having no choice but to follow her you both nod, “Uh, yeah.”

THE RANCH, MASTER BEDROOM

JACKSON, WYOMING – AFTERNOON

The warm hot shower soothes your skin as you wash off the grime and dirt of the last few months. At some point, you had decided to sit down in the bathtub of the shower, letting the water hit your skin freely, your eyes distant and gaze unsteady as you watch the steam of the shower move to the light. You hug your knees close to your chest, rest your chin on your knees, and finally let yourself go. 

The haze takes over your vision, a sculpture of water and unsettled dust, and your exhausted mind only wants to be carried home. So you fight with the concept of grace while attempting to hold everything in place. You were so full of life that you could barely hold it in. You were amateurs at war, strangers to suffering. Your questions ricochet like broken satellites. How did your bodies, born to heal, become so prone to die? Your nights have grown so long and now you beg for sound advice, time has been ruthless and unkind, every turn in the corner of the maze only to be faced with a dead end, the trapdoors you couldn’t see, and the lives that were lost to your journey to Jackson. You felt so vulnerable and fragile, the fact that the foundation of society was shaken to its core due to the pandemic, governments, families, and lives as you know them, will never be the same again. As life replayed, you hear the voice in the back of your mind proclaim, to let the brokenness be felt until you reach the other side.

The sting in your eyes as the tears escape from your eyes, allows for the cold embrace of the depression you’ve kept hidden and at bay for so long. Sometimes you pretend you are evergreen and keep your cards close to your chest. But this time you allow yourself the reprieve, as you quietly sob into your hands and gasp for air now and then, letting every little fracture of you shatter out loud. Wondering if your messes mattered and if all the chaos counted as you felt empty-handed. You had set sail along the universe's ocean of the unknown with cheap wood and tried to patch up every leak that you could until the blame grew too heavy.

You reflected on the world that you were unintentionally placed in, presenting the world through a different lens, a world that turned hostile and dangerous. But a story that explored how nevertheless you can still find love and meaning, the longing for human connections, and how willing you are to sacrifice everything to safeguard the people you love. 

You hadn’t planned on it, the greater weight of the truth settling inside of you. Fundamental resilience and a built-in resistance, and against your judgment, prevent you from completely surrendering yourself from truly giving up on being human. You open your eyes and slowly rise to your feet, placing your palm on the wall, you blink and try to look past the undefined and fragile promise at the light at the end of the tunnel. You nod, shakily you breathe, and whisper to no one in particular, “I guess that’s how it goes.”

After the mental breakdown in the shower, you stepped out of the bathroom fresh and felt a little bit lighter. You lift your chin a little higher and open your eyes a little wider despite the puffiness in your eyes. You are wrapped in a towel, and as you make your way to the foot of the bed, you find fresh clean clothes to wear and a menstrual cup. You smile at the thoughtful gift and find a note, that reads ‘I’m just across the street. Come by when you’re done.’

You get dressed and make your way down the hall to Ellie’s room, you knock on her door and call for her, “Ellie? You there?” When no reply came, you slowly opened the door to find her gone and after investigating a little bit, you see a similar note from Maria. You figured she had already gone over. You leave her room and walk across the street to Maria’s house, knocking on the door and Ellie opening the door for you. You smile at her as you walk inside, appreciating the warmth already provided by the fireplace.

You take a good look at the living room, yellow curtains by the window, a messy coffee table with an unsolved crossword, and a large cozy couch facing the fireplace as it crackles and roars. Your eyes catch the small blackboard sitting on top of the fireplace with two candles on each side. Ellie walks over to it and you follow closely behind her as she stares up at the two names. Kevin and Sarah, with the dates, that they were born and taken away too soon from this world.

You let out an uneven exhale and feel your frown deepen, as the flashbacks of Joel’s life come back to you in a blur. The scream for mercy, watching him tear apart with each cry and wail from his hoarse voice. The day the world ended was the same day his world ended. Something broken that cannot be fixed. You both turn your heads to the sound of the back door opening, Maria enters bringing the cold wind with her until she closes the door behind her, “Oh, good. Just traded for these two. Go ahead, try it on.” She hands Ellie a deep purple long coat while yours is A sophisticated medium gray with the barest hint of violet. The young girl comments as she wears her purple puffer coat, “It’s, uh, super fuckin’ purple.” You bend down a little to help Ellie with her coat, fixing the collar and the lining, Maria nods, “Eggplant. It fits?” Ellie replies, “Yeah.” Maria continues to fuss over her as you put on your coat, “Shoes aren’t too big?” She answers, “Uh, no. Where’s our other stuff?” Maria lifts her shoulders, “Rag pile. Did you both get the thing I left you?” You merely nod while Ellie bluntly replies, “Yeah. Weirdest gift ever.” Maria nods in agreement but says, “But useful. Who’s been cutting your hair?”

“Uh, world-class salons,” Ellie says plainly and it earns a laugh from you and Maria, “Let me get my scissors.” Ellie’s mouth opens to protest but Maria doesn’t let her argue, “Trim. That’s all. Just the ends, I promise. And her too, she’ll go first so you can see that you have nothing to worry about.” Referring to you as she walks to the kitchen. You ruffle Ellie’s hair and whisper to her, “Just let her,” to which she sighs and takes a seat on one of the dining table chairs.

The trim was much needed. Maria had cut your hair in the style you wanted with such precision and skill. You happily thanked her with a polite smile, sat down on one of the other chairs, and let Ellie go next, of course, Ellie being the curious kid she is, begins to interrogate Maria, “So, this was, like, your job back then or something?” The sharp snips of scissors fill the silence for a bit before she answers, “No, I was an Assitant District Attorney out of Omaha, Nebraska. I put the bad guys in jail. I always liked doing hair though. Maybe it was a mom thing.”

“Damn, that’s pretty impressive.” You said and she gives you her thanks and asks, “What did you do for work?” Your smile falters, “Um, I used to be a researcher, a Quantum physicist.” The quiet was nice for a moment before she comments, “You both were looking at the little memorial Tommy made?” Ellie answers for the both of you, “Uh, yeah.” She stumbles on her words, “I’m- I’m sorry about your kids.” Your nails dig into your palm and listen to Maria reply, “It’s okay. And kid. Just Kevin. Sarah was Joel’s daughter.”The heavy silence that follows tells Maria that Ellie didn’t know that before, and you find it harder to breathe, “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess that explains him a little,” Ellie says and she brings her eyes to you, “Did you know?” You squirm, the feeling of deja vu from when you first heard those words from Joel, the accusatory glance, and the betrayal in her eyes. “Yes,” You said and she scoffs at you, “Why? Why didn’t you say anything?” You pull back and raise your eyebrows at her, “You and I both know that was never my story to tell or share. No amount of knowledge will ever excuse the fact that I can never talk about what happened without Joel’s explicit consent.” Ellie resigns from her lashing out and nods at you with understanding, and you simply sighed. Maria chimes in, “Look, I’m not gonna ask you what you both are doing with him.” 

“Good.” You and Ellie say at the same time, quickly protective of Joel but Maria continues with her statement, “But there are clearly things you both don’t know about Joel.” You glare at Maria while the teen remains typically testy, “Oh, like how he used to kill people? We know about that.” Ellie rebukes with vigor and impresses Maria with it somewhat, “So then you understand my concern.” Ellie’s anger flares, “He doesn’t do that anymore.” And Maria is quick to question, “He stopped killing people?” 

“Innocent ones. And Tommy did it, too. Are you worried about him?” she asks to which Maria’s lips form a thin line, “Tommy was following Joel. The way you both are.” Seemingly sees Joel as a bad influence, someone who pulls people into his orbit and leaves harm in his wake. “Well, maybe, we’re smarter than Tommy. No offense.” Ellie states and you sense distrust in Maria, “You are definitely smart. Both of you. You would have made a hell of a lawyer, Ellie.” The woman says as she puts away her scissors and stands in front of you and Ellie, “There’s a whole lot you’re not telling me.” None of you answer, to which Maria nods, “Good. Therein lies the point. Be careful who you put your faith in,” she warns you and Ellie. “The only people who can betray us… are the ones we trust.” Ellie clearly resents the advice and Maria’s distrust of Joel, perhaps because she senses there’s a good reason for it and none of you want to admit it.

“You understand?” Maria asks and you both hum in acknowledgment. “Now come on.” She says as she walks to remove the towel around Ellie’s shoulders, “Grab your super fuckin’ eggplant coat.” You allow yourself to laugh at the callback and get up from your own seat, shuffling to put on your gray coat to which you hear Ellie ask, “Where are we going?” Maria smiles, “The movies.” Ellie sighs and ties her hair back, while you say, “I’m actually gonna go for a walk. Get familiar with the surroundings. You okay to go by yourself, Ellie?” The brave teen nods, “Mhm. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Tell me what you think of the movies later, okay?” You say and she smiles and agrees, “Okay.” You tuck your hands in the pockets of your coat, yelling a thank you and goodbye to Maria as you headed outside to the cold winter of Jackson.

MAIN STREET

JACKSON, WYOMING – SUNSET

You tried your best to help around as much as you could with the stables and the children, doing some work to pass the time. The clouds collected again around sunset, bringing an earlier night, and the snow began to fall straight and slowly from a sky devoid of wind, in a gentle universal dispersion more perplexing than the morning's blasts. It appeared to be a part of the growing darkness, the cold night itself falling on you layer by layer.

The amber glow of the string lights, the burn barrels doing their best to keep parts of the area warm, the steam following the wind but the bright glow of the fire emitting from inside shine through. Most people at this hour have already decided to go to the dining hall to watch the rest of the movie, but you continued to wander around the empty main street of Jackson.

The world is an outline of shapes you used to know, hidden in plain sight. The drapes suddenly pulled back slowly, as though pulling a ribbon. You've been distracted, but you're no longer trapped in the static. Despite the fact that your hands are prone to trial and error, you cross your fingers for anything to hold. Here in the shadows of letting go, you can't help but wish for a brighter future. You spot Ellie from a distance, her figure crouched down as she eavesdrops through the door of a nearby workshop. You tilt your head and quietly walk towards her, to which she still turns her head to you, lifting her finger on her lips indicating to be quiet. You decide to follow her request and crouch next to her, hearing Tommy and Joel quietly conversing with each other.

Joel started, “It was Marlene. She hired us to smuggle her to some Fireflies. It went bad. Tess got bit. She made me swear to take the kid. It was her dyin’ wish. What the hell was I supposed to do? We made it as far as K.C., and then… You know she saved my life there… from another kid. Birdie got hurt too… Five years ago, I would’ve destroyed him. But she had to shoot him to save me. Fourteen years old. Because I was too slow and too fuckin’ deaf to hear him comin’.” You shudder at the reminder and the two of you listened as Joel broke, bit by bit, his voice started to quiver, “And Birdie had to protect Ellie 'cause I asked her to… and she didn’t even have the experience or skill that I had… I saw… I saw a man kill his own brother… to save her, while I just watched. And today I thought that dog was gonna tear both of ‘em apart because it smelled somethin’ on them.”

“And all I did was stand there. I couldn’t… move. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just… I was so afraid.” Joel’s breathing was ragged as he spoke, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios, “You think I can handle things, but… I’m not who I was. I’m weak.” He believes he bears little resemblance to the man he once was or could become. No action hero, he admits to being far less capable of recognizing and reacting to threats than he used to be, and to sometimes being paralyzed by fear. You slowly start to feel your eyes sting again as you hear the tremble in his voice, the brokenness you’re all too familiar with, “Lately, there are these moments where the fear comes up outta nowhere, and… my heart… feels like it’s stopped. And I have dreams. Every night.”

“What kinda dreams?” Tommy asks, and you listen to the triggered tripwire every time he breathes, the tremble in his voice gives you that he was beginning to cry, “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I just know that when I wake up… I’ve lost somethin’.” You allow your own tears to fall, covering your mouth to cover your whimpers as you listen to him admit, “I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done is fail them again and again.” Tommy states, “You want me to take them.” And Joel continues to cry as he says, “I’m just gonna get them killed. I know it. I have to leave them.” Tommy tries to call his name to calm him, “Joel.”

“I mean, it’s why you took off on me, right? To make up for the things we did?” Joel asks with a clear glaze in his eyes, he begs his younger brother, “Well, here’s your chance to bring your kid into a better world. You’re younger than me. You’re still strong. You said it yourself, you’ll come back. You have to take her. You have to give Birdie… that sweet, smark, and kind girl,  a chance to live a life here. A normal life here. Please.”

You take Tommy’s silence as agreement and the tears fall from your cheeks as you try to muffle your cries. Joel breathes, “And you can’t tell anyone, not even Maria. Tommy, you’re the only one I trust. If anyone else sees those bites on her, on them both, what’s under their skin… they’ll shoot them. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. I swear.”

“I’ll take her out at dawn.” You hear Tommy say and Joel sigh of relief. You feel Ellie tug your coat sleeve, indicating you need to leave before they realized you had heard the entire conversation. 

THE RANCH, MASTER BEDROOM

JACKSON, WYOMING – NIGHT

None of you spoke as the two of you walk into the night, heading back to the temporary house that they had provided. You opened the door for Ellie and she ran straight up to her room, while you walked up the steps to the master bedroom. You quietly shut your door sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, you sniffed and try to will yourself to stop crying. You stared blankly at the floor as you swung your feet, patiently waiting and deciding what to do next.

The options you had were limited to figuring out how to get back to your previous observable universe or facing the truth about how you felt for Joel and your fondness for Ellie as if she were your own daughter. This meant admitting that you also needed to discuss what you wanted with Joel. To wake up and wage war with this gravity that has been holding you back for almost all of your life, the epiphany of finding so much worth fighting for, and either way all the lines of dominos will fall and cascade.

You were too in your head to hear the shouting from across the hall, the argument between Joel and Ellie, a crucial turning point in the central relationship. You hear the bits and pieces of their yelling and arguing, “You have no idea what loss is,” is a pretty awful thing for him to say. And in both, she tells him that everyone she’s ever cared about has either died or left her, “Everyone—fucking except for you. So don’t tell me that I would be safer with someone else because the truth is that I would just be more scared.” Joel’s painful response, “You’re right, you’re not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad.” You flinch at that, “Now, come dawn… we’re goin’ our separate ways.” Then you hear the loud slamming of the door of Ellie’s room, and your own frown deepens, you feel your heart race, as if you feel the climb of the track of the rollercoaster, building you up and then taking you back. It’s a while before Joel decides to go to the bedroom, he had decided to sit in the living room to remember Sarah one last time before letting her go.

You anticipate Joel’s footsteps, the thud of each step, and hear your door open. Joel finds you sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over, your hands shaking in your lap as you try and hold yourself together. The quiet dim glow of the yellow lamp by the bedside table illuminates your features. You don’t look at him as he calls your name, you choose to look at the floor, he tries again, softer, “Birdie…” You only blink in response, the only indication that you heard him at all, you hear him step a little closer to you, “How much did you hear?” In a barely audible response, you shakily whisper, “All of it.”

Joel began, “Birdie… it’s for the best if we–” You cut him off before he could even finish, sharply turning your head at him as you stood up, “Joel I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.” He feels breathless as he registers what you said, “What?” You blink back the tears and try to look him in the eye, a little more alive as you let the scale tip and feel all of it rushing through you like a restless river stream, you feel your chest expand as you breathe and say, “If you don’t want me… if you don’t feel anything for me. Just say it and tell me now and I’ll figure out how to get back home on my own. ‘Cause I can’t keep going like this… dancing around you and pretending I don’t have feelings for you.”

You shake your head, “I’ve spent my whole life asking and searching for the impossible and none of it made any sense to me… And then I… I found you and Ellie. For the first time, I felt whole.” Your hand clenches near your chest as you utter, “Was I just delusional or imagining things? ‘Cause all of this… push and pull is hurting me. Do you even want me?” Joel steps a little closer as he says, “Yes.” And you look up at him and take one step back, “Then… why? And don’t you fucking dare make it an age-gap excuse or I will kick you in the balls Miller.”

He stumbles over his words, “I’m afraid. I’m so, so, afraid Birdie. That I could fail to protect you, Sweet Girl. The light that you give, the kindness you’ve shown, I’m scared I might taint it. Take away something so good in this world. You deserve so much more than what I could give.” Your face pinches in frustration and tears fall down your face, your cheeks warm and eyes puffy from all the sobbing, “Don’t I get a say?” And he’s quick to tell you, “Of course you do.” You scoff and angrily wipe your eyes. You pause and take a good look at the man in front of you, it's a fire and a goddamn blaze in the dark and he started it, you say from across the room, “Then let me choose you, Joel. Please, please, don’t leave me here.” He’s quiet as he takes in your words, and you continue, it’s uncomfortable but right, you say, “I don’t care about what was written about in your history. In the end, I want more than the life that I choose, and I want it to be with you.”

The silence that fills the room is one of heaviness and anticipation. The churning fear that pours out of you, and the inheritance you did not seek or ask for. You watch as Joel breathes heavily at your confession, taking his time to process what you said and felt for him. Someone who he deemed no longer worthy of receiving love. Slowly, you show him who he is and who he could be, and try to initiate the heart, bringing himself to let it open up properly. All of a sudden, you changed his mind and pulled back the curtains a little at a time.

You were on a frequency, the perfect opposite of him. Though he never needed any proof to trust the heart that beats inside of you. He can't keep his head from spinning out of control, but he will try to breathe ‘til it becomes muscle memory. He’s only steady on his knees, but maybe with you, he’ll one day stand on his own two feet. To struggle gracefully and let the scaffolding inside of him be strong enough to hold his tired body up once more.

He licks his bottom lip out of nervousness, and directly looks you in the eye, “I want you, Birdie.” You feel the rush of heat through your body, and stutter, “W-What?” His gaze darkens as he looks at you with need and desire, seemingly made up his mind to just give in, to let himself want and need you. “I said, I want you Birdie. Will you be mine?” He takes a step closer to you and you stay frozen, eventually, he’s towering over your frame, his eyes so dark you can no longer see the honey-brown eyes you were familiar with. You can’t help it. You’re drawn in by the force and pressure of the tempest building in those damnable eyes. Your heart is loud as a drumline, the thumping noise and heat in your ears as you feel the magnetic pull into his warmth, you feel his breath against your lips as you whisper, “Yes.”

That’s all it took, and with slow deliberation looks at you up and down. His inspection seems to last for hours, though it must take only seconds. The air between you crackles, and you want to move toward him, to close the gap between you. But you stay rooted to the spot, waiting for him. He lingers for a moment on your lips before finally lifting his head to meet your eyes, and his lips meet yours. You didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, molding each other into perfect yins and yangs. You kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into your inhale. You could have survived underwater or outer space, breathing only the breath you traded.

You felt his warm rough large hands bring one hand to your waist and the other to cup the side of your cheek as he kissed you. You felt the tickle of his facial hair on your cheek, and each breath and groan vibrated throughout your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers rhythmically through his salt-and-pepper hair. Happily sighing breathlessly as he continues to kiss you dizzy. Like a whiskey, you can feel it he hits so strong but tastes so sweet.

The rush and thrill consumed you, the slick wetness between your thighs and his hands moving to cup and grab at your ass causing you to gasp in pleasure, to which Joel decides to pull your bodies closer ‘til no space lies in between. His presence was too powerful, his scent too all-consuming. It crowded your lungs, filling them with clean earthiness and rich spices. When you were around him, it was easy to lose myself, no matter how upset you were.

When he carefully dropped himself to the ground, the movement was both proud and obedient. His breath brushed over your skin. “Do you want this?” His fingers ran down the back of your leg, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Your thoughts were jumbled, but you had enough sense to realize this wasn't about sex. It was all about being vulnerable. It was a landmark event disguised as insignificant and distilled into one phrase. “Yes.” That was both demand and submission, a groan and a gasp. Joel exhaled. He carried you to the plush bed in the center of the room, appreciating everything you could give him. Clothes were quickly removed, and he stripped you down to your barest form while he kept his boxers on, an evident hard-on showing but choosing to take care of you first.

His palms burned as they parted your thighs. He’d barely touched you, and you were already on fire. You tipped your head back, drowning in arousal, heat, and lust and the reverence of his touch as he kissed his way up your thigh. His stubble rasped against your skin and sent tiny shocks of pleasure down your spine. As he separated your thighs, his palms seared. He hadn't even touched you yet, but you were still immediately burning. As he nibbled his way up your thigh, you threw your head back, reveling in pleasure, heat, lust, and the devotion of his touch.

“I'm sorry I offended you…” A gentle kiss at the fine line where your thigh meets your leg and persistent heat. “For attempting to drive you away…” Your underwear was removed and tossed to the side as he softly stroked your clit with his tongue. When he dragged your clit into his lips and sucked, his abrasive words mingled with your scream. Your body arched away from the bed. He began to worship you with his lips, hands, and tongue as your hands dug into his hair and you could barely hang on. Joel was rigid but beckoning. Delicate but sinful. You felt a new rush of pure sensation with every movement. Your chest and the base of your spine are both under pressure at the same time. You were soaring high solely on passion and desire, out of breath. He backed away and lightly touched your delicate clit with his teeth. He inserted two fingers into you and plunged and curled them as you wilted carelessly.

Your body was familiar to him. Knew precisely what you wanted, how to operate it like a well-tuned guitar, and even what buttons to press and where to press them. He stroked your G-spot while simultaneously pressing his thumb into your clit. When Joel stood up, his chest heaving, the strain was dizzying as your orgasms ripped through you and your moans were still echoing in the air. He gently kissed your lips as he leaned forward on top of you, bracing his hands on each side of your head.

When you kissed him and cherished the flavor of the kiss, leisurely threads of need twisted inside you. Like desperation flavored with desire and soothed with compassion, robust and rich. You explored and licked the inside of his mouth as you panted. He moaned in hunger and want, “Birdie…” Your hands roamed, your hearts pounding in sync and your kisses growing in intensity until the heat became too much to bear. 

He took off his boxers and you flipped both of you over with the help of gravity, and you gradually sank into him, taking him in, inch by inch until he was buried deep inside of you. Hitting deeper, and tasting sweeter. You rocked against Joel as his hands held onto your hips. A delightful pressure swelled inside of you, rising higher and higher until your head was distorted with lust. Sweat misted your skin. Moans filled the air. He was certainly straining to hold back, but he made no move to take control as you both experienced toe-curling orgasms at the same time. When Joel brought you down for a kiss, the second, smaller climax that the overpowering intimacy of the moment had triggered was still reverberating through you.

Your eyes are half-lidded as you pull away from the kiss and look at Joel, who’s heavily panting, breathless, and in awe of you. Joel flips you both over, and your back hits the mattress. He kisses you again, still, inside of you, you are still sensitive from your previous orgasm and cry out, “I can’t…” He pants and groans, “Yes you can sweet girl. You can do it. One more for me Birdie.” He’s hitting deeper and quicker as you try to squirm away from him but all he does is pin you down, grabbing your hands to lock them above your head, causing you to scream and cry out in pleasure. “You’re doing so well. You’re such a good girl.” He praises, and everything feels and sounds amplified, every thrust his hips make, the sounds of slick wet skin slapping together, each grunt and moan mixing and blending between you both finally brings you and him over the edge. He pulls out and paints your stomach while you clench and moan throughout your release.

He folds over atop you, his weight is a welcoming feeling, like a large protective blanket. You’re running your fingers through his hair as he continues to catch his breath and you hum happily, “You good cowboy or do you need a wheelchair?” He grunts, “Haven’t done that in a while. Cut the man some slack.” You laugh loudly and kiss the side of his forehead and he sighs with contentment. After a while, he rolls off of you, pulling you closer to his side, peppering your neck and cheek with kisses, “I’m goin’ to get a clean towel to clean us up.” You nod as he gets up, walks over to the bathroom, comes back with a clean rag, and wipes off the slick between your thighs and stomach.

He sets the cloth aside and climbs back in bed with you, tossing the blanket over both of your bodies, gripping your hips, and pulling you close. You kiss him again, just because you can and both of you are smiling widely at each other. You take a deep breath and close your eyes as you place your forehead on top of his, and Joel grumbles, “I should have pulled out earlier.” To which you yawn, “I have an IUD, it’ll expire in ten years.” Joel’s mouth opens, “You have a… oh right.” You laugh, “Yep. So I can keep riding you, my cowboy.” He smacks your ass and kisses you again as you yelp in surprise, “Keep talkin’ like that and we’re not gonna get any sleep tonight.” You roll your eyes in response but smile up at him.

The quiet between you two is comforting and allows you to rest your eyes, no awkwardness, just a blistering moment of peace. The night sky once ruled your imagination and you used to turn the dials with careful calculation. After a while, you thought you'd never find him and convinced yourself that you would never find him.

Then suddenly, he saw you through telescopes and calculations, the far was pulled so near. You opened your eyes to find yourself under his warm gaze, trying to memorize every feature as if you were constellations in the night sky. But the looming threat that hangs over you makes an appearance in the dark corner of the back of your mind, you whisper, “Joel.” He hums in acknowledgment and you continue, “You should give Ellie a choice. She also has every right to choose too.” He’s quiet for a moment before he sighs agreeing, “Yeah… Been thinking about it a while ago before you jumped my bones.” You smack his shoulder, “I did not!” To which he kisses you breathlessly, “I’ll give her the choice tomorrow.” You nod and cup the side of his face and he says to you so quietly, “We have a long way to go.” To which your eyes softened and kissed the tip of his nose, “Yes, but look how far we’ve come.”

THE RANCH, MASTER BEDROOM

JACKSON, WYOMING – EARLY MORNING

In the morning you don’t say it as both of you wake up to your bodies closely tangled with each other. His heavy arms are wrapped around your waist and his legs are inserted with yours as he kisses the back of your neck. Continuing to worship your entire being. You both had woken up early, sharing the water in the shower, to which you had both agreed you needed to save water, but it was just an excuse to keep touching each other.

By the time you both got out of the hot shower, you both got dressed and made your way to the stables. The chirping of birds brings you to smile at yourself as you brush your horse, preparing to leave. “You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asks the both of you, causing you to look away from the task and tilt your head and smirk as Joel replies, “No. We came here to steal the horses and go.” To which Tommy says, “I woulda given you them.” And Joel replies with, “I know,” He sniffs and walks to Ellie before continuing, “Anyway… that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess… you deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy…” It’s no surprise that Ellie shoves her bag at Joel, “Let’s go.” He blinks and you laugh as he answers, “Okay.”

Both of you exit the stables with your horses, Joel helps Ellie mount his horse and you mount your own horse. “General direction?” Joel asks his brother, “Head southeast til you hit I-25. It’s right off the interstate. Shouldn’t be hard to miss.” He nods at Tommy before they both pull each other into a hug. They pull away and Tommy says, “There’s a place for you here… All three of you.” Joel gruffly says, “Countin’ on it.” And he spots Tommy’s rifle swung across his shoulder, “Can I borrow that?” Tommy nods, “Yeah.” But Joel continues to talk, “‘Cause Maria took mine.” Tommy throws him a look, “I already said yes, Joel. Adios, big brother.”

The large wooden gate’s latch is lifted open as your two horses trot through the snow. Exiting the safe, gated, community of Jackson. Your journey continues through the wilderness of Wyoming. The cold chilly air creates goosebumps at the back of your neck as you ride your horse past the tall emerald-green trees.

After a couple of hours of riding, Joel decides to teach Ellie how to shoot with the rifle. The sound of loud gunshots rings out as Ellie misses the main target. She sighs and Joel comments, “Wide right. You’re flinchin’.” You stand behind the two, enjoying the view of Joel and Ellie having some time together. Ellie shakes her head at him, denying, “The target’s too small.” Joel harrumphs at her, “I made it bigger than I should’ve. Eject the cartridge.” She does as she is told, and said, “I am not flinching.” Joel hums, “Mm-mhm.” Ellie doesn’t let up, “The rifle just sucks.”

“Okay, give it,” Joel said and Ellie gives it to him and whines, “It doesn’t aim right.” Joel only hums again, “Mm-hmm.” And Ellie frowns as she lifts her binoculars, “You’ll see.” They swap places and Joel grunts as he adjusts the rifle, “A deep breath in, slow breath out.” The girl sighs and Joel glances behind him to look at you, “You squeeze the trigger like you love it.” Your face warms at the memory of what happened last night and what he could be insinuating. You try to hide your smile, he winks at you and then looks to the scope, his voice getting deeper, “Gentle… steady… nice and slow.” Ellie drops her binoculars and groans, “You gonna shoot this thing or get Birdie pregnant? ‘Cause holy shit you guys were loud.” You choke on air at the same time Joel looks at Ellie shamelessly before looking back at the scope with his finger on the trigger. Ellie shakes her head, continuing to be in denial, “It isn’t gonna work. It doesn’t aim right.” A gunshot rings out, and it's a perfect headshot. “You dick.” Ellie says while Joel just smirks smugly and turns to look at you, “Birdie would know.” You throw your head and hands up in exasperation, “I fuckin’ can’t with you two.”

Wind bustled through the branches of the trees, making the leaves howl in their symphony. The horses trot through the snow, as the three of you make your way to the University of Eastern Colorado. The silence is no longer present, only filled by Ellie’s questions and Joel's answers. You occasionally input your own thoughts and ideas, correcting Joel when needed, but otherwise, you let yourself watch them form a connection that Joel was so afraid of.

“So the way they ran stuff in Jackson, was how things used to be?” Ellie asked, and Joel replies, “No. The country was too big for that. Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things. Some people wanted to own everything. And some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.” Ellie hums, “Which one were you?” And you hear Joel reply, “Neither. I just did my job.” To which you chuckled, knowing that Joel has always tried to stay neutral in anything, it’s more efficient that way.

“Which was… building?” Ellie asks, and Joel confirms her guess, “That’s right. Houses, stores, that kinda thing. We were called ‘contractors’.” The teen mocks his voice, trying to deepen it, “The contractor. That’s pretty cool.” Joel smiles, his lips quirking a bit to the right, “Yeah. We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.” You rolled your eyes at Joel, letting him off the hook and not wanting to correct him at all.

The days go by and you three have been closer than ever. Joel and Ellie discuss the basics and rules of football while you hum to yourself the new song stuck in your head. Enjoying the sight of Joel and Ellie laughing and smiling over mundane topics, feeling your heart more full than ever before. A part of you that had been missing so long, a family you didn’t even know existed, a family you now found.

Further down the road, you pass by the sign indicating to take the I-25. “Well, how ‘bout that? Made it in five days.” Ellie adds, “Easy days. I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.” Joel’s mouth curls downwards, “Still time to find out.” To which Ellie mimics his baritone voice, “Still time to find out,” she then creepily whispers, “The Contractorrrr.”

The horses snort and huff as its hooves clop and trot on the pavement of the road. You make your way to the entrance of the deserted university, Ellie says aloud, “Home of the Big Horns. What does that mean?” And you answer, “It was their team mascot. It’s a kind of sheep.” Ellie smiles up at Joel, “Oh, see? One step closer to your dream. Don’t see any Fireflies, though.” He forms a hypothesis, “They’re probably in the middle. Safer.” He nods and leads, “This way.”

Joel has his rifle ready with one hand on the reins. The campus is eerily empty and quiet as your horses trot on the grounds. “So these places… people would live here and, like, what? Got to classes and stuff?” And you nod, “Yup. Sometimes even do research, like me.” She points out, “Even though they were adults.” Yours and Joel’s voices blended together as he answered, “Sort of adults.” While you said, “They were fake adulting.”

“I think it was just as much about partying and findin’ themselves as anythin’ else. Figuring what they wanted to do with their lives.” Joel plainly puts, and Ellie chuckles, “What they wanted to do with their lives.” To your happy surprise, your ears perk up when Joel says, “So I’ve been thinkin’.” You and Ellie urge him to continue, “I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if the deal is I can do anything?” And Ellie nods, “That’s the deal.” He faces the road ahead with a gaze so soft you barely recognized him, “Well… when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.” Ellie laughs while you smile widely at him, teeth showing and cheeks pinched upwards, the kid says, “Shut up.” While you say, “Come on Cowboy, let’s hear it. Serenade me.”

“No, you’re both already laughin’.” He grumpily replies, his eyebrows knitted together, and both you and Ellie protest, “Well, you’re singing for me later. I’m gonna save the fuckin’ world, man. It’s the least you could do for me.” Joel relents, “Fair enough. Birdie, what about you? Have you changed your dream yet?”

You smiled at the two people you’d gotten close with over the past few months, the unlikely bond you now were a part of, “I have everything I need right here, what else would I need to dream about?” you said. The two of them looked at you, wide-eyed and breathless at your statement. How funny it is to think, we only notice light when darkness crashes against it. The melody you carry is the strength while they come undone and the aftermath that makes them new.

Content with your answer, you trot forward with your horse and you three stumble upon a troop of monkeys that presumably escaped from a lab, Ellie exclaims excitedly, “Are those monkeys?” The troop proceeds to run away as Joel says, “Must be from the old labs.” The young girl laughs, “Look at them go.” Joel glances at her and asks, “First time seein’ a monkey?” Ellie parrots as a reply, “First time seein’ a monkey.”

“Lookit.” Joel points out to spot a Firefly symbol, “Here we go.” Ellie says, and your head in the direction of the research lab. As you arrive at what looks to be the entrance to the lab, “Guard stations.” Ellie states and Joel hums, “Mhm. No guards.” Ellie is unnerved and wary, she asks to take out her gun, and Joel allows it.

You dismount your horse and tie it to the tree, Joel and Ellie do the same. You arm yourselves as you walk inside the lab. The sound of your footsteps echoes in the deserted building, you look to the ground to see documents and masks littering the concrete floor. “There were definitely doctors here,” Ellie says looking at the test tubes and you spot a brown file on top of the metal trolly. You lift the cover of the folder, peeking at the papers, your eyes skimming over the words while lifting up the yellow sheet of paper, “This is a packing list. They moved out of here.” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow, “They just left?”

And on cue you hear the sound of metal clanging from upstairs, your heads whip up in the direction of the noise, and Ellie remarks, “Maybe not all of them.” Joel takes the lead as you make your way up the stairs, hearing the clanging sound getting louder. Joel finds the specific door to where the noises were coming from, and he readies his pistol, slowly pushing the door open, slightly creaking as it does, to be followed by a high-pitched screech.

Two monkeys hop out of the room through the window, screeching at you for disturbing them. You all lower your weapons and survey the area. You snort at the fact it was so anti-climactic for nothing, Joel utters, “Well… at least it ain’t Clickers.” And Ellie mumbles, “Yeah, no Fireflies either. Maybe in all that research, they turned into fuckin’ monkeys.” You and Joel sense her disappointment, her need for reformation, and ways she could be better in her mind.

You look through the medical equipment and research notes, trying to look for clues to where the group of researchers transferred. Joel approaches the large wooden corkboard, a map of the United States is on display along with notes pasted on the side. You and Ellie walk up next to Joel to analyze the pins pushed in the lines that trace along the roads leading to the center. “That’s where they went?” Ellie said, pointing out St. Mary's Hospital, located in Salt Lake City, Utah. Joel nods, “All the pins lead there. Maybe gettin’ ahead of the weather… better facilities? I don’t know.” The joy in you vanishes against your will. The light goes out and your heart goes still, and just like that, you believe in ghosts.

But then, the trio hears voices. Looking out the window, Joel sees four men armed with weapons, they were raiders. You were weighed down by dread, the flutter of fear in your stomach causes your palms to sweat and tremble. You needed to get out of here and fast. Joel quietly tells you both, “Out the back.” You run down the steps and find the back door, your guns are drawn as you stealthily make it back to your horses, staying ever vigilant. You’re a few steps away from your horses, Joel turns to you both asking in a hushed tone, “Ready?” And you both nod, “Yeah.”

You run to your own horse while Ellie and Joel untie theirs. Something caught your eye in your peripheral vision, a blur of a shadow, and you turn to see a man carrying a baseball bat, lifting it while running at Joel. Ellie screams his name out while you ran towards the attacker, the baseball bat breaks as he tries to hit you but instead strikes a tree. You didn’t think, you just acted, protecting the two people who kept you safe for the majority of your journey. Shoving him with as much force as you could, the raider hits the tree, and Joel comes to your aid, grabbing the raider to break the man’s neck.

You didn’t even realize it until Joel had turned around, in the struggle, the sharp wooden hilt of the bat is stuck inside his abdomen, blood seeping out through the jacket. Ellie’s eyes grow wide in horror and Joel looks down, and grunts as he pulls out the sharp hilt of the bat, you scream, “No, don’t!” But you were too late, and Ellie yells your name, “Birdie you’re also bleeding!” You look down at your own abdomen to find a large slash across it, the maroon blood dripping on the freshly fallen snow, you direct Ellie, “Get Joel on the horse now. We need to leave before…” You hear yelling from a distance and you aim and shoot at the raiders with one hand as the other clutches your stomach while Ellie helps Joel up and back onto the horse.

You use all the strength that you have and pull yourself up to your horse, following Ellie as she shoots them back with you, she yells, “Get back!” And you three were in time to get away from all the other raiders coming. After a few minutes, you three have managed to make it to a safe distance from the attackers, “They’re not following us, I think we’re safe.” Joel doesn’t reply, and Ellie voices her concern as her voice rises as she says yours and Joel’s name.

He’s the first one to collapse from his horse, and you go toppling down as well. You feel the plush landing of the pile of snow, Ellie immediately comes both to your sides, and she says in distress, “Fuck! Shit, no, no no.” The cold weather mixed with the blood loss you were both dealing with were not the best conditions for either of you. “Joel, Birdie, open your eyes come on.” You bring your tired eyes to the girls and cough out to Ellie, “Place pressure on his abdomen and drag him using his sleeping bag, the rope, and the horse Leave me here and find someplace warm.” Ellie can feel her eyes sting and her vision goes blurry, it feels like bittersweet poetry. You softly grab your hand, “Listen to me. Ellie.” She tries to shake her head but you gritted your teeth, the adrenaline had begun to fade and you were beginning to feel the sharp pain across your stomach, you grunt and squeeze her soft small hands, “Ellie, remember what I asked you to promise? Go. Please, save him.”

It had been a campfire night out in the woods at the university and Joel had fallen asleep again during watch. You had both been talking about mundane things, to your hobbies and what you missed about home, to ask about what her life was like in FEDRA school, at one point you realized that there would be a difficult decision to make and that you needed to prepare her just in case it might occur. You didn’t memorize everything from the game, but you knew damn well there would be a possibility that you and Joel might get injured and Ellie would have to choose.

You grab her hand, abruptly stopping her from her previous sentence, and look her in the eye, “Ellie. There will be a time when you have to choose between me and Joel. In the event we both get badly injured, you need to save Joel, no questions asked.” The teen tries to protest but you silence her, leaving no room for argument, “Joel will protect you better than I ever could, we both know that. You need him more than me, I’ve been alone for almost all of my life… this is nothing new, but you… you are something so special. You must choose Joel for your sake, do you understand?” Ellie’s lips form a thin line, and stubbornly she shakes her head, “No. I’ll save you both. Just you watch.” Your eyes soften at her naiveness and hope, “You can’t save everyone, Ellie. So, I know it’s unfair to ask you this, but I need you to promise me to save him when it comes down to it.” Her eyes begin to water as she reluctantly tells you, “Okay.”

In a voice so broken and vulnerable, you hear Ellie whisper into the cold air as she puts pressure on Joel’s wound and looks at both of you, “I can’t fuckin’ do this without you. I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, what the fuck I’m gonna do. Joel, Birdie.” You give her a small smile, “Ellie, sometimes, just getting up and carrying on is brave and magnificent. Keep going, Ellie.” She sniffs and she lets tears slip down her cheeks, you keep smiling as you use the rest of your strength to lift your hand to cup her cheek, wiping away the tears, “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ellie. This was where I was meant to be. Thank you, Ellie, remember that you are loved.”

You feel your vision begins to fade and drop your hand from Ellie’s cheek, letting your head rest on the plush snow, no longer looking at the teen, you tearily look up to feel the snowflakes gently fall on your face. You distantly hear Ellie drag Joel and tie him up on the sleeping bag as a makeshift sled. Your eyelids begin to feel heavy and start to droop, you turn your head to see Joel struggling to open his eyes, seeing your freezing, bleeding-out body staining the white cold snow. Joel cries out your name, pleading, “Birdie. Wait. No. Please…”

You look up at the bright gray sky, blinking and slowly beginning to only hear muffled sounds. Your horse decides to rest next to you, knowing what was about to happen, cuddling your bleeding-out body, and staying with you til the end. You decide that this was the best way to go, protecting and shielding the people you loved as much as you could. So you hum carols softly, as sweet as you know, a prayer that our burdens will lift as you go.

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter

END NOTES:

AGAIN MY BAD FOR THE HUGGGEEE DELAY – I 1000% blame the jet lag since I just flew out to somewhere on the East Coast! Sorry, ya’ll! T^T (Also the fuckin 5 hours of sleep, I am running on fumes rn)

YAY YOU KISSED AND SLEPT TOGETHER WOW GOOD JOB

UR OFFICIALLY HIS GIRL *confetti*

Holy fucking shit that was sO HARD TO WRITE

OKAY NOT BECAUSE I WAS UNCOMFY WRITING IT CHILL– its um, cuz, miss gorl here has never been properly kissed or um had a boyfriend lol so take a freaking guess to why

So writing a romance scene reALLY REALLY TESTED MY KNOWLEDGE, PATIENCE, AND HECKING ALL THE ROMANCE BOOKS I’VE READ PLEASE I WAS CLAWING MY WAY THROUGH THE ENTIRE TIME

I hope it wasn’t too awful or unrealistic :,))

HORRAY FOR FINALLY FACING YOUR FEAR AND VOICING OUT UR NEEDS AND WANTS GOOD JOB HERE HAVE A COOKIE

FUCK JOEL GOT STABBED MF

YOU ALSO GOT INJURED?? AGAIN?? WTF IS WRONG WITH U *bonk* ARE U DEAD OH NO? WTH!?!?1

ALSO MF PEDRO PASCAL IF I EVER MEET YOU I MIGHT HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN IN FRONT OF YOU AFTER YOU DESCRIBED PTSD SO WELL WTF– ahem, I have PTSD and I’ve never seen me represented properly in any television series or movies. It’s always (usually) war veterans yk (CALM DOWN— CHILL PRETTY VALID AND PRETTY DAMN FUCKIN TRAUMATIC) But as someone who has PTSD and yk hasn’t been to a literal war it’s a bit harder to connect or relate to it (im not fucking whining, I’m just telling you my experience with PTSD) But the way Pedro showed it— fuck man. It was like staring at a mirror. My own brokeness represented in one episode. I felt so seen for the first time.

BUT THIS ONE, MF PEDRO U DESERVE ALL THE AWARDS

yay for Maria and Tommy! Such cuties congrats on the baby!!

someone should probably help me find a boyfriend— idk i Need research for smut :DD (this is a joke please don’t)

This chapter was wAYYYU more personal and intimate to write about. I just needed to do this right for my sake and others. 

Sorry for the delay! The smut part was a little bit intimidating to write since yk I have zero experience with it LMAO

Thank you for sticking with me and I look forward to all of your comments and feedback! It gives me an idea if im doing this right and opportunity to connect with all of you! I LOVE YOU GUYS SOSOS MUCH AND OFF TO EP 7 I GO AHHHHH

Grace

#uneven odds joel miller #unevenodds #uneven odds #unevenoddstaglist #alternate universe #joel miller masterlist #joel miller x poc!reader #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joelmiller #joel miller x reader au #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader tlou #joel miller x modern reader #tlouhbo #tlou series #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou au

[ailithnight]

A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

.

"What the actual fuck?"

#Tagslist will go in a reblog cause there are #a lot #Dp x DC #A King in Arkham #I'm sure everyone wants to see Red Hood swoop in #And whisk Danny away #I promise we'll get there soon #Next chapter if I don't get careies away again #But for now #I simply could not resist giving Danny clown trauma and making him feral about it #Enjoy! #Mentions of suicide #Mentions of self harm

[leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld]

CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Seven – Feelings Of Content}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

words: 3.7k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: No warning just fluff, enjoy!

Previous Next

MATERIALIST

Heaven's POV

As I walked hand in hand with Taehyung towards Jungkook's room, my heart swelled with happiness. I missed my boys so much while I was away. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I had seen their faces.

My boys? Hmm, it has a nice ring to it. The bond we shared was still in the making but I felt a deep pull towards them, it felt so right.

Despite the affection I felt for them, there were certain aspects of my life that I couldn't share with them. The dangerous and dark world I navigated through was something I wanted to shield them from at all costs. That's why I had taken it upon myself to train them so that they could defend themselves if the need ever arose. I couldn't bear the thought of them getting hurt or dragged into the shadows that haunted my existence.

They had already been through so much, faced numerous obstacles that tested their courage and resilience. I vowed to protect them from any further harm, to be their pillar of strength and support no matter what challenges lay ahead.

As Taehyung animatedly filled me in on all the things the guys had been up to in my absence, a warm feeling of contentment settled in my chest. Knowing that they were safe and happy brought me immense relief. To see them thriving and enjoying life without any restrictions or limitations filled me with pride and joy.

“— And Jungkook has been hooked ever since,” Taehyung concluded, talking about Jungkook's newfound obsession with gaming.

The thought of Jungkook engrossed in something he loved brought a smile to my face. It was moments like these that made all the hardships worth it.

When we finally reached Jungkook's room and I made a move to open the door, I was caught off guard as it swung open before I could even touch the handle. A blur of motion and a strong pair of arms enveloped me, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Noona, I missed you so much, don't ever leave me again,” Jungkook's voice was a mix of longing and playfulness as he squeezed me against his chest. His affectionate gesture warmed my heart.

“Aw, I'll never leave you, baby,” I reassured him, returning his hug with equal fervor. Just being in his presence made me feel whole and at peace.

Jungkook tugged me into his room, shutting the door behind us to block out Taehyung's protests. As he pulled me further into his personal space, I raised an eyebrow in silent question, only to be met with his guilty pout.

“I want to spend time with Noona, you can have her later,” Jungkook said to Taehyung, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief and affection. I chuckled at his antics, knowing that underneath his tough exterior, he was still a lovable and caring individual.

I heard Taehyung grunt from the other side of the door, but he didn't push the issue further. Jungkook had a way of getting what he wanted with his adorable pouts and persuasive tactics. It was a talent that never failed to amuse me.

Jungkook's  POV

As Taehyung left the two of us alone in the room, I guided her to sit on my bed and settled myself comfortably on the floor, resting my head in her lap. A wave of relaxation washed over me as she placed her hands on my head, gently running her fingers through my hair.

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment of pure bliss. She started humming a soft, soothing tune while continuing to play with my hair, almost hypnotizing me into a state of tranquility. Her touch was gentle yet comforting, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

“Jungkook, why do you and Jimin call me Noona? From what I read in the files, you guys are older than me,” she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. I could sense that she was genuinely curious about our choice of address.

I smiled up at her, taking in the sweet scent that always seemed to surround her whenever we called her Noona.

"Because you're like a Noona to us. You're strong, brave, and caring. Ever since the day you brought me and my Hyungs into your life, I could see that fiery passion in you. It just feels right to call you Noona," I explained, my voice filled with affection.

Her fragrance, a delightful mix of lavender and baby powder, enveloped me in a sense of contentment. I inhaled deeply, reveling in the familiar scent that always made me feel at home. Knowing that I was the reason behind her happiness only added to my own.

“Kook, you're such a sweetheart, you know that?” she remarked, her smile warm and genuine.

I couldn't help but grin back at her. "I know," I replied playfully, drawing a chuckle from her. The sound was music to my ears, a reminder of the bond that was steadily growing between us.

Despite knowing her for a relatively short time, she had already managed to bring a sense of peace and acceptance to our little group. As hybrids, trust didn't come easily, especially given our past experiences with humans. However, Heaven – Noona, as we affectionately called her – was different. She exuded kindness, warmth, and a genuine care that set her apart from anyone we had encountered before.

It was evident that I, Jimin, Hosoek and Taehyung weren't the only ones drawn to her. The other members of our pack, though initially wary, had also begun to let down their guard in her presence. She had a way of making us feel valued and accepted, despite the prejudices we had faced due to our hybrid nature.

I closed my eyes again, letting the rhythmic motions of her fingers through my hair lull me into a state of peaceful bliss. In that moment, surrounded by her comforting presence, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her existence in our lives.

We bask in the serene tranquility, cocooned in a bubble of time where seconds feel like eternity, while her gentle fingers explore the strands of my hair, eliciting a chorus of contented purrs from deep within me. The minutes slip by imperceptibly until she shatters the peace with her soft voice.

“We'll be leaving this place, and I'll be taking you and the guys home,” she announces, her words laced with a sense of belonging that tugs at my heartstrings.

The word 'home' reverberates within me, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions. It's a word I've long forgotten, a concept that feels foreign yet strangely alluring when she includes us in it.

Tears cascade down my cheeks unchecked, catching me off guard until her tender touch on my face brings me back to reality.

“Sweetheart, what's the matter?” Her concern only intensifies my torrent of tears, and she enfolds me in a warm embrace, anchoring me to the present.

Clutching onto her like a lifeline, I release a floodgate of emotions that have been bottled up inside me for years, a deluge of unspoken longing and aching vulnerability.

The love I feel from her is a stark contrast to the protection and care my brothers have showered upon me as the youngest sibling. Despite my physical stature, I am forever the baby brother in their eyes, shielded from the harsh realities of the world.

Countless times, I've been summoned to satisfy the desires of others, yet my brothers have shielded me from the darker aspects of that world, insulating me from its horrors to preserve what little innocence remains in me.

I cherish them for their sacrifices, for the sacrifices they've made to shield me from the brutalities of life. I would willingly lay down my life to shield them from the darkness that threatens to engulf us all.

But now, a new person had entered my life, someone who had quickly become an essential part of it. Heaven. The mere thought of her brought a surge of emotions, a primal need to shield her from any potential harm that might come her way.

As I gazed into her eyes, a sense of protectiveness enveloped me like a cloak. I could feel my hybrid instincts clawing to the surface, urging me to keep her safe at all costs. It was a peculiar sensation, one that I had never experienced before, yet I welcomed it with open arms.

The overwhelming desire to safeguard her, to shield her from any danger that might lurk in the shadows, consumed me. It was as if a voice deep within me, primal and raw, whispered fiercely - "Protect what's mine." And in that moment, I knew without a shred of doubt that Heaven was mine to protect.

My eyes blazed with an intensity that startled even me. A fierce determination welled up inside me, igniting a burning need to stand guard between Heaven and any potential threat that dared to come near her. It was a feeling of territoriality and possessiveness, uncharted territory for me, but one that felt undeniably right.

And so, without hesitation, I made her a solemn promise.

“I will protect you, no matter the cost. Even if it means sacrificing myself in the process, I would do so gladly, knowing that I could keep you safe." My voice rumbled, thick with emotion, the words spilling out as a vow not just to her, but to myself as well.

As Heaven gazed back at me, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude, trust, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability, I knew that this newfound sense of protectiveness was not just a duty, but a privilege. To have someone to care for, to watch over, to love unconditionally - it was a responsibility I accepted with wholehearted dedication.

~Valentino Mansion~

3rd Person POV

~A Few Hours later~

The boys found themselves in awe as they drove past the grand gates of Heaven's mansion. They couldn't help but stare in wonder at the magnificent sight that was going to be their new home. It all seemed so surreal, like a dream they never wanted to wake up from.

As the car pulled up to the front of the house, they all stepped out, eagerly making their way inside the expansive mansion. Heaven, beaming with excitement, welcomed them with open arms.

“Welcome home, boys!” she squealed happily, her eyes shining with joy.

The boys were speechless, their hearts overflowing with gratitude and happiness. Jimin took the lead, followed by Jin, as they all surrounded Heaven, enveloping her in a tight, protective hug. She was their sanctuary, their comfort, the one who brought light and warmth into their lives.

Just then, a man entered the room, his presence commanding attention. He was strikingly handsome, with neatly groomed black hair and piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through them. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he exuded confidence and sophistication.

The hybrids, sensing a potential threat, instinctively formed a protective barrier around Heaven, their growls conveying a clear message of warning. The man, unruffled by their display, flashed a charming smile.

“Well, Heaven, it looks like you've found yourself quite the defence team. I can rest easy knowing you're in capable hands,” he remarked, his tone shifting from cool detachment to genuine warmth.

Heaven's laughter filled the room as she gently disengaged herself from the protective circle, running towards the man and embracing him tightly. The hybrids, though puzzled by the sudden change in atmosphere, maintained their guard, their loyalty unwavering.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Heaven planted a kiss on the man's cheek, eliciting a low growl from the hybrids, their possessiveness evident.

“Guys, I want you to meet someone very special to me, Andre Valentino, the eldest son of the Valentino family—my older brother,” she announced, causing the boys to gasp in surprise and quickly shift their focus. Suddenly, they appeared more like anxious puppies than fierce protectors.

Heaven's POV

"Hey everyone, it's so nice to finally meet all of you," Andre greeted the group with a big smile on his face. His enthusiasm was contagious, but I noticed that the boys seemed a bit hesitant and cautious. I totally understood where they were coming from. Building trust takes time, especially in a situation like this.

I decided not to push the boys to immediately trust Andre. They needed to learn for themselves who they could rely on and who they couldn't. It was all part of their training and growth process.

Namjoon, with a hint of confidence in his stride, stepped forward to greet Andre. The handshake between them was firm and friendly, and I could sense a real connection forming between them. It was clear that they would get along just fine.

As the initial tension melted away, the rest of the boys slowly approached Andre, exchanging introductions and pleasantries. It was a relief to see them starting to warm up to him and accept that he was a trustworthy companion.

"Alright, now that everyone has met, let me show you all to your rooms," I announced, leading the way towards the staircase. The boys followed closely behind, eager to settle into their new environment.

Andre gave us a wave as he headed off on his own, leaving us to continue with our introductions and settling in. The atmosphere was starting to feel more relaxed and welcoming, and I felt hopeful about the bonds that were beginning to form among us.

We finally made it to the fourth floor where my room and the rest of the boys' rooms were located. Jungkook couldn't contain his amazement when he saw the place, and his surprised expression made me chuckle.

As we stepped out of the elevator, Jungkook's eyes widened in awe, "Woah, Heaven Noona, your place is amazing!" he exclaimed.

"Our place, Kookie," I corrected him, giving him a warm smile. He blushed and looked away, his shyness contrasting with the fierce determination he had shown earlier. It was amusing to witness the duality of these boys, how they could switch from protective guardians to blushing messes in a matter of moments.

The space was not just mine but also theirs. I wanted them to feel at home and know that they didn't have to ask for anything because it was all theirs for the taking.

My room was at the far end in the middle, with the boys' rooms branching off to the left and right. I led them to the first room on the left, and their reactions brought tears to my eyes.

"How do you like this room?" I inquired, waiting for their response. Jin's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he spoke, "It's beautiful, Heaven, words can't describe how happy we are."

With a gleam of excitement, I revealed, "You're welcome because this is your room, Jin!" His disbelief was evident as he stammered, "W-what do you mean this entire room is mine? I'm not sharing with the other guys?"

I explained my intention, "Yes, you each have your own rooms. I know you guys enjoy being together, but I wanted to give you the option to have your personal space when needed. It's essential for your mental well-being to have that time for yourself occasionally." They all nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of self-care.

"Feel free to decorate the rooms as you like. They come with built-in bathrooms and a restocked mini kitchen daily. It's like having your own mini flat. Make the most of them, but remember not to drift apart from each other," I advised, emphasizing the significance of their bond.

Jin, overwhelmed with gratitude, managed to blurt out, "Thank you so much, Heaven. It's a bit soon, and I love you all, but please leave, I need some me time." With that, he ushered us out of his room and shut the door.

We couldn't help but burst into laughter at his abrupt dismissal, realizing how much he cherished the idea of having his own space. After showing the boys around the rest of the rooms, I left them to settle in and headed to my room for a long-awaited shower.

I stepped into the warm embrace of the shower, feeling the hot water cascade over my body like gentle waves, relieving the tension in my muscles. It had been a challenging week, but I knew every moment of it was worth it.

After my shower, I settled onto my bed, my mind already drifting to the task at hand - training them. It wasn't going to be a simple process. They were hybrids, each carrying different counterparts that played a crucial role in their development.

While general training methods could be effective, I knew that specific training tailored to their individual counterparts would be necessary. It meant I had to call upon my brothers and my uncle for assistance. In order for the training to be successful, they needed to trust me and my family.

To my surprise, the boys seemed to trust me quicker than I had anticipated. It was both reassuring and concerning, knowing that they were not inherently trusting individuals. They seemed to possess an instinct, a sixth sense, that guided them on who to trust and who to keep at arm's length. It was a trait that could prove to be a valuable asset for them in the future.

I was intrigued by the boys' innate abilities, as it gave them an edge in identifying friend from foe without the need for extensive background checks. I looked forward to helping them embrace their animal sides fully.

Their animalistic instincts had been suppressed for too long, and I knew that during training, there would be risks. They might struggle to control their instincts, leading to moments where they would need to tap into their animal selves. This could potentially unleash a feral side that risked them losing touch with their human nature.

It was a challenge I would tackle when the time was right. For now, my focus was on ensuring their well-being. Showering them with love and kindness, and making sure they were well-fed and content were the first steps towards building trust and establishing a strong foundation for their development.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard a knock on my bedroom door, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Come in!" I called out, wondering who it could be.

The door creaked open, and in walked Hoseok. He flashed me a smile and strolled over to the chair next to my bed.

“Hey,” he greeted me casually, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What's up, hobi?” I asked, using his nickname.

He plopped down on the chair and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Nothing much, just trying to escape the chaos of the other guys. They're all busy fussing over their rooms, deciding on layouts and scenting every nook and cranny. Not my idea of a good time, you know?"

I chuckled at his exaggerated expression. “I get it. Well, you're always welcome to hang out with me.”

Hoseok's face lit up at the offer. “Really? That would be awesome. What are we gonna do then?”

I thought for a moment before suggesting, “How about we watch a movie together? I've got some good stuff lined up on Netflix.”

He nodded eagerly, adjusting his position on the chair. “Sounds perfect. Let's do it.”

As I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, I chuckled a little remembering his earlier statement.

"Hey, isn't scenting something like a hybrid thing you guys do?” I asked amused

Hoseok chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it's a hybrid thing. We like to mark our territory, so to speak. Having our scent around makes us feel safe and connected to our humans. It's just a natural instinct for us.”

I couldn't help but smile at his explanation. “That's actually really interesting. I'm glad you guys feel at home here.”

He reached out and gently squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks for accepting us, it means a lot. You've created a place where we can truly belong.”

I felt a warm wave of affection towards him and lightly touched his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath my fingers. Hoseok leaned into my touch, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotion.

In that moment, I realized how lucky I was to have him and the rest of the boys in my life.

I headed to my snack cabinet, ensuring it was stocked with all my favorite munchies. With everything in place, I settled into bed with a cozy throw blanket draping over us, snuggling against each other.

Hobi's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he dove into the world of technology. It was as if he was a toddler discovering new wonders, and his enthusiasm was just too adorable to resist. He bombarded me with countless questions, eager to soak up all the knowledge he had missed out on in his life.

We decided to watch a movie and ended up cuddled together, sharing laughs and tears as we got engrossed in different scenes. One movie led to another, and eventually, we found ourselves binge-watching a whole series.

I must have dozed off without realizing it because the next thing I knew, I was slowly waking up to the sensation of multiple bodies around me. As I fully opened my eyes, I saw the TV turned off and my bed occupied by seven grown men.

Despite the surprise, I felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment. It was a rare moment of tranquility.

In that moment, surrounded by those I cared for, I experienced a sense of peace and belonging that I rarely found elsewhere only around my family. It was in those simple moments of togetherness that I felt like a normal 23-year-old girl, just enjoying the company of my boys.

Those moments made me feel complete, as if all the pieces of my scattered self had finally come together. The feeling of contentment washed over me, enveloping me in its comforting embrace. And in that serenity, I found solace and joy in the embrace of my makeshift family.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Heyyy beautiful people!

I'm so glad you enjoyed this Chapter. Writing this one was really special to me because, let's be real, the initial chapters were quite dark. It's been so refreshing to delve into a fluffier side of the story. It's like a breath of fresh air, you know? But hey, don't get too comfy just yet! We still have a long journey ahead before everything falls into place. Heaven and the boys are just getting started, and trust me, there are a lot of surprises and twists waiting to unfold. 🤫🫣

Jungkook's character development is really starting to shine through. I can see him slowly breaking free from his conditioning, revealing his true self. And let's not forget about Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi — they're also on their way to embracing their predator hybrid sides. It won't be long before they all fully transform into the powerful beings they were meant to be. 😁🤭

Oh, and can we take a moment to appreciate Hobi's adorable and dramatic personality? He may seem all sunshine and rainbows on the surface, but trust me, there's more to him than meets the eye. Don't let that pretty face and sweet voice fool you! 😏🥴

I'm beyond excited for you all to witness the growth of the hybrids as the story progresses. It's all just brewing under the surface, waiting for the right moment to burst forth. So hang in there, folks! There's so much more excitement to come. 😆

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and supporting me. Your votes and comments mean everything to me and keep me inspired to keep writing. You all are the best!

Sending you all my love as your favorite AUTHOR-NIM. 😗🥰 I promise to do my best to update sooner, so stay tuned for more developments.

Borahae! 💜

TAGLIST OPEN!

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