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#Just to give the illusion of having a point huh

feelbokkie · 2 days

Text

Sorry, I Love You | Chapter 11

pairing: Jeongin x fem reader

genre/warnings: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, friends to lovers, unrequited love, will they, won’t they dynamic, abusive relationship, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, emotional/psychological abuse

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: Swearing, Soobin mention, mention of food, drinking/alcohol (drink responsibly)

summary: Jeongin is in love with his best friend and he has been ever since he met her back in high school. He’s not sure how Y/n feels about him and in order to persevere their friendship, it’s a secret he keeps to himself. But when Y/n starts showing interest in one of their new neighbors, Jeongin starts to worry about the future of their relationship.

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 4,836

screenshot count: 19

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"Uh-huh...Seung--Seungmin-" You wedge your phone between your face and shoulder as you run around your apartment getting your things ready.

"--I just think editing-wise, we can do a whole thing with color filters for mood--" Seungmin continues on the other end of the call.

"Seungmin, that's a good idea but--"

Knock knock

"Should we do that artificially with a filter in post or should we try to mess with the lighting? Lighting might look more natural but harder to produce since a lot of the film is outdoors--"

You drop your bag on your couch and roll your eyes before heading over to your front door, praying that Seungmin isn't on the other side. You love him, you really do, but he's been pestering you nonstop since the start of winter break about the film. You didn't even mean to answer his call. You were so busy getting ready to leave that you instinctively answered the phone without checking.

"That's a really good point and question, but Seungmin I have to--"

You pull open the door to find Jeongin standing on the other side. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he's even there. You thought he went home to Busan after his last final for the semester. But here he is, standing in front of you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his thick, black puffer jacket. A dark blue beanie sits on his head, pressing his bangs to his forehead. The bottoms of his blue jeans are soaked from walking through the snow. Or rather the slush on the floor that gives the false illusion of snow. You made the mistake of jumping into what you thought was a snow pile the other day and instead slipped into an unsuspecting ice puddle.

"Y/n? Are you listening to me? I'm trying to bounce ideas off of you and you're not throwing anything back." You can almost picture the pout sitting on Seungmin's face right now.

"Am I allowed to talk now?" You ask as you wave for Jeongin to come in.

"Who is that?" Jeongin asks, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes.

"Seungmin," You whisper back, holding the phone away from your face so he couldn't hear you. You can only imagine the rant Seungmin will go on if he thought you were ignoring him to talk to someone else.

Jeongin wastes no time yanking your phone out of your hand and putting it to his ear. "Hey, Seungmin, it's winter break. Go drink some hot chocolate and chill the hell out."

"But--" Jeongin ends the call before Seungmin can continue and hands you back your phone.

You stare at your phone for a second, waiting for Seungmin to call back before tossing it on the couch with your stuff. You take Jeongin by the hand and drag him over to the heater.

“Here, before you get hypothermia.” You mutter as you pull him to sit down.

“I’m not going to get hypothermia from the ends of my pants being wet, Y/n.” He laughs. Still, he sits on the ground to humor you.

You pull a blanket from your couch, the one that Lia made you for Christmas last year after complaining about how cold the winter is, and toss it around his shoulders. “Oh? Are you an expert on hypothermia?”

“It’s called common sense, idiot.” He smirks, lightly flicking your forehead.

“If you had any common sense, you would have rolled up your pant legs a bit to avoid this.” You crawl over to your couch and grab your phone to check the time, “I thought you went home like everyone else.”

“I decided to hang back and enjoy the quiet at the apartment. My parents don’t care as long as I’m back in time for midnight mass. Plus my brothers are annoying so staying here is a bonus.”

You swear under your breath when you realize how little time you have to get to the airport You toss your phone into your bag and triple-check that you have everything you need. "Not to be rude or anything, but you couldn't have come at a worse time, Innie."

"You have to go pick up your family from the airport, right?" You glance over at Jeongin as you slip your bag over your head. He's staring at you upside down, his head thrown backward. His round-rimmed black, lensless glasses slowly fall off his face.

"Yeah, and their flight is somehow early so I need to leave like, yesterday."

“Let’s go,” Jeongin slowly stands up and starts walking towards the front door.

“What?”

“Did you think I came here to spend time with you?” He says flatly.

The twitch in the corner of his mouth threatening to break into a smile gives him away. It's barely noticeable, but you know it's there. You've been friends with him long enough to be able to read him like a book. If you wait a little longer, he'll start to smile and then turn his head quickly so you don't see. His ears will turn red and he'll cover his mouth like he was trying to wipe it.

"You have nothing better to do than to drive me to pick up my family from the airport during break?" You question as you grab your apartment keys and meet him by the door.

"Didn't you know?" Jeongin leans down, placing his head on your shoulder, "I was placed on this earth to be your chauffeur. I'm fulfilling my one true purpose."

You slightly move to meet his eyes, careful to still keep your distance. You can feel the heat from his breath on your cheek. He looks at you with puppy dog eyes so soft and kind, they put a begging Kim Seungmin to shame.

"You're so fucking weird." You laugh, gently pushing him off your shoulder. His face feels warm against the palm of your hand. "This is why we need to get you a girlfriend. Someone to make you normal."

Jeongin opens the door and softly pushes you outside. You tighten the scarf around your neck as the cool air nips at your nose. "I'm normal enough around you."

"That is such a lie," You laugh again as he walks out of your apartment. You double-check that the door is locked and follow Jeongin to his car.

***

**Bold = English; Regular font = Korean**

You push in the door to your apartment and walk in first, holding the door open for your parents, brother, and Jeongin. It feels weird having your family in your apartment for the first time. In the four years you've lived in Korea, they've never been over once. Neither of your parents could take off time when you first moved and your brother was too busy moving back to his campus to help. They've seen your apartment in video calls and pictures, but having them standing in your tiny apartment is strange. For the longest time, it felt like you had two lives, one in South Korea and one back home. And now, both of those worlds are colliding. Even if it's only for a couple of weeks.

"Y/n, where do you want me to put these?" Jeongin asks, holding some of your mother's luggage.

"Just put it in my room, In. Thank you," You neatly organize everyone's shoes by the door, watching your family from the corner of your eyes. They took off their shoes when they came in, but their courtesy ends there as they now wander around the small apartment, opening doors and cabinets.

"You'd think with how much I'm paying for the place, it would be a bit bigger." Your father comments from the kitchen.

"It felt small at first, but it's just me so it's fine." You reassure him as you set your brother's things next to the couch. "You and mom are going to be in my room, by the way."

"Oh honey, you didn't have to give up your bed for us." Your mother coos, coming up behind you.

You know in the deepest crevice in your heart that, that's a lie. That if you didn't give your parents your room and instead gave them the pull-out couch that your brother is going to sleep on, she would fuss about it the entire time. Maybe even the rest of your life. Not in an obvious way, no that would be too kind. She'd make little comments about how her back hurts or how she could hardly get any sleep because she could hear the neighbors walking in the hallway. Or that the kitchen faucet kept her up all night. You love your mother, but sometimes she knows how to push all your buttons in the worst way possible.

"Y/n," Jeongin walks out of your room and makes his way over to you. "I'm going to head home now. Call me if you need anything."

"By home, you better mean Busan." You warn as you walk him to the door.

"What fun would that be? Plus, I've never experienced Seoul during Christmas." He grins at you as he pulls his shoes back on.

"And you're not going to this year. You said you're going back for midnight mass." You remind him.

"I can come back on Christmas day. I told you that we do everything on Christmas Eve since Christmas Day is Jesus' birthday. Something about greed and keeping it holy. I'm not going to miss out on anything," He stands up and readjusts his clothes.

"Yang Jeongin--"

"Oh, Y/n, is your friend leaving? Tell...what's his name again?" Your mother asks, coming up next to you.

"My name is Bob, ma'am." Jeongin stands up, extending his hand out to your mother.

"Be so fucking serious--" You glare at Jeongin before turning to your mother. "His name is Jeongin, mom."

"Jeongin, right. Tell Jeongin to stay for lunch at least. As a thank you for picking us up." Your mother places her hand on your shoulder, a large smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, it is okay. Enjoy family time." Jeongin reassures her.

"We insist. It's the least we can do. Think of it as a thank you for also taking care of my daughter."

"What are you doing?" You whisper.

"If it is okay with Y/n?"

"I'm being polite," Your mother whispers through a smile.

"You know how to do that--ow!" You rub your arm where your arm pinched you and pout at her.

"I didn't get to meet your other boyfriend, I'm going to meet this one." She finally admits.

"He's not my boyfriend. He's just my friend." You nearly shout.

"He knows his way around your apartment." She hums, not breaking eye contact with Jeongin.

"That's because he's my best friend, he spends a lot of time here. Hell, he practically lives here."

"He does what?" Your father asks, coming back into the living room.

"Kill me," You mutter under your breath, tossing your head back.

"If you insist, I'll stay for lunch. If that's okay with Y/n." Jeongin smiles at your mom, not even looking at you. He's good with moms, you'll give him that. You've witnessed him win over every single one of your friends' moms that you've met. It's impossible not to like him, but in this instance, you wish it was.

"What are you doing?" Your head snaps back up, raising an accusing eyebrow at Jeongin.

"She invited me for lunch." Jeongin tilted his head innocently.

"She's clearly jetlagged, don't listen to her." You groan.

"You're overreacting, it's just lunch." He laughs politely.

"And the twelve disciples thought the last supper was just dinner."

"That's blasphemous,"

"You're so right. Why don't you go home before I drag you to hell with me? Better yet, go all the way to Busan."

"Lover's quarrel?" Your brother pops up out of who knows where and drops down on the couch behind you.

Five minutes. It takes your family five minutes in your apartment, a grand total of twenty-five minutes in South Korea in general, for your family to completely drive you up the wall. It all floods back, why you left in the first place. You could have attended film school back home, but you decided to move as far as you could and somewhere they wouldn't have any interest in visiting. You wouldn't have to deal with them much outside of weekly phone calls. Your family could be worse, but the constant meddling in your life is enough to drive you insane.

Annoyed, you grab Jeongin's hand and drag him off to the kitchen. His fingers are stiff in your hand, almost like he's unsure if he should wrap his fingers around your hand. "C'mon, Bob, let's go make lunch."

"I'm...I'm not allowed in the kitchen," He stammers.

"Don't worry, I'm not an idiot. You're not going to cook anything." You let go of his hand as soon as you are far enough in the kitchen. You finally turn around to face him. His ears are as red as the shirt poking out from under his jacket. "I'm just saving you from my family interrogating you."

"I wouldn't mind," He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You say that now," You roll your eyes as you grab the apron next to him. You grab one of your spare aprons and hand it to him. "But trust me, after like 2 minutes along with them, you'd be begging me to save you."

"It can't be that bad."

"Speaking of bad," You toss the apron on and tie the string in the back, looking him in the eyes again, "When did you get so good at English?"

"I've been practicing," He follows suit and puts his apron on.

"For?" You walk past him and begin getting ingredients from your fridge.

"...My...resume." He mutters.

"What kind of reasoning is that? You aren't even that prepared for class."

"His name is Bob?" You hear your brother asking your parents.

You let out a deep sigh as you set everything on the counter, "Idiots, both of you."

***

"Mom and dad are asleep, let's go out." Your brother says, walking back into the kitchen where you and Jeongin are talking.

Somehow, lunch turned into dinner which turned into the five you you playing card games until your parents decided to call it for the night. You're exhausted too, although, you're not sure if it's from all the translating you've been doing or just the overall energy you've been exerting for the day.

"And do what, exactly?" You question, dealing out the cards that Jeongin just shuffled.

"Isn't there a place around here that's popular for clubs and stuff?" Your brother sits down in the seat next to you. He rests his head in the palm of his hand and stares at the both of you.

"Are you talking about Hongdae?" Jeongin asks, picking up his deck.

"Yeah, yeah, Häagen-Dazs!" Your brother says happily.

"There is no way in hell you heard him and thought he said Häagen-Dazs--How are we related?" You fold your arms on the table and drop your head into them, resisting the urge to just slam your head into the table at your brother's stupidity. "Anyways, you're too old for Hongdae."

"I'm 25?" Your brother furrows your eyebrows at you.

"Exactly, you're basically geriatric here. They're not letting you in." You explain, lifting your head.

"Plus you're a foreigner. A male one at that." Jeongin adds.

"But...but you guys are young enough right? You can get me in. Plus if Y/n dresses how she did in high school, the bouncers will be too distracted and let us in."

"You're just going to pimp out your baby sister like that?"

"What else are you good for?"

"Literally anything else," You slap his arm and roll your eyes. "Besides, I'm not sneaking you into a club so you can whore around and cheat on your girlfriend. You know, the one you've been dating for 10 years and still haven't proposed to."

Your brother hangs his head low and picks up his cards. "She left me,"

"You should have proposed," You joke, still looking at your cards.

"Don't kick me when I'm down," He groans, dropping his head to the table.

"Down bad, maybe,"

"I'm down bad? What about the time you--"

"Finish that sentence and mom and dad are going to spend Christmas fishing your body out of the Han River." You threaten.

"'Whoring around?' 'Down bad?'" Jeongin whispers to you.

"Channie after two bottles of soju and beer," You explain simply.

"Ah, a slut. Got it." He gives a firm, understanding nod and goes back to looking at his cards. "You know, we could sneak him in. He looks a little sad about his girlfriend leaving him."

"He's just being dramatic. He'll be fine," You wave him off.

You know Jeongin is right. You could just sneak him in. It might be harder with just the three of you, but you've done it before with your friend group. Back before most of you were old enough to get into clubs, you figured out how to sneak your entire friend group in. Did it set the feminist movement back a few decades? Sure, but it was worth it to spend a few hours partying with your friends.

Your eyes can't help but wander over to your brother. You chew on the corner of your bottom lip as you think about it. Sure, he's a pain in the ass, but he's still your older brother. He's taken you to places he normally wouldn't be caught dead to cheer you up growing up. Watch movies that he claims he hates and let you paint his nails and practice makeup on him more times than you can count. He did it while huffing and puffing about how much he disliked it, but he still did it.

"Shit," You mutter under your breath, "Okay, give me twenty minutes."

~~~

The hard beat of whatever music is being played too loudly over the speakers booms through your body. You can barely see two feet in front of you, with how poorly lit the club is. It's hot, which was a nice contrast from the cold outside when you first walked in, but it's become increasingly uncomfortable, nearly unbearable, in a short amount of time. The Irish coffee he had ordered for you when you first came in was a good idea in theory, something that would keep you awake and still let you share a drink with your brother. But now it's too hot to drink coffee with whisky in it. You had to steal a few ice cubes from Jeongin's water to cool it down enough so you drink it without feeling hot yourself.

"He's having fun," Jeongin points to your brother in the mass of sweaty bodies dancing in front of you. He has his tongue down the throat of some girl whose name you're certain he can't pronounce.

"I'm going to be sick," You groan, leaning further into the seat of the booth you're in. The red plastic leather peels off your skin, nearly glued to you from how long you've sat there. You're glad he's having fun, you just wish he wouldn't do it in your line of sight.

Jeongin laughs and pats your hand, trying to reassure you. His head softly bounces in tune to the music being played. You take a sip of your drink before leaning back again, the bitterness from both the coffee and the whisky hit your tongue in a way that makes you pull a slight face. The whisky burns your throat as it goes down. You feel all warm and fuzzy like you're being hugged from the inside. Except, it's one of those uncomfortable hugs that go on too long and make you feel too hot. There's not much you could do, you already took off your jacket after a few minutes of being in the club.

"Hey," A guy who looks to be around your age, maybe a little older, says, sliding into the booth next to you. "you look bored, do you want to come home with me to eat ramen?"

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before turning your head in his direction. You're entirely too tired, hot, and tipsy to deal with any of his bullshit. "Fuck off,"

"What did you say?" His tone is sharp. You're not sure if he's taken aback by the fact that you can speak Korean or how disrespectful you're being towards him, but you can feel the change of energy radiating off of him.

You feel an unexpected weight on your shoulders. Your eyes flick down and see Jeongin's hand hanging off your shoulder, carefully making sure not to touch you inappropriately. He leans in close, pulling you away from the guy and staring at him in the eyes. "She said 'fuck off.' Now go,"

The man looks between the two of you before letting out an exaggerated scoff and getting up from the table. The two of you watch as he walks over to another table, this one filled with a few girls who are definitely a little too drunk.

"Thanks," You say simply, resting your head back. Jeongin doesn't remove his arm, allowing you to use him as a cushion. You think for a moment, something about this situation is familiar. Not an exact match, but a similar one. You can't help but let out a low chuckle when you realize why.

"What's so funny," Jeongin's other hand brushes against your cheek, moving a stray piece of hair that you weren't aware of that was stuck to your cheek.

"Nothing," You slightly shake your head.

"You're laughing, how is that nothing?"

"It's sad, not funny" You sit up slightly, taking another sip of your drink. "The last time I was in Hongdae, that was pretty much happening a lot. Soobin and I were already bickering the entire night so we got into a fight about it. He was so mad that he made me walk home. Alone. It was pouring rain too,"

“Is that where that cold you had around my birthday came from?”

You let out a low hum and slightly nod your head. Your eyes flutter shut, the warmth in your body leaving slowly. Or maybe you're finally getting used to the heat. Your body feels like it's floating above the table you and Jeongin are sitting at. You know you have a higher alcohol tolerance, but maybe the exhaustion is making you more susceptible to the whiskey in your drink.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He whispers, his voice is soft and warm like honey against your ear.

“It was around 3 am. Didn’t wanna bother you,”

For a second, you're no longer floating but falling. No, not falling, you're being dragged down. Only for a second. You open your eyes slowly. The crowd in front of you is now slightly tilted like you're suddenly in the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It takes you a second to realize that your head is resting on Jeongin's chest.

Badum

You're not sure if your heart is beating in tune with the music or trying to keep up with the thumping coming from Jeongin's chest. The thumping in his chest doesn't match up with the music. It's louder and faster than the song that's currently playing. Your left-hand snakes up and presses on his chest, trying to settle his heartbeat, the fabric of his red cotton shirt soft and nearly silky underneath your fingertips.

“Idiot,” He murmurs. He pulls you in a little closer, making the beating of his heart louder in your ear. “You don’t bother me. Stop thinking you're a burden on others when you're not. I'll pick up anytime you call so don't do that again. Okay?”

“Hmm,” You hum in agreement, your eyes fluttering shut again. The beating in his chest slowly settles into a calm, soothing rhythm. You can't even hear the music anymore, only his heartbeat. The smell of his cologne, which somehow managed to last the entire day, finds its way into your nose giving you some sense of security and familiarity. Somehow, it smells more like home than your parents did when you hugged them. Your hand lightly grips the fabric of his shirt as you just lay there.

“C’mon, let’s go dance,” He says, tapping your forehead with his free hand.

“Dance?” You mumble, cracking one eye open.

“You’re falling asleep or passing out from being tipsy. Either way, it’s not going to look good for either one of us if I have to carry you out of here. So let’s dance,” He pulls you upright just as smoothly as he pulled you onto his chest.

You turn to look at him, both of your eyes open now. His face is red, almost like he's been drinking something other than water alongside you this entire time. You reach out and place your hand against his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, his skin hot against it yet again. “Careful, Yang Jeongin, someone might think you're in love with me.”

He slowly sucks in his lower lip, his eyes dance across your face. Like you're a book and he's trying to decipher your words. Or maybe he's trying to find his own and the answer lies in your eyes. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand off his face before sliding his hand up, taking your hand in his. He gently leans forward, next to your ear. His breath makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "Would that be so bad?"

You pull away from him, leaving your hand in his, and narrow your eyes at him, trying to read him. You're not sure if he's serious or if the alcohol that's quickly leaving your system is making you misunderstand what's happening. Your eyes scan his face for answers and, unlike him, you're unsuccessful. His face is redder than it was before. It's almost like he's absorbing all the alcohol in your system through your hand.

“In—”

Thump

Someone bumps into your table, causing your drink to topple over and spill onto both of your laps.

"Shit," Jeongin mutters as he drops your hand and scrambles to grab whatever napkins are on the table. He gives some to you and helps you clean up the now ice-cold drink that's dripping down to your feet, his own pants being neglected.

"I'll be right back," He says quickly before leaving you at the table and disappearing in the direction of the bathrooms.

Before you can even process what happened, your brother slides into the booth next to you. "People here are weird. I was making out with that girl and all of a sudden she's talking to me about ramen."

You quickly shake your head and focus your attention on your brother. You pick up the now empty cup that used to hold your cocktail and go back to trying to clean your jeans. "You're going to be so upset you said 'no' later."

"Was ramen code for something?" He turns his full body to face you. You glance at him before going back to clean up your mess. There's a small red mark at the base of his neck and dark pink lipstick smeared across his mouth. You can only imagine how much trouble he was about to get himself into.

"I'll tell you later," You wad up the dirty napkins and put them in your cup.

Your brother looks around, realizing that something is missing, "Where's your boyfriend?"

You freeze at the word boyfriend. You're used to people assuming that you're dating Jeongin, but somehow, this time feels different. Before, it always sounded accusatory. Like the two of you couldn't be just friends. That you were using the term "friends" as a veil to hide illicit-esque behavior. But now...

"Would that be so bad?"

Your brain replays that phrase in your head over. Surely, he was taking advantage of your intoxicated state to tease you like he usually does. That, had you not been interrupted by cold whiskey and coffee pouring into your lap, he would have let out a loud laugh and left his mouth hang so widely open that you wouldn't be able to see past the dark-lined half-moons where his eyes should be as you stammered out a response. Something that he would tease you about for the rest of your lives.

"He's not my boyfriend, dumbass. We're just friends." You sigh, thumping your brother on the back of his head.

Your brother rolls his eyes as he rubs the back of his head, a smile that would make the Cheshire cat envious spreads across his face. "Look, I'm saying this as both your older brother and as a guy, you may be 'just friends' with him, but he’s definitely not 'just friends' with you,”

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @veedoesntknaur @nuronhe

*the rest of the taglist is in the comments*

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thelastofhyde · 1 year

Text

i. the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

taglist. @kayleezra @newavenger + add yourself to the taglist here !

read on ao3 ! ( capitalization available )

distaste is not new in the life of joel miller.

in particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. he is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. the years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

if anything, he’s made himself more empty.

rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

an apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. the man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that miller guys passed between cowardly members of fedra and the keep away from mr. miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

this plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become dead-weight.

“so that’s all i am to ya, huh? dead-fucking-weight?” his brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving joel to do what joel does best: endure.

somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the dead-weight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

she was an exception, his tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. they’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

she never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of tess’ foot against his shin.

“... and then,” frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. with a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. we were finding paw-prints for days!”

joel’s unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. as if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the german shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“which means i was cleaning paw-prints for days.” bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

frank is quick to shush him.

“i’m sorry, again, bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “i’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

there you sit, parallel to him.

the sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. it hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

you catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

the threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which joel can account for, mouth to keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. the battle ends swiftly as you surrender to bill’s hardened stare, and frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“you, sit. no one should have to clean up the food they made.”

they get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and painting you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun hind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

being alone, with you, is something joel’s never mastered. the affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. the dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

the ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. he’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

the pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“he likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

as if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

to envy a creature that licks it own shit off its ass is a new low for joel.

“thinkin’ he might like ya more, sol.” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

he takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and tess have made.

“you’ve got a whole load in common, you know? i think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“how the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” there he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. it helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. he’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “and have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

he’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘s easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

with you as its protector.

he doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. he watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

but i could keep you safe.

he toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. it’s not the first time he’s thought it. truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

his memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just bill, frank and you. a few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was frank who’d prompted the question. “where were you all when... this started?” tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’ll never meet.

he never imagined her working in a bank.

bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” he’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. she was barely out of school. “i knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

joel had always been a good listener. being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. all this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of bill.

but you weren’t smiling.

he watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

the desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. with each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. he’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“you’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “those we remember never truly die!”). he’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘could keep you safe. there, then, the thought did cross his mind.

he’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-could fix it, you know. i’m good with my hands.”

he almost chokes on his own breath.

i'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. and he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“what?” the question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. in the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

the mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face joel once more.

he sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“your watch, it’s broken.”

“hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “don’t need ya to fix it.”

you pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. confusion.

“don’t you want to know the time?” you ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and joel miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“i don’t keep it for the time.”

you smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

the german shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

he’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. it’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” you’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “i’ve never heard any of the joel miller backstory, this should be-”

“i get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

nature falls silent.

skies grow dull.

you juggle sadness.

there’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. the dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. only, the gates have been shut in his face and joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “but you’re wrong. i don’t like everyone.”

“‘s that so.” his eyes roll. the hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “i don’t like you, joel.”

the hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

we’re staying, for tonight. tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the qz for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

the nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading bill and frank- mostly frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. if only joel could remember which door leads to yours.

the two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a fedra agent’s wife, you whisper that frank and bill had been fighting again recently. the memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly bill and frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

at some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. at another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-n’t tell me you’re a virgin.

the words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

a protest rings true in his head and his ears.

was gonna say. knew you were young, but not that young.

it’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“god, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. it was alright, i guess. i just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

he’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. a groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“not much to miss?! sweet christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” he’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken tess. each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. there’s no need to bother opening his eyes, joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “i’d give up a hand for some head!”

you must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of tess’ renewed shock fills the room. he wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“it bores me!”

“it bores you!?”

the couch beneath joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp tess gives. the last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

the crueler part of his mind replays your voice, i don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

you like tess. love her, even. it’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out finally someone with a pair of boobs, i’m bored of the sight of my own. joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“must not have been doin’ ya right,” the bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. you’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. it’s oddly endearing, you think no one has noticed. “this fella of yours.”

joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

he does so, regardless.

“well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “we were each others firsts.”

“that’s no excuse! trust i left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time i went down.” tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. no discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

you scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “what, are you offering your services?”

this he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which tess had raised you to heaven while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘as sure as i am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you i like my women a little older than you.”

he knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the qz. it should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. but he can’t, and he won’t.

and you’re the one to blame.

you, with the glow of a thousand suns. you, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. you, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

his own self being the first he’d need fight.

joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

the next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

he’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. some small, meaningless little things, that ripple joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. others, tsunamis. big, angry, all imposing. they’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. but the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. they catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. in the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

the currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

this evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. he reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. the gentle, barely-there croon of a sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. across from him is tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. snoring comes from below him, where joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

you take up no space of this room.

neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

there are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

he should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. a good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

he could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure frank wouldn’t mind. bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the qz.

he would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. he imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

i don’t like you, joel.

those words stop him from trying.

he tells himself it’s for the best.

with a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. he swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. the door’s already half-opened, and joel nearly thanks christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. the darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

the refrigerator.

it’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. a subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

she never lived long enough to get either.

he catches something move beneath the artificial light. cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“why aren’t ya sleepin’?” the words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

beneath the light, you shrug, “could ask you the same thing, texas.”

he curses tess for teaching you such a nickname.

he curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

you’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, joel remains unaware.

he grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. the door behind him closes over and give the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“i asked first.” you laugh, at him. full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. the corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. he hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you, bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘s so funny, huh?”

“nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “just never heard the joel miller say something so childish. you’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

you make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. a fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. uncouth and unbothered, joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“you know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” you call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. the thirst does not budge. he hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

by the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“i’m making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “make sure you take some with you when you leave. tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. he’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

i don’t like you, joel.

of course you would do the same. not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. all words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. they violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over joel’s entire persona.

he straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. the sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. his hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, and the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of tess, and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what joel hears.

i don’t like you, joel.

over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. you’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

and, suddenly, joel’s angry. at you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. the fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

a hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise joel gifts you.

you may leave your marks emotionally, but joel’s will always be physical.

“why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “don’t ya like me?”

if not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “why do you care?”

he scoffs, “i don’t.”

“hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody tess was playing in the living room. “sure sounds like you do.”

“yeah, well, i don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

joel knows he cares. it’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to bill and frank’s.

what joel doesn’t know is why he cares. there’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. he’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

not one bit.

joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. his feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. his chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

he inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“for the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘s like how i sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. no part of him should ever be compared to you. “i don’t like ya either.”

he’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

the knife never ceases its movement. back and forth, back and forth. chop, chop, chop. blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. it’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

the hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“that’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

it’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“you only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. his wandering touch halts. “a little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what i think.”

this strikes a nerve. fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. the realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “d’ya know what i think?”

even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“no, unlike you i don’t care what you think about-” joel tugs on your hair once more.

“i think you’re a brat. a silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” you could. he’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“you’re hurting me,” you whine, joel growls.

animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. his gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

your dress- red, a colour joel miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“you like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“no, i don’-” dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “joel.”

he retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. whoever joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and tess. the blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ talkin’ bout your past.”

he doesn’t specify.

he doesn’t need to.

you give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. his hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “i wouldn’t.”

you say nothing. joel pulls harder.

“too bad i’m-” you cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. with a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, joel watches you like a hawk. the twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. the want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “too bad i’m not offering you the chance.”

joel miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. with notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“who said anything about an offer?”

the descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

a part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

the other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. you’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs longer than any tree in the amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the himalayas. arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, joel knows how to read people. and, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

you breathe in, you breathe out.

one knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. he revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

inhale, exhale.

your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. all he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. with the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “don’t move.”

where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. one flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. a wet patch, your wetness. the stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

curiosity gets the better of him- one day, joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers curling themselves in the waistband of your panties and the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

in and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

the lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. a heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. he makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. there’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. he wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. he thinks it must hurt.

his fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in joel’s peripheral vision.

“shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “people are tryin’ to sleep.”

you scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘s that an invitation to see how loud i can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. this, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “or a challenge?”

“it’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

as coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. so he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. he awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

it’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“you’re drippin’” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. the view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘s actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. is it cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

he can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

but first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

it happens so sudden, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of tess. he wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

so he does the same.

working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. he breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“so now you shut up. ‘s the matter, huh?” he’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “am i too borin’ for ya?”

“you’re the most infuriating man i’ve ever- oh!”

a tongue meets skin.

the knife clatters onto the counter.

you lurch forward.

his hand pulls you back.

“tess was right, ya know?” he can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. he pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “that boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

the common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better, if you’d just let him.

‘could keep ya satisfied.

that’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. he’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? what ya need is a man, a man like me!” the softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension, god it’s never sounded sweet, and joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. he imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “but if ya insist.”

diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. the tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

he’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by only experience that comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. you’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

he’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

what a perfect excuse you are, for joel to remaster the arts of lust.

it’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. it’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. it’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever days he shall possess on his knees before you.

and all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

his only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“n- ah,” you can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “no, don’t, not there.”

next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time tess tells him they’re due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

and then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“d’ya touch yourself, sol?” you don’t answer him, but that’s okay. in a sweet change of pace, joel miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “yeah, bet ya do. late at night, right? once you’re all alone in bed. ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

you back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “let me do the honours this time though.”

you don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. he imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

he’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

you’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. your expression, he can’t quite read. not sad, not happy, not mad.

your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

the discomfort of trekking back to the qz will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

he swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. he’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“that,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. he pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “shouldn’t have happened.”

joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

people once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. as sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. not today, however, and joel miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

it chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. there’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

that dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

he cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “no, not again. my back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the german shepherd’s head. it whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. a scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “not so bad, are ya? huh?” never in a million years did joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and tess had set out for their routinely visit to the bill and frank’s. never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

he hears you before he sees you.

“you planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, texas?”

he tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

the world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

so instead, it sends you.

peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than uv ray could ever be. he’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. a few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. at the very least, he considers, i’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

the smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. when he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. he does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. you’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

a queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. he’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “no problem, thanks... for feeding tess and i.”

“no worries!” you’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. he can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “oh, actually, that’s why i came out here, i was looking for tess-” of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “hold on!”

you shoot off back inside so quickly that otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. with an idle pet to his head as you pass by, joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. in your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“i wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. he can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “i know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

you show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him, “there should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

it’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

so he tries again, louder.

“why don’t ya like me?”

“and i’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

he grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "answer me." like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"for someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. you don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “you sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"answer the damn question, girl.”

“or, what?” you’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “you gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

joel says nothing.

“how about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and bill make.” inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “you get me something, i’ll tell you what you want to know.”

he grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “what d’ya want? ‘cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. i ain’t messing with none of bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“a dress.”

“a dress?” the statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“yes, and don’t look at me like that!” it’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “i need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

unaware he’d even began to lean closer, joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

neither of you dare to break eye contact. again, his name is yelled. this time, he manages to identify tess as the owner of the voice. habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of tess or you.

his feet remain glued to the ground.

tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “think you might be needed inside, macho man. your missus is calling.”

“she ain’t my-”

“you two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. in her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. you approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“i should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. he decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “go check on the food, before it burns.”

you’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

tess and him hit the road by noon. earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. the bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun heating the world with its rays. he walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from tess and racking his brain for answers.

answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the qz. answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven bill’s created. answers to why you don’t like him.

i don’t like you, joel.

it motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. if he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

till then, he needs to find a dress.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

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woniverse-writes · 6 months

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“ILLUSION”

bada lee x reader

summary: to everyone else you and Bada were one of the most entertaining couples to be around. to everyone else, it seemed like you held all the power as you teased, poked, and flirted at your cool, relaxed girlfriend. but that was simply an illusion...

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut, dom bada, switch reader, degradation, choking, not proofread

notes: Bro y/n is getting fucking STRAPPED lmao- well- Bada is getting strapped, y/n’s just taking it🤭 i'm so sorry

Any time the two of you were out with your friends, especially if alcohol was involved, you would find entertainment (and sometimes comfort) in teasing Bada. They were all used to the dynamic you two had going on- Bada always peacefully sitting back and taking whatever hits you gave her, and you perched prettily on her lap making sure she didn't get too comfortable. It was always amusing to watch you tease the tall girl and give your best effort to break her façade.

No matter how many different ways you teased and prodded at Bada’s patience, you almost always ended up exactly how you were now- face down, ass up, moaning and whining into the bed sheets as your girlfriend pounded into you from behind. She occasionally liked to switch it up and have you in other positions, but Bada really loved the aspect of control that came from doing it this way.

“You’ve got nothing to say now, huh? You don’t usually give up this easily…” she teased softly, slowing her pace as she neared the end of her sentence. You whined and arched your back more, trying to push your ass back to meet her hips in hopes that she’d pick up the pace again. Bada just giggled condescendingly, tightening her grip on your hips before slamming her strap back into you. You nearly choked on your moans as she held you in place for a few moments. This had been going on for a couple of hours now- both of your bodies flushed and sticky with sweat and arousal. Bada had been edging you since you got home. She ate you out, fingered you, and even had you grind against her thigh, yet didn’t let you come once.

“Bada- please- god please move…” you whined and writhed against the sheets as much as you could in her hold, barely holding back tears, and she scoffed squeezing your hip harshly before beginning to glide a hand up your spine.

“That’s it? C’mon baby I know you can do better than that-” Her hand was tangled in your hair in an instant, tugging your head back, pulling you up slightly with a gasp. You let out another long whine, resting most of your weight on your hands now that you weren’t completely face down in the sheets.

“It’s like you don’t even wanna cum at this point… you spent all night acting like such a little attention whore and now that you’re getting fucked you aren’t even grateful” she tsked, tightening her grip on your hair, scalp burning from her grasp. God, you loved when she was mean.

“Baby pleeeeeease- I don’t- I can’t- fuck- I need you so bad” you whined and gasped, trying to cohesively string together your thoughts, unable to think clearly with how focused you were on how deep inside you your girlfriend was.

Bada leaned forward so her chest was resting against your back, slowly sliding one hand around your front to press against your stomach, reminding you how deep inside she was, while the other held her weight up by your head. The groan you let out was nothing short of pornographic, turning your girlfriend on even more than she already was (if that was even possible). She began kissing up the top of your spine to your neck, sucking deep purple marks into the skin

“You’ve already got me though… I’m being so giving and kind to you by filling you up with my cock, so what more do you need princess?” Bada murmured against your skin as she gave a slight thrust to emphasize her point. You cried out and tears began to pool in your eyes as she continued to bite and suck, pressing harder against your stomach.

“Fuck Bada- I need you to fuck me” The tears were about to fall due to how desperate you were to cum. She sighed against your skin and pushed herself back up, releasing her grip on you.

“Not even a fucking ‘please’? You really are an ungrateful bitch” Bada pushed you down by the back of your neck, pulling your hips back as she began fucking into you at a pace that had your back arching an ungodly amount. Her immediate intrusion knocked the air out of you and you found it hard to catch your breath with how brutal her thrusts were.

You tried to reach for something to ground yourself, the pillows, sheets, anything- but Bada let go of your neck and grabbed both hands to hold them behind your back. She used this as more leverage to pull you back against her.

“Bada- baby- fuck, baby- I can’t take it anymore…” Your cries fell on deaf ears as your girlfriend’s thrusts continued to hit perfectly against your core, grip on your wrist tightening and definitely leaving bruises.

“Of course you can- you wanna act all tough and in charge? Then you better fucking take whatever I give you and appreciate it” This is the exact reason you acted the way you did- to enjoy the hidden side of your girlfriend that was for your eyes only. Of course there are plenty of other times when you two have sweet, gentle sex or it’s more playful. But good lord did you love being used by her like this? You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore as Bada somehow managed to go even faster and even deeper, loving how you looked when you finally reached your breaking point- tears streaming down your face, face and body completely flushed, eyes hazy-

“You wanna cum baby?” she questioned in a sickeningly sweet tone, slightly slowing her pace, earning a whine from you as you arched your back more to push against her hips, meeting her thrusts.

“Fuck yes, please please please-” the begging continued for a few more thrusts before Bada let go of your wrists and leaned forward briefly. She wrapped her slender finger around your throat, pulling you up against her so that your back was pressed to her chest. She picked up the pace again, pounding into you as you threw your head back against her shoulder. your moans only increased when Bada moved her hand from your hip to snake down between your legs and toy with your sore clit.

“Do you think you deserve to cum yet?” your girlfriend whispered against your jaw as she bit and licked over the sensitive skin, loving how she occasionally tasted the salt from your flood of tears, which only increased at the question.

“Yes- yes, please I've been such a good girl- I've- I-” Bada shushed your rambling, kissing your cheek with a condescending smile knowing she’s just about fucked you dumb. Her pace picked up again as she nodded and tilted your head toward her, bringing you in for a kiss. It was messy and wet, spit slowly sliding down your face due to how desperate you were.

“Go ahead…” was all you needed to hear in between kisses for you to cum. Your tears flowed even faster at the immense pleasure you felt, seeing a flash of light behind your eyes as they rolled back into your head.

“That’s it baby… look at how well you took me” Bada whispered softly as she pressed gentle kisses to your lips, wiping the tears and saliva off your face as she slowed her thrusts and helped you through your high by circling your clit ever so slightly. Your whines became soft whimpers and eventually turned into deep heavy breaths as you sat on Bada’s lap, wrapped in her arms.

You winced as she held you flush against her and pulled out, still sensitive. Bada moved you to lay down on your back against the soft pillows and leaned forward to lay in between your legs. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed gentle kisses to your stomach as you ran your finger gently through her hair.

“You did so well princess… so good for me” your girlfriend mumbled into your skin in between her kisses. You giggled, slightly tickled by her lips, especially when she began to blow lightly and teasingly on the areas where she left marks. You sat up and scooted back, moving out from underneath Bada, who just looked up at you with confused puppy eyes. You moved to the side and pushed her hip to roll her onto her back, then sat in between her legs. You were in the same position as a few moments ago when Bada had been pressing ticklish kisses to your stomach, except the roles were reversed and there was a mischievous glint in your eyes again.

“Lemme take care of you now…”

note: i don't tag people in any smut works because idk who's over 18 and i'm not about to accidentally tag a minor in these things lol

#bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader #bada lee smut #bada smut #gxg

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

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YANDERE! TEEN TITANS x YAE MIKO / KITTY CHESIRE ! READER SHORT STORY

the kitty chesire bit is mostly her power to disappear and teleport + love for chaos

as always reader is gender neutral!

[sequel to this fic]

“YOU. . . HAVE A FOX FORM ? !”

Your team member, Garfield, shouted into your ear as you untied him and the rest of the members after a battle you won.

Via tricking them of course. You were meant for stealth and illusions, not fighting. Most missions with the Titans had you as a scout or back-up. Rarely were you in the heat of the fight.

It was mostly due to your penchant with being a liability. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, placing you with the main group was a recipe for disaster.

It was a perfect role for you. Cause really, who enjoys sitting back and watching everything unfold? You did.

And after watching your friends getting their asses handed to them and laughing for several minutes while invisible (so that they could definitely hear you but you wouldn’t get captured). You came in to save the day.

“Oh, how could you not know BB. I thought we were friends!” You sighed dramatically while finally untying the last member and leader, Robin.

Despite your close proximity, you fail to notice the rare grin on his face.

“Hey, that’s my line! How could you not tell your best friend, huh?!”

“To be fair, it should have been obvious.” Rachel commented. Her cape had gotten covered in some unknown goop, so her voice came out strained as she tried flicking it off.

“Yeah, Garfield. Kitsune, Fox. It’s hard not to know about it.” Jaime added. The scarab on his back’s eyes glow red in agreement.

“I feel wounded, hurt, unimaginable pained—“ Garfield grasped his chest. “But you know what would make me feel b-“

“In your dreams.” You quickly answered. Already knowing what he’ll request. It wasn’t as if you didn’t like turning into your fox form. But you had a plan,

and that plan was chaos.

“I didn’t even finish!”

“Give or take another hundred years or so, then it’ll be a maybe.”

“But- But why—?”

“My kitsune form is not a party trick or just something that can be shown at a whim. It has to be special, as is the person I show it to.”

“Wait, so that’s why you didn’t show me? I thought it was cause you couldn’t do it for another hundred years or so.” Rachel perked up as soon as she heard your words. The remaining goop on her cape forgotten.

“I thought it was because only humans or other beings from Earth could witness it.” Kori crossed her arms.

“You mean it isn’t dangerous for you to turn into one in case you aren’t able to turn back?!” Dick, Jaime, and Victor all screeched in unison.

“Excuses may vary from person to person.”

“[Y/N]!”

Ah yes, all according to plan.

It wasn’t that long before you all had another mission to accomplish. It wasn’t that hard really, in fact the enemies seemed a lot weaker in comparison to the previous ones.

So why were you and the rest tied up?

“Oh no, we’re at risk of dying. Whatever could we do?” Garfield feigned a moan of pain.

“Maybe if [Y/N] shifted into their Kitsune form and got out of their restraints—“ Victor tried suggesting but, like what you did with Garfield last time, you shut him down immediately.

“No.”

Everyone instantaneously gets out of their restraints. No effort at all.

These goddamn desperate little shits—

It had been a month or so since Garfield and the rest found out you weren’t turning into a fox simply because you didn’t want to and they have yet to lose gas when it came to motivation.

It had even gone to the point where the Justice League and heck, even some villains and other unaffiliated vigilantes joined the mix. It was as if every moment someone was trying to coerce you to transform.

“Guys let’s have dinner!” Dick called out from the tower’s kitchen, not bothering with the intercoms since he knew you were close by. As a Kitsune you had a fantastic sense of smell, as such you were already hovering the kitchen since the start.

“Is that . . . [Favorite Food] and - and [Favorite Drink]?” Your mouth watered as you gazed at the dining table. All of your favorite meals, snacks, and beverages were all laid out. Ready to be consumed—

“Ah, ah! Let us see your Kitsune form first.”

You took one long stare at him before disappearing, literally. “I’m ordering take out.”

“God damn it!” The rest of the team all exit from their hiding spots, absolutely saddened by the lack of reaction and that they couldn’t spoil you with your favorites for once.

(It’s not like they can forget about your fox form and just give you everything on a silver platter. Hell no!)

You trudged to Damian’s room. Still invisible until you were sure you entered without anyone seeing you.

You reappear with a smile before shortly turning into a miniature [Favorite Color] fox.

“Tired?” Damian asked, still focused on his computer while you jumped to his lap and made yourself comfortable.

“Mm. Not really! They’re really funny when they’re like that.”

He nodded at your response and began petting you. His other hand reached forward to his phone, “Hey, are you still open? … Yeah . May I have [Favorite Food] delivered at this address…”

You faked a gasp. You knew he had been watching over you since the beginning. Normal people would have freaked out and questioned how knew but you didn’t. How could you? He is your boyfriend after all. Him knowing everything was expected. At least, that’s what he always says, and you didn’t really mind so . . . “You’re the best, Damey!”

“I know.” He finally gazed at you. The love in his eyes are as clear as day, “Now, get off. We have to pick up our order.”

General Batfam Taglist: @the-sander-fander

#yandere batfam #yandere x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere teen titans x reader #yandere raven x reader #yandere cyborg x reader #yandere beast boy x reader #yandere nightwing x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere dc #genshin x dc #dc x genshin #yandere batfam x reader #yandere teen titans

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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Cater, Ruggie: The Secret in a Smile

Caycay, bestie… I am so sorry that SSR Crowley stole your spotlight 😭 (Is that why Cater looks so Mean Girls in his groovy... He's seeking petty revenge against Crowley/j)

Some cute stuff from the vignettes that I wasn't able to include in this fic: Cater makes a reference to TsumTsums! He mentions being into this mobile game with cute round creatures. Cater also tells a story about a 5-year old girl giving him a flower after his club's performance at a cultural festival (omg, do they mean the one in book 5?!). Ruggie teases him and says Cater must have been that little girl's first crush 😂

A Tale as Old as Time.

“Ne, ne, Ruggie-kun! Check this one out~ It's all the way from the Queendom of Roses!"

Cater jabbed a thumb at a painting of a young blonde girl dressed in a modest sky blue frock and apron, a small black bow in her hair. She couldn’t have been older than 10 years of age, still petite enough to squish inside a glass bottle with a narrow neck. The bottled child was adrift in a sudsy sea, her face frozen in an expression of slight worry.

Ruggie took one look at the artwork, then wrinkled his nose. “Sure sucks to be in her shoes. What’s this even supposed to show us, anyway? Doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to me.”

"Not a lot from the Queendom does if you aren't already familiar with its topsy-turvy stories~" Cater placed a hand on his hip and leaned forward, grinning. "This one is pretty popular! It's about a girl that wants an audience with the Queen of Hearts. She gets lost on the journey there, meets strange people and experiences even stranger things on the way. This is just one leg of that trip!"

"Wouldn’t the castle be further inland? How'd she end up in the middle of the ocean?"

“It’s about the perspective of the shot.” Cater formed a frame with his hands, catching his underclassman in it. He pulled back, creating the illusion of sizing Ruggie down. “She drank this bottled liquid she found and that shrank her down—so really, the ocean isn’t that big.”

A grimace.

“Man, talk about no sense of self preservation. She just chugged an unlabeled bottle without a second thought. Must’ve been real desperate.” Ruggie paused. “Weeeell, not like I’m one to talk about being desperate. You really can’t afford to be picky sometimes. If it fills your stomach, it fills your stomach.”

“You’d drink it too, huh… I don’t think I could do that. I’d at least want to see how the menu describes it before I order—though I guess it also depends on how ‘cammable the drink is! And hey, think about all the cool pics I could grab from a worm's eye point of view!”

"Heh, you don't seem too pressed about living life as an ant."

"Cay-kun likes to look on the bright side of things!" he declared with a wink and a peace sign. "The lost girl... she worried so much about finding her destination, she forgets to stop and smell the roses. She overlooks a lot of the fun people she could have spent time with."

Hopping from place to place, missed people—familiar elements, resurfacing a childhood of being uprooted and dragged about. Never to fully settle.

A tea party here, a brief convo there. Just enough to keep him placated, but not enough to see beyond the surface of the looking glass.

His curiosity still left wanting.

She got into so much trouble, but didn't have any real friends to come and help her.

Sadness tugged at his heartstrings, but Cater's smile didn’t waver.

"... I can’t help but kinda pity the poor thing," he said quietly. Then, brightening in the next moment, "All her issues could've been avoided if she just looked before she leapt and made some connections."

“Yeah, she definitely should’ve played smarter, not harder. Maybe if she kissed up to the locals, they’d have come to her rescue." Ruggie shrugged. "It works for me and Leona-san."

“Right? A smile goes a long way to getting what you want!” Cater poked the corners of his mouth. “You totes get me.”

“Cuz it takes a trickster to know another one on sight.”

"Wow, it sounds so mean when you put it like that. We're not tricksters, we just know how to use our smiles to problem-solve~"

"Giving a word a fresh coat of paint doesn't make it any less shady. At least be honest with yourself," the hyena smirked.

“Eeeh, I’m always honest!”

They shared a laugh—Ruggie, a snicker. Cater, lighter, more bubbly, like a carbonated mystery drink. When the effervescence died down, he cast another glance at the painting.

Too big for her small world of the sea, too small for the big world that loomed beyond it. Trapped within glass walls. Curled into herself in her delicate chambers.

Her perspective and his, one and the same.

Poor thing, poor thing, poor thing.

Cater summoned his strength and bore the full brunt of his smile.

“I’m sure she’ll find what she’s looking for… one day.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Cater Diamond #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Cater birthday takeover #something no one asked for #spoilers #twisted wonderland scenarios #Ruggie Bucchi

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annymation · 3 months

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The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 13- Magic Mirror

Chapter 12

Asha is now sitting on the hand drawn bed that she drew with her magic pencil the previous night. Staring at the 7 teens in front of her, she looks at them completely stunned.

Asha was about to open her mouth to ask a million questions, such as how did they get there? Are they okay? Do they believe her now? Is the king dead?

(Man, if you've been missing the past few chapters this all must feel pretty weird huh?)

But she doesn't have time to say anything, as Dahlia rushes over and hugs her tightly:

"WE'RE SO SORRY WE WEREN'T THERE FOR YOU!!!" The girl's scream echos around the cave, she speaks quickly and on the verge of tears "We were so scared- and and Magnifico was looking at us like he was gonna cut off our heads if we said something! BUT THAT DOESN'T JUSTIFY IT! I should've spoken up for you! I'm the worst friend eveeeeeeeer!" Dahlia says dramatically.

Bazeema, Hal and Dario come in for the hug too, Bazeema being the next one to apologize

"I know it's not much, but I brought an apology gift..." she whispers shyly, while reaching inside a bag she's carrying, and takes out a plant, composed of small star-shaped blooms that cluster together to give the illusion of a single flower "A hyacinth, your favorite... They also symbolize the desire for forgiveness."

(Yeeeeeah remember back in chapter 2 when Bazeema made a garden of purple hyacinths as a birthday gift for Asha? Yeah... It was aaaaaall foreshadowing that eventually the 7 teens would ask her for forgiveness. All details in this fic are foreshadowing! Also I just love flower symbolism.)

Asha takes the flower and smiles softly while the four hug her.

Gabo is standing next to the bed with his arms crossed. He interrupts the sweet moment:

"For the record, back at the plaza I tried to throw a rock on Magnifico's head SEVERAL times, but Mr "respect the corrupt authority" here kept stopping me." He says, pointing at Simon with an annoyed expression.

"Uuh yeah I did, because otherwise you'd be executed for treason, you're welcome." Simon says matter of factly, he looks even more tired than usual, after all he and the others have walked through the woods the whole night to find Asha.

"I would've died a happy man." Gabo says with a cheeky smile.

"You're not a man, Gabo. You're 17." Simon, the 21 year old, says sounding as tired as he looks.

"I would've died a happy boy." Gabo corrects himself with the exact same tone and cheeky smile.

Asha giggles at that, and she finally opens her mouth to say something "I don't blame you guys for not standing up against the king... Simon has a point Gabo, Magnifico is really REALLY dangerous." Asha warns.

Hal leaves the hug and speaks sarcastically with a smile:

"Yeah, we could tell heheh! Next time you find out that the kingdom is ruled by a two sociopaths, just let us know, okay? We can handle it." She finishes with a wink.

Dario looks surprised by that comment and comunnicates in sign language: "Wait, we can? I've been freaking out about it the whole way here." He still has a dopey smile while signing.

"Speaking of which... HOW did you all get here?!" Asha asks them, baffled that they managed to travel so deep into the woods.

Dahlia is more calm now, as she explains with a knowing smile:

"Let's just say we got help, from a little someone who's reeeeeally good at finding you anywhere you go."

"I told you guys I could find her!" Exclaims a little kid's voice coming from bellow the bed.

Asha is confused as she crawls on the bed to see where the voice came from and-

"Valentino?!" Asha exclaims with her eyes wide.

The goat is as happy as can be, looking up to her with his tail wagging.

"Hiiii!" The little goat jumps on the bed and starts licking Asha's cheek " I'm so happy to see you! I explained eeeeeeverything to them, so they'd come with me!"

Asha hugs Valentino, happy to see him... But not understanding how is the goat talking again.

"I- I'm happy to see you too Val... But... Aster, I thought you said Valentino couldn't talk anymore."

Aster, who has been floating around watching the conversation with a pleased smile, flies closer to Asha and explains:

"It's simple really! Some of my magic stayed inside him. That time, he REALLY wanted to say thanks to you. Now, he really wanted to tell your friends that you needed help, so my magic was re-awakened, ain't that right lil buddy?" Aster asks the goat with a cheerful smile.

"Maaa!" Valentino bleated in confirmation... Aaaand now he doesn't need nor want to talk anymore, so he went back to normal.

(This is still THE idea I'm most proud of in this whole rewrite, I unlocked talking goat on demand.)

"I see... So did Valentino really tell you guys everything?" Asha asks her friends with an awkward smile, hoping the answer is yes because it's really a long story.

Dahlia confirms that Valentino did indeed tell them everything, by saying "You mean how the king and queen have been changing people's wishes for years?"

"And when you found out, you ran away and wished upon a star?" Bazeema continued, while looking at Aster with a shy smile.

"And the star... Or rather, "Aster" here, answered?" Simon finishes the train of thought, looking at Aster with a... Suspicious glance.

"YUP! Look's like you guys are all caught up!" Aster says excitedly while floating around the cave.

Hal already seems to like the star boy's energy as she begins to introduce herself "Well, it sure is great to finally meet the guy who protected our girl back there, pleasure to meet you, Aster! The name's H-"

"Hal Diallo, right?" Aster interrupts with a smile as he shakes her hand, his smile widens once he does so, since he's seeing Hal's star.

Hal is surprised that he knows not only her name but also her last name.

Aster then proceeds to list all the others while pointing at each one "And you guys are Dahlia Hayashi, Bazeema Latif, Gabo Brandt, Safi Ayad, Dario Allegri and Simon O'Donohue... Did I get all those right?" Aster asks innocently.

(And yes, I did research all those names to fit with each character cultural background, except for Simon's that is from the movie. Yes, I do have a lot of time in my hands.)

All the 7 look at the star in shock but then slowly turn to Asha in confusion, Asha looks at them with an awkward smile. So Gabo promptly asks:

"Geez Asha, I know you like us a lot but did you really tell everything about us to star boy over here?" He asks in a cynic tone.

Aster quickly corrects him "Oooh no no no you got it all wrong ha ha! I know you guys because I've watched everyone from the sky." Aster laughs it off a little more.

"... THATS SO MUCH WORST!" Gabo exclaims looking actually scared this time.

Asha intervenes while getting out of the bed "Ooookayy this is a whoooole other can of worms that we don't have time to get into right now!" She says, referring to everything she learned about Aster the previous day "All that matters is that Aster is here to help us defeat King Magnifico and Queen Amable, and save everyone." Asha says confidently while holding Aster's hand.

Aster's stary freckles begin to sparkle when he notices she's holding his hand.

Gabo begins to to ramble in his usual sarcastic tone "Oh really? Awesome! Wow! Mind explaining HOW, exactly? Because although we didn't stay to watch the fight 'cause the rain started triggering Safi's allergies-"

"It's true, you know how bad it gets, we ran away as soon as it started raining." Safi interrupts, speaking for the first time.

(This is my way of saying they didn't see Magnifico almost break Asha's wish by the way.)

"Yes, yes we know how bad it gets Safi-" Gabo looks at his friend frustrated, not liking to be interrupted, even though he interrupts people all the time "Anyway- Although we didn't stay to watch the fight, word of mouth says that shinny pants over here got tossed around by Magnifico like he was a mouse being chased by a cat."

"He was more of a snake, if you ask me" Aster says with a shrug, and proceeds to talk confidently "And by the way, I certainly was no mouse, I was the one who won that figh-"

"Wait..." Asha interrupts the star as she remembers what Aster told her yesterday... She turns to Dahlia and quickly holds her friend by the shoulders as she pleads desperately "Please- Please PLEEEEASE tell me that lightning killed him!"

Dahlia looks like she really didn't want to bring the bad news, but she says it anyway "Uuuum... Well, yes-"

"*GASP* WWWOOOOO-" Asha jumps with joy, throwing herself on the bed with her arms up and a huge smile on her face.

But then her celebration is cut short by Gabo being his straightforward self:

"For like 5 minutes, then the queen did some creepy stuff and brought him back from the dead."

Asha and Aster both looked at him in shock, Asha slowly lowers her arms as she asks:

"... She did what now?"

"I've heard she gave him a true love's kiss... Would be quite romantic if it wasn't so scary" Bazeema says in a whisper.

Both Asha and Aster seem very disappointed by this, Asha remains in silence kinda just processing it, while Aster thinks for a moment before he states casually:

"... Well that's just cheating" Their arms are crossed and his mouth has a pout.

Gabo begins throwing some harsh reality as he speaks frankly "Yeah but that's how it went twinkle star, because guess what? Those two are CRAZY POWERFUL. And as long as Magnifico has that magic of his, there's nothing we can do, none, nada." Asha looks very frustrated with those words "So we might as well get comfy living in the woods from now on. Get used to the humidity, Safi." He says as he also lays next to Asha on the hand drawn bed.

As if on cue with the comment about humidity, Safi let out a sneeze

"ACHOOOO! Sorry..." Safi says while itching his nose... He thinks for a moment, and an idea seems to cross his mind as his eyes light up "I think... The king might have weakness though." Safi says raising his finger with one hand while itching his nose with the other "... But it's just a theory, maybe I'm wrong."

"ANY clue might be great help for us, Safi. Please, what do you think?" Asha looks at her friend in the eyes with a hopeful expression.

Safi looks back to her, her words encourage him to tell his friends a secret he has been keeping in for a while, he takes a deep breath before saying

"Alright... Last year, my mom asked me to help her at the castle-

We cut to a flashback sequence where we see Safi and the same cleaning lady from chapter 8. They're dusting off a fancy room in the castle.

"She needed my help because they were short staffed that day, and the king really wanted the castle spotless. Then he came in, complaining that my mom didn't clean his bedroom yet or something... I didn't pay much attention, but I did notice he left his magic staff leaning next to a wall... I got curious, I wanted to take a closer look at it, so I walked towards it while pretending to dust off some furniture. But when I got too close to it... Some ACTUAL dust got in my nose. I tried holding it in but...

"a- A-AAAACHOOOO!"

I sneezed on his staff and knocked it over. Magnifico immediately heard me and RAN to catch the staff before the gem touched the floor, and he did it just in time. I was relieved and so was my mom. I even laughed a bit thinking he would too... But he didn't... He looked at me in the eyes like he wanted to kill me then and there. He grabbed me by the scarf and lifted me off the floor a little. He yelled to my face:

"YOU INANE, FILTHY LITTLE BRAT! YOU ALMOST COSTED ME EVERYTHING!"

I was so scared, I tried a apologizing but that seemed to only make him angrier... My mom only watched nervously from the side. Then, a hand touched his shoulder... It was Queen Amable. She looked at him worriedly, and he looked back to her, I couldn't see his face... And just like that he let go of me and left the room without a word. Then the queen smiled to me, like what just happened was no big deal

"Please do forgive the king, my dear. He has been under a lot of stress lately, that's all... But you shouldn't be here in the first place, now, should you? No, a castle is no place for children. So how about you run along and enjoy the rest of your day, hum?" She placed a finger on my lips as she said with a sweet voice "And we'll keep this as our little secret, won't we?"... All I could do was nod."

The flashback ends.

We cut to all the other teens staring at Safi with expressions of both surprise and pity.

Aster's is floating in a sitting position with his legs crossed, he looks very sad.

"... Why didn't you tell us?" Asha asks, sounding heartbroken that the king and queen treated her friend that way and he had to keep that pain in silence.

"Probably the same reason you didn't tell us when you found out about their secret... I was scared." Safi said quietly with a sad expression, Asha nods in agreement "Also my mom told me not to gossip..." Safi adds quietly.

Dario comes over and gives Safi a hug.

"Heh thanks bud." Safi says, feeling relieved to let all that out.

Gabo, as always, ends the sweet moment by saying bluntly "Ok so we all agree the staff is like, his achilles heel, right?"

"... Yeah, if not breaking it was so important then why would he run to catch it when he could just use his magic to make it float?" Dahlia ponders.

"Because he can't do magic without holding it... " Aster answers, with an expression of realization.

Asha also has that same face of realization as she says "... Of course! None of the kings that came before him even had magic staffs, they could do magic with their hands alone... Magnifico DOESN'T know magic!" A smile forms on the corner of Asha's lips, it's almost comical how every aspect of that man was a lie all along.

"Soooo if we break that gem on his staff" Aster says with a huge smile while flying closer to Asha's face, his hair shinning brighter and brighter.

"He will be powerless." Asha finishes his sentence, looking at Aster in the eyes with a determined smirk.

"Uuuh that's great but... How are we supposed to break it?" Simon asks confused "Even the literal STAR here couldn't use his powers against the staff's magic, so what are we supposed to do?"

Aster turns to Simon with a confident look "Yeah sure, it was too much for me to handle... On my own." He turns to Asha for her to complete his point.

Asha get's up and makes the bed that she drew return to her sketchbook, surprising the rest of the teens.

While she does so, she finishes Aster's point:

"But together... We can fight."

She uses her magic pencil to draw some drums.

And we transition to the song:

What We Know Now

Lines in Purple- Asha

Lines in Red- Dahlia

Lines in Yellow- Safi

Lines in Blue- Hal

Lines in Bold Orange- Gabo

Lines in Green- Simon

Lines in Pink- Bazeema

Lines in Bold Yellow- Aster

Lines in Bold White- Everyone

(Lines between parenthesis- Me)

(Asha begins to draw some drums with her magic pencil, making them fly out off the page. Aster immediately gets her idea and begins to play the drums as the instrumentation of the song.)

… We've been deceived That royal pair are not what they've claimed to be They're more vicious than I could have ever comprehended When I made a wish and Aster came down This is not what I expected or intended But now that it's happened I don't regret it

(She begins to sing turning to her friends, her expression is bold. As she says the line "When I made a wish and Aster came down" the two of them share a glance, with Aster smiling at her as he plays the drums, and she looks at him with a warm smile.) 'Cause now I've seen Them show their true colors, in shades of green Saying that your wishes aren't safe because of me and That's a lie, lie, lie, lie. And now we know how we'll get the upper hand

(Aster uses their light to reflect on the gems inside the cave, creating the figure of Magnifico and Amable on the walls, that turn from blue to green. As Asha says the last line she raises her hand to the sky and starts walking out of the cave, with her friends following her to the forest.)

… If it's not us then who and when? If we don't fight they know they'll win Not allowed Knowing what I know now The lengths they'll go there's no amount I won't sit back watch this play out That's my vow Knowing what I know now

(She marches with them to the clearing in the forest, pushing the tree branches out of her way, some birds fly off the trees upon hearing her sing. As they reach the clearing, she turns to her friends to know what they have to say... Dahlia is the first one to step in)

… Get up, yah! No, I'm not the only one that's (yah) Fed up (yah)

(Dahlia walks to be next to Asha as she raises her hand to the sky with every "yah", motivating their friends even more)

… Wait 'til they hear our feet go dun, dun, dun, dun (yeah)

(Safi sings as Dario grabs one of the drums that Asha drew and begins playing it at the "dun dun dun" part. Dario may not be able to sing but he helps Aster with the instrumentals.)

… I don't think they'll be prepared for what's coming

(Hal sings her line with a passion, as she extends her hand forward to call the others to join their hands together in a group circle)

… A revolution hit the ground runnin'

(And they do so, then they raise their hands together, and with that we transition to Asha making a drawing of the castle that turns into a miniature, for them to plan how they'll get in.)

… If there's one thing they can't keep down Uh-huh It's us and the strength we've found It's too loud (loud) Knowing what we know now (knowing what we know now)

(Asha then draws little miniatures of her friends and Aster, they all come to life and get in position on the castle as the group begins to formulate their plan)

… And who, who knows if we'll succeed?

(Simon looks unsure, as he holds the little miniature of himself that Asha drew.)

But we- Won't stop and we won't retreat or turn round

Round

(Gabo notices the fear in his friend's eyes and offers these words of motivation)

Knowing what we know now Knowing what we know now

(They all sing together with Asha... All except Simon, as we see a shot focusing on him a bit far away from the group, smiling at them singing, but his eyes give away how he's trying to hide from the others how he's unsure if they're doing the right thing.)

… Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo Hoo-ha-hoo-ha-hoo-ha Hoo-hoo-hoo

(We get a sequence showing small glimpses of the group making their plan, and we can see time passing as we transition from early morning to mid afternoon)

… Can they tell what we're becomin'? (Hoo) Hear it in the way we're drummin' (hoo) I was sweet but now I'm something else (oho) Yah, yah, yah, yah! (Hoo-hoo)

… Ain't it nice of us to drop in (hoo-ha) To take what's ours to take it back in? (hoo-ha) They think we're nothing (hoo) But we're something else! (Ha) Yah! (Hoo)

(In this sequence, the group already planned everything. The gang dances together, as Dario is now the only one on the instrumentals, Asha drew a bunch of drumming instruments for him to go crazy with... But the camera suddenly moves up, as we focus on Aster looking at the castle in the distance as the sun begins to set, and the star sings his verse.)

… I've seen too many bad things that I can't keep count (The sky) And land now both unite To fight (fight) Knowing what I know now Knowing what I know now (hoo-ha-hoo)

(Aster refers to all the bad things he has seen them do while he was in the sky, as well as all the bad things he could see inside Magnifico with his eyes. His expression as he sings is bold and serious, as if he can't stand all the injustices he has seen.)

… They shall see all of your stars (We are) Aligned by your own scars So profound (Ahh) Knowing what I know

(He's flies down and begins to sing looking at all the other teens, referring to THEM as stars, that have been aligned to fight this battle because of the scars that the king and queen caused)

… I know (hoo)

… I know (ha)

… We know now (hoo)

… Knowing what we know now

(And the song ends with them striking a group pose)

...

So we transition to the castle, as we get a scene of Magnifico and Amable in the throne room, with 4 guards lined up in front of them.

"So let me get this straight..." Magnifico speaks to the guards with his voice filled with frustration, as he's sitting on the throne with his hand on his forehead "After searching THE WHOLE NIGHT, none of your troops could find any sign of that girl, nor the star?" He glares at the guards in front of him.

The guards all seem nervous, but one steps in to say something

"W-we went as far into the woods as we could, your highness... But there were some setbacks."

"Setbacks?" The king pronounces the word like it disgusts him "What kind of setbacks are we talking about here?"

"Last night when we were searching... Some of our men could've sworn they heard voices and whispers, the likes of cursed spirits..." Another one of the guards begins to explain, he sounds frightened.

"I've heard some say that the trees attacked them!" Another guard adds in, also sounding just as scared

"And I experienced the most unbelievable thing!" Finally a third guard starts telling what he saw, and we get a quick flashback

We see the guard at night searching through the woods.

When suddenly the ground beneath him starts to shake and... A giant flower sprouts out of the ground and closes it's petals with him inside...

Our perspective in the flashback changes to Aster hiding in the branches of some trees, giggling quietly as the guard screams for his companions to get him out.

(So yeah, the whole night Aster was messing with the guards by asking the animals to whisper creepy things and giving life to the trees and so on... The Peter Pan vibes in him keep growing.)

End of flashback.

And we cut to Magnifico staring at them shocked, not shocked that those things happened, oh no, he knows exactly what those things really mean... He's actually shocked with how incompetent they are.

Magnifico stays silent for a moment... The guards are all standing up stiffly, waiting for what he'll say next.

"... he he ha aHAHAH AH HA AHAHAHA!" Magnifico lets out a laugh that echos through the room, the guards look nervous. The king turns to the queen sitting next to him, she's staring at the guards with a cold expression. Magnifico talks to her like he just heard the funniest joke in the world "Did you hear that, my sweet? Hah ah They retreated because of- aha hah- some scary little whispers, moving trees and a FLOWER! HA!-Ha ha ha-" The king's genuine sounding laugh descends into a fake, deep one, as he stands up holding his staff tightly. His expression is twisting from a smile to a furious scowl-

"You FOOLS!"

Using his staff, Magnifico attacks the guards with a lightning spell, the guards manage to escape it just in time. As they look to their king in horror.

"IDIOTS!"

He does so again, the four men are now running for their lives to the exit, but Magnifico slams the door shut with the snap of his fingers.

"IMBECILES!"

He summons a third lighting strike that barely misses them, as they're now cornered against the wall.

Magnifico marches towards them, his face is red with rage while his staff is glowing green, ready to attack them again at any moment.

"That was THE STAR'S magic! THAT MEANS HE WAS NEAR YOU!" He hits the staff on the floor, creating a loud clang of the metal against the marble, the white floor is now cracked. "WHY did your captain not alert me about this?! I gave him a mirror PRECISELY for him to tell me about ANY SIGN OF THE STAR!" The king exclaims to the four men cowering in fear in front of him.

His voice is loud but it's not hysterical, it's a booming and commanding tone that demands respect and attention.

They remain silent, trembling in their armor.

"WELL?" He insists for an answer to his question, threatening to attack them again.

One of them spills the beans "I- I heard a rumor this morning that he lost the mirror!..." The man immediately covers his own mouth, realizing what he just did.

Magnifico turns to the guard that said that, his face relaxes as he says "... Oh did he now?... How unfortunate." his voice sounds calmer now, but the sense of uneasiness is palpable... his staff stops glowing. "Well then. Congratulations men, it seems the captain's position will be vacant very soon." The king speaks calmly as he starts walking back to his throne "Who knows, if you don't disappoint me any further, one of you might even take his place."

The guards all shiver at that, not sure if the king means their captain would just lose his position... Or worse.

"That will be all for now. Dismissed." The king snaps his fingers and a large door opens, allowing them to leave. The four guards bow down before rushing out of there. Once they're out, Magnifico snaps his fingers again to close the door. "... UUUUUUGH What's the use of ruling a kingdom when you're surrounded by idiots?" He slumps down on his throne, sounding miserable as he vents to his wife.

The queen holds his hand, her previous serious expression is gone, replaced by a passionate gaze "Patience, darling. We'll have our star sooner than you think, I just know it." She says soothingly.

He kisses her hand before saying "So do I, my love... But you were right, as always. We can't rely on others to even tell us where that blasted star is. It's true what they say: if you want something done right, you must do it yourself." He gets up from the throne and starts walking to the exit "I'll go to the forest to get them myself." He stops on his tracks for a moment and turns back to his wife with a pondering look "Hmm... Say dear, would you prefer that I brought the girl dead or alive?" He asks her in a loving tone.

"Alive, I could use a test subject for my potions, but either way would be lovely." Amaya responds, smiling wickedly.

"Then I better be on my wAAY- " The king almost trips over on something when he was walking to the door, he looks down and it is- "BRAVO! Watch where you're going you little devil!" Magnifico berates their lynx.

Bravo looks up to the king unbothered by the screaming, and it seems like he did it on purpose, not to stop his owner from going out though... But because he wants to show them something.

The lynx let's out a growly meow as he looks to the king and starts walking to another room, after taking a few steps the feline stops and looks back at the king and queen, as if to ask if they're coming with

"... It seems he has something to show us." The queen says while rising up from her throne to follow her pet.

The king raises one eyebrow at that, not quite sure if that's worth his time. But he follows along either way.

The two royals follow their pet up the flight of stairs, until they reach the king's study next to the wishes room.

And on the table, they see a hand mirror, that looks just like the magic mirror from Beauty and The Beast. It's glowing with a green light.

"OH! So I guess he didn't lose the mirror after all. Well done, Bravo." Magnifico says as he pets the lynx's head, Bravo seems pleased. "Now, let's see if we get some good news today."

The king holds the handle of the mirror and begins to speak with whoever is trying to get in contact with him

"About time, O'Donohue! So, have you found the star ye-" The person trying to speak with him comes into view in the mirror, we're not seeing who it is yet, only the king's face of surprise and confusion when he sees who it is "You're not the captain..."

We still only focus on the king's face, as we hear a familiar voice coming from the mirror:

"Erm no... I'm his son, actually, I'm sorry for stealing this from him but... there's something I think you should know."

The king looks intrigued at the mirror, he's ready to listen.

...

And we cut to another scene-

(*Jumps on screen* I MIGHT write a small bonus chapter just to show you guys how THIS conversation went, because if this was a movie then we wouldn't see it, but I want you guys to know SIMON IS NOT A TOTAL JERK AS HE SEEMS! So like, if you guys really want it, I'll write a bonus scene showing what Magnifico and Simon talked about, like a deleted scene of sorts! Okay moving on!)

It's evening time, the sun is almost completely set. And we're back to the forest.

We see 6 of the teens, Asha and Aster all together around a camp fire, sitting on logs. There's a small pot above the fire with some mushroom soup that Dahlia prepared, she brought the pot it in her bag, and the other teens also brought bowls and eating utensils with them.

Asha has an empty bowl of soup next to her, she's already done eating. She's now focused on trying to draw something on her sketchbook, not paying much attention to what her friends are talking about. Valentino is sleeping next to her.

Meanwhile, Aster is staring at her with what can only be described as a teen absolutely smitten, resting his head on his hand as he admires her.

They're also “wearing” their human disguise, so he looks 3D like all the others, if it wasn't for his fancy looking clothes he'd blend right in with all the other teens.

The other teens are all sharing stories and venting about how they've actually always had their grievances with the king and queen, but they never told anyone because they thought others would think they were ungrateful.

"-And then, it only took me messing up my juggling act ONCE and the king howled with laughter, but he never laughed at all with my actual jokes- UGH I've always felt there was something off about him." Hal vented to her friends about her experience as one of the court jesters look.

"You think that's bad? I've lost count of how many times I've seen them complaining about my dad's food." Dahlia said while eating her soup with an angry face... But then she starts smiling as a joke comes to her head "Sometimes I felt like asking THEM to try cooking something for once... But I’m pretty sure if Magnifico got near an oven he'd self combust hahah" She laughs at her own comment

The others chuckle as well

Bazeema shyly chimes in with her own story "Once, my mother accidentally planted red roses in the garden, when the queen specifically asked for white ones, so my mom painted all of them white in secret, and the queen actually believed it hihihi" Bazeema giggles, finding the situation really absurd.

"... Wait, wouldn't that kill the roses though?" Asha asks, taking her face off her sketchbook for a moment.

"... Unfortunately, it did, but my mom said it was better to sacrifice some roses than to upset the queen." Bazeema explains a little sad for the roses "I managed to save a few of them though." the bashful girl adds with a hopeful smile.

Gabo cuts in with a smug look "Ya know, since we're competing to see who had the worst experience with the monarchs-"

"It's really not a competition." Safi corrects him

Gabo ignores him and continues to say casually "I'm pretty sure I heard Magnifico killing someone in the dungeons once."

Everyone turns to look at Gabo with eyes wide as tennis balls.

"... I’m sorry, you heard what?" Aster asks, in the same position he was sitting when staring at Asha, but with his head now turned to Gabo.

"Killing: The act of un-aliving something that was previously living-" Gabo proceeds to define the meaning of the word, like the star doesn't know what it means

"Wha- I- I know what the word means!" Aster says, annoyed that Gabo thinks he's THAT innocent.

"Sorryyy, I just can never guess what your galaxy brain knows and what it doesn't, few hours ago you asked what was the meaning of the word "Revolution"" Gabo said sarcastically.

"Ummm how about you stop mocking Aster and get back to what you were saying about the king, I feel that's kind of a big deal." Asha said seriously, placing her sketchbook next to her.

"Oh yeah, right right *ahem* this one time when I was a kid, I stole the dungeon's keys from my dad, cause I wanted to see how it was down there, ya know? Just give it a quick look" Gabo smiles as he starts narrating like he's telling a scary story "Then, I heard someone screaming behind a door, and I could see some green light coming from the keyhole, just like Magnifico's magic... then all of the sudden- CRACK" Gabo says loudly, scaring everyone, specially Bazeema "I heard the sound of something breaking... And the screaming stopped." He says sinisterly.

(Keep in mind the teens left when it started raining at the plaza, so they didn't see Magnifico almost break Asha's wish, had they seen that Gabo would probably connect the dots that what he heard was not a murder but an inmate having their wish broken)

"... You're making this up to scare us, aren't you?" Dahlia asks with an unimpressed look.

"NOPE! It's all true. I ran out of there so fast I almost lost my shoe, and I've been keeping this inside me for years. Joking about it is just how I cope." He explains quickly as he shrugs. He then turns to Dario with a smug "What about you D? Your dad's the royal announcer right? Did he or you see something you shouldn't?" He asks like he wants to hear more gossip.

Dario's face turns sad as he looks to the side, then he just signs:

"I rather not talk about it."

"Understandable, then how about you Si-" Gabo looks around and notices that there's only 8 of them in the circle

(ONLY?! Uhum, like coming up with dialogue for 8 people is easy, It's really not!)

"Hey, where's Simon? Did he even eat?" Gabo asks everyone.

"Sleeping, of course, he's inside the cave, has been there for a while in fact." Dahlia says pointing at the cave they were in up the hill.

"Ah, I should've guessed" Said Gabo rolling his eyes.

"Someone should go check on him before we're out of soup though." Asha mentions, worried that he doesn't have enough energy for when they go enact their plan.

"I'll get him!" Aster says excitedly, as he morphs from his human disguise form to his 2D animated real form, and starts floating so he can get there faster "Be back in a flash."

Aster flies to the cave quickly, when he's about to get in-

"AAAH!" Simon was already walking out of the cave holding his pillow close to him, he get's startled by the wishing star flying towards him.

Aster stops flying just in time before crashing on Simon "Oh good, you're awake! Come on, you should go eat with the others, can't break in a castle with an empty stomach, am I right? Hahah I wouldn't know though, I don't eat." Aster giggles.

But then they pay more attention to Simon's face and realizes... He doesn't look like he got any sleep at all, in fact... He looks scared... And it's not just because Aster just startled him.

"Hey Simon... You look kinda shaken up, did you have a nightmare or something?" Aster ask concerned.

Simon looks away from Aster, as he just holds his pillow tightly and starts walking to where his friends are "Nope, you just scared me. I'm fine." he says with his usual monotonous tone.

Simon is walking ahead while Aster is following him. Aster looks sad, he has been sensing that the gentle giant doesn't like him for some reason, he thinks for a moment, and an idea pops in their head:

"Ya knooow, if you're having trouble with nightmares, I can actually make dreams! If you'd like maybe I cou-"

"NO" The young man says sternly without looking at the star.

Aster is taken aback by that... He doesn't understand why Simon is acting so weird.

Simon takes a deep breath before he turns back to look at Aster, with a calmer tone "Sorry... I just-... I just really don't want you in my head, okay?" Simon says with a concerned look.

Aster thinks he understands the issue, Simon is just shy and the star has been breaking the "personal space" boundary that Asha told him about.

"Ooh I get it, you want privacy! Thats totally fine! Tell you what, I swear to you I won't use the magic in my eyes to look what your soul desires, deal?" Aster says reassuringly, hoping that'll make Simon like him more.

Simon just turns away from the star and says "... Deal."

Then he just walks to be with his friends.

Aster doesn't quite understand what's up with Simon... But it's probably just a human thing he doesn't know about yet.

The two join the others at the camp fire.

"Well hello there sleeping beauty, did prince sparkling wake you uuuup?" Gabo jokes as the two join in the circle.

"Will you ever call him just "Aster"?" Asha asks him while still trying to draw something on her sketchbook.

"As long as I have star related puns? Probably never." Gabo says with a cheeky smile.

"*sigh* Fair enough" Asha says smiling at her friend, knowing that's just how Gabo is. She then turns to Simon "So, did you sleep well Simon?"

Simon just sits down smiling as Dahlia hands him a bowl of soup

"*yaaaaaawn*... Not much actually, but I'm fine, don't worry. Promise I won't pass out during our plan... Heh heh" He says with an smile... That looks quite forced.

"He's totally gonna pass out guys, we're so screwed." Gabo jokes and a few of the teens snicker a little.

Hal is one of the ones who laughed a bit but still she stands up to defend Simon "Aw come on Gabo, don't be like that, yeah Simon may be a sleepy head, but he always been there to help us out when we need him, right big guy?."

Simon gulps his own soup with the face of someone who knows they've made a huge mistake.

"T-thanks Hal..." He smiles to her "Though I really wish I could do more t-"

Asha suddenly takes her face off her sketchbook to ask "Hey, by any chance did you girls bring a mirror?"

Simon almost chokes on his soup "MIRROR? HUH?? HOw-" He coughs a bit and tries asking more calmly "I mean haaha why would you need a mirror NOW, Asha? hah ha"

Asha and the others look at him confused by his weird reaction, but she brushes it off as Simon just being tired "I'm trying to figure out a way to draw myself perfectly... Call it a plan B I have in mind, for emergency." She winks as she shows some drafts of herself on the pages of the sketchbook. "But I'm not sure if they look quite right, I've never been that good with self portraits."

Hal has a big smile as she says "Heeeyyy I think I saw a river back there, you should try looking at your own reflection on the water!" she says, pointing to where she saw the river.

Asha smiles to her friend as she gets up "Great idea, I'll be right back. And after Simon is done eating and you guys get all your stuff organized we can get started on the plan." She says confidently

"Yeah yeah yeah best friend, go on! Go over there and draw your beautiful face, you can do it!" Hal pretty much rushes her to leave. And as Asha walks away Hal says quietly while looking at her get into the woods"... Aaaaaaand sheeeeee's faaaaaaar enough?... YUP" Hal jumps to sit next to Aster and asks "Alright Aster, come on, when are you telling her?"

Aster was distracted playing with the fire on a stick, but once he hears that he turns to Hal in confusion "Huh? When am I telling her what?" He asks curious tilting his head to the side.

"The thing anyone with eyes can see, you’re in love with her." Hal says with a smirk.

"............ I

WHAT?!"

Chapter 14

Final Thoughts

Guess what song we're getting neeeeeext!

Oooooh writing the 7 teens, how I’ve missed you, I love them so much! Poor kids went through so much.

Gabo is definitely the one I like writing the most, you guys can probably tell, I just love his sense of humor.

Can I just say that the funniest thing I ever came up with in this rewrite is that the answer to how they can defeat Magnifico COMES FROM SAFI??? LIKE?? THE CHARACTER THAT HAS HAD THE LEAST LINES AND ONLY PERSONALITY TRAIT IS SNEEZING??? THATS THE ONE WHO SAVES THE DAY?!? HECK YEAH!

That part when Magnifico is yelling at the guards is a DIRECT reference to the scene in Sleeping Beauty when Maleficent screams and zaps her minions with her staff by the way, like, the words “Fools, idiots, imbeciles” are exactly what she said. Magnifico is now a lot more of a short tempered kind of villain like Hades, while Amable is more like lady Tremaine or The Evil Queen, always cold when around others. But just you wait when they reencounter our heroes, oh the evil levels will go through the roof.

And I’m sure you guys are wondering what’s the heroes plan, right?… Yeah you’ll see :)

…. Oh and I need you guys to know that EVERYTHING bad that happens with our heroes from this point on is HIS fault, not mine!

👇

Thank You for Reading!

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u3pxx · 2 months

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disco meshi au rambling below major spoilers for both disco elysium and dungeon meshi (only up until chapter 62)

BARKS anyways i was suddenly hit with a pang of "extremely normal about harry du bois" and thinking about the idea of harry being a former dungeon lord in this au

i'll copy-paste a bit of the rambling i did in tags (and clean them up) to catch you all up to speed

- ok so maybe harry + kim won't go dungeoneering on their own but maybe they were sent to investigate dangerous dungeons and sent to make sure those aren't threats anymore (kind of like the canaries) - maybe harry had become a dungeon master at some point and the part of him that was eaten was his memories. - GODD dungeon master harry is kind of giving me grief though. can you imagine what he would count as his perfect life. can you imagine when the illusion starts to fall apart and he's accepted that he will be consumed? but he doesn't get to die. that's his curse.

i have like several ideas on what things would be fun to explore in the au and one of those ideas is harry and kim being assigned to maintain the safety of a dungeon which just so happens to be: the dungeon that harry used to control.

(note: i do not remember that well what happens to a dungeon after the dungeon lord has been dethroned. iirc it does still stay there so OOF. imagine traversing to a dungeon and seeing things that should be familiar to you but you just cannot remember anything. it hurts when you look at it, but what did it mean to you?)

i just think that harry after being left, now an even more broken man than he ever was, being granted this false escape from his situation in the form of his deal with this demon. the kingdom he's built inside the dungeon, what if it was just a home. what if it was just a home, like any other home on the surface. surrounded by trees bearing apricots. what if it was a humble home for him, his wife, and their unborn children. what then huh orz

and then i thought: "hey now, didn't dolores have a line that LITERALLY had the words, "i will eat your mind"?" and then --

Dolores Dei: "... it was *a hundred million years ago*. I was someone else then -- filled to the brim with love for you. Hanging on your every word. Oh Harry, you were the *coolest*... But I am no longer that person. This..." She points to herself. "... has taken her place. It will devour you. Harry -- I will eat your mind."

COME ON. MAN. DO I EVEN HAVE TO DO ANYTHING HERE ORZ

thinking about. the demon manifesting as this monstrous amalgamation. if i think of a better animal than lamb that symbolizes what dolores dei represents then i'll change it but MAN.

anyways. thinking about this comic ryoko kui wrote and thinking about the dungeon as a metaphor for addiction. thinking about a demon that devours and feasts on a person's desires until there is nothing left of that person and thinking about the pale that slowly grows and expands and turns everything into nothing at all. MY BRAIN ISN'T WORKING ANYMORE SO I'M SORRY IF I CAN'T EXPRESS MY THOUGHTS MORE COHERENTLY. HELLO CAN ANYONE HEAR ME DFGDHJK

also, i think dora is an elf from a wealthy family in the au. just another layer of arghhhhgghgh to add above everything else. another reason why her family doesn't like harry is because he's from a short-lived race.

#den off the shits DFGHDJ #if u dont care abt spoilers or have no interest at all in this. i also drew a very neat drawing of a demon if u want under read more pfttt #disco meshi au #sunnysidedisco #sunnysiderambles #cw gore #tw gore #starry don't look

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mxtantrights · 1 month

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Bounded by shadow and blood (15)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

You didn’t think you’d find him in the crowd. That’s why you had asked some of the children where the winged man had went. A few of them didn’t know but two of the oldest ones did. They pointed you in the direction of the river.

You took your time getting there. You hadn’t been there in a while. The last time was… that time was over now. Things had changed so quickly and then again so slowly.

When you reach the river you find him sitting down on the grass. His boots are off and his feet in the water. You’re not sure if you want to approach him or not. Looking at him like this, he kind of fits in here.

“This place is amazing.” He says.

And you know he knows you’re here. He probably could sense you were coming because of his shadows. But there is also no one in town he would speak so freely with.

You saw him standing amongst the people when you first arrived. Some of them tried talking to him, giving him food and offerings. He declined most of them. He couldn’t really decline the single necklace one of the kids offered him. It’s laying around his neck now.

“They’re not scared of you here.” You say.

You walk over to where he’s sitting. You drop to the floor, and take your shoes off too. You put both your feet in the water and hold yourself up by your hands behind you.

“Have they ever seen an Illyrian?” He asks.

“Some of the older benders. Not the youngest though, they spent their whole lives here.” You answer.

“Is that why they admire you so much, because you get to go outside?”

You laugh to yourself, “They don’t admire me.”

“The whole town stopped what they were doing to greet you. A band started playing music. There was ale flowing from mug to mug. Children were laughing.” He responds.

You shrug your shoulders, “Admire isn’t the word I would use.”

“What word would you use then?” He asks.

You turn to look at him and find he’s already looking at you. Those brown eyes probably made a lot of women in Velaris swoon and weak in the knees. Elaine too.

Not you though. Not when you have so much to do.

“Loyal.” You answer.

“Ah,” he nods, “Because of your placement within the palace.”

You nod too.

The both of you turn back to face the river. It was a good view. The sand turned red when it touched the water. And the moon looked red in the reflection of it. A long time ago Cyril explained to you that it was an illusion. Blood benders give back to the earth and in turn the earth gives back to them.

“I bet your family misses you.” You speak.

“I go away for missions all the time.” He rebuttals.

“Yes, but this is different. This isn’t a mission. This is something you got roped into.” You clarify.

“I don’t see it that way.” He says.

You look at him, but he’s not looking at you. He’s looking straight ahead at the river. You can see his eyes scanning the water, the illusion of it.

“What are the chances Rhysand wants me punished for getting you stuck here?” You ask.

Azriel shrugs, “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is. You’re stuck here because of me.” You goad him on.

The word stuck seems to strike a chord with him. You've been saying it over and over waiting for some sort of answer from him.

He slowly turns to look at you, “You and I both know I’m not stuck here.”

Huh. You weren’t expecting him to just flat out tell you that. You thought he’d put up more of a fight. Or that you’d at least catch him in the lie. Maybe you would tell him that you can still sense your blood in his veins. Or you would push him into the wards to see how he’d react.

You weren’t expecting that.

“You didn’t say anything to your family.” You speak.

“Neither did you.” He responds.

You shrug your shoulders, same as he did, and look straight “I have my reasons.”

“So do I.” He says.

A few moments pass between the two of you. It's not awkward or weird. In fact you welcome the silence. Until a startling thought pops into your head. The offerings that Azriel was handed. Where did they go?

"Did you eat all the food they gave you?" you ask startled.

He laughs to himself at your question. And you think to yourself then, he most certainly ate all the food given to him. Usually the food lasts a couple of days. But he's different, he's not a sub-human species like you.

"Illyrians have big appetites." he answers.

The two of you walked back in silence to the palace. While you wished you didn’t have to go back there and sleep, it was the only way you could protect anyone else from getting hurt. If Kynas was still around and he thought you were in town he wouldn’t hesitate to pillage through all of them to get to you.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Azriel and you make it to the palace steps. You walk up them, solemnly, until you reach the tope. That’s when you realize that he isn’t besides you anymore. You can feel it.

You look back and he’s a few steps below you.

“You shouldn’t have to come back here.” He says.

“I’ve only ever laid my head down here.” You answer.

“You have nightmares. I hear it. I can feel it too, you send vibrations through the whole palace.” He adds on.

He felt that? You’re worse off than you thought previously. If in your sleep you were causing tremors to the ground, you needed serious help. It happened a few times before when you were young.

Only this time there was no Cyril and no brother to help you overcome it. It’s your problem now.

You face forward again. But you can’t walk inside. Your feet won’t will it, neither will your heart.

“I had that problem in childhood too. The fear of being alone, they said.” You answer his unspoken question.

You hear him climb the final steps. Then he’s standing side by side with you. You don’t dare look at him now. Now when he is asking such personal things. Not when you feel you’re about to break into a million little pieces.

“You don’t have to be alone.” He says.

“Do you tend to warm the beds of non fae, shadow singer?” You joke.

He clears his throat, “That’s not what I meant.”

You can see how distraught he is at the mention of the two of you sharing a bed. It makes you chuckle from your belly. But you try to keep it to yourself.

“I know what you meant. But it sounded like something a friend would offer.” You reply.

Azriel comes from your left and stands in front of you. You see his hand jut out. You look up at him a bit in disbelief.

“Friends?” He asks.

You look at him, then back down at his extended hand. He is trouble. He is a liar. He is a spymaster. He knows so much about you already. He’s going to tell his whole family what you are.

Call it fate, or maybe it was your blood calling to his, but you made your next move.

You took his hand into yours.

“There’s a room with two beds in it. We can share if you like.” You offer.

“That will do well with me.” He says.

And then he moves to the side. He lets you start walking first, but when you cross the threshold of the door he’s right by your side. The two of you walk into the quiet palace.

You pull the legs of your pants off first. Then you take off the soft blouse. You take off all of your undergarments last. And finally you can step into the bath.

It won’t wash off the feeling of carrying more than ten bodies to their graves. It won’t wash off the worry that clings to you like a second skin. Or the fear either. But it will get the sweat and dirt off of your body.

You sink into the bath further.

Azriel was right outside. He had been sitting in bed for about an hour now. You had some things to do around the palace. Mainly clean up and reorganize things the council had left out.

When you got back from working you found him there. His shadows all around the room. His blade in his hand.

You don’t know why but the image settled you. You know he’s not here long, and that as soon as this is over he won’t ever be here again. But for a fuzzy second your mind let you believe this was normal.

Obviously you couldn’t stand your mind for playing such a cruel trick on you like that. So you stumbled out that you were going to freshen up for bed. That’s why you’re sitting in the bath now. Nervous.

You feel a shiver go across your neck. When you reach up with your wet hand to feel what it was, you feel it. The same misty and almost intangible feeling you felt on your ankle when you spared with Azriel.

Your eyes catch the shadow as it darts over to the bathroom door. You move closer to the edge of the tub.

“Is that what he meant when he said I don’t have to be alone?” You ask the shadow.

And by all accounts you weren’t expecting an answer. You had heard of the magic before but never seen it in person before you met Azriel. So when the shadow darts back to you, this time at the edge of the tub you move back suddenly.

You laugh at yourself, and how a tiny shadow made you flinch like that.

“He doesn’t have any idea where you are right now, does he?” You ask again.

The shadow moves a bit closer to you this time. You hold out your wet hand and it somehow complies with your unspoken command. The shadow wraps itself around your wrist, like a bracelet. You can only tell it’s there because of the faint grey line that appears on your skin.

You snicker at how the shadow seems to be more forward than it’s master.

It would be best to get out of the bath now. You lift yourself up from the water and reach for the towel to wrap around your body. The water would get cold by the time you felt comfortable getting out. And you have an early start tomorrow. You dry yourself off, making sure to be careful of the shadow that is on your wrist. You grab for your nightgown. You pull it over your head and put it on. And you use the towel to ring out some of the water that got on your hair.

With a big breath you let the towel hang dry and open the door. What you find amuses you. There on the bed is Azriel, sound asleep. You tip toe to your bed and get under the covers.

Your eyes stay on him until they start to blink so heavy that a sleep pulls you under darkness too. Marking the first of many nights where in Azriel's presence you don't feel so terribly alone.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fic #blood and shadow

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cyborg-franky · 9 months

Text

Cute

This is part of my trade with a friend!

Law x GN Reader SFW Word Count: 2,200

You stared into the mirror, and your reflection stared back with the same displeased expression as your shoulders sagged, letting out a sigh, frustrated at what greeted you. You pat your cheeks and watched them move, how cute and round they were. Fingertips brushed along them, wishing you had defined cheekbones to give you a more grown-up appearance.

It wasn’t like you even hated how you looked, not at all. You just wished you could look older, more mature, less this cute person everyone was used to. You knew when you left your island to become a pirate you would have to fight twice as hard as anyone to prove a point, to get your message across, people would just see you as a cute and docile weakling.

You squished your cheeks before letting out another sigh, letting go just to dig through a bag, makeup came to your aid. If you couldn’t have those razor-sharp cheekbones, pointed nose, and appearance of mature elegance then you’d use all matter of paints to create the illusion.

Practice had made you perfect, the way you looked once you worked your magic, you always liked what the mirror showed you after an hour of carefully contouring and applying. You turned left and right making sure your masterpiece was even on both sides. Suddenly those round cheeks had been carved into a refined shape and you were more than delighted.

Stepping out of your room, at last, an air about you, this pride that made your heart swell. Each step, each clack of boots on wood as you strode towards the main deck, poised perfectly, feeling like the world was all yours for the taking.

Your own form of war paint across your face as you held your head up high. Feeling the wind in your hair, the salty scent of the ocean wafting across you, taking in a deep breath, feeling like everything was going your way. You’d worked hard to put on this performance and you felt stronger than any ship, any sea king as you set your hands on your hips and looked over the rolling waves.

“Needed your beauty sleep huh? Sure you don’t need to get a few more hours?” One of the crew commented, slapping you on the back.

The force deflated you, knocking the wind from your sails as his words sunk in. After all of that people still saw you as this cute baby who needed to be protected at any cost, so used to your peers ruffling your hair and acting like you could barely stand without someone's assistance.

That was the last leg you sailed with them. You needed to find a new path to walk, you needed to be with people who made you feel you were also an adult, that you were equal on the ship.

–

Meeting the Heart Pirates had been such a chance meeting, the loud group all pushing into the small bar you’d taken a job in, just until you found the next crew you wanted to sail with, even though it had been weeks and you were giving up hope finding one that wasn’t just drunken idiots.

And yet, here you were, standing in one of the rooms on the submarine, holding a stack of papers for your new captain.

Law didn’t tend to waste his time with words, one on one or part of a larger group, he would say a handful of things, short, to the point. He was clearly a man that didn’t believe in empty words to avoid silence. You didn’t mind, you knew not everyone was the life of the party and the rest of the crew were so full of life, shouting and singing in the evenings after a drink or two, so you were never short of some entertainment or conversation.

You’d been part of the crew for a week. Everyone was nice, and friendships were starting to form, something you’d never planned on doing again didn’t want to get close to people just to hop ship when it was no longer the right fit for you but somehow this group of misfits had managed to wriggle their way inside your heart, kicked the door open with a flourish with each joke they told, each card game they encouraged you to be part of.

Also, the growing crush on Law was another thing entirely. You wanted to stay here, be part of this crazy family and one day maybe be seen by Law. At least that's what you wished for more than anything at this moment.

But he was hard to read. Always with a stirn expression in moments like these, as he flipped through books, his grey eyes feasting on the knowledge as he hummed or grunted and put the book back. He looked grumpy most of the time but as you got to know him the more you realized he just had a serious case of resting bitch face when he was working on something so intently when his entire thought process was set on his task.

He was handsome when his brows furrowed and he chewed on his bottom lip, all little things about him you noticed because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him for long. You wondered if he saw you for more than your help.

Helpless newbie to the pirate world? Or someone brimming with promise, who just needed a nudge in the right direction. Either way, you stood there holding the files for Law as he tutted to himself, flipping through the files and folders, trying to find something but it kept escaping him. You watched his face, how his expression would change slightly depending on if he thought he was getting hotter or colder to the thing he was looking for.

“Maybe you need a more updated system,” You said and offered him a smile as he took a stack from your arms and set it on his desk, fanning them out. His eyes flicked up from his task, meeting yours and for a second you thought you would wilt under his gaze, the way his eyes narrowed at you.

“I mean, it works but could be better,”

You were just digging a hole for yourself at this point and you weren’t sure how the captain was going to respond, hard to read when he was in a fun mood or not. The way his lip curled into a sneer before it morphed into a smirk, a deep chuckle rumbled from the captain. You forgot how much you liked to hear him chuckle.

The rumble was pleasing, a timber that made your heart thump in your chest as he watched you, his time to take in your expression, to analyze what he could say. “Your lucky you're cute and can get away with such things.” He commented and stacked the folders, but still, nothing he was looking for, he held out his hand and waved for you to come over with the remaining contents of your arms.

You couldn’t help but bristle at the comment. You didn’t want to be cute. Flashes of annoyance burned up inside of you, heating up your cheeks as you grimaced, keeping it to yourself as Law took the last files from your arms and went to work looking through them.

When would you be seen as anything other than cute? Really? Maybe you started to think with disappointment washing over you, maybe this wasn’t the right fit for you.

–

Doubling down on how you presented yourself, even asking people with makeup skills what you could do didn’t seem to help much. You avoided anything that could be cute you were on the crew of The Trafalgar Law you had to be as fearsome as the rest.

As the weeks passed your feelings for said captain morphed and changed, and healthy respect melted away like snow, giving the seeds of affection the chance to grow and you hadn’t even seen it coming. The way he smiled at you, always a fleeting expression on his lips as his usual intense stare would wither to a sparkle of fondness. No longer a crush but full-on feelings.

Was he becoming easier for you to read or worse? Maybe you were seeing all these signs as just what you wanted to see them as. How desperately you clung to wanting to be as cool and mature as him.

The way you dressed when not wearing the awful jumpsuit, black, nothing fancy just straight up and down. Wanting to seem as cool and calm as him, wanting to appeal to that serious side he presented to everyone.

It was late one evening and you couldn't sleep, walking down the halls barefoot, soft feet padding along the cold floor, trying to be quiet. Your footsteps were so small and gentle, the sounds of the pipes and the system of the metal cage you lived in swallowed up any sounds you could make.

Somehow it made the evening all the more lonely. The rattles, clanks and clicks. All echos of a machine. No snores or muffled chat could be heard slipping from behind cabin doors. You tried to focus on the steady beat of the sounds around you, the heart of the polar tang pulsing. Rattle, click, clank.

You memorized the beat, breathing in and out in an attempt to let it drown out the thoughts in your head, the same ones that stole your sleep, snatching away the cover of slumber as your brain kept active and loud, like the pipes that ached above you.

Heading to the galley you saw a light, wrinkling your nose and sticking your hands in the pockets of your PJ bottoms you strolled over, haste in your step as the relief of not being the only one awake brought your steps to move faster. You peeked in and saw Law, sitting at the table with a book and a cup of tea.

You were about to turn tail and run when you heard his voice cut through the pulse thumping in your ears. He called your name, no room to argue, the tone already shutting down your chance for escape, you balled your hands into clammy fists in your pockets as you stepped in with a curt nod to the captain.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Never do,” Law shrugged as if it was a fact you’d simply forgotten.

He nodded for you to sit across from him. That was when he looked up, doing a double take, and seemed to examine your face as if this was the first time he had ever laid eyes on you. He clicked his tongue and closed his book. Not looking away from your face, you shifted in your seat, feeling like the captain was going to eat you, the sheer intensity in his stare.

“Why do you wear so much makeup?” He asked, the question cutting straight to the point and you blinked, hands reaching for your face, feeling the nice soft clean skin, having washed the mask away in the shower.

“I hate how I look without it.” You said and he quirked an eyebrow. “Everyone says I’m cute and soft and I don’t want to be that, I want to be taken seriously, I’m a pirate.” Your voice was full of conviction but Law could hear the pain that ebbed within, how raw your words rushed out. He watched your hands on the table, a tremble.

Why was it so easy for Law to coax the truth from you? You didn’t want to see how he would react, glaring instead at his chest, the black smiley face across the glaring yellow of his hoody. “You know, you don’t have to pick between being taken seriously and being cute.” Law started and ran a hand through his messy hair with a sigh.

“How so?” You asked, “Bepo, Bepo is cute and we all know he’s strong.” He shrugged.

“I happen to like cute things too and you, you're very cute with or without the makeup... But I think I like you more like this… it’s you, the real you.” You were too busy staring at him in stricken awe at his words that you didn’t feel when he placed a hand over yours.

“Your cute,” He repeated and you could feel the heat tingle your cheeks, across your chest, and to the points of your ears when that slight but sweet smile slipped onto his lips once more. “Plus, you have the gift of being underestimated, you can use that to your advantage and show everyone how strong you really are.” He said with a nod.

You’d never thought of it like that, feeling better about something you always convinced yourself was a weakness. And if Law liked cute things… it couldn’t be that bad, right? You nodded a smile to match his. Maybe it was time to finally accept you were cute, and lean into it. And who knows, perhaps you could win him over with this cuteness..

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dotster001 · 1 year

Text

La Chasseur d'Amour , Chapter One

Summary: Rook x gn!reader. You vanished just as quickly as you appeared. But Rook will find his love.

A/N:I know what you all are thinking. "Dot, don't you have like ten other series You've started and haven't finished yet?" Yes, and shut up 😂

CW:therapy, discussions of trauma (it's not real, but just in case), self gaslighting

Chapters: Two Three Four Five

As you crossed the stage for your NRC Graduation, and received your diploma from a very proud, very tearful, Crowley, you made eye contact with Rook. He was the photographer for the graduation, obviously, because Crowley wasn't going to hire someone he couldn't guilt into pro bono.

His eyes twinkled with delight as you grinned at him, and he shot a picture. You always looked good in pictures he took. He said it was because you could see his love for you in the photo. And, at this point, you were inclined to believe him.

Your friends who had been there since the beginning cheered raucously, even Jack, who had been against obnoxious cheering when Ace had suggested it.

You shot them a smile, and then the floor fell out from under you, and all you saw was black.

5 years later….

"There's these twins," you said, eyes closed, and searching for lost memories.

"What do they look like?" Your therapist asked, taking some notes.

"They're tall, and they have blue hair."

It'd taken two years for you to accept that Twisted Wonderland wasn't real. You had to be thankful to your therapist for her patience. Your parents certainly weren't as patient with you as she was.

"One is serious, and the other is kind of goofy…like he marches to the beat of his own drum."

The hospital had suggested therapy the moment you started talking about magic. They told your parents that the trauma you had gone through, during your kidnapping, had lead to you creating a fictional world to protect yourself in.

"What does the serious one do?"

"I think he eats mushrooms…"

Your therapist had gently waited for you to be willing to give up the illusion on your own. Your parents hadn't, though. The colder the case got, the more they pushed for you to remember any details.

Again, your therapist was patient. Both of you had figured overblots were particularly traumatic moments, so you hadn't touched them yet. For now you were sorting through memories to see if anything coincided with the real world.

"I think the goofy one likes hugs, and shrimp…"

"That's an odd combo. And what do we say about odd combos?"

"Probably important, ha ha."

The problem was, just like with real memories, over the course of five years the memories of Twisted Wonderland had started to fade. It was harder to pick them apart because you couldn't be sure what you properly remembered.

"They both eat octopus."

"The twins?"

"Uh huh."

You had one clear memory. A man with emerald eyes, and blond hair, who often wore a silly hat. Rook. That was his name. Everytime he looked at you, you felt so loved and safe. So many of your "memories" revolved around him.

"Anything else?"

"That's all I have today, I'm sorry."

Which is why you never told your therapist about him. You were, in full honesty, terrified. Because if so many of your "memories" revolved around him, it probably meant that…

"I don't think either of the twins were the ones who took you, but we'll definitely talk about them later. Now open your eyes and slowly bring yourself back to me."

You followed the instructions, squinting in the sudden burst of light, and slowly sat up from the couch you were laying on.

"Good work today," your therapist smiled warmly. "I'll see you next week, Y/N."

You were such a coward. This might all be over if you weren't so terrified of losing him.

….

"This one isn't it," Rook said firmly, staring at a mirror portal.

"How can you be so sure?" Vil asked in exasperation.

"I don't feel Y/N in there," he said before turning back to his table full of viles, making a quick note, and resuming his prior work of mixing different potions.

"Rook, I'm saying this as a friend. It's time to let go."

"You know I can't do that," Rook muttered under his breath.

"Rook!" He grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him. "I came to visit you because we're all worried, and you need to hear someone say it. It's time to let go of Y/N."

Rook shoved him away.

"Roi du poison, with all due respect-"

"Rook, when was the last time you ate-"

"I'll eat later-"

"When is later?"

Rook slammed the potion he was working on down on the table.

"You don't understand what it's like!" He shouted. "I can feel them! I just…I just need the bridge to make the final push!"

He hastily grabbed a pile of books, and stacked them into stairs. He laid a piece of paper at the base of the stairs, drawing a circle.

"This is us."

He placed another piece of paper at the top of the stack.

"That's where Y/N is. The closest portal I've come to is," he placed a paper on the book step right below the top, "here. So I just need to work with that potion. Just a couple more tweaks-"

"How can you possibly even know that!" Vil shouted. "you don't even go through any of them, how do you know it's not where Y/N is?"

"My signature spell-"

"And that's another thing! You're not keeping how much blot you produce in check! You've been at this five years! It's not good for you!"

"I'm so close," Rook muttered, adding an ingredient to his vile.

"Are you? What if you go through the portal and Y/N has moved on?"

Rook threw the potion at the mirror, instantly creating a shimmering pink portal. He stared awestruck.

"That's it."

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #rook x reader #twst rook #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt

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hekateinhell · 5 months

Note

Armand/Daniel "Oh, hey now, don't start crying on me"

New York City, 1979

"Oh, hey now, don't start crying on me," Daniel swallowed, the gin and tonic Armand had so lovingly prepared minutes earlier churning restlessly in his stomach as the hand that wasn't still holding the empty glass came to pet Armand's curls on his lap.

Not the first time Daniel had seen Armand cry, but that didn't make it any fucking easier. His father's voice rang through his head, overlapping with the intro to Saturday Night Live: "Now don't cry like a little bitch, son. Makes you look weak. A goddamn punching bag. And that's no son of mine, so you better man the fuck up or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Daniel blinked hard, willing himself to focus. Willed the alcohol to clear his system immediately, as if that would make this any easier. As if that would give him the answers to all the questions he's ever asked.

One of the two ice cubes in the glass had fully melted, and the other wasn't far behind.

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

It's not okay.

Shit people say when they want it to be okay and it's not gonna be. Never gonna be. But they can't stand being powerless and so they lie to themselves and everyone around them to maintain the grand illusion.

He never knows what to do when Armand's crying. It's so... fucking human.

So fucking human it hurts.

A different shade of vulnerability on Armand than his laughter endows him. When Armand laughed—a genuine, full-body laugh—Daniel could see him as the witty, sweet-natured youth with a sharp tongue he must have been once upon a time. Strange to think that anyone who's ever seen that has been dead for half a thousand years, huh, Danny boy? He could almost imagine what Armand would've looked like with the sunlight kissing his skin, igniting the reddish highlights in his dark auburn hair, a constellation of freckles over the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones. Stranger still to think of seeing his mouth open and no fangs in sight. And would you have loved him just the same? Daniel shuddered at the thought.

Yes, laughter was one thing, but crying? Tears?

The way Armand cried—silent and unblinking, unbreathing—made Daniel think of a child in some distinctly horrifying way. Made his heart wrench in two, his skin crawl, and the edges of his vision blur.

Because it's not the way some children cry when they scrap their knees on the pavement or wake up from a nightmare. Loud and visceral and sure to make Mom come running down the hall.

No, Armand cried like a child who had learned long ago there was no point in crying out loud. And staring into the quarter inch of water now in his glass, Daniel knew why.

He knew that cry; he'd cried that cry.

Hiding his closet, biting into his ratty teddy bear so that his father wouldn't hear and beat him for having the audacity to feel emotion the old man didn't know what to do with. And what had been the lesson? No wonder he didn't know how to comfort this creature he so loved. Dear God, you might as well be as emotionally stunned as that cankerous, old-

Armand squirmed over Daniel's thighs then, snuggling into him as his eyes finally closed and his body gave. His smaller hand reaching for the one Daniel still had on his head.

A lingering kiss to his fingertips, a soft nudge against Daniel's brain: Thank you, lover. You are such a comfort to me.

It's okay.

Everything's okay.

#not sure what you were looking for anon but it got just a bit angsty rip i'm brooding tonight #i didnt have time to get into it-#but in my head armand is crying because he's feeling the weight of 500 years of unbroken existence and missing his mom!!!!#i'm so out of practice writing this ship even though it used to be my bread and butter LOL hope you like it #armand/daniel #devil's minion #vc #armand #daniel molloy #prompts

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dark-frosted-heart · 2 months

Text

Alfons vs Roger event (Alfons end)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Alfons: Now then-

Roger: Let’s get this over with. Oh right, we gotta be “friendly” today, don’t we? Then let’s be good boys and work together. Here we go.

Kidnapper: Wah!

Roger swiftly gets behind the man and pins his arms behind his back.

No matter how much he struggles, he can’t escape Roger’s strong arms.

Alfons: I’m disgusted by the fact that I have to fight with you…

Alfons bit down on a black leather glove, removed it, and touched his nape with his fingertips.

Alfons: But more importantly… I hate people who would do things such as throwing a lady’s life away for money.

Alfons then threw a piece of trash nearby out the window.

Alfons: Look, is it alright that your precious money’s flying away?

Kidnapper: Ah, ah…! How dare you throw out my money!

(Huh?)

As the kidnapper said that, he jumped out the second floor window after a piece of trash.

Roger: So that guy saw trash as money in your illusion?

Alfons: Yes. Also, there’s a large garbage disposal site nearby. There’s a big, big pit there, and once you fall in, you will not be able to crawl out.

Roger: Haha, you still got great taste as usual. Well, if you can die surrounded by money, that’s how you’ll wanna go. Kate, sorry for tricking you.

Kate: It’s fine, you guys gave me clear signals and I knew you would come to help.

Roger: I’d like to have watched you struggle for a bit longer, but this guy here.

Alfons: I’ve been under a lot of stress as a result of having to be friendly with Roger for the entire day. I should have punched him 2 or 3 times to relieve it.

I understood what he meant under that shameless lie.

Alfons tried to help me as quickly as possible.

Roger: So, little lady. I think it’s about time we heard how many points we have.

Kate: You’re right. Then I’ll announce the results. For the total number of points— Both Alfons and Roger scored 100 points, so it’s a tie.

Alfons and Roger: …

Roger: Pfft haha. Is it because we did a good job fighting together in the end?

Kate: Yes.

Alfons: An absurdity, but a funny one like Miss Kate.

Roger: Al.

Roger pinched Alfons’ nose.

Alfons furrowed his brows after roughly shaking him off.

Alfons: ……What? You couldn’t possibly be saying “That’s minus one point. I’ve lost.”

Roger: No way. I just got carried away with the fighting… You were originally gonna give Alfons the chocolates, weren’t you, little lady? I’m giving up.

Kate: Roger…

Alfons: That’s something about you that I really don’t like.

Roger: Pfft haha. I don’t hate you. Never have. Well, I’m leaving. Gonna go pester them for the medicine storage in the basement.

Seemed like Roger forgot he was even part of a contest and left.

Alfons: That glasses-wearing egoist. I’d like if he fell down the stairs and hit his head.

Kate: I like this.

Alfons: Huh? What is this? Are you shamelessly exposing your affair? Since when did you start leading men on?

Kate: I’m not. I was talking about your relationship with Roger.

Alfons: What do you mean?

Kate: You’re more childish when you’re with Roger. I think that’s when you’re acting like your true self. That’s why I like your relationship.

Alfons: …

Kate: Ah, but I can’t help but feel a bit jealous when I think about it…

Alfons: Aha! You would like to see my true self? Then here you go.

Kate: Huh? Kyaa…

He pushes me down onto the sofa.

Pinning me down, Alfons’ taps on my lips with a finger.

Alfons: Why not give me your sweetheart chocolates? Is this a part of your teasing?

Kate: Well… I’m sorry, Alfons. I was anxious…

Alfons: Hmm, anxious?

Kate: I had heard rumors about you receiving a lot of chocolate every year. So I thought that you wouldn’t want mine.

Alfons: You’re a dumb one, aren’t you? Of course I’d want it from my “lover”.

Kate: Alfons…

Alfons: The fact that you can’t understand such a simple thing has me sulking. Please make me feel better. Until I’m in a better mood, I won’t be able to do all the naughty things you love.

Kate: I d-don’t want to do that stuff.

(Though there were some interesting moments during the contest)

Besides, I really do want Alfons to enjoy himself.

I don’t care if he ridicules or teases me, I want him to spend each moment with a smile.

Kate: Understood. Then I’ll do all I can to put you back in a good mood.

I sat up on the sofa and took out a piece of chocolate from the bag I kept close.

Alfons: What will you do for me?

Kate: I put all my love into these sweetheart chocolates.

Box of chocolates in hand, I shouted out.

Kate: Alfons, I like you a lot!

Alfons: Hehe, that was unexpected… I want to hear more.

Kate: Alfons, I like you a lot…

Alfons: Good, good. Once more, with spirit.

Kate: Alfons~~! I like you a lot~~!

Alfons: Pfft, ahahaha! You…Hehe, you look like a raving fool.

Kate: Hehe…you’re right. Geez.

Alfons: Okay, I forgive you. I’m in a good mood now so let’s do something naughty. How about we play with the chocolate?

Alfons’ hand went to the back of my head and our lips drew closer.

Kate: We can’t do that here. It’s another lord’s mansion…

Alfons: No one will think of your moans as anything but a lady’s illicit affair.

Kate: It’s still not a good idea…

Alfons: You’re so stingy, Miss Kate. Well, I thought you would say something like that, so I’ve already arranged for a carriage to take us home.

(Huh?)

Alfons: So let me take as much of you and the chocolates in as I can.

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #ikevil #ikevil jp

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wordsbymae · 1 year

Note

but what about some jealous past fling of farmer meeting little mouse👀 they're bery sensitive and such a hateful person can hurt their fragile feelings. farmer can't let anyone else hurt them, can he?

Thank you for sending this through!! The other character is VERY rude and makes Mouse very insecure so please be warned! The reader cries a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You only just started hanging out with the farmer again. Not really of your own accord. It just happens that when you were off to the market the farmer was as well, and well, you were far too polite to disregard his offer to drive you both.

You were, however, under the impression that you would both go your separate ways before meeting back at his truck. However, the farmer was hell-bent on following you around. To the point of stuffing his hand down your back pocket, or his arm slung around your shoulders. He would even whisper in your ear when he wanted to talk to you, lips brushing against the soft skin of your ear or cheek.

You were terrified others would misunderstand, think you two were more than friends. You wanted that truly, but you've been trying really hard to move on. And well, all this wasn't really helping.

Most were disinterested or looked upon you with fondness as what they thought were two young lovers strolling the farmers market.

There was one, however, you looked upon you with scorn and envy.

The farmer was a known playboy, running through the available (and sometimes not) lovers of the town thrice over. However, after calling your name on numerous occasions and not having the good manners to apologise or really even try to hide the fact he was imagining someone else (he even told a few to be quiet when they tried to dirty talk, can you blame him? talking would just ruin the illusion.), he was blacklisted and no one, except maybe some travelling through, would go home with him.

For most, if not nearly all, of his past lovers, it was a regrettable, albeit somewhat humiliating experience, but they were either imagining their own love lost or really couldn't give a damn. However, for one poor soul, it was like a shot through the heart. While they were not in love with the farmer, they were quite close to it, and the situation left them seething. Yet, like all infatuated young lovers, it was not the farmer that wronged them. No, it was that pathetic little mouse.

How could someone like them, steal him from them? They were nothing compared to them. Clearly, the farmer was blinded by all the baked goods that little rat was stuffing down his throat. But it wouldn't be too hard to chase them off, they were called mousey for a reason.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had finally been able to escape the farmer's clutches. Of course, it was just him needing to go piss. He even tried to drag you into the bathrooms with him. But thankfully you were able to convince him you would be waiting right outside.

With a deep inhale you fell to the bench below you, hands picking at the loose threads of your clothes.

You were troubled.

You had spent so long wishing and pinning over the farmer and now that you practically have him in your hands, it just didn't feel right.

On paper it seemed wonderful, all your dreams coming true, but you couldn't deny that something was amiss. Like something bad was just around the corner.

"He finally got tired of you huh?" came a snicker from behind you.

Your head turned around, sure that a separate conversation that you were not intended to be part of was occurring.

Instead, someone stood staring down at you. A cruel smile on their lips. You recognised them, but from where you weren't too sure.

"Excuse me?" you questioned, confusion clear on your face.

"The farmer, stupid. who else?" they harshly replied, walking around the table to stand directly in front of you, arms crossed and a sneer crossing their attractive features. It was always troubling to see someone so gorgeous look so horrible.

"I'm sorry, I don't quite.."

"Did he leave you when he realised that you weren't gonna fuck him? That you are nothing but a lonely, boring, frigid prude. Don't know why he ever wanted you in the first place."

Their tone was harsh and rough. You sat still and bewildered. Mouth open slightly. Hands clenched.

"Fucking you would be like fucking a dead fish. Bet you would just lay there mouth open wide, all cold and clammy."

You're mouth shut with a snap.

"I don't..." you tried. Clearly, something was going on, something you didn't understand. Why were they being so cruel?

"He must be real desperate if he's sniffing after you. Don't know how he would stomach it. Looking at a face like yours"

A breath was stolen from you. You, like most, had insecurities, you often battled with them in secret but never were they so openly thrown in your face.

"He would have to fuck you from behind, or maybe put something over your face. That's the only way he could get off. Otherwise, one look at your ugly face would have him soft " A cruel laugh left their lips, just as warm tears fell down your cheeks.

"Aw poor little mousey's crying! Was it something I said? I was just telling the truth. You deserve nothing less" A cold smirk formed.

"Stop it," you said, head bowed and tears falling. You were right, something was a miss. Of course, the farmer wasn't really interested in you, he was just desperate.

"Or what? huh, mousey? what are you gonna do?"

"They ain't gonna do nothing. But I'll break your fucking neck" sneered the farmer, pushing the offender back, the farmer taking defence in front of your hunched figure.

"Look I was just-" came a whimper. It was cut off with a growl

"You were just getting the fuck out of here before I get my shotgun and blow your shitty, pathetic head off"

"There's no need to be so violent" they scoffed. "It wasn't so long ago that we were friends, more than that even" their voice lowered into a soft plea. That's where you knew them from. Your heart sunk at the memory of them waltzing up your farmer's steps to his front door.

"That's long gone, and for good reason. Why you going after them any way they ain't done nothing to you"

"Are you serious?" they scoffed. "They're the reason I was humiliated! Do have any idea what it's like to be called someone else's name? To be rudely told that the person you were fucking was thinking of some stupid, ugly bitch the whole time!"

A gasp flew out from you and you stared at the back of the farmer and watched with fear as his hands clenched in fury. A moment passed and you could barely see the other person's face fall into fear.

The farmer took a step forward and leaned into their ear.

You heard nothing. But their face told all. With a gulp and flash of eyes your way they left.

The farmer turned back to you and his face went from one of anger to worry.

"You alright there mouse?" his hands made their way to your cheeks as he crouched in front of you.

You sniffed, and eyes darted to his and his thumbs wiped the offending tears away.

You gave a small nod, he didn't look very convinced and for good reason. A mere second later and you burst into tears.

"They were so rude" you heaved, palms racing up to brush tears away.

"Ah darlin'" he whispered, discomfort written on his face. He wasn't used to comforting crying people. He sat next to you, and with some force squashed you against his side. Arms wrapped tight around you. You would hug the farmer back, but your hands were squished against his chest and was very clearly not letting you go.

"How can someone be so mean?" you sobbed. You hated crying in front of others, but the cruelty and the disbelief someone would say those things just forced it all out. Not to mention the insecurities bubbling away inside you.

The farmer just sat, mouth pulled tight in a straight line, hands slowly and hesitantly patting you.

"I'm not a dead fish" you mumbled. Determined to prove those nagging thoughts wrong.

"What?" came the farmer's reply, head tilted down to look at you.

"They said having se-, that sleeping with me is like sleeping with a dead fish. That I would just lay there, mouth open and everything!" you sniffed.

"What else they say" His tone was stone cold, devoid of emotion, but a silent furry could be felt

"No, its ok, I don't-"

"Tell me"

His voice left no room for argument.

"They, um, said that you must be desperate if you were hanging around me, that you just want to..."

"Just want what?"

"Sleep with me" you whispered, scared that he would just laugh and tell you that yeah, that's exactly why he was hanging around you.

"Anything else?"

"Oh yeah" you sniffed, hand rubbing your nose, "they said that if you did try to sleep with me, that my face would..." you trailed off, tears coming back to the surface. This time the farmer didn't push. "That my face would make you soft and that you would ha-have to fuck me from behind or cover my face" you whispered, scared to reveal how much those words had wounded you.

A silent moment passed

"I'll kill 'em" he stated, releasing you and jumping to his feet before heading in the direction the cruel person went.

"Wait!" you plead. You also jumped up and grabbed his hand. Grasping it in yours. He turned to you with pure hatred on his face.

"They don't deserve to live after saying something like that. Especially to someone, as kind and as sweet and..... and as pretty as you. It ain't right" he huffed, clearly uncomfortable about having to say all those nice things about you

You tried to hide your blush, reminded that this all started because he called your name late one night while buried in someone else, thinking of you.

"Thank you, but I think that I- that I just wanna go home. Can you please take me home?" you begged

The farmer fell even further in love and obsession. Your doe eyes gazed at him in perfection. His murderous intention was lost in them.

"Of course little mouse, I'll take you back to yours" He replied, hand still grasped in yours. His thumb rubbed the soft skin under his rough pad.

"Actually, can I go to yours? Just until I feel a bit better. I don't really wanna be alone" you whimpered.

"Sure thing darlin', anything for you." he rushed.

Maybe he won't have to use the barn after all.

Taglist: @floraroselaughter

#sex talk #farmer yandere #yandere oc #oc farmer #yandere farmer #male yandere x gn reader #bitch used but not in a gendered way #just in mean way

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archiveikemen · 5 months

Text

『 Zero Distance 』 Story Event: Premium END

Liam Evans

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Liam: There’s something I’ve been keeping from you.

(Huh?)

Kate: … Something you’ve been keeping from me?

Liam: The time lock on the handcuffs—

Liam: I can’t see it.

Kate: … You can’t… see it?

(Liam can’t see it, only I can. Oh…!)

– Flashback Start –

Alfons: Let’s see…

Alfons: Goodness! These handcuffs have some numbers on them. Look.

– Flashback End –

I realised that I did feel Alfons briefly touch the nape of my neck when our shoulders were unnaturally close.

Kate: Alfons used his ability on me, didn’t he?

To prove my point, the small clock on the handcuffs completely vanished.

Kate: Why on earth would he give me this illusion…?

Liam: Only Al knows what Al is thinking… but I guess he just wanted you to have fun?

Liam: You’ll be less anxious about the handcuffs, knowing that “they’ll be unlocked someday”

Liam: And you can enjoy yourself to the fullest with that in mind.

Alfons’ inexplicable and irresponsible words and actions were very typical of him, I couldn't help but laugh.

Liam: But I’m equally at fault. I knew about the illusion all along, and yet I didn't tell you.

Liam: I thought that this was a rare chance to be tied to you.

Liam: … I’m sorry for keeping this from you.

Kate: Please don’t apologise. I wanted to be with you too.

Liam smiled while frowning and gently cupped my cheek with his free hand not bound by the handcuffs.

Liam: Hey, Kate. You get to decide what happens after this, okay?

Liam: Do you want to stay cuffed together for a little longer, or do you want me to ask Al to unlock this?

Kate: Me?

Liam: Yeah, … I might not be able to be gentle anymore if you choose to stay cuffed, though.

Kate: ?

Liam: When you told me that you noticed something, I noticed it too.

Liam: You're just so likeable, Kate. Way too many people grow fond of you.

Kate: T-That’s not true!

Liam: Fufu… so you’re unaware of it yourself.

Liam: But I did, that’s why I made love to you all morning and satisfied you so that I won't be jealous.

Liam: And yet…

Liam tilted his head and gave me a bewitching smile.

Liam: I knew it, this won’t do. I’m super jealous.

Liam: And because I’m closer to you than usual, I find myself endlessly wanting you more and more…

Kate: Liam…

Liam: But I won’t do anything that you don't want or makes you unhappy.

Liam: So, what do you choose?

(... Do I want to stay cuffed together, or do I want to remove this?)

His rose-coloured eyes peering into my heart ignited a flame in my desires.

(I…)

Kate: … Please don’t think that you’re the only one getting jealous.

Liam: Huh?

Kate: I was pretending to be strong just now, but… I was really jealous too.

(That’s why…)

Kate: Please let me be tied to you a little bit longer…

Liam: Kate, you’re seriously…

Liam: … Amazing at making me want to be selfish.

Liam: Shall we… do lots of things to satisfy each other's jealousy?

…

We returned to Crown’s castle with our hands still cuffed together, and Liam led me straight to the bathroom.

Liam: We each only have one free hand… so let’s wash each other.

I felt dizzy from being left with only our shirts on and surrounded by the sweet vanilla smell coming from Liam.

Liam grinned mischievously, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

Liam: You have such an eager look on your face, Kate… shall we take all our clothes off?

Kate: Yes…

After removing our clothes with some difficulty, Liam lathered up the soap with one hand.

Kate: Ah, I’ll do it.

Liam: Ahaha, too slow. The quickest hand wins.

Kate: Ahh…

Liam put his hand on my body and slid it all over.

My body responded to the sweet feeling of pleasure the moment his hand touched my breast.

Liam: You really love it when I touch you here, don't you? I usually use both of my hands to play with them, so… is this not enough to satisfy you yet?

Kate: Nn, ahh… yes…

Liam: Really? Okay then, try to recall…

Liam: I’d always grab your breasts with both hands, and… what's next?

Liam looked at me while fondling my breast with one hand.

I couldn't help getting excited every time the ever so gentle Liam started getting mean.

Liam: Tell me, Kate…

Kate: … You’d usually… hold them with both hands…

Liam: … Mm-hmm, and?

Kate: Your fingers…

Liam: Like this?

Kate: Ahh, nnn….

Liam pinched one of my nipples between his fingertips and toyed with it.

The foam made his fingers more slippery than usual, causing me to get wet faster.

Liam: Ah, that’s right. I always pinch your nipples with both hands, right?

Liam: But since I can’t do that today…

Kate: ahhh… Liam…

Liam took one of my nipples covered in foam into his mouth and sucked on it hard.

Liam: … Fufu, it’s bitter. I licked some of the soap. But shall we continue?

Kate: … Mm

Liam: Hey, Kate. Will you also feel this way if someone else does this to you?

Kate: So that’s why…

Liam: I don't know, you seem to love pleasurable things.

The eyes looking up at me were wet as he licked my breasts, peering into the innermost depths of my heart.

Even though we were already sitting so close to each other, I found it endearing that we still wanted each other to express our feelings through words.

Kate: You know the answer. I want to do these things only because it’s you, Liam.

Kate: … I don’t want this with anyone else. I like you, Liam. You’re special to me.

Liam: …

As if expressing his desires, Liam sucked hard on my nipple—

Kate: Ahh… nnn…

And with his one hand that wasn’t cuffed to mine, he pulled me into a tight hug.

Liam: … I think I’ve become an even bigger fool ever since I fell in love with you.

Liam: … I got jealous of the silliest of things, and used underhanded tactics to tie you down.

Liam: But…

Kate: But?

Liam: I’m fine with being a fool prancing around on a stage called “you”. I… I want to be stuck with you forever.

Kate: … Me too. I want to always stick with you and be in love with you.

We got out of the bath and with our soaking wet hair, we kissed over and over again on the bed.

Whenever we changed positions, the handcuffs made a metallic sound.

And then—

(Huh…?)

Click. The handcuffs unlocked and fell off.

(How…)

Liam: Al made a key out of wire and left it on the table.

Kate: I see…

Liam: Don’t worry, Kate. I won’t let you go so easily…

With a seductive smile, Liam stood up and walked to his closet.

He took something out and tossed it onto the bed.

(... A necktie?)

(Is he…)

Liam: Mm-hmm. It’s exactly what you're imagining right now.

Liam wore an ecstatic look as he held the necktie in his hand.

Liam: I’ll restrain you by tying up your hands and legs, leaving you with no way to escape… can I do something that feels good?

Liam: Let me mess you up…

Liam gave me another delighted smile when he saw me swallow at the thought of what he was about to do to me—.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil story event #liam evans

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ngmn2002 · 2 months

Text

Ch 111: Random Thoughts:

Ok, let's see...

So we started the chapter from where we left off the last time, on the note of Hanako voicing his 'I hate you' to Tsukasa. Which Tsukasa only took with: an indifference "yeah? I know?" and a smile. how are we doing on the inside? we lost feeling, huh?

He is so chill about the whole thing, guess it makes sense? I mean he never expected otherwise from Amane, he lived on that thought when little, so... it's really normal. He would be shocked if the opposite happened, if Amane said "I love you" to him.

Like the time he came for him, despite his belief of "Amane won't come for me. He never did before." But even that one, Amane didn't carry on with the call to the very end. I'm starting to lose hope with this boy and his great curse. Talk. Please talk. And not harmful words, some good ones. For once.

Tsukasa's reaction is pretty expected, huh? Laughter on Amane connected things is no surprise when it comes to him.

Well, good news to me I guess. not crying on the inside, no Tsukasa!! let me hug you!!

I mean, he is the one to laugh at such things coming from 'wired' Amane. Who personally calls himself wired.

The boy who cries 'I won't ask for more if my health is back to me so I could do all I couldn't before and get my dreams come true', once Tsukasa gives him that, he, as Tsukasa says, "After he finally got his wish, he is gonna go ruin everything himself." -"Amane's so wired."

"I intended not to see you ever again." "But I'm so happy to have you back" -"wired, right? there must be something wrong with me." He said that thingy himself.

"If you disappear, we won't be able to see each other again, I won't be able to save you." - "I hate you so much" - "weirdo. ahaha"

Was Tsukasa saying it in his mind in here, too?

He looked happy to see me, even though he hates me so much.

no... stop...

seriously, it gives me ch 86 Hanako talking about himself vibes. I intended to keep you sleeping, locked in the boundary, but I'm happy to see you free, moving, feel your touch again. wired, right?

Then we have him going...

Why? What is it that you want? Can't you just voice it out?

Get over your curse, Amane. You have to do it. Come on!

Well, despite all that, to me... you're a pitiful weirdo. I will go with it again...

...

It's pretty funny to me Nene can't really go too hard on him, while a certain Tsukasa... is his medicine in a way. Stop before you give him grey hair, Tsukasa.

And please, get over the illusions in your head.

Well, I do hope one day, each of these 2 boys can get over his side of their miscommunication problem, so they can finally... finally... communicate well. All I have in me is hope. And that by itself at this point is a lot of courage for me to have in such a dark place. recalling the nice relationship the other Amane-Tsukasa versions is torturing at this point.

Aside from all that, can I ask one question? Was it needed to torture me with having the very first page of the chapter starting with a shot of nothing but the twins' hands and a key? ..........

Now, this "Fake" issue.

Mr. sensitive couldn't take Tsukasa's 'rudeness' to him the last 2 chapters, huh? He had to do something about it. He is so hurt.

Why not just talk about your feelings honestly? It's the reason why you reached this point, sweet boy. Don't get angry at the reaction.

Hmm... anyway... he is so dramatic. No, both boys are.

So, we got to see a flashback regarding their reunion. Even though I expected one emotional reunion, but maybe we'll have more into it later? But...

Look at baby Tsukasa back, I missed you!

Aww, look at Amane just standing there, teddy bear in his arms, a whole lot of emotions wavering within him.

Unlike your parents, you're there, carefully and closely looking at the scene. Tsukasa is in there. He is back. For real. Not in a dream or anything. No more crying on the window, no more wishing just to see him even for one more time, no more living on the old memories, a whole new promising future is now open for you both to share, this time you won't ever let him go. You won't lose him again. You'll make sure of it.

A moment later he will come running to you and hug you like little Tsukasa always does. Your little moon will be in your arms and then you can capture him. You will have him beside you forever and ever.

The moment you approach each other, you give him a wide smile, a happy blushing pleased face, raise a hand to casually greet him and welcome him back, excited for your nice shared future to start in there.

And sure enough, he runs right into your arms, as he always does. Hold him and never let him go.

Little Tsu running on the street with socks only, just like he used to be in the red house... must be tough... I wonder if he came back to a place close to where he lives or not... if not and he had to walk like that...

Oh... he got some effects from burning together with the house? like a phoenix burns in the fire and is born again from its ashes. I like this Tsukasa-fire relationship. and... twins' fire one.

But, did Amane really see what's in Tsukasa? Why is that? Is it because he was near death at some point? Did it happen only for once? Did he happen to hear them talking together at some point? .......

Anyway, your game of hide and seek came to an end, won't you tell Tsukasa "found you?"

Ok, that one might have lost its call for good, but... the "I'm happy to have you back"... can it still come true?

A point goes to him for noticing something is different about Tsukasa right away, even before his mother or anyone did.

But of course, that's his brother, alright. He changed, but is still himself. And I will believe Amane gets that well.

These 2 things always rub me the wrong way put together. What is your take on things, "Yugi"

Tsukasa?

So, Kaku finally enters the scene. Just reminds me of how many times I have to roll my eyes whenever Tsukasa is called a fake, calm down people. And Hanako gets his protective mood of those he loves activated. Aww, how sweet. ~ Did Hanako also manage to break free from his chackles?

Akane stops time, and wow... I have to wonder how his time magic works. In the last clock keepers arc when he stopped time, Hanako (his cape on, just like now) and Nene didn't get affected. Now, they did. Such a good girl she was, going down to check on the boys. Tsukasa's time is also stopped, while he is cutely holding into Amane, maybe trying to get him out of the way? Apparently, the boy to never fear Mirai turning him to dust, never really get affected by her time magic, the clock getting broken, is... affected by Akane's watch. Where is the catch?

Ahem, just asking... isn't it fun the boy who wants time to stop so much, got to be frozen in place with his 2 lovies 2 times in a row in such a short time? Uh, next time let it be the 3 together so he can accept it and be happy. Even though, I think what he means is for the time around them to stop when they are having good moments and not for them themselves, similar to what he said in the p.p arc, I think.

Now, the thing of Teru - Akane kneeling before each other to ask favors, one was about Kou, the other about Nene. I wonder what will come out of these requests.

... what is it that Akane might want Teru and Nene to do? Maybe he is more specific about Nene?

Which is supposed to mean once things are changed, Teru will keep his memories of what happened, being a as powerful, and he will go get Nene. So, Nene... I think she will remember things, too. She is special after all, according to some people saying that about her, including Teru himself.

The keepers part...

Same vibes...

Akane speaking our minds. The court was so funnily useless. At least on the surface, having what Kaku voiced out later, hmm, good.

Teru and Kaku seem to hold the same view on things.

Seeing Kaku's words I'm just like... look at all the damage Tsukasa is causing, he is really serious, huh? yet is enjoying a fun, dangerous game. can't expect any less from him

Hmm... Mr. who needs that.

Uh, Tsu-ka-sa. ♡

But wow, I have to praise Akane for not only being clever not to allow nat to use him like a toy the same way he did with Kou, turning him down and punching him in the face, but also for taking the time to tell Kaku about nat in the middle of a festival he is so busy with. It's rare to see a character actively reporting that guy's sus actions to the people who need to know of it, they just forget something happened and move on. Not talking about Nene or Kou. No, no.

Akane, you slay. You warmed my heart. I will let you not noticing Koku slide. even Nene and Hanako didn't.

Hmm... some of the things that don't need to be there within this ideal present the keepers what to make...

Wow, so No.6 disappeared? Where to?

No.3's annihilation.

Had me laughing so hard, like... wow... so you do care to at least count who falls from your 'team'. And I thought the mysteries don't really care to think over such a matter.

"No.3 is annihilated? He got a replacement? Whatever."

It was never brought up by any of the remaining 6 at all. I thought it was OK and never a problem, no need to think over it or make a move whatsoever, they welcomed the replacement into their meeting, even. No move was took regarding what happened, even Hanako talked about it once, then he is joking with Mit 2.0 poor birdy, not the next time they met. Only No.4 talked about it when Tsukasa went to her and it wasn't about No.3, it was about her asking if he will do the same to her.

So, wow. Really.

Tsu's casual way of standing...

...usualy in front of doors.

And, I got to give Tsukasa a new nickname! Yay! We welcome Mr. Root into the family! ~

Love it.

Uhhh, those dark, deep and mysterious eyes ...

Such a good boy. ♡

Anyway... where were we?

Uh, we're talking about what's on the inside of Tsukasa. Finally, it's confirmed. Surprisingly enough, didn't take as long as the more obvious Tsukasa is a yorishiro thing. And here I was joking about it just in the post talking about ch 110.

It's funny. Should I be joking about the the twins' death next so I can get it faster? ~

Similar vibes. but not little Tsu, he is a baby... if it was older Tsukasa instead...

...

Now, Akane's face upon hearing Kaku's words... did he connect any dots regarding Teru's words to him before about the 7 mysteries?

Hmm... according to Kaku's contrasting words to Tsukasa's... Apparently, in this world, you have to hold back, be a little obedient puppets to its rules, so it can be ideal. Why did you say you'll stop holding back and will do what you want? Why did you voice out your completely opposing view on the world and the rules? Why are you trying to change things? Why are you fighting against it? It's not allowed, Tsukasa-kun. It's time to erase you, you're a problem on the ideal present.

Pathetic, eh?

What a happy little family. ~

...

Do you really despise them, Akane? Even now?

And, we're back to 1986... to alter the past so we can put an ideal present in place.

After a new perfect picture arc, set in the real world not a painted picture this time, I assume things will come to an end with Nene on her own free well, wanting to get the present she is used to, will destroy No.1's yorishiro to get that to happen, then we are back to how things used to be, and might get her saying something like...

Could Nene get to the way out, following p.p arc footsteps, via a Rooty Moon in his former form? Present form works well, too, but hmm... both sound like a cool idea as well.

Let's wait and see how things will unfold... Let's wait and see...

So, on this note I'll say...

*****

With this we reach the end. Thanks for reaing. Till next time.

#ch 111 #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #tbhk

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