#( the only thing that would really slow him down is a) losing a limb or b) damaging his internal organs in a way he can't easily fix )

[erabundus]

it’s  a  bit  grim  to  think  about,  but  the  wanderer  actually  has  some  degree  of  knowledge  when  it  comes  to  performing  MAINTENANCE  on  himself.  learning  how  to  stitch  a  wound  or  stop  the  bleeding  are  rather  basic  skills  anyone  intending  to  live  a  life  on  the  road  would  do  well  to  pick  up  —  and  yes,  he  most  definitely  knows  how  to  do  both.  however,  the  extent  of  what  ren  is  actually  capable  of  goes  far  deeper.  mending  a  hole  in  his  internal  cooling  system  and  draining  excess  fluid?  (  or  to  put  it  more  simply,  patching  a  punctured  lung?  )  been  there,  done  that.  clicking  broken  bones  into  place?  they’re  built  impossibly,  inhumanly  dense;  every  (  rare  )  break  is  a  clean  one  —  he  only  needs  to  set  them  properly.

it  helps  that  his  body  comes  equipped  with  natural  regenerative  capabilities.  every  wound  wanderer  sustains  WILL  eventually  close  without  a  trace.  (  hence  why  he  has  no  visible  scars,  despite  lifetimes  of  battle  and  brutal  experimentation.  )  it  won’t  happen  IMMEDIATELY,  so  getting  injured  is  still  an  inconvenience  —  but  his  wounds  do  heal  at  an  accelerated  rate  compared  to  a  mortal.  provided  everything  is  in  its  rightful  place,  his  body  can  perfectly  stitch  itself  back  together  from  the  very  brink  of  death  in  a  matter  of  days.  minor  injuries  (  cuts,  scrapes  and  the  like  )  have  been  known  to  close  in  minutes.  it’s  probably  been  timed  before.  regeneration  speedrun.

in  essence,  this  means  he  CAN  perform  “repairs”  on  himself  despite  possessing  fairly  limited  medical  knowledge  —  if  only  because  his  body  is  so  obscenely  durable,  it  just  needs  its  pieces  to  be  in  the  right  place  and  it  can  do  the  rest  automatically.

on  a  related  (  though  disturbing  )  note,  what  little  information  ren  did  pick  up  had  to  come  from  somewhere.  i’ve  mentioned  before,  but  he  has  a  slight  phobia  of  SLEEPING  (  namely,  he  worries  a  time  will  come  when  he  won’t  be  able  to  wake  up  )  and  would  never  consent  to  being  knocked  out  if  he  had  a  say  in  the  matter.  which  means  he  was  likely  conscious  and  completely  aware  for  at  least  the  MAJORITY  of  the  horrific  experiments  dottore  put  him  through.  very  fun.  very  pleasant.  very  useful  for  figuring  out  how  his  mess  of  a  body  is  supposed  to  function,  though.

his  pain  tolerance  is  a  disaster.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 15: Right Now, You’re Still My Baby

You and Joel take care of Ellie and each other. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 14, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Childcare struggles. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.5k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie’s sharp little cry woke you up. 

You’d slept soundly, more soundly than you had in weeks, your nose buried in Joel’s naked chest, his come slick on your thighs. 

Your eyes shot open at that realization, something that had been so overwhelming it had knocked you out before sending your heart racing now.

You’d slept with Joel. Your best friend Joel. The same man who had said it would have been better to sleep with anyone but you, the same man who needed space after you made each other come at the hotel in Dallas, the same man who had called just fucking kissing you a mistake. You’d slept with him, when your life was in complete shambles and you were desperate for what help you could find, you’d slept with Joel. 

“S’OK,” he said, his voice groggy, his large hands spreading wide on the bare skin of your back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Stay here, I got ‘er. You need to rest.” 

He pulled himself from the tangle your limbs had made together, bed squeaking a little, and you heard him pause for a moment before padding out of the room. 

You rolled onto your back and stared up at Joel’s ceiling, a familiar sight in so many other contexts but not ones where you’d just fucked your best friend, right when you couldn’t afford to lose him. You couldn’t have him regret you, not now. 

It was still dark outside and you listened as Ellie fussed and then quieted, Joel already so much better with her than you had been. That was an incredibly low bar, you realized, but still. You wished you could be like that, have that natural instinct, be something that this child needed. He soothed her and you heard him leave her room on the monitor, leaving his room almost eerily silent.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your naked chest and looking around to try and find something to put on in the dark. There was a discolored pile of fabric on the floor and you grabbed it, keeping the sheet tight to your skin as you reached for it even though there was no one there to look at your bare body, anyway. It was one of Joel’s oversized t-shirts and you pulled it on, feeling a little better now that you had something covering you up. 

What the fuck were you going to do now? You pulled your legs - still covered by the sheet - into your chest and gnawed on your lower lip. You couldn’t lose Joel right now, you couldn’t afford to lose Joel right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be capable of losing him again - you’d barely survived it the first time, falling into bed with the first man who showed you a scrap of kindness and interest and look where that had landed you - but you really couldn’t do it now. 

It’s not that you’d blame him for regretting things with you. You knew there were things about yourself that were difficult and lord knew he’d dated plenty of better looking women. But fuck, if he could just regret it without pushing you away and saying how much he wished it hadn’t happened, at least for long enough for you to be able to figure out something for Ellie, then you could get through it. As long as it wasn’t permanent, it would be OK. 

“Alright sweet girl,” you heard Joel through the baby monitor, apparently back in the nursery he’d set up for your niece. “We’re gonna put you down and you’re gonna stay nice and quiet for me, alright? Think you’ve put your auntie through her paces plenty…” 

You heard him humming to her then and it took you a moment to place it as Sweet Child of Mine. The soft sound of him soothing her made you choke up. He was so good at this, built for it, it seemed, in ways you just weren’t. 

You heard the door close softly on the baby monitor and then the quiet click of his bedroom as he let himself back in. He tiptoed at first and then froze when he noticed you sitting up, watching him in the dark.  

“You should be sleeping,” he said quietly before crawling up the bed beside you. 

“Joel…” 

“You’re exhausted,” he said, draping his arm over your chest and gently nudging you onto your back. “I got her, she’s back down and it’s only about three, you need another four hours at least…” 

“But Ellie…” 

“She’s OK,” he said, lying down next to you, his arm still over you, just enough pressure to keep you from getting up. “She’s out. You need to sleep.”

You looked at him. He was on his side, his face so close to yours, close enough that your noses almost touched. You realized that he was still shirtless, his skin warm next to your own. 

“Joel,” you whispered again, like saying his name was going to somehow untangle this tension that had fallen between the two of you. His hand left your shoulder, tracing his fingers over his shirt that you’d put on, trailing up your neck before smoothing your hair back and cupping your cheek. 

“It can wait ’til the morning,” he said softly. You opened your mouth to argue but he moved closer, his forehead against yours and you could feel the cotton of his pajama pants against your bare legs. “It’s OK baby. I’ve got you.” 

Your eyes dropped to his lips before you could really help it, remembering how he tasted, how soft his mouth was on yours. 

“It’s OK baby,” he said again and you rolled onto your side so you were facing him, keenly aware that you were still naked from the waist down. His hand skimmed over your body, his palm shaping to your breast, arching over your curves before stopping at the bare skin of your hip. 

He waited for just a moment before kissed you, giving you a chance to pull away. You didn’t take it. Instead, you kissed him back. It was gentle at first, hesitant, like you were both afraid of what the other was going to do. It was Joel who broke the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly but still close enough that your bodies were aligned, that you were breathing the same air. 

“This OK?” He asked, a tremble in his voice. You just nodded quickly, breaths shaky, not sure you’d be able to string words together if you tried. 

“Good,” he said, his hand running down your thigh, around the back of your knee to hitch it up over his hip, pulling your bare center against him as you gasped. He was hard, you could feel the thick of him through his pants and your heart beat faster. He tugged his pants down just enough to free his cock, the silken softness of his skin against your most tender place making you moan. “‘Cause I need to be inside you one more time.” 

He pressed into you, his passage eased by the slick of your come and his from just hours earlier and you moaned at the stinging stretch as he buried himself to the root in you. Joel pressed his hand into the small of your back, holding you right where he seemed to want you as he ground his cock deep into you. The head of him tight to the most sensitive parts of your body made you pant and keen and he kissed you, so firm it was almost harsh, his beard scratching your skin as he fucked into you. 

Things were so much more intense with Joel than you were used to them being. It’s not as though you’d had many lovers in your life - you’d only ever slept with Joel and Gale - but you didn’t think sex could be that different between people. You’d always kind of assumed you’d gotten things mixed up in the memory of your first time with Joel. You’d never had sex before, after all, so of course things would have seemed intense. It had been your first time in a foreign land, the terrain eventually becoming familiar territory as you started sleeping with Gale. It was a memory, you thought, that needed to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism because of its very nature. It couldn’t have been that way. But you knew now that you were wrong. It was that different with Joel, it had been that intense, it had felt that good, something about feeling him inside of you touching a part of your very being that had been dormant since that night when you were just a clumsy teenager.

It shocked you now, how suddenly desperate you became. He wasn’t nearly close enough, wasn’t fucking you nearly hard enough, there just wasn’t enough and you needed more. 

You clutched at him, needy and aching, rolling your hips into him, tongue delving into his mouth. He moaned into you and it made your cunt clench around him. His thrusts stuttered when it did and he pulled his mouth from yours, panting, his eyes ranging over your face. You pushed him onto his back, leg tight over his hip to keep him buried inside and you were straddling him, settling on top of him as your body adjusted to the way his filled it. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, his hands going to your thighs, his thick fingers splaying wide over you. You froze for a moment, breathless, looking down at him spread out below you. Your heart stuttered, terrified that he’d changed his mind. “Christ, love seein’ you in my fuckin’ clothes…” 

You groaned, starting to ride him. You moved slow at first, getting a feel for him. You hadn’t been on top in a long time - Gale preferred being in charge - and Joel’s cock was so thick and so long that you could feel so clearly just how deep he reached inside of you. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, to figure out just how to move on him so that he was filling you and not overwhelming you. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, his hands sliding up your legs, below where the shirt was pooling around your hips to your waist. You groaned at his touch, trying to push away the gnawing fear of Joel feeling you there and finding something he didn’t want as his fingers sank into the soft parts of you. You angled your hips so your clit was tight to the base of his stomach, grinding against his warm, soft skin, building your orgasm higher. “Feel so good baby, so fucking good…” 

You just moaned and closed your eyes as you rode him harder, faster. Feeling this good and being this aware that it was because of Joel felt dangerous. Some part of you, even now, in this moment, knew that it would be temporary. Or, at the very least, the feelings behind it one sided. Looking at his face - looking him in the eye - while you made yourself come on his cock might just be the end of you. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle losing this with him after that. 

That didn’t keep you from moaning his name as your body drew tighter around him. He thrust up into you, meeting your every movement, his hands clinging to you the way your channel was clinging to him, too. 

“I’m gonna come,” you panted, barely even aware of what you were saying. “I’m gonna come, Joel, I’m gonna come, I…” 

“Good,” he sounded desperate, fucked out. “Want you to come, please come for me, need to feel you come…” 

Your hips stuttered and you bit your lip and buried your face in your shoulder as best you could to muffle your strangled cry as your pussy rippled and fluttered around his cock and he groaned with it, pressing his cock into you while pulling down on your waist. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he panted as you came. One of his hands flew to your clit, rubbing you in tight little circles. “Christ, can feel you throbbing on me, so goddamn good baby.” 

“Why…” you panted for a moment, trying to get ahold of your thoughts again as your climax eased. “Why are you calling me that? I’m… fuck… I’m not your baby.” 

“Ain’t you?” He asked, still sounding breathless. The hand that had been working your clit went back to hold your waist. “At least for tonight?” 

You opened your eyes and looked down at him. Even in the dim haze from the streetlight outside his window he looked desperate, his eyes wide as he watched you closely. Your heart pounded in the cage of your chest. 

“OK,” you nodded, panting. “At least for tonight.” 

He swallowed hard enough that you could watch his throat move with it before he nodded and started guiding your hips over him again. Your second orgasm was already starting to build - so much faster than it ever had with Gale - when his hands left your skin to take hold of the hem of the shirt. You stilled for a moment, frowning down at him. 

“Lemme see you,” he said. “Want to look at my baby…” Your pussy tightened at his words and he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Holy… fuck, please baby. Lemme see you.” 

You just nodded before helping him take the shirt off and he moaned, sitting up below you, making your hand fly to his shoulder as his arms went around your waist. He buried his face in your chest, kissing over your breast bone up to your throat, running his teeth over your skin to your chin and you moaned, arching your back into him. The feeling of his skin tight on yours, his mouth on your throat was making the heat inside you pool low and full. There was so much need inside you, so much aching pleasure it seemed almost too big for your body. Like if it built any more, it would burst out of your skin and you’d be lost to it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groaned, his lips at the hollow of your throat as you rode him. Your arms went around him, clutching his head against you and his hold on you tightened. “Want you to come with me, baby. Can feel it, you got one more right there, want you to give it to me. Gimme everything, baby, know you want to…” 

“Joel,” you whispered, riding him so hard the movements were getting sloppy. You could feel the wet of his come and yours dripping out of you, making a slick mess of your thighs and his stomach. 

“S’OK,” he said, pressing you tighter. “Just me, baby. S’OK. Give it all to me, just give in to it, want to feel you.” 

You couldn’t help but obey then, your orgasm this time even stronger than before, seeming to seize your whole being as you came undone around him. Joel thrust up into you twice more before holding himself deep and moaning into your chest and you could feel the heavy throb of his cock as he pumped you full of his come. 

When the aftershocks of your orgasm finally seemed to fade, you pulled back from him, just enough that you could look down and see his face, your stomachs still tight together, his cock still buried deep inside you. 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, as though there was some answer for you there. How did we end up here? What do we do now? Where do we go next? You didn’t think he knew any better than you did. 

Instead of answering your unspoken questions, he leaned forward - just enough that you could feel his cock move within you - and pressed his lips to your throat before pulling back again. 

“In the morning,” he said softly. “We can talk in the morning. Right now, you’re still my baby. Lemme take care of you.” 

You just nodded and let him carefully guide you onto the bed beside him, groaning a little as his cock left your body. He adjusted his pajama pants so his slick cock was covered and he went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm washcloth. He gently cleaned between your legs, panting a little as he did, before he grabbed the shirt you’d picked up off his floor. You put it back on while he found your panties and he helped you put those on, guiding each foot through a leg hole before guiding them up your calves, your thighs. He nudged you onto your back and you lifted your hips as he redressed you. You turned your head to watch him lay beside you, his eyes on you the way yours were on him. 

“I’ll get up with her next time she cries,” he said quietly. “Try to sleep if you can.” 

“But…” you frowned, but he cut you off. 

“I got it,” he said. “Told you. Lemme take care of you.” 

You swallowed, trying not to choke, and nodded he gently moved beside you, nudging you onto your side before pressing against the back of you, his legs curving against yours, his arm finding the perfect place to rest between your ribs and your hips. His breath was warm on your neck and he trailed his nose over your skin before pressing a kiss into your shoulder. 

“Get some rest, Goldie girl,” he said quietly in your ear. “I’ll take care of you.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered back. 

He squeezed you a little tighter. 

“Any time, baby.” 

***

Fuck. 

That was all Joel could really think as he slowly bounced Ellie in his kitchen as the sun rose, the sky all pink and orange, your infant niece a warm bundle in his arms. She was eating well, at least, making those tiny, fragile little baby sounds Joel had loved so much when Sarah was a newborn as she drank her bottle. 

He was fairly certain he’d managed to grab Ellie before she woke you up. He hadn’t really fallen back asleep after fucking you a second time - Jesus, what had he been fucking thinking? - he had more drifted in and out of consciousness as he held you in the dark. He had his arms around you, he could feel you breathing, he could smell your skin and you were warm and safe and close. It’s not like he wasn’t tired - he was - but his mind was so hung up on soaking up your presence he couldn’t seem to quiet it enough to sleep. 

So when Ellie started to fuss quietly in her crib about 6:30, he was awake to hear it. You were passed out, your whole body soft and relaxed, and he delicately, reluctantly pulled himself away from you to go take care of her, not bothering with a shirt in the hopes of getting to her before she started really wailing. He turned the baby monitor off when he got in the room before he changed her diaper and he hoped her crying jag as he cleaned her up was far enough away that you slept through it. He was so worried about her waking you that he scooped her into his chest before he put her onesie back on her and she calmed quickly, her skin on his. 

“Oh you like that, huh, baby girl?” He asked quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as she curled her little legs into her stomach against him. She cooed but didn’t fuss, settling into his chest. He smiled a little. Sarah had been big on the skin on skin thing at this age, too. “Alright, we can wait a bit. I don’t need a shirt too bad, do I?” 

He swayed with her for a little while, until it seemed like some change in the motion wouldn’t set her off and then he took her to the kitchen, making her a bottle and watching her as she ate, her big eyes watching him with an almost burning curiosity. 

“I know,” he said quietly to her. “I’m still the weird one, ain’t I? S’OK though. Your auntie is here, she’s got you, too. And I’m sure your mama will be back soon. She loves you so much baby girl, I know she does. We all do.” 

As Ellie finished the bottle, Joel grabbed a dish towel from the handle of the oven and threw it over his shoulder before tucking the baby against his shoulder. He bounced her gently and patted her back, waiting for the inevitable spit up and hoping this would settle her little stomach enough that she would sleep and so would you. 

“What am I gonna do, huh?” He asked her quietly, pacing the kitchen. It’s not like he was actually expecting an answer but he was still a little let down when none came. “Wish I was better at figuring this shit out. She deserves better than however I’m about to fuck up.” 

And he had royally fucked up this time, he was sure of that. He wasn’t sure how he kept ending up in bed with you - maybe you just needed a physical outlet but were too gun shy of casual sex to get it the way he usually did, maybe you just got swept up in things when he was an asshole who tried to make your relationship something you clearly didn’t want it to be - but he couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to you.

“Dad?” Sarah yawned, frowning, as she came into the kitchen before her eyes went wide and she squealed. “Is that Ellie?” 

He shushed her, glancing back toward his bedroom. 

“Goldie’s still sleepin’,” he said quietly. “And this one is dozing off, gotta keep it down baby girl.” 

“Sorry,” she whispered, still looking excited. “Can I see her? She’s so little!” 

“Yeah, OK,” Joel said. “But you gotta do me a favor. In the room we set up for her is one of those bouncers… looks almost like a car seat but without so much plastic at the bottom. Can you bring me that? I’ll put her in that and you can look at her all you want while I make us breakfast, alright?” 

“Yeah!” She darted off, Joel hearing her feet pound on the first few steps of the stairs before she paused and then moved slowly, quietly, the rest of the way up. He shook his head a little, still swaying with the baby. He wondered how long it would be before Sarah started asking him for a baby sister again, something he was in no position to give her. It’s not like he was in a relationship and he was in no shape to go looking for one, especially not as hung up on you as he was. 

Sarah came back and put the bouncer in the middle of the kitchen table, sitting eagerly next to it, watching as Joel kept settling the baby. He had his back to her, working his way toward the opposite end of the kitchen, when she spoke. 

“Aunt Goldie!” She said, sounding about as happy to see you as she’d been to see Ellie. Joel turned around so fast that he almost tripped over his own feet, finding you standing in the entry to his kitchen in his shirt and his pajama pants, the legs too long on you. Your eyes were wide and on him and one of your arms was crossed protectively over the front of you as you watched him. Sarah didn’t seem to notice. “When did you get here! Why do you have Ellie? How are you? What’s…” 

“Alright, kiddo,” Joel cut her off, still watching you. “Let’s not give her a pop quiz first thing in the morning…” 

“It’s alright,” you said, finally tearing your eyes away from Joel to look at his daughter. “I came over pretty late last night. I’m giving Anna a break for a little while but babies are a lot of work and your dad was nice enough to offer to help with Ellie.” 

Sarah just nodded, not questioning any of it. 

“Can I help with her, too?” She asked. “I can hold her and feed her and I can learn how to change a diaper even though that sounds kind of gross but that’s OK and…” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “You can help. I think you’ll be really good at it, Ellie really likes you.” 

“She does?” Sarah’s face lit up. 

“Mhmm,” you said, sitting across from her at the table. “Remember when you held her at the hospital and she was all calm and relaxed? She likes you.” 

She beamed. 

“Cool.” 

“Alright,” Joel said, satisfied with how quiet Ellie seemed to be. “Think I can set her down, she’s been fed but the rest of us still need food. Scrambled eggs? Yeah?” 

“Yup,” Sarah nodded, settling further into the chair. 

He looked to you, brows raised. 

“Um,” you said, watching him. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.” 

He nodded and put Ellie in the bouncer. Her little face scrunched in her sleep and he waited for a moment, ready to scoop her back up again, but she settled and he strapped her in, taking the spit up covered towel off his shoulder as he did. 

“Baby girl, do me a favor, go toss this in the laundry room and grab me a t-shirt,” he said, passing the towel to Sarah.

“Anything to get you to put clothes on,” she teased good naturedly, taking the towel and scampering off. 

You watched her go as Joel went to the fridge to get out the eggs and the bacon and the hashbrowns. 

“Joel,” you whispered as he set the carton of eggs on the counter. He looked over to you, your eyes wide, hair in disarray. “What are we…” 

“Sarah’s got a birthday party in a few hours,” he said, just as quietly. “Friend’s picking her up. We can talk then.” 

The deadline sat like a rock in his stomach the rest of the morning, his fate with you looming over his head as he made the three of you breakfast and did Sarah’s hair and showed you the angle he’d been holding Ellie at to take her bottle. When Sarah’s friend came to the door and she ran outside, Joel stood on his front stoop and waved goodbye as she got into the car for far longer than he needed to, afraid of what going back inside could mean. 

But, eventually, he couldn’t put it off any longer and he found you there, Ellie starting to fuss in your arms as you paced with her around the kitchen. 

“It’s OK,” you said, your voice thick as you tried to soothe her. “I know, it’s hard, but you’re OK and…” 

“Here,” Joel said, tugging his shirt up and over his head and draping it over the back of a chair. Your eyes went wide and he realized how he must look. “No, not… she likes the skin on skin stuff, guess it’s a thing with babies sometimes. Calms them down, here.” 

He held his hands out and you hesitated before passing her to him. He pulled her into his bare chest and she let out one little cry and then relaxed into him, her little, huffing breaths calming. He swayed with her, bouncing her rhythmically and you watched, arms crossed over your chest, an almost pained look on your face. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel asked quietly. 

“Why can’t I do that for her?” You asked, your eyes meeting his. “Why can’t I be that safe place for her when she needs it? I want to be, I’d do anything for her but…” 

“Take off your shirt,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off before you could. “The skin is helping her right now and… well, it’s not like I haven’t seen you, so…” 

“Right,” you said, wincing a little. But you obeyed all the same, taking your shirt off and putting it next to Joel’s on the back of the chair. He gently pulled Ellie away from his chest and held her out to you. You took her reverently and brought her to your chest as she started to squirm and fuss. She seemed confused for a moment when she touched your skin and your face fell but then she settled, cooing contentedly against you. You smiled in that way you had, slow and hesitant and then all at once as you watched her there, swaying with your niece as she took comfort in you.

“See?” Joel said. Watching you with a baby like this making him ache for you. He wanted to do this with you for a baby that looked like you and him together, wanted to make a family with you even though he knew that wanting that would only lead to heartache. “You can do it.” 

“Yeah,” you laughed quietly, looking at him with misty eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve done that, she’s never calmed like that for me so fast, it’s always been because she wore herself out and never because…” 

You trailed off, looking back down to Ellie, pressing a kiss into the soft tufts of hair on the crown of her head. Joel just watched you for a moment, humming to her, knowing just how soft your bare skin would be if he reached out and touched you in that moment. 

Instead, he ducked quickly into the living room and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch.

“Here,” he said, and you looked up as he held the blanket toward you. “Want me to…” 

You frowned a little but looked back down at Ellie before you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you said, a twinge in your voice. “Thanks.” 

He draped the blanket carefully around you so he couldn’t see the parts of you he’d spent so much time touching the night before - parts he’d kill to touch again - as you soothed the baby in your arms until she calmed enough that she could be set down again. 

“Let’s put her back in the crib,” he said gently. “Then we won’t need to keep an eye on her and we can… we can talk.” 

You nodded and Joel led the way to the room he’d set up for Ellie. You slowly, carefully, lowered her into the crib and he turned the baby monitor on before the two of you backed out of the room as silently as you could. 

Joel led the way to his bedroom and you hovered by the door as he got the receiver to the baby monitor, the blanket tight around your body. He went to leave, to have this conversation somewhere else but you stayed where you were, your gaze locked on the bed that was still a mess from everything you’d done the night before. 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked quietly.

“Taking care of Ellie,” he said, even though he knew that wasn’t what you were talking about. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean what are we doing? You and me together, what are we doing? What did we do?” 

“Goldie…” 

“I’ve been seeing someone,” you said it like you were trying not to cry. “I have Ellie to take care of, I have to find Anna, I have a book I need to finish, I can’t… I can’t handle you disappearing on me right now, Joel, I can’t lose you, I can’t do it, please, I…” 

“Hey,” he said when your voice started to quiver, going to you and taking your face in his hand, making you look at him. “It’s OK, I’m not going anywhere and you’re not either, alright? We don’t… it… we…”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t look at you and find the words he knew he needed to say. He took a deep breath and pressed on.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said again, opening his eyes and looking at you. “I… I know how you feel and… it’s alright, I’m OK with that, it doesn’t have to be weird. This can… it can just be something that happened and we move on, it can be something we do again and we just deal with it… it’s OK is what I’m saying. Nothing else has to change. You’re my best friend, I don’t want to lose you again. It doesn’t have to be like it was then, we can just… it’s different now. We can figure it out.” 

You looked at him for a moment, his heart thudding heavy in his chest as your eyes searched his. He wasn’t sure what answer you were looking for there but then, it didn’t really matter. He’d tell you whatever you wanted if it kept you close. 

“You and me, Goldie,” he said quietly. “We can figure it out.” 

Your eyes dropped to his lips for a moment, so fast he thought he might have imagined it, and then you nodded. 

“OK,” you said. “We can figure it out.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: So they kind of talked 😌

Look. I promise I have something in mind for these two that I think makes sense for the characters and their story, I swear I'm not dragging this out to be mean! I appreciate you sticking with the story, even as these two kind of tap dance around their feelings for a little while longer. Nearly two decades is just a long time to have stuff buried to just bring up and work through!

It is coming, though. Promise!

Thank you for reading! As always, feel free to yell at me in the comments or in my ask box. Love you!!

[yeonives]

🖇️ REALIZATION OF LOVE, PERHAPS - LHS

엔하이픈 희승 ୨୧ f ! r ・ 7OO fluff, oneshot cw ・kisses, petnames, slightly suggestive, feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated and encouraged! ── archive あり

YOU'VE KNOWN HEESEUNG FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN REMEMBER, always just a shadow in the background as your brother’s best friend. he was the boy who would sneak extra slices of pizza to you when your brother wasn’t looking, the one who’d ruffle your hair and call you “kid” even though you were only a year younger. back then, he was just a tall, lanky teenager with a goofy grin and a voice that cracked every other sentence.

but now… well, now he’s different.

he’s grown into himself, all long limbs and sharp jawlines, with a voice that’s deep and smooth, the kind that makes your stomach flip when he says your name. you don’t remember when the shift happened, when you started seeing him as more than just your brother’s best friend. maybe it was the summer you turned eighteen, and he spent most of it at your house, lounging by the pool with your brother, his skin turning golden under the sun. or maybe it was the way he’d started looking at you, like he was seeing you for the first time.

whatever it was, it’s there now, this tension between you two that neither of you can ignore.

you’re sitting in your living room, the tv playing some random movie that neither of you are really watching. your brother’s out with friends, leaving you and heeseung alone in the house. he’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, a safe distance that feels like a chasm, but his eyes keep flicking to you, his gaze heavy, like he’s fighting the urge to do something.

“hey,” he says, breaking the silence. “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you reply, but your voice is quiet, too quiet, and he knows you well enough to catch it.

he shifts closer, just a little, his knee brushing against yours. “you don’t seem fine. something on your mind?”

you glance at him, then quickly look away, your heart pounding. “just… thinking.”

he tilts his head, studying you. “thinking about what?”

you hesitate, biting your lip. you’ve never been good at hiding things from him, but this feels like crossing a line you’re not sure you can come back from. “do you ever… think about us?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung’s eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by your question. “us?” he echoes, his voice low, almost cautious.

“yeah,” you say, your eyes still focused on the tv screen, though you’re not really seeing it. “like… if we were more than just… friends.”

there’s a long pause, and you can feel the tension thickening between you. finally, heeseung lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “all the time,” he admits, his voice soft.

your heart skips a beat, and you turn to look at him, really look at him. “then why didn’t you say anything?”

he runs a hand through his hair, looking almost nervous—a rare sight for someone as confident as heeseung. “because you’re my best friend’s sister,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “and if i messed things up, it wouldn’t just be between us. it’d be between me and your brother too.”

“so you’d rather just… keep quiet? even if you felt something?” you ask, your heart aching at the thought.

heeseung shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. “it’s not that simple, baby girl. i didn’t want to risk losing you.”

the familiar pet name makes your heart flutter, but this time, it’s laced with a different kind of emotion. “but you’re not losing me,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “i’m right here.”

heeseung’s eyes soften, and he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. “can i kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath catches in your throat, but you nod, unable to find your voice. the world seems to slow down as heeseung leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s soft, tentative, like he’s testing the waters. but when you respond, kissing him back, the dam breaks.

the kiss deepens, and heeseung’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel the heat of his body, the way his heart is racing just as fast as yours. your fingers find their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands, and he lets out a low groan that sends shivers down your spine.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” heeseung murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with desire. “you have no idea.”

you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. “then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask again, your voice a little stronger now.

heeseung chuckles softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “because i was scared, okay? scared that you didn’t feel the same, that i’d ruin everything between us.”

“but i do feel the same,” you confess, your voice trembling with the weight of your words. “i’ve felt this way for a while now.”

heeseung’s smile widens, relief washing over his features. “then we’ve both been idiots,” he says, his tone light, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes that makes your heart ache.

“yeah,” you agree, a small laugh escaping your lips. “we have.”

[i-loved-silly]

can I request a part 2 of the monster in the woods?

maybe darling goes by again with fruit and meat for him in a nice basket as a way to say sorry for leaving him alone for so long and just as darling is about to leave the monster snatches them up and brings them back to their resting place (cave, lake, whatever!!)

thank you <3

Yan! Monster in the woods pr2

Part 1

A couple of days after you previously saw the monster, you wonder why the legends made them out to be so cruel. They seemed nice, gentle even. They looked soft to the touch, your curiosity kept nagging at you along with the strange feeling you’d get whenever you’d gaze at the woods. Something was calling you in, whether you realized it or not.

You decided to pack your things and go—not really though. You picked up the same basket from last time and packed some snacks. Maybe it’d be hungry again? You went to the local butcher to pick up some raw meat, packed your favorite berries, jams and bread. Would it be so wrong to perhaps take them something nice as an offering? You weren’t sure if that was considered insulting or polite.

Your walk in the woods was quickly interrupted, a little shuffle in the trees behind you and then in front of you. You turned your head a couple of times until the familiar, large figure of the monster came into view. The soft, whispy fur that made up for hair was more matted than the last time you saw him, messy too. If only you knew how relieved and…thrilled the monster was to see you again. It nearly trembled from excitement as your surprised expression turned into a meek, polite one. Almost as if it was a bother for you to suddenly show up in his territory. But no, it was an opportunity. This time he’ll make sure he never loses you again.

You started politely saying how the basket was for him, as a gift or offering, however he wanted to take it. All he could do is stand there, staring at the basket then at you. Maybe he was starving, or maybe you gave him so much butterflies whenever you spoke so nicely to him. He couldn’t help it, no one had ever shown him this type of kindness. He had to…

As you were talking, you were suddenly—quite literally, snatched up from your spot. Your feet were no longer planted on the ground and your arms instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders with a yelp. Whatever heart he had leaped in his chest.

Forgetting the basket for the time being (he’d bring it later. He was grateful afterall ) he started sprinting towards his home, the one place he knew he was safe at. And now, you two would share it. The food you brought him, he saw it as a proposal. He managed to become even more infatuated with you at that second, he tried to be the gentlest with you despite his excitement. He usually moves on all fours with his elongated limbs, now he used one arm to lift you against his chest, while his larger hand effortlessly supported half of your back.

You felt like you were riding a horse upside down, your hands tightened around his shoulders as the wind whooshed past your head.

At last you felt the monster slow down, you slowly opened your eyes that were previously shut tight. The monster leaned down to place you back on your feet, but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place, your nails digging into his shoulders and your chest heaving as if you were the one doing the running. The monster was patient, as still as ever as you slowly unwrapped your arms from his body. He huffed out of disappointment.

You backed off enough to see its face, still mostly covered by his hair. It tilted its head at you, why did you look scared? Weren’t you happy that he took you away from the village, your home, back to his home? He’ll take care of you so much better.

A slender hand reached up slowly, to avoid scaring you more. He was sensitive to emotions, but he didn’t know how to deal with them. He could feel your fear, he didn’t like it. His hand was warm against your cheek, his entire palm almost the size of your face with blunt claws on each finger. His thumb wiped away a stray tear on your cheek, you flinched when you thought you heard him growl at the sight.

…

Was he purring?

It was almost funny until you realized where you were at. Somewhere in the woods you’ve never seen before. The trees overgrown and roots sprouting from the earth, right behind his large figure was the beginning of a stone mountain . And right in the middle…a gaping, dark cave. You snapped out of your thoughts when his hand started gently pushing you towards the cave. The pads of his fingers on your upper back. He made a quizzical noise when you didn’t budge.

Instead of getting angry, he whirled behind you and began nudging you with his head, the soft furs tickling your neck. You didn’t miss the sharp inhale he took of your hair. You shivered, slowly walking towards the cave’s entrance.

Turns out the cave wasn’t that deep, there was a curve to the left before you were met with a dead end. At the dead end was the darkest point of the cave, you barely managed to see a nest-like structure. Branches and leaves, along with his shedded fur made up a giant cushion that somehow still seemed too small for him.

You were once again swept off your feet as you were suddenly picked up by your waist like a doll. The monster curled up on the nest and immediately shoved you between his chest and arms, your head right below his chin. He made that content purring sound again, snuggling you up like a teddy bear. He was so glad to have you with him, he couldn’t have waited any longer.

He’d figure out all your necessities later, for now he’ll enjoy being with his long lost darling.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Vergil Protecting You After You're Injured

Vergil X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, violence, reader is wounded

Word Count: 767

(A/N:) Sorry I have been MIA folks! But I'm back and hopefully will be writing more and getting back into the swing of things. I've been wanting to write, but every time I sat down the words alluded me. So I took a little bit of a break and focused more on my artwork. Now I hope to continue to give attention to both my hobbies. So keep an eye for more stories in the future! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Vergil never felt that having back-up in fights was necessary, as he felt perfectly capable of taking care of business on his own. Power was his only goal in mind as he fought. Becoming the best, becoming stronger. Leaving himself unquestionably the best and most powerful being in existence. Leaving his brother Dante in the dust, like the vermin he is. Then Vergil came across you, a devil hunter in your own right, and he begrudgingly acknowledged your skills in the art of slaying demons. It was a fluke, he had told himself, that you ran into him hunting the same hoard of devils. It was a fluke that you fought alongside him perfectly. A fluke that you had his inner devil half purring at your nearness. Now it was a common occurrence for you both to take missions together.

What had changed his mind about you, he couldn't remember. And now it seemed abnormal whenever you weren't at his side. You were a fragile human, completely mortal, but your powers and strength made even the most powerful of the devil hoards cower and fall by your blade. Vergil refused to let you forget your humanness, but as you were always quick with retorts. You made sure that Vergil never forgot that he was also half human. He tried really hard to forget that, in his pursuit of power that his father and stupid twin brother had given up for the side of humanity. Vergil would scoff, roll his eyes, and march away leaving you to sprint to catch up. But he couldn't fight the small grin coming to his lips, despite trying to hide it, of course you'd notice and not leave him alone until you were satisfied in embarrassing him.

Once again you and Vergil found yourselves taking on another hoard of demons. This group had dug deep into a small town and refused to go down easy. Slash marks marred your face and despite blood flowing into one eye, you refused to back down. Vergil snarled for you to run away, but you stubbornly widened your stance ready to face another wave of attack. All he could do was curse you loudly and hope to keep your now blind side protected while you protected your other side. Limbs and heads of demons falling at your feet, until a Sin Scythe cut through it's own allies just to plunge the scythe into your guts.

Your cries of pain shattered Vergil's concentration as he watched in horror as you crumbled to the ground. His devil side raging inside as the scythe was pulled from your still form. He trigged in blind rage stepping in front of your fallen form and taking out the rest of the hoard in a wave of power. He tried to calm himself, to switch back but all he could manage was a few of his limbs and most of his facial features. Spittle flew from his lips as he tried to soothe his fury, while he checked for a pulse. Your heartbeat met his scaly fingertips and when he pressed a warm hand to your wound, you whined. He snarled more and your eyes fluttered open.

"Vergil?"

"You're losing a lot of blood," he replied. His voice deeper than normal, but that had to do with the fact he was fighting hard to keep from fully transforming again as the blood in his veins continued to boil in anger.

"How many are left," you panted. Always worried about the mission instead of yourself and it made him roll his eyes.

"Dead," his blunt reply made you stop asking questions. Your eyes clouded in pain Vergil scooped you up easily. "We have to get this taken care of."

"Vergil," you gasped. "Slow down. It feels like I'm coming apart at the seams."

"You'll just have to hang on a little bit longer. Until we can get clear so I can use the Yamato to open a portal."

"If you say so." You grumbled. "But don't complain if my innards stain your pretty clothes."

"I'm more worried about losing you."

Vergil's reply stunned you both and his body began to tense until you gently cupped his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised.

"Good because I'll tease you for eternity for being taken out by a Sin Scythe," he smirked and you pinched his nose in protest. While your warm blood, had him fighting the anger inside, Vergil's top priority was to take care of you first and then go make more demons' lives living nightmares for even laying a finger on you.

[submissivekillers]

kinktober day 4 - sensory deprivation (john kramer)

yall i wrote most of this so fast lmao?? literally banged out like 800 words in an hour yesterday n would've finished early if i didn't have to work a double (hell.) the spirit of old man fucking compelled me. also i think im into sensory deprivation now lowkey. mild tw for jigsaw-typical torture/violence but only in the first like 2 paragraphs

You had thought that you were intimately familiar with every kind of torture.

It was a knowledge you picked up quickly in the company of Jigsaw and his apprentices – they had refined it to something of an artform, in your opinion. Through careful study, you had determined exactly the amount of force necessary to snap the bones in an arm cleanly; you had calculated just how much blood a person could lose while still being able to drag themselves out of harm's way. With trial and error, you had learned how to discern the sound of screaming caused by third-degree burns from that of the agonized cries brought on by the loss of a finger, a hand, an entire limb. All these torments and more, you had learned by heart. 

And yet you think that this may be the worst of all. 

It's the unpredictability, you think; the fabric over your eyes is heavy enough that even the harsh industrial fluorescents in John's workspace can't penetrate it, and the silicone plugs in your ears block out even your own voice. You suppose that's a good thing, maybe – after he's brought you to the edge just to let you down thrice now, you're sure you must sound absolutely pathetic. Your chest heaves with staggered, gasping breaths, your lips stinging with the imprints of your teeth.   

It would be easier if he'd restrained your hands. He'd instructed you not to touch yourself, or him, and you hadn't – but your will is fraying with every passing second. You're so sensitive it hurts, threatening to tumble over the line from pleasurable to painful, even the circulating fans making you twitch and clench when the faint breeze finds its way between your thighs. Your fingernails dig into the seams of the chair beneath you so hard that you feel them pop. 

Bad enough that's he's worked you up and then abandoned you, but that's not the worst; no, it's the little touches in between that really break you down. John seems to have an uncanny ability to tell exactly when you've started to calm yourself down. Every time your breathing starts to slow and your trembling subsides, his hands are on you. Delicate touches, really no more than grazing over your skin – the ghost of his knuckles along your spine: fingertips tracing the arch of your cheekbone, teasing the plush of your bottom lip before flitting away: a gentle squeeze to the meat of your thigh. It's pathetic, how each tender brush of his hands makes your nerves spark. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the pads of his fingers skim the curve of your shoulder, roughened from the long hours of planning and building. You suck in a stuttering breath, even that light touch sending a spasm of want through you. You think please, please, please and only belatedly realize your lips are moving. 

A pang of loss echoes in your chest when he pulls away, but before you can react his fingertips alight on your cheek instead, his thumb caressing the line of your jaw. You shudder with the effort of not pressing yourself desperately into his hand, letting him control the weight of his touch. It aches, tears threatening to dampen the fabric of your blindfold before you squeeze your eyes tightly shut. 

You feel the sigh of his breath on your skin, the knowledge of his proximity twisting beneath your ribs. When his other hand finds the line of your throat, cupping over your racing pulse, your lips part around some ragged, tremulous sound, your body singing at his touch. 

He guides you to lie against him, your temple tucked into the hollow of his throat, and the tears run freely down your cheeks. You’re breathless before he even deigns to slide a hand between your thighs, your spine arching taut at the first deliberate press of his fingers. Unthinking, you fist your hands tightly in the fabric of his sweater, praying he won't stop when you realize your transgression. 

Blessedly, mercifully, he doesn't. 

It takes embarrassingly little to bring you to orgasm; you don't think you've been in his arms longer than a minute or two before you spasm in his lap, spilling into his hand, nonsensical babbling that only John can hear streaming from your swollen lips. You're still shaking when he gently tugs the plugs from your ears, the influx of sound almost overwhelming. He keeps you blindfolded for a minute longer, guiding your hand to his chest so you can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breaths.

When you're able to match his rhythm he unties the cloth, cupping your face in his hand as you blink against the sudden light. Your skin feels sticky, trails of salt drying on your cheeks that he tenderly swipes away. His gaze is warm when you can focus on his face, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled with the curve of his thin lips. “You did very well, dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You think there must be no sound sweeter than the low rasp of his voice. “I'm proud of you.”

You beam.  

Later – after he’s washed the sweat and slick from your skin in a warm bath, curled against him in your pajamas with a water bottle and a steaming cup of tea – he asks, “Do you understand now why I say you need to learn patience?” 

You laugh, a radiant sound that starts deep in your chest. “I might need a few more lessons.”

[days-until-burnout]

Touch starved Etho, but he isn't self-aware enough to realize what it is that he's craving (and even if he did, he'd be too stubborn to ask for it).

Oblivious, physically affectionate Joel to the rescue.

Or in other words: Ethos needs a hug -> his soulmate makes sure he gets plenty

(Boat boys brainrot still going strong)

a stack of days. with boat boys. yippie _____

📧 Day 64 -

Characters - Etho + Joel Words - 1,740 Time - 50 Content - Life Series & Hermitcraft

The first time it happened, they almost lost a life. Well, not really, that was an exaggeration but Etho thought they would lose a life with the scare of his life. At the time, he had been simply standing in front of their chests, organizing them while Joel was out doing Joel things, killing some cattle, harvesting, annoying people, again, the usual Joel things. From one second to the next, someone had jumped onto his back, arms around his neck in a chokehold, the added weight throwing him off balance as he stumbled, hands trying to pry the arms away.

Before he could say anything, a cheerier voice got ahead of him. 

“What are you doing, Eefo?”

It triggered him, oddly enough, a sudden strength to practically throw him down. The panic was near instant, too. 

He looked down at Joel with fear in his eyes, the feeling of lost hearts choking his throat and heart, his whole body frozen in place as Joel pushed himself up. He messed up, badly. He knew it was Joel, he realized as soon as he spoke, yet he overreacted and made them lose hearts. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, in his head, a ringing shadowing the frantic beats. 

Joel had a temper. 

Etho heard Joel had a temper. 

“Rude much.”

He opened and closed his mouth, glad for the mask. 

Joel simply lowered himself on the floor, splayed his limbs and… stayed there, no word about the incident, no more words about Etho’s actions, nor his own for that matter. Instead, Joel moved on about the resources he had gathered, tossing them in the air only for them to fall back onto him, disappearing in his inventory. Then he talked about the others, filling the otherwise quiet ship with his voice, never asking Etho to join. It took a while, another repeat of the incident for Etho to do as Joel did, and move on with his life as Joel whined about his Joel things. 

After that, though, as he grew to know about him more and more, Etho learnt to pick up on signs. Joel, in his wolf form, was a predator. He was one, he knew the hunt as well as Joel did, though he mostly used it to predict him. An immediate silence with electricity in the air, his hands slowing down with the items lingering in his palms for seconds longer, the flicks of tails and ears, then the ambush. 

“What are you doing, Eefo?!” Joel would scream as soon as he latched on, pressing his face right on his, sometimes stealing the items from his hand to examine then carelessly throw into the chest. A pause. Then another. 

Joel paid no attention to the change as he emptied his inventory in the organized chests, yapping about whatever. On the other hand, Etho stood, watching items flow into the chest, intentionally frozen in place as he decided to simply… let it be. In time, Joel would hop off on his own, a couple minutes of this would not hurt either of them. On the contrary, this was better than throwing him down and making them lose hearts unnecessarily. In any case, Joel was not particularly heavy, even with all those muscles and eating habits. He could deal with that. He could live with that. That and the weird feeling he started getting every time Joel jumped on his back. 

During the games, Etho made no effort to think about feelings, his personal feelings towards his friends. Alliances and friendships, temporary rivalries and fleeting grudges, all that, sure. But anything, even a layer below shallow, and he was gone. 

Not Joel, though. In a physical sense. Joel was always there. Using the soulbound as easy as reading a map and compass like no one else. From one corner of the world to the other, Joel made his way to him, walking into conversations and exchanges, and even the mundane mining sessions. He had learnt to tune in that specific aspect of the soulbound, which meant that Joel rarely took him by surprise anymore, despite perfecting his ambush. 

Cleo stopped mid-sentence, raising their brow as Etho waited for her to finish speaking. Knowing her, interrupting was not a good idea. Cleo would find the words, he knew, so he simply waited. 

“What are you doing, Eefo?” Joel whispered instead, squinting at Cleo. Etho could not see the expression, though he could feel it. The muscles on the side of his eye moved, pressed right on his, and he could decipher from that. 

“You know,” Cleo said eventually, and Etho shifted attention back to them, “I’m not even going to ask. It’s not my business. We can talk later, yeah? Don’t want to interrupt—” she gestured “—whatever this is.”

“Okay.” 

She gave Etho an odd look, though he decided to ignore it, instead, turning on his heels to make his way home as it was getting late anyways. He would have time for material gathering tomorrow, and Joel would deal with the crops and animals in the morning so there was no reason they could not call it a day. 

On the way back, Joel climbed up higher, and at some point in the past few days, had gotten used to wrapping his legs around his waist. Etho supposed it made hanging on easier, seeing as it took longer and longer for him to climb down, mostly leaving it up to Etho to shake him off. Joel would let go without a fight, most of the time staying on the spot a couple of minutes before kicking back into motion, like a bee buzzing all around the ship doing chores. Etho made the executive decision to simply drop him off in bed, shortly climbing on too as Joel splayed then curled up, facing him. 

“You’re weird,” Joel said one day. The ship was mostly orange lights and lingering warmth, Joel’s face mostly shadows with early twinkles of stars in his eyes. No smile, no funny look in his eyes. Joel simply stared, blinked a couple times, then closed his eyes for a nap. He would drift off shortly after, very quickly, leaving Etho all alone in whatever remained of the afternoon. 

It was nice, he thought randomly one night, arm under his head, Joel asleep half-on-top, lazily staring at the starry night. It was colder outside, but it made no difference with the Relation as it was. They had been together almost all day, wrecking the server as revenge for the thing taken from them. The flint and steel still burned in his hand, the fire still kissed his clothes, and the rage simmered under his blood. It was Joel, it was him, it made no difference as their hearts and souls were one. It was right, and it was nice, and it was…

It was something. 

Then no longer. 

They had died together in the trapped portal, hand in hand, anger and disappointment in their eyes. Then their run was over, then they went home, then they did not talk about it. It would take a bit before they saw each other again, under different circumstances though there was a spark there, burning. Always burning. It called to him. Heat in the middle of winter, he chased it. Joel had that kind of allure. 

But Joel had another two now. He had his own. 

The next time they met, under even more different circumstances, with different people, it was better and it was worse. He realized he needed something, something specific, from a certain someone. Cleo had brought it up subtly, bringing up his oddness, but he had failed to pick on her breadcrumbs, his mind fixated on something he could not put a name to. Only a face, only a being, but never quite knowing what exactly it was that he wanted. Or needed. Always so close, yet so far. Joel had his crew, he had his own. The game would be over eventually, and he would stew over it at home, in peace, by himself. 

Until he found otherwise. 

It had been a while since Joel joined Hermitcraft, integrating with the Hermits good enough. Joel had found a crew easily, people he knew and was comfortable with. It made things easier for him, Etho kept hearing. Outdoing himself every time, going above and beyond. He expected nothing less. 

Though he did not expect to run into him again, despite running into him plenty before. Atop Magic Mountain, standing in a circle, Joel stood with their friends, with the Hermits he was basing with. Talking loud, laughing louder. He knew this, he knew this Joel. He fixated on him, despite the mail he needed to deliver to someone else, it was all Joel he could focus on. The wolf traits were gone, replaced with tanuki features, a tail that flicked too much when Skizz had in a choke-hold, laughing about whatever. 

Without a single word, he made his way to them, steps too quiet on the grass. This was it, then, those predator skills kicking in, closing in without being noticed even though Gem and Impulse were facing him. His presence went unnoticed until he was right behind his target, who had bitten Skizz with a shit-eating smirk, arms around his sides quickly. 

A pause. Then another. 

Joel knew, without looking, “What are you doing, Eefo?”

He dropped his head on his shoulder, ignoring the gasps and murmurs and the question, trying to locate the heartbeat that had been his own once. His arms slid down at his hips, squeezing a little before he lifted him off the ground, standing straight and promptly turning on his heels, walking away with a member of the Magic Mountain in arms. 

It took a second before the rest found their reactions, half shocked and the others offended, screaming at him to return Joel at once. He heard Gem unsheath her sword, giving chase as soon as she got her bearings, Skizz laughing, and Scar saying things that had Grian screaming at him. None of that mattered, not when Joel shifted into his tanuki form, burying his little face on his collarbone. 

Still, despite having Joel in his arms, in his base, he failed to understand what the deal was. If he wanted Joel, or if he wanted something Joel could provide, or if it was something else entirely different.

_____

boat boys are my default whenever personal emotions happen 🧍‍♂️ also, i think there is a funny thing you could say about etho. what? i dont know. this reminded me of this one other fic i wrote. feelings are weird. especially when im in a weird mood. anyways. them. when will they come home. i miss them</3

[take-everything-you-can]

What makes a man

A/N : This is the second piece into the angiverse or my dad Eddie series of blurbs. A series of Fathers Days throughout Eddies life. One Where his father wasn't so kind, another when he surprised Wayne, and one more where you surprise him. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

P.s Photo in header are all from google straight up not gonna lie to yall have no idea who edited the Eddie and Wayne photo but its phenomenal.

P.p.s update : the photo of Eddie and Wayne was created by user @fefemunson on Pinterest and insta 💕💕🖤

Dividers by @cafekitsune

18+ MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem reader

WC: 4K

TW: Angst ( Al - need I say more...) Fluff ( Wayne's gift, doting husband, baby girl Munson) Smut ( Breeding kink, F receiving, fingering, unprotected PIV, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, accidental edging, squirting) If y'all see anything I missed please let me know. Not really edited all that much.

Sweat rolled down the side of Eddie's face as he sat crouched behind a car in the packed lot of a junkyard, a few towns over from Hawkins. The sun had set but the heat waves, in the middle of June 1975,  had become almost stifling as he kept an eye on his surroundings. Al had promised that if Eddie just kept watch this one last time, while he took care of some business, then he could get him the guitar strings he had his eye on.

It had only been two seconds, two seconds Eddie let himself get distracted as he watched the fireflies light up the darkening sky in swirling patterns. Two seconds and Eddie had missed how a tall figure made its way over to the door in which he watched his father disappear behind. Two seconds and he was too late to let out his crow call to let Al know there was someone coming. 

“Run.” A gunshot and a flash of his father was all Eddie heard and saw before his limbs were weaving in and out of old abandoned things that people no longer needed. Things that people no longer wanted. Losing traction as the rain from the night before made the clay and mud beneath his feet slide. He had caught up to Al, Eddie had never been an athlete but when it came to running for his life, he had more practice then one should at his age.

“Stupid, How could you be so fucking Stupid?” Al was catching his breath as he slowed, pretty sure that the men he was stealing from had given up at least for now. “I mean I ask you to do one thing and you can't even do that right.” Eddie walks beside his father and he’s heard the spiel time and time again. “If you think I’m getting you those guitar strings after this, You can forget it.”  Eddie knew he was never getting those strings, and if he was being honest with himself he knew this was the only time he was going to get with his father. That's all he ever wanted , to feel like he was needed and if that meant he would have to sit through some words that hurt, then that's exactly what he would do. 

He thought to two days ago. Hawkins Elementary had fathers day arts and crafts sweep through the halls and through classrooms as the day approached within the upcoming weekend. He decided that he was going to draw what he knew best. Eddie had drawn a dragon, large and fierce , one only a brave man could face. Sword in hand and threatening he had drawn his father slaying the dragon that plagued the princess’s  nightmares around the realm. He was so excited to present it to his father but as he sat and heard the words his father was saying the longer the picture sat in his backpack until it littered the bottom of it at the end of the year. 

Eddie would never give the picture to Al, in fact he would grow to forget about it. 

It took only a few months as the fall leaves began to change colors and fall to the ground, Al would find himself behind bars. Life without parole for numerous crimes that would leave Eddie with nothing but his mother and His uncle. It would be a very very long time before He would even hear the sound of his voice again. 

June 1985 had become as hot as Eddie thought it possibly could within the trailer. Wayne was currently out shopping for two new units, one for the living room and one for Eddie. As the men of the house could no longer stand having their hair drip sweat in their eyes and slick down the back of their knees. So they counted couch change and broke open piggy banks for the luxury of air flow. 

Eddie had found himself trying to pry the window that had been painted shut open in his room. A small one across from where his bed sat, and it took all of his strength and an hour of his time, but he had finally been able to crack it. Sweet relief had started to settle around him as a breeze picked up and his curtains swayed in as he took a look around his room. Clothes scattered and books in a pile, a few cups on his desk and sheets of paper askew, Eddie decided to start cleaning his room.

 A half clean floor surprised Wayne as he looks in on Eddie as he arrives home with the new units. Almost not wanting to say anything at all to stop Eddie in his task, but he curses himself as the words leave his mouth. 

“Come help me unload this truck boy.”  Eddie slips on a pair or worn out sneaker and trudges through the inferno only to be met with a realization. It was colder outside then it was in the trailer and he stood on the shared porch in disbelief. 

“How is it cooler out here than inside?” 

“Not for long If i can help it, Now come one and give me a hand before I melt out here.” 

Eddie helps Wayne take both units into the house and he holds them up as Wayne takes his time to install them, making sure that he eases the process as much as he can for his uncle.

 Eddie Holds his breath as Wayne plugs in the unit in his bedroom and the second the small little green light pops on and revs the A/C Unit to life, That breath leaves his lungs in a huffed out laugh as he jumps up and down in joy. A laugh from Wayne as he pats Eddie's shoulder as he leaves the room. “Glad you like it. I’m hitting the hay so keep it down here okay?” Eddie nods his head towards his uncle as he lifts his shirt up over his head and just basks in the cool air hitting his skin for what feels like the first time ever. 

Eddie opens his closet to hang a few stray long sleeve shirts he had  found scattered across the floor. Giving each the smell test before grabbing hangers. Who needs a long sleeve tee in this heat anyway, he thinks to himself. He stops and bends to find an old shoebox that had fallen from the top shelf and somehow landed upside down. Small trinkets from his past had toppled out and onto the floor, a few movie stubs, from trips to the cinema across town. His first DND Handbook , a small pick-me-up Wayne had brought home from a thrift store for him one day after finding out he had the flu.

 Then a small folded up piece of paper caught his eye. A Knight in shining armor depicted as slaying a dragon, one with a tail that could take out entire cities and claws like daggers. A sword through its skull as he shields himself from the bloodshed,but the face of the knight confused him. He remembered drawing the picture for his father , his rounded features and brudish stance, but the more he looked in on the knight he realized the picture he had drawn was not rounded but more sharp. The knight was more gentle as if it hurt to even have to slay the dragon but for his princess he would do anything. He had drawn Wayne, not his father. 

The picture would continue to lay in the box , and Eddie would put the box back in its rightful place on a shelf in his closet , but Eddie would always know that Wayne would slay his dragon. In fact he realized Wayne had been slaying them for years all in the sake of his protection. This brought a smile to his face as he left his room and made himself some dinner, making Wayne a plate to leave in the fridge so he would have something to eat before having to go to work. Tomorrow he wouldn't wait for the phone call from his father that would never come, instead he would spend it with his dad, a man who took him in and loved him for all that he was. 

An Early Morning of June 1988, Eddie paced by the phone for what seemed like hours. He started off his day by sitting , but the nervous bile that would rise in his throat had him up and down. His mind was set on hearing disappointment but you reassured him he would hear nothing of the sort. Finding himself sitting, knee bouncing as if it had a live wire in it, you start to separate things off the stove into their own spots on the kitchen aisle. A breakfast fit for a king, sausage and eggs , bacon and pancakes. All that was missing was Coffee. 

The night before you and Eddie had gone to Waynes for dinner leaving a small gift that he wasn’t supposed to open until this morning. You were sure he would open it as soon as you left but the line had stayed silent and Eddie knew for a fact he would call if he did. Given the gift he was receiving you had hoped the phone would ring sooner rather than later simply for the fact that you wanted Eddie to have peace of mind. Each second that passed you saw in Eddie’s features that he was going to the dark and weathered places. 

You and Eddie had given Wayne a mug. A small pink mug that when Wayne opened it reminded him of a diner he had not far from his house when he lived in Tennessee as a child. As Wayne poured his coffee into the mug he noticed that when he went to take a sip his hand caressed within it perfectly, a new favorite he would have to keep by the sink. As his last few sips drained the cup he saw an inscription on the bottom of the inside.

‘Pa Pa needs Coffee first’ 

A shrill ring from the telephone made you and Eddie nearly jump out of your skin. He picked up the phone and held it to his ear but before the word “hello” could leave his mouth Wayne had already started.

“Are you serious? Don’t be playing no games with me boy, cause if i have a heart attack then i'm taking your scrawny ass with me! You better be telling the truth or so help me -” 

Eddie's sniffles match Waynes as he just nods his head as if the man on the other end of the line can see him.

“I’m telling the truth, we’re having a baby girl, Uncle Wayne.”  Eddie turns as he hears a small sob leave you . You had been watching the man in front of you tell the most important person in his life the news of having your first child. It broke you in the best way.

 Eddie motioned for you to come over to him as he couldn't pull the cord far enough to reach you. He wrapped both of his arms around your neck as he held the phone to his ear letting Wayne rattle on his congratulations while you let the tears fall and land on his shirt. Eddie hoped this would be one of those moments you never forget. One that even when you were sitting next to him old and gray , he hoped this would be a memory he could always reach out for.

 Eddie hung up the phone and still having you wrapped up in his arms led you backwards. He stopped next to the fridge and opened it opting for orange juice instead of coffee. He had told you about a week or so ago that anything you couldn't do, he wouldn't do, and It was becoming a challenge. Coffee and a cigarette had been his daily routine for as long as he could remember, but having you struggle was something he was not going to let you do alone. So this morning he poured you a glass of juice along with his own and you both sat and ate the breakfast of champions, a slight Happy Father's Day on the tip of your tongue. 

Summer on the cusp of beginning in June of 1991 had bees buzzing and roses blooming . A cranky tot had been an alarm clock for you and Eddie for the past three weeks. Not only had your daughter reached the terrible twos but the heat was something she didn't like in the slightest. A stressful few months of Eddie working non stop and you finishing rotation on night shift had left you no time alone together. That would all end tonight. 

Wayne had agreed to take Angie for the weekend while you and Eddie had finally convinced your jobs to give you the time off. A rushed drive to Waynes gave you that pit feeling in your stomach and the tears that stained Angies face at your absence gave you tears to shed of your own. Mom guilt was always something you would struggle with. How could you not? Eddie squeezed your knee as he drove, peaking at you every so often to sooth the pit, he felt it too, but you deserve this. Eddie Deserved this. 

An early check-in to the hotel you had booked gave you enough time to get dressed and listen to Eddie complain about the restaurant you were taking him to having a dress code. You packed him a black blazer and a maroon button up ,but the man refused to wear slacks. Absolutely threw a fit about it, so he compromised and wore black jeans that you had to inspect for rips. While you wore a black dress that fit snugly against your soft tummy, coming up short against your thighs. If you bent over the entire place would be getting a show but you were saving that for your husband. God your husband, you loved the sound it rang through your brain, an earworm the word had become since you married. Husband, the father of your child, the man you gave your everything to and he gave you back all of himself in return. 

The dim light of the room made you squint at the incredibly small print of the menu in your hands and as you look across the table you see Eddie doing the same. 

“You see a burger here anywhere?” you roll your eyes. 

“Eddie, we did not drive an hour into the city for you to order a burger from a five star restaurant.”

“Why not?” you could see the slight slip of the corner of his mouth. You smile and turn your focus back on figuring out what to eat before the waiter comes back. The pasta sounds nice, the steak on a table across the way looks divine. You settle on a Caesar salad , Eddie orders steak and fettuccine. A beer in front of Eddie pairs with your glass of white as his hand comes across waiting for you to take hold. You indulge him as you pick up your glass with your other hand. Soft circles across your knuckles have you leaning into the table.

“Have i told you how incredible you look tonight?” Heat rushes through you at his tone, seep sultry, dark. A twist in where he laces your fingers with his own and a gleam in his eye. You know exactly what he wants to hear.

“Oh yeah? Me? What about you over there?” You return the look as the waiter sits your food in front of you interrupting whatever he was going to say.

 A tight smile is all he gives as he picks up his beer and takes a sip. He picks up his knife and you watch as he tries to cut into his steak, lifting your glass and taking a long sip you take the edge of your heels and slide it up his leg. He nearly drops his fork on the ground at the unexpected touch. Eddie stares wide eyed as he brings his food to his mouth slowly taking the bite.

You look away as if your heel isn't still making its way to his knee and sliding in between his thighs, placing your shoe right against his groin. You can see the way his body stiffens and instantly his hand is slammed against the table. It gets the attention of your waiter as if the sound was a call of his name. When he asks if you are enjoying your food and if you need anything Eddie rushes to get the words out.

“Yes! Good! Everything is delicious! Can we get the check please?” he obliges as he walks to grab the tab for the two of you. Giggling as you take in the wild look Eddie is giving you.

"You done already babe?"

"You are going to be the absolute death of me, woman.”  you pay for dinner as a treat for Fathers day, shit this whole weekend was for Fathers day. Eddie gave you hell for paying but the bruising grip on your hip as you walked through the restaurant had you knowing he was going to pay you back tenfold. 

Barely making it through the door to your hotel room Eddie had already shed the blazer you had made him wear. Lips catching between teeth and struggling to undo buttons has you both breathless and frustrated. Eddie pulls the shirt up and over his head yelling fuck it as it soars across the room. The rattle of his belt buckle sends a shiver down your spine as you sit and struggle to undo the clasp of your heels. Eddie kicks the denim that pooled around his ankles to the side as he jumps up onto the bed. His knees against the sheets, he takes one of your heels in his hands and leans it against his chest as he undoes the clasp for you. He throws the heel behind him and does the same to the other leaning over you as his hair falls around your face.

“Mhmm, I've been thinking ‘bout this all day.” your lips crash into his, a hungry, feral feeling overcomes you as you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips begin their journey down your neck and across your chest, sucking small spots and leaving small bruises, as if leading breadcrumbs to find his way back home. He reaches the hem of your dress as he nips at your thighs pushing the fabrics up so it bunches at your waist. 

“Isn't it Fathers Day, shouldn't I be the one going down on you?“ He catches your eyes as you look down and shakes his head. 

“Nope. Like you said, it's Fathers Day and that means I get whatever I want baby,  and I didn't get to have dessert.” He takes the lace between his teeth and lets it snap back in place listening as you let out a small whine from beneath him. 

“Mmm so sweet” He slips the thong along your thighs and down your legs as you let them spread for his immediate return. Except it’s not immediate, he takes his time. “So good to me, aren’t you sweetheart?” He takes his time kissing his way down your thighs to your dripping core. He drapes your legs over his shoulders as he slips his tongue through your folds and around your clit. Sucking hard as he lets the slick of your arousal coat his taste buds. Kissing your cunt as if he can’t live without its breath in his lungs. He slips his tongue into you as he lets his nose stimulate your clit. You wonder if he can breathe but the thought is lost as he slips a finger into you instead coming back to focus on that bundle of nerves. Your hands wrap themselves around his curls and grip hard, earning a moan from him that vibrates against your core as he adds another finger and a gasping moan sounding from deep within you as you chase that lightning through your core. Shaking thunderous moans of His name leave you as you give in to your husband. He slows the curl of his fingers and lets you ride out your high letting himself pant against your thigh as your grip in his hair loosens. 

Laughs from Eddie send you into a fit of your own giggles and the loving look he gives you as he hovers over you letting you taste yourself off his lips. Slow and needy you reach down and grasp Eddie's length through his boxers and a groan is made from the back of his throat.

“Eddie.” The soft moan of his name is all it takes for him to give you anything you ever wanted. Some Days it’s your laugh, other days it’s the way you take care of his daughter, but right now in this moment it’s the way you're sighing at his touch. 

You sit up pushing his shoulders back until his head hits the pillows,straddling his waist and sliding up and down his cock a few times, coating him in your slick. Lining him up with your entrance and sitting slowly until his entire length is buried inside you. A deep moan from within the both of you. You lift yourself off of him leaning back resting your hands on his thighs as the angle lets him hit that sweet spot inside of you with every drop back into his lap. The way his cock slides against your walls has you throwing your head back ,eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Uh uh , Look at me , Let me see you baby.”  your chest heaves with each thrust he sends upwards into you, unable to form words. A sudden flip has you separated from Eddie right as you were on the cusp.

“I said look at me Baby, Come on. What ? dick so good you’ve gone dumb?”  He slams into you and the sounds of his skin slapping yours, as he fucks you into the mattress, echoes off the walls.” God you’re so tight. Squeezin the fuck outta me.” You whine as he lifts you so your chest is flush with his own. “Look so good underneath me ,gonna fuck you full baby.” 

“Yes , god yes Fuck Eddie, fill me up.” you moan through each thrust, right against his ear. You reach your climax gushing around Eddie a small spray reaching his abdomen and wetting the sheets beneath you. Nail marks scratching down his back send him into his own orgasm as he coats the walls within you thick, falling forward with you under him. A weight you would always welcome. Both of you lay in utter bliss for what feels like forever before he slips out of you. You hiss at the empty feeling but welcome the warm rag Eddie drags across your center. A glass of water is given to you as you lay tangled in the sheets bringing them to your chest as you gulp down every drop. A small smile on Eddie's face has you feeling like you did the first time you saw him. Unbelievably awestruck. 

“What's on your mind Honey?” He thinks for a second but gives you an answer far from what you expect. 

“I think we just made our second child.” loud and blissfully you laugh. 

“One not enough? “ His dimples practically touch each other as he purses his lips, letting his tongue glide over the bottom.

“One is plenty, but I just can't help but want a little more of you in the world.” you sit up on your knees as you bring Eddies face down to your own, sliding a hand across his cheek as your lips meet.

"I wouldn’t mind a little more of you out there either.” 

[weirdthinkingdragon]

I know it's really late, but yandere Ethan Winters. (He deserves better than Mia even before RE7, fight me.)

RE7Yandere Ethan Winters x reader/you

warnings: a few rather changed canon events, spoilers (kinda re8 spoilers too with one thing?), have a bit of buildup to living with him as yandere, clingy, unwanted touch, obsessive, bit of coercion, delusional behavior, sorta stockholm in a way?

(Before yandere) Ethan who you befriended while Mia was gone and offered to come with. You just had a bad feeling and didn't want him going alone. Somehow he agreed.

Cue you loyally following him and helping him every step of the way. You two watching out for each other and saving each other's asses on way more than just one occasion.

As time passes he slowly starts to feel as if he doesn't love Mia anymore. She still wouldn't tell him anything, and has kept many secrets from him in the past he eventually found out. He's having his doubts of why and how she's here even though she explained it before. The more he thinks of it, the more it feels like another lie. But you haven't lied to him. Kept serious secrets from him even if you were just friends. Even though he's only known you for like two years, you've shared everything with him. You were his rock, his staple to keep everything together when she was gone.

You never see Eveline, but Ethan does and she's not very happy of his slow change of heart. He starts latching onto you, always grabbing your hand whenever you both have to rush somewhere. Or even when it seems to be a minute breather of everything going on. You take it as him just making sure not to split up and lose each other.

That's partially true, but not fully. It's a constant, festering need that rapidly starts to grow in him to always feel you close. Even he himself at the beginning thought that it was worry you both would end up splitting up too. You're the only sane one around him besides Zoe, but she isn't physically around him in this hell. However, he quickly figures out and accepts the truth. He can't tolerate you no longer being around him.

It may be the place itself. It may be him. It may be some sort of fucked up trauma this place is giving him, or even a mix of all three. But none of it matters. Only you do at this point. He never felt as close with Mia as he feels with you now, and no longer even cares for her.

All he wants now is to get out of here with you. But he has no idea what way to get out of this hell, so he'll listen to Zoe until then. He does have a growing resentment for Mia though. Compared to you, he should have seen so many red flags from her in the past. And look now where that's made him and you end up. As a "gift" he's saving several 44 Magnum bullets he plans on using on them. Sure, it might not kill Mia anymore, but it sure as hell will at least slow her down for a while. He also doesn't like how aggressive she is on you compared to him. Sure, none of your limbs have been cut off, you haven't gotten any near-fatal injuries, but it's still bad she's targeted you first every time she comes back.

You two take a short rest break. You lean against his shoulder and end up falling asleep from the now lack of adrenaline rushing through your body.

He lets you. Zoe can wait. Lucas can for sure wait. Mia can definitely wait. It's only you who is important. He also takes the chance and injects you with the serum. You likely don't need it in the first place. He will not have Eveline trying to corrupt you. Try to take you from him. No. One. Can. He won't let them. He'll fight her with his dying breath if he has to as long as you make it out alive.

It eventually comes to a head of Zoe and Mia needing the serum.

Now he's thinking he should have waited until now to inject you to show Mia as a final "fuck you". Oh well. Doing it earlier guaranteed they couldn't swipe it from him if he tried to inject you then.

That's when you think of something. "Wait a minute. Would the serum even work?" The three look at you like you're crazy.

"Why would Eveline give the Baker's family the one thing that could kill her? She's likely not the only thing like her created. Could it be a fake from her knowing Zoe was searching?"

Now Zoe looks at you like you're stupid, while Mia looks like she had a terrifying realization. "That's a very far stretch."

Mia shakes her head, knowing she has to reveal what she's done. "No... It does."

Zoe sighs. "then it must be in the crashed ship they came on."

"the... what ship?" Ethan is trying real hard not to be upset right now. He injected you with a useless serum??

you all decide to get on the boat for now to go to the ship.

Things didn't go as planned as you guys crashed somehow at the ship, and Eveline took Ethan away.

You were wary of her from how many times she previously attacked you, but for now it really seemed she didn't want to. She admitted what she actually was, making you feel really bad for both her and Ethan.

She found the actual serum that will kill Eveline and gave it to you, yelling at Eveline all the while.

Eventually you and Mia find Ethan and work together to pull him out.

She manages to push you and Ethan out the door before closing it. He didn't put up much a resistance, just more confused what she was doing.

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

It finally comes to a close when you and Ethan get in the helicopter, and you're relieved to see Mia. Ethan... He's not. Especially after finding out by you he was right. She WAS a part in all the hell Eveline caused, and was even her "handler". That just drastically furthered he doesn't want a thing to do with her anymore.

She took it hard he didn't want to start over with her. Even tried to manipulate him. Since he no longer loved her he could see the signs a mile away, making himself even more angry at his past self for ignoring all of her bad things.

It didn't work. But he did beg you to live with him for at least a while. You were pressured by the Blue Umbrella agreeing with him and wanting to keep a close eye on you two for a while. He was thrilled by his luck of them agreeing.

The clinginess came on FAST. Everywhere you went in the house, or anywhere out of the house, he followed you like a lost puppy. Watching a movie? you better cuddle up to him or he's wrapping his arm around your shoulders to have you lean on him.

The most uncomfortable to you was sharing the same bed, and him cuddling you then as well. You tried to take it again as him just traumatized from the events of before. You know you sure as hell are and still scrub yourself raw every shower remembering the textures of everything. And also feeling bad for him losing Mia. He told you they broke up.

One day out of the blue he started calling you pet names. Hasn't even been a month when he started doing that. You weren't into that type of thing with a friend, and told him to knock it off.

It didn't work. He just became more adamant on it. He wanted to be with you. He absolutely loves you and every single little thing about you.

Now that blew you away. He's gotta be out of his mind. You try to ask Blue Umbrella to move, but they deny. It's as if they don't want you from him either. They don't. They know what he is but thought it would be better not to tell him. They comply to what he wants though to keep him stable. And to run tests on him, which he complies with it that will keep them making you stay with him. He doesn't think that way though.

In some sort of twisted logic in his mind, he doesn't think they're making you stay with him. You just need a little persuasion to realize how you really feel.

It's much more than persuasion though. More like light coercion by the Blue Umbrella. Warnings you'd never get to see your friends or family again did it. Now you can, but Ethan has to be with you, and you absolutely cannot tell them anything of what happened.

You hate to admit it, but as time went on, you started to love Ethan back, craving the constant touches. His constant words of praise, love, adoration, and anything else possible slowly broke your resolve of refusing to love him from it feeling wrong. He almost seemed to worship the floor you walked on, catered everything to you. Spoiled you with everything possible, and with the money given by Umbrella, anything was on affordable range.

You eventually surprise him with a kiss on his lips, sealing your fate together with him further. But hey, at least you're both happy now.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FINCH'S FRENZY (IV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER V ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, guns & shootings, canon typical, death, vulgar language, gore, arguments, self-destructive behavior, PTSD, fluff at the end? Maybe?

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

Vividly, you remember the first time your father brought you into the Museum. You’d only been little, then, no more than ten but old enough to form lasting memories that would stick with you. Key moments in the spanning woven tapestry that grew and spread like roots with colors named ‘Happy’ and ‘Sad.’ A memory bank of images that never leave the screen behind your eyes. 

The statue had only been there because of the fire. 

Made by men’s hands, it really wasn't the responsibility of a Museum of Natural History, but this was a special case. The other, sister, building to this one was far off into the city and had been completely ablaze not a week prior by unknown circumstances. Your father’s friend had burned, along with many priceless artifacts that were housed there. But not this. 

The stone statue of the woman. Only here because it needed a place to rest before being sent out of state to a more… appropriate facility. They had flocked to her—marble scorched and covered in ash. Yet beautiful. Heavenly. Long arms reach up, a tiny bird held in the clutch of her stiff hands, presenting it to a far-off sky.

Cameras flash and eyes water.

“They’re calling her dīvīnā, Little One.” You had looked up at him, clutching onto your father’s shirt sleeve in wide innocence. He smiles softly.

“Di–” Your lips sputter and face heats, “Di-ven-a?” A small chuckle makes you huff, your expression souring. The man kneeled down, gripping under your pudgy chin and teasing.

“Not quite. Dee-veen-uh.” 

“What does that mean?” You stubbornly shake your head, confused, “why are they calling her that?” A kiss is planted on the top of your head, your father standing back up and laughing, as you once more look at the statue with wonder. Your eyes glitter.

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

To be loved like a woman in stone was a rare thing. 

You’re not quite sure why you remember that when you turn a swift corner, slamming a shoulder into it as bitter tears track your cheeks. The bloody hand that steadies you leaves a trail of crimson behind as evidence. You don’t slow, not even when Gaz’s hat threatens to fly off your head at the break-neck pace you set yourself on.

“The park,” you breathe raggedly, frantic slams of your shoes bouncing off the corralling buildings at your side as you dart out of the tree line and into the city streets. If you had been focusing, you’d realize you have no idea where you are; utterly alone while the violent sounds of firing guns and screams continue to bounce off airwaves. Too close. Too loud. “Oh, God, the people.” 

Cold couldn’t begin to describe your temperature. Frigid perhaps; shaking with frozen terror that makes you lose feeling in your limbs. Buggy eyes snap to shadows and trash in the alleyway like they were grabbing at you with phantom intentions. 

You don’t know when you lost Kyle—when you’d taken a turn too fast and completely disappeared or something else along those lines. But in your chest, your stiff ribs almost welcomed the solitude. You had looked into his eyes. Stifling a loud sob, you increase the pace as the screams behind you loom over your head like a cloud. 

Amber. Meadows. Deathly serious.

“No, no, no…” How had the attackers known you’d be out in the city? On campus? That white Sudan…How? 

You miss the rapid calls of your name in the background, equally as desperate as your instincts. Loud and distinctly British. Separated by stone and mirky puddles. You increase your velocity; moving farther and farther away. Run, you just need to run. From everything. From everyone. 

But when you rush one last corner, the large form that stands there isn’t a made-up phantom of the past. It isn’t a statue.

Skirting to an immediate stop, your legs quiver from the force and the dragging of your heels; your fingertips wrenching into your aggravated injury in retaliation. Gasping, your leaking eyes widen even farther at the covered face. The few feet of precious separation from the man that also surprised at the sudden arrival. 

A dead second of slow-motion thoughts and nothingness that seems like a year ensues. Not a single atom bounces. Had he been waiting for you?

You slowly look down with white eyes to notice the assault rifle in his shifting hands; the nervousness of hips as they rotate weight into a form that would remind you of a football player if you bothered to engage with that thought. The air is stuck in your nose. Blood pressurizes itself forward. You swallow tersely, one shoe shifting to take a step back carefully. No words, no exchange of sentiments. 

Only a target and a man holding a gun. 

“I…” You trail, lips not responding as the rabid pulse in your ears threatens to drown you with blackness. At the click of a safety, you’re running like a rabbit again, darting back down the same way you came as bullets explode through the corner you rampage past. 

“Gaz!” The call bounces to the sky, ringing off buildings. Was it possible to die from adrenaline? Everything burns a bright shade of red in the corner of your vision. Shouts ring from behind, a race of scarlet and duty now taking place with feral implications. 

This was what being prey felt like, and you had thought you'd only have to experience that feeling once. 

“Gaz!” You scream again, ripping vocal cords, and ducking as a round goes directly above your head, slapping your hands to the cap with gasping fear. How many were out there? Had they set a perimeter if you decided to run? 

This was a level of professionalism you never expected from terrorists. 

Sprinting past an open turn, a hand snags out, jerking you by the jacket collar as a second covers your mouth. Screaming, you bite down as your heart stops, mercilessly slashing out an elbow into hardened ribs. A sharp hiss meets your ear before the shadows of the inside of a doorway overhang swallow you. 

Your back is slammed into the barrier, breath on your forehead as your hand snaps to the pen knife in your pocket like a whip. The shock of electricity down your spine is inconsequential to the hand that flies over your mouth. It tightens before your eyes can adjust properly through the tears; fingers flinching fast past layers of cotton canvas. 

Lips dance over the shell of your ear. “Stop moving.” 

The struggling of your limbs halts, eyebrows slightly losing the agonized furrow. Heat wafts from the body pressed into your own—great bouts of natural warmth that you hadn’t felt in years from another human being. Your heart skips for it; muscles lessen. 

Goosebumps raise the hair on the back of your neck.

You blink rapidly, staring into the nose of Sergeant Garrick with a shuttering inhale behind his grip. Sensing your slowing pulse, his hand lowers, moving back immediately. Long fingers find his lips, signifying silence with nothing more than a tap and a frown. There’s still blood over his visage, splattering up his stubble and along his cheeks like paint as his jaw clenches with meaning. 

Wheezing, you shake with both fear and a sliver of ease even as your back aches from the force that the Brit had exerted to drag you back. You swallow down saliva and nod a number of times; completely out of it. 

You’re moved behind him with a firm push—a part of you flinches at the sudden chill that overtakes you once more—as the yelling gets closer from beyond your hidey-hole, a bulky thumping over the concrete ground like hail. You stare at Gaz’s neck as he grabs the pistol from his belt, leaning on the part of the wall that juts out with a single shoulder and barely peeking out. 

He blinks slowly, not even looking at you as his lips thin. He looks merciless and loose at the same time.

The man sprints past, barely making it a few feet from where you watch with stilled breath before Kyle separates from the wall. One shot is all it takes, and the stranger doesn’t even scream before he hits the ground; a last round being driven between his skull plates to silence any sound. 

It all falls silent after the reverberations cease—gunpowder in your nose and burning your throat. But it doesn’t even matter, because you’re already being forced along with a heavy hand on your shoulder before the blood can pool over the ground.

“C’mon.” He speaks blankly, whatever sly teasing and amusement from earlier today completely gone. “Exfil point is a block away—we need to move.”

You can’t do much more than follow, your head screaming at you. 

“B-but what about…” Wanting to ask about the people who are back in the park, not quite understanding the horror yet. 

Sensing this, Kyle knows it’s better to respond briefly. 

“They’re dead.” You flinch at the truth, hearing the bitter reality settle in coupled with the man’s bluntness. Gaz sends a side-eye your way, looking down at you from his lashes. 

While not willing to offer any comfort at the moment, he twitches his nose and simply states, “You need to stay focused,” while noticing the far-off look in your eyes; the rapid pulse under his grip. 

Humming under his breath, he leads you on ever faster, knowledgeable of the quickly dwindling bullets in his mag. As you both speed walk, he speaks through his earpiece, telling Kit the streets before the far-away man replies with the correct route to the Exfil point. 

“How’s the VIP?” Kit asks, and Kyle grunts, not giving anything more than a quick response.

“Alive. We’re nearly there.” He inhales slowly. “Multiple civilians down in the park.” 

“Copy, 2-6. Keep en route.” Gaz scoffs under his breath, surveying his surroundings as the wails of sirens fly over buildings. This never should have happened.

This brought him back to Piccadilly Circus; the start of his entire counter with 141 and subsequent approval into their ranks. He’d seen many things over the course of his deployments to the Middle East—when he’d put a target on his back when disrupting Opium supply lines. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with his comrades. 

Not with a girl that seems to want to put herself in every dangerous situation known to man.

Even with all the mental strain and uncomfortable scenarios he’d been in…watching innocent people die never got any easier. 

He moves you along; muscles wound and gun in a tight grip. Gaz tries to tell himself that you couldn’t have possibly imagined this happening and with how you were acting that would be the truth with no doubt. He’d told you, though, hadn’t he? That’s what really gets his jaw stiff.

I told her. And she didn’t listen. Didn’t even try to think it over.

You shake under his grip, and a part of him feels pity, honestly, but right now the severity of the situation is more important. 

“Take a left,” he utters, forcing you on with hardened brown eyes. You nod again, throat closed so tight you’re unsure if speaking is the right decision. 

Everything is a mixture of hot and cold—fingers burning yet arms shaking from a lack of heat; teeth chattering. 

The both of you were close now, only a few more winding turns left and the van should be waiting with the driver; authorities taking care of the shooters left in the park still searching for you. But these alleyways were like a rat’s maze. 

“Keep close,” Kyle offers, “We don’t know who else is—”

“Right!” Your yell makes him turn sharply, knife barely grazing the flesh of his neck as he weaves. Brown eyes flair with anger, gun in his grip just as easily coming up to the armed assailant. 

The covered face held no weapon besides a combat knife; another person intent on taking your life. How many were out here?

“What in the…?” Gaz grunts, but before he can bring the pistol up to pull the trigger, the man’s other hand is grabbing his wrist, twisting it to the side mercilessly and away. 

The Brit hisses, throwing out his other arm to block the knife from once more coming down to settle in his neck. These people were many in number, but how was it that they were so rusty? Anyone with combat sense knew it was best to go low before going high when attacking with a knife. Before he can swipe the Bastard’s legs out from under him, locked in that familiar battle of wills, Gaz hopes in his head you don’t run off again. 

Starting to gain the upper hand with gritted teeth and sparking eyes, there’s a swift thunking of metal meeting flesh moments later. Blinking wildly, Kyle’s face goes confused, slightly losing grip in that mere second of oddity. 

Then he sees it.

“Bloody Christ.” Gaz gasps, gazing at his own reflection in the hilt of a small pen knife stuck in the eye of his attacker who subsequently begins screaming wildly, trying to back up until the Sergeant shakes out of his shock. 

The gun levels with a chest, and it was done before the killer could rip the blade from his eye.

Only one bullet was fired until the small click of an empty barrel signaled that Kyle had used up his last round. The man falls into a heap and lays on the floor, a puddle of crimson leaking from his guts as he gasps and coughs. 

Breathing heavily, there’s a pause in the air. Gaz looks back at you slowly, eyes wide with astonishment. 

You stare back, right hand quivering and twice as bloody then it had been before. You had made a mirror slice on your palm by holding the blade and releasing it to hurdle forward loyally. Not that you knew that. 

No words are exchanged as the gurgling from the body falls silent, only the air speaks in brushing breezes that ruffle your jacket. 

“2-6,” Gaz’s earpiece speaks, but for a moment he’s stuck gazing into your eyes as you stare at the body, lips parted and jaw slackened. You’d just… “2-6, do you copy? Extraction is waiting for you.” 

Brown eyes snap away, feet quickly shuffling to rip your penknife out from the socket and place it in his pants pocket. Later.

“On it, Actual. Keep ‘em ready—we’re coming in hot.”

“Rog. Laswell’s been informed, expect request for a full security unit comin’ the lady’s way.” Frowning, Kyle doesn’t respond, having to physically turn your body away from the scene and move you forward. 

His X12 is slipped back into his belt, useless entirely. 

“Love,” Gaz speaks to you, trying to see if you’d respond, but your eyes stay blankly ahead; tears frozen in time on your cheeks yet the hysteria is shown in the stumbling of your legs. The racing pulse under your skin makes the Brit concerned. A stiff sigh is released before a decision is made with creased eyes.

You’re being lifted with little warning, carried into a bridal hold as if you weighed no more than a piece of paper. You gasp briefly, sense coming back in a flash of a thrown knife and a wide brown gaze. 

“H-hey!” The exclamation is met with a click of a tongue and increased footfalls, Kyle keeping you close to his chest with wind whipping past your ears. But you can’t think beyond the defining moments. The bodies in the park. The man you helped kill. Had killed. 

You force down the bile in your throat as Gaz’s warm body encompasses you. 

I didn’t…I didn’t do that, did I? You hadn’t thrown that blade. Couldn’t have. That would make you…

Your face tightens, brows creasing like tin foil. 

The van was torn open with a loud bark of ‘get us the fuck out of here,’ and a dumping of you onto the back seat only three minutes later; you didn’t have the thought capacity along that short run to tell Gaz to keep his hands off of you, or to stop sending you those glances with his hidden thoughts. All you could do was try and keep back the flooding hysteria. 

Kyle shoves himself into the car, slamming the door.

“Go!” He hits his fist on the back of the front seat and the driver peels out of the open alleyway with a screech of tires. 

Breathing heavily, you blankly look outside to watch the rushing police cars and ambulances dart past in the opposite direction. The streets were so condensed with fleeing people that they were having a hard time getting through, the flickering flashes of red and blue lights trapped behind your eyelids even as you blink and shake your vision away. 

Jesus, how many people are dead right now? How many were dying?

“Take us back to Base,” Gaz’s harsh accent drives a spike into your ribs. Focus on that. Focus on hating him. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the knife.

You force out through a shaking diaphragm. 

“Fuck no,” the air flips; driver sending a wide-eyed glance through the mirror as Kyle’s wound body stills like a flag on a stagnant day. You persuade a sneer to your lips.

Just make him angry. Make him yell at me—distract me. A vile form of self-destruction, sure, but you can’t start thinking about anything that just went down. 

You know how it would go if you had time to process. How the first year went after your father met his fate. You’d…You’d…

The Sergeant’s tone comes out in a snarl, “What’s that?” 

You’d never thought his file was true about that part. The hardheadedness and the opinionated side. When he was with you he always seemed level-headed; calm. Now though, it was like you didn’t have a grasp on his character like you thought you did. 

In the driver’s seat, Private Clancy clears his throat and grips the wheel tighter, not sure where to go.

“You heard me,” he had, Gaz’s ears had twitched at the curse—vulgar language not common from your tongue. “Fuck. No.” Eyes hard on his knee, you glare through very obvious fear. Kyle stares with venom lacing his silver tongue, lungs inflating. “I’m going home.”

“Home?” The Sergeant asks immediately, the car taking a left turn quickly. “Oh, my apologies, then,” he shakes his head, “Do you mean the exact place you’d be ambushed? Perhaps giving yourself up would be more your speed, Ma’am. Private,” Gaz glares into the rearview mirror, “Base, now.” 

“You do not get to dictate where I go, Garrick!” You scream, ripping his hat off your hair and pointing a finger with the same hand. A flash of amber replays in the back of your mind. Stop. Please, stop. “I am not going to the damn—!”

“People are dead!” Flinching, your shoulders hunch in faster than someone can blink, and brown eyes burn at you, jaw tight and teeth bared even as self-restraint tries to hold back a more poison-coated octave. The thin line between the two of you breaks. “Civilians!” You see Kyle take down a deep breath, his hands clenching. The next sentence is slow, but deep, “I don’t care what you bloody want because I’m not asking. I’m taking you in and getting a full Unit assigned.” Your heart freezes, lids going back in shock as sweat trails down your back. Gaz scoffs, turning away from you to run a hand over his hair. “Never should have agreed with Laswell and taken you on. I need to be with my team. You don’t listen!” 

Opening and closing your mouth, you stutter for an answer. 

“Take me home, Kyle,” your voice is breaking, but Gaz doesn’t even look in your direction; his lips firmly sealed as he glares at the headrest with his resting fist tapping periodically on his chin from the window-ledge. “Kyle.” 

He shakes his head to himself, and in a fit of infectious rage, you chuck his cap directly at his skull with a strong arm.

“You fucking pathetic twat! I just goddamn killed someone trying to save your useless life!” You bare your teeth and feel your throat constrict, eyes red and holding back a weeping deluge. Kyle growls under his breath as the hard brim slaps his temple, snatching it back mid-air. But his snapping reply stills on his lips when he meets your gaze head-on. His breath halts for a brief moment, recognizing the dwindling sense of control. Your words give him pause, and he doesn’t think you realize you’re looking into his eyes again as you rage. “I should have let the bastard tear your throat open—at least he’d be getting to do what I’ve always wanted since the moment you put a fucking gun to my head! For leaving my family a mess of blood and pain! Do…do you expect me to be thankful? For what?! All of this is your fault! Don’t you dare try and put the blame on me.” 

You’re sobbing, and the Sergeant watches silently, lips slightly parted as the driver gets more and more anxious. The car sputters along at a slow pace; everything relies on who wins this volatile battle. Brown eyes are stuck on the blatant brokenness of your gaze, for the first time able to study them without side-eyeing you or sneaking glances when you regard him by looking at his lips or nose. 

He’d never seen eyes like yours.

Blame? He didn’t blame you. Not…not entirely. But he was angry at you.

“For the love of God, I will chuck myself out of this car and sprint home—I don’t give a shit if I get shot at, Garrick. You and your little Task Force can go and fuck yourselves. You left my father with a hole in his head; made my mother leave me in a decaying house all alone and expected me to be okay with seeing my dad slump dead and feeling his blood drip off my chin. That fucking house.” Hands weaving through your locks, you wrench your eyes shut and the connection is severed in an instant, Gaz blinking back to the car with an unsteady inhalation of breath. His body is as still as a stone statue, fingers twitching when you finish with, “Fuck!” 

Foot stomping to the floor, you hunch forward, wailing in earnest as the blood on your hands makes you want to barf. Your head burns. Your throat aches. Everything felt like you were being rocked back and forth on a violent wave of self-loathing and hatred.  

“Stop it,” you rest your head between your knees, mouth open with desperate pants of air, “Fuck, p-please just stop it.”

No one knows what you’re referring to.

The car had parked a while ago—sitting in the parking lot far away from the park. Once a moment has passed, the Private only taps the wheel in the strangled moment of relative silence, and asks above your wet sobs, “Sir, I…Where are we going?” 

Kyle stares at you, opening his mouth to speak before it freezes and falls back shut. He swallows down the saliva in his throat before licking his lips, not looking at his cap before numbly putting it over his head with two hands.

“...Mansion.” The tires peel out slowly.

You don’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears; see above the red curtain settling. All you breathe down is death, and all you can think about is what went wrong. 

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

Your nails dig into your scalp harder, lips trying to strangle back sounds of a breaking mind. But you can feel his eyes on you as your face burns, digging deep when ruffling fabric makes you tense. 

Everything is so loud—too bright. You can’t focus on calming down…you…you need to—

A bomber jacket settles over your head, the sides draping down to your ankles as you blink back with panic. You’re about to scream before you realize where you are. 

Park. Car. Gaz.

The penknife.

Darkness surrounds you, and body heat suggests someone sits close. On the ground, you see a combat boot peak in from the makeshift shroud, shifting from time to time with unease and an inability to stay still. A blessing and a curse. Your bursting lungs begin to slow as you take count of the laces, studying the color and the shine. Letting the calming low-light seep right into your brain as your fingertips loosen. 

A throat lightly clears, and they tense again. 

 “We…we’re nearly back, Ma’am.” You don’t answer. Gaz sighs quietly under his breath, pressing to the earpiece sitting in his canal. “Actual, change of plans. I need a full Unit to sweep the entire VIP’s property—we’re heading back now.”

“I don’t think Laswell will go for that, 2-6.” Kyle peeks at your hidden form—the way you shake so violently he was afraid you’d shatter like glass. He thinks about what you said, not able to peel his eyes away. Even as he tries to force it down, his heart hurts.

“Do it. I’m not takin’ her to Base.” The Sergeant tits his head down, hand clenched. “It’ll make this worse than it already is.”

“...Rog. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Copy, Mate. Keep me updated, yeah?” 

Gaz thinks back to the alleyway and the penknife in his pocket feels heavier than stone. He hadn’t needed help. That wasn’t pride, that was just a fact. The Brit wasn’t as large as Soap—certainly not Ghost—though he was still well above average for what a regular workout would give you. Even if he did value integrity far better than brute strength he wasn’t like a dull blade. 

He’d had it under control. 

So why had you done that? Even you had expressed confusion over the action. For all intensive purposes, you should have wanted the terrorist to win. It seemed like you did.

“Hell,” Kyle whispers, bushing off the dried blood on his cheeks with the back of his hand as the city falls away to a slower-paced town. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the internal guilt was beginning to form. 

He hadn’t meant to yell. 

It had been a while since he’d worked Protection, had forgotten how much he should regulate his emotions. Gaz was used to strong bands of brothers—tight-knit groups that went in like a shadow and left with nothing but a whisper. That was One-Four-One; his brothers. 

But…brown eyes slowly rove to stare. Listening to the struggling breath like an animal being choked by a collar. 

You’d already gone through so much, and although he could grab you by the arm and shake with all his might, it wouldn’t change the fact that you didn’t know how this worked. 

He needed to keep his gentle approach, not force you back into the hole you were intent on keeping in. Gaz needed to fix this. Tell you. Show you. 

He’d do it tonight and if his honesty didn’t work even a smidge then he’d send in his offer for re-assignment. He’d made a mistake, and he was never one to let that stand.

By the time the van was pulling into the iron gate, held open by a black-clothed soldier, the property was already swept and cleared. Gaz opens his door and steps out, leaving it open on the off chance you would follow him. You didn’t, of course. 

“Sergeant,” the man’s face was covered with a balaclava, large of shoulders and chest. A hand is presented, and Kyle takes it with a soft greeting.

“How’s it looking?” 

“Everything’s in order, Sir. Laswell took the time to set us up back in town,” there’s a glance sent your way, and Kyle restrains himself from sidestepping and blocking the man’s view. His instincts were still rampant and he shifted his legs restlessly. “Figured the Lady wouldn’t be too keen on letting us stay here—can’t do anything without the inheritor's permission.”

Gaz blinks at that but only adds it to his databank. He knew you had control over who you allowed on the property, but hadn’t known you were the inheritor. 

Why hadn’t the estate gone to the wife? 

“Good to hear,” Kyle smiles slightly, tapping the side of his fist with the soldiers. “I can take it from here, yeah? See to it your men are comfortable and keep the radio up—we don’t know what else might be going on.”

“Copy, Sir.” When Gaz switches weight, looking into the interior of the car he’s already addressing you with a calm demeanor; ready to coax you out with a good chunk of his gut filled with apprehension. 

“Love…can you—” The car was empty, and before Kyle could begin to snap to attention, the black of his bomber jacket slashes his wide vision. A deep sigh falls after a second of exasperation, sarcasm about to be called over the air. Hands rub over eyes before itching at his cheek with a muttered, “Keep it light, Garrick. Sky’s not falling just yet.”  

He follows, concern growing steadily. 

You had killed a man. Lived through your first shootout. How was he supposed to make this work? You already hated him…what could he say? 

Gaz knew for a fact that it hadn’t fully hit you yet, and when it did, he was afraid you would break apart even more. But why was he so conflicted about staying or leaving?

Your feet carry you to the house quickly, head down and extra jacket over your shoulders that you don’t bother to flick off. Shoving past leaving soldiers that give you stiff looks as you pass makes your lungs hitch. You didn’t want them on your property—you didn’t know them. 

“Love!” Kyle calls your name from behind, and you hear his jogging feet catching up as your fast-snapping eyes find the black void in the bushes. 

The cat. 

Green eyes brush against your, slitted pupils corralled by overgrown foliage. It blinks slowly, and you force your head forward once more; un-cut hand snapping to your mouth to keep down the frantic way your lungs jump. 

Doors were of no obstacle to you, you shove through them with a hunched shoulder, letting it swing open and hit the wall with a defining bang of oak. 

“Hey! Slow down, would you?” Ripping your shoes off, you speed across the foyer, heart distressed. Before long your body points you down the hallway. 

Gaz rushes after, heart beating fast as your form disappears down a sharp corner that he grabs to swing himself past.

The black of his bomber jacket is a temporary sight before the barrier of a door slams shut, swallowing you whole. 

“I need to…!” Kyle halts to a quick stop, arms at his sides as his button-up stays rolled up at his elbows. Brown eyes close tightly.

“...Apologize.” He places a hand on his head, tilting back his neck, “Shit.”

—

By the time you realized you weren't in your room, it had already been too late to turn back around. 

You gradually come back into reality after a fitful anxiety-induced fatigue on your father’s office couch. Hours had passed, judging by the pitch darkness of the room; the temperature was already colder than you usually were used to. 

Eyes stare at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity, and it’s sad to think the only time that everything in your head calms down is when you can listen to the pipes in the walls. Creaking wood. Forcing yourself up, you hiss sharply, lids wrenching shut at the zinging pain up your right arm. 

Ripping your hand up, you blink rapidly through the achiness of your red eyes to stare down at the dried wounds. The twin gashes across your palm crack as you flex your fingers, crimson lines opening. Even as your sigh builds, you only watch them begin to bleed at the movement; not relaxing your muscles for the single purpose of not caring enough to. 

The skin was agitated. Itchy as well. 

I sent a knife into a man’s eye. You still, lips parted and numb. I watched people die one after the other because I went outside. This is…this is my fault. 

Kyle had been right. You don’t listen. You’re stubborn, vengeful. 

“But I can’t be anything else.” Whispers bounce off the walls; the coffee table ahead of you and the gargantuan desk behind where you’d play hide and seek in the gaps. 

You’d run to your father's office to try and find comfort you know you’d find nowhere else. Pull it from memories considering it was all you had left. 

But you can’t pull comfort for this. Part of you wants to put on the news—know the count of the dead. The other part says that would be worse. 

“Because of me.” You mumble, standing on unsteady legs that threaten to buckle. Your body is sore from all the running; fleeing from bullets. 

No, not because of you. 

Sucking in a slow breath and listening to the creaking of the house, the ghosts, you clear your throat to dispel the mucus. 

Because of your father. Mind racing, this event puts a hammer into the stained glass that was your family legacy. Before you could deny it—you could say it was Samson Row that was judge, jury, and executioner; while that was still true, what kind of people would fire on innocent bystanders to try and nail a single target? 

Turning, you think back to Laswell as your tongue licks at the dryness of your lips and your eyes move to attempt and paint a picture. You stop to look at the desk.

“Your father had sensitive information that searches of his shipping lot and museum office didn’t offer any leads on. While you’re spending more time at your home, I want you to look for them. Anything that involves other dealers or a location to a hub.”

Taking down a slow breath, the walls were suddenly suffocating you. Your father didn’t…he…he couldn’t have.

Your right hand pulses mockingly. 

Without knowing, your feet pad over the floor to his desk quietly, standing behind the chair and over the dust-hidden mahogany. The old lamp on the corner; the strewn papers that have faded ink and old script haunt you as you slide your vision over them. 

Museum exhibits that never got installed, bank statements, and more important documents pertaining to his job. You skim over them, bloody fingers leaving streaks in their delirious acts. 

Feeling the fiber under your flesh, you push them aside one by one. 

Nothing of interest. 

Your throat closes for no reason, skin goes slick with perspiration dribbling down your brow. Nothing, see. 

Blood drops down to the table as you hold your hand over it, loose and limp at the wrist but violently quivering. You watch. And then you start to open the drawers with a heated fervor, wiping at your forehead and leaving streaks of crimson. 

“There’s nothing.” You gasp. “Nothing. They’re dead because of nothing. I killed a man for nothing.” 

Guns fire in your mind; people scream like you had when sitting in that chair in a basement. Gaz’s eyes boring into you. You’d looked into his eyes not once but twice—the second of your own volition.  

“Nothing?!” Folders are grabbed and slammed to the desktop, exploding with a poof of dust that leaves you turning and sneezing violently before you stifle yourself. 

You’re ripping them open one after the other, burning in the back of your nose. A knife keeps releasing from your hand. A shove on your shoulder as a bullet hits a trash can that was used for cover. 

The black bomber jacket that had fallen off in your slumber and was now sitting in a heap on the floor. 

Innocent people. 

Fuck, they were screaming at you.

“There can’t be nothing.” You seethe, trepidation both your drug and your double-edged sword…what if you did find something? “There needs to—”

“Love…?” Air silences. “Are you alright in there?” 

There’s a shadow under the door, barely discernible over the darkness as you shiver. How long had he been there? How…how long had you been in here? 

Your fingers stop their aggressive tossing and you blink through the dizziness of your brain. Stumbling back a step or two, your hip bumps into the chair. Instantly, the large thing skids over the floor with its wooden legs as an ear-ringing screech as you grab onto the arm to stop from falling. Your skull pounded. 

Quick, loud, knocking starts. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Breathing quickly, your body shakes at the noise, the sound so similar to the sounds in the park. 

“S—,” your voice breaks, “Stop fucking knocking!” 

It stops instantly, and you pause there for more than a few moments glaring at the floor; brows tight and teeth biting into your lip. The quiet sound of a hesitant voice echoes after a minute.

“Could you open the door for me?” Gaz clears his throat as you stare at the wooden barrier with glinting eyes. An attempt at a kind chuckle. “...Been getting cramps in my neck from leanin’ back against the wall all night. And I, uh,” you close your eyes, “I think we need to have a conversation, Love. A real one, if you follow me.” 

You were tired, incomparably so, but even you knew he was right. What he had yelled at you in the car was true. All of this had gotten put into place with as much consideration as a mallet gives a nail. 

And Kyle had known all along what would come of it. A sliver of guilt stabs you. 

You didn’t have to like him—didn’t have to forgive him, because you probably never would—but you had to begin to listen. That didn’t mean stop pushing back, it just meant that his expertise was needed for the safety of the city as a whole. 

The city with the museum that your father had loved dearly.

Feet shuffling, you move around the desk, side-eyeing the now bloody contents atop with a numb expression as you move to the door. You had locked it, apparently. 

Not that you remember. 

Hand stuttering above the handle, you stop and listen with straining ears. A shifting body calls to the Sergeant’s anxiousness at your non-visibility. The erratic behavior. Resting your forehead over the wood, you truly wonder if there would ever be a time you were used to someone else living in this house. 

This house. Your house. 

It didn’t feel right for anyone to live here. 

“Are you there, Ma’am?” You open the door stiffly. 

Kyle’s face is tense, you can tell just by looking at his chin; how he holds his shoulder back like that. There’s a split-second where you both study each other—you, noticing how he’s still just as dirty as you, and him, seeing the focal point of the streak of red blood on your forehead. 

“What, Garrick,” you speak as he sees the ruffled nature of your clothes. Defeated muscles. “Here to tell me you were right?”

His legs cease their movements, mouth half-open with apologizing sentiments now snapping shut with a click of teeth. But not from anger. Concern. Why were you bleeding? Had he missed you being injured? Kyle had sworn you were alright—no shots had ever met their mark.

He’s touching you before he remembers to ask first.

You’re being swept back into the room and plopped down on the couch with no warning, and you don’t fight it. Warm hands grip your shoulders and squeeze quickly.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz rushes to the desk to flick on the lamp, “Why didn’t you tell me you were hit?!” Your eyes snap shut, blinking rapidly at the light.

Rays cascade over the room, the dust in the air being sent into dance classes with how they flew. Lids narrowed at the floor, your socked feet shift over the old rug, but you offered no answer over a soft shrug of your shoulders. 

Kyle gawks at the back of your head, rushing back over to check you over as he bends on one knee. Hesitating for only a moment, he first looks at your head, tilting it back and forth with a hand under your chin and the other by your ear. You’re cold under his grip and that makes him even more nervous.

How much blood had you lost?

“I need you to tell me where it—”

“Hand.” He blinks, staring at you for a second with surprise. Gazing down he sees the spasming limb with a small inhalation of air. 

You let him slowly move back, all digits moving to encompass the afflicted area. But he pauses. 

Frowning, you rub the side of your face into your shoulder as you hear the man suck down a sigh. Confusion lingers in your heart, but you care little at the moment. 

“May I?” In between the brief palpitations of your most important muscle, you forget for a second who’s in front of you. You forget the Sergeant. The Brit. 

Your face softens.

When had someone last asked you that? 

Your lids slide open and closed in surprise as Kyle waits, outwardly patient with an internal raging heart. 

“You’re already here, aren’t you?” The room is bathed in warm light and quiet creaking. Two people who don’t know how to act around one another suddenly suffocated with too many words. So they say nothing. 

Kyle grips your hand so softly that you have to hold your breath in order to keep sane. You want to rip it back from how warm he is.

“Christ, Love, you’re freezing.” It’s a low comment, passing more for a whisper as brown eyes snap up to you. But slowly he shifts your flesh with the dig of his firm fingers, running over the bone to check for internal damage until he flips it over entirely to see the real problem area. 

He holds in a sharp gasp. Tries to keep his cool as you stare at his bobbing neck.

“That…this’ll need stitches.” You hum. Gaze sliding to his face you say what first comes to mind as you draw a comparison to his twin scratches. You end up wondering if you’re drunk again.

“We match.” you point casually to Kyle’s left cheek. His were smaller than yours, of course. 

Gaz focuses on your eyes even as you choose not to look at him directly. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He attempts a weak chuckle, still holding your hands with the hope that you might take some of his heat for your own. Why were you so cold? “I suppose we do. Why don’t you come with me and I can get you all cared for, yeah?” 

You weren’t acting right, and for an instant, the Sergeant misses your snarky attitude. Anything was better than that bitter nothingness living in your expression. He was shocked. The woman who he’d had this iron impression of was using a chisel on it every instant she could. 

It only made him feel more and more like a prick. 

Fucking hell, Garrick. This is a whole different game. 

“How’d you get them, then?” You were in shock, speaking whatever came to mind with a far-off stare dunked in alarm. Kyle had seen it all before and it didn’t matter who it was plastered on. It was his duty to help. 

“Tell you what, Ma’am,” he stands, helping you up by the arm and sending a soft smile your way. “We’ll get you all proper again, and I’ll tell you all about my days in the police force. I wager you’d like that. History and all.”

“I like old history,” leading you out the door with a hand over your back that rubs small circles, he traverses the darkness and leads you to the shining light of his room one step at a time. 

He sends an amused glance, “That’s my old history. Pretty good, too, in my opinion.” 

You shiver again, and Kyle draws you a little closer, frowning tight. Your eye bore into the ground with cold sweat on your temple. He moves for a second to wipe it away but stops himself with a tight closing of his lids.

“Why would I care about that?”

“You just asked me, Love.” He reminds softly, turning the corner slowly as the two of your feet make the floorboards scream. This house was never quiet was it?

“Humph,” your sound bounces off the walls when Gaz makes it to his chosen room, the door already open and the light on.

He moves you to the cleanly made bed and lets you sit down while he walks to one of his bags by the wardrobe. A medical kit is pulled out, yet he keeps sending looks behind him to stare at you. 

Legs hanging off the bed, you can’t really tell if you’re here or if this is some strange point between delirium. For certain, though, you don’t feel good. 

Bleeding like a stuck pig and trying to keep your vomit down. It was all a state of far off sea-water. A roaring of waves in the back of your head. But there was a realization as Gaz shifts in front of you once more, face creased.

It is the realization that no matter what you do or what you try and change, you will always just be this. Stuck; stationary. Left to waste like the mansion itself—breaking down year after year until all that’s left is rotting wood and shattered stone. Blades of grass in the cracks and termites with fat bellies. But what was even worse was that you didn’t know how to function without this decay in your skin. The quiet rage pulled down beams of sanity. The agony a network of scuffed floors and dented walls. Shut curtains. Abandoned rooms and memories that shutter with every gust of wind. Ghosts in the hallways. 

Was it all real, or was it just a pigheaded attempt to find something to relate to? There was truth to it—there had to be.

This was home. 

This was you. 

This would always be you.

“You asked how I got my scars,” Kyle speaks and you notice his hand back in yours, skin tingling not from the medicated wipe he runs over your palm like a feather, but rather from the sensation of touch. 

Warm. It was a blanket of pure silk. A stuffed animal set into the dryer. How had you ever forgotten what that felt like? 

You hum an acknowledgment, flinching when the chemicals start to turn your hand numb. Gaz lightly shushes you, squeezing your wrist. 

For some reason, your nose starts burning at the action. 

“It’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” He stands, grabbing a chair from the corner table and bringing it over to place in front of your knees. The medical bag is placed beside you, various contents being taken out as elastic gloves are pulled over long fingers. “Where should I start then,” Kyle stares at your sad-tilted eyebrows. “The moment it happened or how I put myself into that bloody stupid situation?”

“Situation?” You utter, scoffing without venom, “Sounds pretty serious there, Sergeant.”

“Oh, trust me it was,” the way he places your hand in his lap is deeply intimate, disgustingly so, but even as you want to rage and shove him off, it hurts to think too deeply. “Terribly serious—I was undercover, y’know.” 

His soft expression holds you as the first stitch pierces your flesh. Pressure, no more. You frown, rubbing your eyes with your free limb. He pauses and glances your way, finding no pain, he continues on with the second, deft hold creating perfect knots.

“Ever done that, then? All your snooping around, I wouldn’t be surprised.” A smirk comes and goes on your lips. “Certainly seem the type, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Can’t say I have.” 

“Hm, well,” he chuckles. “Anyways, you see, it was a drug bust during my third year with the Blue. Opium. Sizable Mates running that whole operation. They found me out two bloody weeks in.” You blink to slight surprise, shoulders losing their hunch as you now have something else to draw your attention to. “Hoped to at least last a month, to be honest with you.”

“You’re insane.”

“Ah, probably, Ma’am.” Taking notice of the blood staining Gaz’s cap from earlier today when it was on your head, you bite your lip as the story continues. “I was held up in a shipping crate for a whole damn week, and this one fellow,” Kyle moves one hand up and your vision snaps to it, seeing him motion to his chin with a ‘U’ shaped hold, “proper beard on him, tells me I need to give up who I was.” 

“...Did you?” Lip quirking, the Sergeant finishes off the first row of sutures, grabbing another wipe and cleaning the area. He was happy you were focusing, at least, but you were still too shaky for his liking.

“Hell no—Bastard sucker-punched me. Happened to have a nice ring on his finger. Can only pray for whoever was married to the bloke. Ripped my cheek open something nasty, enough to make it scar over.” Both of you are surprised by the huff of laughter that jerks your chest. 

A pause as Kyle feels his chest go loose. That wasn’t a bad sound at all.

“Well, that’s it,” Gaz admits softly, halfway done with the second, smaller cut, “can’t say it’s all too amazing.”

“Because getting tortured by drug lords isn’t what you consider amazing, apparently.” You cough through your embarrassment, feeling slightly back to normal. Taking down a deep breath, you stare down at your palm as it gets sewn back together again. Hearing how the skin squelches.

“Well,” the Brit holds you delicately, a swelling of pride in his chest, “I’ve done a few bigger things than busting the likes of them. Stuff that meant a great deal more in the moment.”

The rest of the sutures and cleaning is done in total silence, and your lungs are suddenly able to work properly again. Kyle places a thick gauze pad atop the marks, holding it down while taking a roll of bandages; beginning to unravel them. 

His thumb is holding the end down when he whispers.

“Why didn’t you want my help?” You ran from him in the park—hid away when you were injured. None of his teammates would do that.

She’s not them. 

With a skip to your pulse, you hold your lips shut with an iron rod. That was the question, wasn’t it? You had run from the only person in the world that seemed to care whether you lived or died.

Peering at your palm, you speak the only truth you know, “Because then I’d have to admit something was wrong.”

There are more things you want to say to him—horrible things; pleas and nonsense—but in the end you just turn to stare at his neck with blood on your hand and stitches stuck in your flesh. 

Kyle’s eyebrows peel up, holding your hand in his own and suddenly more in tune with you than he ever had been before. 

“I…” He starts but doesn’t finish. Not for a long while. “I’m sorry, Love. For all of it. But you need to start listening to the things that I tell you—I’m here to keep you alive. It’s my first and my only priority. You need to be able to live with that.” 

He wasn’t sure there was more he could say. Your lips pull in, pressure living in your chest like an infection. 

“I hate you,” you say, eyes watering. Blood on your forehead.

“I know,” he responds, slowly, softly; wishing for a moment you’d look into his eyes again so you’d realize he’s finally starting to understand. 

TAGS:

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[nyctophicbtch]

But We’re Different

[ Lo’ak x avatar/human!reader ]

Summary: Some boys in the clan weren’t too friendly. They’d somehow convinced Lo’ak that you, a human, would never chose an outcast, let alone a na’vi, as your mate. You were left to figure out why he was unusually pulling away from you so much.

read the requests here, here and here

Warnings: not proofread, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, kissing, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 3,070

‘Don’t lose your avatar’. The scientists’ words replayed in your head, prompting a small smile from you as you lazily rolled onto your back with your eyes closed in enjoyment. The grass underneath you tickled your tail as it swayed languidly in content.

“Please never say that again.”

What?

For a second, you thought the familiar voices in the distance were all in your head until you realized they weren’t stopping. They grew louder with each passing second, pulling you unwillingly out of your blissful reverie.

“That’s gross!” Your eyes reluctantly opened as you heard footsteps in the distance and their conversation getting louder. It didn’t take long until you were greeted with the sight of Spider and Lo’ak laughing amongst themselves when they finally noticed you sprawled across the grass.

Already? you whined to yourself. The initial thought was to spend the first few rare moments as an avatar alone, and then find your friends afterwards.

“Hey, you’re finally out of your cage,” Spider pointed out, clearly amused, just as Lo’ak landed right beside you after jumping off the higher ground.

“I hate wearing those things,” you grumbled, nodding at Spider’s mask all the while stretching the sleep off your limbs. “I wish I could stay like this.”

“How does your body feel?”

“Feels nice.” You could barely hear your own soft words, rolling onto your side to face Lo’ak. Especially after being grounded from your avatar for so long. You honestly preferred being blue just because you were able to freely enjoy going outside without feeling suffocated by exopacks.

“Really?” The moment of peace was ruined as you abruptly jerked up and hissed when you felt Spider pull on your tail. “Your reflexes are good.”

Ignoring the boys’ laughter, you slapped Spider’s hand away from where he was still holding your tail.

“Bro, stop harassing her. It’s her first day out in weeks.”

“You guys are no fun.” You’d only blink and Spider had already made it up the trees, barely visible in your line of sight. “Keep up!”

You almost whined at the thought of having to get up and run around with them when you were already comfortable lying on the grass. “Can I stay here?”

“Nu uh. Norm said you gotta put those legs to use,” Lo’ak replied, urging you up to your feet.

The boy tugged on your arm, urging you to follow him through the trees and vines that blocked your path. The impatience was radiating off of him as you stumbled back and trailed slower behind him. It wasn’t as if you were unskilled in your feet. You were just a little rusty after weeks of not being in this body, that’s all.

“Slow down.”

When Lo’ak looked back and noticed how terribly shaped you actually were, a frown etched its way onto his face and he eased his movements to match your pace, placing his palm on the small of your back as some sort of support.

“You okay?”

“Yeah-“ before you could continue any further, you felt yourself trip on a large twig and stumbled on your feet, catching the way the corner of his lips curved the tiniest bit upwards. “I’m great.”

You steadied yourself with a firm hand to Lo’ak’s chest since the blue boy was too busy holding back his laugh to stop you from falling.

“Stop laughing,” you groaned, lightly shoving him away when you found yourself unable to hold your own smile.

“Okay, okay.” Lo’ak’s laughter ceased as he pried the hand that kept shoving him away from his chest. “Truce.”

Truce. That wasn’t the case, considering how Lo’ak playfully bested and annoyed you the whole way through the forest. You were far too relieved when you finally arrived by a particular waterfall, knowing full well that Lo’ak would finally stop teasing and pulling at your tail.

“What’d you need anyways?” asked the blue boy trailing behind you.

“I just left my journal.”

“You really can’t just leave it for a day?” Lo’ak received no response from you who most likely had not heard what he’d said, seeming as you had already disappeared behind the waterfall.

“Come on, it’s like you’ve replaced me with that thing ever since I gave it to you,” Lo’ak whined as he came up beside you, peeking over your shoulder to see the leather book in your hands.

“I didn’t replace you, skxawng.”

For a moment, you’d caught him off guard with your swift movements. He staggered back a little when you lightly hit his forehead with a finger, a frown etching its way onto his face.

“You care more about that thing than me,” he protested, purposely ignoring how you’d just flicked him on the forehead. “Are all sky people like this? I can’t see my dad finding paper inside a piece of leather interesting .”

“I don’t think he would. He doesn’t seem like the artsy type.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t actually know what he liked. Dad doesn’t bring up his human life often,” Lo’ak mentioned.

“We could always go to the lab after seeing the village. He’s kept some of the human stuff he brought from earth.”

As if trying to annoy you on purpose, the boy sat on your bed as you were about to leave, knowing full well he wouldn’t budge. He had a taunting smile on his face, grinning up at you as innocently as possible.

“Come on. You did this the last time we came here too.”

“I like your bed.”

It wasn’t the typical human bed you were used to in your original form, but it maintained the same concept. You did as much as you could to salvage the comfort of your room back in the lab out here using Pandoran medium and you’d say it had exceeded your expectations.

If your human form was to lay here, it would say otherwise though. The harsh surface would scratch and prick at your soft skin until it itched for days.

“Come on.” You tugged at his wrist in hopes that he’d get up, earning a dissatisfied groan from the Sully boy.

“Why are we in such a hurry?”

“I haven’t seen the village in weeks.” A final tug at his wrist got him staggering out of your bed, his palm instinctively finding its way to the small of your back.

“Calm down!” You rushed out of the cave’s entrance and left Lo’ak to grumble as he followed your footsteps, trudging through the water.

-

“He likes you too much for his own good.”

“Kiri,” you whined.

“He just won’t admit it because you’re human and he’s a skxawng who’s afraid of rejection.”

Your cheeks flushed, only validating Kiri’s accusations even more. Fortunately, the sounds of distant shouting outside saved you from further embarrassment. You left the tent without much thought.

“What did I say, boy?”

The sight before you wasn’t anything new. You’d seen Jake scolding his sons a couple of times, but you’d never seen them this tense.

“I only asked one thing of you. One! And you still managed to disobey me.” Lo’ak had his head hung low, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than anything else. You could see his ears perk up a tiny bit when he heard your footsteps approaching.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Next time you pull something like that I’m gonna knot your tail. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy gritted out, blinking a couple of times to keep the tears at bay when he heard snickering from the Na’vi behind him. Jake hadn’t seemed to notice though, or he was too angry to care and left towards the other direction.

You wanted to do nothing more than to punch the boys making fun of him to shut their mouths close, but your eyes softened when you saw Lo’ak looking up and closing his eyes to prevent tears from escaping them and decided to approach him instead.

“Lo’ak,” you softly called out, drawing his attention to you as you reached a hand to place on his arm. When he turned to look at you, your heart ached at the hurt on his face.

“Leave me alone.” He’d intended it to sound harsher than it had come out, but his hesitation seeped through when he attempted to pull his arm away from you, confirming that he didn’t actually want you to leave him alone.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he continued when you made no move to leave. The small crowd that had formed started to dissipate and people left, minding their own business. “I didn’t even start it. They all think I’m easy to mess with because I’m an outcast. Because I’m a halfbreed.” He spat out the last word, as if it was a curse he was stuck with.

He didn’t need to explain to you. You didn’t need an explanation. This had happened countless times, where boys provoke and make fun of him. But from the looks of it, he had lost his composure this time.

“I mean, look at my brother. You don’t see people making fun of him everyday.” You caught the way he subtly eyed his fingers and you slowly wandered your hand lower.

The quick and curious movements of his tail captured your attention and you decided to test the waters. You intertwined your fingers with his, noticing how they fit perfectly against each other.

“I’m as much an outcast as you are, Lo.”

“That’s- that’s not what I meant.” Now he just felt bad. He’d unintentionally called you an outcast too and he felt his heart drop when he’d realized.

But your gentle gaze assured him that you hadn’t been hurt or offended by his words, and he let out a small breath of relief, grasping your arm with his other hand almost desperately.

“You’re much more than just a halfbreed,” you stated, placing a hand on his chest. The sully’s gaze dropped to your hand and he was almost certain you could feel his heart’s increasing pace. “You have a strong, kind heart. They do not see that. But I see it.”

And I see you, you wanted to scream out. You desperately wished to say the words that had been caught in your throat far too many times. And maybe Lo’ak wished he had heard it from you as well.

But the unspoken barrier between you two still remained. He couldn’t care less what his people would think of you as his, but he was too sure that you wouldn’t see someone like him. Someone of different species; an outcast. A failure.

So he did what he’d always done. He retracted away from you. From your touch. And you didn’t even try to hide your disappointment, looking like a kicked puppy with the hurt evident in your eyes.

“Why don’t we look at those human stuff your dad stashed in the lab. It might cheer you up,” you suggested, averting the topic in attempts to dismiss the sting from his open rejection.

“Yeah.” It was only mere seconds before the two of you were giggling as you ran through the forest, hand in hand, forgetting the past few minutes that had just happened.

The lab wasn’t far from the village, and you silently thanked Max for bringing Jake’s old stuff to the new location of the lab. It was just on the outskirts of the forest, covered by a few overgrown leaves and vines that you could easily spot.

“They gathered his old stuff from the old lab and kept it in a box,” you said, parting your hand from his to push through the doors.

“Hey, Norm,” you greeted when you caught sight of the familiar scientist.

“Hey, kid, Lo’ak.”

“You know where Max keeps Jake’s old stuff?” Your eyes wandered around the lab, curious to what could’ve changed in a few hours, tail swaying leisurely behind you.

“Yeah, in the storage room. Why?”

“I’m taking Lo’ak to a trip down the memory lane.”

“Alright, but don’t go making a mess in there,” he warned, knowing full well what the two of you were capable of. “And go give your avatar a break. Your human body could use some attention.”

You looked to Lo’ak, finding his eyes already on yours as he grabbed a mask from one of the stands.

“Go ahead. I’ll meet you in your unit,” he assured.

It wasn’t as if he had never seen you in your human form. He’d done this plenty of times and was used to you having to switch from your avatar to avoid draining either bodies.

The boy gave you a small smile before leaving the room, most likely to go find your link unit.

“I’m serious, kid. I better not find the storage room in shambles when I come back.”

-

“No way,” you deadpanned. “Your dad read comics?”

“How do they even make these?” Lo’ak ignored your question, eyeing the characters drawn on the front cover. He held onto the edge of the comic he fished from one of the boxes, lifting it above his head so he could inspect the overlapping pages.

“There’s so much… detail.”

“It’s called printing.” You smiled at how innocently curious he was, rummaging through some more boxes.

“And he has action figures?” That certainly caught Lo’ak’s attention. He dropped the comic and raised his fingers to touch the plastic toy, slowly tilting his head in amusement.

“They look like the toys Tuk plays with, but less- wooden.”

You handed the action figure to let Lo’ak inspect it, digging through the box only to find the entire thing filled with action figures representing mythological characters back on earth.

“Didn’t take your dad for a mythology fan.”

“What do you use this for?” He had pulled out a cylindrical container, something too heavy to carry around with your frail human body.

“That’s for water. We have to buy clean water back on earth.”

“What? You guys don’t even have access to water?”

“Not with most of the planet dying, no.” It wasn’t as if you really knew how it felt living on your dying planet though. You’d spent your entire life on Pandora, only picking up little bits of earth’s culture from the scientists in the lab.

“Yikes. I see why you came here.”

“I was born here, skxawng.” You hit the back of his head, earning a hearty laugh in return.

“Really? You were? I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he gasped, placing a hand above his heart in exaggeration. He had only broken his composure once you pulled on his ear, hearing a wince leave him when you dragged the boy towards you.

“You’re so aggressive. Are you sure you’re human?”

“Maybe I spend too much time with you.”

A grin made its way to his face before it was quickly swept away and a faint frown formed in its place, his eyes saddening. You felt your own frown forming, mirroring his sudden actions.

This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. You were just trying to get him to forget the stupid boys. Did you do something wrong? Say anything offensive?

“Lo’ak-“

“Maybe you do spend too much time with me.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Just- think of it,” he said angrily. “Everyone in the clan loves you, even more than they do me. You can see the disappointment in their eyes when you come back, hand in hand with me. You would be so much better off if I wasn’t getting you into trouble all the time.”

“That’s not true-“

“You know it is.” If you were in your avatar right now, your ears would slump down the furthest it could go. Where did this come from? He was never this upset when it came to you spending so much time with him.

“Is this about At’wey?”

His lack of response told you everything you needed to know.

“What they say is not true.”

“You don’t get it.” Lo’ak ran a hand through his braids in frustration. “It’s not just about getting you in trouble.”

His tail was flicking from side to side, agitated. The sully clearly looked conflicted whether to repeat what the boys said to him or to keep it to himself.

“Look,” he said after a moment of hesitation, lowering himself to sit on the floor in front of you. “They know you’re a sore spot for me.”

The perplexed look you gave only encouraged him to explain further.

“What makes you think she’d want you? She’s human. You’re na’vi. That wouldn’t even work. There’s plenty of humans in the lab she can choose from,” he mimicked their lines as accurately as his memory would allow him.

“What’s worse is that I’m not just different from you. I get you into trouble all the time and I always mess things up.”

Your frown deepened when his gaze turned to the floor and you mustered the courage to cup the side of his face with your hand.

“I don’t care about those things, Lo’ak. I’ve already chosen you. I see you.”

His eyes finally met yours and you swore his face visibly lit up at your words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes shifted lower, especially with the way he was shamelessly eyeing your lips, his own slightly parted in a trance.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

A small smile made its way to your lips and Lo’ak felt his heart stutter in its cage. You were so close. And he could just lean in.

“I see you.”

Your lips were on his in less than a second, drawing a tiny gasp out of his mouth. You felt so small against him, and your hands were warm wherever they lingered, leaving his skin melting under your touch.

His large hands trailed down from your hips, staying on your ass for a bit too long before bringing them further down towards the back of your thighs. The Sully caught you off guard by pulling you into his lap, and your eyes opened for a brief second, catching a glimpse at the way his tail suggestively swayed from side to side against the cold floor.

“Lo’ak,” you practically whined, causing the na’vi to pull away from your lips and bury his face into the crook of your neck, gently nipping at the soft skin.

“Yes?”

“I think Norm heard us.”

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 3 Summary:

Falling back into old habits, you snoop through Joel's things only to find pieces of his past. After catching you with a certain photo, Joel leaves you in a panic.

Warnings: Angst/Comfort, Religious Trauma, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drinking, Joel being mean and then soft, spiciness near the end, A/B/O Dynamics

A/N: Hey guys, I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. Thank you so much for reading. As always, watch out for a bit of religious trauma if that is something that is a trigger. Minors DNI! Joel is also fighting a losing battle with himself, do we think he's going to be able to keep it in his pants for 6 months?

Chapter 3/20

Chapter 3: The Rebel & The Old Man

Sweat poured down Joel’s back as he ran as fast as his legs would take him. He had been here before, he had run through the halls of Saint Mary’s hospital time and time again only to find Ellie’s corpse. Sometimes it was even Sarah. Either way, he was always too late. The feeling of loss, insurmountable and piercing, burying itself in his chest was usually what woke him up, but this time was different. 

This time Joel had ripped open the door, breathless as he always was and filled with rage, only to find you. You, draped in a gown similar to the one Ellie had worn, except no open skull greeted him. They had put you out, and you laid on the cold table blissfully unaware of the firefly about to start picking at your brain. A fresh wave of panic hit Joel and made him stumble forward into the sterile room. 

An all too familiar voice pulled him from his despair, “What are you doing here?” 

Joel’s head snapped up, a low growl bubbled from the depths of his chest as he came face to face with the man that he wished he could kill twice. Perhaps sensing the bloodlust that had Joel practically frothing at mouth in front of him, the doctor turned away only to grab a scalpel from the surgical tray behind him. 

The man held the scalpel out in front of himself, his hands shaking as he tried desperately to ward Joel off. As if that could hinder the hulking beast that clawed at the confines of Joel’s chest, screaming at him to rip the shaking man apart for even thinking that he could harm you. Pathetic really, Joel thought. 

“I won’t let you take her. This is our future. Think of the liv-,” the blade that Joel had shoved through his throat cut the doctor off as he fell to the ground choking on his blood, eyes wheeling around the room as he retched and shook. Joel had heard the speech before, he didn’t need to hear it again with you in such a vulnerable position behind him. 

Joel heard the nurses screaming as he moved towards you and began to pull the wires off of your frame, cradling you to his chest and breathing in your warmth. 

“NO! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!,” he heard one of them scream and it made him suppress the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. An animal? You’re goddamn right I’m a fucking animal, Joel thought to himself as he pushed through the doors. 

As he sprinted through the hospital, trying to dodge the fireflies at every corner, he spoke to you over the bullets whizzing past his head, “It’s okay darling, I’ve gotcha. I’m gonna protect you, I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you omega.” 

Joel turned the corner, fireflies hot on his heels and swallowing the bile that soured his mouth, only to find an open elevator. For a moment, he felt relief as he moved towards his goal. But then, just as he thought he might actually make it this time, Joel felt his limbs suddenly grow heavy. 

“No, no, no, no…,” Joel cried out as his pace slowed, his voice breaking as tears began to blur his vision, his legs feeling as if they had been filled with cement. 

Joel turned towards his pursuers, suddenly feeling the sickening sting of deja vu as he began to plead for your life. He knew it wouldn’t matter to them, just as it didn’t matter twenty four years earlier when the soldier had killed Sarah. It didn’t stop Joel from crying out, desperately begging for them to spare you. They shot anyway. 

-

Gasping, Joel shot off the couch like a bat out of hell. He whipped his head around the room, disoriented and unsure where he was for a moment. His chest felt tight and as he stood in the living room getting his bearings, he worried for a moment that he was having a heart attack. No, Joel decided, assholes like him didn’t get off that easy. 

Finally catching his breath, the pounding in his head left little black dots in his vision as Joel was greeted with the aroma that crept down the hall from his bedroom. He swayed on his feet as it beckoned him closer. Groaning, Joel scrubbed the tears from his eyes as he lowered himself back down on the now sweat soaked couch. 

What the fuck was he going to do? What had he already done? He shouldn’t have talked to you like that, shouldn’t have let you stay, shouldn’t have pulled you into his lap and let you scent him, he shouldn’t have basked in the feeling of an omega rubbing themselves all over him as he willed himself not to pop his knot like he was a fucking teenager. What the fuck was he thinking? Gritting his teeth, Joel shoved the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he tried to wade through the shame that filled his being. A shame that was almost like an old friend, one that Joel had grown accustomed to, comfortable even. This process was made incredibly difficult with the delicious smell that had him lifting his nose, a smell that reached into his aching chest to sink its hooks into his lungs and pull him to his feet. 

Fighting against his own nature every step of the way, Joel trudged towards the bedroom. He tried to reason with himself as he moved to open the door, trying desperately to remain in the comfort of his own torment. You were probably sleeping and plus, being the creepy old guy that watched young women sleep is not a good look he tried desperately to hammer into his brain. It was no use and Joel crept into the room as quietly as he could, mouth watering as he gulped down the warm air. 

And there you were, even breaths soothing the sting of loss that plagued him and replacing it with something new. Joel felt a deep sense of purpose slam into him, his movements not even registering as he saw you shiver atop of the blankets. Joel carefully lifted you from the soft mattress, your hand coming up to grasp two of his fingers in a loose fist. Pulling off the covers, Joel laid you back down, allowing you to keep holding him as he fussed with the pillow behind your head for a moment before he was satisfied. The need to provide sated, Joel moved towards the door feeling as though he might fall asleep before he even reached the couch. 

This plan was thwarted as the loose grasp on his fingers tightened, holding him hostage. Joel stood over you a moment, unsure of what to do. Yes, Joel could pull his fingers from your grasp easily, yet he hesitated. Looking down at you sleeping, Joel suddenly felt greedy. He needed to stay, to make sure you slept well, to make sure you didn’t need anything, and how dare he think of doing something that might disturb your sleep? Joel sighed, coming to the realization that fighting off the overwhelming urge to satiate your every need was like fighting with the wind. 

Letting his own instincts overwhelm him, Joel dropped to his knees along the bedside and covered your hand in his. Ignoring the ache that already bit at the muscles in his legs, Joel laid his chin on the mattress and watched you through tired eyes. The feeling that Joel felt as he looked at you in that moment was indescribable, like someone had found a way to pump ativan into the air he breathed. Feeling his heart rate slow and tense muscles finally ease, Joel drifted off at your bedside. 

- You -

A breeze woke you from a dreamless sleep, your hair tickling your nose as air bristled through the strands. You hummed, moving to stretch your arms over your head before you felt a warm weight covering one of your hands. Your eyes snapped open, gasping as you found a beautiful yet confusing sight. 

Joel slept at your bedside, leaned forward on his knees with his face almost meeting yours on the pillow. One hand covered your own, a layer of sweat forming between you, while he used the other for a pillow under his pink cheek. His breath puffed out from his lips, fanning out over your face and making you smile. He looked so peaceful like this, almost childlike with the lines on his face soothed by rest. 

You reached out a hand, tentatively smoothing down the curls that had flopped over his forehead and cupping his whiskered cheek. Joel made a small noise, nose twitching for a moment before he settled back into his slumber. You wondered if he knew how striking he was and you longed to wake him so that you could tell him, but you decided against it. 

Suddenly feeling how parched you were, you took him in once more, memorizing his beauty before you eased your hand out from under his. Joel’s fingers twitched momentarily, as if annoyed by your departure, and you waited until he settled before you crept off the bed and out of the room. 

Shivers shook your frame as you moved into the living room, the floors biting unforgivingly at your feet. It was so much warmer in the room with Joel, heat seemed to radiate from his large frame and cover you like a blanket. Ignoring the urge to go back into the cocoon of his company, you drifted into the kitchen and pilfered through the fridge before finding a water bottle. Tearing off the lid, you tilted your head and let the cold water slide down your throat. 

Thirst quenched, you decided to poke around some more. Curiosity killed the Christian, you remembered hearing Josiah say when you had questioned his teachings once. You laugh quietly, remembering how Rachel shot her mate a sharp look as she had sucked her teeth at that. Miriam had pulled you aside after that bible study, your arm smarting from the surprising strength the small woman had used to yank you into a corner. You remember Miriam telling you not to listen to him, that you came from a people that asked questions about everything. Before you could ask what she meant your mother had snatched you from Miriam’s grasp, sending an icy glare her way.

“Do not fill her head with your own beliefs,” your mother had spat, twisting your wrist in her grasp as you winced. 

Miriam opened and closed her mouth, softening her gaze as she looked between you and your mother before she spoke. 

“But her father…,” she sighed before continuing, “She has a right to know about her own people, he wouldn’t have wanted his daughter -” 

“Do not think to speak to me about what Abe wanted, you have no right,” your mother had replied, her voice now cold. 

You watched as Rachel moved towards her mate, smelling the anguish that was souring Miriam’s scent as she stood in front of your mother. Arm wrapping around her waist, she accessed the situation before asking if everything was okay. 

“Fine,” your mother had said, her voice dripping with sarcasm before she stepped towards Miriam threateningly. 

Lowering her voice she practically growled at the older omega, placing her body in front of you in a show of protectiveness you didn’t even know she was capable of. 

“I would like to remind you of the situation you are in, with your… history. Do you think he would forgive you if that got out? That he would just let it go?” 

Miriam’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in fear as your mother snarled at her. 

“Do you think that my daughter is protected because of me? That he would let it go if he knew?,” a bitter laugh left your mother’s thin lips before she continued on, “No. She would end up like the rest. So the next time you want to be valiant and teach MY pup something out of some misplaced loyalty to her father, I would like to remind you that Abe would have wanted her ALIVE.” 

After that incident your mother had locked you inside for nearly a month, not even allowing you out to go to bible study. Punishment, she had told Josiah, for being too nosy about sinful things. He hadn’t questioned it, seemingly thrilled at your mother’s show of righteousness. Annoyed, and confused as to what had passed between Miriam and your mother, you had swallowed your protests and scrubbed every inch of the house while mulling over what Josiah had said. 

You decided that you agreed with Miriam, even though you couldn’t grasp what she had meant by YOUR people. You would have to swallow your curiosity for the foreseeable future. You resigned yourself to silence, but not compliance. You would not ask Josiah where he put the books he had confiscated from Jake’s aunt, books that had her locked in the pit for two weeks, rather you would wait until he looked the other way before snatching them from the burn pile. Sliding two of them under your thick sweater, you had feigned a sudden burst of nausea so that you could run home and shove them underneath the floorboards in your room, where they would stay until Jake could collect them. 

Sneaking around had become a second nature to you, and you were comforted by the habit as you tiptoed throughout the cabin, softly opening drawers and sifting through the contents. There wasn’t much, a few fishing flies, a couple of comic books from a series called Savage Starlight shoved under the extra blankets in the linen closet, a few guitar picks here and there, nothing that out of place. That was until you reached the side table next to the couch. Kneeling down and easing the drawer open, you were greeted with pictures. 

The first was of a younger Joel, maybe mid twenties, smiling next to a younger man dressed sharply in a military uniform. The younger man is handsome, with his black curls slicked back and an easy smile on his face as he jokingly saluted the camera, but not quite as handsome as the man that stands at his side, sticking his thumb out in the younger man’s direction as if to say get a load of this guy. It dawned on you that the younger man is Joel’s brother, had to be, as your eyes bounced between the two faces frozen in the picture. You flipped the picture, reading the loopy cursive writing on the back. 

Tommy’s Basic Training graduation, look at my handsome boys! 

You smiled, placing the picture on the side table before grabbing the next one. The next one showed two young boys, the older one undoubtedly Joel as his puppy dog eyes stared back at you. You suppressed a giggle as you took in his cowboy costume, Joel’s thumbs hooked into his belt loops, and a fake scowl on his face like a true gunslinger. His brother, Tommy you remember, stood next to him dressed like a vampire as he sobbed at the camera. A man with Joel’s eyes and nose was crouched in between them with his arms around their shoulders, a vein popping out of his forehead from how hard he was laughing. Curious once more, you flipped the picture. 

After weeks of begging, Tommy decided he wanted to be a cowboy, maybe next year we should get two of whatever Joel wants - haha! 

You laughed at that, placing the picture atop the other one before digging out the last one. You stilled as your eyes scanned the glossy paper, the bitter feeling of guilt swirling in your gut. You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be going through Joel’s stuff when he has already done so much for you, you should put the pictures back and forget about them. But you don’t. You sit there and look at a younger Joel, smiling easily as his large hand covers the eyes of a curly haired young girl. One of her hands covers his, clearly trying and failing to pull his hand off as she laughed at his antics. You shakily flipped the photo, bile rising from your churning stomach as you read the back of the last photo. 

Joel and Sarah Miller - 2002 

Guilt filled you as you read the words over and over. It was his daughter, you knew that for sure as you saw the shape of his lips and his dimples mirrored onto the girl’s face. You felt like you had been punched, your heart shattering for Joel. He had lost his pup? A small whine left your lips as you turned the picture around. Poor Joel, poor alpha. 

“What the fuck are you doing?,” a gruff voice snapped, breaking you from your pity. 

You froze, a feeling of dread making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Sighing, you looked up at the dark figure standing in the doorway. Joel’s hair was a mess, curls matted against his face on one side and standing straight up on the other like he had been electrocuted. His cheeks lined from the sheets and eyes slightly watery, you watched as Joel went from groggy to alert in seconds as he took in the scene before him. 

So many emotions flickered on his face. Confusion, surprise, sadness, before finally landing on anger. Squaring his shoulders, Joel stomped over to you, snatching the pictures from you before he shoved them back into the drawer. Slamming it shut, Joel flared his nostrils as he looked down at you in a sullen silence. 

“I-I…Joel, I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, I didn’t… I’m sorry,” you said, eyes pleading as you looked up at his face while his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

The glare Joel gave you felt like a knife through your heart. You couldn’t even stop the whimper you let out as he narrowed his eyes before letting out a venomous, “Don’t.” 

Joel turned from you then and picked up his jacket from the hook near the door, shoving his arms into the sleeves aggressively. Grumbling to himself, he worked on lacing up his boots as you trailed behind him anxiously. 

“Joel, I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t go, it’s not even light out yet. Just wait a few hours until sunrise. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor-,” he cut you off with just a look and tears began to spill down your cheeks as he pushed past you, slamming the door on the way out. 

Silence hits you like a freight train, a bitter feeling of loneliness drawing a loud sob from you. Sinking down to your hands and knees as your cries echoed off the walls of the empty cabin, you felt like you had just lost a limb. You flopped forward onto the cold ground, curling up into a ball as hot tears ran down your cheeks, filling your open mouth as you wailed. 

- Joel - 

Betrayal. 

There’s no other words for what Joel felt in this moment. He felt betrayed by you. It wasn’t the fact that you had gone through his things, he almost expected that. You’d be stupid not to make sure he didn’t have a closet full of skin suits or something creepy like that. Joel had expected a certain level of snooping. It wasn’t that you had found his pictures either. He did feel slightly uncomfortable seeing you hold a picture of his dead daughter, feeling like he should have told you for a moment before shaking himself out of his reverie. He had to remind himself that didn’t know you like that, you weren’t his. 

None of that had bothered Joel, which was surprising to him. No, what had bothered him was the way that you had looked at him. Pity had drawn your features in tight, regarding Joel like he was a kicked puppy. It had shocked him, anger boiling his blood as he watched you looking at him like he was helpless. How dare you? He wasn’t helpless, he was perfectly fine, fuck you for making him feel that way. 

Joel walked through the twilight, the sun teasing the dark sky with its presence as he growled to himself. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get away from you before he said something he would regret or worse, before he broke down in tears. He couldn’t do that, that would just serve as proof that what you thought about him was true. Helpless, he thought as he angrily kicked the rocks beneath his feet. 

Maybe Joel was overreacting, he knew that, but the look you had given him seemed to solidify what he already knew. That he was incapable of doing… literally anything he was supposed to do. You knew that Sarah had died now, proving that he was a bad alpha, a bad protector. Imagine how much worse it would be if you found out about Ellie. He groaned, imagining how his already bruised dignity would be squashed under your pitiful glance. Joel tore at his hair for a moment before continuing to weave through the trees, stopping as he came to the river. 

The roar of the river distracted him for a moment, watching as the water swelled over the banks, lifting the plants that resided there for a moment before rushing downstream. Joel took a breath, coming back to himself as his heart slowed. His eyes moved over to the spot he had found you, now covered with the swollen stream. It must have rained last night. Fuck, what would have happened if he hadn’t have found you? You would have froze to death. The thought made his heart leap into his throat. He cussed softly as a guilt twisted his intestines, he shouldn’t have been that hard on you. 

Pity or not, you were right. Joel was helpless, he was incapable. Why the fuck else would he be all the way out here? Yeah, you had gone through his things but he was the one that left the photos face up in the drawer for you to find. He hadn’t even put them somewhere more intimate, like a nightstand, he had left proof of his past in the living room. You could’ve stumbled upon it looking for a pencil or a bookmark. Swallowing his feelings of betrayal, Joel steeled himself before turning back towards the forest, deciding that he would check the traps before heading back to his om - to you. 

-

Joel stopped at the door, sighing to himself as he debated on turning back towards the treeline. No, he decided, he had to face this. You were going to be here a long time and if he wanted it to be bearable, he would have to bury the hatchet. Brushing off the dirt from his pants, Joel sucked his teeth for a moment before making his way inside. 

Stumbling back, Joel gagged as the smell of the room slapped him in the face. Your soothing aroma smelled burnt and rotten, the stagnant air making him panic as his eyes scanned the room. Where the fuck were you? 

“Darling?,” he called out, nothing but silence answering him as his voice bounced off the walls. 

Fear shot through him as he tore through the cabin, checking every room before practically ripping the bedroom door off of its hinges. Joel stomped into the room, his breaths coming out faster now with you seemingly gone. Fuck, you must’ve have run off, oh my fucking god no, no, no, no. It’s too cold, you don’t have any food, what if you get hurt? He was bad, he made you leave him, he needed to find you, he needed - 

Joel’s ears pricked up, catching a small whine that pulled him from the panic attack he was about to have. Running over to the closet door, he flung it open, looking down and being met with the sight of you curled up on a pile of clothes you must have pulled from his hamper. You were faced away from him, hugging yourself as shaky breaths made their way up your throat. 

“Oh sweet girl,” Joel said mournfully, feeling like an asshole as he reached out to turn you towards him. 

Another whine, stronger this time, left your lips as you shoved weakly at his grasp. Joel let out a low growl and your protests stopped, resigning yourself as he pulled you from the closet and walked you over to the bed. Groaning as his knees popped and cursing himself for falling asleep the way he had earlier, Joel positioned himself against the headboard with you in his lap. 

You were completely limp, the only sign of life being the shiver you let out as Joel began to rub circles into your back. Guilt sliced through his chest as he tried to pull you from this state, moving his other hand to your hair to scritch at your scalp as he had last night. He knew that he had fucked up. Why had he left you like that? Only Joel would be stupid enough to let you cry it out on your own, stupid alpha, bad alpha, fuck, fuck, fuck -, your voice pulled him from his self hatred. 

“I’m sorry alpha,” you whispered into his skin, a fresh wave of cries wracking your body.

Joel sighed, swallowing his pride before pulling your face from his shoulder. He took your chin in his hands, forcing your reddened eyes to meet his. He saw guilt, the same that he felt now, reflected on your wet face and it made him want to scream. 

“S’okay darling, it - I mean…,” he stopped for a moment before continuing, “I just wasn’t expecting it sweet girl, I overreacted. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Confusion flashed in your eyes as you studied him, shaking your head at his words as they left his mouth. 

“No, it IS my fault. You let me in, gave me food, a place to sleep, and I went through your things. I’m sorry I just thought -,” you froze, pulling your face from his hands and sitting back. 

Joel reached forward to grab your chin, making you look at him once more. It frustrated him that you always seemed to find a way to avoid his gaze. 

“What baby? What did you think?,” Joel blurted out, ignoring the way the nickname made you look at him. 

“When I was with my group I-I… I used to snoop through my stepdad’s things to try and figure out what he was up to, or sometimes I would go through the stuff they took for review in the chapel. I know it was wrong, but I… I don’t know, they wouldn’t tell me anything about… well literally anything, and after they started keeping me apart from everyone -,” you stopped as Joel cut in. 

“Review? What do you mean by that?,” Joel said, his face now serious. 

You shrunk under his gaze and Joel made himself relax. He tried to keep the possessiveness that tensed his muscles and made him want to bare his teeth at whoever had hurt you. You watched Joel’s hand moved up your shirt, thumb starting to rub circles on your bare skin. He waited for you to push him away but instead he felt as you melted into him again. 

Sighing, you looked back up at him before starting over, “When a book or anything else was sinful er… when Josiah thought it was at least, he would take it for review. If it was found guilty of heresy, then whatever it was would be burned. But I um… well I know it’s not right, but I used to steal it back if I could or sometimes I would sneak out with Jake or I would steal food from the meal hall and bring it to whoever was in the pit.”

An uneasy feeling prickled along Joel’s spine, his instincts alerting him of his omega in danger. His omega? Fuck it, there are more important things to worry about right now, he thought as he winced at your words. 

Joel had experience with these types of groups, the religious types were always a bit more insidious than the others he had encountered. Desperate people taken under the wing of a twisted mind, using religion to keep themselves powerful. A brief memory flashed through his mind of David and of what he had almost done to Ellie. He went cold. 

“What did they… Did they ever put you in the pit?,” Joel asked carefully as he moved his free hand up to cup the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your sensitive skin and practically forcing your body to remain calm. 

You blinked and looked up at him with faraway eyes before you said, “Once. Only once. It only lasted a couple of weeks, or maybe it was months I don’t know… And then they were all dead and I was free.”

Joel had so many questions that he wanted to ask but he refrained. He recognized that faraway look that you were giving him, he had used that mask for years but he didn’t like the way it looked on you. Wracking his brain, Joel tried to think of a way to bring you back to him. 

“What was the best thing you ever stole?,” he blurted out, cringing at the question. 

Joel was surprised as he was met with nothing but laughter from you. Your body shook in his grasp as you threw your head back and a snort forced its way out of your nose. Joel joined, his laughter mixing with yours and warming the room. Wiping your eyes, you caught your breath and looked at him affectionately. 

“I uh,” you laughed again before starting over, “I stole a bottle of whiskey that had been confiscated. Then I snuck out with Jake, his boyfriend, and a few other teenagers that they knew. We demolished the bottle and then went skinny dipping, which… I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if they found out, but it was fun. We got away with it… I mean we sorta did. I definitely didn’t escape the headache, but no siestas at the pit for anyone.” 

Joel laughed at your story, soothed as the happy memory seemed to pull you back from the depths of whatever hell you had made for yourself in your mind. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, relieved that it was from laughter rather than sadness. 

“S’that right? Didn’t know I had a rebel living with me, thought you were a good girl,” he tsked, playfulness dancing in his eyes. 

You gasped slightly, batting your eyelashes up at him before playing with the collar of his coat as you said, “I’m a lot of things alpha.” 

Joel gritted his teeth as a moan threatened to expose him. His cock gave a hard twitch in his pants, your scent suddenly overwhelming him as you mindlessly shifted in his lap. The hand he had on your bare hip moved to the small of your back. He felt the softness of your skin before pushing you forward without even thinking. Joel didn’t even register your gasp, your scent wiping his mind of any thought as his hardening dick now rubbed against you. He moved his face towards your neck, fighting the urge to bite down as he gave you a feverish kiss on your gland. Joel’s tongue darted out to taste you, eyes rolling into the back of his head at the taste as he felt you grind yourself needily against him. 

It was the high pitched moan that pulled Joel from his indulgence. He stopped in his tracks and you whined, trying to keep his face in the crook of your neck as he moved back. He looked back up at you. You looked fucked out already with your eyes hazy and cheeks hot with lust. Your breathing was as erratic as his as you tried desperately to rub yourself against his aching cock. Groaning, Joel stopped your movements. 

“Darling I - we can’t. I know you think you want this, but you don’t. You probably ain’t ever been in close confines with an alpha before, and we… this can’t happen. You don’t want an old man like me and I ain’t about to take advantage,” Joel said through gritted teeth, fighting desperately to remain focused with your chest heaving in front of his face. 

The whine you let out almost broke him, it clawed at every ounce of self control that he had but he held strong. 

“You wouldn’t be taking advant-,” you cried, trying to weasel out of his ironclad grip on your hips so you could rub your sweet pussy all over him. 

He cut you off before you could break him. 

“I would be taking advantage. PLEASE baby, we can’t. It ain’t you, okay? Pretty girl like you, it could never be you. S’all me, ya hear?,” Joel said, practically begging you to relent before he snapped and fucked you into the mattress. 

You stopped your motions, looking up at him curiously. You sighed, looking a little disappointed and very riled up, but you finally relented. 

Joel was surprised as you swung your legs off of him and scooched off the bed. You moved towards the bathroom, leaving him on the bed with a prominent bulge pressing against his zipper and his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You turned, an innocent smile gracing your soft features as you looked back at him. 

“Okay well, let me know when you change your mind,” you said simply, turning into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Joel sat there for a moment in silence, his dick painfully hard and leaking at this point as he tried to figure out whether or not that had actually just happened. He heard the sound of the shower being turned on and you easing the curtain back to step under the stream. A fantasy flashed through his mind of him barging into the bathroom, of him stepping into the shower and falling to his knees, of him burying his face into your tight cunt and devouring you, of him lifting you up and spearing you on his cock, of him drilling you into the shower wall until you screamed and tightened around him. Joel palmed his length, shaking his head as he looked at the bathroom door. 

“I am so fucked.” 

[rrr-is-gay]

RRR ON-SCREEN KISS OPPORTUNITIES, rated for her pleasure

1. Immediately following the fisher boy rescue. They go onto the dock and kinda embrace one another but fail to kiss. Not okay. 3/10

2. The thigh touch scene. Come onnnnn, I know they’re talking about Sita, but they coulda squeezed a lil kissy kiss in there, if they had any courage at all. 8/10

3. RAMBHEEM SQUAT WORKOUT. Not exactly the ideal shot for an onscreen kiss; we’d need to get a little creative with the camera work to keep it cohesive. But it would be the literal hottest thing EVER, so I hate that it isn’t real. 8/10

4. MAKEOVER SCENE!!!!!!!!!!!! This one demands a kiss, multiple times! The beard trim? Pop a lil kiss on his nose, Ram! The hair treatment? Kiss his forehead! Changing his shirt? Bheem, give’m a nice lil smooch! It’s practically canon, the camera just cuts too quickly for us to see it. 10/10, peak kiss opportunity.

5. Pre-Naatu. How fucking SWAG would it be for them to just pop the fastest lil kiss on each other’s lips RIGHT at the moment they dunk on Jake for not knowing Naatu? This precise moment, when Bheem twirls around and Ram puts his arm on his shoulder? KISS!! 6/10

6. Post-Naatu piggyback ride. Would have loved to see Bheem kiss Ram’s cheek here. Totally ungrateful that he doesn’t. Wtf Bheem. 9/10

7. Sopping fucking wet. Bheem could totally pop a quick kiss onto Ram's lips before administering the antidote here. He's all up in Ram's face anyway, tending to him, caring for him, healing him. A nice kiss would help!!!!!!! 7/10

8. MARRIAGE CEREMONY. Bheem. BHEEM. You adorn your lover with the holy thread of your tribe, but don’t seal the deal with a kiss?? Maybe he thinks it’s dubcon cuz Ram is basically unconscious. Would’ve loved a kiss here, but I respect the consent king. 4/10

9. REVEAL YOURSELF TO ME IN BED. Bheem could have AT LEAST kissed Ram’s hands here, I mean wtf!!!!!! You think you might die tonight, and you could be saying goodbye forever, and you DON’T kiss????? 10/10, scene incomplete without a tender smooch.

10. Devastating fight. Bheem could’ve gone out on a limb here and really brought Ram back to reality if he’d gone in for a kiss. A bold move, yes, but not out of character for Bheem. 3/10

11. Pain, pain paaaaiiinnnn. Ram is more devastated in this moment than he’s ever been in his entire life. He would absolutely kiss Bheem’s head while holding his limp body in his arms. Only gets a pass cuz Ram is still undercover and a kiss would’ve given him away. 2/10

12. Hand nuzzle. CANON, I TELL YOU!!!! It’s CANON that Bheem kisses Ram’s hand here! It was only cut from the film because of homophobia! 11/10

13. Burn this lanka down. Okay. It’s one swift move to pull Ram out from the cell and onto Bheem’s shoulders. So a kiss on the lips couldn’t work. But Ram could, and should, totally kiss Bheem’s head right here. And Bheem should kiss Ram’s wrist! The fight can wait one millisecond!!! JUST KISS ALREADY! 8/10

14. Bridal carry. A nice swift peck from Ram to Bheem would really boost both of their morale right here. And it's such a brief shot, I'm sure the kiss happened, we just didn't get to see it. Once again, homophobia. 9/10

15. CANON CANON CANON CANON. I don’t wanna hear ANY debate or disagreement on this one, you little freaks! They DO kiss here! I can see the intention in Bheem’s eyes! That slow lean inward!!!! He’s about to kiss this man smack on the lips!!!! And Ram is so tired, but he’s BLISSFULLY here for it! He’s flat on his back, ready for Bheem’s plush lips to smother his right NOW! HEAL THIS MAN WITH YOUR SWEET KISS, BHEEM!!!! 10000000000/10

16. Phallic rifle. Would love a nice little makeout sesh right here in front of Governor Scott. How fucking badass would that be? Not a little peck either, I want them to get really filthy for a minute, because they’ve earned it! Grip that rifle and stick your tongues in each other’s mouths! Come on, the movie’s almost over! What have you got to lose?! 9/10

17. “What can I offer you in return?” “KISS ME!” This really is the last chance for these two men to show us how they really feel. I get that it’s kinda awkward in front of their friends and family, but it’s all worth it just to make Jenny uncomfortable. (Why is she there?????) Oh wait, Sita’s there too. Meh. I still want them to smooch. 7/10

18. Etthara Jenda! Dance, smile, skip, cheer, KISS! This song is all about victory and pride. Wouldn’t an onscreen kiss just be the cherry on top?! I think so. 9/10

[iyvessu]

y/n and suguru.

A moan was snatched from y/n's lips.

Suguru looked at her mischievously, delighted by the sounds she was giving him, totally ecstatic.

Y/n was tied by legs and hands, totally immobilized, without any control of the situation, naked, exposed before the black hair, who just by contemplating the excellent view that was given to him already felt more than satiated, but for his luck, that sweet girl was under his total mercy that night.

He would make her scream, when he looked into her eyes he knew she was real, she was in his mind, he would make her feel good, he would take her hair, lick her neck, caress her thighs, he would do whatever he wanted with her because he loved it and because he knew she would enjoy it too.

She was all he needed, she had him hard as fuck, so fucked up and he loved it.

To tell the truth y/n wasn't much different from Geto, so delighted at the sight, with the older one there in front of her, with that dominant look, provoking her security and submission at the same time.

Waiting to receive attention from him, a touch, a caress, contact in question.

That they would appreciate each other in due time did not mean they were in no hurry to turn up the volume on their encounter.

And/n waited for whatever the man in front of her had to give her, unable to take any action, it was all she could do.

Suguru began to undress in front of her, giving away a hot view of her hot, worked body.

"Do you like what you see, honey?" in a honeyed voice he asked, never letting go of that sweet side of him that was present even during the hottest moments.

y/n shifted uncomfortably in the seat, of course she wanted to answer, but not only was her limbs incapacitated, her lips were covered by a gag that prevented her from expressing anything beyond moans.

As best she could she nodded, as she watched Suguru slowly approach her.

She didn't know what to expect, even though the man was giving her nights of incredible passion, he was still a sadistic piece of shit and you never knew what to expect from him, something about his fixation on pinning his partner down like a ferocious predator hunting his prey.

"You've been a good girl, so tonight I'll make you feel good." That was a green light, which meant there would be no sadism today, just him being your man and giving his all for you.

He knelt down so he could stay level with his girl and carefully placed his hand on the other's thighs, to caress them gently, but there was such a lack of attention on y/n's intimate area that he couldn't help but let out a loud moan, begging for more.

He was not one to refuse, looking into her eyes with intense desire, he took it upon himself to open the girl's legs, to leave her intimacy at his total disposal.

He bent his head and began a slow stroke, allowing his breath to collide with the girl's sweet thighs, until he reached here.

With his hand he separates the lips to have a better access to the site and brings his tongue closer to begin his work.

He takes it with total desire, licking that nerve ending with desire, generating circular movements.

He wanted his girl to have the best, so he would make her reach her orgasm with great care.

Eating her intimacy with such desperation, as if it was the last thing she could do before losing her sanity, and well, if we talk about sanity and/n she had already lost it completely, so fucked, feeling little spasms run through her whole body, and that was just the beginning.

She was trying to whisper her boy's name, but the gag prevented her. She was reaching her limits, feeling everything inside her contracting, so close to climax.

It had taken just a couple more sucks to her hot clit to reach her limit.

"That's it, good girl. Relax, baby, let me take you to heaven." He pronounced, moving his lips away from that area, moving his hands closer to the restraints, ready to untie his girl, even though he was really turned on by having her under his control, right now he wanted to have her on himself, take her hips and drown himself in that orgasmic body.

Suguru removes the restraints and the gag leaving his girl free.

He sits on the bed and palms her thighs, calling out to

y/n, she instantly understands what is desired and doesn't hesitate any second to perch on her boy's legs.

"Come on, honey, continue your work." She, just nodding, began to line up her own entrance to the piece of flesh that was more than eager to receive her tight cavity.

She slowly sits up as she puts her arms around Geto's neck, who receives her with a kiss, devouring her lips with great desire.

Y/n begins to set a rhythm in her back and forth, while the brunette takes her hips to help her accentuate the rhythm.

Their lips had not parted at any time, creating a carnal battle over who would take control, even though the roles were more than imposed.

The over stimulation was so much for y/n that she couldn't stop her eyes from filling with tears, as she jumped on Suguru and allowed herself to moan her beloved's name at ease.

The clash between their skins created a hot symphony, which had them both gawking in their own cloud.

With connected gazes, the pleasure rose in level with breathtaking rapidity, the rhythm of the onslaught increased and the pleasure reached skin-deep, leaving the mutual desire even more exposed if that was even possible.

The climax enveloped them and they were taking it fully, dizzy in that air charged with heated pleasure, they let themselves go, y/n caressing her clitoris with desire, and Geto enjoying how the girl's intimacy enveloped him.

With a terrifying connection, she reaches her limit by dropping her head on his beefy shoulder and he lets himself be inside her, totally gone.

[mixtape-racha]

it's a scream, baby | hyunlix

chapter twelve: what do you want?

words: 1.67k // warnings: graphic character death, cursing, blood

OFFICIAL GHOSTFACE KILL COUNT: 009

it only took jisung a split second to grab (y/n)’s hand and start dragging her across the house running, so fast that they had no time to register if changbin and hyunjin had done the same. luckily, changbin’s house was large enough that - as long as they all went at least two separate ways - they should be able to lose the intruder in the maze of corridors and doorways.

there was no hesitation in either of their limbs as they began slamming all the doors open and closed that they could, praying a distraction would give them their few crucial minutes to get out of the house and away. (y/n)’s heart sunk when they got separated, only praying jisung would run towards the nearest exit instead of up the stairs, like the protagonists in movies usually do.

the back door was right in her sight, so close she could almost taste it. the proximity made her slow down unconsciously, but the second she saw a whip of black in her peripheral vision, she forced her limbs to move as fast as they would carry her - out of the door and towards the trees lining the woods next to changbin’s house.

she knew if she just pushed herself a little bit further, her limbs carried her a little further forward, she’d find the den. the den, in fact, wasn’t a den at all. it was changbin’s childhood hideout - a glorified shed that changed decor as he grew and his personality changed with age. it used to be full of comics and hotwheels cars, then video games and alcohol he’d snuck from his parents liquor cabinet, to what it was now. music equipment, a sofa that pulled out into a bed in case he couldn’t pull himself away from his work.

deep down, she knew it was cowardly. she was running - not even waiting for her remaining friends. but was it a bad thing to be selfish? this was literally a life or death situation, and no one could blame her for prioritizing her own safety. the second her legs crossed the threshold, she bolted the door closed, pulling all the curtains across and keeping the den as dark and quiet as she possibly could.

her phone, which she was surprised hadn’t fallen out of her pocket, was nearly dead. only 3% - there was no way she could call for help or check on the boys without her phone dying on her. she figured if she waited in the den until sunset, the killer might have given up. they might - just maybe - think she’d run away far enough and either gone looking for her away from the house, or run away in fear that the police had been alerted. she had no idea where hyunjin, changbin or jisung were, and the anxiety she felt was almost sickening.

when the skies began to darken, and the sun started to set, (y/n) lifted herself up from the ball she’d tucked herself into and forced herself to venture towards the exit of the den. the world was quiet - too quiet - and she knew that things could all go south very quickly and she could be claimed as the killer’s newest victim if she wasn’t careful.

all the lights in changbin’s home seemed to be off as she approached, and based on the lack of reaction when the back door squeaked open she assumed she was alone. she wasn’t sure whether she really did want to be alone or not though - while on one hand being alone meant she was safe, not having anyone by her side to comfort her was making her anxiety spike to new extremes.

while she was locking all the doors and windows, she found changbin’s father's gun hidden in a desk drawers in the entryway hall. while she had never actually shot a real gun - only paintball guns or bb guns - she quickly realized it would be smart to keep it on her person, just in case. holding it close to her chest, she peeked out the front window and noticed changbin’s car was nowhere in sight, assuming he had managed to get away before the intruder attacked. she just hoped he had taken hyunjin with him, and found jisung somewhere along the way.

she was fast to plug her phone into the first charger she saw, knowing not that she was alone she’d need her phone available to call the authorities at the first opportunity. the house was deadly silent, and she couldn’t bring herself to think about eating as she poured herself a glass of water from the kitchen. she was restless, worried about her friends, mapping out changbin’s house in her head to figure out the best escape plan when she needed one.

it was only when she heard a thud near the front door that she was shaken out of her trance, gun grasped firmly in her hand as she headed towards the noise to investigate. her phone had turned on now, flashing with notifications signaling how many calls and messages she had missed while holed up in the den all day.

there was another thud by the door, and she jumped at the noise. a gasp escaped her throat as she peered out the peephole and saw hyunjin on the other side - and honestly, she looked a mess. bruises and cuts spread across his gorgeous skin, like he’d fallen in the woods or been dragged through a bush. there was drying blood on his cheeks, and he kept looking over his shoulder and muttering as if he was worried about being followed.

“fuck! fuck, why is this fucking door locked… shit. shit, where does he keep his spare key?” he cried, wiggling the handle with suck force that (y/n) jumped away from the door in shock. taking a deep breath in, she reached for the lock and turned it, in her fear, debating whether to let him in or not.

before she opened the door, she cleared her throat and called out.

“hyunjin? hyun, is that you?”

the boy suddenly went silent the other side of the door, before letting out what sounded like a relieved laugh.

“oh my god, (y/n)! thank fuck, i was so worried about you!” she could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke back to her through the door. “open up, i’m not sure how far off i lost the killer. i– i can’t lose you too, and i don’t want you to watch me die.”

despite all her instincts, there was something in (y/n)’s gut that told her not to open the door - probably the fear of her friends, especially when no one except them knew they were headed to changbin’s house a few days prior.

“did he follow you? please, hyun, i can’t risk letting him in, too…” she asked carefully, not wanting hyunjin to get defensive if he thought she was accusing him.

a pound of the door rung out, causing (y/n) to jump in fright again.

“god, (y/n), i swear, please let me in! please, i don’t want to die, i don’t–” hyunjin’s words were cut off by another thud against the door, followed by a guttural moan and a choked out call of her name.

without another thought, she swung the door open and gasped in horror. hyunjin was being dragged away from the door by his legs, hands grabbing into anything within reach that might give him a hope. there was a pool of blood on his forehead, beginning to drip, matching a splat of blood on the front door.

a choked sob left (y/n)’s throat, but her legs felt like they were glued to the floor with the way she couldn’t force herself to move and chase after hyunjin. he looked up at her with such despair and worry in his eyes, that she couldn’t stop the tears from falling from her eyes.

“no!” she cried as the masked killer pulled hyunjin up onto his knees by his hair, her eyes zeroing in on the knife in the masked figure's hand. “no, please! please, kill me! kill me instead, please, not him!”

the figure tiled its head as it stared at her, and she could feel the way whoever was under the mask smirked at her crisis. im fact, he didn’t look away from her once as he pulled hyunjin’s head back, his throat on display and raised the knife.

in one swift movement, the figure slid the knife across hyunjin’s throat, and (y/n) watched in horror as blood began pouring down the font of his white shirt. bile rose in her throat as the figure threw hyunjin’s torso back towards the ground, the boy hitting the gravel with a thud that made her stomach turn.

she didn’t even allow the figure the chance to move towards her, suddenly remembering the gun in her hand and shooting at the figure with no aim and no qualms in killing a man to save her own life. unfortunately, given her overwhelming emotions and lack of experience with guns, she didn;t cause enough damage to stop the rampage of killings, but was close enough to watch the figure fall to the ground clutching their shoulder in pain.

she sprinted towards the garage next to the house, knowing changbin’s had a motorbike in there, which always had its keys kept on the seat. she’d ridden his bike before, and knew as long as she was fast enough she could get to the police station without the figure intervening.

wiping her tears away, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at hyunjin’s body as she rode past, an overwhelming guilt settling within her as she forced herself to get the bike to a speed that was most definitely illegal. the police would help, she knew it. she could get there in 10 minutes if she was lucky.

she just prayed no one else would die before she did.

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[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Pascal characters' fave sex positions

It's probably been done before, but let's have fun. Doing (heh) the ones I've written.

Frankie. My boy wants eye contact. Would be into tantric sex, if he only knew what it was. Favourite position is lotus. You on top, but both of you doing the work. Slow and intimate, both hands free to roam and caress. Kissing, or foreheads together as you rock gently in rhythm. Plenty of opportunity to go harder, if need be. You gorgeous tits near his face. He's in heaven.

Javi P. From behind. Duh. He wants it hard and fast. Even when it's serious, and he's opened up to you, is devoted to you, and has started to heal from all the shit that happened in Colombia, he needs to lose himself in the grip of your cunt, the sweat running down his body, your wails of pleasure, the way your pretty ass bounces with each thrust. The messed up lad has some issues but knows what he likes, ok?

Ezra. Anything goes as long as your legs are on his shoulders and you're holding on to something for dear life.

Dieter. Amazon. Hoo boy does this babygirl love to be fucked by you in that position! Legs akimbo in the air, you bouncing on his dick like he's nothing but a sex toy to you. That's the good shit. He's gonna marry the fuck outta you.

Mando. One day he wants to be able to remove his helmet and have really intimate missionary sex with you, but he's not there yet, poor guy. Until then, the touch-starved little critter has to make do with the next best thing: your soft, round ass. God, it drives him wild to see that ass bounce. His favourite, therefore, is you reverse riding him. He mourns the fact that he can't gaze into your eyes and bask in the pleasure that he sees in them, but he is a patient man. He'll get there, eventually. For now, he enjoys the fuck out of your slow ride or energetic bouncing, your beautiful butt there for him to grab. Tin can man needs softness in his life, okay?

Marcus M. This is a man who will lie next to you and kiss and caress you for three hours straight before he slides into you and fucks you slowly on your side. It's not the most practical position but he wants both of you to be comfortably reclined, and in full body contact. At some point you're just sharing limbs and there is no telling where you end and he begins. It's really nice.

Joel. This middle-aged, broken piece of sweet, competent garbage fucks hard and fast because death lurks around every corner and this time could be his last. He'll dig so deep into you in missionary that you're sure he'll reemerge with gold or something. You always walk funny after. His knees always hurt. It's worth it.

Pero. He will have his dick sucked, thank you. The women he gets involved with are unsanitary and he doesn't need a new itch down there. Learn that the hard way. (Feral lil shit never stops to think about how often he washes his dick, though.) He will fuck a pair of nice big titties, too. No woman ever got knocked up from having her face painted white, if you catch my drift.

Dave. To suburban murder daddy it's not so much the position as it is the location. He loves danger, and lives for any kind of risky fornication he can think of: Walmart's parking lot, in the backseat with tinted windows, restaurant bathroom, his home office during a phone conference, the cinema, Thanksgiving dinner at his parents' house... you get it. He is the fingering king who can get you off with the crook of one of his fingers faster than any vibrator, before he presses you up against the wall or bends you over to fuck you fast and hard, before people start to wonder what's going on.

Oberyn. Hanging upside down in a trapeze or some shit. King is an athlete. Don't let the constant eating and lazy cat-in-a-sunny-spot manners fool you. He's just fuelling up.