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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months ago

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Awake - (Hyung Line)

separate members Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4.2k

Est.Read Time: 21 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Maknae Line: Here

A/N: A special thank you to my one and only @edenesth , for helping me out with this- I swear for the life in me Yeosang still confuses me and Hwa seems to sweet to argue with (yeah i know that aint true) .I'll be updating my requests soon and uploading the next chapter of meow soon, too!

Kim Hongjoong

Waking up next to Hongjoong was as rare as going to bed with him. Considering he'd come to bed at an ungodly hour, unlike you, and leave at an ungodly hour, waking up way before you did- in theory, however, the man barely slept four hours. Then there were times when he'd choose to stay at the studio or the dorm. So often, you'd receive a text about his location and that was it- and for so long it was okay- until it wasn't.

There's no real reason or premise behind how it started, but all she remembers is that he had come home in the middle of the night, and ironically she had been watching a film at the time. Now, the reaction could've been sweet, could've been filled with love, but the words had left her sooner than she could stop them,

"You know, you should really take care of yourself too."

That was all it took for him to stare at her blankly before turning around and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving her wincing in regret on the couch, the same very couch she had cried on, lying across its expanse, trying to get in touch with him through text or call, only for her tears to dry up and eyes to close, falling asleep on the couch.

What you did not expect was to wake up in your bed, on your back blinking up at the ceiling, shades of golden seeping through the cracks of the curtains, illuminating the dancing specs across the room. With a heavy sigh you turned your head to glance at the usual empty side when you were greeted by an unusual sight. The same blonde man you had cried your heart out for last night was laying there, knocked out cold, lips slightly parted, hands folded on his belly as he lay on his back- Hongjoong was one weird dude. With a sigh you turn to lay on your side, staring at him, taking in his tired features, the dark circles under his eyes, his chapped lips, the way his brows were slightly furrowed. God, you definitely loved an idiot.

Taking a few more minutes, you thought to yourself, before letting out a sigh, at least he was home now, at least he was resting. With that in mind, you slowly pushed yourself up, sitting up and rubbing your face, trying to erase the remnant traces of sleep. You were about to slip out of bed when something tugged at your shirt, causing you to turn to lock eyes with your sleepy love, his gaze filled with some form of remorse and guilt.

“Don't…go.” his hoarse voice rasped across the silent room, her shoulder slumped at the fatigue in his tone, before shaking her head and moving closer to him, letting him pull her closer, enough for her to rest her head against his shoulder, a hand placed on his heart, appreciating the steady beat- his own rhythm for her.

“I’m sorry…”

“You should be.” she mumbled, turning to bury her face in the crook of his neck, feeling him draw her closer, the arm around her waist tightening, as if he were afraid that she’d disappear. Not a word was exchanged after that, her lips would often gently graze against his warm skin, curling into a small smile when she’d hear him let out a sigh, her leg now hooked around his, basically tangled around him. He never pushed her away or told her to stop, even when her hand slipped into his shirt, fingers tracing his warm skin, trying to feel him against her, as if she were trying to become one with him. He may not prefer skinship or let anyone else touch him, but she was the exception, she held the key to his heart, to his soul, giving her the free access of a more compliant and vulnerable Hongjoong, who was no longer a captain, but a boy who loved music, and she was but his muse, his inspiration, the rhythm his heart would dance to.

Park Seonghwa

Did she mean to forget it? No. Did she forget it? Yes. Was she sorry about it? Yes. But was she going to accept his berating and taunting? Not at all. She knew he was tired and exhausted, she knew being an idol wasn’t easy, it was a job accompanied with constant stress and fatigue- you knew what you were getting yourself into, but so did he. He knew you were a full eight to six job, a busy job, a hectic job, and that wasn’t accompanied with a driver or a manager or any other kind of comfort, no you had no one to lean on when it came to someone messing up and expecting you to clean up after them.

So, is it your fault that you came home all tired and exhausted to the bone, only to flop down on the couch, next to your boyfriend- who by the way did not even bother greeting you- and expect him to show you some compassion? Apparently, it was. Your head lay on the backrest of the couch, the TV acting like a white noise as your turned your head, eyes drowsy and tired to look at the magnificent being fate had paired you up with, someone so loving and caring, so endearing and tender, so pretty and-

“Did you vacuum today?”

“What?” sitting up properly she looked at the not so loving man, god, how could someone so pretty be so weird sometimes- oh shit. Shaking your head you cleared your throat, “Well umm…I know…I told you I’d do it today since I had to go later to work but I…kinda forgot? Plus you did clean yesterday so the house is pretty clean?” trailing off you averted your gaze, trying not to meet eyes with the man who looked borderline distraught and disappointed.

“Tch…this is why your mom got mad at you last week.” he mumbled and stood up, walking away, perhaps to the kitchen to get the stupid vacuum cleaner- no, he did not just bring that up! You sat there, too stunned to react, what may have seemed like a minute was perhaps more, especially when you felt something nudge at your feet, causing you to look up wide eyed at the source of hurt, staring up at him with blurry eyes.

Crying?

His eyes widened at the realisation, she had not been sitting there all stubborn while he was vacuuming, no, she was sitting there, crying, too shocked to even notice she was crying- the hell did he just do? He felt his fingers twitch, tongue poking out to lick his lower lip, an apology and more at the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, you were gone, the bedroom door slamming shut causing him to jerk back into his senses, running after you, trying to open the door, only to find it locked.

“Angel? Open- I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” he called out, all anger and dominance, instantly flushed out of his being, wanting nothing more than to cradle her in his embrace, trying to hold onto her crumbling pieces. He mentally cursed himself, knowing damn well how your mother’s visit last week ended poorly, an evening that was going great, until his future mother in law found out that he did most of the cleaning, which led you to receive an earful about the duties of a true, good wife.

You don’t remember much of what happened after, you had showered, cried during the shower, changed into something comfortable and snuggled into bed, ignoring the persistent knocking and apologies that flooded the room. Were you being childish? No. You could’ve talked it out with him, but you really didn’t want to and you really didn’t care enough right now to morph an understanding mood.

What you didn’t understand was why you weren’t able to move- oh. Trying to pry his arms off you, you huffed out frustrated and still upset, only for him to mumble something in your hair, pulling you closer as his grip tightened on you, pushing his leg between yours, tangling you in his long limbs. His hair fell of his face, the tips of his silky locks caressing your forehead, tickling your skin.

“Let go.” you mumbled only to hear him whine, about to ask him to ‘get lost’ until you heard a sniffle, followed by a broken, “I-I’m s-sorry.” Honestly, a part of you didn’t want to give in, but when you heard the way he whined, calling out your name like you were a million miles away, your heart clenched at the tone, hand gently squeezing one of the two that were tightly clamped around you.

“Hwa…” you sighed, leaning back a bit, feeling his lips press against your neck, ghosting up to your ear, whispering unending apologies, before squeezing you closer.

“Its…not fine but…please don’t…say that again.” she sighed, closing her eyes at the feeling of his soothing touches, letting his plump lips press against the shell of her ear before he flipped them over, with him hovering above her, keeping himself steady with his forearms pressing into the pillow on either sides of her head, staring down at her with puffy eyes and a pink nose, “I won’t…I’m sorry.”

You smiled up at him, placing a hand on his cheek, adoring the way he instantly nuzzled against it, before slowly bringing him down to meet your lips.

“Then make up for it.”

Jeong Yunho

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

Your blood ran cold, staring at what you had just done, oh my god, it was all over now, you were doomed- you had the worst luck known to man! You were also probably the dumbest person to exist- oh my god. The sound of the controller being placed on the table had you freeze up, but it was the loud exhale that had you flinching like a small kitten, ever so slowly turning your head to the source, trailing your eyes off the floor to lock with an unreadable pair.

“Babe.”

“Yes…Yuyu?” meekly responding, your grip tightened on the mop, trying not to run away, knowing that would only upset him even more. Okay, granted, he had told her as soon as he had come home that he was not in a great mood, the new choreography was a bit tricky and everyone was taking a bit longer than usual to pick it up, and that had led the dancer to embrace this sour mood. Even when she was smothering his cheek with kisses, clinging onto him, he had only sighed, turning to meet her lovey-dovey eyes with his tired ones, giving her a small smile before bumping his forehead with hers, “I’m gonna blow off some steam, yeah?” That had meant he’d be gaming the stress away, and she was supposed to act like a good little kitten and not play around. Lord knows why she thought of cleaning in the first place, perhaps because she was bored and needed a distraction- oh god.

He blinked at you, trying to control his expressions, though his hard stare had you shaking in your boots, slowly standing up he walked closer, and you took a step back, enough for your back to press against the wall next to the TV. Yunho had never hurt you, and he probably never was going to, but what he was doing now was uncharacteristic, exactly how angry was he? How upset was he for him to do what he had done? How angry and frustrated was he for him to say those words? For him to pull away with a glint in his eyes, watching you slowly grip your shirts, trying to control the frantic beating of your heart that was pushing the tears that were fighting to stay within your waterline.

He didn't even stop her when she slid down the wall, pulling her knees closer to her chest, his cold, harsh, brazen words slicing deep and bloody. He stared down at you for a moment before slowly moving away, his absence only hit you once you heard the soft click of the main door. It was moments later that you stood up, wiping your eyes you walked back into your shared bedroom, the scene replaying in your mind on loop;

He pressed his forehead against hers, not the way he would do so romantically, no, this was different, he was being mean, he wanted her to feel the anger coursing through his veins. Though his words were what felt like a cold slap,

“Can you do anything right? Or are you built to disappoint?”

Your eyes snapped open at the gentle call of your name, trying to ignore the lingering pounding at the back of your head. Of course, the persistent headaches were about to roll in, especially after that stressful scene followed by an unimaginable amount of crying.

Yunho whispered to you once more, noticing how you had flinched the first time, he knew your migraine would kick in as soon as he had seen your sleeping tear struck face- shit. He really did lose his cool this time, and had blown up on the wrong person. If there's one thing that he had learnt during his time with you, was that his girl was as fiery as a tiger, but her heart was as fragile as a kitten's, and his gold retriever self had managed to mangle it with his bare teeth.

“Love…” he brushed the hair away from your eyes, trying to meet your blank, unfocused gazed, as he cleared his throat, “I umm….I brought…something to eat-”

“Go away.” You whispered, gently pushing his hand away from you and sitting up, holding your head, the pounding getting louder and more difficult to handle, now that you knew he was right next to you. It was bad enough that you even dreamt about him saying that to you, in fact, in your dream he had broken up with you, which is probably why you gave him the stink eye as soon as he woke you up.

“I…I didn't mean to say that to you- tsk- it wasn't even directed towards you.” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair, trying not to rip it out in frustration. He did not mean to take it out on you, at one point he wasn’t even looking at you, he could just see himself and how he was failing - but did that mean he could take it out on you? No, it didn't.

You looked at him sitting there on his knees, he still looked like a giant, but his hurt puppy dog expressions just had you internally berate yourself, any moment longer and you would give in- “Wait…” you turn to look at the alarm clock on your side table and whine in protest, having his full attention on you. “You woke me up! I thought it was already morning- it's only 3 am.” huffing she flopped back down on her pillow, ignoring him by closing her eyes. This was the only way you could ensure you got your message across- granted you were at fault, that didn’t mean he could turn you into his personal punching bag.

Yunho sat there, staring at you, closing your eyes as his own cast down to his clasped hands, feeling even more guilty for waking you up, but the guilt had been eating him up, as soon as he had uttered those words the guilt had begun to bubble, watching you helplessly. That was why he had walked out, he needed to clear his head, he needed to calm down and think, and other than the monologue of an apology he had even gone out of the way to get you a cake- not sure you’d eat it now, considering you were still mad at him.

“Ah-Yunho” she giggled as her eyes snapped open.

You looked down at him and snorted, his head was placed on your tummy, ear pressed against your shirt as he looked at you. “What are you doing?” you asked propping up on your elbows to stare at him, wondering what his mind was up to this time.

“Shhh…I’m listening.”

“To what?”

“Your belly.” he stated simply before sitting up and replacing his head with his palm, “She tells me she’s hungry, and that she’d like this idiot to feed her cake.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?”

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, “N-no, your tummy called me the idiot!” he clarified before turning around and crawling to his side of the bed, picking up a tray and turning around to face her, “So…am I forgiven?” he asked, casually opening the lid of the box, glancing up to see her admire the icing, man, he really struck gold with this one, she was as forgiving as she was cute-

“Depends. If you promise not to have a single bite.”

His eyes widened at your request, trying to see if this was some kind of joke, apparently…it was not. Clearing his throat he placed the tray between them and saluted her with one hand, “Yes Ma’am!” he yelled before taking a spoonful of the cake and pressing it against your lips, “I live to serve and please my lady.” Leave it to Yunho to wake you up at the early hours of the day and feed you cake, a very Yunho way of apologising.

Kang Yeosang

He watched you barge through the front door, looking like a mad woman as you flung your bag somewhere across the apartment, not after kicking off your heels and stumbling into the kitchen, grumbling about how ‘shitty’ your day was and how you hate men, followed by a ‘minus you Sangie, you’re the best.’ His girl really was something else, it truly amazed him how he ever fell inlove with her, especially with her distaste towards most men, hell it took her some time to even warm up to the rest of the guys- except for Mingi, which was super weird because if you ask him, Mingi is the weirdest, but she just said he’s a giant baby who thinks hes cool, like boss baby!

Picking up the remote, he pressed play, leaning back against the couch to continue watching the film. Only a shrill call of his name has him jerking off the sofa and running into the kitchen. Stumbling through the door frame blinks at you, with you standing there with the fridge open, glaring daggers at him, holding onto a container - oh…no.

“Yeosang…” other than your horrifying expression, your overall tone was very calm, which honestly scared him, you were a very expressive person until pushed to a point where you begin to shut out others, and right now, he’d have you yell at him, than completely shut him out. He took a step in your direction, only for you to raise your hand and stop him, motioning towards the empty container, “Did you eat the last slice?” Even though it was a question, it really did sound like a statement, one that was holding back the predestined overflow of emotions, of stress.

With a light sigh, he nodded, clearing his throat as he continued, “I…um…I forgot that you told me to save it for you…I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” His words held a gentle form of sincerity, the tender warmth of love, the calm essence of admiration - and she could not give a flying f*ck about it, especially not right now.

Making sure to maintain eye contact, you placed the empty container - the evidence - back in its place before closing the fridge. Taking a deep breath, you walked away, making sure not to spare him a glance as you walked out of the kitchen, ignoring his calls when you walked into the bedroom. You could hear him run after you, a gentle whine hanging off the tip of his tongue, but he froze when you turned around and looked at him, giving him no expression whatsoever, just, blankly staring at - no, through him. Honestly, it was then when he realised that this was not about the stupid cake, no, this was much more, he had forgotten something that was important to her, something she must have been looking forward to while she was on the bus home, something she must have been craving to eat- selfish, that’s what he was, and he knew deep down how mad she must have been- could he blame her?

He sat on the edge of the bed, ever so quietly, watching you go through your nightly routine. It hurt how easily you could pretend he wasn’t there, but then again, he wasn’t very attentive to your presence within this apartment either. He watched you go into the washroom, peaking through the door left ajar, watching you vigorously rub your face, holding back the urge of telling you to go gentle with the scrub on your skin, but he knew if he did, he’d probably get kicked out of the room- at least you didn’t ask him to leave you. You came back into the room, making sure to glare at him, something he caught onto pretty quickly, averting his gaze to his lap.

After a solid ten minutes of letting you change your clothes he glanced up at you once again, only to find you frowning at him through the mirror as you brushed your hair- at this point he realised you had not shut him out, but had decided to punish him like this. This went on for a while until you finally ripped The comforter from your side, making sure to land on the with an angry bounce, enough for him to jerk, turning to your direction for you to glare at him one more time and turn around as you flopped down on your side with an audible “HMPH”.

He didn't know if he should fine this cute, or be upset, a good part of him wanted to tease you, his inner menace begging to come up to the surface, but his more mature side or being kept reminding him that she was only doing this to avoid blowing up at him- which only added to his guilt, you really were a blessing.

You sat up to the sound of something shattering, heart racing a thousand miles as you turned to look at the place on the bed that was usually occupied by Yeosang, only to gasp when he wasn't there. Slipping out of bed, you slowly crept towards the door, grabbing your handy bat in the process as you tip toed out of the room, towards the kitchen. It was early morning, other than the noise from the kitchen, you could hear the early chirping of the bids- Yeosang had an early schedule today, so he was already out of the house- did that mean he forgot to lock the door? Shit, did someone come in because the door was unlocked, or did someone break in because they saw your boyfriend leaving.

With a bat in hand, you ran into the kitchen, ready to swing at the intruder, only you stopped mid swing when you met a familiar pair of eyes.

“YAH! KANG YEOSANG!”

His eyes widened at the sight of the bat, body frozen, crouched on the ground, waiting for the impact, only for him to jerk into action and fall back on his butt, staring up at her, whispering, “I almost…died.”

With a huff, you placed the back on the counter, pushing your hair back and walking over to your idiotic lover. Glancing at the pieces of shattered glass on the floor, oh, so that's what happened, huh? Giving him a hand, you looked at his face, raising a brow, watching him mumble something before giving your hand a squeeze.

“What?” you asked, leaning closer to hear him better, only he mistook it for you wanting affection, or perhaps he was the one who needed physical consolation. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush into his chest, making sure to squeeze you close. With a sigh you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, a good night's rest clearing your mind of any and all negative thoughts, in fact, now you were just exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to be pampered by your forgetful lover.

“What were you doing here?” You asked, looping you around from under his, placing your palms flat against his shoulder blades, feeling the slightest shift, pressing him closer to you - almost squeezing him like a plushie.

“Was…trynna bake you a cake.” He mumbled, burying his face in your hair, “But I messed up….I'm sorry…I ate your slice.”

With a sigh, you pulled your face back, giving him a small smile, “It's…alright Sangie…I'm sorry I got so upset last night…I just really really really don't like men.”

He pouted at your statement and nodded before leaning closer and pressing his forehead against yours, whispering, “Am I included in that statement?”

A giggled broke past your lips as you glanced up at him through your lashes, “Of course not…you're a fairy prince…not a stupid man…now come on,” with that you pulled away, gently lacing your fingers with his, “Let’s bake a cake together.” He could only smile at this, blushing at your compliment, any other day he'd argue about how he was a manly man, but today, he just wanted to shower her with all his love and tenderness, so he'd take it, and he'd be your fairy Prince for as long as you need him to be.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

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gladoswantscake · 5 months ago

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Condemned to Repeat - Dracula x Reader (DBD)

Summary: You haven't quite escaped from him.

Warnings: Horror, blood, and mild suggestive themes (the blood makes him freaky lol)

A/N: Continuation as the previous one, but you don't really need to read the previous story unless you want to. This can serve as chapter two or a standalone.

Enjoy @nathscalet 😌 The wait is over. I hope you and everyone else like it.

(It's a shame they didn't add his castle to the game 😔)

Available on AO3

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺." (𝘙𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 21:4)

The warm tears grew heavier when you realized there was no escape from him. The gentle grip on your jaw eases as you lower your head to hide your tears from him.

"Please look at me." The tone of his voice saddens. "It greatly pains me to see you in such distress."

You shook your head in reply. Words couldn't come out of your mouth as you were losing more of your composure. You then felt his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his embrace.

"It'll be alright." He whispered.

That's when you lost it. You sink your loud, muffled cries into the crook of his neck, and your hands reach for his shoulder, tightly gripping him. You felt his sharp nails run through your wet hair in an attempt to calm you down.

"Please don't weep." He kisses the top of your head. "I promise you after tonight, you will no longer shed tears. For you will be contented with me forever."

The last thing you remembered that night was he guided you to a spare bedroom to help clean you up and rest, and then you blacked out.

After that, you woke up in the middle of the dark forest laying against a tree. A woman named Claudette was the first person to discover your unconscious body. A few other survivors were sitting at a campfire upon being brought.

There were many others, you were told, but they were in different realms serving their 'trials.' That's what the others called it. Realms created by "the Entity" to watch for enjoyment. You remembered seeing the supposed Entity right after your car accident. It must have gotten you before you had the opportunity to escape. You learned of the other's names from the campfire: Nea, Alan, and Gabriel. They somehow came from different alternate worlds that you never knew existed. They briefly filled you in on what you needed to know and what to expect. Most importantly, they reminded you that getting everyone out of the trial was the number one priority.

Unfortunately, it doesn't always happen.

It didn't take you long to be transported to a trial for the first time. But this realm felt too familiar to you.

Then it hit you.

You found yourself back in Dracula's castle. Your heart sank at the familiarity. That meant he was here, too.

The castle this time was eerie, dark, and much colder. The occasional running footsteps of your teammates and generators drowned out the silence of Dracula's home.

Your teammates were getting slaughtered fast, which meant there was a possibility of no one escaping the trial, but you were lucky you hadn't run into him yet.

You remember one of your teammates mentioning a hatch. It only appears when one survivor remains, guaranteeing an escape from the trial. Their only advice was the fastest way to find the hatch was to keep your ears peeled.

All three of your teammates were massacred. There was one last blood-curdling scream before the castle went utterly silent. Only you and Dracula remained in the trial. You had to find the hatch and fast.

You ran and ran until your chest was heaving, lungs were burning, and legs growing heavier the longer you ran. The castle felt like a maze. You swore you had looped around the main entrance twice. Your heavy footsteps and panting alerted your presence, but you were more focused on escaping. The quicker you find the hatch, the less time you'd spend in your captor's manor. You prayed for this to be the last time you had to relive it.

There was a faint sound in the distance. A high-pitched rapid clicking sound was drawing closer to you down the hallway. You turned around to investigate the noise. A swarm of bats were heading your way. You took off again. Running with whatever energy you had left in you. The sound of bats soon became fast footsteps. With your stamina used up, a hand reaches for your mouth and pushes you up against the wall.

The force of your body being thrown against the textured wall causes you to yell out in pain. You look up at the person who did it.

Dracula.

It almost looked like he was a rabid animal within the state he was in. His eyes were now a red crimson color, and his mouth and white beard was covered in blood. His fanged grin was mad. "I was afraid I would never see you again."

His clawed hand finds your jaw and tilts your head to examine your neck. He leans into your ear to listen to your pulse. His bloodied tongue then drags against your skin. The uncomfortable grip on your jaw tightens.

"If I let your friends escape, I wouldn't have any alone time with you." You could smell the sweet metallic scent of your teammates' blood from his breath.

"Are you going to kill me too?"

He looks back at you, chuckling. "I would have done that earlier if you were another worthless mortal."

He takes a moment to listen to the pounding of your heart in your chest. His gaze darkens as he grins. "I hope your heart is pounding because you're delighted to see me."

Tears trickle from your eyes. "Please let me go." You beg.

He ignored your cries. Instead, he takes in the rhythmic beating of your pulses and the feeling of your body close to his. The sensations were driving him mad. He wanted to take his time. He wanted to express how much he was devoted to you. The Entity can wait.

"I cannot let you go, I'm afraid." His hot breath hits your ear. "You have no idea how long I've yearned for you, my love." His kisses are applied with more emotion. His kisses travel from your jawline to your shoulder. His breathing becomes irregular as his arousal grows. The blood of your teammates was making it worse. Their blood was good, but not as pure and rich as when he tasted yours for the first time. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from losing self-control.

His intimate thoughts abruptly stopped when he heard your voice.

"Vlad…" He listens close when he heard you call him by his real name. Your warm hands reach for his pale, cold face to force him to look at you. He stares deeply at you, feeling inattentive and relaxed by your touch.

"Please…" Your eyes glisten. You were tired and exhausted. You were ready to get it over with. You've come to terms once again with the fact that there was no way out. Maybe dying by his hand was a better option than to be sacrificed to the Entity. It would be quick. You prayed that your death would take you to the afterlife.

He hesitated for a moment with your request. He couldn't let you go nor kill you. It would hurt him deeply. He couldn't live without you. Instead, he pulls you away from the wall, gripping your waist.

"Forgive me…my love." He slightly lowers your back.

He presses his lips against yours. A mixture of blood and saliva enters your mouth as his kiss quickly deepens. The sharp nails of his fingers lightly dig into your scalp as his fangs gently poke your upper lip. Your back lowers more, and your hands grip the neck of his cape to prevent yourself from falling.

Suddenly, your eyes widen, followed by gasping pain coming from you. Your body froze as you now realize his teeth are plunging deep into your neck. The ringing in your eardrums grows louder as you lose sight of your surroundings.

"V-Vlad…" Your voice quietly croaks. "Stop… Please." Your voice slowly trails off.

He felt your body go limp. He accomplished what he wanted to do. "You will join me soon." He kisses your forehead. "I promise to keep you safe."

#finished this up at nearly 2 am 😮‍💨#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd oneshots #dead by daylight oneshots #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #dracula x reader #dracula #vampire #castlevania #castlevania x reader #castlevania oneshots #vampire x reader #dracula vlad tepes #dracula vlad tepes x reader #my creation

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jiminjamms · 1 month ago

Text

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji #sukuna #choso #geto #fanfiction #anime fanfic #anime #jamms.sextherapy

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strawberryhotlips · 23 days ago

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༆THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH ☢︎︎- ➪enhypen ot7 x fem reader

SYNOPSIS: Moving to South Korea at just 20 years old to study medicine was something that made you extremely proud. You had so many plans for the future, but it seems that fate doesn't want the same for you. Overnight, a virus that affects only women spreads throughout the world, causing all the women in the world to die in a matter of weeks. You were the only one left standing, the problem? Nobody knew, only you. As time passed, you managed to survive this post-apocalyptic world, where you had to hide from men because if someone knew that a woman still existed, everything would go to hell for you. You didn't expect seven strangers to break into your house in the middle of the night and you didn't expect what was going to happen next either.

Word count: 4360

Pairing: enhypen! x fem!reader

Genre: Suspense, death, dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, angst, too much drama, slow burn, smut as the chapters go by (mdni), fluff, Possessiveness, jealousy, fights, toxicity, lots of love (I know, it sounds contradictory) enhypen are complete losers for the reader in the best way, strangers to lovers and other things that may happen later

Warnings!⚠️: Death, loss of loved ones, use of weapons, depression and anxiety problems, mentions of suicide, survival, vulgar and sometimes offensive language, graphic descriptions of traumatic events. If you are sensitive, don't read it for your own good. Rader is a little mean to the boys in this chap, but she's just defending herself! everyone is of legal age!! Heeseung is 26, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon are 25, Sunoo is 23, Jungwon is 22 and Ni-ki is 21.

Status: ongoing (16-01-2025 -)

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, everything came out of my head, the personality of the characters are not real and do not represent them in real life in any way, any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Everyone is of legal age in this universe. English is not my first language so you will probably find spelling mistakes.

Hii beautiful people!! I'm finally back with the second chap of this story! It took me longer than the first one, sorry for the delay! hope you enjoy it a lot! You would help me a lot by liking, reblogging and commenting! Without further ado, thank you very much and enjoy!

CHAPTER I: "Disaster"

CHAPTER II: "Loneliness"

more under the cut ☟︎︎︎

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... that sound definitely wasn't the rain....

Your senses were sharpened to the maximum again, your hand gripping your weapon tightly and securing it close to your body. Your heart and breathing seemed to be in a race to see which one was faster, but you could be sure that your heart was the winner, as you could literally feel it pounding in your ears. Your throat suddenly felt tight and dry, nerves and anxiety on edge, you tried to swallow to moisten it, but your attempts were futile. You could feel tears stinging your eyes from the desperation you felt.

"Holy shit..." your voice was barely a whisper as you tried to process what was happening. You tried to calm yourself and sharpen your hearing so you knew how many men you were up against. Your room suddenly seemed suffocating and tiny, you felt the bubbling of a panic attack in your chest, you felt like you were going to die, your mind kept telling you that your minutes were numbered. You started to shake as one shudder after another went through your body like lightning, it was desperate and terrifying. You quietly climbed down from your bed and approached the door of your room on tiptoe. You wanted to listen better, because despite your fear, dying was not an option, not after surviving for so long. Breathing shakily, you leaned your ear against the door of your room, trying to catch a sound. Fuck, you had no idea what to do, fear made your legs shake slightly.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, the intruders were breathing heavily and panting, a sign that they had been running. Their clothes were soaked from the heavy storm outside, so the floor was filled with small puddles of water and some mud "Fuck, that was close..." one of them said, trying to catch his breath, putting a hand on his chest, feeling the strong beating of his heart as he leaned against the front door, holding it shut.

How stupid you were. In the midst of crying for your mother, you'd forgotten the most important thing: securing the fucking front door of your house.

"It was all Jake and Ni-ki's fault, we almost got caught by the police!" another voice shouted, pointing at the named ones who looked at him with a mixture of indignation and disbelief, while the first boy who had spoken looked at him with wide eyes, signaling him to shut up.

"Excuse me? no no, no way, it's not our fault, no one forced you to come with us Jay..." another of the voices said with a distinctive accent, his words tinged with contempt "And try not to scream, the police might still be around.." Jay frowned and approached this one with indignant steps "Don't be an idiot Jake, we can't let you go off alone in the middle of the night, you know crime has risen too much in the last few years, there's a reason the government declared a curfew after midnight, fuck..." his voice sounded frustrated as he looked at him seriously. "'You're a grown man, you should have a little more conscience, you both could have been killed..." he said this time with more seriousness and concern, scolding him firmly in a whisper. The weight of his words hung in the air.

Definitely none of them wanted to die, let alone go to jail, Jay was right, they couldn't just leave in the middle of the night and put themselves in danger and worry the rest of the group. It was a miracle they had found this house, a few more minutes and the police would have caught them.

"Well, sorry, it was my idea Jay Hyung..." another deeper voice said as he scratched his neck a little embarrassed and looked at the elder "Anyway, we're all fine," he said this time with a little cheeky but guilty smile trying to break the tense moment.

A sigh was heard, followed by another clear voice. "It's okay Ni-ki, make sure you don't do it again please..." he asked firmly but at the same time calmly as he looked at the one named and also at Jake who nodded silently, feeling a little guilty, he had quite a bit of leadership in his voice. Ni-ki nodded, "Okay, Jungwon Hyung..." Ni-ki's deep voice hung in the cold air of the house as Jungwon sighed again.

The house was silent for a few seconds as the boys looked around and surveyed the place, ignoring the fact that they were freezing to death from the water that had fallen on them in the middle of winter. And it had occurred to Ni-ki that it would be fun to leave (escape) from where they lived at three in the morning, Jake saw him trying to leave and joined him on the pretext that he "couldn't let him go alone because it was too dangerous", which brought them all here.

Ni-ki was the youngest of the group, which of course made him the most rebellious, and someone like that always needed an accomplice, which was Jake most of the time, which led to both of them getting into trouble quite often.

"It's a nice house...strange that it's abandoned..." another voice, different from the others, a little softer, broke the silence, praising the architecture of the place, your place. And it was true, it was a huge house, with a modern vintage style. Another of the boys nodded in agreement as he shook his head a little, trying to get the water out of his hair, "Yeah, Sunoo's right...it's pretty nice for being abandoned..." The words hung heavy in the air as the boys looked at each other, seemingly searching for answers, there seemed to be an immediate understanding between them as the named one nodded and the seven began to explore the living room, their steps cautious in the new suspicion that someone already lived in the house. Even though it seemed empty, they had to make sure they were out of danger.

On the second floor, you had managed to identify seven voices from your room, where you were still trying to calm down. So they were being chased by the police for breaking the curfew, tsk...men. Your breathing was still fast, but as you listened to their conversations, you managed to calm down a bit, knowing that because of their actions, it wouldn't be very difficult to deal with them.......

or so you thought

You could hear them walking around your living room and decided that you needed to listen more closely, their voices were a little muffled by the distance. You were about to open your bedroom door slightly, but what sounded like something falling to the floor startled you slightly as your free hand instinctively grabbed the doorknob, as if holding on to it would somehow protect you from them.

"Shit..." cursed the voice of one of the guys whose name you hadn't heard yet, furrowing his brow slightly "Pfff...what an idiot, Heeseung Hyung..." Ni-ki said, letting out a laugh as he sneered at the older one, watching as he crashed into a nearby shelf, causing a ceramic jug to fall and shatter into several pieces on the floor.

Heeseung turned his head to look at Ni-ki with narrowed eyes, "Aish...hey, what a brat...i can't see..." mild annoyance ran through his dramatic voice as he defended himself and pointed at Ni-ki who was still laughing. The other five boys chuckled a little at the amusing situation between the oldest and the youngest of the group. They got along so well, you could hear a certain camaraderie in their voices, as if they had known each other forever "I mean, ....Ni-ki isn't wrong..." the other boy, whose name you didn't know yet, remarked with a slight sideways smile that showed his fangs a little longer than usual, a cute, not-so-usual attraction.

Heeseung looked at him without any amusement on his face, judging him with his eyes. They had this habit of teasing him, not that he really minded, but he was tired, hungry and soaking wet, not in a good mood "Really, Sunghoon, you too?" he shook his head in disapproval as Sunghoon shrugged his shoulders without saying anything else and let out a small chuckle. He was really stressed out too and fuck, the current situation had affected him a lot, he hadn't had pussy in over four fucking years and he fucked so often that he was really going crazy.

Not that he was a pervert (or maybe yes), but he excused himself by saying that "fucking relieved his stress and made him perform better in his daily life"

But he had never experienced falling in love, only one-night stands, just like the other guys. The hope that he could have pussy faded deeper and deeper in the back of his mind, and he resigned himself to settling for his own hand. But he refused to accept that idea, he still had some hope. He didn't just want to fuck, he wanted a woman he could love and who would love him, he wanted to be a good love and he also had a dream of being a father, something that obviously seemed unattainable for Heeseung, in fact it seemed unattainable for the seven men.

They really wanted to fall in love...

In fact, they were all stressed about the lack of pussy.... Even Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were still virgins and had never been able to bury their sad cocks in real pussy, were sexually frustrated. But for Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon and Sunoo, the feeling of being trapped inside a pussy was like nothing else in the world and now they could only remember and even imagine because fuck, four years without sex, it was like being a virgin all over again.

But come on, their hearts needed to be stimulated as much as their cocks.

Jungwon cautiously approached the now non-existent jar on the ground, bowing slightly and examining it, "If someone was here, they would have heard us by now..." he mused with a calm expression. He straightened as he turned to look at the other boys, they were like his family, he had known them for many years and loved them like his brothers.

The only thing that illuminated the living room at the moment was the light from the occasional thunder light that came through the window like a horror movie. It was a huge place, enough for everyone to be comfortable "I think we can either spend the night here or keep the place, after all, the one we had was getting too small for the seven of us..." he looked at them, waiting for a sign of denial, but they all seemed to agree.

It wasn't a bad idea, after all. They were in the middle of the forest, far away from the city, where there was more crime by the way, and the place seemed quite cozy. Besides, if Jungwon said so, it was because it had to be. He always made sure that everyone felt comfortable, even though they often fought like siblings, which was sometimes funny, Jungwon always prioritized everyone's well-being.

"Well, we should look for the bathroom, clothes and blankets, I'm freezing...we could take a bath..." Sunoo spoke for the second time, articulating each of his words with his hands. The boys nodded. A hot shower sounded great after running through the forest in the rain, so much that their legs felt tired.

"Good idea, we should split up, go through the rest of the house and look for the things we need..." fuck no, if they went through the rest of the house they would definitely find you and that couldn't happen, they couldn't find you, so you had no choice but to find them before it was too late.

Sunghoon's voice was full of determination as he explained his idea to the others, who immediately agreed. But before they could take action, you beat them to it for your own good.

"I wouldn't do that if i were you..." Your voice finally echoed through the living room with newfound certainty, causing a sudden hush to fall over the place. Your gun was pressed against the large back of one of the seven boys, who was now undeniably tense, you could tell by the way the muscles in his back were contracting under his clothes. He was tall, blond, and seemed to have well-defined biceps.....

"No, idiot, this is not the time to think about biceps, concentrate" You mentally scolded yourself.

Instinctively, he raised both hands to let you know that he was not going to attack you. His hands were shaking slightly and he was completely stiff as he felt the cold metal of your gun against his back, which, in addition to your distinctly feminine voice, sent shivers down his spine.

From your vantage point, you could see the faces of the other six boys, pale and still as if they had seen a ghost. And no wonder, they must be more confused and shocked than ever. The torrential rain that pounded against the windows and roof was the only thing that filled the deadly silence. It was the first time you had seen people in years, your heart was beating fast in your chest and you couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement...

or perhaps a mixture of both.

After what seemed like an eternity, one of them tried to move forward, his hair was a deep red, but quickly there was an instant click in your head as you pulled the safety off your gun, making him flinch in place, your survival instinct was at its peak "Take another fucking step and I'll blow your friend's head off..." your voice was cold as was the expression on your face, your breathing rapid, matching that of the guys in front of you who seemed more nervous than you.

Your eyes were still slightly red from crying earlier, and even though you were scared shitless inside, you didn't want to let it show, you didn't want them to notice your weakness. This time you leaned your gun against the back of the blond boy's neck, indicating that you meant business.

Fuck, they couldn't let something go unnoticed, something they thought didn't exist anymore and that they would never see again in their lives, suddenly the reality they lived in took a 180 degree turn when you appeared, you were a woman, fuck, you clearly were, and you stood in front of them and threatened to blow Sunghoon's head off with one shot. It all seemed like a lie, the last four years of their lives began to have an unbearable weight on their backs when they saw you. They began to think they were hallucinating and had to blink several times to process the information. Even so, their throats felt dry and their eyes couldn't take their eyes off you. Sunghoon began to feel impatient, yes, he was scared, but he also wanted to see you, so he gathered all his courage to speak

"M-Miss...we don't want to hurt you..." you idiot, he mentally cursed himself for stuttering slightly and scrunched up his face in an expression that clearly said 'I screwed up', he who never hesitated in front of any woman had just done it with you, which left his ego a little bruised, but he didn't care.

You clenched your jaw as you heard him speak, pressing the gun harder against his head, making him tense up even more, if that was possible, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...really, we don't mean any har-..."

Pathetic, he begged pathetically, but a mixture of fear and emotion controlled him at that moment, he couldn't control it.

"Shut up...you talk too much for someone who is being targeted..." your voice was cutting and harsh, making it clear that there was no room for discussion in your words, making Sunghoon shut up immediately as he nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly.

You had to find a way to control the situation, no matter what. You grabbed the boy's soaked shirt from behind and pushed him down, "Get on your knees..." you ordered firmly and he obeyed immediately, kneeling on the ground, you don't have many options when you have a gun pointed at you, making it so that everyone could see you better now. You didn't mean to be so rude, but you couldn't trust them, not yet, "You too, idiots, what are you waiting for?"

Yes, maybe you were too harsh, but you had to guarantee your survival first and foremost.

With the seven men now kneeling on the floor in front of you, you sighed and thought about what to do next. You weren't going to kill them, you weren't that kind of person, even if it gave them a free hand to hurt you, you just weren't that kind of person. But letting them go wasn't an option either, what were you going to do, stay with them? you didn't know them, the most you knew was their names and from the way they looked, they were all around your age.

"Are you really a woman?" the voice of one of them broke through your cloud of thoughts. Oh God, you didn't think they were that stupid, he really just asked you that?

You raised your eyes to look at the boy who had spoken, your brow was clearly furrowed, he had some blue strands in his black hair "Jay, shut up for God's sake," Heeseung spoke softly, clearly scolding him, really, he couldn't believe his friend had asked that. But he didn't blame him, he was just as or even more stunned than Jay by your presence, which made him move slightly in his place, not wanting to alert you, he really couldn't believe his eyes either, actually none of them could.

While you thought intently without saying a word, your gun still rested on Sunghoon's head. You bit your lower lip, trying to think of a quick solution, but damn, this was clearly going to take a long time. A sigh left your lips, you were sleepy, your body was aching and your head was going a mile a second, which made your mental situation difficult as well as putting your thoughts in order. In addition, you couldn't see much because there was no light and everyone's eyes were on you, which inevitably made you a little nervous.

Meanwhile, the boys' minds were no better off than yours, still trying to process that you actually exist and are not a figment of their imagination.

Hell, they even wanted, no, they had to be in Sunghoon's place. Just knowing that you were a woman got them going, but what about your assertive dominance? The way you had brought Sunghoon, who was probably one of the strongest in the group, to his knees with a simple command from your lips was fucking attractive.

The tension in the air was thick, not only because they were threatened at gunpoint, but also because there was an undeniable sexual attraction and tension between you and them. It was impossible to control, something instantaneous that left them with their breath caught in their throats and their cocks already half hardened in their pants, including Sunghoon himself. They didn't want to look like dogs in heat or perverts, they didn't want to scare you and make you think badly of them, but it was something that was simply out of their hands.

The cold they had felt from being soaked earlier vanished at a ridiculous speed and was replaced by warmth. Their faces were slightly flushed and now that they knew you were real, they couldn't help but imagine a lot of situations in their twisted minds, but damn, besides being hard, you were beautiful, a temptation at a glance that made them clench their thighs as their erections went wild.

Sunghoon, who was closest to you, was the most affected, he could even smell your scent, so soft and delicate, the scent of a woman. He stopped himself from inhaling your precious scent with all his might, forgetting that the tip of a gun was pressed against his head.

Jungwon cleared his throat, trying to find his voice in your presence, which was quite strong, "Miss, please..don't hurt us... we can just go and..." a dry laugh came out of your throat as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, cutting off his words, "Sure, I'll let you go so you can shout that you found a woman all over Seoul..." Your words were clearly sarcastic, rejecting his suggestion outright, making Jungwon quickly shake his head in an attempt to contradict you, but your gaze was enough to make him stop trying.

"Then you'll have to let us stay here..." the rational sense of Heeseung had left his head when he dared to say those words with a tone of boldness and obviousness as he looked at you with slightly half-closed eyelids, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It infuriated you, how could he be so arrogant when you could literally kill him at any moment? You looked at him as you let go of Sunghoon and approached him with quickened steps. You grabbed his jaw with one of your hands and roughly lifted his face to look into his eyes while resting your gun on his forehead. Your eyes betrayed your anger, but he seemed too relaxed for his own good, "You better shut the fuck up, because if you don't..." the asshole didn't let you finish as he blatantly interrupted you, "If I don't, what?..." he dared you, not only with his voice, but also with his eyes.

How fucking dare he?

"You're not going to kill us..." he said, his fucking grin getting bigger and bigger, "if you wanted to, we'd all be dead by now from the moment you walked into this room, precious..."

Oh fuck, he couldn't be that fucking arrogant, but he was right, you wouldn't kill them and you hated that he could read you so easily without even knowing you.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to break his ridiculously attractive face, because that was one little detail you hadn't been able to overlook, they were all fucking attractive, but you couldn't afford to think about that when your top priority had to be keeping yourself safe.

You clenched his jaw with your hand, your fingers digging lightly into his skin, causing a small sigh to leave his lips, "You're right, i may not want to kill you...but I'll blow your fucking balls off if you keep spitting shit..." this time he didn't dare interrupt you, instead he seemed to be lost in limbo. His gaze was fixed on your lips as you spoke each word with furious determination....

Fuck, you had fire in you

The formula was simple: danger equals adrenaline, adrenaline equals thrill, and thrill equals arousal. There was no other way to explain why they enjoyed danger so much.

The others were waiting for the scene to unfold in front of them.

So you weren't going to kill them. A relief settled in their chests when they realized that you weren't a bad person, you were just defensive, which was completely normal when seven intruders enter your house in the middle of the night. Jungwon had quickly understood and realized that Heeseung had been the first to notice, that's why he dared to talk to you like that. Now the group was less tense, they trusted their oldest member, they knew that Heeseung wouldn't risk doing something he wasn't completely sure about.

"All right, no need for anyone to get hurt, miss..." Jungwon interrupted what seemed to be a dueling stare between Heeseung and you, his words a little more confident now that Heeseung had taken it upon himself to break through the layer of harsher tension, but still he was being cautious.

Your eyes didn't leave Heeseung's and you didn't take the gun away from his head either, but his words echoed in your head and honestly, you didn't have much of a choice. Curiosity bubbled in your chest, you wondered what to do, you had been alone too long, you remembered nights when you couldn't sleep because you were so scared. Maybe letting them stay was your best option, you knew you were the last woman on earth, you were sure that if you asked them to do something, they would do it without hesitation and maybe they could protect you. Bring you out of your state of loneliness, which seemed to grow with time.

The boys' knees were starting to hurt from kneeling for so long, but the tense situation in the living room was too tense for any of them to try to make a move. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen, including you.

A sigh escaped your lips when you realized that you would have no choice but to let them stay here, but if that was going to happen, it would be under your own rules. You didn't want to be alone anymore, which didn't mean that you were going to blindly trust them overnight, because trust was a luxury you could pay dearly for if you decided to put all your cards on the table.

You let go of Heeseung's face and slowly lowered your gun, your gaze, still quite hard, shifting from him to the other guys as you took your time to study their expressions.

"Alright..I'll let you all stay..." you finally declared and your words were an immediate comfort to the seven men in front of you, but before any of them could say anything you continued "But..." you fell silent for a few seconds, letting the anticipation fill the air "if any of you do anything stupid, i swear...

i will kill you..."

CHAPTER III: "Trust Issues"

taglist 🫶🏻: @strxwbloody @ch4c0nnenh4 @aussie-boys-wife @deobitifull @engeneheree @suhwife @elairah @merwdusa @d-dilemma @liafterhours @btxtenha @wonenonly @cara9065 @otterluver05 @imnotsaika @immelissaaa

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kamiversee · 11 months ago

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 21 || The After Hours

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, a tinge of angst, and sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.1k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——"I DON'T UNDERSTAND," YOU murmured to the albino man whose arms you're comfortably carried in.

What the hell does he mean by when you call he comes running? You didn't call him... right? Wait, fuck, you don't even remember. Was it really Geto's voice you heard over the phone?

Gojo slowly walks with you in his grasp toward his car, "You called me... Well, I know you probably meant to call Suguru but uh, you called me, sweetheart." He explains.

A pouty expression takes over your features as you grumble out a response to him, "Why didn't you... s-say anything, asshole."

He shrugs, "Cause' Suguru's asleep and I didn't want his half-woken brain to come out here and get you, who's completely wasted. So, it's a good thing you accidentally called me anyway. Plus, I missed-," He stops as he looks at your face.

Your eyes closed and you'd fallen asleep again. Gojo opens his mouth to finish what he is saying but instead sighs and focuses his gaze on where he's walking.

Carefully, the male works his passenger car door open and places you inside. Gojo is overly cautious while he seats you comfortably. Your head had leaned into a visibly unbearable position and he had to be light with his touches to fix you properly.

The pads of his fingers are soft against your face and he's gentle with the way he handles your head. When he's done making sure you don't look uncomfortable and finishes buckling you in, his eyes pause on your pretty resting features.

Even though the beauty Gojo sees in your face, he can't help but notice the dried tear streaks running down your cheeks. He wonders when you cried and why. Was it because of him? Again? The thought alone makes his heart ache.

Gojo shuts his eyes and leans his forehead to yours, resting against you lightly, "I'm sorry..." He whispers to you, despite the fact that you're asleep.

After another second, Gojo removes himself from your space and shuts his car door softly. He then makes it into the driver's seat and he's quick to start his car and drive off.

The ride is slow and Gojo tries to make it as smooth as possible so that he doesn't wake you up. There were a few times when you moved and let out a little groan, each time prompting a concerned gaze from the man in the diver's seat.

Each minute that passes, Gojo spends it thinking about what you told him over the phone. He hates to see you struggling like this, wishing he could go back and maybe do something different but knowing the outcome would've been bad either way.

By the time he gets to your apartment, it's even later into the night and Gojo spends the entire time with you being as careful as possible. He knows you didn't want to see him but he needed to make sure you got home safely.

So, the man carried you all the way to your apartment door and even let himself inside. You found this out a while ago when you went through your messages but apparently, Shoko gave Gojo a spare key to the apartment.

You thought it was weird of your roommate to do so without talking to you about it but she eventually explained to you that she's asked Gojo to go to your apartment more times than she can count and it was frustrating giving him her keys every time.

That, and she secretly felt like him having access to the apartment would help the two of you get together. Of course, Shoko is still ignorant of what's going on between you and Gojo but neither of you has plans on changing that.

After all, her giving him spare keys is beneficial to you in a situation like this.

Gojo moves into your apartment with you in his arms, his footsteps quiet. When he entered, everything was dark and he noticed Shoko's room door was closed. He figured she was asleep since the space beneath her room door showed no signs of lighting and plus, it was pretty late.

You shift around in Gojo's arms while he carries you into your room. The male carefully placed you down on your bed and he wanted to make sure you were comfortable in your sleep but was nervous to do so.

Gojo drags his gaze up and down the obvious discomfort the dress you're wearing brings you and he so desperately wants to change you. With a sigh, he glances around your room, searching for a t-shirt he can toss over you but spotting none.

The man knows you probably won't like it but, he stands up and strips his upper half, removing the white sweater he was wearing and moving to put it onto your body, leaving him in a simple t-shirt he had underneath.

The sweater went over your dress after which, Gojo felt around your back, careful not to touch you directly, and unzipped your dress. He didn't want to lay eyes on your body while you were asleep so, the male worked your dress off you and down your legs with his sweater blocking his eyesight from seeing anything.

On you, his sweater went down to the beginning of your thighs, looking like a dress in itself on your smaller frame. Gojo had long since worked your heels off, having neatly placed them somewhere in your room and now he was trying to tuck you into your bed.

After that, he left your room for only a moment to grab medicine for the painful hangover he knows you're going to have when you wake up. Returning to you swiftly, he puts all the necessary items on your nightstand and sighs.

Soft snores left you, prompting his eyes to fall on your face for the millionth time that night. Gojo tilts his head as he looks at your face, taking in all of your features. He missed having the mere luxury of just looking at you.

You're so beautiful in his eyes that just staring at you makes him loathe himself for the terrible shit he's putting you through.

When the long moment of appreciation comes to an end, Gojo caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand as if to say bye, before leaning up and turning away.

What he doesn't expect is for a delicate set of fingers to wrap around his wrist and stop him from going anywhere. Before he can even turn around to look at you, you whisper out a sleepy and still drunken, "S-Stay."

All it takes is that one word of yours for the male to stop every movement. Hell, he thinks he stops breathing for a second. Turning his face around to look at you, he spots your eyes just barely open and your hand holding him.

Gojo swallows, "Sweets, as much as I want to... you don't really-"

"Satoru," You whisper.

The way you say his name so suddenly after not referring to him as such for what felt like an eternity makes his heart throb violently in his chest. Gojo's whole facial expression weakens, his body and mind completely incapacitated under the sound of your voice and the feeling of your touch.

Your eyes flick up to him and he can tell that you're clearly drunk.

"Y-Yes?" Gojo whispers back.

"Stay." You command.

He feels so utterly helpless under your gaze. What is he supposed to say when you look at him so longingly? Holding onto his wrist in a way that makes him feel like if he leaves, he'll only leave you sadder.

He glances off to the side, "You're just gonna be upset when you sober up. I can't-"

"Toru please." You murmur, suddenly frowning, "I... d-don't wanna be alone."

Gojo's eyes shut and he grits his teeth, "Fucking hell... O-Okay, fuck, fine w-whatever you want." He stammers out, physically unable to deny your requests. "Just... don't curse me out when you're sober, please."

You let his wrist go and smiled cheekily, "No promisessss."

Gojo walks around to the other side of your bed and slowly lays down beside you. Even drunk, you could tell he was nervous doing so-- he already knew what was going to happen when your drunken state faded away. At first, the man lays down as far as possible, making you flip your body around to face him.

He clears his throat, "Is this okay?"

The guy was on the other side of your bed, clearly trying to keep his distance. You giggle, "No, stupid... Come hold me," You whisper.

"H-Hold you?" Gojo chokes out.

You sigh heavily, "At least until-," You yawn, "...I fall back asleep. T-Then you can leave, if you want."

With a slight nod, Gojo just barely slides closer to you. One of his large arms goes over your side and you immediately reciprocate, making his heart skip a beat at the way your small hand is felt on his back. The two of you were basically hugging each other and the state of his heart worsens as you snuggle in closer to him.

"C'mon, this is unfair..." Gojo sighs heavily.

You continue hugging him anyway, comforting your head into his chest. "I know," You whisper in response.

The two of you then get quiet for a while. Your breathing gets softer and softer against his chest and every brush of air against his skin makes it harder for him to calm his rapidly beating heart. It's been so long since you'd been close to him like this that he doesn't know how to handle it.

Gojo feels almost dizzy by your warm body against his. It's not turning him on or anything but his heart feels so odd in his chest.

Suddenly, your head shifts and you look up a him, "Gojo..." You whisper.

And he misses the way you say his first name already, "Hm?"

"You're so cruel to me." You babble out. Not only was your intoxication beginning to take over your mind, but fatigue was weighing in on you as well.

He sighs shakily, "Am I?"

"Very..." You start pouting, "He made me really happy, y'know..."

Gojo blinks in confusion.

"Choso," You clarify. Gloss begins to lay over your eyes and you quickly grow saddened, "...He won't even talk to me now."

"Did you... tell him about the list or something?"

"No, idiot." You fire back. "He wanted to date me but... I o-obviously couldn't say yes because of you."

Guilt thrums throughout Gojo's body, "I'm sorry." He apologizes sincerely.

You sigh heavily, "Y'know... if you were really sorry, you'd delete that video of me and let me go..."

"I can't." Gojo replies, squeezing his eyes shut, "I really can't."

"Why?" You question, scoffing slightly, "After all this time, can you at least tell me why it has to be me?"

He silences himself in thought. There are so many ways he could go about answering such a question but the possibilities of how you may react are endless. Plus, you're drunk and if he's going to admit or explain anything to you, it'll be while you're sober.

"Because..." Gojo's voice gets so quiet that you almost don't catch what he says, "...I don't have any other choice."

What does he mean by that? You have no idea. It's just another one of Gojo's stupid explanations that make no sense whatsoever, leading you to only be annoyed with him for the nth time since you've known him. You're negative emotions for this male run deeper than anything else.

Even so, there's this underlying emotion you feel when he talks to you or looks at you. And you absolutely despise the way it affects you because the man simply plagues your heart, vexing you with his toxic and fucked up realities of how he wants things to go.

You find yourself lulled into it all nonetheless. Whether it be by choice or not, something about Gojo just draws you to him in so many ways.

You hate the way he looks at you as if your very existence is what he still breathes for. The way he talks to you like each second without your presence is steadily crushing his will to live. How he holds you so gently yet firmly as if he dreads the instant he has to let you go.

And more than anything, you hate the combination of all that being tied to his stupidly handsome face that makes you nervous at every second, even though you try to hide it. Then there are the memories of the very few good times you spent with him.

Somewhere deep, deep, deep down inside-- you'd give anything to go back to that morning you woke up in his arms.

Gojo Satoru may be no Kamo Choso but even so, both men hold some deep and special, whether it be good or bad, place in your heart.

You shake your head in disbelief, "...I hate you."

Gojo swallows down your words, "That uh... That makes four."

"What?" You scoff confusedly.

"That's the fourth time you've said those words to me-- the fourth time you've claimed to hate me." Gojo points out, his voice so clearly sorrowful, "I wish you didn't..."

Your brows bush together, "...Wish I didn't say it or...?"

"No, I wish you didn't have to hate me." He says, shutting his eyes again and sucking in a deep breath, "B-But... it's uh, It's okay. I can live with you hating me."

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to say something but he cuts you off unintentionally by continuing.

"It's odd though," Gojo whispers, his fingers toying with the back of the sweater you're wearing. "Why would you want to be in my arms if you hate me so much?"

You groan, "Cause'...." The reasoning takes a second to come out, almost as if you didn't want to admit such a thing out loud, "I don't... I don't wanna be alone." You murmur, your voice wavering a little before your grasp on him grows tighter.

Gojo's heart is pounding so ridiculously hard against his chest when he feels you cling to him so desperately. It took control of every muscle and vein in his body not to squeeze you back just as hard to let you know that he'd never leave unless you told him to.

A soft, heart-wrenching little chuckle leaves his lips, "Me neither, sweetheart."

For a second time, silence wraps around the two of you. The only noise in the air now was the sound of you both breathing faintly. You don't know why but, even though you hate him, you couldn't deny the deep sense of comfort and understanding you felt within his arms.

Your heart was heavy in your chest, feelings for Choso having a dangerous steel grip on you. If you were to complete this list; you needed to put your feelings for that man aside. Only temporarily though. By all means, no matter what it took, you'd be running back to Choso the very second you were freed to do so.

Unconsciousness creeps up on you and unexpectedly wraps your mind up in a warm little blanket, swaying you into relaxation and tugging you into a state of slumber. Meanwhile, Gojo lay awake, unable to fall asleep with the ounces of guilt, regret, and disappointment in himself that cascaded over him.

Though it took a while, he waited until it seemed like you were asleep and then tried to ease his way out. Sadly, through your sleep, you only clung onto his body more-- silently begging him not to go anywhere.

With a sigh, he ends up staying.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

A few hours later, you wake up because of a pounding headache. It was still dark and your eyes just barely opened to gather your surroundings. Finally, you were sober.

Your mind was all groggy and you couldn't remember much after Gojo came and picked you up. It was in fragments and pieces that you recalled talking to him in your sleep and begging him to stay with you.

Yet, when you woke up and opened your eyes, you were met with the dim sight of your bedroom door closed and no feeling of warmth or body heat around you. It annoyed you that Gojo left even though you told him to stay.

Being alone was the one thing you wanted to avoid.

Even hours after your intoxication had worn off, the worst part about it was that as you propped your side up using your elbow and reached for the meds on your nightstand, a wave of arousal abruptly coursed through you. Perhaps it was because of your interactions with Naoya's piss-poor skills at pleasing you-- having left you unsatisfied all this time.

While you swallowed down a pill to kill your headache, you planned on possibly going to lock your door and just rub it out. You hate waking up horny like this and the headache doesn't help either. If only Naoya had known how to use his dick properly, you would've been fine right now.

With a sigh, you move to sit up and suddenly spot a large build lying on the other side of your bed. You almost let out a yelp in surprise until you realized that it was Gojo and that the man never left you.

Your head tips to the side while you eye his resting frame. His back is to you and you figure the male moved away from you so that you wouldn't curse him out first thing in the morning. You groan slightly at the recollection of you telling him to stay.

The sound of your light groan is enough to stir the man awake. He begins to turn around and your heart jumps for some reason when you meet eyes with him.

Gojo rubs his eyelids slightly, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. "Well... aren't you a sight for sore eyes..." He hums, his deep morning voice only worsening that arousal of yours.

You swallow, "Don't start."

"Mmmmgh.." He hums tiredly, the sound vibrating against his throat and weirdly making your state worse. He then sighs and shuts his eyes, "Don't start what, sweetheart?"

Gojo's voice is way too damn sexy for you to have a proper conversation and, of course, the damn pet name never helps.

You ignore his question, "You need to leave."

"Make me," Gojo says playfully. You frown and his eyes suddenly open, "Come over here 'nd force me out." He murmurs, voice still low but clearly playful.

You roll your eyes at the male, "I'm not joking."

He smirks seductively, the sight unintentionally attractive to you, "Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Why not?" You scoff sassily.

"Haven't done anythin' to make 'em roll, that's why," Gojo replies, the suggestiveness of his words feeding your hormones.

You push the blanket down and away from your legs, revealing your warm skin to the comforting air of your room. "You plan on doing something to make em' roll?" You reply.

Gojo's body stills in reaction to your words. His eyes close again and you watch him bite his bottom lip, "Want me to?"

You shouldn't. At all. You absolutely should not be needy for Gojo of all people.

You decide not to answer him and simply let out a yawn. He chuckles, the sound foolishly sexy. God, everything about this man is turning you on right now and you absolutely hate it.

"I can't stand you," You end up saying.

"Come sit on me then." Gojo fires back.

A throb is felt in between your legs and you grit your teeth. You didn't like the way he challenged you, almost as if you wouldn't really do so. It was one hundred percent because of your hormones that move, shifting to hold yourself up on your knees and shuffling over to the man.

Gojo's eyes shoot open and he chokes as you actually toss one leg over his and straddle him. His hands scramble a bit to lift himself up but you put your palm to his chest and push him right back down aggressively.

"Don't move now, you're the one who told me to come sit on you." You utter in a sultry tone.

He swallows as he stares up at you, never expecting you to be so bold. "Fuuck... it's too early for this y'know... Fuckin' sun isn't even up yet," He groans, his voice deeper than ever.

You lean forward, causing your crotch to rub over his, "Too early for what?"

"For you to be gettin' on top of me like this," Gojo sighs almost panicked, "I know I told you to but-," You wiggle into him a bit to comfort yourself, "F-Fuck, I didn't think you'd actually..."

Your torso tips forward and you press your fingertips into his chest, "Actually get on top of you?" You finish Gojo's statement questionably.

He nods, "Yeah."

The ache in between your legs is slowly becoming unbearable so, you roll your hips forward, your clothed cunt dragging against Gojo's cock and making his brows furrow and his jaw drop slightly.

"H-Hah, woah, w-wait, what're you doing?" Gojo questions. Those large hands of his go to your thighs and he squeezes your skin slightly.

You tilt your head innocently, "Trying to finish what that asshole Naoya left of me last nigh..." Your voice tails a bit as your roll your hips back and feel Gojo gently hump himself up into you, "Hah, n-night..." You manage out breathly.

Gojo smirks but his breathing is now heavy. He remembers you telling him that you had bad sex with Naoya but you never told him what exactly you meant by that. "What he left of-," He swallows hard, "You?"

Your head nods, "Mhm. Fucker didn't even make me cum," You explain, pouting frustratedly as you recall.

The male below you blinks, "What?"

"He didn't make me cum," You repeat while slowly grinding over the steady rise of Gojo's cock. There's almost nothing more stimulating than feeling as a male grows hard beneath you.

It's so warm and hard how his dick springs to life within the confines of his boxers. All because of a little bit of dry humping.

"You want me to make up for him?" Gojo's quick to offer.

You smile lustfully and drag your hips in a slow circle over his erection, "No... I can uh, shit... can get of jus' fine like this..." You tell him.

A wet spot forms on the male's boxers as precum seeps out the tip of his cock at the thought of watching you get yourself off by dry humping.

Gojo slips his hands up and under the sweater you're wearing, his grasp going to your hips and guiding you through your movements. "You sure?" He breathes out, "You and I both know I can satisfy you just fine."

You chuckle and then catch him off guard by grabbing his hands and prying them away from your body. Gojo's eyes widen when you pin his hands up above his head, your gaze meeting his while you continue grinding on him.

"I know you can but..." You tilt your head tauntingly, "You haven't earned that kinda thing back."

"W-What?" He stammers, his face flushing as your fingers squeeze around his wrists.

The way you're looking at him alone is enough to drive him over the edge but he manages to control himself. Your voice lowers, "You haven't earned the right to fuck me Gojo." Your words make him blink in disbelief, "Not after all the shit you put me through."

"But..."

"There is no but." You say, leaning down to him and tipping your head down to his neck. Carefully, you press your lips into him, "Right now, the only thing you've earned is the pleasure of being used by me."

Your words go straight to his cock and Gojo gulps. Is he hearing you correctly right now? Did you just say you were going to use his body for your pleasure? Is he even okay with that?? Of course he is. Gojo physically couldn't say no to such a thing.

Your lips push into the skin right under his jaw and Gojo groans lowly. Your cunt flutters around nothing at the sound and you grin. Lifting yourself, you move to hover your face over his, peering down into his eyes.

"S'that okay?" You whisper, "Can I do that?"

"I-I..." Gojo is at a complete loss for words right now.

You inch closer to him and your lips graze his own, "Can I use you, Gojo?"

He swore he almost came at the imagination of you doing so.

Everything you said was exactly what you wanted too. You really didn't believe that Gojo deserved to have sex with you without some form of punishment due to all the things he's putting you through. Hell, the only reason you're about to do anything with him is because of how horny you woke up.

Or at least, that's what you're going to blame it on anyway.

"Of course you can, sweets." Gojo utters, his eyes low, "I'm all yours, every part of me, it's all yours." He breathes out.

You smile at his words, "Yeah?"

"M-Mhm... You wanna selfishly use me to make yourself feel good," He shrugs, "By all means." Gojo encourages you, "Please do actually. I told you I'd make things up to you right?"

You almost forgot about that but, he's right. He did promise such a thing so, you nod in response.

"Consider this a part of it," The male explains, "I'm nothing more than a tool for you."

You smile at his words, butterflies fluttering through your stomach in reaction. You wondered if he was only speaking like this in terms of sex or if he meant in general but, based on the needy look in his eyes and the redness of his cheeks, he meant it in every aspect.

Slowly, your eyes shut and you press your lips into his for the first time in what feels like forever. The immediate whine that leaves Gojo is so utterly pathetic and desperate, the fact that you're still pinning his hands down acts as torture for the male.

Given that his favorite thing to do is touch you, to be deprived of that during sex is about to be one of the most difficult things he's ever experienced. But, for you; Gojo would do anything to fix everything he's broken between the two of you.

Your lips part over his and he's eager to accept your tongue sliding into his mouth, his hands simply twitching to feel your body as the two of you make out. It's slow and sloppy, wet tongues slipping over one another while soft and quiet moist sounds of your kissing fill the air.

It ends up being you that folds to the urge to touch and feel him, sliding your hands down from his writs, along his muscular arms, to his shoulders, and then to his neck and face-- growing more aggressive with your kissing and feelings his smooth skin beneath your fingers.

Gojo kept his arms up in place as you lifted from his mouth, quickly whispering his desires to you, "Can I touch you?" He hushes out before you kiss him again.

Feeling ignored, Gojo is struggling to control himself. Nothing is stopping him from moving his hands to your waist and flipping the two of you over, quickly grinding into that warm cunt of yours and pleasing you like he knows you deserve. Yet, he remains still anyway.

You tug on his lower lip for a moment before releasing it, "You wanna touch me?"

"Please," He begs, "A-At least while you're kissing me..."

"Alright," You agree, "But when I tell you to take your hands off me, you better."

Gojo nods understandingly and obediently, quickly flying his hands down to your waist and gripping onto you as your lips connect again. The kiss only grows sloppier, your lips sliding over his and his tongue working its way up into your mouth, leading you to hum against him.

Deep down inside, you can't lie... you did miss making out with Gojo. Nobody kisses you like he does. This man kisses you as if it's his dying act.

His hands go down to your hips and he pushes himself up a bit while pulling you down onto his crotch again. Through your messy kissing, Gojo starts moving with you to sit himself up with you in his lap, your lips hardly ever disconnecting from one another.

Now that you're both sat up, it makes kissing each other and dry humping at the same time a whole lot more comfortable and easy.

Through the softness of your lips, Gojo's able to whisper a thing out to you every now and then, "F-Fuck... I missed you s'much..." He mumbles into you.

His arms wrap around your waist while yours go around his neck, both of you hungrily making out with each other.

When you pull away for a second to breathe, you respond. "Did you?" You murmur.

Gojo nods eagerly, "You know I did."

You smile slightly as you kiss him again. Both of you just barely conversate in between pecks, "...Prove it," You utter.

The sound of his lips smacking over yours is heard, "O-Okay... I will, however-, mh... however you want." He speaks between your constant pecks and gentle sucks over his lower lip, "T-Told you... I'm all yours."

You finally pry away from his mouth completely, a string of saliva left between your lips and his. "Alright then... can I..." You bite your lower lip for a moment, trying to debate if you really want to go through with the idea in your head.

Gojo looks absolutely dazed right now from all your kissing-- having almost blown his load in his pants from making out with you. His cheeks are completely red, his lips parted with heavy pants leaving him, and his eyes low as they look at you.

"Yes," Gojo blurts out, "Whatever it is, you can do it to me." He agrees.

The man appears as though he was fucked out and all you've done is swap spit with him.

You stare at him innocently before giving him one last peck and then moving to his ear, "Can I tie you up?"

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

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rosemariiaa · 2 months ago

Text

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 02, 𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— synopsis: the feeling of regret

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi :), sooo don’t yell at me y’all know i’m sensitive, but yes apologies this was supposed to come out wayyy sooner but i’ve had a lot going on with my personal life i barely had time to write but luckily i finished this up! ik almost people were confused on the cliffhanger so i hope i explained it well in this chapter :) happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: hurt/comfort, guilt, angst

enjoy!!!

march 21, 2014

The cursor blinked at me, expectant. Judging.

Her name sat on the tip of my tongue. Not the one she introduced herself with, not the nickname she had tossed at me under the swing set like it was armor. Her real name. The one she’d trusted me with just days before everything shattered.

I hovered over the keyboard. How many times had I visited this account in the past two months? More than I could count. The anonymity she clung to should have been enough to keep me from connecting the dots. But the username—UnicornPuppy35—was a clue I couldn’t ignore, not after that rainy night, not after the slippers and the shirt that practically screamed it.

Azzi.

The realization should have made me stop, made me put down my phone and walk away. She didn’t know it was me. She didn’t know I was the one lurking, soaking up every word she wrote, piecing together her sadness, her anger, her loneliness. And she couldn’t find out—not like this.

If she did… God, if she ever found out, I wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d hate me more than she already did, and I couldn’t stand to see that look on her face again.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The memory of her tears still burned, sharp as glass.

flashback ⤑ february 13, 2013

The rain came down hard that night, the kind of downpour that soaked through your skin and left you raw.

I didn’t know why I left the house. Maybe it was the yelling, or maybe it was the silence that followed. Either way, I ended up at the park. The swings creaked under the weight of the wind, and the only other person there was huddled on one, head bowed as rain dripped from her curls and onto her bright pink unicorn shirt.

I almost walked away. She looked like she wanted to be alone, and honestly, so did I. But something stopped me—a tilt of her head, maybe, or the way her shoulders shuddered even as she sat still.

“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. The ground squelched under my shoes.

She looked up, startled. Her eyes, wide and brown, met my baby blues for half a second before darting away. “What do you want?”

I hesitated, shrugging. “Nothing. Just… didn’t think anyone else would be out here.”

Her laugh was bitter, like she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say anything else, just looked back down at her feet, the tips of her sneakers brushing the muddy ground.

I should’ve walked away. Instead, I sat on the swing next to her.

Over the next two weeks, those nights at the park became a ritual. When the lights in our houses went out, we met under the cover of darkness, sharing pieces of ourselves with kind of fully unraveling almost everything.

She told me about the girl at school—the one who dunked her head in the toilet and called her the f-slur. Her voice cracked when she said it, and my chest ached with something I didn’t quite understand.

“She’s just a bitch,” I said, reaching out without thinking. My hand landed on her shoulder, the fabric of her hoodie rough and wet under my palm. “You didn’t deserve that.”

She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either. “It’s not just her,” she muttered. “It’s… everyone.”

The night Azzi told me about the girl at school, something in her broke. Her voice cracked, a sharp edge slicing through the usual monotone she used when talking about her day.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath came out in shivers, her curls dripping rainwater down her back. “She just—she said I was looking at her skirt, and the next thing I know, I’m—”

Her voice wavered, and she stopped. She didn’t have to finish. I could picture it: the cold porcelain, the laughter, the humiliation.

“She has to be insecure or something,” I said quickly, fumbling for the right words. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Azzi. She’s just taking her misery out on you.”

Azzi didn’t look convinced. Her lip trembled, and she pressed her face into her knees, hiding the tears I knew were falling.

I sat there, helpless. I wasn’t good at this—comforting people, saying the right thing. But I didn’t want her to feel alone.

“You wanna egg her house?” I joked, my voice soft. “Or, I don’t know, slash her parents tires?”

She huffed a wet laugh, the sound muffled by her hoodie. “She’d probably call the cops.”

“She’s a snitch, too?” I gasped dramatically, hoping to coax another laugh out of her. “That’s it. We’re definitely egging her house.”

Azzi peeked up at me, her eyes red and puffy but lighter somehow. “You’re stupid,” she said, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

——-

A few nights later, that’s when things fell apart.

I was at the park first, waiting for Azzi, when a group of girls from my neighborhood showed up. I didn’t know them well, but they were loud and funny in that kind of way that made you want to laugh along just to fit in.

We were sitting on the picnic table, their chatter filling the silence, when one of them asked, “Hey, Paige, why do you always hang out with that girl?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Who?”

“You know, that Azzi girl,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Nobody hangs out with her.”

My stomach twisted. “Why not?”

The girl snorted. “Her mom’s, like, weird. Always with a new boyfriend or whatever. It’s embarrassing. She’s just a weirdo and looks weird.”

My jaw tightened. Before I could respond, another girl chimed in, laughing. “And her hair! It’s like, doesn’t she know what a brush is?”

The table erupted in laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. I glanced at the path leading to the swings, my heart sinking.

“Paige,” a voice said behind me.

I froze.

Azzi stood there, her face pale and her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shook her head, stepping back as if I’d physically struck her.

“Azzi, wait—” I started, scrambling off the table, but she was already turning away.

“Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Just… don’t.”

I ran after her, catching her arm as she reached the edge of the park. “Azzi, I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” she snapped, whirling around. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her voice rising in anger. “Wasn’t laughing at me? Wasn’t sitting there while they trashed me?”

“I didn’t say anything!” I protested, my chest tight.

“That’s the problem!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You just sat there, Paige. You didn’t even try to stop them, you let them say those things.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat.

“Forget it,” she muttered, yanking her arm free. She wiped at her face angrily, her curls sticking to her cheeks. “I should’ve known better.”

“Azzi, come on,” I pleaded, my voice softer now. “It’s not like that—”

“What’s it like, then?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear. I just don’t understand after all those nights I cried to you P.. how could you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. By the time I found the words, she was already gone.

present day 2014

It’s been weeks since Azzi and I started talking online, just the two of us, anonymously. We’ve gotten comfortable—well, as comfortable as we can with the fake names and hidden identities. I try not to think about the lies I’m keeping from her, but I know deep down it’s the only way I can stay connected to her. She has to trust me, or she’ll leave. And I can’t handle that. Not again.

It’s the last day of school, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement as I head to the bus. I can’t wait to get home, and send Azzi a message—anything really. I don’t care if it’s about her puppy or the weather or something ridiculous. I just want to talk to her.

I find a seat on the bus and pull out my phone. As the bus rumbles on, I open up Blogspot. I scroll through the messages Azzi and I exchanged earlier, just before school started. I can’t help but laugh at the part where she told me her dog, Stewie, peed in her shoe. That image—her tiny, brown wiener dog peeing in her brand new sneakers—was so perfectly her. Her humor, her frustration, her charm.

I giggle, but then it hits me. The guilt. It crashes over me, sudden and sharp, like a wave I didn’t see coming. My thumb freezes over the screen, hovering over the keyboard. I look at the conversation, at the funny banter we shared this morning, and my chest tightens. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.

If she knew who I really was, if she knew the truth about why I was pretending to be someone else… she would never look at me the same way again. She’d leave me. She would never trust me again.

I feel the tightness in my chest grow, and I look out the window, trying to distract myself. But it’s no use. The guilt is like a weight on my shoulders, pressing down harder the longer I sit with it. Every word I’ve typed to Azzi, every moment I’ve shared with her—it’s all a lie. And I hate myself for it.

But I can’t stop. I can’t let her go again. It pained me the first time…it won’t happen again.

I stare at the phone in my hand, biting my lip. What if she finds out? What if she figures it out before I can come clean?

What if? What if? What if?

The thought is too much. I set the phone down on my lap, staring out the window, hoping the weight in my chest will ease.

A few minutes later, my phone vibrates in my lap. A new message.

unicornpuppy35: p, i just got home and stewie’s tryna eat my shoelace again. i swear this dog’s scheming.

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. My thumb hovers over the screen again. I want to reply, want to send something funny, something comforting, but all I can think about is how this isn’t real. None of it is real.

boogers_p: obviously. stewie’s prolly like, “shoelaces are phase one. world domination’s next.”

unicornpuppy35: no fr, this little dude really thinks he runs the place.

boogers_p: i mean… does he not? u literally pay rent in shoelaces and snacks.

unicornpuppy35: and socks. don’t forget the socks. he got one of mine this morning smh.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh too loud as I typed back.

boogers_p: rip to the sock. gone but not forgotten.

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared a few times before finally settling on:

unicornpuppy35: ur so ridiculous, p. u know that?

boogers_p: i’ve heard rumors.

I paused, smirking at the screen. Then, a thought hit me, and her fingers flew over the keyboard.

boogers_p: ok, real question. what’s stewie short for? or did u just look at him and go, “yup, that’s a stewie”?

There was a pause before Azzi’s response came through.

unicornpuppy35: named him after breanna stewart.

I blinked at the screen, my smile softening. Of course she did.

boogers_p: oh damn, respect. stewie’s a legend fr but no surprise you chose her.

unicornpuppy35: p, language. and duhh, hence the name.

boogers_p: my bad my bad, but u really said, “lemme name my dog after greatness.” iconic move, puppy.

I knew the nickname would get to her. It always did. The reply came fast.

unicornpuppy35: stop calling me that!!!

boogers_p: nah. it fits too good. also, it’s cute. like u.

Shit. There was a long pause before I saw the typing bubble flicker again.

unicornpuppy35: u really know how to get on my nerves, huh?

boogers_p: talent, tbh.

Azzi’s response came slower this time:

unicornpuppy35: sometimes i wonder why i even talk to u.

Paige snorted, her thumbs moving fast.

boogers_p: cuz i’m funny. and charming. and u lowkey love me. just admit it.

The reply took a moment.

unicornpuppy35: …maybe stewie loves u. that’s as close as ur getting.

I barked out a laugh, the sound drawing a curious glance from the kid across the aisle.

boogers_p: i’ll take it. tell stewie i’m his #1 fan.

unicornpuppy35: he’ll probably steal another shoelace to celebrate.

boogers_p: a king. truly.

I stared at the screen for a second longer, my chest feeling warm and tight in a way I couldn’t even describe.

unicornpuppy35: u good, peanut? u seem kinda off lately.

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, my mouth forming into a small smile at my nickname. Azzi always asked. I didn’t know how she managed to carry so much and still notice the little things about me. God.

boogers_p: yeah, i’m straight. just tired, you know?

unicornpuppy35: don’t let it get to u p. me and stewie got ur back.

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, her reply coming slower this time.

boogers_p: thanks, puppy. u and stewie the real mvps fr.

Pup- I mean Azzi’s reply was just a string of eye-roll emojis, but I could picture the grin on her face. I wish I could just see it for myself.

boogers_p: love u too.

So much.

I send the message, knowing I can’t keep lying forever. But for now, I’ll hold on.

——-

Paige walked into her room, shutting the door with a quiet click, as if any louder might let her thoughts escape into the world. Tossing her bag into the corner, she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her clothes, leaving a trail toward the bathroom. The hot water scalded her pale skin, but she barely noticed, the familiar ache in her chest louder than the pounding spray.

When she came out, dressed in an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair sticking to her neck, she flopped onto her bed. She should sleep. She needed sleep. But instead, her hand reached for the scrapbook tucked under her nightstand.

Opening it, her heart clenched as she stared at the first photo—Azzi on the swing set, caught mid-laugh, her curls bouncing wildly as she leaned over, her dimple deepening with every giggle. Paige could still hear the sound of it, bright and free, almost as if Azzi were right there in the room with her.

The second photo wasn’t much better. Her and Azzi at the diner for her 15th birthday, Azzi’s arm slung around hers like it belonged there. Paige could almost feel the ghost of Azzi’s touch, the warmth of her hand on her arm, the way Azzi’s voice would soften when she scolded her for cussing too much.

She flipped the page closed before she started crying again. It didn’t help.

Her fingers brush over the closed scrapbook, tracing its edges. She knows it’s pathetic to feel this way, to let herself get so tangled up in someone who probably doesn’t even think about her anymore. It’s dumb, she knows that. But it doesn’t change the way her heart clenches at the thought of Azzi laughing somewhere else, with someone else, as if Paige never mattered.

Because the truth is, she’s never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this. Not about their friendship, or whatever it used to be. Friendship doesn’t even seem like the right word anymore. It feels too small, too simple for something that made her feel whole in a way nothing else ever has.

Will you miss me, Azzi? Paige swallows hard, her jaw tightening as tears blur her vision again. Will you miss what we had? Because I do. I miss you so much it hurts. It fucking hurts.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes closing as the words spilled from her heart. God I think I’d miss you even if we never met.

Paige dragged a hand over her face, trying to will the tears back, but they came anyway, hot and relentless. She clutched the scrapbook tighter to her chest. I miss you. Every day. Every second of every day. I miss you so much it’s pathetic.

She let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob halfway through. “It’s so dumb,” she muttered, shaking her head. But no matter how many times she said it, it didn’t make it any less true. It’s the realest thing she’s ever felt.

Because no one had ever made her feel like Azzi did. Not before, not since. She wasn’t sure anyone ever would.

She wipes at her face, but the tears won’t stop. Because no matter how much she misses Azzi, Paige knows it’s her fault she’s gone. She clings to the scrapbook, the pictures inside the only pieces of Azzi she has left. And as much as it hurts, she knows she deserves this. Every ache, every tear, every lonely second.

Because she let her go. And that’s something she can never take back.

——-

Azzi sat quietly in the backseat, her hands clammy as she rubbed them over her shorts, trying to calm the nerves that had been with her all morning. Her brothers had hyped her up about making the team, calling her the coach’s “princess,” but it didn’t help. She was still terrified. What if she didn’t make it? What if she wasn’t good enough?

She whispered to Stewie, who was in her lap, his small body a source of comfort. “What if I don’t make the team, huh? I know it’s stupid, but it keeps running through my mind… what if I mess up?”

Her mom glanced back at her from the front seat, a soft smile on her face. “You’ll do fine, Azzi. You always do.”

But Azzi couldn’t shake the unease, the thoughts spinning in her head as the car pulled into the gym parking lot. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her heart raced in anticipation. They arrived early, her mom wanting to meet the coaches first, so Azzi was the first one there.

She stepped out of the car, still trying to calm her breathing. As her mom led her inside, Azzi forced herself to smile and greet the coaches, though her mind was a hundred miles away. She excused herself once the introductions were made, eager to find the locker room and settle in before tryouts started.

The gym was empty when she walked in, the silence amplifying her every step. She meandered down the hall, her fingers grazing the walls as she took in the pictures of past players, their smiles frozen in time. She felt her nerves rise again, the pressure of what was to come weighing on her.

But as she rounded a corner, her body collided with something—or rather, someone.

“Sorry!” Azzi blurted, quickly stepping back. But when she looked up, her breath caught. There, standing in front of her, was Paige. She froze, heart pounding in her chest. Her mind screamed for her to move, to say something, anything, but her body just wouldn’t cooperate.

Paige stood there too, her mouth slightly open in disbelief, her eyes wide. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, almost as if the world had shifted, Paige finally spoke her name.

“Azzi?” she whispered.

Azzi’s stomach churned, but she couldn’t stop staring at her. How? How could she be here? How had she found her, of all places? This wasn’t supposed to happen, not here, not now. Not ever.

But Paige was looking at her like she hadn’t missed a beat, like the time apart hadn’t meant anything. Azzi could see the recognition in her eyes, the same as she felt in her chest.

It was instant. Her face was older now, sharper, but it was still her. Those blue eyes. The way she stood. Even the slight tilt of her head when she was unsure of herself. Azzi hadn’t expected it to hit her this hard.

A year ago, she swore she’d move on. Swore that she’d forget what Paige meant to her. But now, standing here, all she felt was the sharp twist of memory and the burn of anger.

How could she not recognize her? Paige had been the first person to make her feel seen, to make her feel like she mattered. But she had also been the first person to hurt her more than anyone else had. Azzi couldn’t forget that. Not the way she laughed with her, not the way she’d come after her with apologies she could never quite believe.

Azzi had convinced herself she was past it. Past Paige. But now, here she was, staring at her as if nothing had changed. It was too much, too fast. Does she really think I’ve forgotten?

Paige stepped forward, her movements tentative, unsure. Azzi almost wanted to take a step back, to run, but she couldn’t move. She stood there, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing in on her.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice almost hesitant.

Azzi blinked, her heart racing. She forced herself to act like she didn’t know her, even though everything inside her screamed that she did. “Sorry,” Azzi said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “Do I know you?”

——-

rosie’s note: well..yeah!

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @imaginespazzi @pazzilover101 @makethemhoesmad @pboogerswbb @kmoneymartini @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @ashortyluvsports

#asks ❣︎#pazzi #halfway strangers fic #fic talk #paige x azzi #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆

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thelargefrye · 2 months ago

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SWEET SORROW OF EVIL … series (21+)

CHAPTER ONE : ALL HAIL THE QUEEN | M.LIST

pairing : ateez x evil queen!f!reader

genre : mature, fantasy au, royalty au, angst, eventually poly relationship, dark

word count : 3.7k

warnings : language, ostracized (from family), kidnapping, weapons, murder / death, blood / body gore

co-author : @sanjoongie !!

she rules her kingdom well, sitting upon her throne, but what is a queen without her trusted advisor? what is a queen without making sure the rats stay in line? surely, even the queen has secrets that make her the most cursed of all.

You never understood why your siblings saw you as a threat. You, a simple child and youngest to the throne. And really... you'll probably never understand why, especially your sister. You can vividly remember her scowl that she always wore when looking at you.

She was always such a pretty girl, if it wasn't for that scowl and ugly attitude she had. You think she gets it from your parents.

"Ugh, get away from us, y/n! We don't want you near us!" your sister shouted before she harshly shoved you away from her and your brother. You let out a small grunt as you fell to the ground. The palms of your hands scraping against the dirt and uprooted tree roots.

"But why can't I play with you guys? You never let me play!" you wanted to know why your siblings pushed you away just like your parents.

Your sister let out an annoyed sound, like you should already know the answer for why she didn't want you around, "Because you're nothing but a freak. A monster," she answers as she crosses her arms.

You felt like shrinking away from her harsh stare. You wanted to disappear so you didn't have to hear her harsh words again. Carefully, you stood up and brushed your dress off. The palms burned from the scrapes from your fall, but you pushed the pain to the back of your mind.

"Mother and father should have just gotten rid of you, you bring nothing but shame to our family," she says and you feel the tears beginning to sting your eyes as they form at your waterline. No, you can't cry, don't let her see you cry.

You can't help but look towards your brother. He said nothing throughout all of this, just remained silent by your sister's side. Watching as she and your parents berate you. You could see he was conflicted about how they always talked down to you, but he never said anything. You hated how he was a coward like that.

"Why are you always so mean to me? You're supposed to be my big sister and care about me, not call me mean names!" You tell her and you see her look at you with surprise for a moment before her usual frown paints her face again.

She lets out another annoyed tsk before she's walking up to you, bending down slightly to meet your height. "Why would I care about a monster like you? You're nothing but a curse that stains this family."

You couldn't help the sudden rush of anger that flows through you. It all happened so fast with your sister's words continuously stabbing at your heart and your brother's pitiful stare. It was all too much.

So you shoved your sister harshly away from you and as hard as your ten-year-old body could muster. This sudden action took your sister off guard as she stumbled back several steps before falling to the ground. Her movements mimic yours from moments ago.

You also noted the loud tearing sound that accompanied her fall and all three of you noticed the large tear that appeared in her dress. You didn't have to say anything as your sister's screaming overpowered anything that you would have said.

"You fucking freak! You ripped my new dress!" Her shrill screams made you flinch and you noticed from the corner of your eye that your brother did the same thing.

"What in the world is going on here?" you felt a chill run down your spine as the sound of your mother's voice. Your blood ran cold knowing that this wasn't going to end well for you now that she was here. She would immediately believe what your sister said, because even though her words hurt, you would always be seen as a monster to your mother.

"Y/n ripped my new dress mother!" Your sister said, eyes immediately brimming with large tears. Fake, they were fake tears, yet they fooled your mother.

"What?" Your mother gasped looking at your sister with worry and then turned to you with a harsh scowl. Your sister is the spitting image of your mother. "How dare you rip your sister's dress! Who do you think you are?"

"B-but I didn't–

"Shut up!" She cuts you off with her loud voice and it makes you shrink away and into yourself. You hated yourself for being so afraid of her, but you had no other choice but to submit to her. She was more powerful than you and you knew what would happen if you disobeyed her. "Get out of my sight, child, before I punish you."

You didn't waste any time in turning on your heel and running in whatever direction would get you the furthest from your family. Tears filled your vision as you ran, making everything around you blurry and hard to see and before you knew it, you were lost. Lost in the garden maze with stinging palms and burning tears.

Rubbing your tears away, you took a deep breath before you made your way over to the stone bench that was nearby. Now alone, you couldn't help the thoughts that poured into your brain. You never understood why your family hated you, calling you a monster even though you have done nothing.

It just didn't make sense.

"Y/n!" you raised your head at the sound of your name. The voice brings a familiar feeling to your body as you feel your heart skip a beat. "Y/n! Princess!"

"Jongho!" you called back, hopping off the bench and walking towards the sound of your friend's voice.

Suddenly you felt an embrace wrap around you. Jongho held you as tightly as he could, his arms squeezing you and comforting you. The embrace felt nice and warm and you felt yourself tear up knowing that Jongho was here with you.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He asks when he steps away from you, just enough to look over you before he notices your scratched up palms. "Your hands," he gasps as he takes them within his own, "we have to get them treated!"

"What's the point, Jongho?"

"The point? Y/n, you're injured and need to be treated," he says, why does he sound so mature for his young age.

"When did you get so serious sounding, Jongho?"

"Since I decided that I will be the protector of your heart," he says, his face the most serious you have ever seen it. You couldn't help but crack a smile at his words, "Don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"Sorry, sorry," you say, still laughing, but you're suddenly cut off by Jongho hugging you again.

"I mean it. I promise you will never cry like this again. Not by your family and not by anyone else."

"Thank you, Jongho."

“Y/n, are you listening?” the sound of Jongho’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back to the present. You let out a sigh before you’re straightening yourself up on your throne. Your eyes settle on Jongho and the line of councilmen before the two of you.

“What did you say?”

Jongho sends you a curt look before brushing off some invisible dust as he speaks again, “we wanted to discuss dates for your upcoming coronation.”

“Coronation? Jongho, I do not need something silly and insignificant like a coronation when I am already queen.”

“But your highness,” a councilman says before shrinking a little under your stare, “i-it is mandatory for the new ruler to have a coronation for it to be made official.”

“Are you saying that I am not officially queen, councilman?”

“N-no, that’s not what he’s saying at all, your highness!” another one spoke up trying to save his fellow councilman and friend.

“What they are trying to say is that a coronation would make it more official, your highness. Let the country and all the other ones know that there is a new and better ruler for Illimité,” Jongho says, finally stepping in and not wanting the councilmen to it up more than they already have. He internally rolled his eyes at how they were basically shaking in their boots in front of you.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning further back into the plush cushions of your throne. You note it had to be replaced after… that night. Which is probably for the better since this throne is a lot more comfortable than the original one your father and ancestors had previously.

“But think about it, my queen,” Jongho says, leaning closer to you so all your attention becomes immediately focused on him. His scent of paper and ink fills your nostrils and brings a calming presence in the otherwise tense throne room. “By sending invitations out, we can see who really supports you as Illimité’s queen.”

“Oh?” Jongho sees the gears begin to turn in your head, and he knows that he’s got you. “Well… I mean when you put it that way, I guess having a coronation wouldn’t be so bad. But make the responses mandatory! Anyone who doesn’t respond within a week we will pay some personal visits to.”

Jongho lets out a chuckle at your words, “of course, my queen.” He then turns to the awaiting councilmen, all still wide-eyed and waiting for either him or you to give a command. “Begin making the invitations for the queen’s coronation.”

The councilmen all bow before turning and filing out of the throne room, muttering to themselves and you find yourself letting your thoughts consume you once again.

All you could hear was your ragged breathing. You couldn't decide if it was because of your anger or your heartache. You tried to breath through your mouth because if you breathed through your nose, you were sure you were going to throw up.

The only thing that brought you back to reality was a commotion outside of the doors that your magic had kept shut. It was muffled at first, voices getting louder and louder, until finally one clear voice cut through everything.

“Y/N!” Jongho cried through the door. “Let me in, let me see her!”

“We are not the ones keeping the doors closed, young Lord Choi,” a guard said on the other side.

You took a shaky step towards the doors, which felt like they were a million miles away, and then another. You slipped and yelped as you crashed into something slimy and foul smelling. You gagged and cried out, throwing it away from you.

“Y/N! What’s going on? I can help! Let me in,” Jongho cajoled from the other side of the door.

“Jong-jongho,” You cried out pitifully, “You can’t.”

“Please y/n, please,” Jongho begged, “It’s my duty.”

Your hands slipped in pools of blood as you attempted to stand up again. “Your duty is to a monster!” You screamed back.

You had just murdered your entire family. Part was planned, but part was by accident. If only--! You couldn't risk Jongho, you’d never risk Jongho. You’d stay in this nightmare of a throne room for the rest of your life if that meant you kept Jongho safe.

“You’d never hurt me, y/n,” Jongho shouted, “You and I both know that. Now let me in!”

“Jongho…” You weren’t sure if the wetness moving down your face was blood or tears.

“I command it!” Jongho said courageously, although his voice sounded like he was worried, “I’m in charge of your heart so you have to listen to me, remember!”

Somehow you managed to stand up, stumble towards the large doors but couldn't pull them open; they were too large for you, especially covered in blood… “I can’t, Jongho,” You sobbed through the door, “I can’t!”

Jongho breathed in and out, his voice still coming from the seam of the doors. “You can do it. I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to the seam. You imagined Jongho coming through the doors, the wide, gummy smile taking up most of his face. He was your constant in a dark world alone. You needed light in this darkness right now.

You backed up and threw your hands up. You imagined the doors opening and then with a groan, they did. You blinked and threw up a hand to shield your eyes from the stark light. Then something hit you.

“Y/N!”

Jongho embraced you in a hug that felt like it broke your ribs but it was so genuine, so full of worry and love, that you accepted it and prayed that the monster side of you wouldn’t see it as a threat. Then, just as fast as he was on you, he put you at arm's length, eyes moving along your body, but there was too much blood to tell if you were actually harmed.

“We have to get you in the bath immediately!” Jongho informed you with a frown.

You laughed bitterly. “I don’t think a bath is going to wash this all away, Jongho.”

Jongho’s frown eased as he sensed the underlying words in your sentence. “The only thing that needs to be washed away is the blood. You are the queen, after all.”

“You are the queen, after all.”

You shook your head to dispel your old memories. Something about today had really made you contemplative of what you’ve got through. Perhaps it was Jongho, who’s own life was so interlaced with your own.

“I suspect that there are some that still see me as the sickly child that they only heard of,” You mused, eyes still on the rolling hills that sped by.

Jongho’s lips pushed out and his eyebrows furrowed. “That was a lifetime ago. Even I practically can’t remember…” His words trailed off as he saw you hold your hands up, flipping them up and down.

Immediately, he grabbed them. “They’re clean, y/n. Even if they were covered in blood, they’re still clean.”

You sent Jongho a brief smile and then allowed your mantle of royalty slip back on. Your back straightened, your shoulders were back, and your chin up high. “Let’s hope Lady Danvers sees the blood.”

“That is, if she can spare a few thoughts for anything other than her dogs,” Jongho muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps that’s why she did not respond,” You mused, Jongho slowly but surely pulling you from your contemplative mood. “One of the doggos ate--”

A resounding boom that sounded nothing like thunder echoed through the carriage, halting your words.

“What in the nine hells was that?” Jongho demanded.

He stuck his head out the window but when you heard a scream, you grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pulled him back in. “Let the guards do their job,” You hissed.

Riders whipped by and soon the carriage was slowed down. You gathered your magic around you, about to inflict walking nightmares on whomever dared attack you, when an arm shot through the windows on Jongho’s side and a knife appeared pointer at his neck.

“One wrong move and I slit his throat,” the bandit growled.

You felt all your magic drain from you, and all the blood from your face. You held up your hands in an act of showing you offered no harm, hoping nothing would happen to Jongho.

“I'll do as you say.”

“Slowly now, old chap,” the bandit instructed.

Jongho stepped out of the carriage and all you could focus on was the knife at Jongho’s throat. You hadn't felt this helpless since before your family’s murder.

“You're going to deliver ten chests full of gold and jewels,” Another bandit said, drawing your attention. “We'll keep your advisor hostage until we receive our dues. Then, we'll give him back to you once we've carted away our treasure.”

“Alive,” You snarled.

“Alive, aye,” the bandit agreed. “So long as you don't follow us and try to murder us, your advisor will remain on this plane.”

Jongho began to struggle in the bandit’s grasp. “It's a trap, Your Majesty! They want you to appear weak. Kill them! Kill them all!”

You had to use all your control to not retaliate as blood appeared at Jongho’s neck. “Shut up and do as they say, Jongho.”

Jongho stopped at your command but his eyes burned still with suppressed anger on your behalf. Jongho would do whatever it took to uphold your image as the queen in control… even if that meant sacrificing himself in the process.

But you would never allow that.

“I will bring you all that you deserve,” You vowed. “And you will return to me what is mine.”

Jongho's face became pink when your words sunk in. Good. Then perhaps he would truly understand that he was NEVER expendable.

“Until then.” The bandit swept his floppy hat in a bow and the other dragged Jongho backwards, fading into the forest around the dirt road you had been travelling along.

“Your Majesty,” One of your guards approached, wincing at a wound at his side. “Are you truly going to give into their demands?”

“Of course not,” You replied simply. “But I will require you all to go back to the castle.”

“But--”

You held up a hand. “Leave two horses, that is all I need. But you will follow my commands to the letter. You’re not going to be very good guards if you die.”

The soldier saluted by pounding a fist over his heart and then he started to order the other’s to gather the injured and to leave two horses.

Once they were all cleared out, you grabbed the reins of the horses and led them into the forest, following the bath of the bandits. It wasn’t hard; they left the forest a mess with broken branches and sliced foliage. Halfway you secured the horses to a low hanging branch and then began to discard your clothes.

It was time to pull out your ultimate trump card: changing into the beast form you had been cursed with at birth.

You bent to all fours on the ground, holding in your screams as your body transformed into a shape that was completely opposite of your human form. Your arms and legs elongated, as did your head. Your teeth became sharp and your human thoughts pushed to the back. You needed the animalistic brain to come to the forefront if you were to accomplish your task.

Once your cursed beast form was complete, you began to gallop the rest of the way. Your nostrils flared and you followed the scent of your prey now. Saliva began to drip from your lips. A red mist spread over your eyes, with only one purpose in mind: to kill.

The first bandit didn’t see you coming. You simply impaled him on your horn with your head held low as you charged. You tossed his body to the side and he screamed. Other bandits stood up, unsheathing their swords at the first glimpse of attack. But quickly more were screaming.

“It’s a monster!” One man yelled.

“Stand your ground,” the bandit in charge bellowed.

But who had the nerve to stand in front of a raging, black unicorn?

You slaughtered the entire camp, almost as if you were creating the throne room after the christening of your powers. Blood sprayed the ground and the trees. Entrails and limbs were cast about as if macabre decorations. Not a soul was left alive, other than Jongho, of course.

You carefully, cautiously walked towards Jongho, flanks shaking, and hot air escaping your nostrils in plumes of smoke. Your hoof pawed at the dirt right in front of him. Your monster brain knew he was important but your bloodthirst was barely simmering down.

“Y/N,” Jongho said softly, his hand level with the bridge of your nose.

You whinied and shook your head. Some of your mane was matted with the blood of your prey. But you held still, waiting to see what he would do with that hand.

“You’re beautiful,” Jongho said, awe coating his voice.

The hand landed on your nose and you allowed him to pet you and praise you.

Slowly, but surely, as Jongho cooed at you, your bloodlust faded and your body shrunk back into your woman form.

You curled into yourself, shivering in the cool air. Jongho immediately removed his jacket and draped it over your form. You sat up and adjusted the jacket to sit on your shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me,” Jongho commanded.

“We should get back to the horses,” You said gruffly.

“My queen.”

Your eyes finally shot up and met Jongho’s defiantly. “What, Jongho?”

“Thank you,” Jongho said simply.

You looked away, unable to handle any other emotion other than retribution right now. You could not afford to become soft when you had nobles to interrogate in where their loyalties lay. That had been the whole point to this trip, after all.

Instead, you replied with. “Take care of my heart. I won’t be needing it for the time being.”

Jongho nodded astutely, reading between the lines. “Of course, my queen.”

Not once did Jongho insist that he carry you back to the horses and that is why he was the constant in your life. Jongho knew exactly when you needed him and exactly when he needed to step back and let you be the strong queen he knew you were.

“May I suggest something?” Jongho asked after you had donned your clothes.

“That is your job,” You mused.

“We were to visit Lady Danvers and then Duke Foix. I know you planned on using all the pomp and circumstance of your army to arrive and show your queenly-ness, but I think arriving ahead of the appointed hour might allow us some insights to what exactly these nobles are doing,” Jongho laid out for you.

You mocked a gasp. “Why Counselor Choi, one would assume you are thinking of the very worst in Duke Foix’s case.”

A small, tiny, conspiratory smile pulled at Jongho’s lips. “Perhaps.”

“I suppose I could take this piece of advice under consideration,” You replied, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I am the Queen after all. All that’s required is my mere presence and my subjects should be impressed.”

“Precisely,” Jongho agreed, his smile becoming wider as your ego inflated bigger.

“Then we shall sneak across the border, into Duke Foix’s duchy, and see exactly what that old fox is up to,” You announced.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Jongho bowed formally and then swung his leg around to mount his horse. “To the Duchy of Foix.”

#sweet sorrow of evil.#lapydiariesnet #cromernet #ateez jongho x reader #ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez fantasy au #ateez royal au #ateez scenarios

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oceandolores · 3 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | ending.

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"I'm always going to be right here, no one's going anywhere."

summary: it's the end

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 22

masterlist!

previous | chapter 21

The stench hit Tommy first. Damp iron, rotting meat, and something more acrid that clawed at the back of his throat. He stumbled into the room, flashlight trembling in his hand as the beam cut through the darkness.

His boots stuck to the blood-slicked floor, and for a brief moment, he froze.

There they were.

Joel and you, collapsed together in a grotesque tableau of ruin. Joel's head lolled against yours, blood trailing from a gaping wound that soaked his graying hair and matted your cheek.

His arms clutched you fiercely even in unconsciousness, as though holding you was the only thing tethering him to this world. Your face was pale, lifeless, lips parted as if in a final whisper.

Both of you were drenched in crimson, a dark halo pooling beneath your entwined bodies.

Tommy’s knees buckled as his voice cracked. “No. No, no, no!” He dropped the flashlight, its beam rolling away and casting distorted shadows across the room.

He crawled toward you, shaking hands brushing against Joel’s still-warm shoulder. “Joel, Joel, Wake up, Wake up brother,"

"THEY ARE HERE!" His heart hammered in his chest as he pressed trembling fingers to your neck, then Joel’s.

Faint pulses—fragile, flickering, but there. Relief collided with dread. They were alive, barely.

"HELP!"

"Ellie! Maria!" he roared, his voice breaking like splintered glass.

Ellie was the first to burst through the doorway, Maria on her heels. Ellie’s sharp inhale morphed into a guttural scream as she threw herself toward Joel.

"Joel? NO! NO NO! JOEL NO!"

"You can’t—wake up, wake the fuck up!” She shook him, tears streaking down her face, hands smearing his blood as she begged.

Maria pulled her back, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Ellie, it's alright, it's alright,"

"NO! NO LET ME GO! JOEL WAKE UP!"

But Ellie wouldn’t listen, sobbing uncontrollably, her fists pounding against Maria’s restraint.

"Don’t leave me, Joel. Please! You promised!"

Tommy couldn’t look at her. He had to keep himself steady, had to shove down the overwhelming tidal wave of emotion threatening to consume him.

He helped the EMTs lift Joel onto a stretcher, his hand lingering on his brother’s wrist for a moment longer than necessary.

“I’ll go with him,” Tommy said hoarsely, his voice as brittle as dried leaves. “Maria, stay with her.”

Maria nodded, her face pale but resolute, and knelt by your side.

Tommy sat rigid in the corner of the ER, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He pressed them against his knees, trying to anchor himself, to keep his breathing steady.

But the panic was a wild animal inside him, clawing its way up his throat. He couldn't let it out—not here, not now.

Joel lay on the gurney, pale and fragile in a way Tommy had never seen. His big brother, who had always seemed unbreakable, now looked like a shell of the man Tommy had leaned on his entire life.

Blood seeped through the bandages wrapped hastily around his head, staining the sterile white sheets beneath him.

“Please, brother,” Tommy whispered, his voice trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. “Don’t go. Don't go, please,"

The words were more for himself than anyone else. A mantra, a prayer, a desperate plea to the universe. Joel was his anchor, the one who had always taken the brunt of the storm so Tommy wouldn’t have to.

Without him, Tommy felt like a ship unmoored, adrift in a sea of grief and fear.

He glanced at Ellie, who sat beside him, her hands buried in her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She looked so small, so young, like a child who had just lost her world.

And maybe she had.

Tommy reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched but didn’t pull away.

Instead, she looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wild with anguish.

“He can’t die,” Ellie choked out, her voice raw and broken. “He can’t, Tommy. He’s all I have. He’s all I fucking have.”

Her words hit Tommy like a punch to the gut. He knew what Joel meant to her—how he’d become more than just a guardian, more than a father figure. Joel was her home, her safe place, the one person who had never given up on her.

“I know,” Tommy murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I know, kid. He ain’t going anywhere,"

But his own words felt hollow, like a lie he was telling to keep them both from falling apart.

Inside, he was unraveling. Every time the heart monitor beeped, every time a doctor barked out orders, he felt his chest tighten, his breaths growing shallower.

Memories flashed through his mind—Joel was always by his side, even when they were children and adults, he took care of Tommy, he believed in him, he was always holding him steady when the world felt like it was falling apart.

And now it was Tommy’s turn to hold steady.

To be the rock Joel had always been for him.

But God, it was hard.

Ellie’s sobs grew louder, her hands clutching the fabric of her jeans like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “He promised me,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “He promised he’d always be here.”

Tommy swallowed the lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She resisted for a moment before collapsing against him, her tears soaking into his shirt.

“He’s a fighter,” Tommy said, his voice barely audible. “You know that better than anyone. He ain’t giving up now. Not on you. Not on us.”

But even as he said the words, doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve. He knew how fragile life was, how quickly it could be snatched away.

And yet, he couldn’t let himself believe it. He wouldn’t.

“Just hold on, Joel,” Tommy whispered, his eyes fixed on his brother’s pale face. “Please, just hold on.”

He tightened his grip on Ellie, drawing strength from her even as he tried to give her his.

Meanwhile, Maria sat beside your gurney, her hands trembling as they hovered over your pale, battered face. She couldn’t bring herself to touch you—not yet.

You looked so fragile, so breakable, like a porcelain doll left too long in the storm, your edges cracked and worn.

The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only proof that you were still here, still clinging to whatever thin thread tethered you to this world.

She didn’t know you like Joel did, or Ellie, or Tommy. But she had known you long enough.

Long enough to remember the shy little girl in her Sunday dresses, her hair tied up with ribbons, her voice ringing clear and sweet as she sang hymns with the choir.

You had always been so eager to help, bustling around the church like a sparrow, your hands too small to carry the weight of the world, and yet you tried.

Even then, Maria had seen the signs—the way you flinched when someone raised their voice, the shadows in your eyes that no child should have.

She should have known. She did know.

Maria bit down hard on her lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for forgiveness—not from you, but from the universe, for failing you.

You were just a child.

All the signs had been there, like a map she had chosen to ignore. The bruises you tried to hide under long sleeves, the hollow cheerfulness in your smile, the way you’d cling to Joel or Ellie like they were lifelines.

And now, here you were, barely breathing, barely alive, because she hadn’t done anything.

Maria leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she pressed her hands to her face. She thought of her own son, her sweet baby boy, safe in his crib back home.

She couldn’t imagine him growing up without her, couldn’t imagine a world where he was left to fend for himself, broken and alone. But that was your world now.

You had no one.

Tears slid down Maria’s cheeks, hot and unrelenting. She reached out, finally letting her fingers graze your hand. Your skin was cold, too cold, and it made her shiver.

She wanted to hold you, to pull you into her arms like she did with her son when he cried, to tell you it was all going to be okay. But she couldn’t lie to you like that. Not now.

“You were just a child,” Maria whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

She thought of all the times she had watched you from afar, her heart aching with the knowledge she had buried deep down.

She had told herself it wasn’t her place, that your parents were good, church-going people, that someone else would step in if something was wrong.

Until Joel stepped up.

But still, now you were here, shattered and bleeding, because the adults in your life had failed you.

Maria wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, her resolve hardening. “I’m here now,” she murmured, her voice steady even as her heart quaked.

“You’re not alone, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.”

She didn’t know if you could hear her. Maybe you were too far gone, lost in whatever dark void had claimed you.

But she would sit here as long as it took, would fight for you in the way she should have all those years ago.

You were just a child.

But now, you were hers to protect.

***

The world around you dissolved into a weightless expanse of white. It wasn’t harsh or blinding; it was soft, endless, like freshly fallen snow untouched by footprints.

There was no floor beneath you, no walls, no sky. Just an infinite void, as if time and space had folded into nothingness.

You felt… nothing.

No pain, no fear, no exhaustion. The gnawing ache in your body, the sharp sting of wounds, the crushing heaviness of the world—it was all gone.

Instead, there was a quiet peace, gentle and all-encompassing. It should have been comforting, this emptiness, but it wasn’t.

Something was missing.

You tried to move, to speak, but your body didn’t respond. It wasn’t heavy or restrained—it simply wasn’t there. You were a thought, an echo in the silence.

Is this it?

The question hung in the air, unanswered. A strange calm settled over you, and yet, deep in your chest—if you even had a chest anymore—a faint tug lingered, a gnawing unease that refused to be soothed.

Something wasn’t right.

And then you heard it.

A voice, soft and familiar, weaving through the stillness like a hymn.

“Honey…”

Your breath—or what felt like breath—hitched. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Slowly, you turned, and there she was.

“Mama.”

Your voice broke, raw and disbelieving, as you stumbled toward her. She stood there, whole and radiant, as if the years and the violence had never touched her.

Her face was just as you remembered—warm blue eyes, soft cheeks, a smile that had once been your safe harbor.

Tears blurred your vision as you threw yourself into her arms, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt solid.

Her arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, and you buried your face in her shoulder, sobbing like a child.

“Mama, I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of guilt and grief.

“I’m so sorry. I left you. I should have done something—I should have saved you—”

She hushed you, her fingers combing gently through your hair. “Shh, honey. Look at me.”

You pulled back, your chest heaving with unspent sobs, and looked into her eyes. They were filled with a tenderness that threatened to undo you.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “It was never your fault.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “But I—father—Negan—”

She placed her hands on either side of your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Listen to me, honey. What happened wasn’t because of you. It was us, it was our fault, all of it,—your father—and me. I was too afraid to protect you. I failed you.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on.

“But you?” Her voice quivered, trembling under the weight of her own sorrow.

“You were just a child. You were just a child. My baby. My baby girl.” Her hands cradled your face, fingers trembling like autumn leaves barely clinging to their branches.

The warmth of her touch seeped into your skin, but it couldn’t thaw the ice of guilt frozen in your chest.

Her words unfurled in the void, weaving through your heart like a psalm you didn’t realize you’d been aching to hear. Her voice cracked, thick with grief.

“I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I failed—I failed as a mother, as your mother.” Tears glistened in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks like rivers eroding her steadfast resolve.

“I failed you, and I’m so, so sorry for it.”

You shook your head violently, choking on your tears. “No, Mama. Don’t say that—please don’t say that. You were scared. You didn’t have a choice—”

“I was supposed to have a choice,” she interrupted, her voice rising, fierce and broken.

“God entrusted you to me. He placed you in my arms, so tiny, so perfect. You were a gift, my precious lamb, and I—” Her voice faltered, her hands tightening around yours.

“I let the wolves devour you.”

Her grief crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in its depth.

She shook her head, her sorrow spilling out like an overflowing chalice. “A mother’s love is supposed to be unyielding, a shield against all harm. I should have been your fortress, your refuge. But instead…” She looked away, shame twisting her features.

“Instead, I was a reed, bending under the weight of fear, snapping when you needed me most.”

Her words pierced through you, carving out a hollow space where the guilt had lived for so long. Your chest ached with the enormity of it, the shared burden of her regrets and yours.

Her eyes, luminous with love and pain, met yours again. “But you… Oh, my beautiful baby girl. You were never to blame. Never.” Her voice softened, turning into a prayer, a hymn.

“You were the lamb, innocent and pure, while the wolves prowled at your door. And I—I didn’t drive them away. I let them linger, let them sink their fangs into you. And for that, I will carry my guilt for eternity.”

"You did what you could. You loved me the best you could.”

Her smile was bittersweet, a fragile thing that barely reached her eyes. “Love isn’t enough, baby. Love must have action, must have courage. But I didn’t act. I let fear bind me, as surely as chains. Your father’s wrath…” Her voice broke, her tears falling freely now.

“It wasn’t just you he terrorized, you know. I was too weak to stop him, too paralyzed to shield you.”

She drew a shaky breath, her gaze lifting to some unseen point beyond you. “But now, I see clearly. In the kingdom of heaven, where grace flows like rivers of light, I’ve learned what I should have known all along. A mother’s love should reflect God’s love—unyielding, sacrificial, all-consuming.”

Her hands cupped your cheeks again, her thumbs brushing away your tears.

“But you, my child—you are stronger than I ever was. You bore the brunt of his sins, carried his cruelties on your back. You endured the cross I should have carried for you.”

Her words opened a wound in your heart, but they also poured something healing into it. Something divine.

“You are my lamb, yes,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against yours. “But you are also my lion. Fierce, unbroken, redeemed. You’ve endured what no one should endure, and yet you’re still here."

"Do you hear me, honey? You’re still here. You have a chance to live, to love, to heal. To have the life I always wanted for you.”

“I can’t…” you whispered, your voice small and trembling. “I don’t know how.”

She smiled again, this time radiant, her eyes gleaming with something you could only call holy.

“You will. God’s light is within you, burning brighter than you know. You will find your way, my beautiful girl."

"But you can’t stay here. Not yet.”

"You and him doesn't belong here,"

The void around you began to shift, the brightness dimming, pulling her farther and farther away.

"What? Mama, what's happening?"

Her kiss lingered like the warmth of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “I’ll always be with you,” she whispered, her voice soft as a hymn, “as surely as the spirit of God dwells within you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes as her form began to fade, dissolving into the luminous void like mist burned away by dawn. Her final words echoed in the stillness: “I love you so much.”

And then, she was gone.

You stood alone in the vast expanse, the emptiness pressing in on you. Panic gripped your chest, and you screamed, Your voice cracked, reverberating in the silence, unanswered.

The world around you swirled, a disorienting blend of white and nothingness, until a figure emerged in the distance.

It was Joel.

Joel.

Relief surged through you like a flood, washing away your fear. “Joel!” you called, your voice trembling, desperate.

You ran toward him, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He stood motionless, his head bowed, and as you got closer, you saw them—two figures standing beside him.

His late wife, Jane, her features soft and kind, just as you had seen in the pictures your mother had once saved.

And next to her, a young girl, her smile radiant and full of life. Sarah.

You recognized her immediately, even though you’d only seen her in photographs. Her beauty was ethereal, her eyes unmistakably Joel’s—a mirror of his soul.

You froze in place, your heart pounding as Joel turned to embrace them both. The sight of him holding them shattered something deep inside you.

You called out again, your voice breaking, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t hear you.

“No,” you whispered, your chest tightening with despair. “No, Joel, don’t leave me.”

Then, Sarah’s gaze met yours. Her smile softened, her eyes glowing with a warmth that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. She pointed toward you, her finger trembling slightly, and Joel turned.

His eyes found you.

“Baby?” His voice was soft, disbelieving, as though he couldn’t trust what he was seeing.

“Joel,” you choked, tears streaming down your face. You ran to him, your feet barely feeling the ground beneath you, and flung yourself into his arms.

His embrace was warm, solid, real—just as it had always been.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling with confusion and fear.

“I came to find you,” you sobbed, clutching his shirt as though letting go would shatter you into a thousand pieces.

“No,” he said firmly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pulled back to look into your eyes. “No, you don’t belong here.”

"What do you mean? I’m not leaving without you.”

“Baby…” Joel’s voice cracked, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His thumb brushed away your tears, his touch so achingly familiar.

“Look at me. I’m here, where I belong.” He glanced toward Jane and Sarah, his eyes brimming with sorrow and something resembling peace. “Look—I found them. My family,”

Your heart fractured, the jagged edges cutting deep. “No, Joel. You don’t get to leave me. Please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his.

“Please don’t leave me.”

His breath hitched, and he held you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. “Baby, listen to me..."

"I’m so sorry. For everything. For the pain, for the fear, for all the ways I failed you. But I love you. God, I love you so much.” His voice broke completely, his tears mingling with yours.

Joel’s voice was a broken melody, each word trembling with the weight of his love.

His hands cradled your face like you were the most fragile and precious thing he had ever held, his thumbs brushing the tears from your cheeks as though he could wipe away your pain.

“You are the light of my life,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

“Fire of my loins, my sin, my soul,"

"My moon, my sun..."

"You gave me a reason to keep going when all I saw was darkness. When everything else fell apart, when the world was nothing but ash and shadows, you were the one thing that felt real. The one thing that kept me grounded.”

His breath hitched, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his tears falling freely now.

“You’re my anchor, baby. You’ve held me steady when I was drowning, pulled me back when I was ready to let go. You’ve been my salvation in ways I never deserved.”

His hands trembled as they moved to cup the sides of your face, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart ache.

“I’m so glad I found you. So damn grateful you walked into my life. You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have again—a reason to live, a reason to hope.”

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he continued.

“You’re every good thing I’ve ever known. Every sunrise that painted the sky in gold. Every quiet moment of peace that I never thought I’d have again. You’re the laughter I didn’t think I’d hear, the love I didn’t think I deserved.”

His lips quivered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering as though he could pour everything he felt for you into that one touch.

“I don’t know how to let go of you,” he whispered, his voice cracking like thunder through the void.

“But I need you to live, baby. You’re the light this world needs, the light I need, even if I can’t stay."

You sobbed, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing tethering you to existence. “Then stay,” you pleaded, your voice a raw whisper.

“Stay with me, Joel. I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

His own tears fell harder, but he smiled—a soft, broken smile filled with love and sorrow.

“You can. And you will. Because you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and you’ve got so much left to give, so much left to live for.”

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss tender, full of love, full of goodbye. “I love you,” he murmured against your mouth.

“More than words could ever say, more than this life could ever show. I love you with everything I am, and I’ll love you with everything I’ll ever be.”

The light around you began to shift, and Joel’s form flickered, his edges growing softer, less solid. “Baby,” he said, his voice now barely a whisper,

“you’ll carry me with you. Always. In every step, every breath. I’ll be there, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

“No,” you whimpered, shaking your head violently. “I can’t.”

“You have to, babygirl.” His voice was soft but firm, a command laced with infinite sorrow.

“This isn’t your time. You have a life to live, love to give, and the world needs you. You don’t belong here."

His words sliced through you, leaving you gasping for air. He pressed his lips to your forehead, the kiss lingering, warm and full of finality.

“I’ll always love you, my sweet girl,” he whispered against your skin.

As he pulled away, Jane and Sarah stepped closer, their hands resting gently on his shoulders. You tried to cling to him, to pull him back, but his form began to fade, dissolving into the light.

“No!” you screamed, your voice shattering into the void. “Joel, please! Don’t leave me!”

"No, don't take him away from me please," you look at Jane and Sarah, like they can do anything to make stay Joel with you. But they can't.

His final words reached you like a prayer whispered into the wind. “I’ll never leave you, baby."

"I’ll be in every sunrise, every star, every moment you take a breath. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

"I'll see you when you get here,"

And then he was gone.

You collapsed to your knees, the emptiness swallowing you whole. The void around you seemed colder, darker, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

But then, a faint warmth stirred within you, like the faintest flicker of a candle. His promise, his love—it lingered, eternal, a part of you now.

The sound was deafening. That high-pitched scream of the machine announcing a life extinguished. But it wasn’t yours.

A force stronger than gravity itself yanked at you, pulling you from the void and hurling you back into the world. You gasped for air, your chest heaving as your lungs filled with fire.

Your eyes fluttered open to blinding light, hospital lights, cold and clinical. Pain surged through you like a tidal wave, radiating from every inch of your battered body.

You looked down and saw the remnants of what had been done—stitches running jagged like broken seams, blood still staining your skin.

You're alive, but barely.

The room swam in and out of focus. Faces blurred, voices merged into static. But one name, one thought cut through the haze like a blade.

Joel.

“Joel,” you croaked, your voice weak, hoarse, but resolute.

The doctors were at your side instantly, their hands on your shoulders, their voices calm but firm as they begged you to lie down. You didn’t listen. You couldn’t.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your body protesting every movement, every step, but nothing would stop you.

Not now.

Maria’s voice rose behind you, calling your name, panic lacing her tone. You heard her footsteps rushing after you, heard her yelling for Tommy, but you kept going.

People stared as you stumbled through the hallway, their eyes wide with something between pity and horror. You must have looked like death itself—bloodied, fragile, dragging your broken body forward with sheer willpower alone.

But you didn’t care. Nothing mattered except finding him.

And then you did.

Joel.

He was lying still in the hospital bed, pale as the sheets beneath him, his chest unmoving. The machine beside him was silent, its flatline a cruel, unrelenting sound that confirmed your worst fear.

“No,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “No, no, no.”

Ellie was at his side, her small frame hunched over as sobs wracked her body. Tommy stood nearby, his shoulders shaking, his face buried in his hands.

Maria’s voice was somewhere behind you, but you couldn’t hear her anymore.

You pushed past them, your movements frantic, desperate. “NO!” you screamed, throwing yourself at his bedside, your hands clutching his cold, lifeless face.

“No, this isn’t real. Joel, wake up! Wake up!”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unrelenting, as you shook him, your voice breaking into pieces.

“Please, Joel. Please, come back to me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, please!”

The room felt like it was collapsing around you, the walls closing in, the air too thick to breathe. You pressed your forehead against his, your tears soaking into his skin.

He felt so cold. Too cold.

Your hands trembled as they clung to Joel’s face, your fingers tracing the lines of his cheeks now void of warmth. He was so still, so unbearably still.

The icy chill of his skin seeped into your bones, but you refused to believe this was the end.

It couldn’t be.

“Please, God,” you whispered, your voice trembling like the flicker of a candle in a storm. “Don’t take him from me. Please, not him. I’ll do anything—anything—just let him stay.”

Your words grew louder, desperate, until they became a chant, a plea that echoed through the room.

Tears streaked down your face in rivers, dripping onto his still form.

“Lord,” you prayed, your voice cracking as sobs overtook you. “I have sinned, I know I have. I am broken, unworthy of your grace. But Joel...he is good. He is so good. Spare him, please. Take me instead, but don’t take him. He’s my everything, my heart, my soul. Don’t let this be his end.”

Your fingers curled into fists against his chest, as though you could will his heart to beat again with your sheer desperation.

“You said you are merciful,” you cried. “You are the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine for the one. Let him be that one, Lord. Bring him back to me. Please, bring him back!”

The room felt heavy, oppressive, as though the weight of the heavens themselves bore down upon you. Your voice climbed higher, louder, animalistic and raw.

“PLEASE!” you screamed. “Don’t you leave him! He is mine, he is yours, and I cannot live without him. Please, God, don’t forsake us.”

The doctors tried to pull you away, their voices a blur as they urged you to let him go.

Their hands gripped your arms, but you wrenched free, throwing yourself onto Joel’s body as though you could shield him from the inevitability of death.

“NO!” you shrieked, your voice ripping through the sterile air. “LET ME GO! NO! JOEL, PLEASE! COME BACK TO ME!”

Your screams were guttural, the kind of pain that stripped you down to nothing, leaving you raw and exposed.

It echoed down the hospital corridors, reaching ears far beyond the room.

Tommy’s heart broke as he watched you. Tears streamed down his face, his hands clenched into fists, helpless to do anything but witness your agony.

Ellie buried her face in Maria’s shoulder, her small frame shaking with sobs as Maria held her close, her own tears falling silently.

You pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest, your body trembling as you sobbed. “It’s my fault,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t—if I had never bring you into this, maybe—maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

His blood stained your fingers, dried and cracking like the earth after a long drought. You kissed his face, his forehead, his cheeks, your tears washing streaks into the crimson smudges.

“Joel,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as your forehead rested against his. “Please, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, baby."

"I need you. I need you so much. Come back, please, come back...come back to me..."

***

Joel’s world was a haze, the edges blurred like an old photograph left too long in the sun. The last thing he remembered was you—your cries, your desperate pleas.

And then, there was nothing.

No pain, no noise, just a quiet stillness that wrapped around him like a soft, suffocating blanket.

When his eyes opened, he wasn’t in the hospital. The space around him was unearthly, bathed in a warm, golden light that seemed to hum with peace.

A familiar laugh rang out, soft and lilting, and his heart clenched as he turned toward the sound.

There they were.

Sarah.

Jane.

His breath hitched as his little girl came running toward him, her curls bouncing with every step, her smile as radiant as the sun. He fell to his knees, his arms wide open as she flung herself into his chest.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her small hands clutching his shirt. “I missed you so much.”

Joel’s throat closed, his arms tightening around her as he pressed his face into her hair. “Baby girl,” he rasped, his voice trembling.

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed you every day.”

Jane stood a few feet away, her smile soft, her eyes filled with a warmth that broke and healed him all at once.

“You’re here,” Joel said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out a hand toward her, but when she moved to take it, his fingers passed through hers like smoke.

“What...?” Joel’s brow furrowed as he stared at his hand.

“You can’t hold us, Joel,” Jane said gently, stepping closer. “Not anymore.”

His chest tightened, his eyes darting between them. “What do you mean? I’m here. You’re here. We’re together now."

Sarah stepped back, her small hand slipping from his grasp. “Daddy,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “You belong with her.”

Her words hit him like a blow, and his head whipped toward Jane for clarity, for something to hold onto.

“What?” Joel asked, his voice cracking.

“What are you saying?”

“She’s calling for you, Joel,” Jane said, her eyes brimming with understanding. “Don’t you hear her?”

Joel’s heart stuttered as he thought of you—your face wet with tears, your voice raw as you screamed his name.

It echoed in the recesses of his mind, faint but insistent, like the pull of a tide.

“I can’t... I can’t leave you both."

Jane stepped closer, her hand hovering near his cheek but never quite touching. “Joel,” she said softly, her voice like a balm to his wounded soul.

“It’s not your fault.”

His shoulders shook as he closed his eyes, the guilt rising in his chest like a tidal wave. “It is,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“It’s my fault you’re gone. You and Sarah. If I, If i didn't lose control, If—”

Jane cut him off, her voice firm but kind. “It wasn’t your fault. It was fate, Joel."

"God’s plan."

"As much as it hurts, we were never meant to stay.”

Tears streamed down his face, his fists clenching at his sides. “But you were my family,” he choked out. “You’re my family.”

Jane’s smile softened, and she shook her head gently. “No, Joel,” she said.

“She’s your family now. The woman who’s calling for you, the one who refuses to let go. She’s your home. And the children you two would have... they’re waiting for you.”

Jane nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You found her, Joel,” she said.

“You found the reason to keep going. Now go back. Go to her. And just know that we’ll always be here, by your side.”

Sarah stepped forward, her small hand brushing the air near his. “We’ll always be with you, Daddy,” she said, her voice sweet and unwavering.

Joel’s heart felt like it was being torn in two. He looked at them, his girls, his everything, and then closed his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I love you, daddy."

“Now go.” Jane said.

A force tugged at him, pulling him backward, away from the light, away from them.

Their faces blurred, their forms dissolving into the golden glow as the world around him grew dark.

And then he heard it—your voice. Raw, desperate, filled with a love so fierce it defied everything.

“Joel, please! Come back to me!”

***

youtube

(listen to this for this scene, xx)

The English countryside stretched endlessly before you, a quilt of rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers and the occasional stone cottage, their chimneys releasing tendrils of smoke into the brisk morning air.

The sky above was a canvas of soft pastels, where the first light of dawn kissed the earth with a gentle embrace.

Yet, even amidst this beauty, your heart felt heavy—a weight you had carried for five long years.

Five years since everything changed.

The memories came unbidden, sharp as the cold breeze that whispered through the grass. They were vivid, like paintings etched in fire, each stroke searing with the weight of all you endured.

You remembered Texas—the dry, oppressive heat of your small town, the suffocating walls of the preacher’s house, and the silent screams you carried within you.

You were just the preacher's daughter then, the perfect picture of obedience. But beneath the surface, the wounds left by your father ran deep.

His hands left bruises, his words left scars, and his righteous fury left you trembling in the dark.

And then there was Negan.

The man who had stolen you away from Joel, the man who nearly destroyed you both. You still remembered the cold steel of his chains, the cruelty in his gaze, and the weight of hopelessness in that basement.

He had tried to take everything—your love, your freedom, your soul. But the ache in your chest reminded you that he had failed. You had fought.

You had survived.

California.

It had been your dream once—a place where sunshine and salt air might have smoothed over the jagged edges of your memories.

You had imagined golden beaches and blue skies erasing the shadows of your past.

But when the time came, the brightness of that place felt like a lie. It was too glaring, too sharp for a soul so fractured.

Instead, you fled across the ocean to the English countryside, where the world moved slower and softer.

Here, the hum of life was a quiet balm, the rolling hills and open fields a canvas of peace.

The sound of children’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts. Their bright, melodic voices mingled with the chirping birds and rustling leaves.

You turned, watching them run through the yard, their small figures glowing in the morning light. Their joy was an anchor, a reminder of what you had fought so hard to build.

A faint smile tugged at your lips. They didn’t know the depth of the ground beneath their feet—the battles you had waged, the demons you had vanquished to stand where you were now.

There had been years of sleepless nights, haunted by the shadows of your father and the cruelty of men like Negan.

Therapists had tried to reach you with kind faces and soft voices, but no amount of words could silence the screams in your mind.

The memories were relentless, dragging you into spirals of despair until you admitted yourself to a mental hospital.

Healing had been slow, agonizing work, each step forward feeling like climbing a mountain barefoot. Not all scars faded—some you carried like a hidden roadmap of your survival.

Yet here you were, standing in the golden light, breathing in the scent of wild lavender, alive and grateful.

The breeze caressed your skin, and then you felt it—a hand, strong and steady, sliding around your waist.

That touch, that presence—you knew it as intimately as your own heartbeat. It brings you comfort.

“Lost in your thoughts again?” His voice was low, warm, familiar. It settled over you like a prayer answered.

Joel.

There he was, standing before you, a figure drawn from dreams and memory.

His face was lined with years, his hair streaked with more gray now, but his eyes—those deep, brown eyes—still held the strength you had clung to through every storm.

The memories rushed in, unrelenting. You saw the hospital again—the sterile smell of antiseptic, the blinding lights, the cacophony of voices urging you to let him go.

You hadn’t.

You couldn’t.

For those agonizing moments, you believed you had lost him. You had screamed and sobbed, clinging to his lifeless form, willing him back to you with every ounce of your soul.

And then, like a divine answer, Joel had gasped for air.

It had been nothing short of a miracle.

The doctors called it improbable; you called it grace.

A man who had been stitched together by tragedy had been handed back to you, like Lazarus rising from the tomb.

But even miracles come with scars. The year that followed was not without chaos.

Joel was proven innocent.

With all the evidence back in Negan's house, his DNA all over the place and the bodies and thanks to Emma, who had captured Negan’s confession on tape.

The truth had shifted blame away from Joel, painting Negan as the monster responsible for Jamie and Ben’s deaths.

Joel finally walked free, but freedom didn’t erase the shadows.

For a year, both of you were haunted by what had happened. You by the ghosts of your father and Negan, Joel by the weight of Ben and Jamie and the fear of losing you again.

Yet, through every sleepless night and every whispered fear, you clung to each other, vowing to fight for the future you both deserved.

And look where it had brought you.

Joel’s hand tightened around your waist as you gazed into his eyes. The love there was steady, unyielding, the kind of love that had carried you through hell and back.

He's your sanctuary, your savior, your home.

You thought of the vows you had whispered to him on your wedding day, standing beneath an arch of wildflowers in this very field.

“To love and to hold, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, until death do us part.”

Yet your love had defied even death.

You rested your hand against Joel’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart—each beat a testament to the life you now lived, the love you had fought so hard to keep. The world around you seemed suspended, wrapped in the golden haze of the countryside, but your mind drifted to places far from this gentle field.

“You’ve given me a life I never thought I deserved,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of gratitude and sorrow.

Joel’s lips curved into that faint, familiar smile—the one that always held a mix of strength and tenderness. “You gave me one too, doll. You’re the reason I kept going.”

The words settled deep into your chest, yet a shadow flickered behind your eyes. The life you held now—this sanctuary you built together—wasn’t free. It had been bought with sacrifice, and you could never forget those who had been lost along the way.

Emma.

Her name was a quiet ache in your heart, a hymn of both love and loss. You still saw her sometimes in your dreams—her soft smile, her fierce determination, the way she had stood between you and Negan that final time. Her blood had stained your hands, her final breath etched into your memory like scripture on ancient stone. Jim, her husband, followed her into the grave, his love for her carrying him into the arms of eternity.

At night, you knelt at your bedside, your hands clasped tightly as you whispered prayers into the silence. “Lord, grant them rest. Let their souls find peace in Your grace. For Emma, for Jim, for the girls who never found freedom. For the innocents who were lost, for those who suffered.”

The words felt like offerings, fragile and holy, sent up to the heavens where you hoped they might find solace.

And then, there were your parents.

Your father’s shadow still lingered in the corners of your mind. His voice, heavy with righteous fury, had once filled your world with fear. His hands, meant to guide, had instead punished, and his sermons on forgiveness had tasted bitter on your tongue for years.

Yet here you were, trying to live those very words he had preached.

Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Forgiveness wasn’t a flood; it was a river—slow, winding, carving through the stone of your heart over time. You had forgiven your mother first.

She, too, was a prisoner in her way, bound by duty and fear, but her love had always been there, quiet and trembling.

Your father, though—he was the stone that took the longest to break.

You had stared at his face in your mind, the lines of anger and authority softened now by memory, and whispered, “I forgive you.” The words felt like pulling thorns from your skin—sharp, painful, but freeing.

Even now, the pain lingered, like bruises that hadn’t fully faded.

But you had chosen to let go, to leave those wounds in the hands of God, the ultimate judge and the endless source of mercy.

If He could forgive, how could you not try?

The weight of your past drifted on the breeze, carried high into the endless sky where it could no longer touch you.

The air in the English countryside was sweet and clean, like a hymn sung in spring, wrapping your soul in a quiet kind of grace.

This was your sanctuary—a land flowing with the milk of peace and the honey of redemption, where time felt softer, like it had been ordained just for you.

Joel’s decision to move here had been as much for you as it had been for himself. Away from the cities, from the noise, from the echoes of everything you had left behind.

The ranch, with its soft bleats of sheep and a garden kissed by sunlight, was a place to plant roots—not just in the earth, but in each other.

Joel still worked, commuting to London for his business, but home was here, in the rolling green hills, with you and the children.

Tommy and Maria, now raising seven-year-old Luke, remained stateside, but their love traveled across oceans. Ellie, newly wed to Dina, lived closer in London.

She came often, her laughter filling your home like music, her love for her little brother and sister an anchor in your growing family.

Frank and Bill, although they can't visit much to England, they always have time for video call you and the kids, and sending them the strawberries from your own garden.

You, once a wandering soul yearning for a place to belong, were now a wife and a mother.

Two beautiful children—Emma, with her bright, curious eyes, and Jack, with his chubby hands that reached for the world—had brought new meaning to your life.

And Joel…your husband, the father of your children.

Joel had become a father again, though you could see in his every move the man who had always been a protector, a nurturer, even through his hardest years.

This was the family you had prayed for as a child. A home stitched together not just by blood but by love, by the grace of second chances.

The children’s laughter rang out, clear as church bells on a quiet Sunday morning.

You turned toward the sound, watching them run through the field, their joy as boundless as the sky.

Gratitude swelled in your chest, a psalm of thanksgiving rising silently to the heavens.

A car horn echoed in the distance, cutting through the stillness. You squinted toward the road and saw a familiar truck pulling into the drive.

Tommy, Maria, Luke—and Ellie and Dina. They had come to celebrate Joel’s 56th birthday.

A smile broke across your face as you waved them in. “Emma! Jack! Come here!” you called, your voice full of warmth. “Uncle Tommy’s here! Your sister’s here too!”

The children turned, their little legs carrying them toward you as fast as they could.

You scooped up Jack, his tiny hands clutching at your shoulders, while Joel bent to lift Emma, who squealed in delight as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“It’s Daddy’s birthday today,” you reminded them, your voice playful. “What do we say to Daddy?”

Emma and Jack turned their bright faces to Joel and shouted in unison, “Happy birthday, Daddy! Thank you for everything, We love you so much!”

Their tiny hands reached for him, planting sloppy, sweet kisses on his cheeks.

Joel’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as he stood in awe of the moment, his hands gentle yet secure around Emma.

Ellie arrived just in time, stepping out of the truck with a teasing grin. “Here comes your favorite big sister! Who wants candy?”

Emma and Jack squirmed out of your arms and Joel’s, running to Ellie with the excitement only children could muster. You laughed, watching her kneel to their height, pulling candies from her pockets like a magician performing a miracle.

“Happy birthday, old man,” Ellie teased as she stood, turning to Joel. “Old as a fossil now, huh?”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Still got more energy than you, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellie replied, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her affection.

As the others went inside, you heard Tommy has played Harvest Moon by Neil Young inside your house, full volume, as Joel saw him give him a wink and a thumbs up.

You laughs when you saw it, "This is our song," you said to Joel, as he wrapped you around his arm, "I can still remember those rides with you, baby."

You chuckles as you lingered with Joel, the two of you standing in the soft afternoon light. The air was quiet again, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant laughter from the house.

“Happy birthday, Joel,” you said softly, holding out a gift wrapped in simple paper.

He opened it slowly, his breath catching as he saw what lay inside. It was a photo album, filled with snapshots of your life together—the two of you, the children, Ellie, Tommy, Maria.

On the first page, written in the shaky handwriting of Emma and Jack, were the words:

Happy birthday, Daddy. Thank you for everything that you've done for us, we are forever grateful for you, we love you so much! -With love, Always, Emma, Jack, and Momma.

Joel stared at the page, his fingers brushing lightly over the words. His throat worked as he tried to speak, but no words came. Instead, he turned to you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He kissed you then, deeply, his lips pressing into yours with a fervor that spoke of everything he couldn’t say. When he pulled back, his voice was rough, filled with emotion.

“You’re the best gift I’ve ever had, doll,” he said. “You, this life, and these beautiful little minxes and the big minx we’ve got. I never thought I’d deserve this.”

Tears stung your own eyes as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the lines etched by years of sorrow and joy.

Once, you were just a preacher's daughter—raised in the shadow of a pulpit, where every word of faith felt like a heavy garment, protecting you from the world's harshness.

Your life shaped by doctrines, by prayers, by the weight of others' expectations, as though you were a vessel to carry their beliefs, not your own.

Yet, through the storms of confusion, there was always a flicker—a quiet flame deep within you, a seed planted by grace, watered by love.

You hadn’t always seen its roots, but God had always been there, gently guiding you when the world seemed too loud, when your faith faltered.

He had whispered your name in the dark, reminded you that you were never alone.

Now, standing here with Joel, the weight of the past felt lighter. The ghosts of old wounds, of the pain that once defined you, no longer reached into this space you and Joel had carved out together.

His calloused fingers, reminders of everything he had fought through, told a story of survival.

And yet, in the stillness of the twilight, his touch was gentle—a promise of love and safety, a love you had never dared to dream possible.

As the stars began to pierce the darkening sky, you and Joel stood together, watching the first one flicker into view.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds—the verse that had carried you through your darkest hours, and now, you felt the truth of it wash over you.

Your heart, once shattered, was whole again.

Your soul, once heavy, was light with love.

Through all the loss and pain, God had been with you, guiding you through, and now you stood here, redeemed—not by your own strength, but by His infinite mercy.

“I love you,” you whispered, tilting your head to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek.

“I love you too, doll,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than words can say.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t ever leave me, okay?”

You leaned into him, your voice a gentle promise as you whispered into his ear, “I’m always going to be right here. No one’s going anywhere.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his breath warm against your skin. You leaned into him, feeling his strength, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

In that moment, all that mattered was the two of you, standing in the soft twilight, wrapped in the cocoon of each other’s love.

For once, you were free.

Free from the past. Free from the darkness that had once suffocated you. Free from the weight of the world, because here, in this corner of earth, you had found your peace.

This was no longer a dream—it was your reality. A life that had been rebuilt in the image of grace. More beautiful than anything you could have imagined.

Your life, once a patchwork of broken pieces, was now whole. A garden blooming after a long, hard winter.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours—built with love, nurtured through faith, and made whole through forgiveness.

And as you crossed the threshold of your home, the warm light spilling over the threshold, you realized this wasn’t just a happy ending.

It was your promised land. The life you had always longed for.

This was salvation.

With Joel by your side, the stars above, and the grace of God wrapping around you like the softest blanket.

You knew, truly knew,

That you had finally found your home.

－ＴＨＥＥＮＤ－

To the readers, Thank you so much from the deepest place in my heart for walking this journey with me. Your time, your attention, your willingness to explore this story with me means more than words can say. Writing this story, sharing these moments, has been a gift—a gift made even more meaningful by the space you've given to these characters, to their struggles, their growth, and their love. It is a beautiful thing to know that stories, like the ones we share, can find a place in someone's heart. I am forever grateful for you, for your patience, and for the grace you've extended to this narrative. You are the reason these words exist. I hope that, in some way, this story has touched you, made you feel something real, something true. If it has, know that my heart is full of gratitude. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being a part of this. Thank you for all the support and love from the beginning of it. and special thanks to Mother Ethel Cain, Hayden, your masterpiece change something inside of me. Until I see you in the next story. 🩵

With all my love, N.H xxx

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reds-skull · 3 months ago

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The frames of the video from the comic in the previous post. I experimented a lot with this, it was really fun to work with this chunky brush I found. Also the first time I draw the Reaper of Destruction as it was before Lumity!

More comments under the cut+a frame I ended up scrapping!

I'll go by order of appearance, because it's basically a chronological retelling of the events of part 1.

So the first frame is the least fancy because it was the first and I didn't nail down a style for this yet lol. It shows Ghost and Soap's first true meeting, in chapter 1, where Ghost helps Soap when he gets impaled by a rebar.

The second frame jumps to chapter 8, when Ghost first put Soap in Limbo. The triangle around them was a later addition, taken from the next frame. I love this scene, it's so fun to see it drawn out now :)

The third frame was the most important one to nail the style. I painted a whole frame, only to come back to it the next day and restart from almost 0.

This is the original third frame

They both show the same event - chapter 21, the second time Soap is thrown into Limbo. The difference is, one shows a more literal image of what happened, and the other is more symbolic.

And by now I think you know how much I love symbolism lol

What also bothered me with the scraped painting is that the composition isn't central, and the entire pose, while more dynamic, isn't fitting the mural feel the rest has.

There's an even earlier version of the scrapped painting, with Soap's face, but nowhere else there are faces in these series, so I went wild with it and covered it with flames. He had them behind him already, as the description of this scene in the fic says Soap had a helo of fire behind him.

(also hated how Limbo's victims looked in the scrapped version like... ew lol)

There wasn't a real reason to add the circles around Soap. I just wanted to lean more heavily into the mural style. But I took that circle motif to the end, after that, and added it to Ghost as well, hence the triangle.

Soap has one skeletal hand, and one palm. That one is on purpose, to show he's hanging in between life and death.

The fourth frame is pretty self-explanatory, it shows the part in chapter 21 where Soap gets the dark marks on his forearm. If the colors look weird in that one, it's because I messed with them so much I couldn't tell if they look good anymore on not

The fifth frame shows another favorite moment of mine, the moment Ghost gets his marks, the white tear tracks, when he finally notices Soap fighting in the void.

The sixth frame is my favorite of the bunch. Soap and Ghost, the triangle and circle combined. The moment they killed Graves, Ghost in full control of his subjects, Soap with his sword of white fire and army of burning moths. They look so scary in this one I love them

The seventh frame shows Void and Destruction. Void was straight forward, I've drawn it a few times before, but I had to make a more detailed design for Destruction, and I only had the very first sketches I made for Revenant AU to go off of, as well as Lumity's design. Idk why I designed Lumity before Destruction, but that's how it is. I wanted Destruction melting, like it can't handle its own heat.

The eighth frame is of Void and Destruction combining. In the fic they had in-between states, it didn't look like this, but for the sake of the video I thought it'd be nicer to have a clear frame of them combining.

The ninth and last frame is of our beloved Lumity. Their design is a little more detailed than the drawing I made a while back. This frame is also the only one that interacts with the foreground, aka Makarov. I think he was jump-scared, don't know how much that comes across.

Damn I had a lot to write. Well, when given the opportunity to ramble...

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #revenant au #cod fanart #...fanart of my own au for the most part but oh well #ty for reading whoever did <3

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 11 months ago

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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 21] || [Chapter 22.5] || [Chapter 23]

Pairing: Ghost x Price || Price x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K cw: drunk kissing, cheating (mentioned) Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we find out what happened in cardiff. i love vulnerable john.

Chapter 22: What is it about you?

“C’mon, Boss, up you go.” Simon told him as he hoisted the man up to his feet by wrapping an arm around the small of his back, and tossing the other over his own shoulders.

“I don’t know how she could do that to me, Simooooon,” John’s words and feet dragged a bit and tripped over each other, uncoordinated due to the excess alcohol.

John was constantly self-sabotaging back then, feeling sorry for himself, mourning his relationship and the wife who took advantage of his common absences to justify her need to step out on him.

When John was sober and busy with work, he was still the same as always: deadly efficient, a good communicator, a great strategist…

But when they went on leave…

It left Simon having to be the one picking up the pieces. Simon’s moved to Cardiff from Manchester many years ago, not quite enjoying Hereford enough to want an off-base flat in the same city as the base, and, now that he’s separated, John’s also moved to Cardiff to stay on Simon’s couch.

Or it would be his couch if he didn’t get pissed every night and leave Simon fearing for his life and the fact he might vomit and suffocate in it in the night, so he carries him to bed every time. The bed might as well have been John’s at that point.

Somehow he was able to wrangle John back to his flat.

He helped the man get into his bedroom and lowered him into bed before he pulled off the beanie from his head, then his boots, tossing his legs onto the bed a bit aggressively while the captain sobbed while lying back on the pillows…

“You’ll be alright, Captain.” Simon always tried to say some kind words to ease the drunk, heartbroken man, though he knew it did little.

Simon was strangely thankful Price was a sad drunk instead of an angry or violent one like his own father.

Simon bent over him to unzip his jacket and then was able to curl the man up against his shoulder in order to shimmy his jacket down his arms, like a toddler.

But something about that touch, almost akin to a hug, awoke something in John.

Just as he lowered the older man’s torso down to the bed and his head onto the pillows, he suddenly found himself unable to move, his shoulders being hugged tight by one of John’s arms.

His face was inches from John’s, their noses almost touching, their eyes locked. John’s blue irises were glassy from the alcohol and the tears.

The look in John’s eyes was freaking him out. He was still crying, but he was eerily quiet, not murmuring utter nonsense or pure vitriol for his wife and her lover…

The Mancunian tried to slip John’s arms off him. “C’mon.” He grumbled as he craned his neck back to try and wrangle off the embrace.

“Stay…” John pleaded, his eyes softening, his brows lowered pitifully.

“I’m right here, Boss.” Simon assured him as he once again tried to take Price’s arm off his vise-like grip around him.

It didn’t work. The grip just got tighter, his body trembling beneath Simon’s. “Please, stay...” He implored.

Before Simon could realize what was happening, his lips had been captured by John’s, a slow, tender thing, almost like John himself wasn’t 100% sure of what he was doing (and he really wasn’t) but wanted to do it nonetheless.

There was no tongue action, just a rubbing of lips and an exchanging of breathy sighs before Simon was smart enough to pull away, eyes a bit widened for what they had just done.

But Price seemed like he was still on the verge of crying, teetering the edge of his fear of being rejected again. He just needed affection....

Simon’s own eyes softened as he saw the state Price was in. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. Giving up on getting out of the embrace, he simply nodded. “Fine. I’m stayin’.”

Carefully, Simon toed off his own shoes and took off his fleece jacket. He tossed everything on the floor haphazardly, before he shifted around the bed in John’s embrace and vaulted over him, coming to lay on the other side of the bed.

John cuddled up to Simon’s body and, tentatively, the blond wrapped his arms around Price’s shoulders and neck as the brunet sunk in the embrace and hid his mustachioed face in Simon’s neck, big burly arms wrapped around the narrower part of his waist.

Price resumed his sobbing, hidden in Simon’s arms, hugging him uncomfortably tight, like a lifeguard buoy in open water.

Simon ran his fingers over John’s hair, caressing his scalp with his fingertips. “Not going anywhere, John, I promise.” Simon assured him.

It’s 10 P.M. and you’re just turning off your TV to move your lounging to the bedroom when the doorbell rings.

Once again, you’re not expecting anyone… But the lads have gotten much better at warning you in advance when they’re dropping by… So it puts you on edge again.

Tip-toeing to the intercom, you murmur into the receiver. “What?”

“It’s John, darling.” The voice of the older man comes through, causing your eyes to widen. What’s he doing here?

You buzz him in all the same. Only once you hear his knuckles rapping the door, do you open it, finding him standing on the other side.

He’s wearing an army green fleece jacket, a black hoodie, tan cargo pants, and black boots. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.

You let him inside and he has the decency to take off his boots, jacket and beanie, before he gestures you both onto the couch.

The memory of the way he kissed you and tossed you both down onto it last time he was here comes flowing back and you look away and take a breath to suppress it.

“The lads told me about the four of you” He tells you as he looks at you, sitting by your side, your knees just barely brushing, his hands clasped together and hanging between his thighs.

“They did?” You ask him, earning a nod in reply. “You didn’t know this whole time?” You ask again.

“No.” He says simply. “And they didn’t tell you I tore ‘em a new one for what they’re doing?” He returns.

You shake your head, which makes him sigh. “Figured as much.”

“You need to know that-”

“I promise I don’t-”

You both cut each other off and blink away the confusion before you do that weird shimmy of trying to let the other talk.

He ends up taking the initiative. “You need to know that it’s puttin’ ‘em all at risk to be seein’ you and each other, especially each other. Simon’s my second-in-command… and it’s against the code of conduct for ‘em to be with their ‘boss’.” He explains.

His explanation makes your eyes soften and you look away with a sigh, mirroring his pose and letting your hands hang between your legs. “I didn’t know it’d get ‘em in trouble…” You explain.

Taking another deep breath, you shift around in your seat. “I was about to say I promise I don’t want to get them in trouble or steal them from work or making you have to call like… dozens of times again to get them to come in, because I know that was bad, even if it was an accident but-” You rant a bit.

John’s watching you closely as you justify yourself and them and promise you have the best of intentions, how you like them all so much and you could never dream of getting them in trouble and…

“What is it about you?” He interrupts you, causing you to face him suddenly and stare at him.

“Pardon?” You ask him, blinking slowly before raising your brows.

“Why… Why them? All of them?” He asks.

Your face scrunches a bit, your brow setting over your eyes. “Are you trying to insult me? That feels insulting.” You grumble.

He sighs and shakes his head, before rubbing his eyes with his middle finger. “No. I- I’m sorry.” He says as earnestly as he can. “Just trying to understand.”

“Some people have a thing for men in uniform but that means they date multiple of ‘em across a number of years… They don’t usually form a… harem with ‘em all at once.” He explains.

The idea of a harem makes your face flush warm and look away. “I don’t know.” You reply directly. “Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” You say directly.

John keeps staring at you as you speak. “I went from a very unfulfilling relationship, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that to you-”

“You did, at the pub.”

“Right, well…” You trail off. “I went from that to… being alone… and then to having a one-night stand with you and then… it was like I woke up one day and had three boyfriends.” You remark and scratch your arm awkwardly.

John’s face scrunches, his mouth disappearing beneath his mustache as he keeps looking at you closely, noticing how awkward you seem.

“I really don’t want to get them in trouble…” You tell him as you glance up at him, the corners of your eyebrows lowering as you look at him.

He goes quiet for a moment, simply making eye contact with you, as if trying to read your intentions through your pupils.

Then, his hand reaches across the space between you and he gently cups both your hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You really like ‘em all, don’t you?”

“Mhm.” You reply and nod.

Sighing, he nods. “Just try to keep from kissing in public to a minimum, will ya? Don’t need the brass knowing and having my arse too.” He tells you.

Smiling and chuckling again. “Wouldn’t you, in that case, be in more trouble because you started this whole thing?” You joke.

He nudges your thigh with his knee and rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t you start, too… I already had to deal with Soap, Gaz and Ghost making comments.” He complains.

“Oh, please… Ghost told me all about how peppy you seemed after that night you spent with me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes again before he taps his thighs with his palms and stands up off the couch.

“I needed it. Did me good.” He replies as he moves back to the door and puts his shoes on.

You follow after him, watching him closely as he puts his outdoor clothes back on. “Did me good too.” You reply.

He chuckles a bit. “Oh, trust me, darlin’, I remember fully well how ‘good’ I did you.” He jokes and winks at you.

“Oh, shut it…” You grumble as you watch him open your door and stand just outside of it, looking at you closely.

“Shame it’ll never happen again. I could’ve used a repeat.” John quips casually. “Have a goodnight.” He kisses your temple and starts walking down the hall.

“Wait, hold on!” You interrupt him, causing him to stop a few feet away, looking at you in the brightly lit hall. Clearing your throat, you swallow dryly before you lock eyes with him and speak again: “What’s stopping it from happening again?”

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

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winxanity-ii · 28 days ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 21 Chapter 21 | venus rising⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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You woke with a gasp.

Your chest heaved, lungs dragging in air like you had been drowning. Your body jolted upright before your mind caught up, heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

Something was wrong.

Your skin was damp, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to your brow despite the cool air seeping in from the open window. Your breathing was uneven, shuddering. When you reached up to wipe your face, your fingers came away wet.

Tears.

You blinked rapidly, swiping them away with the heel of your hand, confusion tightening your throat. You weren't crying—at least, you didn't think you were. But the evidence was there, clinging to your lashes, trailing down your cheeks.

Why?

No nightmare lingered. No fragmented memory. No reason for this hollow weight pressing against yoribs—s, heavy and unshakable.

You swallowed hard, forcing it down. It had to be exhaustion.

Last night—Apollo—the endless music, the warmth of his presence, the way his voice wrapped around you like sunlight. Maybe it had drained you more than you realized.

That had to be it.

Letting out a slow breath, you swung your legs over the bed, pressing your feet to the cool floor to ground yourself. The lingering haze clung to your mind as you stretched, muscles heavier than usual—but not unpleasantly so.

Moving toward the water basin in the corner, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the polished bronze mirror.

You looked... different.

Not in any obvious way. But something about the morning light—it kissed your skin, lingered a little too long, like it knew you. Like it belonged to you.

You shook the thought away.

Instead, you focused on the familiar routine of washing up, letting the cold water shock your system awake. As you dressed, an unconscious hum slipped from your lips.

A hymn.

To Apollo.

Your fingers stilled on the fabric of your tunic, the sound of your own voice catching you off guard. You hadn't meant to hum it. Hadn't even thought about it. Yet it had come so naturally.

A warmth settled in your chest—gentle, knowing.

You ignored it, shaking the feeling off as you adjusted your clothes and made your way to the door. Whatever last night had meant, it was over. It was morning, and you had things to do.

Taking a steadying breath, you pulled open the door—

Only to nearly walk straight into Callias.

The two of you froze, eyes locking in mutual surprise.

Callias stood mid-motion, one hand raised as if about to knock, the other balancing a small wooden tray. A simple meal rested on top—freshly cut fruit, a bit of cheese, some olives. The kind of food you might have grabbed between chores or on the way to the queen's chambers.

You blinked. He blinked back.

A beat of silence stretched between you before Callias let out a quiet chuckle, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips.

"Well, hello, sleepyhead," he teased, tilting his head slightly. "What made you so tired?"

The question caught you off guard. Your mind scrambled for an answer—one that made sense because how could you possibly explain it? That you'd spent the night with Apollo himself, playing for him, singing for him, lost in melodies that dimmed the stars?

So instead, you settled for something vague.

"You wouldn't believe me," you muttered, shaking your head.

Callias raised an eyebrow, smirk deepening. "Wouldn't I?" he challenged, leaning against the doorframe, eyes glinting with lazy amusement. "You were asleep almost all day."

Your breath caught.

"...What?"

Callias laughed, clearly amused by your reaction. "Yeah, it's almost noon," he said casually, shifting the tray so he could gesture toward the hallway.

The words hit like a stone sinking in water, dragging down into something deep and unsteady.

Noon?

You had gone to sleep just before dawn—only a few hours ago. At least, that's what you thought. You remembered the sky still dark when you finally lay down, Apollo's presence still lingering as you drifted off.

And now... it was noon?

You must have frozen completely because Callias chuckled again, though this time, curiosity edged into his amusement.

"Yeah, you were out," he continued. "But no worries. Prince Telemachus told the king and queen at breakfast that you'd be taking the morning off, so no one's disturbed you."

Telemachus?

Your thoughts whirled, struggling to keep up. You hadn't asked for the morning off. But... he had done it for you? Had gone out of his way to make sure no one expected anything from you after last night?

Something warm and strange settled in your chest, but it was quickly buried beneath the lingering shock.

"Are you okay?" Callias asked, his teasing tone dipping into something softer.

You forced a nod, though your thoughts still spun. "Yeah... just—didn't realize how tired I was."

Not a lie. Not entirely.

Callias studied you for a beat, sharp eyes scanning like he was debating whether to pry. But then, just as quickly, his usual carefree grin returned as he held out the tray. "Well, here, eat something. You probably need it after hibernating."

You took the tray with a small nod of thanks, though your mind was still sluggish, trying to catch up. So much had happened—Apollo, Cleo, your parents, everything—and yet, in reality, it had all been just one day.

The realization made your head spin.

Your body still carried the exhaustion of the Underworld, the weight of divine revelation pressing into your bones. Time had been strange since you entered the Underworld, slipping through your fingers like sand. But even then, you had never slept for so long.

"Anyway, I actually came to tell you about Venus tonight." Callias' grin widened, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You blinked, thrown by the shift. "Venus?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his enthusiasm infectious. "It'll be at its brightest tonight. The whole town is talking about it. Perfectly clear skies, the kind of thing you have to see." Your fingers tightened slightly around the tray as something twisted deep in your chest—not unpleasant, but unexpected.

Venus.

A memory surfaced unbidden, breaking through the fog.

"Tomorrow night, Venus will be at its brightest," Telemachus had said, voice quieter than usual. "It lights up the sky like a beacon. I... was thinking—if you'd like, you could... join me?"

The way he had looked at you then—hopeful, hesitant—made your heart clench.

But before you could answer, Andreia had appeared.

Her presence had shattered the moment, her voice dripping with familiarity as she touched Telemachus' arm, claiming his attention like it was hers to take. He had turned to her, torn between duty and whatever had just passed between you.

And just like that, the offer had been swept away.

You had almost forgotten. Or maybe you had forced yourself to.

Callias' voice pulled you back to the present before you could spiral too deep.

"I was thinking we could go together," he said, his eagerness cutting through the weight pressing in your chest. "It's supposed to be stunning, and I don't want to go alone."

You hesitated, emotions warring inside you.

A part of you—a small, ugly part—wanted to refuse. To lock yourself away in your room and ignore the ache curling inside your chest. To pretend none of this mattered.

But another part of you—the part that refused to let Andreia's callousness dictate your choices—wanted to go.

What did it matter if Telemachus was watching Venus with Andreia?

What did it really matter?

You looked up at Callias, his expectant expression so open, so easy. Unlike Telemachus, who carried the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, Callias was light. No burdens, no expectations. Just here, grinning at you like nothing was complicated at all.

And maybe, for tonight, you needed that.

You took a breath, shoving the ache of Telemachus and Andreia down. Letting it settle beneath the surface.

"Alright," you said, forcing a small smile. "I'll go."

Callias' grin widened, his whole face lighting up. "Perfect! I'll meet you in the square after sunset."

You nodded, watching as he stepped back with an easy wave before disappearing down the corridor, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The tray in your hands felt heavier than before.

Exhaling slowly, you closed the door behind you and turned back into your room.

For the first time in what felt like days, you had plans. Not with Telemachus. Not with duty pressing against your back.

But with someone who simply wanted to enjoy the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what you needed.

☆

As the day stretched on, you noticed something felt off.

It wasn't something you could name—not fully.

It started the moment you woke, lingering at the edges of your mind like the remnants of a dream you couldn't quite grasp. The air felt heavier, the familiar scents of the palace—sea salt, aged stone, fresh linens—were sharper, more defined, as if you were experiencing them for the first time.

At first, you brushed it off—exhaustion, the weight of yesterday, your mind still catching up to the reality that had shifted beneath your feet.

But as the hours passed, the feeling didn't fade.

If anything, it grew stronger.

Every sound, every color, every sensation felt amplified, as if you had been seeing the world through a veil this entire time, and now, without warning, it had been ripped away.

Something had changed.

You had changed.

But you couldn't explain how.

And you weren't sure if you were ready to.

The sky had darkened by the time you made your way down to the courtyard, the last streaks of twilight fading into the deep indigo of night. Stars pricked through the heavens like scattered embers, and in the east, Venus shone the brightest—a beacon against the endless dark.

You exhaled, wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders.

Tonight was simple. Meet Callias. Watch Venus. Let the night be just a night.

This was fine. You were fine.

You weren't thinking about the way Apollo had looked at you like you were his to cherish, weren't thinking about the way Telemachus had asked you to see Venus with him, only for Andreia to steal that moment away.

No. You weren't thinking about any of that.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, you had Callias.

And yet, as you approached the courtyard, your steps slowed.

Something stirred in the distance.

Not Callias—not yet.

Beyond the stone archway, at the entrance to the palace grounds, a small caravan was being prepared.

Horses shifted under the weight of their bridles, their breath visible in the cool night air. Royal attendants moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting saddles, tightening straps, securing supplies. Lanterns flickered, casting long, wavering shadows against the stone walls.

You didn't have to wonder who it was for.

Then, you saw them.

Telemachus and Andreia stood just beyond the main path, illuminated by the soft golden glow of the torches.

Your breath hitched—just for a moment.

She stood close to Telemachus. Too close.

Her fingers barely grazed his arm, but the touch lingered. She was speaking, head tilted just so, lips curved in an easy, confident smile. The way she looked at him—like she knew she was the center of his attention, like she expected it—made your stomach churn.

But it was Telemachus' expression that truly caught you.

He wasn't smiling.

His posture was stiff, hands clasped tightly in front of him. He nodded as she spoke, but his gaze flickered—to the ground, to the attendants, to the caravan. Anywhere but her.

Anywhere but here.

It was the same look he wore when he was enduring something he didn't want but knew he couldn't refuse.

You should have looked away.

You should have kept walking, let the night unfold as it was meant to—without letting yourself drown in the weight of something you couldn't change.

But you didn't.

Something about them—the almost-blue of her dress, the tension in his shoulders, the way the torches illuminated them like a portrait painted in gold—held you there.

This was what could have been yours.

But it wasn't.

Not anymore.

A cool breeze brushed past, making you pull your shawl tighter, and for the briefest moment, you let yourself feel it.

The ache.

The loss.

The quiet, unbearable knowing that whatever had existed between you and Telemachus—that unspoken, fragile thing—was now on the verge of shambles.

And then—

"___!"

The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, light and familiar.

You turned, blinking quickly as Callias strode into view, his usual easy grin in place. He looked effortlessly put together, as always—his brown curls tousled from the wind, a thin gold chain catching the torchlight at his throat.

Behind you, the caravan began to move—horses led forward, wheels creaking against the stone path as the procession disappeared into the night.

Telemachus and Andreia turned as well, their figures half-illuminated in the shifting glow.

And for just a second—a single, fleeting second—Telemachus' gaze found yours.

Your breath caught.

Something flickered across his face—something unreadable, something buried too deep to name.

But then, just as quickly, he looked away, shifting his attention back to Andreia as she spoke.

And that was that.

Callias came to a stop beside you, watching the caravan fade into the dark before turning back to you with an amused tilt of his head.

"You were staring," he noted, teasing but light. "Do I even need to ask why?"

You swallowed, forcing a small, dismissive smile. "Not at all."

He studied you for a moment, his usual playfulness tempered by something quieter, more knowing. But whatever he wanted to say, he held back. Instead, he threw an arm over your shoulders, tugging you lightly toward the garden terraces.

"Good thing I'm here to rescue you from your thoughts," he said cheerfully. "Come on, we have stars to see. And I, for one, refuse to let you mope under a sky this clear."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, and fell into step beside him.

The night stretched before you, open and endless, the sky above glittering with stars.

.☆. .✩. .☆.

By the time you and Callias reached the stargazing spot, both of you were panting slightly, the climb steeper than expected. The winding paths of Ithaca weren't anything new to you, but under the cover of night—with the occasional loose stone threatening to send you tumbling—it felt far more treacherous than it should have.

Callias let out a dramatic huff beside you, swiping his curls away from his forehead with the back of his hand. "You know," he started, breath coming in short bursts, "for an island, Ithaca sure has an ungodly amount of hills."

You let out a breathless laugh. "One would think being surrounded by the sea would make it flatter," you teased, shaking your head.

"Exactly!" Callias threw his hands up. "Mountains? Fine. Valleys? Sure. But this?" He gestured vaguely at the incline you'd just conquered, his frustration exaggerated enough to make you laugh again.

The cool night air brushed against your skin, and as you finally lifted your gaze, the sight before you made the ache in your legs seem like a small price to pay.

The stargazing area had been arranged with far more preparation than you'd expected. Ithaca, despite its deep-rooted love for land and sky, didn't typically host large stargazing gatherings. Most preferred quiet moments, watching from their own homes, sharing the night with close friends or family.

But this—this was different.

The clearing had been carefully prepared, no doubt orchestrated by Andreia herself. Blankets covered the grass while small wooden trays sat between each seating arrangement, filled with fresh figs, olives, and honeyed almonds.

Lanterns lined the outskirts, casting a warm, flickering glow—just enough to move around without overpowering the brilliance of the stars.

Already, a handful of servants from both Bronte and Ithaca had settled in, chatting in hushed voices, adjusting their seats. Others lingered by the edges, watching as the last of the caravan settled into place.

It was beautiful, you had to admit, even if it left a strange weight in your chest.

Your gaze instinctively drifted skyward, drawn by habit and expectation. But instead of the vast, glittering expanse of stars you had imagined, drifting clouds veiled the heavens. The familiar constellations flickered faintly behind them, their shapes blurred and broken, swallowed and revealed in slow-moving patterns.

It wasn't unusual for clouds to pass through, but it felt almost... untimely. As though the heavens had drawn a curtain over something you were meant to see.

Your lips parted slightly, brows knitting as you scanned the sky, searching—searching for the one light you had been waiting for.

Venus should have been visible by now.

Yet, for a long, stretching moment, it was nowhere to be found.

A pang of disappointment nudged at your ribs, though you weren't sure why. It was just a planet, just another celestial body tracing its path through the heavens. And yet...

"Don't tell we crawled up this hill for a cloudy sky," Callias groaned beside you, following your gaze with a half-hearted glare at the heavens. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his sleeve. "If Venus is hiding after all that effort, I'm taking it as a personal betrayal."

You let out a small, breathy laugh, though your fingers unconsciously tightened at your sides.

"Just wait," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "It'll show."

Callias barely gave you a moment before grabbing your wrist, tugging you toward a group already seated near the edge of the gathering. "C'mon," he grinned, excitement buzzing in his tone. "There are a few people I want you to meet."

You let him lead you, weaving through clusters of people, careful not to step too close to the edge of the hill.

Your nerves kicked in when you realized where he was taking you—to a Brontean group, already settled comfortably in a small circle.

Three figures—two women and one man—looked up as Callias approached, their faces illuminated by the soft lantern glow.

The first woman, a foreign-looking girl with deep brown skin framed by a golden-wrapped headscarf, was the first to notice you. Her dark eyes flickered with curiosity, lips twitching in amusement as she nudged the girl beside her.

The second woman—lighter in complexion, black curls tumbling over her shoulders, an air of quiet confidence around her—lifted her gaze from a bowl of figs, sharp blue eyes assessing you quickly.

The man, broad-shouldered with a trimmed beard and golden rings adorning his fingers, smirked as Callias approached.

"If it isn't Ithaca's favorite socialite," he teased, shifting slightly to make room.

Callias rolled his eyes but grinned, tugging you closer. "Everyone, this is ____, the newest addition to my very selective circle of friends."

The woman with the golden scarf hummed, tilting her head. "So this is the one Callias won't shut up about," she mused. "Well, aren't you a pretty lamb ready for slaughter?"

You blinked, caught off guard, while Callias groaned dramatically, shooting her an unimpressed look.

"Asta, that's not how we greet people."

The woman—Asta—shrugged, entirely unbothered. "I think it is."

The dark-haired woman smirked, leaning forward. "You have been talking about her a lot, Cal," she admitted, popping a fig into her mouth.

Callias nudged her foot. "I do have other things to talk about, you know."

"Sure," the man chuckled. "Like wine. And how much you hate horses."

Callias narrowed his eyes. "You're all terrible. Scooch over, we're sitting."

With a dramatic sigh, Asta made room, and Callias pulled you down beside him, flashing you a quick wink before turning back to the group.

The dark-haired woman studied you for a moment before offering a smooth smile. "I'm Lysandra," she introduced herself. "Lady Andreia's personal attendant."

Your breath hitched slightly, but you nodded, keeping your expression neutral.

Lysandra seemed to catch your hesitation because she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Don't worry," she murmured, amusement flickering in her gaze. "I'm not here to test your loyalty or anything. Honestly, I'm just here for the stars and good company."

You offered a small smile, though your stomach still twisted uncomfortably.

Beside her, the man stretched, letting out a small sigh as he adjusted the rings on his fingers.

"And I'm Kieran," he said. "Bronte's Treasury Overseer and resident merchant-troublemaker. Whatever you need, I can find it—for a price, of course." His grin was easygoing, but his eyes were sharp, something calculated beneath the charm.

"And I," Asta cut in, her accent unfamiliar, "am just Asta. No fancy titles, no noble houses. Just a wandering soul who somehow ended up in Bronte."

You nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer presence of them all.

Callias, sensing your nerves, nudged you lightly.

"Relax," he whispered. "They don't bite." He paused, side-eyeing Asta, who merely raised an eyebrow. "Most of them don't."

That pulled a small, reluctant laugh from you, easing some of the tension in your chest.

Kieran, always one to seize an opportunity, leaned back on his hands with a grin. "So, Callias," he drawled, stretching his legs out in front of him. "What exactly have you been up to? It feels like we haven't seen you in ages."

Callias scoffed, waving him off. "You literally saw me earlier today. At lunch. And at dinner."

Asta snorted, shaking her head. "You mean we saw you grab a bite before immediately disappearing."

Lysandra smirked, adding in smoothly. "And even when you do stay, you can't stop talking about your new bestie." She glanced at you teasingly, amusement glimmering in her green eyes. "It's honestly kind of cute."

You blinked, caught between mild shock and embarrassment. Callias? Talking about you?

Callias groaned loudly, tossing his head back in dramatic exasperation. "Oh, for the love of the gods—" He shot Lysandra a playfully betrayed look. "You're all just mad I finally found someone who appreciates my charm."

Asta smirked. "Or someone who hasn't yet figured out how exhausting you are."

Laughter rippled through the group, warm and easy, and despite the lingering tension in your chest, you couldn't help but smile.

Callias placed a hand over his heart, dramatically wounded. "If this is how you're gonna treat me, then I'm leaving."

"No, you're not," Kieran said, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't dare leave your bestie behind."

Callias grumbled something under his breath, but his grin gave him away. He leaned back onto his elbows, shaking his head in mock defeat.

Asta, still watching you with sharp curiosity, tilted her head. "So, ____," she said, smoothly bringing you into the conversation. "What's it like working under Ithaca's rule?"

Kieran perked up beside her, nudging Lysandra with his elbow. "Yeah! How's the pay? I might switch over."

Lysandra swatted his arm without looking. "You wouldn't last a week in Ithaca."

You smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's... not bad," you admitted, adjusting the fabric of your tunic as you as you considered your answer. "The royal family is warmer than most would expect."

Asta arched a brow, intrigued. "Warmer, huh?"

You nodded. "It wasn't always like this," you said, your voice softening in thought. "Before King Odysseus returned, things were... tense. The palace felt like it was holding its breath. The queen was strong, but the suitors brought uncertainty. It was hard to feel secure."

Your fingers traced absent patterns into your sleeve. "But ever since the king came home, things have been different. There's a new kind of peace in Ithaca. He's fair but firm. He sees people, not just titles."

Kieran hummed, considering. "Not bad," he mused. "Maybe I should switch over."

Lysandra groaned and flicked an olive at him. He barely dodged it. "Oh, shut up."

Then, she turned her gaze toward you, curiosity glinting in her eyes. "So, ____, what's he really like?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "Who?"

"The great King Odysseus, of course," she clarified. "Word of his return spread all the way to Bronte. Everyone was talking about it—the king who defeated death itself to come home."

Asta hummed in agreement. "It's a big reason why we're here, actually. Along with the whole Prince Andros situation, of course."

At the mention of Andros, a shadow flickered across Kieran's face before he scoffed.

"The 'Andros situation'—what a polite fucking way to put it," he muttered, voice edged with sarcasm. He stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. "More like the clean-up of a fool. Serves him right."

Asta shot him a warning look. "Careful," she said, voice even but pointed. "Someone might overhear and snitch to the princess."

Kieran rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. We're not in Bronte, Asta. What's she gonna do? Have me executed in Ithaca?"

Asta arched a brow, adjusting her seat. "No. But the way she's moving... she might find a way eventually."

Kieran's smirk faded into a scowl. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah. What a fast one, the princess is," he muttered, irritation laced through his voice.

Then, his sharp gaze flicked to you.

"Speaking of which," he said, tilting his head. "What have you heard on your end?"

You blinked. "Pardon?"

Kieran leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with intrigue. "C'mon. We're not gonna snitch. I just mean, what rumors have you heard? About Princess Andreia? About your prince?" he urged, tilting his head toward the clearing, subtly motioning with his hand.

Your chest tightened at the phrasing—your prince—before following his gesture, your gaze landing on the opposite side of the clearing, where the best seats for stargazing had been arranged.

Andreia sat in a broad wooden chair—one brought just for her—an ornate cushion beneath her to keep her comfortable on the rocky ground. She was speaking to Telemachus, lips curved into an easy, knowing smile. Her hands moved lightly as she spoke, graceful, practiced, but her expression betrayed little true emotion.

Telemachus, however, wasn't looking at her.

His face remained calm, polite. But his eyes were already fixed skyward, waiting for the clouds to part and reveal Venus. His fingers tapped absently against his knee, his mind clearly elsewhere.

You weren't sure why you kept watching him. Maybe it was the way his expression barely changed, the way his body sat there—composed, proper—while his hands betrayed his thoughts. The rhythmic tapping against his knee, the quiet inhale through his nose every few moments, the way his shoulders never fully relaxed despite Andreia's presence.

As if a memory had been scraped to the surface, Callias' words returned with startling clarity.

"One of Andreia's personal attendants let something slip... Apparently, she's been in talks to form political alliances between Bronte and Ithaca."

Your stomach tightened.

How long had it been since he told you that? A week? A day? Less? Everything that had happened—the Underworld, Apollo, your own unraveling—had swallowed your focus so completely that you had forgotten.

Just how much had she accomplished in that time?

Had she already planted her roots deeper into Ithaca's court? Had she secured her place by his side while you were tangled in your own problems, failing to notice?

Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your tunic.

What has she gained while I wasn't paying attention?

The thought made your skin crawl.

Not because of duty. Not because of political maneuvering—those had always existed, always shaped the lives of the powerful.

No, what unsettled you was Andreia herself.

"...the way she's moving... she might find a way eventually."

Asta's words echoed fresh in your mind, sharp and foreboding.

And the truth was, she was right.

Andreia wasn't just here to bask in Ithaca's hospitality. She wasn't lingering at Telemachus' side out of passing interest.

She was moving.

Every smile, every carefully placed word, every touch Telemachus never stopped—she was shifting the board, playing the game.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as your gaze lingered on her.

The dress she wore tonight was a lighter seafoam blue, not green—a color closer to Ithaca's than Bronte's. A subtle change, but deliberate. A symbol of someone adjusting, assimilating. She was embedding herself within Ithaca's court, reshaping her image to make it easier for others to see her as belonging here.

Beside its prince.

Your eyes flicked back to him.

His hands had gone still, resting idly against his knee. His face was polite, but distant.

Waiting for the clouds to move.

Not looking at her.

Your grip loosened slightly.

For all of Andreia's efforts, for all of her presence—

Telemachus was not looking at her.

He was looking up.

And for just a moment, you let yourself believe—maybe Asta was wrong.

Maybe, no matter how much Andreia tried to weave herself into his world, she would never truly have him.

You opened your mouth, ready to answer Kieran—to say something, maybe that you weren't sure, that you hadn't heard anything worth repeating.

But before you could get a word out—

A half-eaten fig flew across the blanket and smacked Kieran in the shoulder.

"Gods, do you lot even know how to ask a normal question?" Callias huffed, stretching out lazily as if he hadn't just launched fruit at someone. "What ever happened to 'Hey, ____! What'' your favorite color?' Or 'Wow, that's a nice shawl, where'd you get it?' You know—questions that don't make people think they're about to be interrogated."

Kieran let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically rubbing his shoulder as if the fig had done any real damage. "Callias, you are insufferable."

"Selfish,"Lysandra agreed, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"So selfish," Asta echoed, plucking the remains of the fig from where it had rolled onto the blanket and tossing it at Callias in retaliation. He dodged effortlessly, flashing them a smug grin.

"You're all just mad that I have social skills," Callias shot back, wagging a finger at them.

"You mean the skills of an annoying little brother," Lysandra muttered.

Kieran rolled his eyes and turned back to you. "This is the first Ithacan servant we've actually had a chance to talk to since being here—ever—and he want us to waste time with trivial nonsense?" He shot Callias a pointed look before glancing back at you. "I, for one, think we should make good use of the opportunity."

That... surprised you.

"You've... never spoken to any of the other servants?" you asked, hesitantly. "Is it... forbidden?"

The moment the words left your lips, the energy around the group shifted. A brief, noticeable silence settled, the once-playful air turning heavier, more serious.

Asta was the first to break it. "Not explicitly," she admitted, rolling a small olive between her fingers. "But it's an unwritten rule for Brontes not to be too communicative with outsiders."

Lysandra nodded, leaning back on her hands. "It's about presenting an image—one of strength, unity. The less our servants talk, the more disciplined and devoted our homeland appears to others. It's..." She hesitated, then settled on, "A way to maintain control, I suppose."

Kieran, however, scoffed loudly, completely unimpressed. "It's bullshit is what it is. The whole thing's designed to make us miserable. Keeps us longing for home, thinking about how much better we had it before leaving." His jaw tensed slightly, and for the first time since meeting him, there was no teasing in his voice—just frustration.

Asta arched a brow, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. "You've been awfully bold lately, Kieran." She propped her chin on her hand, eyes gleaming with amusement. "What happened to the perfect, quiet little merchant's son from Bronte?"

Kieran shot her an unimpressed glare. "He got a taste of freedom—of Ithaca—and now he's got a spine," he retorted dryly. Then, as if flipping a switch, his expression brightened.

"Oh! Tadros is passing out wine!"

He practically jolted upright, pointing toward the far end of the clearing before turning to Lysandra and tugging her arm. "Come on! Let's go before all the good stuff's gone!"

Lysandra rolled her eyes, though a faint smile played at her lips. "Fine, you child," she muttered, already getting to her feet.

Asta followed suit, stretching her arms above her head. "I'll help carry enough back for everyone," she said before shooting a smirk at Kieran. "Not that you'd be any help with that."

"You wound me," Kieran gasped, clutching his chest dramatically before grinning and leading the way toward the group of Bronte servants gathered around the wine.

As they walked off, you exhaled slowly, the weight of the conversation still lingering. The laughter and chatter faded into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the night and the distant murmur of the gathering around the wine.

You turned toward Callias, curiosity—and unease—pressing against your chest too strongly to ignore.

"Is it really true?" you asked, voice quieter now that it was just the two of you. "That Bronte's servants aren't allowed to speak to Ithacans?"

Callias glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"Yeah, it's true," he admitted. "At least, that's how it's supposed to be."

Leaning back on his hands, he tilted his head toward the sky, his face thoughtful. "But I've never been one to stick to all the rules—especially not when the princess herself is out here making 'alliances.'" His lips curled into a knowing smirk, but there was something else behind it. Something tired.

His words made your stomach twist. You hesitated before asking carefully, "Have you... gotten into trouble because of... me?"

The smirk faltered—just for a second. It was quick, barely noticeable, but you caught it before he forced an easy grin back into place.

He shrugged, brushing invisible dust from his tunic as if the question meant nothing. "Of course not," he said lightly. "Like Kieran said, what could she do to us here? This isn't Bronte."

For some reason, you didn't believe him.

But instead of pressing the issue, you simply nodded in quiet acceptance. Maybe it was better not to know.

A flicker of movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. A Bronte servant approached, their steps quick but measured, head slightly bowed as they reached Callias.

"The princess has requested your presence," they said in a hushed voice. "She wants you near her... and to play the panpipes."

A brief, loaded silence followed.

Callias didn't move at first, absorbing the words. Then, without hesitation, he gave a short nod. "Of course," he said, voice neutral. The servant inclined their head and disappeared back into the gathering like a shadow.

Once they were gone, Callias let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well. That's that," he muttered, exhaling sharply before turning back to you. "Sorry, ____."

"You don't have to apologize, Callias," you assured him, offering a small smile. "She would've noticed you were here sooner or later anyway."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if debating whether to say something more. Then, instead of dwelling on it, he grinned—though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're right," he said. "Still—kind of a shame. I was having fun."

You chuckled softly. "Me too."

Callias stood, stretching his arms above his head before rolling out his shoulders. "Tell you what," he said, glancing down at you with a playful tilt of his head. "Tomorrow, let's hang out. No princess, no obligations—just a normal, rule-breaking Bronte servant and his new bestie."

The casual way he said it made you smile. "Alright," you agreed, nudging his foot with yours. "Tomorrow, then."

His grin widened before he took a step back. "Great. I'll come find you."

With that, he turned, heading toward the main gathering—toward Andreia, who was waiting.

You watched him go, the easy energy he always carried feeling just a little heavier tonight. As he disappeared into the crowd, you let out a small breath, shaking off the weight of it all.

Tomorrow.

That was something to look forward to.

But tonight wasn't over just yet.

Before you could dwell too much on Callias' departure, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you back to the present.

Kieran, Lysandra, and Asta returned, carrying a few clay cups of wine between them. Kieran was the first to plop down beside you, exhaling like he'd just completed some impossible task. Lysandra and Asta followed, setting down a small flask with the remaining wine.

Asta's sharp eyes swept over the circle, immediately picking up on the absence.

"Where's Callias?" she asked, brow furrowing.

You hesitated, then sighed. "Princess Andreia sent for him."

That was all it took for the mood to drop.

Asta's mouth tightened into a thin line. Kieran scoffed, shaking his head as he handed you a cup of wine, and Lysandra sighed heavily, settling in beside Asta.

Kieran took a swig from his cup, grumbling, "Figures. The four of us finally get some time together, and she takes him. As always." He rubbed a hand down his face, exasperated.

Asta hummed in agreement. "It's no different than back home," she said, swirling her wine before taking a small sip. She turned to Lysandra. "Does she ever talk about why she loves picking on Callias so much?"

Lysandra frowned, clearly considering the question before shaking her head. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Since we've come to Ithaca, I haven't been as close to her. It's not like before."

Kieran clicked his tongue. "Bet she caught on," he muttered, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Or another servant ratted them out. You know how Bronte royals are when they travel. They love pitting their servants against each other."

His words struck something in you, but before you could dwell on it, his gaze flickered to you. His expression softened slightly, the usual sharpness easing.

"Hey," he said, nudging your arm with his elbow. "I just wanna say—if we made you uncomfortable earlier, I'm sorry. We can be... a bit much."

You blinked, then quickly shook your head. "No, it's alright. I wasn't uncomfortable," you reassured, offering a small smile. "It was nice... getting to talk to others."

Lysandra tilted her head, watching you for a moment before speaking.

"I know you were mostly here for Callias," she said gently. "And you might not be comfortable around the rest of us just yet—but we did enjoy getting to know you." She paused, then smiled. "Hopefully, we'll get to do it again."

Something about the sincerity in her voice made your chest warm slightly. You nodded, gratitude settling in your bones. "I'd like that," you admitted.

After that, you excused yourself, stretching as you stood. The others bid you a casual farewell, already shifting their conversation elsewhere.

You wandered a short distance away, their chatter fading into the background as you searched for a quieter spot. Then, finally, you found it.

A ledge.

It wasn't far from where they sat, but it felt separate enough to offer some peace. The land sloped downward slightly before opening to a ledge overlooking the sea. You made your way toward it, the faint salt of the ocean thick in the cool night air.

Settling down, you placed your cup beside you, the clay cool against the stone.

Below, the waves crashed against the cliffs, the water an endless abyss of dark blue and silver, illuminated only by the moonlight breaking through scattered clouds. The distant roar of the sea filled the silence, steady and unrelenting, constant and unfazed by mortal worries.

Above, the sky stretched wide, stars blinking in and out as the clouds drifted lazily. Orion and Perseus had already emerged, their familiar figures standing boldly in the heavens.

But Venus—

Venus was still hidden.

You sighed softly, watching as the clouds shifted, waiting.

The wind carried the scent of salt and damp earth, the waves below crashing rhythmically against the cliffs. Above, the thinning clouds slowly unveiled the vast cosmos, stars flickering into view one by one. The night stretched endless—vast—as if you were floating somewhere between the sky and the sea, caught in a strange, quiet stillness.

You traced the familiar constellations absently, mind drifting, thoughts slipping into a hazy blur—until a voice cut through the quiet.

"Now, now. Sitting all alone, looking all broody? You're gonna make me think you're lonely."

You barely smothered the startled yelp that nearly escaped, your hand flying to cover your mouth. Heart hammering, you turned sharply to your left, only to find—

Hermes.

The god lounged beside you as if he'd been there the whole time, one knee propped up, chin resting lazily against his palm. His golden eyes gleamed with mischief, lips curled into a lopsided grin that spelled nothing but trouble.

"Gods," you whispered breathlessly, pressing a hand to your chest in a feeble attempt to slow your racing heart.

Hermes chuckled, straightening slightly. "Startled you?"

You shot him a look, still trying to calm your nerves. "Just a little," you muttered, exhaling through your nose.

"Good." He winked, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'd hate to think I'm losing my touch."

You shook your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. But before you could respond, Hermes tilted his head, his grin turning sly.

"Speaking of trouble..." he drawled, voice dipping into something playfully accusatory. "Aren't you a little troublemaker? What happened to 'Don't get into trouble without me'? I leave you alone for one afternoon, and you almost get me singed by Hades."

You winced at the reminder, guilt pooling in your stomach. "Ah..." You scratched at your cheek, looking away. "Sorry about that. I—I really didn't mean to—"

Hermes let out a bark of laughter, waving off your apology with an easy flick of his wrist. "No worries. Lucky for you, Persephone made sure you wouldn't get any punishments. Even Hades liked you a little—but don't expect him to admit it."

Your eyebrows lifted. "Hades?"

"Mhm." Hermes leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. "I gotta say, I'm impressed. How did you do it? I was all set to be the one escorting your soul when your time came, and yet, here you are. Breathing. Living." He made a dramatic gesture with his hands. "Existing."

You cleared your throat, turning your gaze back out to sea as you scratched your chin, recalling the moment. "I, uh... just repeated the phrase you whispered to me. The one about the threshold."

Hermes blinked. Once. Twice.

"That's it?"

You nodded.

He stared for another beat before leaning back with an amused hum, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Huh."

Silence stretched between you, the waves below filling the space with their rhythmic crash. You weren't sure if Hermes was still mulling over your words or simply enjoying the way you squirmed under his unreadable gaze.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk, golden eyes glinting with mischief.

"Besides that, a little birdie told me you've learned of your favor to my insufferable big brother." He gave a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his curls as if the thought physically pained him. "Congratulations, little musician. You're officially tied to one of the most dramatic gods on Olympus. And that's saying something."

You couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you murmured, though something about his words stirred an uncomfortable thought in the back of your mind.

Favor of a god.

Cleo's voice slithered through your memories like a whisper in the dark.

"You have everything, ____. The favor of a prince, the favor of a god. Do you even realize how selfish you are?"

Your stomach twisted. The cold breeze suddenly felt sharper against your skin. You fidgeted, clearing your throat to steady your voice.

"Hermes," you started hesitantly, shifting to fully face him. "Could you... help me with something?"

His brows lifted slightly, amusement softening into curiosity. "Of course. I am very helpful, you know."

You hesitated, heart pounding. The words felt heavy in your throat, but after everything—Cleo, the Underworld, Telemachus—you needed an answer. Even if you weren't sure you'd like it.

Taking a slow breath, you forced the words out.

"Was I... supposed to die?"

Hermes froze.

It was brief—a flicker, a second of unnatural stillness—but you caught it. His smirk faltered, his body tensed ever so slightly before he quickly masked it with a scoff.

"Where on earth did you get that idea?" he asked, tilting his head with an easy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed. "I—I don't know," you admitted, gripping the fabric of your clothes. "It's just... things have been strange lately. And Cleo—" You swallowed hard. "She said it. That it was supposed to be me down there. And when I asked Polites, he just told me to ask you."

But you weren't done. The thoughts had already started unraveling, spilling from your lips before you could stop them.

"And then Telemachus—he said favors never end well. That they come with consequences. And what if this is mine? What if—" Your breath hitched, words tumbling out too fast, chest tightening with something raw and unspoken. "What if I was supposed to die, and Apollo changed it? What if I was never meant to be here at all?"

Your voice cracked, and you clenched your jaw, willing yourself to calm down. But the fear had already crept in, clawing up your spine, coiling in your stomach. It had been lurking in the background all day, shadowing every thought, every breath. And now, as you finally voiced it, the weight of it nearly crushed you.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the cold air too thin, too sharp. You curled in slightly, gripping your arms to ground yourself as a quiet tremble ran through your limbs.

Then, warm fingers pressed gently against the top of your head.

A strange sensation rushed over you—soft, golden warmth eased the tightness in your chest, smoothing over the edges of your nerves. Your shoulders relaxed before you could stop them, the tension draining from your body like water slipping through your fingers.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

Hermes huffed, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he ruffled your hair like you were a child fretting over nothing. "There we go," he murmured. "No need for all that panic, little musician."

You exhaled shakily, realizing just how fast your heart had been racing. The warmth from his touch settled deep in your chest, lingering like sunlight after a storm.

Hermes watched you for a moment, then clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a smirk. "Look at you. All teary-eyed." He leaned in, swiping away a stray tear with his thumb before you'd even noticed it was there.

The touch was quick, fleeting—but it sent a shiver through you nonetheless.

"Unfortunately," he continued, tone lighter now, "that particular question is a little outside my jurisdiction."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my dear little mortal," he said, tapping your nose playfully, "whether or not you were meant to die is Apollo's business, not mine."

Your heart sank. "So you don't know?"

"Oh, I probably do," he teased, grinning when you huffed. "But that's a family secret, you see. Divine intervention and all that."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he raised a finger, cutting you off.

"What I can promise you, though," he said, voice dipping into something softer, more certain, "is that you don't have to worry about dying anytime soon."

Your breath caught at the quiet sincerity in his words.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment before his smirk returned, gentler this time. "I won't allow it."

His voice was light, teasing as always, but something in the way he said it—the certainty, the quiet weight—made your chest tighten.

A promise.

A reassurance.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it.

The warmth of Hermes' words settled deep in your chest, lingering like the last traces of sunlight on your skin. It was strange—comforting, even—how easily he could dispel your fears with a smirk and a well-placed touch. You hadn't realized just how much you needed to hear it, how much you had been carrying, until now. Your fingers flexed slightly against your lap, testing the weight of your own relief.

Hermes, for his part, looked entirely at ease. His golden eyes glinted with satisfaction as he rocked back slightly, hands slipping into the folds of his cloak. His usual mischievous grin played at his lips—but then, something shifted.

His gaze flickered past your shoulder, his smirk softening into something more knowing—resigned, almost.

"Well," he exhaled through his nose, "looks like our little heart-to-heart is about to be cut short."

You frowned. "What do you—"

"You'll see," he interrupted, smile turning lopsided, teasing. "I'll be seeing you soon, little musician."

There was something in his tone—something weighty beneath the ease—but before you could question it, a sharp crack split through the quiet.

A twig snapping.

Your breath caught. The sound was close—too close. The night air thickened, charged with something unseen, your pulse skipping as your senses sharpened.

A shadow shifted just beyond the tree line, stepping hesitantly into the torch-lit clearing.

Telemachus.

Your stomach twisted at the sight of him. He stood just at the edge of the light, framed by the silver glow of the stars, his posture stiff—almost uncertain. His dark eyes found yours instantly, the flickering torches casting restless shadows across his face.

"____," he said softly, clearing his throat before glancing away, as if collecting himself. Then, quieter, more hesitant—"Can we talk?"

Instinctively, you turned slightly, expecting Hermes' presence beside you, a snide remark or knowing grin at your expense.

But when you looked, the space where he had been was empty.

The only thing that remained was the whisper of the wind, as if he had never been there at all.

Your mind reeled, struggling to catch up. Hermes was gone. Telemachus was here. And now—he was asking to talk.

You swallowed hard, pushing down the tangle of emotions threatening to resurface.

"Of course," you murmured, voice steadier than you felt.

Because despite the uncertainty, the exhaustion, the unresolved weight between you—one thing was clear.

Whatever Telemachus had to say, you were ready to hear it.

He moved quietly, lowering himself beside you on the ledge. The air between you settled into something fragile yet familiar—not tense, but not entirely at ease either.

Neither of you spoke.

For a long moment, you just sat there, listening to the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below. The wind carried the scent of salt and cypress, weaving through the silence like a presence of its own.

He exhaled slowly, barely audible over the night's quiet hum. His fingers flexed against his knees, gripping the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing anchoring him. At first, his posture was rigid, but as the silence stretched, his shoulders slumped slightly—like something within him had finally given in.

You turned toward him just as he lowered his head, eyes cast downward, expression caught somewhere between thoughtfulness and quiet remorse. His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but he hesitated.

And then, finally, he looked at you.

His brown eyes met yours, raw and unguarded, holding an intensity that sent your heart skittering, bracing yourself for whatever was to come, and then—

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His voice was soft, but the weight behind it was immense. "For everything."

His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing into his skin. "I've been acting like a fool. I see it now," he admitted, his tone edged with frustration—though not at you. "The way I've treated you, the way I've kept things from you... I don't know why I thought that was fair. As if you could read my mind, as if you could just... understand the weight of everything I've been trying to juggle without me even telling you."

He let out a breath, shaking his head. "That's not fair to you. It never was."

You said nothing, letting him speak, letting him unravel what had clearly been building inside him.

His hand dragged over his face before dropping limply to his lap. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed. "Lady Andreia. She... " He hesitated, then forced himself to say it. "She proposed a marriage alliance the first time we spoke alone."

A sharp pang shot through your chest, but you pushed it down, focusing on the way his face twisted, on the flicker of barely contained disgust in his eyes.

"I didn't see it coming," he continued, voice tight. "Not at all. I thought—" He scoffed at himself. "I thought she was just trying to recover after losing her brother. I never imagined she'd have her sights set on me, on Ithaca. Gods, I was blind to it. Completely blindsided."

His jaw clenched, frustration bleeding into every word. "And then I went to my parents. I told them everything." He let out a humorless laugh. "They weren't surprised. Not really. My father, being who he is, took it in stride. He spoke of alternatives—military alliances, cultural exchanges—but I could see it in his eyes." He exhaled sharply. "He was testing me. Seeing if I would choose duty over myself."

His voice dropped, quieter now. "And my mother... she reminded me that Andreia isn't just a princess. She's a girl who lost her brother, trying to secure a future for herself the only way she's ever been taught." His gaze flickered toward the sky, though he didn't really seem to see it. "And I hated it. Hated that it made sense. Hated that I could understand why she was doing this. Hated that I didn't know how to escape it without making things worse."

Silence settled between you, heavy and unmoving.

And then, in a voice quieter than before, Telemachus whispered, "I should have told you the moment it happened."

Your breath caught.

His hands trembled slightly as he flexed his fingers, his expression twisting into something deeply regretful. "I should have come to you," he admitted, his voice cracking at the edges. "I should have let you know instead of making you piece things together on your own. Instead of making you feel like I was shutting you out."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when he spoke again. "I didn't want you to—"

He stopped abruptly, jaw tightening.

Didn't want you to what? Worry? Hurt? See how much it was affecting him?

Whatever it was, he didn't say it.

Instead, he let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. "But by doing that, I made it worse," he admitted. "I made you worry anyway. I made you doubt things I should have been clear about from the start. And now..." He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Now I've only made a mess of things. Because I was too much of a fool to realize how much keeping this from you would hurt you."

He dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers clenching briefly in frustration before dropping to his lap again. "I don't know how to fix this," he admitted, voice raw. "But I don't want there to be distance between us. Not anymore."

His gaze found yours again, and this time, there was something desperate in it. Something pleading.

"I just... I need you to know that, no matter what happens, no matter what people expect of me, no matter what Lady Andreia or my parents or the gods themselves want..." He swallowed hard, breath unsteady. "It's you I trust. It's you I care about."

His voice barely made it above a whisper, but the weight of his words crashed into you like a wave.

There was no uncertainty in his gaze—only truth, raw and unspoken, laid bare beneath the moonlight.

As you stared into his eyes, a part of you—the one that had spent so long second-guessing, doubting, questioning—shouted in triumph. See? it whispered, See? You were foolish to doubt him. Shame followed close behind, a quiet, creeping thing. Had you truly been so blind to his feelings all this time?

But despite that relief, one thing stood out, repeating over and over in your mind like a mantra, sticking to you like a burr you couldn't shake:

"No matter what happens, no matter what people expect of me, no matter what Lady Andreia or my parents or the gods themselves want... It's you I trust. It's you I care about."

Telemachus trusts you. He cares about you.

Does that... does that mean he—?

Your breath hitched, stomach tightening with a rush of something overwhelming, something far too big to process all at once. It was one thing to feel the connection between you, to share these quiet, stolen moments, but to hear him say it, to know that he put you above all else, was another thing entirely.

Your heart pounded, so loud you thought he might hear it. You swallowed, gaze flickering away for a moment, as if breaking eye contact might steady you. But it didn't.

Slowly, cautiously, you lifted your gaze back to his, and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped from your lips, soft and uncertain. "You... care about me?"

Telemachus stilled.

For just a fraction of a second, his entire body locked up, eyes widening slightly before he coughed, looking away. His grip on his knees tightened, and you saw it—the moment of panic, the scramble for an excuse, the way his lips parted like he might try to laugh it off, to dismiss the weight of his words.

But instead of denial, instead of some hurried deflection, he exhaled slowly. His shoulders loosened, a tired, almost self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips.

And then, before you could react, he reached over and took your hand in his.

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you. His fingers brushed against your skin, slow and deliberate, tracing soothing patterns along the back of your hand. His hold was firm but gentle, as if grounding himself as much as he was grounding you.

"Of course, ____," he murmured, quiet but certain. "Why wouldn't I care for the one I love?"

Your breath faltered.

Your entire body locked up, as though the words had physically struck you.

The one I love.

The rush of emotions that overtook you was near unbearable. Happiness, fear, disbelief—all of it at once, making your head spin. Your fingers trembled in his hold, and you barely managed to whisper his name. "Telemachus..."

But the prince wasn't finished.

He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly, his other hand covering yours like he was trying to reassure you, trying to make sure you understood. Then, carefully, he shifted, angling himself toward you fully, his expression raw with something so painfully tender it made your heart ache.

"____, you have to understand," he said, voice softer now, carrying the weight of years, of things left unspoken. "This isn't something new, something I just realized. It's been there—gods, it's always been there. I just..." He let out a breath, lips pressing together before continuing.

"I think I first knew when we were children," he admitted, voice tinged with nostalgia. "The first time I heard you singing to my mother, soothing her when nothing else could. You had this way of making the world feel... lighter. Safer." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Even then, I think I was falling for you. Slowly. Every day. In ways I didn't even recognize until it was too late."

You felt your throat tighten, emotion clawing its way up, making it difficult to breathe.

"I always thought I had time," he confessed, his fingers curling slightly against your skin. "Time to gather the courage, to find the right moment. But then everything started shifting—my father's return, Bronte, the favor. And suddenly, I realized how quickly things could be taken away." His eyes flickered with something pained, something desperate. "I realized I couldn't wait anymore."

Slowly, carefully, he reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek—warm, reverent. Your breath hitched, your skin tingling where he touched. When you met his gaze again, it was filled with something so deep, so consuming, it nearly swallowed you whole.

"But I understand," he murmured, softer now, as if afraid to break the moment. "I understand that this isn't simple. That I can't just throw caution to the wind and expect you to do the same." His thumb brushed against your cheekbone, featherlight. "I know that for me, it's easy to say I don't care about titles or expectations. But for you... it's different."

Your heart clenched. He understood. He truly understood.

"I would be a fool to ignore that," he continued. "A fool to act as though this isn't complicated, as though it doesn't put an unfair burden on you." His voice dropped lower, the vulnerability in his tone making your chest ache. "But I don't care what the world says. I don't care what Andreia wants, or what my parents expect, or what the gods themselves decide."

He swallowed, eyes dark and unwavering.

"I'm saying this because I need you to know. Not because I expect an answer, not because I want to rush you into something you're not ready for." His lips curled into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. "I just need you to know that from this moment on, I will be vying for your love."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You don't have to take my heart," he whispered, "but it's yours regardless."

Your chest was so tight it hurt, your emotions swirling so wildly you could barely keep yourself together.

Telemachus gave you a small, almost pleading smile. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "Not now. Not yet. I just... " His thumb brushed against your cheek once more, reverent, tender. "I just want to spend this moment with you. If you'll let me."

Your vision blurred slightly, a single tear slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. He caught it with his thumb, wiping it away as gently as if he were handling something fragile.

A soft, trembling smile curled at your lips. "Okay," you whispered.

And so, you sat there, your hands still clasped in his, his warmth anchoring you as the world stilled around you.

And as if the heavens themselves had been waiting for this moment, the clouds above shifted, parting just enough to reveal a brilliant glow.

Venus peeked out from the darkness, luminous and radiant, casting a gentle silver light over you both.

A/N: AHHHHH IT HAPPENED!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 I know y'all were starving for romance faster, but I just had to take my time with it, lmaooo 😭😭. the way I was KICKING UP MY FEET writing this... pure ✨delicious✨ agony. also, I had to keep it 10k—I could not cut it up and risk ruining the tension. the build-up, the divine drama, the slow unraveling??? *chef's kiss*. y'all needed to feel all of it. and that little almost/not confession?? Yeahhh... I needed that. 😌 also, shameless plug-in but plz check out my sis's (k_nayee) book 'Warrior'! It's an EPIC fic basically a 'what-if' if penelope were the warrior tyring to get home instead of odysseus 👀 y'all i'm not even gon lie it's good asf and im mad cuz she won't let me be her editor so i can read ahead 💔💔but seriuosuly i'm trynna not to ramble cuz the fanservices "MWAH" never knew i needed to have odysseus more than his son until i read it y'all! here's link to the other sites shes posted on tumblr, wattpad, quotev

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya

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xreaderbooks · 4 months ago

Text

Paradise on Earth (22)

Chapter: 22. The Bells

Pair: JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader

Summary: stuck in a room with Rafe and the impending sense of doom.

Warnings: language, mentions of violence, hostages, strangling, drowning

Word Count: 1.9k

Wattpad | AO3 | Playlist

Chapter 21 | Series Masterlist | Navigation | Next Chapter

Rafe clutched onto your shoulders with a frantic look, "No bullshit, Do you have the diary?"

You didn't want to talk to him, your eyes traveled to Kie's worried gaze welled with tears, a deep frown set in her features that matched your own. "No."

It was the only word you planned on speaking to him, one word for him to let go of his hold on you. When he didn't immediately remove his hands from your shoulders, you brushed them off and walked to the opposite side of the room.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn't have the book. Would it even matter if you told Singh that you didn't have the book? With the way you perceived him to be unhinged, you doubted that he would believe you.

"We're fucked," You spoke directly to Kie with concerned eyes, whatever happened to Rafe was not your problem anymore and if you were being honest with yourself, he never was.

~~~

You and Kie took up the bed and had Rafe sleep on the floor, your room was long forgotten and it didn't seem like the guards cared, you weren't going to be able to escape either way.

You dreamt of the water, weaving beds of leaves, and being taught how to spearfish. It was a memory of a lifestyle you lived not too long ago, it felt like a dream.

Kie was above you a distant look on her face as she spoke to you in a hushed tone, "I have a plan, but you have to trust me." Anxiety settled into your chest as you remembered you were not still stranded on the island or even on the outer banks. The bed you sat up in with eyes still crusted with sleep belonged to a man willing to murder you and your best friend for a diary you currently did not have.

"What plan?" You rasped.

She moved fast, knocking on the window where a guard stood by and looked at her expressionless. "Go get Mr. Singh, I need to talk to him." She mouthed to him, he didn't move an inch, he simply turned his back to her.

"Kie, whatever you're planning isn't going to work if you don't talk me through it," You moved out of bed to follow her to the door and noted how sore your body felt. Your leg felt tender and bruised. When you looked down to inspect it, you saw the inside of your flesh from how deep the wound was but it wasn't bleeding so you called that a positive. You limped as you followed her around the room.

"It has to," She insisted. She pounded on the door, Rafe stirred in his sleep, waking up to her shouting for the man who was posted in front of it.

"The hell are you two doing?" Rafe's question goes unheard.

When neither of you two acknowledged him he tried to get your attention, "Hello?"

Ignoring Rafe, You shook your head, "I'll go with you. He seems to have some sort of interest in my family history, maybe it'll help."

"No fucking way," Rafe tells you. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Stay out of this," Kiara snaps at him. "Y/n, I'm going, you're hurt."

"I was just fine last night," You lift the leg of your silk pajama pants and show her that the bleeding had stopped. "It's a scratch."

She narrows her eyes, "You need stitches. I'm going."

The face of the man who's on guard duty comes in and Kie tells him she needs to speak with Singh urgently. He side-eyes you and Rafe and says, "Yes." He snatches her bicep.

"I got this," She whispers to you before she's dragged out of the room.

You punched the door in frustration, stressfully running your hands through your hair, and slid down the door, clutching your knees to bend to your chest. You heard Rafe take a step in your direction and your eyes jumped to his tense form.

"What is she going to do?" He asked.

You didn't respond, you thought if you ignored him, he would go away. He didn't.

"Y/n, Can we just talk?"

"No."

"Is 'no' the only word in your vocabulary now?"

You wanted to say that it was the only word you thought of when you saw him. It was a no to keep yourself from him, a no that should've been said when you became entwined in each other's lives deeper than they were or should have ever been. His whole existence to you is a no.

Instead, you said, "No."

"Please, Angel-" He pleaded. You cringed at the nickname that once made you feel weak-kneed, you didn't want to feel anything towards him or the words he spoke.

"Don't." You sent him a warning look, he didn't deserve any moment in your presence from the moment he strangled you. The moment he shot Peterkin and framed John B, all the way to when he drowned Sarah. He didn't deserve you way before then.

"Just hear me out, alright?" He kneeled to your level, "Please."

You turned your head to stare blankly at the wooden floorboards, he wasn't going to stop trying to talk to you. "I have nowhere to go, Rafe, so say whatever you want to say to me but I don't care. It doesn't change anything."

"I love you," He confesses and your heart tightens.

You deny it with a shake of your head, you didn't want to hear this, but you did just tell him to say whatever he wanted to. He's trying to lower your guard, you tell yourself. Don't let him get to you.

"I do, you know I do-" He sounded like he was pleading for you to believe him.

"You shot and drowned your own sister, what do you know about love?" You helped yourself up from the floor and walked around the room anxiously, ignoring the ache in your ankle and picking at the skin around your nails.

You wished Kie would've woken you up earlier and told you her plan. You felt bothered, even more so that she left you alone with Rafe.

"What went down between me and Sarah has nothing to do with us."

"There is no us." You laughed humourlessly, "Do you remember strangling me that same night?"

"I'm sorry, alright, you don't know how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you." His eyebrows creased to match the pout displayed on his face. "My mind just goes places sometimes."

You halt in your steps and face him, "It is not my job to help you stay sane or to relieve you of your guilt, nor your deep-rooted daddy issues, Rafe."

You barely caught him flinching at your words but you did and didn't hesitate to continue, "I meant what I said that night. That I loved you, I did, but I've gotten over it and eventually you will too so while you deal with that, if you truly do love me then you'll leave me and my friends alone."

He opened his mouth to say something but Kie came through the door with a forceful shove.

"Kie?" You softly spoke her name, the girl was visibly upset. She held her head in her hands and her face was red. "What happened, what did he say?"

She avoided looking directly at you, "It didn't work."

"What didn't work, can one of you tell me what you just went to do?" Rafe insisted.

"After everything you've done, we don't owe you shit, Rafe." Kie sounded tired. "Shooting Peterkin, Sarah, Y/n."

Little did she know you had already had this conversation with him.

"Peterkin, I was protecting my father, okay?" He came closer to you both and you stepped in his way to block her from him just in case. He glanced at you and Kie, scoffing. "I did what I had to."

You sat next to her, rubbing circles on her back to soothe her, Rafe's voice cut through the calm with his excuses. You noted how he got more defensive around her.

"I'm as much of a victim as she is- think about it, what did I get from shooting Peterkin?" He waited a second as if waiting for either of you to respond, "Nothing. Okay? I had nothing against her I mean- I liked her, you think I wanted to make that choice?"

Unhinged is the word of the week, you thought, maybe you should spend less time around people like this. You almost laughed at your thought, maybe if you could stop getting kidnapped for more than five seconds.

"What I did was a gift, from me to my father for him and I got screwed because of it, I lost the only thing that mattered to me-" He glanced at you as he said that last part and focused his attention back on Kie. "So don't get that look when I say I'm a victim."

Kie didn't do so much as glance at him as he continued his rant, but regretfully, you did. You didn't know what was wrong with you, why you felt your heart grow with pity. It was a familiar feeling when you were around Rafe, not that your feelings for him were solely based on the sympathy you felt. It was very much real and pure attraction starting from the branches of kindness he would extend to you, and only you.

"I will admit, though, what I did to Sarah- what I tried to do- I admit that was wrong." His voice broke and tears were beginning to spill from his eyes. "I know that, so you don't have to remind me."

"Rafe," You uttered his name barely above a whisper. You didn't want to hear anymore and risk lowering whatever shield you had managed to build to keep him out.

"She was family, I should've never touched her, I should have never touched you." He reached out to you and recoiled, correcting himself, noticing how clearly you didn't want him to touch you. "I just lose control in moments like that, and I don't know what happened. I'm trying- I'm trying to get better."

Kie only gave a nod of recognition that she was listening.

"I'm just saying I'm not the bad guy here, but even if I was, bad Rafe Cameron or something- you got no choice. You may not want to trust me, but I'm your best bet."

You crossed your arms, your only way of denying him.

"I got a boat that can get us off the island, but first we gotta get out of here and it is better if we work together."

There was a commotion outside which made Kie rush to the window.

"They're leaving?" You came up behind her and peered over her shoulder.

She let out a shaky breath, "They're going to find Sarah and John B."

"How?" You panicked, "How did he find them?"

Her face contorted into a deeper frown as she finally told you, "They were setting themselves up as bait, pretending to be hostages."

The panic that had been festering the moment Kiara was tossed back into the prison of a room had sunk in deeper but you couldn't allow it to take over. You had to take this opportunity to form a plan to escape, there was no time to worry about your friends.

If only you can get the guard assigned to the door to come inside, you begin to think of the possibilities. He would have to think something was going on, something that would force him to come in, get him out of the way so that there would be no obstacle preventing the three of you from leaving the room.

"I think I have a way to get out of here."

~~~

let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

a/n: been a while, how's everyone doing? I'm sorry for the major delay in updating, hope you all aren't too mad at me, its a short update but I figured something is better nothing after months of not being active

taglist:

@deanwherescas - @thtbwltts - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @random-girl-army - @hereliesjanuary - @instabull - @sexyfoxlady - @bubs-world - @sdawn03 - @jellybassett - @mendesclines - @simpingbutch - @obx-pogues-4-life - @landosgirlxoxo - @p-prettybitch - @namacissi - @dczedhee - @inkandpen22 - @royalavenger - @ayeitsjustmee - @80strashbag - @onlyangel-444 - @freds-slut - @poppet05 - @itsjuststaticnoises - @ahnneyong - @lovepizza567 - @jasminfelling - @rana030 - @loki-loveer - @rana030 - @lostinatimeline - @boldlypessimistic - @clinelyn - @a-j-stuffs - @yunhobug - @syd223sworld - @strawberry-fawn- @mysticalavenuecheesecake - @itsmytimetoodream - @natashtessabeth12 - @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles - @chervbs - @or-was-it-just-a-dream - @newbooksmell777 - @afterzonee - @ilovemen2much - @ilovesteveharrngton - @s1lngwns - @ye0nvibezzn - @ausipcious-manner - @mirellef2001 - @jjmayabnkisbf - - @flairtune - @callsignwidow - @yornayyy - @mxnst3rz

(if youre name is crossed out that means tumblr wont let me tag you, I'm sorry)

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings- MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - Soft Toji!! This chapter-mostly just fluffy cuteness, some oral and pregnant sex

ꕥ Word Count- this chap- 5k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 12 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 13

Three months later

About six months along

You stare at yourself in the mirror, grimacing as you touch your tummy, tracing three long silvery stretch marks, turning this way and that, you’re getting big already, just your tummy and nothing else really, aside from a fullness to your breasts. Breasts your annoying fiance constantly wants to grab, touch and suck on, you are dressed in a tank top and Toji’s sweats, your new favorite things.

“Doll, you’re taking forever, you good? Sick or anything?” Toji asks from outside the bathroom door, and you sigh, stepping out and frowning. His eyes immediately go to your tummy, his big hands on it, as he leans down and kisses you. “Fuck you look so sexy.”

“Toji I look like a fucking watermelon! A blob! And look.” You point then, feeling tears in your eyes at your stretch marks, and Toji scoffs, leaning down on his knees now, looking up at you and kissing your tummy. “No, it’s-”

“Beautiful, doll. Look at you.” He’s kissing up your stretch marks, as you brush back his hair, all sweaty from his workout, sticking to his tanned forehead.

“No, you’re an Insta Baddie and I’m a whale.” He snorts then, you watched Toji post another picture and get another 10k likes, fuck he’s bad at pictures too, imagine if these women saw him forreal?

You both had been on several dates and women were thirsty for him, but Toji only has eyes for you, and you don’t get it, because your fingers are swelling and your tummy is so big. He’s more on you than ever, if that’s possible, constantly trying to touch you, suck on your nipples, trying to get you to ride him, but you’re so insecure as you get further along.

“You’re sexy as fuck. Keep talking shit about yourself and I’ll not let you cum tonight.” You tremble a bit, because fuck you’re always horny.

“Mmm, we have Megs, Yuji and Nobara coming for dinner, you know. You need to help me find something pretty.”

He chuckles as he stands, big hands still on your tummy. “Doll, I sure ain’t picking outfits, got me soft enough like a lil bitch.”

“Oh please!” You pout, and he scowls, dark green eyes narrowing.

“Nah, ya got enough clothes, brat. Go pick em or greet em in this.” He grins, yanking on your sweatpants (his sweats!?)

“Ugh, no! Fine, mean old man. Ow!” Toji pinches your nipples then, sensitive as fuck, making you gasp. “Dick! Let go!”

“Don’t like your attitude.”

“Don’t like yours!”

“Baby got you so angry, swear to god.”

“You wanted one!”

“Yes I do!” He’s cupping your face then, slamming his lips down, and you feel yourself get so wet, moaning as he grabs you so tight, until he feels the baby kick his torso, and he looks down, laughing so soft, a beautiful grin on his stern face. “Oh my god… well hello baby.”

You giggle then, unable to keep an attitude when your baby kicks once more, now on Toji’s big palm. “She’s angry with you, Toji.”

“She’s gonna be a brat like you.” You just grin, as she does a somersault inside you, and kicks your rib, making you wince. “See?”

“Fuck you, Toji.”

“Fuck me huh?” He scowls again, done with your attitude quite clearly, and turns you, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding down your sweats and smacking your backside.

“Ow!” You bite your lip, thighs shifting as the movement makes you so wet, and Toji smirks at you as you look back. “Gonna smack your pregnant wife!?”

“Fuck yeah I am. Look how big that ass is getting-”

“Hey fuck you! Ah!”

“I like it, lemme enjoy. Mm, these handprints.” Toji smacks you gently, it stings a bit but nothing like he’d do before you started showing more. He acts ‘rough’ but he really takes it too easy, too worried to hurt the baby. “So slutty, you like it huh Ma?”

“Mmm, shut up. Ngh!” Toji smacks your pussy, making you spread your thighs for more, praying your baby will stop kicking, and she finally does, so you can focus on how good it feels as he runs a rough finger through your folds.

“Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you. Be bad and you can just get licked everywhere but that clit.”

“Mmm, I’ll be good!” You whine, Toji has been loving to lick your pussy all over, avoiding your clit to torture you when you’re bad, until he has you a damn mess. “Toji, can’t stand like this long…”

“Oh shit, c’mon.” He slides up your sweats now, picking you up with ease still, and you’re kissing his hot, firm lips, so hungry for him. He’s got you on the bed now, sitting on the edge, kneeling between your legs. “How ya wanna do it, doll? I never know what’s good, you’re so bitchy so much.”

“Mmm… I’m sorry.” You blink back tears and he frowns.

“Don’t say sorry and shit. I knew you’d be the bitchiest pregnant girl, and I still fuckin did it.” You giggle now, and he sighs. “Fuck these mood swings.”

“Ugh I know! Don’t know if I’m sad, horny, hungry or happy.” He kisses your thighs over your sweats, hands rubbing your tummy.

“I know what ya are, doll.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” You whisper, caressing his strong jawline. He kisses your palm then kisses your belly button.

“Gorgeous as fuck. That’s what. Prettiest brat there is.” Your lips are trembling now, as you sniffle, then you yank him up by his broad shoulders.

“I fucking love you, Toji” He’s kissing you as he’s standing, bent at the waist, as you lean back and he’s caressing your breasts with his big hands.

“I love you, mean little brat. Gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Take baby aspirin, old man. Fuck!” He pinches your nipple with a scowl, and you grin up at him then. “You’re the most handsome man there is, Toji, I swear to god. I’ll never, ever want anyone but you.”

He blinks at your sincerity, moaning and slipping his hand down your sweats, rubbing your clit, soaked already, as he studies you, pulling your hair gently at the base of your neck. “I’ll never want anyone, how could I? Look at you, fuck you’re so wet f’me too ain’t ya baby?”

“Always, always.” You whisper, then you’re grinding on his hand as two fingers slide in.

“You’re so wet doll, oh my god.” He moans, playing with you, and you hear it, the sounds of that lewd squishing in the room.

“Want you, please Toji.” You plead now, and he’s letting you undress him, as you eagerly take him in your mouth, lapping up the salty precum at his tip, letting it coat your mouth now. He’s huffing, his abs flexing as his hips thrust, not fully, Toji is so careful even though his hands are shaking.

Your eyes look up at him, and he looks down with his lidded gaze, his teeth bared just so, and you suck him harder, lashes low over your dazed eyes. “You’re such a good girl f’me, for once huh?”

“Just once.” You tease, flicking your tongue and stroking him, before he’s slipping down your top, moaning at your breasts, so full and bouncy, and you pull his cock closer, nodding, letting him stroke his cock between them.

“Holy… oh my… look at ‘em. Look at em s’pretty.” He’s a mess now, as you hold your jiggly tits together for him, as he’s fucking his thick, veiny cock between them, hands sliding down the sides of them, making you shiver. “Lemme eat you, please.”

“I can’t see you though!” You pout, and he laughs, breathless.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t see your pretty pussy. Don’t deny a man his meal, damn brat.”

“Oh fine but I miss looking at you!” He pulls you by your now bare thighs, diving down as you lay back on the bed, legs dangling over the edge and on his strong shoulders, feeling his muscles tense as he lavishes you with his tongue, and fuck it feels so good, you’re screaming out. “T-Toji!”

He’s smiling against you, you can’t see his damn eyes, all you see is your huge tits and tummy, your eyes closing as you try to reach down, but he takes a hand and holds your wrist, squeezing and giving you just enough roughness. You’re whimpering as he’s drinking you up, fuck you hear him sucking your wetness, exhaling and moaning on you.

“It tastes even better.” He whispers, sliding a thick digit in your soppy little cunt, which sucks it in, as he watches it disappear so pretty between those puffy lips. He’s sucking your clit into his mouth now, lavishing the tiny pearl with his tongue as he vibrates it by groaning.

“Toji!” You scream out, thighs threatening to close, but he sucks right through it, as you cum so messy all over his face and his hand, gushing liquid, you feel it hot and wet down your ass now. “Oh my god.”

“Would think your water broke, cum so much, lil slut.” You gasp, but he’s leaned up and now you see that handsome, rugged face you love, and it’s half covered in your slick.

“Get in there, please, jerk!” He is rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds now, leaning just a bit over you, as you swipe back his inky black locks, and he pushes in so easy. You’re whining at the stretch, and you can’t stop it, you cum again when he’s hitting that cervix, and he grins.

“So easy, brat- oh fuck, stop tightening up!” He’s tense over you, and you grin as you get him back, and you feel him so good, you moan, cumming still, getting him so wet he’s slippery, even as tight as you are. “Oh my… you better not….”

“Gonna bust fast old man?” He gently smacks your face as you giggle.

“I will beat this ass when you’re ready again. Fuck you so hard.” He says, putting just enough pressure now in your pussy, as he’s so careful to keep any weight off your tummy, and you cling to him, around his neck, biting your lip and cheeks flushing. He sighs then, pausing.

“Wh-what? I’ll loosen up. Don’t stop.” You whine, rolling your hips up, and he shakes his head, brushing your hair back gently, then his thumb brushes a rounding cheek.

“Nah, just beautiful is all.” You feel those tears back, slamming his lips to yours as he fucks into you, steady and slow and so good, until you’re both falling apart, and he’s pulsing inside of you, as you’re throbbing from your aftershocks. “Gonna fill you up s’good, doll.”

“Fill me up, please Daddy.” At that Toji cums, and he cums hard, those ribbons of that white cum soaking into your walls, coating them, as he slows, kissing your face, your breasts, hands rubbing your tummy.

“You’re so sexy, fuck, doll. Like this?” He’s eased out now, kissing your tummy, and you exhale, trembling and trying to come to, nothing about sex with Toji was anything but mind blowing.

“I love you so much.” You say softly, as he melts your insecurities away, this gruff man with his nasty ass jokes and lewd looks, he makes you feel so beautiful even when you’re so down. There is no being down when you’re with Toji Fushiguro, he will never let you be.

“I love you, lil Mama.” You smile against his lips as he eases you up, and then he’s gone for a moment, back with a washcloth, cleaning you up.

“Does it bother you, the… um hair? It annoys me.” You grumble, and he smirks, shaking his head.

“Kinda like it, doll. Do you not?”

“No I don’t. But I can’t see it or reach it!”

“Need me to shave ya?”

“Please.” He sighs.

“I think it’s cute.” He’s rubbing the hair you can't see on your mound. “But whatever ya want, brat.”

“Yay!”

******

You are sitting at dinner now, that you and Toji had cooked together, and Megumi pulls out a seat next to him for you, patting it. You sit down gratefully, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment, and catch Toji’s soft smile as Megumi touches your tummy, and gasps when he feels it, the bump of your baby girl saying hello, his usually serious features softened.

“Oh my god… It's doing that now!?” You giggle, nodding as you take his hand, pressing it a little higher on your bump.

“You haven’t seen me in like two months, it was hard to tell then. Now she’s vicious, I swear.” Megumi smiles just a bit, dark lashes lowering as he looks at your tummy in your pretty white sundress.

You remember when he found out.

3 months ago

“You’re what!? Dad I swear to god, the fuck!” Megumi was furious as you both had told him, inviting him to Toji’s home right after leaving Shiu.

“Kid…”

“Don’t kid me. She’s my age. I wouldn’t want a brat, tch.” He pouts and looks at you seriously. “You can’t want a kid yet.”

“Megs, I do… I am really happy. I know it’s weird, but I want this.” You look at him now, and he frowns, looking at his dad again, then you, rolling his eyes.

“God, don’t do that puppy dog eye thing.”

Toji chuckles. “She gets everything that way.”

“Bet she does.” Megumi rolls those dark green eyes, and you keep pouting, eyes wide, until he sighs, touching your still flat tummy. “Do you really want a baby?”

“I do, and I promise I’ll be the best mom.” You touch his hand over yours, and he smiles just a bit finally as he looks down. “You’ll have a little sister or brother!”

“That sounds annoying. A stupid kid, ugh.”

“Hey!” You poke at him now, and he smirks. “You’re such a little shit, Megs!”

“He gets that from me.” Toji ruffles Megumi’s perfect spikes, and he smacks his hand away, grimacing in disgust, but he’s still touching your tummy, his black brows drawing together.

“Hmm. If you’re happy?”

“I am Megs.”

“The fuck, about me kid?” Toji says, standing and crossing his thick, banded biceps, and Megumi snorts.

“Again, if you’re happy.” He says to you, making you grin as Toji fumes.

“How does my kid like you better than me?” He grumbles, and you stick your tongue out, as Megumi’s long fingers slip off your tummy.

“Everyone likes me better, Old man.” Megumi grins at that, and Toji loses his shit, but Megumi is looking at you contemplatively. “What is it, Megs?”

“You look so happy. Glowing.” You blush now.

“I am happy, I really am.”

“Then… fuck it. I guess I’m gonna be a big brother.”

“Yay!” You smack a kiss on his cheek, and Toji smiles at the two of you, devious fucking smile, that makes you both look at him, wide eyed.

“And you’re gonna have a stepmom.”

“Yuck!”

Present- Toji’s POV

Things absolutely changed that day, now Megumi is so sweet, as Yuji and Nobara take turns feeling your tummy, and Toji is making everyone plates, stealing glances at his pretty fiance. One he can’t wait to make his wife, but you’re waiting until after the baby for that, you do have a pretty little diamond ring on your finger that glints in those lights now.

He watches his son laugh next to you, as you carry his daughter, and fuck if you don’t make him a sappy ‘old man’ damn brat that you are. As you’re all flushed and beautiful, glowing so bright, your eyes sparkling as you talk to your best friends. Fuck he’s a lucky man, you’re a goddess to him, you always were, but now you’ve got that tummy, those curves, in that pretty white dress?

You look like Venus herself.

He would probably just call you a sexy lil doll, but he does think you’re his goddess, damn you make him corny. If someone told Toji Fushiguro he’d be such a sap he would never believe it. Megumi feels the baby kick again, and Toji’s heart finally feels full, this void he’d had for so long since he had Megumi was filled, he was so lucky the kid wants to have him in his life.

He’s so lucky he has you three, you, Megs and the baby, even your friends who drive him insane, he just wants you happy. And as you peek at him, sipping on some sparkling water, and you look at him with such love in your pretty eyes, that brilliant smile, it’s like you’re clenching his heart with your tiny little hand.

How was Toji ever lucky enough to have you, and to have a family like this? After fucking up so much, after being just a bum for so long, how has Toji finally got his shit together, finally got a fiance. A beautiful one, a sweet one (lets be real, you’re kind of mean as fuck and bitchy, but Toji loves that) sweet when you want dick, but how’d he even get lucky enough for that?

He peeks and sees Shiu has texted him, and smiles a bit at the phone as he’s grabbing more drinks for everyone. Shiu still hates Toji, and Toji doesn't blame him, but he’s a good damn dad, better than Toji was with Megs. He hopes he can be that good of a dad to your baby, he damn well will try.

He’s picturing a pretty little daughter now, and he can’t stop the stupid smile on his face.

*****

3 months later- Labor day

“Toji Fushiguro, I hate you and your big ass head! Ow fuck!” You scream, holding his hand so tight he’s wincing, scowling right back at you.

“You got the big ass head, blame your damn dad!”

“Excuse me!?” Shiu shouts, looking up from where he has his face covered, terrified as your contractions get quicker. “You got a big ass head Toji!”

“Fuck yes he does. Ugh! You suck so bad I can’t do this!” You’re sobbing at the pain, and Megumi stands then, shaking his head.

“Can’t do it. Dad, be supportive, fuck. Shiu, c’mon… coffee?” Megumi suggests, and Shiu jumps up immediately.

“Cocaine maybe, fuck.”

“Dad!” You scowl and he grimaces.

“You’re scary kiddo. You deserve her to break your hand, Toji.” Shiu says then, and they run out, leaving you with your mean, big headed fiance.

“Brat too tiny can’t have a kid right?”

“Fuck you I can!”

“Mmm, sure you can.”

“Toji I’ll never have one again, I swear ugh!” You squeeze his hand again, screaming out, as the doctors rush in, and they take your vitals.

“She’s not dilating, we can’t keep going much longer, it's been ten hours.” The doctor says, and Toji frowns then, holding your hand tightly.

“Shit.”

“Shit, shit what!?”

“C section, Megs was one too.”

“Because your big ass head, oh fuck you!” He scowls.

“You’re a damn brat!”

“You’re a dick, old man!”

“Ahem. We can give it a little longer, but we really need to get you prepped in case. We can up the pitocin and try that if you want? What’s best for you mom?” They ask you then, and you are glaring right at him, as he is you, then his face changes, as he holds your tummy, and kisses you, right in front of blushing nurses and that doctor, sighing against your lips.

“Scared, Toji.” You admit, and he nods then, head resting on yours, as you feel your heart race.

“It’ll be fine, doll. I got you. Right here with you, yeah?”

You kiss him back, hands entangling in his hair, so messy from how much he’d been messing with it. “Right here with me.”

******

“Oh my god! I’m a grandpa!” Shiu is holding your beautiful little girl later on, as you’re a sweaty, exhausted mess, having this baby was not easy, thanks to Toji’s big ass head, you’d had a lot of trouble, but she was here, no c section thank goodness, and perfect. And you were safe and sound. Your heart aches as you see your dad smiling so big.

“She’s beautiful.” You whisper, as Toji sits next to you in the bed, holding up water for you to sip, smiling softly.

“You did so good, doll. She’s beautiful just like you.” He whispers, kissing your sweaty forehead, and you smile tremulously, as you sip the icy water, sighing.

“She has your eyes, Toji.” You say then, as now Megumi holds his little sister, and you watch the usually serious Megumi melt as he looks at her.

“She’s so beautiful. Hey little sis.” Megumi cooes softly, and you melt even more, as Toji is stroking your hair back, sighing.

“I’m so fuckin happy.” He murmurs in your ear, and you touch his face gently, smiling up at him, eyes glimmering with tears. “Ya made me so happy, doll, I don’t know how to even describe it. Heart… fucking hurts.”

“Aw, you’re such a sap, old man.” You tease, and he narrows his eyes, but you peck a weak kiss on his stubbled chin. “I’m kidding. Toji I couldn’t be happier.”

Megumi hands Toji your baby girl again, and he grins so big, as she grabs one of his big fingers with her tiny little fist. The sight of your beautiful little girl in Toji’s big arms makes you wanna have another damn baby, even after all this, even after being uncomfortable this last month and having a hard time. You’d give this man anything, when you watch him light up.

He gently hands you her, your sweet little baby Mio. She opens those dark green eyes, just like Megs and Toji, but she has your hair color, and your nose, you’re tapping her nose gently, watching her little mouth form into an O, and you smile softly as your heart swells. You have never felt this, this love, you love Toji so much but this is so different, it fills you with so much emotion you feel them spilling over through your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I love you, little Mio. So, much. I’m your mommy!” You whisper, sitting up with Toji’s help further, as she blinks those beautiful eyes, and you put her forehead to your lips, inhaling her. “She smells so good!?”

“The baby smell.” Toji and Shiu say, and you smile at them both, as your dad comes and kisses the top of your head, then bends down and kisses Mio’s downy little head.

“Do you all still remember that? In like the fifties?” Megumi says, earning your giggle and their scowl.

“Brats.” Toji grumbles.

“Brats.” Shiu agrees, then taps Mio’s nose, and yours. “Look, that’s your nose alright, isn’t it? She’s so pretty like you.”

“Aw thank you dad, she’s even more beautiful.” You all coo over her, and soon Megumi and Shiu eventually leave, after saying their goodbyes. It’s you with Toji in the quiet room, holding your baby. You’re so tired, but so happy, your heart so full as you feel this contentment and excitement, as Toji is holding you to his side.

“Hi, sweetie, it’s your dad. Welcome to the world, little one.” You’re crying again, at how sweet he is. “Kept us waiting, had to make an entrance, huh?”

“Dramatic like me.” You giggle, and he grins, and you start to feel exhaustion hit, sighing as you lean into his side.

“You’re gonna be the best dad any little baby could have, you know.” Toji blinks a bit then, looking away, you watch that Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

“I’m gonna do everything to try.”

“I know you will, I’m so happy you’re her dad.”

“You’re her mommy. And you’ll be the best. I love you, doll, fuck you’ve made me so happy.” He whispers, and you kiss him, as your baby begins to let out a cute little cry, then it gets loud, and you laugh a bit. “She’s gonna be so bratty, I’m screwed.”

“So screwed.” You agree, grinning, as Toji helps you pull your breast out, and he exhales, as you hiss a bit when you see the milk drops. “Ugh, feel like a cow!”

“It’s beautiful, doll. Don’t.” He says gruffly, and then he helps put your baby's little mouth on your nipple. She struggles to latch, her little fists punching you practically, with sharp nails. Toji chuckles. “She’s vicious, isn’t she?”

“Jesus, guess that’s what happens with us as parents. Ow! Mio!” You’re huffing, wriggling with discomfort as her gums bite down, then finally she latches, and sucks, her puffy cheeks moving as she drinks. Finally you ease, exhaling. “She’s got it!”

“She’s a pro, too. Ya alright doll?” He asks, brow furrowing, and you nod then, letting him kiss your temple as your little girl eats.

“It feels so weird, but I’m good. It will take practice, the nurse said.”

“You’ll do great, already know it. Gonna be the best at this parenting shit, both of us, won’t we?” He nudges you with a grin, and you feel yourself getting so sleepy, feeling such warmth. You nod.

“We will do such a good job. I know it. She’s everything now.” You caress her cheek again, love bursting from every part of you.

“You’re both everything to me.” He corrects, and then sighs. “And Megs, of course, he was so happy wasn’t he?”

“He was oh my god! I knew it.”

“We’ll have him watch the kid so we can go fuck-”

“Toji!” You gasp, and he just grins shameless and lewd. “Knew you were being too nice, old perv.”

“Old, knocked you the fuck up. Should do it again.”

“Fuck no!” You stick your tongue out, as your baby now is asleep, no longer sucking, and you smile at her little face, a pretty gummy smile “Oh my god!”

“She’s milk drunk. Megs got like this.” You giggle then, looking up at him, seeing his dark green eyes, the same color as your daughter’s eyes, so lit up.

“Was Megumi a serious kid?”

“I didn’t know him well enough.” He frowns, and you sigh.

“I’m sorry-”

“Nah, doll, it’s okay. I’ll know everything about her, little Mio, I swear. I’ll never leave your side.” His words break your heart into pieces, you hear the pain in his voice as he takes his daughter in his arms.

“Toji you will do great. I know it.” You say softly, and he nods, as you wipe a tear, making him scowl.

“Ain’t crying.”

“Oh no, saw nothing.” He snorts, and you smile, as emotions run through you. “I love you, Toji.”

“I love you too, doll. So much.” He kisses your forehead, and then your baby’s head, and you lean into his side, watching him, feeling so content, as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear, and you’re so tired now you can’t keep awake.

“I’m gonna nap, okay?” You mumble, and he nods, easing off the bed.

“Yeah, sleep, I got her, doll. She’s okay.” And you doze off, feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling complete.

*****

When you wake up, you’re surprised to find it’s night, and the room is dimly lit, just the moon coming through the window, and the hospital lights are all off aside from a little one around your bed, casting a soft glow over everything. Toji’s still there, sitting in a chair beside the bed, holding your sleeping baby, looking down at her with a soft, loving smile on his face.

You sit up and he looks over at you, eyes tired but so, so happy.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Did I miss anything?” You ask nervously, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Nothin’. She’s just been sleeping like a rock. Like you, lazy little thing.” He smirks, and you grin at his words, watching as he adjusts her in his arms.

“Am not lazy, just had your baby!”

“Mmm, you were snoring though.”

“Was not!” He grins, and places your baby down in the little bassinet now, all swaddled up. “Come here.” You whisper, and he stands, stretching his long limbs and then he’s leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, as you kiss back, feeling that warmth spread through your body.

Toji sits in the bed, laying on his side, pulling you to him, eyes drinking you in. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, doll. You’re a mommy now.” He whispers, stroking your messy hair, and you snuggle to him, his hard, warm body, where you feel so safe, as he strokes your back up and down in the little hospital bed.

“Thank you, for everything. For being here with me, for being with me. Toji I can never imagine being without you.” You say then, and he exhales, gulping, his eyes lidded and tired like yours.

“Where else would I be, doll, but right here?” He kisses you again, and you hold onto him, feeling the love in his arms, so strong and safe, as you feel this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Toji slips a hand to your breast then, and you squeak, earning his chuckle. “What, they’re hot.”

“You perv, I just had a baby!” You whisper, and he grins then, kissing down the side of your neck. “I feel gross!”

“Nah, you’re always sexy, even now. Enjoy that break you get for what, a couple weeks?” He nips your throat, and you gasp at it. How can he be such a hornball, damn old man.

“Like a month, fuck don’t do that.” He is kissing your neck again where he’d just bit, pulling back and smirking down at you, tiling your chin up and cupping your cheeks now.

“Enjoy that break, gonna knock ya up again.” You smack at him and he’s just grinning, white teeth stark against dark stubble.

“Will not, gonna tie those tubes.”

“Better not, brat.”

“Mmhmm! Now shut up, and lemme sleep. Snuggle me?” He smiles softer now, nodding and holding you tight against him, as your arms wrap his torso, and you feel sleep tugging at you again.

“Love you, lil doll.” He whispers against your hair.

“Love you, Toji.”

Final Chap Here

Kofi Link if you wanna buy me a coffee <3

ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57496135/chapters/153013882

#jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk men #fushiguro toji #jujutsu toji #daddy toji #dirty little secret #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader smut #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader

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finnbbl · 27 days ago

Text

Game of Love - Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

Chapter 21

Previous | Next

Masterlist

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: Swearing, more hickey/sexual talks

A/N: Small written part below the cut

Time seemed to tick by slower than usual. That conversation left you slightly embarrassed, you’d honestly not expected Hongjoong to call you out like that in front of everyone. Jeongin on the other hand, felt slightly disgusted. But he was also left with a pit in his stomach. He couldn’t help but to watch you two as class neared to an end. You were rather normal, having mostly forgotten about the previous messages that were left as you payed close attention to the professor. Seungmin, on the other hand, didn’t keep his eyes off you for the rest of class. Yet, there was something odd behind his gaze. And even with Jeongin’s close observation, he couldn’t tell what it was. It was nothing like the look of admiration, and maybe the hint of lust that was there earlier. No, it was something else. And the more he stared into Seungmin’s eyes, the bigger the pit grew. It was such an awkward and uneasy feeling, he had no idea what was about to come.

As the bell rang, Jeongin watched as Seungmin quickly packed up his stuff. He walked over to your desk to hurry the process along, shoving everything in your bag and dragging you out of the classroom. You barely had enough time to grab your stuff, tripping over your feet as you were quickly lead away. This left the male frozen in his tracks, staring at the doorway where other students made their exit as well. His lips pursed as his head ran back through the same thoughts as before. It wasn’t until he heard a scoff behind him that he pulled his eyes away from the door. He glanced back at his friend Hyunjin who now had his arms crossed. Jeongin immediately recognized what this was and shook his head before finally packing up his stuff.

Meanwhile, you were getting dragged through halls left and right, and you were starting to get nervous. Part of you felt like you’d never been on this side of the building before, maybe it was the sudden uneasiness you were feeling. Before you knew it, your back was up against the wall, a strong pressure on your wrist where Seungmin’s hand rested. He bent down, his face nearing yours as you glanced around. That’s when you realized you were in a secluded hallway. It was quiet, the chatter of your peers grew more and more distant. “So you went to Hongjoong’s this morning, hm?” His tone was quiet but harsh. “I.. yeah, I don’t know I asked him to help me cover it.” Your voice was soft and shrunken. You could see his gaze flicker back and forth between your two eyes. His grip didn’t let up. “Then look what happened, now the entire group knows.”

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t think he would tell everyone.” Seungmin scoffed. “For someone that’s pretty adamant on keeping our relationship hidden you sure can’t keep something simple like that a secret.”

“That’s not- “ Your anxiety spiked as you inhaled, feeling your breath quiver. “I didn’t know he’d..” As if he knew what you were gonna say, he cut you off.

“Because you don’t think yn… When have you ever?” Unsure of why, you felt a pang in your chest. His words stuck to you, and ever so lightly would soon leave a dent on your heart.

“What, can’t speak?” Once again, you remained silent. Eventually, you were able to tear your eyes away from his, but that only did so much. “Look at me.” He said lowly, his hand yanking your head to face him again.

Silence followed once again.

“You’re scaring me Seungmin..” Those were the only words you could seem to utter as his eyes began to soften. His grip on your arm loosen and he brought his hand down from your face. “Sorry, yn..” His sudden change in demeanor was suspicious. It was like your words flipped a switch in his brain. Was this an act? Was he being genuine? But still even if that was the case..

“Just get a little overprotective, you know?” He leaned back up, his hand that had previously held a tight grip on your arm, traced down to interlock his fingers with you. “I don’t know why I acted like that.. forgive me?”

You were dumbfounded. What..? What the hell just happened? It was almost like it was an entirely different person a second ago. Now he was asking for forgiveness?? You were speechless, your mouth hung open as you looked into his eyes. There was no way you wanted to believe he was like this. That’s when Seungmin checked his watch, “Shit, we should both get to class. Walk with me to the cafe after?” Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, all your body could do was nod watching a smile appear on his face as you did so. “Great,” He leaned down and tilted his head planting his lips on yours. The kiss only lasted a few moments, “I’ll meet you outside the dining hall.”

Those were the last words he’d said in that moment before he shot you a smile and lightly jogged down the hallway before he was out of sight. You were confused, and slightly hurt. It seemed like that’s all you’d felt these days. Your eyes traveled down to your wrist, which was surprisingly not bruised. That wasn’t your boyfriend, that person just now. That wasn’t him.. right? Your head pounded as you brought your hand up to it. How the hell could you even go about this?

taglist: @rylea08 @estella-novella @gabriellamarie @elqivxstxr @4ln-stay8 @lostgirlinthewoodss @hwashua-luv @linavc @yaniluvs @ddroh @writtingrubberducky @vegetablesarefuntables @lixies-favorite-cookie @emilywjinnie @thecutiepieme @silly250 @energyjuice4life @solisyeah @renjunniex @nujeskz @lilylovelle @cunninglibrarian @luvv1anime @babrieeee @too-damn-joji

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lvnleah · 7 months ago

Text

000 | The Beginning.

The very first part to my series, The Williamson’s, this chapter takes places over four years at four different times!

find the series masterlist here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

January 4th 2019 - 21 years old.

The past few days between you and your best friend, Leah, had been weird. It started on New Year’s Eve when you and her were both drunk.

All night long you’d been exchanging glances across the room and before you knew it you were kissing in the middle of the dance floor. The next morning you woke up in her bed, it wasn’t unusual for that to happen but this time it was different.

You’d never taken notice of your feelings for Leah, you’d known her since you were sixteen so there was absolutely no way on this planet that you were in love with your best friend.

Or at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Leah was openly gay with the people around her and always had been. When you were eighteen you confided in her about your sexuality, you were confused and she was there for you. It wasn’t until a year ago that you finally came out as bisexual and Leah was one of the first people you told.

New Year’s Eve was a blur in your mind. You remember getting drunk, dancing with Leah and then kissing her as the clock struck midnight.

You and Leah had crossed a line, and now you were both tiptoeing around it. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog, making every interaction awkward.

You were slouched on your sofa, scrolling through social media when the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat as you walked over to the door and opened it. Leah stood there, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She was bundled up in a coat and a beanie, her eyes wide and nervous.

"Hey," she said, her voice barely audible. "Can I come in?"

You stepped aside, allowing her to enter. She kicked off her boots and hung up her coat, glancing around the room as she avoided eye contact. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, she blurted out, "Look, about New Year's Eve... I don't want things to be weird between us."

You chuckled, relieved that she had addressed the elephant in the room. "Yeah, it's been a bit...awkward."

Leah fidgeted with the hem of her jumper. "I like you, okay? And not just as a friend. I've liked you for a while now, but I didn't know how to say it."

Your heart raced. Leah, your best friend, was confessing her feelings. You hadn't expected this. You thought it was just you.

"Leah," you began, "I—"

She interrupted you. "Wait, let me finish." She took a deep breath. "I know you've never thought of me that way. But maybe...maybe we could give it a shot? A date, just to see?"

You stared at her, your mind racing. Could you risk your friendship for something more? But then you remembered the way her lips had felt against yours on New Year's Eve.

Maybe it was worth exploring.

"Okay," you said, surprising yourself. "Let's go on that date."

Leah's face lit up, and she stepped closer, pulling you into a hug. "Really?"

"Yeah," you replied, smiling. "But no more awkwardness, okay? We'll figure this out together."

The following days were spent planning a date for that weekend. You and Leah were inseparable once again, this time you shared kisses and sweet moments together.

There wasn’t a lot you and Leah didn’t know about each other or had done together so you decided to go to a fancy restaurant together, something Leah deemed as a ‘fancy’ date.

Leah picked up that Friday evening, you were wearing an elegant navy blue shirt that you’d paired with a black skirt. Leah was wearing a white shirt and a pair of beige trousers, an outfit that you couldn’t tear your eyes from.

The fancy restaurant was everything you'd imagined. A dimly lit space with crystal chandeliers, and soft piano music playing in the background. Leah sat across from you, focused as she studied the menu. You both ordered dishes you couldn't pronounce, laughing at your attempts.

The conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about different things. One thing that popped up was if you wanted kids, you’d talked about it before but not about having them together. You both decided you wanted either two or three kids, a large age gap between the first two like Leah had with her brother. Leah's hand brushed yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

After dessert, you left the restaurant and decided to take a walk. The restaurant was conveniently located near an old arcade, its neon sign glowed from across the street.

Leah grinned, tugging you along. "An arcade, c’mon,"

Inside, the air smelled of popcorn. You played basketball, competing fiercely for the highest score. Leah's laughter echoed through the room as she aimed for the bullseye on the darts. She won, of course, and claimed her prize which was a tiny dinosaur teddy that she insisted was a T. rex.

As you wandered from game to game, you forgot about everything else. The awkwardness, the uncertainty. It was just you and Leah, lost in a world you’d created together with love and laughter.

Finally, you stood in front of the photo booth. Leah hesitated, then pulled you inside. The curtain closed, and the camera flashed. You both squeezed into the tiny seat, your knees touching. Leah's cheeks were flushed, and you wondered if she felt the same way you did.

"Can I kiss you?" she whispered, her breath warm against your lips.

You nodded, heart pounding and then her mouth was on yours. The photo booth captured the moment of the two of you, tangled together, hearts racing.

When the curtain opened, you stepped out, hand in hand and took your strip of photos. The neon lights outside seemed brighter, the world more vivid.

Leah leaned against you, her head on your shoulder. "Best first date ever," she murmured.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

February 14th 2019 - 21 years old.

It’d been just over a month since your first date with Leah and things were perfect between the pair of you despite still being unofficial.

You’d been on so many dates that you’d lost count, it seemed like you were doing something different every day together. Those dates ranged from little things such as movie nights on your sofa and cooking together to going to fancy restaurants on the weekend.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and the air was thick with romance. You’d been expecting a quiet evening at home with Leah, maybe binge-watching your favourite TV show. But Leah had other plans.

She showed up at your door, holding a bouquet of red roses. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

You blinked, surprised by the roses. “Leah, these are gorgeous! Thank you.” You smiled, taking the roses from Leah before pulling her into a hug and kissing her lips.

She ran her hand down your hip, “Only the best for the prettiest girl.”

You spent that evening cooking pasta together before eating it on the sofa while watching Notting Hill, your favourite movie that you begged Leah to watch with you.

A few hours later, she took you to the rooftop of your apartment building, where fairy lights decorated the railing.

Leah stood there, her eyes looking into yours as she held you close. Her hands rested once again on your hips. "I've been thinking," she began, her voice soft. "About us."

Your heart raced. You'd been thinking about this moment for weeks. The stolen kisses and the late-night conversations replayed in your mind. Now, everything felt real.

"I don't want to be just friends or whatever we are anymore," Leah said, her fingers brushing against your hips. "I want more."

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "More?"

She nodded. "I want to be with you, officially. No more tiptoeing around. What do you say? Will you be my girlfriend, pretty girl?”

"Yeah," you smiled stupidly before kissing Leah’s lips, "Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend."

Her lips brushing against yours once again. Your heartbeats synced, and you knew that this was the beginning of something.

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February 14th 2021 - 23 years old.

Anxiety had been bubbling up inside of you all day. It was your two year anniversary with Leah and you'd never felt anxious like this before.

Somehow you’d convinced yourself that Leah was proposing after your best friend, Beth, had slipped up a few weeks ago. You were round at her house, trying to make plans, when the blonde slipped up.

——

two weeks ago…

“What about next weekend?” Beth asked, scrolling through her calendar, “Wait no, Leah’s taking you to that place.”

You looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow as Beth’s face turned red, “What place?”

“Shit,” Beth mumbled, “It was supposed to be a surprise!”

“What place, Beth?” You questioned, setting your phone down beside you. Beth ignored your question and continued scrolling on her phone, “Bethany Mead you better tell me!”

Beth groaned, “It’s a surprise Leah told me about! You weren’t supposed to know, I’m not saying anymore you can ask her when she comes back from getting food with Viv.”

The next fifteen minutes were torture for both you and Beth. You interrogated her, trying to get answers while Beth tried her hardest to not spill anything.

Beth had been your best friend since you were thirteen and she was fifteen so it was hard for her not to spill any secrets to you. It wasn’t long before Viv and Leah were arriving back with the takeaway you and Beth had sent them out for.

“You alright, pretty girl?” Leah asked as you and Beth walked into the kitchen.

“Don’t be mad but…” You trailed off, looking at Beth. “Beth slipped up about the weekend away you’re taking me on when we were trying to plan out girls’ evening..” you started to anxiously play with your rings on your fingers.

“Oh for god sake, Beth!” Leah groaned, “it was a surprise!”

Viv laughed, grabbing four plates from the cupboard, “told you that you shouldn’t have told Beth.”

“I’m sorry!” Beth sighed, “it was an accident, it just slipped out. I was thinking about other things and I accidentally told her!”

“It’s fine,” Leah sighs, “What else did you tell her?”

——

In that moment, you never questioned what Leah meant by “what else did you tell her” but when you got home later that evening you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You laid awake that night and that’s when the thought of Leah proposing sprung to mind.

You questioned Leah all week on where you were going, something that she wouldn’t reveal. However, you did get her to tell you what to pack.

The thought of Leah proposing never left your mind all week, that’s what led to you being so anxious about today.

When you woke up this morning, your anxiety was still present. You weren’t feeling a scared-anxious about Leah proposing, you were a happy-anxious, something that you couldn’t figure out.

You and Leah had exchanged gifts this morning, you’d bought Leah a golden watch that was engraved on the bottom with sweet words you’d gotten customised. Leah had bought you a love heart necklace, something dainty but it meant a lot to you.

You’d then spent the day on the beach, sunbathing and playing around in the water like teenagers before heading back to the hotel for a fancy dinner.

Leah had picked your outfit and you’d picked hers. She’d chosen a cream floral mini dress that fell halfway down your thighs and you’d chosen a striped shirt and short set with a white top underneath.

Once dinner was over, Leah had convinced you to take a walk on the beach. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the sandy beach. Leah held your hand as you both strolled along the water's edge, the gentle waves lapping at your feet.

“Someday I wanna marry you, you know.” Leah smiled, swinging your hands back and forth.

You laughed nervously, “Yeah, yeah, someday in about six years!”

“No I’m serious,” Leah smiled, she dragged you down the beach a bit more and your mouth dropped open in shock when you saw what was in front of you.

A white blanket was spread out on the sand, and a bunch of red roses were placed on the blanket. A constellation of glass holders held flickering candles, their flames casting shadows on the beach. Single red roses were placed between the candles. The letters ‘marry me’ were set up behind the blanket.

Leah stopped, turning to face you. Her expression was a mix of nervousness and excitement. "You know," she began, "when we first started dating, I never imagined you’d complete me in every way. But here we are, two years later."

Leah dropped to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from her pocket. The world seemed to hold its breath.

"I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone." Leah laughed, tears welling in her eyes.

You laughed, wiping your own tears, “Did you just quote lord of fucking the rings? You’re such a nerd!”

"I’m your nerd though,” Leah smiled, “Will you marry me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Tears welled up in your eyes. "Yes," you whispered. "Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot!”

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August 16th 2022 - 25 years old.

“Who knew that wedding planning was so fucking stressful!” You mumbled as you and Leah cuddled on the sofa in your shared apartment.

You and Leah were currently trying to plan your wedding but you didn’t realise how much legal stuff there was and the difficulties it wouldn’t give you.

You’d been engaged for just over a year now and you were both eager to get married. Although it wasn’t a massive thing for you both, you just wanted things to be official and for you to be Mrs Williamson.

Leah sat up, resting her hand on your thigh, “Why don’t we just go an elope? Who says we need a big white wedding?”

You laughed thinking Leah was joking, “Yeah as if, we’re not going to elope. What about your family?”

Leah shrugged, “We’d need witnesses so what if we took my family? Then we could have a big white wedding when we’re ready for it for all of our other family and friends.”

You gasped, throwing your phone down beside you, “Wait your not fucking with me? You’re actually serious?!”

The blonde nodded as a laugh escaped her lips, “Yes I’m being serious, pretty girl. It’d take all the stress out of it.”

“You’d seriously want that?” You asked, “I know how much these things matter to you. I’d love to elope.”

Leah nodded and leaned in, placing a kiss on your lips, “I would love to elope with you. We can have a big white wedding later on.”

You nodded eagerly, “Let’s do it then!”

The decision was made. You and Leah would elope, surrounded by her family as witnesses. It felt like a secret moment just for the two of you.

The next few days were spent arranging a time where all of Leah’s closest family could be there as well as getting your dress and Leah’s suit. You arranged to get married at the courthouse and have Leah’s parents, brother, grandma and cousins there.

The legalities were sorted out, and you found yourselves standing in a quaint little courthouse, nerves fluttering like butterflies in your stomachs.

Leah wore a simple beige suit, her blonde hair pulled back. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away from her. You had picked out a plain white dress that fell halfway down your things. Your hair was in a half up half down type of hairstyle with a bowed vail in it.

You and Leah walked down the aisle together, Leah’s family spread down both sides of the aisle. The officiant did all of the boring wedding stuff before you and Leah were finally able to say your vows. You went first.

You took a deep breath before looking at Leah, feeling a sense of calmness wash over me as she squeezed your hands. "Leah, my best friend, my first love, I can't believe we're actually standing here. After everything this took, I can't believe at the end of the day I'll be able to call you my wife. Growing up, I never thought i'd be lucky enough to meet, let alone fall in love, with someone like you. I never thought someone would be able to love me the way you do unconditionally. I wish I could put into words how truly amazing you are but there aren't enough words.”

You take your hand out of Leah’s and quickly wipe your tears as she takes her chance to wipe her own fallen tears, “I won't forget the day I met you on that England camp, I was the shy girl and hadn't spoken a word to anyone and you came over with Keira and both made me feel welcome. Ever since then, you've been my absolute rock. We've gone from friends, to lovers, to fiancés and now we finally get to be wives. You are so loving and patient and even in the times I don't feel lovable, you still love me. I promise to love you forever and through everything. I can't wait to do life with you. I love you, Le.”

Leah’s teary eyes widened as you finished, she squeezed your hands again. She laughed a little, “Oh my god I’m getting emotional, right my turn!”

You laughed out loud, as you brought a hand up to wipe the tears under your eyes. “When aren’t you emotional!”

Leah squeezed your hands once again before talking, . "I've been thinking about this day for the last three years, planning everything I wanted to say to you, to promise you. I'm convinced that I know you better than I know myself, and I love that little fact about me. At this point, my heart is so full of you, I feel like I can hardly call it my own. Every time I've looked at you since the day that I met you i've found something new to love and obsess over.

"I promise to protect you from everything bad in the world and shower you with all of the good. I promise to show you the best parts of yourself while allowing you to be your own person. I promise to be the best wife and future mother that I can be for you and our future kids. I promise to cherish and love you endlessly."

Leah smiles through tears before continuing. "Thank you for standing by me through everything and following me around half the country and world with my football. I truly wouldn’t be able to do it without you, when I’m playing I know that afterwards I get to see your face and that’s something that I will always love. When you need help, I will be there for you. When you need care, I will care for you. When you want to try something new, I will encourage you. And when you do the same for me, I will love you. I will love you forever, pretty girl.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to avoid a full-fledged sob from escaping your mouth from her words. Jacob handed the rings to Leah, he was the trusted ring bearer although Leah joked about him losing them.

Before you knew it, you and Leah were pronounced wife and wife and were having your first kiss before walking out of the courthouse. You were given a few minutes before Leah’s family joined you.

Leah pulled you in for a kiss, her hand resting at the small of your back, “I love you so much. I can’t wait to do life with you, pretty girl.”

“I love you more,” you mumbled against her lips, “I love you so much more.”

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Liked by Leah Williamson and 112,000 others

y/n.williamson officially Mrs Williamson 💐💍

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leahwilliamsonn oh my that’s my wifey 😍

view 26 replies liked by 178 others

bethmead_ so happy for you both! absolutely stunning!

view 15 replies liked by 120 others

lionesses congrats! 🙌🏻

view 2 replies liked by 78 others

liawaelti congrats, so much love for you both 💗

view 4 replies liked by 98 others

keirawalsh erm where’s my invite? happy for you both 🫶🏻

view 26 replies liked by 90 others

kyracooneyx parents, took you long enough 🙄

view 16 replies liked by 125 others

mbaker1971 would say welcome to the family but you’ve been apart of it for many years!