#I haven't gotten past it yet so if they do end up playing i WILL be posting my thoughts

[smolandweirdwriter]

ally and siobhan planted the seed in my mind and now i MUST see adaine and kristen play each other in pool. just for the bit, because this is how i imagine it going:

kristen: where did you learn to play pool?

adaine: *flashbacks to her father having those 'after-dinner-smoking-and-games-with-colleagues' moments in her childhood* we had a table in my house

kristen: *lining up her next shot* oh. that's nice.

adaine: yeah. what about you?

kristen: OH during my huge 'rejecting helioic traditions' phase, i decided i wanted to learn, um you know, drinking games and stuff are sinful to helioic worshippers, which is weird because Helio's literally a fucking frat boy. it's a VERY messed up religion, the more i think about it.

adaine: yeah, I'm sorry. so tracker taught you?

kristen: *flashbacks to tracker doing one of those 'here-let-me-teach-you' moments where they're pressed up together and end up making out* yeah.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 31

tags : pwp (without plot), porn with feelings (kind of), cum play, creampie, cum eating, really really MESSY sex (like seriously. im WARNING you), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight marking, possessiveness (the needy kind), handjob, slight oral (f), praise, dirty talk, use of pet name "angel". this is generally soft but its uhhh… QUITE filthy whoopsie…, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : HAPPY HALLOWEEN! ���� i know i haven't been keeping to the masterlist entirely, but i did 100% want to be sure to finish this one req before xavier's birth month ends (and then save the others for my november backlog) 🤍 since the first two fics i wrote for him this month focused on his past selves, i figured it would be apt to end the month with this hehe 🥰🥰 enjooyy~

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

A night under the stars does nothing but solidify his love for you.

It was like stardust.

Speckles of light gathered around his figure, illuminated in such a glow that wouldn't dare allow you to look away. If a few moments ago he'd brought you out for a walk under the stars, that view of the sky was nothing compared to the view in front of you now.

His hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat visible on his skin. The pace he took was nearly relentless—exertion was clear on his features, yet he was beautiful, nonetheless. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he leaned down. Within seconds, your body was littered with kisses, and marks, and everything possible to convey that you were his.

Like a little bunny marking his territory, you thought to yourself with a smile.

And you didn't mind, truly.

You didn't mind that he'd barely kept his hands off of you the moment you'd gotten back to his apartment, practically dragging you with him across the living room, stumbling throught he bedroom door. His hands were all over you—clothes discarded quickly in a trail, and he was desperate. For your touch, your kisses, your—anything. Everything.

It hadn't taken long for you to be pinned against the bed, his hips rolling sinfully against yours—

And he was beautiful.

You didn't mind at all.

"One more, angel… Can you take another one?"

His breath was ragged. There was a low tone to his voice when he spoke, and it brought a zing of pleasure up your body.

So polite.

Despite the way his tip plunged into your walls with wet, sloppy noises… Despite the way you could feel that sting of sensitivity, and despite the sticky mess that had leaked out of you from previous rounds.

If you looked down, you could see a milky white ring coating the length of his cock. The wet sheen was clearly visible as he disappeared again, and again, and again, and again, right into your cunt—it made you dizzy. The sheets of his bed had been absolutely ruined.

He'd filled you up so much, and he hadn't wanted to stop since he'd started—

Yet he was so polite.

And how could you dare to complain when he felt so good?

Lips parting with shallow breaths, you reached out to cradle his face.

Soft, gentle touches.

Soft, gentle… just like the way he looked at you.

You watched his hazy eyes lock with yours, and it was shocking. Even through all that lust, all that want, all that desire—his gaze held so much love for you, never absent in the way he looked at you, never failing to convey… you.

You, you, you.

"Mine."

A whisper croaked into a moan.

"Mine… mine…"

Every thrust drove your hips deeper into his mattress, punctuated by a quiet whisper of the same words.

A chant, almost.

And he nuzzled against your palm, puffs of breath spreading into your hand as he kissed your skin—almost urging you to allow him to take your fingers past his lips.

His.

You watched him do it.

With bated breath, your eyes latched onto the way his tongue ran over your digits, slowly but surely taking them into his mouth. He closed his eyes when he sucked, fucking you to the very same rhythm that his tongue enjoyed the taste of your skin.

His.

"More…" It was your turn to speak, this time.

Wonder laced with your voice as he smiled, pulling away from your fingers.

It was easy, how he directed your gaze downwards, trailing a hand over your skin and pressing over your stomach.

A groan fell from your lips, and he sighed.

"More? When you're so full of me..."

He pulled out so you could see him pulsing, the redness of his tip causing you to clench around physically nothing. It made your heart jump—but that wasn't just it. Your eyes trailed back up to meet his, and the mischief in them had you swallowing thickly.

Watch, came a silent command, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

And you felt it.

Your eyes widened as you watched him cum all over your entrance, the warm liquid pooling over your mound. He fell forward with a moan, pumping his hand, hips bucking forward to brush himself against your sex but never quite doing more than that—

It didn't stay that way for long.

He pushed it right back in with a lewd squelch, barely giving you space to react, and it was enough to pull another orgasm out of you, body arching off the bed with ecstasy.

He didn't stop.

He hadn't stopped, not since all of this had even began.

He'd gather as much of his cum as he could just to stuff it back in; "Mine," he whispered, another quiet chant with every shallow thrust that he could muster, words barely heard over the wet sounds that continued to resound in your head.

He nestled himself back deeply into your sensitive walls before he kissed you.

Lazy thrusts continued to his cum inside you, and he was so—so lost in the pleasure, so much that you could feel it. And the mere thought that he could do that—drown in how much you made him feel—it sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

He was being so dirty.

And yet, despite that, the way that he kissed you felt so tender.

Chants of "mine" turned to "i love you".

I love you because you're mine; you're mine because I love you.

You are mine to love.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him deep, his hips still moving languidly against you. "I love you more," you half-joked, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

He shook his head. "I love you most."

He would leave no room for argument.

His lips ghosted yours, teasing a kiss, before he rest his head beside you, panting against your cheek. "M'lucky to have you. Don't want anything else… Just want you… Just want to stay with you, just… just want us…"

"Mhm, and you have me."

Your hands reached up to run through the soft strands of his hair.

"I have you?"

"You have me," you nodded. And you smiled. "I'm lucky to have you, Xavie. I wouldn't trade this moment for anything else in the world, and who cares anymore about the stars in the sky when I have you, just as you have me…"

Softly, he laughed, nuzzling against you—

"The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side."

You felt him twitch at your words, and you could have laughed—would have—if he hadn't pulled out of you then.

Anything you had to say for yourself quickly melted into a whine as he started dragging his cock up your body, curling himself into you as he rubbed it against your stomach. You could feel the stickiness of his cum follow through, and with slow, careful breaths, you moved a hand downwards to cage around his length, keeping him between your palm and your stomach, forming a sort of opening for him to rut into.

It didn't take long for his movements to become desperate.

His whole body shuddered on top of you, arms struggling to hold his weight so as not to crush you. His breath stuttered; barely-coherent babbling fell quietly from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head—

He looked so beautiful.

He groaned into the space above your head, fisting the sheets to stay steady, bips moving quicker and quicker and—

Part of you wondered how on earth he could take it—so insatiable. So much desire for you that he couldn't help himself in your presence; he'd let you jerk him off like this and have you bask in the low grunts and whimpers he would let out at the stimulation…

It wasn't long before he was releasing.

You tilted your head to avoid it hitting your face, but truly, you didn't mind—not even as the thick ropes of his cum coated your body, spilling over your breasts, your neck, your chin…

He had so much.

And everytime, you would think to yourself that this was really how far he wanted you.

"Xavier…" you whisper.

And when he collapsed down against you, he slid back down to kiss you sloppily.

Your eyes closed.

Despite the sticky feeling so blatntly obvious between your bodies, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Mmh… love you so much, angel…" he groaned into your mouth, kisses open, and messy, and raw.

I love you, too.

You said it in the way your hands tangled into his hair, even as he slid further down, tongue tracing nearly every inch of your body. "S'dirty, Xav…" your eyes rolled back as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sickling at it before pulling at it with his teeth.

"Mmh. Cleaning."

He tilted his head to meet yours, darkened eyes holding a serious expression—

Your body jolted.

His fingers joined the exploration of your skin, tracing your curves and scooping up his cum only to reach back down and stuff it right into you.

"M-mmph—?!"

Shh— Despite your shock, the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He would have said; It's okay, angel, just let me take care of you.

And slowly, slowly, he traced his tongue down over your stomach, before he sighed.

His head rest against your thigh.

His expression looked light; blissful. He breathed against you, eyes drawn right towards your cunt, watching the cream that oozed out of you with some sense of admiration... He wasn't doing anything, not really—and perhaps to anyone else, he'd simply seem tired.

But you knew that wasn't the case.

You were proven right when, every so often, he would break the spell by shoving his fingers right back into you as if determined to keep you full of him. Each thrust of his fingers was more surprisingly timed than the last, and he was successfully in pulling a gasp from you each time he did so.

"X-Xavierrr…" you whined this time.

"…My pretty angel."

The only reply you'd get was another sigh of seeming satisfaction.

This time, he raised his eyes to look at you, trailing up over your body to your face, and the lovedrunk little smille he have you made you melt.

"Beautiful. The most magnificent, most ethereal star in the sky… Here, with me, mine."

…The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side.

He said it with his eyes. Your own words, right back to you.

But his gaze carried within it a certain mischief—he nuzzled your thigh, and before you could think, he leaned over to place a quick kiss right at your clit. The sudden stimulation where you were so sensitive had you jumping, and his tongue had the audacity to dart out and lap lazily around your folds.

"Hnnh—w-wait! Wait, Xavier, too much, too much—!"

His eyes sparkled.

Oh, he wasn't done with you yet.

"One more round?"

an : stays you know where the title is from right 😉

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[inkdrinkerworld]

i know u were asking for soft dom remus: reader cuts her finger after messing around with a knife or scissors after remus told her to be careful!

sorry this was such a delayed response, still I hope you enjoy <33

"Ouch, fuck." Remus looks up from his laptop immediately, finding you cradling your finger with a few tears streaming down your face.

"What's a'matter, dove?" he asks, already pushing out of his seat and coming over to the kitchen to see what's going on.

Your teary eyes flit up to him, nibbling on your bottom lip as you decide whether or not you should tell Remus.

In the end you don't have to, because your boyfriend spies the cantaloupe and the poorly cut rind on the floor and the blood on the knife.

"Cut my finger." you say with resignation, putting your hand in Remus' with a sniffle.

"My love," he murmurs, kissing your finger and then opening the tap. "C'mon, let's get rid of all this blood, hm."

You let Remus guide you closer to the sink, hissing as the water touches your skin and Remus tuts.

"You're okay baby, you're okay." Remus pulls the first aid kit from under the sink and holds two bandages up to you. "What d'you think, dove? Plain or cartoon?"

Remus is humouring you. You both know which bandage you're going to choose, but he likes giving you the choice regardless.

"Cartoons." he kisses your forehead as he rips the paper off it. "M'sorry I tried doing it myself and got hurt."

Remus rolls his eyes, "Dove you can do things yourself, I'm never stopping you from that," He wraps the band-aid around your finger, and presses a kiss to it. "But," Remus tips your chin up. "You know the melons are always tricky for you. I don't like when you get hurt, but I'm not upset with you."

You nod, tears pooling in your eyes again that has Remus tucking your face into his chest and rubbing down the length of your back. "I just really want to be able to do it myself. The rough skin never makes you cut yourself."

Remus chuckles, lips pressed into your hair as your tears slow down. "I can show you baby," he promises and you perk up, pulling away from him quickly.

The unshed tears hang on your waterline like diamonds glittering in the sun. Remus thinks even tear stained you look like an angel. "Right now?"

He smiles, "When haven't you gotten your way with me?"

You smile wide and bright like midday sun and Remus' heart warms under it. "Well, if you must know, when you banned me from having coffee past three in the afternoon."

Remus only shakes his head, hands on his hips as he props you up on the counter top and washes the bloody knife and cutting board. "I'm pretty sure you still get caffeine even after then."

"That's just semantics. It's not coffee though is it?" You rebut as Remus starts carving away at the rough skin of the melon with an ease you've yet to master.

"Brat," he mutters and your answering whine is too adorable for his smile not to break through. "Let's add another thing to that list, no cutting melons for at least two weeks."

You sigh like it's a travesty, but honestly, you're taking a break from learning how to do it. "If you insist."

Remus knows you too well, still he plays along. His voice alight with amusement, "I insist on keeping you alive until well after we get married baby, so no knives for the foreseeable future."

He feeds you a cube of melon before you can say much else.

[darthfighter]

it’s you.. isn’t it?

Chapter Two of Your Shadow Series

warnings: violence, tension, & sexual tension if you squint 🫣

summary: since the encounter with the stranger, you stay on edge while trying to heal your wound from the night before. but it seems as though the man you met the day before can help you?

word count: 2.7k

authors note: part two is here!! i’m so excited to continue this series :) i have so many ideas for it. lots of hcs. future chapters will have smut in it don’t worry, just need to build development first.

part one here

Back against your bed, bottom numb from sitting for so long, and hands shaking on your lap. You have been alert since your encounter with this Stranger. You anxiously have been waiting for their return, but it has yet to come in the past fourteen hours. Meaning you haven't slept a wink this whole night. Now, it being morning, your stomach ached for food while your left arm throbbed in pain.

Your arm was still unhealed. Frustration was an understatement on how you were feeling. To be able to use the force, but only for a short amount of time due to your lack of experience with it lately, made you angry to no end. Healing your arm with your force wasn’t an option. Although that didn’t stop you repeatedly trying every thirty minutes. But no matter what, your arm was injured.

You could feel your anger burning in your chest. Never could you run away from your past no matter how much you stomp your feet. Healing never brought you any comfort even though that is its purpose. Flashes of your memory play in your mind as you are in your most vulnerable state. You remember your brother, laid on his bed in the room you both grew up in. His clothes are ragged and dirty and his hands calloused while he has oil under his fingers. He’s tired. But there you are. Young and in your clean Jedi robes. You tower over him in the bed feeling the sting in your heart like he personally dipped his hand through your skin, to your muscles, through your ribs, and tightened his grip on your heart. Your young hand hovers over him, shaking, while your brother laid, unmoving. You begin to heal him.

But here you are, older, hurt inside, and wounded outside. Incapable of healing yourself. You inhale through your teeth and hold your breath in anger. Hot tears leave your eyes. You know if you let yourself let go with your feelings, you won't be able to stop.

You take that as a signal to get off your ass to get something to eat and after your meal, you’ll find some medicine in town.

After your quick snack, you start to walk towards your small chest where you keep your credits. Thirty. Thirty credits is all you have. You haven’t been able to find a suitable job since moving to Olega, so you’ve been living off of your savings. You start to wonder what Maker forsaken place will even accept thirty credits for something to heal you. But looking for a place that will, is the only option you have.

You march outside your home, ready to scout the area.

Five places rejected your offer. Five places let you down. Five times have you almost broke down in disappointment. This took a toll on you. You have gotten to the point where you shuffle your feet through the dirt covered streets slowly. Feeling your motivation start to fade out of you. Your feet stop. You’re in the middle of the street, hungry yet again and still in pain. You start to contemplate if you should turn around and make your way home. Although that thought brought you fear at the mere chance of this Stranger returning once more.

A loud crash echoes through the street to your right. Your attention shifts to the sound to see the man you saw the day before in these streets. This time, he seems more lively than before. That being because he speaks before you do this time.

“Hello!”

You accept this greeting by walking towards him while holding your left arm with your right hand. Now, you stand before him in front of his shop. But before he can speak again, you ask a question. “Do you know a place nearby that has a reasonable price for medicine? Not too expensive.. I uh-” You finish the sentence by moving your hand to reveal your burn. The man responds with an over exaggerated wince.

“Actually..” The man walks back into his store while finishing his sentence inside “I have just the thing.” making the rest of his statement sound muffled.

You shake your head in amusement, but also feel the weight off your shoulders leaving knowing your mission to find medicine is now over.

Walking inside, you see all sorts of items. Gadgets, antiques, even weapons. Him rummaging through his cabinets and drawers is all you heard. While also listening to his quiet mumbling. “Just a second… I just had this.. damn thing..” His voice is low and smooth. The rummaging stops as he holds what he was looking for. He starts to walk towards you and motions you to sit on the counter.

“Right now? Shouldn’t I pay you first?”

“You can pay me after.”

“But you didn't say how much this is!”

“How many credits do you have?”

“Only thirty-”

“Perfect!”

He walks more towards you, you walk backwards and clash with the counter. Your heart begins to thump against your ribcage, and your nervous shaky hands hold you up so you can sit on the counter. Like he told you to.

He starts to make his way closer to you, positioning himself in front of you. Making this the closest he's ever gotten to you. His hand reaches your left arm, but before he rests his hand on it, he looks at you for approval. You nod your head softly and he gently touches your arm. He then pulls down your tear to give your injury more access to the bacta spray. Then, he sprays the bacta onto your arm making you flinch from the instant feeling it gives.

It felt cold. The cold that hurts.

You begin to slightly pull away from the spray and it makes him hold onto your arm tighter, to hold it in place. “Just for a bit more, I'm almost done.”

You swallow your pain while the man looks at your expression. As the spray scans your burn, he scans you with his eyes. You can feel his gaze on you, and you close your eyes to distract yourself.

“Alright. That should be all good now.”

He sets the bacta spray on the counter but his hand still lingers on your arm. Realizing this, you open your eyes to check in on your arm. He lets go and scans your whole arm this time. His eyes set on your hand.

“Looks like you already got one of these, huh?”

You pull down your sleeve in embarrassment. As well as the fact you don't want to explain to a random person that you got the scar in your padawan days.

“Thank you, for this. You have no idea how close I was to giving up. Everything is so expensive these days.” You lift your bottom off the counter to stand up. Now, you are close to the man and feel intimidation while also having a hint of curiosity in him.

You put your hand out for him to shake, and introduce yourself. His hand meets yours and you immediately feel something. It feels as though holding his hand felt like you were on the edge of a cliff. You feel energized. Your heart thumps against your chest. You look up to him and he has a certain look on his face. It’s like the one you saw before in the street.

“I’m Qimir.”

—

The best plan you can muster out of your head is to scout your own home on your neighbors roof. From this view you’ll be able to see the Stranger come inside your house. That is if they decide to come again tonight.

So here you are. With your black robes to help your disguise. Even though there were no people around you, you felt a bit silly on how paranoid you looked. Although you shut those feelings down remembering you are fearing for your life. You felt like it was justified at least a little bit.

Time passed and you started to feel yourself grow less alert. You scouted the area less and less, and let your blinks last a bit longer than you should’ve.

Then suddenly, it feels like time froze. One second you're tiredly looking at your home, and the next you are lighting your lightsaber on instinct. The instinct being the Stranger attacking you from behind with their own lightsaber. Immediately you block their attack and your lightsabers illuminate a bright light on the rooftop. The lights reflect off their helmet giving you a better view of them on this dark night.

You lift off the ground to get ready for your stance, but you start to feel your knees shake before you out of fear.

“Your tolerance has weakened.”

You feel offended by this, even though it is entirely true. You launch yourself towards them and sway your lightsaber. The two of you match each other's blocks, and swift your wrists together. Once you get an ounce of a break from your physical conflict, you observe them. The way they are walking, the way they’re tilting their head at you, and the way their voice stays smooth like they aren’t even fighting you.

“I sense so much pain. Suffering.” They force pull you close to them and you position your saber in front of you, which helps you block their attack. Now, the two of your lightsabers are crashing together inches away from both of your faces, they finish their sentence– “Anger. You just don't know where to put it.”

Fire then left your throat turning into a scream. You know this will bring attention to your neighbors and people around you, but you don't care. You put all of your frustration into your force push causing a distance between you two. You know they are right. They’ve been winding you up with their antagonizing that it’s making your blood boil, and it's clearly giving you more power to the force than before.

You start to huff from exhaustion but know you need to stay on track. You want this all to end. The taunting and the fear. Enduring another minute of fighting with whoever this person is and them reading your thoughts is too much to bear.

The masked Stranger lunged towards you, and the two of you duel together. You move your lightsaber to attack, to only have them raise their arm to block it causing your lightsaber to give out.

The panic sets in. They take a big step forward and sway their saber towards you, but you move out of the way just in time. You start to back away, and look down to your saber. It’s flickering with purple shining in and out.

“It’s easier to let it out. I can help you.”

“Get out-” Your lightsaber lights back up on its own and you form your stance before your strike. “-of my head!” Your feet stomp towards the stranger and the two of you crash together again. A block here. A clash there.

There is a moment in your duel where they are able to grab ahold of your arm, and headbut into your saber. Causing it to give out once again. In this moment, it’s the first time they’ve touched you. But there is something about their hand on your arm that feels familiar. You're on the edge again. You feel as though you're looking over on a cliff, feeling the adrenaline. The shop. The medicine. Qimir.

Your eyes squint towards their helmet as though you can see through it. This causes them to push you away from them. You can feel the panic radiate off of them.

Again, your lightsaber lights but you have it lowered to the side of you. You have given up fighting at this moment because all you want is an answer. The answer being if this person before you is Qimir.

With heavy breaths you say “It’s you.. isn’t it?”

They dont answer, but only slowly take slow steps towards you. You feel like the fighting is over and you start to let your guard down. Although your saber stays on. Now, the Stranger is in front of you. Tilting their head. But then, they sway their legs under yours to sweep you off your feet.

Your back stings at the immediate pain of hitting the floor. The Stranger then strikes you, and all you see is red. Until you force block their attack and hold their lightsaber in place. The saber vibrates in front of you and they are temporarily frozen. You needed to take advantage of it. You kick your foot against their shin and they fall to the floor. This time, you know their helmet causes your lightsaber to short circuit. So, you turn yours off and use the hilt of your saber to strike their helmet. You hit it three times until it crashes to the floor.

You bring your feet into a crouch to stand up. They do the same. Both of you stand up together, in sync.

“You..” You faintly say, like a whisper.

His face is still and precise. The same face you saw before, but it looks like you're looking at a different person.

“You feel it too, don't you?” His voice isn’t modulated this time. If anything, it feels more intimidating than before. You stay silent and frozen. “Mm. You don’t have to answer that. I know you do.”

“You know nothing about me.” You spit back.

“Don't let your fear blind you to what you feel.”

You stare into his eyes in the hopes to read him like he's reading you, but all you get is nothing. His door is locked and you can jerk the knob all you want, but it just won't open. He takes a step to you, you take a step back. And this happens until your heel hits the back of the roof, near the edge.

“You’ve been what I needed all this time, as you need me.”

His words make you stumble and you start to lose balance, but before you can fall backwards. Qimir reaches towards your wrist and holds you in place mid fall. He is touching the same arm he previously did. This time, he brushed his thumb over your scar on your hand. It brings shivers down your spine and your hair stands up. He gently pulls you forward to set you standing straight again.

The commotion to both of your fighting has brought attention to your neighbors, and you can see bright lights coming your way. Qimir doesn’t look behind him but knows they're coming with his statement.

“What’s keeping you here? They’re gonna find you. Question you. Take you in. Once they find out your ex Jedi.. Well.” He shakes his head side to side while puffing air out. “I don’t think you want that.”

He makes a good point. The last thing you want to do is have the Jedi back into your life, and question you as to why you left the order. Making you relive the painful reason you left all over again.

“Or.. you join me.” Silence fills the air as the tension grows with his offer. He speaks again. “You figure out how to make peace with your past and join me as we both live a life where Jedi don’t make all the rules.”

The rules. The words brought anger inside you. Qimir senses it and smirks. He knows he's convincing you. Your door is starting to crack, and he's easing his way in.

“UP THERE!!” A loud voice yells from below your building and it gives you a signal you need to make a decision fast.

The thought of staying behind while you deal with the situation that will come to you full of dread and anger makes your face scrunch of how much you don't want to deal with it. Then the thought of joining Qimir, who senses your feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long. As much as he frustrated you, you felt a sense of relief in finally being able to be seen in that way. As negative as it was. But that's what drew you to him. He’s no Jedi, that's for sure. Because if he was one, he’d treat you like some maniac for having such strong feelings of hatred and anger. You sense familiarity in Qimir. In some ways, you feel like you're looking in a mirror.

A mirror you wanted to keep looking into.

You nod your head yes, and he smiles to himself. Ready for what's to come.

read part three here !

[astralnymphh]

YES PLEASE. BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE?? 90’s?? SIGN ME UP. WHERE DO I PUT MY NAME??😖😖🙏

- 🩵

a/n + cw; OMGG AN EMOJI ANON i haven't seen you guys in a hot minute, but YESSS BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE!! specifically x customer reader. it's a cute duo! and let me relay why from my very scrambled 3 am jot-down. was going to make this a blurb, but it better translates through something more structured. ++ SFW! kinda mean!reader tbh (but ellie likes that), very fluffy you might squeet, quickly written, awkwardness, ellie being a nerd. [first pic from amoaeIIie on pinterest]

Imagine Ellie, in her blockbuster getup, leaning her butt into the edge of the register counter, jamming to whatever is playing on her hand-me-down walkman; earsbuds in, eyes downcast, head bopping slowing - soundly unaware of you awaiting service on your over-due rental. "Hello?" your volume divides the soft ambiance of the store, but it isn't enough to rope Ellie's mindspace from the clouds. Calling out again, "Hell-looh?" you extend beyond the cash register and wave your hand - nothing, nada.

How the hell has this girl not gotten her ass fired yet?

After numerous roadblocks, a brazen last resort comes into play. You cut around the counter briefly to take things into your own hands (literally) because you have not the time, nor the patience, for her slacking off.

Beryl eyes drop sharply to the walkman in her pants pocket when a single earbud is spooled from her ear, assuming it fell - but to her surprise, it hung low from your finger, and a glance above that finger was your face. Risen of one brow, flat-lined of your lips; impatient.

And her entire focus blanks out when you begin to speak, curtly and satirically, "Hey, I know busting out your Dad's old walkman in public makes you feel cool and whatnot, but you're on the clock." handing the slim cord back over to a stunned girl, flushed behind the pop of her freckles. Maybe your tone of voice sent her higher into the clouds, past a coven of angels, because her lips part narrowly and remain still for a single second - save two or three. Or maybe it's 'cause you specified it as her 'Dad's' which was.. spot on.

And whatever excuse she had quickly cherry-picked for you, hesitated audibly in her throat before it split from it, "O-Oh, right, shit sorry - was about to end my shift n' thought the store was empty. My bad." scrambling to stuff the other earplug in her pocket and avert all attention to you. Very eagerly.

"Looks like you've got a late fee on this one.." her pitch pummeled deeper, and coarser as she concentrates on the clunky screen she hunches slightly to use. Scrunching the freckles of her face together, hogging the blue-lit screen. Poor girl probably forgot her glasses at home. "Annnd are you looking to rent the sequel?" she peeks her auburn head from the screen and holds up the cased movie, tracing her index over the plastic cleft, tapping twice. "To this - it has a second part."

There's no denying it: she is cute - and guilt rolls your guts around for being so snippy and sullen to her earlier. But based on her demeanor growing enthused the second she saw what movie you had in hand - she doesn't seem to care a hoot.

"Out of stock," replied you, indifferent-sounding - and strking; crossed arms, bent knee, stiffly-standing. Comparable to a millpond. "Guess I won't be the only person with late fees." you take a breath to jest, shaking loose strands of hair from your eyes.

"Haha," you're no world-class comedian; that joke wasn't all that funny, but the need to hurl any affirming noise at you, was necessary. Relenting to reflex. What can she say? Love at first sight! "Yeah, that seems like the agenda these days," Ellie sighs out, molding the plump of her lip under her teeth and reshapes it into a dorky smirk. Isn't she just a sweet chocolate-box of adorability?

"Hmm, bummer."

That hum and word trips into her ears, knocking some brain-cog, and an idea limns her features; they glow wide. "Actually - um, I've got a copy of the sequel at my place. Technically it's my Dad's, but.." her pitch fluctuates, mindlessly thumbing the case between two fiddly hands. "Maybe you can - if you want, not pressuring you or anything - come over?" she throws a pointed thumb backwards, motioning a potential future. "Watch it? If you weren't planning on watching it with somebody else."

Slick trick to seeing if you're single; of course you'd watch movies with your boyfriend - or girlfriend.

"Hmmm.." you hummed longer this time, and this time it admitted the mushrooming of an almost aggravating anticipation in her belly. Like you meant to torture her with 'hmms' and nothing but 'hmms' as your answer hung high in cloudy abeyance, until, "What's the name on your tag - ah, Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"Ellie," you confirm her name twice, and speak it to enthrall her full-scale attention. Made it sound fucking sugary sweet, through a swirly whisper and a twist of your head. "If you can give me a discount, or a full wipe on that late fee, then yes. It's a date."

Light panic ensues. "Date?" she croaks and laughs it off, "I mean - pshh, guess that's one way to put it." backtracking to her hunched, elbows-on-the-counter pose.

"You put it that way."

"Yeah, I just.. didn't wanna admit that." immediately, she uncurls her spine again, relaxing her muscles to somewhat peer at you. "Sure. No more fees." Rounded eyes lost - adamant on indirectly staring at you and the space below you, because Goddess forbid a stroke of idiocy flickers through her while gawking at you.

The store runs dead-quiet in the background of your conversation, leading you to one golden question. "Your shift over after this?"

Oh damn, her cheeks are pink. "Uh-huh," bet she's oblivious to that red-hot beam nearly bursting the seams to her face, too. Nasal lines fold as a severe smile tugs, shadowed by her bent thumb poking at it. "Takin' my car?"

And that's how you pick up girls at a video store in the 90s - the Ellie Williams way.

this isn't even the full idea

[cowboyfromh3ll]

gonna keep the shy reader hcs party going and kindly request how arthur, john, and charles (and any other characters you might have added) would tease her once they’ve been together for a little while. who likes flustering her the most and who would get away with it the longest before she realizes he’s doing it on purpose 👀 as for the smutty part, what’s their favorite ways to rile her up before taking pity and giving her what she wants (i imagine some would be nicer than others lol)

Shy!Reader HC Ft. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith (Smut)

Y'all love your shy reader hcs

Warnings: smut

Arthur Morgan

I feel like Arthur wouldn't be too big of a tease but when he is, they're very non consequential things

You fell off your horse? You were hunting together and missed the shot by a lot? You hurt yourself trying to do something daring on a job? He'd be like omg come over here lemme fix it for you baby

His goal is never to make you feel less than or somehow incompetent with his teasing

But oh you got syrup all over your face and hands? You buttoned your shirt incorrectly? You snort when you laugh? He's gonna keep going until you're blushing and giggling at him to stop

Even if there's nothing wrong with your outfit he'll go over to you and find SOMETHING to fix

Will spend an unnecessary amount of time fixing your collar or scarf

It'd probably be pretty easy to tell what he's trying to do, not very slick

Would compliment you to try and make you blush but he just ends up making himself blush

If you're insecure over something he'll make sure to compliment that aspect of you over and over again

Flirts with the idea of marriage and kids one day and that'll have you SWOONING

Sometimes he'll rub your belly when you talk about it and it'll make you CRUMBLE

NSFW

Oh he's gonna be such a big tease, and he'll do it perfectly

Does it in a way that can be passed off as accidentally and goes unnoticed by anyone else but you

Rubs his crotch on you while making his way past behind you

Subtly brushes your thigh or ass with his hand

Kisses up your neck until you're all hot and bothered and pulls away before saying he's gotta do something

If y'all are sitting around a table in a group setting he'll have you on his lap so you can feel him harden. Keeps playing poker like nothing

If you're sitting next to him he'll place his hand on your inner thigh but never moving it close enough to where you want it

His favorite way to rile you up is to touch you all over during make outs then never going past that

Takes pity on you when he sees you get genuinely frustrated, thinks it's hilarious though

Charles Smith

He's so subtle with it that you wouldn't even catch it until a few seconds later

You gotta think about it before you truly get it

You could complain about how hot it is and he'll recommend you take off your clothes

Oh you say your backs hurting? Charles recommended course of action is visiting him at his tent tonight so he can fix it wink wink

You'll actually show up and he'll actually be surprised you haven't gotten it yet

Will give you a massage nonetheless

Would take you a while to pick up on it and that's the beauty of it to Charles

Would do things without the intention of making you blush but if he notices something does he'll keep at it

You like it when he plays with your hair? Then he'll braid it and put flowers in it and rave about how beautiful it is

Hands you flowers and tells you it reminded him of you

Makes you little trinkets and objects and says the most flowery things about how he tried to make it a fraction of how beautiful you are

NSFW

Like his aforementioned forms of teasing, he'll do just that

In fact, in times where you do catch on, he'll pretend like he never meant it that way and you're the one who's trying to get something going

Will give you THAT LOOK when you're together in public and you BOTH know you won't be able to do anything for hours

During make outs he'll rub your inner thighs or ass or sides but never touching you where you need it.

His hands are very light, his touches never heavy handed

He'd give in real easy to you. Just pout or give him puppy eyes and he'll give in

Even being bold enough to tell him what you want will have him in a trance

He's a giver so he can never deny you for too long for his own satisfaction

John Marston

Oh my God his teasing definitely goes too far

I don't mean that in a cute way I mean he probably ends up hurting your feelings because he does not know when to stop

Sucks at flirting

Your shy nature just makes it more awkward

But once you get used to his failed attempts at being coquettish you'll be able to recognize when he's trying to flirt

Is probably super obvious when he's trying and when he's successful he'll actually make you blush

His successful attempts are probably unintentional. Says something he won't think will land but is surprised when it works

Excuses himself for a moment and celebrates a few feet away before turning like normal

He has like a time to cool down on successful flirting. Only successful once every three days or something like that

Tries to compliment you but it comes out awkwardly and stiff

If you say something back slightly flirty he's gonna blank and not know how to continue from there

As soon as he approaches you and says "uhh.. hey" you already know what he's trying to do

Opposite of Arthur so he WILL tease you for falling off your horse

Awkwardly hugs you and pats your shoulder if you cry while apologizing profusely

NSFW

Can't rile you up for too long without exciting himself

Keeps his arm on your lower back and dips his fingers inside your waist band

Type to pull on your overalls (if you wear em) and lets them snap back into you

Will come up behind you and rub his stubble into your neck before whispering filthy things into your ear

Likes it when you put up a little playful resistence

If y'all are sitting down somewhere together he'll put his hand on your ankle before running it up under your skirt

Ends up giving in mostly because HE can't take it anymore and is too excited

[sanguineterrain]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files. And make a few edits."

"That's extremely illegal. Those files belong to the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice. You're trying to help the little people. Batman and his merry band of do-gooders have always been too focused on the big picture.

"If these documents are buried, Colson will win his case and hide his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't falsify evidence for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. IF we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his clients' lives matter."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

[emphistic]

Sukuna Headcanons

a/n: this is from the same universe in my Boy Nextdoor Series, in this drabble yuuji is sukuna's baby brother, i mightve gotten a bit carried away while writing this

@starlets-things PS: idk if you wanted me to tag you in a part two of "Buttface", or just another part of my Boy Nextdoor Series (example: being part of a tag list), pls lmk though

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK

(REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

These are mostly pre-relationship hcs (post-relationship hcs are towards the end of this post)

Neighbor!Sukuna who hangs out at your house constantly, whether it be for studying, playing a game, or having your weekly movie night, he's there almost 24/7

Neighbor!Sukuna who would always force you to partner up with him whenever a group project was assigned; he always played it off as "I'm just using you to get a good grade" — which is a total lie if you haven't caught on yet

Neighbor!Sukuna who discovered his love for whenever you played with his hair when you pushed him into the pool and had to blow-dry his hair as recompense

Neighbor!Sukuna who sometimes forgets that his friends were supposed to come over when you were already at his house

Neighbor!Sukuna who constantly teases you for the height difference between you and him

Neighbor!Sukuna who always walks you to class, even if it means being late to his [own classes]

Neighbor!Sukuna who, without a doubt, hates your friends, like absolutely despises them — this is because he doesn't like the fact that they take your attention away from him

Neighbor!Sukuna who has a hate and love relationship whenever you come over to babysit his brother when he's busy at basketball practice or something — he loves having you over at his house, but he hates that he has to miss seeing your smile and hearing your voice

Neighbor!Sukuna who never listens during class because he's always staring at you

You turned your head around to be faced with a surprised Sukuna. "Hey. Stop staring at me, Freak."

Sukuna would always roll his eyes at that, denying the accusation, but you knew the truth, though — and so did your whole class, maybe even the whole school too, your teachers included

Neighbor!Sukuna who gets on your nerves on purpose because he is obsessed, utterly infatuated with the cute face you make whenever you're mad

He thinks you're adorable when you're upset, especially when the cause is him

Neighbor!Sukuna who sometimes makes you a little too angry, resulting in detention for the both of you — however, he doesn't mind the extra time he gets to spend with you

Post-establishedrelationship hcs:

Neighbor!Sukuna who always shuts you up with a kiss whenever he thinks you talk too much (he is a little mean, yes)

Neighbor!Sukuna who can't stand when other people are talking to you

Neighbor!Sukuna who always has to be touching you one way or another — whether that be a hand around your shoulder, hand on your waist, or even your hand wrapped around his bicep/arm, sometimes he doesn't even realize he has a hand on you, it's just become instinct now

Neighbor!Sukuna who kicks the back of your knee when he wants you to stop talking to someone, and talk to him instead

Neighbor!Sukuna who forces you to wear his jersey whenever he has a game; he loves seeing his last name on your back — he always points you out in a crowd to his teammates

"See that pretty girl over there? Yeah, that's mine."

Neighbor!Sukuna who can't resist slapping your ass whenever you walk past; it's become a natural instinct at this point

Neighbor!Sukuna who is actually super clingy, but he'll never admit that; he'll spam you with nonstop calls and texts just to ignore you when you do eventually respond

Neighbor!Sukuna who can't fall asleep without you beside him in bed

Neighbor!Sukuna who loves when you kiss him on the cheek — he doesn't even know why, he just thinks it feels more intimate than an actual kiss on the lips

Neighbor!Sukuna who always carries your bag

Neighbor!Sukuna who rarely gets sick, but sometimes gets sick on purpose just to have you take care of him

Neighbor!Sukuna who would always kiss you, even if you were sick

Neighbor!Sukuna who pretends not to pay your guys' dinner bill but actually sneaks the money into your purse after you go to sleep

[clearheartsgreyflowerss]

Hi! Could I have some Arlecchino x fem reader fluff? Maybe going on a date together?

I am also currently obsessed with her, she’s just so askdskejdhdbdbdn >///<

Thank you!

YES THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOU JUST MADE MY DAY :D

Also that's literally so real she's taken over all my thoughts and she lives in my head absolutely rent free

A date with Mon ange - Arlecchino x fem!reader

This is NOT proofread if you see any grammar mistakes no you didn't

"My dear, with all due respect, I love your cookies but you burnt the hell out of them."

To say today was a disaster was an understatement, you didn't wake up to your alarm clock, which meant you missed the morning market where you often got some of Alrecchino's and Lynette's favorite treats. Not only that, but just an hour later, freminet came home with a large gash on his leg, which he had gotten when trying to maneuver through a shipwreck out at sea. Then, some of the children had roped you into playing games with them, and promptly forgot you had cookies in the oven.

So, it's safe to say Arlecchino's remark ended with you being even madder than before, even if you knew she was just making an observation.

"well if they're so burnt, bake them yourself next time!" You quickly stomped out of the room, hanging up your apron as you walked past the door. You quickly walked up the stairs and down the hall to your room, and slammed the door behind. You sat down at the small desk where you kept all of your stationary and makeup, immediately looking around for anything that couldn't be broken (or at least something not of high importance). Luckily, there was a small journal in the drawer, and you decided it would be better to journal then take your anger out on some poor object. After about 3 pages were filled, the sound of the door startled you a little, yet you kept writing in journal. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, and a kiss was planted on top of your head. Neither of you chose to speak, you just kept writing anything and everything, and she watched.

"would you like to go out to dinner tonight mon ange? I'm sure the maids can handle the children for tonight."

She finally broke the silence, and you put the pen and paper down. A small smile came across your face, as you finally looked up to see her face. While she often kept the neutral looking expression, you could see the difference in her eyes, a look of sadness from upsetting you was clear.

"that sounds lovely Alrecchino, where do you want to go?"

"you choose, we can go anywhere in Fontaine, don't worry about the cost." You were quick to open your mouth about not wanting to overspend, but she placed a kiss to your forehead, making your protests stop.

"you've had a bad day, you deserve whatever your heart desires [Name]." How she knew you had a bad day was above you, though you presumed she had guessed just from the way you lashed out.

"well then, I suppose I could go for some Tripes du Port right about now" your words brought a small smile to her face, and she placed one last small kiss on your head, before standing up.

"To the hotel debord it is then."

The hotel was never short of amazing, all the decorations so elegant, yet so simple at the same time. The two of you sat down in a corner of the restaurant, a candle in the center illuminating both your menus.

"What are you going to get Arle? You always seem to change it up when we come here." She didn't look up from her menu as you spoke, instead she focused on even more.

"I suppose I'll get cassoulet, I don't think I've tried it here yet." She set her menu down and gave you another small smile, one she often didn't flash in public, but she was sure no one was looking.

"oh and darling, you look great in that outfit, you should wear it more often." She took your hand and rubbed your hand reassuringly, her words were definitely ones you needed to hear.

"I'm glad you think so Arle, I bought it recently and haven't had any chances to wear it. I thought tonight would be a nice night to show it off." She took note of how you messed with the hem of the fabric, a tell tale sign you were flattered by her compliments.

The waitress walked over with 2 glasses of wine, and smiled at both of you as she pulled out a paper and pen

"what can I get you two tonight? If you're still not sure, I can come back in a few minutes." You smiled and nodded as both her and Arlecchino looked at you, it looks like you would be ordering first.

"I'll have the Tripes du Port please, oh, and a slice of your blueberry pie." You flash her another smile as you hand her the menu, and look over to Arle as she orders

"I'll have the cassoulet, please and thank you." The waitress nods as she finishes writing, and takes Arlecchino's menu.

"merci, I'll be back with those as soon as they're done!" The waitress gives one last smile before she walks off, and it's just you and Arlecchino again. She picks up her wine glass and takes a sip, before looking at you with expectancy.

"well drink up dear, you deserve it."

All of that food and wine practically made you forget about all of your problems from the day. Well, Arlecchino was the real reason, but having something to talk over definitely was helping. You couldn't help but smile and laugh at all of her stories, telling your own in return. You two were at the register, Arlecchino paying for your meals as you kept one hand tightly around hers.

"merci beaucoup! s'il vous plaît, revenez bientôt!"

(thank you very much! Please come again soon!)

Both you and Arlecchino say thank you as you walk out the doors, the cool Fontaine air hitting you the second you leave.

"thank you for tonight Arle, you don't know how much I appreciate it." You give her a soft smile, which melts her heart a little more each time she sees it.

"it's no problem dear, you had quite the interesting day" she chuckled, and ran her thumb across the back of your hand, still seemingly trying to comfort you. You laughed along with her, though the both of you went quiet just after; Slowly taking king in the beauty of Fontaine on the walk back to the house.

The two of you made it back just fine, and you walked home to a entrance that seemed cleaner than before. Alrecchino could already see the panic setting into your face, and she just sighed and placed a kiss to your cheek.

"I promise I gave the maids permission to clean without you here, and I made sure they did it to your tastes my dear. Is that all you're worried about?" You seemed to think for a moment, before quickly realizing the many responsibilities you didn't attend to today.

"oh my God I forgot to clean Lyney and Lynettes stage outfits! And I never went back to help the younger children with their homework and-" Arlecchino took off your coat as you rambled on, taking both yours and hers over to the coat rack while half listening to you. She came back and wrapped her hands around your waist, and nestled her face into the crook of your neck, placing a few light kisses against it.

"[name], did you write this all down in your journal earlier?"

"yes well-" you finally snapped out of your thoughts, and despite not being able to see it, you could sense the grin on her face.

"...you gave that list to the maids didn't you."

"if it makes you feel better, I rewrote it and handed that list to the maids, I left out the things you said about me, after all, some things are better kept secret, Mon ange." you groaned at her teasing words, yet ultimately thanked her for it.

"then I guess I owe you a big thanks Arle, you're amazing." You pressed your lips to hers, giving her yet another small smile.

"how about you show me how thankful you are right now and come lay down with me." Her hands unwrapped from around your waist, and she moved to take your hand and lead you towards the stairs. You happily followed behind her, curious to see just what she had in store for you.

I DONT KNOW HOW TO FINISH THIS IM GOING TO CRY BUT (HOPEFULLY) THERE WILL BE A PART 2

anyway I'm so so so sorry this took me so long, turns out musical + con preparations + school don't make for a great writing time. Thank you 🪼 anon for waiting, I'm sorry if you think this is shit it kind of is (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

Daily click to help those in Palestine

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 3

(2:21 am) I just realized something (2:21 am) Ur a cooking teacher (2:22 am) Who can't fry a egg (2:23 am) You're a fraud 🫵

[7:29 am] I can fry an egg just fine I just can't make the yolks runny. It's too hard to time it right. And why are you up thinking about eggs at 2 am?

(7:47 am) I was up thinking about you at 2 am

Steve felt his stomach flip as he sipped his coffee and set his belongings down in his classroom. Eddie didn't play games. He always said exactly what he was thinking. And it drew Steve wild.

(7:48 am) And about how your students might clown on you for not being able to scramble an egg

[7:49] Aww you're worried about me?

(7:49 am) Kids can be little monsters (7:50 am) Actually how old are the little monsters you teach?

[7:51] Youngest is 6 and oldest is 14. Speaking of, they'll be arriving soon so...

(7:52 am) Godspeed you academic warrior

Eddie didn't typically text so late on weeknights. Not since learning Steve was a teacher. It was just that he truly HAD been up and thinking of him. Steve drove him crazy and he thought he was doing a good job keeping a lid on it. 2 am texts were what happened when the lid got loose but Steve didn't seem put off by it.

At about half past three, Steve called him. Eddie was glad he made that leap with his first call. The sound of Steve's voice never failed to warm him through. Eddie was in the middle of collecting axes for sharpening at the end of his shift.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?", Eddie greeted as he picked up.

"Today was good. Had a really riveting conversation about meatloaf versus pate with the kids", Steve said.

"Meatloaf rocks and pate is just cold meatloaf for rich people. End of discussion."

"Well, we talked about it for like fifteen minutes. Had a real interesting tangent on forcemeats in general."

Eddie paused. "Excuse me?"

"You'd be surprised at what kids are into. This one I taught last year was really into rice-"

"I need you to backtrack just a bit. 'Forcemeat'?"

"Yeah it's-oh grow up", Steve chided while shaking his head. He had just gotten home and was taking off his work clothes for something more comfortable. He thought about what Eddie might think he'd look nice in. "Not even my 12 year olds are this childish."

There was something about the way Steve talked about his students. Like they were his actual children. The conversation continued for a few minutes more before Steve suddenly had to hang up. Eddie tried not to think much of it, but it wasn't the first time that it had happened.

Steve ended the call just as Robin came into the apartment. She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked to the phone in his hand. Steve hid it behind his back and winced at practically telling on himself.

"You're hiding something."

"No I'm not."

"And now you're lying to me."

"No I'm not!"

Robin pounced and wrestled him for the phone. It wasn't a real fight of course. Steve could've pinned her in seconds but a part of him was tired of keeping the secret. And obviously, she knew how to unlock his phone.

"Who's Eddie?", she asked, sitting on his back triumphantly.

"A guy."

"Thank you, I had no idea it could be a man's name. You've been texting him aaaaaaa llllllllllllot."

"Are you reading them!? Robin!"

"Where did you meet him?", Robin said as she got up, continuing to read through their conversations.

"I um, technically, haven't. Yet."

Robin gave him an odd look and Steve spilled everything to her. To her credit, Robin listened to the full story before throwing one of the couch pillows at him.

"Stephen Elliott Harrington! Did no one teach you stranger danger? You just kept texting him? And calling? And I saw the pictures you sent. You know he can find out where we live? What if I came home to your skinless corpse??!"

It went on for a while like that and when Robin was finished, she collapsed onto the couch. Steve sat across from her on the coffee table. He waited for her to silently process it all.

"You think he's cute?"

"What I've seen of him, yeah."

Robin sighed. "I can't believe you're turning into the guy who has a internet girlfriend."

Steve rolled his eyes but then balked when she started to read through his messages again.

"And I can't believe you haven't even started flirting yet."

"I've been flirting with him the whole time!" Maybe not the whole time but-

"You're giving him Diet Steve. Why are you holding back?"

Steve shrugged, looking sheepish now. Now Robin was rolling her eyes.

"Steve, we're getting you a date."

"But he's-"

"A virtual one. Jesus is he an axe murderer?", Robin said as she looked to one of the texts.

"No, he just works with them. Axes! Not murderers."

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

Eddie was about to sit down to a movie when his phone buzzed.

[5:17 pm] Thinking about you.

Oh. Now that was some text to get.

(5:18 pm) Oh yeah? (5:18 pm) What about me?

Steve looked to Robin. They were sitting cross-legged next to each other on his bed.

"What do I say?"

"Be honest, duh."

"If I'm honest I'm gonna talk about his hands."

Robin shook her hands at him like she wanted to wring his neck. Steve got the idea and decided to put himself out there.

[5:21 pm] Your hands. I think about them a lot actually

Eddie had not given his own hands much thought. But knowing that Steve admired them, he gave them a second look. He thought about them gripping Steve's thighs.

(5:23) You're gonna make me blush (5:24) What would you do with my hands Stevie?

Steve panicked and looked to Robin. "Are we sexting? Is he getting me to sext?"

"That's the idea, dingus. I said I was getting you a date. Now tell him what you want him to do."

"I don't know I'd....I'd want to..." Steve trailed off, looking at his phone while the fingers of his other hand brushed against his lips.

Robin stole the phone from him again and started typing. "'First...I'd suck..on them'."

"Robin!"

"Is that not what you want?"

Steve shrugged and Robin continued. "You've got me on the clock for five more minutes before I go out. You dictate, I'll type."

Steve hated how much he liked the idea. Especially when he heard the ping of Eddie's reply. "What did he say?"

Robin cleared her throat. "'Yeah? You wanna suck on them? I bet you got a beautiful mouth.' Oh he's good."

"Yeah", Steve breathed out. "Really good." He thought about Eddie sticking his fingers in and pressing down on his tongue, his rings tasting metallic and so nice.

"'I wanna choke on them'", Robin said out loud as she typed. "Is it too soon to call him Daddy?"

"What?!" That snapped Steve out of it.

"Oh come on. Tattoos, the hair, his job. He wants to be called Daddy."

"Robin don't call him Daddy."

"Pops?"

Steve took his phone from her and looked to Eddie's reply.

(5:30 pm) I'd only choke you if you were being bad (5:30 pm) Are you gonna be bad baby?

[5:31 pm] Maybe. I can be good too. So good.

(5:32 pm) Lemme call you baby wanna hear you

Steve dialed without hesitation just as Robin was leaving. Her work was done.

"Don't get murdered while I'm out!", she shouted just as Eddie picked up.

"Hey pretty baby", Eddie said.

"Hey. You said you wanted to hear me?"

"Yeah. I wanna hear you say those things with your own voice."

"Like how I wanna choke on your fingers? Among other things?"

Steve could hear Eddie let out a breath on the other end. The power he felt right now was intoxicating.

"Bet you'd look so good on your knees."

Steve hummed while pressing his fingertips to his lips. If Eddie asked, he'd suck on them. Let the wet noises fill his ears, let Eddie know how good he could be.

"Darlin' you went quiet."

"I'm thinking", Steve said, laying down on his bed. "I wanna show you, Eddie."

Eddie swallowed. This man would be the death of him. He'd nearly jerked off to just a picture of his fully clothed lower half. If he saw more...if he saw everything-

"Eddie! We've got a Code Red!"

"Jesus! Knock!"

Steve sat up quick at the shouting coming from Eddie's end. It sounded like someone had barged in.

"Eddie?"

"Sorry. Sorry Steve. I gotta handle something. Um, call you back? Please?"

"Eddie, I want to video call you."

"V..video...?"

"Yes. I wanna see you. Please."

"Yes. Yes, a thousand times-hold your horses! Uh, tomorrow? It's Saturday, so you're free, right? Can we make it a date?"

"A date", Steve nodded. "I'll see you then. I'll be thinking of you."

"And I'll be counting the seconds. 1-one thousand, 2-one thousand, 3-one th-ouch! Okay! Damn!"

Eddie hung up and Steve still had the phone to his ear, smiling. He had a video call date. He had a date with Eddie!

Shit what should he wear?

Part 5

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

[princesssmars]

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

[gem-de-lune]

Update & Other Topics

Hey guys, today I may not post readings until the evening, but I figured we could talk about everything going on real quick and cover some topics, then we can discuss what will be going on today for readings.

So first let's chat a bit abt topics that have come up or that I've been needing to mention.

1. I know that a lot of info abt Hybe's involvement in sabotaging SM and implicating Seunghan has come out. My stance is pretty much the same in that I think we have our own game to play right now and cannot afford for there to be attention anywhere other than on SM.

2. So it also came out that this whole ordeal was all SM's plan all along, and they had never planned to bring Seunghan back truly. This definitely checks out, imo based on the very early readings i did. A lot of people want a read on this, so lmk if that's one of the things you want discussed today. Within this read, we can look into what some have been asking, but I haven't gotten to yet- which is the 2 directors and their involvement and conflict, if any.

3. I know that a lot of you still hold SM responsible despite Hybe's involvement and that is correct. However, lot of you have been slowly but surely redirecting yourselves and I am here to tell you to stop. For every second you spend scouring the web gather more info on HYBE and what they did you are spending less time making sure you are sitting on SM's throat. You are allowing them room to breathe. I will also do a read on this later bc yall need to have priorities. A lot of you in the asks are way too interested in what HAS happened instead of what WILL happen. Let's get Seunghan back. We can hate bond over HYBE and demand SM sues them later. Seunghan's future is NOW. And it is for that reason that I will not be doing any readings such as:

How do SM artists feel abt Hybe doing what they did

How do Riize feel abt HYBE

How do SM feel about HYBE

HYBE this HYBE that

Frankly it does not matter and even if it did, I promise you that A: the artists simply do not care as much as you think they do bc they are worried about the now and what will happen regardless of how it came to be. And B: SM is just HAPPY bc it is shifting and sharing blame. You are doing exactly what they want you to do by giving a F. STOP.

To reiterate topic 3: I WILL NOT BE TAKING ANY ASKS PERTAINING TO HYBE PERIOD. With these things, you need to be looking at facts anyways.

4. I know many of you are excited since I did the updated timeline read. I want to make it clear that you all still need to take everything with a grain of salt. After all, I am not God. So let's keep it up with positive affirmations stating he will be back by the 4th, but let's understand that in reality we want him back period regardless of the timeline and THAT is what we need to be hyperfixated on, not the when.

5. I know you all are very anxious, and I am too. But asking "do the members think he will be back" is just another way of asking "will he be back tho" 😭 everyone on Seunghan's side is very hopeful and trying their absolute best to make this happen. If everyone does not let up and fights to the end, there is a very good chance here regardless of the past actions of SM. I have said this literally every single day. Please, please- remember this. Your effort is directly correlated to whether we get him back or not. Period. Any more of those questions will be deleting, not bc I hate u but bc I answered them and do it every single day.

6. Finally, I wanted to hear from you all, how are you doing? I would like some more fun questions to do for tonight. The main reading will be pretty long, and the check-in, of course, will be posted around the morning time in Korea. But if you have any other light questions feel free to post them here or send an ask and I will pick some for readings.

Some reads I'm thinking abt based on asks so lmk if you'd like to see these:

- Check-in on all members individually

- Seunghan + Sohee dynamic when he returns

- Potential concepts after Seunghan's return

Anyways, lmk how you guys feel in asks or comments!

[winterlynightlystories]

Still worth fighting for? Part 1

Tw; mention of murder, Geto’s racism, future poly relationship angst.

Please do not copy/steal my work

Geto Suguru/Male Reader and past Satosugu

Future Geto Suguru/Male Reader/ Gojo Satoru

Summary; As you are remembering how you and Suguru ended up together, his ex-boyfriend shows up at your place. The presence of Satoru doesn't seem to be appreciated by anyone in your little familly. Yet, there isn't other choice, since Satoru is there for a mission. But his presence awake old memories… old feelings.

Note; not proofread! And yes… I'm starting yet again a new series, but I couldn't resist writing about this dynamic and how the story would have gone if Suguru hadn't become a cult leader/Curse User. But don't worry, I am not forgetting the rest of my stories!

~~~~~~~~

You woke up with sweet kisses all over your face. You chuckled, feeling Suguru’s long hair tickling your bare chest and neck. Slowly opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of your tired boyfriend. Dark circles under his eyes and skin sickly pale, you could see the effect of the sleepless nights Suguru went through. You gently passed a hand in his hair, pulling him closer so you could kiss him.

- “Good morning gorgeous.” you said, feeling Suguru melting in your arms and smiling against your lips.

- “I don't think I look that gorgeous right now.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

- “Nonsense, you'll always be the sexiest man in my eyes.”

He laughed, pushing you away as you kissed his neck, putting your hands under his white shirt. Suguru’s skin was warm… too warm.

- “How are you feeling? I'm sorry I've been neglecting you and the girls. You shouldn't be the only one taking care of them. You'll end up as sick.”

- “It's okay, I'm fine. The girls haven't gotten back their voices, but their fever is almost gone. They finally fell asleep.” Suguru replied, laying down next to you, resting his head on your chest. “You have been busy with work, I can't hold it against you.”

- “Still, you need to rest as well. I'll call sick so you can enjoy a good hot shower and some sleep.”

- “No, you don't have…”

- “It wasn't a proposition, I'm going to do it.”

Suguru sighed, yet you still could feel his tired smile against your skin. You kissed his forehead, hating how sweaty and warm it was. Nanako and Mimiko had caught a terrible flu at school. The poor things were coughing so harshly that they were throwing up and losing their voices. The fever went so high one day that Suguru had to take them to the hospital. You remembered the fear and panic you felt when Suguru called you. His voice filled with worries had broken your heart. Thankfully, you were able to leave and join him.

Playing with Suguru’s hair, you remembered how all of this started. It was at school when you both were only seventeen. It was soon after the death of that poor girl, Riko. How her terrible faith had broken Suguru and, besides you, no one seemed to notice it. Not even Suguru’s then-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

Suguru and you grew closer as you became his only support, keeping his head out of the water as much as you could. You often went on the same mission, because you asked for it, feeling like Suguru could break anytime. It was during one of your missions that you saved the girls. You still could remember how Suguru almost snapped. The coldness in his eyes, the murderous aura around him. It had taken everything for you to calm him down. You basically kidnapped Nanako and Mimiko, but in the end were able to keep them.

Well, Suguru did, while you lost everything. You took all the blame, trying to protect him.

It was always obvious that you loved Suguru. You were often mocked by Gojo and teased about how Suguru was his. How, even with his six eyes, did Satoru never realize you also liked him? That was a mystery that would never be solved.

So it was a surprise when Suguru abandoned the school, and everything before he left Gojo to follow you. It wasn't long until you found a place to call home far from Tokyo, almost on the other side of the country… then you started a romantic relationship.

Suguru stayed mostly at home, taking care of the girls and teaching them everything about their world. About becoming Sorcerers. You noticed how your man had a bad tendency to call Non-Sorcerers ‘monkeys’, but in the end, you understood him.

So while Suguru took care of the twins, you went to school and became a police officer, but quickly was promoted to detective. It was a job that cost you a lot of time. Being called days and nights, sometimes not even coming home for a day or two.

Just like now.

You were on the strangest case you ever saw. An ungodly amount of blood had been found in a back alley, enough to assume the victim had died from blood loss. Yet, there was a report of sighting. But the witnesses all said the same; the man wasn't acting normally and he had a new large scar and stitches all around his head.

It didn't make sense.

So, when corpses began the pile-up you contacted the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, knowing damn well you were dealing with Curses. Something had taken control of a dead body and you preferred letting them deal with that weirdness.

You were supposed to meet with the Sorcerer affiliated to the case today, but seeing how Suguru and the girls were, you preferred calling sick. You'll meet later at night or tomorrow, it wasn't urgent after all.

A knocking at the bedroom door had both you and Suguru sighing. You kissed him on the forehead before slowly getting up.

- “Go take a shower and then rest. I'll take care of the girls.” you said as Suguru closed his eyes and nodded.

You found Nanako standing behind the door, her eyes red and puffy. Her hair was soaked with sweat and she was slightly shaking. Without a word, you scooped her up with an arm, putting your other hand on her forehead.

She was burning.

- “Okay. Let's do another round of pills and syrups, okay? I'm going to take care of you, Suguru is resting.”

She said nothing, after all, she still couldn't talk. Instead, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and rested her head against your neck. You almost flinched, feeling just how burning her skin was. You cursed mentally, thinking about taking her immediately to the urgences. But you couldn't leave Suguru and her sister behind. You would wait and if really the fever wasn't going down, then…

You carried Nanako back into her bed, grabbing the medicine on your way. You gave it to her after helping her to bed. You didn't leave the room until she was fast asleep and made sure her sister was alright too.

You hated seeing the Twins so sick, but there was nothing you could do but wait until it passed. It was, after all, the first time they were so bad. Normally they would have the flu for a few days then it would go away.

You sighed as you got out of Nanako and Mimiko’s bedroom. You hoped that Suguru wouldn't get as sick as them.

You could hear the shower which made you smile, wanting nothing else than to join your boyfriend under it and take care of him. But, you had a few calls to make. A single look at the clock told you all you needed; your boss wasn't going to be at the police station before at least one more hour. So you called your partner.

- “Oi, mate! Why are you calling so early?” the voice of your old partner and friend asked, as he chewed on something. “Is everything alright?”

- “No. Haru, I'm afraid the girls aren't doing better and Suguru definitely caught the same thing. He's already having a light fever.” You sighed, putting the kettle on the oven. “I won't be able to make it to the post today. Can you pass the word to the captain?”

- “Of course! I hope you don't need to go to the hospital again?”

- “I don't know. Nanako was burning hot and passed out after I gave her her medicine. If her fever doesn't drop I won't have the choice.”

- “Shit! Keep me informed. I’ll ask Inko to drop you some soup. My wife’s cooking is the best when sick! You'll see, your girls are going to be better in no time.”

- “Thanks. Can I ask you to take care of our Sorcerer friend? Just give him the big lines, I'll meet with them tonight or tomorrow to give him the rest of the case.”

- “Yes, yes! I will. Do you know who they are going to send?”

- “Nan. Probably a first or second grade, this isn't something big enough to require one of their best elements. Probably some trashy Curse trapped inside a corpse or something like that.”

Haru was one of the rare persons around you who had Cursed Energy and could see curses. But the poor fellow was mediocre at best when it came to any kind of fighting style and he knew it. So he never even tried to become a sorcerer. Instead, he married his wife when they were freshly out of school. They both knew your and Suguru’s history and had always been a comforting presence in your lives ever since. They always loved to keep the girls from time to time, giving you and Suguru some alone time.

So you felt relieved knowing Inko would be coming around during the day. She would be such a great help to take care of your sick family.

After hanging up, you poured yourself a hot cup of tea before sitting at the table, trying to relax your nerves. In the silence of the apartment, you heard Suguru turning off the shower. Your boyfriend was probably drying himself before going to bed. You want nothing more than to go back to bed and cuddle him, but it is your turn to stay up and take care of the house.

So you did. You washed the dishes and cleaned the living room, grabbing the girls’ stuff they had left around. Mostly school things. You found Nanako’s pull under the sofa, somehow and Mimiko’s socks under the TV. You sighed, throwing them in the washing machine before starting the laundry.

You took the time to make sure the girls were fine. You found them sharing the same bed, unable to tell which limb belonged to whom. You smiled, touching their forehead. They weren't as warm as earlier. You pulled a thin blanket on them before leaving their room.

You found Geto sleeping curled up in the mess of the blanket and discarded clothes. He had a pale grey shirt and his boxer, but nothing else. His shirt was slightly pulled up, revealing his flat stomach and ribs. He had, again, lost some weight.

You heard your phone ringing, but you ignored it, deciding to lie down behind Suguru. You gently wrapped an arm around him, pressing your body against him. You felt his body relax as if he recognized your presence even in his sleep. You closed your eyes, nose buried deep in his damp hair.

You needed to call work and take a longer leave, at least until your little family was back on its feet. And you needed to take Suguru on a date and spoil him after he did so much. Maybe you needed to think about leaving your job for a less demanding one. Suguru and the girls needed you too after all and you hated missing on special occasions.

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

You woke up feeling Suguru moving, grunting you tried to keep him in bed with you.

- “Someone is knocking at the door.” he said with a tired voice and you sighed.

- “Stay in bed, it might be Inko. She is supposed to come give us a hand and some soup. Maybe she forgot her key.”

You got up, leaving Suguru in bed.

But as you approached the door, you knew it wasn't your friend. The shadow at the window was way to tall and that hair… You stopped in your tracks, refusing to believe it. But the figure knocked again and you had no choice but to open the door.

And there he stood.

Gojo fucking Satoru.

Somehow the man got taller, but he was still the same. Instead of his round sunglasses, a black blindfold covered his Six Eyes. A smudge grin painted his lips. He chuckled, seeing your shocked expression.

- “What? You haven't gotten a call from your partner?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

- “No, I didn't pick up. I was focused on tacking care of my sick family. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

- “Ouch. No ‘Happy to see you!’ or ‘It's been so long, but you still look good Satoru!’?”

- “Yes, yes, but it's not what I mean. Why are they sending you for something so banal? Anyway, come in. Tea?”

You got out of the way, letting the man enter. You closed the door behind him and, as you went to the kitchen, saw him freeze at the entrance of the living room. Gojo must have seen the picture of your family.

You poured two cups of tea before joining Gojo. You found him sitting in the sofa and staring at the wall where you had hung many pictures of you, Suguru and the girls. You couldn't tell which one Satoru was staring at. The one from last year at the beach? Maybe the one of you kissing Suguru outside as the snow fell around. Or the one where your boyfriend sat at the table, helping the girls with their homework? Either way, you could see how tight Gojo's jaw was closed. You almost feared his teeth would crack under the pressure.

- “Here. So, why you?” you asked, giving him the tea before sitting in the armchair facing him.

- “Because it's not the first time a situation like this one happened. We think it might be a Curse User.” He said, not even moving his head. You could tell he wanted to ask question, but didn't press him.

- “Really? I haven't heard of anything similar around here.”

- “Not here, in Tokyo.”

- “Ah…. Yes, we don't really look at the news from there.” you mumbled, sipping at your own tea.

The silence was loud and heavy.

You two were supposed to be talking about the case, but you just couldn't talk. You had this mass in your throat making it difficult to swallow your tea or even your saliva. A part of you had, ironically, missed Satoru. Even if the man had been a dick all the time you were at school, you still had good memories. Because he still gave you a hand when you needed it.

And you stole his boyfriend.

Which was making you the bigger asshole in the room.

- “What the fuck is he doing here?” Asked Suguru, making you jump and drop your tea on you. Suguru came to you, hearing you curse. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

- “It's okay, don't worry.” You replied, letting Suguru take your empty cup. “Satoru is here for the case. Apparently, it's not the first time it has happened.”

- “And you believe him?” He asked, grabbing your phone as he sat on your lap. He had put on your pair of jogging.

- “Su’ what are you doing?”

- “Making sure he isn't lying”

You sighed, wrapping one arm around Suguru's waist while caressing his knee with the other. You gave an apologetic look at Satoru, mouthing a ‘Sorry, he is sick.’ while Suguru talked to whoever was on the other side. Poor Gojo was so tense he seemed frozen in place and you felt bad for him. The man didn't ask to be here, didn't ask to witness you loving on his ex. You knew that Gojo definitely still had feelings for Suguru. How could he not? Everyone knew just how in love they used to be.

You sighed, watching Suguru throw your phone on his own lap, grinding his teeth.

- “True?”

- “Yeah. They did send him.” he sighed, giving Satoru the side eye.

- “I’m sorry. Want me to go…” you tried to talk, but Suguru signalled you to shut up.

- “No. It's okay, but I’m staying with you.”

- “Babe, I need my suitcase.” you pointed out, but without a word, Suguru got up and left.

You sighed and passed a hand on your face, knowing damn well this was going to be one hell of a case.

- “I see he is still angry at me.” Satoru said, voice so low you almost didn't hear it.

- “Honestly I don't know. I don't even know what happened between you two. Suguru doesn't like talking about it, so we don't.” you replied, looking at him.

- “We fought… about you.” Gojo admitted, looking away.

- “About me?”

- “Yeah. About how I acted toward you, especially after your expulsion. Suguru left me, pointing out how you were the only one who had noticed how he was truly feeling after… after Riko. Well, that and more.”

You were silent, not knowing what to say. They had broken up, over you? Suguru had defended you, even before you were an item?

You felt your heart swollen with love for Suguru. He was such a strong and kind soul. You loved him even more, if that was possible.

You smiled, almost stupidly, as Suguru came back into the living room, throwing your suitcase at Satoru before sitting back on your lap.

- “Come on. Quite at talking about that day, why don't you repeat what you told me?” Suguru asked, his voice filled with so much venom you almost didn't recognize it. “Are you doing it or should I?”

- “I…”

- “You told me, and I quote “Well, if he is such a great and good man, why don't you leave me for him? Clearly, he would be a way better boyfriend than me!” that's what you told me, right? And yes, he is a way better boyfriend than you ever were.”

You gasped, looking back and forth between the two men. Gods, you really were behind their break up!

You wrapped your arm tightly around Suguru, pulling him closer to you. You took his hand in yours, kissing his fingers. You hated seeing him like that. Angry, hurt and uncomfortable in your own house. You wanted to leave and go somewhere else, so Suguru wouldn't have to face Satoru, but it was clear your boyfriend wasn't going to leave the two of you alone.

This situation was more than awkward and uncomfortable.

The silence that followed Suguru's statement was heavy. Terribly heavy. But, surprisingly, it was Satoru who broke it.

- “I'm sorry. I was cruel and neither of you deserved it. Especially you, Suguru. And I'm not looking for forgiveness, because I know I don't deserve it. I don't want revenge either, I'm just happy you got to build a family and be happy.” He sighed, looking away. “But we have a job to do and a Curse User to catch.”

Against you, you felt Suguru slowly relax. Had he been afraid that Satoru came to try and conquer him again? Or hurt you? You kissed Suguru’s fingers again and he gave you a weak smile. The dark circles under his eyes seemed worse, but his eyes had found back their softness. You mouthed an “I love you” while Satoru was opening your suitcase and pulled out all the documents and photos you had about the case.

You also relax, thinking that maybe working with Satoru wasn't going to be so hard finally.

No.

The hard part was going to try and forget how your heart still missed a beat when you felt his eyes looking at you. Or how Suguru refused to meet Gojo’s gaze.

Yes.

The hard part would be to act as if there were no more feelings when, obviously, they were still there. Intact and waiting.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Fifteen: Memory

Chapter WC: 8,365

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluff from the last chapter because....

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

Meet me in the Archives. I think I've found something that could be of interest to you.

You read the message from Obi-Wan for the fourth time, your brow furrowing as you study the words. It's short and vague and frustratingly unspecific. t's not like Obi-Wan to be so cryptic, and you can't help but wonder why he's keeping this particular discovery a secret.

You lean back against the wall behind you and glance around the hallway, searching for any sign of the man in question. There's no one here, the halls empty and quiet. You've been waiting for almost twenty minutes now. 

Obi-Wan isn't usually late. In fact, he's often the first one to arrive at meetings, and the only one who consistently comes on time. But today, he's nowhere to be seen. You frown, turning back to the screen in your hand and rereading the message once more. It doesn't make any sense.

Something that could be of interest to you.

You can't help but roll your eyes. Obi-Wan can be so dramatic sometimes. You're half tempted to go looking for him. Maybe he's gotten lost in the Temple somewhere, or maybe he's decided to take the scenic route, and you've been standing around like an idiot waiting for him to show up.

It's been a long week, and your patience is wearing thin. The Council has been pushing hard, sending you all over Coruscant on assignment after assignment. It's been a struggle to find time for anything else, let alone the mystery that Obi-Wan has been keeping under wraps.

Your jaw clenches at the thought, and you sigh heavily. You're tired and cranky and frustrated, and the last thing you want to do right now is wait around for Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

The two of you haven't spoken much lately, not since the battle on Saleucami. Things have been...strained between the two of you, and it's left a tension in the air that neither of you are willing to address. 

You don't blame him for it, but you can't help but wonder why he chose now of all times to contact you. To ask to meet with you. It seems strange, considering the circumstances, and the last thing you want is to put yourself in a position where things become even more complicated than they already are.

It's not that you're avoiding him, per se, but...well, maybe you are. Maybe you have been. A little. You're just not ready to deal with this. With him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You don't know what's going to happen between the two of you, or if there will be a resolution, or if things will simply remain as they are. For now, you're content with letting the situation play out, and seeing how it unfolds. It's better than making any rash decisions.

And besides, it's not like Obi-Wan wants to talk about it, either. He's been just as distant and guarded as you have. There's no indication that he's thinking about what happened, or what might have happened, or where the two of you might end up. If anything, it seems as though he's just trying to pretend it didn't happen. Or, at least, ignore it. 

Which makes sense, really. That's what the two of you have been doing for the past ten years, after all. Pretending that nothing's going on between the two of you. Avoiding any sort of confrontation or discussion.

But, things have changed.

The war has changed.

You've changed.

The both of you have.

You're no longer the naive, idealistic younglings that you were when the two of you started this...whatever this is between you, and the reality of the galaxy has come crashing down around you. It's not the same anymore. The innocence is gone, and the illusion of peace is shattered, and everything has become infinitely more complicated.

Maybe it's time for the two of you to acknowledge that.

To confront what's going on between the two of you, and what could happen, and whether or not either of you want it to. Maybe it's time to put an end to the secrecy, and the dancing around the topic, and the pretending that things aren't the way they are. 

Maybe it's time to accept that the two of you are never going to be more than friends.

The thought fills you with a strange sense of relief. 

It would be a weight off your shoulders, and the constant worrying about what might happen would be gone. There would be no more wondering if things would change, or what could happen. It would be over, and the two of you would go back to the way things were. You would just have to figure out how.

A familiar presence fills the space around you, and your eyes snap open to see Obi-Wan striding toward you. He's dressed in his robes, his cloak billowing behind him, and his hair is messy, his face flushed. You can tell by the way his shoulders are tensed that he's upset, and you have a pretty good guess as to why.

"You're late," you call out, a small smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth as he draws closer.

"Yes," he replies curtly. His brows are drawn together, his lips pressed into a tight line, and his expression is hard. "My apologies."

Obi-Wan doesn't stop walking until he's standing directly in front of you. He stops a few inches from you, close enough for you to see the creases in his brow, the faint shadows under his eyes, and the worry lines on his forehead. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

"Everything okay?" you ask cautiously.

"Of course," Obi-Wan sighs, though his expression betrays him. "What makes you think otherwise?"

"Because you look like shit, and I can feel your unease from a mile away," you deadpan. He glares at you, and you raise a brow. "Seriously, what's going on?"

"Nothing important," he grumbles, looking away. He turns his head and glances at the doors leading to the Archives, his brows drawing together. "Just a disagreement with the Council."

"About what?" you ask, frowning.

"Nothing," he replies firmly, his tone final.

"Really," you mutter. "Because it's never nothing with the Council."

He looks back at you, his gaze boring into yours, and he shakes his head. "It's not important."

"Okay," you agree slowly.

You stare at each other for several moments, neither of you willing to break eye contact first. He seems determined to avoid talking about whatever is bothering him, and you're not about to force him. Especially not in the middle of the hallway.

"Alright, fine," you relent, dropping your gaze. You turn away from him and start walking back down the hall. "Whatever. If you don't want to tell me, I'm not going to push it. But if you're going to drag me here and then act like this, I'm not sticking around."

"Wait," Obi-Wan calls out, catching up to you. He grabs your arm and turns you around, and his grip is surprisingly gentle. "Please, don't go. Just..."

"What?"

"I didn't ask you here to argue," he says softly, releasing his hold on you. His eyes drop, and he runs a hand through his hair, his voice weary. "And I apologize if I gave that impression. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Apology accepted," you reply, and you give him a small smile. He returns the gesture, and his shoulders sag. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"There's something I need to show you."

"What is it?"

Obi-Wan pauses, and his gaze drops, his voice hesitant. "It's...difficult to explain. It's better you see it for yourself."

"Okay," you say slowly, raising an eyebrow. You're not sure what to expect, but you're intrigued, and the tension has melted away from his posture. "Show me."

"Come on," he says. He turns and begins walking towards the door again, motioning for you to follow. "Let's go."

The two of you make your way through the Archives, winding your way through the maze of shelves and stacks. You can hear voices drifting through the aisles. People talking, laughing, mumbling under their breath as they browse through the rows upon rows of data pads, scrolls, and other ancient artifacts. It's always crowded in here, especially during the afternoon, but it's not as busy as usual today.

You follow Obi-Wan, keeping pace with his long strides. He doesn't look back, and you don't ask him any questions. You just let him lead the way, content to simply watch his back.

You can sense the tension in his posture, the stiffness in his stride. Through the bond, you can feel his frustration, his anger, his fear. His emotions are raw, unrestrained, and they hit you hard, like a wave crashing into a cliffside, threatening to break through the surface. He's trying to control them, but he's struggling.

You can't imagine what's causing it. He's been through worse, fought harder battles. But this is different. It feels more personal, somehow. Like there's something weighing on his mind, something he's not sharing with you.

"We're almost there," Obi-Wan murmurs, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

"Almost where?" you ask curiously.

"The Vault," he replies. He stops in front of a set of massive stone doors, and he turns to face you, his expression serious. "Don't touch anything."

"I won't," you assure him, holding your hands up in mock surrender. He stares at you, his eyes narrowed, and you raise a brow. "I'm serious. I won't. You know me."

He nods, satisfied, and reaches out, his palm resting on the stone surface. He closes his eyes, and a second later, the doors begin to slide open, revealing the dark interior of the Vault beyond. You stare, wide-eyed, as the entrance yawns open. The room is enormous, at least three times larger than the Council chambers, and the walls are lined with shelves upon shelves of glowing holocrons.

The sight takes your breath away. You've never been inside this vault before, restricted to only the twelve members of the Council, but you've heard stories. More than once you've tried to convince Obi-Wan to tell you about its contents, but he's always refused. And now here he is, opening the door and inviting you in.

"This is incredible," you gasp. You feel giddy, like a child on Life Day. You can't keep the excitement out of your voice as you turn to him. "I can't believe you're letting me do this."

"I can't let you touch them," he cautions, his tone low. "But, I can let you see."

"Oh, I understand," you reply quickly, nodding eagerly. You glance at him, and the serious expression on his face gives way to a small, amused, smile. "I won't touch anything. I promise."

He chuckles and steps aside, allowing you access. You hesitate, not quite believing this is happening, and then, with a deep breath, you step forward, the doors closing behind you.

Your eyes dart around the room as you walk, taking in every detail. The energy radiating from the collection of knowledge is intoxicating, and you find yourself drawn in. You can't resist the urge to reach out and touch a holocron sitting on a nearby shelf.

"Don't," Obi-Wan warns sternly.

You yank your hand back and turn to him, your eyes wide, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he sighs. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, and his lips curl into a small, weary smile. "I know you're curious."

"Always," you agree. You glance around the room, taking it all in, your gaze wandering across the various shelves and displays. It's fascinating, the sheer amount of knowledge that has been stored here, and you're overwhelmed. You could stay here for a hundred years and still not uncover all there is to know, and you suddenly find yourself jealous of the Masters who have access to this place, the endless hours spent researching, learning, studying. It's a shame the war has cut their time short.

"This is incredible," you say to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm glad you think so," Obi-Wan says softly.

His voice pulls you back, and you turn to him. He's watching you closely, his expression guarded, his arms crossed over his chest. You can feel his trepidation, his uncertainty, his concern, and you wonder if he regrets his decision.

"If it's too much, I can leave," you offer, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don't want to make things harder for you."

"No," he interrupts as he holds up a hand. He shakes his head, and his shoulders relax slightly. "Stay."

"Okay," you agree, giving him a reassuring smile. You cross the room and stand in front of him, reaching out and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Of course," he replies, and there's a warmth to his voice, a hint of the old Obi-Wan beneath the tension. He takes a step closer and lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes soft. "Now, if you'll follow me."

You nod, and he motions for you to follow him, leading the way deeper into the Vault. He guides you through the aisles, and you can't help but marvel at the sheer size of the place. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of holocrons in here, all arranged neatly, the energy buzzing in the air. You can feel it pulsing through the walls, seeping into your skin. You have to force yourself to hurry after his quick steps.

"I've been working on something," he tells you, his gaze fixed ahead of him. "After our talk, I decided to do some research."

"Research?" you echo, frowning, and then your eyes widen. "You mean about Yaddle?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan stops and looks at you. "And I think I may have found something."

Your jaw drops. He's done what?

"Seriously?" you ask incredulously. You blink rapidly, trying to process the information. Blood is pounding in your ears, and your palms are starting to sweat. "What did you find?"

"It's complicated," he says, turning and walking deeper into the room. "But it's a start."

"A start to what?" you demand. You grab his arm and spin him around, your eyes searching his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I was reviewing some older files when I came across her logs," he explains. "There was an entry dated the week before she went missing."

You draw in a sharp breath, and your stomach flips, your mind racing.  Yaddle had a habit of recording her thoughts. She did it to help her remember things, and it was her way of making sure she wasn't missing anything important. It was a habit she'd tried, and failed, to instill in you, though she'd made a valiant effort.

You'd scoured her quarters for her logs and any other clues the day you returned to Coruscant after her death, knowing how important the device would be to you. Despite nearly tearing apart her quarters, you'd found nothing, and you'd assumed it had perished along with her, lost forever. But now, according to Obi-Wan, he'd managed to recover the very thing you'd been searching for.

"Where is it?" you ask quickly. Your grip tightens on his arm, and your eyes widen. "Is it here?"

"It is," he says, nodding. "I haven't listened to it yet. I thought you might want to do that first."

You stare at him, speechless, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. A lump forms in your throat, and a warm, overwhelming, wave of gratitude rushes through you. Obi-Wan's expression remains stoic, but his eyes are warm and sympathetic, and he gives you a small, encouraging, smile.

"Obi-Wan," you choke out, and then you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

He stiffens in surprise, but after a moment, he relaxes and wraps his arms around your shoulders, his grip loose and gentle. He sighs, and you can feel his breath tickling your neck.

"You're welcome," he murmurs, his voice low.

"I don't know how I can ever repay you for this," you whisper, pulling back and looking up at him. Your gaze locks onto his, and his eyes search yours, his brows furrowing.

"You don't have to," he assures you. He takes a step back and clears his throat, his voice returning to its normal timbre. "Just...listen to it, and tell me what you think."

"Okay," you agree, swallowing hard. You nod, and he motions for you to follow him across the room to a large, metal case. You watch as he places his palm against the side of it, and it clicks open, the lid swinging upwards. He reaches inside and pulls out a small, metallic disc and offers it to you.

You recognize the device immediately. It's an audio recorder, the kind Yaddle loved to use, and seeing it makes your chest ache. You reach out, taking the object gingerly in your hands. The metal is cool, smooth, and familiar, and the sight of it brings back memories of the last time you held one.

"She gave me one just like this," you say softly.

"Really?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Yeah," you confirm. You turn it over, running your fingers along the surface. "She said she wanted me to keep it so I could practice recording my thoughts."

"You still have it?"

"I think so," you tell him, and you smile sheepishly and shrug. "I'm sure it's buried somewhere in my quarters. Never used it once."

He laughs, and you turn to him. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Thanks," you grumble, rolling your eyes. You hold the device out to him. "Can you play it?"

"Yes," he confirms, reaching out and taking the recorder. He turns it over, inspecting it closely. "Though, I'm not sure how loud the volume will be. We'll have to get close."

"That's fine," you reply, moving closer. You stand beside him, leaning in until your shoulder brushes against his, and look at him. "Let's do it."

He nods, and a moment later, the air fills with the sound of static. It crackles loudly, and the two of you lean closer, straining to hear. There's a burst of white noise, and then silence. For several seconds, nothing happens. The only thing you can hear is the sound of your breathing, the beating of your heart.

"Come on," Obi-Wan mutters, and then the static stops. A bright blue light flares to life, and the image of Yaddle appears, hovering in the air between you.

She's sitting in a chair, her hands resting on the armrests, her legs crossed. It's been so long since you've seen her, your heart aches, and you can't stop the tears from forming.

"Begin log," she says, her voice smooth and clear. Her eyes are closed, her expression serene, but there's a tightness around her mouth, a crease in her brow. You know that look well. She was upset, agitated. Worried.

You can feel Obi-Wan's eyes on you as Yaddle speaks, her soft and steady voice reciting the date and location of the recording before she launches into her message.

"I've been thinking about the future a lot lately," she begins, her eyes still closed, her tone contemplative. "About my life. About my purpose. I've lived a long time. Longer than most."

The image flickers, and her lips press together.

"I've seen many things. Seen them through the eyes of others. Learned what they've learned, experienced what they've experienced. But now, I find myself wondering if it was worth it," she continues. Her voice grows quiet, and her eyelids flutter open, her gaze drifting across the room. "These are troubled times. I can feel the darkness growing stronger, threatening to overtake everything I've worked so hard for."

You frown, exchanging a concerned look with Obi-Wan. 

Yaddle had sensed the Dark Side before the Republic had even known of its existence, before the Clone Wars had begun. She'd warned the Council of its presence, of its intentions, and no one had believed her. You'd seen the disappointment and frustration on her face when they'd dismissed her words.

It had hurt her deeply, and you'd hated it, but she'd brushed aside your anger, insisting it wasn't important. That they would learn the truth eventually. You suppose she was right about that.

"The Jedi Order is strong, but it's not strong enough," Yaddle continues. "I fear the end is near. And it is up to us to decide whether we fight against it or embrace it."

Her eyes fall to her lap, and her shoulders slump. She looks exhausted, defeated. You've never seen her like this before. She's always been confident, steadfast. Unshakable. Now, she seems so small. Fragile.

“Today, Master Qui-Gon Jinn appeared before the High Council. He spoke of an encounter with a Sith lord." Her voice lowers and her face contorts into a scowl. "He claimed that this…being was trained in the Jedi arts, and that he possessed a great power, a power which could only be wielded by one who knew the true nature of the Force." 

She pauses, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling, her lips pressing into a thin line, her brow creasing as she continues, "The Council believes this to be a falsehood. They have dismissed the idea outright, claiming that the Sith have been extinct for millennia, but there is no denying that something has changed. Something dark has come over our galaxy."

Yaddle lets out a long breath and her shoulders slump, her body sinking into the chair as she returns her attention to the camera. "I spoke with Dooku today. He expressed his frustrations with the Council and their reluctance to consider the possibility that this Sith Lord is real and that he is a threat to us all. It is nothing I haven’t heard from him before. We've had this conversation many times over the years. But today, it was different. Today, I felt the conviction of his words. The depth of his belief."

The mention of Dooku catches your attention, and your eyes widen. Your hands clench into fists at your sides as you find yourself leaning closer to the hologram, hanging on her every word.

"Dooku has a point. He always does. If there is even a chance that the Sith are alive and well, we have to take action. But the Council is not listening. They won't even consider the possibility."

Her voice is rising, anger entering her tone, and you feel the same frustration bubbling up within yourself. You know exactly where this is going, and you have to bite back a growl as her expression darkens. 

"They're too busy worrying about their own affairs, about maintaining their positions of power, their influence over the Senate, the courts, and the public. They've forgotten their oaths, forgotten their duty."

You can feel her eyes on you now, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling exposed. She's looking right at you, her eyes piercing through the years and across time and space. 

"And they've forgotten the people they serve. We've become a broken institution, corrupt and ineffective. I can no longer abide by the Order. The time has come for me to leave. To do what I must."

You close your eyes and exhale a long breath, her words washing over you, sinking in. It's not a surprise. You'd expected it, and yet, it still hurts. There's no bitterness or anger. Only sadness.

"I'm not sure when, or if, I will return. I have much to reflect on, but one thing is clear: I can no longer stand idly by and watch this tragedy unfold," she continues, and she straightens in her seat, her expression softening. You can sense the warmth in her gaze, the pride and love she feels for you.

"As for my Padawan, I hope she will forgive me for leaving her behind. She's young and impulsive, but she has a good heart. I trust that she will find her way, no matter what path she chooses. She has always been capable of so much more than anyone gives her credit for. I can only hope that she will remain true to herself, and that her journey will bring her peace."

Her eyes shift from the camera, and she smiles faintly. You can almost see her now, the memory of her vivid and clear in your mind. Her small, wrinkled face. Her soft, kind voice.

"May the Force be with you," she whispers, and the image dies in the dark.

The room falls silent, the sound of your breathing loud in the emptiness. You stand frozen, staring at the space where Yaddle had just been. You're trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you're not sure if you're going to laugh or cry.

It's not fair. It's not fair.

You know that, but the anger, the sadness, the guilt is still there, and it hurts. The weight of it is crushing.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan offers softly, his voice far away.

You shake your head, unable to speak, and the room spins around you, your vision blurring. You pull away from him, staggering backwards and clutching your chest.

"I need to go," you choke out. You turn and walk towards the door, ignoring his calls.

You're barely aware of him following you. You're barely aware of anything except the ache in your heart, the pain that threatens to tear you apart. It's too much. Too much.

You run out of the Vault, pushing past a group of younglings, muttering an apology. You make your way through the hallways, ignoring the looks from the other Jedi, the confused and worried stares. You just need to get out. Away from the Temple, away from Obi-Wan, away from everyone.

You push the front doors open, stumbling out into the cold air, the chill biting at your skin. It doesn't stop you. You race across the courtyard, towards the entrance of the Temple. You have to get away.

But the further you run, the more the memories flood back. Her smile, her laugh, the way she would tease you. She'd always been so gentle, so patient, so understanding. The only one who had never lost faith in you.

And now, she's gone. And it's all because of him. Because of Dooku.

You stop in your tracks, breathing hard, tears streaming down your cheeks. You're furious, and you want to scream. You want to rage and throw a tantrum and curse the world for taking her away. The dark, cold rage builds inside you, filling every inch of your being, and you grit your teeth, clenching your hands into fists.

You feel Obi-Wan approaching before you see him, and you turn to face him, your eyes blazing, your hands shaking.

"No," you snap. "We're not doing this. I'm not doing this."

You start walking again, heading for the edge of the courtyard. You can feel the eyes of the temple guards and the other Jedi on you, and it only makes you angrier. How dare they look at you like that. They have no idea what it's like to lose someone like this. To have your entire world torn apart.

"Where are you going?" Obi-Wan asks, his voice strained, his concern radiating through the bond. "Slow down."

"Go away," you mutter.

"I'm not leaving," he insists, quickening his pace to keep up with you. He's trying to stay calm, but his voice is tense, worried. "Let me help you."

"Leave me alone!" you shout, spinning around and glaring at him.

Obi-Wan freezes, his eyes widening, and you feel a pang of guilt, but it doesn't last long. You can't think straight. Your emotions are overwhelming, drowning out everything else. You're angry. Sad. Scared. Confused. And you have no idea what to do with all these feelings. They're tearing you apart, ripping you to pieces.

You've always known, deep down, that this was how it was going to end. That you were going to lose her. It had always been inevitable. But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, focusing on the Force. You try to reach out and connect with it, but the energy is faint, distant, and it slips through your grasp.

"Just go," you plead, your voice cracking.

"No," he says, and he takes a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. "Not until we talk."

"I don't want to talk," you say through gritted teeth.

"I know," he replies gently. "But, you have to."

You shake your head and turn away, refusing to meet his gaze. Your whole body is shaking, and you're fighting the urge to lash out, to break something, to scream until your throat is raw.

"Talk to me," Obi-Wan coaxes, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. You stiffen, the contact making you flinch.

"Fine," you snap, pulling away from him. You spin on your heel and march away from him, heading for the gates. "You wanna talk? Let's talk."

He sighs, and you hear him running after you. You keep walking, your feet pounding against the cobblestones. You're not sure where you're going, but the idea of standing in the shadow of the Temple is more than you can bear.

You pass through the gates and head down the street, ignoring the curious glances from passersby. You're not in the mood for them. All you can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other, trying to stay calm.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asks as he falls into step beside you.

"I don't know," you admit. You stop and turn to him, your chest heaving, your fists clenched. "I don't understand."

"It's okay," he assures you. His voice is low and soothing, and you feel the tension in your shoulders relax a little. "Just breathe."

"I'm breathing," you huff, glaring at him.

"No, you're not," he retorts. He puts his hands on your arms and you bat them away, but he ignores you, gripping you firmly and holding you in place. "Take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

"Stop telling me what to do," you grumble, trying to pull free, but his hold is strong, his grip unrelenting.

"Then stop fighting me," he shoots back. He sighs, his tone softening. "Please, just breathe. That's all I'm asking."

You hesitate, then comply, inhaling slowly, the cold air burning your lungs. You let out the breath, and then another. He nods approvingly.

"Better?"

"Not really," you mutter.

"Come on," Obi-Wan says, gesturing towards a nearby bench. "Sit down."

You glare at him, but do as he says. He sits next to you, and the two of you fall into a heavy silence.

You're still fuming. Anger is coursing through your veins, making your pulse race, your muscles tense. Your leg bounces uncontrollably as you stare at the ground, trying to process what's happening.

You've had a lot of emotions since Yaddle's death. Pain, grief, guilt, regret, shame. But the anger has always been the most persistent, the hardest to let go of. It's the only thing that's kept you going, kept you fighting. It's the only thing that's made you strong.

You need it. Without it, you'd have given up long ago. Without it, you'd have fallen apart.

But now, in this moment, sitting next to Obi-Wan, surrounded by the beauty of the Temple, the serenity of the gardens, the anger is fading, leaving you empty, hollow. 

It's terrifying.

"How am I supposed to deal with this?" you ask him quietly, turning your head to look at him.

"What?" he asks, his eyes darting towards you.

"This," you clarify, gesturing between the two of you. "How do I deal with it? How do I move on? How do I keep going?"

"You're asking the wrong person," he tells you, and he looks away, staring off into the distance. "I haven't figured it out yet."

You huff a bitter laugh. "Some comfort you are."

"Sorry," he says, glancing at you. He smiles wryly. "I'm trying."

"Well, try harder," you grumble, and he chuckles, nodding.

The two of you fall silent again, and the sounds of the city wash over you. There are people shouting, laughing, talking. Vehicles whizzing past, horns blaring. The sun is starting to set, and the air is growing colder, a chill wind blowing through the streets. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.

It's peaceful. And it's strange.

The two of you have rarely spoken about her, or the loss. You've never really shared this moment together, never had the opportunity. The wound left from his initial dismissal of your suspicion was deep, and though he's apologized and you've forgiven him, since then, it's always felt like an unspoken rule between the two of you to avoid the topic altogether.

But, now, sitting here, in the quiet, it's all you can think about. The anger, the sadness, the regret. It's all too much, and you don't know what to do.

"Can I ask you a question?" Obi-Wan murmurs, looking over at you.

"I suppose," you sigh as you lean back against the bench, looking at him warily.

He turns and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," he says, his gaze narrowing. "You said it yourself. You can't go on like this. So, what do you want? What do you need?"

"I..."

You trail off, unsure of what to say. It's not a question you've ever had to answer before. It's not something that's ever mattered.

"I don't know," you admit.

"Think about it," he suggests, his tone gentle.

You look away, staring at the ground, your jaw clenching. You've spent so much time trying not to think about these things. Trying not to think about what you want, or what you need, or how you feel. It's easier that way. Safer.

But the truth is, it doesn't make you feel any better.

The truth is, the only time you actually felt better was when you told Rex the truth. When you told him everything about what happened after Yaddle's death and the reason why. When you opened yourself up to him, allowed yourself to be vulnerable. To feel.

And it helped. More than you could have imagined.

What does it mean, then? What does it mean that the only time you've actually felt better was when you weren't trying to suppress your emotions? When you were allowing yourself to experience them, to feel them?

What does it mean that the only time you've felt happy was when you were with him? When the two of you were alone, exploring the city, enjoying each other's company, forgetting about the war and the galaxy and everything else that comes with being a Jedi.

When the two of you were together, you didn't have to worry about the future. You didn't have to think about the past. You didn't have to pretend to be something you weren't. You didn't have to pretend to be anyone or anything other than yourself.

And it was the most liberating thing you'd ever experienced.

Maybe that's what you need.

Maybe that's what you want.

To feel. To be yourself. To stop pretending.

You sigh and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. The sun has set now, and the courtyard is quiet. A few birds are chirping in the trees, and the air is crisp and cool.

It's beautiful. Peaceful. And it reminds you of the day Yaddle died.

That night, the air had been cold and clear. The moon had been bright and full. You'd stood on the balcony outside your room on Naboo, staring at the stars. You'd felt the same way then. Alone. Confused. Lost.

Now, here you are again, feeling the same way. But this time, it's not the loss of Yaddle that's causing it. It's the realization that you want something. Something you can't have. Something you've never allowed yourself to even consider.

Obi-Wan shifts next to you, his expression guarded. He's waiting for an answer. An answer you're not ready to give. Not yet.

"I've never had a choice," you say instead.

It's the first time you've said it out loud. The first time you've admitted it to yourself. And it's not a lie.

The life of a Jedi is one of service. Of sacrifice. Of duty.

You've never had a choice. Never had the luxury of deciding who you want to be or what you want to do. You've always been forced to choose between the Order and yourself. Between the Jedi and your own desires.

And that's a burden no one should have to carry.

You open your eyes to find him staring back at you, his brow furrowed in concern. "There was never a chance for me. The Order took that away the second I was born."

"That's not true," he objects, shaking his head. "You have choices. You can choose what to do with your life, where to go, who to be. You have more freedom than most people."

"Yeah, I have a choice between following orders and being punished," you snort, and he frowns.

"That's not—"

"Don't," you warn. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," you insist. "You know as well as I do that this is all there is. The Order is my life. The Order is all I have. Everything else is just...not possible."

He doesn't reply, and you shake your head, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, I know you want to help," you tell him. "And I appreciate it. Really. But there's nothing you can do. This is the way it has to be. What I want doesn't matter."

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, his jaw clenching. You can feel his frustration, his helplessness. He wants to argue, to tell you that it's not true, but he knows it's useless. He knows that it's pointless. That you're right.

The two of you sit in silence, the only sound the rustling of the leaves overhead. It's getting colder, the temperature dropping quickly, and the night air is beginning to bite at your skin.

You're tired. Exhausted, really. The adrenaline has faded, the anger replaced by a deep weariness. But the idea of heading back inside, of returning to the Temple, is too much. Too soon. You don't move, and neither does Obi-Wan.

"Do you think about it?" he asks after several moments. "The life you could've had."

You huff a humorless laugh. “All the time.”

Obi-Wan starts, his head turning toward you quickly, his eyes wide. He stares at you, a shocked expression on his face. "Really?"

"What?" you ask, and you shrug. "It's true. I think about it a lot. It's impossible not to. Don’t you?”

"I used to," he admits. "Before my Knighting. Now, I try not to."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't matter," he tells you. He sighs heavily and shakes his head, running a hand over his beard. "It doesn't matter what I would've done or where I would've gone. None of it matters. Not now. What matters is who I am, and what I've done. Where I am now."

You stare at him, and you feel a pang in your chest, an ache in your heart.

"It's easy to get caught up in the past, to think about all the things we could've done differently, the choices we could've made," he continues, his voice quiet. "But the truth is, there's nothing we can do. We can't change the past. All we can do is move forward. Accept the present for what it is. Try to make the best of it."

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. They resonate with you, but a part of you wonders if they're directed at himself, if he's trying to convince himself as much as you.

"Besides, even if I had a chance at another life, I'm not sure it would be worth it," he adds.

"What do you mean?"

He looks at you, a sad smile tugging at his lips. 

"If I hadn't joined the Order, I would've never met you,” he says softly, his gaze searching yours. “I would’ve missed out on so many incredible experiences. On so much joy. So much happiness. And, selfishly, I can't imagine a world where I don't have you in my life."

"Obi-Wan," you breathe, a lump forming in your throat.

“I know,” he laughs, and you can see his cheeks turn pink. He turns away, looking out at the garden. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

You chuckle and lean closer, pressing your shoulder against his.

"Maybe not," you agree, and he lets out a snort. "But, for what it's worth, I'm glad I have you in my life, too. Even if you are a pain in my ass."

"Oh, please," he scoffs. "You love me."

"I do," you muse. You smile and close your eyes, enjoying the moment. The silence stretches on, comfortable and familiar, and you let out a contented sigh. Obi-Wan leans against you, resting his head on yours, and the two of you remain like that, sitting side by side, lost in thought.

After several minutes, he speaks.

"Earlier, when I asked you what you want," he says quietly, breaking the silence. "I was hoping you'd tell me the truth."

You shift, leaning back and looking at him. His eyes are closed, his expression thoughtful.

"What are you talking about?" you ask.

"I think we both know what I'm talking about," he says. He opens his eyes and turns to you, a sad smile on his face. "You deserve to be happy, and I want that for you. If that means stepping aside, if that means letting go, I will."

You stare at him, your eyes widening, a knot forming in your stomach. You swallow hard and look away, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Obi-Wan," you start, but he holds up a hand.

"No, let me finish," he insists. He takes a deep breath, and then continues. "I care about you. More than you know. And, if the war wasn't happening, if we were just two people, living normal lives, I would ask you to be mine. Because you deserve a chance at a real life. You deserve to be loved."

Your chest tightens, and your throat burns. Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away, shaking your head.

"But, as things are, that's not an option," he continues. He turns his attention back to the garden, his voice soft. "I don't know how this will end, but I do know one thing: it's going to hurt. Whether we win or lose, whether we survive or not, it's going to hurt. So, whatever choice you make, just...don't wait. Don't waste any more time. You deserve happiness, and I want you to have it."

"You can't ask me to do that," you say, your voice strained.

"I can, and I am," he replies, turning back to you. "You know I'm right. There's no sense in dragging this out."

"What about you?" you ask, your eyes searching his. "You deserve happiness, too."

"I know," he nods. He gives you a rueful smile. "But, that's not up to me. I can't choose who I fall in love with. But, I can choose to put your needs above my own. And, right now, I think that's the best thing for both of us."

You stare at him, your eyes stinging, your throat aching. He's right. He's always right.

"Before," you start. "With the Council..."

"Yes," Obi-Wan sigh, rubbing his beard. "They're concerned. And, they're right to be. They've noticed the way I've been acting lately. The way we've been acting. I don't know what they'll do if it continues, but I suspect it won't be good."

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

"It's not your fault," he assures you, and his expression is serious. "We were careless. Both of us. We've always known it could never last, and yet, we let ourselves get carried away."

"You were a little more careless than I was," you point out, and his cheeks turn red.

"I'll admit, I may have been a bit reckless," he admits sheepishly. "But, you were the one who started the whole thing."

"I did not!"

"Oh, please," Obi-Wan scoffs, and a smirk plays on his lips. "You were all over me the first time. Don't think I didn't notice."

"You're the one who kissed me," you retort, and his smirk grows.

"And it was a good kiss," he declares. He nudges you with his elbow. "You have to admit, you enjoyed it."

"Fine," you grumble. "It was a good kiss. Satisfied?"

"Yes," he chuckles.

You roll your eyes, and the two of you share a laugh. The tension eases, and a heavy weight lifts from your shoulders. You hadn't realized just how much pressure had been building, how much you'd been carrying around. You'd always known it wouldn't last. Always known there would be consequences. But, hearing him say it, admitting the truth, somehow makes it easier.

"So, where does this leave us?" you ask.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," he sighs. He leans back against the bench and gazes at the stars, his brows furrowing. "We're still friends. That hasn't changed. And, I still care about you. More than I should. But, whatever this is, whatever it could have been it's over. For both of our sakes."

You nod, biting your cheek, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. "And the bond?"

"We can still use it," he replies. "But, we have to be careful. No more emotional outbursts. No more impulsive decisions. We need to keep our distance."

"Yeah," you sigh. You look at him and smile. "I'll try. No promises, though."

"No," he chuckles, and he returns your smile, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I didn't think so."

The two of you sit together for a while longer, talking, laughing, reminiscing. It's good, and it's exactly what you need. A reminder of who you are, of who he is, of the relationship the two of you have shared for so long. It's comforting. Familiar.

When the air turns cold and your teeth begin to chatter, you decide to head inside, back to the warmth and safety of the Temple. Obi-Wan walks with you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, a smile on his face.

As the two of you reach the entrance, he stops and pulls you into a hug, holding you close.

"Whatever happens," he whispers in your ear. "I'm here for you."

"Even if..." You trail off, thinking of Rex, and he nods, giving you a knowing look.

"Even if," he promises, and his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. You hug him back, burying your face in his shoulder. The two of you stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other's embrace, and a wave of relief washes over you. It's not the same. It's not the same, and it's never going to be. But, it's enough.

You pull back and look up at him, a smile on your lips. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he tells you. He releases you, stepping back and placing his hands on your shoulders. "You'll always be important to me. No matter what."

"And you're important to me," you reply. "Even if we're not together, we'll always be family."

"Always."

"I'm sorry," you add.

"Me, too," he says, his expression pained. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I don't know what I was thinking. This was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. We should've—"

"Obi-Wan," you cut him off. "It's not your fault. We were both to blame. And, for what it's worth, I don't regret it. Not for a second."

"Neither do I," he murmurs, and his eyes meet yours, his gaze soft and affectionate. "It was good while it lasted."

"Yes," you agree, and the two of you exchange a small, sad smile.

You look away, your gaze drifting towards the sky. You watch the clouds drift across the horizon, and your eyes trace the lines of the buildings, the speeders, the faint glow of the stars. It's so beautiful, so peaceful. 

You’ve never felt more at home anywhere than you have on Coruscant, for all its flaws and problems. This is where you belong. This is where you were meant to be. And, even if you can never have everything you want, you have this.

"Are you going to tell him?" Obi-Wan asks, drawing your attention back to him.

"No," you answer without hesitation. "He doesn't need to know. It wouldn't change anything."

He frowns. "You don't know that."

"No, I don't," you agree. "But, I can't. I can't do that to him. He deserves better."

Obi-Wan studies you for a moment, then nods, his expression serious. "You're a good person."

"So are you," you reply. You take a deep breath, and you step back, moving out of his grasp. "I should go. It's getting late."

"Yes," he agrees. He reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, and his eyes search yours, his brow creased in concern. "Will you be alright?"

"I think so," you tell him. You force a smile and shrug. "Eventually."

He smiles sadly and releases your shoulder, and you turn, heading back into the Temple. You can feel his eyes on you, his worry, his guilt. It's a struggle not to look back, not to break. But, somehow, you manage. You keep moving, and eventually, the weight of his gaze fades, replaced by the comforting hum of the Force.

It's a comfort, but it's not enough. You know it never will be.

Still, it's better than nothing. It's better than being alone.

And, for now, that's all that matters.

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[ahdraftingco]

Oneshot: Trouble

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x Innocent!Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44157645

Summary: Ellie's gone. She ran away a while ago, after she discovered Joel's lie. It was a lie he had to make for his own sake because he couldn't handle losing her but still, he lost her. Now, he walks the wasteland alone, searching for purpose…and that's when he stumbles onto you. A bright, young woman who had gotten through the worst of it without losing her innocence to a world gone mad. If only you knew what was in store for you now that Joel has found a new person to latch onto…

Word Count: 8.2k+

A/N: As always, please read through ALL the warnings before proceeding: porn with plot, dead dove: do not eat (this story is not for the faint of heart so don't say i didn't warn ya), borderline non-con, dark!joel miller, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, age gap, use of the word "daddy"/"baby girl", bondage, forced orgasms, gunplay, praise kink, somnophilia, size difference, genuine fear/peril, death threats, cum play, rough sex, sexual coercion, squirting, breeding kink (unprotected piv, possible pregnancy/pregnancy talk), angst, mentions of violence, degradation, references to death

This fic will contain spoilers to TLOU Part One, so if you haven't played the game, please be aware that I will be referencing canon events. Hope you enjoy the sinister Joel I've made up and yes, I did based the physical description off Pedro Pascal's portrayal of Joel ~ ♡

It's been months since Ellie left Joel. He had gone out to look for supplies, since she had been sick. It wasn't until he got back and saw that she had taken up everything she could carry that he realized it had all been an act to let his guard down.

He had thought they were past what had happened at the hospital, since it's been almost five years, but the truth is…he knew what he had done was unforgivable. She was the cure. She wanted to die for the cause. She knew what she had to do but he was the one who wasn't ready to let her go.

This is the price he will pay for it.

It breaks Joel down more and more every day that passes as he scavenges the east coast, hoping he'll find clues of Ellie's whereabouts somewhere. Though, he taught her well, which meant he was almost certain she'd be hard to find.

If she's smart, which he knows she is, Ellie would've made it to the north before the winter began. That way, there's no chance of Joel ever catching up to her in the snow.

With a heavy sigh, Joel makes his trek up the state highway, weaving through abandoned cars. He'll be in New York soon. There once was a station there, but it quickly grew overcrowded and fell soon after.

Not enough food for people to eat, not enough protection for people to survive.

The infected would be roaming in the city, but Joel knew to avoid the densely populated areas. He didn't want trouble.

And yet, trouble always finds him.

Trouble had a name this time. Your name, though he didn't know it just yet.

Instead, as he watches you from a distance, Joel calls you baby girl in his mind, seeing how much younger you were than him. It was obvious you were older than Ellie though. You were an adult, a young one, but an adult all the same. It makes him wonder how you ended up here all alone.

You're humming to yourself, as if the thought of a threat nearby didn't phase you. It's a song he has heard before. Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks. He can almost hear the guitar riff, but it wasn't anything he could play.

However, at this moment, he wished he could.

Seeing you happily whispering the lyrics to yourself as you take down your laundry fills Joel with a kind of desire that taints his soul. It's dark and twisted, the way he wants to bottle up your joy and keep it all for himself.

How could you be so carefree in a world gone mad? It's as if no one has ever hurt you before.

Maybe…you didn't even know the infected existed.

That's impossible, but it looks like you're completely self-sufficient. You have a lake house and he can see the fishing equipment. You also have a garden with rotating crops that are growing well despite the incoming winter.

Who taught you to live life like this?

Peaceful, alone, without a care.

Joel is almost…disappointed. He'd imagine if anyone else had stumbled upon you, you'd be taken easily. You were like the easiest prey for a hungry predator, since you were clueless to the danger you could be in.

It makes Joel want to protect you…but it also makes him want to own you. There's an insatiable need to show you how much you need him to keep you safe, from people just like him.

So, that's exactly what he's going to do. Joel will make you his. He will weave himself into your life until you can't possibly live without him anymore.

That way, you'd never leave him like Ellie did…

❅❅❅❅❅

Today's catch went swimmingly, as it always does. You reeled in enough to have extra to dry into tasty jerky. Winter is approaching and you start to see your breath in the air, knowing that a storm is brewing. You'll have to start chopping some more firewood to store in the basement in case it's an extra cold winter. The temperature has been dropping every passing year, while the summers have gotten hotter.

You're thankful you won't have to think about summer preparations right now. Having to deal with those forest fires took up so much of your time. Winter is destructive as well, but at least it requires you to stay in instead of slave away all day.

Another winter alone, though. You let out a sigh at the thought. How long has it been since everyone you loved passed away?

You're tired of burying people…

Last month, you had to clean up the house a few miles down the lake. You hated having to do it, but your parents taught you well. The moment someone died, you needed to put them out of their misery or they'd fester and become worse creatures than the resurrected undead.

So, you put a bullet in their head and dug a grave for them. Then, you would spend hours rummaging through their house for any supplies before giving it a good thorough cleaning. It was your way of laying them to rest.

You'll miss that man though. Neither of you exchanged names, but you would trade fish for some of his pepper plants. Sometimes, he'd have canned goods for you that he had made himself. You still have some in your basement now. That'll help for the winter.

All these thoughts help you get through deboning your catch. You light up your wood fire stove so you can make a serving of stew and start the dehydrating process. It isn't until everything is in the pot that you register the rustling outside.

Is that the wind or…no, it can't be.

No one ever comes around these parts. It's so hidden by the trees that only an experienced person would think someone lives out here. That's sort of why your parents bought this house. It was secluded in the best kind of way, which aided a lot when everything went to shit. You were born here, raised here and will likely die here.

However, you weren't expecting that day to come so soon. Whoever is out there…they won't hurt you, will they? Your nerves heighten as you walk towards your door, debating if you should grab your gun.

You don't, because the person knocks.

It's a gentle knock, just three light taps. You calm down a little at that. You figure if it was a malicious person, they'd just break down your door. You haven't ever encountered a malicious person before, since you try not to believe everyone is bad. The people you know have all been kind, despite everything.

You hope this person will be the same.

So, you open your door and…

"Hello there." The older man at your doorstep says in his southern accent. "I was just passing through and I noticed you had a fire going. I don't mean to bother, but would it be alright for me to spend the night here, away from the cold?"

You look the man up and down. He doesn't seem like a threat, though he does have a rifle on his back and a pistol tucked at his belt. He's wearing a brown jacket with a flannel underneath along with several other layers that look like they're getting soaked through from the light snow that's starting already. He has a patchy beard with some grays in it along with soft brown hair that matches his eyes.

The man doesn't look intimidating, besides the weapons he's carrying.

So, you do what your parents had always done when people stumbled upon your little house and tell him, "you can stay the night if you agree to bury your weapons somewhere outside. There's a shovel out back. Choose any spot away from my garden, please."

"I will happily take that offer, thank you." His voice is smooth and gentle, so you ease up a little as you watch him leave to go fulfill your request.

The man returns later with just his bag and as a show of faith, he empties it at the doorstep so you can see what he has in it. You notice how few supplies he has, so you sift through your cabinets for some spare canned goods.

"You can have these." You bring them to him. "I've got plenty."

"You're very kind." He gives you a brief smile before taking the cans from you. "Are you always this welcoming to strangers?"

"I wouldn't call you a stranger. You're simply a traveler passing through. Nothing strange about that in our world."

You quickly leave after you say that to give him a change of clothes, since his are soaked and the spare in his bag doesn't look very warm.

"Would you like to use my bath?" You ask, pointing over at the bathroom down the hall. "I haven't heated any water, so it'll be a minute, but you can take a nice, warm bath if you'd like."

"That sounds wonderful." He seems pleased with your offer. "You're a very good girl, treating me with such hospitality."

"We all deserve some normalcy." You leave him with those words so you can go start the fire for the bath water.

It takes around half an hour to boil enough water in intervals, since your stove is quite small and you can only carry so much water at a time. Though, the man, who lets you know that his name is Joel, helps with that, lugging the pot of water back and forth for you until the tub is filled. You tell him to take his time and that dinner will be ready whenever he's done.

When Joel finishes his bath, he meets you in the kitchen and you pour him a bowl of stew, which you invite him to eat by the fire. You've already eaten your portion so you opt to spend time organizing stock since the storm is coming in stronger than you anticipated. You haven't harvested your winter vegetables yet and you should probably do that now before they get buried.

"Something on your mind?" That southern accent sounds close now and you look up to see Joel standing beside you, empty bowl in his hand. "Thanks for the stew, it was delicious."

You smile, taking it from him so you can quickly wipe it clean and set it aside. Then, you answer his question with a light sigh, "I didn't expect the snow to start falling so quickly. I need to go out and salvage what I can from my garden before I'm snowed in."

"Can I help with that?" Joel offers and you shake your head.

"I can't ask you to do that. You just bathed, plus you're my guest."

"I can always bathe again. You shouldn't be out there alone right now. Let me help." His voice has this tinge of leadership in it that makes you want to follow him, so you eventually agree.

"Alright. In exchange, you can have some of the harvest." You make him a deal.

"Can I ask for something else?" Joel catches you by surprise with that. "Would it be okay if I stayed here until the storm ended?"

"Oh…" He's right. If the storm has started already, he'd be stranded out there if you kicked him out tomorrow.

But, is it really smart to spend an entire storm with a man you've just met?

You can't let him trek through the storm though, so you tell him, "if you help me with some repairs around the house, then you can stay as long as you'd like."

"I'd like that." His smile makes your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the evening is spent shoveling snow and pulling out as many vegetables as you and Joel can carry back and forth to the house before the storm gets significantly worse. You're both soaked head to toe and you're freezing once you both get back into the house. The fire isn't going to warm you up, so you'll definitely need a bath. But, you don't want Joel to get sick, so you offer to have him bathe first, but he declines, since you need to too.

"One of us is going to get sick waiting to bathe." You tell him as you start boiling the water for the bath.

"Then why don't we bathe together?"

Your ears must have been deceiving you and you turn to Joel, who is peeling off his soaked outer layer. He doesn't seem phased at all by what he just said but you're flustered.

"H-how would that work?" You're suddenly feeling warm all over, despite your shivering.

"It'll be like sharing a hot tub." He says with a chuckle. "Just keep your underwear on. I can keep my shirt on too, if you're more comfortable that way."

Now you're embarrassed for a whole other reason. Why did you just assume he meant getting into the bath with him naked? There's no way he'd ask that of you and you feel bad that you even thought such a thing.

"That would work. You don't have to keep your shirt on, but I think I will." You're too shy to be that bare in front of him, but keeping your shirt and underwear on is fine. He doesn't say anything else about it as you both start prepping the bath once again.

When it's ready, you realize there's another problem with this scenario. It's not all that big of a bath. How would you both fit?

"You'll just have to sit between my legs." Joel tells you while he strips. "I'll get in first and guide you into a comfortable position."

You let him take the lead, though you turn away when he pulls off his shirt and don't turn back until you hear him get into the bath. Then, you strip as quickly as you can, leaving yourself in just your shirt and underwear. Joel puts his hand out and you take it, letting him help you in. He has you sitting between his legs, with your back against his chest, and…it's oddly nice.

The bath water is very warm and your shirt rises a little since there's air under it, so you try your best to smooth it out, though that doesn't help much.

"Do you want to take it off?" Joel asks you, his warm breath tickling the back of your ear.

"I…" You would but… "I'm not wearing anything underneath."

You aren't the biggest fan of bras. They're only good when you're exercising or doing some heavy lifting and don't want your breasts to get in the way. So, you don't wear them regularly unless you feel the need to.

"I won't look." He rests his chin on your head. "I'll keep my eyes up so you can get comfy."

That would be nice. It's odd how easy things are around Joel because you feel like you can trust him to do as he says, so you opt to pull off your shirt, tossing it aside. It hits the floor, the wet sound echoing through the room. You adjust yourself so that your breasts are submerged beneath the water and when you tilt your head up, Joel has his lifted to the ceiling, not stealing any glances at you.

Though, it wasn't his eyes you should've been worried about. You hadn't noticed where his hands were resting until you felt one of them slide up to cup your breast and the other slips down into your underwear. You're about to say something but then Joel rolls his thumb over your nipple and you can't stop the light moan that leaves your lips at the sudden sensation.

"Does that feel good, baby girl?" He whispers right into your ear with such sultry affection. "Do you want daddy to keep touching you like this?"

Before you can reply, Joel presses a finger against your entrance and forces his way into you, making you gasp. Your toes curl when his finger does, filling you up so much out of nowhere. It's nothing like when you touch yourself and in combination with his other hand teasing your breasts, you can't hold in the soft whimpers from how good it feels.

You need to tell him to stop, but then he thrusts another finger inside of you and you cry out from how much he's stretching you out. You've never been this full before.

"You're so tight." That word lingers in the air and you're getting dizzy from his seductive tone. "Has no one ever touched you before?"

You shake your head, not knowing why you're able to answer him but not able to tell him to stop…

"Are you telling me this is all mine?" He pushes up against a spot inside of you with his fingers that makes your whole body shiver in reaction. "You're sucking me in, baby girl. I'm jealous of my own fingers."

There's so many questions you want to ask him, like why he's doing this to you and why it feels good even though you shouldn't want a random man you just met to touch you, but none of those questions can be asked when every breath you take is stolen by a moan or whimper.

Something's building inside of you, that tension you've only felt on occasion when you've been bored and masturbated. However, this is even more intense than those times, because you're not the one setting the pace.

Joel is aggressive with his touch, fingering you at a pace you wouldn't be able to. Then, every now and then, he spreads them, reminding you of how big his fingers are as they stretch you out.

You're on the cusp of your orgasm and that scares you.

Why are you about to cum from this?

Why aren't you stopping him!

"Don't hold it in." He urges you to let go. "Cum for your daddy."

You're not my—you can't seem to finish your own thoughts because he's forcing your orgasm onto you, his fingers ruthlessly grinding against that spot inside of you that makes you cum hard. You're thankful you're in the bath right now because you swore, you squirted for the first time. You've never came that much before, tears streaming down your eyes from the intensity of it.

The pleasure sears every inch of your skin, making it hotter than before and the steam from the bath isn't helping your mind calm down. You're getting lost in that daze and it's not ending.

Especially not when Joel keeps going and he adds another finger, spreading you wide open. You're gasping for air from how filled you feel and he must not like that because he takes his other hand and shoves his fingers into your mouth. You gag on them, not expecting to have his fingers invade your mouth, but he doesn't care that you feel that way.

Instead, he goes, "be a good girl and enjoy yourself."

You wonder how you're supposed to enjoy yourself when your mouth is as full as your pussy is but soon enough, you understand. Every moan you want to make is forced back down your throat by his fingers and it's hard to breathe like this but that just causes your body to tense up more around his fingers. They're hitting you so deep inside that you're going to cum again all too quickly.

You try to tell him to stop but your words come out all gurgled up from the saliva pooling up in your mouth since his fingers are playing with your tongue. You're practically drooling and you try to swallow, but that means you have to suck on his fingers to do so, which only riles him up more.

"That's good practice, baby girl." He encourages you to keep doing that to prepare yourself for something else. "I can't wait to bury my cock in this pretty little mouth and your tight wet pussy."

You're on the verge of tears again and you don't know if it's out of fear or arousal as you get closer and closer to your next orgasm. You don't want his cock anywhere near you but you realize then that he's been pressing his hard cock up against your back this whole time. If you thought his fingers filled you up, you were certain his cock would break you.

You start to panic, trying to shove his arm away from you so he can stop fingering you but that only angers him. So, Joel retaliates by pulling his fingers out of your mouth and wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing it hard.

"Don't make me kill you." He threatens and you go completely still. "I don't want to, but if you keep misbehaving, I will."

"Please…" You sob out of pure fear. "Don't hurt me."

"I would never want to hurt you. You're my precious girl, so don't make me do anything I don't want to, okay?" He lightens his hold on your neck then and you inhale as much air as you can, trying to find your composure. "You're going to cum for me again and then I'm going to take you to bed. Understood?"

You don't want to say it but he'll kill you if you don't so you nod and tell him, "I understand."

"Address me correctly when you're talking to me." His fingers press into your neck, as a little warning.

You swallow your nerves then go, "I understand, daddy."

"Good girl. Daddy likes it when you listen." He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, changing his tone all too easily. "Now, let me spoil my baby girl."

You brace yourself as his fingers curl their way back inside of you, going much more gently this time. Strangely, it's not enough to get you close. His pace is too slow, too soft, and you're trembling from how much you want him to be rougher with you.

"Say what you want." It's like he can read your thoughts. "Tell me and I'll do it for you."

You shouldn't say anything but your body is craving that feeling too much, so you give in and say, "more, please. I want more."

"Do you want me to go faster?" He asks as he does exactly that and you nod profusely. He suddenly slows though, so you know what you have to do.

"Yes, daddy, please go faster." You say what he wants to hear and he ramps up the speed again, giving you what you need. "Please don't stop, I'm so close…"

"I want to see it." Joel growls in your ear before you hear a pop and the plug in the tub is no longer in place. The water suddenly drains out rapidly and you stiffen at the cold air hitting your warm skin. "You better cum a lot for me."

You don't know what he means until he starts to move his fingers side by side inside of you and you squirt uncontrollably, screaming from how forceful he is at drawing your orgasm out of you. You can't think straight because you can't stop cumming, every orgasm gushing out of you against your will.

"Stop!" You shout because it's too much, you're too sensitive now and you're going to pass out. "I keep cumming, I keep–"

"That's good." He slowly corrupts you. "You want to keep cumming. You want to drown in the pleasure only I can give you. Enjoy it, baby girl."

And you do.

You hate how much you end up enjoying it, bathing in such bliss. It consumes you completely…and you faint somewhere along the way. You've never felt so good before. Your body can't handle it and you pass out from the high…

❅❅❅❅❅

Joel dries your hair for you while you're unconscious. He likes how peaceful you look, having fallen asleep to the orgasms he gave you. He wants you to look like this everyday and he'll make sure it happens.

A sweet girl like you deserves to be treated well.

Maybe that's why he can't resist touching you in your sleep. Joel watches as your chest begins to rise and fall more and more with every gentle stroke of his fingers. You're getting so wet for him now. He wonders what you're dreaming of and if he's in it.

He'd like to be. He wants you to only think of him. He's the only one that you need. He's the only one that matters. No one else will take you from him.

Joel refuses to make the same mistake twice. He loved Ellie like a daughter, raising her to be a strong woman. A woman strong enough to leave him in the dust because of a lie he made.

So, he has to be more careful with you. You're malleable, he's certain of that. You'll need some persuading, but you'll listen to him. First, out of fear, but eventually, out of love.

All he needs to do is tie you to him the only way he knows will work…by making you fall for him.

❅❅❅❅❅

It isn't until you wake that you realize your body is still heated from all the orgasms. You're aching from the waist down and you wonder why…until you see Joel between your legs, his tongue dragging up and down your pussy like he's starved for your taste.

How long has he been…you can't even formulate the sentence because he flicks your clit with his tongue and you squirt just a little from how overstimulated you are. A whimper leaves your lips because of it that draws Joel's attention to you and he smiles, happy to see you awake.

"How did you sleep?" His voice is so eerily calm…

You're unsure of how to answer that, so you ask back, "did you sleep?"

He nods. "I slept great, holding you in my arms."

"How long have I been asleep?" You're confused…

"A little over two days."

Your eyes widen at his words. Have you really been passed out for that long?

"Why are you down there?" If you've been asleep, why is he touching you?

"I needed to make sure whenever you were awake that you'd be nice and ready for me." He teases your entrance with three of his fingers before slipping each one inside of you slowly.

You brace yourself, expecting for the sudden stretch to hurt but…it doesn't. His fingers feel thick inside of you, but it's not anything you can't handle.

What did he do to you while you were asleep…

"You're almost ready for me, baby girl." His thumb presses lightly on your clit when he says that, sending shivers through you. "I've opened you up as best I could."

"Please, Joel…" You plead to him. "I don't want this."

"Your body says otherwise." He tells you as he curls his fingers and you nearly cum just from that. "See, you want this. Why are you running from it?"

"You're not giving me a choice." He's throwing himself at you and you're unable to stop him.

"I did give you a choice." Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the safety of your pistol flick off and Joel presses the barrel against your bare chest, right where your heart is. You only notice then that you're completely naked. "Either I kill you, or you enjoy my touch. I had assumed you'd chosen the latter, but if I'm wrong…"

His finger hovers over the trigger and you shake your head profusely, not wanting to die like this, not when his fingers are still teasing your insides. It's unbearable, the weight of the gun on your chest while his fingertips drag along that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

So, you succumb to the scenario you've found yourself in, "you're not wrong. I want this. I'll enjoy myself. I promise."

"Then, cum." He commands, keeping the gun steady on your chest. "Show me you're being honest."

You bite your lip and choke back your own dignity as you grind your hips against his hand, thrusting his fingers inside of you the way you need them to. You gasp when he starts to follow your rhythm, pushing you closer to the edge. It's a great distraction, because you barely notice the way he's trailing the pistol up your chest, but you're well aware of it when it brushes against your lips, forcing you to part them open.

Before you can beg him not to, Joel rests the barrel of the pistol in your mouth, the cold metal coating every one of your taste buds. You gag a little when he drags it against your tongue, but you can't focus on it while his fingers are inside of you. Tears start to stream from your eyes out of sheer terror and the most warped and frightening smile curves on Joel's face the moment he sees you.

That's when he undoes the safety of the pistol yet again and rests his finger on the trigger, his voice more menacing than ever as he goes, "cum for me right now or I'll blow your brains out, baby girl."

Every muscle in your body tightens at the threat and that's all it takes for the tension in your body to explode. You can't tell if you're screaming or moaning as your orgasm ripples through you violently, locking up every sense with nothing but pleasure. You can't feel, you can't see, you can't think.

All you can do is cum because that's what he wants from you.

Relief washes over you when Joel pulls the gun out of your mouth and tucks it away behind his back. His fingers release you from their hold and an empty feeling is tainting your mind. You've been so full for so long that it feels…wrong to be hollow.

How much has he corrupted you? How long is he going to stay until you're exactly what he needs you to be?

His baby girl…

You need to get out of here. You need to run. You need to fight Joel for your life back because you can't be his.

And yet, you can't find it in yourself to shove him away.

Not when he's whispering so softly to you, "good girl, that must've felt great. Let me make you feel even better now."

It isn't until you feel the tip of his cock press against your pussy that you snap back to the reality of it all. You're going to have your first time right now and he's going to fuck you raw.

The last bit of rationality courses through you as you plead, "please, don't do this. I don't have any condoms, I don't want to–"

"It's okay, darlin'." His southern accent sends shivers down your spine. "This is what you were meant for. This is what your body craves. Just let it happen and I'll take care of you."

You claw at his chest the moment he starts to force his way inside of you, his cock stretching you out more than his fingers did. You've never felt this kind of pressure before as he opens you up with every thrust. He doesn't like that you're trying to fight him, so the next time you shove at him, he smacks you right across the face. You gasp at the feeling and he pushes more of himself inside your swollen pussy then, smiling.

"You're so tight and yet you're taking every inch of me." Joel suddenly grabs you by your hair, pulling you forward so you can stare at the way his cock is slowly disappearing inside of you. "Almost there, just a bit more."

"Let me go." You cry out, wanting him to take his hand out of your hair. "Please, it hurts."

"Grab onto the headboard and I will." He makes you a deal and you listen, wrapping your hands around the metal.

His hand leaves your hair, letting your head drop back onto your pillow, and you relax just a bit. It doesn't last though, not when he pulls out a piece of fabric from his pocket and binds your wrists.

"Now, hold on tight, baby girl." His hands rest at your hips now, gripping your flesh. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

You don't understand what he means until he pulls his cock out of you and rams it back inside, hilting all of a sudden. He's too deep, too big and all too much for you.

You try to say something but he raises his hand at you before you can, instructing, "if you want to speak, you better address me correctly or I will have to teach you a lesson."

You swallow at his threat, your throat going dry. Goosebumps rise on your skin and you're scared to say anything but you want him to be gentle. He'll break you if he keeps being this rough.

So, you stuff your pride away and beg, "please go slowly, daddy."

His smile softens then, liking how you've listened, and he rewards you by rolling his hips, letting you get used to him being inside of you, grinding himself back and forth against every spot that makes your pussy tingle.

It's starting to feel good and that's frightening because you're biting back your whimpers. You can't enjoy this. It's wrong. He's taking you by force and yet your body is desperate enough to meet him halfway, wanting more.

"Does my baby girl enjoy being fucked?" Joel adjusts a bit so that he can thrust upwards into you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "Tell me you do."

You keep your mouth shut, not wanting to say a word, and he doesn't like that at all. So, when you're right at the cusp of your orgasm, he pulls out of you, leaving you struggling against your restraints.

"If you want it, say it." He starts to rub his hard cock against your pussy, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of it. It's torture because it's not enough to get you there.

You need more. You need him inside of you.

Joel takes his time to torment you, dipping into you just a bit before pulling out, dropping his cock over and over again on your pussy, rubbing circles around your clit.

Eventually, you can't handle the denial anymore so you cave and go, "please fuck me. I want to cum."

"Say it again." He wants you to embarrass yourself further and your skin burns from it.

"I want to cum. Please fuck me. I need you, daddy." You add on, hoping that's enough.

It is, because the moment he thrusts inside of you, you cum. You cum all over his cock and he rewards you by fucking you harder, making your orgasm even more intense. You're gasping for air because it doesn't seem to stop. You're throbbing inside and every thrust sends such waves of pleasure through you.

"You're milking my cock so well." He praises you. "Someone's desperate for my cum."

Your eyes widen when you realize he must be close from the way he's pumping into you and you panic, "please cum outside, don't cum in me."

"How am I supposed to cum outside when you're not letting me go?" He tries to pull out but your pussy is gripping onto him too tightly.

"No, don't, please." You can't get pregnant. You can't have a baby with a man you've just met. You can't…but he won't let you decide otherwise.

"You'll feel so much better once you're all filled up." Joel reassures you in the worst way possible. "Soon, you'll beg for it."

There's no way you would. Why would you ever want such a thing?

"Enjoy it." He says sweetly to you, looking at you with such affection. "We won't be able to fuck much when you're pregnant, so it's best to make every time count."

You want to ask why he wants you of all people, a random girl he met in the middle of the woods in the winter, but you're certain he won't have an answer. Perhaps this was all just bad timing and even worse luck.

It doesn't feel like much at first, when he finishes inside of you. It's hot and it spills out of you when he pulls away. Joel takes his time, pushing as much cum as he can back inside of you. You hate the orgasms you have from that simple action.

It isn't until the second time that it feels…primal. You can't explain it, but when he's fucking you like a feral animal, you find yourself leaning into it. Your body isn't in tune with your mind anymore. It's not listening to your pleas because it knows it feels good to be taken by him. He never hurts you unless you do something he doesn't like, which is rare. He only ever wants you to feel pleasure.

Days go by of this, of just…constant breeding. You will sleep, then wake up, fuck, have breakfast, fuck, have lunch, fuck, do house chores then fuck in the shower afterwards, then eat dinner which always ends with you bend over the dining table because you're the meal he's actually hungry for. This cycle repeats until you get your period.

The disappointment on Joel's face stings. It's like you failed him. You couldn't give him what he wanted. You don't like the feeling…but a tiny voice in your head reminds you that you shouldn't want to please him anyways.

During your period, Joel teaches you how to suck his cock, since he can't fuck you. As a reward for learning, he caters to you, helping you with your cramps, rubbing your belly when it aches, cuddling you like you're the love of his life. It's…jarring, to say the least. You'll go from him fucking your face to him caressing your back and whispering sweet words to you.

Run. That tiny voice yells into the abyss that is your mind right now. Run far away from here.

You want to listen but…where would you go? You grew up here. You don't know anywhere else. This is your home and he's the intruder.

An intruder who's making himself at home.

"Does your stomach still hurt?" Joel asks because you've tensed up against him, your thoughts influencing your nerves.

"A little." You lean into his chest, not because you want to, but because he's warm and the winter has been cold. "I'll be okay."

"You'll always be okay, baby girl." He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, taking in a long breath before saying, "I'll keep you safe."

Safe from who? You wonder, because you aren't safe from him…

❅❅❅❅❅

Another month passes and you're late. You counted the days, mainly because Joel made you, and you're late. You've never been late before, which can only mean…

"We won't know for sure, but we can find out." You suggest. "There's a convenience store a few miles up. There's no food there, but there's plenty of pregnancy tests. I remember seeing them."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, hoping he'll take the bait. Please say yes.

You need to get him away from your house. You need to kill him but you can't do it here. You need to do it somewhere he isn't familiar with.

A place where you know a gun is hidden.

"Better to be sure." Joel agrees to the trip. "But you're coming with me."

"Okay." You knew you'd have to. "I'd like to walk with you. It's a nice hike, now that the snow has melted."

The rest of the day is spent preparing for the day trip. When it's finally time to sleep, you're surprised to feel Joel's cock harden behind you as he spoons you. He rubs himself against you and you hate how your body reacts to it, leaning into the feeling.

"Just to be sure." He whispers to you and you know what he means. He doesn't have to say much else.

You feel him nudge you until you're on your hands and knees and he's situated behind you, pulling down your pajama pants. Joel lines his cock up at your entrance and in one single motion, he fills you to the very brim. You can't hold in your moan, not when his body is pressing down onto you, engulfing you completely as he starts to pound into you.

"How does it feel to be mine, my sweet baby girl?" He asks, his hips meeting your ass perfectly.

"So good." You don't lie because you know it'll be the last time you do this with him. "Please don't stop, daddy."

"Never." He says, grabbing you by your hair so that he can kiss the back of your head. "I wouldn't dream of letting you go."

With his hand still in your hair, Joel continues to fuck you from behind, tugging you back to meet him. His lips on yours are sloppy, but you kiss him back, feeling connected with him on all levels. Your body moves against his in perfect harmony and you drown in the moment

It isn't until he whispers the words "I love you" that your heart pinches just a bit, remembering the reality. You're going to kill him tomorrow, this man who loves you in a sick and twisted way.

"Fill me up." You whisper back, giving him something else, since you can't give him your love. "I need you, Joel."

That's enough for him to finish inside of you, the heat spilling into you in waves. His cock pulses inside of you for a few moments before he pulls out and lays back beside you.

You go back to the way you were laying before, and he spoons you to sleep. You wonder what it'll feel like to sleep alone, now that you've slept with someone for this long.

You're going to miss it…maybe even him too…

❅❅❅❅❅

Now that the snow has thawed, the ground is much less muddy. You still had to wear your boots, which aren't uncomfortable but they're harder to run in. You don't think you'll need to run but…you want to stay prepared.

Joel tells you a bit more about himself on the walk to the convenience store. You're unsure if you want to know more about the man you're about to kill, but you can't refuse him, so you listen.

You don't expect him to tell you about Sarah…but now everything makes sense. Perhaps, he's been waiting for a chance to make things right. To raise a child who won't end up dying in his arms and leaving him forever.

You clutch your stomach when he's not looking, scared of your own mind. Scared that the tiny voice in your head is now whispering guilty thoughts…

You can't. It's not reasonable to have a child in a world like this. Especially not with a man like him.

You say that, but Joel has warped you in a different way. You won't lie and say you won't miss him when he's gone. It's hard not to miss someone you've spent the last two months getting to know in more intimate ways than two normal strangers would.

As a war breaks out in your mind, you and Joel get to the convenience store. The front glass is shattered, but it's always been like that. Looters at the very beginning of it all broke it, which is why there's moss going on the shards that were left behind. That's what your parents told you.

You miss them more and more with each passing day. They were well-prepared to have you, knowing they've set up a little oasis in the middle of disaster.

You can't have this child with Joel. You're ill-prepared to be a mother. You're unsure if Joel would even be a good father, even if he claims that's all he wants to be.

Would a good father taint someone else's daughter the way he has tainted you?

You hold back your sigh as you and Joel walk over the glass to get into the store. It's a small store, so it's not difficult to find what you're looking for. You wonder if these will even work, since they probably have an expiration date, but you just have to know.

For your own sake, more than Joel's.

Once you've packed a fair amount of pregnancy tests into your bag, you tell Joel that you've stashed some canned goods behind the counter in the off chance you might get stuck out and about, and you wanted to check if they were still there. It's not a lie, but you stashed a gun there too.

So, you go to the floorboard you hid everything under and pull it open and—

The sound of a gun's safety flicking off freezes you in your tracks. You swallow, hard.

Fuck, did Joel figure it out? You're too frightened to look up, scared that you'll be staring into the barrel of a gun.

But then, a new voice appears and she goes, "step away from her, Joel."

You glance up then and your eyes meet the girl's for a second. She's young, maybe barely eighteen, and yet she wields the gun you had hidden in the floorboards like she's used to handling them. That thought should worry you, but you're more worried about how she knows Joel.

Did he…do something to her too?

"Ellie, please." Joel pleads, his hands up. "Don't take her away from me."

"I know what you did to her." Ellie has her finger on the trigger, ready to shoot him. "I saw what she put in her bag."

"She's pregnant. We're going to be a family." He tries to reason with her. "Come back with us. We have a home. You'll have a little brother or sister soon. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"You're sick, Joel." She gestures for you to come over to her and even though Joel's eyes pierce into yours to stop you, you still make the trek over to her. Once you're securely behind her, she continues her harsh words to Joel, "you don't know what it means to be family. Family wouldn't do this, wouldn't do the things you've done."

"I can change. I can do better. I'm sorry."

You've never seen Joel so weak before. The once scary man that held you captive is now cowering before this girl.

"Sorry won't bring them back." Ellie tells him and you wonder what she means by that. "So, don't come looking for us. I'm taking her and I'm leaving now."

"Please, don't take her." He begs, his voice cracking as he goes, "I love her."

You open your mouth to say something, but Ellie stops you. Maybe she knows what you're about to say, or maybe she just doesn't want you to say it back to him. Not that you would…right?

"This isn't love, Joel." She tells him for you. "Whatever this is…it sure as fuck isn't love. I'm sorry. You did this to yourself."

The moment those words leave her mouth, she shoots Joel. You cover your ears at the sudden sound as it echoes through the quiet.

You hear Joel scream and you realize then that Ellie didn't shoot him in the head. She shot him in the leg, so he couldn't catch up to you two.

"We have to go, now." She grabs your hand and you both start to run.

Run, that voice comes back in your mind, run and don't look back.

❅❅❅❅❅

You and Ellie take a break once you're a good distance away from the convenience store. You give her some of your water, since it looks like she's low on supplies. She asks you about what happened and…you tell her. Not in full detail, but enough.

"That fucker." She seems angry at Joel for more than just what he did to you, but you won't pry about what exactly.

"Who is he to you?" You ask Ellie, wanting to know that instead.

"He's trouble. The kind of trouble I need the strength to take care of before he hurts anyone else…" She says, the anger leaving her voice as a sadness seeps in, "but I'm not strong enough yet. I couldn't kill him…but I will one day."

You can tell she doesn't want to, and you understand why. You might be the only one out there who understands her because you feel the same way.

There's no way Joel isn't looking for you two.

So, your journey with Ellie begins. You're both on the run from Joel, but also finding the will to hunt him too. All while wondering if he's imprinting himself onto you the way he wanted to.

You press your hand on your stomach and chills run through you.

You should've known Joel was trouble the moment he walked through your front door…

A/N: I've always wanted to write a villain!joel since I feel like it actually fits his character a lot, if he was given the right set of circumstances. I also am a big fan of the "I need to kill him before he kills me" trope, but with a twist! The addition of Ellie in this part makes me really happy and gets my mind rolling. The latter half of this one-shot is very plot-heavy, which is new for me but I kind of like it? It really builds up to a possible sequel! So, if you're interested in a sequel, please let me know! This really does have the potential to be a whole series ♡

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

behold, sausage not beating the watcher allegations that he started for 5 minutes. and this isn’t even including my absolute string board theory about his new life ending.

video transcription below the cut

Clip 1: Sausage is at the Vigil in Pixandria.

Sausage: Ok, really quick, I'm glad we're here. We're gonna pay our respects for all the death that's gonna be happening, uh, in that other reality. [Cut]

Alright, really quick, oh! I have candles here. One second- this is cool! I actually wasn't planning on this. Le- let's see. We have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. Oh! Perfect number, actually. I guess we can add this to the Vigil! 14... Let's do one here, one here, let's go... boop! Perfect. 14 of them, man. Let's do another one there. This shouldn't mess with space time or anything. This might be the past, but that's fine. I've done this so many times, it's not gonna ruin anything. Ah, there it is. Let's do another one there, perfect. You guys can figure out which candles' for who, hehe. And let's- let's leave this side open, let's do it on this side. Oh, perfect. Let's light 'em all for the deaths that happened today and last time. 1, 2, 3, 4- I'll leave that one. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13. Perfect! Alright. Now let's bow our heads, right here. Oh, screenshot moment! Everybody, a moment of silence for our lost, uh, brethren who have met their demise. But at the end, one did- did win, right? I don't know who that one was cause I haven't gotten that spoiler yet, but, one is alive, at the end. Rest in peace. [Cut]

o7s in the chat for all the death that happened. This is a safe space to cry, but it's okay. Because at the end, there must have been a winner. Time runs out for everybody, everyone. Time runs out for everyone. All we gotta do is just sit back and watch. And maybe listen. But I don't wanna hear any whispers out there, you guys talk with your chest because at the end, it's fine! It was worth it, it was a good fight. May they rest in peace, all the fallen. Especially Jimmy. Dying first. Canary curse, forever and ever.

Clip 2: A screenshot

Clip 3: Sausage is in his church for Bdubs in Sanctuary

Sausage: And I did throw in that that was Cleo, because that was just funny when he said his mom was calling him, so I had to do it. Uh, it's almost like my character knew that happened, somehow. [Cut]

Ah, yes. I'm not a Watcher! Ask Martyn, he can confirm.

Clip 4: Jimmy is flying around his Christmas world

Jimmy: -one. [reading Sausage's chat message] "Jimmy! Really weird thing I saw last time I was online but I forgot to ask, if you go into the first igloo, stand in the door and look directly to the opposite s- side of the mountain"? [Cut]

Here... [Jimmy sees the Secret Keeper remake and goes silent for almost 30 seconds. He gulps and then stays silent for another 15 or so seconds] I'm not pressing any of these buttons. I'm not- I'm not pressing any of these buttons! Don't tell me that's me! [A few seconds of silence] What in the-? [Another few seconds of silence] No, the buttons don't work. [He presses a button] Good. This is where the server just blows up, [laugh]. Well, that's odd. Genuinely, I don't know why- how th- how that is there. I think it's Sausage playing pranks on me. He knows I have nightmares, still, about this fella.