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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

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The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 4)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

7k words of a fever dream, happy Sunday, sinners ✨💦 I really hope you like it 🥺💖

You were back, unexpectedly but welcomed nonetheless. But now Alastor finds himself in a new kind of hell. There was, unfortunately for him, no killing what he felt when he looked at you.

{Warnings/Promises: Smut, Ace spectrum Alastor x FemReader, Alastor has feelings, creampie is the best nighttime snack, Angel is always the good guy, cervix punishment, mating press, Alastor demon form, Antlers go brrrr, drinking to forget, drowning (in cum)((and emotions)), discussions of murder, Alastor gets horny for discussions of murder, kinda breed kink if you squint, I saw a fan image of a hazbin hotel pool and it’s been stuck in my head for days.}

MINORS DNI (ah! Eh! I — stop. I see you. You know I see you, right? Get outta here! 🚨)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You were quick to stifle your smile, seeing Alastor standing in front of you with his hand outstretched. Why were you smiling? You were dead. Brutally so. And, You were in hell. But the corners of your mouth kept tugging upward at the sight of the stupid fucking deer demon before you. His own wild smile, eyes half lidded as he looked at you like he knew you.

You took his hand, needing the help standing. He fingers slipped from your palm and came to rub the velvet skin of your—- ears? You smacked his hand away, taking a step back.

The look he gave you, confusion? You weren’t sure, his head cocked to the side, hand lingering a beat longer in the air. He took a step toward you and you took one back.

Alastor laughed, “Quite the welcome, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes, did he know? Did he know you dreamt of him so many nights? That you struggled daily to not see his face behind your eyelids, not hear his lilting voice in your ear?

“Long time no see, Alastor.” You didn’t mean to sound quite so bored when you said it, you weren’t really sure at all what was going on in your head. You didn’t expect to see him so soon, literally immediately upon your death. You didn’t have time to recalibrate the mixed up feelings you had created for yourself over this stranger.

You pined for months to see him again, trying so hard to push the memory of him as deep as you could. So deep, in fact, you found yourself tortured at night with fantasies of his company. Even during the day, your life was altered around him. You couldn’t listen to the radio, the odd static and reverb just forcing him back into your consciousness. You took long forest walks, thinking about hunters and deer. You wore that fucking robe for an embarrassingly long time, remembering being in another world entirely.

Alastor’s face fell, throat closing slightly as he thought he realized what was happening. You didn’t remember the time you’d spent with him. He had been enjoying lazy nights in his room and pleasurable times in the woods with a ghost. He took a step closer, maybe if he— maybe your body would remember? If you just smelled his bed, perhaps you’d stop acting so cold. If he could awaken the impressions he was sure he left on your soul, he could pick up where he left off. A comfortable companion. Kind eyes that only saw him. His name, sweet and low tumbling from your lips.

You hit the wall with your back, making distance from him. He hadn’t hurt you, but you couldn’t be sure what would happen now. Fantasies are no indication of a person’s real self. Your dream romps were just that— dreams. Fiction your mind produced to fill the gap in your life he somehow created in your short time together. Imagination fleshing out this unknown demon you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His hand fell. There was a second his smile dropped, brows knitted. It came and it went, “Well! I best go get Charlie. She is the official welcome committee of the Hazbin Hotel, after all. Follow me.” The door swung open, his long arm gesturing.

Charlie pulled you into a hug, bouncing between “Welcome back!” And “I am so, so sorry you died!” She held your hands in hers, “The hotel has gone through a lot since you left! I have so much to show you. While Alastor has your room b…” her voice carried on, but your mind stayed put. She did jazz hands at every sconce and door frame on the way to the lobby.

You had expected it, your death. You figured there was a 50/50 chance you didn’t make it out of that forest. But that didn’t make this moment any less surreal. You looked down at your body, yours but new. Your hands came to your head, fingers climbing up your skull until you found them. Two soft, tulip petal shaped ears. Were you going to be sick? The room began to spin. Charlie’s voice underwater. Was some detective going to knock on your parent’s door? Carrying a folder with your photo and bad news? Your eyes clenched at the image, your heart ballooning in your chest.

“Maybe she needs to take a rest,” his voice cut through the waters of your confusion, a spear straight to your psyche. His hand slipped up your arm, resting on your back. You shook your head, eyes blinking wildly.

“It’s fine. Please, Charlie, continue your tour.” You took an exaggerated step to your left, out from under his touch. You thought you heard him sigh. Why was he being so kind? The last time you spoke you were staring daggers at him while he carried on about doing exactly what he had promised.

Charlie excitedly presented the lobby to you, the bar, the library. Alastor walked a few feet behind you both, quiet, his shadow dancing down the hallway in front of you. It’s mouth flipping from grin to grimace and back as it watched you nod along to every detail Charlie felt you should know.

The newest addition to the hotel since you left, a large indoor pool on the second to top floor. You lingered there, watching the water reflect pink and red light from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pentagram City.

“Almost done! To the left is Dad’s studio. He comes and goes. Ya know, parent stuff.”

You tried to mask your concern for whatever damaged parent-child relationship she was referencing.

“And to the right is Alastor’s radio station.”

You glanced to the demon, standing near the wall, inspecting his nails. “I didn’t know he had a radio station. I just assumed-,” You shrugged, “He just sounded like that.”

Alastor felt his bottom lid of his left eye twitch involuntarily. Why were you speaking like he wasn’t there?

He bit his tongue, literally. He needed time to think, to plan how to handle this situation. Your death was early and therefore unexpected for him, too. Not nearly as surprising, though, as your loss of memory of him.

He knew though, maybe this was for the best. If you were here, if he could see you around the hotel, perhaps that desire to have you near would die down. His shadow shifted behind him before sinking into the floor. Yes, exactly. This was a good thing. His eyes glanced to you, to your little doe features, two ears and a tiny fluff of a tail. His jaw tightened, had you done it on purpose? What did it mean?

”Would you like to see it?” He didn’t recognize his own voice, because he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until it was done.

Yes. “No thank you.” You wanted to run face first into the wall. It felt like your ribs were twisting off your spine. One side lurched up—- touch him. He wants you, he felt so good. Get him alone. The other side pulling down—- fuck him. He owns you, he’s a demon. Stay away from him.

His ears turned back and down, folding into his skull. You tried to keep your face neutral as you stared back at him, breathing teetering on panting. Every time you looked at him you were in danger of spilling your guts.

“Well!” Charlie slid into the tense air between you two, nervous chuckles, “That makes sense! Because Al’s station is super off limits. So. Uhh where was I going with this.” She looked around, “Is the room ready, Al?”

He nodded, leading you both to the elevator and a few floors down.

“This floor is for our more precious residents. Not that every soul isn’t precious! But ya knooow,” she opened your door, “You’ve got Angel, Husk, Niffty, sometimes Cherri Bomb, and Alastor as neighbors!”

Yippee. You get to lie awake knowing the object of your fucked desire is just past an easily smashed wall.

There was a moment where you all three looked at each other. Charlie becoming more and more fidgety as the seconds ticked on.

“Sooo, We should let her rest, like you said, right Alastor?” Charlie began a dramatic walk to the bedroom door, taking big steps with high knees.

You needed to do this and let it be. “Actually, may I have a moment, Alastor?”

Always, Yes. “I suppose I have the time, my dear.” He twirled his microphone stand before settling it behind his back. Charlie wanted to ask you if you were sure, but the tension was rising again. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed as she went.

Alone. Again. There was a feeling in the air, like you would either fuck or fight. Was it an animal thing? Or was it always there?

“I never got to thank you.”

His stomach turned, he couldn’t bear this again. Please, stop thanking him. Smile straining, struggling to keep it together, he nodded, “Whatever for?”

You had a strange feeling, a familiarity to the conversation. Ah, that was right. Would this end the same way as your dream? With you on your back? “You were — true to your word.” You fiddled with the comforter of the bed, avoiding looking at him. “You were gentle and you got me home safe and sound. I didn’t thank you. I was just so-,”

“Full of misplaced rage?” His head tilted to the left, eyebrows high.

“Just rage, would have been fine. It was an unfair situation that you helped get me out of.”

Alastor watched your face, only sadness to be found. Not a sight he took any pleasure in. “Well you should truly thank Angel Dust. He is the one who brought me to you, desperate to help you. Even offered me his soul! Not that it’s his to give.”

No one had told you. “Oh,” genuine surprise, “Thank you for that. Yeah, I have to thank him. I’d probably still be in Valentino’s—,” the light of the lamp beside the bed flickered, “studio.”

Looking at you, Alastor couldn’t decipher the feeling in his chest. Relief, sure. Shock, yes. But behind that, a strange tugging beneath his sternum. A pain, vague and nebulous floating over his chest. Why did you come back so soon? Why did you die so early? He wanted to ask you so many things, but if you didn’t retain any memory of your time with him, he doubted he would like the answers.

“I’m going to finish my mental breakdown now, thanks for the tour and uh, the information.” Scratching awkwardly at your arm, you went and opened the door. He paused a moment before moving. “I would like to see your radio station, sometime. If you’d want to show me.” He nodded and left. The room felt colder now, deader.

Your night went exactly how you anticipated, lying awake in the plush red blankets of your new home staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you slept, if you’d see him again. Thoughts of the overworld, family, connections. Little fits of rest came but nothing more than 30 minutes here and there.

Alastor paced his room until dawn, an animal in an unlocked cage. When you had appeared, dead and truly in hell, he thought you’d come to see him. He was embarrassed to even think it now, he had believed you wanted to be with him in earnest. As comfortable with his company as he was yours. He cradled his head, again he felt himself succumbing to the enjoyment of others. He had accepted it with you, more so than the rest, and now it was a weapon in your hands. He felt like an idiot. And he hated it. What a fool, to think you’d died to get home to him. A growl rising in his chest. Home. He desperately wanted to see Rosie, to vent the situation and find clarity. But the idea of leaving you alone in the hotel irked him. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe you wouldn’t be here when he returned. He could always summon you with your connection to him, but he wanted you to be there, with him, of your own volition or he didn’t want it at all.

If you’d forgotten entirely, he had two courses of action. To start over, or to let it die.

He looked to his bed, remembering you lying there. Sleeping, peaceful, content. Safe. Alastor turned to the wall, knowing you lied just beyond the wallpaper and sheet rock in your own deathbed, alone. The out of place physical need for you was something he struggled with, but whatever feeling this was — far worse. You were his, yet he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t possess you in the ways he’d grown accustomed to the past year. Starting over felt tedious. But this wasn’t a feeling that would die, he knew that. He could feel that by how deep the roots of his despair sunk into his soul when you looked at him like a stranger.

He didn’t rest that night, and neither did you.

Maybe it was the deal, the connection between you and him, but no matter where you were in the hotel you could feel him. A sixth sense, his presence always on your radar. A small part of your brain power was always on him, focused on the idea of Alastor. You wandered the halls until the others woke, feeling that little string between the two of you. Taut, strong.

When you found Angel that first morning back, you took a seat beside him in the lobby.

“Alastor told me you are why I got help. From Valentino.” You tried your best to maintain eye contact, not getting distracted by his arms.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I kinda did it for myself, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep again if I just let it happen. I’m a freak but I ain’t sick in the head like Val.” He locked his phone, turning to you, “So do you always start passin’ out mid-convo or does Charlie’s voice just do something to ya?”

You groaned, “Did she tell you that?”

“Well she panic-sang it, real worried about you. Did you get settled in yesterday?”

“I didn’t sleep, now that you mention it.” Angel laughed, taking you by surprise, “What?”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t. Not with your co-star next door.” He winked, “I’m sure you’re happy to be here in the flesh.”

“Ugh I forgot about that. Did -,”

“Everyone see it? Yeah you’re a minor celebrity.” You took a throw pillow and screamed into it while he spoke, “But hey! At least you don’t gotta worry about crazy fans. Smiles will keep ‘em at bay.”

“Why would he do anything for me?” Pillow still over your face, you groaned, “I’m just a soul on his roster.”

“Ha I don’t think he treats just any soul the way he’s been treatin’ you. I think Husk would tell me.” Angel kicked his feet, “What a mental image! Does he have pubes? I feel like he does but they’re like, sharp? Like hostile somehow?”

Pillow down, “Ew, Angel! Hostile? How the fuck would I know?”

Angel stopped, wide eyed, “Oh is it a secret? Is that part of the deal?” A sinister giggle, “You can tell ole’ Angel Dust. We’re pals, remember? You technically owe me.” His many fingers poked at your sides, goading you.

You scrunched up your nose, swatting at his hands, “Angel, what are you talking about?”

His smile fell, now side eyeing you, he opened his mouth to ask you to stop playing coy when he heard you all those nights in Alastor’s room when Charlie burst into the lobby.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t tell you about the redemption activities!” She tossed papers onto the coffee table, “Alright, plan Stairway to Heaven!”

Angel sat back, bored the juicy gossip had to wait, your attention fully occupied by Charlie’s sketches.

Alastor watched you from the second floor balcony. Over the next few days he would always be watching, either from the shadows or out in the open. Looking at you, that carnal hunger was gone. He felt no overpowering desire to be surrounded by you. But, now and then, you’d make a small noise or sigh and he would feel a little twitch. A muscle memory reaction to you

Where the need to touch you had faded, he instead found an insatiable hunger to be near you. He had thought it would be better, you at the hotel. But it had become worse. The further you were, the more undone he felt. It baffled him. So, he stayed near. You were almost always within earshot or eye sight. If not, he at least knew where you were. He could focus on the hotel and his plans for Charlie only then.

You never looked at him, it was obviously on purpose. Even when he would take a seat beside you or across from you, you’d manage to glance everywhere but directly at Alastor. By the fourth day, he felt like he was going to snap. It was beginning to feel disrespectful.

That fourth night when you again couldn’t sleep, you found yourself at the edge of the pool. Did people in hell swim? You’d been there for nearly two hours and not a single sinner appeared. It was well past midnight, though.

The entire room was tinged pink, shadows a pretty red. The water itself looked like a sea of rose quartz. You didn’t have a bathing suit. You didn’t have anything now that you thought about it. Nevertheless, you slipped into the water and let yourself float from the edge.

What a familiar feeling, floating. The ceiling shimmered with the water’s ever-moving reflection. Mind reeling back to the green glow casting your shadow on the ceiling of Valentino’s studio. You closed your eyes, you were always sinking it seemed. Sinking out of consciousness, into a another dream, out of the woods and into the bedroom of your captivator. The only times you felt weightless— ah, right. Body held up by shadows, cameras rolling. Under him, beneath the stars, sleeping form disconnected from your mind. It was always with him. You wondered for a second if you could sleep like this. What would happen if you drowned. Could you drown?

The carpet soaked with every step you took, your body sopping wet, clothes heavy with pool water. You were dragging your bare feet to the elevator when you saw a light coming from the ajar door to Alastor’s radio studio.

He was looking over papers, monocle resting on his cheek. Alastor turned to you, taking note of your shoes in your hand and wet hair. Your ears were heavy with water, fine fur drooping with the weight. “You look like a drowned rat, my doe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wiped your hair from your face, “I can’t sleep.”

You never struggled to sleep in his bed. “What did you do when you couldn’t sleep on earth?”

Your life already felt far in the rearview, either the effects of sleep exhaustion or your time in the underworld, “I slept… really well. Not a sleepless night I can remember.”

Alastor only hummed a response. Because all of your sleepless nights were here, with him.

“Why are you working?”

“Why are you swimming?”

“I just told you.” Your brows knitted, was this a conversation or a riddle.

Ever present smile beamed back at you, “Well then take a guess!”

You stared at him, sitting at his curved desk with all his switches and buttons. Papers here and there. Just smiling at you. “Cool, thanks for the waste of time.” You turned to leave when you heard a low sound coming from his chest.

“Why do you speak to me like that? Avoid me?” He stood, hair sharp and standing at attention, “What have I done to you to deserve your disgust?”

“Nothing! That’s-,” the problem, “I’m just tired. I don’t feel right, like I misplaced something. There’s a nagging feeling, maybe something I forgot in the overworld.”

Alastor closed the gap between you two, “I can assure you everything you need is here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah. Of course.” Turning to leave, his clawed hand reached for your wrist. Pulling you back, your wet clothes were now soaking into his suit.

His free hand took your chin and made you look up at him. Alastor’s red and pink eyes stared into yours, grin wider than you remembered seeing it before. You fixed your gaze on the desk behind him. “Look at me.” His voice cracked with a static interference. Your eyes finally came to his, your hand now holding his wrist just below your chin. “Don’t you dare look away.” He saw it, a flash of recognition flit across your now wide eyes. There was a pulse of electricity to your core, your body remembering his voice, those words, like an activation phrase. How did he know? Your thighs rubbed together, feet barely touching the ground as he held you close.

When his lips crashed into yours, you melted for a moment. Your body relaxed into him, a small whine slipping from your mouth to his. But then something in you snapped back, remembering he was a stranger holding your leash. You pulled his hand from your face with ease as your feet came back to the ground. Tugging your wrist free, you opened your mouth to yell at him, nothing but heavy breathing came out. Again, he reduced you to speechlessness. You glanced at his face before turning; he looked wounded.

You thought you heard his shoes shuffling along the carpet as you rushed into the elevator. A bang, a thrash, echoing down the elevator shaft as you descended to your floor.

Did he think because you acquiesced to sex before, somewhat under the pressure of a worse fate, he could just kiss you anytime he wanted? Did he see you as a toy?

Maybe being a toy would be nice. Maybe a good fuck would let you finally sleep. He did hit all the right places, those shadowy appendages never letting a single need go ignored…

You slammed your door shut, angrily peeling off your clothes. No, you weren’t a possession. You weren’t an object to be taken off the shelf at his convenience. No matter how much your body ached for his clawed hands and thin waist, you wouldn’t lower yourself to being under him. Not metaphorically, therefore not physically. You curled onto your bed, naked, body humming for him. Sleep came in pieces, fractured moments of rest.

“You look like shit.” Angel greeted you when the sun finally rose and everyone mulled around the hotel. You waited until you were sure the lobby bar wouldn’t be empty, you didn’t want to run into him alone.

“How do you fucking sleep in this place? All night just screams and moans from the city.” You rested your cheek on the bar, “Husk, something with orange juice that’ll make me forget where I am, please.”

“The moans are my favorite. Speaking of moanin’ in the night-,” Angel was cut off.

“Get used to it. You sold your soul to a psychotic dick. Welcome to the club,” Husk’s tone was harsh, tilting into sardonic as he slid your drink to you.

With a huff, you sat up, “Don’t compare us. You sold your soul. I—,” you searched with your hands for the word, “was guilty of having a colossal cunt of an aunt.” A deep sip of your drink, “Fuck, he only got my soul because he made a deal with a different demon for it. Soul traded in like a used car. I’m the Kia Sorento of hell.”

Husk grumbled, “Yeah well, either way. Might as well get comfortable. We’re here for the long haul.”

Angel put a hand out to shut up Husk, scooting his stool closer to you, “So like— did Mister Wrong-Kinda-Horny have you killed?” His eyes went to your ears and back, “Is that why ya came back a little lady deer? Some kinda sex thing?”

You downed your drink and gestured to Husk to refill your glass, speaking to Angel without looking at him, “Why would he do that?

He grabbed your bar stool and swivelled you to face him, leaning in even closer, “Well, ya know…” his eyebrows raised up and down, ready to finally get the dirty details, “because ya-,”

“My little doe, just who I was looking for.” His sudden appearance startled all three of you. He was ready now, to pin down your fate. Were you going to stay at the hotel permanently or not? With his supervision or without?

“Why does everyone keep interruptin’ me?!” Angel slammed his hand on the bar.

On impulse, your own hand formed a first, “Stop calling me that!”

Alastor laughed, unhinged, a finger wiping a tear from his eye. Still, the attitude with which you spoke to him surprised him, “Oh? Why should I? You are a doe,” his microphone gestured to your head, “And your soul belongs to me. If I remember correctly, so does your body.” His eyes darkened, back bent as he came to your eye level, “But I always have video evidence if you’re unsure of the details.”

You lifted your glass and cocked your arm back to throw it but stopped. Alastor was grinning, something in his stare egging you on. He was loving this. Finally you were paying some attention to him. You were looking right at him.

Setting the glass back down, you left your stool and slipped past him, “Lucky for you, radio demon. It’s all you have anymore.” You had decided you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying his name.

Husk sunk beneath the bar, Alastor’s antlers expanding as his eyes became overtaken with black. Angel scrambled over the counter to join the cowering bartender. Alastor whipped around, spine cracking and stretching. You were in the elevator for another quick escape when you turned and saw him gaining on you, his mouth nearly unhinged, teeth sharp and numerous. His body contorted to get his truly demonic face in your eye line, back bending in half to drop his head down, “What did you say?” The air around him seemed to bend and shake, the hiss of a misaligned radio station biting at your skin.

Your finger was shaking as you pressed the ‘close door’ button repeatedly, wetting your lips you found your foothold in anger again, “Fuck you.”

You didn’t recognize the sounds you heard just past the hollow elevator doors. Something between a screech and a wail. Not a sound you’d heard any deer make before.

Shakey knees and legs melting to jelly barely carried you to your room. You collapsed against the door as soon as you entered, locking it. Not that it mattered, you knew that.

A knock shook the wood and made you yelp.

“It’s me!” You recognized Angel’s voice, “Let me in.”

He fell into your room, hair a mess and eyes wide, “I don’t know where he went but he left the hotel. Jesus Christ you have balls of steel.” He fixed his hair, adjusting his chest fluff, “Or are a total idiot.” He saw the tears swelling in your eyes, gears shifting immediately, “Oh shit, sorry. You okay?”

You shook your head no and crumbled to the floor, “I haven’t fucking slept more than three hours a night in like, five fucking days. I’m going crazy.”

“I don’t know why ya’ll are fightin’ but can’t Alastor help you out? Ya’ll are close, maybe a night in his bed will set you straight.”

Your tears streamed down your face, “Angel! What are you talking about?! You keep saying shit like we’re friends. The closest I’ve been to him was in my fucking wet dreams!” You curled into the fetal position on the carpet, exhausted, scared, confused. You’d never seen something as skin-crawling as his full demonic form. But a part of you was mesmerised by the transformation. A sick part of you, you decided.

Angel lied down beside you, facing you, eyes blinking. One of his hands wiped at your tears, “What exactly happened after you went home?”

You sniffled, “I couldn’t get him out of my head. I wore your robe. It smelled like you.”

He laughed, “I wondered where that thing went.”

“I started having these dreams, just—- really fucked dreams of him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, “fucked how?”

Your wanted to hide your face but didn’t have the energy to move your arms, “He fucked me in the woods like his life depended on it. Best sex of my life, in my own imagination. Naturally.”

Angel sat up, he didn’t know what to ask first, “best sex?? Sorry- no. Fuck, uh, you had dreams about fucking the Radio Demon? You two never… met up?”

You rolled onto your back, shaking your head, “If he could have visited me, he never did. Trust me, I looked for any sign.”

“Uh huuuuh.” Angel nodded, “Well. His extra weird attitude makes more sense. He’s been super creepy, always just popping’ outta shadows and shit. More than usual.”

Angel looked over you, crying softly on the floor. He considered telling you, but if Alastor hadn’t he figured it was best he stay out of it. Lest he be the one fleeing into elevators.

“Have ya considered actually fucking him?” Angel couldn’t believe he was recommending anyone fuck Alastor, but it seemed like maybe it’d actually do you good.

“Why would I do that?”

Angel looked annoyed, “Because you wanna fuck him?! Get it out of our system?”

“Yes and I sometimes wonder what it would be like to drive into oncoming traffic. We all have the call of the void. He—,” you thought about the kiss, “I feel like it’d just make it worse. I’d want more.”

Angel showed you his phone, “He’s apparently eating sinners in the doom district, so, it’s your call. But maybe a good bang would get you both to chill out.” He scrolled, “Fucking hell. The best sex, of your life? Have you not had much sex or-?”

You crawled up to your bed and plopped your now heavy body down, “Angel.”

“Do you have some weird kink? Is it just really big?”

“Angel!”

“Does he go full demon and his peni-,”

“ANGEL.”

He spun his head around to look at you, “I wanna respect your boundaries but I will actually die again if you don’t explain this shit to me.”

Settling back, you groaned, “I’ve never felt so needed before. He held onto me like he couldn’t breath unless I was under him. But you see him, you’ve been here. Does that sound like him?”

Angel sat beside you, “Honestly didn’t know he knew what sex was until you came here so” he leaned back, two arms holding him up, “You guys are pretty fucked up.” You nodded. “What did he say, when you told him about the dreams?”

“Didn’t really come up.” You rolled your eyes.

He patted your thigh, “Got it. You’re gonna owe me like, a metric shit ton of drugs.” Angel pushed off the bed, waving as he left, “I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

You sat up, staring curiously at where he had just been. Tomorrow? It was only 9am

Angel spent several hours in the lobby, pretending to read and socialize with residents. He jumped from the chaise lounge as soon as he saw Alastor walking into the hotel, “Hey uh, I know you know I think you’re a freaky fuck, but I wanna just say it sucks real bad and I’m sorry.” Alastor didn’t reply or even stop walking, Angel having to jog to keep pace.

“I mean, if my fuck buddy thought our bumpin’ uglies was all just dreams I’d be super fuckin’ bummed too.” Alastor became so still so quickly that Angel nearly fell over trying to stop his momentum. He waved his hand in front of Alastor’s face to make sure he was still conscious, “uhh anyone home in there?”

Alastor’s eyes flicked to dials, residents looking up warily as the power flickered and the space seemed to distort around them, “Explain, quickly.”

“She told me this mornin’! She thinks all those nights you were bangin’ her brains out — which, from one porn star to another, sounded top notch from my room — we’re just horny dreams. She’s all fucked in the head about it.”

Alastor melted into his shadow and slinked down the hall and up the walls, leaving Angel behind, “You all owe me!”

You heard footsteps suddenly advancing on you down the hall. Spinning around, your nose nearly brushed against his, Alastor’s face already down to your level.

He leaned in to you, his mouth hitting against your cheek, “I need to speak to you in my room, dear.” His voice was clearly not asking you.

Your blood ran cold, goosebumps dancing down your neck and arms. “Why would-,”

“Now.” His arms wrapped around your waist, you pushed him away and turned to walk off but stopped. You weren’t in the hallway anymore. A bedroom. With a haughty laugh you turned to spit venom at him for such a dirty trick.

As if expecting it, he cut you off, “They weren’t dreams, my doe. It was astral projection.” He took you by the shoulders and pointed your entire body at the forest scene melting into his room. Had it always been there? You couldn’t remember seeing it before, when you arrived in hell. Just him and his smile.

You felt the blush rise from your toes to your ear tips. Both hands came to your face, desperate to hide your existence from the situation.

You remembered that grassy clearing, the tree line. Peaking in and up, you saw the starry sky you spent so many nights moaning into.

“Why-,” your hands balled into fists, “didn’t you tell me?!” You turned to him, face red. You wanted to shove him, to hit him, but your mother taught you better than to lay hands on someone first. You finished fights, not started them.

Alastor smiled down at you, like he always did, “I thought you had no memory of our-,”

You cut off him off at the head, “visits.”

He laughed, “spirited visits.” Was that a pun? You groaned.

“I, I thought it was just make believe.” The gentle touches, the sweet names whispered into your skin, the way you could taste him even after you woke. The blush burned your cheeks.

Now that you knew, now that your eyes fell on him once again with recognition, he felt you’d actually answer him, “How did you die?”

The question took you by surprise, You thought it was obvious, “I tried to kill a hunter in the woods. Well, I did kill him. But he killed me, too.”

A genuine grin spread across his lips, a cackle, “You killed a man?!” You shouldn’t have been so proud, but he looked so impressed, “Tell me every detail. Who was he to you?” Alastor’s hands came to your arms. You remembered last night, pulse quickening, and walked to his bed. You took a seat on the end, sinking softly into the plush blankets. Your hand ran over the fabric.

“My employee’s father.” The fabric was soft, the threads tiny and tight.

Alastor took a seat beside you, legs crossed, “Oh? And why him?”

A hum, “He was a bad man.”

His hand picked up yours, bringing it to his mouth. There was that loss of blood to his brain, something you effortlessly did to him. “Who says?” His own heart picking up pace. You killed. Was it egotistical to think you inspired such a thing? Did you kill for him?

You watched your fingers tremble under his lips, “What?”

“Who says he was bad?”

Your eyes searched the room for an answer, “I think anyone would agree with me.”

His smile reached his eyes, “So you decided? He probably thought he was quite alright.” He turned your wrist over, mouth pressing to your pulse point. “Did you plan it?” Your scent was familiar but different now. Skin still just as soft. He felt himself salivate. Your spell just as strong in death.

A gulp, all of those walls you struggled to keep standing turned to dust against his smirk. A stranger, a lover. Effortlessly your body shifted into a new gear under his touch. “Yeah, for a week. I waited until I knew he was going to be there. Walked the paths, bought a knife.”

“A knife,” he practically purred, “A favorite. No gun?” He pulled your arm toward him, bringing your whole body into his.

“I wanted something more… personal.”

Alastor buckled slightly, cock jumping in his lap. “You were made to be my undoing. I am sure of it. A cruel joke from heaven to distract me.” His mouth found your neck next, little nips before he chose a place and latched, sucking a bruise easily seen by others.

“This is a really fucked conversation, Alastor.” Your body softened, a small sigh coming before you could consider being embarrassed.

“For a ‘fucked’ situation, my dear.” His nose traced along your jaw. “But one you’ll find I quite enjoy.” He placed your hand on his lap. Did he see the face you made? The stupid grin? Your hand squeezed lightly on the length you felt tenting his pants, earning a moan into your cheek. Real. He was real. In your hands, now. No dreams or projection. No fantasies. No little pink toy. “Bear with me, just a little more. You’ll find my … proclivity for such topics quite important for these kinds activities.”

“You’re sick.” You turned, nose to nose smiling still.

He hummed, his own smile spreading, “desperately so.” Your hand gently traced the shape of him through his pants, “Why did you kill him? As opposed to all the other bad men?”

A question you didn’t feel you could answer, “This topic is having the opposite effect on me…” you squeezed him again.

“Fair enough,” he pushed you back onto the bed, leg going over your body to straddle you, “Then tell me how you felt? A compromise.”

How did you feel? When you killed him? “I felt strong.” He repositioned himself between your legs, “I wasn’t scared. I knew I’d succeed or-,”

“Or?” His breathing now a barely strained pant. Say it. Say it and he’ll let himself go completely.

You focused on the canopy of his bed, a red wine color much like his own coat. “Or I’d end up here, with you.” His head fell, forehead resting on your stomach. You looked down to see his antlers larger than before, no longer cute little prongs. “Alastor?”

He wasn’t an idiot.

Maybe a little roundabout, but you chose him.

Red dribbled from his chin, mind going foggy as eyes went black. His hands rid you of your clothes with delicate cuts, your body lurched up the bed by wide palms.

You chose to come back.

Your hands came down to undo his pants and belt, seeing he probably couldn’t manage himself. As soon as he was free of his clothes, he was rutting into your thigh. “Alastor”, you took his face in both hands, dials flickers to dilated pupils as you got him to focus on you.

“My little doe.”

You came home.

His head came to rest just above yours, wide and sharp antlers just out of reach. His leaking cock finally found your core, Alastor groaning into the blankets to find you already so wet. Your hands gripped his arms, nails breaking skin in anticipation.

Lined up and impatient, he pushed up into you with unmeasured force. You bit onto the flesh of his shoulder, trying to keep yourself from screaming. In those dreamlike visits, he filled you so perfectly, body molding to him. But now, you were stuffed. With one thrust your cervix was bruised and tender. The tiniest pain bled into the eye-rolling pleasure of having him back in you. With heavy breaths he thrust into you with a need you couldn’t ever remember feeling before. He fucked you like he would die without your moans spilling across his chest.

And it was true, feeling your soft cunt clenching him so tightly was a need more than anything else. A ray of light at the bottom of the Mariana’s trench. Impossible, and undeserved. You were everything he wasn't good enough to have, wasn’t clean enough of conscience to hold. An angel clipping a wing to dip into hell, you killed to sink back into his arms. Even if you didn’t say it, not yet. He could feel it in you. He had left a deeper impression on your soul than perhaps you had his. You weren’t just his by way of a deal, you corrupted yourself to his level.

He looked down at you, your eyes already wet and unfocused, mouth hanging open as every breath turned into rhythmic moans. Your soul a fresh snowfall, your adoration for him a drop of blood. His eyes shut, mind focused on where you and him merged now. Friction pulling him forward to his climax.

Your body was trembling, his lower stomach rubbing against your already swollen clit. That soft button just past your entrance wasn’t just being pressed, it was smashed against your walls with his shaft. His head dragging past it. You wanted to speak, to express how good you felt, but your tongue was frozen in your mouth. Every inhale became a gasp, every exhale was now a moan. You felt his body tighten, thrusts become shallow as his large head refused to stray far from your womb. Silently, your hands tore into his shoulders as you gripped through your orgasm. The muscles in your jaw now locked. Your legs came to wrap around his hips and draw him in, thighs convulsing as his pace didn’t stop for you to recover.

With an unmistakable mating press, his cock buried itself in your pussy. Balls deep suddenly made more sense as a phrase. Your cervix stung as his body forced more room for itself in you. The way your walls spasmed around him felt debauched, your body starved for him. Hungry as he had been. Alastor felt your soft cunt drowning in his seed and he groaned into your hair. Already spilling out, he didn’t even consider unsheathing himself from you.

You struggled to slow your heart rate, vision blocked entirely with his own heaving chest. As he softened in you, so did his form. Body reconfiguring above you, antlers now small and uncharacteristically cute.

With regained red eyes, he looked at your face.

“Are you-,” he sighed, “Asleep.” Not a bad future after all, he mused. Watching you sleep.

He considered wiping you down before placing you beneath his blanket, but it seemed like such a waste. Your head on his pillow, he felt everything in his chest settle. Like a puzzle whose pieces were all right but just not flush, his own damned soul settled flat. Everything snuggly in place.

One of his large palms came to rest on your head, a familiar place for him now, ��Sleep well, darling doe. I’ll be here when you wake.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1

🎞️ TRDFAHS VHS owners: @leathesimp , @alastors-staff, @howabouticallyou , @myrunawaysweets , @karmakillz , @serendipitous-fernweh , @universal-s1ut , @anuttellaa , @sillyb0nez , @nonamevenus , @fairyv-ice , @nitnat6245 , @alicehasdrowned , @alicebaskervilleposts , @jyoongim , @lunaramune , @christinebloodwrittings , @itszzmoon , @thekanrojimitsuri2 ,

@luna-usagi-chan

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

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slvtteez · 5 months ago

Text

☸ Dorm Series: Part-Five | 최산

| series masterlist | previous | next |

✦ summary: an innocent date night spent watching anime quickly turns into a steamy and passionate "session" between you and san. ✦ pairings: idol! boyfriend san x fem! reader ✦ genre: smut!, idol boyfriend au ✦ word count: 2.1k ✦ warnings: smut!, passionate san, fem reader initiates sex, lots of kissing, dry humping, breast play, nipple! play, biting, clothed orgasm, praise kink, pet/nick name (angel, sannie), rough! sex, sensual sex, thick dick! san, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, multiple orgasms, lots of love!

this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be a realistic representation of any of the real people mentioned.

nsfw content below. 18+ - mdni

Today was date night for you and San. Instead of going out and finding a secluded place to spend time; a date you both didn’t even truly enjoy fully because it was filled with cautiously looking around at every sound and ultimately being hidden from everyone. You both decided it was best to create date night in a comfortable space, so here you were binge watching anime at San’s dorms, which was perfect since the members would be busy with their individual schedules. Both you and San were avid Hunter x Hunter fans so it was a no brainer that it would be up for selection.

“I know Hunter x Hunter is mainly about Gon but I can’t help but wish Killua or Kurapika had their own show and not just an arc. You get what I’m saying?” San questions tone laced in excitement watching the tv screen.

You hum in agreement, “I get you.”

Snuggling into Sans embrace more, you enjoy the way his body encompassed yours from behind. You dearly cherished moments like these because you both could comfortably be with each other with no restrictions. Dating an idol was not easy and many would not be able to give up on doing what most couples had the freedom to do. You wouldn’t trade San for anything though, he was sweet, goofy, thoughtful, mature, and overall the best boyfriend you’d ever had.

Turning around to face him, you peer up at him enjoying the look of amazement plastered across his face as he continues to watch the anime. You found it hilarious that from the outside people assumed your boyfriend was intimidating and mean but deep down he was the softest most gentlest man ever. Your heart swelled in admiration at the thought, your mind filled with only San at the moment.

Wrapping your arms around him loosely you begin laying light kisses on his chest, earning a slight squeeze from San. Making your way up to his neck you continue to kiss him gently until you’re face to face with him. He stared at you eyes dilated with love, a small smile forming on his lips.

“What are you up to sweetheart?” He asks, quirking his eyebrow up.

“Just appreciating you.” you say, staring back at him, eyes equally dilated.

You lean in, placing a small peck on his lips, then another, then another. Pulling back you smile at San, his lips slightly parted eyes closed anticipating more. You lean in deciding to be serious lips connecting with San’s in a sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, lost in the way his soft lips moved perfectly in sync with yours. San lets out a small moan, his hands finding your hips, giving it a slight squeeze.

Never breaking the kiss, you move to straddle San’s lap wanting to feel even closer to him than before. You suck in a breath feeling his slightly erect member touch your heat.

“Someone’s excited.” You whisper against his lips. Breathing heavily, San can only release a low whine, his bottom lip sticking out in cute pout at the loss of your lips. You playfully lick against his jutted lips smiling at how he whines even more under you.

“I’m not in the mood for games.” He groans, grasping your face into his palm before pulling you down to connect your lips again.

His tongue swipes at your lips asking for access which you grant immediately, lost in the taste of him. San places his hands on your hips again, holding you down on his lap as he thrust up. You sigh into his mouth at the friction, the feelings of his clothed cock rubbing against your clad and already sensitive clit. Thrusting up more, San guided your hips back and forward your movement matching his perfect. You both moan into each other's mouths, the shared tension causing your arousal to heighten. Breaking the kiss you sit up, removing your shirt exposing your plump breast.

“Shit-“ San mumbles, eyes pitch black with lust.

He reaches up to palm both breasts as you continue grinding into him. He juggles them in both hands before giving them a slight squeeze. His fingers skate over your nipples, a strained whimper escaping past your lips. San leans up slightly before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, attending to the other with his hands. His mouth worked skillfully over your sensitive buds licking, sucking, and softly biting them knowing just how sensitive your nipples were. You messily grind into his lap at a faster pace, tension growing between your legs as your orgasm nears.

“Oh fuck.” You moan out loud already feeling lost in the pleasure you were receiving. “Are you gonna cum for me angel?” San looks up at you, eyes hooded as he takes in how gorgeous you looked desperately getting off on him. You let out a small groan, your head falling back as you feel the warmth expand in your belly. Shaking slightly your movements slow down as you ride out your orgasm.

“You look so pretty when you cum for me.” San groans flipping you over, his arms caging you underneath him. He grounds his cock into your obviously soaked panties, watching the way you squirm underneath him.

“I’m gonna make you feel even better angel.” He whispers, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. San kneels between your legs, hooking his finger beneath the waistband of your underwear he slides them down, mouth watering at the slick that coated your folds. Laying down between your legs, San holds your legs wide, licking his lips at the sight of your juicy pussy. He gives one tiny kitten lick to your clit, holding you down firmly as you buck your hips at the contact feeling overstimulated from your first orgasm. He gives another kick to your hole collecting your juices and cum into his mouth. You both moan, you at the way his tongue skillfully moved and him at the taste of you. San takes your clit into his mouth sucking gently at the sensitive bud relishing in the little whines you release.

“Sannie.” You moan out, desperately wanting to grind your pussy against his tongue. He moans back at you, tongue circling around your clit as if he was searching for hidden treasure.

“You’re gonna make me cum again.” You cry out, your senses heightening again. San inserts a finger inside of you, curling his finger achingly slow before massaging your sweet spot. His mouth encloses on your clit, sucking greedily at your nub as he pumps into your heat. His fingers move skillfully and swiftly inside of you, the sounds of your slick filling your ears. The familiar tension reaches its peak crashing down on you like a truck. “I’m coming!” You moan, your body spasming as San continues, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“You taste so good. My perfect angel.” San coos removing his fingers from your cunt, inserting them into his mouth savoring the taste of your essence. You moan at the sight, loving the erotic nature of his actions. San slides his pants off, his thick cock slapping against his belly with a slight thud. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped passed your lips at the sight of his god-like body. Lean muscles, defined abs and the part you loved the most his perfectly muscular pecs flexing slightly as he stroked his cock.

“Like what you see?” He smirks watching the way you gawk at his appearance.

“Always.” You breathe out feeling no shame in how you stared at him. He was all yours after all.

Towering over you, San locks your lips into a deep kiss, his cock rubbing at your hole before sliding in slowly. Moaning into each other's mouth from the shared feeling of your cunt swallowing his cock. “Fuck-“ San mutters over your lips, finally bottoming out fully in you.

He enclose you in between his arms, holding himself up above you finally pulling out from your cunt achingly slow before thrusting in abruptly. Your mouth falls agape, your breath caught in your throat at the sudden action. San keeps his motion steady, each thrust taking your breath away on impact. You reach up tightly squeezing his arms in an attempt to brace yourself from the impact. San evens out his movement, pumping inside of your throbbing pussy with need. Your moans finally escape, pleasure consuming your body in its entirety.

“Yes, Sannie. Fuck me just like that baby.” You cry out, hands gripping even tighter around his arms. He grinds into your cunt, movements swift and fluid, his thick cock stroking your walls perfectly. You clasp your legs around San’s waist pulling him flush against your body wanting to feel his closeness.

“You feel so good.” You whine into his ear, clutching on to him as if he was your lifeline. San trails kisses on your neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin leaving behind his presence. San never failed to put some kind of marking on your body, wanting people to know you were taken. He groans feeling your pussy clench tightly around him straining his once fluid movements. Your nails rake down his smooth back, clawing at him in desperation. “Shit-” He hisses out, intoxicated with lust and love.

San finds your lips, hastily kissing you as he begins to pound into your aching cunt. You release a muffled moan at his ruthless actions, unable to ignore the sound of skin slapping permeating the room.

“Sannnnn!” A voice calls out, before bursting into the room. San still’s his movements looking up, his eyes meet Yeosang then Wooyoung’s staring back at him, puzzled looks plastered on their faces. He shields your body from their view with his own body making sure you are completely protected. You bite your lip stifling any noise, unable to silence your quick breaths.

“Oh you’re- ohhhhh.” Wooyoung says, eyes widening as realization strikes him on what’s happening. Yeosang looks back and forth between the two in confusion. His mouth falls open once he finally takes in the state of the room and San whose face was flushed and sweaty. They quickly make a beeline out of the door without another word leaving you and San in silence.

Your shallow breaths fill the room not knowing how to react in such a situation. San lifts off of you, his amused eyes finding yours as he releases a small chuckle. “That was close.” He sighs, shaking his head. You stare back at him stunned at what just happened, not knowing how to react. “We have to be quiet now.” You whisper more so for yourself because you knew quiet sex and San did not mix together ever.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” San states smugly, resuming his movements. He ruts his cock into you, watching your face twist in pleasure again. A smile graces his face, basking in how beautiful you looked being fucked by him. He pulls back, leaving his tip in before slamming back into your pussy resuming his wild strokes. You cover your mouth releasing a deafening moan leaving both you and San wide eyed.

“Well that was short lived.” He laughed carelessly, continuing as if nothing happened.

You reach for a pillow, biting down harshly at the soft cushion in an attempt to muffle your screams. The assault on your pussy leaving you dazed, unable to control yourself and you liked it. San whimpers at the vice grip your pussy had around his member, feeling his orgasm creeping up. He hooks his hands under your knees, placing your legs on his shoulders. Reaching out he removes the pillow from your clenched teeth. Leaning forward he connects your lips in a sensual kiss, slowing down the pace of his thrusts. He relishes in the breathy moans you release into his mouth, swallowing every sound.

“Right there baby.” You whimper, the head of his cock brushing your sweet spot. He moans low locking eyes with you, love and passion swirling in his black orbs. You stroke his cheek gently enjoying the shared intimate moment.

“I’m close angel.” He whispers, movements slowly turning sloppy. “Cum inside of me.” You plead, grinding your hips up to match his thrusts, your own orgasm looming. “Fuck angel.“ San moans gazing lovingly at you, bringing his lips to yours again he slips his tongue past your lips. His hips erratic and messy he groans into your mouth, cock jerking wildly as his seed spurts deeply inside of you, the feeling coaxing your own orgasm to follow. San continues helping you ride out the last wave of your orgasm before pulling out.

“I love you.” San says forehead resting on yours. “I love you.” You reply, placing a small kiss to his lips.

—taglist: @spicxbnny @dawn-iscozy @levisforgottentea @nopension @ateezswonderland @jiminssluttyminx @sunnysidesins

be on the look out for part-six with mingi coming soon!

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it like, reblog with tags, comment, and follow!

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #choi san smut #choi san #ateez san #atz dorm series #ateez series #©slvtteez #ateez oneshot #choi san x reader #ateez oneshots #ateez scenarios #san ateez

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kaylaacutiepie · 2 months ago

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v. a heart left in the shadows (sung jin-woo × reader) genre: angst, hurt, heartbreak

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on Solo Leveling. The characters Sung Jin-Woo and Chae Hae-In belong to their original creators. This story is purely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The events, dialogue, and interpretations of characters are the author's imagination and are not part of the official Solo Leveling canon. Please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

The night was heavy with the weight of your heartbeat as you stood before him.

Sung Jin-Woo. The boy you had loved silently. The man you had fought beside. The one you had seen at his weakest, at his rawest — and had stayed anyway.

You clutched the small pendant in your hand, fingers trembling. It wasn’t anything fancy — just a token, a simple charm you had bought, hoping one day you could give it to him.

That night, under the pale streetlights outside the Guild building, you found the courage you had buried for so long.

"Jin-Woo…" you began, your voice almost swallowed by the chilly wind.

He turned to you, looking effortlessly beautiful under the moonlight, his dark hair tousled, those deep eyes soft but unreadable.

"I…" you inhaled shakily, gathering every shattered piece of your heart. "I like you. No— I love you. I've loved you for a long time."

Silence.

You laughed nervously, trying to ease the heavy air. "I know you’re busy… with dungeons and everything. But I just— I just needed you to know. I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes."

For a moment, Jin-Woo just stared at you.

Then, with a voice that was painfully gentle, he spoke.

"I’m sorry, Y/N."

You blinked.

"I can’t," he said, looking away. "I need to focus on the dungeons. I have too many responsibilities. I don’t have time for… dating right now."

Your heart cracked, but you forced a smile.

"I… understand," you whispered.

And you meant it. You wanted to understand. You wanted to believe he wasn't rejecting you — he was rejecting the idea of dating anyone, right?

You bowed your head, hiding the tears that blurred your vision. "Good night, Jin-Woo."

Without waiting for his response, you turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last.

A week later, you saw the news.

It was plastered everywhere — on your phone, on the TV screens in shops, on the lips of the hunters around you.

"S-Rank Hunters Sung Jin-Woo and Chae Hae-In Seen Together at Carnival!" "The Nation’s Strongest New Couple?" "Jin-Woo and Hae-In Spotted Holding Hands!"

The photos were undeniable. There he was — Jin-Woo — smiling, laughing. Looking at Hae-In like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your heart froze.

No… no, this couldn’t be real.

You gripped your phone tightly, staring at the image of him — your Jin-Woo — gazing at someone else the way you had only dreamed he would look at you.

And the words he said to you just days ago echoed in your mind.

"I don't have time for dating right now."

Lie. It was a lie.

He just didn’t have time for you.

Because you were nothing but a shadow in his life. An afterthought. While Chae Hae-In stood beside him like she belonged there — beautiful, powerful, perfect.

You?

You were just… Y/N.

Ordinary. Forgettable.

You sank to the floor, the cold tile biting through your clothes, but the real pain was inside you — sharp, vicious, consuming.

You cried until there was nothing left but broken pieces.

Time passed, but the wounds never healed.

You stopped going to the Guild as often. Stopped answering his texts — the ones that became fewer and fewer until they stopped altogether.

You thought Jin-Woo would be happy with Hae-In. That he would live the life he deserved. And maybe he did.

But then… you disappeared.

No goodbye. No explanation.

You faded from his life the same way you had always been in it: quietly, unnoticed.

It wasn’t until months later that he realized something was missing.

At first, he didn’t notice. Chae Hae-In was always there, smiling sweetly, her hand fitting easily into his. It was comfortable. It was expected.

But then there were the small moments.

When he came back bloodied from a dungeon, and no one scolded him in that soft, worried voice. When he woke from a nightmare and no one sat by his bed until he fell asleep again. When he succeeded, and no one was there clapping louder than anyone else, pride shining in their eyes.

He started to notice the empty spaces you left behind.

"Where's Y/N?" he asked one day, after a particularly brutal raid.

No one could answer him.

He tried to brush it off. Maybe you were busy. Maybe you needed time.

But the nagging feeling grew and grew, until it was all he could think about.

One evening, unable to bear it anymore, he went to your apartment.

He knocked. No answer.

He called your number.

Disconnected.

Panic clawed at him.

He realized then — you were really gone.

And with that realization came another — heavier, crueler.

He remembered your confession. The way your voice had trembled. The way you had smiled even as your heart shattered.

"I'll wait for you. No matter how long it takes."

And he… He had crushed that hope beneath his feet without a second thought.

Tears he hadn’t even known he was holding back burned his eyes.

He remembered everything now — every small kindness, every moment you had stood by him when no one else did. Every time you had loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

He remembered, and it destroyed him.

Because he had chosen someone else. Because when you needed him to see you, he looked away. Because when you finally dared to hope, he gave you a lie.

"I need to focus on dungeons." What a coward’s excuse.

He just hadn’t thought you were enough.

And now you were gone.

In the following weeks, he looked for you.

Everywhere.

He asked other hunters, checked hospitals, even went to the places you used to visit together.

Nothing.

You had vanished completely from his world.

Like you had never been there at all.

And maybe, he thought bitterly, he deserved that.

Maybe this was the punishment for realizing too late what he had lost. For not loving you when you deserved it most.

One night, sitting alone on a rooftop overlooking the city you both used to walk through, he whispered into the cold night:

"Y/N… I'm sorry."

The wind carried his words away, but you were not there to hear them.

You would never be there to hear them again.

#manhwa x reader #manhwa imagines #solo leveling fanfic #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #solo leveling angst

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midnightsslut · 1 year ago

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A Guide to Red - The Quintessential Taylor Swift Album

After the release of The Manuscript, the role of Red and Red (Taylor’s Version) in Taylor’s life and discography has been highly discussed. A lot of people have referred to it as her magnum opus and most formative album. I have decided to compile a condensed list of about a dozen key interviews, performances, speeches, posts, and videos from 2011 all the way until 2024 that illustrate the importance of this record for Taylor’s personal life and career. I’m putting the list under a cut because it got pretty long. You don’t have to go through all of these, obviously, but I would suggest at least one per era. The bolded ones are essential in my opinion.

Pre-Red - These interviews hint at Taylor’s emotional state at the time and thus the content that will be explored on the Red album

2011 The New Yorker profile

Taylor Swift reveals new album is all about heartbreak - Extra TV

Bonus: an article going through Taylor’s arm lyrics on the Speak Now World Tour, which she described as mood rings for any particular show

Lover diary entries from the making of Red (credit to @cabincreaking for the scans)

- All Too Well lyrics first draft (February 2011)

- Random bursts of happiness and anxiety during the Speak Now Tour (June 17, 2011)

- Red (September 8, 2011)

- Holy Ground (February 2012)

- Nothing New (March 2, 2012)

- Working with Max Martin (June 10, 2012)

Red era - Listen to the original sixteen songs on the Red album at this point.

Red announcement livestream + Q&A

Red prologue

2012 Rolling Stone interview

2012 The Guardian interview

2012 Billboard interview

2012 Esquire interview

Sirius XM Town Hall - an hourlong interview from the day Red came out

Good Morning America - this is the first mention of the ten-minute version of All Too Well

Red track-by-track descriptions

Random interview where she discusses the connection between writing Speak Now and Red

I Knew You Were Trouble music video

Diary entry about how love is fiction and she might move to New York after all (January 6, 2014)

Diary entry from Grammy night (January 25, 2014)

Red Tour London performance of All Too Well - any performance of this song from 2013-14 will work here, but this one has a pretty comprehensive speech

Final performance of All Too Well on the Red Tour - just listen to the speech here

Post-Red era - Over the course of these interviews, you’ll see her relationship to the album evolve.

Taylor’s description of Clean (skip to 11:18)

2014 BBC Live Lounge interview

1989 World Tour interview where she mentions thinking she’d never sell as many albums as she did with Red before 1989 came out

Clean speech - a lot of these will work, but these two best describe her relationship with the Red era and heartbreak in general

All Too Well (The 1989 World Tour live)

2015 GrammyPro interview

All Too Well Super Saturday Night performance

Reputation Tour All Too Well speech

Red into Daylight performance - 2019 City of Lover concert in Paris

Re-recordings era - at this point, listen to the red vault

2020 Rolling Stone podcast

Red (Taylor’s Version) prologue

2021 Saturday Night Live performance

All Too Well: The Short Film + Behind the Scenes

Seth Meyers interview

2022 Tribeca film talk OR TIFF (both are equally good. I have a slight preference for the former, but there are some interesting new details in the latter). You could also watch directors on directors from the same year as a bonus, but it’s less comprehensive.

2022 Graham Norton - How All Too Well (10 Minute Version) came about + how the re-recordings inspired Midnights

Also listen to Midnights

The Eras Tour

All Too Well speech (Glendale Night 2 & Atlanta Night 1) - any of the speeches from March and April 2023 will work, but these two really illustrate how she feels about this time in her life now and how the fans changed the Red album for her. Obviously credit to @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes for the transcripts!

Maroon first ever live performance (‘This is a song about something that happened a long time ago, but it took place in New York’)

Aaaand finally listen to The Tortured Poets Department, especially The Manuscript

This is a lot, but it’s worth it. Enjoy!

#I really think this is just key to understanding taylor swift as an artist and a woman #red era #red tv #midnights #ttpd #maroon #old interviews #the manuscript #red #all too well 10 #all too well short film

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peyton-warren · 2 years ago

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There you are!!! I just finished this chapter on Ao3 and was like I need to go find her on Tumblr and follow and sing her praises here.

I love love love this story you are weaving. I love how you write all the boys. I can not wait for more!!

All Aboard The Friday Fantasy Train

Chapter 5 of It's Hard For Me To Say... is now live on ao3!

Click the link above to enjoy.

As Always,

Happy Reading Heathens!

#poc reader #walter marshall x reader #captain syverson #dean winchester #henry cavill characters #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #walter marshall #dean smut #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #walter marshall fic #walter marshall x you #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #night hunter fanfiction #captain syverson fanfiction #fic rec.

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d-missler2000 · 2 months ago

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Pull the Trigger, Baby

Haunting Adeline One-Shot Fan Fiction

Zade Meadows x Reader one-shot Haunting Adeline Universe Genre: Dark Romance Warnings: Dark romance themes, NSFW, weapon play/kink, Possessive behaviour, Slight fear kink. Summary/Blurb: You thought you were alone.

But Zade Meadows has never been far behind.

And when he leaves you a rose and a warning, you learn just how far obsession will go—especially when it wants to protect you, possess you, ruin you.

A dark, seductive one-shot about what happens when the hunter stops watching and finally decides to take what’s his.

————————————————————————-

A single red rose sat on your dining room table.

Thornless. Clean. Intentional.

Tied to the stem was a note, the handwriting sharp and deliberate.

“See? I found you, little mouse.”

Your phone buzzed on the counter.

Unknown Number: Lock the door. I left you a surprise.

Your breath hitched.

Another buzz.

Unknown Number: The rose isn’t the only thing I’ve touched tonight.

Your breath caught.

You glanced at the rose again—too perfect. Too intentional.

And then the next message came in.

Unknown Number: Don’t make me come in without knocking.

Your heart jumped. You rushed to the door, hand trembling as you flipped the lock—

Click.

Another message.

Good girl.

You swallowed hard.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until—

Knock knock.

Two slow, measured raps on the door.

Your body tensed.

“Who is it?” you asked, even though your voice came out barely above a whisper.

You already knew.

A voice like velvet and venom slid through the door.

“Your shadow, little mouse.”

Zade.

Your stomach twisted—not with fear, but anticipation. Like your body had already decided for you. Like it wanted to be hunted.

You unlocked the door, slowly.

He didn’t wait.

The second the latch clicked, he pushed inside, closing it behind him with the same kind of finality you’d hear in a loaded gun cocking.

Zade stood in your hallway.

All black. Hood up. Gloves on. And those eyes—dark, cold, calculated.

He looked at you like he was seeing everything.

Like he already owned you.

“You shouldn’t open doors for monsters,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Someone might get the wrong idea.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He stopped a breath away from you, fingers reaching up to gently trace the side of your jaw—

A touch so tender it was almost cruel.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmured, voice dipping lower. “So f**king patient. Watching. Waiting. Letting you pretend you’re safe.”

His gloved hand wrapped around your throat—not tight, just enough to make your pulse pound under his fingers.

“But you’re not.”

A pause. His gaze dropped to your lips.

“You’re only safe with me.”

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Like a man who’d been dying to. Like someone who knew he was crossing a line and didn’t care.

His other hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him. You gasped into his mouth, and he groaned—low and deep, like the sound he’d make dragging you to bed and wrecking you.

“You’ve been teasing me,” he growled against your lips. “Leaving the curtains open. Walking around in that little thing.”

His hand slid down your thigh, up under your dress.

“And now? Now you’re going to take responsibility for what you started.”

You should’ve pulled away.

You didn’t.

Because the truth was—

You didn’t want to run.

You wanted to fall.

Zade pressed you back against the wall, his body a shield, his eyes locked on yours. There was a hunger in him now—no, not hunger. Need.

The kind of need that turned men into monsters.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me little mouse,” he murmured, brushing his nose along your jaw, inhaling you. “I watch you every night. Fingering yourself in the dark like I don’t see it. Like I wouldn’t kill a man for even thinking of you like that.”

Your breath hitched as his gloved hand slid under your dress again, teasing you—slow, soft strokes over your panties.

Then… click.

You froze.

He’d drawn the gun.

You didn’t see it. You didn’t have to. The cold kiss of metal against the underside of your chin told you everything you needed to know.

“Hands on the wall.”he ordered, voice low, like a command laced in silk and sin.

You obeyed.

Your palms flattened against the cool wall, heart thundering. Your breath shallow. But your thighs pressed together, heat pooling low in your stomach.

You weren’t scared.

You were on fire.

Zade’s body pressed behind you, gun still nestled beneath your jaw.

“I could make you beg right now,” he growled against your ear, “and you would. You’d cry for it. Because you want to be broken by me.”

His hand trailed between your legs, fingers pressing into you through the fabric—slow, deliberate, punishing.

“So wet already,” he murmured. “You like this, don’t you? Like knowing I could end you and instead—I’m going to devour you.”

He pulled your panties down with one hand, the other still holding the gun steady.

Then his fingers slipped inside—slow, torturous. Curling just enough to make you gasp.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “No more hiding. No more pretending little mouse.”

He dragged the gun lower, sliding the barrel slowly down your throat, between your breasts, then over your hip as he crouched behind you, mouth now pressed to your inner thigh.

“You’ll come on my fingers,” he said, biting down gently. “Then you’ll scream on my c**k.”

And you did.

You came hard on his fingers, body shuddering, breath a strangled moan against the wall. And when he finally pushed into you—deep, relentless, desperate—he groaned like a man who’d finally gotten his first taste of salvation.

The pace was brutal. Controlled chaos. One hand around your throat, the other gripping your hip, dragging you back onto him again and again.

And all the while, he talked.

“I’ll bury myself in you every night if I have to,” he grunted. “Every f**king night until you know you’re mine.”

Your name left his mouth like a vow. Over and over. Growled into your neck as he thrust harder, deeper.

Until you shattered again, body clenching, legs shaking—

And he came with a broken sound, teeth on your shoulder, hips locked tight to yours like he never wanted to leave.

The gun clattered gently to the floor as he leaned against you, both of you panting, wrecked.

And then, softer… almost reverent…

“I love you like a curse,” he whispered. “Like a sin I’d commit twice.”

Your legs were still trembling.

Zade caught you before you could sink to the floor, arms strong and unrelenting as he wrapped them around your waist and pulled you into him—your back against his chest, the gun long forgotten on the floor.

He kissed your shoulder once, then again. Slower this time. Calmer. Like the storm inside him had passed, and now all that remained was you.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, voice low but steady.

You shook your head, leaning into him. “No.”

He tilted your chin back gently, looking into your eyes like he needed the truth written there. When he found it, the corners of his mouth twitched up—just slightly.

“Good,” he murmured. “But you tell me if I ever do.”

“I will,” you whispered.

Zade reached down and pulled his hoodie off, then slipped it over your head without a word. It smelled like him—smoke, gunpowder, and something darkly masculine. You sank into it.

He lifted you in his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world, carried you to the couch, and sat with you in his lap. One hand rubbing slow circles on your thigh, the other brushing sweaty strands of hair away from your face.

You expected silence.

Instead, his voice came quiet, careful.

“I watch you because I don’t trust anyone else to.” He didn’t look at you when he said it. “You don’t know what kind of people are out there. What kind of things I’ve done to people who looked at you too long.”

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t run.

You just leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

“I know.”

Zade’s hand slipped under the hem of his hoodie, fingertips ghosting across your stomach like he was reminding himself you were really there.

He let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” he admitted. “I only know how to take. Break. Control.”

“And still,” you said softly, “you’re holding me like I’m something to protect.”

His jaw tensed. His grip tightened for a second—and then he nodded.

“I’ll protect you ‘til the day I stop breathing little mouse,” he whispered.

He kissed you again, but this time there was no rush. Just reverence. Like you weren’t just the girl he watched. You were the girl he chose.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

nsfw content!

————————————————————————

#zade meadows #haunting adeline #Zade meadows x reader #Zade meadows fanfic #Zade meadows one shot #haunting Adeline universe #dark romance #dark romance fanfic #dark romance oneshot #dark romance girlie

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iamsherlocked-1998 · 4 months ago

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COSTUME NIGHT

Summary: Joel and you attend a friend's party.

Words: 1300.

Warning ⚠️: The story contains explicit sex. This is a non-apocalipsis AU.

It all started innocently enough. A Star Wars show came out that you and Ellie loved. Although he'd watched the original films, Joel wasn't much for science fiction, but he'd do anything to see his girls happy, so he only gave in when you excitedly turned on the TV.

The TV series had a peculiarity that, to be fair, Joel didn't understand either: the protagonist always had his face hidden by a mask. When season two was about to end, something happened. For the first time, there was a fairly long scene of the character without his helmet, and that's when the chaos began. Apparently, you were quick to point out a certain resemblance between the actor and himself, from his hair to eyes, which generated a nonstop stream of jokes over the following weeks, with one "this is the way" after another and stuffed animals with the friendly green alien appearing everywhere. But it didn't end there.

It turned out that some friends of yours held a rather large costume party every year. Preparations for the event had begun a few days before. Of course, you were a big fan, and the shopping had been done farther in advance than Joel would have liked. He and Ellie were helping with the decorations, which at least gave the contractor something to do, when the idea came up.

"What are you going to dress up as this year?" (The teenager said, raising her eyebrow).

The man sighed dramatically.

"We've already talked about it. It's fine for you to have fun, but I don't have to wear a ridiculous costume."

"Come on, Joel! Don't be a party pooper. You know she loves it. She's always happier around this time. And we've already decided who we're going to be, we'll be from the movie Alien."

"So? You don't expect me to be the creature, do you?"

Ellie laughed profusely, but shook her head.

"Actually, I was thinking about something else, another character who usually travels through space…" (The girl pursed her lips maliciously).

"Who…? NO! That's not going to happen!"

"Why? Mando's a good character, he fits you like a glove. He's grumpy but kind."

"I don't know where you see the resemblance, nor what it has to do with a horror party."

"He's a bounty hunter! I think it fits well; he even has a pantry of carbonite bodies."

Joel rolled his eyes at the girl's nerve.

"Come on… she'll love it, it's a family matter. Just for a little while."

The man looked at her thoughtfully for a second; he could never resist when his adopted daughter begged him, and she used it against him. He put the hand to his face in resignation.

"I wouldn't know where to get the costume…" The girl clapped enthusiastically.

"I can help you."

It turns out the outfit was easier to find than you'd think. Joel tried on a couple of options until he found the most suitable one. The man had to admit it was pretty well done.

As the days passed, the commotion grew, and finally, the appointed date arrived. Ellie left with her friends, and you arranged to meet up later.

Of course, you looked amazing in your Lieutenant Ripley uniform. Ellie opted for the star of the newest movie and wore a spacesuit. It was time for Joel to get dressed. You were sitting on the couch waiting for him, freaking out since your boyfriend never took that long to get ready.

"Joel! I wonder what outfit you chose that took you so long to…"

All your annoyance and your speech evaporated as soon as he walked through the door. There he was, clad in full silver armor, helmet with a T-shaped visor. The man looked down shyly, playing with his foot, which was currently wearing a boot identical to the one in the series.

"I don't know if it's very good… I wasn't planning on going with the little alien either; that was too much, but I hope you like it."

You were speechless; even his voice was modulated. You didn't know how he found it, but the enigmatic air was driving you crazy. He did all that for you; Joel didn't even like it.

You approached him without hesitation and removed his helmet to kiss him in a way that left him breathless.

Joel smiled that way his dimples were pronounced. You took his hand and led him to the bedroom. Your partner raised his eyebrow in surprise.

"I thought we were going out…"

"That can wait… now I'm going to ride you with that armor on, helmet too."

Joel felt his face heat up; you'd never spoken like that before. Apparently, the disguise was a better idea than he thought…

You laid him down on the bed while exploring his patchy beard and the area of his neck you could reach. Joel's hands held your hips, searching for the zipper of the costume.

Once exposed to him, he flipped you over so he was on top of you, kissing his way down to your navel, his favorite spot, then leaving marks on your thighs, earning a needy moan.

He pulled your legs up over his shoulders, causing you to feel a pleasant sting from the material of his armor. He then turned his attention to your center, which was already throbbing. Once he noticed you melting in his arms, he added two fingers, making you see stars.

You let yourself go as your first release came, trying to push him away to avoid overstimulation. Breathing heavily, you picked up the missing piece of his armor. Joel snorted in surprise.

"Really?" (You nodded with a chuckle).

"I stand by what I said."

Joel took the helmet from your hands and placed it in place. You sat him down on the bed, reaching for his pants where his arousal was already evident.

His manhood released with a groan that filtered through the modulator. You held it in anticipation, enjoying the back-and-forth friction it provided right on your sweet spot. When the moment arrived, you sat up, feeling every inch of him stretch you open.

A few seconds were enough to adapt to his length, and you began to move hard and messy. The way you squeezed him wouldn't allow it to last long.

"Please say it…"

Joel had lost all sense of time and space by then, until he realized what you were asking for. With a grunt, he lowered his voice a quarter note and fulfilled your fantasy.

"This is the way…"

You screamed in ecstasy as you came for the second time, feeling Joel filling you with himself. The breaths became more even. You climbed off his lap, seeing the mess you'd made. Hopefully, you'd removed the leg guards beforehand and were able to pull his pants down completely to avoid staining. Your partner moved, but you stopped him. You ran your tongue over his flaccid member, cleaning off the remaining debris. Joel sighed heavily.

"Do that again, and we'll have to call it a night because we won't be leaving the room…"

You held the bottom of his helmet dominantly so he'd face you.

"Would that be so bad?"

_____________

The next morning, Joel was drinking his coffee. Ellie had just gotten up, and you went to the grocery store.

"I forgot to ask. I didn't see how she reacted… Did she like it, right?"

Joel lowered his head in shame. "Yeah…it went well."

"Sure! I knew it. But one thing, why did you get here so late? Was there traffic?"

"Yeah, a little…"

The man didn't even look up, engrossed in his warn drink.

"What's wrong?….Oh my god! She took it too well, didn't she? You guys are nasty."

The girl went from a proud smile to confusion to a grimace of disgust.

"I didn't say anything!"

"There was no need! I'll never watch that show again…"

The man sighed; despite everything, it was definitely an unforgettable night.

TAG ❤️: @myownwholewildworld

#joel miller x fem reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #Joel miller x reader #ellie williams #The last of us #the mandalorian #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #din djarin #Joel miller #joel miller x you

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abigailmoment · 4 months ago

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Hi! I'm Abigail. I write stories and games.

All of my work can be found on my website. Below there's a sampling of stories that are good places to begin.

I have a discord that's very friendly and I'm very responsive on it. I have a mailing list that goes out when I make new things.

I have an Ao3 account of fan fiction that is, at the moment, almost entirely dedicated to vampires from Baldur's Gate 3 being bad at communication. My most active story on it is currently: The Last Will and Testament of Cazador Szarr.

(Note--Cazador is dead and does not appear in the story.)

A visual novel game in development.

You are John Watson. You're very worried about your best friend, Sherlock Holmes. You're right to be worried. Left to his own devices, he'll destroy himself with overwork and cocaine. Don't let him do that.

Wishlist here.

I have a Patreon that is a new experiment. It is very low pressure Patreon. I inevitably, create things. I will put many of them there. If you are interested in subscribing, please think of it as supporting my ability to create in general rather than purchasing monthly entertainment.

If you are in any way financially vulnerable, please don't give me money. I am stable and safe. If you want access to the stories here but can't afford a subscription please message me and I'll give you a free subscription.

That is a general rule. If you can't afford anything I've created, please ask me for it and I'll give it to you.

Read things here.

A text-based videogame. Cost: $3.99

Open Sorcery follows the development of an Elemental Firewall: a fire elemental bound with C++ code to protect a network of people and places. You guide her as she makes decisions and grows. She can learn things, develop relationships, and even gain sapience. Or she can burn everything with fire.

Play on Steam.

Play on Android.

Play on iPhone.

A text-based fangame of BG3. Cost: Free.

Art by @cymk8

There's a monster made of dreams. It has its teeth in your companions. It builds nightmares out of their worst memories and drinks their pain. One of your companions has a very bad worst memory. A long, text-based video game.

Play online.

A text-based videogame. Cost: Free

You're a vampire hunter on your night off. You're getting a manicure, seeing a movie, and eating fast food.

But there's a vampire in this McDonalds. If you don't do something, then in one hour it will eat the cashier.

Play online.

#masterlist

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heatheninpraxis · 1 month ago

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Hello Tumblr. This is my first ever foray with fan fiction, so go easy on me, I am extremely nervous. There's just too much incredible Joel Miller smut on this hellsite and y'all inspired me. I'm halfway through the second part of this lil fic, so if there is an audience for it, I'll post part 2 asap!

Feel Her Love (part 1)

🎶Alluring Eyes - The Brudi Brothers

Tags: MDNI, smut, jackson!joel, Joel x reader, old!joel, caretaker!joel, grumpy!joel, dark themes, tw, PTSD, fmasturbation, m genitalia mentioned

AN: slow burn, age gap (legal obvs), fmc is an ex seraphite, excessive description of PTSD/trauma/mental illness, f masturbation, dirty bath water, power imbalance (inexperienced/mentally ill fmc), implied history of sa, subservience. I love Joel and have a hard time putting him in a position of taking advantage, but I'm giving them tiiiime damnit.

Without further ado - feel her love part 1

As you wake, your anxiety sets in instantly. You bolt upright, halt your breath, swiftly examining your surroundings. Where am I? You hear soft, slow snoring. You look down. Four others asleep in makeshift pallets around a dying fire. Deep breath. I am safe. I am away from them.

“Hey… hey, you're alright. I've been keepin’ watch. Y’ain't missed nothin'.” Your head snaps up to locate where the low, surly voice is emanating from. Joel is up, seated on a large rock, finishing packing up for the morning. His eyes meet yours, then flick away, so as not to spook you.

You've only been traveling with the group for two weeks or so now. He zips his pack and grab his rifle, securing the strap and gently swinging it over his broad shoulder.

“Coffee? I think there is a bit of that jerky left, if yer hungry.”

You let out the breath you've been holding. Silently, you slip from under the canvas jacket you'd used as a blanket, rise soundlessly to a modified crouched position, and reach out to grab the aluminum thermos lid of steaming coffee Joel had poured for you. You say nothing, giving a curt nod to convey your gratitude. Coffee is not something you were used to in all your years with the Seraphites. Since you'd run off, your nerves had permitted you little rest, and in small doses, the caffeine helped keep you moving in step with the group.

They were from a large camp, some place called Jackson. They were out on a scouting mission. You barely managed to gather enough information through torn and hodge podged, ruined road maps to have an idea of whereabouts they'd picked you up. Well, damn near kidnapped you, really. You had not gone willingly. You glance down at your injured leg. You'd managed to mangle it in some crude, makeshift trap a hunter had left on the roadside a few weeks ago- you’d wager somewhere outside Billings. You'd barely managed to stay alive, trying to fight off infection with what minimal foraging and holistic medicine training the Seraphites had given you. The group had spent half of a night trying to track you down after catching a glimpse of you dragging yourself through the woods, trying to lay low. As they closed in on you, you'd trained your last arrow on Joel, and after seeing how sick, hurt, and desperate you looked, he lowered his weapon. You didn't. You were ready to die fighting, no matter how pathetic a foe you appeared to be. Joel crept up to you, cooing and promising to help you. Just as you were about to loose your arrow into his chest, you heard “Sorry” and saw black. He'd pistol whipped you and flung you over the back of his horse. You awoke 18 hours later, feeling much less feverish and looking much more clean and bandaged.

“You good kiddo?” Joel asked, snapping you out of a daze. You don't meet his eyes, just silently nod. Silence. It's all you've ever had to protect yourself in this world. You've kept your head down, you've tried to follow instruction, but all you've ever known was fear, trauma, and isolation. Silence kept you out of trouble. Kept you safe from clickers. Kept the Elders’ persecuting gaze on others - poor unfortunate souls - that weren't you. You'd seen what they were capable of. You'd seen both friend and foe, strung up above the earth, missing their entrails. Your heartbeat skyrockets at the blood chilling memories.

“Heh, d’you ever shut up?” Joel playfully barks at you. You jump at the words, but understand he meant no harm by it. You give him a tiny, almost inaudible chuckle. It's the best you can do to not let on how damaged you feel psychologically. You still haven't told them who you were running from. The others start to stir now from their slumber. You focus on your rapidly cooling coffee. It's bitter and is sure to increase your anxiety soon, but you gulp it down, praying it gives you the energy you need to finish the trek back to Jackson. You focus on gathering your things, and keep your eyes down from the awakening crew.

“God you can be so loud when you want to be, Miller. The sun isn't even fully up and you're already hollerin. Let us get some fuckin caffeine in us first. " a young man, you think his name is Josh, playfully fires at Joel.

“And let you sleep all damn day? We're ‘bout seven hours out from Jackson and I'm rearin’ to get back to my own bed” he jabs back. “Now get yer coffee and get to packin’ up, ya lazy asses. “

The others are still groaning as they rush to gather their belongings. You're already at Joel's chestnut's side, clasping the bedroll Joel lent you into its leather straps on her saddle. You idly pat her haunch as you wait for Joel to assist you up. He is already rounding the treeline before you know it, and you can't help but steal a glance at his straining biceps through his thick flannel as he straddles his mare and reaches down to offer you a hand up. Your neck flushes. You sink your good foot in the stirrup, grasp his calloused, enveloping hand, and let him haul you up, careful not to bump your injured leg. You swing your leg over and, once again, find yourself seated at the front of the saddle, back flush to his chest, and your rear indecently close to his… manhood.

You think you're about 25 years old, though time meant little in your life as a cult member, and you certainly didn't celebrate birthdays. It was a cult, no matter what your mother and siblings had tried to tell you. They were true believers in the Prophet. After your mother had drug you and your siblings into their grasp, you started to lose them. You know you were about 7 when you became one of the Seraphites. And every year since then you'd known your family less and less. When your mother had fought to marry you off to some scraggly looking older man, you knew she no longer loved you in the way she had when you were a little girl. Maybe she was just trying to do anything she could to keep you alive, but in doing so, she killed who you were. Today you were a shell of a person, with little more inside than the personification of pure, undiluted fear.

Traveling with this group had been a great comfort to you, after the initial panic wore off. They tried to welcome you into the fold at night by the fireside. They protected you when danger was afoot. They nursed you back from the brink of death. There was even a woman in the crew, who sang songs as you all rode through the wilderness, that you might have remembered from when you were a small child. Maybe not, though. Maybe you just wanted to remember them, because they lit a warm little fire in the center of your chest that didn't fizzle out for days.

And Joel, who gave you all the space you needed without your asking for it. Who kept you tight to his chest in your long trek back to Jackson. Who kept an extra watchful eye on you. It felt like he'd taken you under his wing, and no one had ever done that for you before. Eye contact was difficult for you, having grown up in such a diseased hierarchy of a social setting. You were to be obedient. Subservient. And anytime you let your guard down, you'd paid for it. A slap in the face, a knuckle rapping, a week in a cell with little food and ample prayer… God, the prayer. As much as you tried to lean into it, to accept it as your reality, the prayer made you sick. You tried to accept your fate as a devout Seraphite, but deep down you knew the Prophet was full of shit.

“Almost there, kiddo. And don't worry about Jackson. I'll make sure they take it easy on you. Yer goin’ ta be safe here. Now, we are gettin’ to be full up around town, but there's a spare room at my place, till we find you your own apartment. Maybe a roommate or two for a lil while, but only when yer ready. You can stay with me n Ellie till yer good n sick of us. Yer gonna be safe with me. A'right?“ Joel gently squeezes your thigh and for once, you don't jump out of your skin. You melt back into the man who has managed to make you feel safe for the first time in your life. It makes your chest feel warm and your body feel heavy - drowsy. And you drift off to sleep, right then and there, on the back of a horse.

As the familiar Jackson skyline came into his line of sight, Joel let out a heavy sigh of relief. He and the others had gone out a few weeks back, on a mission to check in on some old radio towers Jackson could potentially utilize in the future. The mission was mostly a bust - another team would have to go out in the coming months for some heavy reconstruction, to make the one tower you did find even remotely usable. And now, this. This skittish rabbit of a woman he was dragging back into town. Mean as a viper when they'd cornered her, but softened as the days went on. Joel couldn't get a good read on her. She sure was timid, and did not seem to enjoy meeting anyone's eye. He didn't know why, but he was drawn to her and found himself hovering, overly concerned about her. He would normally be annoyed at how helpless she was, adding little to the group's efforts. Not to mention the shit storm he will be walking into, very soon now. How did someone with such little survival and navigational skills end up out here on her own? After 2 weeks, they had managed to get a few answers to some questions out of the woman. She didn't want to disseminate who she had been with prior. Images of raider thugs laying their hands on her flashed through Joel's mind, and just the thought made his blood pressure rise. Who had hurt this girl? Who carved those scars into her face? For their sake, he had better never find out. Joel did feel shame for the decisions he had made in anger in his past, but never regret. He certainly didn't learn from it, because if he ever managed to get the names of her captors, abusers, whoever they were, out of her, he was going to make them pay in flesh.

Jackson's leadership would not be pleased Joel was dragging another stray into town, another mouth to feed. The winter had been hard on their community, and they had long since run out of safe homes for new admissions. The construction teams were struggling to keep up with demands for home renovations. But what was Joel to do? Leave this girl in the woods to burn up from her infected open wounds? Maybe if she had been someone else, but one look into her big round fearful eyes, her bow taught and trained on his center of mass, his heart seized up and he knew he was on the hook for another soul to protect - to live and to die for. Part of him resented her for that, another person to protect, to feed, to have depending on him. It feels like that's all his life ever was - working hard and worrying for people. As he was approaching his mid 50’s, he could feel the weariness and the weight of it bearing down on his bones more than ever.

Joel found himself breathing deep, inhaling the earthy scent of his passenger's hair, and she slept gently resting under his chin. It was tied up in disheveled braids, secured closely to the crown of her head. They hadn't been able to provide any substantial bathing measures for her, and her hair smelled dirty, like earth and sweat, but intoxicating to him nonetheless. She was sickly looking, and covered in grime, but try as he might, he couldn't deny the shapeliness of her body, or the undeniable beauty of her face, even with the two deep scars protruding from the sides of her plump lips, and tracing all the way up to her ears. He stiffened, realizing how fucking creepy the act was, sniffing on a defenseless young woman as she slept, ruminating on her beauty. Shame sent prickles under his skin and up his chest and neck, and he gripped the reins tighter, determined to get off this horse and back home to the privacy, comfort, and quiet of his humble Jackson home. He needed to get his fuckin’ head on straight. They were only about 5 minutes out from the gate now, and he bristled preemptively at the inevitable interrogation and invasion of space she was about to endure. He felt a growl forming in his chest. He was fucking exhausted and didn't want to deal with it, but he was going to stay composed for the girl, she didn't need to see him lose his head just yet.

You awake to a quick, rough jostling. Joel is shaking your shoulder with a firm grip.

“Wake up, girl. We're here.” His tone is stern, colder than you were used to from him. The others had dismounted, and were joking with the team that had arrived to greet them. You swallow dryly. You're uncertain what you'll do if they turn you away. The idea of picking back up and walking away from this enormous settlement had your teeth on edge. This was more than you could have ever expected to see out here in the tattered remains of the world that once was. The walls were high, made of sturdy, reinforced wooden logs. There must be hundreds, if not thousands of people living here. All dressed in warm clothes and well fed. Your chest pangs with a grief you had tried for years to bury, wishing you could have broken through to your siblings. You thought your mother was too far gone, though. Who would your siblings be if they'd ended up here instead of the harsh, swampy region your chapter of the Seraphites had held domain in? Joel hopped off the chestnut mare without a word, letting you stumble with no support behind you any longer. His sudden departure from the protective persona you'd come to know him as left you feeling uncertain and vulnerable. He slung his pack over his shoulder and picked you up effortlessly to set you on the ground beside him. A shooting pain radiated up the back of your leg and you whimper, barely perceptible. You catch a glimpse of Joel's eyes, looking shocked and remorseful, before they dart away and he gestures for you to follow him closely.

“Shit… ” Joel winces under his breath, I'm a fucking prick. Shoulda been more careful, he thought. He was desperate to get this over with and to get you back to his place. You hobble at his side, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“You're shittin’ me, Miller. You know this can't fly right now.” an older gentleman groans in Joel's direction as his eyes rake over you in frustration. “Another mouth to feed. Where the hell you gonna put her?” Joel barges past, his arm hovering around your back, herding you through the team collecting the horses. The others you'd travelled with were filling the gaurds in on their findings about a decrepit radio tower.

“Not in the fuckin’ mood for chastisin’, Mike. Get Tommy and the rest ready. She's stayin at mine and I won't hear another word till the rest are here for intake protocol.” Joel is steadily guiding you through the gate. Your body is lit up, nervous for your potential exile, or maybe the possibility of this place, full of life on bustling streets, being your new home. Your heart races as you sidle next to Joel, trying to keep your head down and your heart from getting its hopes up. You pass homes and stables, bakeries, a seamstress and cobbler's storefront... You would never have dreamt this was out there beyond the woodlands you'd grown up in. You could smell food cooking, possibly something from the bakery, and hear faint music coming from what looked to be a tavern. The anxiety was palpable, swirling through your chest and above your head. Joel catches a glance at you every few steps, warming at the wonder in your eyes. He is desperate for this to go as quickly and painlessly as possible. It's glaringly evident him you have trauma, possibly PTSD, from whatever hell you've lived through in place of a real life. And from what he gathered from you over the last couple of weeks, you weren't ready for the grilling he knew you'd be subject to shortly. You eventually walk up steps to a white washed wooden building. The porch was adorned with bunting flags in bright colors, with bountiful flower pots on either side of the glass doors. The entry way was filled with fliers - job postings, advertisements for yoga classes and square dancing lessons, babysitting offers… all edivence that this really was a thriving community. It took your breath away.

“Alright now, listen to me.” Joel says, grasping both your shoulders firmly and pulling you to face him, his gaze determined to penetrate yours. You do your best to hold your eyes to his, as much as it makes you squirm. “These people are tasked with keepin’ this place safe and runnin’ efficiently. It's their job to make sure we ain’t runnin’ this settlement into the ground or takin’ in lawless psychopaths. Now I know you're harmless, and just tryin’ to survive, but they're gonna want to be convinced. I'm gonna try to answer what I can but I need to know you ain't gonna give ‘em your infamous silent treatment. I need you to be brave and tell them your story, okay kiddo?”

Your eyes are watering now, and you burn under his gaze. You start to nod, but manage to muster up a quiet, but firm “yes." You cannot mess this up. It's your only hope. Joel holds your gaze for a few beats longer, nods once, takes a sharp deep breath, and opens the door. He guides you into a large room with a panel of individuals at the back. There are benches lining either side of the aisle he leads you down. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but you keep your head level with your audience. They scrutinize you as you approach, filling you with the urge to dash, but you plant your feet firmly on the ground and pretend you are brave.

“Joel… “ a woman greets him with exasperation in her voice.

“Maria…” he nods, and extends the greeting to the others on the panel as well.

“And who do we have here?” Maria wastes no time asking.

Joel introduces you, and you nod at the panel, doing your best to mirror his body language. He gives them a brief rundown of their mission, and what scraps of information he and the others had coaxed from you over the time you'd spent together so far. He sounds weary, but tries to put on his most charming tone. Joel is desperate for this to go by without a hitch. He doesn't dare to imagine the sleepness nights ahead of him, worrying about you outside of these walls, if they don't make an exception and welcome you in.

“Well, let's hear it from you. Where did you come from? Who is it you've left behind out west?” the man Joel addressed as Tommy asks you.

Your chest starts to seize, you're terrified to speak their name out loud. Outside of Washington, you're unsure what opinions come to mind when someone hears the word “Seraphite”. Do they know of their cruelty or deranged beliefs? But you weren't one of them. You had to make them understand. You had to make them see you aren’t like them. Your breathing speeds up and your mind is whirring.

“Hey, now. S'okay kiddo. Just tell them the truth. Ya ain't got nothin’ to hide “ Joel's voice is warm and coated in honey now, just for you. He places his broad hand on your back. It snaps your mind back into the present moment, and gives you just enough courage to tell them the truth. So you do. Quietly, quickly, you tell them your story - cult, WLF, whistles, and the rest. You don't mention how your mother tried to marry you off to the man who tried to take advantage of you as a teen. You don't mention the executions you bore witness to. You don't mention the oppression and neglect you endured or exactly why your face is carved up like a jack-o-lantern. You just try your best to tell them who you are and why you left. After you prattle out the information, you look up from under your lashes to gauge their reaction. Some look shocked, some look at you with pity. None of them look angry. Your breath shudders.

“Good job, kiddo. You did real good. Why don't you wait out in the lobby for me while we finish up?” Joel coos.

You look up at him, fearful and teary eyed, and he nods reassuringly. You turn tail and exit the room. To your surprise, you don't panic as the door closes behind you. You don't even cry. You just focus on your breath, and listen to the muttering on the other side of the large wooden door. You make out the word “responsibility” and maybe “appointments” but within a few minutes, you hear heavy boots approaching on the wooden floor. The door opens slowly and Joel walks into the foyer. Without looking at you he says “Let's go” and notions to you with a nod of his head. You follow, relief flooding your body when you realize you aren't about to be handcuffed and escorted back out into the Wyoming wilderness.

Joel leads the way as you walk through town towards his home. The others seemed sympathetic to her story, but no less pissed off at him. They're worried about your stability, and want him to get you to a therapist for an evaluation and weekly visits. Only Greta had heard tale of the Seraphites. Her sister in a settlement in Canada had mentioned them years ago, but referred to them as “scars”, and only as what she thought to be a fringe group, not the religious zealot foothold in the PNW you'd made them out to be. Your recounting had been enough to spook the others, and make Joel grateful for the distance he and his team had managed to put between you and your abusers. He was feeling overwhelmed by it all, and maybe a little stupid, after a comment Tommy made about him feeling the need to save all the damaged women he ever stumbled across. Fuckin’ bratty little brother and always will be, Joel thought. None of his fuckin’ business who I deem worthy of a helping hand anyway…

It was nearing sunset as he rounded the street corner to his dead end street. His heart gave a small skip at the sight of his flimsy little white picket fence, grateful to be back home and the fuck away from other people. That is, except for you. He turned around, realizing he had been walking too fast and too determinedly for someone of your stature and state to keep up. You weren't far behind, though. And you were just happy to be somewhere so idyllic. It felt like a dream. One you never could have mustered up while hidden away in Pacific northwestern forest, only ever knowing destitution and the lack of joy in things like picket fences and painted shutters. Joel thinks he might have caught you smiling as you were taking it all in.

“Well, here it is. I gave you my word that you could stay with us as long as you needed. Ellie stays here in the garage, you can take her old room. Let's head in and get you cleaned up so I can take a look at that leg.” You no longer detected any gruffness, nor any of the honey soaked reassuring tone from earlier. All you could hear was exhaustion.

Joel led you onto his creaking front porch and in through his heavy wooden door. He tossed his pack down on the kitchen floor, and gestured for you to do the same. You didn't have much with you, just some chewing sticks from home to keep your teeth clean, a small glass jar of liquid castile soap, your canteen, one change of clothes, and some hair pins to keep your mane tame. Joel had taken your hunting blade and bow when they'd picked you up. He had promised to arm you at the first sign of danger, but that sign never came. You held your bag close to your side, and he looked down at it, then shrugged as if to say “suit yourself, you can bring it up to your room” and he turned around to start fiddling around in his kitchen.

“I'm throwing on a kettle, get you some tea started” he said as he filled the kettle. “Water heater is old, so it takes a while to get hot” you watch with rapt attention, not really knowing what he was talking about. You knew what a kettle was, and didn't understand what would make his take so long to heat up. Joel could read the incredulity on your face, and wondered what kind of regressive hell you lived in to have not known the luxury of a hot bath. He tries to rephrase “uh, I'm gonna make us some hot water for tea and then I'm going to start the water for your bath, it just might take a while before it's ready for ya”

You watch as he clicked on the burner and set the kettle down. He rounds the corner and brushes against your hip, and you step back, flustered from the contact. You had never been permitted to be in such close contact with men before, and even as you became all too familiar with the sensation of bouncing just outside the confines of Joel's lap day in and day out, these little brushes still sent tingles throughout your body. You scramble out of his way, he slows and braces you with a desperately light touch, and he mumbles “Er sorry” and he carries on his path to his bathroom. Once inside, Joel grasps either side of his sink, closes his eyes, and let's out a long, deep sigh. What the fuck have I gotten myself into. This poor woman ain't used to civil society… he looks in the mirror at his sun damaged, salt and pepper reflection, shakes his head, and turns to draw you a bath. In the kitchen, you look around, enthralled by the commodities Jackson residents are permitted, even after all the destruction of the last few decades. The Elder's would spit on this place were they here. Spit on you for revelling in it. They despised “new world” comforts, and lauded minimalism and conformity. But you were here, looking at artwork on the Miller's walls, and they were miles away, likely shitting in a hole in the woods. You almost permit yourself to smile at the thought. You move silently throughout the first floor, listening intently for Joel's footsteps to approach. You find a tiny carved bird on the fireplace mantle. You pick it up and get lost in its charm. Each feather chiseled out in meticulous detail. You don't recognize the breed with what information you can discern from a wood carving, but pick your brain for all of the species you had learned about back home.

“Eh that ain't my best work” Joel says as you jump and almost let the bird clatter to the ground. He hadn't made a sound, even with his enormous body and this aging wood flooring. You scramble to set the bird back down on the mantle, feeling ashamed for touching things that didn't belong to you. You clasp your elbows behind your back and fix your gaze at his feet.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have … “

Joel approached you slowly with his arms out, like you were a wounded dog. “S'okay, you're allowed to touch anythin' in this house. S'your home now, too. You don't ever have to be sorry. I know it might take a while for you to feel like this is your home, but I'll be here to make sure you do. “ he stops a few feet shy of you, and you feel embarrassed. You know this isn't how normal people behave. You wonder when you arrived at this level of broken. Joel gingerly maneuvers through the house, and switches off the burner so the kettle's whistle doesn't spook you. He returns from around the counter and coaxes you towards a door in the middle of the hallway, just under the stairs. He guides you to step inside the wash room, and you see the bathtub full of steamy water. You hadn't bathed in one since you were a kid, and never with hot water. You had only ever bathed in the stream with several other girls in your age group. You look up at him with gratitude and anticipation.

“She's all yours, take all the time you like. Left some of Ellie's ol’ girly shit on the window sill for ya - shampoo and razors and whatnot. There's a hairbrush in the vanity until we can get you some supplies of yer own. You need anything, you just holler.” And with that, Joel closed the door and left you to it.

You checked around the room and peeked out the window to make sure you were really, truly alone. You hadn't bathed alone maybe ever in your life. A girlish giggle nearly bubbled up out of your chest, but you swallowed it down and started stripping off your dirty layers. You peeled the bandages off your leg and winced, the wound wasn't fully closed and you knew it needed washing. You stepped in front of a large standing mirror. Your curves were still there but you looked thin. It made you frown. Your face was filthy and your hair was stringy and disheveled, even with the braids still secured tightly to your scalp. You took the pins out one by one, and let your tresses fall around your shoulders and breasts. You bent down to find the hairbrush Joel mentioned in the drawer of the vanity. Vanity… the Elders...

You turned your back the mirror and quickly brushed out the rats nest on your head. Slowly you dipped one leg over the edge of the claw foot into the dreamy, hot water. It was perfect. Instantly dirt melted off and swirled out into the clean water. You left your wounded leg draped over the side of the tub as you seated yourself fully in the luxurious water. You sigh blissfully and felt enraptured by the sensation. It was overwhelming and quietly joyful. You permit yourself to just revel in it and soak. You submerge your entire body up to your ears and eyes. The only thing you hear is a slow dripping coming from the faucet. It almost startles you, the quiet and comfort. It's deafening and starts to make you nervous, so you begin to slosh around a little more to make some noise, washing your body with the scented soap Joel left for you on the window's ledge. You diligently scrub yourself and luxuriate in the greatest washing up of your life. You lather and scrub your hair, the shampoo creating more foamy suds than you've ever seen. You meticulously shave your legs, leaving only a handful of knicks on your knees and ankles. By the time you wash your wounded leg and the rest of your body, the water is grey and the suds have dissipated to swirling white streaks in the filthy water. You step out of the tub, pulled the drain plug, and look around the bathroom. There are no towels in sight. Increasingly panicked, you begin to check every drawer and cabinet.

In the living room, Joel waits for what seems like hours. Trying desperately to keep the image of your naked body soaking in his tub from his mind. He fusses with the kettle, dumping cups of water down the drain and refreshing them with hot water each time they go cold waiting for you. Joel's throat feels thick with anticipation and he just wishes he could go off and rub one out in the privacy of his own room. His length is stiffening in his jeans. He angrily tugs at the crotch of them, trying to create space for the thickening bastard inside. What the fuck was wrong with him? He hadn't been alone with you for an hour before his perverted ass mind ran off with visions of you naked, legs spread indecently wide across his bed. I mean Jesus, how old is she anyway? Half your age? It ain't fuckin right Miller. Joel hears drawers opening and closing down the suddenly now. Joel immediately realizes his mistake and mutters a drawn out “fuuuuuuck… no”. He forgot your fucking towel. He knew you'd be too spooked to call out for him. Could you even make your voice reach an audible level from that distance? He rushes downstairs to find his fluffiest clean towel from the laundry room in the basement.

You had exhausted all potential storage spots in the bathroom and decided to open up the door to call out for help. As the door swings open Joel rounds the corner of the stairs and comes face to face with your dripping wet, fully nude body. You freeze. Absolutely stock still. Joel curses and tries to hand you the towel. He tries desperately to look away, and to understand why the hell you were just standing there. He is apologizing profusely, and you see the desperate attempt he is making to look away, but you are still in shock at your poor timing, nothing registers in your brain. Joel sees you are in trauma response freeze mode and realizes he needs to help you. He fumbles to unfold the towel and drape it around you, but not before he catches a glimpse at the beauty between your thighs or those large, tear drop shaped tits sitting pretty on your chest. He feels his heart squeeze in agony - for betraying your trust and for the fact that he will never bury his face in your perfect cunt or spend hours lazily sucking on your dark pink nipples. To avoid this agony clawing at him, he sternly wraps your body in the towel and mutters “what the hell kiddo, help me out here”. As you finally snap out of it, you clutch the towel to your body, and slam the bathroom door behind you. You know he saw every inch of you. You saw his eyes dart over your body. You felt them sear into the place between your thighs. The heat from his eyes still lingers there. You were no stranger to this hunger, but could usually will it away by trying to think of anything else - foraging guidelines, the prophets scripture… it isn't going to cut it this time.

Joel is flustered on the other side of the door. He rips his glasses off and rubs his palm over his face, cursing, his other hand on his hip. He calls your name. “Hey… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to barge in, I was just about to knock when the door opened. I'm so sorry.” he groans, frustrated in more ways than one. “Just… I left a pile of clothes for you. Get dressed and meet me out here. I got warm tea for ya and I'll dress that wound again.”

You take deep breaths and remove the towel to dry your sopping wet hair. You realize this heat isn't subsiding, it's expanding. Your breasts start to ache with the need to be touched. You rush to cover them, to tuck all your private bits away and hope they quiet down and stop tormenting you. You know what an orgasm is, from the whisperings of the other girls your age, you've just never experienced it. You know instinctively this is what you need, but you have never had the privacy to learn how to obtain one. You shared a room with tens of others your entire life, with night watch standing by every hour, keeping you all safe from wolves or other dangers. Never have you had the opportunity to become familiar with your body. You just remember the other times you've felt this heavy and paralyzed with aching longing, and how long it took for it to subside. You recall a string of days, feeling that button of sensitive nerves in your private area pulsating incessantly.

You panic a little as you remember Joel said you'd have your own room. You'd never slept alone before. The prospect frightens and exhilarates you. You hurriedly slip into the clothes Joel laid out for you. The bra he provided fits well, but the clothes are a bit tighter than you're used to. The cotton shirt squeezes your breasts in a deliciously uncomfortable way, and the lower hem drapes across your hips indecently, displaying your figure and you resign yourself to taking it off as soon as you're away in your room for the evening. The satiny pants, not appearing to be standard street wear, must be for indoor use around the home. They are soft and slinky, and unfortunately showcase your behind in explicit detail. You can make out every dimple in your round, jiggling ass, and flush at the thought of Joel seeing you like this. This was certainly not aiding in the banishment of such indecent feelings.

You plait your hair, placing each braid carefully across the crown of your head and pinning them firmly in place. The bath greatly improved your mood and comfortability, but the idea of walking out into the living room has your heart racing again. You press your nervousness as deep down into your gut as it will go, and quietly step out of the bathroom and down the hall. Joel is waiting for you, the sleeves of his worn flannel peeled back, exposing his beautiful muscular forearms. He is seated on a worn but comfortable looking couch, elbows resting on his spread knees, medical supplies laid out before him on a low table. He seems to flush all over again at the sight of you. He glances up at you, and then back down at the table gesturing to the small mug of tea waiting for you.

“S'justa herbal blend from the cafe, ‘sposed to be relaxing. Ellie used to drink it when she couldn't sleep. Now get over here and let me take a look at ya." He hands you the mug before patting the cushion next to him. You take the mug, delightfully warm in your palms. “Thank you”, you eke out before taking a seat, maintaining a safe distance from his hulking body on the sofa. He leans back, indicating he'd like you to place your leg on his lap for him to examine. You cautiously oblige, and he gently stretches your leg out across his lap. He slowly pushes the loose fabric of your soft pant leg up to your knee. You hear him audibly swallow. “S'lookin better. Might have to get you down to the clinic in the morning for some oral antibiotics. S'it hurtin’ you much?” He asks. You shake your head in response. You watch, and urge your body to stop trembling under his careful ministrations. You sip your tea to distract yourself - a chamomile blend, possibly a bit of lemon balm. He added honey, it tastes fresh. You silently wince as he prods at your cuts, and let him apply a salve. You watch his arms work as he wraps your leg in a fresh bandage, his jaw clenching in concentration. When he is finished tending to you, he reaches up to cover your leg, dragging his palm down the flesh on the inside of your calf. You shudder and your pussy throbs. Your eyes betray you as they widen, before you catch yourself reacting to his touch. You pray he didn't catch it as he gently places your foot back on the ground. You think it might be better if he had euthanized you, as you are starting to feel rabid at his close proximity. You notice the tea rippling violently in your mug, and attempt to steady your trembling hands. Joel stands abruptly, turns away to adjust his jeans, and curtly says “I'm ready to hop in the bath m'self now. Can I show you to your room? I made it up with some clean linens while you bathed.” You down your tea, praying to no one in particular that there was a sedative you hadn't quite identified in the herbal blend. You stand, ready to follow him upstairs. You try desperately to avert your eyes from his incredible ass as you ascend. The room smells a bit stagnant, but Joel must have noticed before you and he walks over to crack a window. But it's comfortable, clean, and most importantly, feels secure. The windows are intact and you worry less about intruders, being on the second floor. You place your tiny pack of belongings on a table near the door. “Thank you. I… I cannot find the words to express my gratitude. You've saved… you've done so much for me. I promise if there is a way I can make it up to you, it will be done.” You spoke to the floor, but force yourself to look up at his face as he stands in the doorway.

“That won't be necessary kiddo. It's been my pleasure. You deserve so much more than what cards you’ve been handed in your life. Let's see what we can do to get you started on a better trajectory. I'll get you down to the clinic first thing tomorrow and we can take it day by day from there. My room is just the next door down from ya. You come get me if you need anything at all, darlin'. I'll just be a little while in the tub and we will call it a night. Now you make yourself comfortable an’ get some rest.” He waits for a moment, taking you in, and closes the door behind him.

On the other side of the door, he looks up to the ceiling and mutters a curse before he treks back down the stairs. Having your bare feet in his lap was absolutely torturous and he is considering letting the tub run cold before taking a dip. He walks into the bathroom and starts to undress, sighing as he frees his straining cock from of his restrictive jeans. He glances down at the tub, a layer of filth remains in the basin. His heart aches for you - all the trauma you'd been through, all the things you never got to enjoy, like a simple soak in a warm bath. He rinses the basin out and attempts to shake out all the perverse thoughts of you from the day. How shockingly beautiful your face was under all that grime, either because of or despite your deep scars. The way that old threadbare t-shirt clung to your perfect body. The smooth, freshly shaven skin of your legs under his rough palm. The thought of your beautiful mound mere inches away from his hand as he pushed your PJ pants up your leg. God have mercy, get a grip Miller. You're old enough to be her daddy. She needs you to get her back on her feet and that’s it. Not drooling over her like some old pervert. Get your fuckin’ head on straight.

Just upstairs, you remain still on the bed. You try to adjust to the quiet of the house. You hear the faint noise of the town from the crack in your bedroom window, still alive and bustling outside of the quiet respite of Joel's home. You can feel your heartbeat between your thighs - hear it pounding in your ears. You double check the windows and make sure they don't open easily, you suppose in case of very determined intruders with ladders. You peel off your shirt, relieved of its restrictive fabric. You lay down and tuck yourself into the covers. You've never laid in a plush, clean, fully dressed bed. It feels foreign, but you think you could get used to its softness. The throbbing is still there, and it's driving you mad. You feel desperate, somehow hungry. You adjust your head on the pillow. You hear Joel's footsteps down the hall, and his door closing behind him. You try to fall asleep and pray for the tea to help settle your nerves. You begin to feel exhausted, and long for the rest you've been deprived of for weeks. But the incessant throbbing and hunger plagues your every thought. Joel's eyes on your naked breasts, at the apex of your thighs. Joel's forearms. Joel's perfect ass. Joel's palm on the soft flesh of your calf. You raise your head and slam it back down into the pillow. You groan in frustration. You hear Joel settle into his creaking bed. In a huff, you grab your blanket and lie down on the floor, your stomach pressed firm against the ground, your arm tucked under your chin, supporting your head. Slowly you tuck the opposite arm under your body, and drag it down to your pelvis. You crave stimulation, pressure - anything to cease this unending, aching pulse. With your arm fully extended now, you lift your pelvis to make room for your fist, directly under your hypersensitive mound. A tiny moan slips out as you rest your body down on top if it. The pressure is a relief but it's not enough. You can feel the satin pants sticking to your cunt and your thighs. The heat radiating from the crotch of your pants is near burning on your balled fist. You begin to rock your hips side to side, and it makes your breath catch in your lungs. It isn't enough, but it's helping. You're wide awake and your mouth is watering at all the images of Joel you've committed to memory over the last few weeks. You drag your pelvis up and over your knuckles and cry out, loudly. The hand under your head reaches out to clamp over your mouth. Your breath is hot and quick over the backs of your knuckles. Your eyes are clamped shut, and a tear slides down your cheek from the sheer frustration of it all. You feel confused, unsure of how to bring yourself to climax, and you're wound up tight like a spring. You have never had the luxury of privacy, or the opportunity to tend to your own needs. Your swollen, aching breasts press into the floor, hard nipples rasp against the soft fabric of your bra. You are reduced to nothing but nerve endings and need. You grind aimlessly onto anything firm, but as you rest your body on the hard floor, it gives in to the exhaustion. You drift off to sleep under a clean quilt, directly on top of your fist.

#tlou #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #smut #joel miller tlou #seraphites #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fandom #joel miller smut

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year ago

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Every time I see it, I will reblog it.

As I love to keep you occupied 😁

Do you think you can write:

⛑ - Some tender first-aid with Walter Marshall

Arresting and Arrested

Characters: Walter Marshall, OFC, random thugs Fandoms: Night Hunter, Henry Cavill characters Word count: 277 Type: angsty, fluffy. Warning: 18+. Minors DNI. Injury, blood, comfort, vague hints of torture. Summary: Walter receives comfort from a suprising source. Author's Note: @geralts-yenn is to blame for this. She sent me ask from this as game if you would like to play too. Thank you to @adulting-sucks, @ronearoundblindly and @sarahdonald87 for the beta. Let me know if you'd like to see another part to this, there may be one in the works. Ask Box: Open Masterlist

“Who are you?” Walter pushed out between ruptured lips, his lungs barely holding enough air to breathe as his likely broken ribs screamed.

The young woman with stringy, dirty hair just silently shook her head at him, laying a finger to her lips as she continued dabbing at the cut over Walter’s eyebrow. Walter peered at her through the eye that could still open, wondering who she was, what she had to do with the man who had orchestrated his kidnapping, and why she was giving him tender first aid in what he assumed was a warehouse. Was she a prisoner or somehow part of this trafficking ring Walter had been trying to bust for almost a year? She didn’t seem to be a willing participant in any of this.

She smiled softly as she looked through her bag at her hip, selecting something else to help stop the blood and clean him up. Pulling out a small tube, she placed a dab of ointment on her finger. Getting to her feet, she leaned forward, her face looking up at him where he hung from the ceiling. He felt her breath on his bruised cheek as she delicately daubed the ointment over the split on his lower lip.

“Thank you,” he tried softly, his brow puckering at the pain.

Her smile was brief as suddenly there was the return of foot falls, at least three men, headed back in their direction. Stuffing her bag again quickly, she squeezed his calf before dashing off into the silent shadows just before the men rounded the corner, the biggest brute of them smiling wide at Walter before flexing his fists.

Follow up here.

General Tag List: @littleone65e65, @mysweetlittledesirettledesire

HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn

#reblogging makes the tumblr go round #if you like and dont reblog i reblog for you #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #walter marshall angst #walter marshall fluff #night hunter #night hunter fanfiction #nomis #nomis fanfiction #henry cavill characters #fan fiction #fanfiction #fic rec

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sskepticmedia · 3 months ago

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Soldier Boy's suit colors and Destiel | Debunked

Ah, yes. The sacred science of color theory, where every shade carries deep, cosmic meaning—especially when it can be twisted into ship evidence. Today’s case? Soldier Boy’s suit, which, according to some, features the divinely ordained hues of "Angel Blue" and "Hunter Green," therefore proving it’s a Destiel reference. Groundbreaking.

Unfortunately for this theory, color names are marketing decisions, not divine prophecies. So let’s take a step back from the paint swatches and actually look at what’s going on here.

⚠️Spoiler alert: It’s not Destiel.

Color names are conspiracy fluff, not hidden lore. Let’s unpack this reach.

To burst your bubble, these colors don't really prove a fictional ship from a show and they are in fact inaccurate.

Color names are marketing decisions, not divine prophecies. So let’s take a step back from the paint swatches and actually look at what’s going on here. First of all, the suit in The Boys doesn't really have any shades of blue, if anything it was the lighting casting a little bit of Teal/bluish hues on this specific photo and some others, It is in fact shades of green from a different material... unless the man has a color changing suit which I doubt 🤔🫢

I tried using the same photo with Pantone Extract and most shades it got out were greys and blacks with Teal, it didn't even recognize the greens! so I wonder really... did the OP fake their results? because as far as I can see the same site isn't giving me the same results. 🤔

Here, be my guest to prove me wrong.

Here is the correct colors extracted using photoshop (the green was the closest correct shade but the blue one is nowhere to be found, oh I wonder why?)

To me it looks like a very hardcore fan just wanted to prove their ship to be righteous but ended up looking like a conspiracy theorist.

It is not even able to recognize colors the OP has posted or the ones I've extracted using Photoshop without using a single filter on the image! It is not reliable at all! this and the OP's words.

Guess Angel Blue has always been Cyan Sea in disguise. It was obvious without all of this that Angel Blue was never the lighting shade on his suit.

and now some cockles tin hatters are running wild with their imaginations since then! claiming stuff like Jensen asked for those colors on his suit! wow for real?!

Sure Jane, whatever makes you able to sleep at night.

Having fun as a fan is one thing but this level of obsession to make everything about Destiel is really unhealthy.

#sskepticmedia #spndebunk #spn #supernatural #spnfandom #destiel #the boys #the boys amazon #soldier boy #the colors means nothing ya all #please let the man act in other shows without reducing him to a fictional ship #jensen ackles

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celeluwhenfics · 8 months ago

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My partner is now one of us

My partner doesn't consume much media. He's not into TV shows or movies, he doesn't read fiction.

He's more of an athlete, nature lover and workaholic.

But last year I mentioned that I was a hardcore Tolkien fan in my teens, and he suggested we watch LotR in our time together (we're in a LDR).

Yes that's the rewatch that triggered my ongoing flare of Tolkien obsession, indeed.

So we watched it, and I didn't think he thought much of it. He liked Gandalf and Sam, but he was quite confused about the many characters and he disliked the violence. Fair enough.

Fast forward a few months, we're together again. One night he grabs my copy of FotR, and suggests we start reading, which I never expected! Since then, every night we're been together, we read out loud for each other to go to sleep, doing the voices and all. I didn't think he'd push through, but more and more he'd been looking forward to our reading sessions.

We nearly finished FotR last time we were together, and he so wanted to know what was next, that he suggested we zoom each other from our bed late at night so that I keep reading to him. This is what we've been doing for the past week, which, I mean, is the cutest thing EVER?

Yesterday he messaged me to say he had a confession to make. That's the kind of message every girlfriend is kind of afraid to read, but I'm starting to know him and I suspected it would be something silly.

Well, it turns out that this guy was so engrossed in the story, and SO wanted to read what happens after the Three Hunters meet the Rohirrim, and he was SO impatient to hear about Gandalf again, that he found the audiobook and moved forward a little without me 😆🥲

We got him hooked! 🥳

#lotr #Personal #New lotr fan!

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sonartheyapp3r · 11 days ago

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ANOTHER NEW PINNED?! I POP THESE OUT LIKE A SEAHORSE GIVING BIRTH! /j

Okay. So. Hi guys. I'm Apollo but I also go by Kookoo since that's one of my kins and just so happens to be the one I feel the most connected to. I'm non-binary and use they/them.

My other names include:

Sonar

Helios

Mind

Blue

Web

Hunter

Cathy

Rizzer (thank you @theultimaterewatcher)

I have ADHD, autism, anxiety, and what I think may be sociopathy. I'm not sure tho.

dni: Basic DNI

Thin ice: Artihunter shippers (I've had some not so nice interactions with you guys so I don't really trust y'all (fuck you Opashoo ☺️))

Please interact: grace fans. (The Roblox game for those confused)

Sum rules:

Please don't be an ass.

Respect the DNI.

Don't be NSFW. Suggestive is fine as long as it's about a fictional adult character and the Creator of said character is ok with it

Yes, I am fine with people being suggestive about my OCS as long as there isn't any straight up porn.

more undercut

Fandoms! Heheh!:

Grace

Pressure

regretevator

Something Evil Will Happen

Crazy Horse game

Death crystals

Rain World

Nine Sols

Five nights at Freddy's

One night at Flumpty's

just shapes and beats

cookie run kingdom

limbus company

The Mandela Catalogue

sideblogs that aren't roleplay (Roleplay ones you'll have to find on your own)

@sonarzwritingblog

@isthatarainworldreference

@robloxhellevator (wiki for a game I'm working on)

socials!:

YouTube: sonartheanglerfish

Kinemaster: f0xxydenton13

Roblox: polydogcutie035 (user), D0NQU1X0T3 (display)

I have a Wattpad I don't use much anymore so that's not going here

Anyways bye!!!

#Funny #Pinned post #Fictionkin #All credits are in the image description #sonarposting #Therian #Cosplayer #alterhuman #Furry

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kaylaacutiepie · 2 months ago

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vi. a heart left in the shadows (sung jin-woo × reader) genre: angst, hurt, heartbreak

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based onSolo Leveling. The characters Sung Jin-Woo and Chae Hae-In belong to their original creators. This story is purely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The events, dialogue, and interpretations of characters are the author's imagination and are not part of the official Solo Leveling canon. Please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

The Monarch of Destruction had fallen.

The world was saved.

And Sung Jin-Woo stood amidst the ruins, victorious, yet hollow inside.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, even as the cheers of humanity roared around him, something was missing. Someone was missing.

Someone whose face he could barely remember anymore, like a dream slipping through his fingers.

Y/N.

The name echoed inside him like a prayer he couldn’t forget.

When he had taken the power of the Shadow Monarch and turned back time, sacrificing his past life to give humanity another chance, he thought maybe… just maybe… he could fix everything.

He thought he could find you. Hold you. Never let you slip away again.

But no matter where he searched in this rewound world, you were gone.

You were nowhere.

He walked the streets you used to love. He called out your name into the empty nights.

No one knew you. No one had ever heard of you.

It was as if you had been erased from existence itself.

One evening, after days of searching that bled into months, he sat alone on a bench in a quiet park, the same place you once waited for him after missions.

He buried his face into his hands, the weight of his failure pressing down on him.

"Where are you, Y/N?" he whispered.

Only the wind answered.

Memories flickered behind his eyes, your smiles, your laughter, the way you used to look at him like he was more than just a hunter, more than just a weapon.

And then, something surfaced from the depths of his mind.

A memory.

A conversation he hadn’t thought much about at the time.

"Jin-Woo," you had said one evening, your voice low and hesitant, "what if I told you… I already know how everything will end?"

He had laughed, brushing it off. "You sound like you're telling a prophecy."

You had smiled sadly, a heartbreaking smile he hadn't understood then. "Maybe I am."

"Don't joke about that." "I'm serious," you whispered. "One day, you’ll become the strongest. You’ll save the world. But…"

"But?" he asked.

You had turned away, hiding your face.

"But I won’t be there to see it."

At the time, he thought you were just being dramatic. He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t listened.

Now, sitting in the aftermath of a war only he remembered, Sung Jin-Woo realized the terrible truth.

You had known. You had always known.

Because you were never meant to stay.

You were not from this world.

You had come from somewhere else, another reality, another time, just to walk by his side for a while. To help him survive. To love him when no one else would.

And then… you had vanished, because the world you had known was rewritten, and there was no place for you in this second chance.

He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, where an invisible scar pulsed with every beat of his heart.

A wound no healing magic could touch.

Days later, Jin-Woo stood by the Han River, where the city lights shimmered against the dark waters.

He held the small pendant you had once given him, the only proof you had ever existed. Somehow, it had remained even after the timeline reset, tucked away in his storage, untouched by time.

He closed his eyes and spoke into the empty night:

"I was too late, wasn’t I?"

The pendant glinted softly in his palm, like a tear frozen in silver.

"I should’ve seen you," he whispered. "I should've known."

The wind swept past him, carrying the faintest whisper, so soft he almost thought he imagined it.

"I’m proud of you, Jin-Woo."

His heart broke all over again.

Tears slid down his cheeks, silent, unrelenting.

He fell to his knees by the riverbank, clutching the pendant against his heart, and for the first time in years, Sung Jin-Woo, the strongest hunter, the savior of humanity, wept like a boy who had lost his whole world.

Because he had.

You had been his world.

And now, you were only a ghost in his memories, a love story that the universe itself refused to remember.

Somewhere, in the spaces between worlds, you smiled softly, even as your own form faded.

"Thank you for living, Jin-Woo." "Even if I was never meant to stay."

And the stars above wept with you both.

#manhwa imagines #manhwa x reader #manhwa #anime x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #solo leveling angst #solo leveling fanfic #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jin woo x reader #jinwoo x reader #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo #jinwoo x you

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syndxlla · 2 years ago

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best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between BOTW and TOTK

Chapter Five: My North Star

Read chapter four here

My masterlist

Song: August by Taylor Swift

Summary: Link and Zelda get a visitor from an old friend, and start to remember how to live for the hope of it all.

Warnings: brief and non graphic mentions of death and dead bodies, canon-typical violence and horror, PTSD (always for this fan fic)

Word Count: 3.3k words

Authors Note: finally some happy moments lol. Also this is unedited!! ALSO I KNOW I HAVE SO MANY UNANSWERED ASKS RN I PROMISE I AM NOT IGNORING YOU IM JUST BUSY AND LAZY kloveyoubye

It takes only three more days for Impa to arrive at their door, angrily pounding her staff on the wooden plank. It’s early, she beats the rooster, and Link is rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he stumbles to the door from his makeshift bed he’s made adjacent to the kitchen.

He’s shocked to see the old woman staring up at him, as far as he knows, she hasn’t left Kakariko village in decades.

“You completed the mission and your first instinct was NOT to come and tell me?” She asks, her wrinkled lips pressed firmly into a frown. Link looks up to see Cado, apologetic. His hair is down, shirt is off, and he’s barely wearing trousers. He yawns.

“Good morning, Master Impa.” He bows deeply to her and she just whacks his skull with her cane in the same manner she did the door. Link yelps and rubs the top of his head. “What was that for?” He asks.

“Where’s the princess?”

“She’s sleeping still, it’s barely sunrise.” Link rubs some more sleep from his lashes, his hand in a tight fist. “You know, most people say good morning when you see them first thing…”

Impa then lets herself into the house, pushing past him like the angry ball of spunk she is. “I’ll have tea.” She states, “And I’d like to see my friend.” Link and Cado look at each other, the Sheikah man staring at him apologetically.

Link nods, walking to the furnace and kneeling in front of it. He blows on the dying embers from the night before, placing a small log on them. Flames catch, and he’s setting the kettle over them, still full of water from yesterday. Cado closes the door and sits across from Impa at the table. Link eyes his bed roll in the corner of the room, kicking some blankets around in an attempt to make it look less disheveled, but the elderly woman just squints at the state of the house. If only she had seen it a week ago. Link was starting to feel proud of he and Zelda’s progress, wildflowers being placed in a vase on the table, and their plates polished and put away neatly for the first time. After Impa’s scrutinizing gaze, however, he was feeling all sorts of insecure again.

The air is stagnant.

“She's still sleeping…still.” Link clears his throat, his voice hushed. “She needs to rest because-“

“Link, two bodies were found just outside of the castle two days ago, the man who found them also reports seeing a Shadowy Figure, covered in what he suspects is malice.” Impa interrupts him.

“What?” He asks, startled.

“I didn’t want to lead with that, but it cannot be ignored.” She spoke in the same hushed tone. They didn’t want to wake the Princess, and they especially didn’t want to scare her.

“Treasure hunters? I mean it's still a war zone there, it wasn’t anything else… right? He was lying, surely. All the Malice disappeared…” Link asks, feeling the blood go from his face.

“The man was Me.” Cado frowns. He would never lie. “After we got your message from Purah, I traveled to the castle to confirm that the Calamity was destroyed. The bodies were hylian, two young people. A boy and a girl… I thought it was..”

Cado’s voice became too loud, and Link hushed him.

“We want to think it was leftover spells, but we don’t know. We don’t know who else to ask to investigate.” Impa says.

“Now that Hyrule is safe, it's time we start reestablishing civility, democracy.” Cado steps in.

“It’s been eleven days since I defeated him.” Link crosses his arms, “I’m still not sleeping through the nights, Zelda doesn’t have her full strength back yet. You promised me I would get to rest when it was all over.” He looks at the Sheikah Chief.

“Don’t lie to me, Link.” Impa shakes her head, “I know you can’t stay in one place for too long. No matter how hard you try.” She states. She wasn’t wrong, but recently Link has started to feel different.

The kettle starts to whistle. Link swallows his frustration and takes it off the heat, preparing three cups of green bell tea. Everyone feels discomfort. “Did the figure do anything?” Link asks as he pours the hot water into the cups, his back turned to the Sheikah.

“It just stared at me, it was tall, hunched over.” Cado describes, one could easily hear the fear in his voice. “We stared at each other, I couldn’t tell if it was from this world or not.”

“Tall like a Zora or tall like a Gerudo?” Link asks, still turned away.

“Gerudo.” Cado struggled to say it. “I drew my sword, and as soon as I did, it turned away from me and walked into the mist to the south. I never saw it again.”

Link swallows and then turns around finally, carrying the cups to the table. “And the bodies?”

“Cause of death was unknown, I checked for a pulse multiple times but they were both long gone. They were dressed in traveler's garb. Their dress seemed to be from the north.”

“If they have families they need to know.” Link sits, holding the mug of tea in his hands.

“You’re the only one who could inform them about such a thing.” Impa says. “Tabantha is a long way, but you could be there and back in an hour if you warp. We’ll stay here until you-“

“The sheikah slate is utterly destroyed.” Link admits. “I left it with Purah but she essentially told me it's beyond repair.”

“You’d have to go on foot like the rest of us.” Cado smirks.

“Why would I?” Link asks, perhaps too forcefully. “I did my quest.”

Impa stares at him, silent for a moment, “You don’t really feel that way.” She shakes her head, “And if you do, then you are not the same man who woke up three years ago.”

“I’m not!” Link almost shouts, and they all bite their tongues, listening for any sound from upstairs. “Impa… you know I care. You know I want to go find whatever that figure was, but I am tired.” His voice cracks. “I can’t just sleep this one off.” He can’t look at her, if he does, he’ll break. “This is much deeper than exhaustion. It’s… it’s traumatic.

I still see him. His eyes, the way His heat radiated and burned my skin, the sound of His laughter. He Haunts me at night, I swear He finds ways into my dreams and taunts me there. Like it was all just a game to Him. Because it was. It always was. He’ll do it again a hundred times, and we can’t ever stop Him. There will be countless more Links who lose their hearing and can’t sleep and won't even look themselves in a mirror because as long as the triforce exists, He will mock us all with His deviance.”

Link stares into his tea.

“Impa…” A quiet voice says from the stairs, and all three of them are turning to see her. Long, blonde hair draped over her shoulder, eyes sleepy and confused, hands at her sides.

She nearly trips down the stairs as she runs to the woman, wrapping her hands around her neck and crying. Impa immediately holds her back, laughing, taking an old, bony hand and stroking the top of her friend's head with it.

“Good Morning, my dear.”

Link and Cado share one more glance.

The day is spent with hugs and laughter and Zelda looking into Impa’s eyes and crying every time she sees that they’re still the same eyes. Link cooks for them, and gets as quiet as he was at the start of this war. It’s all he can think about. Did it return for other Links? Did it return this early?

Zelda must have noticed his distance because while Impa is telling Zelda all about the man she married, the Princess is glancing at Link. His shoulders tense, his head down, his voice silent. She frowns, deciding to ask him about it later.

Cado was delighted to meet the woman, bowing deeply for her. He eventually got on a tangent about his children while they ate the omelets Link prepared, but Link stayed silent. He glances over at the Master Sword, leaning against the corner of the room, staring back at him.

He distracts himself the rest of the day with Epona, tending to her constantly while Zelda tells Impa every single detail about her time sealed away. The two prayed over each other a few times. The sun gets low in the sky, Link stays silent.

They come back inside, and before Impa and Cado enter from the outside to begin their next hour of catching up, Zelda places a gentle hand on Link’s shoulder. “Link,”

He turns to look at her, everything about him immediately softening as her green eyes stare at him.

“You’re upset?” She says, her voice soothing.

“No I’m not.” He denies. She raises an eyebrow.

“I know you.” Link becomes acutely aware of her thumb that starts rubbing circles into his muscle and he has to remind himself how to stand. ”Talk to me.”

He knows he can’t tell her about this, not yet. “Later?” He asks. She smiles and nods.

“I’m here for you.”

Link begins dinner, and Zelda washes up, leaving the three alone for the first time since early morning.

Impa stares, Cado uncomfortably clears his throat. Link looks at them, frowning, knowing what they want.

He sighs deeply.

“I will return to the castle. Zelda and I briefly discussed returning the Champion’s weapons to their people, and can do it then.” He finally says. “Tell every leader to warn their people to avoid the castle at all costs.”

“Good.” Impa nods.

“But-“ Link holds his hand up, “I’m not going until both she and I are ready.” He says.

“What do you mean by ready?” That old woman was always so pushy.

“When Zel and I both feel ready to return to those places without it absolutely crushing our spirits, we will go. Together.”

“Hylia knows when that will be.” Cado scoffs.

“Exactly.” Link says. “Unless more deaths are reported or this shadow is seen again, it can wait. Everyone has been avoiding the castle for a century, what’s a little while longer?” Link states, silently proud of himself for sticking up for himself and not just being the obedient soldier he was trained to be. “Besides, no one should be there anyways, it’s not safe.”

“You’re in love with the Princess.” Impa states with a chuckle and Link sputters, the wind knocking out of him.

“What? Why would you say that?” He asks.

“I saw you two. The way you look at her.” Impa smirks. Link feels his ears heat up, Cado stifles a laugh.

“You are so rude.” Link replies.

“I think you two need each other.” Impa shrugs, “But do not let any worldly affection keep you in the way of what really matters here: Hyrule and its people.”

Impa always knew exactly how to remind Link that he is just a soldier.

“We will leave before we eat. At this rate we will not return home until late into the night.” Impa states, standing back up.

They say their goodbyes. Zelda promises to visit, Impa gives her a kiss on the forehead, Cado bows again. And just as the sun begins to set, the pair is headed through the bridge.

Both Link and Zelda stand in the doorway as they watch them leave. Zelda starts to sniffle, wiping a tear.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Link says in a comforting tone when he sees her cry, turning to face her. “It’s okay, we’re gonna see her again real soon.” He reassures. Zelda sighs.

“She got so old, without me.” She tries to swallow her sob but fails. She presses her tear-stained face into the crook of Link’s neck, and he just holds her for as long she needs. Zelda is the one to pull away after a moment of comfort. “I’m sorry… I know there's something troubling you, too. I shouldn’t be so selfish.” Zelda sighs.

Link swallows, “It’s nothing. Not for tonight.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.” Link nods. “Can I show you something?” He asks, and Zelda is nodding as he takes her hand and leads her up stairs. He pushes open a hatch on the ceiling in the corner, and a rickety ladder slides down. Some dust and cobwebs fly down, but when the air clears, Link is climbing up onto the roof of their house. He helps Zelda up next, and she’s looking up at the night sky with bright eyes. It’s still not totally dark yet, but the first few stars are starting to shine.

The roof is slightly slanted, but not enough to cause either of them concern. They both comfortably find a position on the tiles, facing south, noses pointed at the heavens. There’s about a foot of space between them, and Link wants to scoot closer into her, but chooses not to. He closes the hatch from the outside, so the warm light of the house doesn’t pollute their view.

“I like to come up here to clear my head.” He says. “It doesn’t hold a candle to the night sky in Hebra or out in the desert, but it's still pretty spectacular.”

Zelda hums, “You’ll have to take me someday.” She stays looking at the sky but Link looks at her. Her profile is beautiful, hair long and cascading, ears pointed and blushed. Surely she knew he was staring, but neither of them did anything to stop.

“One day.” He nods before looking away and laying on his back. He rests his arms behind his head, crossing an ankle over his bended knee. “That one is called Haru.” He points to an especially bright star, “It’s part of the constellation Nabooru.” He then traces the warrior constellation with his finger.

“I remember, yes.” Zelda scoots into him, and he tries to stifle his smile. She doesn’t lay next to him, but now they’re a mere inches apart.

“And this is the North Star.” Link cranes his neck back to see it. “It moves though, did you know that? True north changes over time, so that one was the North Star when we were born, but over time the celestial bodies shifted and now it's that one. They didn’t even know that until I came back, because I was following the original one and ended up in Lanayru instead of Eldin. I talked with Purah and Robbie and they agreed, isn’t that fascinating?” He asks with a smile.

Zelda smiles so wide she thinks her cheeks will burst. “I never heard you speak like that before. With so much passion and eloquence.”

Link looks at her and just chuckles, “Now everyone follows the new star, but it didn’t have a name yet….”

“We should name it!” She gasps.

“Oh…I already did.” Link frowns, “I named it after I got my first memory back.” He shrugs. “I”m sorry. But there are plenty of stars without names anymore. A lot of the scientific research got destroyed with the…” He stops himself, “Well you know why. No one these days even knows the constellations anymore. I’m the only one.”

“What did you name it?” Zelda smiles.

Link looks at her again, “Zelda.”

She just about passes out from flattery, smiling down at her knees which are bent into her chest, blushing a little. “That’s very nice.”

“It was my true north.” He says. “I’d have been lost without it.”

It was fully dark now, and the sky lit up with the twinkling lights, the moon was a small sliver of a crescent and hung low in the sky near the sea.

“When did you remember the constellations?” She asked.

“They come to me slowly. It was required for all knights to know them, as I’m sure you remember.” Link described, looking to the heavens again. “I still can’t think of half of them.”

“Well isn’t that one Navi?” She points to another star.

“No, that one is Navi.” Link scoots up to her level, closing the gap further between them, and takes his hand to move her arm to the right star, his calloused and scarred flesh rough against her soft skin. “That one is the top of the constellation Hylia-“

“-Hylia”

They say it together. Perfectly in tune.

Their faces turn towards one another, locking eyes. The air freezes, time itself seems to hold.

Their hearts simultaneously skip a beat, and a soft blow of warm wind passes by, brushing through their hair.

Link makes the mistake of looking at her lips and for a split second he swears she leans in, but before anything goes any further, she’s moving away and laying down next to him.

He supposes this is alright, too.

“I wonder what she thinks of all this.” Link says.

Zelda is quiet ....“I sometimes wonder if the God’s regret making man.”

“What do you mean?” Link asks, looking at her.

“Well… man is what caused the curse of the loop anyways. If it weren’t for us, Hyrule wouldn’t have to be rebuilt every ten thousand years.” She frowns. “Maybe they wish they had left their creation to rest without our feeble beings.”

“I don’t think that.” Link shakes his head. “I think they put us here because we are flawed, not in spite of it.

I think our mistakes, our sins, our curses are what makes us special. Life would be futile if we were perfect. There would be no motivation. No growth. No passion.

You cannot have good without evil, or light without dark, or joy without pain.

That’s what’s so beautiful about life. I think the God’s know that. I think they love us because of it. That is a luxury they don’t have. I see it as a gift. To live for the hope of it all.”

Link rambles, and Zelda is stunned for a moment. She turns her head to look at him, this time he’s the one with wonder-filled eyes staring up, ignoring the gaze of the other.

“I really think you should wield the triforce of wisdom.” Zelda teases.

Link looks at her, their noses almost touching. “Oh no, I’m only profound when I’m around you.” He shakes his head, giggling. “You should see me try to talk my way through Gerudo town, there's nothing wise about it.” His tone is playful, and they both laugh over it. “I accidentally told a woman she looked pregnant instead of ordering a drink at the bar.” Link explains and then says the two phrases in Gerudo, Zelda can admit they have very similar pronunciations and the both of them are full-belly laughing at the situation. Zelda asks how he managed to get out of that situation, and Link had to describe further that he was in disguise, which made everything harder to get through. Zelda couldn’t get the image of Link in a woman’s clothing out of her mind, and Link only sets her off further when he finishes the story with him getting slapped by an elderly Gerudo Woman. It isn’t much longer until she has tears welling down her face, but this time they are finally tears of laughter and joy.

When they both finally pull themselves together, Zelda smiles at him, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Thank you.” She sighs, her stomach aching from laughter.

Zelda then takes a risk, and snakes her hand in between them before wrapping it around Link’s. They don’t lock fingers, and it isn’t even necessarily classified as a romantic gesture, but she just squeezes his hand, thankful for cheering her up, thankful for reminding her that there is still hope.

There is hope in balance.

She tries to pull it away, not wanting to overstep, but Link is holding her hand tighter, keeping it in his grip. Zelda happily obliges, and they keep their hands clasped at their sides the whole night.

—

Chapter Six

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