#OR HER REASSURING HIM. SAYING ‘YOURE GONNA MAKE IT’ LIKE SHE DOES IN GAME | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-s1lly-corner · 5 months ago

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Being new to Gardenview

Aka "I had fun writing the long slender mansion posts that I wanted to do something similar with other fandoms

Note that requests are still limited to 3-4 characters max

Notes: reader is gn, toon reader, vague what the readers interests are unless implied otherwise for a character, you're freshly baked, pre game, no pebble or coal, you came around Christmas for the holiday toons anyone else can be any time of year, platonic for everyone since you're brand spanking new, long post, written on mobile, couldn't tag everyone but everyone is here minus pebble and coal

CWs: none

DANDY

He's probably the first one to greet you, honestly. He's like... THE toon. The show is named after him, he's the poster boy after all!

Surely he won't be at least a little annoyed that someone already beat him to the punch.... right...? Right??

He's a very busy toon, not only is he a main but he's also again, THE main. Getting to talk to him for more than a minute while there's visitors is nearly impossible... but he'll be sure to drop by your room for a hello once everything calms down for the day! ...maybe...

ASTRO

It's not that he's overstimated- mostly- it's just that he's tired by the time the day is over with... so it'll take him a while to approach you to welcome you... and he may seem out of it if you approach before he's ready

He's nice! A little accidentally... distant.. but he truly is happy to see a new toon added to gardenviews lineup. Who wouldn't be happy to have a new potential friend?

Ignore how he's seemingly nodding off where he stands... ts not that you're boring. He's simply a little sleepy...! You'll have to get used to that..!

VEE

Oh cool, a new toon. She's not going to be all over you but she's not going to ignore you if you come say hi. Small talk before she's swept away by the visitors.. or you're snatched away

If you seem like the smart type she might just invite you onto her show... she's not usually so quick to let someone on but what the hell! Who wouldn't want a new face to spice things up!

She is quick to set some boundaries up of you're pushing buttons or pose any risk to her techy bits

SHELLY

She doesn't let the fact you didn't notice her at first effect her... at least not outwardly. She's more forgiving in this instance anyways, you did just arrive afterall

Gives you a nice welcome- she's just happy to have someone new to talk to... if you ever want to have a nice camera hang out she's your girl to go to..! Just.. don't forget that she's just a call away..!

There's more time to talk to her during the day due to her being not as popular as the other Mains :( or even some of the non mains...

SPROUT

Oh heeeeeeeey you! He's probably already heard about you! If not from another toon than through one of the handlers!

He's not gonna be all over you but he's at least going to make you feel welcome enough- at least a normal amount of welcoming! He doesn't strike me as the type to be overly buddy buddy with a new toon just because they've just come out of.... wherever the toons are made...

He does seem to perk up a little if you express an interest in the ktichen... common ground can go far!

BOXTEN

It takes him a minute to approach you... he's gotta work himself up to it- he's not the boldest toon out there.. and he seems a little proud of himself that he didn't stumble over his words...! He will be overthinking his first impression later that night though...

The fact you're getting swarmed also puts him off a little... it's just so many people- it's overwhelming. Makes him wonder how he pulled through the initial hype when he was new.. silently sympathizes with you- tried to quietly give you reassurance from across the room but the voice in the back of his mind tries to tell him it looks like he's mocking you

He doesn't really talk.. not really a rambler either, especially with an acquaintance... but he does take note of any questions you have and tries to direct you to who could possibly help you once it becomes clear that he might not be the best fit

BRIGHTNEY

Her light burns a little brighter when she catches a glimpse of you... she didn't think she'd be seeing you so soon!

Wastes no time in walecoming you to gardenview, and hardly any time to bring up the boom club to see if you're interested... if you are, great! If not, that's okay!

If you ever need a hand to keep track of what you need to do and how things work around here she's more than happy to draw up a list for you and give you a hand where she can!

CONNIE

Oh she probably knows about you already... she's sneaky like that...! She's just trying to get a feel for your vibe before revealing herself. Totally. Definitely. Mhm!

She can't help herself- it's always so fun spooking new toons who don't know about her ability yet- she doesn't mean to be.. well, mean..! It's just funny!

She's got like... details on everyone! She's your gal to go for some gossip or to figure out what everyone else's deal with... though she may be biased against/for some toons so it's best to do your probing yourself to form your own opinions...

COSMO

He doesn't carry Boxtens shyness so he is more likely to approach you within a shorter time frame if you end up in the same area! He may trip over his words but that's just because he wants to make a good impression..!

If you ever need a little pick me up you can find him in the kitchen! Alongside Sprout and maybe Boxten-- and if it's the holidays ginger too...! It's a real nice place to hang out that's not too overstimulating-!

Similar to Boxten he will attempt to guide you to anyone who could help you with anything- except he's likely to physically bring you to someone or someone to you than simply... telling

FINN

Bold of you to assume he's not going to open up with a joke. "OH it's so nice to sea you," he'd wave but he wasn't sure if you'd he able to see him over the stream of visitors!

If you can bare through his constant puns he's actually not that bad. He's nice. Passionate about his interests- and of course he's going to be asking about yours!

Moderate popularity with the visitors so you can hang around and talk to him when you're not getting swarmed. He does share a good laugh about it with you- you'll get used to the attention... or find your footing once the hype dies

FLUTTER

Oh she's right by your side the second it looks like you need a breather from the swarm of visitors- you can come decompress with her until you need to get back out there..!

She's kind... a good listener. You're not sure how you can understand her when she's yet to speak a single word but you feel she's already been questioned about that a lot.. you don't want to possibly pester her with it

She lingers around you until closing to help you get through the day and the sea of visitors!

GIGI

She's friendly..! Really she is..! It's just that freshly baked toons can sometimes be fun to mess with... and she's taken a page out of Connie's book... she's not going to be a bully but she won't be able to help herself- telling you that you should totally do (x) which definitely won't make you look at least a little silly

You... might want to keep an eye on your belongings. She's usually not mean enough to nab someone else's things... maybe.. but by God the episode where she had to learn that lesson only slightly shook that habit

If you don't meet her through Connie, you'll be introduced to Connie through Gigi... as well as some other toons!

GLISTEN

Hes.. nice enough! Sure he may be... well himself.. but he's not going to ignore you if you approach him for help... though he is just a hint envious of the crowd you've made for yourself- but he's not going to fault you for it. Makes him miss the days where he was brand new and had all the attention

He's at least a little interested in finding out what your deal is... even if he's waiting to properly introduce himself- and he's definitely going to make a little show of it to make sure you don't forget his name!

Not intense.. but he does mellow out over the next few times you bump into each other once the desire to impress the newbie backs off a bit

GOOB

He's like an excited puppy when you meet each other! A new toon! Yay! A new friend, hopefully?

He's very physical- he doesn't mean to make you uncomfortable... if he is making you uneasy just say the word and he'll back off! He's not the best with subtle cues...

Oh oh oh you've gotta come with him to go meet his sister! Oh oh and you've gotta meet- you're going to meet so many toons through him...

LOOEY

Oh! New guy (/gender neutral)! He... actually doesn't lean into the clown act during an introduction. At least he doesn't rely on it- he definitely slips in a few jokes here and there if there's time but he's more focused on getting names exchanged and overall having a quick chat before he needs to go back to performing with the rest of his circus act

He's more than happy to let you come watch those acts! It'll give you a place to unwind after such a busy day! Or... if something calmer is more your style, he'll direct you to other toons

Generally a sweetheart- his cheerful demeanor comes in handy when meeting someone new- child and toon alike!

RAZZLE & DAZZLE

POPPY

Wastes zero time in introducing herself- even if you don't end up being friends in the future she's going to make sure you at least have fun on your first day

She introduces you to other toons as you come across them- she's real... bubbly. Pun only partly intended! She's going to make sure you meet just about everyone- or as many toons as possible!

And of course, she makes it clear that you're always welcome to come hang out with her and her group of gals- she'll make sure to put in a good word for you!

Similar reactions different energies! Razzle is more upbeat and open to talking. He tends to take the lead... not that he doesnt let dazzle speak of course. Dazzle also greets you! He's just lower energy

You're always welcome to their stage... or their room... if you express an interest in stories or books, Dazzle may tell you about Brightneys book club! Maybe he can help you get in... will be embarrassed if you tell him you already knew about the club

You do end up making a lot of friends through each of them- they both have their own groups of friends so double the introductions!

RODGER

A warm and polite welcome! He may ask a few questions... ice breakers mostly... and also because, well... you know...

You may or may not be spared from an interrogation- really it depends on how guarded you are with new people... and what all is going on at the moment- hes not the most popular toon but you're new... you're definitely going to be swarmed until the hype dies down

You... get the feeling it's going to be hard to keep secrets to yourself for long with him around... maybe... surely he'd respect boundaries and privacy (he does!) (At least he fully does when there's no mystery that may or may not put others in danger)

SHRIMPO

SCRAPS

She's not as... excitable or cheerful as her brother. She's definitely still cheery but she's more reserved about it. If you need a break from the visitors she can try to snag some away with the promise of arts and crafts so you're not all smothered

Arts and crafts is actually a gold way to open up to someone- a great ice breaker activity! So of course she's also going to invite you to come make something alongside her brother and toodles! It's a nice wind down activity after closing and before bedtime

Give her some time and she'll make you a welcome gift!

You hardly get a word in before he yells at you that he hates you already... you unfortunately don't know that that's his whole... thing.. so you don't know not to take it to heart or to not be confused

No like seriously what did you do you hardly introduced yourself- he cut you off after the first word... did you look at him wrong??

You quickly find out that he's just a hater, though... he's very open about his hatred for everything

TEAGAN

It doesn't take long at all for her to invite you to have some tea with her once the day calms down and all the visitors have left... it's all to get to know you better and make you feel more comfortable!

If you're comfortable with it, they will invite more toons... it'll give you a chance to get to know more of them! But if not... Teagans more than happy to just have it be the two of you

So so kind and patient with you as you get the hang of how everything works. If you ever need someone to talk to as you adjust to gardenview she's more than happy to let you vent to them

TOODLES

TISHA

It's not that she meant to ignore you... it's just that sometimes the visitors can be a little... messy... and it drives her nuts! But rest assured she will make it right once gardenview closes for the day and everything is cleaned up- and with Tishas speed and efficiency it won't take long after closing for her to stop by your new room!

Pleased that your room is- at least for now as you've yet to have a proper chance to make it a living space- neat and tidy... if you ever need a hand with things let her know... she'll at least let you know where the cleaning supplies are

You quickly pick up on a lot of tricks to get stains out and keep everything looking spick n span... Tisha is more than a little proud of herself that she's rubbed off on you

She's another easy one to get along with! There aren't many toons that Toodles outright dislikes or doesn't get along with

Talks... a lot... but that's to be expected from a kid.

You learn everything and nothing. The kid who's got dirt on everyone but doesn't have the mind to realize that it's dirt. Drops it randomly in conversation and moves on to something else like it was nothing... it's a little funny..

BOBETTE

Wastes no time at all in trying to become your friend- what's your favorite color? Music? When did you join Gardenview? What's your gimmick? She wants to know!

She's definitely gonna give you an extra gift this year for Christmas! Think of it as a "welcome to Gardenview!" Housewarming style gift! She WILL be watching you like a hawk to figure out what you like... as well as lightly interrogating everyone else for ideas

Genuinely so easy to befriend her. Not very judgy, very cheerful.. come decorate with her

GINGER

Oh... shy... she's shy... she doesn't avoid you but the first few conversations with you is... dry. Awkward. She really doesn't mean to make it that way it's just that she wasn't expecting to meet a new toon after being taken out of... where ever they keep the holiday toons

Not to mention you have a limited time to get her to warm up to you before having to put things on hold until next year... she really does try to befriend you or at least get to know you...!

Come join her with Cosmo and Sprout in the kitchen! You don't even have to bake..! You can help her decorate..! She becomes a ramblerer if you get her talking about an interest!

RUDIE

It's a Christmas miracle! A new toon has arrived! And he's definitely going to treat you like a gift... even if you were added to the toon roster before Christmas..

Not that he'd care all that much, a miracle is a miracle! And he's going to make sure you know his beliefs! Overall a joy to talk to even if he's caught up in the holidays

He is a little sad when he has to leave when the holidays end, but he promises he'll come talk to you the second he can again! He'll tell you all about what he did when he was away! Not much happens, but...!

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wintrwinchestr · 1 month ago

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strangers | part 4

summary: you never would've snuck out of bed last night if you had known it would lead to this—becoming a pawn in joel's sick, depraved game, playing the role of both victim and accomplice. how can the sparing of your life feel so much like a death sentence? how can you ever forgive yourself when your hands are as soaked in innocent blood as his are? how can the kind, gentle man you thought you loved, turn out to be such a monster?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, !!GRAPHIC!! DESCRIPTION OF MURDER AND BLOOD, NON-CON PIV (gonna say rape just in case, reader does not verbally consent), JOEL IS A SICK FREAK WHO GETS OFF ON KILLING, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, stalking, heavy dose of Joel POV, fingering, pussy slapping, edging, breathplay, degrading language used in an unsexy way, consumption of blood, Joel comes on your face, brief mention of somnophilia, reader has hair long enough to grab, reader can be carried by joel, development of stockholm syndrome, pet names (baby, darlin', babydoll, sweetheart), story inspired by "preacher's daughter" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 11.5k

a/n: this is a dark one, folks. if i haven't lost you already, i might lose you after this one. if this is the stop you get off on, i'm okay with that :) thanks for coming along for the ride. we've still got places to go from here, i'll be glad if you do decide to stick around. i feel very fortunate that the conversation around this story has been positive and respectful and i look forward to keeping it that way <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

The office looks so different in the daylight.

The key to the room you’ve been staying in is still the only one missing from the corkboard, but the previously empty coffee pot is now half-full of this morning’s brew, and the ominous ticking of the clock is now mostly drowned out by the sounds of an afternoon football game, playing loudly on the television in the little lounge.

Joel has only let go of your hand twice since you left town—once to help you up into the truck, and once to help you climb back down. Your fingers have remained interlocked otherwise, even while he was driving, even right now, as you stand in front of the desk and wait for somebody to respond to the sharp sound of the little golden bell reverberating throughout the room. Joel hits his fingers against the top of it again, with a little more agitated force this time, but still, no answer.

“I know this ain’t a five star joint or nothin’, but goddamn…” Joel grumbles, leaning around to peer into the room where, by the sounds of it, a touchdown has just been made. “Hey, buddy! Lil’ help in here?” He shouts, and the sudden intensity of his voice makes you jump. The volume of the game diminishes almost immediately, and a scrawny-looking teenage boy emerges from the lounge, wiping Cheeto dust onto his jeans.

“Sorry about that, sir. Eagles game, you know?” the boy tries to jest, but Joel only hums in response. “Anyway, what can I help you guys with?”

“Was wonderin’ if you might know anythin’ about a girl named Chrissy who was workin’ the night shift in here last night?”

“Chrissy? Sure, she’s pretty new around here, but I’ve worked the mornings after her a few times… Why do you ask? Is she in some kinda trouble?”

Not yet, she isn’t.

“Nah, nah, nothin’ like that,” Joel reassures, then maneuvers you to stand in front of him. “Quite the opposite, actually. She helped my lil’ girl out last night when she wasn’t feelin’ too well. We’re awfully grateful to her, ain’t we, sweetheart?” He prompts, nudging you in the back.

You nod, but keep your head down, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

“Oh! That’s right. She, uh, left a note on the coffee table in there, saying something about keeping an eye on the girl staying here, and the, um…” You flick your eyes upwards as the boy’s sentence trails off, and watch him look Joel up and down once, swallowing hard. “Yeah, just the girl. Guess that was you, huh?” You avert your gaze again quickly when he addresses you, feeling your pulse quicken in panic.

“Mhm, sure was,” Joel answers for you. “That was awfully… kind of her, bein’ so concerned like that. Anyway, we just thought we’d stop by, see if she was around so we could give her a proper ‘thank you’, but I take it she ain’t here anymore? Any idea where she might be this time o’ day?”

The boy expels a sigh, tapping his fingers on top of the counter while he thinks. “I mean, I don’t know her too well… But I know she’s got another job at this bar down the road, The Rattler Room. I think she trades her nights between that place and here, wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a shift there later tonight.”

“Well, how ‘bout that,” Joel says, clapping his hands on either one of your upper arms. “Guess we know what we’re doin’ about dinner tonight, don’t we, sweetheart?” Goosebumps raise on your skin even in the warmth of the office, and a nauseous feeling swirls in the pit of your belly. You feel somewhat fortunate that Joel wasn’t actually looking for a response from you, because if you were to open your mouth right now, you can’t guarantee that the minimal contents of your stomach wouldn’t come spilling out all over the muddy-colored carpeting. You would’ve never gotten out of bed last night, never tiptoed into this suffocating little room and asked the friendly-looking freckle-faced girl for help with your stupid idea—or hers, as Joel seems to think—if you had known that you would be putting more than just your own life at risk. You know what’s coming next, why Joel wants to hunt her down and stalk her like the predator that he is, and it’s all your fault.

“Let’s get goin’ now, baby. Thanks for your help, son, ‘s much appreciated.” Joel grabs hold of your hand again as he leads you out the door, and you nearly trip over the threshold as he tugs you across it.

He has a sick kind of spring in his step as he drags you back to the room, licking his chops and wearing an amused expression as he shucks off his boots and collapses onto the bed with a groan. You stand at the foot of the bed, frozen, as he grabs the remote off the bedside table and flicks the little square television to life.

“Whaddyou wanna watch, babydoll, huh? Signal’s kinda spotty out here, but one’a these channels has gotta be playin’ an old Western or somethin’...” You just blink at him, dumbfounded, watching him surf through the staticky channels as if the previous five minutes had never happened. Joel had just started the countdown on the remainder of Chrissy’s life right before your eyes, and all he wants to do now is… kick his feet up and watch some fucking TV?

“What do you mean, ‘what do I wanna watch’?” You ask, unable to hide the disconcerted edge in your voice.

“Baby, it ain’t a difficult question. Gotta kill time somehow, don’t we?” Joel turns his head in your direction as he addresses you, but otherwise keeps his eyes glued to the television screen, which now seems to be stuck on a snowy channel filling the room with loud, unsettling white noise. “God—dammit,” he curses, smacking the remote against the palm of his hand a few times. Your stomach churns both at the way he beats the inanimate object for its disobedience, and at his ironic choice of idiom.

“Kill time until… what?”

Joel looks up at you from under his lashes, halfway rolling his eyes at you before giving up on his endeavor altogether and clicking the TV screen into darkness again. “Did you think I was just makin’ shit up last night? You’re gonna bring her to me. Not right now, ‘course. Later, when the sun goes down, we’ll head on over to that bar. I’ll buy you some dinner or whatever kinda shitty food they have, but dessert’s on you, you get me?”

Your vision starts to go a little dark around the edges, and you feel unsteady on your feet as the grim reality sets in that he wasn’t just prattling off some depraved fantasy to you last night, he wants to make it real. He wants to spear a hook through your abdomen and cast you out to sea, dangle you in front of something empathetic and pretty and fragile and lure her straight into his gaping jaw. You can hardly live with yourself as it is, the way you’ve already been so consumed with survivor’s guilt for the past twenty four hours that you can feel the physical weight of it on your soul. But actually being responsible for adding another girl to his collection, your hands just as soaked in her blood as his would be? It will fucking break you. It won’t just be the images of the polaroids that will haunt you, it’ll be the shattering sounds of their screams, the metallic scent of their blood, the nauseating visions of their contorted bodies that will be your own tangible memories now, seared onto the backs of your eyelids because you were there. You’ll never get a decent night’s sleep for the rest of your life, and you won’t deserve one.

“But… you—we can’t take her. It can’t be her.”

Joel sits back against the headboard, crossing his arms, like he wants to see where you’re going with this. “No? Why not, babydoll?”

You cross your arms back at him, widening your stance in order to look more sure of yourself. “Well… That kid. He saw our faces, right? When Chrissy doesn’t show up here again tomorrow night, the police will question him, and he’ll tell them that we were asking about her. They’ll know we had something to do with it.”

Joel scoffs. “Yeah? Well, maybe they will. Then what’re they gonna do about it, hm? Two of us’ll be long gone by the time tomorrow night rolls around.” He knocks down your logic as easily as he would a house of cards, and you can’t think of anything else to say that might be able to convince him not to do this. The thought of it alone is like a drop of blood in the water, and once he’s gotten a whiff of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop the frenzy.

“B-but—”

“But what, sweetheart? How long d’you think I’ve been doin’ this, hm? Think I don’t know the rules of the game by now?”

He has a point. Joel has managed to evade capture for this long, surely he isn’t going to start slipping up now. He probably has his ritual down to a science, knowing exactly which type of girl to take, the right place to get the job done, and how long he can stick around for afterwards before his face shows up as a crude drawing on the evening news. The only thing on his mind now is the exciting prospect of being able to get his rocks off in just a few hours, while yours is running a mile a minute thinking about the lifetime of trauma and guilt you’ll be setting yourself up for if you do this, how many different ways it can go wrong, and what could happen to you if it does.

“Here, c’mere, baby,” Joel beckons, spreading his legs and patting his hand on the mattress between them. “You’re thinkin’ too much about this. Lemme show you how easy it’s gonna be, hm?”

He raises his brows at you when you don’t obey immediately, and you reluctantly crawl onto the creaky bed toward where Joel’s toned arms are reaching out to you. He grabs onto your waist when you get close enough and pulls you against him, situating you so that your back is pressed against his front. He wraps his arms around your middle, and rests his scruffy chin on your shoulder.

“You remember passin’ that bar on our way into town today, don’t you, babydoll? Had a big ol’ neon sign out front, a bright green rattlesnake waggin’ its tail back ‘n forth?”

“Um…” You close your eyes, trying your best to sift through the memories of everything you had seen during the drive. But it’s proving difficult, especially with the way one of Joel’s rough hands is sliding down your belly, finding its way underneath your dress and settling overtop of your panties. He begins to circle his middle finger around your clothed bud, and you hate the way it makes your breath hitch.

“C’mon, think for me, sweetheart. You remember, don’t you?” Joel prompts, a condescendingly teasing lilt in his voice.

A blur of neon green streaks across the backs of your eyelids, and you do remember, kind of. A divey looking place with a few motorcycles and pickup trucks parked out front, relatively isolated and unassuming aside from its kitschy signage.

“Mhm,” you hum, and it comes out more like a whimper. “I… I remember.”

Joel’s swirling finger picks up its pace, increasing the pressure against your clit as he continues to quiz you. “Yeah… And a few miles down past it, there was that abandoned lookin’ lil’ neighborhood, right? Houses were ‘bout fallin’ apart, all the yards were real overgrown… You remember?”

This, you can picture more clearly. It had reminded you of your own starved out hometown, every street lined with boxy two-story houses covered in peeling paint and climbing vines. Some of the homes so decrepit-looking, with their crumbling foundations and boarded up windows, and yet still with an assortment of sun-bleached children’s toys littering the front porch, a wind-chime still singing even if nobody was around to hear it anymore.

All you can do is nod in conformation, too afraid to make any more noises that might sound like you’re actually enjoying this, like it feels good, like you want him to keep going. Fuck.

“That’s where we’re gonna do it, baby. So you gotta listen real carefully, okay? Gonna tell you the plan, ‘n I want you to repeat it back to me, alright? Can you do that, babydoll?” Joel tugs your panties to the side as he questions you, exposing your damp core to the air conditioned room. “Fuck, look at that…” He muses, now using two of his fingers to spread your puffy lips apart and admire the way they glisten.

“Uh huh, I… I can,” you confirm breathily.

Joe’s fingers travel downwards, focusing their ministrations around the rim of your leaky hole instead. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, sweetheart… Gonna head down there, park the truck ‘round the side. I’ll give ya some cash to go sit up at the bar, ‘n I’ll hang around in the back, keep an eye on you… You’re gonna chat up lil’ miss Chrissy, tell her all about how I snatched you up, made you mine, won’t let you leave my side… You’re gonna use your manners all pretty ‘n nice, and ask her to please, please take you back home, help you get away from that big, scary, mean old man who hurts you so bad—“ He presses a thick finger inside your opening, and you can’t help but moan at the burning intrusion. “Just don’t tell her how much you like it, huh, babydoll?”

“Y-you… You want me to tell h-her… All of that?” You ask, confused that Joel would instruct you to tell her the truth, when so far, he’s been hellbent on hiding from the world who he truly is, only bearing his teeth when provoked, like a caged animal.

“Mhm, want you to tell her the truth, sweetheart, everything. Not like she’ll be able to do anythin’ about it later, hm?” Joel grabs onto your chin with his unoccupied hand, and shakes your head for you. “No, she won’t. Tha’s right, baby…” He laughs darkly, and you understand his intent now—to taunt you with an opportunity to finally be able to ask for help, to force you to pantomime what could be a real chance at escape, knowing that nothing will come of it. Joel begins to piston his finger in and out of you, and he holds you tightly against him as you squirm and sob.

“You’re gonna work your magic on her, and she’ll take such pity on you, sweet lil’ lamb that you are, of course she’ll take you back home… You’re gonna give her directions to that row of houses, have her take you all the way down to the one at the very end of the street, ‘n I’ll be followin’ close behind in the truck the whole time. Two of you’ll get outta the car, and then—” He sinks a second finger into your warmth alongside the other one, and you make a pained little noise at the stretch, arching your back against him. “Then I get to have my fun,” he snarls into your ear.

You didn’t realize how much tension you’d been holding in your body until now, until Joel had begun using his skillful fingers to render it all down, along with any rational thought you’d had left. You want to fight, want to spit and bite and scratch and push yourself away from him and never let him touch you there again, but you can’t. Your limbs feel weaker and weaker as the muscles in your abdomen draw tighter and tighter, and all you can do is melt against him, let him siphon out all that worry and pain and trauma and replace it with pleasure, at least just for a little while. You’ll grapple with yourself about it later.

You can feel the rumble of Joel’s voice against the skin of your neck, but you don’t register what he says, too consumed by your own pleasure to hear him. You just continue to mindlessly buck into the movements of his fingers, until he yanks them free from your walls and issues a sharp slap to your aching cunt.

“I said, repeat it,” Joel hisses, and you yelp at the sting, your hips stuttering as they continue to chase after nothing.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry, Joel, please—” You pant.

“You want me to keep goin’? You wanna come? Then repeat it back to me, babydoll, all of it, or I ain’t givin’ you shit. Need to know that you understand, that I can send you out there to bring me some fresh meat and you ain’t gonna fuck it up.”

“Okay, okay, okay, um… Fuck—” you curse as Joel slowly reinserts his fingers, resuming their beckoning motion against that spongey spot deep inside that makes you dizzy. “I-I’m gonna… Tell her… About you…”

“Uh huh, tha’s right… What about me, baby?” He encourages, his fingers working their way back up to the pace they had been moving at before he had deprived you of them.

You try to wade through the dense cloud of fog in your mind, your ability to think slowing down as the heel of his palm stimulates your clit with each rhythmic thrust. “T-that you, um… That you took me, you h-hurt me. And I’m gonna ask her to… To take me home—” “Good, good girl…” Joel praises. “Doin’ such a good job, almost there, babydoll. What comes next, hm?”

You take in a shuddering breath, closing your eyes tightly as you force your brain to recall the steps he had just walked you through. “I make her d-drive me to, um… To that house—”

“Which one, baby? Lots’a houses on that street, which one did I say?” Joel stills his movements, holding your pleasure hostage while he waits for your answer. You try desperately to twist around in his hold and continue to chase after your high, but his grip around your jaw remains ironclad.

“The one on the… The corner?”

Slap.

“Ain’t what I fuckin’ said. You think I want everybody drivin’ by to be able to hear her fuckin’ screams? Try again.”

You cry out, your abused little hole constricting around nothing. You dredge the depths of your short term memory, desperate to come up with the right answer.

“At the end! T-the one at the end,” you shout, and you’re rewarded with the replacement of his fingers, petting against your walls with just the right amount of speed and force that he knows will have you seeing stars with just a few more strokes.

“There we go… And what’s the last thing I said, sweetheart, hm? Last thing I need you to do…”

You draw a blank, your head filled with nothing other than almost there, keep going, please, please, please. You whine, bracing yourself for another swat to your sensitive cunt as you force yourself to admit, “I-I don’t… Don’t remember.”

Slap.

A debauched, animalistic cry leaves your lips, one that you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed of at the moment. “Yes you do, baby. Not gonna let you gush all over my fuckin’ fingers ‘less you tell me. Think. Can’t do shit if the two’a you get to the house and just twiddle your thumbs in the car, can I?”

“N-no, I gotta… Get her out of the car… Right? Is that it?” You’re heaving, completely breathless and covered in the dampness of your own sweat and arousal. At this point, you think you’ll say whatever the fuck he wants to hear if it means he’ll reinsert his fingers and finally let you fall over the edge.

“That’s right, sweetheart…” The hand that was gripped onto your jaw migrates downwards, wrapping itself around your neck. He presses his thumb and forefinger into either one of your pulse points, and you feel like you’re floating as he resumes the movements of his soaked fingers, drawing your orgasm closer and closer to the surface again. “One last thing… Tell me what I’m gonna do to her, hm? Then you can come, baby,” Joel growls, and you can feel him pressing his hard length into your back as he does.

His voice sounds muffled, like it’s coming from underwater, but it resonates clearly enough for you to understand what he’s commanding of you. A whine forces its way through your constricted throat as you plead, “D-don’t make me, please just—” “Say it, or you’re gonna be watchin’ me do it with an achy, unsatisfied cunt leakin’ all over the fuckin’ floor. ‘S that what you want?”

You don’t want to watch him do it at all. A more sensible part of your brain knows that this is all so wrong, that it’s sick and horrifying and completely deplorable, but the pleasure-seeking part of it doesn’t really care right now. Joel is playing with you like a doll, pulling your strings and posing your limbs as he molds you into his perfect victim. He’s breaking you down, slowly but surely, and although you can feel it happening in real time, he’s proven to you time and time again how defenseless you are to his manipulation, how just a few gentle words and swirls of his fingertips can have you falling apart against him, so that he can put you back together just a little bit differently than you were before.

“N-no,” you whimper ashamedly.

“Then say it.”

You swallow, and you can feel the cartilage at the front of your throat moving against his hand as you do. “You’re gonna… Kill her,” you rasp through half-full lungs, the words hardly meaning anything to you at all with how close your release is, being dangled in front of you just barely out of reach.

“Sure fuckin’ am,” Joel growls through gritted teeth. “Gonna enjoy every second of it, too, ‘s been so goddamn long. ‘M fuckin’ starvin’ for it, babydoll, you got no idea… Can’t wait to watch that lil’ bitch bleed.”

You ignore his perverted rambling to the best of your ability, the rocking of your hips becoming more spastic as the movements of Joel’s fingers increase in intensity, alongside his own excitement.

“C-can I… Please, Joel—” you beg hoarsely, your own voice sounding distorted and far away as you fuck yourself on his hand.

“Yeah, babydoll, come for me, such a perfect fuckin’ girl…”

Both of Joel’s hands maintain their pressure as the knot in your belly tightens, then unravels all at once. You come undone on his fingers, the motel room filling with the obscene sounds of your wetness and your pathetic mewling as you drench Joel’s hand. He shushes and praises you through your climax, his fingers only ceasing their onslaught once your twitching body finally relaxes and slumps against his broad form.

Your skin feels cool, tingly all over as the blood rushes back into your head. Joel pulls you into his lap, bending your knees close to your body so that he can cradle you like a child. You must be crying again, because he’s using his knuckle to wipe moisture from underneath your eyes as you shudder against him, reality coming crashing down around you again all at once.

“You’re so good for me, baby, such a good girl… It’s gonna be just fine, you’ll see. It’ll get easier every time we do this, won’t seem so scary anymore…” Joel rubs your back and kisses the top of your head, and you let him believe that you are crying for fear of the brutality you’ll have to bear witness to tonight, and not because you’ve dared to feel pleasure at the hands of the person who will be doing the brutalizing. You feel so fucking ashamed in your post-orgasmic state, but you’re so dehydrated and exhausted that you don’t really have enough energy to scold yourself right now.

Joel holds you close as he rocks your curled-up form, and you feel too weak to resist the way your eyes begin to flutter closed, the release of tension making way for your poor night’s sleep to finally catch up with you.

“Get some rest, babydoll, gonna need it. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go,” is the last thing you hear before you allow yourself to succumb to the temptation of sleep.

—

You were never supposed to find those polaroids.

Could Joel have taken the precaution of dumping his box of jerkoff material into a ditch somewhere before you could ever get the chance to find it on your own? Of course. But he didn’t know if he might need it again, if he might someday find himself with another itch that only his little collection of keepsakes could scratch. He had kept them hidden from you for a reason, tried to toss them in the trash and convince you that they weren’t worth getting curious about for a reason—because things were going perfectly well, better than it had gone with any of them. Joel had never planned on adding your photo to the pile.

He had known you were different, that you were the one, from that very first night you’d spent together. You’d been nothing but polite, grateful, and appreciative, even when he’d slid beside you in bed and stolen a taste of all that sweetness you were made of.

His whole life, Joel has searched for someone like you—someone to submit to him, to rely on him, to need him. That latter trait is the most important one, and the one that all the others seemed to be lacking. They liked feeling cared for and protected, liked bleeding his wallet dry while they spent a few weeks using him as some kind of rebellious experiment to piss off their parents one last time before they moved out of the house. But none of them ever made it very long before they decided that they didn’t really need him after all, that the fling was over, that the spark was gone, that they missed the shitty town he had picked them up from and wanted to be taken back. Ungrateful brats, they all fucking deserved it. And now they never get to go home, they get to rot in the fucking ground where their families will never find them, and he gets to keep their pretty pictures all to himself, asserting his control over them even in death. See how much they fucking need him now, when he is the one thing standing in between a cold case and a funeral.

Joel had known you wouldn’t end up like them, because you do need him. You have nobody, whether you’ll ever be able to admit it to yourself or not. You have no friends, no future, and no family, or at least not any left alive that actually care about you. You have no choice but to rely on him. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if he hadn’t stumbled upon you that night, looking so weak and lost and vulnerable and alone? There are much worse men than Joel out there, men who rape and kill just for the sick pleasure of it alone. At least Joel has some method behind his madness. It’s not like he’d invite a girl into his truck and immediately begin to fantasize about what her windpipe might feel like collapsing underneath his fingers.

Or, he didn’t used to. Not when he first started taking them.

He’d thought the desire had just disappeared on its own, once he’d found you, his perfect little doll. Joel had meant what he said when he told you that he was going to be done after the last one. But then… Then he’d had you pinned underneath him last night, starving your lungs of air, your eyes red and watery as you’d begged for your life, and he’d realized that he missed it. He craved it. Needed it. The itch was still there after all, demanding to be scratched. But no matter how aggravating and persistent it may get, Joel had decided a long time ago that he’ll never use you to make it go away. It’ll never be you. Even when he’d had his hands wrapped around your throat, he’d never planned on finishing the job. After all, how could he ever live without you when he’d spent so long trying to find you?

And this is the one thing he needs you to understand—that he’s never letting you go. Joel had thought he’d gotten it through to you well enough last night, when he’d given you a taste of the consequences the others had suffered when they’d tried escaping. But you must be stronger than he’s been giving your credit for, judging by the way you still decided to fucking act up today with that dumbass little letter of yours. That’s okay, though. He can handle it. It just means you’ll take a little more effort to break down than he’d previously thought. If he can’t convince you that the only version of your life you were ever destined to live is the one with him in it, then he’ll just have to make you think that it’s your own idea to stay, to submit. He seems to have made some pretty good progress chipping away at your resolve today already. At this rate, he’ll have it whittled down to nothing in no time at all, and you’ll be right back to the pliant little babydoll he fell in love with all that time ago. The one who needs him.

You’ll come back around soon enough, when you finally realize that you don’t have any other choice.

So, maybe Joel is a little glad you found the polaroids. He wouldn’t have ended up here if you hadn’t, skulking around the pool table in the back of the Rattler Room, practically vibrating with anticipation and foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. He flicks his gaze between the end of his pool cue and where you’re perched at the bar on a cracked leather stool, occasionally catching your eyes when you look back at him nervously. Joel just gives you a nod and a wink every time, and it’s enough to make you turn back around and take another sip of your drink to quell your anxiety.

You’re probably getting antsy because the two of you have been hanging around here for the better part of an hour, and Chrissy still hasn’t shown yet. But this is just one rule of the game—waiting. Patience. A predator doesn’t go in for the kill the second they lay eyes on their prey, do they? They have to study their movements, make sure they’ve got the little creature right where they want them, with their belly up or their neck exposed or their back turned, and then they pounce. You’ll learn the rules soon enough. With each of these little hunts that you accompany him on, you’ll learn. There may even come a time when you pick out the girls yourself, because you see it as an act of service, of love, satiating his hunger like this.

The next time you look back at Joel, you move like you’re about to get up from your seat and walk over to him, but he gives you a stern look that says “Stay put.” He jerks his chin upwards, toward where his pretty piece of meat is now emerging from behind the bar. Joel wonders if you believe the web of lies he’d spun about her today, if they were enough to convince you that Chrissy had taken advantage of you, that she’d manipulated you, that she deserves this. He hopes that you do, so that her death might weigh a little less on your conscience, so that you’ll put up a little less fight the next time his itch needs scratching.

God, that slender neck of hers is just begging for Joel’s blade. His upper lip twitches as he imagines the sight of her deep crimson blood dripping down her ivory-colored skin, her face becoming impossibly paler as her heart flutters out its last few beats before stopping altogether. Joel usually saves his knife for special occasions, when he needs the execution done quick and dirty before her screams wake up the entire fucking neighborhood, or in instances like his last girl, when she just needed to be put out of her fucking misery. But he might use it tonight, just because. Because he’s hungry. Because he’s so fucking hard he doesn’t think he can make himself suffer through the amount of time it takes to strangle a girl.

Joel watches from the shadows as Chrissy seems to recognize you right away, reaching for your hands across the bar as she says something to you that he can’t make out. Judging by the pitied expression she wears, the way she leans into you, he guesses it’s something like, “I’m so glad to see you. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need help? Do you need me to save you from that big horrible monster who’s making your life so miserable?” Joel rolls his eyes at the imagined conversation. He sets his pool cue back on the rack and takes a seat at a small corner table, keeping his head low as he sips his beer, adjusting himself while he watches the way the tendons in Chrissy’s neck tighten and flex as she speaks. He can practically see her carotid artery pulsing underneath her skin, can already taste the iron on his tongue from the flecks of blood that will inevitably splatter onto his lips when he slices it open.

Calm the fuck down, Miller. It’ll be playtime soon enough.

The two of you talk for another minute or so, and Joel gathers that you must be reciting the lines he’d taken such care to teach you today. Chrissy’s brows furrow, her lips part, and she places one of her small hands over her chest as she listens, as if your rehearsed little sob story is just too much to bear, so tragic and devastating that it’s actually causing her physical pain to hear. She retrieves a paper napkin from underneath the bar, and hands it to you so that you can use it to dab underneath your eyes. Jesus, are you crying? You’re even better at this than he thought you’d be.

Your shoulders shudder as you finish drying your tears, and Chrissy glances behind her at the clock on the wall, pausing to think for a moment before she turns back to you. Whatever she’s saying, she looks sure of herself, determined, and you nod your head on just about every other word. “Okay?” is the only one he can read on Chrissy’s lips, the last one she says to you before she begins serving the other patrons sitting at the bar. You continue to sip at your drink with your head hung low until she disappears into the back again, and when you swivel around in your stool, Joel is already staring at you. He makes a beckoning motion with two of his fingers, and you hop down from your seat, scurrying over to him as if he were whistling at a dog to come.

“She, um…” You start, checking behind you once to make sure Chrissy is still out of sight. “She said she’ll take her first break early, in an hour or so, and then… Then she’ll drive me home.”

A satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Joel’s mouth. “Alright, ‘nother hour it is, then. That wasn’t so hard, baby, was it?”

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact while you swirl your finger around the condensation from Joel’s beer bottle that’s collected on the lacquered table. You open your mouth like you want to say something else, but close it again quickly, seeming to think better of it.

“What is it, sweetheart, hm?” Joel prompts, curling a rough hand around the back of your bare thigh.

“I just… Wish it didn’t have to be her. She’s really nice.”

So were the rest of them, Joel thinks, until they tossed him aside like a chewed piece of gum. “Nice” doesn’t mean shit to him. Lots of girls are nice. And pretty. But they all fucking sound the same when they’re begging him to stop.

Joel bites his tongue, despite his supply of faux sympathy running dangerously low, and musters up what little there is left of it in order to give you the last little push that you need. “Oh, babydoll… You shouldn’t feel bad about somebody who did you wrong sufferin’ the consequences of their actions. I know she seems nice, but she ain’t a good person, baby, I told you that already—”

“I know, but—”

“But nothin’. It’s already been done, sweetheart, you gotta stop thinkin’ about it so hard. Just get back up there, hm? Be over before you know it.”

Joel uses his grip on your thigh to spin you around, and sends you back up to the bar with a lewd swat to your ass. He stares at the way it bounces underneath the too-short skirt of your dress, and leans back in his chair as he takes another sip out of his sweating bottle.

The next “hour or so” passes at such an excruciatingly slow pace, he’s stopped himself nearly a dozen times from flagging down a waitress and requesting another beer. He’ll have to make do with just the one, if he wants to be sharp, present, so that he’ll be able to savor every moment of both the hunt and the slaughter. Joel had forgotten how exhilarating the entire process is, how arousing it is to lurk quietly in the shadows, without the little thing having any idea that he’s there, until it’s too late.

He bides most of the time by just sitting, staring, thinking. About if Chrissy will be more of a begger or a screamer, if she’ll waste any of her breath trying to plead with him and change his mind, or if she’ll just cry herself hoarse in hopes that somebody will hear her pathetic wailing and come to her rescue. Joel chuckles to himself when he remembers the one who kept insisting that “I have a boyfriend, you know. I bet he’s been looking for me, he’ll be here any minute now and he’ll fucking kill you.” Joel had doubled over laughing as he gestured around to the isolated patch of woods he’d dragged her out to, nearly pitch black and dead silent, save for the pale light of the waning moon and the sounds of her heaving sobs. “Oh, you got a boyfriend, do you? Tight lil’ virgin cunt was tellin’ me otherwise, but nice try, sweetheart,” Joel had taunted. Her photo was one of his favorites—a neck-down view of her kneeling form, featuring her chained together wrists and her filthy hands and knees, dirt-stained from how he’d taken her on the ground one last time.

Well, her first time. Whoops.

He’s got a white-knuckled grip around the neck of his empty bottle by the time he’s pulled out of his trance, the movement of two bodies up at the bar distracting him. Joel’s eyes refocus in time to see Chrissy draping her coat over your shoulders, ushering you out the back door after giving the room a once over. Not a very thorough one, considering she had basically looked right at him and didn’t seem to recognize him, but that’s more situational awareness than he can give most of the others credit for.

Too bad it won’t do her any good.

Joel feels like he’s got an electrical current pulsing through his bloodstream as he gets up from his seat, allowing the two of you a few paces’ head start before following in pursuit. He spots the flame of Chrissy’s red hair as she hurriedly helps you into the passenger side of her shitty Pinto, the door’s rusty hinges squealing loudly into the night. The back parking lot of the bar is poorly lit in contrast to the neon illumination from the rattlesnake out front, allowing Joel to slink behind Chrissy’s car and over to his own truck undetected. He situates himself behind the wheel, making sure to keep an eye on his rearview mirror as he rummages through his backpack and sets the tools he’ll need on the side of the bench seat that you usually occupy—his knife, a length of rope, and his camera.

Just like Joel had promised you earlier, he pulls out of the parking lot just behind the two of you, and keeps a close—but not suspiciously so—distance as he chugs down the poorly paved road, maintaining a speed-limit obeying pace and keeping his headlights off for good measure. He even refrains from having any music playing as he chases after you, the choice partly because he’s too dialed in to bother futzing with the tape player, and partly because he doesn’t want to risk making any noise that would raise even a modicum of suspicion, aiming to disappear into the shadows altogether for the next couple of miles.

Joel is nothing but a ghost, Death himself riding his pale horse into the silent dark, in pursuit of yet another sacrificial lamb to add to his flock. He’s lost count of just how many he has in his possession now, but he never gets tired of the way they bleat and cry and thrash as they struggle to escape his scythe. None of them ever seem to understand that they were each promised to him a long, long time ago, when Joel was already grown but they had only just been conceived. They’d been born onto a path that would eventually lead them directly into his waiting arms, where he would show them love and affection and pleasure and ecstasy and whether they were to reject his offerings or not, Joel would always take what was rightfully his, in the end.

Joel holds his breath as Chrissy’s car approaches the intersection of the rundown neighborhood, but releases it when she makes the sharp left turn that you must have directed her to take. Good girl. He turns his own wheel more slowly, creeping carefully down the road until he finds a large, overgrown shrub to tuck his truck behind, out of sight from the two little creatures now exiting the Pinto and crushing mounds of dried grass under their tentatively stepping hooves. Joel kills the truck’s engine, his teeth chattering in anticipation as he swipes his tools from the seat beside him and slides himself out from behind the wheel. He reaches behind him to slot his knife underneath his belt, then begins his prowl towards the house with the rope and camera clutched in either hand.

“No offense, but… You live here? Are you sure?” Joel hears Chrissy ask you, bending over to peer into a hole near the house’s foundation where some of the siding has rotted away.

That’s right, stay down, just like that.

Joel is only a few paces away now.

“W-well, it’s um… I h-haven’t really been here in a while, to be honest,” you respond, stuttering your way through the first lie you could think of in order to keep the charade going. You sound like you’re making it up as you say it, but that’s okay. Joel is closing in on his target now, it doesn’t matter if your trembling voice had set off the trap or not. Chrissy is already caught in it.

He’s so close he can smell the redhead’s rosy perfume that she had applied before her shift, can practically see the fine hairs raise on the back of her neck when she hears the snap of a dead tree limb coming from behind her. She lets out a little gasp, and whips her head around just in time to see Joel’s icy expression as he shoves a filthy boot into the back of her knee, making her yelp as she collapses onto all fours. Her hands scramble desperately for purchase in the thicket of dead foliage, but Joel is on her before she can regain her balance.

“Yeah, tha’s right… Down, bitch,” Joel spits, straddling her back and using his weight to push her body flat against the ground. “Hold onto this, babydoll, will ya?” He passes his camera off to you, not taking his eyes off Chrissy’s squirming form as you accept it quietly.

Joel grabs hold of Chrissy’s flailing wrists and wrenches them behind her back, squeezing her abdomen hard between his thighs as he does. “Hold fuckin’ still, ‘less you want me to break some bones while I’m at it,” he barks, but it does nothing to deter her futile efforts. She kicks and bucks and thrashes underneath him, making pathetic struggling noises as he winds the length of rope around her wrists, binding them together.

“Get the fuck off me! Help me, get him off!” She pleads with you as she yanks against the rope and writhes around in the dirt. All you do is look at her with wide, watery eyes, your chest heaving as you clutch his camera in both of your small, shaking hands. “Are you with him or something? What the fuck is this? Help me, please!” Chrissy shouts, her voice terrified and guttural.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” Joel growls into her ear, before pushing himself up off the ground and using his grip around the rope to pull her up with him. He wraps one arm tightly around Chrissy’s middle, and clamps the hand of the other one over her mouth. “She ain’t gonna help you, she knows better ‘n that... Did such a good job for me, sweetheart, such a good fuckin’ girl… Open the door for me so I can get her inside, now.” Joel watches the muscles in your throat constrict as you swallow hard, your eyes shifting from Chrissy’s terror-stricken ones up to Joel’s as you process his command. He smirks to himself when you do obey, the ribbons in your hair fluttering behind you as you scuttle up the stairs and wrench the door open.

Chrissy is still shrieking incessantly into the meat of Joel’s hand as he shoves her up the creaking steps, and he supposes that he has the answer now to the pondering he was doing back at the bar—screamer it is. They piss him the fuck off the most, are probably most of the reason why his hearing isn’t as good as it used to be, and why he ends up using his knife more often than he’d like. Strangling is his preferred method—it’s more intimate, more hands on in nature, and makes less of a mess—but sometimes the cleanup is worth it if it means he can get them to shut the fuck up and quit shattering his eardrums with all their annoying fucking screeching that they know won’t do them any good. He’d made a good choice, sharpening his knife earlier while you were still asleep back at the motel this afternoon. Joel wonders when you’ll notice that you’re wearing a different pair of panties than the ones he’d made you come in, having tested the sharpness of his blade by slicing them off of you before cleaning up the mess you’d made with his tongue.

Joel wrestles Chrissy inside the house, kicking broken glass and sloughed off sheets of yellowed wallpaper out of his path as he walks her into the living room. He turns his head as he instructs you to shut the door, and Chrissy uses the opportunity to bite into Joel’s palm and slam the back of her skull into his temple, hard enough to break the skin.

“Ah!—Fuckin’ bitch,” Joel hisses, forcibly shoving her onto the decaying hardwood floor. Chrissy tries to get up, but he presses the tread of his boot into her chest, keeping her down. He touches a finger to the side of his head, bringing it in front of his eyes to examine the droplet of blood that came with it, along with the indents in the flesh of his hand that are beginning to sprout little crimson beads. “Just fuckin’ askin’ for it, ain’t you?”

Joel looks over at you again, to where you’re standing with your back against the door and wearing the same deer-in-the-headlights expression as when he’d handed the camera to you. You have it clutched against your heaving chest, your eyes impossibly wide as you stare at the scene unfolding before you. He can practically see the gears turning in your brain as it cycles through the options of fight, flight, fight, flight, seeming to have landed on freeze instead. Joel observes you for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if one of your shaking hands will eventually snake its way back to the doorknob, but it doesn’t. Since you know what’s good for you, and all.

“C’mere, babydoll, where I can see you,” Joel orders, jerking his head into the room. Your eyes flutter out a few rapid blinks as you seem to shake yourself free of your petrified state, but your feet remain planted firmly underneath you. You’re standing so rigidly, with your knees locked in place, Joel is surprised you haven’t passed out yet.

“Can’t I just… wait in the truck or something? I’ll stay right there, I promise—”

“You know damn well I can’t take you up on any of your lil’ promises anymore, sweetheart. Besides, seemed awfully interested in how I do things last night, why the sudden change of heart, hm?”

You shift your weight, trying to come up with some excuse while you watch Chrissy try and fail to wriggle herself out from underneath the weight of Joel’s boot compressing her ribcage. “Just don’t do very well around b-blood, is all,” you squeak out pitifully.

Joel rolls his eyes, frustrated at the precious seconds you’re wasting by suddenly complaining about being a little squeamish.

“Well frankly, baby, I don’t really fuckin’ care. You’re gonna have to learn to get the fuck used to it, I ain’t doin’ this with you every time. Get in here. You can face the goddamn wall, but you’re stayin’ put until this is over, are we clear?”

“Y-yes, Joel, thank you,” you concede shakily. Joel’s eyes follow you as you flit across the room, nearly tripping over chunks of fallen drywall before tucking yourself into a little alcove behind the fireplace and hugging your knees to your chest.

“Alright… Where was I?” Joel ponders aloud, removing his foot from Chrissy’s chest and crouching down to her level. He grabs a fistful of her shirt collar and yanks her back up to a sitting position, looking down at his bleeding hand and sighing before harshly slapping Chrissy across the face with it. Her head whips to the side from the impact, and he grips onto her bloodied face with his injured hand to turn it back towards him again. “Y’know, I don’t take too fuckin’ kindly to feisty things like you who don’t know their goddamn place. Ain't so gentle with bratty lil’ cunts who think it’s a good idea to fight back, leave their marks on me. Am I, babydoll?” He says the latter part a little louder than the rest, brushing the forefinger of his unoccupied hand across the scar on the bridge of his nose as he speaks. You don’t respond, but he can tell that you hear him, that you know what—who—he’s referring to. “Yeah, she knows… One of her lil’ friends gave me this pretty thing, can you believe that? Suppose she gave me that pretty thing, too.” Joel chuckles to himself at his own double entendre, gesturing to where you’re cowering in the corner. “Poor thing had a friend go missin’ a while back, never knew what’d happened to her. Trail was cold, but she decided to follow it anyway. And Lord, am I glad she did, ‘cause it led her straight to me…”

Joel turns Chrissy’s head this way and that in his grip, enjoying the way she squeezes her eyes tight and flinches as she braces for another impact. She whines and whimpers as his fingernails dig into her freckled cheeks, now smeared with his orange-red fingerprints. “W-why me, then? Why not h-her, how come she gets to live? J-just take her, let me go, I won’t tell anyone,” Chrissy sobs through her teeth, hardly able to move her jaw in Joel’s firm hold. He reaches behind himself and slides his blade out from under his belt, raising it up in front of her face. Her eyes go wide as she lets out a horrified noise, thrashing against him and crying while he examines the way the sharp edge glints in the moonlight coming in from the broken windows.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Joel muses, turning over the blade in his hand a few times before looking up at Chrissy’s terrified face, his expression shifting from something wistful to something sinister, cold. “It ain’t ever gonna be her.”

Joel cranks her jaw upwards and slides his knife across her throat before she can even expel an entire scream from her lungs, the piercing tone of her voice becoming wet and garbled in just a few seconds as she chokes on her own blood. It sprays through the slit in her skin, some of it splattering across Joel’s face and landing on his lips, before coming out as a steadier stream that spills down her pale neck and dribbles from the corners of her mouth. Joel watches on as she convulses and gags, her eyes rolling back into her skull before becoming dead weight in Joel’s grip, and she collapses onto her side when he finally lets go of her jaw, still agape with a silent wail. Her muscles spasm as she bleeds out, the ruby-colored liquid pooling underneath her head and saturating the ends of her auburn hair. Joel licks his lips clean as her wound pulses in time with the beating of her heart, the rhythm becoming slower and slower before fizzling out altogether. It only takes a minute or so for her body to still completely, her gurgling breaths eventually morphing into the death rattle that he’s come to recognize so well. Joel swipes his bloodied blade across his tongue before sheathing it under his belt again, glancing over to where you’re now rocking back and forth, your spine hitting against the fireplace’s stone structure with dull little thumps.

He stalks over to you, ignoring the startled yelp you make as he grips onto your upper arm and drags you to where Chrissy’s cooling corpse is lying in the center of the room. Just like he had done to her earlier, he pushes you onto your stomach and straddles your hips. Only this time, he rucks up the skirt of your dress and yanks your panties to the side, swiftly freeing his painfully hard cock from the confines of his jeans and slotting into you with nothing more than a mouthful of his own saliva to help him ease inside. “Oh, f-fuck, Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he moans, gripping one hand onto your hip and using the other—the one with a still-bleeding bite mark—to press the side of your head into the filthy hardwood, so that you’re facing Chrissy’s glazed-over expression while he takes and takes and takes. He doesn’t have it in him to be gentle with you, blinded by adrenaline and arousal as he uses you to get himself off.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight when you’re scared,” Joel snarls, snapping his hips into your backside with such force that the clap of skin-on-skin echoes loudly throughout the empty house, nearly drowning out the sounds of your cries. You’ve got your hands splayed out on either side of your head, having dropped Joel’s camera when he’d forced you into a prone position. You make a disgusted gagging noise when the expanding pool of Chrissy’s blood reaches your fingertips, but you can’t pull away with Joel’s body weight holding you in place. You shut your eyes tightly as you sputter and sob, but Joel won’t allow that. He pulls you up onto your knees, pressing you against him and prying your eyes open as he holds your head up by a fistful of your hair. “No, no hidin’ from this, babydoll. You fuckin’ look at her… I do this for you, baby, you see? So that it won’t be you. I just get so fuckin’ hungry, I can’t help myself. I can’t fuckin’ stop. But as long as I live, I swear it’ll never be you. That’s why it’s them instead. You understand, sweetheart? I love you, babydoll, I love you so fuckin’ much.” Joel mumbles the last bit into the supple skin of your neck, sloppily kissing and biting into your flesh, until he isn’t sure to whom the iron taste that fills his mouth belongs anymore.

He gropes and grabs all over your pliant body, grunting curses into your wet skin while he uses your tight, warm hole like a toy. He’s practically been edging himself for the past several hours, starting from when he’d rubbed circles around your swollen clit and used the reward of your own pleasure to manipulate you into doing his dirty work. Joel is surprised he didn’t cream his jeans before now, the release of finally pouncing on his prey and the taste of her blood on his tongue almost enough to make him come untouched. His hips begin to stutter only a handful of thrusts later, but instead of allowing himself to spill inside you like he had last night, he slides himself free of your walls and maneuvers you onto your back, reaching for his camera.

“Smile pretty for me, babydoll,” Joel says, holding the viewfinder up to his eye while he jerks himself off over your used body, his knees planted on either side of your ribcage. The dazed expression you wear looks enough like a smile to satisfy him, and he snaps a photo as he paints your face with his come. Thick white ropes splatter against your skin, already smeared with the blood from his hand and the filth from the neglected floorboards, and you look like the most gorgeous fucking thing he’s ever seen—his perfect doll, his fallen angel, his most precious and favorite lamb, the love of his fucking life. “Startin’ a new collection today, darlin’, since I got rid of the other one… This’ll be the perfect one to start it out.” Joel removes the blank polaroid from the slot, and sets it back down along with the camera to give the image time to develop. He sits back on his haunches as he catches his breath, running his bloodied hands through his damp hair and zipping his spent cock back inside his jeans. Joel stares down at you while you blink slowly, looking ruined with your tangled hair spread out on the floor and your hands resting up by your ears in surrender. Your breathing is slow, shallow, and he trusts that he can leave you there to come back into yourself while he takes care of Chrissy’s body.

Joel pushes himself back up to his feet with a groan, his knees cracking and aching in protest, and he walks around the first level of the house, peeking into different rooms until he finds one that used to function as a bedroom. There isn’t much left inside, but the wrought iron bed frame still has a moldy sheet draped haphazardly over the mattress. He yanks it free and bunches it up in his arms, carrying it back into the living room and spreading it out on the ground beside the corpse. Joel rips the top hem of the bedsheet from its seams, and wraps it around his injured hand before tying it off with his teeth. He rolls Chrissy’s stiffening figure onto the now-frayed edge of the fabric, tucking it under one of her arms to hold it in place before tumbling her down the remaining length of the linen. He performs the task monotonously and with little strain, as if he’s done so a dozen times, because he has. It doesn’t take very much effort to lift her onto his shoulder; she was already a wisp of a thing to begin with, weighing even less now that nearly her entire blood volume is soaking into the wood beneath where she had been laying.

Joel navigates to the back door of the house, kicking it open with his boot and letting it slam behind him. He walks several yards into the overgrowth behind the house, dodging low-hanging branches and stepping over fallen logs until he reaches a small clearing. He deposits Chrissy’s body onto an area of dried, yellowing grass, before returning to the backyard where he had noticed a dilapidated shed, nearly completely fallen over from several years’ worth of dry rot. Joel grunts as he pries the doors open, and yanks on a rusted metal chain hanging from the ceiling. A single light bulb illuminates the contents of the shed—a decades-old lawn mower, a few bags of grass seed, and some basic gardening tools, including exactly the one he was looking for. He brushes several thick spiderwebs out of the way before grabbing hold of the shovel, and lets it drag behind him as he treks back to Chrissy’s soon-to-be makeshift burial site. Joel digs a shallow grave, not wanting to take the time to complete the entire six feet with you still on your own inside the house, and uses his boot to send her cloth-wrapped body tumbling into the hole, where it lands with a dull thud. He stares down at her bloodied chrysalis, exhaling a shuddering breath as he revels in the final stage of his ritual.

Over the course of his life, Joel has done a lot of thinking about what exactly it is about the slaughter that he finds so titillating. On a particularly sleepless night several years ago, he’d finally landed on the transformation being what arouses him so. Taking a life is not unlike the procedure of sex, he’d realized—there is a start and an end, a before and an after, and an intangible, in between state, where the soul of the other person is slightly separated from their body, placed into the palms of his hands to do with as he pleases. There’s a reason the French came up with that clever little phrase—la petite mort—because sex and death are inexplicably intertwined, at least for Joel. He experiences such a rush, such a release, from taking part in the gruesome metamorphosis in which a girl is transformed into a body, that he can’t help but chase that high again and again and again, even though he always seems to forget that as much as there is the before and the during, there is also the after.

That troublesome, uncomfortable after.

Joel shakes himself out of his stupor, tossing the shovel in after the body and doing a half-assed job of kicking the dirt he’d excavated back inside the pit. He scatters some fistfuls of grass and a few dead branches on top of the pile for extra camouflage, and then trudges his way back through the woods.

When Joel returns to the house, you’re in the exact same position he’d left you in, just as he’d thought you’d be. He approaches you slowly, crouching beside you and brushing some of your knotted hair away from your soiled face. Your eyes are frozen, as if still looking into Chrissy’s own glassy ones, and you don’t even so much as twitch when Joel pulls a rag from his back pocket and uses it to wipe his arousal and as much of the blood as he can manage off of your skin.

“You okay, sweetheart? You with me?” Joel asks you, his voice barely above a whisper, as if trying not to spook a small animal. You look almost… shell shocked. Traumatized. Out of your own body. “Talk to me, babydoll, please.” He rakes his fingers through your hair for another silent minute or so, during which time you continue to lie perfectly still. Unblinking. Unflinching. A husk of a girl.

Joel sighs, reaching across your body to grab his camera and the now-developed polaroid. He shoves the latter into his jacket pocket, deciding that he’ll examine the image later, once he reconciles with the unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach—something like remorse, he thinks.

He slides his hands underneath your body, cradling you in his arms and carrying you bridal style across the living room, over the threshold, down the steps, and along the stretch of fractured asphalt until he reaches the truck. Joel sets you down on your feet so that he can open the passenger-side door, but your knees buckle underneath you almost immediately, requiring him to support your weight while he fumbles with the handle. He lifts you up onto your seat once he gets it open and buckles you in, and you don’t look anywhere except directly in front of you the entire time. Joel smooths out the skirt of your dress, now stained with dirt and blood, and shoves his camera into the backpack sitting at your feet before shutting you in. He crosses in front of the hood and retakes his place behind the wheel, taking a long look at where you sit nearly comatose beside him. You’re here, but you’re not. He doesn’t know where you are, or how to pull you back from it, back to him.

Joel fidgets with his keys, jingling them in his hand in an effort to fill the cabin with something other than a silence so loud it’s making his ears ring. “It’ll feel better in the mornin’. You’ll get used to it, after a few more of ‘em, I promise.” He places his linen-wrapped hand on the side of your head, pulling you closer to him so that he can plant a whiskery kiss in your hair. Joel lets his eyes flutter closed as he breathes in your scent, inhaling a stuttering breath. If remorse is truly what he feels, then that would warrant an apology, he supposes. But it would also require taking action to rectify the wrongdoing that warranted the apology in the first place, to make sure that it never happens again. And that, he cannot promise.

He pulls away from you, licking his thumb once to wipe a dried smear of blood from your temple. “You wanna get that old map outta the glovebox, babydoll? Decide where we’re headed to next?” Joel prompts.

Silence.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want, darlin’. Long as they got hot coffee and color TV,” he chuckles.

Stillness.

“Well… Alright, then. Next state over it is.” Joel sniffles, feeling around in the dark for the truck’s ignition cylinder, the engine finally sputtering to life after a few misses of the key. Your head falls against the window as the tires begin to rumble over the uneven pavement, and you don’t bother to reposition yourself, even though the sensation of your skull rattling against the glass must be uncomfortable.

Joel doesn’t steer the truck in any particular direction, just away. Away from here, toward the life together in California that he’d promised you, hoping that he can collect all your broken pieces and put you back together along the way.

As it turns out, there are two things that Joel needs you to understand—that he’s never letting you go, and that he will never be able to stop himself. As instinctually as Joel needs to blink, breathe, sleep, he needs to kill. He needs to spill blood and feel it underneath his fingernails and taste it on his tongue, needs to bite into the soft pink skin beneath white wool and feel the precise moment when a creature becomes nothing more than flesh and fur.

And he needs you. Joel cannot live without either one, he’s decided, and so he must be in possession of both.

He regrets the way in which he’s broken you tonight, but not the way that you will be reassembled in his image.

Transformed.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @joelsdagger @natalieispunk @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @galway-girlatwork @pinkiec6-rubi @wand-erer5 @arminsbf @shivispunk @gigistorm @theoreticalfreak @vinceelser @always-andromeda @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @old-logan-and-old-joels-slut @atjlovverr @zliteraturehoe @k1l4ni @hjzghi-blog @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @kay1805 @alex-does-art-things (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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stevesgother · 3 months ago

Note

i adore chalkboard hearts! could i see steve and reader explaining to abby shes gunna be a big sister 🥰

here is this for you darling <3 thank you so much for reading steve harrington x fem!reader

"Mommy?" Abbey asks as she mindlessly roots through the bathroom drawers, looking for nothing in particular, "What is this thing?"

You barely spare a glance from where you're applying your makeup in the mirror above the sink. Ever since the wedding, Abbey has made it her life's mission to never not be right next to you. 'Misdirected jealousy', your mom had told you. It didn't matter what you were doing: cooking dinner, folding laundry-- bathing, for Christ's sake-- Abbey would be there.

That's why you don't register that your daughter is holding your clean, but used nonetheless, pregnancy test. But Steve does, when he pokes his head around the door to check in on the two of you.

"Hey, you almost--oh-- Abbey don't touch that!" He says, all in one panicked breath.

You finally chance a look at what she's holding, immediately understanding Steve's reaction. Without another thought, you quickly snatch it from her innocent hands.

Abbey's still looking up at you inquisitively. She did ask you a question, after all.

"Oh, this? This is-- uhm, it's a, uhm--"

"It's a thermometer!" Steve saves.

"Then why can't I touch it?" She pushes further. You should've known better than to think she would drop it that easily.

"Steve checked my temperature with it a couple of weeks ago, so now it has all my sick germs on it." Both you and Steve make sour faces to really sell it, though you can't see his from where he's perched behind you.

"Hey, Ab," Steve prompts, "I have something really important I need your help with,"

Her ears perk instantly, "Yeah?"

"I need you to go into the kitchen and get some things out to make sandwiches while I talk to your mom, do you think you can do that for me?"

"Uh-huh!" She beams, Steve's request appealing to her newfound craving for independence.

"I don't know," Steve lilts playfully, "You sure you're up for it?"

You're forever in awe at how he manages to make the most mundane tasks feel like an impossible mission; how he turns everything into a game. You'd kill to be a fly on the wall of his classroom all day, content to watch him perfectly in his element.

"Yes! I am!" Abbey giggles as she tries to weasel by Steve where he stands blocking the doorway. He lets her think she overpowered him when his legs finally give way to her freedom from the bathroom.

Steve takes one more glance over his shoulder, "We need to tell her," he says in a hushed sort of tone.

"I know," you pinch the bridge of your nose, "It's just, what if--"

"Nothing's going to happen, sweetheart." He reassures you with two strong arms wrapped around your waist, "The doctor said the ultrasound looked great, and you're not a high-risk pregnancy. You said you had no complications with Abbey, right?"

"Right, but--"

"No 'but's I'm not gonna let anything happen to you-- either of you. You know that." Steve guides your head to nestle in the crook of his neck, enough so that you can't see that he's scared, too.

"She's going to find out eventually," he reminds you.

"You're right," you sigh.

"Per usual." You pinch his side in retaliation, making him yelp.

"Let's have lunch, then we'll tell her?" You ask, lifting you head from the safety of his chest.

"If that's what you want to do, then that's what we'll do.

You don't work up the courage to speak until Abbey's halfway through her PB&J, but Steve picks up the slack for you. He's perfect like that.

"Abbey, babe-- there's something Steve and I want to talk to you about," you tell her, trying to keep your tone lighthearted, but your voice still wobbles slightly with nerves.

Both of them turn to face you then, Abbey's mouth full and Steve sending you a look that says You've got it, I'm here.

God, you don't even know where to begin.

"Do you remember-- right before we had that big party where mommy and Steve got married-- when I got sick during dinner time?"

Abbey nods, idly licking jelly off of her tiny fingers; waiting for you to continue.

"Well... I thought it was just because Steve's burgers tasted yucky--" She giggles and Steve lightly kicks your foot under the table, "Really, it was because I have a baby in my belly, and the baby was making me feel sick."

You can practically see the gears turning in her head; she's certainly old enough to understand what it means to be pregnant, but maybe not quite the logistics of it yet.

Both you and Steve wait with bated breaths to see how she'll react. You're bracing for the worst, but all she asks is, "Is the baby still in there now?"

You have to stifle a laugh, not wanting her to feel silly for asking questions, "Yes, it is. That means you're gonna have a little brother or sister,"

She takes another bite of her sandwich, mostly indifferent. You don't know what you were expecting, but this nonchalance was probably the last thing.

Steve decides to take the reins for a moment, hoping to coax a little more of a reaction out of her, "How does that sound?" He asks, shaking her shoulders playfully.

"Good, but-- will we still be able to go to the park?"

Maybe you had been totally overthinking this, "Of course," you tell her, "And the baby can come, too!"

"Does the baby have to come?" She asks, just the slightest bit of whine in her tone, resting her tired head in the propped-up palm of her hand.

"Not always," Steve chimes in, "You'll still get plenty of time with us without the baby, too. We don't want you to worry about that, okay?"

She nods, "Okay," sipping her chocolate milk casually from its straw. "Can we go play on the swings after I'm done?"

"Uhm, yeah, I think we can manage that," Steve smiles at Abbey first but looks to you like 'That's it?'. You only shrug in response.

"Did we totally butcher that?" You ask Steve later that night from where you lay waiting for him in your shared bed.

He answers you with his toothbrush hanging haphazardly out of his mouth; making eye contact through the bathroom mirror, "No, honey-- I think kids are just like that sometimes."

You groan, "I feel like a bad mom..."

"Hey," he spits into the sink, wiping his mouth on the nearest hand towel, "None of that, okay? You're a fantastic mom."

Even from across the room, Steve can sense your slurry of racing thoughts. Ones of insecurity and worry for the future of your family-- of your daughter, whom you'd swore would always be your greatest priority.

He makes his way to the edge of the bed where you're curled in on yourself, "It's not just you anymore, love," his hands brush a stray tear you hadn't even realized has fallen.

"What if she feels like-- I don't know, what if she feels like I'm replacing her?"

"Listen to me, I promise you-- Abbey is never going to question whether or not you love her." Steve's hand moves from your face to land gently on your belly, "And neither will she,"

You breathe a teary chuckle, "You seem awfully convinced it's a girl,"

"Yeah, well-- call it father's intuition."

Hearing him refer to himself as a father sends butterflies erupting in your belly, "Thank you, Stevie."

"Hey, I'm serious. Everything's gonna work itself out, alright? Ab just needs a little time to warm up." You nod in agreement, "I'm tellin' ya, once we start getting those cute little baby pajama things-- she's gonna be pumped."

You laugh at his unsuccessful search for the word 'onesie', but you don't correct him. You know he's right, and even if he's not, you're sure now more than ever that there's not a thing in this world you can't conquer together.

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383 @i-love-gfv @the-fairy-anon

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sweettoothy · 8 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

— pt.2 : watch it all burn.

⟣・S2・HEAVY IS THE CROWN︰

THE SOUND OF screaming could be heard when you had awoken from being on the ground, your hair in a messy style as you couldn’t see your surroundings. was Jayce and viktor okay? was everyone alright? mel..? of course you wouldn’t know, everything in your body hurt, it felt like some sort of piece of metal lodged in your side.

Being a well trained solider had its many perks but you weren’t prepared for this. Of course you weren’t. like they say, the most unexpected things come.

For you though it felt a little far fetched whenever your mom would tell you the stories about the ghost and salem. Where the witch would be haunted down and hunted but towards the end they found her having did no wrong doing.

Sad tale it was. really.

Everything on your body hurt like hell, the only voice you could hear was Jayce’s. was he carrying you and viktor? probably.

That dude had some incredible strength.

JAYCE SITS IN a chair with his head in his hand, looking over at viktor who lays inside the hextech. seeing you and viktor in this condition was tearing him limb from limb, not in a gruesome way but a much more sadder way.

He had hated not being able to protect the both of you, it felt like hell. But you know, some things just come and go…you lay there on a bed with a bunch of iv’s attached to your arms and lower half, your hair was in a messy bun since Jayce had tried thing it himself.

Mel walks inside his office as she takes a look around, her eyes landing on Jayce. “How are they?” She questioned.

“Same as before. They’re both breathing.” Jayce answers in reply, a distressed look on his face. “Their pluses are consistent. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mines.”

Mel walks over to viktor, her eyes landing on the hextech as she starts reaching her hand out with curiosity. When she goes to touch it, it reacts differently with her making her gasp and step back.

“What’s it doing to him?” Mel questions.

“The hexcore has been evolving.” Jayce explains, “shifting through runic patters faster than I can keep up. All I know for certain is that it’s keeping him and her alive.”

Jayce eyes land on where you laid, his heart aching with devastation as he sees you reacting differently to the hextech aside from viktor, your body was rejecting it but also accepting it at the same time.

If it was the only thing keeping you alive he wasn’t gonna mess with it.

“It should be me up there instead of him. I should be laying in that bed instead of her,” Jayce grumbled, gesturing to an unconscious you on the bed barely breathing. “Vi and cait are gonna lose it.”

“Don’t say that.” Mel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They’ll both come back to us.”

“I still don’t understand.” Jayce replies. “They were both right next to me. How does the explosion do that to them, and I just…? I just walk out without a scratch? [name] almost lost a hand, my god.”

Mel sighs. “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce.”

The male was quiet for a while before speaking again, “how’d it go with the council?” he asks.

Mel scoffs. “My mother’s entered the game. She’s already gotten her hooks into salo. Using his grief to make a play for hextech.”

“Mel, I promised viktor, never again.” Jayce tells the woman.

Mel places her hand over his. “It’s all right. I handled it. I won’t let them corrupt your dream.”

Jayce looks over at an unconscious you again, before laying his head on mel’s thighs, tears threaten to fall down his eyes but he holds them back.

He just wanted you and viktor back, that’s all.

You were very important to caitlyn and vi after all.

“I should get going now.” Mel says, “you might want to spend some alone time with them.”

With that, she stood up and patted his shoulder one last time before walking out the door. The door slams shut behind her by itself, making Jayce flinch a little.

He feels you stir, his head perks up immediately.

When it does, he saw you already staring at him, a confused look on your gaze.

“What was that about?” You questioned, sitting up with your back pressed against the pillows. It was a little hard to breathe but it was manageable with the breathing machine.

“I don’t even care-- i just-- you’re--?” Jayce launches forward and pulls you into a huge, a huge so tight you had gasped. He wasn’t hugging you too tight as though you couldn’t breathe— he just hugged you with desperation and worry.

“Woah! hey, hey, it’s okay.” You reassured, patting his back. “I’m okay.”

He was so happy to hear your voice.

“ONE OF THE MANY PRIVILEGES OF SERVING AS YOUR COUNCILOR IS HAVING THE OCCASION NOW AND AGAIN TO STAND BEHIND THIS PODIUM TO BEHOLD SO MANY JOINED TOGETHER NOT BY BIRTH OR DICTUM BUT BY ALL THAT WE SHARE.” MEL SPOKE as you stood by the other guards to keep watch, your back was leaned against the wall as the wound with the patch on your side was being healed. Your biceps flexing under the light as your toned abs still hurting from the explosion, but the wounds would heal, you were sure.

You glanced down at the tattoo on your hip and let your thumb graze over it, remembering when it was given.

You see one of the enforcers walk past you, you look them up and down by their attire before your brows furrowed— something felt wrong.

Heading into the crowd you lock gazes with vi, the both of you nodding towards one another before following the enforcer. But another person caught your attention as well, making you turn around and face the other way.

“The hell..?” You whisper lowly.

You push past the crowd of civilians as your hips sway when walking, and you walked with a purpose.

To figure out who the hell these people were.

Walking over to the other enforcers you climbed over the railing, your thighs still hurting but of course you forgot to bring your crutches for support. But it’s whatever.

“Wait, wait, ma’am you can’t--“

“Excuse me, I’m an enforcer too.” You say firmly as your eyes narrowed at the man. “So I can get pass, just like the rest of you.”

“We can’t even go in, so we can’t let you in either.”one of the enforcers replies. “Plus, you’re still injured from the attack so…”

Your piercing (e/c) eyes looked into the man’s brown ones, making his eyes widen a little— least to say, he was intimidated.

“Move, please,” you pleaded this time. “I feel like something is very wrong.”

Caitlyn looks over her shoulder and noticed the panicked look on your face— you would never randomly fuss about anything.

She knew something was wrong.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

Jayce looks over his shoulder when he hears a woman’s voice.

“Losing a loved one.”

When Jayce slowly turns around, the woman slips off her mask as she grabs her chainsaw, swining it at Jayce who barely dodged out of the way quickly.

Everyone starts screaming and shouting, rushing off to find somewhere safe.

“Get all the civilians to safety.” You told the enforcers before turning around to go and find Jayce, your leg still hurting from the explosion. you couldn’t walk around with a weak and injured leg but you thought against it.

“Jayce!” You shouted, searching for him. “Where are you? Jayce?!”

Someone suddenly slams you into a wall, making you hit the solid platform hard. A weak cry of pain escapes past your lips as you slid down the wall, clutching your arm.

Staggering to your knees, you rushed to get away from whatever was chasing you.

Get away, get away, get away

That was just going through your mind.

Something slashes in your back through your coat, “ah!” You shriek as you collapsed to your knees and hit the ground. Back arched as you tried crawling away from whatever had attacked you.

They grab onto your hair, arm wrapping around your neck once they finally got the chance to turn you around, the air in your lungs seemed to have collapsed the second they tighten their large hand around your throat.

You kick and flail your legs around as you gasped for air, eyes heavy and face turning blue as you choked— the breath you were now trying to breathe was very toxic seeping into your nostrils and throat.

You use your fists to hit at the man’s hands, he watched with a sadistic grin on his lips as the life in your eyes were starting to fade.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the life in your eyes seemed to have been fading.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Vi shouted as she rushed towards the much bigger man and knocked him in the face with her knee.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as you clutched at your own throat.

Vi rushed over to you with concern, cupping your cheek as she leaned over you. “Are you okay? does anything hurt?”

“Vi?” You croaked weakly, grasping at her wrist.

Vi presses your hand against her fast beating chest, concern wiping her features. “It’s me. It’s me. you’re okay.”

She helps you up, “I’ll be right back. go and try to find cait, okay?”

You nodded before rushing off to find caitlyn.

“Cait!” You called out.

You couldn’t even get as far before you hit the ground, passing out.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

#arcane #reader insert #swearing #fanfic #poly #Jayce #viktor #femalereader #spoilers #vi #caitlyn kiramman #jinx #ekko #x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #vi x caitlyn

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dioslesbianwife · 1 month ago

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hihi! Can I request Part 5 gang with a female reader with a Stand that kinda acts like the abilities of Clan Malkavian from Vampire the Masquerade? Like, she'd be able to predict the future, at the expense of that power driving her crazy? And like, most of the time she'd be really wacky and silly, and just say the strangest stuff, but sometimes she gets super self-destructive, and rarely she just predicts what's going to happen or knows things she shouldn't with frightening clarity? A mix of fun moments and that sweet sweet ANGST

If you can't or have other priorities that's all good, I just really like your writing and thought this would be interesting to see! :)

hiii, totally and ty for the kind words <3 i hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting ❤️❤️

Bucciarati

Bruno is one of the only ones who really understands how to ground you.

He's unnerved the first time you look him in the eyes and say something like "Don't open the zipper on the 3rd train car, or Narancia will scream."

When it comes true exactly, he just silently accepts that this is your burden.

Keeps a notebook of your ramblings. Even the silly ones.

He's there for you during the bad moments- the spirals, the self-harm urges, the heavy silence after a "vision."

“You’re not broken,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re just seeing more of the world than the rest of us.”

Giorno

Fascinated by your abilities- and a little scared, too.

At first, he tries to rationalize everything. But when you predict someone's death with tears in your eyes and then collapse, he realizes how real it is.

You once giggled and called him “King of Worms” and he STILL doesn’t know what that means.

Uses Gold Experience to try and help you ground yourself- breathwork, heartbeat regulation, even small life forms to keep you centered.

He listens closely when you’re having one of your "clarity moments"- you scare him sometimes, but he never looks away.

Mista

At first he’s like: “Haha, you're weird! I like weird!”

The first time you go still and say “Mista, don’t go into the alley tonight. The bullet won’t miss,” he freezes.

When he survives a hit because of your warning, he believes everything you say after.

Treats you like a little psychic gremlin bestie. Jokes with you during your silly moods:

"What's the future, spooky girl?"

"A sandwich. But not for you.”

During your darkest days, he brings you food, blankets, and sits with you in total silence while you rock or cry. He doesn’t always know what to say- but he’s there.

He lets you rest your head on his shoulder and says “Don’t worry… no one’s gonna let the future take you from us.”

Abbacchio

This man is SO suspicious of you at first.

He HATES how you act like a child and then suddenly go full cryptic oracle.

“You’re playing a game, aren’t you? Just a freak with a cracked Stand- ”

Then you whisper something only he knows, about someone from his past, and he goes absolutely silent.

Starts watching you more carefully after that. Quietly shifts from annoyance to concern.

He doesn’t coddle you when you spiral, but he grounds you by holding your hand firmly and reminding you what year it is, what your name is, etc.

Begrudgingly admits one night, “You scare me. But you’ve saved us more times than I can count.”

Fugo

Internally panicking 24/7 around you.

Your weirdness makes him twitch. You said his blood smells like fruit once and he still doesn’t know how to process that.

You once stopped mid-sentence during lunch and said, “The dog in the pink sweater’s gonna die next Thursday,” like what??

Despite this, he studies your Stand like a madman, hoping to understand the neurological effect on your brain.

Your pain affects him deeply. When you’re self-destructive, he’s terrified for you but does not yell. He’ll instead sit beside you, hands shaking, trying to coax you back to yourself with logic and soft reassurances.

He worries one day you’ll predict your own death. That’s what terrifies him most.

Trish

She’s overwhelmed by you at first, and not in a good way.

You said something about her dad before she even knew who he was and she was like “WHO TF ARE YOU?!”

But as she warms up to the gang, she gets softer with you too.

She starts painting your nails while you babble nonsense, and you’ll say something cryptic like “Your favorite color will be blue again when you meet your soulmate.”

When you fall into a pit of despair, she lies beside you, painting your hand and whispering affirmations. She uses gentle distractions to keep you grounded.

“Don’t let your Stand turn you into a ghost. You’re still here. Still real.”

Narancia

“HAHA you said the pasta is trying to kill me!!”

“It is, Narancia. There’s poison in it.”

“Wait what- ?”

He doesn’t realize you’re suffering behind the humor until you break down in front of him one night and say you wish your Stand would just shut up for once.

He tries to be more attentive after that. Starts memorizing which of your ramblings are real warnings.

Gets defensive on your behalf when others call you crazy.

“She ain’t crazy! Her brain just… sees too much.”

Brings you silly gifts to make you smile again, like sunglasses for your Stand or a shiny rock he found.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno giovanna #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucciarati x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #narancia x reader #narancia ghirga #mista x reader #guido mista #trish una #trish una x reader #fugo x reader #panacotta fugo

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 year ago

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Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, oral, fingering, language, homophobia, homophobic slurs. Word count: 2,443 "Onions and relish!?" you observed, watching Casey scoop condiments onto a ballpark hot dog. Your face screwed up. "Gross."

"I've got highbrow taste," Casey retorted, glancing at yours. "And you shouldn't talk. Ketchup and mustard? Are you five?"

"It's a classic," you argued, both pushing your way through the crowded line of Yankees fans waiting for their own ballpark snacks.

You returned to your seats, up in the nosebleeds along with a scattering of other die-hard baseball fans, the humming of a summertime crowd and the buzzing of the lights wrapping around you like a blanket. You heard the crack of a bat, and both you and Casey froze, watching the field.

"Yes!" you yelled, pumping your fist in the air as your team–the Cardinals–drove in another run. "Fuckin' Redbirds!"

Normally, you'd be a lot more self-conscious about drawing attention to yourself in a crowd like this–almost exclusively Yankees fans, including your girlfriend. When the Yankees weren't playing the Cardinals, you wore some of Casey's Yankees gear and cheered them on with her. But the Cardinals? They'd been your family's team for generations. You'd grown up on Pujols and Molina and Wainwright, and you were nothing if not loyal. But in this crowd, you stood out amongst the black-and-white like a red thumb. Casey had looked embarrassed, and you'd worried for a moment that she really was bothered by your vocal support of the away team.

"Am I embarrassing you?" you'd asked.

"Yes."

"In a bad way?"

Casey looked at you and smiled at your serious expression. "No, honey. Like, embarrassing but it's endearing. Does that make sense?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I think so. You would tell me if I was bad embarrassing?"

"I would," she confirmed, patting your hand.

It was one of your favorite things about Casey that she was so patient when you misread or didn't understand social cues. She never made fun of you. She always explained, and she always reassured you when you were afraid you'd done something wrong.

But this time it was definitely Casey who had done something wrong. You watched her shove a bite of hot dog into her mouth, beautifully messy, as always when she wasn't at work.

"Your whole mouth is gonna taste like pickles for the rest of the night," you muttered, taking a bite of your own hot dog.

She looked at you, smirking. "And why are you so concerned about my mouth, huh?"

You blushed. "No reason..."

"Mmhm." She took another bite, smug, then grasped your chin, pulling you to her for a kiss. Her lips were salty with sweat, and she smelled like the ballpark dust and the leather of her glove. She was intoxicating, but then you always felt lightheaded when Casey kissed you. Something about the stadium lights and the summer heat just made you that much more dazed.

"That's fuckin' hot," you heard someone say behind you. You shrank and glanced back, Casey's hand squeezing yours protectively. Two men, unshaven, with beers to go with their beer bellies, leered at you from the row behind.

"Nobody asked you, asshole," Casey shot back, flipping him off. You avoided eye contact with them, trying to make yourself smaller. Having grown up in the south, you'd been in enough unsafe situations because of your sexuality that your go-to defense was to ignore and hide. Casey's was not. She was tall and strong, and she'd grown up with absolute confidence in who and what she was.

Your nostrils flared in disgust as one of the men licked his lips, raking his eyes up and down Casey's body.

"What's a hot piece like you doing with a dyke? You oughta let a real man take you for a spin."

Casey stood and pushed him–hard. The man reeled, sloshing his beer all over his front. "You better shut your fucking mouth or I'll shut it for you," she growled.

The man's arm shot out, grabbing Casey by the back of her head. He dug his fingers into her hair to pull her closer. "That's okay, honey," he said. "I like 'em feisty."

Any fear you had dissipated into white hot anger as you watched, as if in slow motion. You, however, were not stuck in slow motion. Without thinking, you lunged forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and wrenched it back until he squealed. You shoved Casey behind you.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you spat, puffing yourself up as you stood between him and your girlfriend. Which, considering your diminutive height, probably didn't do a whole lot to deter him.

Your teeth clenched and your whole body buzzed with rage. It took a lot to make you angry, but you were spitting angry now. All you knew was that no one–no one–was going touch Casey on your watch.

The man laughed, knocking your cap off your head with a swipe of his finger. "And what are you gonna do about it, Tiny Tim? Or should I say Tiny Tina?"

Without warning and, for once, without considering the consequences, you slammed your first into his groin as hard as you could which, considering you played softball, was pretty damn hard. It was a perk of your height that you were at the optimal angle to punch someone in the dick.

The man doubled over, coughing, and spilled the rest of his beer. "Fuckin' dykes," he muttered. He motioned to his friend, cupping his balls, and they sidled off. Probably looking for another section to harass women in.

You let out a shaky breath and turned to face Casey, your heart beating rapidly as the adrenaline faded and the nerves returned.

"Are you okay?" you asked, frantically looking her over, placing a gentle hand at the back of her head where the man had grabbed her.

You hardly noticed Casey watching you, biting her lip. You were too concerned with making sure she was safe and unharmed. As you rambled, checking her hands and neck and hair and face for any signs of hurt, Casey stared.

Finally, she interrupted you. "Y/N."

You stopped and made yourself meet her eyes.

"I think we should go." She looked at you pointedly.

You face fell. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry. We can go home if it'll make you feel better."

"No, that's not why."

A look of confusion crossed your face.

"We should go home because we have things to do."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't understand what you're saying, Casey."

She stepped closer, placing your hat back on your head and her arms on your shoulders. Her expression was self-satisfied as she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath, and whispered into your ear.

"Y/N," she breathed. "I need to do things. To you. Now."

"Oh," you said, the realization hitting you. "Oh my god. Okay."

You started gathering your things, then stopped and glanced at her. "From this? Really?"

"Y/N," she said, cheeks already flushed. "Don't make me wait. I'm gonna have a hard enough time making it home."

You tried to hide the mixture of shock and excitement on your face as you left the stadium, walking by the now abandoned concession stands and into the quiet parking lot.

"What's the alternative?" you asked her as you climbed into the driver's seat.

"What?"

"To making it home. You said you were gonna have a hard time making it home. But, like, where else would we–"

You were cut off by Casey's lips on yours, her breath hot and desperate as she grabbed your collar. She slid her tongue into your mouth, her teeth clacking against yours as she surged toward you, pushing for more.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Casey's face was flushed with lust. "If it were up to me," she said, leaning back in the seat. "I would've fucked you in the ballpark bathroom. I'd take you right here in the car. But I know that's not your style, so for the love of god..." Her eyes bored into you. "Drive."

Usually a slow driver, you made it back to Casey's apartment in record time. And, true to her word, Casey did have a hard time making it to the apartment, stopping at every chance she got–stoplights, outside the car door, in the elevator, the hallway–to kiss your neck, your mouth, undoing buttons of your Cardinals jersey as you went. Her hands slipped inside your shirt whenever you stopped for so much as a second.

When she finally got you into her bedroom, she was ravenous, tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the side with a singular focus. Her eyes were glazed and her face red as she struggled with your bra clasps.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, her fingers fumbling.

"Jesus, Casey," you said, reaching back to do them for her. "Calm down."

She groaned, letting her eyes rove over your now nude body, pushing you gently but forcefully on your back. She pecked you on the lips, then took your bottom lip between her teeth. You gasped, filled with both pain and pleasure. When she let you go, she was grinning.

"I'm gonna make you feel so..." She kissed your neck. "Fucking." Your collarbone. "Good." She lowered herself over you and pressed her mouth into yours, breathing you in, letting her tongue roam freely.

You moaned, arching your back. "Don't hold back on me now," she growled, leaving bite marks down your neck and across your chest. Usually quiet, you gave yourself permission to make some noise. After all, it drove Casey crazy.

"Fuck, Casey," you whined as she swirled her tongue across your nipples, first one and then the other, her hands pressing just above your hips. You writhed into her, squirming for more, your center already sopping wet.

"Tell me what you want," Casey said, trailing her tongue from your chest down to your stomach.

You struggled against her hands, pressing you into the bed. "Come on," you complained, nearly begging.

"Tell me," Casey said again, more forcefully, her fingers grazing over your clit.

You saw stars. "Fuck me."

Casey chuckled, her low voice vibrating against your already swollen clit. "That's my girl."

You gasped as she sucked your clit between her lips, swishing her tongue back and forth, back and forth. Her arms pinned your thighs in place, holding your writhing body tight. You heaved and moaned as you pushed Casey's head into your center. Her hair was soft and damp with sweat under your fingers, and you felt desperate for her as you chased your high.

She waited until you were nearly bursting, your breath hitching and your back arched against her, then pulled quickly away, wiping her mouth.

You gasped frantically. "What the fuck, Casey!?"

"Shh," she commanded, crawling back up your body and grabbing your chin. She straddled your hips, her own soaked center resting over yours.

"Casey, please," you begged, your eyes fluttering shut, the need of her flooding you.

"Don't close your eyes, honey. Look at me."

You huffed but opened your eyes, staring defiantly into hers, green and hungry and lustful.

She held your face still with one hand, then crept back down your body with the other. You let out a moan, squirming.

"Now arch your back for me," she said, the heel of her palm pressing hard into your clit.

Your body nearly exploded with the sensation, and you thrust into her with everything you had. You grabbed at Casey, pulling her into you, elated to know that she was using you, too, unable to put off her own pleasure any longer.

Your breath came faster and faster, your body jerking into Casey as Casey thrust toward you. You watched each other, both on the brink of losing control. Casey moaned, shutting her eyes briefly before squeezing your chin and staring at you.

"Now," she said.

And that one word was all it took. Your body shook against Casey's, your hips riding into her again and again, desperate for the friction as you moaned. She did the same, her nails digging into the skin at the top of your throat as she rode out her own orgasm. It felt like the two of you were hurtling across space, starbursts and supernovas and whole galaxies flashing inside you as you held onto one another. You quivered against her as the fireworks dissipated, spent and sweaty and heaving.

Casey grinned and planted kisses across your collarbone, counting. "One. Two. Three..."

You laughed and groaned. "Casey," you protested.

She'd discovered early on that, if she timed it right, she could make you come indefinitely. The only thing that stopped her was you getting overstimulated.

"Twenty-two," she finished and, once again, pressed the heel of her hand into your clit, harder and harder until she had you ready again, your hands grasping the bedsheets.

Your orgasm washed over you again, like a wave this time, pouring over you from head to toe.

Casey started in again, this time with her lips at the back of your knees. "One. Two..."

By the fifth round, you were nearly delirious, and Casey was salivating.

"Casey," you groaned, your body still pressing into her hand, almost against your will. "It's too much."

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, kissing you roughly. "Give me one more."

She continued grinding her hand into you, meshing her lips with yours, her tongue roving. Your breath caught and you moaned into her mouth, your orgasm taking you over one final, quaking time.

Casey cradled your head in the crook of her arm as you continued to shake, finally letting you relax.

"Thank you," she whispered, peppering your face with kisses.

You scrunched your nose. "For what? Letting you beat your record?"

"Well, that, too." She chuckled, deep and throaty, then brushed your sweaty bangs out of your face. "For protecting me. From that asshole."

You turned to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, running your thumb across her eyebrow.

"I would die before I let someone hurt you." Your voice was so quiet that, had anyone else been in the room, even they wouldn't have been able to hear. But you did. And Casey did.

She looked at you for a moment, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, hard and purposeful.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

You lost yourself in her arms for a bit as she ran a hand absentmindedly through your hair.

"We should go to more baseball games," Casey mused after a while.

You laughed. "Only if there's no relish involved."

"Deal."

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak one shot #casey novak drabble #casey novak smut #law and order svu #svu #neurodivergent #autistic #casey novak x autistic reader #x autistic reader #casey novak fanfic

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coriihanniee · 4 months ago

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Guess WHO! - boynextdoor smau

𓂃۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : When multiple leaked photos ignite a wildfire of speculation, the world is certain—BOYNEXTDOOR'S Y/N is secretly dating one of the members. But who? No one knows, and you refuse to clear the air. Instead, you turn the chaos into a game, scattering cryptic clues and half-truths while every member plays along, deepening the mystery. Every glance, every post, every moment is a riddle waiting to be solved. Is the answer hidden in plain sight, or are you leading everyone in circles? How far can a secret stretch before it unravels? And when it does—will anyone be ready for the truth?

BONUS CHAPTER 3 : our youth is free

The fansign venue buzzes with an electric energy, the air thick with excitement as fans eagerly await their turn. The line snakes through the room, each person holding something—a poster, a shiny album, a hand-written note, all for BOYNEXTDOOR. But for you, today carries an unfamiliar weight. The familiar sounds of the venue and the soft rustle of pages only make you feel more acutely the eyes on you. It’s your first real interaction with fans in public ever since everything came to light, and the fear of being scrutinized feels overwhelming.

"I’ve done this before," you tell yourself, "It’s just another event, another performance."

But your heart refuses to slow its frantic beat.

The line inches closer, and you find yourself glancing at Taesan, who stands beside you like an anchor in the storm. He’s quiet, almost too calm for someone who has just as much attention on him as the others. His eyes, however, tell a different story—those soft brown eyes that have always had a way of seeing through your defenses. When they meet your gaze, there’s a flicker of understanding in them, like he knows exactly how you feel.

He leans just close enough for only you to hear. "Hey," he says, his voice low and soothing, "You’re doing great."

You don’t know why, but those words—a simple reassurance—are enough to slow the frantic fluttering in your chest. You offer him a weak smile, but inside, your heart is still racing.

“Thanks,” you manages, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taesan chuckles softly, the sound as comforting as a soft blanket on a cold night. "Don’t think I didn’t see that," he teases, his smile growing. "But if anyone’s going to freak out, it’s gonna be me, not you."

A breath of laughter escapes your lips despite yourself. “You?” You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were the type to get nervous.”

He shrugs, the corner of his lips curling up. "I’ve got my moments."

The playful banter between you feels like a lifeline, something you cling to as the moments stretch on. Each fan that steps up to meet you feels like a countdown, a test of your nerves. But with Taesan’s quiet presence by your side, it becomes a little easier to breathe. It feels almost like a shared moment, something private amidst the chaos of your lives.

As the last fan in line approaches, you exhale, thankful for the end of the event. The young woman before you smiles brightly, holding up a signed poster for you to see. “YN,” she says, her voice almost shy, “I just wanted to say that you and Taesan... you two really seem happy. It’s like you both belong together.”

The words hang in the air longer than expected, and you freeze for a fraction of a second, your pulse quickening. Taesan, just next to you, looks at you for the briefest moment before responding for you both. His voice, casual yet full of a depth you could hear without words, responds smoothly.

“You could say that,” Taesan says with a soft smile. “We’re lucky to have each other."

Your chest tightens at the way his words feel like a secret, something shared only between the two of you. Your eyes flicker to him, and for a moment, the whole room blurs. It’s just him, his steady presence, his warmth enveloping you. The world feels quieter with him here, as though it’s been waiting for this—this very moment when you’d realize how much he means to you.

The fan moves on, and Taesan meets your gaze again, his eyes soft but knowing. He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours with a light touch, but the spark of it sends something electric through you.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Taesan asks, his voice softer now, the noise of the venue fading into the background.

You swallow, nodding slowly. “Just... how much they expect from us. I don’t want to disappoint them.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, like you're the only person in the room. The usual playfulness in his expression softens, and in its place is something far deeper, far more sincere.

“You could never disappoint them,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours, fingers gently intertwining. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

A shiver runs through you at the sincerity of his words. You look down at your joined hands, the weight of it almost too much to bear—how easily he makes you feel safe, how effortlessly he can break through the walls you've built around yourself. The vulnerability is terrifying, but it’s also comforting, like the promise of something steady, something you can count on.

The event winds down, and the final fan leaves. The place is still buzzing with the residue of excitement, but your heart is quieter now. With Taesan beside you, the world outside feels like a distant echo. The two of you step away from the table, the chaos behind them. For the first time that night, you feel like you can breathe.

Taesan takes a slow breath, pulling you aside to a quieter corner, away from the crowd. The night air is crisp, and there’s a gentle hum of the city around them, but everything feels muted, softened by the weight of the moment.

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours as though asking a question without words. And for a moment, you can’t look away, not because of the pressure or the anticipation of what’s to come, but because in that instant, everything between you is clear.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you...” His voice is low, almost hesitant, but there’s something in the way he holds your gaze that makes your heart race.

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind scrambling for words. "What?"

He takes a step closer, his voice a tender whisper in the stillness. “You’re everything to me.” His words are simple, but the emotion behind them is overwhelming. They hang in the air, thick with meaning, like the silence before a storm.

For a long moment, you don’t know how to respond. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst, like it could fill the entire world. You close the gap between you and him, your hand reaching up to gently touch his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you feel a surge of something powerful—the need to say something, to admit what’s been building between you for so long.

“I think... I think I’ve always known,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your own feelings.

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head slightly, as though trying to memorize the moment. “We’re just getting started,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth curving into that signature, soft smile.

And for the first time in your life, you realize that some moments don’t need words. You can feel everything in the way his thumb brushes over your hand, in the way his eyes never leave yours. He doesn’t need to say anything more. You know.

In this quiet, perfect moment, nothing else matters.

The moment between you and Taesan is soft, quiet, and entirely your own. You’ve finally stepped out of the shadows, the weight of secrecy lifted. As you gaze up at him, your heart still races in a way that feels fresh, new, even though the world now knows what you've known for a while. That you're with him. That you're his.

Taesan’s gaze softens, his hand gently cupping your face as he leans in closer, brushing his lips against your forehead. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion.

You nod, the warmth of his presence settling the last of your nerves. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just... feels unreal.”

“You’re more than okay, YN,” he whispers, his lips grazing your hair as he smiles. “You’re perfect. And this? This is real. All of it.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you lean into him, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat. Just as you close your eyes, the sound of muffled voices breaks the silence, followed by a burst of laughter.

Suddenly, the rest of BOYNEXTDOOR emerges from behind a cluster of trees, their playful expressions impossible to miss. Sungho, his usual mischievous grin in place, raises an eyebrow and glances between them. “Well, look at this. The cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

Leehan gives a small, knowing smile, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby lamppost. “We’ve known for months, but still—seeing it in person? It's entertaining to say the least."

Woonhak, not even attempting to hide his grin, steps forward with a teasing look. “I hate to admit it, but you two are adorable.”

You laugh softly, feeling the sudden flood of warmth from the boys, all of them genuinely happy for you. For them.

“Well, the whole world does know now,” Jaehyun says with a smirk, his arms folded loosely. There’s a softness in his eyes, though, something like understanding and approval. “So no need to keep hiding in quiet corners anymore.”

Riwoo, who has been quietly observing from the back, steps forward with a small smile. His calm presence always feels like a quiet anchor in the storm, and now, more than ever, it feels comforting. “We’re happy for you,” he says, his voice steady, yet full of sincerity. “You’ve got all of us.”

You feel a flush of warmth rush to your cheeks. They’ve been by your side from the start, even when you tried to keep everything a secret. It’s not just Taesan who’s always supported you—this family, this group of incredible people, have been with you every step of the way.

Taesan chuckles softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, well, the hiding part never worked anyway. Can’t say I’m sad about it.”

You glance up at him, your heart filled with a quiet, peaceful happiness. “Neither am I,” you admit. You turn to the group, smiling at all of them. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Anything for you, YN,” Woonhak says, winking. “But seriously, when’s the next date night? I’m tagging along."

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. “I think we can all agree that this night belongs to me and Taesan, don’t you think?”

“Fine, fine,” Sungho grins, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “We’ll leave you two alone... for now.”

The playful banter continues, and you find yourself completely at ease. It’s not just about Taesan anymore. It’s about all of them—the boys who’ve watched over you, supported you, and even if they’ve teased you, have always had your back. There’s no more need for secrecy, no more fear of judgment.

As the conversation fades into laughter and casual chatter, Taesan turns to you, pulling you close, his arms encircling your waist. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“This is it, isn’t it?” you murmur softly, looking up at him. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Yeah, and now we get to enjoy it. Together.”

And in that moment, as you all stand together, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights, something in the air shifts. It's a quiet realization that settles within you, like a deep breath after holding it in for far too long. The warmth of Taesan’s embrace, the familiar banter of the boys, and the gentle rhythm of the night create a sense of peace that you never knew you needed so much.

In the midst of it all—the excitement, the chaos, the uncertainty—there’s an undeniable truth. This is only the beginning. The end of all the secrets, all the silences. No more hiding in the shadows or pretending for the sake of others. From now on, it’s about what’s real. What’s true. What’s theirs.

There’s a lightness in your chest, an unspoken promise between you and Taesan, and the rest of BOYNEXTDOOR. The world might have its opinions, the fans might have their theories, but none of that matters. Because this moment—this group, this love—is everything that’s right. The truth is out, and it’s nothing like you expected, but in the best way.

No more secrets. No more pretending. Just love. Just them.

With every step forward, there’s a sense of freedom, like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. Laughter spills out of the boys behind you, playful teasing and casual jokes filling the space around them, but for you, it’s like they’re in their own little world. A world where the future is bright, and it’s filled with endless possibilities.

As the night stretches on, and the group continues to enjoy the moment—like a dream you’re living in real time—you let the reality of it all settle into your heart. There is nothing else you could ask for. With Taesan, with the boys, and with the love and support surrounding you, you're finally free.

previous masterlist

@coriihanniee 💌

🕊 - I can't believe it's officially over 🥹 thank you for staying with me till the end! PLEASEEE DON'T LEAVE YET bcs I have a gongfourz fic and enhypen smau coming up real soon so do stay tuned to that if you're a fan of both groups! I'm also opening perm taglist so do cmt if you'd like to be in it!

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @heeheesang @molensworld @wondoras @taesanfav @bbyinni @minfolio @mbella607 @cinnamonshuaa @defnotsanni @amarecerasus @enaile23 @nujeskz @janjoonty @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @pumpkg @cosmicwintr @mimimimiaa @hanniehq @s0shroe @slowlylefttyphoon @s1lkrabbit @missychief1404 @fae-renjun

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amgk22 · 5 months ago

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HOW THE HUNGER GAMES CAST WOULD REACT TO….

being asked out by their friend

includes: katniss, peeta, gale, haymitch, effie, cato, clove, glimmer, marvel, thresh, annie, finnick, johanna, coriolanus, lucy gray, sejanus, festus, coral, reaper

Katniss would think it’s a joke. Definitely think it’s a joke. Once you reassure her it’s very serious, she’d be confused on why her. Eventually, you’d have to bribe her with something to give you a try, and later she’d call it the best choice she made unironically.

Peeta would be very happy, and accept immediately. Later, at your house, you’d be interrupted by Peeta with some muffins made just for you by him.

Gale would at first be upset, that you were able to ask before him. He’d definitely be getting teased by Rory. He’d tell you that he was gonna ask you as well, but of course that’s a lie.

Haymitch would be too drunk to understand what you’re asking him, and say no. However, once he’s sobered up and realized what you’ve done, he’d call you and ask you to come to his place so he could explain- and accept immediately. He’d be sober during this, a rare sight of Haymitch.

Effie would pretend to be shocked, but really, she knew you’d ask her out. She’d accept, and give you some flowers to seal the deal. She’d listened to you talking about your favourite flowers earlier, and bought them ahead of time.

Cato would think it’s silly you’d ask him out, as he thought he’d ask you out. He’d still accept, of course, but make sure that you knew that he was the ‘boss’ in the relationship by doing everything for you that day. Was it from jealousy? Embarrassment? Possessiveness? We’ll never know.

Clove would definitely have an ego boost. Like, you asked her out first? That’s both sexy and sweet, and she would never shut up about it.

Glimmer would definitely accept immediately with no thought, she’s the type to go all in with romance. You can expect some cuddles that night from her, along with some teasing.

Marvel would be confused. Aren’t the guys supposed to ask first? As soon as you told him that that’s a stereotype, he’d accept, but still be VERY protective. He’d be very disappointed that you beat him to it, but also a bit proud.

Thresh would NOT trust you. He’d think of it as a joke, more or less like Katniss would. However, once he realizes it’s not, he’d say ‘yes’ and walk away, mainly cause he has no idea what else to do.

Annie would make it her mission to shower you with love and affection the second you asked her out. She’d accept, then come to your house with flowers and little pearls by the sea as a thank you gift.

Finnick would definitely feel a bit embarrassed, but also attracted to the fact that you asked him first. He’d be a bit scared if anyone heard, because he’s supposed to be, like, single and ready to mingle- but as soon as he realizes no one’s watching, he’d say yes.

Johanna would be the type to say ‘no’ jokingly, and then tell you it’s a yes later on. She’d be a bit nervous on if she’s coming off as too harsh, but then decide on not giving a fuck.

Coriolanus would feel like the luckiest guy in the world at that moment. However, he’d definitely make sure to dictate your dates to his pleasure, so he can spend time with you and have what he wants as well.

Lucy Gray would accept, but run away right after with a smile on her face. You might think that she accepted as a joke, but in fact, she ran to go write a song about you, which you fully embraced as soon as you heard it.

Sejanus would definitely be confused, and ask if it was a bet due to his unpopularity in both the districts and the Capitol. Once you reminded him that you actually cared, he’d be very happy, now that he had someone to love and cherish as he does with Coriolanus and his Ma.

Festus would agree, but probably say some cocky shit like ‘I knew you’d ask me, I’m that hot’ but in a funny way. He wouldn’t stop until you laughed just a little bit, and make sure that plans are set in stone for a date.

Coral wouldn’t be the easiest to coax into saying yes. Sure, she’d been crushing on you, but on the inside, she really doesn’t think she’d be a good girlfriend. She’d say no, but regret it later and say yes.

Reaper would say yes, although he’d seem slightly intimidating. Seeing you be a bit scared, he’d immediately feel bad and give you something out of his pocket as a gift. Whether it’s a single nickel, or a piece of rust, it’s a gift alright.

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whenwillyoullearn · 4 months ago

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Ninjago x reader headcanons: You suggest (and try!) pegging - Pt.2

Here's Cole, Lloyd, and Nya 😊

Cole:

I mean I'm pretty sure the heathens in this fandom have agreed that Cole is PACKING. So like. Prolly safe to assume that anybody he might’ve slept with would want a piece of that, not the other way around

But you are somewhat of a visionary. You recognize how glorious it would be for your big ol cutie of a boyfriend to be the one pressed into the mattress for a change.

Cole is… intrigued. He’s lowkey flustered and kinda reeling but when I say lowkey I mean low-key so like… he’s mostly chill.

It’s hard for him to genuinely be too worried about it because your guys’ love is just so cozy. Like it’s you; worst comes to worst it’s kinda mid and you don’t do it again.

(He does blush a lil bit tho 😚❤️😚❤️😚❤️😚❤️)

And then you try it for the first time and he’s less lowkey because like. You said you were gonna take care of him tonight, and you are!!

Whether you’re entirely sweet and gentle or more on the domineering side, you’re holding him, guiding him, giving, giving, giving, never too much, always trusting him to take it

It’s not unexpected, but there is effort being put towards not getting too emotional before he can actually get off XD He’s SOFT ok!!!!!!!!!!!??

Slide all the way in and call him yours 😊

He likes to hold onto you and smell your hair while you fuck him

No size preference, it depends on the day.

Lloyd:

“Uh…–”

He has a pretty decent poker face, but you can see the blush on the tips of his ears. He thinks about it for a sec and is like “I… haven’t done anything like that before…?”

ur like yeah babe I know 😅

A little reassurance and he’s fully on board 🚂💨💨

He’s the one you can draw out prep with the most. Tease him. Have no mercy. As long as you’re touching him he hardly complains

Make him come and just keep going

Just tell him how good he’s doing every once in a while it helps him relax

He tries so hard to make you come afterwards, no matter how much you wreck him.

He’d love it if you got possessive fuck him in a collar what who said that

He hides his face a lot

Smaller to average size preference

Nya

She’s flustered by the suggestion, momentarily caught off guard (a pretty rare treat you can revel in as you wait for her to respond. She might get kinda mad at you tho)

She’s not categorically opposed, but not jumping at the idea either

She just tends to prefer doing and being in tangible control of the situation even when she's not domming

But sometimes when she's worn out, frustrated, off her game for whatever reason…

That’s when the strap actually comes into play (on you at least)

Smaller size preference

ON HER THO?????? Omg. Get ready. I mean ur not gonna be ready but that's fine - great actually.

I mean you just gave her another tool with which to vacuum your entire soul out of your body (and she was already doing just fine)

Her normal setting is hard and fast

She especially likes to hold a vibrator to your clit while she's pounding you

Get ready to be walking funny fr (she feels a little bad about it but also kinda proud of herself)

#ninjago x reader #lego ninjago x reader #18+ mdni #nya smith #nya x reader #cole x reader #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #lloyd x reader #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago headcanons

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despacito-uwu16 · 11 months ago

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The Falling Action

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

A/N: Thus chapter is a tad angsty. Also, the plot line from the film slightly changed, so in this case his dad doesn’t make an appearance in this series”.

<- prev next ->

That night, you were talking false prophets and profits they make in the margins of poetry sonnets. You never read up on it, shame could've learned something.

Us by Gracie Abrams ft Taylor Swift

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

You were at the library studying for your journalism exam next week. With the editor finally taking you seriously and letting you cover more games, and finals coming up, you were stressed out.

While reviewing your notes, you felt the table slightly shake, along with the sound of something slammed onto the table. You look up to see an angry Kenji Sato looking down at you. You took your headphones off and looked at him up and down.

“Can I help you”? You deadpanned.

“What the fuck is this”? He point at the paper that he slammed on the table.

“Kenji Sato, the next irrelevance in baseball”

“My truth”?

“It’s just one game Y/N, ONE. FUCKING. GAME”! He slams his fist on the table, unfazing you.

“So? I report what I see”.

“Do you realize what this does to my career? My status on the team is on the line, my reputation, is about to be in shambles. Nobody is gonna sign me because of you”! Kenji raised his voice to the point where he was grabbing the attention of everyone around the two of you.

“If you don’t like what you see, you should try harder next time”. you retorted.

He lets out a laugh. “You know, I don’t even know why I came here in the first place. Considering the person who wrote this knows how to sleep her way through a sports team”.

You stood up angrily, slamming your hands onto the table.

“I work to get what I want. Between the two of us, I don’t sleep with other people just to increase a body count”.

“At least I have natural talent”

“At least I don’t talk shit about another girl to their roommate while she watches”.

Ken stood there in silence. Everyone was staring at the two of you. A couple of bystanders were whispering to each other and side eyeing you.

“Now if you excuse me, some of us are trying to survive finals week”. You sat back down and put your headphones back on, turning up the volume of your music.

Kenji growled, snatching the paper off the table and walking away. But then he turns back to you.

“I’ll show you. Just wait and see. I’ll become the greatest living player! Then we’ll see who the irrelevant one is”.

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that”.

Your faced turned white as a ghost as you come face to face with a baby kaiju. You wanted to run, but your feet were glued to the floor, and your knees locked itself.

“Y/N? I can explain”. You hear Kenji say.

He tried to calm you down, but you tuned him out and you still stood there in fear while the Kaiju chirps happily at you.

“W-W-Why is there a kaiju in your basement”? You whisper.

The Kaiju approaches you slowly, curious about the tiny person in front of her.

“Please don’t eat me”. You cried.

“It’s okay, she’s harmless”. He reassures you.

You slowly approach the kaiju, hesitant to touch her. She crouched down to your level, consenting for you to pat her head. You gently pat her head, making her chirp. You and Kenji smile as she clapped and jumped happily.

“Why did you go down to the basement when I told you not to”? He interrogated you while you sipped on your coffee.

“The more important question here is why are you keeping a kaiju in your basement”? You gestured to the baby pink lizard that’s now sleeping in the containment tube. Kenji sighs, running his hands through his hair. You slowly turn to him, the realization hitting you.

“Holy shit”.

Kenji didn’t look at you.

“HOLY SHIT”

“Theres a lot more to it than you think. But promise me you won’t tell anybody about this”. He pleaded.

You sat up straight. You took your phone out of your pocket and you shut it off right in front of him. You then put it down on the table.

“You have my word”.

He goes on to explain what’s been going on the past few months. He tells you about taking his father’s place as Ultraman, which explains the excess damage in the city. He also tells you how he rescued the baby kaiju from the KDF and how he’s been trying to raise her alone.

“So the reason why you’ve been off your game lately is because you were taking care of the baby”? You ask.

“Yeah. It’s part of being Ultraman I guess”. He shrugged.

“That explains a lot of things”. The room fell silent for a moment before Kenji spoke up.

“You’re not going to add this to your article are you”? He worries.

“Ken, I’m not that inhumane. I promise you, I won’t tell anyone”. You said.

“Thank you”. Kenji sighs in relief.

“Does she have a name”?

“No, her name is just baby”.

“You’ve been taking care of a baby kaiju for two months, and you haven’t thought about giving her a name”?

“Well, I don’t see you giving me ideas”.

You sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head.

“I really am trying my best. With baseball, with raising “baby”, with everything. I want people to know that I want to be the best player and the best hero, but it’s hard when you really can’t tell anyone. It just feels so”…

“Isolating”?

“Yeah, also, the KDF is on my ass and well, my dad isn’t really around, so”..

You look at him with pity. Kenji was looking down at the ground, not knowing how to handle anything anymore. You scoot next to him and take his hand.

“Y’know, you don’t have to do this alone. If you need help, then I can step in. As much as I like seeing you suffer, I don’t want you to suffer.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. “Wow, you actually do care”. He said in disbelief. You roll your eyes. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll look over her”.

“You sure, I mean she’s kind of”-

“Good night Kenji”. You say, picking up a magazine and putting your legs on the table.

Kenji stared at you in bewilderment. He feared the day that you would find out and expose him in the tabloids. But to his surprise, you were more accepting, more human. He left the basement feeling much calmer, knowing that you’re ready to show up for him.

For the past 3 weeks, you kept your promises and helped Kenji take care of the baby kaiju (that you both named Emi) while he juggles his baseball career and his Ultraman duties.

While he caught up on sleep, you fed Emi her late night snacks and read her bed time stories.

While he was out, you cooked him healthy meals and prepare some heating packs incase he comes home with sore muscles. Everytime Kenji comes home in the evening, he would always look forward to the food that’s on the table. Whenever you weren’t busy with your job, he would ask you to have dinner with him. During those times, you guys would have a casual conversation. No forced interviews, no bickering or throwing insults. When it came to the interviews, he started to become more vulnerable. The exchange didn’t feel forced, and he became more genuine with you. What felt like a hundred year feud came to a close, and the two of you started to become friends.

You’ve noticed a huge change in Ken. He became a leader for his team, and a better hero for the city. Whenever the two of you bond, he showed off his softer side, a side you’ve grown to love.

Ken was very grateful for you. Although he hasn’t showed it, he’s glad to have you around. It made him smile whenever he sees you and Emi bonding. There was something about you that made his heart beat skip a beat. The way you would laugh at his attempts to make an actual joke during the interview session. Or the way you would passionately talking about the games you’ve been to when you went abroad.

The two of you know that your time with Ken is short lived. But deep down, Ken doesn’t know what he would do when you leave.

Kenji walked into the basement to find you sitting couch typing away on your laptop while looking after a sleeping Emi. It warmed Kenji’s heart that you were so accepting of Emi and everything else that has been going on.

You look up from your laptop and smile. “I’ve finished the revisions. Wanna take a look”? You give him your laptop. Kenji takes it from you and skims it.

“Inside Ken Sato’s Space”

Kenji skims each paragraph while quickly scrolling down, stopping at the last paragraph.

“What we all thought was an arrogant athlete, turns out to be a guy with a misunderstood, soft heart. Ken Sato has grown up, not only as an athlete, but as a human being. His newfound maturity has led to the giants to win after win. His leadership and confidence has not only impacted everyone on and off the field, but also in himself. His attitude continues to impact the Giants as they head to the championship game”.

“It’s perfect”. He smiled, handing your laptop back.

You scroll to the top of the page and hovered over the post now button.

“And posted”! You said as you closed your laptop. Kenji looks at you with so much admiration.

“What, you think it’s too cheesy”? You tease. Kenji laughs.

“No, no. I just… I never got to say thank you. For helping me with Emi, and for not taking a chance on me”.

“You don’t have to thank me. Emi is the sweetest”. You say as you filed your documents into a folder.

“Anyways, I was just thinking, I should take you out for dinner. As a thank you for tolerating for the past 2 months”.

“As much as I love being treated to a 5 star michelin restaurant, I think I know a better way to celebrate”.

You flipped the grilled cheese on the pan and turned off the stove. But before you could put it on the plate, Kenji takes it from the pan and takes a bite.

“Ah hot”! He yelps. You laughed at him as he throws the grilled cheese onto the porcelain plate.

“You really don’t learn from your mistakes”. You laugh.

“Hey, I’m just hungry”. He pouts.

You notice the crumbs at the corner of Kenji’s mouth and gently brushes it off. Kenji leans into your touch as he stares into your (e/c) eyes. Your breath hitched as his face inches closer to you. Your heart beats faster, waiting for him to make a move. But before you both could do anything, his watch started beeping. He looks down to see live camera footage of Emi, now awake from her nap.

“I should go check on her”. He says.

“I’ll wash the dishes”. You said, starting to grab the pan and knife from the stove.

You were putting the clean dishes onto the dish rack when you hear your phone ringing in the living room. You walked up to grab it, and when you turned it over, the adrenaline rushes through your body when you realize your boss was calling.

“Hi Daryl”. You immediately answer

“Y/N, have you checked your article? Your boss asks.

“Why, is there something wrong with it”? You ask.

“Just look at it”. Daryl demanded.

You looked at the website where your article was published, and your eyes widened.

900 K likes; 750 comments

“It hasn’t been 24 hours”.

“Well, believe it. Cause you did that Y/N. The company has been getting a lot of new subscribers for the sports page. Which leads me to another thing, my supervisor loves your work so much, that they want you to work a 2 year residency at the Norwegian office.

“Wait, Norway”?

“Yes, Y/N. Consider it a promotion. You definitely deserve it”. Daryl says.

You almost jumped for joy. It’s always been your dream to work in Norway. That’s where all of the best soccer and volleyball teams are. You managed to contain yourself before you freak out the whole house.

“You’re expected to start next month, until then, keep up the good work”. He says.

“Thank you, I promise I won’t let you down”. You say before Daryl hangs up.

You began to jump up and down and squealed with excitement. You’re finally getting the life you wanted, and there was nothing holding you back.

“Who was that”? You turn to see Kenji walking out of the elevator.

“That was my boss, Daryl”.

“Was there something wrong with the article”? Kenji asks.

“No, in fact, look how much reception it got”! You showed him the article on your phone. His eyes widened with the

“Wow, that is a lot of likes”. His eyes widened.

“I know, and it’s been only five hours”! You smiled ear to ear. “And the best part is, I’m offered a 2 year residency in Norway”!

“So you’re leaving again”?

“Well, yeah”.

Kenji’s smile faded. He was so used to having you here, but now you’re leaving again. To him, it felt like college all over again.

“Kenji”? He looks up at you.

“Are you okay”?

Kenji gives you a small smile. He puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Y/N”.

You smiled back at him. “Thank you, Kenji”.

What you thought was a happy moment turned cold and distant during your final week with Kenji.

He would go out at night, and wouldn’t come back until early morning, blaming it on “ultraman duty”.

Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would either give you a short response or just not respond at all. And every time you walk in a room, Kenji would just leave.

One day, you were at the dining table, finalizing paperwork for Milan while eating some maple & brown sugar oatmeal. Kenji walked in the kitchen, not realizing you were there.

“Kenji”?

He didn’t look at you as he walked up to the fridge.

“I made some oatmeal. Do you want some”?

He grabbed his energy drink from the fridge and walked out of the kitchen. You got up and walked after him. You caught up with him, and blocked his path.

“Okay, what is going on with you? You’ve been straight up ignoring me for the last few days. What’s going on with you”?

“Nothing, Y/N”. Kenji begins to walk away. But you push him back.

“Kenji, please. Whatever I did wrong, please, just tell me”.

“What’s bothering me is that you’re leaving, again”.

“What are you talking about”?

“You have everything you wanted. You got everything right here. You don’t need Norway to prove a point”.

“This is MY career, Kenji. My life. I’ve built my whole life on my work, and I’m not letting you get in my way”.

“So I’m just another stepping stone for you huh”? He scoffs. “If only your college self could see you now”. He says with sarcasm.

Your eyes widened. “Wow, and here I thought you finally grew up”. You folded your arms”. “You’re so shallow”.

“And you’re just a pain in my ass”. Kenji retorts.

There was silence between the two of you. What you thought was a progressing friendship was now destroyed, pushing you both back to square one.

“This was a mistake. You should’ve left when you got the chance”. Kenji mutters

“And then what? If I did leave, were you going to blackmail me again”?

He looks up at you, meeting your (eye color) eyes. You stared him down with anger and disgust.

“For all I care, you can expose me whenever the fuck you want. I don’t care what people think of me, and I’m not scared of you”.

He knew he shouldn’t have put you up to this. That this whole interview process was a mistake. He hurt you and himself, and all he could do now is deal with the collateral damage.

“I want you out of here by tomorrow morning”.

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll leave right now”. You walk past him and entered the guest room. Kenji flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut.

You put the last suitcase in the trunk and closed the trunk door. Before you went in your car, you stared at the front door, hoping that Ken would apologize and ask you to come back in. But you shrug the expectation off and drove off.

As you drove into the city, you start to tear up. The interview was merely an assignment, so why is this affecting you so much?

“You don’t need Norway to prove a point”.

You hated Ken, you hated the way he roped you into this mess, how he played with your feelings again. But your heart screamed, “GO BACK”, while your head told you to press the gas pedal harder.

Kenji enters the basement where the baby kaiju was waiting for the both of you. She chirps with glee when she sees Kenji, and then she looks around for you.

“She’s not coming back”. He sighs, sitting down on the steps next to the baby’s containment unit. Her smile fades. She lets out a little whimper.

“I’m sorry Emi. I scared her off, and I don’t know how to fix this”. Kenji sat next to Emi and put his head in his arms. She settles down next to him in hopes of comforting her father. He leaned onto Emi, resting his head on her arm. It made him feel a little better, but the pain ran deeper in his heart. He had so many opportunities to tell you how he felt about you, but now you slipped through his fingers again.

“Nice going Ken”.

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated!!

A/N: By the time this gets posted, I’ll be on my way to Japan (ultradaddy here i come 🤭). See you all in the finale tomorrow :)

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paishoeyeroh · 6 months ago

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Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER ONE: The First Command

Chapter Summary: A seemingly harmless trip to an abandoned house takes a dark turn when you stumble upon a mysterious ring.

☰ Masterlist | Next Chapter

“There is no way I’m going into some creepy old house. What is wrong with you, Yuji?” Nobara says, her arms crossing over her chest defiantly. “Do you know how many diseases I could get just from walking around in a place like that? It’s probably crawling with mold and rats.” She wrinkles her nose, making a face as if she’s disgusted just thinking about it. And to be honest, you have to agree with her. Yuji first brought up visiting the “haunted house” as he had called it earlier in the day, after having heard about it from his classmates.

“I heard some of the other students talking about it in class,” he exclaimed excitedly. “Apparently, people keep hearing things late at night coming from that old house. They said no one’s gone inside in years, because anyone who does comes out freaked out of their minds. Sounds like the perfect place to check out, right?!”

Since then, he had continued to bring it up, trying to convince you, Nobara, and Megumi to join him.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” He looks around at everyone animatedly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Just think about it—it’s like the perfect adventure! People say it’s haunted by some ancient spirit or something. Doesn’t that sound awesome? I’ve always wanted to see a ghost!”

Nobara scoffs, still unimpressed. “A ghost? Seriously? You think some lame ghost story is gonna get me to go into that dump?” She flips her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

Yuji copies her stance, crossing his own arms, a teasing grin taking over his face. “I mean, if you’re too chicken, Nobara, it’s fine. Just say that.”

“Excuse me? Chicken? What are you, twelve?” Nobara snaps, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not scared of some old building or dumb ghosts. I just don’t want to waste my time with pointless bullshit.”

She looks over to you and Megumi—who’ve been watching this whole ordeal in silence—for support, but when she only gets blank stares in response, she sighs in exasperation.

“Fine. But if I’m going, they’re going too.” She points a perfectly manicured finger towards you and Megumi.

You shift on your feet, feeling nervous about the idea of going into a creepy abandoned house, haunted or not. You enjoy watching the occasional scary movie about ghosts or other paranormal entities, but when it comes to the real thing, you’d rather stay as far away as possible.

“I don’t know, guys… what if something goes wrong?”

Yuji turns his attention to you, placing a warm, reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’ll be in and out. Just a quick look around, and then we can say we did it. It’ll be an adventure! Plus, what if something really does happen, and you miss it? You’ll regret it for sure.”

You chew your lip, mulling over Yuji’s words. Man, he’s more manipulative than anyone gives him credit for, and it’s working. After all, you wouldn’t want to be the only one hearing the story secondhand if something exciting actually did happen. You hate missing out.

“Alright… I’ll go,” you answer, looking to the ground nervously.

“That’s the spirit!” He pats you on the shoulder a little too enthusiastically with the hand that’s still lingering there, making you jolt. He turns to Megumi, expectantly. “Megumi? Whaddya say?”

Megumi rolls his eyes and sighs, looking thoroughly irritated, though that isn’t an out of the ordinary expression for the dark haired boy.

“I had a feeling you’d drag me into this. I’ll come. But—“ he interrupts Yuji mid cheer, “I’m only coming because if I don’t, someone,” he gives the pink-haired boy a pointed look, “is going to end up getting himself in trouble.”

“Yes! This is gonna be so fun!” Yuji exclaims, ignoring Megumi's comment as he punches the air in victory. “Come on, I’ll drive,” he exclaims over his shoulder, already heading to his car.

“Yeah, fun…” Megumi mutters under his breath, as you all start following after him, “until we’re all running for our lives.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Once you arrive at the house, it’s nearing dusk. The sun paints the sky a bright orange, and as you climb out of the car, you can hear the cicadas chirping around you, hidden away in the tall, long-forgotten grass that grows around the abandoned house in front of you. You thank whatever powers may be that Yuji has decided to drag you all here while there’s still daylight, because honestly, it looks creepy enough even now.

The house looms in front of you, a decaying remnant of what must have once been an impressive structure, though time has not been kind to it. The roof sags in the middle, as the weight over the years has bowed it down, and several of the windows are shattered, jagged shards of glass still clinging to the frames like broken teeth. Vines crawl up the sides of the house, their tendrils weaving through the cracked wooden siding as though they’ve been trying to pull the house down into the earth.

The front porch is an even sadder sight, the wood rotted and splintered from years of exposure to the elements. A broken rocking chair lies on its side, one leg missing, and the front door hangs slightly ajar, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, the action producing the faintest creaking noise.

Even the air around the house feels different—thicker, heavier. The chirping of the cicadas and the rustle of leaves seems to die off as you approach, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air, as if even nature itself is avoiding it.

“Alright, let’s get this over with before I change my mind,” Nobara says, standing in front of the house tapping her foot impatiently, her voice firm.

Yuji grins wide as he steps ahead, pushing the door open further with a loud creak, revealing the dark, dust-filled interior. The door scrapes against the floor, half off its hinges, and it stirs up a cloud of debris, making you choke.

Megumi waves a hand in front of his face, trying to clear up the dust cloud. “Jesus. Watch where you step, guys. This place looks like it could collapse at any minute.” His voice is laced with caution as he glances around warily, his eyes scanning the decaying wood that makes up the floor.

Your nervousness increases as you step inside, the heavy scent of mildew making your nostrils flare. The floor groans underneath every step you take. You look around, surveying the environment. The wallpaper is peeling in long strips, and there’s holes in the walls underneath, revealing the skeletal remains of the structure. The furniture, looking like it was once grand, now lies in tatters, draped in cobwebs.

The house seems to breathe around you, the creaks and groans making it hard to tell if someone, or something, might be lurking inside. It makes your skin start to crawl.

Nobara walks ahead of you, waving a hand in front of her face to swat away a cobweb. “Ugh, this place is disgusting! I swear to god, Yuji, if I get tetanus from this…”

Yuji, already way ahead of both of you, clearly excited to explore, is shining his phone’s flashlight over every corner of the room. “You won’t! And just think of the story we’ll get to tell afterward.”

“Assuming we all make it out without the house collapsing on us,” Megumi replies dryly, trailing behind everyone. The beam from his light reveals a staircase over to the left, looking like it might crumble if anyone dared to step on it.

The group moves through the entryway and into what looks like an old living room. Everything is covered in thick layers of dust, and the once ornate carpet is faded, stained, and torn. Your flashlights cast long, eery shadows across the room.

Suddenly, there’s a faint sound, a soft scraping noise that seems to come from the far corner of the room.

Nobara spins around. “Did you guys hear that?” she asks quietly, her eyes wide.

Everyone freezes, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent house. You grip your phone tighter as your heart rate increases.

“It’s probably just the wind, right?” Yuji laughs nervously, his grin faltering.

Megumi looks at him, his voice tense. “Wind doesn’t make that kind of noise.”

You all stand still, listening intently. The scraping noise comes again, followed by rustling. Nobara raises her flashlight, shining it toward the noise, and just as she does, something small and quick darts out from behind a piece of furniture.

A rat.

“God, seriously? It’s a fucking rat,” Nobara groans in disgust, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

Yuji laughs, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “Phew, for a second there I thought we were gonna see something really freaky.”

You continue to explore the house, passing by broken picture frames, shattered glass, and the remnants of what was once someone’s home. Everything seems frozen in time, like the house has been abandoned for centuries. It fills you with a sense of sorrow, knowing that a family probably lived here once, creating happy memories within these walls.

You enter another room. A small, dusty study, by the looks of it. The wallpaper here is even more faded than the living room, barely clinging to the walls. Shelves line the walls, filled with old, crumbling books, and there’s a desk in the corner covered in papers that look too fragile to touch.

Your flashlight sweeps over the room, and as the beam lands on a small, unassuming wooden box in the corner, something catches your eye. The moment the light hits it, a soft glow reflects back at you. A ring.

The ruby stone set in the center gleams with a beautiful glow, as if it’s beckoning you toward it.

You kneel down, your fingers hesitating just over the ring.

“Woah,” you exclaim, mostly to yourself.

You carefully pick it up, turning it over in your hand. The metal feels cool and heavy, and the stone is striking—a deep, blood-red ruby that catches the light in a beautifully mesmerizing manner.

Nobara peers over your shoulder. “That’s actually… pretty nice. You should take it. I bet it’s worth something.”

“Can it really be worth something if it was left in a place like this?” Megumi asks, stepping closer to inspect the ring.

He’s probably right, you think. Although, maybe someone dropped it accidentally while they were inspecting the place, much like you’re doing now. The chances of that are slim, though, as it seems as if it was placed perfectly in the center of the wooden box you plucked it from. Like it was waiting for someone to find it.

Despite the warning signs rising in your gut, you slip it onto your right ring finger, just to keep it safe. It fits perfectly.

After another fruitless search through the rest of the house, you all decide it’s time to go.

Yuji looks disappointed, his hands shoved into his pockets as you make your way out the front door.

“Aw, man,” he pouts, glancing back at the house, “I really thought we’d see something cool. All that build up for nothing.” He throws his hands up toward the sky, falling to his knees dramatically. “This sucks big time!”

Megumi sighs exasperatedly, pulling Yuji back up to his feet by the collar of his shirt, pushing him toward his car.

“Like I said, it’s just an old house, idiot. What, did you expect some ghosts to come running out to greet you?” Nobara scolds, shaking her head.

You all pile into Yuji’s car, the atmosphere lighter now that you’re outside again, and as you drive away, you can’t stop glancing down at the ring on your finger. It seems to shimmer faintly, even in the dark. Almost like it’s alive.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You step inside your apartment and flick the lights on, happy to finally be home. As you kick your shoes off and make your way over to your bedroom, you let out a yawn, rubbing your tired eyes.

The adrenaline rush from being in that house has left you exhausted; you don’t even bother with your usual nightly routine, instead preferring to slide underneath the blankets and straight into your bed. As you switch your bedside lamp off and the room is engulfed in darkness, you can’t help but feel like something is… off.

An unsettling feeling has suddenly washed over you. You try to shake it off.

Relax, you tell yourself, you’re just on edge from the events of the night.

Even if nothing paranormal happened in that house, it was still utterly creepy.

A few moments pass. Just as your eyes start to feel heavy, the wind outside your windows lulling you into the beginnings of sleep, your consciousness starting to fade…

You hear something.

What, you’re not sure. It’s faint at first. A creak of the floorboards, perhaps, or a barely-there whisper you can’t quite make out. It makes your heart skip a beat, a sense of dread settling itself in your gut as you lay there, unmoving, waiting to see if you hear anything else.

And you do. Louder this time.

A low, rumbling laugh. It’s mocking, and it cuts through the silence like a knife.

Your eyes snap open, panic fully rushing through you now. A sudden chill spreads through the room, the air now feeling heavy and cold. The ring, still placed on your finger, long forgotten in your exhaustion, suddenly burns hot, a searing pulse spreading from the ruby stone through your hand, making it throb. You hiss as you flex your fingers to try to ease the pain as you sit up in bed, your eyes quickly darting around the darkened room, trying to find the source of the sound.

And once your eyes fully adjust, you find it.

In the corner, just barely illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering in through your blinds, stands a figure. Tall, imposing, and unmistakably not human. His form is casted in shadow from the night, but his four glowing red eyes pierce through the darkness, locking right onto you. His grin, wide and sinister, is the only other thing you can make out in the darkness.

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, your breath caught in your throat. He then speaks, his voice deep, rough, and dripping with cruelty.

“Did you really think that ring was yours to take, little girl?”

The malicious, pure evil in his tone makes your blood run cold. You hastily reach over to flip your lamp back on, hoping the warm light will save you, prove to you that this is a dream, that you’re just hallucinating. Surely this cannot actually be happening. But the light provides you no such comfort. If anything, it only sharpens the nightmare before you.

In the now dimly lit room, you can make out the details of the creature standing before you. His size is massive, his stature incredibly broad, with tattoo-like markings adorning his forehead, running down his cheeks, all the way to his chin, and a lone streak swiping across his nose. Blush pink hair adorns his head, flicking up off his forehead haphazardly. He looks to be wearing some sort of traditional Japanese robes, the color of deep crimson, embroidered with ancient looking symbols. That’s when you notice this entity has an extra set of arms, each of the fingers long and clawed, each nail sharp and black as night. He stands motionless, ominous energy rolling off of him in waves that make it hard for you to breathe.

Your scream finally breaks free from your throat, as his sinister laughter fills the space around you. You scramble backwards on the bed in the opposite direction of him, your instincts taking over in a rush to get as far away from him as possible. You fall off the bed with a heavy thud, landing on your back, pulling another sharp cry from your lips, this time from pain.

In one swift movement, faster than you can blink, the figure stands over you crumpled on the floor, his face gleaming with a wicked delight. He raises one of his hands, his long, clawed fingers curling, as if preparing to strike. Your arms fly over your head in response, trying to protect yourself from whatever impending blow he was no doubt about to impose on you. You shut your eyes tight as frightened tears start to spill down your cheeks.

“Please,” you sob, “don’t kill me.”

Your voice cracks with desperation, and to your surprise, the room falls eerily silent. You stay like that, waiting.

Nothing happens.

After a moment, you peek through your fingers. Sure enough, the entity is still there, his hand still raised mid-strike, as if he’s frozen. A look of frustration has overcome his features as he lowers his hand, taking a step back. He studies you for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

“Now look what you’ve done, foolish little human,” he spits. “Don’t get too comfortable. This game is far from over.”

Without another word, he turns to head back to the darkest corner of your room, his form melting into the shadow, and then he's gone.

The room falls silent once more. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your body trembling uncontrollably as you remain huddled on the floor, tears still streaming down your face. Your mind spins, trying to make sense of what just happened.

What the fuck was that?

The figure—no, the monster—had just disappeared into the shadows as though he had never been there at all, but the weight of his presence still lingers, making it feel cold, empty, wrong. Your eyes dart around the room, waiting for him to reappear at any moment to finish what he started.

But nothing happens. He’s gone.

You sit up slowly, wiping at your face with shaky hands, trying to gather yourself, but your fear doesn’t fade. The memory of his cruel laughter, his piercing red eyes, and the sheer malice radiating from him is burned into your mind. You can still feel the heat from the ring pulsing against your skin, a reminder of what just took place.

Did you really think that ring was yours to take, little girl?

His words echo in your head. Your eyes fall to the ruby stone on your finger, shimmering in the faint light. You try to pull it off, figuring the ring was the reason any of this was happening in the first place. You tug as hard as you can, nearly dislocating your finger in the process, but it’s no use. It doesn’t budge. It’s as if it has shrunk, melding itself into your skin.

You give up, crawling back onto your bed, hugging your knees to your chest as you try to steady your heart, but your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Why was it doing this? Why was he doing this?

You think back to the way he moved, the way he seemed to freeze when you begged him not to kill you. There had been a clear look of frustration in his eyes when he lowered his hand. Why did he stop?

The questions swirl in your mind, each one heavier than the last, with you realizing there’s something you’re missing. Some piece of the puzzle you can’t quite see.

There’s no way you’re getting any sleep, not with this fear still gnawing at you. The room feels too small, too suffocating, and every tiny sound makes you jump. The wind outside rattles your window, making you flinch.

All you can do is wait, now. Wait for morning. Wait for answers.

Wait for him to return.

☰ Masterlist | Next Chapter

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #true form sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #dark romance #slow burn #enemies to lovers #ryoumen sukuna #bearer and the bound #jjk angst #sukuna ryomen x reader

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