#a sad little human AND her enemy

[codenamethebird]

More Hades 2 rambles from me! Though this time round it's a continuation of a point I made in this post.

Specifically, that I think the final boss of the Surface will be a living human mortal.

A couple people on that post disagreed that it would be a human, mostly just because of boss fight mechanics. Which I do get, but this is my not so little refute of that idea (all in good fun of course, I very well might be wrong! I just have thought a bunch about it since then and wanted to ramble about it).

I'll be getting into later how the game could have a hard mechanically satisfying human final boss later, because first I want to talk about how it would make sense naratively. Not because anyone remotely argued this point, I just think it's interesting haha.

So let's go back for a moment to Hades 1, and it's final boss, Hades himself. On a mechanical sense, it makes total sense, Hades is the god and master of the underworld Zag is trying to escape. He would be the final obstacle. But what really makes Hades work as the final boss, is the story and emotional reason he's there.

The plot of Hades is ultimately about Zag's messy relationship with his dad. And that final boss fight is an ongoing conversation with him. While irl you and your questionable dad constantly fighting to death is not a great way to fix your problems, these are weird bound to underworld greek gods. Death is their weird love language for like half this cast haha. There is a reason Death is one of, if not the main love interest.

Okay now that I've established that, let's look at the one final boss we do know from Hades 2, Chronos. Now it's Grandpa's time to shine. Unlike Hades 1, he fits a lot cleaner into a more traditional villian role. The monster who literally takes over your house and takes your family hostage.

In that way, it is a personal fight for Mel to save her family, but Mel lacks a specific personal connection to Chronos himself. Obviously there's the whole Grandpa thing, but she wasn't like raised by him or anything. He is a convient big bad she can hate simply and wholeheartedly. While he does try to challenge her beliefs at times, Mel will never listen to him because of the whole family kidnapping thing, and Gramps equally doesn't want to engage with her either. He just wants to be a dick to her.

While I'm a firm believer in the "We (the gods) are actually the bad guys" theory, I don't think Chronos is secretly an angel. He did you know eat his kids and that entire scene with Hades and him just reeked of shitty dad vibes. While Chronos might be better for humanity, I think he really is using them as a prop and doesn't genuinely care about them. (This is a derail, but I do think the human army side of things including Prometheus will turn on Chronos at some point. Specifcally that they are already planning to).

But yes, basically, while I adore Chronos as a villain, you get none of the character growth from either party that you got between Zag and Hades in the first game. Obviously, we are still in early access, so there's more dialouge to be had. But from what we have seen, those two are not changing the other. So this is my roundabout way to say that must mean the Surface boss is the one that is going to be all about Melinoe's character growth.

I don't think I need to explain why fighting a human would be a fascinating place for character growth for humanities #1 hater Melinoe. Mel's the Hades equivalent in this game (not the Zag), who will not listen to anyone who disagrees with her. Getting beat up by a human might actually start to get it through her head.

But also I want to dig into why I don't think the final boss will be another Titan. I've seen Atlas thrown around a bunch as a possible final Surface boss. Also Typhon... I'm certain there are others. But I don't know what they would add to the narrative, especially as a final boss? I think there's more evidence for Atlas, so I'll focus on him.

It would make some sense, he was the leader of the titan rebellion and much like Prometheus, in certain versions of the myth he was also freed from his punishment by Heracles! Which considering Heracles suspicious lack of dialouge so far, and the dialouge he does have being a god hater, I do think he's the one who freed Prometheus in this game.

But other than those connections, what does Atlas add to make him an interesting antagonist to Mel? He's not particularly tied to humanity, and while his punishment sucked he did lead a rebellion against the gods (and traditionally the reasons have nothing to do with humans).

Mostly, in my opinion, if the game was going to have a titan also be the final boss for the Surface, it wouldn't be Atlas. It would be Prometheus. He's the powerful titan who has a legitimate gruge against the gods and who can engage with Mel in interesting ways, challenging her stance against the gods. But they have already used Prometheus, I don't know how they could write Atlas (or whatever titan/god) in a way that would be more interesting than Prometheus, and rival the Hades boss fight for thematic weight. Also, it would be 2 titans in a row, which isn't nessisarily a bad thing, but still.

I've also seen people throw around it might he Ares, which I will admit would I would be way more excited for that another titan. Theres some interesting ideas to be had with an Olympian who has betrayed the gods. But we already have dialouge with Athena where she says how Chronos' armies motivations wouldn't line up with Ares'. And I feel like going from a dude only obsessed with war to someone fighting for some kind of higher cause would be a jump in character. Not impossible, but a little weird.

And ultimately, I just think that a Human would serve the purpose better as an antagonist to Mel who would shake her worldview on living mortals in particular. A fight with Ares would mess with her relationship with the gods, but not as clearly with humans.

Okay now that I've talked about themes, how about what people actually had an issue with lol, how would a final boss with a human make sense from a boss fight perspective. I have three main ideas, that don't really contradict each other and could all exist in the fight.

1st idea: multiple enemies. We've heard that there are human armies, the final boss could possibly be a leader of them. We could have hords of enemies, could have select recognizable commanders that have different skill sets, etc. None of the Surface boss fights have multi bosses in them (they have random mobs but none like the sirens or Theseus and Asterius), so I don't think it would be strange to have it. And while stretching the definition of a human boss a bit, these other bosses could be ghosts and other kinds of beings (I just think the main boss should be a breathing human).

2nd idea and tbh my main one. Have them be a Witch! Or some other kind of magic user. I feel like this should be obvious, but a lot of the theming around Hades 2 is witchy/magic stuff and it's wild we don't have a major witch enemy yet (other than obviously Hecate, but for obvious reasons I don't count her).

I'm thinking some kind of High Priestess of Chronos kind of character, we still don't know exactly how Chronos was revived and this could tie in, but there's a bunch of ways you could spin a magic user! I think it would be a prime place to put a narrative foil to Melinoe. A fellow Witch whose family was stolen away by the gods who is looking for justice. Maybe when finally looking into a mirror, some of the stuff Melinoe's been told will finally breach her thick headed skull haha.

I don't think I really need to get into the technical about how a witch fight could be cool. But one idea, tying into my first point, a magic user could have mind powers and compell powerful beings to fight for them. This could be the Zag boss fight of borderline crack theories or even maybe the aforementioned Ares who maybe got captured during his war path. A magic fight doesn't need possessed enemies, but it could be cool.

And finally, my 3rd idea. You might be going, but how could a human be more powerful than Prometheus? Well first point magic, but more seriously, just have them be boosted by Chronos and/or other allies. I mentioned a theory about a high priestess sort of character (the power of God and ani--), but more specifically, if they do go the route of a foil to Melinoe, she has her boons from the gods. Much like Theseus in Hades 1, the final surface boss could gain the boons of Chronos/Prometheus/and the like. Maybe even a Chaos boon, they have already aided Chronos once, and there's a decent chance the humans might betray Chronos at some point so Chaos might be chill with them. This could also be a way to introduce more titan characters and the like without needing to make models for them haha.

But yes, tldr, magic human gives us both the thematic weight of it being a human, witch stuff to parallel Melinoe, and just cool powerful magic fight as a final boss (and it could parallel the Hecate boss fight, the first boss u fight and the last being magic based).

[gonkaccino]

Season 4 hope/prediction: Deb's show is solid, zero issues, runs flawlessly with great ratings, but her personal life is completely eroding. We start with her discovering Marcus is leaving, and it culminates in DJ going into labor right before a taping. Deb chooses the show. When it's over, and she finally flies to Vegas, it's too late -- Aiden's not letting her in because he loves his wife too much to let DJ get into a shouting match with her mom right after giving birth, and instead takes the brunt of Deb's wrath, with her making excuses and talking about how they used her money for IVF, and anyway, DJ's fine, so who cares if she wasn't there? Kathy's in the room with DJ and the baby (DJ's the closest she has to a daughter, after all) and Deb leaves too furious to think about how badly she's hurt her family.

She heads back to her Vegas mansion -- empty, obviously, Josefina and the dogs would be in LA -- and pops open a bottle of wine. Alone. Completely alone. Can't call Marty, she has no friends, the closest she's got would be Kiki and wouldn't that be embarrassing, calling your poker dealer to talk about your feelings --

and then Ava's there. She got the news about DJ's labor, she got the story from Aiden (who was distraught, by the way, man's too much of a sweetheart for Vance drama), a spare key from Damian (happy to pawn that off on her, though if it isn't returned promptly he's taking legal action) and has arrived just in time to see the Deborah Vance having a breakdown the likes of which no one thought physically possible. Crying gives you wrinkles, you know. But Ava has to be here. She's the physical embodiment of a lesson Deb never truly learned: you don't have to like someone to love them.

In my imaginary fantasy land that I am concocting this would then subsequently lead into them fucking nasty but I understand that this may be a step too far for the surprisingly large number of very normal people who watch this show and would forgive JPL for not taking it that far. However I do believe they should fuck about it and let Ava take the reigns in their relationship while they see how many of Deb's bridges they can un-burn.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- light angst, explicit sex, oral ( f receiving) breed kink (it's me so lol) mating press, multi rounds, honestly cute, sweet and fucking emotional!!! WC - 10k

A/N- THE HAPPY END IS HERE! Sooo the beginning 4k words or so are VERY similar to the angst end, but don't skip them because I put a lot of little nuances and deviations! I hope you enjoy the happy ending and the complete end of this fic <3 I'd love to hear thoughts!!

<<<Part five (Sad end) - Playlist - Masterlist

Happy Ending (Sugu/Reader end!)

Suguru lifts you up into his arms, as tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there while all he can focus on is you, the guilt eating at his heart. Your unconscious body lolls in his arms as Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, all while holding you so tightly against his chest.

Satoru waits for Suguru, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened, he wanted to pick you up and bring you to Shoko, but Suguru had snatched you up so quickly he had no chance to. Suguru is carrying you around and murmuring his soft orders, not letting you leave his grip.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought Suguru never would feel that way again.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru when he brushes back a lock of hair from your brow, itching to smack his hand off. “Don’t touch my wife.” Suguru’s words are husky, through his teeth, as Satoru’s blue eyes dart back to his, raising a white brow.

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. Why don’t I carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear, and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her!?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up closer against his chest, violet eyes glaring now at Satoru, and you hang so limply he feels sick, like you’re just nothing in his arms, barely any signs of life aside from soft breaths.

“You won’t hold my wife in your fucking arms.” 

“Fine, then follow, now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

But Satoru is fucking right - it’s all him.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Suguru glares over at him. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes she is but it’s not your place to fucking say.” Satoru smiles just a bit, something about seeing his friend actually fucking caring about something for once, even if his ire is directed at him right now. Suguru looks at Shoko now, swallowing nervously as he speaks. “She is pregnant.”

Shoko sighs now, nodding and assessing you carefully. “Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee the baby will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak,  pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder with her technique, the glow soft around you, hovering right over your tummy where a baby exists.

“Please just save her.” Suguru whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Lovemaking, it was lovemaking.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen. Why couldn’t he just give you a chance, why couldn’t he be there for you!?

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, every single human for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, you, in a room with two people who loved him once, who cared for him once, and he never deserved any of it. Of your body, of your heart, didn’t deserve any kindness that you - rarely - bestowed upon him, your sweet pleas nor your desperate cries for more of him.

Now that he sees you, and it’s been a good twenty minutes, he’s pacing, his stomach sick and turning, his mind a tumultuous storm of moments where it all changed. Of moments where everything shifted, the life and family he thought he built all lost to a girl, who slapped him, who cursed him, who overtook his heart.

You.

“It’s not working.” He says after more time passes with no sign of anything from you in the quiet room, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, okay? Her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.” Suguru can’t stand to look then, turning away, his robes still dripping the blood of others, as the woman he loves is unconscious.

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly as he contemplates it, with a startled gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru’s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his blue eyes revealed is staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look at Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear… and more, so much more brimming to the surface. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.” Your whisper makes him squeeze you so tightly you can’t breathe, before pulling back, glaring down at you.

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Suguru…”

“Just a minute.” You nod, but something is tugging at your heart.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what exactly had happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

Suguru feels sick as he shakes his head. “No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…” Satoru shakes his head again, and eyes you now.

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals. “Your family is in that fucking room.”

“I know, fuck… but she has a chance to be happy, to have that baby - the way it’s going? She won’t even get to with me. Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, they glimmer and illuminate, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him, hating the mix of comfort and sorrow this man brings. “I know,” he whispers, as if to soothe you, only for you to be infuriated, feeling anger hot coursing through your veins.

You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now. “You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.” His broken voice and tired gaze stall you, not after all of this would he not fucking choose you again!? Not after carving his place in your heart entirely does he get to leave!?

You pause now, gasping at his audacity, feeling him tense, emotionally pulling away from you again. “What the fuck are you on about right now?”

Instead of the usual arguments, the back and forth, Suguru is just contemplative, listening to you before he speaks. “It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low.

“So you’re selfish, what’s new?” Your angry whisper just makes him ache for you, god is there one moment he doesn’t? Is there one second in any universe he thinks he will live without you - he wants to do the right thing now, to let you go, but how can he, when you’re so deeply ingrained inside his fucking soul?

The one bright spot that he almost took out completely clings to him, and why should you?

 “I almost killed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you shake your head now, scowl firm on your tired, beautiful features.

“You didn’t just almost kill me, you almost killed everyone in the fucking city! Suguru, I’m fine, this is not even what you should be worried about.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do, his voice terrifying you in its intensity. “Told me what?”

Suguru cups your face with one hand, heart pounding as he feels it, so deep in his soul, finally ready to spill those words. “I love you,” you gasp then, and his heart hammers nearly out of his chest as the declaration spills from his lips. “Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.”

His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear, his love.

Loves you.

He loves you.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.” His broken voice and tears infuriate you as much as they deeply touch you.

You glare now, trying to hold it together, when you feel like shattering. “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you run!”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough. “I won’t forgive you ever.”

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-” The shock of his words hits you like a wave, like what knocked you to the fucking floor earlier, the dread in your stomach.

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy, but he sees it - how Satoru looks at you. Maybe he could give you what you deserve, as much as he selfishly wants you, as badly as this hurts to do or say.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks in frustration, the thick strands falling across his face as he watches the girl he loves shatter because of him, all over again. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break.

“How can I look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Suguru,” you pull back, tears falling against his fingers, breaths making your chest rise and fall, as you cling to his robes, the blood soaking against your skin, enveloping it in red. “You’re mine, you don’t get to leave me.”

He whispers your name then, his own tears falling, against your lips salty as he hovers over you, exhaling shakily. “I don’t deserve you though, you or this baby, not after what I did to you.”

“Then you’ll earn it, you’ll earn the right of me standing by your side. You’ll become better, I know it, fuck I do. There’s more to you.” Your foreheads touch, while he finally breaks down then, picking you up in his arms now, your lips are angry, hungry, tugging with your teeth as he nips you with his. Your tongues messy and desperate while you drink each others’ cries in, echoing in the quiet room.

“I don’t deserve you, I don’t…” His whispers break you, a broken man declaring them hot against your throat, as he breaks down for you, and you bury your face against his neck, letting him hold you up like it’s nothing, clinging to him then. Feeling every bit of your soul drawn to him, despite it all.

“I need you goddammit, you don’t get to leave me. Us. I’ll beat the fuck out of you if you try, it’s not even funny you psycho.” He exhales, easing you down then, you’re dizzy with desire, with need, thrumming through every inch of your skin, as he leans back, eyeing you under lashes dripping with tears.

“How can you love somebody like me?” His broken whisper destroys any resolve you have left, you know all he has done to you, you can only imagine what he has done to others, but deep down you know one thing to be true-

You do love him.

“I just do, there’s no reason for it, there’s no reason for any human emotion, Suguru Geto. We just feel.” Your tremulous smile, amidst everything he’s done breaks him down, bit by bit, as his heart pounds for you, as his body aches for you, thoughts of ‘what ifs’ flowing through his mind.

What if he did let Satoru care for you?

What if he just left you now?

What if you fell in love, what if you moved on, and were so happy, and got everything he ‘thinks’ you deserved, leaving him alone forever - because he knows damn well he will never want or be with anyone else ever again. What if he had let you go, and had not gotten to see you again, hold you again, kiss your lips? Have you under him, on him, have you?

He almost just did that, one choice and he was going to push you away, when all you wanted was to be let in. He takes a deep breath, an arm wrapped tight around you, bringing you firm against his chest. “I don’t know if I can learn to live with humans, aside from you. I don’t know if I can lose all this hatred.”

“Then we’ll go, we’ll go away. And we’ll try, every day. Okay?” He nods then, you exhale and kiss him once more, the kiss is so different than any before, deeper than either of you have had, while he drinks it in, the girl he doesn’t deserve, the life he’s not sure he should get to have, because you love him.

Does he deserve that love, finally?

“You deserve love.” Your words speak to the questions stirring in his soul, and for the first time in so long, Suguru is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to pull it together, holding you in a bruising grip as he just cries then.

Suguru crying.

He has not felt emotions since long ago in Jujutsu high, when he watched his loved ones die, when he lost faith in everything he knew, something he thought died that day glimmers and breaks free. The girl in his arms that he treated horribly who for some odd reason loves him, then he knows - he can’t keep going like this, he has to give everything for you.

“I’ll try, Princess.” His soft tone breaks you down further, so upset in your wracking sobs he pulls back a bit, swiping them off your cheeks with one hand, the other bringing you against his chest. “Calm down, please… take a breath.”

“You really stress a girl the fuck out.” He chuckles a bit, earning a punch from your little balled up fist while you sniffle. “You don’t get to laugh about it.”

“I know, I know.” He brushes your hair back gently, studying a face of a girl that’s been hurt too much, too deeply, but the joy of hearing you say it all overwhelms his senses. He sighs again, tilting your chin up, studying your swollen lips carefully, a thumb brushing across the thin and bitten flesh. “You really want to be with me? I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want your ‘out’. I want you, the real you too, not this bullshit cult leader crap. I want the boy who Satoru has fought so hard to get back, I want the boy I met, he’s in there, okay?” He looks away then, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if he is in there.”

“He is, and you know it.”

He wants to believe you, but he finds he’s selfish for not leaving you in that moment, for instead picking you up gently in his arms, bridal style - remembering that first night with you. The first time he touched you, and he knew how deeply he felt, that he assumed you must have powers, but you did in fact have them, they were just different than anything he’d ever seen.

He speaks it then, softly. “You’re not just human.”

“Suguru you-”

“You’ve got a power.” You roll your eyes now, infuriated at the annoying man you chose to fall for.

Well you never chose to. You just did.

“You will not even act like you don’t love a human-”

“Power to bring me to my knees,” he continues, in a husky voice, and when he presses you more tightly to him, lips an inch from yours, the world fades, everything fades but this singular moment. “The power to make me give up anything, do anything for you. Kill anyone who hurts you, even if it’s myself.”

“Suguru-” He cuts you off again, kissing you as he cradles you so tightly, you feel his strength even as his body shakes with his emotions, with his regret, with his need.

“I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it. If I do, you get to twist that knife in my fucking chest.” You shake your head, but he just reiterates it, softly.

“I wouldn’t be able to.”

“You have all the power over me. You’re my everything.” You take the hand wrapped around you, placing it on your tummy, heating up as his violet gaze drifts down to it.

“We are your everything, Suguru. Of course, Mimiko and Nanako too. We can be… a family. If you’re willing.” He nods then, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead now. “Then let’s get them, and find… a home. A new home.”

He exhales against your skin, nodding as he carries you out, and Satoru Gojo is leaning against the wall, blindfold off for once, arms crossed casually when he smiles over at you. You tap Suguru’s shoulder and he glares at you. “You’re awfully friendly with him.”

“You’re acting jealous like you weren’t gonna pawn me off on him. Let me down.” You glare up at him and he sighs, easing you down, Satoru’s lips quirk up at the corners, easing off the wall and walking over to you now, tilting your chin up. His eyes bore into you, gleaming with his own emotions.

“Are you alright? You okay to walk?” He asks softly, you nod then, reaching over to wrap your arms around his waist. He falters for a moment, as you feel Suguru’s death glare, holding you back then, hand resting at the small of your back, warm over your silk kimono. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but cry against his chest, and Suguru looks away then, stepping back for a moment. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“No, it was shitty okay? I knew the risk and-”

“No. Thank you, Satoru.” You look up, and his heart hurts when he sees your tears, as his friend avoids even looking at the two of you. “It was the right thing to do, and don’t you dare feel bad.”

He sighs in relief, hugging you again, lips pressed against your ear as he bends down. “You brought my friend back, I should be thanking you.”

You cry more, body shaking and so small in the strong sorcerers hold, as Suguru clears his throat. “You all are a little too close.”

“I can still take care of her if-”

“No!? I mean, no.” Suguru rubs the back of his neck, frowning as he wants to rip his best friend’s arms off. “I was… being…”

“Stupid?” Satoru and you finish, and Suguru crosses his arms now, glaring at the two of you.

“It wouldn’t have been the right decision, especially how you’re pawing at her. Let her go.” Suguru yanks you away, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes, a sound Suguru never really heard from you, breathless, your soft smile lighting up a tragically beautiful face, one he’s kept upset.

“You’re jealous?” You ask, and he scoffs, glaring, while Satoru does not remove his hand, smirking over at him.

“You two are just too close is all. Conspiring this whole time?”

“Maybe so.” You look back to Satoru, smiling again. “We’re going away for a while, but… we’ll be back one day. Won’t we, Suguru?” You hold out a hand now, and he nods stiffly, Satoru sees it then, the love he so clearly has right on his face for you, and the love you have for him, as your hands entwine.

“We will be.” He gruffly repeats, and the three of you stand there for a moment, each hand is held by the two men as they glance at each other, wondering if it’s still there - the deep friendship, and fuck you truly hope it is. Suguru didn’t just need you, he needed him too, and you hope one day your psycho husband can work on his very shitty communication and open up.

“We would’ve had fun together, sweets.” Gojo teases one more time, before Suguru has you yanked up against him, scowling deeper at Satoru, while you giggle, against Suguru’s hard chest, resting your head for a moment.

“You think it would’ve been fun, him pawning me off huh?” You tease back, and are landed right back in Suguru’s arms, while he and Satoru walk out side by side, and sleep starts to tug at your body, still drained from the hit.

“Of course we would have, you wouldn’t have even missed him.” Gojo winks and you giggle, and you’re pretty sure Suguru is about to lose his mind, walking out then to see the wreckage, it takes your breath for a moment, Suguru’s shoulders slump as he takes in the chaos and destruction.

“Hey, we’ll do better than this.” You say softly, caressing his face, a thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. He nods then, sighing and shutting his eyes, as if he can’t take it all in.

“Satoru, thank you for… helping save her.” Satoru blinks in surprise - a thank you is nothing he thought he’d get. “I guess we may cross paths again.”

“I guess we might.” Satoru smiles at you both a little sadly, as if he’d gotten his friend back and he’s going away again, but also it’s a peaceful look, for the moment things are safe for Satoru’s students and friends. For a moment there is peace in his heart as he looks at the two of you. “You’ll have a baby by then.”

“Yes we will.” Suguru murmurs, nodding to him a bit.

“Name it Satoru-”

“No.”

Satoru pouts then, shaking his head. “You know, so ungrateful. I’m out of here, bye sweets.” He winks at you again and throws two fingers up with a grin, disappearing without a trace. You giggle at it, and Suguru keeps glaring daggers.

“You like him far too much.” You sigh, shaking your head.

“We just connect because we both love an emo bitch.”

“An emo… when you’re better, I’m beating the fucking attitude out of you.” Your tummy flips, and you bury your face again in his neck.

“You can’t even do instant transmission like Gojo, huh?”

“Instant… that’s an anime!? I have a dragon, that’s much fucking cooler than Gojo’s shit, hmm?” You just smile against his neck, knowing then, this is him. This is Suguru Geto, the man you lived to see glimpses of. As he’s summoning these giant curses, his rainbow dragon, sitting you right on there and smiling, eyes crinkling and making you melt.

You gasp as you all take off - it’s as if you are some Princess, with a psycho cult leader who loves you, as he pulls you against him, head against his chest while he tenderly brushes your hair back. The exhaustion starts hitting, the fact that you almost lost him, lost everything that you suddenly realize is so important to you, while he inhales the scent of your hair and you fly up.

“Dragons are pretty cool.” You concede softly, earning his chuckle, lips tenderly brushing against your temple.

“I’m sorry I left you last night, I’m so sorry.” You look up sleepily, fuck you’re exhausted, trying to focus on him now.

“I forgive you, Suguru.”

“Should you?” His whisper is soft when you lay back against him again, arms wrapped around his waist.

“Probably not, but I do. I just… want you to never leave me. Promise, please.” You whisper against where his chest is bare, the wind gently rushing across your faces, while he holds you nestled in his arms.

“I promise, Princess. I will never leave you again.”

*****

One year later

You hold your sweet baby Noa against your chest as Suguru puts Mimiko and Nanako to bed, they’re giggling and kissing all over her as they always love to do, but Suguru gently chides them. “Girls, you know it’s well past bedtime.”

“We can help mom with Noa though!” Mimiko crosses her arms, and you smile at her, brushing her hair back.

“I appreciate all your help, but Noa is going to sleep too.” You peek at her precious face, she looks a lot like you but has Suguru’s silky black locks already, too much hair for a little baby to have. And her eyes have the darkest lashes, just like her father, who ruffles both of the girls’ hair now, chuckling.

“Boba tomorrow from your favorite place if you don’t argue.” His sing-song voice works.

“Fine dad.” They say simultaneously, and then the girls kiss you all before finally bouncing off to their rooms, leaving you and Suguru to head toward the nursery, his arm around your waist as your bare feet pad across the floor.

“You always bribe those girls, you know.” He chuckles once more, a sound that’s much more frequent these days, opening up the door for you now, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, illuminating the pretty room, all decorated in pretty pinks and purple by the girls before Noa came.

“I mean, are you arguing the efficiency of these tactics?” Suguru teases, having gone from war tactics to bribery for time alone with you was something quite new to him, but it fit well. Everything felt…

Perfect with you.

With the girls.

With his sweet baby girl, who is already fast asleep against your chest, her pretty face serene as you brush a thumb against a chubby cheek, smiling tenderly, the moon casting shadows across your beautiful face. It fills him with so much tenderness it’s hard to even explain, the way you fit so perfectly, knowing you were the missing piece, filling the void he let grow too long.

Your love for Noa was beautiful to see, of course Suguru adores his little girl, but you were so devoted and constant, also in your love to his girls. Since you met them you were kind, but once you all left and moved out of the country and spent more time, you were fiercely protective and loving of them like they were your own, and the girls had even started calling you mom.

Everything felt too good, and sometimes Suguru wonders if he deserves any of it, any of this happiness, love or joy that you brought him. You look up at him then, a sweet smile on your face, and he walks up to the pretty little white bassinet, brushing Noa’s downy hair back and smiling.

“She looks milk drunk again.” He teases, you shush him, a finger to the lips, a smile on your face.

“She might be, but you know…” your fingertips drift down his chest, over the silk of his robes, making his stomach clench hot with desire. He's been dying to have you, but you two were waiting until you healed up after a bit of a rough labor. The look you give him now makes him ache for you. “I’m feeling very good tonight. I think I pumped enough to have a glass of wine?”

“Fuck…” You cover your giggle and he sighs, hands clenching against your waist too tightly, before releasing you with an exhale. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He exhales and takes your hand, gently tugging you so that you both shut the door quietly of Noa’s room, pressing you against the wall now, arms on either side of your head.

“You’re so excited for wine, Suguru.” You whisper, and you know you fuck with him, he knows you’re aware of the affect you have on him, when you look at him like that under your lidded gaze. “You haven’t gone without drinking, why are you so excited?”

“I’ve gone without drinking alright…” His insinuation makes your cheeks heat up, a blush in the dark, quiet hallway. Although Suguru did have a maids, a cook and a nanny to help you, the home was far quieter than it was with a whole fucking cult living in it. It was much more intimate, private, even though it was hard for you both to get time together alone.

A lot of times, you were exhausted, but you’re wide awake now. All you can do is think about how badly you want him, the most you all have done is months was him toying your clit till you came, and you sucking him down your throat last week when you two had woken up.

He’d been ready to ‘drink you’ last night when the baby started crying, and he’d waited for you to come back only to find you crashed in the rocking chair with Noa. He’d almost had that damn taste on his tongue, but he knows how devoted you are, and fuck he was too, but if he didn’t get to fuck her soon, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

He tilts your chin up with two fingers, his hair falling softly against your skin as he leans down, eyeing your lips. “What wine do you want, Princess?” He asks, at your command, fuck Suguru is practically ready to kiss your feet if you just let him sink inside you again.

The entire pregnancy until right about the end he’d not left you alone, you were too beautiful, your tits leaking milk, your hips widening to have his baby, the roundness of your tummy, every single mark the baby left. He couldn’t stop devouring you the entirety of it, couldn’t control how sexy you were pregnant, and you’re so beautiful now.

“Some red wine, Sugu. Please.” The nickname always destroys him, he almost falters and just fucks you right in this hallway, instead trying to hold himself together and nodding, gesturing for you to follow.

You both walk slowly to the kitchens, where he opens up one of the wine fridges, and pulls out a bottle of your favorite, one you have had one sip on right after the baby as a little treat. Your cute little squeal of excitement makes him laugh in amusement, pouring you a glass as you watch the dark red liquid swirl.

“Don’t drink too much, you’re gonna be so wasted from like two sips.”

“Will not be! Gimme.” You snatch it up, fingers brushing against his, igniting sparks through the both of you, your eyes meeting his, dark violet in the dimly lit kitchens, he doesn’t let go until you pull back, taking a shaky breath. “Mmm!”

“Yummy?” He pours his own glass, eyeing you over it, the look filling your tummy with more heat than the wine pouring down your throat could, warming you all over.

“So yummy.” You step closer, sipping the sweet liquid, some of it slipping across your lips, and he groans.

“Fuck this.” He sets your glass down and you gasp.

“Excuse me, rude! I can’t have a glass after having your baby?”

“You can have a whole fucking bottle later.” You’re lifted right on the counter, making you so dizzy at how quickly he’s got you lifted, letting out a shaky breath when he slides up the silk of your yukata, watching goosebumps rise against your skin with every inch revealed. “I think I need a drink first.”

“Sugu- ah!” He’s bent down as you’re spread wide on the kitchen counter, kissing a hot messy trail up your thighs, cock throbbing under his robes, already leaking precum just inhaling the scent of your cunt. Your head falls back, revealing your pretty throat as you cry out, arching your hips. “F-fuck…”

“Gonna cum from my breath, huh? Pathetic.” You scowl now, kicking at him with your foot, but he just catches it, smirking up at you as he leans up, his lips a breath against yours, fingers brushing over your bare cunt, and groaning. “No panties, were you wanting this?”

“Of course I w-was, you think I wanted wine?” He moans, slamming his lips against yours, fingers running up and down your slit, your clit twitches when he focuses there, running in circles and making you close just from that. You cling to his silk robes, soft and thick under your fingers, while his tongue starts trailing across your neck, tickling and making you wetter.

“I can’t wait to fuck this perfect cunt again, make you remember that she’s fucking mine.” He’s back down between your thighs as your head rests against the cabinets, uncomfortable as the marble counter is cold under your ass, but all you can think is more.

“Show me then.” He moans softly, on his knees now, so fucking tall he’s counter height to your cunt, and your hands enwrap in his soft raven locks when he presses a hot kiss right against your cunt, watching as you jerk, breathing against you.

“Keep it quiet, slutty little princess, huh?” You nod weakly, fuck it’s been so long since he’s spoken to you like that, since he’s worshipped you like this, and you don’t think you can ever got this long again, not when his tongue laps at your honeyed arousal, making you scream out against your palm. “Fuck… taste your cunt, god she’s so wet f’me, huh?”

“Yes…” You weakly whisper, pulling your hand back just to slam it on your mouth again, the manor you live in is huge but you still don’t want to be that noisy, though it’s damn near impossible as his long tongue slides inside your gummy walls, curling up and making you almost cum from that. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mnh…” He’s lost then, lost in your taste, in the way your cunt drools down his face, hot and sweet as he drinks it all in, slurping you up while you shatter for him, falling apart with every flick and swirl of his tongue. Your legs start to tremble and he grabs them, spreading them wider, and you can feel your orgasm building up, his teeth nibbling on your clit as you try to keep quiet.

“G-going to cum!” You whisper, but it’s too late, your cunt clenched around his tongue, walls quivering while he curls it up, his nose now hitting your clit, and you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum. “Suguru!”

“That’s it,” he’s sliding his tongue out, sticking two fingers instead, you gasp at the thick, long digits in your cunt, untouched for months, the stretch making you hiss. Your hips are bucking against the counter while he looks up under dark lashes, licking your cunt off his lips. “Another, you can, can’t you princess?”

You nod weakly, and he’s curling those fingertips up against your spongy spot, making you blinded, back down there lapping at your clit and feeling you tighten all around him, that pressure a telltale sign that you’re gonna cum so much for him. “Ah!” You cry out again, biting your lower lip so hard while your head slams the cabinet and you gush down him, orgasm rocking you in waves. “Sugu, too much!”

“You can take more, won’t you be a perfect slut for me? You know you wanna cum again and again. Wanna drown me with all that cum, huh?” His words and their tone fuck you up almost as much as his breath on your clit, while he holds you there, his tongue flicking until your legs finally stop shaking and you collapse, breathing weakly, hands tugging at his hair, burning his scalp.

“Please, fuck me Sugu. God, I need it in me.” Your plea is not going to be denied, not when Suguru almost came from just licking you. He kisses you again, letting you taste your sweetness off his mouth, burying his hands in your hair before picking you up, and you cling to his neck, legs wrapped around him.

“You want it in you, huh?” You just nod weakly, letting him carry you to the room you two share, in moments he has the yukata untied.

“Want it, want it in me so bad- ngh!” Suguru has bared your skin to his gaze, your body swathed in moonlight, for a moment you cover up just a bit, your tummy isn’t the same, and he’s not seen you too much since, earning his glare, as he grips your wrists and eases your arms down.

“You’re as beautiful as the first moment I saw you, so beautiful you made me question if you had some fucking power over me.” He says softly then, easing your worry, a hand brushing over a glimmery mark from Noa, slipping over to your hip and gripping it firmly, watching you tremble in pleasure. “The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, got it?”

You nod weakly, swallowing emotions as you quickly untie his robes, revealing his toned, perfect body, your hands shake as they touch his chest, feeling his strong muscles under your fingers. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“Shh.” He picks you up now, cock hard and heavy, already leaking precum when he picks you up, lifting your thigh as you sink into the bed, over the dark purple and gold silk covers, the black canopy enveloping the two of you in darkness. The incense lit earlier still linger in the air, mixing with the scent of Suguru, which makes you need him even more.

“Please, please…” You never beg, he wants to smirk down at you and gloat his victory, but he can't. All he can do is slide his tip right on your slit, groaning as he presses in, feeling your heat wrapping his cock.

“Fucking feel you, so tight, god. Slutty cunt is soaked, all for me?” You nod weakly, and then he thrusts his cock all the way inside to the fucking hilt, and you can’t bite back your scream, thankful the room is so far from the girls now, as he watches you and moans, sliding out and back in. “That’s it, she wants it so much, she’s so fucking greedy huh?”

“Shut up and f-fuck me- ah!” Suguru glares as he does just that, and you would smile at getting him all mad if you weren’t close to cumming from being so full, so stretched by his thick veiny cock.

“Talking shit? You’re still such a brat, tsk.” He’s raised your thighs then, bending you in a way you don’t think you can anymore, pausing when you whine out. “Here okay?” He asks softly, for a moment, then when you nod his sweetness is over, and Suguru Geto is fucking you hard, sure strokes that fuck your brain up until it can’t even function.

He knows it too, as he fucks into you, watching you shatter for him, balls slapping against your ass so heavy, so full of his seed ready to pump inside your eager hole, and you’re begging to be filled by him as he moves. Harder and harder, pressing your thighs further against you until he’s got you in a mating press, and you’re clinging to his biceps, nails digging in.

“That’s it, cum again, let me fucking feel you milk me, huh?” He’s nasty like this, filthy words flowing from his lips like poetry, and all you can do is nod - a girl who once said ‘fuck you’ is now saying-

“Fuck me, fuck me, please, yes!”

And Suguru delights in it, making his pretty wife a mess under him, feeling the hips that are wider from having his babies, seeing your breasts squish, a little milk leaking from them, and then he loses it. “Perfect cunt, she’s ready for all this cum, isn’t she?”

“Mnnnhh - ah! Suguru!” You’re unable to answer when he’s holding your thighs up and slamming his cock until you’re drooling, incoherent.

“Asked you - hah - a question, princess,” he has the audacity to say, in between heavy breaths, all you can do is cry out, as he holds back then, just when you’re about to cum, making you whine out. “Answer.”

“You’re such a - ah! - dick I swear, just lemme cum!” You’re digging your nails in his back so hard you leave marks, and he hisses, but you just turn him on more, making him fuck into you brutally now, pinning you under him so you can’t even squirm.

“Answer me.”

“No!”

“Now.”

“Fuck- ngh! Yes, yes, lemme cum, fuck!” He slams his cock deep and rolls his hips now, letting you finally cum all around him, milking his cock with your greedy cunt, he leans down and kisses you, swallowing your every sweet cry.

“That’s it, she wants all that cum, huh?” You nod weakly, tears of pleasure sneaking from the corners of your eyes, and then he pumps you full, moaning and entwining his hands with yours as the cum pulses so deep, and the two of you struggle to catch your breath. “Fuck, princess, taking me so good, huh? Made for me…”

“Mmhmm…” You’re breathless and exhausted when Suguru pulls back, kissing down and across your chest. The two of you lay there for a while each recovering, laughing, and tickling each other’s skin with gentle touches, grinning.

It’s so perfect here with him in this moment. All of the pain feels like a lifetime ago, not forgotten, but long, long forgiven.

“I’m never going this long without your perfect cunt again.” He touches your clit, making you jerk, laughing as he sucks your cum and his off his finger, moaning and kissing you again.

“I don’t wanna go that long either.” You sigh, kissing up his cheek now. “You know, I was thinking…” you trail off, slipping kisses across Suguru’s sweat slicked chest, he moans, his cock so sticky with cum pulsing again just at that, while his hand runs up and down your back.

“Should I fuck you again, so you can’t think?” He raises an arrogant dark brow, and you narrow your eyes, making him chuckle. “What?

“Well… I was thinking we should visit him.”

“VIsit who? Fuck…” You kiss at the base of his neck, making him tug you onto him, straddling his waist, cunt still coated and dripping his white milky liquid pouring down his dark happy trail, pooling in his flat belly button. He rubs your clit again, watching your eyes dilate, your hips shift. “God, look at the mess you’re making.”

“Mmhmm, but I mean visit Satoru.” Suguru’s scowl makes you giggle, he’s unreasonably jealous that you and Satoru stayed friends. It’s occasional calls, but he’s always mad as fuck afterward.

“Why are we bringing up Satoru when you’re dripping cum on me?” He slips you down, grabbing your hips now, thumbs pressing against the lines that Noa left, eyes feasting on your pretty body. “Look at you, fuck you’re perfect.”

“Am not even.”

“You are so perfect. C’mere.” He yanks you down now, your hair falling across his chest, as he cups your face with one hand, the other making you grind on him. You cry out at the contact, earning his smirk. “Shut you up.”

“N-no! I think it would be good f-for you- you’re distracting me!?”

“Sure am.” You pull up and scowl, so adorable he melts like he always does, sighing as he stares up at you in the dark night. “Fine, we can visit him.”

“Yay! It’ll be good for you, your friend seeing you again. I know it.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll talk about that after I put another baby inside you.” You gasp then, when he’s lifted you, dragging you right back down his length, filling you in one quick stroke, making you scream out, shaking as the burn hits, feeling so fucking good when he bottoms out in your cunt, loud, wet and messy. He bites that lower lip, lashes lowering, while you struggle to breathe.

“You use your cock to distract me, huh?” He answers with a smirk, slamming his cock up inside you then, you cling to his chest, while his hands drift you your hips, and your cunt is spasming. “No more babies yet.”

“Sure, Princess, whatever you say.” You both glare at each other, before they turn into faces of pleasure, before joking little teases morph into cries and moans, before he’s filled you up again, and again, until you’re collapsed against him, so weak and worn out.

You don’t believe him one bit when he’s waking you up and fucking into you, cumming inside you so much your tummy is full of him, not when he grips your chin with that feral look in his fucking eyes - no, Suguru Geto does want more babies, and you can’t say you mind. Not when having his baby was the best thing that happened, and not when you aren’t dying to give him more.

“I love you, Princess.” He murmurs, stroking you from behind, you gasp and arch your back, whining into his kisses.

“I love you, Suguru.” And you fall again, into the arms of a man that once was a monster, but now was simply…

Your Suguru.

Ahhh so if you read both ends, I hope you enjoyedd, if you only read this I also hope you enjoyed. I initially only planned the bittersweet end, but I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH. Thanks for everyone who stuck around and commented and shared your thoughts on this story. See you in the othersss <3

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[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[dark-konohagakure2]

Sephiroth obsessed with clouds little sister gets jealous and noncons her, maybe she's a virgin still too

tw: noncon, age difference, size difference, revenge sex, dacryphilia, kidnapping, virginity loss, obsession, degradation

All characters depicted are 18+

Sephiroth despises Cloud, but that doesn't stop him from having a twisted obsession with the young man, ever since he burned down Nibelheim and seemingly killed the boy's family, but when Sephiroth finds out that Cloud has a younger sister who survived the Nibelheim incident, Sephiroth knows that he's just found his newest obsession.

Sephiroth is the ultimate SOLIDER and a force of nature in his own right, so he can easily find the weak civilian girl who is living all on her own, without any big strong elder brother to protect her from whatever monsters might be out there looking for her.

His sudden appearance at her door is quite the shock to the girl, there isn't a single person in the entire world who doesn't know who Sephiroth is, so the fact he's now at her door greatly confuses and scares her, but before she can even ask why he's there, Sephiroth is already roughly grabbing the poor girl.

Sephiroth is an incredibly strong and tall man, towering over almost every human he encounters, so it's as easy as crushing an ant underboot for him to hold her down and tear off her clothes, and he'll let his intentions and reasons for what he's doing be known to her very quickly.

"Dying in that fire would have been a merciful fate for you, little insect. Now look at you, completely at my mercy, how sad..."

Sephiroth doesn't have a lot of experience with more human things such as sex and closeness despite his slew of admirers, he knows what sex is, but to him it's just a way to degrade and assert dominance over people, and that is exactly what Sephiroth is going to do to her.

The SOLIDER isn't the slightest bit gentle when he fucks her, why would he be? She's a bug while he's practically a god among men, humans like her only exist for his ends, and right now his end is getting off and hurting Cloud via his sister, a goal he won't lose sight of even when he's balls deep in the struggling girl and feeling his skin against her own.

Sephiroth isn't completely immune to arousal however, he is a man after all, and he can't deny the way his cock throbs and leaks inside of her at the sensation of her virginity giving way to his fat cock, or the way his hips speed up slightly when he catches sight of tears streaming down her pretty little face, he makes sure to commit all those lovely sights to memory.

He wants to degrade the young woman as much as possible simply for the crime of existing as his enemy's beloved sister, so he's going to keep her as his cumdump for quite some time, forcing her to fulfil the purpose that he believes all humans serve; being useful to him and his ends.

"You're pathetic, just like that dear brother of yours. But fortunately for the both of us, you're never going to see that useless boy ever again, you belong to me now."

Sephiroth finds himself rather entertained by his newest toy, especially due to her resemblance to his arch nemesis, but his amusement with her doesn't save her from his wrath, because Sephiroth will discard of her the moment she isn't fun to play with anymore.

[wh0reforoldmen]

Okay, before I go to sleep, I just wanna spill a few HCs about Vergil and how he would be having feelings for you. I'll expand on this when I am more alive.

Warnings: Not beta read, written on my phone.

People claim that he's a shy guy, but I just think that he's quiet because he doesn't know how to talk to people apart from arguing. This is because of his time with Mundus and how he only interacted with demons with a mask on, literally. So he's rarely had the time to actually explore himself and talk to humans, let alone his son, or you.

So, when he first met you, he was quiet and admiring you from far away, watching with interest as you helped Nico with her new experiment.

He knows what he's feeling. He's not some guy who is confused about feelings. Vergil knows what happiness, sadness, guilt, anger, ect, he knows what they are, and he may have felt them before, he may not. However, he will reject those feelings and bury (the light) them deep within himself so that they stop showing. He's very emotionally mature and self-aware surprisingly.

He may read his poetry, and his mind subconsciously associates certain poems to you, or while he was doing anything. You just slither your way into his mind, and he hates it. He doesn't want to get close to anyone, not because he's scared.

But because feelings get in the way of his goal: power. He wants power. That's all he wants. He doesn't want to be that helpless little boy again, and feelings like this are just getting in the way. However, no matter how many times he tells himself this, he still feels an attraction to you. Your face, laugh, your scent still finding a way in his mind, and he hates it.

I also firmly believe that it'll be an enemies to lovers type thing, he's pushing you away so that he doesn't feel more of a draw to you, you won't get hurt by his hand, and just his need for power is stopping him.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request the HCs with female Isekai'd Darling (from our universe) and characters from: D.Gray-Man - Millennium Earl (human form), Tyki Mikk, Komui Lee, Kanda Yuu and Allen Walker; BSD - Mori, Fyodor; JJK - Geto, Toji, Nanami?

I have already done this concept with Fyodor in the past.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, guilt-tripping, isolation, abduction

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Isekai'd darling

Mori Ougai

🍷​If you ever desire to curse someone for the fate that awaits you in this world then curse no one but little Elise. It is Mori's ability which alerts him of your presence as she senses that there is something different about you. Normally there is little interest that she ever expresses in others so her declaration that there is something different about you perks his interest just a bit. Are you an enemy? If you should prove yourself to be an obstacle then there is no doubt that Mori will get rid of you. Yet upon initial observation you look lost and overwhelmed more than anything else. It could all be just a bluff as Mori knows the one or other thing about a fake appearance to fool others as his gaze follows you, trying to search for any indications that will give you away. Perhaps you feel the eyes of the evil resting on you though, a cold sensation that travels down your spine as you carefully turn your head around as your gut churns as if warning you that there is something terrible about to happen. When you meet the magenta eyes watching you it is already over. You are unable to hide the recognition, the fear as you are met with a man you know to be a dangerous person.

🍷​As both of you are in a public space there is no grand spectacle that Mori can summon as of now but the predatory grin that he gives you with a tilted head is message enough. You know something that you shouldn't know. For that alone he cannot allow you to roam free. Abducting you is relatively easy as soon as the night falls and you stumble still blindly around without a concrete goal in mind. You are not killed as of now though as there still remains the question to be asked where you came from. A question that you struggle to answer and one that More can't find any answers to either. He has caught something within his net that he is unable to identify and that intrigues him but also means that if you do not cooperate will mean torture for you. It is this aspect that forces the answers quickly out of your mouth, praying that Mori will believe your words. It is obvious from the way that he tilts his head and the way his magenta eyes seemingly look into your soul that he tries to decipher if your words are a lie. When he finds nothing though does he start considering your words. You do not strike him as the deceiving type. No, you appear much too honest for that.

🍷​Your abilities would be of great use to him over the course of the story considering that you can predict the events that will go down and Mori plans to abuse that, marking your position as a precious prisoner. There are no games of pretend played from his side considering that you already know just what he is capable of which means that you get relatively early on a front seat to the cruelities that he is capable of. You are a unique chest piece on the board that defies the known positions and perhaps that is why he treasures you so much and keeps such a smothering hold of you. You fascinate him like no other does which kickstarts his entire obsession with you, accompanied by frilly dresses, pink ribbons and a new life as his darling doll. You are kept close to his side under all means necessary with your only playmate being Elise. It is a sad and lonely life that you lead but Mori is not quite as composed as the eye may perceive. No, he is painfully aware that even you have no idea how you got here or if you will ever return and it is this nagging what-if scenario that only serves to make his whole obsession more suffocating as he smothers you every day with the fear that by the next you might be gone.

Allen Walker

🔴​Allen is no ordinary human for he not only houses a Noah within his soul but his left arm and his cursed eye will also perceive what his human eye is unable to perceive. If it wouldn't be for those listed factors it is likely that it would take the boy a lot longer to catch on to your secrets. Yet Nea senses that you are no normal person, a first stirring of curiosity which carries over to Allen. His arm senses a strange energy coursing through your entire body when he touches you, an energy unlike anything he has ever experienced. And then there is his cursed eye which is able to see your soul but not trapped within an Akuma but within this very world, a sight that he struggles to process and understand the first time his cursed eye observes you. Allen hesitates to tell you what he senses but now that he has been made aware that there is something very different about you he realises that you indeed act very strange. Customs, fashion and the daily way of life seem to be such foreign concepts to you yet at the same time you harbor more knowledge about Akuma, the Exorcists and even the Noah family when he briefly mentions them to you. Allen doesn't believe you to be an enemy though.

🔴​Eventually he is led to talk to you about the things that he has discovered, partially influenced by Nea who feels a growing urge to understand what he doesn't you. His brain needs comedically long to properly grasp your words though as the idea of the existence of another world is something out of old alchemists fantasies even with the world filled with mysteries that Allen lives in. What he understands immediately though is your desire to return home and with that he wishes to help you though he has no idea who to ask or where to even start. The situation is not made easier by the fact that not even you seem to know why you landed in this place in the first place but Allen remains optimistic, especially since you are prone to drown in your pessimism. That is the start of the journey that the two of you take as Allen is not only a familiar face to you but also capable of protecting you from the dangers of this world which you might otherwise fall victim to. Additionally Allen fears that the Noah family might come for you if the Earl were to find out about your unique existence. Having you as his companion makes him feel less lonely as he has someone to talk to, the beginning of his growing affection.

🔴​It is the growing discomfort that he feels whenever you bring up the feelings of longing and the homesickness that you feel the longer you are stuck with him in this world. It's a terribly selfish notion that even Allen can recognise as such. As much as he would like to blame those feelings of obsession on Nea though, he knows that some of those thoughts and feelings are born from his heart and not from Nea's. He shouldn't feel that way as you don't belong in this world which is filled with so much more horror than your own home yet his heart is weeping and screaming whenever he imagines the day where you disappear and return to your own place. Thoughts of your laughter and your smile haunt him even in his dreams, venomous words from Nea threatening to seep into the essence of his mind. He doesn't dare to voice any of his internal struggles as the two of you continue your journey though. Actions are still taken as his own feelings of selfishness start to mingle with the good intentions that still exist in his heart. He avoids people who he fears might know of your transportation from one world to another, delays the entire journey to have as much time with you for himself as he can.

Kanda Yu

💙​You are brought to the Black Order precisely because you seek their help out and offer them in return your services as you decide to sell the knowledge that you posses in order to get home. A fair offer, a valuable offer which they cannot pass on as otherwise you might seek out the Noah family. For that sake you are delivered to the head quarters where you meet Yu for the first time. The moment his cold eyes rest on you, you already know that he does not have a high opinion of you. Whenever he is around you there is this burning silence that you desperately wish to break yet you do not dare to utter a single sound as you fear that he would not appreciate that at all. Yu is someone who has been trusted with your true identity and it is precisely because of that knowledge that he doesn't feel comfortable with you. It feels lika a breach of his own privacy that you know so much about his past, his present and his future which he doesn't want you to know. His attitude is borderline rebellious as he constantly tries to go against the knowledge that you have to prove that his future is not carved in stone. The first few months his behavior is colder than the snow storms in Antarctica.

💙​It takes him a lot of time to slowly warm up to your presence and to treat you kinder as he starts not treating the time with you as an order that he begrudgingly finishes because it is his job. That doesn't mean that things are suddenly all sunshine and rainbow between the two of you. The tension is still there though now it shifts into awkwardness which is in some aspects worse as you recognise his subtle attempts to be a tad bit nicer to you only to unintentionally say something or do something rude and cold once again when he retreats as he senses the awkwardness of the situation. Still, baby steps get the two of you somehwere until the atmosphere between you eases and becomes more bearable for the both of you. Sometimes you even tell him of the life you have led in your own world though you never try to talk too much as you don't think that he would appreciate if you were to ramble his ears full. Truth be told, you don't even know if he is listening at all sometimes but you just need to get your emotions sometimes out of your chest. Yu is in fact listening though he never utters a single word, absorbing your feelings and words silently.

💙​The beginning of his obsession puts the two of you almost back to level zero as his feelings threaten to crush and overwhelm him, clawing at his icy composure that he has always kept around him. His obsession alienates Yu from you. He takes more missions in order to spend less time with you but never dares to ask Komui to be excused from his guard duty permanently, afraid that the head of the branch will catch on to his troubling emotions. In your absence the possessive feelings grow though, the uncomfortable knowledge that you seek a way to return to your own home with the help of the Black Order. Against his better judgement he meddles with the entire process as he needs to know how far the research has already gotten and if there has been any way found to bring you back. When he finds out that there still has been no theory made how to bring you back, something within Yu eases as he finds himself to be less agitated and on edge. His priorities shift once more with time as he settles into his obsession as he suddenly insits on taking over most of the guard duties, viewing other Exorcists as too incompetent and inexperienced to look after you and protect you.

Komui Lee

👓​Komui observes you the first time you are brought into his office with a confusing mixture of caution, fascination and the silliness that most of his co-workers are familiar with. Though he may not look like it, there is a deeper understanding of the humans ways and feelings that he has adopted over the years that he has been the head of the European Branch. He trusts his ability to inspect a person and figure out whether they have bad intentions or not. You do not strike him as someone who has a bad thought in their head, your demeanor instead scared, lonely and lost. Still, it is the vast amount of knowledge that you possess that has been the reason why you were brought into the headquarters to begin with as Lenalee picked you up during a mission after you confined a worrying amount of information to her that no one is supposed to know. Komui spends the entire time pouring you coffee and offering you biscuits as you honestly confess to him what has happened, who you are, from where you are and how you got here. By all accounts it is a story that no one should believe yet he does not sense a single lie in your face nor can your words of knowledge and wisdom be ignored.

👓​The Black Order is quite happy to keep you protected and within their reach as the knowledge that you have might just ensure their victory against the Noah family and their goals. They agree to help you to find a way back but only if you share with them everything that you know. Komui is one of them. He has not abandoned his humanity and he sees how much pressure is put on you, pressure he attempts to shield you from as good as possible. At the same time he is dedicated to the course and the goal of the Black Order. Your knowledge could save lives and reduce the casualties that the organisation so often suffers. It could save his younger sister from death or vast injuries if you simply share everything that you know will happen in the future. As the head of the European Branch he spends surprisingly much time with you though not solely for extracting information from you. No, in fact he uses you as an excuse to avoid his paperwork as he only appears to question you about important matters when in reality he is just chatting excitedly with you about your own world, fascinated to hear about how it works all whilst relentlessly pouring you coffee and feeding you biscuits.

👓​Very much in tune with his emotions despite his silly exterior, Komui is a surprisingly terrifying person to have in such a situation. He has one of the highest positions attainable, your life in those headquarters is pretty much in his hands and all scientific research to find a way to bring you back home can and will be stalled by him. He has always been confronted with difficult decisions that have made him look more than once like a heartless person yet deep down he has always felt guilt and pain. The decision he makes after he has acknowledged his obsession with you goes through no different process of emotions. Behind the scenes he starts meddling with the research, informs himself of any theories that might have been created only to find a way to rebunk them and might even put the research on pause for a longer while. None of that reaches your ears though as he lies perfectly to your face, keeps up that peculiar and strange facade around you to distract you from digging too deep. You cannot leave. You are much too valuable for the Black Order and the lives that he partially holds responsibility over. You're much too precious to him too, his feelings something he knows he can't stop.

The Millenium Earl/Adam

🎃​Adam is bound to sense that there is something special about you, an energy that he has never felt in any other human before. No Innocence but something entirely different that draws him to you. What exactly it is is something that he fails to put his finger around and so he decides to ask no one but Wisely to take a deeper look into your thoughts. What the younger Noah reveals to him afterwards surpasses anything that he could have ever predicted and immediately he knows that he has to have you. Not yet as adam but as the Earl who would greatly profit from having someone who knows so much about the future of this world as well as its past and hidden secrets. Eager to finally meet you himself, the Millenium Earl decides to take on the role of your abductor. Your horror is kindly ignored as he introduces himself to you with that signature bright grin on his face. His voice filled with the eagerness and the thrill of having someone as valuable on his side and hopefully achieve his goal before you are put into unconsciousness and are carried back by another Noah. As the Earl he is quite different, his words sweet but always laced with subtle threats if you should not comply.

🎃​The moment he reveals himself as Adam to you all of that changes. His human form is only something that he shows you after he has already gained his obsession for you and has realised that as the Millenium Earl he is bound to always frighten you no matter how kind he might try to be. The guilt seems to fully hit him whenever he is Adam as he reconsiders the behavior he exhibits around you as the Earl and even he has to silently recoil when he realises just how borderline creepy he tends to be in his other form. In this form he attempts to undo as much of that damage as possible though deep down he is still understanding if you are still too frightened to spend much time with him even in his human form. Pressure is on from the other members of the Noah family though who all have long recognised the Earl's feelings and fully back him up even though not all of them necessarily hold the highest opinion of you. Considering your peculiar circumstances though the blow of their dislike might be softened though. They often force you in situations where you are stuck with him. Adam knows of those attempts and whilst he doesn't fully support them, he doesn't stop them either.

🎃​Wailing guilt crashes with a biological need to keep you with him, to always have you by his side. Your longing for your family and true home pain him. How could they not for he is also all too familiar with the loss of family? Yet his very soul is weeping with the thought of assisting you to find a way back home. He loves you after all. It may not be the love in fairy tales but he views it as a pure love nevertheless. Adam is very open with those wishes to you, desperate to have you understand even if only a bit. He's only met with tears and betrayal, a sight that cuts so much deeper than Innocence ever could. His decision may waver with such incidents but it never crumbles for his need to love you and have you outweights everything else. You are a part of this family now and he dearly hopes that eventually you will grow to accept that and even love your new life here. That future is not guaranteed though as Adam knows that even your arrival remains elusive, a riddle unsolved. The phenomenon may struck again though, only that it might take you back to your own world this time. A thought so terrible that it only fuels him to cling to you tighter, pleading in his heart for you to not disappear.

Tyki Mikk/Joyd

🦋​Tyki is no ordinary human. He is something more than that and it is his Noah which reacts so strongly to your presence, something that stands out from the crowd of other humans. There's something different about you but it is no Innocence. It is something that not even Joyd can categorise and it is the failure to understand what makes you so different from the rest that puts unbeknown to you a target on your back. He may not eliminate you as he still needs to learn what it is that makes you so different but if you should turn out to be a threat he will be forced to do something. For now Tyki decides to spy on you though in hopes of figuring you out. His human form has always worked as a disguise yet never before has he seen such a reaction from any human before. Distrust, wariness, a gaze that seemingly transcends what a human eye should perceive. It is a short spark in your gaze but it is a spark of recognition nevertheless, one that lets him know that he has been found out before he could have done anything. If you know so much about him already, what do you know about the rest of his family? Some part itches to get rid of the potential threat but he is civilised enough to allow you an explanation.

🦋​He struggles to believe you when you see yourself backed against a wall and forced to reveal to him what you are. Yet he does not sense any dishonesty on your face. Your story seems rather far-stretched though and you sense that he is struggling to accept that story. With no other option left as you have already caught his eye now you offer yourself that he could ask his nephew Wisely to read your mind. The casual mention of a member of his family as well as the awareness of his abilities startles him, his eyes narrowing in hostility before he reluctantly agrees. The hostility is partially replaced when it turns out that you are speaking the truth but that is quickly snuffed out by hesitation and a cluelessness on how to treat someone like you now. The Earl seems rather keen on keeping you though. Your knowledge would be useful in their hands and he cannot let you be found by the Black Order. Additionally you are such a special human, from a new world completely. Now, Tyki feels a tad bit guilty for essentially making you a prisoner of the Noah family and he attempts his best to provide you with some sense of normalcy amongst all of the chaos you are stuck in.

🦋​Perhaps it is your knowledge that allows you to bear more understanding for his family even though you don't agree with all of their goals. Nevertheless, you are indeed a very strange human and that stirs a growing fascination that Tyki and even Joyd have for you. He's a member of this family who spends arguably the most time with you and has plenty of chances to discover your personality and little quirks. A sick pride and possessiveness fills his chest whenever you entrust him with your thoughts and secrets, basking in the knowledge that you reveal so much of yourself to him. His human side and his Noah side are quite torn apart as his obsession festers. However, your freedom is not a decision that he is capable of making, no matter how guilty Tyki may feel. You have already gotten too deeply involved with his family to escape and it is this unchangable fact that has Joyd almost purring. You're not going anywhere after all. He lays claim on you pretty soon, something that all other Noah realise pretty soon with the way he behaves around you. The Earl welcomes it, giddily proclaims you as a new family member. As part of the family they will find a way to forever keep you in this world.

Fushiguro Toji

🪱​The decision to actually save Toji is one that is surprisingly hard for you, especially once you meet the man himself. Still struggling to settle in this world, it is an almost mocking twist of fate that you end up working in the tiny restaurant where he often likes to hang out. He has an infamous reputation in that place due to his rude and cocky personality and it is not hard for you to see why. After all he is quite an unbearable jerk. And the smell! He reeks like he has been sharing a rubbish bin with racoons as his home. It costs you quite a few customers and against your better judgement you make the unfortunate decision to stand up against him. After all the owner of this place was kind enough to offer you a job and you will not have your wobbly life be ruined all because of him. He only gives you a lazy glance when you start lecturing him angrily, demand of him to be at least a little bit less of a jerk and behave himself. Then he goes back to ignoring you, infuriating you even more. You persist though until you finally manage to get on his nerves and he towers over you in all of his glory. God, you are terrified but stubbornly refuse to be intimidated by him. Oh, you only end up making everything worse.

🪱​Toji finds your presence to be quite amusing as you become his favorite plaything to rile up and make all angry and mad whenever he visits the place you work in. He seems to genuinely enjoy messing with your emotions if you would have to judge based on that shitty smirk on his face every time you lose your temper. He appreciates the bit of spunk that you have and the pathetic attempts of yours to have him behave better. Do you believe that you can fix him or some shit like that? You are the only person he has actual interactions with though most of them exist of him provoking you and watching as you look like you're torn apart between crying or screaming though you always hold it in and just glare stubbornly at him as you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Still, you keep up with him and deep down some part of him appreciates that. You're a little mystery yourself as he has one time actually tried to look into your past out of boredom only to find nothing. He isn't bothered by that though as he lives only in the present and the only thing that matters somewhat that he gets to be entertained by your antics. Everything boils down to when you spot him with Shiu Kong and realise that his death is close.

🪱​You try to be friendly, try to stir him away from that path only to be rudely told off. His insensitive words tip you over the edge and that is when you explode and reveal far too much only to conclude that you won't give a shit then and he can die if he wants to. No one will miss him. In the next moment he slams you against the wall, his fists cracking the solid material behind him. Your words have triggered memories he has been pushing away and now you have brought it all back. How do you know all of that? He leaves you no choice, smells your dishonesty and refuses to let you go until you have spat everything out. For the first time he actually finds his demeanor shaken, the troubling emotions even briefly visible on his face before he pushes it all down. Then he just knocks you out and brings you into some cheap hotel where people won't question him carrying your unconscious form into the room. When you wake up, there are a lot of things that he would like to talk about with you. He doesn't feel like dying, a notion that has only recently spawned into existence because of you. You know, maybe he will listen to your advice. He has other plans. Plans that involve you in every aspect.

Geto Suguru

​🗻​Monkeys. Filth that Suguru believes has to be eradicated from this earth as peace will only exist in a society with sorcerers. Non-sorcerers are worthless as they produce the very curses so many sorcerers die for. Suguru sees the curses, senses Cursed Energy. However, around you he senses absolutely nothing. No Cursed Energy leaking out of you, no negative emotions that would only produce more curses. Your very presence is an anomaly as even curses pass you as if your presence is invisible to them. Your very existence is a great irritation to Geto who has always believed sorcerers to be the superior humans. You should by all accounts be a monkey as you do not see the curses around you yet at the same time curses have such a peculiar reaction to you as they cannot sense you properly nor can they latch on you. He doesn't know what you are as you are neither a sorcerer nor a monkey and that triggers Geto more than it should. It's like your very existence is a thorn in his eyes. He observes you with great hostility as he tries to figure out who you are. When he approaches you, he hides all of his ill feelings though. Only for you to stir away from him as if he is the plague.

​🗻​That certainly triggers him. You dare to treat him like that? You, a monkey who has no worth to your existence? Oh, now you have provoked and angered him. The abduction is sped up and he willingly allows the people he sends out to be rougher with you as you have punched his ego the wrong way. His face reveals all of his emotions when you are thrown in front of his feet. The disgust, the anger and above all that frustration of not knowing in which category he should put you in. He attempts to intimidate you, to reveal to you of his world and all of the curses yet his eyebrow can only twitch when that triggers no shock or fear out of you. Instead you look at him before firing right back at him, revealing that you already know. You know? How do you know? You cannot see curses! You have no Cursed Energy! It is pitiful as you observe how he loses his temper in front of you for a few seconds and the way you look at him only damages his ego further. It takes him more willpower than it should to regain his composure, his eyes narrowing before he grabs your chin harshly. Oh, he will teach you how to behave properly in front of someone like him. He will figure you out.

​🗻​Suguru forces you through a lot, doesn't stop until he has the information that he desires and the respect he believes you owe him. The truth you do reveal to him though not out of fear but spite when you manage to trigger his temper and he seethes about the useless existence of your kind. That shuts him up for a good while. You even imagine a glimpse of terror on his face before he storms out of your room. Indeed, you have seen fear within him. He tries to ignore the words, attempts to have you admit that you have been lying to him but even if he were to force you to say it, the truth would still be in your eyes. The news of his death shake him, the knowledge that his body will be used for other goals even more. In front of your seemingly all-knowing gaze he suddenly feels vulnerable and exposed and he despises that feeling. There has been a gravid shift in the power dynamics between him and you and it has tilted in favor of you. No matter what he does, the damage is there and is there to stay as well. Still, Suguru refuses to let you leave. You know too much, are too valuable even though it pains him to admit that. He will fix that twisted imbalance between the two of you though. You just wait.

Nanami Kento

💛​As a sorcerer Nanami is bound to notice that there is something off about you as soon as he meets you but he decides that as long as you are no danger to others, he will not dig too deep into the matter. You do not question him too deeply about his past and he decides to return that favor out of respect. You struggle within your own life a lot as you seem to be new to the city and try to find the right balance yet you are always very kind to him when you see him. Almost too kind in Nanami's opinion as you try your hardest even when you had a visibly bad day. He assures you time and time again that it is not neccessary for you to be that kind-hearted to him but you always insist until he just caves in. He doesn't mind the occasional appreciation but yours feels excessive to the point where Nanami gets suspicios. Something feels wrong even though he cannot wrap his finger around it. The more suspicious he gets though, the more he starts paying attention to your strange existence. You are no sorcerer yet you do not create any Cursed Energy. You are not like Maki though which leaves him with little clues to work with. Your behavior around him is strange as well, the sadness and guilt in your glances confusing the man.

💛​He doesn't believe you to be a bad person but the longer time passes, the more the lack of information about you as well as the unusual way of your very existence start to bother him. Time has forged a tight bond between the two of you, one that has made Nanami very attached to you. After a long and tiring day you seem to be the light at the end of the tunnel, a little paradise where he can just relax for a while. With that attachment follows a need to protect you though, to know about where you are at which time so he can assure that nothing will happen to you. He is not blind to his emotions for you, knows what they entail yet it has never been as difficult for him to control his feelings as it is when he is with you. In his future where he so far has only seen him enjoying his retirement he suddenly envisions you by his side, an image that refuses to be pushed away. Subtle attempts to question you about your past are usually quickly shot down by you yet the flicker of guilt is always there and it starts to bother him more and more. Once he starts courting you do you end up rumbling, the guilt eating you out alive. You can't do this anymore.

💛​You sit down with him, you confess everything to him. Initially you can see that he doesn't believe you but the more you start revealing, the more you notice the shift in your expression and body language. When you get to the Shibuya Incident and arrive at his death he suddenly shuts you up, his lips pressed into a thin line. He needs a few seconds before he finds the strength and the right words to speak again, immediately asking you if you have told anyone else. When you shake your head he instantly warns you sternly to not tell another soul. Everyone would try to either eliminate or capture you to make use of you power if word were to slip out. This is a secret that will remain between him and you for now, for your own safety. Everything makes sense to him now. The kindness you always showed him, the guilt he would always see when you were looking at him. All because in the future he is going to sacrifice himself. All the information you have entrusted him with haunt him at night and rob him of his sleep, a simmering frustration as he realises that there may not be a future for him. If there is no possibility for a future with you, at least give your presence to him and let him be selfish just a bit.

[highprettybabyy]

Seeing Red

Part 13 - New Roots

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: they tend to the garden and bid goodbye to the previous owners

warnings: enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore, some angst, some fluff, alcohol consumption

AN: this one might get sad idk

word count: 4.4k

Part 12

—//—

You woke to the sound of snoring.

Not the light, human kind of snore either - but something closer to a sputtering engine mixed with a wet rasp.

You blinked blearily into the golden light filtering through the cracked curtains.

The dog was sprawled full-length across you and Jenna, his giant body half-crushing your legs, tongue lolling messily out of the side of his mouth. One of his back paws kicked softly in his sleep, toes twitching like he was chasing rabbits in his dreams.

You shifted slightly under his weight, groaning low.

Jenna grunted from somewhere under his other paw, pushing at his bulk uselessly with her hand.

“God, he’s heavy,” she mumbled into the pillow.

You tried to wiggle free, succeeding only in jostling him enough that his tail flopped onto your chest like a dead weight.

You laughed softly, careful not to wake him completely. "Well, he's definitely ours now."

Jenna opened one bleary eye, fixing you with a look. “You say that like we had a choice.”

You grinned and rubbed behind the dog's ear, feeling the soft rumble of his contented snores under your palm. He was warm, solid, a living, breathing miracle in a world where miracles felt few and far between.

Eventually, you managed to untangle yourselves without waking him fully. He just shifted with a grunt and rolled into the warm dent you left behind, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

You and Jenna tiptoed through the quiet villa, stretching out sore muscles and exchanging sleepy smiles.

The morning felt lazy and slow, the kind of peace that was rare enough to be sacred.

You fed the dog - after checking the house thoroughly - filling his bowl with kibble and fresh water, smiling as he barrelled into the kitchen like a freight train the second he smelled it. His tail wagged so hard it rattled a stack of empty bowls on the counter.

Breakfast for you and Jenna was simpler - leftover bread toasted over a small gas burner, spread with peanut butter and the last of the honey you’d found in the pantry. You ate perched on the kitchen counters, legs dangling, quietly planning the day ahead.

“We should stay put for a while,” Jenna said, licking honey from her thumb. “Until you’re back to full strength.”

You nodded, grateful she’d said it first. Even though you were healing, your body still ached in deep, exhausting ways you couldn’t always hide. You felt guilty about it though, feeling like you're slowing down progress. Then again - you had time to build the future.

"Besides," Jenna continued, nudging your knee with hers, "we’ve got enough to do around here."

You raised your mug of lukewarm tea in a mock salute. “Operation Revive the Apocalypse Farm?”

Jenna smirked. "You got it, boss."

You drained the last of your tea and hopped off the counter, wiping your hands on your pants. "Come on. Let's get dirty."

-

The garage was a treasure trove.

Dust coated everything, but beneath it all, you found exactly what you needed: spades, rakes, trowels, shears, and of course - the somewhat worn wheelbarrow that was thankfully still functional.

You grabbed an armful of supplies while Jenna poked around the shelves, occasionally letting out little victorious noises when she found something useful.

“Hey,” she called after a few minutes, tossing something toward you.

You caught it reflexively.

It was a bright orange and blue tennis ball, scuffed and dirt-stained but still perfectly good.

You laughed, holding it up. The dog, who had been dozing in a sunbeam just outside the door, lifted his head sharply - nose twitching, tail beginning to thud against the ground.

"Guess we found someone’s motivation," Jenna said, grinning.

You tucked the ball into your jacket pocket, making a mental note to give it to him later - a reward after the day’s work, or maybe later when you needed a little break.

You and Jenna hauled your tools into the garden, the early sun warm on your shoulders.

The space looked even bigger now that you really took it in.

The soil was rough and uneven, weeds choking out the old planting beds. The remnants of last year’s harvest stood wilted and grey in the cold air. The animal pens were empty, the gates creaking mournfully in the breeze.

It would take a lot of work.

But it could be beautiful again.

You split the tasks easily, wordlessly - like you’d been doing it forever.

Jenna moved toward the still-living patches first, plucking ripe strawberries, digging up carrots, pulling handfuls of beans from sagging trellises. She hummed quietly to herself as she worked, a sound you found yourself smiling at without thinking.

You knelt by the abandoned beds, pulling up dead plants and tossing them into the wheelbarrow to wheel off to a growing compost pile near the fence. Your gloves turned black with soil. Sweat began to bead on your forehead despite the cool air.

You didn’t mind.

Every yank of a dead vine, every cleared patch of dirt, felt like carving out a future.

At one point, Jenna appeared at your side, a fat, sun-warmed strawberry in her palm.

She offered it wordlessly.

You leaned in and bit half of it, the taste exploding on your tongue - sweet, messy, alive.

You grinned around your mouthful and she laughed, wiping a bit of juice from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

The dog supervised from a sunny patch near the garden shed, his nose twitching at every new smell, tail wagging lazily.

Hours passed like that - soft laughter, quiet conversation, the scrape of shovels against dirt.

For the first time in a long time, the world didn’t feel like it was ending.

It felt like it was just beginning.

-

After a few hours of clearing and tending the garden, you and Jenna both ended up lounging on the back steps, muddy, tired, and grinning like idiots.

Jenna wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then stood with a groan, stretching her arms high over her head. Her shirt rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of her stomach, and you pretended not to notice.

“I’m making something,” she announced cryptically, disappearing inside with a wave of her hand.

You laughed softly to yourself, leaning against the railing as you watched the dog gnaw happily on a branch he'd found. He was already looking healthier - the heavy sadness that had clung to him when you'd first found him was beginning to lift.

You decided to go inside too, heading through the wide sliding doors that led from the kitchen to the garden. You grabbed one of the beach towels you'd found in a storage closet earlier - a massive, absurdly colourful thing with a bright sun printed on it - and carried it back outside, spreading it out across the softest patch of grass you could find.

You flopped down onto it with a soft groan, staring up at the sky.

The clouds drifted lazily overhead, fat and white and luminous against the early afternoon blue. For once, the world didn't feel heavy on your chest. It just... was. And that was enough.

A few minutes later, Jenna emerged from the kitchen, balancing two glasses carefully in her hands.

You sat up slightly, shading your eyes as she approached.

“Woooow,” you drawled, grinning up at her. “This looks almost as beautiful as you, Jenna.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re such a dork.”

She handed you a glass and dropped down beside you onto the towel, sitting cross-legged.

You took a cautious sip - and blinked in surprise.

It was sparkling water mixed with sharp lime, sweet mint syrup, and a sprig of actual fresh mint she'd picked from a planter pot near the door. It was cold and fizzy and bright, the taste exploding on your tongue.

You let out a happy noise, immediately taking another sip.

“This is amazing,” you said reverently.

Jenna bumped your shoulder with hers, smiling into her drink. “Figured we deserved something fancy.”

You clinked your glass against hers in a mock toast. “To fancy apocalypse living.”

“To not dying,” she added, deadpan.

You snorted.

The dog trotted over at the sound, ears perked, tail wagging. You threw the tennis ball across the yard, and he bounded after it with surprising grace for a dog his size. He retrieved it eagerly, trotting back toward you - but instead of dropping it into your hand like a good boy, he flopped onto the grass a few feet away, chewing it happily.

Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Traitor.”

You giggled, tossing a blade of grass at him.

He ignored you, too engrossed in his prize.

Eventually, you and Jenna lay back on the towel, your heads side by side, your arms brushing lightly every time one of you shifted.

You watched the clouds roll overhead, the occasional bird wheeling lazily through the sky.

“We should name him,” you said after a while, your voice soft, thoughtful.

Jenna hummed in agreement.

You lay in silence for a bit longer, just watching.

"How about Mickey?" you suggested finally, squinting up at a particularly bulbous cloud. "That one looks like a mouse - see? That’s the snout, and those are the giant ears."

Jenna made a face. “Mmm, the vibe’s not there. He’s not a Mickey.”

You laughed. "True."

“What about Spark?” she offered, pointing at another cloud that looked vaguely like a firecracker.

“Eh. I don’t know…” you wrinkled your nose.

Jenna shrugged, sipping her drink again. “Tough crowd.”

Another cloud drifted past - this one vaguely resembling a burger, thick and fluffy.

You both stared at it for a beat.

“That one looks like a burger,” Jenna said.

"Yeah," you agreed, "a little bit."

Another stretch of easy silence.

The wind stirred the tall grass. The ice in your glasses clinked gently every time you shifted. Birds chirped from the branches of the distant trees.

“That one looks like an angel,” Jenna said suddenly, her voice softer.

You followed her gaze - and yeah, you could see it. Wings, a soft round halo perched above.

You smiled. “It does.”

You heard her murmur it almost to herself.

“How about Angelo?”

The moment she said it, you felt a thud-thud-thud against the ground.

You both sat up slightly - and there he was.

The dog had dropped his ball and was staring at Jenna with wide, happy eyes, his tail wagging so hard it looked like it might lift him off the ground.

Your mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, hey sweetheart. Is Angelo your name?”

His tail somehow wagged harder, thumping against the ground in furious agreement.

Jenna laughed, pure and delighted, reaching out to ruffle his ears. “Hi, Angelooooo.”

At the sound of his name again, he barrelled toward you both at full tilt - sending your nearly empty glass flying into the grass.

You shrieked and scrambled backward, laughing breathlessly as he flopped down between you, rolling onto his back and wriggling with unabashed joy.

"Angelo, you silly goof," you said through your laughter, scratching his belly.

He huffed happily, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

Jenna grinned, shaking her head. “Well. It’s decided, then.”

You nodded, reaching over to clink your glass against hers again.

“To Angelo,” you said warmly.

"To family," Jenna added quietly.

Your chest tightened a little - but in the best way.

Because she was right.

-

The garden was nearly finished.

You and Jenna had spent the day elbow-deep in soil, sweat clinging to your backs, the sun tracing slow arcs across the sky. The overgrown beds were now cleared, the compost heap had grown fat with wilted plants, and the air smelled of mint and earth and something that felt like hope.

But there was still more to do.

Some plants needed pruning, the fences needed mending, and the grass had crept up to your knees in places.

Still, progress had been made.

As the afternoon light softened, you stood back to admire your work. Jenna wiped her brow with the back of her hand, smearing dirt across her cheek.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” she said, her voice tinged with satisfaction.

You nodded, feeling the ache in your muscles - a good ache, earned and honest.

Angelo trotted over, his tongue lolling, tail wagging lazily.

“Think he’s earned a walk?” Jenna asked, glancing at the dog.

You smiled. “I think we all have.”

You retrieved his leash from the hook by the door, the worn leather cool in your hands. Jenna gathered your weapons - just in case - and together, you stepped out into the open field behind the villa.

The grass swayed gently in the breeze, golden in the late afternoon sun. Birds chirped from the treetops, their songs light and carefree.

Angelo walked ahead, his nose to the ground, ears perked.

You followed the path that looped around the property, the trees casting dappled shadows across your path. The air was thick with the scent of pine and something sweeter - wildflowers, perhaps.

After about fifteen minutes, you reached the treeline parallel to the garden of the villa. A soft, rhythmic sound caught your attention - a gentle, persistent trickle.

“Do you hear that?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jenna nodded, her brow furrowed. “Water?”

You exchanged a glance, then stepped cautiously into the woods, Angelo close behind.

The forest was dense but not oppressive, the canopy filtering the sunlight into a mosaic of light and shadow. The birds continued their songs, unbothered by your presence - a good sign.

You moved deeper, about two hundred feet in, the sound of water growing louder with each step.

Then, through the trees, you saw it.

A lake.

It stretched out before you, its surface shimmering in the sunlight. A few old docks jutted out into the water, their wood weathered but sturdy. A small cabin sat nestled among the trees, its windows dark, door slightly ajar. A creek flowing into the lake was the source of the sound.

You approached the water’s edge, the lake lapping gently at the shore.

Angelo bounded forward, lowering his head to drink. You watched as he lapped up the cool water, his tail wagging contentedly.

“We should check out the cabin,” Jenna said, her eyes fixed on the structure.

You hesitated, glancing at the sky. The sun was beginning to dip.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you suggested. “We should head back before it gets dark.”

Jenna nodded, and together, you turned back toward the villa, Angelo trotting happily at your side.

-

The walk back toward the house had started out calm. Angelo trotted ahead, his tongue lolling happily, occasionally glancing back to make sure you were both still behind him. The golden-pink sunset painted the villa in soft light, the fields swaying gently in the breeze. For a moment, everything felt almost normal. As normal as the end of the world could feel.

You tightened your fingers around Jenna’s briefly, sharing a quiet look that didn’t need words. Maybe, just maybe, you were beginning to rebuild something.

And then- Angelo bolted.

He yanked free of the leash before either of you could react, sprinting toward the roadside hill where the bodies had been left - the same ones you hadn't yet found the strength to bury or burn.

“Angelo!” Jenna shouted, but he didn’t stop.

You both took off after him, your heart hammering painfully against your ribs. The soft earth sloped down sharply, gravel slipping beneath your boots. Angelo skidded to a halt by one of the corpses - a man in a tattered suit jacket, now crumpled and stiff with decay.

You and Jenna froze a few feet away, dread sinking into your bones like frostbite.

Angelo whined low in his throat and pressed his nose into the man’s jacket, nudging gently, as if trying to wake him. His tail, which had been wagging excitedly just moments ago, drooped low between his legs.

He moved to another body - a woman in a ruined red sequin dress. He sniffed her too, then sat down heavily beside her, lifting his mournful eyes back to you.

“Oh… buddy...” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Jenna’s face had gone pale, her hands curled into trembling fists at her sides. She moved forward numbly, crouching next to Angelo and reaching out - hesitating a moment before burying her fingers into his fur.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The dog leaned into her touch, pressing against her like he could understand every word. Like he forgave you for not being able to save them.

You didn’t hear Jenna’s first quiet sob - only saw the slight shudder of her shoulders.

You moved instinctively, kneeling down and wrapping your arms around her from behind, holding her together when her body started to break apart. Jenna let out a small, choked noise - so small you almost missed it - and then it was like the floodgates opened.

Silent tears gave way to shaking sobs, muffled against your jacket. You clutched her tighter, resting your cheek on the crown of her head, whispering whatever soft nonsense came to mind - it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.

The cruelty of it all hit you like a punch to the gut.

These people - whoever they were before the world fell apart - they were someone's family. They were Angelo’s family. They had birthdays, dinner parties, stupid arguments about the weather. They probably had Christmas lights on the villa every year. And now they were rotting in the front yard of what used to be their home. Just another grim monument to how fast everything had fallen apart.

You felt a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down.

Jenna clung to you, her fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket like she was afraid you might slip away too. You didn’t mind. You stayed right there, grounded in the dirt and grief and love, until her sobs slowly quieted and Angelo nosed at your side, his own silent mourning pressing against you both.

You stayed like that for a long time.

Because what else could you do?

-

The golden light caught on the tall grass and glinted off the glass panels along the back of the house. Angelo padded beside you, slower now, his tail swaying low and tired. His steps had lost their bounce.

You didn't blame him.

Neither of you spoke as you crossed the lawn, Jenna’s hand occasionally brushing yours but never fully reaching. Her face was unreadable, her eyes far away, like she’d left some part of herself by that patch of forest road where the realisation had settled like dust in her lungs.

Angelo had stayed close to the bodies for a while. Nudging the man’s sleeve. Pawing gently at the woman’s jacket. He hadn’t made a sound, but something in the silence had been louder than a howl ever could be.

By the time you reached the front steps, dusk was bleeding fully into the sky - streaks of apricot and lavender smeared across the clouds. The light would last a little longer, but not much.

It was time.

You fetched two clean tarps from the storage closet and a roll of thick gardening twine, neither of you needing to say what came next. There was no ceremony to the beginning - only shared understanding, and the quiet rhythm of a task that had to be done. You worked in tandem, as always now. Jenna held the tarp steady while you eased one of the corpses onto it. Albert Cohen - the one with the watch. You’d memorised his name earlier from his wallet. There was a photo in there too, worn and folded - a man with kind eyes and a slight belly standing beside a barbeque grill, laughing with a beer in his hand. You tucked it into your pocket.

Samantha Adler was next - the woman in the sequinned red dress. Her lipstick was still faintly visible, smudged at the corner of her mouth. Her hands were perfectly manicured, chipped only at the edges. You found a silver chain around her neck, with a heart-shaped locket holding two faces inside: a younger version of her, and a boy who looked just like her. You gave Jenna a soft glance. She nodded. You kept it.

The third was a woman in a pale blue sundress - Marie, according to the ID in her handbag. She still had flour under her nails, strangely enough. Or maybe it was just ash. There was a crumpled piece of paper in her coat pocket: a recipe. Banana muffins. Messy handwriting and all. Jenna found it. She didn’t say anything, just passed it to you with a look that made your throat tighten.

You laid each body down carefully on the tarmac at the end of the winding villa drive, downhill from the gate - far enough from the house, but close enough that they wouldn’t be alone. The tarps made it easier. Dignity preserved in the small things.

The others - nameless, faceless - followed. Some didn’t have ID. Some had nothing at all. But you searched every pocket. Every backpack. You didn’t want anyone to remain forgotten.

By the time the last body was placed, the sun had slipped behind the horizon, casting the sky in deep indigo. The lights of the villa glowed warm behind you, casting just enough light across the road to see the details in the shadows.

You and Jenna stood there for a long moment, wind rustling through the grass, your breath forming little clouds in the cooling air.

Then, slowly, you set the photographs down. One beside Albert’s tarp. Another near Samantha. Jenna brought out the locket and placed it gently atop the heart. You unfolded the recipe and pinned it beneath a small rock, keeping it from fluttering away.

The firewood came last - scrap pieces from the backyard, some old branches and logs pulled from the storage pile. You stacked them carefully around the bodies, not to hide them, but to honour them - like a pyre, but not theatrical. Just enough to help them pass.

Jenna added flowers next - whatever she could find from the planters. A half-dead bunch of marigolds. A handful of ivy. A few wildflowers from the field.

You stared at the row of bodies for a long time.

Your mind went to what they must’ve seen. How they must’ve fought to stay alive. How they’d died anyway.

Next to you, Jenna cleared her throat. “Should we… write their names down?”

You nodded. Found a notebook in your pocket and began writing. One name after the other.

Albert Cohen Samantha Adler Marie Roux Daniel Feldman Irene Price Jacob Lee One only listed as “Sandy” on a crumpled old gym pass.

Each letter was slow. Careful. As if that could make them more real. As if it could anchor them to the earth one last time before the fire took them.

Jenna lit two candles and placed them at each end of the row.

You reached into your bag and pulled out the bottle of wine - the one you’d found in the villa’s untouched pantry, behind a shelf of expired beans and soup tins. The label was in French. The cork had discoloured slightly with age. You weren’t even sure what year it was from - only that it looked important. The kind of wine people saved for weddings. Or births. Or maybe just something worth remembering.

You found two mismatched glasses from the kitchen and poured a generous amount into each.

Jenna took hers silently.

The matchbook trembled a little in your fingers as you lit the first stick.

But your hands didn’t.

You crouched and pressed the flame to the dry edge of the kindling.

The fire caught slowly at first, then faster - embers licking up through the layers of wood, catching on the edge of the tarp. Smoke billowed upward in soft grey plumes, trailing toward the stars just beginning to blink into view above the trees.

The heat brushed your cheeks.

You took a breath.

“Here we lay to rest,” you said, voice steady but low. “Albert Cohen, Samantha Adler, Marie Roux, Daniel Feldman, Irene Price, Jacob Lee… Sandy.” You looked down at your notebook. “And the others we could not name. May you be more than what this world made of you.”

You paused. Your hand clenched faintly around the glass. “You guys have a lovely dog. And we’re gonna do our best to take care of him.”

Jenna gave a wet laugh beside you - broken and small - and you glanced at her, trying for a smile. “Albert Cohen was a good man. He was more of a wine guy than a beer guy, except when he held his big barbecue in the summer. You could always see him with an ice-cold beer in one hand, flipping burgers in the other. He didn’t use a thermometer. Just the ‘gut instinct’ kind.”

Jenna sniffled. Then wiped her nose with her sleeve. You continued, “Samantha won every single round of Monopoly. She was unbeatable. You’d swear she was cheating, but she wasn’t. She just had the killer instinct and strategy.”

You both chuckled softly, despite the ache in your chests.

Jenna added: “Marie couldn’t cook to save her life, but her cakes were divine. She made a pear tart one Christmas that made my mum cry. That was Marie. Flour everywhere. Always smiling.”

The fire crackled louder now, the flames rising into a soft roar, heat radiating outward and lighting your faces in gold. You both sipped your wine in silence, the taste sharp and rich and too good to belong in this world anymore.

Jenna reached out, her fingers brushing yours lightly.

You didn’t pull away.

You stood there together - just the two of you, and Angelo lying quietly nearby, watching the flames with solemn eyes - as the night claimed what the daylight left behind.

--//--

AN: ...

Part 14

[helenanell]

Shattering Still || Joel Miller

'I had been so ready to die, but Joel Miller stopped me.'

Joel Miller x OFC - (Although can be reader as there's no name or physical description, just an age: 40)

WC: 11K

Warnings: ANGST! Smut MDNI. Interrupted suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, grief, loss of a child. (I'm so serious this is SAD) Joel is angry but well-meaning. Not quite enemies to lovers, but they have no idea what to make of each other.

AN: I never thought I'd write for Joel, but I've been obsessed with and inspired by @almostfoxglove - specifically 'Lock the Gate' which is amazing!

Read on AO3

:✮:·

Blood bloomed upon the snow.

One after the other, crimson drops fell to the ground. And fell and fell. The gash on my forehead had scabbed over the day before, but the tumble I'd taken down that slope an hour or so ago had ripped it right off. I could have stopped, wiped the blood from the side of my face and fashioned some kind of bandage. But there’d be no point.

My path stopped here.

The small clearing in the woods I’d stumbled into was beautiful in its barrenness. As good a place as any, I supposed. 

My bruised and battered body screamed when I pressed my back against the nearest tree and dropped inelegantly to the earth. The snow cushioned the impact, but it began to seep into my jeans; dozens of frost-tipped pins pricking at my skin.

I sat there for a moment, transfixed by the indifferent incandescence of winter: so lethal yet so enrapturing. The snow that covered everything from the ground to the tree branches was a smothering weight and yet it glinted in the sun like diamond dust. 

Blood from my head wound rolled down and got caught in my eyelashes. I blinked to get rid of it, but it only served to bathe that eye with a tinge of crimson. With an irritated huff I pulled off my glove and used it to wipe at my face. It was messy and sure to be smearing it about my skin, but in minutes that wouldn’t matter. I pulled the glove away and looked at it: stained red, some of it transferred onto my palm, but my eyes snagged on the dried, darkened blood beneath my fingernails that wasn’t mine.

It’s easy to tell yourself that killing in the interest of self-preservation is permissible. Or, at least, that it should not burden you: the snuffing out of a life. I’d always liked the idea of that: snuffing out. To extinguish a flame. It felt fitting when applied to people, seeing as we're all just stardust; detritus from a dead thing that burned in the sky. 

We wink out just like stars. What human beings had used to navigate upon land and sea for millenia, were just dead things. We found our way thanks to bodies burning in the darkness.

I’d left behind enough bodies to form whole new constellations. There wasn’t one of them that I regretted.

I’d had someone to protect. Someone worth saving. And I had. Over and over again I had saved that little boy. But none of that had accumulated into some lasting cosmic protection, or formed armour over his skin. None of it had stopped him from dying. 

I’d saved him, until I hadn’t. Until I’d watched him die. Let him die.

He’d always been small for his age, but his hands had felt smaller still in my own bloodstained ones, his unblemished skin swallowed up by the crimson smeared on me.

My nephew had been born into grief. He’d been placed, red-faced and squalling, into my arms instead of my sister’s. In the moment, I hadn’t been able to look at him, a led-weight in my arms, screaming for breath as my sister drifted away. 

Too much blood. 

I’d known it, but I'd still stood there, my sister’s baby in my arms as I screamed at someone- everyone to save her. I’d screamed at the fucking world.

Someone must have taken him from my arms then. I don’t remember it happening, only that my memories then skip like a scratched record to me kneeling at my sister’s side and squeezing her hand. She’d been so exhausted that her head hadn't so much as turned to me, rather it had lolled to the side. Her gaze had been distant and untethered as though she couldn’t see exactly where I was, only knew I was there because of her hand in mine. 

“You have to protect him.” She’d begged, her voice hoarse, tears trailing down her face. “He’s yours- your family. Promise me.” 

I’m no longer sure if I said it back before her eyes drifted closed. I used to be ardent in the belief that I had, but over the years I started to think maybe her eyes had already been shut when I’d finally said it. Maybe I’d still been kneeling by her side, her hand cooling on my own and the sun set behind me when I let out a sob and said: ‘I promise.’ 

I had named him. Sophie had told me that she wouldn't feel right to give him one without having met him first. She'd wanted it to suit him. So, I'd looked at him and done my best. Fred, after our grandfather, because I hoped he’d be just as kind as him. I hoped that I was capable of raising him to be kind.

I’d raised him to die. 

 Perhaps it was my punishment to outlive them. To live long enough that I started to forget. Already my sister’s face had started to blur, the tides of time wearing down her features. Like waves against a rock face.

Everything is always crumbling to pieces. Life is a perpetually disintegrating thing. 

It was time for me to disintegrate, to let death wash over me like a wave over a sand castle. When it receded, the thousands of pieces of me would be dragged back into the deep, with no evidence left on the shore that I had existed at all. 

I could have just laid down in the snow and shut my eyes, let the cold subsume me, purify me in a wash of white. Drift off in a snow drift. It even sounded nice. 

Just like falling asleep. Isn’t that how hypothermia was meant to end. Peacefully?

As tempting as it was, I knew that I couldn't do that. I didn’t deserve an end so… quiet . Not when all those I'd loved had died in such pain and so afraid. The people I had known who were the least deserving of suffering. 

The least I could do for them was pull the trigger on myself. 

With my body now quaking with the cold, assailed by the dampness soaked into my clothes, I pulled the gun out of the waistband of my jeans. I let out a breath, watched it appear and then disappear in the air before me. Like human lives: blink and you’ll miss them.

I pressed the barrel to my temple, the metal so cold it was a biting kiss. 

I shut my eyes. My finger fell upon the trigger. 

Snap! A branch broke close by.

It’s funny how even when humans are ready to die, our bodies can still react to imminent danger. Fight. Flight. Freeze. I’d always favoured the first. 

My eyes flew open, the gun fell from my temple as I swung it out and pointed it at the figure that had emerged through the trees. No- figures . There were two of them.

Two men moved towards me, similar in aspect but with markedly different expressions. 

The one that stepped through the trees first, dressed in a thick tan coat had his gloved hands closed around a rifle that was pointed right at me. He had dark, distrusting eyes that were narrowed into a scowl. His hair was snow-dusted and shot-through with grey.

“Put it down.” He snapped, voice forceful but calm. Texan, if I had to guess. He nodded at the gun in my hand as if I couldn’t have put two and two together. 

I didn’t obey him, at least not right away. I watched him watching me and thought about letting him put a bullet between my eyes.

It could be my coward’s way out. If I kept the gun in my hand for even a few seconds more, he would fire his. I could see the promise of it in his eyes. He could finish the job for me. But Sophie and Fred deserved more. I couldn’t be a coward for their sake. I had to be the one to end myself, not a stranger. 

I uncurled my rapidly freezing fingers and dropped the gun. The impact sent up a small dusting of snow.

The man grunted disapprovingly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Throw it out of reach.”

“I’d rather not.” My voice was hoarse from dehydration and my throat was still shredded from all of the screaming I'd done when Fred…

I was going to need the gun once the two men had left and I really didn’t want to have to get up again. I wasn’t really sure I could. 

The man was having none of it. His face tightened with anger.

“Wasn’t a request.” He snarled. “Now do it.”

I couldn't help the scoff that bubbled up. He had just come across me about to shoot myself, the precaution felt unnecessary. Then again, being distrusting had probably allowed him to live long enough to get the grey in his hair.

At last, the other man stepped forward. He was younger, his hair still mostly dark, but there was a kinship in their features. His deep brown eyes looked me over, not unkindly, before settling on his companion.

“Joel.” He said pointedly. I didn’t need to know him to discern what he left unsaid. 

It’s not us that she’s a danger to.  

Then, his eyes slid over to the object clasped in the other hand. Pressed against my chest was Fred’s teddy bear, it’s fur matted with blood. I’d been carrying it for my entire journey and ice crystals had formed upon it. The teddy was the only thing I’d brought with me besides the gun: I had no need for anything else l where I was going. 

Joel’s gaze followed the other man’s and for a moment, he went utterly still. Only for a moment though, because it wasn’t long before his eyes snapped back to my own and he repeated his order:

“Throw the gun out of reach.”

With an exhausted sigh I did as I was told. The moment the thump of the gun landed, the other man moved forward and pushed down the barrel of Joel’s gun so it pointed at the ground.

“Sorry about my brother.” He said, shooting the brooding man a reproachful look before looking to me. His smile was tentative. “I’m Tommy and this is Joel.

I nodded stiffly, not in the mood for greetings. I just wanted them gone. And yet, when I spoke it wasn’t to tell them to fuck off and let me die.

“You’re from Jackson.” I said. 

It wasn’t a hard leap, we couldn’t be more than an hour outside of it.

“That a question?” Joel spat. 

I didn’t acknowledge the walking stormcloud and instead kept my attention on his brother. It wasn’t that I was deluded enough to think he was in any way kinder, the way he stood told me enough: just as willing to shoot me if I looked at them the wrong way. 

“Yes, we are.” Tommy confirmed. His brother’s head whipped around, but he was unbothered by the glare he received. 

“We were heading there.” I uttered mournfully. 

We . I must have been more delirious than I realised. 

Thankfully, neither of the men pressed me on my blunder. I suppose the way they had found me and the blood-stained bear in my hand made the absence at my side clear enough. 

“We’re on our way back.” Tommy said. “You could come with us.”

“Tommy!” Joel closed the gap between himself and his brother, grabbing his arm and jostling him.  

Honestly, I was also a little startled. It took the exchange of a couple of sentences for him to extend such an offer? 

Tommy shrugged off Joel’s grip. “That’s not your decision to make big brother.” 

“Tommy, look at her! With all the shit she’s covered in, she could be bit and we wouldn’t see it. You want to drag an infected into Jackson?”

“Not infected.” I sniped back, not really knowing why I bothered. 

Something about his contempt stoked the dying fire within me. There was no need to be a bastard about the woman you’d just stopped from blowing her brains out. 

Joel’s eyes returned to me, sharpened with a new edge. “If you’re not bit, then why were you–”

His speech stopped abruptly, his mouth clamped shut before the rest of his sentence could tumble out. I could make an educated guess at what it would have been: Why were you about to kill yourself?’ 

“That’s hardly the only reason for it.” I grumbled, answering his incomplete query. “Now, seeing as you made me get rid of it, I'd appreciate it if you could pass me my gun before you go.”

Whatever wary confusion had possessed Joel to even start to enquire about my motives disappeared and his scowl returned. 

“Get it yourself.”  He barked. His hand shot out and he grabbed his brother’s arm again, tugging him back. “Tommy, time to go.” 

With that Joel turned away, already marching through the trees. I entertained the thought that if he found anything in his path, instead of going around he’d just walk straight through it. He seemed the type: stubborn to a fault. Stubborn to the point of pain.

Tommy, as if repelled from his brother like a magnet, moved in the opposite direction and right towards me. His heavy boots crunched on the snow. As he came to a stop, he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly trying to find the right words. “Look- whatever you were about to do…I know that ‘aint any of my business.”

“Tommy!” Wherever Joel was, his brother’s body blocked my view, but I could feel the glare passing through his brother and into me like a laser beam.

Tommy ignored him and moved closer, then dropped to a knee in front of me.

“Our lives are all we’ve got a right to anymore, so yours is to do with what you will. But, that’s not a decision to be made lightly and you look like you’ve been through it. How about you come back with us, stay for the night, have a hot meal at least?”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. He had no reason to offer me this, to try and coax me to Jackson at all. At least, no good reason. No one made altruistic offers, not anymore. 

Then again, I could guess that this man had taken his fair share of lives. Maybe he’d changed, or was changing and thought that stopping a stranger from dying would do a little to balance his scales. 

I could understand that urge. I’d thought Fred could redeem me. Make me nurturing when I’d never had the inclination. Kids will do that to you. Make you want to be better than you had ever considered possible. 

I’d tried my best. I really had. But I’d never escaped the feeling of being a poor substitute for my sister; my care and compassion so pitiful compared to what she could give. I’d never had a deep well in that regard. 

 I suppose I wouldn’t have known until Fred was older if he’d truly felt loved by me. Sure, he’d told me he did, but he was a little boy and I was all he had.

It had been a selfish, self-indulgent fear of mine that he’d grow up, meet other people, perhaps see other families and realise how poorly I measured up; that he’d been deprived by me. How desperately I wanted to return to those anxieties that had felt so crippling at the time. Fear meant he was alive. 

Now there was just…nothing. I served no purpose. There was no point to anything at all.

But I also had no fight left to give and I had a feeling that despite what he said, Tommy wasn’t going to let me refuse him so easily. I also doubted that he’d retrieve my gun for me: passing me the weapon that I would use to end it all might feel too much like culpability for a man who seemed to have a conscience. 

So, I gave in. I granted a stay of my own execution and nodded. 

Tommy smiled warmly as he stood up. “Come on, we got our horses tied up nearby. You can ride with me.” He leant down and offered me a hand, easily hauling me to my feet. 

Weak and exhausted, I staggered to the side, but Tommy’s hold stopped me from falling. The wind blew, drying the blood that had slowed to a trickle on the side of my face.

“Woah, easy.” He said, looping one hand through my arm to anchor me to him. “You good?”

“Fine.” My breathlessness betrayed me. 

“We gotta worry about anyone coming after you? Your blood’ll be like a trail of breadcrumbs in the snow.” Tommy guided me to turn around and we walked towards the treeline. Joel was waiting there, his gun still gripped tightly as he watched his brother and I advance.

“No one’s following me.” I assured him, fighting against the images that flashed behind my eyes. Bullets fired in my mind and then ricocheted off the inside of my skull.

“You sound very sure.” Joel said flatly as Tommy led me past him, he fell into step behind us. It was like having a dog snapping at my heels.

I bristled at the hostility in his voice, it was a challenge that I usually would never have been able to resist but there was no point in fighting him. 

“They’re dead.” I answered bluntly. 

I’d killed every last one of them. 

Their blood had mingled with Freddie’s on my hands. It had felt like a desecration but it hadn’t stopped me. 

Both brother’s made no further comment. When Tommy told his brother to fetch my gun, I was surprised that he complied without verbalising any objection. Although he didn’t give it back to me, just tucked it into the back of his jeans.

We remained silent after that, right up until we reached their horses. I joined Tommy on his, his, his brother striking out in front and brooding on his own mount. 

When the wall’s of Jackson came into view I failed to fight back tears. I’d been so close to getting Fred to safety. 

So close. 

:✮:·

Once I had the two jagged edges of the gash on my forehead pressed together between my fingers, I gritted my teeth and pushed the needle through. The skin was already livid and raw, but a fresh drop of blood beaded there thanks to the pressure I was exerting. As I made the first stitch, I caught the sympathetic wince of the woman behind me in the mirror’s reflection. 

“Not good with needles?” I asked, already back to sealing myself shut. It was another pointless endeavour, like glueing a shattered teacup back together while knowing that I was only going to drop it again, but acquiescing to it had seemed to appease Tommy. He’d also assured me that his wife wouldn’t hear of it being left unattended.

That had proved true enough when Maria had arrived at Jackson’s infirmary. Tommy had sent someone to pass along word of the stray he’d brought home.

 Maria had looked me over with guarded concern, assuring me that I was welcome, while making it very clear that stepping out of line would be met with swift consequences. I admired her sternness: it was so clearly rooted in the desire to preserve the remarkable place that had been built.

I wasn’t entirely convinced that I hadn’t passed out in the snow back and was just imagining all of it. 

Jackson felt like a dream that only my dying mind would have the luxury of conjuring up. I’d walked through the streets with Tommy and seen…normalcy. A sort of mundanity that had become a fanciful thing in my mind. 

“Not good at watching someone stitch themself up, I guess.” Maria answered. She shifted so that she was leaning back against the wall, one hand cradling her belly. She couldn't have been far off her due date. 

“I’ve never had anyone to do it for me.” I admitted, piercing my skin again. 

I’d had to fight them to be able to tend to myself. Maria had insisted they had someone who knew what they were doing, but I couldn’t stand the idea of it: a stranger leaning over me, breathing on me for an extended period of time. Too close. Too prolonged. Just the thought made my gut twist. 

It was best that I did it myself. 

“It’s hard to accept help, at first. But you’ll adjust.” Maria’s tone was soft yet knowing. 

I focused intently on the movements of the needle, forcing down a scoff at her words.

“Trusting people to have good intentions is asking for trouble.” 

Maria nodded. “Out there, sure. But there are good people here. Families just trying to make it through.” 

My grief was as volatile and shifting as the sea and I found myself biting back a nasty retort about it being pretty damn easy for the people here to make it through, safe behind high walls with their children, while somewhere else another mother lost hers. 

The people of Jackson weren’t surviving, they were living . That was a luxury. And while it was a beautiful thing, practically incomprehensible given the state of the world, it shone too brightly for me to stand. I found it blinding. I wanted to throw dirt on it, smear it with filth to cover the shine. 

When you’ve lived so long by crawling through the dirt, the sight of cleanliness is disconcerting. Almost uncanny.

As I came to the last stitch, my open wound now a raised edge, puckered and tied together with thread, I let myself meet Maria’s eye through the mirror. 

“Look, I do appreciate the welcome, but there’s no need to go to any trouble.”

Maria waved my words away. “We’ve got enough empty houses to go around.”

Houses. 

Not a room in an abandoned building where i’d have to barricade the door, or a tent that never felt remotely safe enough to get any sleep in. Or out in the open, beneath the stars. 

Wherever Fred and I had found ourselves, I had never slept. I always ended up just watching him, his little chest rising and falling beneath his sleeping bag. 

Oblivious to my wandering mind, Maria continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we do have a process. The council–democratically elected–would want to talk to you if you decided to stay with us. You got any skills?”

“Define skills.” I said, as I tied off the thread and reached for the scissors that gleamed in the metal tray by my hand. 

“Hunting. Shooting. Would be nice to have another person with a green thumb.” 

put down the scissors and turned to face Maria. I leant back against the table, crossing my arms over my chest. It had long been my instinct to take a defensive stance. 

“I can hunt.” I told her. “I can make traps and snares and I’m good with a gun.” I didn’t know why I was entertaining Maria’s inquiries, but acting as if I was someone intent on surviving seemed like it would lead to less resistance. 

The last thing I wanted to do was solicit questions about what had happened to me. To Fred. Questions about why her husband and brother-in-law had found me alone in the woods, clutching a bloody teddy bear and readying to shoot myself. Tommy must have told her. 

Before he had excused himself, husband and wife had ducked out into the hallway to talk and while Maria hadn’t treated me like a broken thing once she’d returned, there was something in her eyes that amounted to understanding.  

“How good with a gun?” Maria asked, appraising me inquisitively.

“Very good.” I admitted matter-of-factly. “Our dad was a marine. Taught us to shoot long before the world went to shit.”

“Us?” Maria pressed tentatively.

Shit. 

Seven years after my sister died and I still thought in terms of ‘us’ and ‘we’. Ours.  

“My sister.” I offered, hoping my bluntness would crush the topic of conversation before it could grow. Thankfully, it did.

We fell into a brief silence that bordered on comfort before Maria pushed off the wall.

 I tensed instinctively at the movement, my hand itching to reach for the gun that Joel hadn’t returned. I’d need to ask Tommy about that. 

Maria woman clearly noted my reaction, but carried on as normal.

“So…” She began with a smile. “Have I convinced you to stay? For the night, at least?”

“That’s what your silence was: you convincing me?”

“With some people, words hurt more than they hinder.” Maria said simply. “It has to be up to you. So?”

“Okay.” I said slowly. “One night.”

Maria had started moving towards the door before I'd finished my sentence. “Great! Let’s get you home. I’ll find you some clean clothes too.”

As Maria walked out, beckoning me to follow, I released a long sigh. I didn’t like the sound of that: your home. It had the distinct whiff of someone who wasn’t done trying to convince me, in silence or otherwise. 

If only the Miller brother’s had arrived in the clearing just ten seconds later. I’d already be far from there, far from myself and all that I had done. And all that I had failed to do.

:✮:·

Something about the house I was given broke through my numbness to inject a dose of sadness. It was small. Just one floor. But it held vestiges of the life that had been lived so long ago.

 Lines were etched into the wooden door frame that led into the kitchen, marking the growth of ‘Katie’ . She’d reached the height of my belly button before any chance of a normal future had been snatched away from her. Maybe she was alive somewhere, now an adult taller than me, but hope was just self-deception. It made reality more bearable.

Then there were the cupboards that were full of mug’s, many of them chipped. One had ‘ World’s Best Mom!’ stamped across it. 

Everything was covered in dust that had gathered since the last occupants had fled, only to be kicked up by my footsteps. It felt a bit like disturbing a tomb. Except there were no bodies, just an absence. But that’s what death was: an absence in the existence of those left behind.

Maria had showed me to the house and then promptly left me to my solitude. 

I attempted to settle down in the bed, curling up with the patchwork blanket I'd been given, but the softness of it was unpleasant.

 I’d gone too long moving from place to place with Fred and when there had been a bed–and there was usually only one–I had let him take it and slept on the floor, or in a chair. Sometimes, I sat with my back against the door all night. 

Then there had been all of the camping we had done. It had felt strange calling it that, as if it had been a recreational activity rather than a necessity, but framing it that way had made it seem more like an adventure for my nephew.

All of which was to say, I lasted a pitiful amount of time in the bed before I was gathering up the blanket and the pillow and traipsing into the living room at the front of the house and settling down on the floorboards between the couch and the coffee table. 

There were bay windows that looked out onto the street, but there were no curtains or blinds to close for any semblance of privacy. No matter, it meant I could see the stars. 

I laid down, bathed in a moonbeam that streamed inside, but made no attempt to shut my eyes. I just stayed there and stared up at the damp stain on the ceiling. Once clouds crossed the moon and the room darkened, the stain became a pool of blood in my eyes, spreading and spreading and spreading.

:✮:·

Tommy had returned my gun to me on the morning of my first day in Jackson. And yet, three sunrises later, I was still alive and kicking. Well, not kicking, but I was breathing.

I hadn’t had a change of heart where the wastefulness of my life was concerned, I just…hadn’t ended it yet. I was just so fucking tired. Part of me had died back in that clearing I think, even though Joel and Tommy had stopped me pulling the trigger.

There were so many more kids in Jackson than I’d thought there’d be. I don’t know why it surprised me, but seeing all the chubby cheeks and gapped tooth smiles was salt in a gaping wound.

 I couldn’t help but imagine Fred and his head of blonde curls amongst the little flock. I’d called him duckling for a long time, because when ruffled, his hair had looked like the fluffy down of a little bird.

He’d have been so happy in Jackson. Nervous, at first, because he had never grown up with kids his own age, but he’d have shaken the worry off in no time, buoyed by the prospect of friends.

We’d been so fucking close. So close to a type of happiness I’d thought died with the old world. Part of me hadn’t even believed that a place like Jackson could exist. A community where actual kindness could be found, polished to a shine; a point of pride instead of something people let gather dust in a dark corner of their mind. 

It had been a dream. A wish that I'd made for the both of us, one that I’d repeated with every step that we had taken forward. 

But it did it exist. 

Just being there hurt . 

And if there was one thing that was intrinsic to humans no matter what state civilization was in, it was that we’d hurt and be hurt. And pain led us to seeking out ways to numb it. It’s how we’d ended up with alcohol. 

The Tipsy Bison was almost too close to the bar’s I had spent my early twenties in. All dark wood and dark walls, sticky booths and shitty lighting. 

The back wall behind the bar was an explosion of discordant memorabilia, all fighting to catch your eye first: a shooting trophy, a tiny American flag, a clock with what looked like a submarine on it, a little anchor. Everywhere you looked something new. 

With a heady buzz building behind my eyes, I looked up at the mirrors behind the bar, partially obscured by the empty bottles that cluttered up the shelf beneath it. There were fairy lights strung up on the ceiling and in the reflection, my blurred vision made them bleed into one pulsing, glowing mass. 

I groaned and dropped my forehead down onto the bar, enjoying how cool the varnished wood felt. My stitched head wound stung at the impact, but I found a perverse thrill in it.

 I thought if I stayed utterly still and tried my best to block out the noises of the other patrons, the headache might begin to abate. Then I would move, stumble back to the house I'd been given. 

I thought my plan might just work, until someone gracelessly dragged out the empty stool beside me. It scraped against the floorboards and I felt the vibrations in my brain. I groaned as I sluggishly lifted my head to find the culprit. 

The scar at Joel’s temple was the first thing my eyes fell upon. It was almost illuminated in the bar’s inconsistent lighting. His posture was rigid, making him seem somehow even more solid, like he weighed himself down to the extent that movement was a chore. A hulking immovable object. 

“Quit it.” Joel groused. He didn’t so much as glance at me out of the corner of his eye, his attention reserved for the barman who’d already poured him a whisky.

I sat up a little straighter, narrowing my eyes at him. “What?”

“Quit fuckin’ staring.” He snapped in answer, still not deigning to meet my eye.

“Wasn’t staring.” I spat back. 

“What would you call it, then?”

“Observing.”

Oh, and Joel really didn’t like that: the notion that I had been watching him actively. As if taking him in visually, learning even a little about him from it, was a kind of theft, a terrible, offensive transgression. He gripped his glass tighter, making the tips of his fingers turn white. He angled his head in my direction, not quite looking at me, but close enough.

“Nothing to observe.” He muttered resentfully.

It had been over a decade since I'd let myself get so drunk and it brought out an instinct to antagonise that I’d forgotten I possessed. I smiled nastily and leant a little closer to him. 

“Are you under the impression that you’re invisible?”

“No.” He shot back. “Sure would be nice though.”

“Oh?”

“This conversation wouldn’t be happening.”

“You started it.”

Joel slammed his glass down into the bartop, some of the dark liquid spilled over onto his hand. “What are you, fuckin’ five years old?”

I didn’t answer. My heavy head became too much to bear so I dropped it back down into my folded arms. The energy the alcohol had given me was already spent.

As I expected, the silence suited Joel just fine and minutes passed without another peep. I started to entertain the thought that he’d never try to engage with me ever again but then…

“Do you not need to eat?”

I looked to look at him but didn’t lift my head up off my arms. “Feeling talkative now?” 

Joel had gone back to looking at anywhere but me. He grunted in displeasure at my mockery but carried on. “Been five days, haven’t seen you in the mess hall once.” 

Instead of answering him, I forced myself to sit up and called out to the bartender, pointing at my empty glass. But, when he approached, Joel’s hand reached out, enfolded the top of my glass and dragged it out of the man’s reach. And his generous pour. 

“About time this one was cut off, Seth.”

I scowled and clumsily reached forward to snatch back the glass, but Joel just swept it up and away from me. 

“You were happy to leave me to shoot myself in the woods, but you’ll stop me from drinking?” I seethed. I thought I had whispered, but the few heads that turned in our direction told me otherwise. 

Joel tensed so severely I thought the glass might shatter in his grip. But after a second or two, he set down the empty vessel and retrieved his own drink and lifted it to his lips. He kept set his eyes forward and took an obnoxiously loud sip.

“Fine. Fucking asshole.” I mumbled as I slid off and snatched my coat off the back of the stool.

“What was that?” Joel asked sharply. 

Emboldened by the alcohol and infuriated by him, I sidled right up beside him and leant onto the bar. My other hand fell on his arm and he actually flinched . 

“I said, you’re a fucking asshole.” Before Joel could muster up much of a reaction, I pushed off the bar and sent a consternated Seth a weak smile. “Night.” 

I lurched out into the street and had to steady myself against the wall, sucking in icy breaths that scratched their way down my throat like glass shards. Painful, but it helped me come back to myself enough to put one foot in front of the other and head for my house. 

Shit. 

My house. 

It should have been ours: Mine and Fred’s. Our home.

 Never just mine.

:✮:·

It turned out that getting blind drunk didn’t just impair your vision, but also created such a fog in your mind that you forgot a lot of things. In my case, what I failed to remember as I staggered up the cracked stone path towards the house, was Maria’s warning that the wooden steps of the porch had rotted. 

I was not exactly light of step at the best of times, but in my inebriated state, my footfalls may well have been able to crack concrete. So, when I stomped up onto the porch, my right foot went clean through the top step. 

My stomach dropped and bile rose as I lurched forward. I was just barely able to catch myself and avoid breaking my nose against the wooden planks. My palms were abraded against the unforgiving surface, my skin riddled with splinters in an instant. I could feel something digging into my ankle and suspected that if I wasn’t so numbed by the alcohol, that I’d be experiencing at least a little pain.

“Fuck.” I grunted as I dragged myself up, pulling my ankle free of the hole. Once most of my body was on stable ground, I flopped down onto my back. 

I shut my eyes and willed the world to stop spinning. The wind blew, drawing my attention to the exposed skin between my pant leg and my boot, upon which I could feel the trickle of blood. 

Out in the open air with the stars glittering above, although obscured from my sight, I found myself beginning to feel oddly soothed. It was more of a familiar sleeping arrangement than the bed in the house that I’d rejected. 

Which was probably why my eyes drifted shut. 

:✮:·

A sharp kick against my leg woke me up. 

My eyes fluttered open, only to find a dark mass standing over me. After a few more blinks, the nebulous shape began to shift into something more recognisable. Wide chest and broad shoulders, atop which sat a distinctly displeased face. 

I couldn’t actually see his expression all that well, but it wasn’t exactly a hard leap to make once I realised that it was Joel. 

Now sleep-addled as well as drunk, I was unwilling to be the first to break the silence. He must have realised this, because he spoke first. It sounded like he was under significant duress:

“Your steps have rotted.”  

“Thanks for the heads up.” I slurred. 

Joel gave no answer, but dropped down onto a knee beside my prone body, emitting a small grunt when the bone cracked. 

“Feeling your age?” I asked, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Shut up.” 

I was, quite frankly, far too drunk, exhausted and frozen stiff to find to rouse myself to tell Joel to fuck off. The frigid night air had frozen my reservoir of rage. For now. 

Despite that, when I felt cold fingers push up the bottom of my pant leg to expose my sticky blood to the night air, I kicked out at his hand. When the sole of my heavy boot made contact with Joel’s hand, he pulled it back with a hiss. “Go away.” I ground out, focusing on the way the now exposed scratches on my ankle stung. 

Boots scuffed against wood as Joel rose to his feet, face contorted with displeasure. Before I could let out the sigh of relief at his anticipated departure, he kicked the side of my leg again.

“Can’t stay out here. Get up.”

“I’ll get up when you're gone.”

“No. You’ll pass out and freeze to death.”

“Just fucking let me, then! I’m nothing to you.” I hurled back at him, wincing at the resultant pain in my head. 

Daughter, sister, aunt. Through every stage of my life, I had understood myself and my purpose through those titles. But now…I wasn’t anything to anyone. Just nothing .

The silence was drawn out just long enough, I thought he might have left and I was just so delirious I hadn’t heard his footsteps. But the next thing I knew a hand curled around my arm and I was hauled to my feet. 

I wanted to curse him, to spit and claw at him, to turn my pain against someone other than myself and draw blood. Before Fred had died that’s what I would have done. But whatever the husk of who I was had left within it, it wasn’t the quickness to violence. 

So, I let Joel drag me like a dog on a leash. He was rough. His fingers dug into my arm and he let me stumble over my own feet. He threw open the front door and stormed in, moving far too quickly for my drunken body to coordinate with. As we crossed over the threshold into the house, I tripped and would have ended up on the ground again if he hadn't pulled me to his side. He smelled of whisky and woodsmoke.

We moved down the hall at a jarring pace. It felt as though I was a piece of obsolete equipment that he was hauling around, and therefore he was uncaring about jostling me to the point that a screw or two came loose.

Thankfully, the little house didn’t give us much ground to cover before he was shoving me into the sitting room. When he came to an abrupt stop, I presumed that he was taking in the sight of my blanket and pillow on the floor, but when his hold on my arm eased up, I followed his gaze to the coffee table.

My gun sat atop the dusty surface and right next to it was Fred’s teddy bear, still stained even though I'd lost count of the number of times I'd scrubbed it. No industrial-strength stain remover at the end of the world.

I heard a short, sharp intake of breath and braced  myself for a cutting remark, but instead he returned to his man-handling. Joel grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me onto the couch. He then bent down, took hold of my calves and lifted them up, forcing me to twist around so that I was lying flat. When he pulled off my boots, I hissed at his unforgiving hold on my bleeding ankle. 

He made no apology, just dropped my boot to the ground and proceeded to yank off the other one. 

I laid still and stared up at the ceiling, silently begging that he’d leave without uttering another word. He stood at the end of the couch, watching me like I was a rat caught in a trap. His brown eyes were black in the darkness of the room.

“You got a bed. No good reason to be sleeping on the ground.”

Exhaustion had me back in its grip, so all I could manage as my eyes closed was a mumbled: “What would be a good reason?”

A disgruntled huff. “Don’t be a smartass.”

A heavy weight was tossed over me. I clawed at the fabric, pulling it down until my face was freed and sucked in a breath as if I'd actually been at risk of suffocating. He’d thrown the blanket over me.

My eyes darted around but only caught a glimpse of Joel’s back as he was stepping back into the hall. His footsteps receded and then there was the unnecessarily harsh opening and closing of the front door. 

Had I been less intoxicated, the entire interaction would have likely been confounding, but in the state I was in I just sank down into the couch cushions and shut my eyes and thanks to the alcohol, fell right to sleep.

My wakeup call was the sun that speared through the window and landed in my eyes. It split my throbbing head in half like a block of wood. My mouth was like sandpaper and something throbbed angrily behind my eyes. A hangover at forty was a different beast altogether.

I’m not sure how long I stayed inert and wallowed in my self-inflicted sickness, but eventually I did find it in myself to sit up, I swung my legs off the couch and edged forward and as I did so, my eyes fell onto the coffee table.

Fred’s teddy bear was right where i’d left it, but my gun was missing.

:✮:·

Thanks to the tour Maria had given me, during which she’d pointed out her and Tommy’s home as well as ‘Joel and Ellie’s across the way’, tracking down the thief didn’t take long. 

My knuckles rapped viciously against his door, exacerbating the symptoms of my hangover and my anger all at once. 

Just as I started to contemplate kicking it in, the front door swung inward and Joel filled the gap. It was obscenely early and yet he was already dressed in jeans, another plaid shirt with its sleeves rolled half-way up his forearms. I knew I was a ghastly sight and his displeasure was evident, but I gave him no chance to express that verbally.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re at my goddamn door.” He bit back.

“Give it back.” I held out my hand, matching his hateful stare.

Joel didn’t try to deny it, he didn’t even blink before he turned around and stomped down his hallway. I waited at the threshold, unwilling to enter his space.

Joel returned with the gun already held out, but when I reached for it, he pulled it back and left my fingers to clutch at the air.  

“Don’t be a fucking child.” When I lunged for the gun that now hung in the hand at his side, he enclosed his other one around my wrist. 

“You plannin’ on using it?” His voice was strained, as if pressure was being exerted on his neck.

“No.” I sneered sarcastically. “I just think it makes a nice table decoration.”

Joel’s hold tightened and the pads of his fingers pressed into my pulse point. The touch lingered long enough that it felt like he was tracking my heartbeat, but he soon let go. 

He did let me take back the gun then, but when I put my back to him he asked:

“Why bother?” 

“What?” I wouldn’t turn back to speak to him. I didn’t know what expression he’d end up finding on my face.

Wooden floorboards creaked beneath him as he shifted in place. “Killing yourself here or out there- it makes no difference. Why come with us when Tommy asked? Just means someone has to clean up after you.”

I wanted to see it. I thought. It came to me only then, having not really considered it before that moment. I wanted to see the place that could have become home if both Fred and I had made it.  

I shook my head and continued on. 

Joel’s voice stopped me again. I hated that it stopped me. Why didn’t I just keep walking?

“If you were sure, you would’ve done it already. You wouldn’t have walked with your head streamin’ blood for as long as you did before sitting down by that tree.”

I looked back at him over my shoulder. “I’m not dragging it out because I want to live, Joel. I just haven’t decided what the actual punishment is: life or death.” 

 “Punishment for what?” 

“He died.” I didn’t offer Joel more than that and left him standing in his doorway.

:✮:·

In the two weeks that I had been in Jackson, I’d spent more time on the floor of my living room than anywhere else. My body protested in its stiffness, almost threatening to atrophy, but I could conjure no will to stop it. 

I had no will to do anything at all. 

So, it was night and I was yet again, flat against the floorboards, staring up at the stain on the ceiling. 

I hadn’t shut the door properly on my way in, something which was signalled to me by the noise coming from the hallway. The wind blustered through the gap, taking every opportunity to rush inside and whisper to me. 

The door would hit against the jamb and then creak open. Shut. Then open again. 

I had realised almost as soon as I’d laid down, but found myself unable to get up again to close it. So the cold invaded, a pervasive chill that had settled over everything, pricking the skin on my arms on the way down to my bones, attempting to freeze them too. 

It didn’t help that I’d just dropped down on top of the blanket instead of crawling under it, leaving myself protected by only sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt.

The noise of the door didn’t bother me. It had a sort of soothing rhythm. Open, shut. Open, shut. The wind whispered through a wooden mouthpiece. 

Just out of curiosity, I'd put my fingers against my wrist: the noise was almost in time with my heartbeat. 

Outside, the dark clouds which had spent all day swelling to an ominous, bruised bloat had finally burst. Rain lashed against the windows as though it endeavoured to break the glass. 

With my fingers still on my wrist, I felt my pulse jump as my front door slammed shut. I waited, but it didn’t creak open again. The wind’s whisper had been quieted. 

I don’t quite know how I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. I must have been more out of it than I’d thought.  

“Catchin’ your death from the cold is slower than a bullet.”

I wasn’t startled by the sound of Joel’s voice. I wasn’t angry or even confused. It was more of a disquiet, that the noise of the wind and the door that I had used to ground me for the last hour or so had stopped so abruptly. 

The feel of my pulse became an unwelcome sensation. I pulled my fingers away from my wrist.

I didn’t sit up. Couldn’t yet. It felt like there was a physical weight on my chest: grief sitting there, spiteful and malignant but unseen. Maybe I’d spent so long on the floor I’d fused to it.

Joel moved closer and that time, I heard his footsteps. 

“You left your door open.” He said.

 He’d stopped right by my feet. I could feel the scuffed soles of his boots brush against my socks. There was something about his presence that prompted a slight buzzing behind my eyes.

“I noticed.” I answered. 

“Where’s the gun?”

I didn’t baulk at the question, or feel a familiar flare of irritation, I simply reached back, my hand questing beneath the pillow where it wrapped around the grip. I pulled the weapon free and held it up.

“Why is it under your pillow?” 

If I had known Joel better- or just known him at all, I might have been able to tell what exactly the tone of his voice signified. 

“I want it close, in case of intruders.” I said glibly.

 I lifted my head just enough to make out the shape of Joel, a dark, unmoving mass and shifted my hold so the barrel was directed at him. 

“Don’t point that fucking thing at me!” He snarled, his boots knocking against my feet as he lurched forward. “Put it down. Now.”

I was thrown into the memory of the day we’d met in that clearing, when he’d barked the same order with a rifle pointed at my head.

I let my arm drop and the gun clattered onto the floorboards.

He might have mumbled something under his breath then, but I couldn’t make it out. The buzzing was intensifying.

Joel moved forward and soon his large form filled the gap between my body and the couch. He crouched down, his knee brushing against my thigh. He picked up the gun and tossed it onto the couch.

“Still sleeping on the floor.”

My head rolled to the side and I found his eyes in the dark. Outside, the wind howled, the rain like stones thrown against the windows. 

 “I don’t really sleep.” I told him. “Doesn’t matter where I am.”

“You don’t sleep.” He repeated my words in a tone that I was far too untethered to pin an emotion to. If there was any emotion in it all. 

“Why are you here?” I asked, if only to fill the silence. 

I missed the sound of the wind through the gap in the door, considered asking him to go back and open it again but then thought better of it.

“I was passin’ by.” He said.

I chose that moment to force myself to sit up. Being around another person coerced me into some kind of self-awareness and I realised I was in a vulnerable position: him looming over me. 

Once I was upright, the details of Joel came into focus. He was soaked from the rain. His tan coat darkened by patches of moisture. A grey-flecked curl fell over his forehead. I was much closer to him when upright. Close enough that I felt the warmth coming off him, flooding the freezing room. 

My skin began to prickle.

“Why were you passing?” 

“Hmm?” Joel hummed, Then, still kneeling he shifted closer to me. The knuckles of the hand thar he used to hold himself up, ran along the outside of my leg.

“It’s late.” I said thickly. “Why were you wandering about in the rain?”

Joel huffed as his eyes dropped to the ground. Perhaps he’d only just realised he was touching me and decided to take a look. He didn’t move his hand away. “You about to give me a lecture?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No. Tell me.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Is all he offered. 

“You’re dripping onto my floors.” I said, drawing attention to the tell-tale noise that had been poking holes in the silence between our speech. 

Joel’s thick brows rose, as if he was affronted. “Oh, they’re your floors? Thought you weren’t sticking around.” 

The double meaning swelled in the air between us, taking up space. It stole our breath. 

Was that what I’d been doing in Jackson the past two weeks? Just sticking around ?  

Yes, I realised. It was exactly what I’d been doing.

I loitered in the land of the living when I knew full well that I didn’t belong anymore.

“My floors, for now.” 

The hand against my leg lifted and then passed across my torso coming to settle on my side. With me now partially caged in, Joel leaned closer, which left our faces only a hands breadth apart. 

The cold from his damp coat felt like it was seeping into me. 

“For now.” Joel repeatedly tersely. His jaw tensed.

“Yes.”

Then his eyes flicked to the coffee table- to Fred’s blood-stained teddy bear. 

“Your kid?” He asked upon a strained whisper. 

Yes. No. My child and yet not. 

My nephew. My reason for living. Mine.

Almost of its own will, my hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Joel’s coat. I held him so tightly I thought my knuckle bones might split my skin. The action inadvertently tugged him closer. His breath fanned out across my face.

“Don’t.” I warned him.

“Don’t what?” His voice had turned brittle, as if something within him was breaking. Perhaps it was his resolve.

“I can’t—” I spluttered out. “I'm not talking about that.” 

About him.

Fred was still a part of me. Talking about him after his loss felt like surrendering further pieces of him; tearing of strips of my own skin, a slow flaying of flesh. 

“Okay.” 

“Don’t try to know me.” 

Wanting to escape Joel’s unrelenting gaze, I stared at a bead of water that had fallen from his hair and rolled down his temple. I still had hold of his coat, the damp fabric bunched up between my freezing fingers.

“Who said that’s what I was doing?” Joel challenged, sounding almost insolent.

I made myself meet his eyes again. “Why are you here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He repeated, a stubborn set to his jaw. “Was walking.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Your door was open.”

“You could have shut it and kept on going.”

“Should’ve.” He admitted gruffly.

My shoulders sagged and I shook my head, trying to dislodge his unwavering gaze. It didn’t work

 “I don’t want to talk, Joel.” I told him tiredly.

“Don’t have to talk.”

We watched each other closely. Carefully.

“Okay.” I uttered. 

My breathing faltered as Joel’s calloused hand curled around my wrist and tugged, encouraging me to release my hold on him. I did immediately. Then, his other hand landed on my back and he began to guide me down. It wasn’t gentle, but the force didn't feel like an imposition. 

When the back of my head hit the pillow, he clambered over me. One knee rested on the ground beside my hip, while the other nudged my legs open. 

Joel sat back on his knees, his dark pupils trained on me as he unzipped his coat. I watched as he shucked it off and then tossed it onto the couch, right on top of my gun. Then he began to unbutton the cuffs of his plaid shirt. 

A sensation that I thought had been lost to me long ago returned; something deep within me coiling tight at the sight of him rolling his sleeves up his toned forearms.

Then he crowded over me. His hands planted themselves on either side of my head. Joel held himself there, our chests brushed against each other, no longer enough space between us for them to swell with full breaths.

 There was something suffocating about having him so near. Perhaps that’s why I welcomed it when he pressed even closer. 

It felt almost as if Joel tried to cover my body completely with his and absorb me into him. He ran his hand down the side of my face, thumb grazing my cheek before he tucked my hair behind my ear. Then he pressed his lips there to whisper:

“If you want me gone, say it.” 

“If I don’t?” I asked breathlessly. 

Joel’s breath was hot against the side of my face and it faltered ever so slightly before he spoke again. 

“Got something that might help you sleep.” 

We stayed like that as his statement dissipated in the air like smoke. Even when it went, the scent lingered: heady and overwhelming. 

I lifted my hand tentatively and let it fall on the back of Joel’s neck when he didn’t flinch from it. I don’t know I’d expected him to. I ran my hand up and my fingers collected drops of water until they curled into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

In answer, Joel ran his lips down the shell of my ear and then nipped the lobe with his teeth. My eyes fluttered shut at the slight sting. 

Joel was solid, tangible enough that he grounded me. He was something that wasn’t going to slip through my fingers. And yet he was utterly detached from me, after this, he would drift away untethered. 

I knew whatever happened between us would be fleeting; melt away with the sunrise like frost. I wanted it that way. 

My hands fell away from the back of Joel’s neck as he pulled back. Not far, just enough so that he could grab the band of my sweatpants and tug them down, my underwear going with them. He reached the curve of my ass and lifted my hips so that he could pull the clothing free. 

I shivered at the rush of the freezing air of my exposed flesh, but Joel was already crawling back on top of me, his warmth returning. I stared up at him as he took two of his own fingers into his mouth. He pulled them free and they glistened with his own spit. Moistness gathered between my thighs accompanied by an agonising throb. 

Joel pressed his chest to mine, my hardened nipples pressing through my t-shirt and into his. 

When his fingers ran through my folds, my head fell back. He wasted no time, pressing firmly on the way down before he pushed them inside of me. He held them there, no doubt feeling me pulsing around him. 

His mouth fell against my neck, not kissing, but holding me flesh between his teeth as he began to pump his fingers. The movement was almost languid, his digits rippling inside of me. 

My breath stuttered and my hands lifted, falling on either side of his neck just for something to hold onto. 

Joel’s mouth closed into an almost kiss against my pulse point and the little hum he let out vibrated through me. 

The tightness deep within me intensified, but just as I began to grow close, he pulled his fingers out of me, leaving an ache in his wake. 

But then there was the clink of his belt buckle and his hands fumbled to pull it free. I moved to help him, my fingers brushing against his own that were slick with me. 

He submitted to my help and his hands returned to either side of my head as I pulled the belt free of the loops and let it drop to the ground. I went to work on the fly of his jeans, now desperate and panting, but he would not abide my help in that endeavour. 

He murmured disapproval and took hand into his and held it above my head. He did the same with the other one and cuffed both of my wrists together with just one of his hands. With the other he popped the button of his jeans and the undoing of the fly soon followed. 

His fingers ran through the sensitive flesh between my legs and gathered up some of the slickness there. He kept his eyes on my face as he took himself in the same hand and spread my arousal over his hardness. 

My t-shirt had been shucked up to reveal my belly. His eyes flicked to the ugly scar just above my pelvis only briefly. 

When Joel lined himself up at my entrance, I let my eyes flutter closed. It had been so long, but I didn't care. I wanted him inside me, to feel him moving. To feel pleasure. Anything to keep the numbness at bay. 

Joel pressed himself inside me with a hard thrust. A low groan came from his throat and the hand holding my wrists tightened.

 Our hips aligned. And then he began to move, rolling into me, the force of the movements pushed me along the floor, rumpling the blanket beneath me. 

When I lifted my feet and wrapped them around his hips, intent on driving him into me even harder, Joel groaned in pleasure. His head dropped low again and his lips skimmed over my temple, then brushed over the still healing gash on my forehead.  

Pressure built within me as he pounded relentlessly. The sound of our fevered joining and ragged breathing blocked out everything else, even the wind and rain beyond the house. In that moment it didn't really feel like there was a beyond. Just him.

When I murmured his name, Joel released my wrists. My hands immediately ran up his neck and over the sides of his face. Right when I brushed past the scar on his temple, he pressed his lips against the wound on my forehead. 

He thrust into me with such a bruising force that my pleasure burst, my release rolling through me in a violent shudder. I dug my nails into Joel’s hair and his thrusts became sloppier, slowing until he was just grinding his hips against mine. 

His hands mirrored my own and he cradled my head, his forehead pressed to mine as he came inside of me. 

We stayed like that, our sticky skin pressed close, until our breathing calmed. 

Joel pulled out of me and then sat back on his haunches. I felt him looking at me so I shut my eyes again. 

I don’t remember much after that before I drifted off.

:✮:·

When I woke up, I was alone. There was an ache between my legs, but it wasn’t painful. I was fully-clothed and tucked beneath the blanket. Almost warm.

But, while I was glad that Joel was nowhere to be found–it had felt like an unspoken agreement between us–something else was missing. 

My gun was gone. Again. 

Bastard. 

Part Two - You Don't Get to Decide

[cemeteryspider]

A Feathered Destiny

Nightcrawler! Kurt Wagner x Winged! Reader

Summary: Your world and Kurt's faith collide when you join the X-Men.

There are religious themes in this because Nightcrawler is canonically Catholic. I used to be a practicing member of the Catholic Church but I no longer practice this religion. I hope not to offend religious and non-religious people. There is no mention of reader's faith.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, Injury, Blood, Emotional Distress, Religious and Supernatural Themes

Word Count: 1514

When Charles Xavier introduced you to his team of X-Men, shock coursed through you. One moment, you were a nobody, burdened by a painfully obvious mutation that had isolated you from human society. In an instant, you found yourself surrounded by mutants like yourself, each with their own unique abilities and histories.

Some of the X-Men were unsettled by your resemblance to the original X-Men member, Angel. However, Beast quickly dismissed any concerns of familial ties and after verifying your carbon dating matched your age, ruling out the possibility of you being a clone.

One member of the X-Men, however, greeted you without hesitation. Nightcrawler's eyes widened and his mouth fell agape at the sight of your pure white wings, immediately drawn to the divine aura you seemed to exude.

To him you were perfect in every way, a divine gift from god himself.

During your first mission you were sent to stop sentinel activity in Los Angeles. You soared past the sentinels nose-diving into their heads and soaring out the back unscathed.

You worked fast and effectively, working with the other X-Men to keep people on the ground safe. Once the sentinels were taken down and your feet touched the ground once more you could sense the despair of the people around you.

A deep emotional crowd of sadness nearly suffocated you. You scanned the crowd looking for people you could help.

One espeacially strong emotional response coming from not too far away. A little girl hovering over her mother, who was weakly trying to consol her daughter despite the blood leaking from the left side of her mouth and the stone crushing her chest.

You approached the little girl cautiously, kneeling beside her. With a gentle touch, you retrieved a small dagger from your suit's waistband and carefully snipped a lock of your hair. Placing it in the girl's hand, you whispered softly, "What do you wish for the most right now?"

A suprised look crossed the girl's face when the hair in her hand disappeared into a golden light, and the rock on her mom's chest disappeared along with the blood on her mouth.

You heard two small gasps as the mom's once concave chest returned to it's usual position.

The girl launched herself into her mom's arms, and you just smiled at the sight in front of you.

"Thank you," The mom said in your direction.

A team of medics carefully loaded the woman onto a stretcher, their movements precise and urgent. Deep down you knew their tests were going to come back with positive results. The miracle you seemed to have preformed would do the trick. Her daughter ran into the ambulance to follow.

People around you stared standing still, some with their jaw slack others with their eyes wide. You smiled as you brushed the rubble off of your suit and stood up walking past Kurt who looked baffled at the scene he just witnessed, "My God, Samson's hair."

To him, he had just witnessed a miracle of god.

~~~

Later that week you stood across from Kurt in the Danger Room. You watched as Wolverine typed into a tablet changing some of the hologram enemies around the room.

"Alright, let's see if you've got what it takes. Get ready for some action," You almost rolled your eyes. Wolverine was obviously not used to setting up training for others, but you decided that he was trying his best.

Kurt looked over to you, "Let's show them what we've got, ja?"

A smiled crossed your face, "I'm ready when you are."

With a quick glance over to Logan he smirked, "Begin."

The holographic enemies shot into action around the two of you. You allowed your wings to spread and soon you lifted off the ground.

"I'll take the high ground," You shouted down to Kurt.

He disappeared and reappeared behind an enemy in a cloud of smoke and brimstone. He delivered a swift kick to the back of its skull, "Und I will keep them occupied down here."

You knocked a bunch of holograms down with your spread wings, and Kurt teleported rapidly, dodging attacks and taking down enemies with an acrobatic prowess.

You weaved through the various obstecales put in your flying path. You took down an archer that was silently aiming for Kurt in a tree.

"They cannot hit what they cannot see," He shouted up to you, and you smiled. He couldn't help but smirk when he saw your white teeth.

The last few enemies standing Kurt stood straight with a serene look settling across his features as he fought. His lips tumbling out whispers, "Thank you, Lord, for this strength."

You land next to Kurt, with the last enemy defeated. The land evened out with a few taps on Wolverine's tablet.

"Great job, Kurt!" You smiled at him again.

He smiled back, "Danke, We make a good team, don't we?"

When his eyes met yours he took your hand in his, "You are a gift from God, you know."

Your eyes left his to look at the ground, "I really appreaciate that Kurt, but I'm not an angel. I am a mutant, just like you."

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you looked back up at him, "Mutant... Angel. It does not matter to me. You are still a blessing."

You tight shoulders loosened, "Thank you Kurt, that means a lot."

"Alright, enough chit-chat you two. Let's see if you can handle the next level," Logan said rapidly typing into the tablet once more.

~~~

In the evening, you found solace on a weathered bench in the campus garden. The night sky twinkled with distant stars, casting a gentle glow over the blooming peonies. The faint scent of sulfur wafted through the air, drawing your attention to Nightcrawler, who appeared beside you

"Mind if I join you?"

A small smile crosses your face, "Not at all"

He looked at your face as the moon cast a gentle glow on your face.

"It is beautiful out here. Peaceful," His eyes quickly darting to the sky, "Do you ever wonder if there is more to this world than the things we see?"

A subtle crease in your brow formed, "I do. Sometimes I think about where we come from and where we're going."

Kurts arms rested on his theighs, "My faith has always guided me. Even in the darkest of times. I believe there is a high purpose, and that it has guided you to me."

"I admire your faith in a higher power, Kurt."

He turns his body to look at you, "It has not been easy. I have faced hatred and fear for how I look. Through it all, I have always held onto my faith."

You put your hand over Kurt's, "You've been through so much Kurt, I understand why you hold onto your faith so tightly."

"And you? What keeps you going, Angel?" His eyes lit up.

You took a deep breath, "There's something I need to tell you. It's about why I came here."

A gentle concern crosses his face and he leans it a little bit close to you, "Whatever it is, you can trust me."

You scrunch your eyes closed, "I came here because I felt lost. Once my powers manifested my parents kicked me out of the house. My old friends wanted nothing to do with me. When the Professor found me I was completley alone. No one to help me, everyone shutting me out. When I met you I felt like I finally found a place to belong, with the X-Men."

He smiled warmly at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "You are always welcome here. The X-Men is a family, and we support each other."

Your eyes shone with unshed tears, "Thank you Kurt. That means more than you know."

Your head rested on his shoulder and you continued to watch the night sky. His head came to rest atop yours as well.

~~~

You stood beside Kurt as Rogue and Gambit animatedly recounted their globe-trotting escapades. Kurt subtly wrapped his arm around your waist, eliciting a chuckle from Rogue.

"Took you two long enough," she teased with a grin.

A blush crossed your face with a shy smile, and Kurt could only grin at his sister's comment.

Soon Scott and Jean walked over congratulating the two of you on getting together, saying it felt like it would never happen despite Kurt following you around like a lost puppy.

"They're just jealous of the two of ya, sugah," Rogue whispered to you when she gave you a hug. You couldn't help but smile looking at the team surrounding you.

You finally found the warmth of friendship among these extraordinary individuals. Perhaps, in time, they would become your family.

From his wheelchair in the hallway, Professor Xavier watched his team with a smile that held both pride and hope. As laughter and camaraderie filled the air, he felt a deep-seated conviction that every obstacle overcome brought them closer to realizing his dream of unity and acceptance.

[11queensupreme11]

How would Poseidon react to Atlantis being destroyed because his counterpart chose to side with Percy? How would he react to PJO!Poseidon having many children AND a wife(that is not Percy) and how mean they treat his daughter?

How would the gods and humans react to Hera erasing Percy’s memories? I feel like ROR!Hera would be trembling in fear of Poseidon killing her as revenge for what her counterpart did. How would they react to the difference between Jason and Percy situations like Jason woke up in a bus with a girlfriend and a friend but Percy woke up in the woods having to fight monsters the second she opened her eyes.

I just know they would put a bounty on PJO!Hera’s head!!

oh i love this 😭😭

daddyseidon would not care if pjo!atlantis got trashed LMAO 😭😭😭 in his eyes, he sees that the pjo!atlanteans are weak and pathetic. like "it seems to me that this pitiful king decided to rule a kingdom of weaklings 😐🔱" (sorry daddyseidon, but not everyone wants to be a tyrant who terrorizes everyone 24/7 🙄 some prefer to be DECENT)

tho in pjo!poseidon's defense, in my fic, ror!poseidon doesn't just rule a small kingdom, it's a whole ass EMPIRE with multiple kingdoms that spans all the sees/oceans. he also doesn't have oceanus to worry about since the dude's... well... dead 💀. so pjo!poseidon's kingdom is smaller with fewer ppl to defend; hence why pjo!poseidon's presence was necessary to help them

so pjo!poseidon leaving them is... truly awful lmao 😭😭😭 i talked about it in a previous chapter (i think it was "motherhood kicks my ass" but this act pretty much cemented triton's already growing distaste and envy for percy as well as amphitrite's bitterness 💔

like... imagine being in triton's position. you know those manhwas where the MC gets replaced by a younger sibling that shows up and everyone starts to adore them and shove the MC to the side??? yeah, triton's the MC and percy's the star child 😭😭😭😭

cuz seriously.... you've remained loyal to your father for eons. bit your tongue with every affair that hurt your mother, held strong with every bastard child that showed up that COULD'VE taken your spot, but fortunately they never did. then percy shows up, another bastard child, and your father goes above and beyond for her. she insulted him multiple times when she was 12 and your father who WOULD'VE smited her, never did. she's made multiple mistakes, made many enemies. did things that you would never do, but your father continues to love her unconditionally.

and then the war comes. you fight alongside your father.... but then percy calls her daddy for help uwu and your father LEAVES you and your mother to deal with the people literally trying to destroy you and your home 💀💔 their people died, homes were destroyed, their palace was attacked, but that's fine because daddy's little girl wanted his help and that was more important.

like, it becomes VERY clear to you that you will never get your father's love. it will always belong to percy. and it sucks for amphitrite too cuz have you SEEN what happened with her other kids with poseidon? triton is quite literally the only kid he keeps around and even then he is shoved to the side whenever it comes to percy 😭😭 her husband loves his bastard baby more than he ever loved her and their own children together 💔💔💔💔💔

(also damn triton really IS living the tragic manwha heroine life LMAO 😭😭😭)

also omg sorry i rambled, but i got too into the angst to stop MY BAD

BUT ANYWAYS BACK TO YOUR ASK 🤪

i wouldn't really say that triton and amphitrite are mean to percy cuz they only had.... one interaction and it was like.... ten seconds long 💀 but they definitely aren't fond of her for the reasons i stated above! triton is jealous and hurting and amphitrite is bitter, sad, and resigned. regardless tho.... ror!poseidon would hate them 💀 because he's ror!poseidon. amphitrite is the granddaughter of oceanus (in my fic AND in canon pjo) so he automatically hates her because of that. he would see triton as a disappointment and a failure and would hate him for having (very understandable) negative feelings towards his perfect daughter 💀💀

NOW AS FOR THE SWITCHEROO 😭😭😭

hera was so crazy for this tho lmaooo BUT i seriously believe percy had the better end of this. it was bad AT THE START, but like.... percy ends up winning (again). like... think about it.

jason wakes up safe in a school bus with two demigods who have fake mist memories of being close to him (creating an automatic close bond, thus giving him more help). he's also with a satyr. only got attacked once before getting to camp and was taken to camp half-blood straight away.

meanwhile poor percy wakes up in a fucking cave with no shoes on (for some crazy ass reason wtf hera 😭). she's in the wilderness surrounded by man-eating wolves with other kids. if she acts too silly she gets EATEN by said wolves??? goes through grueling training sessions where she had to learn an entirely new way to fight (roman way). survives the wolf house and gets kicked out and told to find her own way to camp. gets attacked MULTIPLE FUCKING TIMES while being lost as fuck. has to carry an old hag over a river, loses her achilles heel that she didn't even know she had, and THEN finally gets to camp 😭

the ror characters are gonna be so fucking pissed cuz wtf??? you put their baby with man-eating wolves? excuse you that's a PRINCESS???? and the fact that she couldn't show "weakness" or risk being eaten, so she couldn't even be a lil silly 💔 AND SHE'S SURROUNDED BY 🤢.... ROMANS???? 🤮 she really got the shitty end of the stick at first 😭😭😭😭😭

BUT I STILL BELIEVE JASON HAD IT WORSE IN A WAY. cuz like.... when he got to camp, ppl were pretty okay with him tbh. and when he came back from his quest they were just like "yeah jason's cool 😃👍"

but percy saves camp jupiter and she's automatically elected as praetor. she's given JASON'S spot. when anthonius comes and tackles her (i'm gonna have him do that instead of a judo flip), the romans were ready to throw down. she became well-liked SUPER fast even after it was revealed that she was greek.

not only that, but camp half-blood literally had search parties looking for her for MONTHS (and in my fic, two years). whereas i think it was only reyna who was desperate to find jason, but couldn't leave cuz she had praetor duties. camp half-blood was flipping america upside down trying to find her while it was crickets for jason 😭

[helenofsparta2]

Headcannon: Percy is immensely popular among nature spirits and "minor" gods

Oceanids & Nereids

It starts small.

The Nereids and Oceanids are naturally curious about him when they find out about his existence, that’s already canon:

She (a nereid) nodded. “It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest.”

Suddenly, I remembered faces in the waves of Montauk Beach when I was a little boy, reflections of smiling women. (The Lightning Thief, chapter 17)

Later, at the latest by the time Titan’s curse happens, nereids and oceanids see him save ocean creatures from fishing gear, or whales stranded on beaches, or him helping mermaids with hanging nails. (Titan’s curse, chapter 7)  We see him be considerate and respectful to nereids through his interaction in the fourth book at the ranch.

She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her fists were balled, but I thought I heard a little quaver in her voice. Suddenly, I realized that, despite her angry attitude, she was afraid of me. She probably thought I was going to fight her for control of the river , and she was worried, she would lose.

The thought made me sad. I felt like a bully, a son of Poseidon throwing his weight around.

I sat down on a tree stump. “Okay, you win.”

The naiad looked surprised. (The Battle of the Labyrinth, chapter 9)

It’s pretty good established in the books, that smaller gods and spirits don’t get treated with respect most of the time, especially not from heroes of old like Herakles and the Olympian gods. The reaction of the naiad adds to this sentiment, so we can pretty easily conclude that the way Percy treats them, is relatively rare.

In-between the books, Rick often sprinkles in some interactions between Percy and naiads, which further underlines their positive opinion of him:

I looked over the edge of the boat and found a couple of naiads staring at me. They looked like regular teenage girls, the kind you’d see in any mall, except for the fact that they were underwater.

Hey, I said. They made a bubbling sound that may have been giggling. I wasn’t sure. I had a hard time understanding naiads.

We’re heading upstream, I told them. Do you think you could-

Before I could even finish, the naiads each chose a canoe and began pushing us up the river. (Titan’s curse, Chapter 14)

Satyrs & Dryads:

The satyrs know that he, Clarisse, Annabeth, Tyson and Grover were the ones, who returned the golden fleece to camp half-blood and so, have stopped satyrs from getting killed by Polyphemus. During the battle of the labyrinth, Percy is the one who extinguished the fire and stopped the trees and dryads from getting burnt to death. Not to mention that he is best friends with the guy, who discovered Pan and has the title of Lord of the Wild.

“Minor” Gods:

The non-Olympian gods, like Hecate, Nemesis, Eros, Hebe and Morpheus were probably curious about him, even wary, but nothing more at first, until Percy managed to stop the civil war between Zeus and Poseidon at the age of twelve.  

We know that canonically, this already earned him the respect of many different beings:

As I walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People, and satyrs and naiads all turned towards me, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as I passed, they knelt, as if I were some kind of hero.” (The Lightning Thief, chapter 21)

By the time the war with Kronos further escalates and they join his side, this obviously changes again. From this moment on, Percy is their enemy, and probably nothing more for most of them.

But then, they lose, and probably expect the worst of consequences.

Gods who have crossed Zeus have suffered severe punishments before. Prometheus was bound to a rock, with an eagle eating his liver every day because he stole fire from the gods, gifted it to humanity and tricked Zeus, the titans were banished to Tartarus after the Titanomachy. After some of the gods rebelled and tried to overthrow Zeus, Hera got hung in the sky with golden chains, where she cried out all night in pain, while Apollo and Poseidon were forced to work as labourers for King Laomedon of Troy.

They probably expected to get thrown into Tartarus with the rest of the Titans, get stripped of their immortality, or worse. Instead, however, their children finally receive cabins at camp half-blood and they themselves receive full amnesty.

All because Percy Jackson, this 16-year-old teenager, decides to change the entire thousand year old status quo on Olympus.  

He could have wished for anything after their victory over Kronos and the titan army. The choice was not between the oath he made the gods swear and him becoming a god. He could have wished to be left alone, or to never have to do a quest again, or live a happy, and peaceful life away from the pain and wars until the end of his days, or literally anything else, but he didn’t. He made the active choice to make Olympus fairer, and to create equality among the demigods, without even thinking about it for too long.

No one can convince me that this, and his already mentioned other actions, didn’t earn him the respect of huge parts of the mythological world.

Not even Rick himself (no matter how much he may try in his new books)

[gremlingottoosilly]

OMG, Monster!Price 🫶 that was *chef's kiss*, would love to imagine how he would be w/ the reader and her little bear cubs. Imagine the reader's just trying to breastfeed the kids and Monster!Price falls in love with her beauty all over again.

His soul can't handle it. He is a seasoned monster, probably went through quite a few attempts at mating with people - either captives from Human Resistance, wild ones who were fighting him all the way and got rid of the cubs as swiftly as possible, or some pliant pets from human pet shops who were nothing more but mindless dolls without any fight left in them. But you...as perfect as a human can be. So soft with his cubs, he is almost sad about letting all of them go out to be soldiers. He is pulling some strings, pushing them to be left with you as long as possible - good thing about warm-blooded mammal shifters is that they still need nurturing and milk from their mommies...you're not just an incubator, you're actually taking care of little bears until they are ready to be trained. It's hybrids, so you are getting just half a year before they are strong enough, but still...John almost wants to just leave everyone with you. You're such a great mommy, he loves nothing more but to shift in his bear form and tuck you under his paw, making sure you're nice and warm for him, safely hidden from any of his many enemies. You have so many little bear cubs, it's almost impossible to feed them all, and won't feel exhausted! Price is trying his best to accommodate you, sending to hell anyone who is trying to fuck with him for coddling his pet too much - he is petting you and feeding you like a spoiled cat! There is literally nothing you to have to do for him or his boys, besides snuggling and looking pretty in their things. There are certain levels of things you have to oblige to when you're just a pet of a monster of his rank - freedom is something out of a fairytale, you don't really have a say whether you want sex or not, and if you're too exhausted to be his pretty wifey, you still have to act like one. He loves you, of course! As much as he can love a human, of course, he is still very dismissing and demeaning towards you - even when you act smart or cunning when you play little pranks on Soap and try to have fun with little bear cubs, Price will still call you somewhat mean names - you're just his pathetic little thing, as much as he enjoys you being his wife and the mom of his many, many children.

[autisticadult]

The ‘C’ word

Warnings: this is ANGSTY. Death of y/n, sad as FUCK bro. Lowkey made me cry writing that son of a bitch. That hurted. Took a lot of damage yall.

January 3rd

Mystic Falls had always been a stage for chaos, a town where Klaus Mikaelson found amusement in the missteps of mortals and the petty dramas of his enemies. Yet for all the years he’d lingered in this cursed town, no moment had ever unsettled him quite like the day he saw her. Y/N was nothing like the people who normally drew his attention. She wasn’t a witch crafting spells in secret, a hunter with a grudge, or even a vampire looking to make her mark. She was human. Utterly, undeniably human, in a way that made her seem almost out of place in a town like this.

She was a quiet disruption, slipping into his world like sunlight through fractured glass, casting light on corners of his soul he hadn’t dared to look at in centuries. Too soft, too fragile, too human for the monster he’d become, she was an enigma that refused to be ignored. She wasn’t remarkable in the ways he was used to. No ancient bloodlines tied to myths he’d spent lifetimes uncovering, no supernatural power to challenge his own. Just a girl with tired eyes, a steady voice, and a kind of quiet defiance that held his attention longer than he wanted to admit.

The first time he saw her, she was sitting beneath a tree on the edge of the woods, her back pressed against the bark as she read from a tattered book. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, her gaze fixed on the words in front of her, her lips curving ever so slightly in a private smile. He didn’t mean to stop, didn’t mean to linger—but there was something about her stillness, something almost haunting in the way she seemed to exist entirely apart from the chaos around her.

Then she looked up. Her eyes, calm and unwavering, locked onto his. There was no fear in her gaze, no trembling acknowledgment of the danger he represented. Just quiet curiosity, like she was looking at another passerby in the park.

“You’re staring,” she said bluntly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as though she hadn’t just disarmed one of the most dangerous creatures in existence with a single sentence.

Klaus smirked, charmed despite himself. “And you’re not running. Curious.”

She tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “Why run? It’s not like I’d get far.”

At the time, he took her words as flippant, an attempt to throw him off guard. He didn’t yet understand the weight behind them, the truth hidden in her casual defiance. There was no trembling in her voice, but there was something else—a weariness that didn’t belong on someone so young. He noticed the faint pallor of her skin then, the way her breaths seemed just a little too shallow, as though even breathing cost her something.

He left that day, but her words lingered.

When their paths crossed again, it wasn’t by chance. She was sitting on a bench in the town square this time, a blanket draped over her legs despite the warm spring sun. She had a notebook in her lap, a pencil in her hand, and that same quiet focus that had caught his attention before. He approached, his steps slow and deliberate, unable to resist the pull of her quiet gravity.

“Do you always sit alone?” he asked, sliding onto the bench beside her without waiting for an invitation.

She didn’t look up, her pencil still moving across the page. “Do you always bother strangers?”

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the bench. “Only the ones who intrigue me.”

This time, she looked at him, raising an eyebrow as if to say I’m not impressed. But there was a flicker of something else, too—a faint amusement that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a shame,” she said. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” he replied smoothly.

That was how it began. January came and went, then February, and finally March was upon them.

Quiet moments that became longer conversations. Questions met with cryptic answers. She never asked why he was there, never questioned the air of danger that seemed to surround him. Instead, she spoke to him like he was just another person—someone who didn’t intimidate her in the slightest. And maybe that was what kept him coming back.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever known. Fragile yet fierce, mortal yet unafraid. She didn’t try to charm him or manipulate him, didn’t ask for anything. She was just there, stubborn and honest and heartbreakingly real in a way that made him feel like he was the one who didn’t belong.

He watched her closely, drawn to her even as she tried to keep him at arm’s length. There was something she wasn’t telling him, something in the way her gaze lingered on the horizon like she was searching for something she’d never find. When he finally pressed her about it, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, she met his gaze with an unflinching honesty that sent a chill through him. In April, y/n was finally honest with him.

Klaus had followed her around like a hopeless puppy for months at this point. She didn’t know, but watching him run around her kitchen trying to cook her something made her need to warn him. Get him to leave her before it was too late.

“I’m dying,” she said simply.

For a moment, he thought she was joking. But the look in her eyes told him otherwise. He put down the spatula he was holding, looking at her with wide, confused eyes.

“Brain cancer,” she said simply, her voice steady, though it was followed by a small, breathy laugh. “Stage four. The doctors say I have possibly months if I stick to my treatment… weeks if I don’t.”

Klaus stared at her, the words sinking in like lead. For the first time in centuries, he found himself completely, utterly speechless. He had faced countless battles, betrayed family and friends, and survived wars that spanned lifetimes. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for this.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, his voice unsteady, breaking in a way that made her look at him with a tenderness he couldn’t bear.

“What would it have changed?” she replied, her tone soft but resolute. “This is my reality, Klaus. It’s not something that can be fixed. I’ve made my peace with it.”

But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. He had to change it.

Klaus Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid who had cheated death a thousand times over, refused to accept it. Her resignation to her fate was unbearable to him, foreign in a way that left him grasping for something—anything—to anchor himself. He couldn’t reconcile the vibrant girl who had captivated him with the inevitability of her fragile mortality.

It began with little things. He started appearing more often, his presence a constant shadow in her dwindling days. He found excuses to be near her—bringing books she’d never asked for, meals she often left untouched, and stories of the world that she would never see.

At first, she protested. “I don’t need a babysitter,” she’d say, her voice tinged with both exhaustion and fond exasperation.

“I’m not a babysitter,” he’d reply with that infuriating smirk of his. “I’m Klaus Mikaelson. Consider yourself lucky to have my company.” As April faded into may, she got worse. May slowly slipped into June, and she got even worse. June into July, was the worst. Klaus could tell they were getting close. They had beaten her originally prognosis of weeks to months, but her tumors were rapidly growing at this point. It wouldn’t be long.

Eventually, as her strength waned and the days became harder to endure, she stopped fighting his presence. She didn’t ask him to leave, but she also never allowed him to pity her. She still teased him, still argued when he spoke of solutions she didn’t want to hear. But her voice was softer now, her defiance tempered by a growing weariness.

One night, as she lay in bed, her body frail and her breath shallow, Klaus sat beside her. The light in the room was dim, casting shadows across his face, softening the sharp edges that so often gave away his cruelty. But there was nothing cruel about the way he looked at her now—only a desperate kind of longing, something raw and unguarded that she rarely saw in him.

“You don’t have to die,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She turned her head to look at him, her gaze tired but steady. “Klaus—”

“No,” he interrupted, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with something between hope and despair. “You don’t have to die, Y/N. I can save you. Let me save you. Let me give you eternity.”

Her lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, bittersweet and knowing. “You think this is something you can fix. But it’s not, Klaus.”

“It doesn’t have to end like this!” he snapped, his voice rising before softening again. “I’ve spent a thousand years watching people come and go, losing pieces of myself with every passing century. And now, you… I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not like this. Let me turn you. Let me give you the life you deserve—the life we deserve.”

She reached for his hand, her touch cold but steady, and held it in hers. “Klaus, you think turning me would save me, but it wouldn’t. It would take away the parts of me that you claim to love. My mortality, my humanity… that’s what makes me who I am. Take that away, and I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

His jaw tightened, his anguish bubbling just beneath the surface. “You’d still be you. You’d be alive. We could have forever. Don’t you see? Eternity together, Y/N. Isn’t that worth it?”

Her gaze softened, tears glistening in her eyes though she didn’t let them fall. “And what kind of forever would it be, Klaus? I’d be a shadow of myself, trapped in a world I was never meant to belong to. I don’t want that. Not for me, and not for you.”

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice breaking as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. “You’re the only person who’s ever looked at me like I’m more than what I’ve done. You see me. Don’t take that away from me, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her tears finally falling as she whispered, “I’m not afraid of dying, Klaus. I’m afraid of losing myself. And I won’t let that happen. Not even for you.”

His chest ached in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries, a hollow pain that no amount of power or rage could fill. He wanted to argue, to beg her to see reason, but he knew in his heart that she had already made her choice. She wasn’t afraid of death—she was afraid of losing the beauty of her fleeting humanity.

And for the first time in a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson felt powerless. As more months slipped by, they were finally faced with the difficult end in December. Just 2 days before Christmas.

In her final days, Klaus became the only constant in a world that seemed to be slipping away from her. The vibrant girl he had met beneath the trees was fading, and with every moment, he felt the cruel inevitability of time pulling her farther from him. But he stayed. He stayed through the pain, through the moments when her strength failed her and her voice became too soft to carry her stubborn defiance. She hated that he saw her like this—fragile and fading—but he never faltered.

“I’m not afraid, you know,” she said one night, her voice so weak it barely broke the silence of the room. She was curled in his arms, her head resting against his chest, and he could feel how small she had become, how frail.

“You should be,” he replied, his voice low, barely controlled. “What you’re facing… it isn’t something to accept so easily.”

She smiled faintly, her lips curving in that gentle, bittersweet way he had come to love and hate all at once. “Fear won’t change anything. And I don’t want my last days to be spent running from something I can’t escape.”

His arms tightened around her as if holding her closer could somehow keep her tethered to this world. “You don’t have to escape it,” he murmured, his voice breaking despite himself. “You could have chosen me. You still could. Let me turn you. Let me save you.”

But she only closed her eyes, shaking her head as tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She didn’t argue anymore, didn’t try to convince him why she couldn’t take that path. She had said all she needed to, and the weight of her silence broke something in him.

So instead, they spoke of other things. Her favorite books, the dreams she’d carried with her since childhood. The places she had hoped to visit, the life she had imagined she would have. He told her stories of his centuries of wandering—tales he had never shared with anyone else. He memorized the sound of her laughter, even when it was faint and fleeting. He studied the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of the stars and the faint scent of lavender that clung to her skin, knowing it would haunt him for the rest of his existence.

Some nights, when her pain became unbearable, she would let herself cry in his arms. “I don’t want to go,” she admitted once, her voice breaking in a way he had never heard before. “I don’t want to leave this… leave you.”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered desperately, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

But no matter how much he begged, no matter how many promises he made, she never wavered. Her mortality was a part of her, and though it was killing her, it was also what made her the woman he had fallen in love with.

When the end came, it was quieter than he had imagined it would be. There was no dramatic gasp, no final, tragic declaration. She lay in his arms, her breaths growing shallower with each passing moment. Her hand, so small and trembling in his, held on as tightly as she could, though he could feel her slipping away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so faint he had to strain to hear it. “For staying.”

Her eyes met his one last time, soft and full of a love he had never known before her. And then, she was gone.

Klaus didn’t move. He sat there, holding her lifeless body as though keeping her close might somehow bring her back. The room was silent, save for the sound of his own ragged breaths, and outside, the world carried on as though nothing had happened.

But everything had.

He had lived a thousand years, witnessed the rise and fall of empires, endured betrayals and heartbreak. Yet nothing—nothing—had ever broken him like this.

Hours passed, though he barely noticed. Her body grew cold in his arms, and still, he refused to let her go. For so long, he had believed that immortality was the ultimate gift, a shield against the pain of loss. But now, as he sat there with the weight of her absence crushing him, he realized how wrong he had been.

For the first time in his immortal life, Klaus Mikaelson wished for mortality. Not because he feared death, but because he finally understood the unbearable weight of living without her.

Eternity stretched before him, infinite and empty, and for the first time, he wanted none of it.

[corseque]

I just had the most lightning-strike-my-brain realization

(extreme SPOILERS for the entirety of Clair Obscur, do not click on this post)

Think about it, oh my god....

To put it into words rather than a couple images - this game tried and succeeded to include and then deeply humanize every type of antagonist it could. Each member of the Dessendre family is a different type of Sympathetic Villain, to the point of them becoming Sympathetic Antagonists. Because they are ALL antagonists in some way, and they are all humanized, the player of the game's mind whirls and sorts them all in the "character" category instead of the "villain" or "antagonist" category.

What was brilliant while playing was that whenever you thought you had come across a character who was purely a villain - surely Renoir, who kills Gustave right in front of you, surely he's just a villain? You were wrong. And there were like 5 different types of these characters. Renoir - the archetype of shitty wizard villain who is Killing Everyone for Love, and Killing Everyone Also For Very Good Reasons Beyond Love, who would suffer and wait and plot and kill for thousands of years if it meant his family would be safe and whole again, who must Kill His Love To Get His Love Back, who is an extremely reasonable man but is in an extremely hard position where his back is to the wall and he must make sacrifices of others. The Emet-Selch type

Verso - the archetype of shitty wizard villain who is a tortured good man who must join a party of heroes and then lie to them about his purpose and his past and his true identity, even falling in love with those he is lying to, in order to Kill Everyone and Destroy the World to protect a true world and its true inhabitants. He also wants an end to his personal suffering, but doesn't see a way. The Solas type

Maelle/Alicia - the archetype of shitty wizard villain who is very understandably trying to escape from the real world and her real self and her real problems, even if she must hurt others, or torture and puppeteer the dead to do it, refusing to part with them. This is the type of villain that Batman holds hands with and comforts.

Aline - the archetype of shitty wizard villain who is so caught up in the throes of grief that she does not realize who she is hurting or the devastation she is causing in her grief (This is the type of enemy like when you fight a crazed wounded dragon as an antagonist or something, a pitiable enemy.)

Clea - the archetype of shitty wizard villain who is impatient and uncompromising, and willing to do whatever she needs to keep herself and her family alive, even if it means creating a horde of monsters and dismissively letting them roam with no oversight and kill people just to get a little bit of an edge, or a sliver of time advantage. The unconcerned antagonist in her secret lab who does things coldly but for good reason.

And the best part is Clair Obscur took all of these ideas and all of these kinds of antagonists, and not only did it humanize all of them extremely well, it gave each one of them a melancholy but happy ending TOGETHER. It's simply amazing. They all lived. They all won.

The real problem was all the shitty wizards being sad. It's literally the perfect story.

So no wonder all the reversals come out of nowhere, and no wonder that no matter how much foreshadowing they slather on Verso, you can't seem to mistrust him, because there are SO many other humanized villains and antagonists in this story (even the monsters are humanized and speak to you!) that you can't believe that there will be another one. You can't believe it. And it makes the writing keep striking in a really unexpected way.

It's so smart because these are all usually the fan favorite characters, so for a game to say, why not have the majority of the characters be like this kind of cool and reasonable but very dangerous nefarious wizard character? The answer is, why don't people do this ALL THE TIME