#aborted suicide attempt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 4 months ago

Text

then send me a son

pairing: joel miller x reader

cws/tags: so much angst (w/ happy ending! i swear), discussion of suicide attempt (the canon one), suicidal ideations, losing a child, losing a parent, survivors guilt, discussions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, p in v, oral sex, virginity loss (but it's not that big of deal/not a kink), both dealing w grief, ellie is dead, this is set in jackson post tlou pt I

summary: joel is put on suicide watch after he returns to jackson w/o ellie and reader becomes his 'caregiver' of sorts. lowkey enemies to lovers but also not bc it's kinda one-sided 'hatred'

a/n: author is pro-choice! and also understands the complexities of mental health that reader and joel do not at times (just wanted to make it clear that i understand... from personal experience... what depression is like as well as suicidal ideation).

title is from the song 'the suburbs' by arcade fire, but listen to the entirety of the suburbs (album) and funeral (album) if you want to understand my mindframe while writing this

the last sentence is a quote and i've reblogged it before but i'll find the image and post it/reblog it again

wc: 9.4k

masterlist | ko-fi | taglist

Joel is just surprised Tommy has the gall to ask, “Where’s Ellie?” when he arrives in Jackson alone.

In this world, when two people leave and only one comes back, you don’t ask because you already know what happened. You wait for that person to tell you about a miracle, and when they don’t, you know for sure.

“Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing,” is Joel’s response.

But Joel doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell, or anything other than ashes and dirt.

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says because he’d already said ‘I’m sorry’ when Sarah died, and that didn’t bring her back.

It takes a hefty amount of booze to get Joel to tell the story.

“I just hope she died for something. Then, at least, I’ll know I’m being selfish.”

I didn’t get that with Sarah, he thinks. She didn’t die for a ‘noble cause’. He doubts Ellie did either.

“You’re being put on watch,” Maria tells him the next morning – when he’s sober and asking what his duties are now that he’s back.

Life goes on, which means work goes on, so what’s my job? As long as it’s not burning bodies, I’ll be okay.

“Watch? Like I’m watching, or I’m being watched.”

“Being watched.”

He asks why, though he doesn’t need to. Tommy knows why he’s got that scar on his forehead.

“Fucking authoritarian bullshit,” he mutters, half into his pillow. “Thought you were a communist.”

“I am. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“I bet Tommy put you up to it anyway.”

“He didn’t ‘put me up to anything’.”

“But he told you, didn’t he?”

“He told me a long time ago.”

“Figures. You always knew I was a coward.”

“You say stuff like that, and then act like you don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say I don’t need help. I said I don’t want it.”

She’s silent, letting him continue. “Now let me grieve in peace, will you?”

She hums something akin to agreement, but asks for something that sounds like protest to him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

He tells her because he doesn’t want Tommy or anyone else searching through all his bullshit because that’s what happens if he doesn’t give ‘em up.

“Want my kitchen knives too?” he says, almost wryly.

She takes most of them, but leaves the more blunt ones out of sympathy. He can have butter on his toast. Unless she takes the toaster so he can’t take it with him in the bathtub.

She leaves the toaster, and then, leaves him alone.

Quite frankly, he’s too old to kill himself. Sure, people do it at his age, but he’s so goddamn tired. Moreover, he knows he could get someone else to do it pretty easily. Maybe he could be a martyr. He could save someone from a clicker or a soldier. He could save someone’s life for once. But would that be enough to save his soul? To make it to Heaven and see Ellie and Sarah again?

Maybe, he would, if God really does love people the way some say he does. But if Joel was God, he’d deny himself entry.

He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Aside from the two times he eats. And once in the middle of the night to take a piss because he may be depressed, but the last of his dignity is motivation enough not to wet the bed.

He doesn’t shower or change his clothes. Not like he’s wearing a shirt anyway, just boxers ‘cause it’s too hot outside and he doesn’t want to get up and turn on the fan. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but it comes. It comes because it has to, reluctant as it is.

He wakes up to the voice of an unfamiliar woman. Quieter than Ellie or Sarah, less stern than Maria or Tess. Not like he was expecting to hear from three out of four of those women, not outside of his dreams.

You’ve always cared about people, saving lives and all that. But you’re no good with a gun, so Tommy finds a better job than patrol for you.

“You’re going to be watching my brother, Joel.”

“Like, spying on him?”

“No, like making sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

A suicidal man is nothing new, especially in this world, but Tommy’s bluntness about it is. He acts as if it’s a normal job. Like the ones in office buildings that sound wonderful even though the people who tell you about them assure you it was barely better than life is now. This new watchmen position is the same as patrol, in a way. Terrifying in the gravity it holds. You have to keep someone alive.

You can shoot deer, you can run quickly, you can hide well. You can survive on your own. But, at age 10, your mom bled out as you sat by her side. You were too weak to carry her, to dig a grave and bury her. Your survival feels unearned, but you’re no good with guns. You’d miss if you tried to do it. That’s a rare thought anyway, and surely not one you plan to ever speak aloud. They’d put you on watch too, which sounds suffocating, in all honesty.

You don’t know Joel. You’ve heard his name in passing, but you arrived in Jackson during the period of time he was gone. He was going to take some girl to some hospital for something or other.

“What about that girl?” you ask. “Is she not taking care of him?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Oh,” you say.

He just nods. The ‘why�� of the whole arrangement makes sense, but you’re still unclear on the ‘how’. Am I just supposed to stay in his house 24/7? Is he allowed to shower on his own? Do I have to cook or do laundry?

“Just check in on him. He’s not the most… personable, but don’t take anything he says to heart.”

Just check in on him. It sounds simpler than it will be, you know that much. Even keeping a plant alive takes more than ‘checking in on it’.

You arrive at his house around 10 AM. You assume he’ll be awake, but when you look around his living room and kitchen, you can’t find him. Oh God, you think. What if he’s…

He’s asleep in bed. You’re pretty sure. He’s lying there and there’s no evidence that anything’s wrong, but when you say his name from the doorway, he doesn’t move. So, you walk closer to him, just to make sure he’s breathing.

“Joel,” you say softly – because your other option is reaching out to touch him, and you feel that’s a little too personal, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Who the Hell are you and how did you get into my house?” he says.

“Tommy sent me.”

“Oh, so they’re making you watch me?”

“Yeah.”

You’re glad he knows about the arrangement. Maybe he’ll give you some direction on what to do with him.

“Must hate you if they stuck you with me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being ironic, but you hope so. Still, you don’t know how to respond. You decide on a simple, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Though you’re alone in the room, you sit with perfect posture on Joel’s couch, looking around at the decor – or lack thereof – looking for clues about who this man is.

You think about making him breakfast, but you’d have to raid his cabinets to do so, and you’re terrified to make any missteps when it comes to Joel. You don’t think he’ll kill himself over burnt toast, but there is a persistent need lodged inside your brain to make him like you. It’s a little selfish when you should be focused on just keeping him alive, but maybe if he likes you, he’ll feel better, maybe you’ll feel better too. That’s still nothing but the ever-lingering hope in your heart. But it’s something.

He comes downstairs eventually, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Good morning,” you say.

“No, it ain’t,” he says, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“Do you want me to help you with anything? Breakfast or coffee?”

“I can make my own damn coffee, kid.”

And he does. The first shred of kindness you get from him is an offer to pour you a cup.

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

He sits down in a chair across from you and sips his coffee as you watch him awkwardly.

“Are you really gonna do that all day?”

“Do what?”

“Sit there and stare at me.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could leave, for starters.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“What? You afraid Tommy’ll get upset with you?”

“A little.”

“He’s a softie. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You are worried. Sure, you want Tommy to be happy with you, but moreover, you don’t want to leave Joel alone lest something happen to him. You might not know the guy very well, but you’d hate to see someone take their own life.

“Can I just stay here? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He shrugs, and you take it as a yes.

He does not need a caregiver or a watchman. He does not need you, but you look like a kicked puppy and there’s no way he’ll force you to leave. Another young girl he’ll reluctantly let stick by his side. It’s almost cruel of Tommy to send someone like you. Someone young and full of life. Someone he has a hard time pushing away.

He should’ve sent Joel a crotchety old bitch or a drill sergeant. Maybe Tommy thinks he’s doing Joel a favor by giving him a nice girl, polite and eager to please. It’s a good thing your chipper attitude irritates him. It’s the first item on the very small list of qualities that Joel dislikes.

At first, he insists on making his own food. You’re still a guest, even if he’s reluctant to have you as one. It doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always have been raised in Texas. He’ll always hear his mother calling him out on his lack of manners. His hospitality is force of habit.

Plus, if he lets you do anything for him, he’ll owe you something – at least in his mind. And he doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. He doesn’t want to give or get or build any kind of rapport with you whatsoever, especially since you seem to take all attention as progress, despite the fact that Joel is harsh with you most of the time.

The whole ordeal makes him feel like more of a failure than he did before. He couldn’t save Ellie, or Sarah for that matter, and now he’s being forced into his own retirement or held hostage depending on how you look at it, so he can’t even get the satisfaction that productivity brings.

He also finds himself pretty fucking bored without work. He became so used to being in constant battle, even in his sleep. One wrong move and he was dead. The worst injury he’s gotten in the past few weeks was a paper cut.

Reading was never his biggest hobby, but it’s not bad when you find the right book. Often, you’ll sit across the room from him and read a book of your own, and the silence as he relaxes into the couch is quite peaceful for a change.

No amount of peace and quiet can cure his boredom, though. It makes him antsy, and you notice. You notice a lot when your job is just staring at him, it seems.

“I found a book of crossword puzzles,” you announce.

“Congratulations,” Joel says.

“I thought since you were bored, I’d give them to you, and maybe you could do them…”

By the look on your face, he can guess that you’re regretting your words. Lest he make you cry, he accepts the book.

“Plus, it looks kind of old so I don’t know if I’d know how to do it myself,” you add.

He knows you don’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds like one, and it makes him laugh. The list of qualities Joel likes about you is already long — and buried deep in his subconscious — but he’ll have to add the fact that you can make him laugh.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re just older than I am.”

He flips through the book and finds that about 80% of them are done.

“Somebody did most of these already.”

“I’m sorry… maybe I could erase that person’s answers and then you could do them?”

“I think I’d still be able to tell.”

You hang your head in defeat.

“Gimme a pencil and I’ll try the ones that aren’t done yet.”

You look through his junk drawer, find a pencil, and hand it to him. He doesn’t expect you to sit on the couch next to him.

“I know you’re supposed to watch me, but you don’t have to watch that closely.”

You move away slightly, no longer looking over his shoulder.

“I was just curious about the answers.”

“I was kidding around,” he says (though, it’s only a half-truth). “Come back here.”

It takes him about a week to finish the book.

“Had to go back and fix some of the others,” he says. “The person who originally filled ‘em out was an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice. Maybe it was a kid.”

“Kid had great handwriting, then.”

You pause, hesitating for a reason he can’t pinpoint.

“What? You want me to say sorry for calling that guy an idiot. ‘Cause I will if it matters that much to you.”

“No, no, fuck that guy, he was an idiot,” you say, clearly taking after him.

“Language, Missy,” he says, jokingly scolding you.

“Sorry. I should stop swearing.”

“It’s okay. You probably picked it up from me anyway.”

“Maybe,” you agree. You’re fidgeting, holding something behind your back, he notices.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say, holding it out to him. “I just figured since you finished the crossword book, I should get you more.”

He only did the crosswords for you. He never really cared for them anyway. He just wanted to make you happy — he’d rather have you content than pissy or whiny. The only thing worse than your constant insistence on getting his approval would be if you just sat there and cried all day.

He’d tried to give the book back to you, but you couldn’t do ‘em on your own since you were lacking in 90s pop culture knowledge. So, he did them, with you watching over his shoulder the whole time.

He’s about to admit this to you and hand the new one back over to you when he looks at the pages – white paper, stapled together, all drawn up in pen.

“Did you make these?” he asks, in awe of both your ability to draw perfectly straight lines, and moreover, how much you must care if you’re willing to go to these lengths. Kiss-ass behavior, he tells himself.

You nod, and he gets the sudden urge to hug you, but opts for a thank you with a smile he can’t repress.

“You didn’t have to do all this, but it’s very sweet of you.”

He considers taking back the ‘very sweet’ comment when he finds that 3 down is four letters with the prompt “grumpy old man”. JOEL fits perfectly in the blank spaces.

You go on walks, read endless books, and Joel finally lets you start taking on some of the housework. It should be nice, but you get the feeling he’s not all that happy about this situation. Not that he tells you it outright. He doesn’t tell you much at all. And you’ve tried. It’s not like you’re asking hard-hitting questions.

“How old are you?”

“56.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask the same question back to you. Sometimes, he doesn’t even look up at you when you speak to him. You know it’s the depression of losing someone close to you, you know what that feels like – the problem is, you don’t know how to fix it. You only know how to hide it.

It’s quite simple, in theory. All you have to do is give him the desire to get out of bed every day. But you don’t even know what he likes. All you know is that your presence is not high on his list of favorite things. You try and try until you swear his shitty attitude is rubbing off on you.

Tommy checks in with you periodically, asking you how things are going with Joel, and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to get out of this position, which Joel would probably love, but to spite him, you tell Tommy it’s going well.

And it is, in a way – Joel is not actively mean to you. He doesn’t insult you or argue with you, he just mostly ignores you. So, you figure if you ignore him, maybe he’ll miss your attention. Stupid teenage bullshit mindset, acting like you have a crush on him, playing some sort of push and pull game that he’s not even privy to.

But that’s not like you. That brooding behavior is all Joel, so it lasts no more than a day or so until you go back to trying, and accept the fact that he’s just an asshole. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.

You never expected to win him over with the crossword puzzles but you see the look in his eyes when you give him the homemade ones, and you know there’s something in there besides all that pain. You know that look, can’t put a name to it, all you know is that it’s a good sign, one you had yet to see from Joel.

Joel wouldn’t have thought he’d get tired of hearing someone ask, “can I do anything for you?”, constantly begging to dote on him, to care for him. The last time someone did this for him was on Father’s Day, which is an ancient holiday now, almost mythical.

But it’s been weeks of the same old shit. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re probably the best ‘caregiver’ he could’ve gotten stuck with. Thing is, though, he doesn’t want a caregiver, and he’s tired of said caregiver bombarding him. It’s enough to just have her watching him like a hawk, but yapping in his ear is another thing. Because he enjoys the quiet (and because the way you ask him questions reminds him of Ellie.)

It’s a joke, a stupid joke. It’s his patience wearing thin.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask.

“Sure. A beer, maybe. And a fuckin’ blowjob,” he mutters. Yeah, that’d be the dream but it’s a joke, bordering on a jab at you.

“I don’t think we have any beer,” you say. You both know damn well there’s no alcohol in the house.

“I know.”

“And, as for the other thing- is that something that you’d want… me to do?”

“Hey,” his tone softens. “Sweetheart, it was a joke. I was messing with you.”

“Okay, so you don’t want that, correct?”

“It was a joke. I’m sorry I even said it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, sheepishly. “It’s your house, your rules, right?”

The concept of free speech in his house was one he’d brought up regarding ‘swear words’— It’s his house so he’s allowed to say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘bitch’, and every other word he could come up with, and he came up with some deep cuts just to make you laugh. Admittedly, it’s a nice sound.

“Yeah.” He thinks for a moment. “I just think that these sorts of topics aren’t appropriate for someone…”

“You know I’m an adult, right, Joel?”

“Yes, I know, but you’re still young and you seem a little innocent. I don’t want to put those types of thoughts in your head.”

“I know what a blowjob is, and I know what sex is. I just haven’t found the right person yet. That doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it or whatever.”

You rarely snap at him, so he knows that word — innocent — must’ve been more offensive than he’d meant it. Maybe you’re not innocent. Maybe you’re just kind and a hell of a lot younger than him. Maybe it just seems like you should be.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying that I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But do you want it?” You punctuate every word with a newfound annoyance.

“It’s not about that.”

“Yes it is.” You’re quite incredulous for someone who has been presented with the idea only a moment ago.

“Fine. Yes, in theory, if we were just two people who know each other, then, sure, if you offered, I’d say yes.”

“I offered.”

The way he calls you ‘sweetheart’ feels more like an insult than a term of endearment. You’d rather be ‘kid’ or nothing at all, anything less patronizing. It’s worse when he calls you innocent. You’re not innocent, you’re just nice — something that Joel is not. You’re painfully nice. You’ve heard it makes people like you. You’re still waiting on the results, though.

But, if he’d ordered you to suck him off, you’d have kneed him in the balls, and he would’ve thought twice about calling you ‘sweetheart’. The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead, he backs away from the opportunity, tells you it was a joke.

But you see two things behind his eyes: one, he wants this. He might not want to want this, but he does. More importantly, you see his genuine concern for your well-being override this desire and you realize you feel safer around him than you do around most men. That’s one of the reasons that you do give him ‘a fuckin’ blowjob’. The other being that, sometimes, before you go to bed, you can’t sleep, and a certain man comes to mind as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties.

When you reiterate that you offered, you exchange a long stare wherein you try to reach into each other’s souls and sort this shit out but when you both realize you can’t, Joel says, “Okay.”

And you say, “Okay.”

A new kind of tension bubbles to the surface as Joel sits down on the couch and you kneel before him.

You fiddle with his belt, eventually managing to get it undone, but Joel does the rest of the work it takes to get his pants down to his ankles, boxers too.

You’d imagined he’d be big, but that’s how fantasies work. Every man’s dick is big in your lewd daydreams, but it’s like you manifested it with Joel. You begin to feel like you’re in over your head, and though you aren’t innocent, you aren’t experienced enough to take him. But who are you to back down from a challenge?

Joel can see hesitation wash over your face for the first time. You pause, study the scene like you’re trying to decide your approach, and then you take his cock in your hand, looking up at him like you’re asking for the green light.

He gives you the go-ahead with the only piece of advice he thinks you’ll need. “Just don’t bite, and you’ll do fine.”

He probably should’ve mentioned another thing: don’t take too much at once or you’ll choke. His head lolls back and his eyes fall closed the moment your lips meet the tip of it. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t want you to feel intimidated by his presence while you’re exploring, so to speak. He lets out a low groan of approval to let you know he’s still with you.

But he’s fading into a beautiful oblivion until he hears you gag, feels you sputter and it shocks him out of that blissful feeling. His eyes snap open and he cradles the back of your head.

“Easy, easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You pull away briefly and catch your breath.

“That’s good,” he says. “Breathe, baby.”

He can see you looking for instructions, so he takes your hand and helps you get a firm grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down, and finally letting you do it on your own.

“Doin’ good, baby,” he says. “You gotta give your mouth a break sometimes.”

You’ve never gotten anything close to praise from Joel before. It’d warm your heart like nothing else if it weren’t so goddamn sexy in this context.

You nod, wipe the spit from your chin, and give your mouth a brief break, but you can’t hold yourself back forever. Soon, your lips are back on his cock, kissing from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the head, seeing what reactions you can get from him.

When you get into the rhythm of hand and mouth in tandem, you barely register him telling you that he’s gonna come.

You imagine it’s an acquired taste but it’s not awful. You can swallow it. So, you do, and you look up at him with a smile.

He looks like he’s woken up from a dream and he’s still getting his bearings straight, but he’s quick to stand up and take your hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

You’d follow him anywhere but bed does sound good to you right now. It sounds like an adventure. You don’t go into his bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You’d think he was hiding something horrible in there if you didn’t have a mutual feeling regarding your own bedroom.

“Are we going to have sex?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Then, what are we going to do?”

“You,” he begins. “Are going to lie back and relax.”

He coaxes you to lie down, and he doesn’t have to try hard.

“I,” he continues. “Am going to make you feel good.”

You’re fairly certain about what he means, so there’s nothing left for you to do but let him do the work. It’s just another part of the job you’ll have to learn from experience.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says.

You nod.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says, playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Wait-” you say, sitting up, and he withdraws. “Can we kiss… first?”

He looks surprised for a moment, and you worry you’ve fucked up.

“I just feel like we should do that,” you say, much quieter.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

His hand cups your cheek and he looks you in the eyes like he’s trying to find answers somewhere in there.

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?”

“Not really, not the way I want you to kiss me.”

“Feels a bit rude of me to have put my dick in your mouth before you’d even been kissed.”

Still, he leans in and kisses you, but it’s soft, gentle. It’s not a peck on the lips, though, it’s more. It gradually gains momentum and passion. Eventually, he slips his tongue in your mouth and you take it in stride.

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t think this was your first time.”

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, doubting Joel is capable of such things.

He ignores your question, and sighs. You know it’s not directed at you because you’re fairly sure he’s not listening.

“I know I said I was gonna do some things with you, but I don’t wanna take things too fast, okay?”

“Are you saying you’re just going to kiss me?”

“I think that’d be the right thing to do.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

You wish you could sound sexy, or whatever, but you probably come off like a bratty child.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. You said you’d make me feel good. I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

“I was.”

“Then, why are you backing out?”

You’re shocked that he’s the pussy — pun-intended — in this scenario.

“I thought it might be too much for you.”

You grab his hand and slip it under the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

His eyes go wide.

Fucking hell, you’re wet, is the only thought on Joel’s mind. It makes sense. He’d be offended, maybe even worried if you were dry as a desert down there, but he’s barely touched you. Either you really enjoyed kissing him or you actually liked sucking him off too.

He gently presses the pads of his fingers against the wet spot on your panties.

“You’re right, baby. It’s only fair if I help you out.”

He’s able to get your shorts and your panties down in one swift pull. You look impressed by the action. Just you wait, he thinks. He’s not an expert by any means, but it’s not too hard to learn if you pay attention — and sex is one of the only times Joel does listen — it’s also not a skill you lose over time. It’s muscle memory, or maybe it’s innate.

His thumb rubs your clit lazily as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, your eyes fill with need. When the first finger slips inside you, he hears a breathy sigh come from above — it sounds like relief though he knows you haven’t come yet.

He’s never had a woman have such a strong reaction to his lips on her clit. It almost startles him at first. You’re frantic from the moment his lips meet your skin, crying out for him like you’re scared he’ll stop.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. Don’t have to get so worked up. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He can’t say another word because his lips are occupied, so he relies on his hands, his soothing touch, to tell you that everything is alright. He gets the urge to tell you how good you are for him, how good you taste, how pretty you are like this, but he knows it’d be cruel to let up now. He’s callous often, sometimes harsh, but rarely cruel.

His instinct tells him to drag this out, to make your thighs shake, to have tears running down your cheeks, to tease you. To be the asshole that he tends to be when you’re around (and when you’re not). This is a version of Joel you might come to like.

He’s lived long enough to be well-practiced in this field of life. Doesn’t matter if he’s particularly romantic or even sociable, it’s just happened enough times over the course of fifty plus years for him to know the ins and outs. He can get you there quickly and lead you through it slowly.

He’s so used to you saying his name in a tone he considers pestering that he’s begun to hate the word itself. But when it’s drawn out and desperate like this, it sounds wonderful.

You’re at his mercy, he thinks. Which means he’s in control. And, as much as he’d hate to admit it, control does not mean he can kill you, control means he can care for you.

When you come down from your high, Joel is looking up at you from between your thighs with messy hair and kiss-dark lips. His smile looks like one of pride. Your cheeks heat up, only half-remembering what just happened. You could describe the event simply in a cause and effect relationship — he went down on you, so you came. You know what an orgasm feels like, but that was something beyond anything you’d ever experienced before. You fear an addiction may be coming on.

Your voice comes out shaky, which only makes your first words after a long silence sound stupider. “Thank you.”

He looks confused, and it takes him a moment to respond. “My pleasure,” he says, and you swear it might be when you see a semi through his sweatpants.

You’d offer more ‘help’ but you truly don’t think you can manage it. You can feel your body pulling you towards sleep. Your eyes have barely opened and they want to close again.

Joel notices because how could he not, you’re completely naked in every sense of the word.

“Get some rest,” he says before standing up.

He’s leaving.

“Where are you going?” you ask, instinctively.

“Downstairs.”

You do not want to say it. The fear of rejection is too strong, but so is the sudden urge to cry. Holding back tears is a strength of yours, though, so Joel never sees them. Somehow, after doing one of the most adult things, you feel like a baby in the wake of it. You are supposed to be taking care of him, and you are failing.

“What?” is his response to your refusal to meet his eyes.

“I just assumed you were going to stay. That’s all.”

“I can. If that’s what you need me to do.”

You don’t say anything. He climbs into bed anyway after picking up your underwear and handing it to you.

He doesn’t hold you but he doesn’t leave either. What he does do is kiss you on the forehead when he thinks you’re already asleep. It’s a compromise between your fear and your desire.

It isn’t as weird as one might think it would be — acting as if you’ve never done anything remotely sexual with one another. It’s easier because you don’t have to go back to being friends. You never really were. It was always awkward. What’s new? Only your knowledge that at least some of your feelings are mutual. Only the fact that you think about having sex with him every time he’s in front of you. It’s really just out of curiosity sometimes. What would he be like in bed? Does he want it too? How would you even broach the subject?

Sometimes, it’s not just curiosity. Those days are harder to navigate. You have to pretend like every little touch — most of them accidental — fuels the fire. It’s not the sensation itself. It’s just the acute awareness of his body, how close it is to yours, how easily you could reach out and touch him, that enters your mind.

“You’re staring.” Joel says from the other side of the couch.

“Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Got something’ on your mind?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, what is it?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my thoughts?” About me.

“You think I didn’t care about you before? You’ve been in my house everyday for months now.”

“So?”

“And, I haven’t tried to kick you out yet.”

“You’re not allowed to kick me out. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this: I’m down here sitting with you because I know you don’t like to be alone.”

“So you pity me?”

“No, if I pitied you, I’d have told Tommy to give you a new job.”

“Okay, so, you expect me to believe you care but you refuse to talk to me half the time.”

“I’m not much of a talker. But, now that I’m trying to talk to you, you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not— It’s just not a big deal. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about anyway.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk.”

You take a deep breath before speaking, one long enough that he gestures for you to go on.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like if we had sex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, since we, you know, we did that stuff… it’s not like it’s a totally crazy thought.”

“‘That stuff’? Be more specific, honey.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do, but you can’t be thinking about having sex with me when you can’t even use big girl words when you’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t even matter.” Your face is burning. It so, totally, does matter. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Go on thinking, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Wait, what? You just made me tell you that to make me embarrassed? You’re not even gonna—”

“What? Gonna fuck you?”

The word slips out of his mouth so easily.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Truth is: he’s been thinking about you every day since. He only caught you staring because he was doing the same. He tries to restrain himself because it feels like the right thing to do.

But he still, he acquiesces and takes you upstairs to his bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and undresses you slowly like you’re a gift and he doesn’t want to tear the paper. He places your clothes atop the dresser, but leaves his strewn across the floor.

Wonder fills your eyes as he reveals his naked body. Hesitation and awe wrapped up in one.

“Wow,” you say, breaking the silence, “it’s, um, you know— do you think it’ll fit?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that. It no longer brings him that bashful pride that it did when he was younger. It’s just a fact. A nuisance sometimes.

“Not if we don’t get you ready first.”

“Do you need to get ready first too?”

He looks down at his cock, rock-hard and eager.

“No, baby, just looking at you is enough to get me ready.”

A thought crosses his mind — one he thought he’d left in his teenage years — what if he comes too quickly?

He lies back on the bed next to you and reaches for you, waits for you to let him maneuver you.

“Come here,” he says.

You sit up and face him, slowly inch towards his arms that beckon you.

You’re fairly sure you know what he wants you to do. Sit on his face. But god, something about it seems awkward in the amount of control you simultaneously give up and are given in turn.

“You trust me, right?” he asks.

“Of course.”

An answer you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d give back when you first met.

“Then, come sit on my face.”

You swing your leg over him and steady yourself above his face.

He grips your thighs to guide you. You grip the headboard to save yourself from passing out the moment Joel’s mouth meets your skin.

Joel wouldn’t be the man you’d have thought would have such a talented tongue based on how little he uses it. You can’t blame him for not talking right now. Your moans echo off his bedroom walls and permeate the balmy summer air. The windows are closed and the curtains shield your naked bodies from the neighbors but even if you’d left them open, you wouldn’t have the sense to care.

You’re an incoherent mess of moans and half-words, trembling thighs and sweat. Your orgasm comes on strong, and if your eyes weren’t screwed shut, maybe you’d see the gates of heaven.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Tess never liked it like this and the last woman before her was one from another lifetime, pre-outbreak, an inconceivable world despite having once called it home.

He’s not really thinking about that, though, in this moment, all Joel can think of is you. Your skin, your sweat, your heat, and the pretty noises you make. At one point, he swears he hears his name though your thighs are covering his ears. And he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he hears from above him.

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you,” he tries to say, though surely his words are muffled.

“Don’t let me go.”

He doesn’t. He carefully helps you lie back on the bed. When he meets your gaze, he swears he’s never seen adoration like that in anyone’s eyes before. At least, not in a long time.

It terrifies him, but in spite of his hesitation, he holds you close.

A blanket of peaceful silence settles over your bare bodies.

You speak quietly, trying not to awaken Joel’s senses. The ones that pull him away from you. The moment feels like glass in your hands.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Hm?”

“We were going to, right? You were getting me ready for it.”

“I thought I wore you out.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d tell you if you were.”

He hesitates.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

Those are the words that awaken his arousal. In an instant, you find his body looming above yours. He kisses you until your lips are red and puffy. He doesn’t break your gaze as he positions his cock at your entrance. Your green light is your needy hips begging him to fuck you.

He starts slow, even the head is a stretch. You scrunch up your face and hold back the urge to squirm.

“It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable at first, baby, and that’s why we’re gonna take it slow.”

Slow is an understatement. It takes ages for him to give you another inch — or maybe you’re just antsy. This one makes you whimper, makes you clamp down around him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Joel’s voice is tender and sweet, and it gives you enough hope to ask for something you think he’d usually deny you.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. It feels oddly natural. He doubts he’s heard someone ask to hold his hand since— not now, he’ll go soft if he thinks about her. He’ll close in on himself and you need him — in more ways than one.

He continues slowly as he promised he would until he hears your moans of pleasure and your pleas for more, more, more. More is a little bit faster, a little bit harder, as deep as you can take it, and most importantly, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

You squeeze his hand with yours as your inner walls clamp down around him.

“Just let it happen. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When you come, he does too — the most blissful mistake he’s ever made.

Curses fly out of his mouth through his orgasm, stopping briefly as he catches his breath, and resuming when he pulls out and watches as his come drips out of you.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you insist. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Because I fucking loved it. “But, it’s dangerous. We’ve gotta be more careful.”

In the future — it’s implied. Another time is nothing when the lines have all been crossed and when the other side brings him a warmth the hot summer never could.

You have more power over him than the sun.

It becomes a routine — briefly — and you are more careful. You discreetly buy condoms, but when your next period doesn’t come, you fear it might be too late.

You don’t tell Joel, not at first. Sometimes, they’re irregular, and you don’t want to give the man a heart attack. But then a week passes, another week passes, and eventually you have to — especially when you’re beginning to feel a bit nauseous and have no other explanation for it. It’s better to say something before he asks.

“Joel,” you say, “I haven’t gotten my period yet.”

A look of horror crosses his face before he asks, “How late is it?”

You take a breath before admitting, “A few weeks.”

“How many?”

“Almost three.”

“Fuck.” He sighs in preemptive defeat. “Have you taken a test?”

“No, I thought it would come so I didn’t want to overreact.”

“We’re going to go get one.”

He stands up immediately and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him in his tracks.

“I should probably get it. It’ll look less suspicious.”

No, it won’t. Those who suspect something is up with you, will have their suspicions, and those who don’t, won’t think to pay attention.

They recommend taking multiple because false negatives are common.

The first one is a clear positive, so clear you think it might be a false positive, so you wait to freak out until you see two lines come up on the second test.

Joel is silent, even when you hand him the test.

But, so are you, because what more is there to say? The tests say it all.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he says, and you’re surprised until he clarifies.

“I doubt they’ll make you pay for the pill or the procedure — however they do it, but I’ll take care of you while you’re recovering. I’ll be there through it all. Promise.”

The pill or the procedure. The abortion that he expects you to have. Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d do until now. It’s probably the right decision. Do you really want to bring a baby into this world? Can you even take care of one?

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll make an appointment.”

You save your tears for Maria. She approaches you in the clinic. You’d be delighted to see her at any other moment.

“Making an appointment?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a checkup,” you lie.

The woman at the counter clarifies with you. “Just a checkup? Is that what you’d prefer?”

You turn back and forth between her and Maria.

“Um, no,” you say, “keep it as is.”

Maria raises an eyebrow and there is nowhere left to hide. You might be able to outrun her, but she knows where you live and isn’t afraid to confront you at your doorstep.

She saves you some of your dignity when she whispers, “How about a chat at my place? I have some tea that helps with nausea.”

The tea is persuasive but you’d have to go anyway. You don’t speak on the walk to Maria’s. She brews the tea and you sit across from each other in the kitchen before she finally speaks.

“What’s the appointment for?” she asks. “And I’m not here to judge you, I just want the truth.”

You’re not my mom, you could say, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to one since your own passed.

“An abortion,” you say quietly, looking down at the table, at your hands around the mug.

“Okay,” she says, gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You try to reply but all the comes out is a sob.

Eventually, she pries the truth out of you. You explain what happened when you told Joel the news.

“So, he made the decision, and then told you he’d be there for you if he did what you wanted?”

“I guess. But, I think it might be the right choice. I mean, it'd be hard to raise a child in this world…” You cut yourself off when you look at her bump. She’s gonna be a mom, a good mom. And, stupidly, you’re jealous.

Even though it’s not there yet, you swear you can see a high chair in your periphery. You could be holding a warm bottle instead of a hot mug of tea. Maria could be feeding her child his first bite of baby food next to you.

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about it, and be honest with me.”

You nod and wait for her question.

“If Joel had said he’d support you no matter what, even if you wanted to keep the child, if he said he’d step up as a father, would you have made the appointment?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, but you do. Maria waits for you to come to a conclusion, for you to spit it out.

“I like the idea of having a kid. I love kids, and I sometimes think about what it would be like being a mom, but I know that I can’t be one. Not right now.”

If there is one thing Joel can’t be, it’s a father. Not again. He’s too old, too grouchy, too cynical. He’s not the man he used to be. He was never good at it anyway. He couldn’t save his own kid. He’s already a failed father — once, if not, twice.

You’d be a great mother, and that’s the greatest tragedy. He’s failed you already. He’s not good at the kinder things of life. He shouldn’t have indulged in you, in the love you gave him when he cannot give it back. There are a lot of things Joel can’t quite get right — being a lover, a father, a good man.

Every night since the outbreak began, he’s watched Sarah bleed out in his arms. Sometimes he sees Tess, Sam and Henry, Bill, even Tommy which feels like an augury. Ellie is there almost every night, losing consciousness. Only sometimes is she in that hospital bed, often, she’s lying in the show, with blue lips and almost no pulse. Now, you’ve begun to enter his subconscious. You’re always too far out of reach, screaming his name until he’s shot dead, and the last thing he hears is you shriek as you watch him die in front of you.

Another person is another tragedy once they have the misfortune of coming into his life. There cannot be another person, especially not a child.

You should be back by now, he thinks as he splashes water on his face for the umpteenth time, hoping it’ll wash away all the mistakes he’s made.

He can tell it’s Maria by the way her knuckles rap on his front door. He can tell she’s pissed too.

When he opens the door, he sees you in standing behind her, like you’re afraid of him.

“Unless you want to have this discussion on your doorstep, I suggest you let me — us — inside.”

He does, reluctantly.

“Joel Miller, when do you plan on becoming a man?”

“What?”

“You just told her to make an appointment, didn’t even give her a chance to think about it? You managed to run away from your problems while you’re on house arrest. Impressive.”

“I thought that was what we both wanted,” he says, looking past her, to you.

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug.

The one thing he’s grateful for is Maria’s suggestion that you talk privately.

You sit further from him than usual, you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what I want.”

But the tears suggest otherwise.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

“Maybe, but I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s what I think, but Maria’s right, it’s your choice.”

“But I don’t know how to make that choice.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Follow it.”

You spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, and trying to convince yourself that there is no part of you that wants to be a mother. But, in your bedside drawer, there is a handful of photos — all from before the outbreak. You see your mom as a child on a swing set, and as a teen blowing out candles on her birthday. Her mom is in that one too, sitting next to her, smiling. You wish more than anything to have pictures of you and your mom.

You think about the little girl who pretended a ratty old stuffed bear was her baby. You can hear your mom telling you that you’re doing a good job, how you’ll be good at this one day. Your bedtime stories were never about fairy princesses, but about your family, the ones you didn’t get to meet.

“I wish I could have that,” you’d say.

“One day, you might be able to — the world is scary right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever,” she’d insist.

In retrospect, you wonder if she really believed that, if she really believed that teddy bear would one day be a baby that you’d be the one carrying, and she’d be the proud grandmother.

“I told her I wanted to be a mom like her,” you explain to Joel, and he understands.

You know about Ellie, but not about Sarah. Joel never brings either of them up to you. Until now. It’s a fair trade, he tells himself. Photos for photos, info for info. But it’s more than that.

“Hold on for one minute, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”

It’ll only take him a second to grab the pictures, but he’ll need a moment to compose himself.

“This is Sarah,” he says, pointing to the little girl in the photo. “My daughter.”

You’re silent for a moment, gazing at the photo, at a younger Joel you’ve never met.

You’re the first person not to tell him that you’re sorry for his loss, and he is relieved not to hear the empty sympathies once more.

“What was she like?” you ask.

It’s hard to explain, and for that reason, he talks for at least a half hour about Sarah. All her likes and dislikes, all his favorite moments from the day she was born until the day she died. He tells the story of that too.

When you try to tell him that he sounds like he was a good dad, he has to explain why he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“I couldn’t save her either,” you say, pointing to your mother in one of the photos.

“You were just a child,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

“And, you were just a man,” you say. “It’s not your fault.”

“A grown man.”

“Doing the best that you could.”

And you’re right. He did try his best. He stops arguing not because he’ll ever concede but because the weight of the present falls upon him all at once as he meets your eyes and remembers why you’re here.

He can’t have Sarah back, he can’t have Ellie back, but you’re right in front of him — and he loves you. It’s too late to turn back and kick you out on your first day, it’s too late to never speak to you, it’s too late to not love you.

It’s not too late to fail you like he’s failed everyone else. It’s not too late to do the opposite either.

You tell him your decision, and wait for his disagreement, for him to dissuade you. But, he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try my best.”

You cancel the appointment and make the final decision, but it doesn’t feel real until Joel finishes building the crib in the spare bedroom. The most unexpected part is how excited you feel even when you’re nauseous, even when your feet are bloated, even when your back is killing you.

You’re also terrified, particularly when you hear Maria’s account of her labor and delivery. For someone describing how painful it was, she seems oddly unfazed, happy even. She’s too focused on her baby boy, and you get it — he is pretty cute.

When the day comes, you find that you’ve underestimated the pain entirely. The wounds you’ve gotten in combat are nothing compared to this. Every hour that goes by feels like a full day for you. Every time the doctor checks your dilation it’s still not yet time.

Until it is. And everything becomes a million times more chaotic. You swear the only thing keeping you sane is Joel’s hand in yours. (You have to apologize later for squeezing it so tightly.)

Finally, the telltale cry comes, and it feels like you’ve run a marathon by how exhausted you are and by how proud you are of yourself for doing it. This will go down as the greatest feat of your life and you are more than satisfied with that fact.

The doctor announces that it’s a boy and though he said he’d be fine with either gender, Joel’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. You’re smiling almost as big. It hurts your cheek muscles but you can’t stop, especially when they hand you your baby boy. Though he doesn’t know how to speak, his hand wrapped around your finger tells you that it’s going to be okay.

There is so much pain in this world, but not in this room.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

delusionalalien · 3 months ago

Text

[Embrace You, Devour You] [Chapter 4] YANDERE!Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader x YANDERE!Variant!Invincibles

I feel like absolute shit and I'm fucking hungry that i could eat a Mark variant.

1 year time skip next chapter.

prologue

previous chapter , next chapter

T.W / Tags: Slow-burn, Soft yandere, pining, mark is bat shit crazy but he good dw, baby-trapping, teen pregnancy, yandere variants, mark a lil pushy, breeding kink, jealous Mark Grayson, talks of abortion, misunderstandings, possessive Mark Grayson, murder, gore, child-murder(variant!readers), attempted suicide, readers mom had a miscarriage, OOC, prob need more tags

Crusher does not trust Omni-man.

To others, your mother was intimidating and unfriendly, standing at a whooping 190cm (6'3) with a muscular build, face that stayed a permanent scowl all hours of the day, hair tied tightly into a low military bun and streaks of white hair on each side of her head, tucked tightly behind her ears. Giving a more unapproachable look.

But to (Name), she was Vanessa P. Aguilar, your mother who was, yes scary and intimidating and quite frankly unapproachable to some, but behind the intimidation, she a kind woman. A hard-ass without a doubt but she tries her best for her family. For you, her daughter she loved so much.

Her baby.

Vanessa's pregnancy was difficult, she lost so much over the years, so emotional and angry until (Name) finally came to her and Nicolas lives. She had cried ugly in that hospital bed when they handed her daughter over cradled into her arms in a pink blanket, relieved that finally everything she had dream for are finally coming true.

She had a child to call and love as her own.

Pure love, not like the one her father drilled into her head.

The pure parental love that was absent in her earlier life.

Vanessa stares, and she stares intensely at a snack section in a small market somewhere in Seoul, South Korea. Food, you like food, you like eating just like your father and no dolls can please you unlike when you we're only a child. There was so much she couldn't choose just one to take home.

The store clerk stood by, dragged by the tall foreigner from the safety of his counter asking him in minimal English while he breaks into broken English, giving his best to reply.

Communicating with one of America's top superhero's known as the infamous Crusher, was hellish.

A thick Russian accent rolled from her tongue, unforgiving and sharp, picking out 8 of the sweeter options in the entire shelf and paying for them all with the additional salted ones she picked out for herself.

This was new to her as it will be new to you. Vanessa often daydreams how you would initially react when she goes out of her way to spoil you with new things, either by object or food. It was one of her many joys in life.

She steps out of the store, hands gripping tightly on the plastic bags and flew right back up into the sky to met up her neighbor.

"Nolan."

Nolan eyed the woman as she stopped besides him. He too went shopping, wanting to please his wife and Mark. Vanessa could tell he wanted to look normal and followed her idea, but decided not to bring it up, it was none of her business is what she tells herself every single time.

"Vanessa." Nolan greets her in the same way.

"Did you buy what i asked of you? I also bought something Mark and (Name) may like." She lifts a bag up in the air, the rustles of junk foods reaches his ear.

Nolan genuinely smiled for once since their departure from home. He too showed a plastic bag full of the stuff Debbie and Nicolas were obsessing over that was only available outside America. Vanessa smiled back.

There was no further conversation. No jokes or jab at each others worn appearance. Just stiffness and odd comfort in the silence that surrounds them both as they fly back home in a steady pace.

Nolan likes working with Vanessa. She was quiet, she minded her business, and most importantly knew where she stood. He didn't feel like he needed to explain why he do things his way, unlike those in the GDA.

coughmidmortalcough

Vanessa however did not feel the same. Something about Nolan, still clueless and stiff coming from somewhere in space and was sent to protect earth, was unsettling. Like a storm brewing and ready to combust at any given moment.

Is she scared of her neighbor? Absolutely.

Was she going to do something about it?

Vanessa pondered at that question for a moment. Sneaking glances at the alien who stared ahead. Soon, she tells herself over and over since the first time they met.

Nolan just needs to give her a reason, a trigger, to put a fist through that gut of his.

"Maya lyubov, I am home!"

You hear the back door opening with a loud creak. You and Mark halted your activities. Duct tape in hand as you both glanced at each other.

It's been a few days since everything fell back into normalcy. Mark and William was there congratulating you for finishing your last class and headed out to eat out at the local burger mart down the road.

Your father and Debbie even spoiled you three by playing in the arcade and a sleepover at Williams to end the day.

Both you and Mark grinned. Tapping down last of the duct tape on your knees and bolted down the stairs to where your parents were.

Nicolas was with your mother in the kitchen, giving him a passionate kiss before they hug. You mother's large build covering him fully in their long embrace.

"Mom! Look and me and Mark! We're Duct tape man and Duct tape woman!" You announced from the doorway, posing with Mark proudly with both your hands on your waist.

Your mother's jaw drop at the horrifying sight of her baby looking ridiculous, your father simply laughed at the both of you.

"Even if me and Mark don't get our powers!" You fake punch mark who dramatically falls back to avoid it grinning at you as he does, "We'll be the duo that sends all the villains in jail with our duct tapes!"

"Sounds like an expensive superpower." Nicolas teased and crossed his arms, a huge grin on his face and avoiding the punches that you were throwing at him. Your father giggled and nudges for your mother to say something.

"Well does Debbie and your father know of this, duct tape adventure?" Vanessa muttered, reaching to peel a duct tape on your face.

You winced and she recoiled back surprised that it hurt you. Vanessa noted that she ask Debbie how to get rid of the silver tape without hurting your skin.

"We'll I'm quite excited to see what both of them are going to say to whatever you two we're cooking up." Nicolas ruffled both of your hairs.

You and Mark held hands while your parents trailed behind you two as Mark barged right into his home. Saying the same thing you said to your parents.

"Dad look! We're gonna be Duct tape man and she's gonna be Duct tape woman!"

Nolan and Debbie stared at the two of you as you two posed and started punching the air while Mark was explaining more about the power of duct tape. Debbie caught sight of Nicolas holding in his laughter and Vanessa shaking her head as they stood by to watch.

"I don't know if that's gonna work as well as you hope so kiddo." Nolan said. Both you and Mark paused and looked at each other. Debbie was quick to be by her sons side and gently tugs on the tape.

"And you two might want to rethink that as we peel all this off."

"You two go upstairs and run a bath, that just might help," A flutter of giggles escaped your lips and you drag Mark upstairs accompanied by Nicolas who nodded at three left in the living room to keep an eye on them.

"A little."

Vanessa sat on a bar stool sighing loudly.

"I was not prepared to witness my own child rolled in duct tape along with your son, my apologies." Debbie pats her back.

"Well we signed up for kids, its bound to happen that they'll do something stupid together."

A loud thud happened upstairs, a muffled yells of your name left Mark and your father heavy footsteps scrambled to aid you in whatever happened. Vanessa and Debbie can't help but laugh a bit at the sound of their children calling to each other.

"That boy is never getting his powers is he?"

Debbie leans over and gave Nolan a hug.

Vanessa glanced at him warily from the side before she stands to leave the two alone.

"Don't ask me, you're the superhero space alien."

"But even if he doesn't, we'll love him just as much."

"OW!" , "Sorry Mark!"

Debbie shakes her head, "Finish dinner while I go over there and help untape the kids."

Note : I took Russian in Duolingo before. After a week i was like, man this shit hard tf. So i dropped it (I only know how to say bicycle in Russian💀)

#yandere mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x reader #idk what im doing #idk man #variant mark grayson #variant!mark x reader #idk how to tag this #invincible x reader #invincible x you

170 notes · View notes

kkami-writes · 1 year ago

Text

waiting for us — chapter fifty four. waiting for us wc. 2k a/n. name drop!!!! ok but that being said this is a VERY heavy chapter dealing with very sensitive topics. please read through the tw and be safe. tl;dr at the end. TW!!! negligent parents, brief mention of abortion, brief mention of religion, verbal abuse, domestic abuse, violent acts, mentions of self-harm and attempted suicide also i'm not entirely sure how I should tag this, but there is a part where yn has her clothes ripped off of her without consent, but it is not in a sexual way (?) or for the purpose of doing something sexual.

You stand just outside the door of 3RACHA’s (and hyunjin’s) apartment, and your quite certain that your heart is going to pound itself straight through your chest. Perhaps there is a brief moment where you consider just running for it but you think better of it. A half empty duffel bag sits on your shoulder and there’s a ratty backpack that hangs loosely off of you. Maybe you’d find it sad that your whole life could fit into two measly bags, but you couldn’t deny that it was just easier this way. You had left nothing behind, wiping your entire existence out of that place and you would not look back.

When you finally gather the courage to knock on the door, your knuckles barely make a sound while they rap against the wood. Yet the moment your hand makes contact with the door, it’s swinging open and Felix throws himself into your embrace. You almost lose your balance but Felix makes sure you don’t fall backwards, clinging almost painfully to you.

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay since you were later than you said you’d be, but the words die on his tongue at the sight of you. There’s nothing different from you besides the bright red mark decorating your cheek.

“YN? What happened? Who hurt you?” He questions, voice going almost impossibly deeper. The thought of someone putting their hands on you fills him with anger. You actually almost don’t know what he’s talking about before remembering the parting gift your mother had given you before you left.

“Oh. This. Don’t worry about it,” You mumble, acting rather nonchalant as you attempt to get past Felix and into the apartment but he doesn’t let you get too far, grasping gently at your wrist to pull you back.

“No seriously. Who hurt you yn? What’s up with the bags?” He fires out questions, now just realizing the two bags you had with you.

“I was hoping I could stay the night. Or a few. Or forever,”

The silence between you is deafening.

“Yn” You hate (love) the way you shudder at the way he says your name in that deep tone of his.

“I might have, um, run away from home?”

“WHAT?” He yells at that effectively alerting the rest of the boys of your presence.

“Lix? Is that YN? What’s going on?” Chan’s voice filters through the apartment, getting louder the closer he gets. You finally move past Felix, leaving your bags by the door for now.

“Lixie, I’ll explain everything ok? I don’t want to have to keep repeating myself over and over again,” You beg the boy with an almost desperate lilt to your voice, giving him big puppy eyes for added ammo just in case. He sighs and let’s it go for now, letting you drag him towards the couches.

But of course, even if Felix had dropped it, the other’s wouldn’t; immediately demanding to know who hit you as soon as they see your red cheeks. As much as you appreciate their concern, the swirl of emotions you’ve been feeling for hours already has you on edge and you’re so close to snapping.

“GUYS” You raise your voice and the effect is immediate, all of them quieting down and staring back at you. “It’s ok, I promise. I barely feel it. It was the first time my mom hit me anyway,” At that they all start asking questions again, talking over each other but one glare from you shuts them up again. “Please. I’m here to explain okay? So please, let me tell you everything before you guys start asking a million questions,” You plead, tired and scared of the can of worms you were potentially about to open. But you also know how much you need this. You just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

The boys all gather onto the couch and the seats next to it, with you sat in the middle next to Felix and Jisung, one on either side of you. Both of them are close enough that you can feel their thighs pressed to yours. It helps to keep you grounded while you try to take a deep breath but it just comes out shaky. Jisung slides his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze before giving you a reassuring nod.

“I was an accident. My mom somehow managed to get pregnant even though my dad had a vasectomy after they had my brother. Despite not wanting another child, they decided to have me anyway for whatever reason. We’re not religious or anything so she could have just gotten an abortion. I’ll never know why they decided to have me.

Growing up the abuse was mostly verbal. An insult here or there, mostly reminding me I wasn’t wanted or needed. My brother of course was the worst with his words but overall it really wasn’t that bad. For the most part they ignored my existence, which was honestly fine with me. It….only got worse after I turned 16. When I got my soulmark,” Your hands are shaking in Jisung’s firm grip while Felix scoots closer for comfort, nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder. You are so thankful for them.

“Both of my parents are blanks and so is my brother. So it was only natural that I assumed that I would be a blank as well. So imagine my surprise when it turns out I have 8 soulmates,” You let out a small snort, head shaking softly.

“I’m know you’re all probably thinking that I freaked out or panicked about having so many soulmates with how I reacted when we met, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” You make brief eye contact with Jeongin who has a confused expression on his fox-like face.

“For the first time, hope bloomed in my chest. My original plan was to leave when I turned 18, as soon as I could, but I didn’t really know what I would do. I would be all alone, no soulmate and experiencing the real world for the first time. But now, I finally felt like I had a purpose. To find my soulmates. I couldn’t believe that I would have 8 soulmates. 8 people who would love me. Who would want me” your voice cracks at those last words, tears burning in your eyes. Hyunjin looks like he’s not too far behind with his own tears threatening to fall.

“Of course I had lied to my parents about my soulmark, just saying I was a blank. It was easy since they didn’t really care but I had the suspicion that my brother didn’t believe me. I used to stand in front of my mirror staring at my soulmark, tracing over your names, dreaming about what life would be like with you guys,” Felix clings a little harder to you. “It was my only solace in that prison, that one day I would be where I belonged,”

“One day my brother…he caught me looking at my mark. He-“ Your eyes close in pain as the tears run down your cheeks. You squeeze at Jisung’s hands who haven’t lefts yours yet as you take in a deep breath. “He dragged me to the living room by my hair, yelling at my parents that I was a lying whore. That I was some kind of greedy slut for having so many soulmates. He pushed me to the ground and…he- he,” You choke on your tears before you feel someone patting your cheeks dry with tissues. You look up to see Minho, his eyes soft and sad as he continues to dry the tears leaking from your eyes. The other boys that were not on the couch have abandoned their seats in favor of being closer to you. Seungmin is on the floor, stroking at your calves soothingly, while Hyunjin does the same on your other side.

“He ripped my skirt off and…he….he took a lighter and….and-“ You can’t even finish the sentence before you throw yourself in Seungmin’s embrace, sobbing into his shoulder as he holds you. The rest of the boys try to comfort you as you feel hands along your back and hair, soft soothing words being said into your ears. It takes you a few minutes to pull yourself together.

“’M sorry-“ You say with a sniffle, letting Minho clean your face as he insists on doing it himself.

“Don’t say sorry. You’ve had horrific things done to you. You are so strong,” Changbin says in a soft voice, contrasting his normally loud demeanor. His hands smooth your hair down.

You can hear the sniffles from Felix and Jisung who have starting sobbing silently, their hearts breaking for you. You let out a sigh because you’re not even done.

“After that…the abuse…got worse. It turned physical as my brother would take his anger out on me. My parents didn’t care about what he did to me. I slowly…became a shell of myself. I started turning to self harm because everything hurt so much that I needed something else to hurt so I didn’t have to think about anything else. Even though he didn’t sever our soulmark, I felt like I had let you down- that I let someone else disfigure our beautiful connection. I though about my soulmates who would probably never want someone as broken as I was. I felt so lost. So….on graduation night I-“ You tuck your head down in shame. “I swallowed a bunch of sleeping pills,”

Everyone is deadly silent but you can hear Hyunjin and Jeongin joining in on the crying. Seungmin just holds you a little tighter.

“I had texted Minghao before I went through with it. Telling him that I was so grateful for his friendship and that him and Jun were the best friends I could ever ask for. Of course that man has some freaky 8th sense or something because I don’t think it took him more than five minutes to get to my house even though he lives twenty minutes away. He was yelling at me when he barged into my bathroom but I don’t remember much after that. I passed out and woke up in the hospital. Now that I was conscious Minghao throughly chewed my ass out though. The nurses had wanted to hospitalize me actually for mental health reasons but my parents refused and said something about how it was just an accident,”

“We thought you died,” Jeongin pipes up, his eyes red rimmed with tears as he sniffles.

“Your mark went gray and we all felt this sharp pain in our chests. That night we had mourned the loss of a soulmate that we thought we’d never get to meet. The relief we felt when your mark went back to black was unmatched. We had assumed you must have had an accident or something to have triggered the mark to react,”

The rest are eerily quiet, still waiting for you to continue your story.

“After I was discharged, my father had someone managed to score himself a promotion. Something about using a sob story about how his daughter was feeling lost being in a small town and needing to explore or some other bullshit. Either way we were suddenly packing and moving to seoul, not that my opinion mattered if I wanted to go or not.

My grades in school were actually pretty good. I really didn’t have anything better to do then study so It was surprisingly easy to get into seoul uni. And well….then I met Jeongin in Biology. Slowly the rest of you followed and wormed your way into my heart,” you smile fondly at the boys around you who smile back, even with tears stained cheeks.

“I really don’t care about the thread Yunjin posted, but my brother saw it and was not happy. He informed our parents and they let me have it. I just sat there taking it when I realized that I didn’t have to put up with this shit anymore. So I kinda just got up, grabbed my stuff and left…Figured you guys wouldn’t mind if I stayed,”

“Never ever. You do realize that now that you’re here we are never letting you go. Ever again,” Changbin whispers, squeezing you a little tighter. The boys are practically cutting off your oxygen but you can hardly care, feeling the love pouring out of them. You love them. You never want to be without them ever again.

“You have been so brave, so strong. We are so proud of you. Thank you. Thank you for waiting for us,”

tl;dr ! yn's parents find out about her soulmates via her brother who found out from the thread. while they chew her out, she realizes that she doesn't has to put up with this anymore and "runs" away (but not without her mother slapping her). she goes over to their apartment to tell them her story. yn was an "accident" and even though her parents didn't want another child, they went ahead with the birth anyway. they, along with her brother never let her forget that she was unwanted. both her parents and her brother are blanks and so she had assumed she would be too - but surprise, surpise. she has 8 soulmates. yn adored her mark and was excited for the day she would get to be with them. she'd spend time staring at her mark, memorizing their names. one day her brother catches her and gets so angry that he takes a lighter and burns her mark. after that yn falls into a deep depression and turns to self-harm in order to cope. still unable to take it and feeling like she let her soulmates down, she decides to take a bunch of sleeping pills. minghao is the one who finds her and saves her. the boys mention that they thought that she had died due to the mark reacting and turning grey. they were very happy when the mark went back to black. after her attempt, her father was able to get a promotion at work and moved their family to seoul, resulting in yn finally finding her soulmates.

previous | masterlist | next

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smau #stray kids texts #skz #skz x reader #skz smau #skz texts #stray kids social media au #skz social media au #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fake texts #skz scenarios #skz imagines

362 notes · View notes

karmicpunishment · 28 days ago

Text

yuno t3 spoilers

i'll be so honest i can't tell if its just like 10 people on twitter I stumbled on or if people are genuinely worrying the milgram project creator is misogynistic because they put yuno in milgram for a probable suicide attempt induced miscarriage instead of a medically induced abortion, like we thought before

like maybe they might be idk them personally and most people have at least a little misogyny engraved in their beliefs because of how the world is, especially right now

but its already been established that milgram (the prison not the project itself) is misogynistic. it's homophobic. it's ableist. it's label for a 'murder' and 'murderer' are intentionally vague and disagreeable. it relies on child labor. it's physically restrains and mentally tortures its prisoners, and doesn't care about their well-being. it leaves "justice" in the hands of one, intentionally underinformed individual (and then again in the hands of the biased masses watching for entertainment). it does not go along with morals or laws. it's aim is for judgment, information gathering and entertainment. These things are INTENTIONAL. milgram (again I'm talking about the prison) is corrupt. its BAD!!! it always has been!!! I'm pretty sure that's part of the point of all this.

#its literally named after one of the most notorious psych experiments ever about conformity obedience and hierarchy like #idk this is kind of just a word vomit i was thinking of in the showeer #feel free to disagree or smth #but like idk #like im not trying to say the creators are immune from bias or mistakes #cause they aren't #but like this feels like intentional in the story shrug #if its not well.#milgram #yuno kashiki #milgram project #milgram trial 3 #milgram t3 #milgram spoilers #milgram fandom #milgram analysis

115 notes · View notes

voidbellamy · 15 days ago

Text

between the heavens and the embers | bellamy blake

*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.•*.

summary: one girl gets imprisoned for an accident, her life destroyed and everything she loves destroyed and thrown away. instead of pondering suicide again, one day she gets placed on a drop ship to earth, where she is reunited with someone she never thought she would see again.

warnings: dark themes!! *very similar to glass’s storyline in the books* accidental pregnancy, mentions vomiting, forced abortion, self harm, attempted suicide, angst, tension, there is fluff i promise. bellamy calls reader venus, after the roman goddess of love, desire and beauty. octavia gets caught slightly earlier than in cannon.

“bellamy.” she held her breath as bellamy shushed her softly before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, “we have some time still.” they really didn’t: it was already a few minutes past curfew and her mother would have her head if she got another warning about being out too late- especially with him. “bellamy, come on, we can’t get in any more trouble.” bellamy laughed softly, “you worry too much, princess… ten more minutes. we’re just looking at the stars… the worst they’ll do is scold us for losing track of time. besides, we’ve done more scandalous things together.” his dark, mischievous smirk was always successful at talking you into trouble. and he knew it. “fine, bell.” bellamy exhaled, a smug smirk on his lips as he felt his girl shift back against his chest, getting comfortable, “ten more minutes…”

bellamy walked her back to her room, like he always insisted on doing. her mother would scold her for being fifteen minutes late and not really mean it; she wouldn’t be surprised she was late, and she especially wouldn’t be surprised that her daughter was with him. bellamy was good with parents. really, he was. he always knew what to say- and what not to say- always a perfect, respectful gentleman. the fact that he was capable of breaking multiple beds and artfully muffling passionate screams was not relevant. “bellamy,” her mother greeted him before her own daughter, which got a playful look from bellamy. “you were pushing it tonight.” bellamy stepped through the door with a cautious look over his shoulder to check for guards, “sorry, mom… someone was pointing out and naming all the constellations.” bellamy gave her a playful look, knowing it was fully his fault they were late again. she just shrugged innocently, pleased that this was the worst trouble her mother assumed she got into.

bellamy had been her best friend long before they became something much more. she was the only one who knew about octavia, he was the only one who had been there to comfort them when her father died. bellamy had called her ‘mom’ from the beginning, because that’s what she quickly became to him. “are you staying here tonight?” bellamy’s eyes shifted to you, not sure if he could sleep here again, remembering the way you had begged his name earlier this morning. “oh, i should probably head back. but thank you...” her mom just smiled softly in response, “be careful walking back. i will vouch for you if you are seen. tell them you were fixing something for me.” bellamy nodded gratefully, turning his attention back to his girl. she looked up at him with a small smile, eyes wide whenever they took him in, “no goodnight kiss?” bellamy placed his hand against the doorframe, leaning down towards her, smugly. she smiled innocently, looking away as if pondering. “dark day for boyfriends everywhere, if yours of four years doesn’t get a kiss.” he was still smirking, playful, eyes sparkling. she looked at him in exasperation, laughing quietly to not rouse her mom back out from her room. she tilted her head up and bellamy leaned down to meet her the rest of the way. she smiled against the kiss, never ever getting used to him. bellamy kept one hand above him, steadying himself to tighten his other arm around her waist. his kisses always made her head spin; the way he towered over her, bending down to meet her with a muscled arm stretched out above her head or over her shoulder. “i love you,” he mumbled against your mouth, teasing you with the slightest flick of his tongue against your own. you hummed against him in response and he laughed at the way your knees almost gave out. “goodnight, blake.” she shoved him playfully for the teasing and then the laughing about her reaction. bellamy leaned in for one more gentle, agonizing kiss, “goodnight, venus.”

*.•

she woke up nauseous, cursing silently when it still wasn’t her period. her mother had noticed- she was sure she wouldn’t have noticed since she was still taking the rationed sanitary products and hiding them, so it at least looked like she was using them. she held her stomach, suddenly feeling dizzy as she stood. she was sure she had just eaten something questionable until the periods stopped coming. the first time she threw up, she began crying. no. no no no no no… they had always been careful- as careful as possible, that is, considering that was always a risk. god, she had been so stupid. so stupid and so reckless. and yet… she didn’t quite regret it. not at all, really. no. now was not the time to be thinking about that. shit. shit. this would have been inconvenient in any other circumstances, but on the ark it was highly illegal and deadly. on the ark, the mother would get locked up, the illegal, ‘non approved’ baby and the father killed. babies needed to only come from married couples- just one per couple- and they needed to be planned- and approved. even if she and bellamy were married- they weren’t- there had been no request or conversation with the council to approve bringing in another life, to insure there was enough resources and supplies for a baby and a new mom. “at least i beat teen pregnancy.” she muttered it stupidly to herself, head spinning as she tried pulling herself together. as she tried not to panic.

she might not be pregnant, an idiotic side of her brain argued in denial. bellamy would be the best father in the world, another part of her argued and the thought made her feel even more ill, she really couldn’t pick a better man to share something like that with with- god, how bellamy wanted to be a dad. someday. she fought off another wave of nausea, forcing the contents of her stomach to stay put, as if that would make the problem go away. she was sure her mom was already out for the day, as she stumbled around her quarters in a blind panic, cursing and beginning to hyperventilate. “shit, shit, shit. oh my god- oh hell, what do i do- whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido-“ she had to sit down, the room was spinning and her vision was blurry. the only person she wanted to talk to she absolutely couldn’t- especially not until she knew for sure.

and even then….

oh god, they would kill him.

this thought was enough to cause all the contents of her stomach to spill out, all over the floor. “no-“ her breathing got quicker, heart racing at a pace she knew wasn’t healthy. “no, no, no-“ bellamy would be floated if anyone found out. if- if she was pregnant. if. she forced herself to breathe, staring at the mess from her stomach in front of her. she needed to do something. she- she needed to know- she needed to plan- all she did was cry. hysterically, completely losing any amount of stability she still held. because deep down she knew. she knew… she could feel it- it was impossible, of course, physically and medically, but she swore she felt something warm deep in her belly. she stared at the wall, numb, panicked, hopeless, completely lost on what to do next. a knock on the door caused her to jump up so quickly her head throbbed. her eyes darted to the mess she had failed to get up and clean and she grabbed the nearest object- an unfortunate jacket hanging on a chair- and threw it over it, kicking at it desperately to wipe it up of at least cover it. she was too slow. bellamy had stepped through the door, smile dropping as soon as he saw her crouched on the floor.

“what happened?”

bellamy rushed to her side, face going pale when he saw the jacket, “you’re sick.” he was already helping her to her feet, ignoring her broken protests, “is it something you ate? do you have a fever?” bellamy placed a gentle hand against her forehead, “what’s wrong? tell me how you feel-“ she couldn’t look at him, as if this was somehow a one sided thing that was just her fault. “hey-“ his hand tilted her chin up, only growing more concerned when she didn’t respond, “tell me what’s wrong-“ you pushed out of his arms, cursing the tears that had stared again. you hadn’t said one word to him, hadn’t answered any of his questions, hadn’t even acknowledged him. it was making him crazy. bellamy always worried. he was worrying about her, about his sister. double the worry, all the time, even when it wasn’t warranted. “talk to me, please.” the fear in his voice nearly broke her, the way his voice shook and sounded on the edge of tears. “i’m okay, bell.” she forced the words out, hallow, flat, a complete lie. she could never get away with hiding any emotion with him. he knew her too well, always noticing the tiniest off tone, or the way you wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. bellamy was perceptive. always observant, always noticing everything. when it came to her, it was dialed to one hundred. sometimes she hated it… especially when he seemed to read her thoughts.

her hand was on her stomach, rubbing it, absentmindedly, foolishly- as if feeling the baby. bellamy stepped in front of her, hand on her wrist, stopping her pacing. his eyes snapped down to her hand, the flat palm against her stomach, the anxious twitching of her fingers. bellamy’s eyes met her own, glossy, dark, intense. he knew. somehow. bellamy stepped back, as if shocked, “when.” her eyes dropped to the floor, staring at it as if it could help her. “look at me.” his voice was firm, still gentle but demanding enough to get her attention, “when did you find out?” she shook her head, tears starting again, “i- i don’t-“ “i need you to help me out, sweetheart. when did you find out?” “i- i haven’t. not..officially, but-“ bellamy exhaled slowly, both hands resting securely on her shoulders, “okay… let me take care of that, okay? we will find out for sure first, before we do anything. alright?” his voice was so soft she could have cried. all she managed was a nod, but that was enough. “what can i do? do you need anything?” she opened her mouth but the only thing that came out was a sob. “hey-“ bellamy opened his arms just barely before she was buried against his chest, sobbing once again. bellamy just held her, tightly, silent as his jaw set tightly against his own negative thoughts. he knew what would happen to him if this got out. if she was…. he couldn’t even think about that right now. she was the one he was worried about. she was the one that needed him right now. “we will figure this out, alright?” she couldn’t even nod as she choked out another sob against his now tear stained chest. “we are together in this.” his arms tightened around her like a promise. “this is my fault. i will figure it out. i will-“ he couldn’t say fix it; there was nothing to fix. in any other world this would be his dream. “this isn’t your fault…” bellamy almost didn’t hear her. her voice shook, sounding broken and distant but still there. “it took two, bellamy. you are not blaming yourself for this. and you are not saying anything.” she didn’t lift her head from his shirt as bellamy spoke, “we could apply to get married. then apply to start a family- we’ll just say the baby is early, we-“ they were twenty one. but even if the council approved a union, they would never approve for a baby- not with the resource crisis, or the air crisis.

“no.” she pulled her head away from him, looking up at him with a puffy face. “that will never work…” bellamy knew it was true, but he wouldn’t let this happen. not without a fight. “we have to try! we have to do something-“ they both knew there was nothing either one of them would ever be able to do against their broken and corrupt system. not here. not as long as they were on the ark… “first i need to get a test.“ she didn’t sound like herself; knowing it was hopeful to even pretend it wouldn’t be positive. “you have to get approved for—“ she pushed out of his arms and turned towards the door, “i know a guy. stay here…” bellamy gaped at her, clearly not done with the conversation, and slightly concerned about her going off by herself right now. he knew better than to argue though, knowing he would have to trust her.

monty sat in the dining hall beside his usual co-conspirer, jasper. both boys perked up as she approached, not having seen her since they had annoyed her when she still went to school. she was quite a lot older than them, and therefore, quite a lot cooler. “do you need drugs?” jasper blurted it out before she could even sit down. she almost laughed as she sat in between them, “wouldn’t hurt right now, but no.” monty glanced around to make sure no one was listening, while jasper looked over the moon to have her sitting with them. “i need you to swipe something from medical for me.” jasper’s eyes lit up, already looking far too eager. “why us?” monty eyed her suspiciously. she looked at him coolly, “because you two think stuff like that is fun. and i know you both can get away with it.” “why, thank you.” jasper bowed and monty eyed him scoldingly, “what is it?” she dipped her head, eyes shifting around, causing the boys to lean in out of curiosity. when she told them, jasper nearly jumped to his feet, “blake, that lucky bastard!” what he had taken away was that bellamy was clearly getting some. monty smacked the back of his head, shutting him up quickly. monty’s eyes softened, looking at her with a new gentle expression, “i can get it to you tonight...” she exhaled slowly, smiling at him gratefully. “but.. what will you do? if it’s positive?” jasper leaned in, clearly over his moment of incredulous jealousy.

“i’ll just tell them someone else is the father.”

•.*

bellamy was rubbing her slightly-more-swollen-than-last-week belly, smiling to himself. there were still anxieties etched in his face and behind his eyes, but the biggest thing he felt was joy. and excitement. this had been his dream. there was a foolish and gullible side of him that believed this could maybe happen. that he could hide her, hide the baby, just like his mom… they could be a family. illegal or not, he was already in love with that future. “how are you feeling?” bellamy looked up at her as she read her book, stretched out on his bed comfortably. “okay… tired. sore… always hungry… just like when you asked me ten minutes ago.” bellamy smiled despite himself, laughing shyly, “sorry. i just… want you to be okay…” she stroked through his hair and bent to kiss him. this bellamy wasn’t real. the over-protective, always smiling side that tended to be giddy. her heart physically hurt, knowing all of this could be ripped away at any moment. with any slip up… “i’d better get to work.” bellamy kissed her belly, then kissed her as he stood. “i’d better get back before my mom comes home.” the bigger shirts and clever ways of sitting or carrying things would only work for so long…

two months. she had hidden it successfully for two months. bellamy was only growing more protective and more excited, while she only grew more anxious and more filled with dread. she did want this. the baby, the absolutely love struck bellamy in dad mode could be a dream life anywhere else. she kissed bellamy once more and watched him go, giving her a final smile before disappearing through the door. she rubbed her stomach once more before standing up, thankful to not have swollen ankles or a large stomach that required help standing. she was mumbling to herself, or maybe the baby, as she stepped back into the cool hallway of the ark and out of the comfortable room of bellamy’s that was so familiar. hands grabbed her roughly, two on her shoulder and one over her mouth. she didn’t even have time to scream when her head was slammed into the wall. the slam against metal echoed, but she wasn’t conscious to hear it.

her eyes were still closed and her body was not yet fully awake but she was aware of the pain. her head throbbed in a way she had never felt. her stomach ached, deep inside like she had torn a muscle. her hand moved to stroke her belly, but was restrained. her eyes snapped open, body jerking violently against the sudden panic. her head screamed at her for moving so suddenly, her stomach screamed at her for sitting up. nausea washed through her and she closed her eyes again. the lights were too bright here. the room was too cold. she forced her eyes open for answers. she was in medical. she was strapped to a bed in medical. how had she gotten here? she was leaving bellamy’s and… her eyes snapped up to the doctor that approached her. “how long did you know you were pregnant?” were. past tense. no…. a new pain overwhelmed her head and stomach now- it wasn’t physical, it couldn’t be healed. “what did you do-“ her voice failed her, already knowing the answer. she could feel the pain of the incision. she could feel the loss of the small life inside her. tears were already falling from her face as she stared at her stomach. “we’ll need the name of the father.” she jerked against the restraints this time, scared by the way her voice sounded this time, “what did you do!?” her throat burned as she screamed it. the doctor didn’t even flinch, blinking once, remaining calm, “what is the name of the father?” she held a clipboard, scribbling on it as she glanced back up. “i will not ask again. is it bellamy blake?” no… her head was spinning, the pain in her stomach causing more nausea, the loss she felt in her chest, as if her heart physically was breaking. they would not take him too. “it’s not bellamy.” the tears would betray her, she was sure. but not if she could use them… the doctor tilted her head slightly, sighed, gave the slightest pout with her lip, “i don’t believe you.” not bellamy. “it’s not him. he does- didn’t even know.” she forced her voice to stay even; to not sound desperate or pleading or let the sobs out that so desperately clung just behind her lips. the doctor eyed her, leaning in close, repeating herself, “i don’t believe you.” they will kill him. she took a deep breath, voice shaking, letting the tears fall now, “there’s a reason bellamy didn’t know about the baby.” the doctor leaned in again, now acting as if she was preparing for a deadly secret. “give me the name of the man you slept with.” her breath shook, knowing she would doom an innocent person to be floated. but it wouldn’t be bellamy…. a name came to her; the boy who pulled her hair and threw things at her head all throughout classes. she set her jaw, tears falling more now to appease her guilt. she silently apologized and begged for forgiveness.

“john murphy.”

the doctors lip twitched slightly, scribbling on her clipboard again. “thank you.” she left the room and she let herself cry. each sob shook her body, causing her stomach to protest in excruciating waves. “i’m sorry…” she just whispered it over and over again. no one would hear it. not the baby. not bellamy. not even john murphy… two guards came in and dragged her to her feet, ignoring the sobbing, or the vomiting that happened as they jerked her too suddenly to her feet. she couldn’t stand. her legs gave out, heavy with the grief, more than the guilt. heavy with the loss, the heartbreak, the pain… a needle was poked into her neck and everything faded.

.*•

the cell was cold. she curled up into herself tighter, ignoring the pain in her stomach, ignoring the blood stained sheets, ignoring the several times she had thrown up. her body was betraying her. it had been cut open and beaten but it was the grief that would do it. she kept her eyes closed, hiccuping every once in a while as she choked on a sob. she had run out of tears days ago. her arms tightened around her knee and she buried her face further against the uncomfortable mattress. a lock clicked and she lifted her head only slightly. opening her eyes hurt her head as the light flooded in. she wasn’t sure how long it had been. it was silent, other than her cries and occasional scream. “time to eat. i’ve been instructed to watch you, so you actually eat this time. starving yourself to death might help with population, but it won’t prove anything.” she just glared at the guard. she shaped as much hatred as she could behind it but she knew it was weak. she was weak… the guard placed the tray of food by her feet and looked impatient, “eat, or i’ll shove it down your throat.” another glare through the spinning room and lightheadedness. “eat now.” she glanced at the plate and lunged for the knife before the guard could react. he threw his arms in front of his face but she wasn’t aiming for him. the knife cut cleanly across her throat just as the guard screamed in horror. she coughed once, dropping to the floor as her vision blurred into blackness.

once again, she awoke restrained, in medical. a different doctor stood over her. worried, a softer expression than she had seen in weeks. “they should have let you die, since you wanted to so badly. you’re a waste of supplies.” the same guard was standing across the room, arms crossed. “that’s enough.” the doctor spoke up, “you can go now.” the doctor watched him leave with a cool expression. she turned back to her once again, “i’m so sorry. about everything.” she almost thought she meant it… her voice was so soft it didn’t sound like it belonged on the ark, “i’m doctor griffin… you missed anything important by about a centimeter.” she sounded relieved. she didn’t say anything, just continued staring at the wall blankly. “i really am so sorry. i lost my husband. i couldn’t imagine losing my baby too…” well float her for bringing it up. the slightest flare of her nostrils was the only acknowledgement given to show that she heard it. she inhaled deeply, breath shaking as she fought off the tears that wanted so desperately to fall again. doctor griffin squeezed her hand again, frowning at the restraints, smiling sadly once more before moving from the room to make other rounds. the pain in her stomach was supposed to get better but wasn’t, the headache was fading due to the iv attached to her replenishing the lost nutrients she had been denying her body. and now her throat ached, there was a slight sting and it felt like it was bruised.

two days in medical and she was finally greeted with a different guard. “come on, basket case. it’s moving day.” the tiniest fragment of her hoped she would just be let go. able to return to normal life and live with what happened. that would be punishment enough. she could return to bellamy, sobbing to him until she ran out of air or tears or both. she was eased to her feet this time, under the harsh eyes of doctor griffin, who had insisted on escorting her to her new cell. she was silently grateful that she wouldn’t be slammed into anything else, or roughly pushed around. but with a doctor now frequently on her side, there would be no chance to attempt anything again… the guard had cuffed her again and in any other circumstance she would have been laughed that an armed guard was this untrusting and cautious of her. by the time they had crossed through medical, the nausea had come back and the pain ate at her relentlessly. she had not walked this much. her stomach ached like an overused muscle, her head pounded each time her feet hit the floor. it seemed they had walked miles when the guard finally held out a hand to stop them. “welcome to your new home.” the guard took off her restraints and typed the code into the cell. as the door slid open, the guard was smirking slightly, “say hi to your roommate for me.” he shoved her roughly inside and the door was closed before she could question why the hell he was smirking.

arms were around her before she had turned her head. she tensed, nearly ready to fight before she saw who it was. her heart sank, her throat caught on her own saliva. all dam she had created to stop the tears she had been holding in broke at once. it was octavia… bellamy’s sister. octavia’s ecstatic expression quickly dropped. her eyes widened as she held her in her arms as she collapsed to the floor. “what happened- where’s bellamy? is bellamy okay?” the fear and worry was laced thick in her voice. she was scaring her but she couldn’t stop. she looked like him. she reminded her of him. octavia stopped with the rush of questions as she realized she couldn’t breathe from the amount of sobbing her brother’s girlfriend was doing. then she was screaming, and octavia held her tighter as she began hyperventilating, not knowing what to do but remembering that when she was younger, bellamy would just hold her tightly until her crying stopped. so that’s what she did. she didn’t even know how much time passed when she finally did stop crying. octavia was still there. wide eyed, silent, terrified to know what had possibly broken her this much… pleading with whatever god there was, that it wasn’t her brother. “they killed it.” she finally spoke and octavia snapped her head up. “who?” “the doctors.” octavia didn’t know if she was fully coherent, so she kept her voice soft, “killed who?” she finally looked up and octavia’s heart broke. her eyes were bloodshot. the undersides of her eyes nearly black. she took a deep shuddering breath, jaw tightening, lip shaking against more tears, “bellamy’s baby.”

octavia wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it would never have been that. “you- you and bellamy… you were…” she looked down at your stomach without thinking, her heart falling as she took in the medical robes. she only nodded once in acknowledgement, unable to say the words again. octavia knelt in front of her again, “i’m so sorry.” she really meant it. she didn’t doubt her like she had the doctor. “one day we’ll be out of here. and we will kill them.” kill them… octavia’s heart skipped, “where is bellamy?” this time she relaxed only slightly, “fine. he’s fine…” she almost smiled, knowing at the very least she hadn’t failed to protect him. “i told them it was someone else.” octavia let go of her held breath, relieved, thankful. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry…” she just nodded once, placing a shaky hand against her stomach that no longer felt warm against her skin and no longer held a secret future between she and bellamy.

.*•

octavia was laughing as she hung upside down from her bed. “i can’t believe i miss everything, just for being born!” she smiled lightly in response, shaking her head slightly. “you would love jasper and monty. as soon as we’re out of here, you have to meet them.” her chest tightened slightly; if they got out of here. she missed him so much; in a way she didn’t even know possible. it was like she was mourning for two. her baby and bellamy, who was very much alive, but who she would likely never see again. “do you think he’ll find someone else?” she really hadn’t meant to change the subject, but the curiosity was eating at her. octavia’s head snapped back to her, wide eyed, “bellamy? are you kidding?” she couldn’t look at octavia, now feeling guilty for even bringing it up. she knew bellamy. too painfully well. even if he believed she was dead, he would likely never move on. he was too passionate, too incredibly in love with her to ever even look at another girl. “when he was eleven, i remember him telling me that he had fallen in love with his best friend. i’m sure he talked about you more than just that before, but i was too little to remember it.” she smiled softly to herself, very much remembering thirteen year old bellamy getting into fights during lessons over you. even then, he was always there. if you needed a pencil, if you didn’t have a snack, if you were being looked at by another boy… “i used to be jealous of you. because i thought you got all of his attention. i remember thinking, even then, wow this girl better be really something to be causing my brother to act like a total idiot and taking time away from playing with me.” now she did laugh, looking at octavia playfully. “and then he brought you home that first day, knowing he could trust you to keep me a secret. and then i met you and you taught me how to braid my hair and brought me that stuffed bear…” her heart swelled again, remembering the secret days when they could still be kids, before they realized how serious and deadly life would become. “and then i understood why he always talked about you, why he never shut up about your smile, or your good heart, or the way your laugh, allegedly, brightened up every room.” damn it now she was crying because that sounded exactly like bellamy. she missed him so much… “and i said to bellamy, okay, if you’re going to act stupid over some girl and give someone other than me all your attention, i’m glad it was her. and then, another three years later, he finally got the nerve to kiss you.”

she snorted now, “he told you that he first kissed me when we were sixteen?” octavia leaned in, grinning mischievously, “was that a lie?” she smirked, “i kissed him on his fourteenth birthday.” octavia gasped, now grinning even wider, “he never told me that!” “probably because he stumbled away from me with wide eyes and muttered a quick ‘thank you’, before running away.” octavia was now laughing hysterically, “he did not!” she just nodded, quite thankful they had gotten long past that. “then, when we were sixteen, after two years of pretending that first kiss never happened, he kissed me on his birthday. he said the first one didn’t count because he had been wanting to kiss me forever and wasn’t the one to initiate it.” octavia rolled her eyes, still laughing, “so he waited sixteen years?” she just shrugged, “he said he wanted it to mean something. and he thought sixteen was finally the right time to be in a real relationship.” “so old fashioned of him.” she nodded, smiling again, “that’s bellamy. always respectful. always a gentleman…” octavia narrowed her eyes just slightly, “always?” she eyed her, looking away once, knowing bellamy would hate it if she gave any details to his innocent baby sister, “unless i asked him not to be.” her lip twitched just slightly as octavia practically shrieked. “what is that like?” “oh god, i can’t talk about it when the only experience i have is with your brother.” octavia looked at her playfully, but there was a slight pout on her face. “i may never even experience a kiss! i have to get something!” she scoffed, looking at her in a scolding look she knew bellamy would approve of. but she sighed, feeling red in the cheeks, “for your information, i will not be giving details.” “because it’s my brother.”

“because he would kill me.”

octavia had leaned forward, pillow tucked in her lap, looking eager. she knew octavia hadn’t experienced anything. not a first crush, not a first kiss, not even having a conversation with a boy other than her brother. she wasn’t even sure if she even gotten the talk, which she certainly was not about to give her. “i wouldn’t do it with anyone without a connection. in my opinion it shouldn’t just be casual. it should mean something. it should be a way to show the other person how much you love them and that you’re entirely theirs… completely.” “i bet the science teachers would love you…” octavia deadpanned and she snorted, “i’m being serious. bellamy is the only person i’ve ever even been attracted to. but even still, i couldn’t imagine just doing that with anyone.” “well, unlike you, i will never have a dream relationship with that special connection, so i might just do it with whatever boy i meet just so i don’t die a virgin.” she snorted at this, watching octavia tuck herself into bed. she had no idea what time it was, but it felt late. it was hard to keep track of anything in there.

she woke up to pounding on the door and followed octavia to her feet. they had to follow protocol, stand up, hands above their head while meals were served. the guard held two trays of food, while a second guard stood by the door, weapon raised. “no visitors today. what a surprise.” her heart sank, knowing that if he was allowed to, bellamy would have come every day. he had showed up weekly on visiting day to see octavia. but now, there were no visitors. “has my mom asked about me?” she knew she shouldn’t have asked, and regretted it as soon as she saw the guards smug expression. “your mother thinks you’re dead. we told her and your friend, mister blake, that you got yourself pregnant and got floated.” her heart dropped as the room began spinning, “then she got herself executed, trying to strangle john murphy on visiting day. that’s who the father was, right?” the guard smirked smugly and turned back to the door, roughly dropping the plates on the bed, “there’s no visitors for the dead.” the door slammed and she collapsed to the floor, once again. octavia was by her side instantly, but she couldn’t hear her words.

bellamy thought she was dead.

john murphy hadn’t been executed because of her.

her mother was dead.

.*•

two years had passed, and with it, eight pathetic, sorrow filled birthdays. octavia’s. her own, begrudgingly. bellamy’s. and the estimated time that her baby would have been due. octavia had called the baby ‘little bell’, which had earned a tearful smile and then more sobbing. grief and loss were strange things. days would go along fine, then something as common as a stomach ache would send her spiraling, reminded of the stomach pains that proved the sign of life inside her. her mom’s birthday had passed, though neither one of them mentioned it. she hadn’t even said goodbye. hadn’t even found out about her grandchild from her own daughter. she had died because of a final act in love of her daughter. attacking someone who was innocent. someone who had become a lie, just to protect bellamy.

octavia had fallen asleep long ago, while she continued to stare at the ceiling, pretending it was the stars. the same stars she and bellamy had looked out on so many quiet nights, stealing quick kisses and hushed laughs. her heart hurt again. she could see every detail of his face when she closed her eyes. the exact shade of brown in his eyes, every single line that appeared when he smiled. god, picturing his smile brought tears to her eyes. “happy birthday, my greatest love.” he would be twenty three today. twenty three and for the second time, she hadn’t been there last night to give him his usual birthday present. or to wake him up this morning with soft and messy kisses along his jaw and down his neck, to his chest until he finally stirred awake with a tantalizing, sleepy smirk. she should have just dragged him back to bed that fateful morning and convinced him to stay home that day. she could have done it, she was quite good at convincing him of things… none of it would have happened- or maybe it would have just given her one more day with him. she closed her eyes against the memories, against the phantom feeling of his lips on her’s, his arms around her, and still, the long gone swell of her stomach.

morning came around again, and with it, not a moment of sleep. octavia was already awake, being quite to not wake the sleepless being above her. “morning,” she said it quietly, so octavia would stop trying to be silent. she couldn’t do silent today. octavia was up without a moment’s hesitation, peeking her head over the ladder of her bunk bed, smiling sadly. “you didn’t sleep…” octavia had learned to read her quite well. she just shook her head, shrugging pathetically. octavia knew what yesterday was. it may as well have been a funeral to her. the door opened, without the usual slamming on the doors. “rise and shine girls, it’s time to start your training.” this time, not even she could hide her reaction as her head snapped away from octavia. “training?” octavia was already back on her feet, facing the guard eagerly. the next words spoken were even more shocking than the man who spoke them. councilman kane stepped past the guards, regarding both girls with a nod and polite smile, “congratulations, ladies. you’re going to earth.”

.*•

for the fourth day in a row, she sat in a room full of teenagers, wearing a name tag like she was back in school. pike had been talking about starting a fire in a survival situation, and octavia had been one of the only ones to successfully do it. something in the back of the class fell, she snapped her head around and actually smiled. “monty—!” she had jumped to her feet, ignoring the exasperation of pike. jasper was behind him, looking as equally shocked and happy to see her. “what are you doing here?” both boys pulled her into a hug and she felt familiarity for the first time in two years. “stole some…substances…from the garden.” jasper shrugged innocently, displaying that same shy, mischievous smirk. “what are- we thought you were dead. they told everyone you got floated! bellamy- god, bellamy-“ and just like that, the small joy she had felt in the reunion completely shattered, “bellamy! bellamy- how is he?” jasper and monty exchanged glances and she had her answer. “he’s not… he’s not himself. he…” “class! that is enough of a reunion. can we get back to this, please?” but she needed answers- she needed to know he was doing fine without her. she had believed he would. even knowing, and now having it confirmed, that that wasn’t true at all. octavia gripped her hand when she sat back down, trying to pull her attention back. but all she did was stare straight ahead, alert, tense, not hearing a word that was being said.

.*•

it was three days before they were sent to earth- likely to die- and she hadn’t learned half the kid’s names. she was the oldest, she at least knew that. she knew jasper, monty, had met harper, knew wells, obviously knew octavia, and knew the other kid that sat in the corner. the boy she had avoided. the boy who was the closest to her age, with the dark eyes and constant smug expression. john murphy. he was here because of her. he didn’t know that, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before it got out. she had already heard the whispers behind her back, and the names the others had called her. whore. and even if it were true, bellamy would have broken their teeth in if he had heard it. she pulled herself from her thoughts to realize someone was standing beside her, “you look a bit old to be a teenage delinquent.” her heart slammed into her ribs and she audibly flinched. “don’t worry. they say i’m in for murder, but the jackass had it coming.” she flinched, turning away from octavia’s anxious expression. “murder? i- i thought you got a girl pregnant?” murphy snorted, “right. i don’t know where that rumor started, but i’d much rather that be the case. they just added that on to my list of crimes, though they didn’t even seem to believe it. if it were true though, at least i would go out having had a little fun.” her head was spinning. he had almost killed someone. they hadn’t believed it was him… so then- “do you know who the unlucky girl was, anyway? seems a bit much to get rid of the baby too.” the room was spinning and she fought away the black spots forming in her eyes, feeling herself tremble slightly, “it was me.”

murphy’s eyes snapped to her, more confusion than shock, or even anger. “why would you tell them—“ he shook his head, stepping back slightly, as if he was looking her over, trying to figure her out. octavia and monty were to their feet, both looking tense, bracing for the situation to explode. “wait, i remember you.” his tone had darkened. shit. monty was already in front of her, wide eyed, anxiety painted across his face. “your mother attacked me… she’s dead because of you. because of a lie you told to protect that bella—“ she hadn’t even registered that she had moved until her fist connected with his jaw. she heard a snap as murphy stumbled backwards. his eyes were fire now, burning with rage, a twisted smirk on his face. the class had erupted into chaos, but he was on her before anyone reached them. her head hit the wall, though a part of her was thankful for the distraction pain brought her. she was actually smiling as he hit her, smirking when his hands wrapped around her throat, screaming at her as he tightened his grip. her head slammed against the wall again and her vision began to fade around the edges. “do it.” she didn’t even recognize her own voice as she fought to breathe in. kids were pulling him off her, monty and jasper jumping in front of her once again, while octavia screamed words that even bellamy would have been shocked by. pike threw murphy to the floor, kicking him once swiftly, voice carrying over the chaos. his words didn’t meet her ears as her hands massaged her throat. monty was talking to her, jasper was holding each of her shoulders. octavia was trying to kick murphy on the floor. “enough!” the voice sounded like it was under water. “green, jordan! go with her to medical. guards, get them back to their cells, now!”

she woke up once again in a med bed. doctor griffin was there again, shaking her head, “we have to stop meeting like this.” her throat throbbed, wincing as she attempted to swallow the taste of blood. “i hope you got a few good ones in. he certainly did a number on you.” her lip felt numb, and entirely too big as she ran her tongue across it. her head throbbed, and her vision wasn’t quite like it should have been. “severe bruising around your throat, you split your lip on your own teeth, you have a moderate concussion, and now a nice sized lump on the back of your head. your nose wasn’t broken, though, if you’re looking at the positive side. are you trying to get yourself killed?” when she didn’t answer, doctor griffin sighed, “you are going to earth. and now you’ll be landing with a concussion and a messed up face. try to stay out of fights for three more days.” she only grunted in acknowledgment and doctor griffin tucked her clipboard under her arm, “someone is here to see you.” her foolish heart hoped it was bellamy, though she knew she would never see him again. it was monty. waiting patiently, smiling sadly as he joined her side. “what the hell were you thinking, talking to murphy?” “i’m great, thanks for asking.” monty didn’t look like he was in the mood to be funny. “i’m supposed to walk you back to your cell. they thought you would be more cooperative with me.” she almost scoffed, standing to her feet with a wince. if she wouldn’t see bellamy again, she had no intention on fighting anything they planned to do to her. death would be welcome… monty placed a gentle arm around her waist, letting her lean on him as they walked. she felt much weaker than she expected, though the pain was a welcome distraction, and she was thankful to have monty’s familiarity. he stopped outside her cell, smiling sadly as guards separated them, “see you on the ship to earth.” her lip twitched up slightly in reply, staying silent as they closed her in her cell once again.

.*•

the drop ship was packed full. she hadn’t realized how many people one hundred would actually be, until they were all crammed in an enclosed space, buckled into too close together seats. she sat next to octavia, holding her hand. for her own comfort or octavia’s, she wasn’t sure. the tried to see the positive; if earth didn’t kill them, the others would be behind them shortly. and with them, she would see bellamy again. if earth was survivable. she didn’t mind if it wasn’t. radiation poisoning would be a quick enough death, and maybe the last thing she saw would be the blue sky and tops of trees.

she ignored the chancellor’s message, instead focusing on the few faces she knew. monty and jasper had been loaded after her, likely on the floor below. octavia was beside her, murphy was across the row, glaring at her with murder in his eyes. great. at least if radiation didn’t kill her, he would. there were more kids above her, but she couldn’t tell you half of their names. the message cut out and the picture on the screen blinked back to a foreboding, void, black. the ship shook slightly as the thrusters engaged, the engine creaking as they left the dock and airlock. she hadn’t realized she was holding her breath, or that she had closed her eyes, until she opened them with a gasp, to yelling. it was no one in her section, though murphy was still scowling at her, ignoring the other floor’s fiasco. the ship jolted rapidly, causing a few girls to scream. even murphy dropped his murderous scowl for an anxious glance. the ship shook, jerked violently once more and the falling slowed. the parachute had deployed, which meant they had already broken through earth’s atmosphere. a few kids were laughing in relief, while others were hyperventilating, and some even crying. octavia still held onto her hand tightly, turning to her with a brave expression over all her fear. she smiled once, only dropping it to brace herself as the ship settled into the ground. the ground. they were on earth.

the first humans on earth in over one hundred years.

kids were jumping out of their seats in waves of chaos. they were pushing each other, shoving to the front, wanting to be the first to touch the earth. she suddenly froze, unable to force herself to unbuckle her restraint, unable to convince herself to stand. octavia was in the front, screaming over everyone as she climbed for the latch. the door opened, fresh, warm air rushed into the drop ship, and there were a hundred inhales at once. fresh air. oxygen from earth. everyone had frozen in their spots, tense, anticipating, waiting to see if anyone dropped dead. octavia was the first out the door, cheering loudly as the air proved not to be toxic. the others were cheering, chaos once again taking control. the swarm of kids rushed out of the ship, she finally unbuckled herself, hands shaking. murphy was still staring at her. hatred, burning expression. she tensed, moving slow as she stood to her feet. his lip twitched, eyes following her movement like a predator tracking their next meal. her heart pounded against her ribs, knowing she wouldn’t stand a chance in another fight. his hands were on his seatbelt, watching her, knowing he sat between her and the ladder.

she bolted from her chair, hearing murphy’s own restraints hit the metal wall as they were thrown off. she felt her body as if she wasn’t in it, adrenaline surging, heart racing. her legs felt numb as she reached the ladder. her hands slipped on the handholds, desperately grasping onto nothing as she let herself fall. she barely caught herself on the final rungs, landing with one foot on the ground, her other leg stumbling as her knee folded under her. murphy’s boots were just above her feet as she scrambled back to her feet, sprinting again before her body could keep up. she was tipping forward, frantic feet trying to keep up and keep her balanced. she screamed as hands grabbed her, shoving her forward hard. she hit the ground, no longer needing to wonder what dirt tasted like. her vision blurred slightly, crawling forward desperately. her heart pounded against her skull, the taste of blood in her mouth making her nauseous. hands grabbed her ankles and she screamed again. everyone was still too busy celebrating to know her screams were not of joy or adrenaline. murphy had flipped her over, standing over her with a wild expression. “you should have killed me-“ he dropped down to his knees, holding her between his legs, hands coming to find her throat again. she knew she shouldn’t have hit him, but she wasn’t sure it justified this. she tried to turn her head desperately to see anyone. even if someone had been there, the hands on her throat wouldn’t let her scream. between blackening vision, she heard a man’s voice screaming. the weight was off her in an instant, the force that knocked murphy off causing her to roll slightly. she curled up in a ball, protecting her throat incase murphy returned, but hands never returned to her throat. instead, she heard the cock of a gun, as bullets loaded into place.

“monty-?“ her voice shook, tears falling from her eyes, despite her belief that she wanted to die. she uncovered her head, squinting up between the bright sun and the blurring vision. the figure that stood above her was not monty. they were entirely too tall, hair too curly and far too messy, jaw set much too tightly. he stood with his arm outstretched, gun pointed, hand not shaking in the slightest as he held it right against john murphy’s head. a crowd had gathered now, the booming voice getting everyone’s attention over the celebrating. “bellamy—“ it was octavia who spoke, because she couldn’t. she was struggling to stand to her feet, shaking, feeling like she was choking. it wasn’t because of the hands that had squeezed her neck, it was the emotions fighting for control. bellamy. her brain was short circuiting because it was him. he was here. somehow, miraculously. bellamy bellamy bellamy bellamy. she stumbled to her feet, not able to hold in the sob that escaped her. octavia had stepped cautiously in front of bellamy, eyes wide, breathing sharp. his eyes were wild. a madness she had never seen in him. his body was rigid, jaw locked, nostrils flared, eyes more murderous than she thought possible. he held the gun against murphy’s head, unwavering, finger on the trigger.

“bellamy.” octavia cautiously reached towards the gun, earning a sharp inhale of breath from murphy. now he was afraid. good. bellamy’s lip twitched just slightly, eyes still burning into him with a hatred she didn’t know bellamy could hold. octavia’s hand was on the gun, gently pulling it out of her brother’s hand. bellamy didn’t flinch, eyes shifting to his sister’s hand that now held the gun. his eyes snapped back to murphy, who flinched, “you ever touch her again,” he pulled him to his feet, slamming him hard against a tree, “i kill you.” murphy just nodded, craning his neck to move away from his entirely too close face. “you ever look at her again. i kill you. do you understand?” his voice deepened, a darkness in it that was entirely unlike him. murphy just nodded, eyes wide, still managing to look angry even with his fear. “you will wish i shot you.” he took his hands off murphy with a final shove and watched him stumble away, no longer holding his tough exterior.

then bellamy turned, body shaking, furious expression faltering. he stumbled forward, eyes locked on her with an expression that finally broke. tears were streaming down his face as he dropped in front of her. he had meant to help her up, to pull her into his arms, but his legs stopped holding him up. she remembered holding him the night octavia had been found and arrested. she remembered how hard he cried, how much he blamed himself. she remembered how much it hurt to see him this way, how much she wished she never heard him cry like that again.

this was worse.

she collapsed into him, not sure if she was shaking from her own sobs or his. octavia was screaming something to the others, but her voice was lost to them. “i thought you were dead– they said you were floated- they told me—“ each word broke her further, feeling like she was about to just shatter in his arms. he was here. he was here. bellamy forced her away from his chest, just so he could look her over. his thumb traced her face, his own brown eyes reflecting the same sadness that had shattered something inside her too. “i thought you were dead– i—“ he didn’t even bother wiping his own tears, worried only about her own, a shaking hand lifting to wipe the tears from her cheeks. his eyes dropped to her stomach, knowing it had been two years too long…knowing it wouldn’t be there anymore. his eyes shifted to her arms, slowly, as if knowing there should have been someone in them. his eyes snapped to her’s, wide and tear filled and now heartbroken. “they—“ she only nodded, tears falling for this conversation she should have had two years ago. wishing he could have been there. to cry with her, to hold her against his chest as she screamed until her throat bled. his breathing came out in a shudder, the words he failed to speak choking him. bellamy pulled her against him without another word, holding her so tightly that it hurt. she didn’t care. she had needed this years ago. she let herself melt into him as she finally felt like she could properly grieve. that she could properly mourn. with the only person in the world that would understand. the one person who had wanted this more than anything… the one person who would have burned the entire world to stop it. “i’m so sorry-“ he stroked her hair, other arm holding her tightly around her waist, guiding her gently as she moved into his lap to be closer. “my god, i- i’m so sorry- i should have been there. i- i would have stopped it, i-“ his hand trembled against her, the tears now turning to a dangerous anger. “i’ll kill them… every single person that was involved… i-“ she just shook her head, placing her hands on either side of his face to pull him back to her. “i couldn’t save it… i.. i didn’t even have a choice, i- they knocked me out and when i woke up—“ bellamy’s body tensed, shoulders straightening as anger coursed through him with dangerous force. his vision had turned red, the roaring in his ears demanded action. justice… punishment. instead, he just held her. tightly, as if his arms were the only thing holding her together. “they killed my mom.” bellamy exhaled deeply, fighting against the pounding in his ears, “i know.” he shifted her again, tilting her chin up gently to look at her, “i know. i’m so sorry. i’m so–“ sorry seemed like a stupid word now, one that didn’t even begin to console what she was feeling. he had lost his mother; he knew the pain. she had lost her mother. after losing their child. and then she lost him. she had been medically mutilated so the baby could be killed. she bared this all on her own. alone. he hadn’t been there for her. he hadn’t been there to carry her through it.

sorry didn’t mean a damn thing.

a hand on bellamy’s shoulder pulled him from his dazed, dissociated state. monty. bellamy didn’t know him that well, but he knew she did. monty was smiling softly, looking at her more than anything. he passed her a bottle of water, kneeling slightly, though looking like he was intimidated to get too close. “jasper and i set up an extra tent for you… there isn’t many tents. a lot of the kids are just setting up in the drop ship, but-“ he gave another soft smile, “i figured it would be nice…if you could be alone.” bellamy nodded now, “thank you.” monty sent one last anxious expression towards her before standing again. “i’ve got her.” monty nodded, “i know… you always have.” she had fallen asleep, among the silence and familiar comfort in his arms. “just…” monty hesitated, “be careful with her. she’s… she was lost without you. she…” he shook his head, as if deciding against continuing. bellamy appreciated monty’s concern, he was thankful he had been there, in a way, when he hadn’t, but he didn’t need to be told how to take care of her. if he was good at only one thing, it was taking care of her. bellamy shifted, lifting her against her as he stood. she shifted, humming quietly, shifting to bury her face against him again.

bellamy gently placed her in the cot, letting himself sink down beside her. there was plenty to do. plenty to figure out, plenty to explore and plenty of chaos -already- to de-escalate. but bellamy needed to make sure she was okay first. she had fallen asleep silently, so quickly that he wondered how long it had been since she slept through the entire night. he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, pulling her back against him again as tightly as he could without actually hurting her. he closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t fall asleep, but also knowing he was not going to leave her side ever again. tomorrow he would tell her about the ring that hung around his neck. about the ring that had been his mother’s that he couldn’t bare to leave the ark without. tomorrow he would give her the ring as a promise.

tomorrow they would begin to start over.

#fanfiction #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake angst #bellamy blake #the 100 #voidbellamyfics #angst #x reader #fluff #i will make this up to you in the next one i promise;)#sorry this is late i kept crying #or screaming

65 notes · View notes

apas-95 · 1 year ago

Text

the liberal 'actually, it's impossible to tell whats good and bad, so you should never have any authority over anything' approach is, principally, ridiculous, but is also just incredibly weak as a defence.

whether abortion is good or actually murder is a pretty important thing to address: it's good. whether hrt is good or actually delusional self-harm is a pretty important thing to address: it's good. whether being gay is good or actually a sign of a sexual predator is a pretty important thing to address: it's good. in all these cases, going 'yeah, maybe abortion is murder, but it's my inalienable right to bodily autonomy, either way' is laughable. it wins over nobody who doesn't already think abortion isn't murder, and is based on a premise that we should already know is wrong: there are no such thing as universal human rights. all rights are socially-situated and conditional, and in fact, there are good times when 'bodily autonomy' should not be respected - I mean, for god's sake, we intend to kill people with guns.

we have to actually make value judgements and weigh the positives against the negatives for real, specific cases, not just pre-emptively refuse the question out of a solipsism and appeals to universal truths. forcing someone to give blood to save lives at a mass casualty event is more emotionally impactful, despite being identical to, mandating vaccination and handwashing. both of the latter are 'violations of bodily autonomy' that are plainly agreeable on practical grounds. the position that finds no possible way of extricating 'stopping someone from committing suicide', an act generally thanked after the fact, from the abuses that take place in capitalist psychiatric institutions, is not one based on material analysis or an attempt to mitigate harm - it is a juvenile 'abolitionist' approach that refuses to consider class character, in favour of an idealistic condemnation of entire systems and related practices in the abstract.

ultimately, there is nothing incorrect that is not also harmful. a refusal to analyse the positives and negatives of behaviours, procedures, and acts, justified by 'it's impossible to know!' and 'doing anything would be authoritarian!' is not helpful, does not bring about correct behaviour in practice, it is the opposite - it is a cover for harmful behaviours, and promoting it to avoid the hard discussions over whether a given behaviour is harmful is wrong. it fails to defend correct things - like the fact that hrt is good - and works to defend incorrect things. any view that our positions should not be based on practical, material facts is corrosive.

436 notes · View notes

gyutopia · 3 days ago

Text

[TEASRER] temptation 3 | lee heeseung

⟶ summary: having just completed your graduate work in psychotherapy, you’re eager to begin a career as a marriage counselor. you land a job as a counselor at a matchmaking firm for millionaires and meet heeseung, a charismatic client who makes no effort to hide his attraction to you. the only catch is...he’s engaged.

˗ˏˋpairing: billionaire!heeseung x f!reader ❀ genre: marriage counselor au ❀ word count: ~30k ❀ staring: chisa- xg, yunho- ateez, jaehyun- bnd, heeseung + jake + jay- enhypen with other members making appearances, sakura- le sserafim, karina- aespa. ⟶ warnings: mentions of anxiety and depression, therapy speak, lots of swearing, cheating, soft dom!hee, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, vanillaish sex, slight body worship, talk about childhood trauma, consumption of alcohol, mentions of abortion (not reader), invasion of privacy, inappropriate relationship dynamics, talk of assisted living, mention of a suicide attempt, allusions of starving yourself, mentions of anti- depressants, vague talk of ptsd, verbal abuse, heeseung doesn’t have good parents, mention of online bullying, heeseung is v insecure and has some emotional trauma. please let me know if i’ve missed anything! ➤ taglist: open⇠ the original people on the first taglist will automatically be added, if you are not on it and would like to, please send in an ask or comment under this post

✎୭: after months of waiting she’s almost here ! thank you for being patient with me :) ➤ release date: JULY 16TH, 2025

ʚɞྀི part one can be found here and part two can be found here

You smile to yourself, sinking deeper into the cushions with your legs curled beneath you. You can picture it, the life the two of you could build together. Late nights in this very living room, tangled up in each other with tubs of ice cream balanced between your knees and corny rom-coms playing on loop.

You think about him in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess, cooking you ramen at two in the morning just because you said you were craving it. You even think about the holidays, his big home feeling more lived in. Heeseung hanging string lights while you and Heejoon decorate the tree, both of you arguing over which ornaments look better. The three of you baking together, burning the cookies but eating them anyway. Hosting Thanksgiving, Christmas, ringing in the new year with the people you love most all under one roof.

You turn your head towards the hallway he dissapeared down wondering what’s taking him so long. You stand and walk towards the door to check on him. “Hee?” you call softly, pushing off the couch and padding toward the entryway but when you reach the hallway your steps falter.

Heeseung is just standing there completely still, like he’s forgotten how to move. You frown as you come up behind him. “Baby, are you okay?”

You trail off as you peek around his frame. There’s a woman standing in the doorway, maybe around your age. Her hair’s pulled into a loose bun and her eyes flicker briefly to yours before drifting back to the man in front of her. A little boy clings to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her neck, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. You’ve never seen her before but something in your gut twists. You already know.

Heeseung’s voice is quiet. Dazed. “Karina…?”

#fic: temptation #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enha imagines #kpop imagines #heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseunng fic #heeseung fic #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #kpop fic #kpop smut #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you

248 notes · View notes

yllwjktscult · 4 months ago

Text

(Un)lucky- a blessing or a curse? pt.2/?. A yellowjackets fanfic

!!!disclaimer- english is NOT my native language so there for sure will be grammar mistakes!!!

part one -> here

playlist for this story -> here

WC: 3,9k (short-ish chapter because i decided to cut it short so its not THAT heavy, however the next one is long AS FUCK, more from past and more interaction with yj (really sad interaction). And tbh, this part is little shitty:/ so im sorry if its not good, SWEAR next one will be better!!)

TW: abortion, teen pregnancy, unwanted sex, suicide attempt, psych ward, depression mentioned, once again, this ff is TW itself

tw for abortion and unwanted sex will be told in time, so you can skip that part 🫶🏻

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Its been couple of weeks since Lottie visited you in psych ward.

It was shock to everyone that they in fact were alive as you were saying. But of course they would never admit they were wrong. In fact, you cant even blame them. They were just doing what they thought was the best for you.

You dont feel hate, you dont feel angry, you dont feel anything. Just emptiness.

For months you were "abused" to believe you are crazy and went thru a lot of procedures that are 100% illegal, but it helped you.

Did it ruined you completely? yes.

But on the other hand, you are free. You are free from emotions, you are numb.

A win is a win you guessed.

"Well.. how are you feeling today?" one of your therapists that you have been seeing for the last year asked you as you were sitting in front of him on a chair.

"The usual" you answered shortly not looking at him.

The therapist looked at you and then back into his files and cleared his throat "So.. nothing?" he asked and looked at you, fixing his glasses.

You just noded.

You werent lying, you truly felt nothing. You dont even have thoughts anymore, theres nothing in your head. You dont know if its because they fried your brain for weeks or from all those medication, but theres truly no thoughts in your head for months now, you assumed.

He just hummed.

"How do you feel about your friends being alive and back?" he asked gently, he knew theres a possibility of you being triggered.

But it didnt trigger you at all. Your friends are dead. You just continued staring at your lap "They are dead, they died in a plane crash a year ago" you simply said, you learned that phrase like a mantra, and frankly you believed that phrase.

He just hummed and wrote something.

"They survived you know? And one of them visited you two weeks ago, her name was Lottie"

For the first time since you sat there which was now 30 minutes you looked at him "N-no, Lottie wasnt there" you said confused before you continued "there WAS a woman, tall, skinny, dark haired and tanned woman... she liked my drawing of my friends" you finished and looked back at your lap "my Lottie died in a plane crash a year ago, shes gone, just like the rest of my friends" you mumbled quietly.

The therapist noded and was little surprised, this was the longest sentence you told him in months.

"How would you react if they were alive?" he asked as he leaned on his table to look at you better and watched your reactions.

You stared at your lap and played with your hands "They died in a plane crash a year ago. They are dead, they are not alive" you said like a mantra.

He just hummed again, resting his head on his clasped hands "Well, i think we are done today" as he said that, a guard walked in and you knew thats your cue to walk out so you did. Side by side with the guard.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Unknown to you, outside the psych ward. Your friends who are very much alive and are still struggling to put their mind onto the fact, that their beloved friend who was the sweetest, kindest and the most lovely person on earth ended up like that.

Lottie and Nat are now sitting in your parents house, talking with your parents. Well, technically just with your mom. Your father didnt take it well and he himself fell into solid depression and started drinking his guilt of not being able to protect his child away.

When Lottie and Nat knocked at your parents door, your mother looked at them as if she saw a ghost, trembled and hugged them tightly.

"I- i cant still believe it" your mother told them both as she looked at them, setting two cups of water in front of them.

She sobs and puts a hand over her mouth "Oh my poor baby-" she sobs looking at the roof "my beautiful child". You mother felt guilty, she felt like she didnt do enough to save you. She felt like she didnt do well to protect you.

Your mother looks at them with glossy eyes and smiles gently with love in her eyes.

"Look at you both, you look so mature".

Lottie and Nat shared a glance not knowing what to say. So they just smiled at your mom.

"Umh.. have you visited her recently?" asked Nat and your mothers eyes filled with more tears as she shakes her head.

"No.. no.... Last time i saw her was 2 months ago, when she finally started believing you are dead-" your mother felt a new rush of emotions go thru her "oh GOD- if she waited a little bit, she-" your mother cries "she could be here with us. She could have be herself" your mother says a quick apology as she went to bathroom to cry.

Both Nat and Lottie felt their sadness overtake them. Seeing your mom like that was heartbreaking to them, she was always so kind to them, just like you were, so seeing her this emotional was a bit hard for both of them.

Your mother walks back and looks at Lottie with sad yet curious gaze.

"How does she looks like?" she asked with sad eyes.

Lottie felt her heart break "She.." she bites her lip and sighs "Remember when her cat died? how she looked like back then? make it 10 times worse. She looked so broken, like an empty shell, her eyes were so sad and she lost weight, a lot. She-" Lottie looked up to stop the tears "She looked like lifeless body" Lottie whispered the last sentence.

Your mother just nodded and felt like the worse mother in the world. Her beautiful daughter was suffering and she could do nothing about it.

She lost her daughter the day the yellowjackets were proclaimed dead, and oh.. how she misses her child so much, her child who was the kindest, sweetest and purest soul. Who was all smiley, full of life, full of ideas and was positive despise all the negative things happening to her. You did suffer with depression before, but you had your supportive parents and supportive friends who made it easier to deal with it. Whenever you felt under water, your friends picked up on that and either were with you, or did something with you to keep your thoughts away from you. The same went for your parents.

She smiles at both of them "Im so glad you are both alive" she smiles as she wipes tears away and went to hug them "maybe one day i will get my babygirl back too".

At that, both girls felt their heart break again.

"If you want to, you can go to her room and take something from here. Shes not going back anytime soon.." your mother said sadly.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Both girls are now in your room.

Just as they remembered it from multiple visits before. Nat sometimes sneaked here in middle of the night when she didnt wanted to be home, and as well Lottie when she didnt want to be alone. They were always welcomed here by you and your parents. It was their second home after all. Your parents loved them as if they were their own children. Both were always welcomed here.

Both girls noticed the jacket that belonged to Nat and a hoodie that belonged to Lottie being on your chair. They shared a sad look as they both grabbed each clothing.

They both sat at your bed, each holding the piece of clothing that once belonged to them in their hands.

"H-how did that even happened?" asked Nat below a whisper in shaky voice "She was the strongest of us all and now s-shes... she cant even remember her favourite color?" she finished her voice full of disbelief and pain and felt emotions run thru her.

Lottie just stared at the clearly worn hoodie that once was hers in her fingers. Gently playing with the fabric.

"I dont know Nat.. its so unfair. All of it its so unfair. What WE went thru and what she went thru" Lottie said as her gaze went to one of your journals on the table.

Lottie standed up and walked to it, grabbing the black journal book in her slender fingers and looking at Nat. A silent communications between them. They didnt want to invade your privacy, but at the same time, their curiosity what went thru your mind while they were gone was stronger.

So thats what they are doing now, reading your journal from since they went first missing which was in may until your overdose in august.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

May 17 1996

Its been a few days since their plane went missing. Everyone is saying that they are dead. They are saying the possibility of them being alive is beyond zero. I DONT believe it. I feel them. I feel their connection. I know they are alive, whenever they are. I know they are alive. I just know it..

June 20 1996

Its been a less than a week since they proclaimed them dead.. how can they say THAT? its been JUST a month. Why did they gave up so fast after just one stupid month? How can they say they are dead when they havent found the plane, or their bodies. How can they say that. They dont even know where they are. How they could say that... they are alive, i know it. I know it..

June 22 1996

I slept with another guy today.. i didnt even liked him nor did i even enjoy it. I hated it, i actually hated it. How did i even become like this? i always wanted to have my first time with someone i loved, cared about snd someone who knew me. Someone who brings me comfort snd makes me feel loved, not some stranger i barely knew his name at a collage party i snuck at a month ago when i was drunk out of my mind. How did i become like this? that allows this. When did i become a body for someone to get a release with. When did i started seeking comfort in strangers bed, strangers touch that reminds me THIS is a reality. Reality without my friends.

!TW: mention of unwanted sex!

July 5 1996

I did it again, i met with him again in exchange of buying me alcohol. So what if hes twice my age. So what if he hit me, what if he choked me to death and didnt use protection even when we agreed on a blowjob. So what if i told him to stop when he started taking my clothes off and he didnt listen to me and in fact he become even rougher and meaner. Slapping me hard across the cheek telling me if i wont shut up and be a good girl and listen he will make sure this is the last thing i ever see and feel.

I just closed my eyes and thought of my friends letting him do whatever he wanted to. Which made me feel even worse.

I deserved it. I deserve what he did to me.

I deserve to die.

I deserved everything he did to me.

I deserve even worse.

I dont deserve to be alive.

I dont deserve to live when they are not here.

!!end of tw!!

July 13 1996

I met again with the guy i talked with a year ago at one of the parties in the woods my friends dragged me to. His name is Damian, hes at college and hes actually very sweet and kind. He found me crying after another 'fun' time with the old guy.

Instead of taking advantages of me, Damian actually talked with me until morning. Taking his jacket off and pulling it over my shoulders. He listened to me, he didnt judge me and stayed with me until sunrise. He could be with anyone else, yet he stayed with me. Talking to me snd keeping me company.

He is really sweet, he reminds me so much of Lottie... He is tall, has a longer dark curly hair, beautiful big brown eyes, the sweetest and warmest smile and little moustache that actually suits him so much.

Hes the first guy i have felt this comfortable in my life.

July 20 1996

Damian tried to kiss me today.. it would have been a really sweet moment. if i wasnt so broken and so damaged. Thats what i told him, that hes too sweet and nice for me, i dont want to hurt him.. hes everything i wanted. maybe in another universe.. when im not me..

!TW: mention of abortion! :(

July 29 1996

Turns out im pregnant, theres a child growing inside me. Im only 17 i cant be a mother, not a mother of a child i didnt even wanted. A child i couldnt love. A child that wasnt made out of love.

Damian bought me abortion pill, no idea where he got it, but i coulndt thank him enough. I dont want anyone to know about this. Hes actually right now downstairs with my mom making us tea. He said he wants to be with me the whole time. He didnt want me to deal with this alone. He insisted.

I took it an hour ago and DEAR GOD, those cramps are killing me.

I wish they were there with me right now, held me and comforted me the way Damian does.. oh god how much i miss them.. life is so unfair. i miss them so much.. but atleast i have Damian now, im not completely alone..

!end of tw!

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

At this, both girls stoped reading and looked at eachother with wide glossy eyes.

"She was pregnant?!" Lottie asked above a whisper with a broken voice and Nat put a hand over her mouth.

"Oh god.." was all Nat could say, she felt sick after what she read from all those 3 months of period before you got hospitalised. Both wanted to cry. Both wanted to hug you so badly. They knew you went thru a lot, but they even in their worse nightmares did not expect you went thu all of that in just 3 months..

Not only did you became a person of your polar opposite of who you were before, not only did you overdosed, crashed out and fell into a psychosis, you were also carrying a child at some point. A child from a guy who forced himself at you.

Both girls felt emotional. They felt hopeless.

Their friend who they loved, adored and was their sunshine is now so broken and they finally understand why.

"We need to find Damian, they seemed pretty close" said Nat with tears in her eyes. Hugging her jackets that was now yours closer to her.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Lucky to them, they didnt have to look that hard, Damian came to your house the same time and day when they were here. In fact, meanwhile they were in your room, he came here. He even tho he didnt have to, visited your mom regularly. Just purely because he loved your mom and he cared about you, a lot.

He was there the whole time after he met you after that night that guy took advantages of you again, when you were slowly killing yourself with how you dealt with your mourning, when you aborted your child, when you overdosed and even when you went to psych ward. He visited you regularly with your mom, but unfortunately, he wasnt able to see you for the last 4 months due to your suicide attempt in here couple weeks before you started believing they are dead. Your parents were the only one allowed, well, your mom. Your father coulndt bring himself to face you, he felt like he failed as a father and couldnt protect his child as he was supposed to. So instead he drunk his sorrow in tons of alcohol. Thats why your mother was able to see you 2 months ago. She couldnt after that, because the psych crew told her you are in unstable state and they need to watch you until you get more stable. Unfortunately when you were getting stable-ish fate decide to test it by bringing your friends back after 19 months of missing and after 19 months of your misery.

"Oh my sweet boy" your mother held Damian cheek as she looked up to him with glossy eyes and he smiled down at her, bringing her into a hug.

Both girls saw this scene as they standed at the end of stair with shock and sadness written all over their faces as they hold the clothing that they lent you and became more yours than theirs in their hands.

"oh WOW- he DOES kinda look like you" Nat mumbles right next to Lottie as they both eyed Damian with wide shocked eyes who held you mom in his embrace. "he kinda does..." whispers Lottie to Nat as they both look at him.

"Dami, i want you to meet Natalie and Lottie" your mother held his upper arm as she turned around to face them.

Damian eyes gazed at them, his smile fading a little bit as he looked at them and sadness flashing all over him "Hi" he said sweetly and waved at them. He would hug them as a greeting, but he thought it would be weird. They dont know him, however he knows a lot about them, because you yapped his ear off about your friends, especially those two.

Both girls said a soft hi, still kind of in disbelief. Their mind going back into what they have read in your diary.

"I think you three have a lot of to talk about" your mom pats Damian chest gently as she looked between the tree of them with a sad smile.

"I will make you all tea" your mom finished as she walked to kitchen, preparing a tea.

"So.. you are Damian huh?" asked Nat, still eyeing him and still little dazed that he truly have resembles to the tall brunette next to her.

Damian just smiles at them politely and nods. Still not unsure how he should act near them.

"You were with her the whole time, when she.." Nat trails off not sure how to say it, but hoping he catches on that. And he did, you did tell him that Nat was the type to ask straightforward without beating around the bush.

"Oh yeah.." said Damian with a sigh "she was hurting herself in way more many ways that others could see. She was drinking, using drugs, self harming, not sleeping for days and sleeping with guys that were so horrible to her. I didnt know her as much as you guys did. But i know she deserved better than highschool burnouts or guys twice her age who are drug dealers" he said as he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked to a side "she was kinda getting better" he smiled softly but his smile fades as fast as it came "if that fucking old idiot didnt spike her drink-" he clenched his jaw at the memory "if only he didnt spike it with ketamine, she-" he sighs as he looks up to the roof and his hands leaves his chest, now being next to his sides "she could still be here, with us and we wouldnt meet under those circumstances" he smiles again, very gently in a nostalgic way "You know.. she talked about you a lot" he chuckles and looks at them both with a gentle gaze.

"I was the first person who let her talk freely, without judging her. I could see it in her eyes how much she wanted to talk about it and i was more than happy to listen" he says as his eyes softens "she really did love you so much" he chuckles "i have never met someone who loved their friends as much as she loved you".

Both girls felt soft upon hearing that. The love they had for you only grew and as well the sadness in their chest.

You mom went to them "The tea is ready" she smiles at all of them "cmon kids, lets talk"

And thats what they are doing now, all four of them, around a table and talking while sipping a tea your mom made for all of them. Damian telling both Lottie and Nat how it was and your mom with Damian by her side as well. Damian brings her some sort of comfort. A familiarity in the chaos.

The girls felt sad upon hearing all of that, knowing they will have to retell the whole thing to others. They asked about the diary and if your mom read it adn she admit she did. She felt heartbroken over the fact you felt scared to tell her you were carrying a child and how she was glad Damian was with you when you decided to not keep it.

Damian talked about how it was and how it hurt him to see you so hurt and how in that moment he decided to be there for you even as a replacement of your friends. He knew he could never reach the comfort of your friends, but he truly did care about you, after you told him, that you are too broken and too damaged for him after he tried to kiss you, he decided to push his feelings aside and be there for you as a friend, or as an older brother. He just wanted to be there for you. No matter what. He cared about you, and even if you saw yourself as a failure, too damaged, too broken and useless, he saw how strong you really are, you were still beautiful in his eyes. Even after everything.

Thank you all for reading❤️‍🩹

and special thanks to those amazing supportive people @theworldscalamity @mitzihold @zhivaxo 🫶🏻 hope are having a good day

(if you want to be add to the tagging lmk❤️‍🩹)

Damian 🌻 (just pretend he looks like Lottie)

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fandom #lottie yellowjackets #natalie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #lottienat #yellowjackets lottie #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #(un)lucky fanfiction #(un)lucky yj fanfiction #yj fanfic #yj x reader #yellowjackets fanfic #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #lottienat x reader

64 notes · View notes

helenekuragina · 3 months ago

Text

i get so insane about hélène's appearance, etc. because so much of her appearance is so tied to her character like... for one thing it is so insanely important that she adheres wholly and completely to the beauty standards of the time period. like tolstoy barely describes her actual features and instead just refers to her as "beautiful" because there isn't anything unique about her beauty, she is the picture perfect girl of 1800s russia. she has to have this overwhelmingly youthful beauty — the doe eyes, the red lips, the round cheeks. not only is this exactly what society wants, but it also just emphasizes everything irt her relationship with her mother.

aline kuragina, someone who considers her youth and beauty stolen from her by time and by her children and by her husband, who is highly suggested in the drafts to have had her own childhood stolen by abuse, looking at her red-cheeked, beautiful, young daughter and just feeling Envy and Rage at everything she lost that she now assumes hélène to have. the way aline's anger at hélène informs so much of hélène's behavior — the "i'm not such a fool as to want children," the abortion attempt, the paranoia and the breakdown at the end of her life. aline raised her to believe that there is nothing more terrible than growing old, than having children.

when people wave off hélène's suicide as out of character or bad writing i'm like... i honestly can't think of anything more fitting than a woman who has been made to feel her entire life that success within society was more important than anything and that having children would signify the ultimate loss of freedom and beauty losing her mind when she gets pregnant out of wedlock. i've seen people hc her as having had abortions before her botched one, but i really can't imagine a pregnancy for her ending in anything BUT death, because i can't imagine her ever being able to have a rational reaction to that.

it's especially evident in the way she starts dressing in white dresses with ribbons again when she gets pregnant/attempts to annul her marriage, mirroring the dress she wears in the first scene of the novel before she's married — she is trying to claw her way back to innocence, to youth, to purity, to reclaim her freedom. in getting pregnant out of wedlock she immediately loses the only two things she has: the adoration of society and her youth/beauty. i don't think that hélène necessarily meant to kill herself when she downed that medicine, but i absolutely do think that she wanted more than anything a way to return to her youth and was delusional and terrified enough to believe that taking enough would bring her that — and would have rather died than not achieve that.

#sorry. being insane abt her hours. as per usual #hélène kuragina #war and peace #hk #aline kuragina

54 notes · View notes

delusionalalien · 3 months ago

Text

[Embrace You, Devour You] [Chapter 5] YANDERE!Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader x YANDERE!Variant!Invincibles

Not much mark on this chapter, but i have to write this part because it is basically the catalyst that triggered the entire events that will follow. Mostly acted on by Vanessa and that becomes a whole other problem as well. WE ARE CLOSER TO THE MAIN STORY THOUGH AAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

Note: again, before y'all decide to cancel me in the near future, i am updating tags regularly in each chapter because i ain't putting all my energy into typing and editing the tags for the previous chapters. PLEASE READ THEM!!!!

Reader is turning 14 soon , Mark is 13

prologue

previous chapter , next chapter

T.W / Tags: Slow-burn, Soft yandere, pining, mark is bat shit crazy but he good dw, baby-trapping, teen pregnancy, yandere variants, mark a lil pushy, breeding kink, jealous Mark Grayson, talks of abortion, misunderstandings, possessive Mark Grayson, murder, gore, child-murder(variant!readers), attempted suicide, murder-suicide(variant!readers), OOC, prob need more tags, Heavy Physical Bullying This Chapter

Your day started off bad and it also ended much worse.

You stand in the ruins of a city, arms crossed on your well developed chest. your white and grey tight skin suit littered with gashes from the fight between you and a kaiju.

The beast roared for a second to make its presence known, both of you in an intense stare down waiting for the other to make its move. Your hair adorned with a white streak to similar to your mothers.

You didn't wait, you didn't want to give it time. So you flew right onto the monsters snout and gave it a good punch with your bare knuckles. It staggered a few meters back and you didn't give it enough time to recover as you held your hands out, the tingling feeling of your powers making it effect on the beast as it whimpered.

It's face began to contort followed by its body curling into a ball midair before it turned into a flesh sphere. It fell somewhere in the city for the GDA to find.

As you lower yourself back to earth, you were met with the praises of civilians.

"Empress Crusader! We love you!"

"Empress! Look here!"

The praises got into your head, flipping your hair coolly as you walked through and they part for you like the red sea.

At the end of the crowd, stood there was Mark, he was older and he was wearing his civilian attire. His blue sweater with two lines across and his yellow undershirt peeked out from underneath his sweater. You see him smile at you, clapping at your victory.

"Wow (Name) you were really great back there!" he says as he took you by the hand.

"Thanks Mark!" You blushed, hold his hand tightly on yours as you both leaned closer to one another.

"So, do you wanna hang out in my place later?"

Mark smiled as he eagerly accepted.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

You two leaned closer, nose brushing as you two slowly close the gap. Lips nearly touching as you close your eyes.

Then without warning the sky turned red, the wind picked up as you pushed Mark behind you to protect him. The clouds morphed and turned into a face, a gnarly and grotesque face appears, glaring at you from below.

"Who are you?" You yelled, covering Mark as he cowers from behind you.

"Ms. Aguilar..." The face spoke

"How do you know my name!" This time you were in a defensive stand, ready to take action.

"Ms. Aguilar..." This time the face spoke angrily.

"Wake up..."

"huh?"

"WAKE UP!"

You jolted awake from your nap. The pencil firm in your hand flew off the table, the papers you were sleeping on wet from your drooling. You scanned the room in a panic, your ears picking up the snickering from the other side of the room.

Right, you were in your first class doodling about your hero costume on some spare papers you had on your bag, then somehow you fell asleep in the middle of his class.

Mr. Harrington raised a brow at you, one hand on a ruler he had been using to slap the whiteboard at the front earlier in class and the other on his waist before he slapped the ruler on your desk again.

"Awake now Ms. Aguilar?"

You nodded vigorously and wiping away the drool from your mouth.

"Sorry Mr. Harrington, I didn't have enough sleep last night." You sheepishly smiled, cursed Demon Manslaughter and its great amination because by the time the anime was done, you only have 3 hours left to sleep.

Glaring at Rebecca's goons from across the room when you see them fake sleeping clearly mocking you while a friend of hers laugh.

"Detention after (Name), don't even think of skipping." He points his ruler on you before he made his way back to the front of the class, continuing where he left off.

You let out a groan. Fuck high school.

It's been a year since you have your unrequited crush on your next door neighbor.

A year since you both finally became freshmen in high school.

A year since you lied about liking Todd.

And you don't know who, but someone told her that you like Todd.

You should have seen it miles away. The way she bat her lashes at Todd, the way she smiled like he was the most important person in her life, the way she changed based on his preferences.

God, you should have known that Rebecca White, your long time bully, had a fat fucking obsession crush on Todd Jefferson, the number one douchebag since elementary.

You were pressed harshly underneath the school benches, held by her goons on each arm as she slapped and clawed at your face, saying some shit that Todd would never look at you and what not. You we're incoherent, your ears failing you when one of her goons punched you right in ear in an attempt to knock you out earlier.

You can hear muffles of what she was saying, blood rushing out of your nose, your cheeks red from the constant assault of her hands, you felt sore all over. No matter how many times you try to pry away from her friends, you were always pinned right back up on that very same wall.

You cried out when Rebecca's friend punched your stomach, you we're just minding your business, heading to detention after parting ways with William and Mark. Mark offered to stay after school to wait for you but you shooed him off and told him to wait at your house so you both can play video games. Now you wished you let him stay, you wished you didn't waved at him when he entered that bus.

You puked out the food your father made for you. Head hanging low. You see the chunks of what he made, the ones he stuff in your bag and you remember your mother kissing you in the head before she and your father saw you off to school. Promising you that it'll be a fun day.

You cried not out of pain, but for your parents, for anyone to hear your pleas as you beg them for mercy.

"Holy shit Becks, her ear is bleeding."

You can make out one of her goons. Rebecca didn't stop no, seeing you writhing in pain entirely at her mercy gave her a power boost. How pathetic you were in her eyes. If anything, you understood she was turned on at the sight of you in her mercy.

"You always acted like you were fucking untouchable with that little gang of yours, where the hell are they now huh?!" slap after slap, your skin was becoming raw, red and bleeding.

"Let.. me go." You attempted to swing at her, but your arms we're pinned to the wall.

Another punch to the gut causes you to choke on the bile that rise in your throat. You let the contents of your food fall from your mouth, gasping in pain and finally you were let go.

You unceremoniously fell into your own stomach fluid. The smell clinging to your hair and you sob as your open wounds soaked in the puke that you laid on.

Before you can even lift yourself up, Rebecca kicked you right in the chest. Hard.

You feel yourself choked. Gasping as you gripped on your stained shirt for a sense of relief.

"Fucking know your place you sleepless freak."

With that they left. Not when one of them send one last kick to your stomach. You choked on a sob, tears blurred your vision as you see them walk away from you.

Rebecca White, she was rich, unstoppable, her parent's success makes her invulnerable to expulsions or even consequences for her actions. Back then she only ever did shove you out the swings or push you when you were in her way.

You wondered, why haven't you told on her to your mother. Was it shame? or was it because you thought you can handle whatever she brings to you?

Or perhaps you were afraid for her?

You don't know, you don't want to think.

So you cried, you cried for the pain to stop, your cheeks to heal, you cried for someone to find you, anyone really, you begged for the universe to find the strength in your arms to get up, for your legs to move.

Hell you were begging for a miracle, for your dormant powers to come and save you.

fucking move already, you cursed, but instead you gasped, your chest hurting and then there was a crack, your ribs caved in under the pressure.

You were crying for so long you hadn't notice the sun was setting, and the school lights closing.

You laid there, in the cold, waiting for someone to open them again, anyone to find you.

Pleading.

"Mommy..."

Was the last thing you muttered when you ultimately passed out in your own digested vomit.

Amber grumbles in annoyance. Her volleyball was left at school, her friends were using it after class during practice since the school haven't ordered any new ones.

She was relentlessly annoyed since it was her volleyball that was left at school. A gift her mother on her birthday.

Amber notices a few teachers hanging out the entrance, ready to leave when they spot her jogging over.

Amber explained to them briefly of her situation, Mr. Harrington nodded, agreeing to accompany Amber to get her ball back as they open the open the lights back up only for the gym.

"Where did your friends leave it?" Mr. Harrington questions Amber who was running up and down the benches, looking for the blue ball.

"They said they left it at the bench over here," Amber says, "I guess it rolled under."

Amber crouched, scanning for her ball and spots it rolled into the corner.

"Sweet! I found it!"

She celebrated, then she froze, face going pale as her mouth gape when she caught sight of someone's shoes still quite clearly attached to the person under the benches just a few steps away from where her ball was.

"Amber, are you alright?"

Amber didn't speak, mortified as she points at the body.

Mr. Harrington looked and his blood ran cold. Instantly he rushed to under the benches yelling at Amber to call the other teachers and for an ambulance.

It wasn't long before an ambulance appeared.

and for the news to reach your father.

Vanessa returned home, lights turned on the stove recently shut off, with the cupcakes still inside. The television buzzing in the living but nobody home.

She found it odd. Eerie, she doesn't return home to nobody in it once in her life when she had you. She was on her toes, alert for any signs of break ins that might have happened yet nothing, the house was dead silent, the ac in your room was off.

Why weren't you home?

Her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. She scrambled to pick it up.

Nicolas was calling her.

"My love, where are you? Where is (Name)?" she paced around the living room.

Nicolas sharply took in some air trying to calm himself at the end of the line but broken sobs followed and he couldn't hide how entirely wreck he is now.

"I'm fine, but (Name)-"

"What happened to our varóbushik?" Vanessa feels her heart racing, "Tell me where you two are, now!"

Dead silence at the end, but Vanessa can make out that Nicolas was trying his best not to break down while he was talking to her.

"...we are at the hospital, mahal, Debbie and Mark are here too..."

Hospital?

"Changed into civilian clothes okay? They took her to a normal hospital, we'll be waiting, I love you..."

She hadn't even noticed she froze. Hospital, the one thing she never wants to see you in.

She made efforts, brought you medicine and with the help of your father fed you only the heathiest meals meant for someone as precious as you.

Yet you were at the hospital?

Vanessa sat down, taking it in. Breathing in and out, like Nicolas taught her when they were young, when he caught her in a panic attack not far from your age.

Her fingers were numbing. What the hell happened to her baby, was she even breathing normally? Was her kid even alive?

There was worry, then it boils into anger.

She dialed a number on her phone, stomping her way and changing into normal clothes, ignoring the way the objects that were levitating in her anger with clenched fist, rationality slipping as the seconds roll by while hearing the phone ring in her end.

"Crusher?"

"Mr. Stedman, i wish to ask a favor."

Nobody harms her baby and get away with it.

Sickness, Alien or Human.

Note: Damn i should probably add Platonic!Yandere!Mother in this too Jesus Christ

#idk how to tag this #variant mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #idk man #idk what im doing #yandere mark grayson x reader #variant!mark x reader #invincible x you #slow burn #yandere

154 notes · View notes