#all for your daughter. fuck you you don't get your daughter

[wtfaniii]

Sweet But Psycho

Summary: You are only nineteen years old but life has made you intelligent, life and your father.

Warning: slight smut, innuendo, blood and a somewhat toxic relationship, I haven't checked this yet so sorry for any spelling mistakes

The salesman x fem reader ¡!front man's daughter

A sigh escaped your lips as the handsome black-haired man in a suit pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself on top of you.

—You don't know how much I've been waiting for this —You said with a wide smile taking the man's face to pull him towards you and kiss him with need.

—I know —he replied arrogantly as he caressed your body torturously slow.

From the first time you saw this man at a meeting he had with your father, you knew you had to at least kiss him.

There was something about his personality that made him so attractive besides his physique, maybe it was that arrogant and mocking smile that he sometimes formed or that contemptuous look that he gave to everyone.

A gasp escaped your lips as he managed to strip of your clothes, however, you didn't want him to have all the power.

Being who you were, you didn't like to give up control, you were above him and you made that clear when skillfully turned around on the bed to make him lie beneath you.

—Well well... someone is having a hard time adapting to other roles —He mocked, tightening his hands on your hips, sure to leave a mark.

—I prefer to be on top and keep the pace —You said flirtatious.

You lowered your hands to him pants but just as your fingers reached for him belt buckle the door to room suddenly opened.

Your heart raced, and not in the way you would have wanted, when you saw your father open the door and make an expression of annoyance and embarrassment at the scene before him.

—Hi... —The two greeted at the same time, you with a nervous smile and he with a mocking expression.

Sure, your dear boyfriend was more than proud to fuck his boss's daughter.

—Both have five minutes to get dressed and get out of here, or I'll have to find a new recruiter for this afternoon —The front man warned and then closed the door again with a thud.

The man below you would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of your father, the front man was far above him and although it fed his ego the idea of ​​having you in the palm of his hand he still wasn't willing to risk having a bullet in his head embedded by him.

—You heard him, sweetie —He sighed, gently pushing you away from him to get out of bed.

—Coward —You told him mockingly as you stood up.

You liked to provoke him, to make him angry so that the tension between you would be even greater, but in this case it wasn't like that, he wasn't ready to die.

—What I want to do to you will take me more than five minutes, love —He justified himself while adjusting his tie.

You sighed and both of got dressed again, when you saw yourself presentable you opened the door and right there was In-ho, with a look that would freeze anyone.

In-ho was against this relationship, the salesman was almost twenty-five years older than you, and he knew the kind of man he was, he didn't want him with you but seeing you so enthusiastic about him made him silence all his complaints.

He haven't seen you this happy since your mother died.

Life had treated you badly, your mother fell ill and died, your father was fired and left you with your grandmother for five months until he came back for you and brought you to this island.

At first you didn't want to be a part of this but you didn't want to leave your father alone in this duel either, you were also having a bad time and before you knew it you were already wearing a pink suit, a gun and a black mask with a quadrate printed on the front.

Before long you became addicted to this new life, In-ho almost instantly regretted having taken you there with him because he didn't take into account your vulnerable state of mind you were in, you became a completely different person and he regretted it every day.

—You have to get back to work —he said to the man in the suit, who nodded, bowed slightly, and left almost instantly —And you-

You quickly interrupted him with a wide smile.

—¿Can I go with him?

—No.

—¡Oh come on! I've been on this fucking island since I was twelve! —Your irritated screams didn't bother him at all, he was already used to it —I need to see ¡civilization! —You yelled at him furiously one last time as he walked calmly to the control room.

Even if he didn't let you go, you would run away anyway, he knew it, he had no way to control you without causing you harm because he would also easily tell all his guards to subdue you so couldn't leave here but he didn't want to go to those extremes with you, he still loved you with all his soul, you were the only bit of humanity and of his old life that he had left.

So he just grabbed his cell phone and called your sadistic boyfriend.

"She will go with you to the city, take care of her, if something happens to her you will return for your farewell"

The man at the phone cursed mentally, he knew that being fired was also synonymous with certain death, but he refrained from contradicting the frontman.

—Understood, sir.

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the boat seat where after a few minutes he saw you arrive with your characteristic smile and shiny teeth.

—¿Would you like this to be a casual date? —You asked, sitting next to him.

—I'd rather not, for now it's just business.

He didn't want to mix work with his private life but he didn't refuse every time you stole a kiss from him.

You alone accompanied him to every part of the city he went to recruit more trash to entertain your guests, you found it fun and even helped him with some objectives, however you always made sure that no one who had met you before saw you.

Although deep down you wanted to go to your grandmother's house, see your uncle Jun-ho and give them a hug but your father was very specific about those ideas, you don't have to do that, for them you no longer existed.

—¿Are you okay? —Your boyfriend asked cautiously.

He found it curious to see you pensive, silent and even depressed in a period of only ten minutes. He knew you to be quite extroverted and even impulsive, seeing this side of you sparked his interest.

—Yeah... we just have to recruit this last one and that's it, ¿right?

He raised an eyebrow but decided to ignore it for now and both continued walking through the train station.

—Yes, this is a famous ex-youtuber who lost and owes a lot of money, it will be the last one and we will go buy some things.

You nodded silently and when they found the target you stood a few steps away watching them play Ddakji, a malicious smile appeared on your lips every time he slapped the young man.

When he finally gave he the card you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you to give a kiss on the cheek.

—¿What did I tell you about public displays of affection? —He said pretending to be upset but he just couldn't, sometimes you were hateful and annoying but it didn't matter, he could get used to that.

—If you complain I will do it more often —You threatened him playfully as you continued walking.

But you felt some glances on the two of you, on some occasions you looked surreptitiously and could confirm that two men were following you.

—Dissimulate, after shopping we will take the gentlemen to a more private place —He whispered in your ear and you nodded silently.

You thought that would be more fun than making homeless people choose between bread and a scratch card, you thought it was funny and a joke how people could be ambitious, they could have eaten that day but they preferred to gamble with luck.

—Idiots —You whispered rolling your eyes.

After done him little social experiment, you and the salesman hopped in a cab and headed away from civilization hoping those two men would still be following you.

They were very predictable and once got the chance you let your boyfriend beat those two until they were unconscious and badly injured.

—Nice way to release tension

He winked at you and straightened his jacket and tie.

[...]

—That's the man who's been looking for us for the last three years —He said as he looked indifferently at the man who was searching around in anguish.

You and him were on the roof of an abandoned building, still in the same alley where you kidnapped the other two who apparently worked for this man.

—A headache for your father —He said seriously.

—¿Should I shoot him? —When he turned to look at you, you already had the gun ready and pointing it at the head of the man who was still floors below you.

He shook his head and put his hand on your arm to get you to lower the gun.

—Not yet, I want to know what he wants, for now... ¿Would you like to go on a date with me and the two gentlemen we have tied up down there?

You smiled again and gave a small bow as he took your hand.

You were cruel, and he loved that about you, so he could share moments like this with you.

The poor screams and stifled pleas of these two men brought smiles to your boyfriend and to you, the adrenaline of the moment and the power over the lives of others made your body tingle, made you nauseous and at the same time made your heart race like crazy.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus one" was music to your ears and you couldn't help but jump slightly every time the man next to you pulled the trigger.

You loved every part of this man, yes, he was a sadist but he looked so attractive every time he acted this way that it made you wet.

—¿Can I play? —You asked with a fake pout as you rested your chin on him shoulder.

—Your father won't like that.

—¿And? ¿You're his dog to do whatever he says?

He tightened his lips and the attention of the two gagged and bound men fell on you with their eyes wide at what you had just said.

You liked to tease him but this time you did it at a less appropriate time.

—Repeat what you said —He said in a low, threatening voice.

—Awww... ¿did I hit a nerve? ¿You don't like people calling you... ¿dog?

In the blink of an eye he grabbed you by the neck and lifted you a few inches off the ground, the tips of your feet barely touching the surface.

—The frontman forbade me to kill you but... now I can say that one of these two men killed you inadvertently.

You gasped as the air began to catch in your neck, him firm grip excited you as much as it terrified you.

—Go ahead... —You spoke with little air —Prove that you are not his dog

He wanted so much to fuck you like that and kill you right now, you were desperate but also beautiful and he wasn't going to deny it, you had taken over his head and part of his heart.

He let go of you and you barely managed to stay standing, you gasped for air and when you looked up you saw the tip of the gun pointed directly at the face.

You laughed amusedly.

—Ouh... Looks like I really got on your nerves this time.

—Just apologize —He said seriously and with a sly smile —Come on, do it so we can finish this.

—And if not, ¿what? —You took a step forward to let the cold metal of the weapon touch your lips.

—Just do it, I don't want to break that pretty face of yours.

Once again you smiled and opened your mouth to allow the tip of the gun to enter.

With your eyes you asked him to pull the trigger.

He could have shot, he could have still told your father that one of those two killed you and gotten away with it, but he didn't.

Even with that cold, carefree look you kept on your face, he knew you were still a girl who had lost everything and hated her life, a poor girl who had formed that personality to pretend.

He knew it because you were just like him.

And he wasn't wrong, you really would have liked him to kill you right then and there but he took the gun from your mouth and shot one of the two men in the side of the head causing the other to gasp.

—Coward —You told him sternly and disappointed.

After that tense moment you remained silent until night fell, he asked you to return to the island but you didn't, you decided to follow him because you knew he would go see that man who caused so many problems, you deduced why he let one of those two strangers live to interrogate him.

You kept an appropriate distance, luckily for you the motel where him went to see that man was full of windows so you were like a sniper from the roof of another nearby building.

This time you accepted that you weren't doing it out of curiosity or personal benefit, you were doing it because cared about him.

You saw them talking and playing Russian roulette, it was him favorite game but this time it made you goosebumps on end for some strange reason.

You counted each empty shot and when you saw that there was only one left and it was your boyfriend's turn, your heart skipped a beat.

—If you do this, I'll kill you —you warned the air while keeping your hand on the gun, you were definitely going to intervene.

You saw that the man said something to your boyfriend, something that caused him to point the gun at himself to shoot himself one last time, but before doing so, you shot him hand.

The salesman groaned in pain and screamed, dropping the gun when he saw the hole in his hand.

—¡Damn bitch! —He shouted, turning his head towards the window where he saw you in the other building waving at him with a hand and a smile —¡¡¡You're seriously a fucking bitch!!!

You mouthed "I know" and blew him a kiss before running off to get him.

—¡¿What was that?! —Gi-hun said, taking the gun with the remaining bullet from the ground and looking towards the window, now there was no one.

—My fucking girlfriend —He muttered, looking at his bloody hand.

The door to the room suddenly opened and Jun-ho appeared with his gun raised so Gi-hun raised his gun as well.

—Police, ¡put hands up! —He demanded, looking at them randomly an the two raised their hands instinctively.

—Hi... ¿am I interrupting something? —You said entering the room with biggest gun that brought with you.

Until your gaze fell on the policeman, you cursed at the sight of your uncle.

He was just as surprised as you, he knew In-ho was behind all this but he didn't expect you to be too.

—It seems I have the advantage here so why don't you guys put down your weapons and we can talk like civilized people ¿does that sound okay? —You said with a closed-lip smile but your eyes remained fixed on Jun-ho.

—¡I just want him to take me to his owner! —Gi-hun demanded, pointing at your man in the seat, who was bandaging his hand with a handkerchief.

—I am him owner —You said arrogantly —I'm sorry, honey —apologized to him without lowering your gun or your defensive stance.

—Liar, you enjoyed doing it —He said through clenched teeth and annoying.

You winked and turned your attention back to your uncle but before could say another word you felt a strong blow to the head that knocked you unconscious.

—¡That bitch is crazy! —shouted the man they had previously tortured, still tied by the ankles and half naked, he had hit you with a fire extinguisher —¡She and his deranged boyfriend killed my friend! —He added, pointing at the black-haired man in a suit.

—¿Boyfriend? —Jun-ho asked quietly as he approached you to make sure you still had a pulse.

—I'm dead —the salesman murmured as he watched you lying unconscious on the floor.

If they didn't kill him, your father would.

[be-xkyy]

yandere cowboy x boss's daughter who is an innocent country girl and barely knows that the person she trusts most is the one she should fear most

Well, I have a few ideas coming to mind about this scenario but I'll pick one for now.

Tw: Yandere, violence, blood, breeding, dirty talk , naive reader.

Yandere cowboy who works for your father for a while now. He's one of his most trusted workers and your father isn't the type to trust many people.

He always does jobs here and there on the ranch helping to put up wire fences so cattle don't escape, looking for cattle when they enter other lands, threatening neighboring ranchers when they don't want to return cows or sheep.

In his defense, they deserve a bullet in the head for trying that shit with him.

But the job he likes the most is taking care of you, the beautiful and naive daughter of his boss. He simply fell in love with you since he saw you for the first time a few years ago.

You were all pretty behind your father in that flowery dress, cowboy boots, your braided hair... and how can we forget your cute tits.

Tits he thought about that same night as he masturbated, his calloused hand wrapped around his hard member as he rubbed vigorously imagining you looking up at him with your big eyes as you ride him your tits bouncing on his face it's so good he ends up cumming all over his hand.

You are indeed a pretty little thing all smiles and ignorant of the world and people's intentions. Raised and protected by your father kept under his wing for far too long after all you are his only daughter.

It's inevitable that he ends up threatening and beating to death your countless suitors who shamelessly approach you believing they have a chance, no fucking way will it happen. not on his watch.

He simply corners them away from your sight and beats them mercilessly, he gives them a hard punch his knuckles impact their nose with a loud crunch he doesn't stop as the man falls to the floor with a broken nose.

Of course not.

He beats them until his fists are bruised and the man's face is covered in blood with a broken nose, teeth knocked out and eyes swollen he grabs them by the collar of their shirts as he growls.

"Stay away from her or i assure you this will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you, buddy"

The one who tries to make himself as presentable as possible so you won't get suspicious when he comes back to you.

He knows everything he does is worth it when you show all worried for him grabbing his calloused hands in yours, looking at his bruised knuckles asking him if he's okay with that worried tone that makes his cock hard inside his pants.

He ends up asking you to "comfort" him a little like he taught you. You both end up in the barn with him leaning you on hay bales, his hands undoing his belt and zipper before pulling down his pants along with his boxers that get caught on his knees.

Then he lifts your dress as you whine about the hay stinging your ass, he just pats your thigh to shut you up as his fingers pull down your panties, he hisses when he sees your pussy he moves his thick fingers closer inspecting your wet entrance.

"God you're so wet, for someone who acts so sweet you're a bit of a slut aren't you doll?"

He arches an eyebrow when you shake your head shyly at his words murmuring an embarrassed "I'm not..." he lets out a laugh that rumbles from deep within his chest his thick fingers don't stop moving thrusting into your hot pussy your walls squeeze his fingers like hell.

He grabs his member unable to resist any longer he uses your wetness to lubricate his cock and slide inside you, both of you let out a moan of pleasure you from the delicious stretch and him from feeling your walls throb around him he murmurs.

"What a tight fucking pussy you have so hungry for my fat cock baby doll"

He moves his hips hard his heavy balls slap against your ass and his pubic hair scrapes deliciously against your pussy, your juices forming a creamy circle at the base of his cock as your nails dig into his muscled belly for support, his moans combined and the loud wet sound of his cock pounding into your pussy fills the barn.

"You're about to cum aren't you baby doll? Fuck–of course you're about to cum your pussy is getting so tight right now I think you want to rip my cock off"

His hands tighten their grip on your waist and you just mumble stupidly wrapping your legs tightly around his waist your boots dig into his ass as you cum letting out a high pitched moan your eyes roll back in your head from the intense pleasure, he growls thrusting into you hard chasing his own orgasm that doesn't take long to come.

With one last thrust he thrusts deep inside you, stopping his movements and letting his semen explode, flooding your interior with its swimmers. Who knows, maybe today will be the day when his seed finally takes root inside you. He would be the best father, the best husband and the best successor for your father. Your father will also see it that way. Because it would be a shame to have to kill him, after all, they are almost family, right..?

[slimybeth69]

Part 2- Cave In

Series Masterlist | Part 1

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- flashbacks of readers graphic and sad past!!!

While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you!

Joel’s mind drifts off to the days and nights he spent teaching Ellie how to play guitar– watching her learn, grow more confident in the way she held the instrument. Then hearing her play her first song is one of his favorite memories. He wonders what her, Dina and JJ are doing right now. 

He wonders if Tommy and Ellie are looking for him– Joel can’t imagine they wouldn’t be. Not after what they did in Seattle a couple years ago. His daughter and his younger brother would come looking for him, and eventually they’d find him- and rescue him.

The three of them- Joel right alongside them, would kill you in the process, he’d make sure of it. 

That’s all he can think about– being rescued and watching you die as you wrap a second layer of duct tape around the oven mitts on his hands. 

As much as Joel hates you, he can’t deny that you’re resourceful. 

With the shock collar still around his neck, and now, two pairs of oven mitts secured to each of his fists, Joel watches you untie his arms from the chair. 

He is stiff, and misses the fucking sun. Joel just wants to the feel the warmth on his face- but he can’t really even think about that now, he’s thinking of all the ways he’s going to fucking knock you out the minute you crawl into his lap. 

He’ll knock the shock collar remote out of your hand, headbutt you– a real one, he’ll go right for your nose and try and break it– then he will wrap his big strong arms around you, and squeeze until he can feel your ribs snap.

He’s got it all planned out- until he hears the sound of more duct tape ripping, and he wonders what part of him you’re going to tape next. 

Joel watches in horror as you tape the remote to your palm, your thumb gingerly laid across the button that would shock Joel probably into next week. You wrap the tape until Joel can barely see the remote anymore. 

You’re more resourceful than he thought, and that’s terrifying. Joel is almost sixty years old– he’s being outsmarted by some insane woman who lives in a mall in what now is the woods outside of Jackson. 

How did you get here? Where’s the rest of your group or community? Joel hasn’t seen a single other person since he got here, and he hasn’t seen or heard you interact or say you had to go meet up with anyone since he’s been here. 

There is no way you’re surviving out here all on your own on peanut butter, raspberries and whiskey. 

“Let me go,” his voice croaks. “C’mon. Y’don’t really wanna do this.” He’s pleading. He hasn’t fully begged yet, not pathetically– which is what you must want to hear. You wanna hear Joel– the big strong man cry and whine and beg for you to let him go. 

You drop the roll of tape on the floor beside your feet, “Got some rules ya’ gotta follow, Mister.” You ignore Joel, taking an inched step towards him. “Number one is ya’ don’t hit. You don’t hit– I don’t zap ya'. Sound fair?" You don't wait for him to reply. "Good. Glad we're on the same page.”

Joel rolls his eyes and is immediately met with an intense muscle spasm throughout the entire right side of his face, and down his neck. It spreads out over his shoulder and through part of his chest. 

It lasts for only a split second, but it leaves Joel panting, his brow already beaded in sweat from just that short electric shock. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ– don’t fuckin’--" he starts to warn you with a stern tone and narrow eyes– but he’s greeted by your wet, stare only inches from his. 

Your mouth opens and closes once, twice… three times before any sound comes out. “Stop makin’ me hurt you,” you whine, one single tear falling from the corner of your eye. “I really don’t like hurtin’ ya’-- I don’t wanna do it, so don’t give me reason to, right?” 

Joel glares at you while deep down inside him somewhere his heart twists slightly. 

Awww, look it’er cryin’. Cute lil puppy, alone, out here in the woods–

Joel blinks twice as you crawl into his lap, your soft, warm body pressing against his tentatively, as if you were waiting for him to start fighting you off, to start screaming and shouting at you. 

He wants to so badly, he wants to feel his forehead connect with the bridge of your nose as hard as it can– but it’s like you hypnotized him when you curled up on his lap. 

“Now ya’ wrap your arms ‘round me,” you breathe against Joel’s neck. 

Joel fucking sighs at the feeling, almost wishing you press your lips to the spot directly behind his ear.

Go on, move your arms…

Fuck no! Something is seriously wrong with him, he needs to talk to someone besides you. He knows you’re a bad person; a good person wouldn’t do something like this. 

Joel knows that if he puts his arms around you the way you want him to, he might start squeezing, and keep squeezing regardless of the pain from the electric shock. He’d seize up and wouldn’t be able to let you go, even if he wanted.

That might not be a bad thing though, either Joel would kill you, or you would kill him. It would solve his problem either way– and that was fine because he didn’t want to keep living like this. He couldn’t.

It would drive him fucking insane. He already feels like he is going insane the way he wants to kiss your neck, and suck on the spot where your collarbone ends, and your throat begins.  

C’mon, fuckin’ do it. Ya’ know she wants it, give it to her– make her fuckin’ beg for it first…

Oh fuck, Joel knows that is the unstable part of his brain talking– and he has to shut it out. 

You are Joel’s attacker, his fucking captor– the one keeping him from his family, the one he worked so fucking hard to get back. He might never see them again because of you. He’s thinking of all the ways he could hurt you–to hurt you badly, he wants to see you dead– but all those feelings of anger and hatred flee from his brain when you press the most soft, sweetest, barely-there kiss to his jaw. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. The way you sigh and melt into Joel, molding to him, has his head spinning for a whole new reason, and he’s completely fucking sober this time. 

See big feller, ain’t that hard t’just comply.

Joel realizes only then that he has both of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him, with his cheek resting on your head. 

She ain’t t’bad, right? Smells nice’n sweet, like a pretty lady.

It’s so hard to hate you and want you dead when your soft, sleepy breaths flits across the skin on his neck. 

“I have more movies–” 

“Anything besides the princess movies- please,” Joel sighs, not removing his cheek from your head. “I can’t do the princess movies again, anything else…”

“Do you like Batman?” The action of you lifting your head off his shoulder is the only reason he pulls away from you. “The cartoons?” 

Joel snorts, and nods his head at you. “I do– me ‘n Tom–” Joel stops himself from sharing too much with you for no reason whatsoever, his eyes dropping to your bare thighs. 

It makes his mouth water when he looks at them, even though they’re bruised to hell, with fresh cuts and old scars adorning your supple, and kissable looking skin. 

He can feel you looking at him, waiting for him to finish what he was about to tell you. His eyes flash up to yours when you question him. 

“Who’s Tom? Whatta’bout him?” 

Joel can see your desperation in your face and eyes–they're wide, still slightly wet with the tears from zapping him moments ago. You must want to know so badly, and he decides to use it to his advantage. 

“Get me some meat– anything– n’ I’ll tell ya’.” Joel can’t help but smirk to himself because this is going to work. 

Your eyes light up, and you lean in real close- the tip of your nose pressed against his. “Promise?” 

Joel nods, his eyes locked on to yours, “Promise.” 

Give’er a lil kiss. 

Joel leans forward to do it, but you pull back with your brows furrowed and a scowl on your face. 

“No. Ya’ punched me last time ya’ did that.” You whisper at him, still frowning. 

“Sorry f’that-” Joel starts but you don’t let him finish. 

Your head shakes from side to side quickly, eyes still wide– untrusting, but desperate for something, he’s seen that look before so many times in so many different sets of eyes. After you scramble out of his lap, finding your footing on the floor beside the chair, you look down at him, still frowning. 

“Sorry don’t mean nothin’- not out here it don’t.”

S’okay, Sug. You’ll be fine– Mister-man’s gonna be real thankful. 

“Well he fuckin’ better! I hate gettin’ shot at, I hate havin’ t’fuckin run real fast- I hate that the place is almost three fuckin’ hours awa–” Your eyes fall onto the horizon where the sun is starting to rise just over the mountains in the distance. “Ain’t even get any fuckin’ sleep–”

Oh Sug, it’ll be worth it, he’s gon’ tell you–

Lies. He’s going to tell you lies, and for what!? You almost got shot–

“I know I almost got shot— You don’t think that I know I almost got shot!?” You’re nearly shouting in the woods. “Now both of yous be fuckin’ quiet– m’tired, and I twisted my fuckin’ ankle–”

And it’s the truth, you did twist your ankle when crossing the stream about a mile back, and thankfully the raiders had stopped following you a while ago, but with all the adrenaline it was easy to keep running. That was, until you slipped on those stupid fucking rocks.

It takes you thirty more minutes to get home, and by the time you do everything hurts, and you just want to go to sleep. Your ankle throbs with every tender step you take.

Taking a deep breath, you plaster on a smile and push open the door. "Honey, I'm home," you call out in a sing-song voice, trying to mask all your exhaustion and this fucking pain that won’t quit.

Mister’s already watching for you as you make your way slowly down the stairs. His eyes narrow as his eyes mill across your frame.

You don't look great. Disheveled, torn clothes, scrapes on your hands and knees from when you fell.

"What happened t’ya?"

Oh he’s worried ‘boutchya! Let him help you, honey.

You wave off his question with a limp hand. "Never mind me,” you toss your backpack on the table, the bottles of whiskey clank around inside noisily as you sit down in the metal chair beside Joel’s recliner. “Gotch’yer meat you wanted to fuckin’ bad.” You say, rolling your eyes.

Mister-man looks you up and down. "Y'look like hell," he says, his eyes tracing over the scratches on your arms and legs.

You ignore his words and his wandering eyes and open up your backpack. “I got jerky,” you pull out two large containers of dried meat and set them on the table. “-got bread ‘n more peanut butter— they had jam this time.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Joel asks, his eyes never leaving you even as his arms and wrists begin to twist gently under the restraints.

Embarrassment floods you, it takes over everything that you are, just like it did when you told him you had been watching him for a while. You know what you did was bad, and you shouldn't be stealing or killing-- but you're only doing it for him!

You look at him, with a hollow feeling in your chest that you can't quite place. "They’s just... people," you say quietly. "They don't matter none."

Joel tilts his head, studying you so intently that makes you want to squirm. "Ya’ hurtin’?" he asks, voice rough like sandpaper grating your ear canal.

“Who is Tom?” You avoid all questions about you, and any issues you have because why burden Mister-man? You're not his problem, you want to give him a worry, burden free life here in the mall with you and Puddin'.

Mister watches you very carefully as you pull a slice of jerky out of the container, he’s practically drooling when you place it as his lips. He groans as he begins to chew, and immediately takes another bite before he’s even swallowed the first.

He doesn’t answer— not even after the entire piece of jerky is gone, so you withhold the next piece.

“Who. Is. Tom?” You shift closer to him and wince when your ankle brushes against the leg of the chair.

"Tom... Tommy is my brother." His voice… there's something almost tender in his tone when he says his brother's name.

It feels like someone it clenching your heart in their fist, and they’re fucking squeezing.

"You're my fucking sister!" His voice is so hoarse, raw and desperate. It doesn't even sound like him anymore. "Don't— please, don't fucking do it, I'm sorry-" "You told me sorrys don't mean nothing anymore— not out here they don't!" You shout back at him, the gun in your hand trembles right along with the rest of your body. "You were supposed to t-take c-care of me! You p-promised mom and dad," you sob, your thumb pulls the hammer of the revolver back and your index finger squeezes the trigger. "Hey, HEY!" He holds both of his hands up, a weak attempt to shield himself from whatever is about to happen. Shoot him, kid. He deserves it after what he put you through. He let those guys— The gun just goes off, you don't even feel yourself pull the trigger. All you see is a fine, red mist explodes from his forehead and the back of his skull— and then everything is quiet, everything is calm. Good job, Sugar. I'm so fucking proud of you.

That was the first time you ever heard the light voice, the sweet voice that says nice things to you.

And m'gonna be here for ya' forever, Sug.

“I know,” you sigh.

Mister blinks at you, “You know Tommy?”

You blink back at him, “No?”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy like the evening air at the end of the summer. Joel watches you, his eyes darting between your face and the jerky still in your hand. “Okay…”

“Did Tommy like Batman?” If Tommy likes or liked Batman or anything about that universe at all, he’s an okay guy in your book.

“He likes Superman,” Joel chuckles when he delivers the news. “I’m the one who likes Batman.”

You audibly gasp, “You like the comics and the cartoons?”

Joel's lips twitch at the corners, almost forming what looks like a smile. "Used to read 'em with Tommy when we was kids. " His eyes fill with sadness.

You lean forward, tilting your head to the side in curiosity. "Why’re y’sad?" you whisper, the pain in your ankle momentarily forgotten.

"I ain’t sad," Mister-man is gruff. "Tommy and I used to collect comics, argued about who was cooler. Obviously Batman, 'cause he ain't got no superpowers. Just pure skill. Tommy thought Superman was better."

“Both of ‘em suck— I just like Harley Quinn,” you nod.

You were going to say more but the very faint sound of clicking ticks in your ears. It’s far enough away that you can get upstairs and drop the metal gate that locks the store up nice and tight.

It’s never fun, and you don’t like having to do it— but thankfully you just made a haul, so you’ll be good for a couple day.

You just hope Puddin’ is okay. Ya' saw him yesterday, but he didn't sleep in the big bed with ya' like he normally would.

“Har—” Mister-man starts, oblivious to the terrors that are lurking just above your head.

“Shhhhhh,” you hold your finger up to your mouth and furrow your eyebrows at him. “Stay quiet ‘n I’ll give ya’ some more jerky, okay?” You whisper almost silently.

He nods and stays quiet because he knows how scary those fucking things are, and he probably doesn’t want to be tied to a chair if one every came around.

Standing up feels like a pack of sparklers— like the ones they used to have at the 4th of July parties when you were a kid, before all this— it feels like those, popping and sizzling up your leg. You have to bite back a moan as your body leans against the table for support. The table skids across the floor noisily as you hold yourself up on it and it makes your blood run cold.

You have to get up those stairs and drop that gate, Sug. Mister is countin’ on you…

It’s like time freezes and all you can picture is poor Mister getting torn apart.

You hesitate listening intently. The clicking grows louder, a sickening, bone-chilling sound that echoes through the abandoned mall. Your twisted ankle throbs, but adrenaline starts pumping through your veins.

“Gotta move, sweetheart.” He must have heard the clicking this time too. Joel’s whispering voice is even and calm even though your chest feels like it could cave in on itself, your ribs feel like they could explode inward towards your lungs like sending shattered bone fragments hurdling towards your delicate, soft insides. “Y’can do it. I know it hurts—”

The metal gate. Everything around you goes silent, and the only thing you can hear is the sound the gate makes when it closes and locks into the floor. You have to get to the metal gate.

You clutch the railing with a white knuckle grip and pull yourself up the stairs two at a time, biting almost completely through your bottom lip, grunting with each painful step.

The clicking is clearer, and closer now that you’re on the same level as the infected, and you can tell there is more than one, and they’re moving fast.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss as you limp towards the entrance of the store.

As you reach it, you can see the seven infected closing in fast. Your sweet, sweet Puddin’ is hauling ass towards you— the infected right on his little, scaly tail.

“C’mon Pud,” you whine, dropping the gate down for just enough room for him to run through, and possibly let one of the infected in if you weren’t quick enough closing it behind him.. “C’mon Puddin’!”

It’s like your words spur him on and his little legs kick into overdrive. He slips under the metal gate just as the infected slam into it, throwing you off your balance. You’re thrown back at least three feet, and watch in horror as the gate starts to rise on its own.

Move kiddo, come on! Get your ass up and fucking shut that gate!

Your body screams in protest as you scramble across the floor, your twisted ankle sending sharp bolts of pain through your leg.

Puddin' is playing dead right behind you, but you don't have time to think about him right now. He's safe and inside, that's all that matters. The gate keeps rising, inch by torturous inch, and the infected are pushing against it with stupid inhuman strength!

"No, no, no," you mutter, pushing through the pain. The clicking grows louder, more frenzied, as the first infected begins to squeeze its misshapen head underneath the rising gate.

Pulling the knife from your belt in one hand, you bring it down into the skull of the infected trying to slip through, and with the other, your fingers grapple for a hold on the handle of the metal grate.

The infected skull cracks open with a sickeningly wet crunch, dark blood and gray matter splattering across the floor.

Your hand finally grips the smooth metal tightly, even though now your palm is nearly dripping with sweat, and with a grunt that feels like it's being stolen right out of your lungs, you pull down with all the strength you have left inside of you.

The gate comes down with a crash that echoes throughout the mall, the infected on the other side of the gate screech and squeal loudly. Some of them stick their arms through the slots, and their skin peels back like overripe fruit, claws scraping desperately for any piece of you they can reach.

You don't even want to think about how grotesque they are, you flip the lock that secures the gate to the floor as their fingers grapple and scratch deep into your skin. It clicks into place and you finally exhale, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

So fuckin’ proud of you, Sug. Knew you could do it.

The shrieking cries of the infected fill the otherwise silent mall and the confined space you’re now trapped in. You can't help but glance back toward Puddin'—the little white and gray furball who is still playing dead.

“S’okay, we’re safe,” you sigh, letting yourself rest on your elbows and then on your back completely. You stare at the ceiling, and wonder how long the infected will stick around.

The sounds coming from right above Joel has his heart racing, and he’s trying to free himself from his restraints harder and more desperate than ever before.

With a roar of determination, uncaring of the dangers above him, he jerks one arm up and then down. It’s not enough; he can still feel them biting into his skin painfully, creating new rope burns.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he grunts as time stretches into an eternity. The picture of you being shredded by gnawing and gnashing teeth makes his stomach churn.

Just as that thought creeps in, he hears a metallic rattling, but the wailing of the infected are still clear as day.

The clang of metal echoes again, and for a moment, he thinks maybe you did it. Maybe you’ve locked them out. Maybe you just signed yours and his death certificates and locked some of them in the store.

He tries to twist his wrists again, then again, but each movement sends sharp, stinging pain surging up his forearms. “Fuck!” He exclaims loudly.

She’s up there, fightin’ them off all alone—

"I know, dammit.” His jaw is tense and he focuses all of his energy on trying to loosen the ropes enough, or rub them against the metal fame to fray it enough so he can snap them. The strain builds in his muscles, and he can feel the ropes biting deeper, but he can’t stop— the feeling inside him brings him right back to the hospital in Salt Lake when he was looking for Ellie.

He thought he had felt helpless then, he thought he had felt helpless when that girl and her group of friends had trapped him and Tommy in that cabin— but now he knows the true definition of despair. Tied to a chair, listening to you getting torn apart right above him, and then he’ll have to watch those infected come to tear his throat out.

The door to the basement opens slowly, and Joel’s heart almost stops beating completely. Bile rises in his throat at the uneven steps that start down the wooden steps. It’s a slow, clumsy sound accompanied by grunts and pained whimpers.

When your boots come into his line of sight, he exhales loudly. The sight of you, safe and still breathing sends a warmth through Joel’s spine that spreads into the rest of his body and he’s not sure why.

Awe shit, she’s hurtin’ real bad.

Joel fucking knows, he can see it with his own two eyes. You’re limping, worse than you were went you bolted upstairs and now you’re covered in fresh wounds, and blood trickles down your left forearm, wrist and fingertips, leaving little droplets in your wake. Your cradling something dead and furry in your right arm.

“Ya’ get bit?” Joel’s skin prickles as he asks, trying to get a better look at your arm, straining to see in the dim light.

“Naw,” you grunt at him, sitting in the chair you had been sitting in before you had run upstairs. “Just got scratched.”

Joel eyes you, unsure if he can believe you while you extend your left arm and show him the deep gouging scratches carved into your flesh. “S’bad,” Joel murmurs as you press your arm against your dirty jeans. He flinches at the sight, and turns his arms under the ropes.

What’chya wanna do? Hit her or help her?

Both? Joel synchronously wants to do both. He wants to lay you down on the mattress across the room and tend to your wounds. He wants to wash the blood of your skin, and wrap you up— watch your eyes glisten and sparkle as he cares for you. And then Joel would beat your face bloody, and bludgeon your chest in until it caved.

“M’fine,” you offer weakly. “Ain’t the worst that’s ever happened t’me.”

Somewhere deep inside of Joel twists painfully when the inflection in your tone tells him you think that’s true.

“How’s your ankle?” Joel doesn’t bother looking, he knows it’s bad by the way you limped down the stairs.

“Said m’fine,” you grumble, setting the dead animal down on the table very gently next to the shock collar remote.

“What’s that? Fresh meat finally—”

Joel doesn’t even see it coming, your hand moves so fast and the next thing he knows he is being zapped into silence.

“Ain’t fuckin’ fresh meat- you don’t ever speak about Puddin’ that way, ya’ hear me?” You zap Joel the entire time you’re speaking, and he can barely hear you over the screaming between his ears. It’s deafening and blinding, and making him feel fucking stupid.

“Fine fine.” Joel grits out through a jaw clenched so tight he might actually break his teeth.

You flick the remote off and toss it on the table as if it’s too hot to touch any longer. The buzzing in Joel's ears fades slightly, leaving only the thudding of his heart and the rasp of his breathing.

“I fuckin’ hate hurtin’ you,” you sob softly, wrapping your arms around what appears to be an opossum. You pull it closer to you, and nuzzle your face against his fur.

Joel recoils at the sight, but watches as the dead animal comes to life, and gives your cheek a gentle lick. “That’s your pet?” He asks, disbelief dripping off his tongue.

You don’t look at him, or even really acknowledge that you heard him— you just continue to snuggle the animal and cry quietly.

Joel doesn’t really know what to do, he wants to comfort you in a weird way, but he still wants to see you dead? But the thought you dying also scares him a little?

It’s ‘cause you wanna be the one snuggled up next t’her. Jealous of an opossum—

No the fuck he doesn’t! Joel does not want to snuggle up to you, he doesn’t want to feel your warm body pressed against his—

Even though she’d fit perfect right next to ya’. Picture it, ya’ got’chya arms ‘round her ‘n you got your legs all wrapped in hers…

The sight of you, vulnerable and fragile with that small, stupid animal, tugs at his heart in ways he hasn’t experienced in years. He shakes his head violently, as if he could actually dislodge the thoughts spinning in his mind. “You’re fuckin' crazy,” he mutters to himself under his breath.

Your chair scrapes across the floor as you turn quickly to the right so you can face him. Your jaw ticks and one of your eyes twitch. “I ain’t fuckin’ crazy— stop sayin’ that.” You whisper to him. “Why ya’ bein’ so mean? I jus’ saved your life…” Your face twists up like you might start crying again, and your eyes now are still wet with the tears you had been crying moments ago.

“Saved my life?” Joel scoffs through clenched teeth, the remnants of your electric assault still tingling faintly in his fingers and toes. “That’s what y’think you did for me?” He can feel his resolve faltering as the fat, wet tears begin to roll down your cheek, but he forces himself to stay angry. It feels safer— it feels better that way. “More like puttin’ me through hell, darlin’.”

He doesn’t even mean for the word darlin’ to come out of his mouth, he wasn’t even thinking it, at least— he doesn’t remember wanting to cal you darlin’.

But the moment it slips out, he watches your expression change. You wipe at the tears staining your cheeks, smearing dirt and blood across your face. A flicker of something warm and soft ignites in your eyes, like sunlight breaking through dark clouds. “Darlin’…” you echo him, a fractured smile threatening to bloom despite the pain etched across your features.

Joel’s heart sinks, and also bursts with pride all at the same time. You are in fact insane, but he made you stop crying.

Look’it that, she’s almost smilin’ now.

That warmth spreads through him again, against his will—against all logical reason. “I didn’t mean it,” he mutters, not really sure if he did mean it or not. Yet the sight of you still clinging to that opossum, caressing him carefully as he nibbles gently on one of your fingers. The sight draws him in deeper than he would like to admit, but he just wants to clean you up, wrap you in bandages and then let you fall asleep on his lap.

“Didn’t… mean it?” You repeat the words like you don’t understand them, and your smile falters just a bit as you study his face, searching for truth. “Liar,” you smirk at him.

There is a warmth in your crazy eyes that makes Joel want to sink as far into the chair as he possibly can, he wishes he could disappear but he doesn’t. He says, watching you like he’s frozen in place. “Nah, s’just the shock talkin’,” he whispers and nods his head to one side like there would be a video replaying the who ordeal that happened only moments ago. He wishes there was so he could watch it happen over and over, so he could build up the walls around him, keep you the fuck out of his head.

“Yeah…” There is a distance to your tone, like you’re not really there anymore, and you drop your gaze to the opossum nestled in your arms. “Ya’ made me do that though,” you whisper, eyes flicking up to him quickly— they’re darker, a little scary and Joel wishes he could hide inside his own skin.

“Made you?” Joel’s voice rises, anger flaring throughout him like a wildfire in a forest of dead, dry trees. It spreads fast before Joel can control himself.“Y’think I made you do that? You are a crazy fuckin’ bit—”

You zap him again with a jolt that sends white hot sparks crawling up his spine, and sucks the air right out of his lungs.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” you scream and clutch the opossum tighter.

Joel watches as it goes back to playing dead in your arms. He’s about to shout back at you, start a screaming war and hope those infected break through that gate upstairs and kill both of you— but then you whisper something quietly, and Joel almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m not gunna fuckin’ do that, stop tellin’ me t’kill him.”

Joel’s blood runs cold like ice… who the fuck are you talking to? Or about?

“Are you still hungry?” Your voice is soft, almost sweet now. “I can get you more jerky… I got lots of whiskey—” you say, the fierce anger from moments ago melting away, replaced by a manic eagerness to please him. You reach for your bag again, your arm still bleeding badly— but you’re unfazed by it, or at least doing a good job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

You pull out a glass jar.

“Are those coffee beans?” Joel can barely believe his eyes. His mouth starts to salivate immediately.

You wrinkle your nose at him and shrug your shoulders. “Dunno— they look like some kinda bean— smell all burnt up to shit though,” your nose stays scrunched up as you begin digging around in your bag again.

“Lemme smell,” he can barely contain his excitement as he watches you unscrew the lid to the mason jar. There is a hesitation in your movements when you go to hold the jar under his nose, like you’re trying to figure out his game, the trap he’s set. Your eyes scan all around him, face and body unmoving. “I jus’ wanna smell it— I’ll tell you if it’s coffee or not,” he’s as close to begging for something as he’s ever gotten.

“You like coffee?” You sound so curious, and gingerly place the mouth of the jar under his nose. He takes in a deep inhale and the wonderful, deep and rich aroma of coffee fills his nostrils.

Joel groans loudly, and for a long time as the scent permeates his sinuses, he can almost taste it on his tongue for a fleeting moment.

“Take that as a yes,” you giggle and let him breathe in the smell a little longer. “How do I make it for ya’?” You ask, pulling the jar away and screwing the lid on tight.

“Gotta grind those beans up real fine— then let it brew in some hot water.” Joel explains, watching as you dig around in your bag for more of your loot. "They make special pots for it— percolators."

"Percolators?" You parrot him, tilting your head to one side—

Cute lil puppy.

You fucking are, Joel hates to admit it to himself but even all covered in blood, and muck— looking like you've been to hell and clawed your way back out by the skin of your teeth— your eyes are bright and alert, watching him intently.

"Yeah, keeps the coffee grounds out of your water—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"So you put those crushed up beans… in the water… to just not want them in the water at the end of it all?" You hold up the coffee beans and look at them incredulously, your eyes squinted and narrowed on the glass jar with one eyebrow cocked up slightly.

Joel can't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up at your expression, your face still dirty and tear stained. "Never had coffee before?"

You shake your head at him, and continue rifling through your bag.

The opossum on the table comes alive again now that you're calm and quiet, he pops his little head up and this is when Joel notices the small teal and pink collar around his furry neck. As you pull the rest of the things out of your pack, the little critter starts to lick and clean your wounds.

It makes Joel grimace at the sight of the wild animal trying to help you, take care of you, but again— it tugs at a place inside of him he hasn't dared venture in years.

You're in the small bathroom just off the main room cleaning up in the sink you filled with water from a jug you brought down yesterday. “Ya’ wanna sleep on the bed t’night?” You nod to the mattress pushed up against the wall across the room.

What the fuck?

Mister-man looks just as shocked as the dark voice in your head sounds. “Ya’ gon’ let me sleep comfortably- take these fuckin’ ropes off me?” His voice is bitter and bites at you, makes you furrow your brows at him.

Sug, he’s been tied up for a while now—

For good fucking reason, he’s going to kill her the minute she unties him.

He’s got the dang collar on now, he’s gonna listen to her.

What happens when she falls asleep? Huh? She’s been up going on almost eighteen hours—

How d’ya know how many hours it’s been? She don’t have a watch or a clock!! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ‘bout.

She’s going to fall asleep and the minute she does— he’s going to strangle her.

The image of Mister-man with his hands around your throat makes you do two things— it makes your stomach flip, and it makes your cunt clench.

What the fuck was that?

She likes the idea of Mister-man chokin’ her a lil, dont’chya Sugar?

The heat rises from your chest and up your neck, behind your cheeks. You kinda do want Mister to choke you a little, but not with the intention to kill you!

“What’re you fuckin’ smirkin’ ‘bout over there?” Mister snaps at you.

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you are smirking and just standing in front of the sink frozen in place. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the images of Mister’s big, strong hands around your neck. “Nothin’,” you lie to him, which makes you feel bad— but you can’t tell him that’s what you were thinking about.

Tell him, see what he says…

Will you shut the fuck up—

“I figure you can sleep there ‘n I’ll sleep in the chair t’night— still gon’ have to tie you up, but least you can lay down…”

That’s not really what you want. You want his arms wrapped around you, and your legs all messed up in his. You wanna feel his warm breath on the top of your head because that’s gotta be the best way to fall asleep, feeling someone else’s warm body, feeling their heart beating inside their chest.

Let’s ya’ know they’re really there- ain’t a dream or something you’re imaginin’.

“Why the hell d’ya want me all comfy f’anyway, huh?” he asks, suspicion laced in his tone, but a hint of curiosity glimmers behind his dark brown eyes.

You shake your head and go back to cleaning your arm so you can bandage it. “No, I’m jus’ tryin’ t’be nice. Figur’d you could stretch out if ya’ wanted.”

He watches you, that suspicion still etched into the lines of his face, but the curiosity is unmistakable, swelling in the way his brow furrows deeper and his lips twist just slightly. “Why ya’ tryin’ to be nice?”

“I dunno… don’t want you hatin’ me no more—”

Stop it right now! Shut the fucking door and stop talking to him.

“Why would I ever stop hatin' you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper. Mister-man hones in his gaze on you like a hawk. “You think bein’ nice t’me is gonna make me forget that ya’ tied me up down here?”

You shrug lightly as you wrap a bandage around your arm, feeling the warmth of blood already seeping through the fabric.

Don’t listen to him, Sugar. He don’t mean it.

Sounds like he fuckin’ means it.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you say softly, finally meeting his stare head-on. “I just wanna feel normal again…”

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Yeah Sug, keep that to ya’self.

You feel ashamed, real shame, uncomfortable for sharing too much, and now the voices are agreeing with each other? That’s never a good sign. You’ve done something wrong.

“Normal?” He chuckles, but it feels malicious. “Ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ normal about this, sweetheart.”

“Stop sayin’ that if you don’t fuckin’ mean it!”

His laughter dies down, leaving an awkward silence between you. The room feels smaller, somehow and it feels like Mister-man is right on top of you with judging eyes. “I do mean it,” he replies, softer now but still sharp and angry. “Y’think it’s normal t’be tied up in the basement by some—”

“Some what?” You interrupt him as the anger rises to meet the shame and hold its hand.

Mister stares at you, face unchanging when he speaks. “Some. Crazy. Fuckin’. Bitch.” He enunciates every word. “What is this? Some fuckin’ fairy tale to you? One of your stupid princess movies, huh?”

“They’re not stupid,” you snap back, your voice rising in defiance. “And I’m not crazy. I just…”

“Just what?” he presses, his tone challenging. “What do you want from me?”

Don’t fucking say it.

“I jus’ want ya’ t’like me,” you whisper- feeling small and insignificant. “Want ya’ t’not hurt me again,” you point to your still slightly blackened eye.

His studies you like you’re a problem that he can’t solve— the muscles in his jaw flex, and he pinches his brow together tightly. “Ya’ want me t’like you?” He echoes softly, he says the words like they might unleash an evil into the room.

You nod, feeling like you’re frozen and on fire all at the same time, it makes your stomach churn like you might be sick. The way he’s staring at you make you feel naked and exposed.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, breaking through the silence and makes you flinch.

“You’re handsome,” you let the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He shifts in the chair like you made him uncomfortable, confusion weaving its way into the creases of his hardened and in fact, beautiful face.

“Handsome?” he repeats the word like it's a foreign language, like it’s something he hasn’t heard in ages.

“I sure think so,” you nod again.

Your face is so hot it feels like it’s being held to flames.

Well, this is the most you’ve talked to anyone in a real long time, Sug… it’ll get easier.

You could just stop talking completely and go to sleep. You’re delirious.

No she ain’t. Mister-man is handsome, and she want’s him inside her again real bad.

Your walls clench around absolutely nothing at the thought of his thick, throbbing length plunging inside of you, stretching you to fit around him perfectly. The idea of it happening again makes you dizzy and you can’t help but bite your lip, your face somehow grows hotter than you thought possible.

The look Mister gives you- the half smirk, one raised eyebrow makes you think he can read your mind.“Handsome,” he snorts softly, eyes never leaving you, but now they trail down the curves of your body. “You trynna ‘sit in my lap’ again, sweetheart?” The words come out of his mouth slow like molasses, and that country twang he has sends a shock right to your core.

“Maybe,” you say, voice trembling slightly but unwavering, “maybe if you wanted to, I would.”

His face softens slightly, the anger and suspicion melting away like snow in the sun. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "Why would I want that, honey?" he asks, his voice teasing slightly.

“You seemed to want it the other night,” you limp out of the bathroom and sit down in the metal chair beside his recliner.

“I was real drunk,” Mister explains, but his demeanor has changed, he looks relaxed, he’s resting his head on the back of the chair, looking at you through hooded eyes. “Ya’ took advantage of me,” he growls softly, but beckons you over with a nod of his head.

“Ya’ told me t’do it…” you snap. “I ain’t take nothin’. Advantage- I ain’t-- what? You asked me t’do it!”

He sure fuckin’ did ask you! How dare he say that bullshit ass—

I hate to admit it, but… he’s right—

The last thing you ever wanted to do was take something from Mister-man that he didn’t want you to take! It’s the worst feeling in the world- being held down and forced into—

Shhhhh, Sugar. It’s alright, s’all over now. It was just a misunderstanding.

“I ain’t m-mean t’do that,” you say weakly through the lump forming in your throat. “I thought ya’ wanted me t’do it— that’s why ya’ punched me?”

His eyes widen slightly, “I didn’t punch ya’ for that.”

"Then why did ya’ punch me?" Your voice cracks slightly as tears begin welling up in your eyes again; embarrassment filling every cell within your body once more.

“I was gonna try’n leave. Go home—”

“Ya’ lied t’me… said you’d stay,” you whimper, wiping the tears before they can fall.

“Please stop cryin’…” Mister-man's voice is surprisingly gentle as he speaks, and you feel your heart squeeze in response.

You sniffle, trying to regain your composure. "I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t ask me first," you mumble, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve.

"Why not?" Joel asks softly. 

Look'it that, ya went'n made her cry! For what!? She's just trynna be nice t'ya! Jus' like she said. She wants a lil boyfriend, someone t'snuggle up with at night-- like a normal person!

There isn't anything fucking normal about you, not at all. 

“I ain’t like stuff gettin’ taken from me,” you admit quietly, turning your gaze away from him.

Joel narrowed his eyes, sitting up a bit straighter in his recliner, the leather creaking underneath his weight. "What’ya mean by that?"

“Lets get ready for bed, ‘kay?” You ignore his question and stand up, wincing when you put any weight on your ankle. You hold the remote in your mouth gingerly as you begin untying him from the chair.

****

Joel watches you from the mattress in the corner. You have his hands still bound up in the oven mitts, and now you’ve tossed a rope over a pipe in the ceiling and tied up his elbows so he can move and lay down. Stretch out if he wants to, but he can’t walk more than five or six feet in either direction— and the pipes secured tighter than he had been hoping it would be.

Joel can hear you reading the Batman comic books to yourself and that opossum you keep calling Puddin’, but you haven’t looked or spoken to him since you tied him up an hour or so ago. Just left him with two things: a plastic bottle of water and metal flask with whiskey in it. He was silently thankful when you twisted the lids off without him having to ask.

He knows struck a nerve with his question, but he didn’t really expect you to shut him out completely. He takes a swig from the plastic water bottle.

Ya’ want that sad lil puppy t’come over here, dont’chya?”

He does, oddly enough. You being crazy was better than you giving him the cold shoulder, like he wasn't even there.

He wonders if you read to that stupid animal every night, and if you snuggle with him in the bed you sleep in upstairs. He wonders if you have to drink yourself to sleep every night with how many bottles of whiskey you brought back.

His mind just continues to race.

****

Joel can’t sleep. He thought for sure the minute he put his head down, he’d drift off and sleep better than he has since you tied him up down here, he’s got a blanket and a pillow now but they do nothing to comfort him into closing his eyes.

Call her over, see if she’ll come snuggle up next to you.

“Hey,” Joel whispers into the completely dark room.

“What?” You whisper back to him from the void.

“C’mere— it ain’t fair ya’ gotta sleep in that chair. I know s’uncomfortable.” What the fuck is he doing? He’s not going to willingly allow you into his space, is he?

“M’fine,” you murmur back to him. “Go t’sleep.”

“Can’t sleep— come sit in my lap again,” Joel smirks to himself because fuck, what he would do to feel your warm cunt enveloping him like you were made strictly for him, and him alone. It makes his cock twitch just thinking about it.

Joel holds his breath, waiting for you to respond. Then, finally, you murmur back, your voice barely more than a whisper, “Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause I’m handsome…” Joel teases you, listening to the way the chair creaks as you shift on it. He wishes so badly he could see you. “I know ya’ wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too.”

“Y’just wanna punch me again, try’n escape—”

“Where would I go? Them infected are still up there, I ain’t gettin’ outta here anytime soon,” he’s being honest. He had thought about it, but the idea of having to share a room with your dead body— even if he moved you upstairs, the idea of having to wait around with your corpse until the infected cleared out gave him a bad feeling.

It’s ‘cause you don’t wanna kill ‘er. Ya’ wanna be deep inside that tight, wet, warm perfect hole.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters under his breath. His cock’s fully hard now, and it’s making a tent in the black sweatpants you put on him before bed. He rubs the oven mitt on his hand against the bulge in the fabric and groans loudly.

“What’re you doin’?” You ask from your place in the chair.

“Come find out, sweetheart.” He sighs, leaning against the wall the mattress is pressed up against.

Joel listens to you limp and shuffle towards him in the dark. Your hands hesitantly touch his shins before you crawl onto the bed with him.

“Take ‘em out f’me, baby girl,” he leans into you now that you’re sitting next to him, pushing his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply and takes in the heady scent of your sweat lingering whatever fucking pheromones that are making him just as insane as you.

“Ya’ really want this?”

Joel wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as he can get. “M’sober this time,” he moan quietly into your ear when you push his mitt covered hand, away and slip your hand underneath the waistband. He bucks his hips up into your fist as you begin to stoke him.

“You’re s’warm,” you sigh, turning your head to face him.

Joel wastes no time catching your lips in a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you, savor your flavor. You taste like whiskey and strawberry jam. The smell of cheap bathroom hand soap lingers on your skin from washing up in the sink. All of it makes him feel like hes intoxicated.

“Fuck, y’feel so good,” he growls into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip gently as you pull away. “Take these fuckin’ mitts off me—”

Your hand leaves his pants and the warmth of your body is gone from beside him. “It’s a trick?” You sound hurt in the dark, like Joel’s played some terrible prank on you and you just found out.

“No, no, no-” he’s desperate for your touch. It felt so good, and he wasn’t even thinking about trying to trick you or do anything shifty once you took the mitts off, he wanted to grip you and grope you. Plunge two or three fingers right into your wetness. “No, m’not trynna trick you— I just wanna touch you.”

“S’what you said last time,” you snap at him. He can tell you’re still close, probably still on the mattress. He shifts and tries to get closer to you but he hears your skin drag across the concrete floor.

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “I know, fuck— I know, but I mean it this time-”

“I don’t believe you.”

Of course you don’t believe him! He socked you right in the eye as hard as he could the last time he didn’t have at least 4 inches of padding on his fists.

“I wanna make y’feel real good, the way y’were makin’ me feel real good just then,” he’s inching towards the sound of you dragging yourself across the floor on his hands and knees slowly. The ropes stop him from going any further while you continue your retreat. “C’mon, baby…”

“Y’just sayin’ that, don’t mean it…” The sound of your body shuffling away from him stops though, and he wonders if he’s got you on the hook with the pet names.

Try it again, Mister.

“Please, honey… I wanna hear y’moan Mister’s name,” he coos to you, hiding from him somewhere in the darkness.

You let out a long, slow, shaky breath before you answer. “What is your name…”

He’s so fucking desperate for some sort of relief that he tells you before he can come up with a fake name— he’s learned the hard way about sharing his real name with strange women. “Joel.”

“Joel…” You whisper back to him. “My very own Mister-J?” You sound excited.

“Mister-J?” Joel cocks his head to one side, but is pushed back onto the mattress by the force of you barreling into him.

“That’s what Harley calls the Joker,” your straddling his waist again and without thinking twice, Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. His forearms brush against the bare skin of your thighs and it makes him groan softly as he pushes you down into his lap.

“Ya' wanna be m'crazy girl? Like Harley Quinn?” Joel chuckles as he nudges his nose against your chin, tilting your head back to expose your neck.

You hesitate, and pull back from him slightly.

“I ain’t gon’ bite you,” he promises, leaning in as much as he can so he can press his lips to the column of your throat.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, sinking into him like you’re melting. “Oh fuck,” it leaves your mouth as a whimper, and Joel’s cock throbs at the sound.

“Like this?” He nips at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and you shiver in his arms. He can’t hide the smile, he doesn’t care to. He loves that he’s capable of making you make those sounds.

You hum an almost silent ‘mhm’, and wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through the curls at the nape.

Joel has so much more room to move around now that he’s unrestrained, so he rolls his hips up into yours so you can feel what he has to offer. You gasp and arch your back, pushing yourself further onto him. He moans softly, his mitts trailing down your spine and cupping your ass cheeks as best they can. He can feel the heat between your legs growing and he has a nagging thought in his head.

Lay down, let her climb right on top—

Joel shifts and wiggles down onto the mattress so he’s flat on his back, with you still straddling his hips. “Take your lil shorts off,” Joel taps your thigh, and then lifts his hips so he can shove his sweatpants down his legs.

You don’t ask any questions. You roll off of him and Joel feels your shoulder touch his as you lay down to remove your bottoms. You go to crawl back into his lap but he stops you.

“Sit up here,” he grips your hips as best he can with the mitts, and tugs you up to his face.

“What!?” You sound distressed, “Ya’ want me t’do what?”

“Turn around, and sit down,” Joel growls up at you.

You hesitate, the uncertainty clear in your voice. "I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, darlin'," Joel coaxes, his voice low and husky. "Let me taste you. I promise ‘m gonna make you feel so good."

With shaky movements, you turn around and slowly lower yourself over Joel's face.

He inhales deeply, taking in your scent. "That's it," he murmurs encouragingly. "Just like that." Joel can feel the heat radiating from your core as you hover uncertainly above him. He lifts his head, nuzzling his nose against your inner thigh. "Lil lower," he nips at your supple skin.

With a soft whimper, you finally sink down onto his waiting mouth. Joel groans at the first taste of you, his tongue delving between your folds. Your sweet and tangy, a little sweaty and musky— it’s fucking heady and perfect. He can’t get enough.

“Oh fuck,” you shudder as Joel licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, which is already dripping and Joel feels pride swell in his chest.

Without Joel having to ask, or prompt you in any way, you lean over and take his hard, aching cock in your hand. Joel nearly comes right there when he hears you spit on it noisily and palm your warm saliva around the throbbing, drooling tip.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel moans approvingly before his tongue pushes into your entrance.

"Oh god, Mister," you whimper, your hand still working his cock in long, slow strokes. Then you kitten lick the tip and he has to stop himself from bucking his hips.

Joel's mind goes blank as your warm, wet mouth envelops the head of his cock. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations making you shudder above him. His tongue laps eagerly at your fold, drinking in your arousal as it flows freely.

You bob your head, taking more of his length with each downward motion. Joel's hips twitch, fighting the urge to thrust up into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Instead, he focuses on pleasuring you, sucking your clit between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.

You whimper around his cock, grinding your hips down onto his face.

Joel pulls back slightly, his breath hot against your core. "That's it, baby girl. Ride my face," he growls before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit.

You pull away, your hand replacing your mouths ministrations and rest your head on Joel’s hip as you stroke him, never faltering on giving him pleasure. “Please d-don’t stop!” You cry out, your grip tightening around his shaft as you rock your hips. Joel's mitt-covered hands grip your thighs, urging you on.

"Gonna cum for me, darlin'?" he murmurs against your slick folds. "Let me taste it."

Joel feels you tense above him, your thighs quivering as you grind down harder on his face. He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with quick, firm strokes of his tongue. Your hand on his cock speeds up, pumping him in time with the rocking of your hips.

"Oh god, oh fuck," you whimper, your voice muffled against his hip. "I'm gonna-- I'm--"

Your words dissolve into a high-pitched moan as you come undone. Joel groans as he feels your pussy pulse against his mouth, a fresh wave of your arousal coating his tongue.

Your sounds, the way your hips continue to rock against his mouth as you unravel has his own release bubbling up to the surface. Joel groans deeply as his own orgasm crashes over him, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he spills into your hand. You stroke him through it, milking every last drop as he shudders beneath you.

Joel's whole body twitches as you clean him and your hand with your tongue, "Taste good," you mumble against his stomach, pressing soft kisses to the trail of hair between his cock and belly button.

Then, with shaky movements, you lift yourself off of Joel's face and turn around to face him. Even in the darkness, he can sense your uncertainty.

"C'mere," Joel murmurs, his voice rough. He reaches out, pulling you down to lay beside him. You settle against his chest, your breath warm on his neck.

“Don’t kill me in my sleep, ‘kay?” You sigh, pressing a kiss to his pulse point.

Joel murmurs something incoherent, already on the verge of falling asleep.

Sorry it was like 45 minutes late (two days early if you look at the master list ok?-- I may have had something to drink.... and of course thanks @pedrospookie for that adorable fucking mood board. I hope you all like this chapter-- it's a little domesticated (i think), but I have more crazy, unhinged antics coming next chapter!)

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories

(omg I think I got everyone but that's so many people, please let me know if I left you off or if you want to be taken out of the tag list!)

[spacegyaru]

cw: shidou ryusei x afab! reader. all characters are aged 21+ (you and shidou are already 25 atp). this is the second part of this! do not read it unless you have read the previous part! 💗🤭

~ there is a bit of angst here! also, i really tried to keep shidou and character and read loads of analysis for this huhu so good luck to me!! i hope you guys would like it as much as you loved the first part! + reader is a nurse and toxic shidou! 😌 i tried to keep it realistic guys, we all known it's not going to be all rainbow and skittles with shidou in it.

word count: 2k+

fast forward to five years later. five fucking years. you don't know how you made it that far, but somehow, you managed to get yourself out of that hellhole.

well, after finding out that you were pregnant, your initial reaction was to tell your parents about it. you were young and they still paid for your college fees that time, so you know that they have the right to at least hear from you.

as you expected, your parents did not have the best reactions. your dad scolded you— even slapped you, and your mom called you a slut, then they started fighting and blaming each other on whose fault is this.

suddenly, the fact that you're pregnant is no longer about you and the baby, but it's about blaming who was the worse parent between the both of them. your dad blamed your mom for caring too much about her appearance and not paying attention to you, while your mom blamed your dad for not protecting you enough and being around. in actuality, both are horrible.

you swore you'll never want your kid to grow up in this kind of hell you were raised in. that's why you felt so much joy when your parents agreed to help you but they asked you to move out to your grandparents’ house in a far away rural area so people wouldn't see you ‘blowing up like a balloon’ (as what your mom said) and ‘bringing shame to the family’.

luckily, compared to your parents, your grandparents are good people. they comforted you and made sure that you're well-fed during your pregnancy.

you ended up giving birth to a little girl, which you named miyu. she was born with your hair color, pink orbs, and tanned skin. her nose and eye shape weren't yours. you didn't even want to think about who does it remind you of.

it wasn't easy to have her either. miyu was a handful baby and post-partum depression did not sit well with you. but luckily, your grandmother is around.

shortly after that, you decided to go back to college while working part-time. all while miyu was growing. if you didn't have your grandparents, you surely wouldn't be able to survive. they were a huge help to your studies, and in taking care of miyu.

after your studies, you went back to the city to look for a better job as a registered nurse around tokyo. you thanked your grandparents and took your daughter with you.

about shidou… well, you've seen him on TV and he's doing well, winning lots of football games, and even having some dating rumours. you hated every inch of him. you hated how he act all smug and cocky on TV. you hated how he never even tried to contact you after that night. you hated how he did well while you struggled to survive.

the only comfort that you had was miyu's smile. she is a very cheerful child. she's very friendly towards people and she's a social butterfly. the first time you took her to the nursery, she became friends with everyone.

anyway, you're working as a registered nurse around tokyo's biggest hospital. luckily, miyu's preschool is nearby. but with no one to watch over, you would fetch her during your free time and bring her back to your workplace.

“y/n, doctor nishimura needs your assistance in his office in third floor.” your co-worker said and you rushed going there.

when you arrived, you were asked to call the patients’ name in the waiting area and assist in medical check-ups, like taking their height, weight, blood pressure, and etc. it was all good. you were doing just fine. until you saw who the last patient is.

“sh-shidou r-ryusei…” there was a light stutter in your voice as you turned pale, an expression of shock written on your face. it seemed that he's here for some athlete medical checkup or whatever it's called.

the moment shidou saw you, he did not recognize you at first. but seeing how awkward you were while taking his blood pressure, he finally recognized who you are.

“wait, aren't you y/n?” shidou asked then started talking to you like a casual friend who's trying to catch up. you didn't respond well. he told you that he'll be in a 3-month long vacation after winning a huge match in france.

when you were left alone with him as you were asked to assist him althroughout, like going to the cashier and settling payment, (since the doctor said that other patients might harass him since he's famous), he fucking dropped the bomb that made you erupt.

“if you're interested, we could hang out together while i'm in tokyo. like the old times.” he said in a smug voice, obviously hinting to something sexual.

you stopped while walking, looking down. shidou, who only continued, wondered as you stayed that way for seconds. shidou looked at you curiously. he slowly approached you, but your hand seemed to have another plans, giving him a slap on the cheek.

shidou looked at you shocked for seconds while holding his cheek, then his face changed into smirk before he told you “come on, you can't be mad over something that happened years ago, right? what happened to the good girl y/n?” he gave you a menacing look.

but before you could say anything, a small high-pitched voice reached out from your behind. “mommy, i'm hungry!”

seeing your daughter, you left shidou and approached your daughter, carrying her in your arms, telling her how you'd get her some cookies from the pantry.

as your carried miyu in your arms while walking away, shidou could not help it but to stare back at the pink orbs of the little girl which sparked curiosity. that, combined with the little girl's tanned skin and nose— shidou already fucking knew who that little girl is.

after that day, shidou would visit you during working hours. he would go there, trying to ask you to hangout with him, with that permanent smug look that you hated the most.

he did this for the whole afternoon. luckily, today, you were able to hire a babysitter for miyu because you expected to work overtime. you doubt he would leave you alone, not giving you some time to fetch her.

even after your shift, shidou was still there. you got fed up and asked him why the hell is he bothering you during work hours, even telling him to get lost.

but shidou still seemed to be unfazed by you freaking out. instead of saying anything, he just said “awww, don't you want me to get to know your little girl too? are you gonna hog her all by yourself?”

that's when you lost it. you dragged him in the hospital's parking lot and asked him what he truly wants.

shidou asks you to enter his car so you guys could ‘talk more’. thinking that he's just scared of the paparazzis, you agreed to talk with him inside his car with tinted glasses.

when you both sat on the front seats, he waited for you to speak first and you broke the silence.

you told him that you found out that you were pregnant after that night and you didn't get to tell him because he blocked you everywhere on social media. you're mad because he promised that he's going to be with you after but he left without saying anything.

shidou basically just gaslit you and told you that you never tried hard enough like contacting him thru his emails. he even had the guts to victimize himself and say that he felt hurt you never told him.

“just shows how my little y/n won't trust me enough to look after our poor little baby and that makes me sad.”

you rolled your eyes and attempted to get off the car, when shidou held your hand, trying to stop you. you decided to stop and take one last look at him. he holds your hand tighter, but not in a hurting way.

“oh hell nah, y/n. don't do this to me, i'm a changed man, ya know?”

you told shidou that if he's planning to ghost you again, he's never gonna get to know miyu. he is not going to be her first heartbreak. you made it clear to him.

shidou was like, “i know i didn't keep my promise to you, but i'm not a monster to do the same thing to her.”

you still didn't believe him, until he told you that he wants to show how serious he is. “give me your bank account number” but you didn't want to give it to him because of your pride.

but then he started saying “you sure you don't want my help? you were eating a one-dollar ramen during lunchtime. how can you even give what's best if you can't even give yourself anything?”and he said it in a taunting voice. oh boi, all these years and he's still so good at provoking people.

so you ended up giving your bank account details. you received a notification on your phone saying that you just received 7 million yen— about 50k dollars. you looked at him in disbelief.

“also, don't let her wear those ugly floral dresses. buy her something else.”

you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ altho you didn't really wanna say that but you know you needed to.

both of you agreed on a co-parenting situation. for visits, he would visit your daughter in your apartment every weekend. you wanted those instead of public because paparazzis may spot your daughter. she doesn't deserve that kind of toxicity yet.

first time visiting your apartment, shidou basically roasted your house and bought you a whole apartment just two floors way from his own apartment. “and you said you didn't need my help? i don't think my baby should even live in this place.” you moved in that place a month after he first met miyu.

the first time they met each other… you hate to admit it, but they got along really well. both of them weren't too emotional about it. it was just like two best friends meeting each other and having a lighthearted conversation. you observed miyu and it seems that she's at ease around shidou.

“miyu, that's your dad.” oh boi she ran so fast in his arms and hugged him. luckily, he caught her. since then, the both of them have been talking. miyu liked calling shidou his ‘daddy’. and honestly, shidou was proud of it.

shidou was the fun dad. you'll say ‘no ice cream’ and he's gonna bring your daughter ice cream while you're not around. when you say that she shouldn't eat sweets after brushing her teeth, shidou would just tell her to have some then she can brush her teeth after. so in no time, miyu became a ‘daddy's girl’ while you were the ‘no-fun and strict’ mom (as said by shidou when miyu's not around).

the whole co-parenting setup was okay. but shidou would make advances towards you whenever miyu is not looking. he would flirt with you, saying how your genes looked great when mixed together and sometimes, he would bring up that miyu needs a playmate. you would only roll your eyes at him, saying that you'd rather die than to repeat the same mistake.

it was all peaceful. you were starting to put your trust in him— until you saw a selfie of shidou and miyu all over the news and headlines. it seemed that he posted her on his insta, without your consent.

you did not like that one bit. both of you told each other that if he wants to something like this, he needs to talk to you first. again, shidou forgot to keep up with his word.

with an angry tone, you immediately called shidou and asked to talk to him in private. he asked you to come over to his apartment— and you were hesitant at first, but you agreed. you decided to drop off miyu at the local daycare center, just so the both of you could talk it out.

[ncis-nerd]

Subtle Captures

Ship: Agathario x Wandas!Daughter Reader

Warnings: Dark DARK DARK, Kidnapping, Kissing, Suggestive, Tied up, Rope, Pet Names, Implied Female Reader, Reader is an ADULT.

18+

"How long have you known" you gasped, backing away from the witch, in fear that she'd retaliate. "Relax, I'm harmless, hun. Remember? No powers thanks to your mommy." Agatha hissed, her eyes burning into you. Fuck there was just something about her. Dominance radiating off of her.

You wouldn't let her get to you, stop you from your mission and to get your mother back. Little did you know, the witch already had plans forming for you.

--

Her hand ghosted your cheek as she glanced at your wrists. The witch dressed in a purple cloak had tied you up, with silky ivy vines.

"A feisty one, aren't you?" She chuckled, seeing your attempts to escape.

You fought back, squirming against the ropes the witch had used to keep you in place. You needed to find your mom, she had to be alive, just had to.

"I burned all the items she had on her" A raspy voice spoke, as a door opened. Your eyes widened, you hadn't noticed there was another person in on Agatha's sick ploy.

"Is this her?" The other, slightly shorter woman purred, twisting a knife in her hands.

Agatha pulled away from you, inching closer to the other body in the room. "Yes, my love. This is y/n Maximoff" Agatha smirked. Her hands gripped the other woman's waist, pulling the girl closer until their lips were merely inches away.

"We're going to have so much fun with this one" Rio mumbled, her arms wrapped around Agatha.

"Careful. I've had my eyes on her for a long time, I want to break her in first" Agatha warned possessively as her hands squeezed Rio's waist.

"Of course dear, what you want you always get" Rio smirked, pressing her lips against Agatha.

A soft squeak escaped your lips, you felt as if you were intruding. Your eyes fell to the floor, trying to find somewhere less awkward to look.

"Oh don't think we've forgot about you, pet" Agatha groaned into Rio's mouth, her eyes burning into you.

want more?

[call-sign-shark]

Aouch... The topic of honour killing made me wince but, once again, is really fitting for Nina. I swear I was scared along with her of seing her parents erupted from nowhere when she lef the bedroom.

To be fair, I feel so bad for Nina's guiltriping herself even though it's perfectly logical. Now that the sexual tension is ease, she must feel so bad for Agnese and also her whole family. "ot to mention that she wasn’t just ruining a marriage, but she was ruining the only chance they had at peace for her own selfishness." fuuuckk she's carrying so much on her shoulders. This is something I particularly liked about Nina: he isn't extra, she's the Mary Sue type, she has been through brutal down, but her pain and the importance of her "good behavior" to her family make her situation suffocating. Unbearable. What pains me is that she thinks of her family 24/7 while all of them are convinced she's just playing the stubborn brat.

"Her mother’s face twisted in a sour expression, and her knowing eyes pierced right through her. “Stefano.”" -> Gosh what a huge scare. I thought her mom had found out for Tommy.

“Listen to me, find a good man. Or your father will choose for you and you’ll never get out of here. You will be cursed, and if you have sons, they will be as well, just like your brothers.” -> Oh my god that part had me on the edge of my seat. I have grown very fond of Marry Ferrante. She's such a resiliant, sad but loving mother despite her harshness. The realationship you created between the two of them felt sincerely realistic -- a bit too much aha and i mean it as a compliment. I sincerely feel something in my heart at each of their discussion. Her declaration to Nina had me stop breathing. I'd never expect her to say such things. She meant to do well for her daughter but still failed to see the core of the problem: giving Nina against her consent to somene she doesn't want. Stripping her of her freedom and rights. That's a bit tragic to see that even with love there is still a wall between these two.

She would burn down the church and everybody in it, including herself. -> Yes queen, this is what I call FIERCENESS.

To keep us on edge,” he added, lowering his voice, the grin seeming to become less amused and vaguely threatening. -> I think Ive never told you that but the way you have fleshed Nina's family left my mouth gaped in admiration. You really did a great job with them, they feel so canon to me. Also I snorted really loud at work at Tommy's "also I fucked your daughter last night". Joke aside the whole conversation between Tom and the Ferrante men sent shivers down my spine. I don't know what's your magic trick but you really made them terrifying in this scene, just like predators circling around a prey.

I'm aching for Nina and Tommy. I cannot imagine how ba they felt, how awful it is to fight against their love. This line "“We made a mistake,” Nina finished his sentence for him, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I made a mistake.”" made me realize how ina is both strong and fragile at the same time. And surprisingly self-beating... His declaration, while beautiful, was like getting stab in the heart in this impossible situation. I understand perfectly why she feels like he makes it difficult.

Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t avert her gaze this time. “It’s all in your head.” -> aouch; can you stop hurting me? However it's tragicqally beautiful how you mirror her words with how she really feels.

ARGHHHHHH THIS ENDING I CANNNN'T. Seriously you're the queen of slow burn and I mean it. I am astonished by your skills, how you handle the pace of your story, the characterization... Just wow.

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 10

Summary: mistakes were made the previous night, and Tommy and Nina are forced to come to terms with what the consequences of their actions will be.

Warnings: time-typical misogyny, talks of arranged marriage, talks of forced marriage, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, angst, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s). This is set between season 1 and 2. English is not my first language.

Important information for context: the honour killing and the shotgun wedding at the time in Italy were recognised by the Penal Code and were only abolished in 1981.

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Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

It took Nina less than a minute to realise that she had woken up in a bed that wasn’t hers, in a room that wasn’t hers, beside someone she wasn’t supposed to be lying with. Memories from the previous night flooded back to her mind in a powerful wave. The passionate but gentle touches, the reassuring words, the adoring glances of that man that had bursted into her life to sweep her off her feet and make her question everything, all in the name of something more intense than anything she had ever felt.

Her eyes trailed over Tommy’s face, tracing the regular line of his jaw, the small scar under his chin, the outline of his slightly parted lips, the curve of his nose, mesmerised by the way his long lashes brushed his freckled cheeks. There was no hint of the stern, cold facade he put on every single day. He looked relaxed. Peaceful, even. Once again, she found herself drawn to that beauty, a beauty that seemed carved from marble by God himself.

Shit.

Careful not to wake him, she got up to collect the stained bedsheet she had tossed on the floor the previous night, wondering how she’d manage to wash it without arousing the suspicions of her mother. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door just enough to make sure no one was in the hallway, half-convinced that her mother or her father would appear from nowhere and find out the disgrace she had brought upon the family.

Just fucking do it, she scolded herself.

After one last moment of hesitation, she walked out the room, closing the door behind her ever so slowly before sprinting towards her bedroom. As soon as she was in the safety of those four walls, she breathed out a sigh full of frustration, nervously dropping the items she was holding to the floor.

What the fuck had she done?

Her gaze was caught by the bloodstain on the bedsheet, red, vibrant. She kicked it in a corner of the room, unable to think under the accusatory looks it seemed to send her. What would she do now? Pretend nothing had happened, again? She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. How was she supposed to act normal around him, now that they had truly crossed the line? How was she supposed to even look Agnese in the eyes? She had betrayed her. She had betrayed her whole family. Not only had she ruined herself, she had ruined herself with her cousin’s future husband. A future husband who hadn’t even proposed yet because of her. Not to mention that she wasn’t just ruining a marriage, but she was ruining the only chance they had at peace for her own selfishness.

The scariest thing was that wasn’t even the worst part. If the thing were to come out, she’d be irremediably deemed as a whore. It wasn’t her reputation she was worried about, it was the consequences her family would face. The consequences she would face. She had tarnished the Ferrante name, and only her blood could wash that stain away.

Normally the options were two: a shotgun wedding or an honour killing, but in her case the choice was even more limited. Because while her father might consider marrying her off to Tommy, uncle Mario would never accept the offence. And everyone in the family would vote against the alliance with the Shelbys. She knew her father and brothers would never actually kill her. They would get angry, maybe even beat her, lock her in the family home for the rest of her days, but never that. They would’ve learned to live with the shame. But she had uncles, and aunts, and cousins who would want to clean their name.

No, the truth couldn’t come out. What had happened the previous night must never get past the walls of Tommy’s room. Even if it meant losing him forever.

That morning, Maria Ferrante was rather surprised to find out her daughter had woken up feeling particularly cooperative and decided to wash and change everybody’s bedsheets of her own free will. She was now hanging them out in the sun, under her incredulous stare.

“Even your brothers’?”

“Yeah, for when they’re back.”

That was new. Nina had always stubbornly refused to even set foot in Salvatore’s and Pietro’s rooms, adamant that it was their responsibility to keep their stuff clean. Maria figured that, just like her, she didn’t like it when her father sent them away on business, and that her worry had taken the shape of rare gestures of fondness. Or maybe she was just keeping herself occupied, as she always did when something troubled her.

The first assumption wasn’t too far away from the truth. Sure, Nina had her own interests behind that sudden prodigality, but getting their rooms ready for their return made her feel like they would, with no doubt, come back. Like nothing would go wrong.

“That cake I found in the kitchen,” her mother inquired again, and Nina had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at her unrelenting interrogation. “Where did it come from?”

“I made it last night. Couldn’t sleep.”

A few seconds of silence followed, and it made her hope her mother was done with the questions. She had never been a good liar, not with the people who knew her well. Her face was an open book on which the truth stood out, black ink on pristine white paper.

“Nina,” Maria’s stern voice cut the air. “I know what’s going on.”

The blood froze in her veins. She thought she had been careful. She was sure no one had seen sneaking in or out Tommy’s room, all hell would’ve broken loose otherwise. There was no way she really knew. She swallowed, sending her a glance, completely unable to say anything.

Her mother’s face twisted in a sour expression, and her knowing eyes pierced right through her. “Stefano.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief. She secured a pillowcase on the line, able to breath again now that she knew her secret was still safe. However, that name alone was enough to deepen the frown on her face, the mere sound of it making her skin crawl.

“You’re worried cause your father wants to give you to him.”

Give you to him. That sentence made her wrinkle her nose. She had always disliked that expression. Give you to him as if you’re a possession to be handed from one owner to another. Give you to him as if you’re a bargaining chip. Give you to him because you belong to me and you’re mine to give.

“I wanted that too,” Maria continued. “I thought he was good, but now I see. These men,” she lowered her tone, as if to tell her something meant for no one’s ears but hers. “They’re all the same. They’re cursed.”

It would’ve been an understatement to say that her words had taken Nina aback. That woman so defined by her role as a wife and a mother had now a look, an anger in her eyes she had never witnessed, that clashed with the meek acceptance she wore on her face every day. “Do better. Marry someone good. Someone honest, with an honest work. Leave this life behind while you’re still in time. I didn’t have that choice,” she shook her head, her features hardening under the weight of a pain that had been suppressed for too long. “I was poor, my family was starving, and when your father came to speak to my father I couldn’t choose. Your father has been good to me, and I grew to love him. But he is who he is and does what he does, and it’s not something easy to live with.”

Nina opened her mouth to speak, but closed it right away. Nothing she could possibly say after that was even remotely worth saying. All of a sudden, she regretted all the times she had cruelly told her she’d rather kill herself than end up like her.

Her eyes widened when her mother grabbed one of her hands and held it between both of hers, her calloused fingers a reminder of the years she had spent working to bring money to her parents. Maria Ferrante never spared herself when it came to show affection to her sons, but with her it was different. Nina had always believed it depended on the fact that she was not the daughter she would have wanted, or on the countless fights they had, or even on some kind of resentment she didn’t know how to justify. But the naturalness with which she brought her hand to her cheek to tenderly caress it carried a motherly love that left her speechless, and almost made her feel uncomfortable.

“Listen to me, find a good man. Or your father will choose for you and you’ll never get out of here. You will be cursed, and if you have sons, they will be as well, just like your brothers.”

Nina took a step back, the rage that had been simmering inside her ever since she was little threatening to rise to the surface and spill out. As a child, she had often imagined that feeling she couldn’t name as a stream of lava that would rise and rise until there was no room for it to grow anymore and it would overflow, implacable, ruthless, destroying everything it found in its path. Even now that she was older, even now that she had learned to recognise her anger, it still felt the same.

“I have a friend from church, who has a son. He lives in Florence now, but he’s here for the summer. I can arrange something-”

“Mum…” she interrupted her, not even listening at that point. But her mother went on, talking fast, as if she no longer had control over what she was saying.

“I can arrange something, and you can leave this life behind. You can come visit, from time to time. On holidays.”

“No one ever leaves this life, you should know it,” she murmured, trying hard to keep her calm. It was clear her mother wasn’t thinking straight, in her desperate attempt to spare her from the same destiny as her. Unaware that she was accidentally pushing her in a very similar direction.

As though that simple statement had managed to bring her back to her senses, Maria blinked, her expression changing.

“I won’t drag anyone else into this mess. And sure as hell I won’t marry a man just to escape another,” Nina said firmly. She wasn’t going to let Spinietta influence her decisions more than she had already did. She wasn’t going to let the fear make her stray away from her morals, her beliefs. She wasn’t going to lose herself.

Back to her composed demeanour, her mother straightened her shoulders, her voice hardening. “You’ll end up marrying Stefano this way. You know it.”

She was aware her mother was implicitly telling her that her father had made up his mind, and that she wouldn’t be able to help her. Yet, she wasn’t scared. Because she’d fight tooth and nail against it. They could drag her to the altar, take the vows out of her mouth by force, it wouldn’t matter. She would raise hell before she let them succeed. She would burn down the church and everybody in it, including herself. She’d die before she surrendered to a life that wanted her bent, broken, obedient.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” she said through gritted teeth.

“But this is what it’s like. It’s time for you to accept it.”

Bad news was received that day. Antonio Ferrante had written from England, saying that two of Sabini’s men had been caught trying to blow up his restaurant. In the letter, he specified that after a civil conversation about the motives of that unjustified attack, the two had walked away in cement shoes. A coded way to say they had been interrogated and then sent sleeping at the bottom of some river.

It was the first open act of war, and the family was worried it wouldn’t be the last. The strength they had demonstrated by thwarting Sabini’s plan and killing his men would buy them some time, but it wouldn’t be enough in the long run. That was why Tommy found himself sitting in Vincenzo’s office, trying to maintain his imperturbable facade as the Italian stood behind his desk in all his height, with a grave expression on his face. Tommy felt like he was studying him, searching for a sign of weakness that he could use against him, that he could use to make him cave. He recognised that look, cause it was the same one he wore whenever he needed to assert his power.

“I called you, Mr Shelby,” Vincenzo started, turning to grab a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “To remind you of your end of the deal.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sitting straight in his chair. “I intend to propose-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Ferrante cut him off, brushing away the matter with a gesture of his hand. He took his time to pour the brown liquid in two glasses, before sliding one across the wooden surface in front of him and beckoning him to drink. Tommy gladly did as he said, the familiar taste of alcohol feeling necessary to face a conversation he wasn’t sure where would lead.

“You promised us men, in our war against Sabini.”

“And men you’ll have,” Tommy assured, switching to the tone he reserved for business. “As soon as I receive the compensation for the warehouse you blew up.”

That had been the result of strenuous negotiations, and to achieve it, not only had he given up on any kind of reparation for the two pubs under the Blinders’ protection the Italians had destroyed along with the warehouse, but he also had to offer some of his best soldiers. However, the war against Sabini was also in his interest, and the power and money he would gain were worth compromising.

With a single, satisfied nod, Vincenzo took a seat in his leather chair. “I am a man of my word, Mr Shelby. You’ll have your compensation,” he guaranteed, grabbing his whiskey. He swirled the drink in his glass, pondering his next words. “That being said, my brother has expressed his concerns to me…”

Here we fucking go.

“His concerns about your lack of a proposal.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, bringing the liquor to his mouth to stall as his brain formulated an answer. “I still have two days, haven’t I?”

The shadow of a grin grew on the Italian’s face. “And you intend to wait until the very last one,” he pointed at him. “To keep us on edge,” he added, lowering his voice, the grin seeming to become less amused and vaguely threatening. Tommy’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t falter, nor did he break his stare, for the faintest hint of vacillation would make him as exposed as a prey in front of a beast that could smell fear.

But then Ferrante cracked a smile, his tone lightening. “Or to enjoy what is left of your time as a free man before being handcuffed.”

Tommy let out a forced chuckle, tilting his head in agreement. For once, he couldn’t think of anything to say. What could he say? ‘Speaking of enjoying my time, I fucked your daughter yesterday night’? He would have his head right there and then.

He was in deep shit, and until he found a way to dig himself out, he needed to keep up the act. For himself, for Nina. He couldn’t make any decision without speaking to her first.

“I heard you’re a man of your word as well,” Vincenzo spoke again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “So I told him he has nothing to worry about. Don’t make me regret it.”

Although the last sentence held a clear warning, the Italian spoke calmly, as though he was asking him a favour, rather than admonishing him. He talked and acted like a man who didn’t need to make threats, who knew his word was law and no one would dare go against his wishes. Tommy knew that feeling all too well, he had gotten a taste of it during the past year, and it hadn’t taken long for him to get used to it, and to want more. But in that moment, in that place, he was on his own. Sure, his reputation preceded him, and it protected him to some extent, but he was outnumbered and at a disadvantage. So he had no choice but to comply. To take a step back in order to be a step ahead in the future.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Ferrante leaned back in his seat, more relaxed now that the important stuff had been cleared out. “Cause Agnese is the apple of his eye,” he added, taking a cigar out of the pocket of his jacket. “His only wish is to see her happy.”

Things were far more complicated than Tommy had anticipated, and despite all his efforts to come up with a plan that would cause the least damage, he couldn’t imagine one scenario in which things didn’t go wrong. He could only take risks.

“Ah, daughters have their own special way of giving you a headache,” Ferrante murmured, waving the cigar. “If you have one, you’ll understand. You may go now, Mr Shelby.”

Clearing his throat, Tommy left the office, his mind endlessly mulling over the matter. He had his hands tied, and that feeling alone was enough for him to fume. No, he wasn’t going to have his hand forced, and he wasn’t going to let anyone scare him into a decision.

A newfound determination made its way inside of him. He was Thomas Shelby, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t need to ask anyone for permission. He took whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He made the rules. He held the power. Those people needed him just as much as he needed them, if not more, otherwise he would be six feet under already. He wouldn’t make a choice that would suit everyone, he would make the choice that suited him. Him and the woman who was now carved in heart.

Because Nina would suffer the consequences of their actions as much as him, if not more. He had taken liberties with her, and although he had no regrets, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t have a responsibility toward her.

But it wasn’t just duty. He wasn’t going to make that choice because he felt guilty, or responsible, or because it was the right thing to do. He was going to make that choice because he thought they could make it work. He knew her, and she knew him. She had awakened feelings in him he thought would stay asleep for the rest of his days, she had made him believe that even he could have a chance at happiness. She didn’t look at him like he was a lost cause, or a devil, or broken beyond repair, she looked at him like there was something beautiful in him only her eyes saw. And if those eyes had found even a fragment of something worth saving, that meant that he wasn’t utterly unredeemable, that there was still an amount of good, no matter how small, that had survived the bad.

As soon as he walked into his room, he opened the drawer of his bedside table. The small velvet box was sitting there, next to the gun he had carefully kept hidden since his arrival. He knew what he had to do.

The weather had turned grey. The afternoon sun had been covered by dark clouds, and the air already smelled like rain. Nina had rushed out to take the laundry inside, hoping the storm that was approaching wouldn’t cause the efforts of a whole morning to go to waste. When she had finally come out of hiding - hiding was definitely the right word - she had quite literally ran into Tommy, almost knocking him over in the process, before scurrying away like a thief. And now there she was, still deeply embarrassed by her graceless flight, hurriedly putting the clean bedsheets in a basket.

She had been openly ignoring him all day. Or rather, avoiding him. She hadn’t shown up for breakfast, nor lunch, and she sought refuge in the closest room every time she heard him approaching. She wasn’t proud of that childish reaction, but she genuinely didn’t know how to act. The intensity of her feelings scared her. She was afraid that they would get in the way when the time to push him away came, that she’d yield to him again the moment her gaze met his.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

That deep voice made her hasty movements come to a stop. Her heart raced in her chest as she heard Tommy’s steps coming closer, until he was mere inches away from her.

“Here I am,” she mumbled, not sparing him a glance as she resumed folding the laundry in the basket.

“We need to talk.”

“Be quick, they can’t see us.”

Those words burned on her tongue as she spat them out. It hurt her to treat him like that, when what she actually wanted was to have him close to her again. But did she have any other choice? Indulging in those feelings had only caused trouble. She had to let him forget about her just like she needed to forget about him.

Tommy didn’t seem fazed by her hostility. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to turn around. The contact roused the memory of his warm fingers trailing over her skin, and a shiver ran down her spine. His eyes searched her face, and there was a tenderness in them, a fondness that left her completely disarmed.

A lightning split the sky, followed by a crack of thunder, and the first drops of rain began to fall, bringing Nina back to reality.

“There’s not much to talk about,” she blurted out, abruptly taking a step back. “What happened yesterday can’t happen again.”

Tommy’s eyebrows knitted as she hastened to collect the rest of the laundry. He reached out to her, but she swiftly escaped his grasp, taking another sheet off the line. “Nina…” he tried again, but the more he got close, the more she slipped away from him. He rubbed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His patience was wearing thin at that point. He clenched his jaw, willing to make one last attempt to get her attention nicely. “Nina.”

Still nothing.

Fed up with that behaviour, he testily collected the rest of the laundry himself and threw it in a mess in the basket under her astonished stare. “Will you listen to me now?”

Surprisingly, there was no anger in his expression, nor annoyance, but there was still a hint of sternness that made her eventually give in. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak.

Tommy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Nina’s piercing gaze feeling like a knife cutting through him, unraveling and exposing the deepest parts of him. “What happened last night…” he trailed off, realising there were so many things he wanted to tell her that he didn’t even know where to start. “I overstepped, we-”

“We made a mistake,” Nina finished his sentence for him, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I made a mistake.”

She shouldn’t have opened up to him. She shouldn’t have gone to his room. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have led him on when she knew nothing could ever happen between them. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away, she didn’t want to let him see how much she was hurting herself as well, for she could sense that if he got even a glimpse of her real feelings for him, he wouldn’t give up. A futile attempt.

Tommy’s gaze softened at the sight. “Hey,” he whispered, delicately squeezing her arm. “Look at me.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t bear that look full of affection. It almost caused her to break down. The drizzle was intensifying, and she could only hope that if her tears betrayed her, he’d mistook them for raindrops.

He grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to look at him. “We can make it right,” he said reassuringly.

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, a nervousness equivalent to the one he had felt the previous night awakening in him. His hands started to shake, his heart to hammer in his chest. That was a point of no return which would either seal or break the bond that had formed so naturally between them. A bond he dreaded to lose. A bond he’d never have with anyone else.

Nina’s eyes widened as he took a velvet box out of his pocket, the realisation of what he was about to do crashing down on her.

“No,” she quickly took his hands in hers, keeping him from opening the box. “No,” she repeated, more softly.

“I know it’s a jump in the void,” he said, his hand going to cradle the nape of her neck. “I know. But we can make it work. You and me.”

“Tommy…” she shook her head. He was making it so difficult.

“I want you by my side. I don’t want a wife, I want a partner. Nina, I…” he paused, words getting caught in his throat. “I care about you.”

She squeezed her eyelids shut, pain spreading through her whole being at his revelation. She wanted to bring him close, to feel the warmth of his body against hers, to let herself be enveloped by the sense of safety his strong arms brought. Instead, she forced herself to pull his hand away from her, her fingers briefly tightening around it before letting it go.

“I don’t.”

Tommy looked at her as if she had just stabbed him. Hurt flashed across his face, causing a pang of guilt to hit her in the stomach. God, she felt like she could throw up.

“You’re lying,” he accused her in a hoarse voice.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“Stop it.”

Why couldn’t he just leave? Why was he forcing her to inflict all that pain on him? Tommy was the last person she ever wanted to hurt, and in doing so she was hurting herself twice. By being the cause of his sorrow and by giving him up.

His body stiffened, and the heartbreak in his features disappeared to leave space for the coldness he constantly shielded himself with. “Say it. Say you feel nothing for me.” It sounded like an order, but Nina didn’t miss the crack in his voice. “Say it’s all in my head.”

Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t avert her gaze this time. “It’s all in your head.”

She felt empty. That one last lie had taken all the energy out of her, and left her with a feeling of numbness that made her lose all sense of herself.

Tommy nodded to himself, taking a step back. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. “You’re right. This was a mistake.”

With another clap of thunder, the sky broke open and the rain came pouring down. Nina rubbed her own arms in a soothing motion, watching as the lightning spread in the distance, drawing lines of light that flared and vanished into the grey above.

“You should go, Mr Shelby,” she murmured.

A muscle twitched in Tommy’s jaw, and for an instant he looked on the verge of saying something. Then he stormed off.

Nina let out a shaky breath, and the tears she had held back suddenly began to stream down her face. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob, the ache in her chest threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She shut her eyes tight, unable to watch his frame getting smaller and smaller as he walked away from her.

When she brought herself to look in his direction again, he was knocking on Agnese’s door.

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer

General tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[gqueerb]

I will never forgive Lestat and Armand for the part they played in Claudia and Madeleine's death but the fact that Armand gets more hate for what happen to Claudia than Lestat in the fandom is insane to me and I LIKE Lestats dramatic sassy ass dont get me wrong, Im hyped when he shows up in a scene. But especially with how he kept framing Louis (whos not inocent no but has been manipulated by Lestat since he was a human and abused by him as a vampire) through all this as the problem for wanting to leave and forcing him to loneliness 🙄 and cruel for giving him the silent treatment after he dropped him from the fckn sky and not wanting to fuck lestat after Claudia left which is why he had to turn to Antoinette's bony flat ass like he hadnt already been hitting that since from way back when .. like what?

and dont even get me started on claudias turning scene and how this doesnt change anything, the fact that louis didnt fully process the extent of what Lestat was telling him while being traumatized and desperate to save her life as his form of "penance" and someone to possibly be his family which is so unfair to claudia and one of the ways in which Louis is not inocent either but doesnt in any fckn way make lestat a victim and Louis the bad guy in their dynamic (once again not that Louis is a inocent - he isnt - or anything but cmon)

All I'm saying is if youre gonna hate on Armand with such a passion be sure to do the same with the white vampire (especially since ppl treat the fact that a 500y vampire wasnt ready to sacrifice his coven of 200y for a guy he'd been fuckn for a while and repeatly told to get the fck out of Paris since he met him bc it wasnt safe and was clearly using him as a rebound is crazy - again from claudia and louis perspective he is and will always be a manipulative bitch that I WILL NEVER FORGIVE FOR HIS PART in Claudias death but from his perspective...like I don't like it and there was a better way to handle it, i hate it in fact but I do get it)

Like hate on Armand for this and that fine just then keep the same energy with Lestat ppl its all im saying.

(and again I like Lestats cunty sassy ass)

bc if we're really honest and unbiased yh Lestat saved Louis but you know who he didnt save CLAUDIA he didnt even attempt to physically get her away from stage, fight for her nothing!!!

and he knew that Claudia dying would kill a part of Louis he would never get back

Idc what Anne Rice herself comes to me as a ghost and says "he would have if he could but he really couldn't save her "or anyone invoveld in the show for that matter bc what was actually SHOWN to us throughout the ENTIRE series is that his focus has always been on Louis (it was never about you/it was never you/I made you for louis) and at the end of s1 he was fully prepared to replace Claudia with Antoinette.

We all know that if he by any chance needed to make another attempt to save Louis bc the first one wasn't enough he would have! even if he had to fight a whole ass coven we all know he wouldve at least tried for Louis and he DID NOT lift a fckn finger for Claudia!!

Just bc Armand sucks doenst change the fact that Lestat also sucks is my point I guess.

(which is why I'm baffled at why Louis thought Lestat was worthy of any damn apology or thank you - like yh you saved me but you didnt even try to save our daughter and you were part of the reason I needed saving in the first place sooooo wtf do I owe you anyhting - the acting in that scene much like the acting in the entire series was amazing tho ngl!!)

Keep the same energy or just be honest about the fact that you're bias when it comes to Lestat which if you are thats fine, I can even respect that as long as you're honest and don't try to pass your biasis as a valid argument.

Bottom line Claudia DESERVED BETTER and I'm kind of side eyeing the hatred towards Armand the same way i did the opinions that were going around about his casting just bc he wasn't a white ginger (like what?! 😒) like the way some (not all) of yall talk about it is rlly weird and suspicious ngl

Claudia (+Madeleine) and Daniel are my favorite characters

Everyone else needs therapy, either that or be bathed in holy water or smth

[pinkiebieberpie]

YESSS THE PEOPLE WANT FARMER BUCKY !!!!

OH MY MY MY ઇઉ

(singledad!farmer!bucky x f!reader)

i'm happy to give the people what they want <33 i'm not much of a writer and it's more of a longer blurb/a few scenerios put in one longer post, but if you want to you can check my fic masterlist // inspired by this moodboard, enjoy!! reblogs and feedback is appreciated <33 (and yes the title is taylor swift coded, if you know you know.) ++ @bstorn wanted to be tagged.

words: 1.5k

warnings: death (mentioned), age gap (reader is in her mid 20s, bucky is in his early 40s), mention of drinking, mention of hair pulling, smut, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, outside sex (fuck being quiet, they are sleeping), unprotected sex, cockwarming and creampie (but also not really??? but it is here???)

life is messy. y/n's was actually very messy that's why she decided to move, leave her old life behind and change everything. how did she end up in a small town in the middle of texas? nobody knows, but she was there alone.

the first month was the hardest, she found a new job in a bakery, made a friend - her coworker, jessie but there was not really much to do, calm town, everyone knew each other, basically no privacy. after that first month y/n met bucky, a single father of two, a farmer and big enthusiast of chocolate cookies they were selling at the bakery. was he flirty? maybe. was he friendly? 100%.

it all started innocent.

"hi, i'm bucky, you new in town?"

"how do you like it here?"

"if you need any help feel free to reach out."

and y/n in fact did reach out, cause she needed help when her apartmet flooded. it was out of the blue the next day when bucky came to the bakery, but he was more than happy to help. that day y/n and bucky get to know each other a little bit more. she found out he has two daughters, annie (4 years old) and bea (6 years old), he owns one of the biggest farms in town and it's in his family since... forever, really. she was sure he is married, he was wearing a wedding ring, but that was just a habit - his wife died two years ago in an accident. the conversation was smooth, it was clear that the chemistry was there, but nobody made a move.

"all should be fine now." was what bucky said when he finished fixing y/n's plumbing problem. was she starring at him a bit when he was fixing her sink? yes.

"thank you, really, i had no idea what to do and i don't know that many people here... so i kind of had to ask my friendly neighbourhood customer for help." she chuckled and licked her lip a little bit.

"oh, it's nothing, actually i have a favor to ask, myself... it's okay if you feel like this is too much, but i have to help my friend out of town on the weekend, he has some problems with his animals and i can't leave girls alone, could you babysit? i can pay!"

"what? babysit? i- i never did that, but if your daughters are even half as kind as you, i bet they are angels, so yeah, i can do that, i'm not working over the weekend, you don't have to worry. and you don't have to pay me, it's favor for a favor."

was it a bit weird and a bit fast? for some people maybe, but both of them really felt like they could've trust each other. and that's how y/n became a babysitter for annie and bea. the girls were little angels, that was true. it became a thing that y/n was coming over to play with them and watch them, when bucky was working or when he was busy with whatever he needed to do. girls adored her. she baked cookies with them, they played outside together, she loved reading books with annie and bea and they loved to listen to them.

one night bucky came home really late, the girls were sleeping and y/n fell asleep on the couch too. closing the door woke her up and looked at bucky all sleepy.

"huh? you are home? i better pack my thin-"

"are you crazy? it's 3am, you are staying here, i will drive you home in the morning." he said it with a tone that left no place for arguing. she was a bit turned on by his voice, but no way she would ever tell bucky that. they were friends. only friends, with a weird chemistry, but still friends... but are you really friends when it's 3am and you are sitting on a couch with a man so much older, talking about life, drinking and being really and i mean really comfortable with each other?

that night went peaceful and quietly, in the morning bucky made breakfast for all three of the girls and when his kids were ready all four of them left his farm. first bucky and y/n dropped annie and bea at their preschool and then they made their way to y/n's house.

"you know, they adore you." bucky said while he way driving. y/n felt her cheeks getting a bit more pinkish. and she had no idea why, it was a compliment from his daughters, kind of, not from him. but at this point she knew she was falling for this man and there was nothing she could do about it.

✧✧✧

a few months passed and everything was going great for both bucky and y/n. they were meeting almost every weekend and more than one time during the work week. one day bucky invided her to a picnic at his farm, but... it was only two of them. the girls visited their grandma, and the truth was bucky wanted to spend some time alone with his... friend? his who? that was maybe a little bit more complicated than he wanted it to be. farmer was thinking about her all the time and he was ready to make things official. he wasn't in a relationship since his wife passed and that was over two years ago! he deserved to be happy.

when bucky asked y/n to be his girlfriend she was speachless, cause of course she wanted it, she wanted it bad. she wanted him bad, to be honest. soon she found out bucky wasn't always that sweet and caring man everyone thought he was. he was a very typical girl dad, he was making breakfast for his kids every morning, doing their hair, but he was also that type of man to pull your hair very hard when you were alone. and y/n loved it. every second of it.

their relationship was perfect, y/n loved waking up next to him almost every morning, she moved in really quickly. it wasn't even strange for the girl, they accepted it, after all annie and bea loved having y/n around.

one night y/n and bucky put the girls to bed earlier, because they planned a dinner. bucky cooked and prepared everything and all y/n had to do was to just look pretty when everything was ready.

"god, angel, you look stunning." was what bucky said when he saw y/n in her short, black dress. they ate their dinner, had some red wine and since it was warm summer they left home to sit outside. the moon looked marvelous and y/n looked even more beautiful in it's light.

it didn't took much for bucky to start kissing her. first her lips, then her neck, her exposed cleavage. y/n started breathing faster and then he dropped on his knees and rolled her dress up. first he was kissing y/n's thighs, then his lips were on her already wet panties. her noises were getting louder, then bucky took off her underwear. his lips were soft at first, teasing her, but when she buckled up her hips to him that was a sign he had no idea he was waiting for. bucky's tounge was making her more and more wet and she was only getting louder. her hands ended up in his long hair, pulling them hard when he added fingers to his ministrations.

"c'mon sweetie, you are making really cute noises, but you can be louder than that... girls are sleeping inside you can be as loud as you can." he hummed, his lips still so close to your aching pussy. it was hard being quiet with this man, he was making y/n feel like she was floating with his fingers and tounge alone. after her first orgasm they moved to their bedroom. they ended up naked a second after the door closed behind them. lips and hands were everywhere. their bodies so close, lots of moans and gasps. it was a perfect mix between soft love making and rough fucking and it made y/n lost her mind. at some point bucky covered her mouth.

"shh... we are not outside anymore, girls are sleeping next door, you have to be quiet now, doll." he whispered into her ear as he bit it. he was moving inside her with a steady rythm. her hands were on his back, nails in his skin leaving marks, it wasn't long before y/n finished again. when bucky wanted to move she wrapped her legs around him.

"no, please, i want to feel you..." she purred in the croock of his neck. he hapilly obliged. and that's how they both fell asleep. bodies tangled together, their breaths steady and calm and the whole life ahead of them. maybe with more than just two kids in the future...

[beef-brisket]

Adam growled: How fucking dare you...

Samael: Adam.

Everyone was silent as Adam looked over to Samael.

Samael: Don't put up a fuss. Be reasonable and face your punishment. You knew this was a possibility, just like the last time you got called up to Heaven.

Last time? When was the last time? Lucifer has so many questions, specifically, why does he have to go?!

Adam: ...Fine.

Sera: Very good. We'll meet here at 3pm. Sharp.

All Adam did was glare at Sera. Instead of waiting for a response, Michael slammed his fist on the table.

Michael: Do not stare her down, Adam, it won't end well foe you.

Adam: Fuck off, Michael. She had something in her teeth~.

Sera sighed: 3pm, Adam. You better be here on time.

With that, the angels disappeared on a flash of white light, making Lucifer wince.

Samael: Smooth. Now, care to explain why you keep fuckimg around on earth instead of populating your Ring?

Adam: So a gal likes to have fun, Sue me.

Samael: Oh, I think that's what Heaven wants to do. But seriously, Adam. You're going to get us all into trouble. And I won't stand for it.

Adam scoffed: Look at you acting like a king all of a sudden. What changed~?

Samael: Not that it's any concern of yours, but I have a new special somebody-.

Adam: Oh! Of course, a good pussy will make even the most stubborn man work.

Samael glared: Adam.

Adam: Sorry, a good dick, then.

Samael: Just... piss off.

Adam: Yes, sir~.

-

The next day, it broke Lucifer to leave his little daughter- both daughters with Sabbath. Again. But he didn't want to annoy Heaven any more than necessary.

Standing outside the meeting door, Lucifer glanced at Adam. He looked beyond pissed off.

Lucifer: ...What's going to happen, my king...?

Adam sighed: Don't know, Lu... I don't know...

I am CRAVING some demon nun!Adam right now!

Help me, Things! 😫😫😫

Okay, I can help you.

*Cracks knuckles*

What about Demon Nun Adam x Human Priest Lucifer. Like maybe he's losing his faith a bit but is sticking with it for his father.

And Adam is the new "nun"

[monsterlimbs]

Okay third "sympathetic big bad" from bg3 post for Ketheric because he is the one guy that I think most can sympathize with, and he's truly the easiest to sympathize with.

Some horrible day, your beautiful Melodia, your darling wife, dies, protecting your daughter. You grieve horribly, but you keep going for your children. Everything for them.

Your daughter brings home a fucking IMMORTAL Aasimar, child of a god and declares her as her lover. A child or your god, yes, who you've known so far to be good, sure, BUT STILL A CHILD OF A GOD. It almost makes it worse that the Aasimar is a child of your god, considering you raised your daughter, per your wife's wishes, to trust Selûne, and you're worried that this Aasimar may use this to her advantage. And they're so in love yes, but that's such a scary power dynamic for you- what if Aylin asks your daughter to do something she's not ready for? How OLD is that Aasimar? And how could you live with yourself if your daughter was put into an unsafe situation, simply because you didn't put your foot down? So, you do, and your daughter's angry. Of course she's angry, you're telling her that her and her girlfriend can't be together, but she has to come around eventually, she has to understand what a horrible power dynamic that is.

And worse, worse than when your wife died, you're told your daughter, precious, sweet, innocent Isobel, is dead (who I believe was killed by Halsin in self defense with the Sorrow glaive, even though that content has since been cut from the game but y'know! so essentially, his daughter, in his mind, was killed by a damn druid, the guys who were supposed to be PEACEFUL). You spiral, of course you do, your precious baby is dead, how could you not? And when your god, Selûne, damned mother of that damned Aasimar, ignores your prayers to have your baby back, you turn to her sister, Shar. And Shar, for a moment, helps relieve your loss. In return for killing Selûnites, the same wretched folk that turned against you in your grieving, she rewards you, turns you immortal by letting you imprison that Aasimar that took a liking to your daughter. You're more than pleased to do so, to lock what you believe is a predatory Selûnite up. Shar helps soften your loss.

And then she lets you die to Harpers of all people, and uses you as a way to release the Shadow Curse.

You're revived (I like to believe by Balthazar), and shown the way of Myrkul's path, and HE, is the one to bring your baby back, a century after her fall. You're happily indebted to him, to have your child alive again, anything and more for your baby.

....But she's mad at you. She won't talk to you. She looks at you like you're a monster. She's STILL upset over you forbeying her and Aylin's love, and even more now that she knows you've been using her as a means for immortality. She doesn't get how much you did for her, even while she was gone. You've practically forgotten about all else besides her, and it hurts so bad knowing your baby is not only angry at you, but thinks of you as a MONSTER. You know she'll come around, though. ...And she's now running from you and hiding in the Last Light Inn.

Eventually, you send a Fist to get her and bring her back, and either, your daughter has been killed AGAIN by some random wretched folk- oh gods it's not random is it? That's Durge. OR, she survives and is brought back to you, OR she survives and is even angrier at you now. She doesn't see how much shit you've waded through, just for her. She only sees a man who's "gone too far". She doesn't even know how far you'd go, to keep her safe. Everything and more, just to keep her safe.

Whether she's with you or not, one day you wake to a suddenly... off feeling. ....Fuck, why do you feel so odd? FUCK, your immortality's gone, you can feel it. Your wounds don't close, you're vulnerable. And it's all the problem of, either, the folk that kept your daughter from being returned to you, or the folk who killed her and sent her back.

And once, Ketheric truly was redeemable. But now, he gets SO, SO, SO close and then Aylin's like "nah he'd NEVER surrender, isn't that right, you worm?" and he gets up and is like "oh fuck you" and every chance is gone. Then you see him again, and he's already decided, he WON'T grovel again. He's gone too far, he sees it now. Sweet, precious Isobel was right. There's no coming back from this. And if you try to convince him he's worthy of redemption, he selflessly gives up and his god ixnays his retreat. And otherwise, he may go down yes.... But if he's going down, so are you.

And then he dies. He dies knowing he's given up everything for his daughter, cursed an entire land, caused Hell for everyone, and that his daughter, sweet Isobel, doesn't even think he's her father anymore. In her eyes, he's so far gone that he's not even the same man.

[bixels]

The more I think about it, the more I question Arcane S2's politics and themes, which were so foundational to S1. Like, a tiny example [SPOILERS AHEAD]:

Singed wins. He gets exactly what he wants in the end. All his "efforts" are rewarded. What does that say about people who share his ideology of eugenics? He is the source of nearly every horrible thing and conflict that happened (Shimmer, the factory deaths, Jinx, Vander as Warwick, the corruption of Viktor), and he gets a happier ending than any other character. Not even a 'he got what he wanted but he has become completely unrecognizable/monstrous to his daughter' tag at the end. You can say they're setting him up and need to open his daughter to future shows, but the way you end a character's story says something about what you think about that character. What does it say when the eugenicist war criminal gets the happy ending he doesn't deserve?

[tomurakii]

Seeing Silco and Vander together in the AU lowkey feels like watching your based nonbinary best friend get back with their shitty ex boyfriend who misgenders them. Girl he's a centrist and he tried to drown you stfu about "forgiveness"

[milla-frenchy]

I didn't expect to get hit in the face by the first sentence but here we are (and I'm here for it anyway😌)

“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 

omg oh no. Don't touch her you fuck

You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 

shit. shit

He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 

(I'm so fn nervous Toni, hold my hand 😭😭😭)

You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.

I hate him. I fn hate him so fn much. I'm gonna be so fn GLAD when Joel's gonna rip him in two

Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast.  There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 

jfc YES!!!!

He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 

Damn I wanna cry. I was so scared for her, I'm so relieved Joel's here, but seeing that he tries to heal her and then realizes that the wound is inside is so hard to read 😥

He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.

I hate what that guy did to her. I hate it so much

“My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious.  “My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 

Oh wow... Oh, Joel... 🫂

You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 

This is so beautiful

“Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening.  “Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent.

Damn I love them so much

Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell.

I don't have the reference 🥲 Which song is it?

What a chapter Toni!!! The emotions, omg. This series is so so good 🖤🖤🖤

of rage and ruin - chapter nine

chapter nine

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: things take a turn for the worse.

Please read the warnings as some new important ones have been added. NOTE: this is the last time that the SA tag will be used in this story. However, the events of this chapter are important. If you decide to skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I’ll fill you in. Or message if you want specifics about the tags to decide if you want to read it.

chapter warnings: non-con, dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, sexual assault (NOT by joel, NOT described, just implied and alluded to), p in v, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You were wrong about Mike. About his lack of retaliation.

You were so, so wrong. 

That much is clear when you wake up.

The first sign that things aren’t quite right is that you never did get around to going to sleep last night. 

The second is that you may be buried, or something. You can’t quite move your limbs beyond wiggling your fingers and toes. And you can’t see shit. 

The third sign is that you can’t smell Joel. Not beyond what’s soaked into your skin and sweater. No, he’s very much not here. Or anywhere nearby, if the rapidly tightening feeling in your chest is any indication. 

It’s panic you can’t shake off, you know, since you can’t fucking move. 

The fluorescent overhead buzzes to life. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” The voice blows in from across the room and sinks in your gut like it’s sleeping with the fishes. 

You really, truly are in some deep shit. 

You’ve been kidnapped from your kidnappers. Honestly, what did you do in a past life to deserve this? 

He’s right about one thing. The confidence you clung to in the early days has been picked at like carrion. You’re scared. 

“I didn’t–I’m–” but something is wrong, so very, very wrong. You’re bubbling out gibberish and spit. It’s just sounds, dribbling from sloppy lips. 

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It ain’t gonna wear off for a while, so best just sit quietly like a good bitch.”

You’re not sure if it's the panic or whatever he’s drugged you with, but your throat is cinched, and your cheeks sting from the uncontrollable stream of tears. 

“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 

Shit. They were actual brothers. Not that it mattered; what was done was done, but you had really miscalculated this. 

His hand is on your shoulder. It’s better than where you thought he was reaching, and yet, still horrible. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with handsy or aggressive men. It’s just… usually, you can move. Fight. Run. 

His hand is nothing like Joel’s. His fingers are short, his nails broken and edged with grime. There are scars and dry skin, like Joel, but it’s nothing like his rough grip. There’s no nick above the webbing of his thumb, no calluses on the plump pads of his fingers to remind you that you’re alive. 

Mike brushes his thumb over Joel’s bite, the thin newborn skin taut and jagged. You make a sound. You don’t hear it, not with the way your heart is beating in your eardrums, not the way every note scrapes your throat, but you grate out a sound that might have been a hiss. 

Or a growl.

His hand connects with your cheek, which does not help the dizziness stuffed between your ears.

 

You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 

He must know he’s on a dwindling timetable. Inevitably, by dawn, the others will return to the base with Joel in tow. Inevitably, by dawn, they’ll know. 

As if he can tell you’ve dug up a fragment of hope, he leers, taking a swig from a bottle of dirty brown liquor. “You think Jim’s gonna waste resources on finding you?” he murmurs, grimy fingers stroking your cheek. 

And just like that, with a sharp breath, you lose that hope. Because he’s right, he’s undeniably right. Jim never misses a chance to bitch about the drain you are. They don’t need you, not really. Neither does Joel, not really. 

It’s easy, after the hours that have passed, to give in to the overwhelming dread. His hand wanders as it settles in, and you twitch away from his touch.

“Guess it’s wearin’ off,” Mike muses, taking another drink. “Can’t have you puttin’ up a fight now.” His bottle clinks against the file cabinet he sets it upon as he squats to dig through a duffel bag. 

There’s nothing you can do when he ties you down. There’s nothing you can do as he grips your cheeks hard, his thumb digging into your jaw until your mouth opens. You try not to swallow the liquor he pours in, only to aspirate it instead, wheezing and sputtering to little effect. 

“Jesus. Can’t even handle a little booze,” he sneers. “Too bad. Can’t have you gettin’ too feisty, huh?” He forces more down your throat, and it burns. 

He keeps squeezing your face, peering down at your mouth. “Reckon I should teach you a lesson about biting,” he said, tapping the bottle lightly against your front teeth. A whimper of fear slips free, and he grins crookedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t like that, huh? My brother didn’t much like gettin’ bit, either.” 

He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 

You can feel your body twitch, trying its very hardest. The lingering drugs and booze make your head spin and throb. Mike faded in and out of view, but made his presence very clear as he pried your jaw back open. 

He tapped each tooth with the pliers, hemming and hawing about where to start. Garbled sounds are all the protest you can muster, trying to shake your head loose of his grasp as he selects an incisor. 

The first two attempts fail, the pliers slipping free, battering you in the process. The third try, though, clamps on just right. He clumsily tugs, to no avail, before wiggling and twisting the tooth. Reluctantly, your body parts ways with it as he increases the force, plucking the loosened tooth from the gum. 

You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.

—

It’s not the fight that wakes you. Not the gunshots, not the snarling. Everything has died down by the time you come around.

Well, not everything. Based on the sounds, you’d hazard a guess that Mike is still at least a little alive. When you look up, you’re thrilled to find out you can, that the paralysis has waned. 

Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell. 

For a moment, Joel meets your eyes, and you are the wolf, nearly. You can feel the way it burns through your veins. 

Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast. 

There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 

The Wolf that is Joel, that is your alpha, that is your savior, stands on his hind legs with those unsettling inverse ankle-knee-freaky bits bent. But even crouching, he fills the room. He’s a blur, like the first time you saw him, an ink blot in the center of your vision. A wormhole absorbing all the light. What little is left reflects off his shiny body. It takes you a moment to realize his fur (or his body hair, as he insists) is soaked in blood. 

It clings to the plaque on his teeth. His hands are steeped in it, some already hardening or coagulating under the stretch of his claws. He stalks over to you, and you do not flinch from him. His claws rend the rope as if it were no more than spaghetti. You tremble uncontrollably as he helps you sit up, most of your faculties back under your control. His blood-soaked, massive paws cradle your cheeks, pulling back abruptly when you whimper. 

A growl rumbles from his chest, and he throws his head back and howls. It brings footsteps in your direction as he gathers you into his arms. You’ve never felt smaller than you do now, and it’s not just the bulk and heft of his body. He cradles you with a delicacy unbefitting his sharp, deadly nature, but it’s all the more Joel to you than the brutality you witnessed. 

The raiders filter in, just a few of them, more to control him than assist, but they reclaim Mike’s stolen supplies and pay you no mind. At least until Cheryl comes in. 

“Alive after all, huh?” she says, approaching far closer than you think she should dare. But she wiggles the remote to the shock collar as she nears, peering at you. “Still want her, pet?” she asks Joel. “She’s all used up.”

He bares his teeth and snarls, and she shrugs. “It was just an option,” she says, hand dropping from the pistol on her belt. 

You feel sick from the second brush with death in as many hours. Or maybe it’s from the bootleg booze and blood that’s been dripping down your throat. 

He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 

No. Not home. You can’t let yourself accept that. But it’s been almost a year, now. Almost a year since they plucked you from that FEDRA truck and brought you to hell. 

It’s not the cell that’s home, though. It’s him. 

—

You look up at the wolf once you’re locked in, the relief of your familiar prison bubbling up like bile. The others go back to their day, the incident no more than a blip of inconvenience. Silence lingers, both of you waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the heavy thunk of the cellar’s deadbolt. 

As soon as it sounds, you break.

“You found me,” you gasp, trailing into a whimper. “You found me, you found me.” Your voice is grating, leaking from your cracked and dry throat. It hurts to talk, your jaw throbs, and you struggle around the swelling, but you can’t stem the leak.

He grips your biceps with both paws, and rolls back the shift enough to speak. “I found you,” he says firmly, letting you feel his sturdy hold on you, keeping you there and present. “I’ve got you. Okay?”

You don’t respond, still shaking and swaying a little on the spot. “You found me,” you echo, raw and dredged up from the hollow of your lungs. 

“Hey,” he growls without aggression. “ Listen to me. ” He doesn’t mean to do it. His voice drops a register, an even lower rumble than usual, and your attention snaps up to him. 

He winces. There’ll be time to apologize later, though. “I’ve got you,” he repeats steadily. “Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you echo in a whisper. 

“I will always find you,” he promises, eyes gone dark. “Always, little omega. You’re mine, and there’s nowhere on this godforsaken earth that they can hide you from me.” 

In any other context, it would frighten you. It should, by all means, frighten you a little. Instead, you kiss him.

It’s a mistake that sends you pulling back, gasping in pain, and all the ferocity on his face falls.

“Let me see,” he coaxes gently, cradling your jaw. He’s careful as he presses your lip to the side to get a good look. “ Jesus, ” he whispers.

You can see the guilt building up, layers upon layers from all his life. You won’t let this, won’t let you be another. “Joel—”

But he’s not having it. He bristles and narrows his eyes at you. “Would you stop tryin’ to run your mouth? You’re making it bleed.” His eyes dart over your face, stopping back on your missing tooth each time before sighing, shoulders slumping. 

“C’mon,” he grumbles, leaving no room for argument by simply picking you up and carrying you over to the bed. He settles with you straddling his lap, wincing. He looks down for only a moment. “I’ll take care of that next. Sit still ‘n be good.” 

It turns out not to be a hard order to follow. He sets about to lick your wounds, starting with your mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to turn into anything, he really doesn’t, but he’s licking inside your mouth. As his spit mixes with yours, as he laves his tongue oh-so-gently over and over, the familiar tingling starts to set in. It numbs the pain, not entirely, but the relief is enough to make you sigh softly against his mouth.

He can’t entirely be blamed as it turns into lazy kisses, tongues brushing comfort over one another, each press of lips like a mantra. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re not sure who’s reassuring who. 

It’s not going to fix it. There’s not a magical makeout session that can restore your tooth or even heal the socket. Not that quickly, anyway. But it eases the pain, and so does the way his warm hands hold you like you’re something precious. The way he groans into the kiss, the way he can’t stop reaching for every bit of you, checking meticulously to make sure nothing else was taken from you. 

He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.

He settles you down on the mattress, settles himself into the wolf, and he licks every inch of you. His long, hot tongue is just rough enough to make you feel clean. There’s no way even a cell of Mike’s skin is left behind on yours. Joel eats it all up like he did the man himself. It leaves your whole body tingling, your heart pounding in your ears, your cunt gushing by the time he sheaths himself in you. 

There’s no room left for anyone else. There’s no room for anything but you and Joel in the darkness. 

It’s too late before either of you realize he’s triggered his own rut. Your body responds beautifully, burning under his touch, following your alpha into blissful oblivion. He fusses relentlessly, worried despite his own distress and desire, not wanting you to feel trapped or forced. Not again. Never again. 

It’s a promise neither of you are sure he can keep, but both know he’ll die trying. 

It isn’t as long as your first heat, but it’s all the more intense. Your little room fills with sweat, pants and groans replacing any need for words. And it’s exactly what you need—no thoughts, no memories, no dealing with what you’ve suffered. Just Joel, just… love? No, that can’t be right. Just lust. 

His cock is insistent, pressing into you, filling the gaps he’d left behind. He doesn’t bother turning back to the man, doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s anything but a mindless creature right now. And still, he’s so gentle. More gentle than he’s ever been. 

You didn’t have time to build a nest, but that’s okay. He doesn’t ever move from his place over your body, cocooning you, blocking everything else from sight. There’s just Joel. You’re warm and cozy and safe. 

You almost forget that you’re locked up at all. He keeps you on such a high with his deft fingers, mouth, and cock that you can’t even fathom a time when he might have to part from you. The lock of your cunt around his knot is your echo of his promise. Never again. 

—

“How much of this is even real?” you whisper in the fading light of your heat. Your hand is lazily raised, blocking out the fluorescents, but he catches it with his own, his thick fingers making room for themselves between yours. Locking you together in another way, keeping you close. 

“Couldn’t tell ya,” he says quietly, gruff voice even coarser in the way he holds back, keeping it soft in your ear. “Probably nothin’. But it’s there anyway.”

He was sure as shit right about that. This burning in your chest, the way your heart picked up as he wove your fingers together and tugged your hands down, using both your arms to hold you to his chest, your unified fist in the center. It’s not real, not really. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. There’s nothing for this heavy feeling to rest upon, no foundation for the feelings that should not be there. 

And yet.

The conversation is veering uncomfortably personal, of which you only have yourself to blame, but you run from it anyway. “You ever see Dawn of the Wolf? ” you ask, pushing for something unserious, something that’ll have him rolling his eyes and putting up a fuss about the W Word. 

That’s not what happens, though.

His breath catches for a second before rolling out in a soft sigh, his warm breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” he admits. “My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious. 

“My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 

You can’t help the way your body stiffens. You want to roll over and look at him, to parse his pursed lips and warm eyes. He doesn’t let you, though, tightening his grip around your waist, fingers pressing a little more insistently in the divots between your knuckles until you settle. 

“Watched the damn movies, read the damn books, had the damn poster on her wall,” he says, something careful in his words. Like he’s trying to give this to you without giving anything up for himself. These memories he’s clutched in the recesses of his ventricles—they can’t be extracted without damaging the last soft tissue he could spare to wrap them in. 

“So, who’s team were you on?” you tease instead. 

“I didn’t give a shit,” he dismisses. A beat passes. “Why would she even have considered the wimpy blond vampire kid?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, nodding sagely. “You think the obvious choice was the tall, hairy, brooding wolf-man. I have to agree.”

“Shut up,” he grouses immediately. “It was all stupid, anyway. None of ‘em could stop whining.” 

You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 

“Never did get to see the sequel,” you say after a moment, trying to regain some sense in your brain.

He snorts. “Didn’t miss anything. I thought it couldn’t be worse than the first one but it was the stupidest two hours of my life.” 

“I can’t believe you saw Dawn of the Wolf 2, and I didn’t,” you say. A beat passes. “Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening. 

“Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent. The oaky notes are easier to parse, now, much more complex. Hints of spices are there, sometimes. 

You’re getting too familiar. So much so that when the chamomile blossom of his grief leaks through, your grip on him tightens just a little, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to the thick thatch of hair beneath your cheek. 

It isn’t real, but how can it not be? How can something this intense not be real? No, it’s different. This isn’t real versus fake like something photoshopped, something on a green screen. 

This is more than that. The dotted lines that make up constellations aren’t real, but it doesn’t change the way those stars are bound together to make something unique, something breathtaking.

“I get it now,” he murmurs, breaking your existential reverie. 

“Get what?” you say, nose wrinkling.

He bumps his nose against yours, nudging at you in a way you know would involve a playful nip if he was his other self. “Why he didn’t just eat her,” he says.

You reward him with a bark of a laugh. “You’re still thinking about Dawn?” 

This time he does nip at you, catching your ear gently with very human teeth. “S’your fault,” he grumbles, and you feel it rumble through his chest. 

And yours. 

No, wait, that was your stomach. You’re suddenly starving, and with that revelation comes another, much worse one. You sit up so quickly that Joel follows suit, eyebrows raised. 

“What’s the matter?” He barks. 

“It’s the food,” you whisper. “That’s why they don’t let you share. That’s how Mike got me. It’s in the fucking food.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw. “Explain,” he growls.

“I think they’re drugging us,” you finally tell him. It’s been a haunting tug in the back of your brain, one you didn’t really want to admit to. There’s been a matching tug in your gut, the feeling of something not sitting quite right, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

It had been twenty years since you had something like cough syrup, anyway. But that’s the feeling. The fuzzy spot between your eyes where the ground seems to swoop up, the way you move through the day underwater. 

“Fuck,” Joel whispers. But he can’t deny it makes sense. It makes too much goddamn sense. He’s been too fucking compliant, too fucked to care. He thought it was apathy borne of everything he’s been through. 

But goddamnit. He knows. He just knows you’re right.

[moongothic]

The worst part about trying to figure out what Crocodile's deal is that because he's so fucking irredeemably evil in Alabasta... Like... Yeah he's just irredeemably evil. Like I love him but he did cause countless casualties, a ton of pain and suffering and literally attempted to blow up a million people

Like no amount of theoretical "trying to do it to save his son from the Government" or "trying to stop the Government from hurting anyone else" or just "doing it for the greater good" is going to make him any less of a mass murderer

But also Robin absolutely 100% helped with all of that shit simply because she wanted to read the Poneglyph for herself.

No amount of her intending to betray Crocodile from the begining and sabotaging his plans erases the fact that Robin also caused countless people to starve to death and die in the civil war. Her sabotages only succeeded out of sheer luck, and only spared the lives of the people at the final battle. She has the blood of countless innocents on her hands. Because she wanted to read history.

But her crimes were swept under the rug because she has a sad backstory and her sabotages worked out just at the nick of time by sheer dumb luck

So Croc??? Just??? Is there a chance??? At all???

But also he did literally intend to sell Buggy into slavery

Like, fuck Buggy, but jesus

What's also killing me is that we like. Don't know what Luffy thinks of Crocodile right now. Which really is like. The thing that will decide how we, as the readers, are supposed to feel about Crocodile. Luffy is our POV

Like we don't know what Luffy's opinion of Crocodile is after he helped save Luffy (and spared Ace once) during the Summit War. Like Luffy clearly fucking hated the man in Impel Down and the two interactions they had during the War weren't like positive (in the sense that Luffy himself didn't think of the interactions as particularly positive. Defending Whitebeard from being attacked once and then being like "wait what HIM?!" when Crocodile defended Ace. To be fair, in the midst of the chaos, there wasn't much time to spend on Pondering On Such Things because Ace needed to be saved, and Oda goes out of his way to not show us what's going on inside Luffy's head, because it's all meant to be out in the open anyways. Regardless, these weren't like "yay it's Crocodile! :)" moments for Luffy is what I mean)

But also Luffy was very grateful of Law for saving his life and was willing to put his trust into Law for their alliance- of course, they weren't explicitly enemies to begin with, rivals at most, but still. Luffy respects those who help him.

But also Luffy grew during the timeskip. Like he's not that clueless anymore (like he finally understands Hancock is in love with him etc), and similarly Luffy gets that Buggy is an absolute loser now. But also Buggy did also help save Luffy's life (even if it was by accident), and while IDK if Luffy is aware of that, I don't think that helped improve Luffy's impression of Buggy

So like. The fuck does Luffy think of Crocodile, at this moment? Even with the Cross Guild reveal, he didn't even really comment on Croc and just focused his energy on being confused about Buggy being "the leader" of CG. IDK it feels almost intentional or something, that we don't know what Luffy thinks?? Especially since we did get Zoro's opinion on Mihawk in the situation?? Or am I delulu?? (Sidenote. I'd love to know what Robin would have to say about Crocodile helping save Luffy's life. What Jinbei might think of the final words Crocodile left him with before blasting them out of Akainu's reach. But mainly just Robin's thoughts)

Like IDK my best guess would be that Luffy still hates Crocodile just the same but is like grossed out by technically owing him one??? In the classic

-kinda way, you know? And that he'd be just kinda confused about it?

Because I can't fucking imagine Luffy being like "oh we're cool now" with Crocodile, let alone "Yay Crocodile :) He saved my life!". But also like. Luffy does kind of owe Croc one. Kind of. And Luffy is usually very respectful of that kind of thing. Aaaaaaaa???

(Also does. Does Luffy even know it was Crocodile who yeeted him and Jinbei out of Akainu's reach to begin with. 'Cause he was unconcious. Knocked the fuck out. Does. Does Luffy even know. Did anybody tell him???)

I just.

There's the reasonable part of me that knows Crocodile is an irredeemable evil dickbag and everything he has ever said and done up to the most recent chapters support that. He is too far gone.

And then there's the absolutely delulu part that loves a tragic villian who gets a heartwrenching redemption that's looking for any fucking sign that could indicate Crocodile could maybe be one

[tachimichishrine]

"the cat came back"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

h. p. lovecraft x fem! natsume's daughter! reader

lovecraft is canon afraid of cats! now you know >:)

warnings: uncontrollable fluff ; that was a joke idk how to fluff ; made him ooc af womp womp ; i want to eat lovecraft ; just a little nom nom is that too much to ask; tentacle hentai (reader eats his hair) ; fishing boats (derogatory) ; intended lowercase

moonlight was his favourite time of the day.

his eyes peeked out from the rippling surface of the water, hair floating and spanning out like branches of a tree. he was sleeping a short while ago, until...

"shh!! it's the middle of the night, someone's gonna yell at us for doing this!"

disinterested eyes glanced at a boat. a fishing boat. he shuddered; it appeared like two adults were sitting down on it, giggling mischievously at each other while the motor grumbled loudly, scaring away the sea life from the secluded corner along the coast.

"bah, it's not a big deal," the other person responded, sporting a confident smirk. "we're out in the middle of nowhere. who are we going to disturb, the little mermaid?"

another round of giggles. the couple bickered about something else, something he didn't care to remember, then ate each other. lovecraft watched curiously as their lips met, then sighed. he wanted to sleep.

he reached a tentacle from under the surface of the water and capsized the boat.

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another week, another goddamn boat. he just wanted to sleep: ever since the guild had fallen apart, he didn't have to do anything, and he enjoyed it very much. he'd occasionally leave the comfort of the sea for some ice cream, but the looks he'd get while out in public made him anxious, so he'd stopped doing that a long time ago.

"I heard the spooky sea beast lives around here..." a voice said lowly, holding a flashlight out to the murky waters. "some say it's the kraken, others that it's the soul of the deceased..."

he didn't like to be disturbed. lovecraft flipped them over.

the next night, it happened again.

by the end of the month, it seemed he had become a local folklore story. he wasn't particularly interested in hearing all the stories about himself, and what was worse is that he found himself at the center of attention. gross.

he would keep flipping boats until they would leave him alone.

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"[_____], come on, get in the boat! you're such a scaredy cat!"

"yeah, I am!" the woman yelling from the shore exclaimed. she was watching a few of her friends get into a wooden tub of death and paddle in the direction of a sea creature that had been terrorizing their city. it wasn't a myth, as everyone who doubted would go and find themselves thrown into the water promptly. the question was mostly as to what on earth was doing this. "you know I hate getting wet, and I don't want to get eaten by a sea beast today, thank you very much!"

the friends pouted, pleaded for her to come along, and the only agreement they came to involved the woman following them from land. she watched them as her boots squelched into the damp earth in the same direction as their path, and they spoke from a far distance.

which woke up lovecraft.

he grumbled, displeased. this was never fun, and it was getting even worse now. the top of his head peeped out from the water as he got a look at the young adults laughing and joking from their fishing boat, and he flipped them with one movement.

they all yelled out as they splashed into the water, arms desperately gripping onto the upside-down boat as they looked around fearfully, then at each other with chuckles.

"told ya it was real!"

"gahh, my shirt is soaked!"

"dude, your entire body is soaked."

it was all a game to them, he seemed to notice. they thought this little escapade and mission of disturbing him was all for fun. he didn't have time to feel annoyed about it, because it was time to sleep. on the verge or disappearing back into the abyss, he felt a pebble bounce on the back of his head.

he turned his head around, his neck contorting as he saw a young woman looking at him, eyes wide.

they stared at each other for a few moments.

she let out a yelp, and her entire body compressed down to that of a calico cat.

he saw the cat and yelled out in response, tentacles sprouting, bursting out from various parts of his body.

the cat ran away and nothing was said. the group of friends were still laughing as they had gotten back into the boat and began paddling to shore, not seeing the iceberg underneath their feet that was the body of a real sea monster.

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the next day, lovecraft was out of the water, in the middle of the day nonetheless, simply to dry up a little bit before he went back into the water. somehow, this logic added up to him.

all was fine until he saw the woman again.

she was leaning against a rock, not quite sitting but not quite standing. she looked nervous, glancing around her everywhere as if she was expecting to get attacked at any moment. her eyes darted to the water, where she saw nothing, then back to her surrounding. back to the water. back the the surroundings. her foot was tapping the soil incessantly and her lower lip was being abused by her teeth as she nibbled to distract herself.

this time, she saw him.

they looked at each other again, but it was much more tamed than the previous time. she didn't turn into a cat, and he didn't turn into a natural catastrophe.

her mouth seemed to open, but lovecraft didn't hear any words from out of her. she just creased her brows together, then sighed. "um... hi, hello. I'm... I'm [_____]. you're howard phillips lovecraft, aren't you?"

he hovered at the surface with only his dark eyes and long hair visible, maintaining blank stare.

she extended her hand out to him, then realized it was stupid to shake hands with someone who was several meters away, several meters deep into the water. laughing nervously, she rubbed the back of her neck.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to scare you the other day, you just caught me off guard. you see, I'm in the business of keeping track of the ability users in yokohoma, and you never came up on my radar. so I asked around," and here she kicked a rock with a chuckle to herself, "actually, I just asked my dad, and he told me about the guild."

still no reaction. lovecraft had fallen asleep with his eyes open.

she crouched down, grabbed a pebble, and flicked it onto his forehead. heavy eyelids raised for a moment.

"would you be willing to uh... get out of the water to speak with me, for just a moment? I can... well, I don't really know what to offer you."

she babbled on, face flushed and looking at the ground and her feet as she kept speaking, saying things that neither of them understood, and it was only when he got close that she took notice the tall, dripping wet figure looming over her. he was wearing clothes and everything, even had was appeared to have been a nice jacket in the past before... whatever tore it apart. she met his eyes.

"thank you! it just makes this... whatever... easier... ahh, forget about it. could we... walk and talk? I don't want to lure you away from your... your home?..."

"I'm hungry," he proclaims, a statement more than a request.

"sure!" she nodded, although a little confused and uncertain, leading the way as she walks through the rugged terrain of the trail before arriving at her car and opening the passenger door for him, waiting for him to hop inside.

now, he looked confused.

"is there food inside?"

this was going to be a long discussion.

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[_____]'s job was simple: she had to keep tabs on all of the ability users in yokohoma. know who they worked for, their relationships, their dreams and aspirations. when you can turn into a cuddly ball of fur, it isn't particularly hard to gain information.

she had no clue what was going on with this man, though.

rumours had sprung up about the sea monster. she knew, of course, there was no such thing, but in the spirit of the approaching holiday she indulged her friends in a trip.

seeing a man living in the water was not what she had expected, much less to surprise herself by getting flustered enough to accidentally use her ability and turn into a cat. it was just her luck that cats seemed to terrify the man.

speaking was hard too, since he didn't really seem to know much about the ways of the world. she knew he was from america, but common courtesy of not trying to eat someone's car for dinner was likely the same there as it was in japan. likely.

it was cute how ice cream was the secret to taming him.

"lovecraft," she snapped her fingers in his face as he zoned out for what could be the seventh time in the same sentence, "look, I don't mean to take your entire day. I was just hoping you could lay low on the boat flipping for the time being."

"I am laying low," he stated blankly, a smudge of chocolate cream smeared across the corner of his lip, like a child. she chuckled warmly and pointed it out to him, but he just shrugged and kept licking the frozen treat. "the boats keep coming."

"because you've become a horror attraction," she retorted. something deep within her caused her to run her thumb along the edge of his lip to clean him up, partly because she knew he wouldn't do it himself, partly because she thought she'd go mad over the messiness. "leave the boats alone and they'll leave you alone. it's as simple as that."

he wasn't paying attention again. he'd gotten tired of licking and dislocated his jaw just to swallow the entire cone in one bite. the paper wrapper and napkin around it were still not removed, too, but he didn't seem to care as he pushed his jaw back into place and kept walking by her side, as if it were nothing.

she decided it was easier to not comment.

they made their way back to the vehicle, and she dropped him back off at his corner of the water, verifying multiple times that he didn't want help looking for a place to live. a slight pause and hesitation; she wanted to give him her phone number in the event he needed something, but she quickly realized he probably doesn't even have a phone, let alone one he uses.

another ability user to add to her list. what a bunch of weirdos.

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boats kept coming.

this time, they were getting louder, more intrusive. some people brought diving gear and headlights, eager to explore the water for the sea beat. lovecraft was not pleased.

it was hard at first to take the advice of the strange woman. then, when they put on loud speakers and played blaring music during their expeditions, it became impossible to ignore them. a blizzard of tentacles and otherworldly monstrous body parts ravaged every boat on the lake.

[_____] showed up a dozen minutes later, not pleased.

no one was injured, but news reporters had gathered and were making a bug fuss out of it all. they dispersed after some time, and she was the only one left. she tossed pebbles into the water, hoping for him to resurface for them to talk.

"I specifically told you to do one thing," she grumbled, glaring into his sleepy eyes that peeked up. "now the whole town knows there's something going on here."

he briefly racked his brain for past interactions with his former partner, steinbeck, and realized this was the sort of situation where he was supposed to apologize. she looked at him with distrust when he did (quite blandly), but ultimately sighed and shook her head, saying it wasn't a problem.

"maybe you just need to get out of here," she proposed. "if you're not in the water when the tourists arrive, you won't have to endure all of it. do you have someplace else to go in the meantime?"

a shake of his head signaled he didn't, but also that he didn't seem to care. of course he wasn't picky about where he lived, he was currently residing in what amounted to a swamp.

"would you like to stay with me until this whole thing goes away?"

lovecraft shrugged, "okay," as if it weren't a big deal for either of them. she scolded herself for being baffled at his nonchalant reaction, which was to be expected.

she insisted he dry himself up this time before getting in her car, though.

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lovecraft made himself at home by eating just about everything she had in her pantry, then trying to eat the pantry.

a smack on the back of his neck with a rolled up newspaper, and he was set straight. she indicated that he could sleep on the couch for the time being, just as long as he double-checked with her that it was okay before eating anything, emphasis on thing.

"I'm not around most of the time," she told him as she put on a coat while near the entrance, eyes darting around to make sure she wasn't leaving any valuable around in the event that they magically disappear upon her return. "so, the place is yours. are you sure you don't have anyone you want to stay with? I was told you had a partner when you were in the guild, a young lad named steinbeck. I can track him and the remnants of the guild down, if you'd like."

"no."

not a trace of anger, disgust, or even any emotion from his response. he simply wanted to be left alone, she realized.

her expression softened and she put the coat back down, walking up to him.

"how about this, would you want to go get some ice cream again? I can pay, of course."

money didn't seem to cross his radar, so the final comment went through his head. she wanted to understand him, as was the task her father had delegated onto her to know all ability users, but it was proving a lot harder than she'd thought.

that's how she found herself, a disgusted look on her face as she watched lovecraft jump into a small pond near the ice cream shop, the treat still in his hand. the ball of frozen cream floated on the surface of the murky water, and he opened his mouth to eat it like a koi fish.

"there's... there's so much wrong with what you're doing right now," she frowned, watching him happily ruin the clothes she'd just bought for him by swimming around in them. again. "howard, you're going to have to take it easy on my wallet, I don't have an infinite supply of clothes to get you."

he vanished under the surface and did not come back up for an entire minute.

she couldn't handle water - she retained quite a bit of feline features even in human form, after all - and there was no way in hell she was going to jump in to save him if he were drowning. he wasn't drowning, of course, he'd just made his way along the floor and chomped down on unsuspecting sea-dwellers. since she'd said she can't pay for everything, this was free. at least, he thinks it is.

when he came back up, she sighed with a tired smile on her face, leading him back to the apartment.

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"how does your hair never get tangled?"

she was watching him curiously as he spread his lanky limbs across the sofa, bones breaking and body distorting to make it more comfortable for him. he didn't seem to hear her question until fingers raked through silky locks.

"why would it?" he raised a brow, eyelids still shut. after a few weeks, he'd gotten better at conversation, but the horror fanatics were still invading his little corner of the sea. besides, he liked it better here.

"oh right, I forgot that you don't have the problems the rest of us mortals have," she said jokingly, but realized she wasn't even sure if it was a joke. she started having doubts that he had an ability and wasn't really just a sea monster after all. fingers combed through obsidian streaks. "ahhh... it's so soft..."

she stood up in front of him, and made her entire body visible. "I'm going to turn into a cat, now."

they agreed to make it clear to the other before doing anything that scared the other, and that involved using their abilities. she liked being a cat, most of the time, as it was more pleasant to nap and lounge around in that form. however, it still caught him by surprise, and he nearly shattered the entire apartment once when he went into the kitchen for some food and caught her sleeping in a bread basket.

grey eyes watched the calico cat pounce up from the floor onto the sofa, hobble along the edge of his body until it twirled around itself and slept in the waves of hair.

he was already asleep by then, so he didn't mind when little cat teeth nibbled on the strands. they tasted like sea water, to no one's shock. paws stretched out with a yawn, then went back to snuggling themselves under the warm body of fur.

maybe this arrangement wasn't so bad.

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he was getting much better as weeks turned into months. the craze over the yokohoma sea monster died down, but he found himself attached to someone for the first time in his existence. he didn't know how to describe the feeling other than warmth and that of a full stomach.

giggles exhaled in clouds of fog as she walked on the empty streets at night with him by her side. she was cold, and so was he; the only difference is that she felt it whereas he simply didn't care.

"can we go home..." he grumbled, albeit glad for the absence of people in the vicinity. they made him uncomfortable, all except for her. he didn't know why his lips were tugging upwards as she took his hand in hers.

"you're freezing," she remarked against icy flesh. "I'm sure there's a café or something nearby, if you want to warm up before headi-"

his other arm wrapped itself around her waist and pulled her against his frame, face buried deep enough in his chest to cause her to suffocate. her feet were kicked upwards behind her, body no longer touching the ground as he carried her entire weight with his one arm.

"you're cold too. this will help."

"MFMFMFMNMNMF!!"

he took her muffled cries for confirmation that he did the right thing, and walked them home in just about the most awkward position possible. she managed to crane her neck to the side, gasping for breaths, but just laughed to herself at his peculiarities.

he was right, it did help.

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she remained curled up against him even as they got inside, slipped under blankets and were laying on the couch. not that she had a choice; he didn't seem keen on letting go anytime soon.

"my limbs don't bend like yours do. could I..." she squirmed, grateful that he seemed to get the message and loosened his hold on her. she repositioned herself then curled back up into him, rubbing her head in slow circles against his chest from feline instinct. she muttered a thanks into his slowly warming shirt.

everything felt so uncomplicated in his presence. even as a horror movie played in the background, she nearly fell asleep on him, and he had long gone into the realm of dreams. they were both snoring softly when a dramatic scream emanated from the television, jolting him awake.

her eyes were still closed, and he just took a look at her face for a few moments before having what was more of an urge than an idea.

he ate her mouth.

this sprung her wide awake as she pulled away from shock once she'd realized he was biting her lips.

"what are you doing?!" she shrieked, hands pushing on his chest to lift herself up and off of him. "you can't just... what... why would you... ?!!!"

he looked at her with a dull expression, a sliver of confusion revealing itself on his long features. "I saw... I saw people do this when they're content. I-"

"oh my god," she let out a breath of relief as she understood that his actions didn't align with his intentions, even chuckling softly as she let herself fall back onto him, body now completely on top of his. her face was hovering on top of him, and she kept a gentle smile. "people do that when they're in love, howard. it's called a kiss."

again, confusion and a grumble. "oh. what does that mean?"

she squinted, almost as if looking for the answer to his question in the backrooms of his irises. "I don't know how to explain it, but it's what people feel when they're really happy around each other."

"I feel like that," he stated blankly, watching as her face flushed in embarrassment.

"you can't just say that like it's nothing," she managed to croak out without combusting on the spot. "love is a very big thing. you have to mean it."

"why wouldn't I mean it?"

her lips parted as she tried to respond, then realized just how simple everything was with this man. lovecraft didn't care about the specifics, and maybe she shouldn't either. she exhaled through her mouth slowly, then brought her hands to his cheek.

"okay, fine. I'm going to kiss you now, alright? don't do anything like try to bite my flesh off, just... just let me kiss you. can we try that?" the words felt silly as they spilled out, but he nodded. if it didn't involve him doing anything, that was even better, he thought.

his eyes were open as lips met again. he took notice that hers were closed, but he couldn't quite understand why. it was nothing like what he'd tried earlier: she was soft and slow about it. he could feel her chest fall and rise in sync with the gentle breaths she let out. it was clear she wasn't sure about what she was doing, but after a few moments, she leaned in closer and he could taste her on his tongue. she rubbed her lips on his, and smirked once she felt him trying to reciprocate by copying her movements. fingers slid from his cheeks to his hair, and she pulled his face deeper into hers.

she let out a soft yelp as his tongue dipped further into her, now an addict of her taste. he tried to be careful, he really did, but his teeth bit down into her tongue a little harshly as he tried to get the hang of this. as soon as things got too messy, too fast, she slowly pulled away, his lower lip flicking back upwards as her own let it go. her eyes fluttered back open, and she found herself giggling as she saw that his were open the entire time. of course they were.

"that," she whispered with a smile, fingers stroking his hair and weaving through them at his scalp, "that is a kiss. how did that feel?"

his face literally melted and he became a gooey mess of tentacles and monstrous shapes as he felt his entire body explode internally.

watching his version of being flustered be to turn into his alternate form, she was tempted to giggle at how adorable his reaction was. however, she quickly found herself projected across the room as he accidentally threw her out of panic.

she chuckled, back slumped against the wall while sitting on the floor on the opposite end of the room, a hand on her head feeling for any bumps or cuts. "I take it that means you liked it."

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a hand around his hips, a hand holding a cup of hot chocolate.

a hand on her waist, a hand gripping five different ice cream cones all at once.

they sat on a bench in the dead of the night, which was really the only time she could get him out of the apartment. during the day, she would go out and work while he stayed home and slept. during the night, they would occasionally go out, then come home and sleep. it was quite the schedule.

she took a slow sip of her hot chocolate, head tilting to the side in order to rest on his shoulder. in order to not disturb her, he contorted his neck at an angle that would make anybody call on for a higher being's protection, and tossed all the cones into his mouth in one motion.

"want a sip?" she offered her drink, unfazed by anything he did anymore. "not the whole cup, just a taste."

his eyes met hers, and he shrugged yes. she smirked and kissed his lips, the chocolate flavour lingering even as she pulled away.

thankfully, as they were in public even though there was no one out at this unholy hour, he just blushed and did not morph into an enemy of the state and humanity. she liked it when he blushed; his sharp features softened and glistened under the moonlight. another kiss to the high of his cheekbones paired with fingertips sliding along his abdomen, and the red deepened.

"m'just messin' with you," murmured against his skin. "want to go home now?"

it was a stupid question: he always wanted to go home.

only, his home was no longer a place, but a person.

[poisonousquinzel]

I had somethin' great to go home to.

"Harley! You're okay! I had the police scanner on and heard they booked you.

I was ready to cave that whole building in with a sample of aspergillus to get you out, but I knew you'd get yourself out in time to teach."

little miss cop is lucky Harley didn't mention the police brutality at the beginning of the chapter cause Ivy would have caved that building in for that alone if she knew !!!!!!

"My baby girl was never the same after she saw you girls out robbing banks, pouting in your mug shots like it was a game." skill issue

lady's daughter saw pretty women committing crimes, robbing banks and being cool and wanted to be like them. idk maybe you should try not being so lame and boring and corrupt :)

Harley Quinn (2021 - ) #41

Writer: Tini Howard

Artist: Sweeney Boo

Letterer: Steve Wands