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thatfeelinwhenyou · 2 days ago

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SAFE & SOUND — part 2

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 13k

MASTERLIST

Warmth.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the warmth of the sun on your face, its golden light filtering through the gaps in the trees. You blink against the brightness, disoriented for a moment as you sit up abruptly. That’s when you realise your head had been resting on Jungwon’s lap.

He’s still there, sitting exactly where you left him, his blade resting against the wooden railing. His posture is stiff, and there are faint shadows under his eyes, but his gaze remains focused on the treeline, sharp and unwavering.

“You didn’t sleep,” you say, your voice hoarse from disuse. It’s not a question—it’s an observation, one that feels heavier than it should.

He glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t want to risk it,” he says simply, as though staying awake all night was no big deal.

Your brow furrows, guilt creeping into your chest. “I thought we were switching shifts.”

He shrugs, leaning back slightly against the railing. “You looked like you needed it more.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He barely knows you, yet he gave up his rest so you could have yours. The realisation sits uncomfortably, making your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, the word feeling inadequate. “But you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his tone light but firm. “It’s fine, I didn’t think i would’ve been able to sleep anyway.”

The camp below begins to stir, the others waking slowly as the day takes hold. You glance down, watching as Sunoo stretches lazily, Sunghoon stokes the embers of the dying fire, and Jay mutters something under his breath, clearly not a morning person.

“You should get down there,” Jungwon says, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “Grab something to eat before they take it all.”

“What about you?” you ask, still uneasy with the thought of him staying awake all night.

“I’ll eat later,” he says, waving off your concern as he finally stands, stretching his arms above his head. “Someone has to keep an eye on things while everyone else sleeps in.”

For a moment, you consider arguing, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s not worth it. Jungwon’s sense of responsibility runs deeper than you realised, and while it frustrates you, it’s also hard not to respect it.

“Alright,” you say finally, climbing down the ladder. But as you reach the ground and glance back up at him, the faint guilt lingers.

You sit by the dying fire, its faint warmth barely reaching your skin as the morning unfolds around you. Despite the ache in your body and the exhaustion clawing at your mind, you can’t stop your eyes from darting across the camp, taking in the subtle movements of the group.

There’s a rhythm to them, an unspoken flow in the way they interact, as though every task and gesture has already been decided without a single word being spoken. It’s not chaos, not the haphazard scramble you’re used to seeing in desperate survivors. It’s something else. Something deliberate.

The longer you watch, the clearer it becomes that they aren’t just a random assortment of people who happened to survive together. The dynamics of this group, odd as they may be, seem to work, each person carrying out a role that seems as vital as breathing.

You hate to admit it, but it intrigues you. There’s a part of you—a part you thought you buried—that wants to understand how they make it work. Against your better judgment, you can feel your curiosity growing, clawing at you for answers.

One thing, however, is abundantly clear: Jungwon is the leader.

You spot him high up on the watchtower, his silhouette outlined against the soft glow of the rising sun. His arms are crossed, his posture relaxed but alert as he surveys the camp below. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t bark orders, yet the others seem to fall into line as if guided by an invisible tether.

“Hey,” Sunoo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, jolting you slightly. He’s seated across from you, fiddling with a dented tin cup and flashing one of his easy, disarming smiles. “Jungwon figured that if you’re going to be staying, it’d be better to let you in on how things work around here.”

Staying. You’re not entirely sure about that.

The idea of staying with a group, of being around people again, stirs something uneasy inside you. It’s not a fear of them—it’s a fear of what comes with them. The horror of your past still clings to you like a second skin, a constant reminder of what it means to care, to hope, and then to lose. You’re not sure you’re ready to open yourself up to that again.

Because staying with people means watching them die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

Not to say this group will meet the same fate—but in this world, there’s no guarantee of survival, no matter how capable or united they seem. Death isn’t a possibility; it’s an inevitability. The only question is when.

You’ve seen it before—how quickly things can go wrong. How one misstep, one unlucky moment, can unravel everything. Staying means becoming a part of something, and a part of you wonders if you’ve got anything left to give. After all, what’s the point of building something that will inevitably collapse?

“It’ll help you understand why we do what we do,” comes another voice from behind. You start slightly, not having noticed Jungwon’s approach. He settles on the log beside you, his presence calm yet commanding, as if he’s somehow taken control of the conversation without trying.

Sunoo leans forward, his grin widening. “Alright, listen up. Starting with our fearless leader over here—Jungwon.” He gestures dramatically, and Jungwon rolls his eyes, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s our strategist, the one who keeps us alive by figuring out where to go, when to move, and how to deal with… well, everything.”

Jungwon exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Someone has to keep you lot in line,” he says dryly, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Whatever you say, captain,” Sunoo replies, offering a mock salute before turning his attention to Heeseung.

The man sits at the edge of camp, methodically sharpening a blade. “Next, we’ve got Heeseung, our scout and tracker. He’s got the best eyes out of all of us. If there’s something—or someone—out there, he’ll find it first.”

“And that grump over there?” Sunoo gestures toward Jay, who’s seated a short distance away, carefully cleaning his pistol with a precision that borders on obsessive. “Jay’s our long-range shooter. Best shot we’ve got. He’d never admit it, but he’s saved all our asses more times than we can count.”

“Jake,” Sunoo continues, pointing toward the man currently inspecting a med kit, “is our medic. If you get hurt, he’s the one you want patching you up. And don’t worry, he actually knows what he’s doing, and not just throwing plasters on everything hoping for the best.”

Jake smirks faintly, his hands moving deftly as he tosses a roll of bandages into the kit. “I was in pre-med before all this,” he says, his tone light but tinged with a quiet seriousness. “It’s not anything impressive, but it’s enough to keep us alive. Just don’t make me work too hard, alright?”

“And then there’s Sunghoon,” Sunoo says, his tone growing slightly more dramatic, “our weapons expert and close-range fighter. If it comes down to it, he’s the one who’ll keep the rest of us breathing.”

Sunghoon glances up from where he’s tinkering with a makeshift blade. “And by ‘close-range fighter,’ he means I’m the one who has to deal with the messy stuff,” he says dryly, though there’s a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“And then there’s me,” Sunoo adds, placing a hand on his chest with mock seriousness. “Diplomat. Negotiator. The one who talks us out of—or into—trouble, depending on the situation.”

“Mostly into trouble,” Jake interjects, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.

Sunoo waves him off with an exaggerated sigh before turning to the cheekiest of the group. “And last but not least, Ni-ki, our little magic hands. If it’s broken, he can fix it. If it’s running, he can make it run faster.”

Ni-ki, who’s crouched by the van inspecting its undercarriage, glances up briefly. “Yeah, and if you want it to work, don’t touch it,” he says, his tone sharp but not entirely unfriendly.

The pieces start to fall into place, the dynamic clicking in a way that almost makes sense. You find yourself both impressed and uneasy, the thought of fitting into something so cohesive feeling alien to you.

Sunoo tilts his head, his gaze meeting yours. “And you? What about you?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve been on your own for so long, your only role has been survival. You’ve never had to think about what you could bring to the table—only about what you could take to stay alive. And in that sense, staying would be a terrible idea.

Then again, these people clearly know what they’re doing. It doesn't hurt to be around people that will keep you alive.

“I guess… I’m figuring that out,” you say finally, your voice quieter now.

Sunoo studies you for a moment before nodding, his grin softening. “Stick around long enough, and we’ll figure it out too.”

About three days have passed in their camp, and you’re beginning to entertain the possibility of staying with them. They work well together, almost seamlessly. It’s not something you just discovered, but the more you witness their dynamics, the more in awe you are.

You can’t help but wonder: if the community building you were part of had been like this, would it have fallen the way it did? Maybe with them, you finally have a real shot at staying alive.

Most of them seem to have opened up to the idea of you sticking around—at least, you think they have. Truthfully, the only people who’ve expressed any contentment with your presence are Sunoo and Jake. But that’s likely because they’re the ones you’ve spent the most time with. They’re always in camp, managing supplies and rations, keeping the place running while the others head out.

And, of course, because you’re not allowed to leave camp. Orders from Jungwon—though you suspect Jay had a hand in that decision too. You figure it’s less about keeping you safe and more about making sure you don’t fuck up their rhythm.

Speaking of Jungwon, you’ve noticed something about the way the group operates: his words hold a lot of weight here. And not just because he’s the leader.

Even after spending the last few nights on watch with him, sharing quiet conversations under the stars while the others slept, you still haven’t quite figured it out. There’s an ease to the way he interacts with the group, a quiet authority that doesn’t need to be forced.

Every decision, every movement, seems to flow through him first. But it’s not in a micromanaging or authoritarian way. It’s just… natural. The others look to him, wait for him to weigh in, like his judgment is the glue holding them together. He doesn’t shy away from it either, even when it’s clear the burden weighs heavily on him.

Whatever this group’s flaws, it’s clear Jungwon holds them together, even at the expense of himself. And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to understand why.

He’s not the leader because he demands it—but because the others trust him to be.

It works for them, clearly. They function like a well-oiled machine, each person playing their role with practiced efficiency. But if you’re being honest, you find it a little risky.

To have everyone’s lives hinge on one person’s decisions? To place that much responsibility on a single set of shoulders?

It’s a dangerous gamble. For even the strongest leaders have their breaking point. And if Jungwon ever falters, you wonder what will happen to the rest of them.

You’ve also learned that they only leave the camp unattended during high-stakes expeditions, like the one back in the city. Other than that, it’s almost always Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, or Jay who take turns heading out. And even then, they only leave when it’s absolutely necessary.

Not to hunt. Not to scavenge.

They don’t hunt. They’re surviving off the food they stole when they escaped The Future.

It’s a startling revelation, one that lingers in the back of your mind every time you watch them ration out supplies. Even though you know Heeseung is perfectly capable of hunting, they don’t take the risk.

No, when they go out, it’s not for food or water. It’s to cover their tracks and secure the perimeter. To ensure that no trace of their last expedition leads anyone back to this camp, which you suspect is also another reason why they don’t let you leave.

Ni-ki is harder to figure out. He’s a wild card—sometimes he goes out when needed, but otherwise, he stays behind to keep watch. These past few days, though, Jay has been staying in camp too, and it’s clear he’s still wary of you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. He doesn’t sleep when you’re on watch and makes sure you’re never alone with any of the others for too long.

Aside from Jungwon, Jake, and Sunoo, you haven’t exchanged many words with the rest. Even when everyone’s in camp, the conversations are minimal.

Most of them don’t like talking about their lives before the world fell apart. And you understand. What’s the point in reminiscing about a time that no longer exists? It only makes the loss worse, reminding you of everything you could have had.

Well, most of them feel that way—except for Sunoo.

He talks endlessly, filling the silences around camp with anecdotes and bits of his past. You’ve learned from helping him manage supplies that he was in law school before everything fell apart. It makes sense, given how much he talks. He’s always negotiating, always diffusing tension with his words.

When he asked you what you did before the world ended, you kept it vague, telling him you were in school too.

And yet, despite the distance, they’ve started treating you like one of their own. It’s been a long time since you’ve gone days without starving, and for the first time in forever, you almost feel like you’ve found a safe haven.

But before you even have the chance to fully sit with the idea of staying, your attention is drawn to Jungwon, who’s making his way over to Heeseung. His movements are careful, deliberate, and the moment they begin talking, it’s clear the conversation isn’t meant for everyone’s ears. Still, their words are loud enough to reach you from where you’re sitting by the logs.

“Heeseung, how’s our food situation?” Jungwon asks, his expression serious, his brows furrowed in thought.

Heeseung glances around briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the camp before leaning in closer to Jungwon. “We’ve depleted almost everything we took from The Future. With our current resources, it’ll last us about a week.” He pauses, then adds in a lower voice, “Well, less now that we have…”

Heeseung’s gaze shifts toward you, and you realise a second too late that you’ve been staring. Your eyes meet his, and he stiffens, clearly caught off guard by your attention. His words trail off, but the meaning behind them hangs in the air, unspoken yet deafeningly clear.

A wave of guilt washes over you, sharp and overwhelming.

That’s right. You’re just another mouth for them to feed. Another person whose survival they’re now responsible for.

You hadn’t thought about it before, not really. But now, it hits you like a freight train. Every bite you take, every resource you use—it’s something they can’t spare, something that might have kept one of them alive just a little longer.

And that triggers something in you.

You lower your gaze, suddenly unable to hold Heeseung’s. The weight of your presence in their camp feels heavier than ever, and the resolve you thought you’d solidified earlier begins to shift.

Staying with them, trusting them, letting them trust you—it’s not just about your own safety anymore. It’s about what your presence costs them. And that’s not something you can ignore.

So, you make up your mind there and then.

The next opportunity you get, you’ll leave. Leave and never turn back.

They don’t entirely trust you, but they don’t distrust you enough to keep you at arm’s length, either. They let you into their camp, shared their food, their fire. They even explained how they work together, the roles they each play. Yet, you remain an outsider, lingering on the edges of their tight-knit circle. And you know, deep down, that’s exactly where you belong.

So when the opportunity arises—though you’re not sure when you’ll have a moment alone long enough to slip away unnoticed—you’ll leave. You won’t even take anything with you. Just slip into the shadows and disappear before they even realise you’re gone. No attachments, no debts, no goodbyes. That’s how it has to be.

But not yet. Not until you’ve made sure they’re safe.

Despite your resolve, you can’t bring yourself to abandon them while the unknown danger you and Jungwon discussed the night you met them still lingers. Not after everything they’ve done, not after the way they fought to protect each other, to protect you. That’s right, you still owe them for saving your life and feeding you these past few days.

So you’ll wait. Watch for the right moment. Repay your debts. And when it comes—when the threat has passed, and the dust has settled—you’ll leave. Without hesitation. Without looking back.

But that selfless thought is, in itself, an act of caring—you just haven’t realised it yet.

Jungwon and Heeseung return from their quiet discussion, their expressions unreadable. Without needing to say a word, the group instinctively gathers around the fire that has long gone out. The way they move, as if summoned by some unspoken signal, is fascinating. No commands are given, no prompting required.

Just the sheer presence of Jungwon.

“We’ll have to send a team out to hunt,” Jungwon begins, his voice calm but firm as his sharp gaze sweeps across the group. “Latest before noon. If we leave then, we can make it back before dusk.”

Jake, sitting with his legs crossed, looks up sharply. “Hunt? Are we out of food already?” Concern threads through his voice, his usual calm demeanour faltering just slightly.

Jungwon doesn’t answer immediately, his focus flickering toward Heeseung, who nods in silent confirmation. “We’re low,” Jungwon says finally.

“I mean, we do have one more mouth to feed,” Jay mutters, his tone biting as he glances at you. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, leaning back slightly, his arms crossed. It’s not the first jab he’s made, but it stings more than you’d like to admit.

You force yourself to keep your expression neutral, meeting his gaze evenly. If anything, you’re oddly relieved by his hostility. At least someone here is keeping their guard up around you. Someone who doesn’t want to trust you, who wants you gone. You can’t explain why, but you hope it stays that way. It feels safer, somehow, for at least one person to see you as an outsider—a liability.

It makes leaving easier to justify.

“Jay,” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp but not angry. It’s enough to make Jay’s expression shift slightly, though he doesn’t apologise.

The silence that follow is heavy, Jungwon’s words settling over the group like a cold wind. The reality of their situation is clear—if they don’t find food soon, things are going to get a lot harder. And none of them, not even Jay, have to ask for you to know you should be the one to do it.

“I’ll go,” you say, your voice firm despite the nervous knot forming in your stomach. All eyes snap to you, the weight of their gazes almost crushing.

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “You?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “You need every fighter you can spare here, and I can handle myself. I’d hate to sit around and do nothing all day, like a parasite. Let me help.”

“At least she’s self-aware,” Jay mutters under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Sunoo.

The air grows thick with tension, the subtle coo of morning birds the only sound as the group processes your words. Heeseung is the first to break the silence, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll go too,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “If she’s going out there, someone has to track. I’m not sending anyone out blind.”

Jay lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. “Yeah, no. If Heeseung’s going, I’m going. Someone has to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our faces.” His words are pointed, his glare fixed on you. It’s clear he doesn’t trust you, and he’s not about to risk Heeseung’s safety over it.

You bite back a retort, understanding his scepticism even if it stings. Heeseung glances at him but doesn’t argue, his focus already shifting to what the group will need for the trip.

“I’ll go too,” Jungwon says suddenly, standing up from the log. His tone is steady, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the calculation in his eyes. “We can’t take chances with this.”

“No, you can’t go,” you say quickly, before he can cement the decision. The firmness in your voice catches him off guard, his brow furrowing as he turns to you. The rest of the group falls silent, thrown by your sudden declaration. Usually, whatever Jungwon says goes, so for you to challenge him is clearly a first.

The awkwardness is suffocating, the weight of everyone’s stares pressing down on you. You take a small step closer to Jungwon, lowering your voice so only he can hear.

“They need you here,” you whisper, your voice steady but insistent. “If you leave, that’s four people left at camp—two of whom isn’t much of a fighter.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “They can handle themselves. It’s not the first time I’m leaving anyway,” he replies, his voice calm but firm.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “But it’s clear they’re rattled by the food shortage. They’re anxious, Jungwon, whether they’re saying it out loud or not.” You glance briefly at the others, noting the subtle tension in their postures, the way their gazes flit to Jungwon as if waiting for reassurance.

“You’re their leader,” you continue, your voice soft. “You’re the reason they stay focused, the reason they trust they’ll make it through the next day. If something happens to you out there...” You let the sentence hang, the weight of the implication settling heavy between you both.

Jungwon’s expression falters for a fraction of a second, the barest flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he schools it back into something unreadable. He doesn’t respond immediately, and you think he’s going to argue. But then his gaze softens slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“And you think you can handle this?” he whispers, his voice softer now but no less serious.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “Heeseung knows what he’s doing, and Jay clearly won’t let anything happen to… well, him. I’ve hunted before, Jungwon. Plus, I know you stayed up on watch again last night. You need to stay here.”

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he exhales sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Alright,” he says, though there’s a reluctance in his voice. “But don’t take unnecessary risks. If it looks bad, you come back. Understood?”

The way he says it, as if he knows you’re considering running, makes something twist in your chest. Not yet, though. Not yet.

“Understood,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms.

Heeseung secures his knife into its sheath with a nod, and Jay rolls his eyes but grabs his gear without protest. The three of you prepare to head out, the camp watching in silence as you gather your supplies.

Just as you’re about to step beyond the barricade, you spot Jungwon whispering something to Jay. Whatever he says makes Jay scowl, shaking his head in visible protest. But Jungwon’s expression hardens, his voice firm as he cuts the argument short. Jay sighs, clearly annoyed, but ultimately relents. His sharp eyes shift back to you, now carrying an edge of suspicion sharper than before.

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you as you leave, his expression unreadable. The weight of his trust—or maybe it’s his doubt—feels heavier than any weapon you’ve carried. But you push the thought aside.

The three of you move quietly through the forest, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees in patches of gold. Heeseung takes the lead, while Jay trails slightly behind, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. You stay somewhere in between, the knife in your hand an extension of the resolve you’re trying to summon.

The silence between you is heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint chirping of distant birds. You don’t speak, and neither do they, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s one born of necessity, of focus. Every sound, every shift in the forest, could mean danger—or an opportunity.

But, of course, the concentration doesn’t last. Jay, who you’re beginning to suspect thrives on friction, breaks the quiet with a pointed comment.

“I don’t understand. Why does Jungwon care so much about you?”

Heeseung doesn’t turn around, but you can practically feel the exasperation radiating off him. “Seriously, Jay? You’re talking about this now?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of disbelief in his tone.

“What?” Jay retorts, his tone almost defensive. “Are you not curious at all? They stayed on watch together a few times, and now Jungwon’s ready to risk everything to keep her safe.”

“I’m literally right here,” you snap, the annoyance in your voice cutting through the tense air. “If you’ve got questions about me, maybe try asking me directly instead of talking like I’m not standing a few feet away.”

Jay glances at you briefly, his expression unimpressed. “Fine. Why is Jungwon sticking his neck out for you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. “I don’t think he’s sticking his neck out for me,” you say, your tone defensive as your grip tightens around your knife. “What are you even talking about?”

Jay lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as if you’ve just proven his point. “Then why did he ask me to keep an eye on you? Make sure you come back alive?” he says, his voice low but edged with irritation.

Your steps falter for just a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He… told you that?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to something more uncertain.

Jay nods, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. Said you’ll be a great addition to the group or something. Like we don’t already have enough to deal with.”

You’re not sure how to answer—hell, you’re not even sure why Jungwon has been so willing to give you a chance. Before you can formulate a response, Heeseung cuts in.

“Maybe because Jungwon’s a nice person,” Heeseung says dryly, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Not like a certain somebody who can’t seem to shut up.”

“Nice? Jungwon?” Jay scoffs, his tone sharp. “He’s the last person after me among the seven of us to be nice, especially to strangers. You think this is just him being friendly?”

You glance at Heeseung, hoping for some clarification, but he keeps his focus on the trail ahead. Jay’s words settle uneasily in your chest. If Jungwon isn’t the kind of person to extend trust easily, then what’s his angle? Why is he giving you the benefit of the doubt when others—like Jay—clearly think you don’t deserve it?

The weight of Jungwon’s trust feels heavier now, more significant.

“Well, I didn’t ask for him to do that. I don’t need anyone keeping an eye on me.” you say finally, your voice a little steadier, though the uncertainty still lingers.

Jay snorts, his expression sceptical. “Yeah, well, tell that to Jungwon. He’s not exactly the type to give orders lightly.”

The tension between you hangs heavy in the air, but before either of you can say more, Heeseung glances over his shoulder, his tone calm but firm. “Enough. We’re here to hunt, not to argue. If we don’t bring back any game, it’ll blame it all on you.”

“Well, it’s her fault we’re even out here in the first place. Blame her.” says Jay with a scoff.

Heeseung’s gaze narrows. “I said that’s enough, Jay.”

Jay rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and turns his focus back to the forest ahead, the tension in his shoulders still evident.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, the heat of the argument leaving you rattled. But it’s not just the argument that lingers in your mind—it’s Jay’s words. Jungwon had specifically told him to keep an eye on you? To make sure you came back alive?

Why…?

Before the silence stretches too long, Heeseung motions for a stop, crouching low and studying a patch of disturbed earth. His fingers graze the ground lightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. You watch him carefully, impressed by the ease with which he reads the signs the forest leaves behind.

“Squirrels,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. He points to a set of tracks leading deeper into the woods. “A few of them. Probably moving together.”

Jay nods curtly, his grip tightening on the bow he’s been carrying. “We’ll have to be quick. If we miss, they’ll scatter.”

Heeseung glances at you, a faint flicker of consideration in his expression. “You’ve hunted before, right?”

You nod. “A few times. Mostly small game, but I know how to stay quiet.”

“Good,” he says simply, standing and motioning for you to follow. “Let’s move.”

As the three of you make your way deeper into the woods, the tension eases slightly, the rhythm of the hunt taking over. Heeseung’s calm, methodical approach is a stark contrast to Jay’s sharp vigilance, but they work well together—an unspoken understanding guiding their every move.

At one point, Heeseung stops again, holding up a hand to signal a pause. He crouches beside a tree, studying a new set of tracks. Jay moves ahead slightly, keeping watch, and for the first time, it’s just you and Heeseung.

He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly. “You’re doing alright,” he says quietly, his tone low enough that Jay won’t hear. “Not bad for someone new to the group.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His calm demeanour is a welcome contrast to Jay’s constant scepticism, but you can still feel the awkward tension hanging in the air.

Heeseung hesitates, the silence stretching between you as he seems to weigh his words carefully. His hand flexes around the hilt of his knife, a nervous habit you’ve noticed before. Finally, he sighs, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost reluctant tone.

“Jay’s not… always like this with everyone,” he says, his gaze fixed on the ground, as though avoiding eye contact will make it easier to get the words out. “The way he’s acting with you, I mean. There’s a reason he’s so hard to trust new people.”

You furrow your brow, confusion flickering across your face. Of course, it’s not unusual for survivors to be cautious—vigilant even—around strangers. In a world like this, where danger lurks at every corner, you either kill or be killed. Trust extended to the wrong person could easily land a knife to your back.

But the way Heeseung describes Jay’s distrust, it sounds like something more. Something personal.

“Why?” you ask cautiously, your voice low. You don’t want to push too hard, but you can’t hold back your curiosity.

Heeseung sighs, running a hand through his hair. “After our escape from The Future, we took in another survivor. A guy, around our age. He was half-starved, injured. Begged us to help him. Said he’d been on his own for months.”

You can already feel where the story is headed, but you don’t interrupt.

“Jay didn’t trust him from the start,” Heeseung admits. “Said something felt off. But the rest of us… we thought he was being paranoid. We were tired of losing people. We wanted to believe the guy was just another victim of this world.”

His voice grows heavier, the memory clearly weighing on him. “At first, it seemed fine. He kept to himself but didn’t cause any trouble.” Heeseung’s jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening as he grips his knife tighter. “But turns out, Jay was right.”

Your stomach knots, dread curling in your chest. “What happened?”

“He waited until we were vulnerable,” Heeseung says bitterly. “Waited until we were distracted. Then, he grabbed one of our friends, put a knife to her throat, and demanded our supplies.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“We gave him what he wanted,” Heeseung says bitterly, his jaw tightening. “But he didn’t let her go. He slit her throat anyway, right in front of us. And then he ran.”

The air around you feels colder, the quiet of the forest suddenly oppressive. You glance at Heeseung, his calm facade cracking just slightly as he stares at the tracks before him.

“That’s why Jay is the way he is,” Heeseung continues, his voice low but steady. “He was closest to her. Blames himself for what happened. Ever since then, he doesn’t trust easily. And he doesn’t forgive.”

Your mind pictures Jay back at the camp, how his posture is always tense and hunched as though he’s carrying the weight of that memory with him every second of every day.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur.

“No,” Heeseung says softly. “You wouldn’t have. But now you do.” He looks at you again, his expression softer, though the pain in his eyes remains. “So, if he’s hard on you… it’s not personal. It’s his way of protecting us. His way of making sure it never happens again.”

You nod slowly, the weight of the story settling over you. “I get it,” you say softly, though the words feel inadequate. “I’d probably feel the same.”

Heeseung glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But trust me, if you stick around long enough, Jay will see what the rest of us do. That you’re not like him. That you’re not a threat.”

You don’t respond immediately, his words settling into your mind like seeds in freshly tilled soil. The weight of their past lingers with you, a reminder of just how fragile trust can be in a world like this—not that you needed the reminder.

The two of you rise silently, falling back into the rhythm of the hunt as you make your way to rejoin Jay, who has moved further ahead on his own. You spot him crouched behind a dense thicket of ivy, his form still but alert.

Heeseung is about to call out when Jay abruptly places a finger to his lips, his sharp eyes locking onto yours as he motions for you both to get low.

You and Heeseung exchange a quick glance before crouching, carefully shuffling toward Jay. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rustle of fallen leaves beneath your boots deafening in the tense quiet. The forest, once filled with the gentle hum of wildlife, now feels suffocatingly still.

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung whispers, his voice barely audible as the three of you huddle closer.

Jay doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on something beyond the ivy. Then you hear it—the familiar shuffling of feet, slow and uneven. The guttural moans and growls you’ve come to dread. But this time, it’s not just a few. The sound is overwhelming, a dissonant symphony of the undead. Dozens, maybe more.

“There’s something very wrong,” Jay whispers, his voice taut with unease. “Look at the way they’re moving.”

Your stomach churns as you part a few strands of ivy, revealing a massive clearing surrounded by towering pines. In the centre of it, a cluster of zombies moves in a strange, unnatural rhythm. They’re walking in a perfect circle, their shuffling steps eerily synchronised like ants trapped in a death ring.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The sight is wrong—so wrong it makes your skin crawl.

And then you hear it.

Voices.

Your head jerks toward Jay, whose wide eyes mirror your own shock. “Did you hear that?” you mouth, barely breathing.

The sound comes again, low but unmistakable. “Round... them... up…”

It’s deliberate, controlled. Words spoken in the same hollow, rasping tone as the undead.

“They’re… talking?” Heeseung whispers, his disbelief matching your own.

You strain your ears, heart pounding as the voices continue.

“Saw them… around here…”

“Find them…”

Your blood runs cold. They’re not just words—they’re instructions. Coherent, deliberate instructions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hand instinctively grips your knife tighter. You glance at Jay, and the flicker of fear in his eyes confirms what you’re dreading. These aren’t just zombies.

There are people—or not people—you're not entirely sure. But something is walking among the dead.

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his weight slightly, readying himself for whatever comes next. “What do we do?” he whispers, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Jay’s gaze remains fixed on the clearing, his expression grim. “We move. Quietly. Back the way we came. Now.”

You don’t argue, your body already taut with tension as you begin to inch backward. The sound of human voices mingling with the moans of the undead burns in your ears, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on your chest. Whoever these people are, whatever they’re doing, one thing is clear: they’re more dangerous than the undead. And they’re looking for something—or someone.

The trek back to camp is a blur of tension and urgency. None of you speak, your steps light and calculated, careful not to make a sound that might draw attention. The eerie chorus of moans and human voices fades behind you, but the weight of what you’ve just witnessed hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens with every step, your mind racing with the implications.

By the time you see the familiar barricade of the camp, your legs are trembling—not just from exertion, but from the sheer adrenaline coursing through your veins. Heeseung is the first to signal to the others, his hand raising in a sharp, deliberate gesture that sets the camp into motion. Sunoo and Jake rush to open the barricade, their expressions immediately shifting from curiosity to concern as they take in your faces.

“What happened? Why are you guys back so early?” Jungwon asks, his voice calm but edged with urgency as he strides toward you. His sharp gaze sweeps over each of you, searching for any sign of injuries.

“We need to talk. Now,” Jay says, his tone clipped and serious. He glances back at the forest, his hand still gripping his bow tightly. “Inside.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t question it. The commotion quickly grabs the attention of the rest of the group and they instinctively assembles, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry.

Heeseung speaks first, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. “We found a horde. Dozens of them, maybe more, moving together in a clearing.”

“Okay, and?” Jake asks, his brows furrowed. “That’s not unusual. Hordes travel together all the time.”

“It wasn’t just a horde,” you say, your voice quieter but no less urgent. All eyes snap to you, and you feel the weight of their attention pressing down on you. “They were… whispering.”

“Whispering?” Sunghoon repeats, his expression sceptical. “You mean the dead started to talk?” Sunghoon leans forward slightly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usually calm demeanour cracks under the weight of disbelief, his brow furrowing deeply.

“We don't know what it was.” you say, your voice sharp. “They sounded like the dead, but they were coherent words.”

A heavy silence falls over the group, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Sunoo looks between you and Jay, his usual light-hearted expression replaced by unease. “Are you sure? It couldn’t have just been… I don’t know, echoes or something?”

“‘Round them up,’” you say quietly, your voice breaking through the tense air. “‘Find them.’ Those were their exact words. It wasn’t just random sounds or echoes. It was deliberate.”

Jay shakes his head. “And it wasn’t just one or two words. They were coordinating.”

“Coordinating?” Jungwon repeats, his voice low and measured. He’s not panicking, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his concern.

Jake leans back slightly, his expression hardening as he processes your words. “You’re suggesting that the dead have started to talk? Or that people are out there pretending to be the dead? Why? To what end? That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters. “Why would anyone—”

“Doesn't matter. They were looking for someone,” you cut in, your voice sharper now as you recall the chilling words you heard.

Jungwon’s expression darkens, his sharp mind clearly working through the possibilities. “Did they see you?”

You shake your head. “No. We got out before they could.”

“For now,” Jay mutters, his jaw tight. “But if they’re moving through the area, it’s only a matter of time before they find the camp.”

The group falls silent again, the weight of the situation sinking in. Jungwon exhales slowly, his gaze sweeping over everyone before settling on Heeseung. “What did the clearing look like? Could it be a pattern, or just a random gathering?”

“It wasn’t random,” Heeseung says firmly. “They were walking in a circle. Over and over, like some kind of… ritual.”

The word hangs in the air, chilling in its implication. You glance at Jungwon, his expression unreadable as he processes the information. Finally, he speaks, his voice steady but resolute. “We don’t have enough information to act, but we can’t stay complacent. Sunghoon, Heeseung, start reinforcing the barricades. Make sure every gap is sealed. Jake, check our supplies. I need to know how long we can hold out here if we need to. Sunoo, Ni-ki—keep the van ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll keep watch with Jay,” you pipe up just as Jungwon turns to you, his sharp eyes meeting yours. His gaze lingers a moment longer than you expect, as though he’s searching for something—resolve, maybe, or doubt. Whatever he finds, it’s enough to make him nod.

Without a second to spare, everyone falls into a rhythm. The weight of what you’ve encountered hangs over the camp like a storm cloud. Nobody says anything, but the silence tells you everything. They’re scared. Jungwon included.

You climb the watchtower with Jay, the makeshift structure swaying slightly under your combined weight. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the forest in hues of orange and gold. The beauty of it feels jarring against the tension in the air, a cruel reminder of the world that once was.

Behind you, you hear the faint sizzle of the campfire, now reduced to embers and smoke despite the night’s cold settling over the camp. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the smart move. Light and smoke would only draw attention, and right now, attention is the last thing any of you need.

Jay settles into position, his bow resting across his lap. His expression is stony, his eyes scanning the tree line with sharp precision. You don’t speak, sensing the simmering emotions beneath his calm exterior. Instead, you keep your focus outward, your own knife gripped tightly in your hand.

The forest is quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that prickles at the back of your neck. Time crawls, every second feeling heavier than the last. Dusk settles in slowly, the golden hues fading into muted greys and shadows. Then, just as the last rays of sunlight vanish, movement catches your eye.

A figure emerges from the tree line, their silhouette hazy against the growing darkness. They’re limping slowly, deliberately, their steps unhurried, as they approach the gate. It’s a single person, their posture relaxed but not aimless. Something about them feels… wrong.

“Someone’s coming,” you whisper, nudging Jay with your elbow. He turns quickly, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure. The second he sees them, his entire body goes rigid.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. Before you can ask, he ducks behind the barricade, pulling you down with him. His face is pale, his usual composure cracking just slightly. “Stay down.”

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice low but urgent.

“It’s someone we took in. Don’t necessarily have the best relationship with,” Jay whispers harshly, his voice barely audible as his eyes remain fixed on the approaching figure. His expression is dark, and there’s an edge to his tone you haven’t heard before—something between anger and unease.

“A survivor you took in…” you begin, your stomach knotting as you piece it together. “You mean the one who killed your friend?”

Jay’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the figure. “Did Heeseung tell you that?” he mutters, his voice sharp but low enough to avoid carrying. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is he’s bad news, and he’s here.”

Your heart skips a beat, a cold dread settling in your chest. You glance over the edge of the barricade, your gaze snapping back to the figure, who is now closer to the gate. His features are clearer now—sharp, wiry, with a crooked grin that sends a chill down your spine.

“He doesn’t know you,” Jay continues, his voice tight. “You talk to him. He hasn’t seen you before. If he recognises me, it’s over.”

You hesitate, the weight of what he’s asking sinking in. Before you can respond, the man stops just a few feet from the gate, his eyes scanning the camp with a calculated intensity. Then he calls out, his voice loud but casual, almost friendly. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Jay gives you a small nudge, his expression hard but pleading. “Just keep him distracted, long enough for me to warn the rest,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. You nod, swallowing hard as you straighten, forcing yourself to step into view. Your fingers tighten around the knife in your hand, its cool weight a poor comfort against the fear knotting in your chest.

The man’s eyes light up when he sees you, his crooked grin widening. “Ah, someone’s home. Wasn’t sure if this place was abandoned or not.”

You take in his tattered clothing, the dried blood stains on his skin, and those eyes. Those eyes belong in a mental asylum if this were the world before.

“What do you want?” you ask, keeping your tone neutral but firm.

The man chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with a calculating glint that makes your skin crawl. “Relax,” he says smoothly, spreading his hands in a mock gesture of innocence. “I’m just passing through. Haven’t seen anyone in a while, thought I’d see if there were any friendly faces around.”

“This camp’s occupied,” you reply coolly, standing your ground. “You should move along.”

For a split second, his grin falters, a flicker of something darker passing through his expression. But then the smile returns, sharper this time, and his gaze narrows slightly. “Fair enough,” he says lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking for trouble. Just curious, is all.”

He takes a step closer, his tone turning smoother, more calculated. “Say… you haven’t seen a group around here, have you? Seven boys. One’s blonde. Another’s got a sharp tongue—calls himself Jay.”

The air feels heavier, and your grip on your knife tightens instinctively. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words settle over you, their implications clear. Your mind races, trying to calculate the safest response, but the danger in his tone is unmistakable.

“I haven’t seen anyone like that,” you say carefully, forcing your voice to remain steady. “And I wouldn’t know if I had.”

The man’s grin widens, but his eyes remain cold, watching you with unsettling precision. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone almost mocking. “Well, that’s a shame. Been looking for them for a while now. That guy, Jay, he owes me… let’s just say, a few favours.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with menace. Behind you, you can sense Jay’s absence, the faint rustle of his movements as he slips away to warn the others. It’s just you and this man now, and you’re painfully aware of how exposed you are.

“Like I said,” you repeat, your voice firmer this time, “you won’t find them here. So you should move along.”

For a moment, the man doesn’t respond, his gaze lingering on you as though trying to read between your words. Then he takes a step back, his grin never wavering. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time,” he says lightly, though there’s a faint edge to his voice. “Nice camp you’ve got here. Hope it stays that way.”

With that, he turns and begins to limp away, his steps slow and deliberate. You don’t lower your knife, your gaze fixed on his retreating figure, tracking every laboured movement until he vanishes into the tree line. Only when the shadows swallow him whole do you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your legs tremble beneath you, exhaustion and adrenaline mixing into a potent cocktail that leaves you unsteady.

“Is he gone?” Jay reappears and asks from behind you, his voice low and tense. He steps closer, his eyes darting nervously toward the gate as if expecting the man to reappear at any moment.

“For now,” you whisper, barely able to hear your own voice over the pounding of your heart. The words feel hollow, more for your own reassurance than his.

You glance at Jay—his face is pale, his usual composure shattered. His bow has been replaced with his pistol, and he grips it so tightly that his knuckles turn white, as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

The silence between you lingers for a beat too long. Without a word, you start climbing down the ladder, your mind racing to piece together what just happened. Questions swirl in your head, each one more unsettling than the last. Why was he here? How did he find the camp? And most troubling of all—what does he really want?

Jay follows, his footsteps slower, more hesitant. By the time the two of you reach the bottom, the rest of the group is already gathered around. Their expressions range from confusion to concern, a tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“What happened?” Heeseung is the first to speak, his tone wary but insistent. “What did he want?”

You glance at Jay, whose jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. His grip on his pistol hasn’t loosened, and his posture is rigid, like he’s bracing for something.

You shift your gaze back to Heeseung, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. “It’s the guy you told me about,” you say quietly. “He was looking for you lot.”

“And I don’t think he bought a single thing I said,” you admit, your voice even but laced with quiet frustration.

Jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, but instead of relief, you see something else settle in his expression—panic, the kind that runs deep and raw. “Oh god… we can’t stay here. We need to leave. Right now.”

The fear in his voice startles you. You’ve never seen Jay like this, not the sharp, sarcastic, ever-sceptical man who’s never once let his guard down, and you’re suddenly more confused than ever. Then it clicks, the words the stranger said echoing in your mind:

That guy, Jay, he owes me.

He singled Jay out.

But why? If Heeseung was right, if the man was the one who killed their friend, why would Jay owe him anything?

Your heart sinks, the realisation creeping in like a shadow. You glance at Jungwon, his jaw clenches subtly, the muscle ticking as he processes it all. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you says it all. He’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Jay,” Jungwon starts slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “What did you do?”

Jay’s head snaps toward the leader, his sharp eyes locking onto him like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. Then his jaw tightens, and you see it—the guilt, the weight of something he’s been carrying for far too long.

“What did you do, Jay?” Jungwon presses, his voice steadier now, his suspicion hardening into certainty.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Jay scoffs in mock annoyance.

The silence that follows is suffocating. Sunghoon steps forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Jay. “No, he’s right. Why would he be looking for us? Specifically for you?”

Jay’s head snaps toward Sunghoon, his eyes narrowing defensively. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m asking if there’s something you’re not telling us,” Sunghoon says, his tone calm but firm. “Because he didn’t just stumble across us, Jay. He knows exactly who he's looking for.”

Jay hesitates, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and you can see the internal battle raging behind his eyes. Finally, he lets out a sharp breath, his shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of him.

“I went after him.”

“You what?” Sunoo’s voice is a mix of disbelief and anger. “You went after him alone?”

Jay ignores him, his focus entirely on the ground as he continues. “It wasn’t hard to find him. He was camped out at the edge of the city, asleep, surrounded by our supplies. I took them back. All of them.”

“And then?” Jungwon presses, his voice dangerously calm.

Jay hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Then… I shot him. In the ankle. Left him there. The sound attracted the dead, and I ran.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You glance around the group, their faces a mix of shock, anger, and something heavier—betrayal.

“You left him?” Jake says, his voice low and incredulous. “You left him to die?”

“He killed her!” Jay snaps, his voice rising as he finally meets Jake’s gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of defiance and regret. “What was I supposed to do? He put a knife to her throat, and we gave him what he wanted. And he killed her anyway. You think he deserved mercy?”

“You could’ve told us,” Heeseung says quietly, his tone cutting deeper than if he’d yelled. “You could’ve trusted us instead of going off and doing something reckless.”

“I couldn’t!” Jay’s voice cracks, the raw emotion spilling over. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I had to… I had to make him pay.”

“And now he’s here,” Jungwon says, his voice cold and measured. “Looking for you. And you’ve put all of us at risk because of it.”

Jay’s shoulders sag, the weight of Jungwon’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. “I didn’t think he’d survive,” he admits quietly, his voice barely audible.

“Well, he did,” Jake snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface. “And now he’s got a grudge and knows exactly where to find us.”

Part of you understands Jay’s anger, his grief. The sheer weight of what they’d lost—what that man had taken—could drive anyone to the edge. But the other part of you, the part sharpened by survival, sees the problem for what it is. Heeseung is right—it was reckless. This isn’t just about a chance encounter or a petty grudge. That man is here for revenge, and now the camp is squarely in his crosshairs.

Jay swallows hard, the fight in him extinguished. His voice trembles as he mutters, “I’m sorry…” The words hang in the air, hollow and inadequate.

The moonlight cast harsh shadows on everyone’s faces, highlighting the unease and exhaustion etched into their expressions. Sunghoon leans against the barricade, his jaw tight as he stares into the darkness. Jake’s hands are curled into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line. Even Sunoo, ever the optimist, looks pale and withdrawn.

Finally, Jungwon exhales sharply, breaking the tension. His shoulders square, and his expression hardens as he steps forward, taking charge. “We don’t have time for blame right now,” he says, his voice steady and commanding. The tone leaves no room for argument, cutting through the tension like a knife. “What’s done is done. We focus on what’s next.”

“And what’s that?” Sunoo asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“We leave,” Jungwon says simply. “Because if he comes back, he won’t be alone.”

The words hit like a hammer, and the weight of them settles over the group. Jake’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “You’re saying we abandon the camp? Everything we’ve built here? I thought we’d finally be able to settle down.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon replies firmly, his gaze sweeping across the group. There’s a steadiness in his tone, but you can see the weight of the decision reflected in his tense posture. “He knows exactly where we are, we can’t defend this place against a coordinated attack. And it’s not the first time we’ve had to pack up and leave because of circumstances beyond our control.”

Heeseung nods slowly, his expression grim. “He’s right. We’ve seen what people like that can do. And it’s not just him. There’s that strange horde we encountered earlier today. If he’s somehow connected to them—staying here is suicide.”

“But where would we even go?” Ni-ki interjects, his voice edged with frustration. “It’s not like there are safe havens just waiting for us.”

Heeseung pulls a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, its edges frayed and creased from frequent use. It’s a map of Seoul, though it’s seen better days. Parts of it are scratched out, and there are annotations scrawled in the margins—places they’ve scavenged, places they should avoid. As Heeseung unfolds it, you notice the heavy red crosses marking several areas.

“There’s nowhere to go but further north,” Heeseung says, his tone measured as he scans the map. “But that takes us closer to the demilitarised zone. That place fell to The Future the last time we checked.”

The tension in the group thickens as Heeseung continues to analyse the limited options. Judging by the sheer number of red crosses, it’s clear their choices are slim. The faint hope of finding refuge seems to dwindle with every second.

Then your eyes catch on something familiar—a road along the Seoul-Busan highway, just as it’s leaving the city. A rest stop is marked there, scratched out in bold red ink. The memory of that place hits you like a spark in the darkness.

“Here,” you say, pointing to the rest stop on the map.

Heeseung glances at where you’re pointing and immediately shakes his head. “No. That’s one of The Future’s outpost. The place is probably crawling with them.”

“What? No,” you reply quickly, your brows furrowing as you think back. “I was there. Scavenging. There was a gas station filled with supplies. It was too big of a place and too risky for me to set up camp, so I took what I could and left. But when I wanted to go back for more, it was overrun by the dead. I didn’t want to take my chances alone. But if there’s eight of us, it should be pretty easy to clear out if we’re careful.”

The words tumble out of your mouth, and for a moment, the group falls silent. You look up from the map, suddenly aware of the fleeting glances being exchanged between Jungwon, Heeseung, and the others. Confusion is written plainly across their faces, their unease palpable.

“When was that?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the silence, careful and probing.

You hesitate, trying to gauge the timeline in your head. “Over a month or two ago? Give or take. It was the first time I had to venture that far out in search of food. Finding that place felt like a blessing—I hadn’t eaten for days at that point.”

You’re so caught up in recounting the memory that you almost miss the look of shock that flashes across Jungwon’s face. His expression hardens, his gaze shifting to Heeseung, who looks equally taken aback.

“Y/N, are you sure it’s the same rest stop?” Heeseung asks, his gaze sharp and unyielding as it locks onto yours.

“Positive,” you reply firmly, though the rising tension in the air makes your chest tighten. “I think I’d remember the place that quite literally saved my life.”

Heeseung’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes flicking toward Jungwon. “Jungwon…” he starts slowly, his voice laced with urgency. “Wasn’t the last time we had to move camp to run from The Future about two months ago?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond right away. His jaw tightens, his expression darkening as if the weight of the realisation is physically bearing down on him. Finally, he looks at you, his sharp eyes searching yours for answers, certainty, or maybe even doubt. But all he finds is your unwavering resolve.

“Something is seriously wrong,” Jake mutters, his voice barely audible as he scratches the back of his neck. His gaze flits between you and the others, confusion etched deeply into his features. It’s as though he’s trying to piece together a puzzle where the pieces don’t quite fit. “If that place was overrun by the dead, and The Future was still active there, then…”

His voice fades into the background, his muttering drowned out by the rising unease. The tension among the group is palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. You’re equally as confused as the rest of them, but you can tell their confusion stems from something you don’t yet understand.

Jungwon’s expression hardens further, his voice low and deliberate as he says the words that send a chill down your spine. “The Future… fell?”

The statement lingers in the air, heavy and foreboding. Your mind races, trying to comprehend what he means, but before you can process it, the sound of shuffling feet cuts through the stillness.

It starts faint, like the rustle of dried leaves in the wind, but it grows louder with each passing second. The guttural moans of the undead follow, a haunting symphony of the dead. There’s no mistaking it—there are a lot of them, and they’re close.

Jungwon’s head snaps toward the sound, his hand immediately gripping the blade at his hip. His voice cuts through the rising chaos. “Ni-ki, start up the van! Everyone else, grab what you can and get on. Now!”

The group springs into action, weapons drawn as the moans grow louder, the shuffling of feet drawing closer. You grip your knife tightly, your pulse pounding in your ears. The forest that once offered a fragile sense of safety now feels like it’s closing in.

“They’re coming from everywhere!” Sunghoon shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos as he points toward the tree line.

Jungwon moves quickly, stopping next to you, “Y/N, with me. We need to clear a path for the van to pass through.”

You nod, swallowing the lump of fear rising in your throat, and fall into step behind him. The first of the undead breaks through the undergrowth, its decayed face catching the dim light, its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto you with unrelenting hunger.

“Stay close,” Jungwon says, his voice low but steady as he raises his blade.

The camp erupts into a flurry of motion and noise, the clash of weapons against bone mingling with the moans of the undead. You steal a glance at Jungwon, his movements precise and controlled as he takes down one of the creatures with a single, fluid strike.

Even as you fight, your mind is clouded with questions. The Future fell. The weight of those words lingers, gnawing at the edges of your focus. What could it mean? How could it connect to what’s happening now? The rest stop, the hordes, the whispers—none of it adds up.

Your thoughts are abruptly cut short as another zombie lunges toward you, its rotting hands outstretched. You dodge instinctively, driving your knife into its skull. The sickening crunch reverberates up your arm, but you can’t afford to dwell on it. Not now. That’s right, what’s the point of dwelling on the dangers of the future if you can’t even make it out of the present alive?

“Y/N, watch out!” Jungwon’s voice snaps you back to reality just in time for you to duck as another undead stumbles toward you. Jungwon’s blade flashes in the dim light, and the creature collapses in a heap. He glances at you, his expression unreadable but firm. “Focus. We need to keep moving.”

You nod, breathless but determined, and press forward. The path ahead is thick with the undead, their shuffling forms threatening to overwhelm the group. But together, you and Jungwon cut through the horde, each strike clearing the way inch by hard-fought inch.

Behind you, the van’s engine roars to life, Ni-ki shouting from the driver’s seat, “We’re ready! Let’s move!”

“Keep pushing!” Jungwon calls to the others, his voice unwavering. The van lurches forward, and you fight harder, carving a path through the chaos as the vehicle edges closer to the gate.

The group scrambles toward the van, the undead closing in with every passing second. One by one, the group leaps into the back, the interior modified into a wide, open space—likely Ni-ki’s handiwork. The seats have been ripped out, replaced with a carpet that’s seen better days but provides enough room for everyone to pile in.

You’re about to climb into the van when something catches your eye—a lone figure standing just at the edge of the clearing.

At first, you think it’s another survivor. It’s upright, still, as though it’s observing the chaos. But then you take in its tattered clothing and decayed flesh, and the breath catches in your throat. It’s a zombie.

But it’s not moving.

Your heart pounds as your gaze locks onto its face. The peeling skin and hollow cheeks are all too familiar, but its eyes—its eyes are clear. Not the usual milky, lifeless void you’ve come to expect from the undead, but sharp and disturbingly human. For a moment, you could swear it’s looking directly at you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, snapping your focus back to the present. He’s gripping the doorframe, his blade still in his hand, ready to help you in.

“Do you see that?” you ask, your voice low and unsteady, gesturing toward the figure.

Jungwon’s eyes follow your line of sight. His expression shifts subtly—confusion giving way to unease as his gaze locks on the unmoving figure. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but the tension in his posture tells you he sees it too.

“Y/N, get in,” he says firmly, his voice quiet but insistent.

You hesitate for a split second longer, your mind racing as you try to process what you’re seeing. The figure doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. Its eyes remain fixed on you, eerily still and unnervingly focused.

“Now,” Jungwon snaps, his urgency jolting you into action.

You clamber into the van, pulling the door shut behind you. The van lurches forward, the sound of the undead clawing at the sides as Ni-ki floors the gas, navigating the rough forest terrain with practiced skill. Inside, the group struggles to catch their breath, weapons clattering to the floor as they brace themselves against the jerking motions of the vehicle.

But you can’t stop thinking about the figure. You glance out the back window, searching for it, but the dense trees blur past too quickly.

Jungwon leans closer, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, gripping the side of the van for stability. “It wasn’t like the others. It didn’t move. And its eyes…”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze fixed ahead as if he’s already trying to piece together an answer. “We’ll deal with it later,” he mutters. But you can see the unease in his expression, the weight of what you both just witnessed settling over him like a dark cloud.

The van jolts over another bump, and you force yourself to focus on the here and now. The memory of the figure lingers, though, its sharp, human-like eyes burned into your mind. Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal—and the thought of what it could mean sends a chill down your spine.

Sounds of laboured breaths and quiet muttering fill the van as everyone tries to catch their breath. Sunghoon sits near the front, wiping blood off his blade with the edge of his sleeve, while Jake rifles through the med kit, his brow furrowed as he takes inventory of what’s left. Jay is silent, his expression dark as he stares out one of the small reinforced windows.

“So,” Heeseung pipes up from the passenger seat, glancing back over his shoulder. “Any idea where we’re heading?”

“Can we not have a moment of silence for the fact that we’ve barely escaped death? Again.” Sunoo quips, his usual sarcasm laced with exhaustion.

“Geez, don’t have to be all prissy about it,” Heeseung mutters, rolling his eyes as he slouches back in his seat.

“Head for the rest stop,” Jungwon says abruptly, his voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. His tone is calm but resolute, the kind that immediately silences any further remarks.

Jay’s head snaps toward him, his dark eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious. We don’t even know if what she’s saying is true. What if it’s not what she says it is? What if The Future is still there?”

Jungwon’s gaze flicks toward Jay, his expression unyielding. “We don’t have many options, Jay. You saw the map. Everywhere else is a dead end—literally.”

Jay scoffs, his frustration boiling to the surface. “And this isn’t? What if we’re driving straight into a trap?”

“Jay,” Jake interjects sharply, his voice uncharacteristically firm as he closes the med kit with a snap. “With all due respect, I don’t think you have any say in this right now.”

The tension in the van thickens as Jake’s words hang in the air. Jay glares at him but doesn’t respond, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looks away.

“We’ll approach cautiously,” Jungwon continues, his voice steady but firm. “We scout the area first. If it looks clear, we check it out. If not, we move on. But we can’t afford to keep running blind. We need supplies, and we need a plan.”

The group exchanges uneasy glances, but no one voices further objections. Jungwon’s calm authority seems to settle over everyone, even if only temporarily. You can feel the weight of their trust in him, even Jay’s, despite his reluctance.

You lean back against the van’s wall, your fingers brushing over the hilt of your knife as you try to steady your breathing. The memory of the lone figure from earlier flashes in your mind, its clear eyes locked onto yours. You push the thought aside for now—there’s no room for distractions when the stakes are this high.

The van jolts slightly as Ni-ki manoeuvres it over the uneven terrain, his focused expression illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You catch Jungwon’s gaze briefly, and he gives you a small nod—an unspoken reassurance, for now.

About half an hour drifts by, Ni-ki drives steadily along the uneven roads skirting the edge of the forest, the dense trees remaining close on the van's left. It’s a long detour as compared to driving straight through the city. But it’s safer this way—quieter. No one speaks, no one stirs.

Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Jake is curled up against the wall, his head resting on his arms. Sunghoon sits with his back against the van, his knife still in his lap. Even Jay looks like he’s finally let himself rest, though his hand never strays far from his pistol.

But you? You don’t sleep. And neither does Jungwon.

You both sit next to each other in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down on what little space there is between you. There’s an understanding in that silence—a shared knowledge of something far beyond your comprehension. Something that lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

This isn’t just about surviving anymore. It’s about staying ahead of someone who knows how to hunt you down. That said, sleep is the last thing you’re worried about.

“What do you think that was?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air, cautious, careful not to disturb the fragile peace inside the van.

Jungwon doesn’t look at you. His gaze is locked on a single spot on the ragged carpet beneath his feet, his fingers tracing the worn fabric absentmindedly. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, distant. “A mutation? I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s him?” you press, your heart beating just a little faster. You don’t need to explain who you’re referring to. The thought is already there, lingering between you both.

Jungwon’s hand stills against the carpet, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, he replies, “Maybe.”

That single word carries so much weight, so much dread. It hangs heavy in the air, settling deep in your chest.

There’s no certainty in his answer. No confidence. It’s unnerving—he’s usually the one with the answers, the one who reassures everyone else that they’ll figure it out. But right now, there’s none of that conviction. Just tired confusion, vulnerable, almost hopeless. A stark contrast to the strong, commanding voice he uses when he speaks to the others.

It’s the kind of tone he never lets the group hear.

And for a second, you’re glad they’re asleep. Glad no one else is awake to see this side of him—the side that isn’t sure, that doesn’t have all the answers.

Because you know, without a doubt, it would weigh on them. Everything Jungwon says, everything he feels, it spreads through the group like wildfire. That’s how much they rely on him. That’s how deeply their survival depends on his mentality—whether he realises it or not.

Jungwon exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “If it is him… then we’re in more trouble than we thought.”

The van jolts over a bump in the road, and Ni-ki mutters something under his breath from the driver’s seat, his focus unwavering. The silence stretches between you, thick with tension but not uncomfortable. It’s a shared quiet—both of you lost in your thoughts, both of you carrying burdens too heavy to put into words.

You glance at Jungwon from the corner of your eye. His posture is rigid, his arms resting loosely on his knees, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his exhaustion. He hasn’t slept since… Well, that’s the thing—you can’t even remember the last time you actually saw him let himself relax for a moment. His gaze remains distant, focused on nothing and everything all at once.

Without really thinking, you shift closer, the subtle bump of your shoulder against his drawing his attention. He glances at you briefly, his tired eyes flickering with surprise, but he doesn’t pull away.

Your heart is still racing from the events of the night—the man, the whispers, the horde that shouldn’t have been there. But now, sitting here beside him, the weight of it all feels a little easier to carry. Slowly, cautiously, you let your head rest against his shoulder.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. You wonder if you’ve overstepped, if he’ll pull away, but then you feel it—slow and hesitant. Jungwon shifts slightly, his body relaxing as he leans into you. His head rests gently against yours, his blonde hair brushing your temple.

Neither of you says anything. There’s no need to.

The hum of the van’s engine fills the space between you, a steady rhythm that matches the rise and fall of his breathing. His warmth seeps into you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside fades into the background.

It’s strange, this quiet moment of closeness. You’ve spent so long keeping your distance from others, building walls to protect yourself. But with Jungwon, it feels different. It feels… safe.

“You should rest,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely louder than the hum of the engine.

“So should you,” you whisper back, your eyes closing briefly as the exhaustion pulls at you.

A faint chuckle escapes him, more a breath than a laugh. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moves. You both stay like that, leaning against each other, finding comfort in the quiet, fleeting peace. And for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself forget the chaos waiting outside.

You let yourself breathe.

part 1 - rotten | masterlist | part 3 - whispers

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: my apologies if i missed any taglist requests commented under the previous part! my tumblr's not working like it's SUPPOSED TO. regardless, i should've noted down everyone. part 3 is a little shorter so i'll post it coming saturday 12am kst (maybe earlier if this manages to reach 200 notes hehe) enjoy!

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @M1kkso @tinycatharsis @parkjjongswifey @dcllsinna

taglist open. 1/2 @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @strawberryhotlips @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon @l1s0ro @engurishu @opheliaas-stuff

non-gray/underlined = cannot tag

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deansbeer · 3 days ago

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✷ ◟ ECHOES OF DESIRE ৎ᠀

library introduction minors do NOT interact!

SYNOPSIS. you never expected to hear dean's thoughts this clearly—especially not when they're about you in the most unexpected way.

KARI'S NOTES. ignore the fact that my blog is a mess of things & i've changed the layout for my fics many times :) can this also be considered an early bday gift for dean ??? i have a lil something planned for his special day but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ this is somewhat cutesy ig lol + tiny disclaimer <3 the photos above r used solely for aesthetic purposes !!!!

it's late in the bunker—the kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing against your ears as you sit alone in the library. sam and dean have both retreated to their rooms for the night, finally giving in to the exhaustion that comes with long hunts and endless research. but you? you're wide awake, as usual, hunched over a pile of lore books with your bunny, bolt, nibbling on hay in a little pile you set out for him. the faint sound of his chewing and the occasional rustle of paper are the only things breaking the stillness.

you pop another blue peanut m&m into your mouth, the faint crunch grounding you as your eyes scan the faded text in front of you. you're so close—so damn close—to deciphering the last piece of this puzzle for their next case. you can feel it right there, just out of reach, the answer dancing at the edge of your mind.

but then, like a radio station suddenly switching frequencies, you hear it.

someone's thoughts.

you pause mid-bite, your jaw tightening as you inwardly groan. who the hell is thinking this loud so late at night?

it's not unusual for you to pick up on stray thoughts; it's part of being a telepath. but this? this is loud. intrusive. like someone shouting directly into your brain. you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to block it out, to focus on the task at hand. you've gotten good at tuning people out over the years, but some thoughts are harder to ignore than others.

you shake your head, turning the page of the lore book in front of you, determined to push through the distraction. but the thoughts don't stop. they keep coming, louder and more insistent, like waves crashing against the shore.

and then you realize something.

these thoughts… they're familiar.

at first, you think it's sam. he has a tendency to overthink even in his sleep, his dreams sometimes bleeding into his waking thoughts. but no, this isn't sam. his mind is quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with deep, dreamless sleep.

it has to be dean.

your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as the realization settles in.

dean.

you grip the edge of the table, your fingers curling tightly around the wood as his thoughts flood your mind. he's begging. it's desperate, raw, like he's pleading for something he can't have. but it's not just his words—his emotions are pouring through, too, overwhelming you with their intensity.

your chest tightens, your heartbeat quickening to match his. there's a strange knot forming in your lower abdomen, a heat that spreads through your body, and you have to clutch at your stomach to steady yourself. biting down on your bottom lip, you try to hold back the whimper threatening to escape.

he's calling your name. not out loud, but in his mind. over and over, like a prayer.

and then it happens—something that's never happened to you before.

you see through his eyes.

for a moment, you're no longer in the library. you're somewhere else entirely, looking through dean's gaze as he lies in bed. your breath hitches as you take in the scene before you: his hand, moving with a rough, almost frantic rhythm over himself, and in the other hand?

a polaroid.

your polaroid.

it's a picture he took of you during one of your outings, the sunlight making your skin glow as you posed for a photo. you remember the moment vividly—how he insisted on taking the photo despite your protests, how he teased you about how good you looked in your little dress.

and now he's using it.

you let out a tiny gasp, the sound startling bolt, who looks up at you with wide, curious eyes. you're back in the library now, your cheeks burning as you try to process what you just saw.

dean. was. masturbating. to. your. photo.

you shake your head, trying to banish the image from your mind, but it's too late. it's seared into your memory, the raw need in his thoughts still lingering like an echo.

you don't get much sleep after that.

the next morning, you're in the kitchen, trying to shake off the haze from the night before. bolt sits at your feet, munching on his breakfast as you make yourself a cup of coffee. you're dressed in one of your favorite nightgowns, a tiny blue satin thing with lace trimming, paired with a matching silk robe. it's comfortable, soft against your skin, and you don't think much about it as you move around the kitchen.

you're lost in thought, replaying everything from the night before, when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. you turn, startled, and there he is.

dean.

he's rubbing his tired eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his t-shirt clings to his chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare. he doesn't say anything at first, just grunts in acknowledgment as he heads for the coffee pot, but you can feel the tension radiating off him.

"morning," you say, your voice light, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

"mornin'," he mutters, his voice rough with sleep.

you take a seat at the table, bolt hopping onto your lap as you sip your coffee. dean follows a moment later, his eyes flicking to the bunny and then to you.

"does he have to sit on your lap?" he grumbles, though the jealousy in his thoughts is loud and clear.

you can't help but smirk. "why are you so jealous of a bunny?”

his eyes narrow, and he shoots you a pointed look. "stay out of my head, sweetheart."

but you're not about to let him off that easily. setting your coffee down, you lean forward slightly, your gaze locking onto his.

"how come you were begging for me last night?"

he freezes, his jaw tightening as his eyes widen. for a moment, he looks like a deer caught in headlights, and you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i don't know what you're talkin' about," he says quickly, his voice stiff as he avoids your gaze.

you frown, not buying his act for a second. "dean."

he tries to deflect, asking you something about the research you were doing last night, but you're not letting this go.

"don't lie to me," you say softly, your voice firm. "i know what i heard. i know what i felt."

his cheeks flush, a rare sight that only makes you more determined. but DEAN WINCHESTER is nothing if not stubborn, and he's not about to admit what you already know.

two idiots in love, too afraid to take the leap.

and yet, the truth lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniable.

SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @figthoughts @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @lustagel @rafespreciosa @jasvtsc @voidsuites @t3l3vangelism . . . ☆

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meinenaffenhosen · 3 hours ago

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May I also recommend, for those looking for a way to keep track of what’s going on generally, without getting constantly overwhelmed:

WTF just happened today

It’s a daily newsletter that provides a one sentence wrap up of the day’s fuckery for those of us that need to limit our exposure to real time news feeds and social media to keep our sanity.

On days where you have more bandwidth and/or just need to dig in to one or more of the day’s fuckeries, below the one sentence summary they provide a longer outline of what happened with links to a variety of sources.

It’s been a godsend for me ngl

Listen to me. Listen very carefully:

They are trying to wear you out.

They are trying to wear you out, and they own most major social media now, along with many major media outlets. The disinformation machine is cranking along. You are going to have to slow the fuck down and read things before you help them wear out other people, too.

So you just saw a post about a real scary bill, hunh? Republicans want to make it a capital offense to pet dogs and repeal The Sky Is Blue Act of 1793, declaring the new official color of the sky to be squant? Damn, that sounds scary.

Let's go look up this fictitious "Make The Sky Squant Again Act" on GovTracker* & on the official legislative tracker on congress.gov!

Well, let's see... GovTracker estimates it has a 1% chance of even getting out of committee and a 0% chance of being enacted, while congress.gov says this bill has 2 cosponsors who have been in the House and combined total of less than a month. The bill doesn't have any actual text, and it was referred to 5 different committees.

That fictitious bill and a hundred others like it are quite literally not worth your time, and more than that, continuing to wring your hands about it and tell other people about the scary scary squant sky bill only does their work for them. It scares people, it makes them spend time and energy on it, and it wears them out. It is a legislative Gish Gallop, meant to throw so many things at people that we can't keep up.

Even calling or messaging your Rep in this case means their staffer has to waste time responding to you and letting you know that Representative Buttzonheads definitely won't support making petting dogs a capital offense, a thing that will never, ever happen regardless.

Staying engaged in this environment is going to require protecting your heart and protecting your energy, yes, but also protecting the energy of others. This is why WWII propaganda posters also included ones taking people to task for spreading panicky rumors and undermining morale.

Do you know why most observant Jews don't eat chicken and dairy together, even though the ban is on red meat and dairy together bc you're not supposed to cook the calf in the milk of its mother?** It's not because we think that chicken might secretly lactate or Just Because. It's because the rabbis decided that if I'm sitting out in public and eating turkey and cheese together, someone might glance at the turkey and mistake it for red meat and think, "oh, well, I know that Spider is a good Jew, there must have been a change, or maybe I can just justify it to myself that if Spider does it, it must be permissible to bend the rules just that much." And I would then be accidentally leading my fellow Jew astray. We are responsible for being even more careful for the sake of others than we are for ourselves.

It's the same principle here. We need to really be careful about the information we are spreading and check things past reading a news site. Is it true? Is it relevant? Is it meaningful? Is the news site one I recognize? Can I find meaningful independent corroboration on another site, which is to say, if I find an article about it on a second site, is it just quoting or rephrasing this site?

Yeah, that is a lot. But that's how we keep them from using us to lead our fellows astray.

*GovTracker is an independent site. They explain their methodology in their About section.

**I cannot say enough how I am not at this time interested in going on a Jewish Side Quest About Dietary Laws on this post. Usually, I love it, but hold off this time, please, y'all. Let's stay on target this once.

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ghostlyferrettarot · 3 days ago

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★Pick a Picture: ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🛒✧˚.💓⋆ What gossip is being said about you lately˚˖𓍢ִ໋🛒✧˚.💓⋆

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🩵If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🩵

🩰Masterlist🩰

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Pile 1: Judgement, The Star, The Knight of Swords

The rumors that have been circulating about you lately feel really judgemental, to put it in a way. With this card also present, people may be talking about a significant transformation you have, whether on a personal, professional, or emotional level. Perhaps someone has noticed a change in you, like a transformation or glow up, and they now see you differently. Some people may talk about how you have “reinvented” yourself or how you have let go of aspects of the past that no longer serve you. The important thing is that these changes have led you to a new version of yourself that is more authentic. Despite the rumors, you are spoken of with a sense of admiration. People may see you as a source of inspiration, as someone who has been through hardships but has managed to overcome them. This is a time when your inner light shines, and while there are rumors about you, they tend to be more positive. The rumors about you are likely to be more about what you have accomplished and how you inspire others to follow in your footsteps. The rumors may be coming from people who are speaking impulsively or even somewhat aggressively. Someone may be passing on opinions quickly and without much thought to the consequences. I feel like there are those who feel attacked by your success or transformation, and, rather than confront you directly, they just talk badly about you or criticize your decisions. However, despite this somewhat combative energy, the people who are talking about you probably don't have a solid basis for their comments. It's more a matter of weird opinions. The tone of these rumors is more positive than negative, but there are those who, without knowing the whole story, may speak about you in a hateful wayr.

You keep doing you pile 1, you are the star!

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Song:

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Pile 2: The Moon, The Devil, The 5 of Cups

The rumors circulating about you have a enigmatic energy, so to speak. The Moon indicates that there is confusion or misinformation in what is being said about you. People may be speaking superficially or even making up things that are not true. These rumors may be based on misunderstandings its what i feel, and the details of what is being said about you are likely to be unclear. Some people may not be seeing the whole truth or may be letting their own fears or insecurities cause them to misjudge you, i feel a lot of envy pile 2 from them to you. There may be those who are speaking negatively about you, accusing you of being involved in unethical behavior or even situations that have put you in a bad light. There could be people who are talking about how you are doing so because they feel jealous or distrustful of you, projecting their own fears or insecurities onto you. The rumors about you may be related to situations or relationships that didn't go well, and some people may be talking about you from a place of sadness or resentment. There may be circumstances where you get something that someone else wants, and now there is some sort of gossip about what happened out of envy, thsi could be a job position, a recognition, etc. Someone may feel hurt or disappointed in you, and those feelings are driving the gossip, someone you cut out, an ex-friend is what im getting. Some people may be speaking from a perspective of resentment or sadness, perhaps because they feel like something has been lost, i feel the energy of a past friendship again, something that you ended. Be careful of the people around you, as they may be projecting their own fears or insecurities onto you.

Don't listen to what others say, you keep focusing on your journey and you will succeed in whatever you want pile 2! dont let otehrs bring you down <3

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Song:

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Pile 3: Strength, The Chariot, The High Priestess

Rumors about you lately seem to be very focused on your inner strength and determination, with 3 mayor arcanas in your reading, it's powerful! With Strength, people talk about your resilience and your ability to overcome obstacles with grace and courage. You are likely seen as someone who has faced challenges, and those aspects of your personality are reflected in the rumors in a good light. Some may even admire your ability to remain calm and stable, even when things get tough. People may be commenting on your accomplishments, whether professionally, personally, or even emotionally. You may be seen as someone who has taken charge of your life and moved forward with determination, which can provoke admiration, but also jealousy in some cases. Rumors may speak of your efforts to succeed despite hardships and how you have managed to maintain control. Finally, The High Priestess suggests that many of the conversations about you are guided good intentions and acts of kindness, i feel like people really like you pile 3! Some may speak of you with a sense of mystery, as they sense that you have a wisdom or deeper understanding of life. Rumors may relate to how others perceive your inner wisdom and your ability to remain private, many seem curious about your life 👀 You may be seen as someone who is moving towards your goals with determination and control that others find intriguing.

So keep putting in the good work and you will keep shining pile 3!

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Song:

˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated ˚ ༘⋆🛍️｡˚

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tricoloreddango · 2 days ago

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Yandere Mydei Headcanons

Mydei x gn! reader

cw: isolation, controlling relationship, overprotectiveness, paranoia, spanking, leg injuring, mentions of non-con (Mydei thinks of it but doesn’t act on it), coercion.

Beware of spoilers.

Don’t read it if you’re a minor!

Origins

You’re all good with Mydei until something happens to you—suddenly you’re a threat to yourself, or anything bad that there is becomes a threat to you as well.

—When Mydei first met you, he thought of you as capable enough of taking care of yourself. Not only did you know how to fight, you also had a mouth on you, one comparable to his. While it brought him trouble, he admired your strong will and an ability to stand up for yourself in this cruel world, even in front of someone like Mydei, and he eventually he let you close to him and form a relationship with.

His feelings of confidence towards your ability quickly started to change, after you got badly injured in the battle. Hearing about this felt like a hot whiplash on his back. It didn’t matter nothing has been happening to you so far until this point, and that you were still alive. This singular incident proved that there’s always an enemy stronger than you, a risk worse than you can manage and… his mother Gorgo was a great warrior too, only to meet a deadly fate in the end too.

Paranoid thoughts filled his mind, and soon, his feelings changed from pride for you, to the sense of anger at your willingness to expose yourself to so many risks of this world with how eager for the world and challenge taking you were. And only Mydei could protect you from these risks, taking on another burden. He needed you with him desperately, the only person that truly can get through him.

—You weren’t happy about any of this, of course. From being so free, to Mydei constantly checking on you, demanding answers, questioning your ability, scolding you; until you no longer were an autonomous person, but instead under his control he’d never dare to call something else than “guidance”.

How Mydei treats the situation

All this road along, he failed to realize he was protecting his feelings instead, more than you actually needed to be protected.

—With time, rules became stricter, until you no longer could leave outside without him. No matter how much not being able to fight was depressing to you, if it truly bothers you so much, while it hurt Mydei to cut your wings like this, all he’d tell you is that you could always have a sparring training with him. He’d rather let guilt eat him alive at night, than let you get yourself injured again. Mydei truly didn’t enjoy hurting you, but hurt was never avoided either.

—Mydei’s actions were fueled by his paranoia and fears, but he was still self aware about how this affects you—he just had to prioritize one over another, safety over happiness, but still balance your wellbeing somewhat as suffering wasn’t an option either.

If you were unhappy about something, he’d try to find a substitute for what you were lacking, which of course would never compare to the real deal—but the need to keep you safe was bigger than you being fully satisfied. He lost a lot of his tribe, he lost his mother, how can he lose someone he loves too? He learned from his lessons of being merciful towards the world. He’d be cruel towards his enemies, involuntarily cruel to you, but at least you were alive and safe.

—With his usual ways of dealing with problems being violence, a most straightforward and effective method, there was not much that Mydei wouldn’t do or much that would hold him back from doing bad things in your name—any threat to you would be immediately dealt with, even if it was meant to be more bloodshed. Just don’t look at him as if he’s a monster afterwards, or he’ll have to start making it a secret to keep away from you. Mydei had enough self-doubts after killing his own father.

Punishment

He loved you, but he’ll be strict if he needs to be. It was a matter of you forcing him to be.

—With what little freedom he puts you through and him not being entirely delirious, he’d try to be patient with you. He didn’t expect you to ever forgive him, knowing it’s difficult on you and that your life will never be really yours, even if your coldness towards forgiveness made him feel guilty… but he still chased your compliance and understanding, reminding you it’s about your safety. He’d give you time, but if you continue disregarding his orders and concerns for too long, he’d be forced to take measures he wouldn’t want to deliver onto you. He might hurt his enemies with ease, but hurting you was a last resort, as you didn’t cross him the same way his enemies would and naturally his affection held him back; so you’d have to push him really hard for him to finally make a decision, that perhaps this is his only chance.

—Constantly trying to run away and him always hunting you down, despite his warnings and small withdrawal of comforts from you as a punishment—Mydei didn’t know what else he could do to keep you in place, it’s enough for him to finally think that maybe only his usual way will work at this point.

He just wouldn’t make his violence as severe as he’d do towards a foe, considering you were meant to learn and were his love, not to be brutalized upon his anger. He needed something you can recover from, but something painful enough to leave you hesitant to misbehave again.

He didn’t enjoy putting you over his lap, he felt guilt hearing your cries and pain, to the point that he’ll hold you tight afterwards, for his own comfort too. However, that guilt was something that will gradually disappear if you shall repeat same attempts regardless of being punished. If you ever reach that point, you’ll be deemed just stupid and stubborn by him, and each spanking session will feel only right and not cruel anymore. If you choose to listen instead and stop running away, but still keep making other forms of disobedience towards his protection , such penalties will be rare, replaced with from simple harsh scolding to taking away your privileges (especially outside-related); all depending on the extent of the offense.

—In worst case possible, he’d simply chain you up or… hurt a leg or two so you can’t leave, but it’d have to be done after long months of you exposing yourself to the danger and ignoring his accumulating anger and anxiety. The injury wouldn’t be anything that would permanently disable you either, even if the pain of it would be unimaginable; but Mydei would make it clear to you, that you left him no choice, and that he’ll take a care of your legs as long as you listen to him now. If anything, you having to be dependent on him when recovering felt most relaxing for Mydei.

Living with Mydei:

You are his lover, no matter how much you might struggle. Let him keep some sense of normality with you.

—While your relationship could never be the same again, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to accommodate it to be about the same. What can be done only outside, he’d still let you, as long as you were leaving with him. You weren’t entirely a prisoner by him, it wasn’t really about locking you up but keeping you away from harm after all. However, this didn’t mean you’d be able to drag him everywhere. There were certain places deemed as more dangerous, but not even because of the threat, but his paranoia you’ll take advantage to escape again.

—When it came to his treatment towards you as your lover, he still offered you same affection or respite in his arms. The issue was, your eagerness was naturally disappearing, creating a distance between you two. It was something Mydei found hard to accept. Accepting this would mean accepting your defiance towards what he was doing for you. This would fuel the sense you’re being ungrateful. Even scarier was losing your love for him, and he was so scared of losing you.

That’s why sometimes he’d force that affection on you, but he loved the moments when you came to him even more; whether they were out of sentiment or you feeling down by your situation. He’d comfort you about everything as if it wasn’t his own doing, but something that simply needed to be done. And no matter how selfish it sounded, he wanted you to comfort him too, with Mydei behaving as if this situation affected him a lot too, especially when you were so disobedient and not understanding. He tended to make himself victimized without even realizing.

--If you snap at him because you have enough of living like this, he won’t be happy. He’ll try to be patient for first few moments, trying to comfort you still, but drag this on and he’ll snap at you too, maybe with a threat of punishment on his lips. That usually shuts you up. Mydei just wasn’t good at being vulnerable, and it was hard for him to sometimes understand your cries and handle your emotions, no matter how valid they were. You just made him even more guilty again, he just wanted to make you quiet, despite it being a runaway from the problem and not a solution to your growing resentment or depression.

But if you really need your space and can’t stop talking about it, he’d let you have it… just not without making it look like a problem for him, no matter how childish that may seem from him. Mydei was used to sleeping next to you.

—If you’ve been particularly well behaved recently, you’ll see his mood to get much better, even show some excitement at the prospect of having normalcy with you again. Living with him could become more bearable, as his positive mood keeps the atmosphere lighter, and him bit more lenient with you. Keep up the good work and he’ll reward you too.

—Mydei would never admit this to you, but he keeps dreaming about the idea of you becoming entirely dependent on him. No more struggle, and he gets to be your hero and feel assured in his sense of need for your protection. You clinging to him, coming to him willingly, telling him you need him, maybe even being scared of being away from your Mydei. Of course it’d mean you are far gone at this point, nothing like the person from the first meeting, and this state, he did not want you to reach. You would have tried to kill him after hearing his fantasy spoken aloud anyway.

Sexuality

There were things he wanted to do to you, he didn’t want you to know.

While Mydei still had enough decorum and self restraint to not force himself on you, especially aware of the pain it’d bring you and guilt for him, he couldn’t deny the fact he missed the pleasure and closeness your body used to bring him. It was hard to keep himself around you sometimes, especially with his strong emotions about the situation that needed the relief too or his need for your affection, but he managed when he thought of your possible pain.

It’s just his thoughts that started to go haywire after a while of controlling you like this. Mydei wouldn’t actually force you physically, but he kept having his “what if” thoughts and unwanted fantasies. Maybe if he was to do this, he’d enforce compliance onto you, with you crying, begging and promising him you’ll listen and stay. Maybe you’d be able to think about him only and not the outside world. Maybe it would remind you of what you two once had, that it still exists somewhere, and your begs would be for more this time.

Thankfully he was able to see it was just wishful thinking, and not act on these thoughts like a fool… at least for now. Mydei felt lonely in this situation too; you’d least expect it when he’s trying to seduce you again, perhaps by an attempt of forcing desperation into you with little sneaky touches during his affections or by instilling a sense of guilt with a reminder of how much he’s trying for you. Surely you needed to blow off some steam too anyway.

Final words

Living with Mydei doesn’t have to be most miserable, if you play your cards right and choose to accept his offer of safety. While you didn’t have a choice in a traditional sense, you had a choice to make a situation better for yourself and keep some normalcy and happiness leftovers—if you choose to try to understand his reasonings, because sadly, he won’t ever change his mind. Mydei wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone in your name, but he’d hate for you to ever blame him for it. He’d hate to hurt you even more, he constantly lived with the fear he was doing so and with that, had even more guilt to carry; yet it was all buried by the sense of duty to keep you safe, one driving him motivated enough to keep going in “protecting” you, even if it felt more like avoidance towards his own problems.

Accept him, and he’s your old Mydei… somewhat. Reject him, and now you two struggle.

#yandere mydei #yandere mydei x reader #mydei x reader #yandere hsr #tcdwrites #yandere hsr x reader

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fangdokja · 1 day ago

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Yoo, can I ask a question? - yandere (of course) tartaglia, wanderer (or scaramouche) and kazuha, with a reader who has.. a slightly interesting temper, that is, the reader has an unconventional, sarcastic, extremely cynical sense of humor) humor is the reader's protective reflex, maybe.. The reader is constantly trying to turn everything into humor,often makes sarcastic little comments even if at the wrong moment.. (but reader still manages to make people laugh) Maybe this is a bit of a strange request, but why not? (I just often see how in yandere fics the reader is assigned almost the same behavior, I would like to read something new, and besides, you are one of my favorite yandere writers!) I hope my request complied with your rules, because there are SO MANY OF THEM.. I don't even remember some of them lol.. I'll be glad if you accept my request! thank you 💋

Too many thoughts, not enough brain cells. Let’s see what happens.

❤︎ Synopsis. A chaotic whirlwind of sarcasm and unfiltered humor, you—channeling the energy of Gojo Satoru—navigates life like it's a comedy show. Nothing is too serious, and everything’s an opportunity for a joke—even when the world’s falling apart.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Genshin Impact Males (Tartaglia, Wanderer, Kazuha) x Fem. Gojo (?)! Reader (separate?)

♡ Headcanon. Humor First, Consequences Later - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 12,339

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, angst + tragedy, sexual themes

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ A/N #1. This turned out longer than it was supposed to be......... but it was necessary for the build-up. So waha. And, this definitely has a different formatting and plot development style from all my other works (especially formatting), but that was done on purpose. And, yes, I'm putting this story in WITD, despite it's length, because of the formatting. Well, either way, hope you all enjoy :))

♡ A/N #2. Thank you for the support and reading so far, I appreciate it and also for taking the time to read the RULES. But, I have to inform you all on some important rules especially. As mentioned in my rules, requesters aren’t allowed to assign behavior towards the reader. For only MY works particularly, I agree that most of the behavior of reader is generally the same. Why? Well, simple, I hardly encounter self inserts with apathetic, actually not emotional readers. I lack book food. There are SO MANY emotional readers inserts. And even sarcastic sassy ones. I have no food. So I cooked my own food instead. I’ve read so many over the years, that honestly? The ones close to my personality are ALWAYS original novels with male characters. Literally Fang Yuan from Reverend Insanity cooks hardest, and even then there was that stupid part in almost Chapter 3k mark that I hated. Because they added emotions and shiz. And here I thought I found a true villain character. Small rant. But even then only he cooks really, both intelligence wise and even personality wise. No one has even beaten Fang Yuan in terms of strategy and intelligence from books that I haven’t created.

♡ A/N #3. I get it. Females are emotionally built, even biologically. But, I’m not overly emotional. I can act it, but feeling it? No. I can create other personality readers. I’ve literally written a lot of OC’s from thinkers to feelers so I can. But. Guys. I also self-insert myself in these stories whahaha. It’s not exactly my personality, but it’s still part of me. However, I’ll make an exception this time since I just released a new book, “Whispers In The Dark” for short stories. Since I’m actually a person who dislikes reading self inserts with mean readers of any kinds. This does not sound humble at all, but I’m not a mean person at all if it comes to commentary. I just keep to myself or keep my mouth shut. And I also HATE reading main characters with tempers. Probably because, I have a very mellow personality in reality. And emotions? Hardly feel anything tbh.

♡ A/N #4. Anyways so I won’t get mad when writing this, here’s basically a Gojo inspired Reader. Most ENTP’s (especially 8w7 and 7w8) are relatable to me, and I relate to Gojo a lot. Never simped, but I relate. But, next time, to anyone. I will NEVER be writing content that assigns a personality to reader. It’s one of the few things I have freedom in to just enjoy writing. I would honestly just get really irritated if I had to follow a set personality to reader. Yeah, I may write consistently the same reader, but that like genuinely makes me happy to write a reader that I can finally relate to. I hardly find stories like that. Much more in reader inserts. I hope you all understand. Kind of pathetic to say “I just wanna have fun”. But, it’s true and foundational to me. I have a difficult time writing if I’m not having fun.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia (Childe) who first noticed you in the midst of a chaotic battlefield, blades clashing and blood splattering in all directions. He was there for his own mission, but your laughter—loud, sardonic, and downright inappropriate—caught his attention.

You’d just disarmed one of his men with a sarcastic comment and a flashy spin move, only to remark, “Well, that’s one way to make him stop talking.” Tartaglia’s first thought was: This one gets it.

The two of you had crossed paths before, but this was different. You fought with a ferocity he hadn’t seen in a long time, and the fact that you seemed entirely unfazed by the danger surrounding you only intrigued him further.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who you clashed blades with in the middle of a chaotic battlefield. The air was thick with violence and the sound of metal, but there you were, laughing through the chaos.

"Well, this is fun! Is this your idea of a date, or should I try harder?" you joked, dodging his ruthless strikes with a grin that could only be described as wicked. Tartaglia couldn’t stop himself from grinning back, impressed by your chaotic energy and your apparent lack of fear.

"You're bold, I'll give you that," he quipped, flipping his spear expertly. "But I gotta ask—are you always this insufferable, or am I just lucky?"

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who first noticed you during a chaotic battlefield where chaos was your language, and you spoke it fluently. You both crashed into each other mid-fight, swords clashing in a brutal rhythm, but the moment his eyes locked with yours—amidst the blood, the screams, and the madness—he felt a jolt of recognition.

Not of fear, no, but of pure chaotic understanding. "Well, well, well, looks like you're not just another pretty face—you're a disaster in the best way possible."

You didn't miss a beat, "Flattery will get you nowhere, buddy. But I’ll take it. You really should work on your aim though."

Despite being enemies in that instant, he couldn’t help but enjoy the way you threw yourself into battle—your sarcasm as sharp as your blade. Every strike was a witty remark wrapped in bloodshed. You were an unfiltered storm of energy, and he couldn’t help but think, “This is the kind of chaos I want in my life.”

After the battle, despite the blood and sweat, you both shared a laugh as if you had just finished a light sparring session, not a life-or-death duel.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who being the chaotic soul he was, immediately clicked with you, and your shared irreverence made it impossible for him to hate you, even if you were technically enemies.

Tartaglia spoke with a handsome boyish grin, "I’m gonna need a drink after that, how about you?"

"Nah, you’ll need a bottle, pal. But we both know you’re a lightweight."

"You wound me."

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer (Scaramouche) who hated you immediately. The moment he met you, you gave him the most obnoxious smirk and made some comment about how “intense” he looked, like a lost kitten trying to be menacing. You couldn't help it—his dramatic aura was begging for a punchline.

“Oh, look. A robot with an existential crisis. What’s next, a lecture on how you’re misunderstood by the world?” The sheer audacity of your sarcasm sent a shockwave through him, one that made him freeze for a split second.

“I’d ask you to smile, but I’m pretty sure that would crack your face,” you quipped, and the cold, calculating expression he wore only made it worse. He stared at you with thinly veiled contempt, his distaste for your flippant attitude and sarcasm immediate.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer who hated you even more when you opened your mouth. During a tense moment of political intrigue, Wanderer was deep in a conversation with some high-ranking officials, trying to manipulate them for his own advantage, when you interrupted with a perfectly timed comment.

"Wow, these people talk more than my grandmother at Christmas dinner. Do they even hear themselves?"

The room went dead silent. Wanderer’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at you, trying to figure out who this... jester was. Your irreverent attitude was a sharp contrast to his own cold, calculating nature.

"Are you always this... unbearable?" he asked, his voice laced with disdain.

"Well, only when I’m surrounded by such charming people like you," you replied, not a hint of fear in your voice.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer who didn’t know how to handle your complete lack of respect. He saw you as an irritating fly—one he couldn’t just swat away because of your sharp tongue and unpredictable nature. But that didn’t stop the twisted curiosity that started to bloom in him. Maybe he hated you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy watching you twist every interaction into a dark comedy sketch.

“Do you always treat people like this?” he sneered, but you only shrugged.

“Nah, just you,” you replied with a wink, “but don’t feel too special. I hate everyone equally.”

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who, unlike the others, didn’t immediately form an opinion about you. You met him on a peaceful evening, sitting by the fire as you shared a drink.

"Nice music, but tell me—do you ever sing songs about decapitations or revenge? You know, the classics," you asked, leaning against a tree with a mischievous grin. Kazuha blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by your unexpected question.

He chuckled, albeit nervously. "Ah, well, I do tend to favor more peaceful melodies. The world has enough violence, don’t you think?"

You shrugged dramatically. "Sure, but I think it’s just a matter of perspective. You’ve never heard a good ‘revenge ballad,’ have you? Something with blood, guts, and a sweet vengeance story?"

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who was calm, collected, and in no hurry to make judgments about people.

"You’ve got a sharp tongue," Kazuha remarked with a soft laugh, sensing the tension you carried beneath your humor.

"Sharp enough to cut through all the nonsense in the world," you replied with a smirk. "It’s a survival tactic, you know? Get too serious, and people start thinking you’re a threat."

Kazuha chuckled, but there was a quiet understanding in his eyes. Unlike Wanderer, who despised your sarcasm, Kazuha found a strange comfort in it.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who spent hours talking with you—half serious, half joking—and by the end of the night, you couldn’t quite tell if Kazuha had warmed to you or simply found your humor amusing. He was neutral, calm, but there was something about your cynicism that tugged at his heart. Not in a romantic way—more like a curiosity about the darkness behind your jokes.

Despite everything, Kazuha found himself oddly protective of you, even if you were too much of a loose cannon for his liking.

"You really know how to push people’s buttons," Kazuha mused with a faint smile, sipping his drink.

"It's a gift," you replied with a grin, letting the conversation fade into the night.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who didn't dislike you. It was more that he didn’t quite understand you. He found your humor bizarre—borderline morbid, really—but at the same time, it made him appreciate the way you could maintain your composure in the face of things that would send anyone else into a frenzy. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something magnetic about your wit, your sharp tongue, and the way you saw the world.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who couldn’t get you out of his head after that battlefield encounter.

At first, it was your audacity that stood out—who cracks jokes while fighting for their life? But as you two clashed more often, he found himself genuinely entertained by your wit. Each fight became less about winning and more about trading barbs.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia purposefully pick fights with you just to hear your comebacks. One time, mid-battle, you yelled, “You gonna twirl that spear all day, or are we actually fighting?” He almost dropped it because he was laughing so hard.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who invites you for drinks post-battle as if you’re not enemies. “Come on, you’ve earned it,” he’d say with a grin. “I’ll even let you pick the bar. But if you poison my drink, we’re gonna have a problem.”

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia becomes your unofficial sparring partner. The battles become a game of who can outwit the other with sarcastic comments.

“You call that a strike? My kid brother could hit harder,” you’d say, dodging his attack.

“Oh yeah?” he’d reply, smirking.

“Maybe I’ll let him fight you next time.”

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia when he eventually starts treating you like one of his comrades. He shares stories about his family, asks about your past (you deflect with humor), and even brings you snacks during downtime. “You fight better when you’re not hangry,” he claims.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer despises your existence but can’t seem to avoid you. Every time he’s working on some secretive plan, you pop up with a sarcastic comment.

“Wow, plotting world domination again? Don’t forget the evil laugh—it really sells it.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer tries to ignore you, but your presence grates on his nerves. “Do you ever shut up?” he snaps one day, glaring at you.

“Not if I can help it,” you reply with a smirk. “What’s the point of silence when your misery is so much fun?”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer reluctantly teams up with you during a mission. It’s strictly business, but you make it nearly impossible for him to stay professional.

“You know,” you say, “if you smiled more, people might actually like you.” He glares, but the faintest twitch of amusement betrays him.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer when for the first time he lets his guard down, it’s accidental. After a long, grueling day, you find him staring at the stars.

“So, what’s the brooding about tonight?” you ask, sitting beside him. He doesn’t answer immediately, but eventually, he mutters, “Nothing you’d understand.”

“Try me,” you challenge, and for once, he indulges you.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer begrudgingly respects your intelligence. Despite your flippant attitude, you have a knack for solving problems in ways he wouldn’t consider. He won’t admit it, but he’s impressed.

“You’re not as useless as you look,” he says one day.

“Thanks, I’ll embroider that on a pillow,” you reply.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer when your sarcasm starts to grow on him.

When someone else insults him, you’re the first to step in with a cutting remark. “Hey, I’m the only one allowed to call him insufferable, okay?”

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha meets you on a quiet evening, and your energy is a stark contrast to his calm demeanor.

“Do you ever stop being so mellow?” you ask after he recites a haiku. “What’s life without a little chaos?”

He smiles faintly and replies, “Perhaps you bring enough for both of us.”

Traveling with Kazuha feels like a comedy routine. You constantly try to bait him into arguing, but he just humors you.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoy this,” you tease.

“Perhaps I do,” he replies, eyes twinkling.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha is the only one who sees the cracks in your humor.

Late one night, you sit by the fire, unusually quiet. “Even storms have calm moments,” he says softly, offering you a drink.

“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, smirking, but there’s gratitude in your eyes.

Your dark humor doesn’t faze him; if anything, he finds it endearing. When you jokingly suggest writing a song about a gruesome battle, he actually considers it.

“A ballad of bloodshed and bravery?” he muses. “Sounds poetic.”

♡ Yandere! Kazuha subtly encourages you to open up. He never pries, but his quiet patience makes it easier for you to let your guard down.

“You’re oddly calming, you know that?” you admit one day. “Like a weirdly wise fortune cookie.”

He laughs and says, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, despite his gentle nature, doesn’t hesitate to protect you. When a fight breaks out during your travels, he steps in without hesitation.

“Don’t worry,” he says, drawing his blade. “You’re not facing this alone.”

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who realizes he’s falling for you during one of your sparring sessions. You’d taken a hit—nothing serious—but enough for him to notice. After the match, he grabbed your arm, inspecting the wound with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“Relax, Childe, it’s just a scratch,” you said, smirking through the wince.

“Stop joking for one second,” he replied, a little sharper than usual. As he wrapped the bandage around your arm, his hands were surprisingly gentle.

You tried to lighten the mood. “What, worried you’d have to explain this to my ghost?”

He didn’t laugh this time. “No, I just—” He stopped himself, his usual cocky grin faltering.

“You’re reckless, you know that? I can’t always be around to patch you up.”

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who finds himself watching you more carefully after that, his playful facade slipping every time you brush off an injury or laugh in the face of danger. It’s in those moments he realizes your humor hides something deeper—a pain he’s desperate to understand.

When you finally catch him staring, you raise an eyebrow. “What’s with the puppy-dog eyes? You’re not getting sentimental on me, are you?”

His grin returns, but there’s a softness behind it. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

For once, your usual quip dies on your lips, and the silence between you is louder than the battlefield.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer who starts noticing your distant stares during quiet moments. He catches you gazing into the horizon, your usual smirk replaced by an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“What’s wrong? Forgot your punchline?” he asks, his tone biting but not cruel.

“Just thinking,” you reply, your voice softer than he’s used to.

“That’s new,” he mutters, sitting beside you. When you don’t snap back with a retort, he frowns. “What’s going on with you?”

You shrug, deflecting with humor. “Guess I’m out of jokes for the day. Mark your calendar—it’s a historic moment.”

But he doesn’t let it go. “You can’t fool me with that act. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer who doesn’t push you to open up but finds himself frustrated by your reluctance to trust him. He hates that you make him care this much, but the thought of you being hurt—physically or emotionally—makes his chest tighten.

When you finally let out a small, dry laugh and say, “You really don’t know when to quit, huh?” he feels an odd sense of victory.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” he replies, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who finds you one evening, hunched over a journal he gifted you long ago. You’re scribbling furiously, completely absorbed, and he can’t help but smile softly at the sight.

“You’re quite the writer,” he comments, startling you.

“Geez, give a person a warning next time,” you grumble, closing the journal instinctively.

Kazuha tilts his head, amused. “What are you hiding in there? Plans for world domination?”

You smirk. “Nah, just embarrassing poetry about how much I love chaos.”

But when he gently reaches for the journal, you hesitate before handing it over. Inside, he finds sketches of places you’ve traveled together, snippets of conversations, and little notes about your adventures.

“You kept all of this?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah, well, don’t get a big head about it,” you reply, trying to downplay the sentiment.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who notices the way your humor becomes softer, almost shy, when you talk about the memories you’ve shared. It’s in those moments he realizes how much you’ve let him into your life—even if you don’t fully trust him yet.

“You’re more sentimental than you let on,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Don’t spread that around,” you reply, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes that he treasures.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who catches you off guard one evening after a particularly intense sparring session. You’re both sitting on the ground, exhausted but grinning. He hands you a flask of water, and as you take it, your fingers brush.

“Careful, Childe,” you tease. “I might think you’re getting soft on me.”

He chuckles, but his eyes are serious. “Maybe I am. Around you, anyway.”

You pause, your usual smirk faltering as you look at him. “Don’t joke about that,” you say, your tone unusually soft.

“I’m not joking,” he replies, his voice steady. “You’re more than just a good fight to me. I care about you.”

For once, you don’t deflect. Instead, you lean back, staring up at the stars, and mutter, “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

But the way your lips twitch into a small, genuine smile doesn’t escape his notice.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, as he’s walking you back to your camp, and you stop abruptly. “Hey, Childe?”

“Yeah?”

You turn to face him, your grin replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. “Thanks. For putting up with me.”

The warmth in your eyes is something he’s never seen before, and for the first time, you seem completely unguarded. Before you can say anything else, he cups your face with his hand, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re worth it,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. And when you don’t pull away, he closes the distance, his kiss surprisingly tender.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer who finds you sitting alone under a tree, the sun setting behind you. There’s an unusual stillness in your demeanor, and he approaches cautiously.

“What’s with the brooding hero act?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

You snort. “Maybe I just like the dramatic lighting.”

But he notices the way your fingers fidget with the hem of your sleeve, a telltale sign of your unease. “You’re terrible at lying,” he mutters.

“Only to people who can’t take a joke,” you quip, but your usual bravado lacks its usual spark.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer who doesn’t say anything, just sits beside you until the silence becomes comfortable. Eventually, you speak again. “Do you ever feel like… no matter what you do, you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

The question surprises him, and for a moment, he doesn’t know how to respond. “All the time,” he admits, his voice quieter than usual.

You glance at him, your eyes searching his for something you can’t quite name. Then, with a small sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder. “Guess that makes two of us.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer when the gesture catches him completely off guard, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he shifts slightly to make you more comfortable, his hand twitching at his side as though debating whether to touch you.

“You’re warm,” you murmur, your voice tinged with amusement.

“And you’re annoying,” he replies, but there’s no bite in his tone.

For the first time, there’s a genuine warmth in your smile, and he can’t help but feel like he’s finally starting to understand you.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who notices the change in you during a quiet evening by the campfire. You’re holding the journal he gave you, flipping through its pages with a soft expression.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You glance up, startled, and then shrug. “Just… how far we’ve come, I guess.”

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who smiles, sitting beside you. “It’s been quite the journey, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice unusually quiet. Then, after a pause, you add, “You’ve been… really patient with me. I don’t think I ever said thanks.”

“You don’t need to,” he replies, his eyes searching yours.

“No, I do,” you insist, looking at him with an intensity that takes him by surprise. “I’m not… easy to deal with. But you stayed anyway. That means something.”

♡ Yandere! Kazuha when the vulnerability in your tone is something he’s never heard before, and he feels his chest tighten.

Without thinking, he reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. “You mean more to me than you realize,” he says softly.

You stare at him for a long moment before lacing your fingers with his. “Maybe I’m starting to get that,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For the first time, your smile is free of sarcasm or deflection. It’s warm, genuine, and utterly disarming.

“I’ll take that as a victory,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Don’t get used to it,” you tease, but there’s no bite in your words.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, when the firelight dances in your eyes, and he looks at you, he knows he’d follow you anywhere.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who surprises you one evening with a quiet dinner set up near a cliff overlooking the ocean. When you see the setup, complete with lanterns and freshly caught seafood, you raise an eyebrow.

“This is new,” you say, smirking. “What’s the occasion? Did someone die?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Can’t I just do something nice for you?”

“You? Nice?” you tease, plopping down onto the blanket. “You’re setting a dangerous precedent, Childe.”

As the evening wears on, the atmosphere becomes more intimate. The way he looks at you, with a rare softness in his expression, makes your usual bravado falter.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, at one point, he leans closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You snort, your cheeks warming. “You need to work on your pickup lines.”

But when he cups your face and kisses you, slow and deliberate, your witty comeback dies on your lips. His touch is both tender and possessive, a silent reminder that he’s already decided you’re his.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer drags you out of bed one morning, much to your annoyance. “I promise, if this isn’t life-threatening, I’m going back to sleep,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go of your wrist. “Just shut up and follow me.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer where he leads you to a secluded hilltop just as the sun begins to rise. The view is breathtaking, but you’re still half-asleep and unimpressed.

“You woke me up for this?” you ask, stifling a yawn.

“Ungrateful as always,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “I thought you’d appreciate the effort.”

Despite your sarcasm, you sit down beside him, the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours. After a moment, you glance at him and say, “Thanks. For this, I mean.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer smirks, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “Don’t get used to it.”

Later, when you’re lying back in the grass, the silence between you is surprisingly comfortable. He leans over, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he tilts your face toward his.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Good,” you reply, grinning. And then he closes the distance, his kiss as intense and consuming as his feelings for you.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha invites you on a late-night stroll, the two of you wandering through a quiet forest illuminated by moonlight. He stops at a clearing where fireflies dance in the air, their glow reflecting in his crimson eyes.

“You sure know how to set a mood,” you say, half-joking.

He chuckles, stepping closer. “It’s not the fireflies setting the mood.”

You raise an eyebrow, your trademark smirk in place. “Kazuha, are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, when he takes your hand and pulls you closer, the teasing remark you were about to make dies in your throat. His hands rest on your waist, his touch featherlight yet grounding.

“You’re the most captivating person I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Instead of replying, you pull him down into a kiss, slow and deep, the world around you fading away.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia when It’s been a year since he first confessed, and while you’ve spent most of it poking fun at his intensity, tonight feels… different. He’s pacing around your shared campsite after a mission, looking oddly nervous.

“Spit it out already,” you say, lounging on a log and stretching like you don’t have a care in the world. “You’re giving me secondhand anxiety.”

He stops, runs a hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time we made this official.”

You blink, sitting up. “Official?”

“You know,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Us. Together. Permanently.”

“Oh, that kind of official,” you reply, your smirk widening. “You really know how to charm a person, Ajax.”

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, before he can get defensive, you saunter over, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Relax,” you murmur, your voice dropping an octave. “I’d be stupid to say no, wouldn’t I?”

The relief in his eyes is quickly replaced by something darker, more possessive. “You really mean that?”

Your grin is wicked. “Why don’t you make me prove it?”

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia who doesn’t need to be told twice. Before you know it, you’re backed against a tree, his hands roaming your body with an urgency that sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re mine now,” he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Completely, utterly mine.”

“Bold of you to assume I wasn’t already,” you quip, though your voice trembles as his hands slip under your shirt.

His laugh is low, almost dangerous. “Oh, I’m going to make sure there’s no doubt left.”

The next thing you know, you’re stripped bare, pinned between him and the rough bark of the tree. His mouth is everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your hip—leaving marks that scream possession.

“You look so perfect like this,” he mutters, his voice thick with need. “Completely at my mercy.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” you manage to say, though the tremor in your voice betrays your bravado.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia when he finally slides into you, slow and deliberate, your sharp intake of breath is all the encouragement he needs. His pace is relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge as he whispers possessive promises against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, over and over, his grip on your hips bruising. “No one else will ever have you.”

And as your nails rake down his back, pulling him impossibly closer, you realize you wouldn’t have it any other way.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer, when It’s late, and you’re lying together in his makeshift tent. The air between you feels heavy, charged with something unsaid. Finally, he sighs and sits up.

“You know,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically soft, “it’s been a year.”

You hum, not bothering to open your eyes. “And?”

“And I think… maybe it’s time we stop pretending this is casual,” he says, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Your eyes snap open, and you prop yourself up on your elbows. “Wanderer, are you seriously confessing again?”

He glares, but there’s no real bite to it. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” you reply, sitting up fully. “I didn’t think you were the type to get sentimental.”

“Only for you,” he mutters, his cheeks flushing.

You laugh, leaning in to kiss him. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop teasing—for tonight.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer when he pulls you onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist as his lips crash against yours. There’s nothing gentle about the way he kisses you—it’s desperate, hungry, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You’re infuriating,” he growls, his hands sliding under your shirt to explore your bare skin.

“Good,” you breathe, grinding against him. “Wouldn’t want to make things too easy for you.”

His response is a low groan as he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the soft fabric of the bedroll. His eyes are dark, his expression utterly unguarded as he looks down at you.

“You’re not getting away tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you reply, smirking.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer when he enters you, it’s with a roughness that steals your breath, his movements erratic as he chases both your pleasure and his. His hands pin your wrists above your head, his lips tracing a heated path down your neck.

“You belong to me,” he whispers, his voice trembling with intensity. “No one else.”

And as your moans fill the air, his grip on you tightening, you realize there’s no point in denying it.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, where he's sitting beside you by the fire, the two of you wrapped in a comfortable silence. Kazuha leans toward you, his gaze soft yet intense.

“You’ve stayed with me for a year,” he says quietly. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you by my side.”

You roll your eyes, though your smile is genuine. “Are you trying to propose or something?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Maybe I am.”

The teasing remark dies on your lips as he reaches for your hand, his touch featherlight. “I want this. Us. Forever.”

You stare at him for a moment before breaking into a grin. “Well, I’m not exactly in the habit of saying no to you, am I?”

♡ Yandere! Kazuha who kisses you then, slow and deliberate, his hands cradling your face like you’re something precious.

When he lays you down by the fire, his movements are unhurried, each touch a silent declaration of his devotion. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve as his lips press heated kisses along your skin.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers, his voice trembling with emotion.

“Show me,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

And he does.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha when he finally joins with you, it’s slow, almost reverent, his movements guided by the need to make you feel every ounce of his love. His hands never leave your body, his lips pressing soft kisses against your neck, your shoulder, your lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with sincerity.

And as the firelight dances across your intertwined bodies, you realize you’ve never felt more adored—or more his.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, as he stands on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean, his mind races. He’s been with you for over a year, and it’s been nothing short of perfect, even if you’re still your usual teasing self. But he knows, deep down, that he can’t wait any longer. He’s made up his mind.

Marry me, he thinks, the words swirling in his mind. It’s not a question, not really. It’s an inevitable conclusion. You’re his. You’ll always be his. The only thing left is to make sure you understand that—completely.

“You’d be the perfect wife,” he mutters to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. He envisions you, sitting next to him by the fire, laughing, living, thriving beside him. He imagines it all, and it feels… right. It’s what he deserves.

But the question is: How?

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, as his eyes scan the horizon, searching for inspiration. The right setting, he thinks. It has to be memorable. Something personal, something only the two of you can share. Not just some grand spectacle that’ll make you feel overwhelmed—something that’ll make you want to say yes without hesitation.

Or maybe I should take you by surprise, he contemplates, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. A more intimate, private moment. No distractions. Just the two of you, alone, with nothing but his love wrapping around you.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, where his mind races through countless scenarios—by the water, under the moonlight, with nothing but the sound of the waves crashing at your feet. Or maybe in the heat of the moment, when you’re both caught up in your passion, when the connection between you two is raw and undeniable.

But one thing is clear: Tartaglia knows you’ll say yes. You’ll have to. You’re already his.

He just has to make sure you see it, too. That you realize how deep his love goes. That you understand the intensity of what he’s offering. This isn’t just a ring. It’s a lifetime of devotion and passion.

After a long silence, his eyes harden with resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you mine forever.”

The plan is set. Now all he has to do is wait for the right moment to make you his wife.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer, where two months have passed since that night in the tent, and Wanderer can’t stop thinking about how perfect it is between you two. It’s a strange thing, this feeling in his chest that grows stronger with each passing day.

You’re mine, he thinks, but now, it’s not enough to just claim you. He wants more. He wants you by his side forever. He wants you to carry his name, to have no other but him in your life.

There’s something about you, the way you challenge him, the way you fight him. It stirs something inside him, something primal, something that says, this is the person you’ve been waiting for.

“Marriage,” he mutters to himself. The thought comes to him like a sudden revelation, like the answer to a question he didn’t know he was asking. He doesn’t even blink. It just feels right.

But how? How can he make sure you understand that this isn’t just a casual decision? That he’s serious?

♡ Yandere! Wanderer rolls over in bed, staring at the ceiling. A ring? A symbol of ownership, of course. Something that marks you as his. But how does he make it clear to you that he wants this—wants you—forever?

His thoughts are a whirlwind. He knows that he can’t just come out and ask you. Not like that. You’re too clever, too observant for something so simple. No, he’ll have to make it special.

Perhaps somewhere secluded, just the two of you, far from anyone who could interrupt. He’ll show you his commitment, and then, in the silence of your shared space, he’ll make his declaration. A vow, a promise.

The problem is, he doesn’t trust himself not to just take you right then and there. The idea of you in a white dress, standing beside him, gives him a rush of desire so intense it nearly overwhelms him. But he knows that’s not what he wants.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer wants you to want this, too. Not out of obligation, but because you feel it, because you understand the gravity of what he’s offering.

But how can he make you feel that way? How can he show you that, even though he’s never been one for sentimentality, with you… he’s willing to change?

Wanderer sits up, his eyes narrowed as he thinks it over. He’ll need to be patient, let the moment come naturally, and then when it does…

He’ll claim you forever.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, where it's been two months after that night by the fire, his feelings for you have only deepened. He’s spent hours thinking about how to make the moment special, wondering how best to express his love. The idea of forever with you fills him with a warmth he can’t quite put into words.

You’ve been his muse for so long, and now, he wants to make you his in the most meaningful way he can think of.

The problem is… he’s never been good at this. How does one ask for someone’s hand in marriage without sounding cliché or desperate? How can he ask you to be with him forever when everything about him feels so transient?

♡ Yandere! Kazuha watches the wind rustle through the trees, lost in thought. The answer isn’t obvious, but it’s there, in the quiet moments he shares with you. He needs it to be personal, a reflection of the time you’ve spent together, of the bond you’ve created.

A small, intimate setting—a secluded beach at sunset, perhaps. The two of you alone, just like the first night you truly opened up to each other. He’ll ask you when the moment feels right, when the connection between you is so palpable it fills the air.

A simple question, but with everything he is.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha chuckles to himself softly. It doesn’t need to be grand. What matters is that you’ll be his, and he’ll be yours, forever.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia when the world slows, and his heart stops for just a moment, realizing that the blow meant for him has fallen upon you instead. You stand between him and the Abyss, your eyes wide in pain as the deadly weapon pierces your body. His breath catches in his throat.

"No..." he whispers, his voice broken as he crawls toward you, blood seeping from your wound.

Your lips curve into a sad, knowing smile, but it’s sharp. "Go," you command, every ounce of strength focused on keeping him safe, even as the life begins to drain from you. "Get out of here. I’ll hold them off. You have to survive. It’s not your time yet."

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia where his entire world crumbles. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. "I won’t leave you," he growls, trying to rise, but the weight of his own failure pulls him back down.

"You will," you say, your voice steady, but you can feel the darkness creeping in. "You will, Ajax. I love you... I always have." Your eyes lock, your gaze filled with such quiet resolve that it nearly breaks him. "I’m yours... but you have to keep fighting... For us."

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia before he can protest, before he can beg, you make your move. With every ounce of your strength, you grab the closest enemy and pull them down with you into the depths of the Abyss, dragging their weapons into the chasm alongside you. You force them all to fall, ensuring they can’t escape with you, ensuring that Tartaglia gets the chance to survive.

"Go!" you scream one last time. "Now!"

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, with every fiber of his being, refuses. His body trembles, his heart splintering into pieces as he watches you disappear into the darkness. He screams your name, his voice thick with despair and rage.

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, when you’re gone, when you’ve been consumed by the Abyss and he’s left behind, alone with the silence, he’s never felt more hollow. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since you vanished—days, weeks, or mere minutes. Time has no meaning when you’ve lost the only thing that has ever mattered to you.

But he will find you.

His eyes darken with madness as he stands, his entire body burning with fury. He will never stop searching for you. You think you can escape him? He will tear apart the world, the Abyss, and everything between him and you. If it takes years, if it takes an eternity, he will find you.

The ring in his pocket feels like a weight he can’t carry without you, but he will find a way to make the promise real. The promise he made to you. To love you, forever.

He stands, his fists clenched. The hunt begins.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer, as his eyes narrow. "Stay close," he commands. The two of you fight side by side, effortlessly synchronizing your movements as you’ve done countless times before. You’re unstoppable—until today.

Suddenly, the world tilts. A strange force pulls at the very air around you. The weapons they wield are like nothing you’ve seen before. A barrage of magical projectiles rains down from every direction, each one more powerful than the last, each one seemingly tailored to exploit your weaknesses.

You’re fast, but not fast enough. Your energy wanes. Wanderer's face flickers with concern as he fights to protect you, but the odds are overwhelming. Then, one of them moves too quickly, too precisely. They strike at Wanderer with a vicious blow that sends him flying back. His body crashes to the ground, and you’re the first to rush to him to take the killing blow.

♡ Yandere! Wanderer, where you’ve fallen, your body slipping into the darkness to protect him—Wanderer watches in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest as you’re consumed by the Abyss. His voice is raw, lost. “No… no, this can’t be happening.”

He rushes toward you, but the wave of enemies, their weapons tearing at the air, blocks him. His hands are shaking as he tries to reach you, but the moment is slipping away, too fast, too cruel. His mind is screaming for him to do something, anything, but the power of the Abyss pulls you further from him.

As the last of the darkness claims you, you look back. Your eyes are filled with pain, but also love, and the last words you whisper are enough to break him.

"Live, Wanderer," you say. "Live for us…"

♡ Yandere! Wanderer where his knees buckle, his world imploding in on itself as he screams your name. There’s no escaping the agony that claws at his heart. His mind turns dark, fueled by rage and desperation. How dare they? How dare they take you from him?

He grits his teeth, his hands shaking as he rises to his feet. “I’ll kill them all,” he growls, his voice hoarse with rage. “You won’t be forgotten. I swear on everything… I will make them pay.”

♡ Yandere! Wanderer stands, a man possessed, and the hunt for vengeance begins.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, where, just as he’s about to finally put his plans into motion, to ask you the question that’s been burning in his mind for months, everything shatters. The campfire crackles behind him as he watches you, your eyes catching the last light of the setting sun. He’s so sure, so certain. The ring hidden in his pocket, the words ready to spill from his lips—but then the ground shakes.

A flash of darkness tears through the sky, and Kazuha's instincts scream that something’s wrong. He turns to find you, standing beside him, your hand brushing against his as if fate has already decided. But the moment is shattered, ripped away by the sound of swords clashing, the sudden pressure of cold, calculated death.

A figure in the shadows, their weapon gleaming with deadly precision, lunges at Kazuha. A dozen more emerge, surrounding you both, their weapons crackling with malicious energy. Their presence feels wrong. Their faces are hidden behind cold metal masks, and their movements are unnatural, almost mechanical.

Everything goes wrong too fast, too quickly. You don't hesitate to protect him with your very life, shielding him from a fatal blow, from an injury that could've killed him.

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, where the moment he sees you fall—your body consumed by the Abyss—he’s frozen, unable to move. He’s never felt fear like this before, the way it twists his insides, cold and sharp. You, the one who’s been his light in the darkness, the one who’s made him believe in something worth fighting for, are now gone.

His eyes are wide as he reaches for you, his heart breaking in his chest. “No… No, this can’t be real. You… you promised…”

But the Abyss has claimed you, and he’s left standing in the dark, the world crumbling around him. His hands tremble as he drops to his knees, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll find you,” he vows. “I swear I will. I will bring you back. I will make them pay for this.”

♡ Yandere! Kazuha stands, a storm brewing within him, his resolve hardening into something unbreakable. He will find you. And when he does, there will be no place that will ever be able to hide you from him again.

The hunt has begun.

────────────

The world feels like it’s crumbling around him. His heart pounds in his chest, and his hands tremble as he moves through the shadows, eyes searching desperately for any trace of you. He’s been hunting for days—no, weeks—losing himself in the search for the only person who’s ever truly mattered to him. The Abyss took you. They took his light, his love.

He’s driven, possessed by the desire to find you, to bring you back to him, to make everything right again. No obstacle is too great. No danger too perilous. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat is a reminder that he’ll stop at nothing to have you back.

And then, there he is. The Abyss Prince.

His blood runs cold, as he sees Aether standing there, his icy gaze locked onto the battlefield. And in the distance, he sees you—slumped, bloodied, barely conscious. His heart skips a beat.

“No,” He growls, his voice low and dangerous. His every instinct screams to run to you, to hold you, to protect you, but there’s a force that stops him. Something deeper, darker, something unnatural. He knows who’s responsible. It’s him. The Abyss Prince.

His hands curl into fists. His fury surges, but before he can make a move, a chilling, unbearable presence stops him. The world seems to slow.

Suddenly, a blade pierces his chest from behind.

He gasps, his breath catching in his throat as pain explodes through him. His hands shake as he tries to reach for the hilt, but his vision blurs. He looks over his shoulder and sees a familiar face—a face he never thought he’d see in this moment.

It’s you.

A mad gleam in your eyes, a cruel twist to your lips. Your posture, your expression, everything about you has changed. You’re no longer the playful, teasing soul he once knew. You’re cold, calculating, your emotions absent, as though the person he fell in love with is gone. All that remains is someone dangerous.

His heart shatters. His voice trembles as he gasps, “No… No, you—”

But before he can finish, the Abyss Prince steps forward, his cold gaze locking onto him. “You’re not allowed to kill him,” Aether says softly, the command in his voice undeniable. “Not yet.”

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia, where his confusion swirls into a storm. He stumbles back, watching as you step away from him, the blade still lodged in his chest, before the Abyss Prince gestures for something to happen. You don’t just leave him wounded—you restrain him, binding him with chains, powerful and unyielding, until he can’t move, can’t even see. His head is tilted back, his vision completely restrained completely by the thick, suffocating darkness of the chains.

He struggles, his breaths shallow, his heart racing. He can feel the cold weight of his situation—the desperation, the helplessness that’s taken root inside him.

“You…” Tartaglia’s voice is raw with fury, with disbelief, and with pain. “What did you do to her? What have you done to my wife?”

But you say nothing. You only scoff, as though the situation is beneath you, as though the man you once knew no longer matters. There’s no playfulness, no warmth, just a chilling, vacant emptiness where your love once was.

Tartaglia’s mind races. This can’t be happening. His wife—his wife—has been manipulated. He knows it. This is all the Abyss’ doing. You’re not like this. They’ve broken you, twisted you, made you into something else. They’ve taken you from him.

His frustration boils over, but he’s helpless. “I’ll kill him,” he growls through clenched teeth. “I’ll kill the Abyss Prince for what he’s done to you.”

But even as the words leave his mouth, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong—everything is wrong. He can’t focus. His mind is too clouded, too confused. All he wants is you back. And he’ll stop at nothing to have you again. Even if it means destroying everything in his path.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer, where the madness is overwhelming. It’s all so much—the pain, the frustration, the confusion—as he watches you in front of him, cold and emotionless, blade in hand, ready to kill. His thoughts spiral in a frenzy. This can’t be real. He refuses to believe it. You… you’re supposed to be his. You’re supposed to be with him. Yet here you are, ready to snuff his life out.

The Abyss did this to you, he knows it. They’ve taken his love and turned her into something else—something cruel, something empty. Something unrecognizable.

His hand shakes as he tries to reach for you, but the chains binding him keep him stuck. His vision is obscured. Every move he tries to make is futile, a cruel reminder of how powerless he is in this moment.

“Why?” he chokes, his voice thick with emotion. “Why are you doing this? I know they’ve manipulated you. I know you’re not like this.”

But you don’t speak. You just look at him, your eyes cold, devoid of any warmth. He can’t reach you, can’t get through to you.

The Abyss Prince stands by, silent, his eyes as cold as ice. He’s watching this—he’s letting this happen. The rage within Wanderer swells to a point where he can hardly breathe.

“No,” he snarls, pulling against the chains. “I will kill you. You will answer for this.”

But you just smile at him, that same cold, emotionless smile. And all Wanderer can do is watch as his love slips further from his grasp, bound by the chains of the Abyss.

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha, where the world shatters around him as he watches you fall, as he watches you change into something that he no longer recognizes. The blade that once threatened his enemies is now raised to him, your eyes cold, indifferent to the pain he’s in. He’s unable to stop you, even as he feels the weight of the chains binding him, constricting him. You’re too far gone.

“Kazuha…” you murmur, but the words don’t feel right. They sound empty, distant. His heart cracks as he watches you, the woman he loves, standing before him, her emotions stripped away. You are a stranger now.

He gasps, trying to break free, trying to make sense of the situation. “What happened to you?” he whispers hoarsely. “Please, just… just come back. This isn’t you. This isn’t who I fell in love with.”

But you don’t answer. You only watch him, the gleam in your eyes nothing like the playful light he once knew. It’s cold, calculating, and it freezes him to his core.

And then Aether steps forward, his voice a soft command that stills Kazuha’s frantic mind. “You’re not allowed to kill him, not yet,” Aether reminds once more, his presence suffocating.

Kazuha’s breath catches, and his thoughts spin wildly. This can’t be real. You—you—you’ve been twisted. But Aether has the control here. The chains bind Kazuha tighter, his vision clouded by darkness, and all he can do is sit in silence, trapped, powerless.

“Why?” Kazuha chokes, frustration and fear flooding him. “Why are you doing this?”

Still, you don’t answer. You only step back, leaving him to face the Abyss alone, the chains around him tightening with every heartbeat.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia — The Fool's Heart

The battlefield is chaos, Tartaglia’s vision locked onto you. Aether stands at your side, the Abyss Prince exuding an otherworldly menace. Yet, Tartaglia doesn’t care. He’ll cut through anything and anyone to save you, his beloved, from the darkness that has ensnared you.

“Let her go!” Tartaglia snarls, voice cracking with desperation. His body screams from the injuries sustained in his relentless pursuit, but his heart burns hotter. His eyes flick to you—the source of his pain and salvation. “You don’t belong here! Come back to me!”

For a moment, his words seem to falter against your icy gaze. He knows you hear him, knows that somewhere in your heart, the person he loves still exists. But instead of the warmth he longs for, a cruel, mocking smile spreads across your lips.

“Come back?” you repeat, your tone dripping with false innocence. “Oh, Tartaglia, you poor, stupid fool.”

His breath hitches, confusion flashing across his face. Aether glances at you, silent but visibly amused, as though he’s watching a particularly entertaining performance. You turn to the Abyss Prince, patting his shoulder with an air of camaraderie that shatters Tartaglia’s world.

“He’s SO dumb,” you say with a cackle, tilting your head back to laugh. “Did he really think he was that special? That I cared? Oh, this is too good.”

Tartaglia stumbles back as if struck. “What… what are you saying?” he whispers, voice trembling.

“Everything, from the very beginning…” you start, pacing in front of him like a predator toying with its prey. “The teasing, the affection, the nights we spent together, the ‘sacrifices’ I made to protect you. All of it. A lie.”

He shakes his head violently, refusing to believe it. “No! You… you almost died for me! You saved me!”

You roll your eyes, brandishing the very blade you once used to fight by his side. “Please, Childe. That was just part of the plan. You were so much fun to manipulate, though. I’ll give you credit for that. Getting through your walls wasn’t easy.”

Tartaglia’s hands clench into trembling fists. His heart feels as if it’s being ripped apart. “You’re lying. This isn’t you. This is the Abyss! They’ve done something to you!”

“Oh, darling,” you croon, stepping closer to him. Your blade tilts his chin up, forcing him to look into your eyes. “I’ve always been like this. You were just too blind to see it.”

Aether’s voice cuts through the tension. “Enough.” The Prince’s command is calm, almost bored. “He’s served his purpose.”

You sigh, turning back to Aether. “Fine, fine. But can we please kill him now? This melodrama is getting tedious.”

Tartaglia’s vision blurs as the weight of betrayal crashes over him. He can’t reconcile the love he felt with the monster before him. Even as his body fails, his heart stubbornly clings to the hope that this is some cruel illusion.

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer — Shackles of Betrayal

Wanderer’s indigo eyes are wide with disbelief, fixed on you as you stand beside Aether. The Abyss Prince’s presence is oppressive, but it’s your cold smirk that steals the breath from his lungs.

“Why are you doing this?” Wanderer’s voice cracks, his usual sharp wit replaced by a trembling vulnerability. “I trusted you. I… loved you.”

You tilt your head, feigning surprise. “Loved me? That’s sweet. But did you really think someone like me could love someone like you?”

The words hit him like a blow, but you’re not finished. You twirl a dagger in your hand, your movements lazy and confident. “Let me guess. You thought we were kindred spirits, two broken souls finding solace in each other? How… adorable.”

Wanderer’s rage flares, his chains rattling as he strains against them. “You liar! I’ll kill him! I’ll kill the Abyss Prince and get you back, no matter what it takes!”

Aether chuckles softly, and you laugh along with him, the sound grating against Wanderer’s raw nerves. “Kill him?” you echo. “Oh, darling, you couldn’t even touch him. And you think I want to be ‘saved’ by you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Wanderer freezes, the weight of your words sinking in. He studies your face, searching for any trace of the person he thought he knew, but all he finds is a stranger wearing your skin.

“Why?” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Why would you do this?”

You shrug, tossing the dagger into the air and catching it effortlessly. “Because it’s fun. And because Aether needed a little help with a certain someone.” Your gaze sharpens, and for a moment, Wanderer sees the madness in your eyes. “You were just a pawn, dear. A very entertaining pawn, but a pawn nonetheless.”

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha — The Storm’s Deceit

Kazuha kneels, his hands bound by unyielding chains, his soft crimson eyes filled with betrayal as he looks up at you. The gentle breeze that usually follows him is eerily still, as though the world itself mourns his heartbreak.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “How could you… why would you do this?”

You sigh, as if exasperated by his naivety. “Oh, Kazuha. Always so poetic, so trusting. It’s almost endearing how much faith you put in people. Almost.”

He flinches at the derision in your tone. “You saved me. You risked your life for me. Was all of that a lie?”

You kneel before him, cupping his face with a mocking tenderness. “Not all of it,” you admit. “Some of it was necessary. After all, how else was I supposed to gain your trust?”

Kazuha’s breath hitches, his heart shattering into pieces he can hardly comprehend. “You used me,” he says, more to himself than to you. “You’ve been using me this whole time.”

“Bingo!” you chirp, pulling back and spinning on your heel. “Took you long enough to figure it out. Honestly, I was starting to think you’d never catch on.”

Aether steps forward, his presence a cold shadow that looms over Kazuha. “Are we done here?” he asks, his tone bored.

You glance at him with a pout. “Almost. Just let me have this moment. Watching him break is the best part.”

Kazuha’s head hangs low, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of your betrayal. Yet, even as despair overtakes him, a small ember of hope remains. He vows, silently and fiercely, to free you from the Abyss’ clutches—no matter what it takes.

You, however, have other plans. As you turn away, a cruel smile graces your lips. The game has only just begun, and you’re already thinking of your next move.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia — The Fool's Heart

The battlefield reeks of blood and fire, the aftermath of Tartaglia’s relentless pursuit of you. His breaths come ragged, his body battered, yet his gaze remains locked on you. Aether stands beside you, radiating the chilling authority of the Abyss Prince.

“You think this is over?” Tartaglia spits, his voice raw with determination. “I’ll tear apart this entire Abyss if I have to—just to bring you back.”

You laugh—a sound that is anything but warm. It’s a sharp, maniacal cackle, filled with scornful glee. “Back? To what, exactly? Your pathetic little life of lies and delusions?”

He flinches, but you’re already closing the distance between you. Your hand shoots out, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground with unnatural strength. His vision swims, yet he refuses to look away from you.

“You’re nothing without me,” you hiss, your grip tightening as his struggles grow weaker. “Do you honestly believe your love could save anyone, Childe? That I needed saving? How quaint.”

He gurgles something incoherent, but you only tighten your hold, leaning in close enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. “The only thing you’re good for is bleeding. Look at you, all this power, all this loyalty, and for what? For me to spit in your face?”

You release him suddenly, letting him collapse in a heap at your feet. He clutches at his throat, gasping for air, but you’re not done. Your boot presses against his chest, pinning him down.

“Don’t look so shocked,” you sneer, tilting your head like a predator savoring the kill. “Did you think I was some damsel in need of rescuing? No, darling. I’m the monster your nightmares warned you about.”

Tartaglia’s eyes blaze with despair and determination as he chokes out, “I’ll… I’ll kill him… take you back…”

Your laughter erupts again, wild and unhinged. “Kill him? Oh, sweetheart, you can’t even stand. You’re nothing but a pitiful fool—a fool who thought love could conquer someone like me.”

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer — Shackles of Betrayal

Wanderer thrashes against the chains binding him, his indigo eyes burning with fury and disbelief. His usual sharp tongue fails him as he stares at you, standing beside Aether, a wicked grin plastered across your face.

“You’re insane,” Wanderer growls, venom dripping from every word. “Let me go, and I’ll make you regret this.”

You clap your hands mockingly, the sound echoing in the cavernous Abyss chamber. “Regret? Oh, sweetheart, regret is for people who make mistakes. I’m having too much fun watching you squirm.”

He lunges against the chains, his strength formidable but useless against the Abyssal restraints. “You lied to me!” he snarls. “Everything—you lied about everything!”

“Of course I did,” you say with a sing-song lilt, stepping closer. Your hands trail lazily over his face, your nails scraping just enough to hurt. “Did you really think someone like me could ever care about someone like you? A discarded puppet, a useless little doll?”

His expression twists with rage, but the vulnerability behind it is unmistakable. “You’re wrong,” he bites out. “You cared. I saw it. I felt it.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you coo mockingly, before your voice drops, sharp as a blade. “Feel this.”

Your knee slams into his gut, forcing a pained gasp from his lips. You grab his hair, yanking his head back so he’s forced to look at you. “I never cared about you. You were just a stepping stone, a toy for me to break when I got bored. And guess what? I’m bored now.”

Aether chuckles behind you, his voice cold and amused. “You’re cruel,” he observes.

You flash him a wicked grin. “Why, thank you, my prince. I do aim to please.”

Wanderer’s voice is hoarse, filled with hatred and anguish. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill you. You’ll regret this.”

Your laughter is pure insanity, ringing out like a bell of doom. “Try, little puppet. Try and fail, again and again. It’s the only thing you’re good for.”

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha — The Storm’s Deceit

Kazuha kneels in chains, his crimson eyes filled with sorrow as he gazes up at you. The stillness of the air is suffocating, the calm before a storm that will never come.

“You…” he begins, his voice a broken whisper. “You were my compass. My home. How could you betray me like this?”

You crouch in front of him, your eyes alight with malevolent joy. “Betray you?” you echo, your tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, Kazuha, don’t flatter yourself. You were never that important to me.”

His breath hitches, but you don’t stop. You lean in, your lips brushing his ear as you murmur, “You were just a convenient tool, a way to pass the time. A pretty little plaything for me to use and discard.”

Kazuha flinches as if struck, his spirit cracking under the weight of your words. “You don’t mean that,” he says, but the tremor in his voice betrays his doubt.

You laugh, the sound a haunting melody of madness. “Oh, but I do. Every word. And do you know the best part? Watching you break, piece by piece.”

Your hand grips his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You thought you could save me, didn’t you? That your love could heal whatever darkness you saw in me. How utterly pathetic.”

He trembles under your touch, his chains rattling as his hands ball into fists. “I’ll find a way,” he vows, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll free you from this darkness.”

You burst into laughter, throwing your head back in pure delight. “Free me? Oh, Kazuha, I am the darkness. There’s nothing to free me from.”

Aether steps forward, his presence a cold shadow beside you. “He’s done,” the Abyss Prince says. “Let him wallow in his failure.”

You stand, casting one last mocking glance at Kazuha. “Goodbye, my little storm. Try not to drown in your tears.”

As you walk away, Kazuha’s head hangs low, his heart shattered—but the fire of his resolve burns on.

────��───────

♡ Yandere! Tartaglia — The Fool's Heart

The kiss you share with Aether is cruelly deliberate, a deep, searing display of mockery meant for the man crumpled at your feet. Tartaglia’s battered body trembles, his fists digging into the scorched ground as he watches, his chest heaving with a suffocating cocktail of pain and rage.

“Don’t look away,” you taunt, your lips still wet with the evidence of your betrayal. “This is the truth, Childe. This is all you ever were to me—something to laugh at.”

Aether scoffs, shoving you away, irritation flashing in his Abyssal gaze. But you only laugh, twirling back to face Tartaglia, your grin stretching wider as your gaze locks with his. Gone is the warmth he clung to, the person he thought he loved. In its place is a madness so stark, so twisted, it shatters whatever hope remained in his heart.

The realization crashes into him like a tidal wave—you never cared for him. Not once. Not even in the smallest, fleeting moment. His breath hitches, a dry, humorless laugh escaping his lips.

“I see it now,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but laced with a dangerous calm. “You don’t deserve kindness. And I’ve been far too kind to you.”

Your grin falters, if only for a second, as he rises to his knees, his gaze blazing with something new—something unhinged.

“It’s too late to turn back,” he says, his tone eerily even. “I don’t need your love, or your lies, anymore. You’ll be mine, no matter what I have to destroy to make it happen.”

As Abyss subordinates drag him away, his eyes never leave yours, his smirk dark and foreboding. “Run, hide, laugh while you can. I’ll be coming for you. And when I do, you’ll regret every breath you ever stole from me.”

———

♡ Yandere! Wanderer — Shackles of Betrayal

Your lips crash against Aether’s, an act of derision that sends a violent shudder through Wanderer’s restrained form. His chains rattle as his whole body tenses, the burning in his eyes consuming what little humanity he’d clung to.

“You’re a fool,” you whisper against Aether’s lips before pulling away, your laughter slicing through the silence. The Abyss Prince wipes his mouth with a look of disdain, but your amusement only grows. You whirl around to face Wanderer, your grin a feral slash across your face.

“You never saw it, did you?” you sneer, your voice dripping with venom. “All that time, all those stolen moments—and you never noticed the madness in my eyes. You’re not a victim, Wanderer. You’re just another broken thing for me to play with.”

For a moment, he’s silent. Then, the corners of his lips twitch upward, forming a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his tone soft yet laced with something chilling. “You think this is over, don’t you?”

You tilt your head, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor.

“Go ahead,” he continues, his voice gaining strength. “Laugh, mock me, pretend you’ve won. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

The Abyss soldiers begin to drag him away, but his eyes stay fixed on yours, unyielding and terrifying.

“You’ve taken everything from me,” he says, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “So now, I’ll do the same to you. Love? Hate? It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll strip you bare, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but me.”

And as he’s pulled into the shadows, his final words echo like a curse: “You’ll never escape me, not even in death.”

———

♡ Yandere! Kazuha — The Storm’s Deceit

Your kiss with Aether is theatrical, exaggerated, designed to carve deeper into Kazuha’s shattered heart. The Abyss Prince shoves you away, muttering something under his breath, but you laugh, spinning to meet Kazuha’s gaze.

“Did you think you were special?” you ask, your voice lilting with mockery. “That your poetry and promises could bind me to you? Oh, Kazuha, you were always chasing a storm you could never tame.”

Kazuha doesn’t respond, his crimson eyes fixed on yours with a quiet intensity. But the light in them has changed, twisted into something unrecognizable.

“You’ve lost,” you declare, turning away, but his voice stops you cold.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his tone so calm it sends a chill down your spine.

You glance back, and the sight of him—the once-gentle warrior now smirking with a darkness that rivals your own—sends your pulse skittering.

“You think you’ve won,” he continues, his voice soft but deadly. “But this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.”

The Abyss guards move to haul him away, yet he doesn’t resist. His gaze remains locked on you, his smile growing as he speaks his final words.

“I’ll break you,” he says, his voice like a whispered promise carried on the wind. “Not with anger, not with hatred—but with love twisted into something you can’t escape. And when you’re mine, when you’re begging for the freedom you so carelessly destroyed, I’ll remind you of this moment. I’ll remind you who truly holds the chains.”

And as the shadows swallow him, his presence lingers, a storm on the horizon waiting to strike.

────────────

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♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

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ikkyfics · 2 days ago

Text

Wasn't it obvious?

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: For a moment, Dave stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on you. The expression on his face wasn’t judgmental or angry but simply confused. “Wait...” he began, hesitantly. “You’re telling me you thought we weren’t dating?” You stayed silent, the weight in your chest tightening at his question. “I... I didn’t know.” “But...” He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking lost. “I thought it was kind of obvious."

Warnings: mention of sex (not explicit), insecurity, est. relationship, hurt comfort, a little angst

A/N: anon, I hope you can like it <333!!

Masterlist

The room was still bathed in the dim light of morning, with the curtains barely drawn, letting streaks of sunlight spill across the space. You woke up slowly, feeling the warmth of his body still so close. Dave’s breathing was soft and steady, the rhythm of someone deeply asleep. A heavy arm lay draped over your waist, a silent reminder that he had no intention of letting you slip away anytime soon.

Your eyes wandered around the messy room, clothes scattered on the floor—your shirt precariously hanging off the edge of a chair, his pants on the rug, half-hidden under the bed. You knew you needed to leave. There were commitments, schedules, things waiting for you out there. But the weight of that moment, of his warmth, seemed to beg you to stay.

“You awake?” Dave’s husky voice broke through your thoughts. He didn’t open his eyes right away, but the grip around your waist tightened slightly. When he finally looked at you, his blue eyes were clouded with sleep, dark curls falling a little over his forehead. “Stay a little longer. It’s still early…”

“I have to go,” you murmured, even as his fingers lazily traced the curve of your arm. His touch was so light, as if he wanted to draw out every second.

“No, you don’t.” He smiled in that way that always made your resolve waver—that small, crooked smile, almost boyish, but filled with something he probably didn’t even realize he carried. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked straight at you, his eyes shining even in the faint light. “Who’s gonna care if you skip, huh?”

You laughed softly, knowing he was teasing, though there was a hint of truth in his words. Dave had this way of making you feel like the rest of the world didn’t matter, like that moment—just the two of you, tangled in messy sheets—was the only thing that did.

“You’re not going to make me stay,” you warned, but your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d intended. He seemed to catch on, because his smile grew wider.

“What if I hold you down right here?” He stretched his arms dramatically, trying to pull you closer, but you slipped out, laughing again.

“Stop it, Dave,” you said, trying to get up, though you could feel the weight of his gaze following you. You grabbed your shirt first, pulling it off the chair, and started putting it on with your back to him, all too aware of his eyes on you. When you turned around, he was still there, propped up on his hand, his hair messy, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made warmth creep up your face.

“You’re really gonna leave me here all alone?” His tone was playful, almost pouty, but there was something else beneath it—something that was always there in the spaces between words, something you never quite dared to name.

“I am,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though something inside you tightened. You knew he wasn’t holding you there, that you were free to leave. But you also knew there were unspoken things between you, things that made moments like this harder than they should be.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the pillow, though his eyes never left you. “Fine. But only because I know you’ll come back.”

You paused for a second, still holding onto the waistband of the pants you’d just pulled on. His gaze seemed to carry more weight than his words. But, as always, you let it pass.

“Maybe,” you said, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. And before he could respond, you grabbed your things and started moving toward the door, feeling his eyes on you until the very last second.

“Hey,” he called out, just as your hand touched the doorknob. You turned to look at him one last time. He looked so at ease there, so comfortable, with his messy curls and that smile that always made your heart race. “You look amazing in the morning, you know that?”

“See you later, Dave,” you said, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, and left before he could trap you with another comment.

The café was just busy enough that the hum of conversations and the clinking of cups against saucers created a constant noise, but not so much that it stopped you from relaxing for a few minutes. You sat near the window, the warm coffee cup in your hands, trying to organize your thoughts. There was so much to do, so many things you were trying to ignore—and one of them seemed to have a face framed by dark curls and blue eyes that took up far more space in your mind than you cared to admit.

"Hey, is that really you?"

The familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you looked up, it took a second to recognize the person standing in front of you.

"Katie?" The surprise was clear in your voice, but a smile quickly appeared on your lips. It was her, without a doubt—the same Katie Deauxma from high school, though now her features seemed more mature. Her hair was a bit shorter, but the easy smile she always had was exactly the same.

"Yeah!" Katie laughed, looking just as surprised to see you there. "Wow, it's been ages! How are you?"

"I'm good. Wow, it really has been a long time," you said, standing for a quick, slightly awkward hug. She seemed as comfortable as ever, and the conversation flowed naturally as the two of you sat down together.

Katie asked about college, what you were studying, and shared a bit about her own courses and what she'd been up to since high school. It was pleasant, even nostalgic, talking to someone who knew you from before.

Until she asked, casually, "So, are you dating anyone? Or just enjoying the single life?"

You hesitated for a second that felt like an eternity. The words formed in your mind before you could fully think through their weight, slipping out before you could stop them.

"Actually… I am dating someone."

It was a lie. Or wasn't it? You didn’t know anymore. But the sound of the word in your mouth brought an instant pang of guilt, something that tightened in your chest as Katie’s smile widened.

“Oh, really? That’s great! Who’s the lucky one?”

“Dave Lizewski,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. Katie blinked, surprised, before letting out a short laugh.

“Dave? Wow! I haven’t talked to him in ages. We dated, remember? Back in high school.”

You nodded, feeling your stomach sink. Of course you remembered. Everyone remembered. Dave and Katie had been the cute couple in school, the kind everyone thought was improbable, even cliché—the nerd with the popular girl.

“He was so sweet. A little awkward, but always so thoughtful,” Katie continued, oblivious to the storm of emotions building inside you. “You two must make a great couple, I’m sure.”

You smiled, or tried to, and murmured something vague in response. But all you could think was that she was right. Dave was sweet. He was thoughtful, even with his goofy comments and the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. He held your hand in public. He made a point to walk you home when he could.

But he had never called you his girlfriend.

And now you were sitting here, listening to Katie talk about what he was like when they dated, and something inside you was breaking into pieces you didn’t even know existed. You remembered them together—how she’d hold onto his arm in the school hallways, how happy he looked next to her. And suddenly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at you the same way he looked at her.

You finished your coffee as quickly as you could, saying goodbye to Katie with a smile that felt increasingly forced. She hugged you again before leaving, promising that you should meet up again sometime.

When you were alone again, the noise of the café felt louder, like it was echoing inside you. The empty cup in front of you felt like a weight holding you there, while your thoughts spiraled endlessly.

Girlfriend.

You’d said it. And now the word felt like it was haunting you, something far too big to carry. You never wanted to be this person, the one who lied or twisted things to fit into something that might not even be real.

But you couldn’t help it.

Because deep down, you wanted it to be true.

Thursday nights always held a special weight. It was an unspoken tradition between the two of you. No matter what happened during the week—piles of work, tough exams, or tight deadlines—Thursdays were reserved for you two. And no matter how hard you tried to focus on something else, the memory of your encounter with Katie had been pounding in your head ever since you left the café.

You had tried to shake it off with a stack of required reading, loud music through your headphones, and even a spontaneous apartment cleaning spree, but nothing worked. Katie's voice kept echoing, her smile, the way she talked about Dave. The way she referred to him as someone who used to be hers, as if there was still a part of him trapped in the past that might never belong to you.

And then there was you. And the lie. Or was it the truth? You didn’t even know anymore. The weight of the words that had slipped out before you could stop them—they felt heavier now, like stones sinking in your stomach. You said it because you wanted to believe it was real. But what about him? What would he think if he knew?

The sound of the doorbell yanked you from your thoughts. It was him.

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet the chaos inside, and opened the door. Dave stood there, as he always did, with his messy curls and a small smile that grew wider just for you. He held a plastic bag with a pack of fries and two sodas—the kind of thing he always brought because he knew you loved it.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping inside. His touch was warm, familiar. But tonight, it felt harder to relax around him, like the storm in your head was keeping you from grounding yourself in the moment.

“Hey,” you replied, closing the door as he made his way to the kitchen, putting the sodas in the fridge without even asking. He’d been doing this for so long that it was second nature.

“You okay?” Dave asked, opening the bag of fries and tossing one into his mouth. He looked at you with those blue eyes, his forehead creasing slightly with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered quickly—maybe too quickly. He noticed. Of course, he did. Dave had always had this uncanny ability to sense when something was off, even when you tried to hide it.

“Are you sure? You seem kind of...” He gestured vaguely with his hand.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, a bit more firmly. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, but the way he kept watching you while munching on a fry made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Wanna watch a movie or something? I brought that one you said you wanted to see...”

“I’m not sure I feel like watching a movie tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral as you grabbed a glass of water for yourself. It was a small response, almost insignificant, but the tension was already starting to build.

“Alright, so what do you want to do?” He leaned against the kitchen counter, his gaze calm and his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the knot tightening inside you.

“I don’t know, Dave!” The words came out sharper than you intended, and the tone in your voice made his eyebrows lift.

“Okay, easy,” he said slowly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I was just asking. No need to bite my head off.”

You sighed, guilt starting to creep in. But instead of stopping, the words began spilling out before you could catch them. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just... I don’t know. I’m tired. I had a rough day, and then you show up with your fries like everything is so simple, like... like I just need a movie, and everything will be fine.”

He blinked, visibly confused, but his tone remained calm. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t know you were feeling so... like this.”

“Like this?” You crossed your arms, the tension in your stance growing. “What’s that supposed to mean, Dave?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, but now there was something in his tone that suggested he was trying to keep his patience in check.

“Actually, I don’t,” you shot back, your voice rising. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes, and the lump in your throat that had been forming all day was now nearly unbearable.

Dave noticed immediately. Of course, he did. He might not have been great with words, but he never failed to pick up on when something was wrong with you. His expression shifted in an instant, confusion giving way to a concern so genuine it made you feel even more vulnerable.

“Hey, hey,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “What’s going on? Are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you lied, turning your face away, but he didn’t buy it.

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, and before you could step back, Dave was already close enough to gently take your hands in his. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but finally lifted your gaze. His blue eyes met yours, filled with so much concern it was almost impossible to hold the contact.

“Talk to me,” he said. It wasn’t a command; it was an invitation. “Please.”

The weight in your chest felt like it was about to explode, and the words came out before you could stop them.

“I ran into Katie.”

Dave blinked, visibly surprised. “Katie?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, trying to look away, but he stayed close, holding your hands with almost unbearable tenderness. “We bumped into each other by chance. Talked for a few minutes.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes narrowing slightly, now a mix of curiosity and concern. “And?”

“She asked about you,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “And I... I told her I was your girlfriend.”

Dave went quiet for a moment. Not the heavy silence of judgment, but the kind of pause he always took when he was trying to fully understand something.

“Okay,” he began cautiously. “And... why does that seem to be hurting you?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s true!” you burst out, the confession hitting with a force that made you flinch. “I said I was your girlfriend, but I didn’t know if I was lying. We’ve never talked about this, never put a name on what we have. And now all I can think about is whether I said something that wasn’t real.”

For a moment, he stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on you. The expression on his face wasn’t judgmental or angry but simply confused.

“Wait...” he began, hesitantly. “You’re telling me you thought we weren’t dating?”

You stayed silent, the weight in your chest tightening at his question.

“I... I didn’t know,” you admitted, your voice weak, barely a whisper.

“But...” He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking lost. “I thought it was kind of obvious. I mean, we see each other all the time, spend nights together, you steal my shirts...”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you cut him off, frustration mixed with nervousness. “People do that all the time without dating, Dave.”

“But I don’t do that with just anyone,” he countered, his blue eyes locking onto yours, as if he wanted to make this point crystal clear. “I do that with you because I want to be with you. Because I thought... well, I thought it was obvious.”

“But you never said it,” you argued, feeling the tears starting to return. “And I never said it either. And that’s what’s been driving me crazy. I didn’t know what we were.”

Dave sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He looked like he was processing everything all at once, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he stepped closer until he was near enough to hold your hands again.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then let’s make it clear now.”

His tone was calm but firm, and when he spoke again, it felt like every word had been carefully chosen.

“I’m with you,” he said. “And I thought that was obvious, but if it wasn’t, I’m saying it now: I want to be with you. Just you. And if that means we’re dating, then yeah, I guess we’re dating.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

“But...” you began, the word almost lost in the lump in your throat. “What about Katie?”

He frowned, clearly caught off guard by the change in topic.

“What about Katie?”

“She was your first girlfriend,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly. “And I remember how you two were. Everyone thought you were perfect together. And now, seeing her again, I can’t stop thinking that...”

“That what?” He tilted his head, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“That I’ll never be good enough,” you confessed, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Dave was silent for a moment, but before you could say more, he shook his head with a soft, incredulous laugh.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice full of almost overwhelming tenderness.

You looked at him, confused.

“I broke up with Katie years ago,” he said, as though reminding you of something obvious. “And yeah, it was important to me. She was my first girlfriend. But that doesn’t mean anything now. She’s part of my past, that’s all. You’re my present. And my future, if I’m lucky.”

You tried to process his words, but the lump in your throat only seemed to grow.

“But what if I’m not enough?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“You already are enough,” he answered immediately, without hesitation. He stepped closer, so close that you were almost nose to nose. “More than enough. And you don’t need to compare yourself to Katie or anyone else. Because no one comes close to you, got it? No one.”

His eyes were so intense, so full of emotion, that you felt tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” he continued, his voice now softer. “Because you’re who I want. And nothing—absolutely nothing—is going to change that.”

You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. When you opened them again, Dave was already pulling you into a tight embrace, wrapping you in a tenderness that felt both overwhelming and comforting all at once.

Dave’s arms tightened around you as if he were trying to shield you from the outside world—or maybe from yourself. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and for a moment, the only sound you could hear was the steady beat of his heart, like a reassuring rhythm that seemed to absorb all the anxiety that had consumed you until then.

“You’re more than enough,” he repeated, his voice low and steady, as if it were something he needed you to believe more than anything else. And you wanted to believe it.

Minutes passed like that, in a cocoon of quiet comfort, with him holding you as if the whole world had disappeared. And you stayed there, letting yourself surrender to that sense of relief, of not needing to worry about anything else. Just the present. Just him.

Finally, you lifted your head, your face warm and your eyes still a little teary but calmer. You looked at him, and he looked back at you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being seen in a way no one else ever could.

“Do you really think I’m enough for you?” you asked, your voice softer now but still tinged with uncertainty. You knew he’d answered, but you needed to hear it again, to be sure.

Dave smiled, a smile that made his eyes shine with a mix of affection and certainty. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lightly grazing your skin, and answered with a tenderness that warmed your chest.

“I don’t just think,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “I know. And if you let me, I’ll show you that every single day. Because to me, you’re everything. And nothing, no one, can change that.”

His words echoed softly but with a force that was impossible to ignore. And in that moment, with your heart racing and your breath unsteady, you finally understood what he was trying to tell you. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past or the insecurities you carried. What mattered was what he was offering you now. It was real. And you wanted to believe it. Wanted to allow yourself.

You gave a small smile, the tears still falling but now accompanied by a growing sense of peace that began to fill the spaces left by doubt. “I don’t want to compare myself to anyone,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But sometimes it’s hard.”

Dave gave a small laugh, gently cupping your cheeks. “I get it,” he said. “But never forget: you’re who I chose. And you don’t need to be like anyone else. You’re unique to me, and that’s all I need.”

He pulled you closer again, and this time, instead of insecurity, the embrace was filled with something softer yet stronger—a sense that you’d found your place, a safe place full of care.

Time passed slowly, and you felt calmer, as if his words had cleared the chaos in your mind. When you looked into his eyes, you no longer saw doubt or fear—just certainty. And you felt it too. The certainty that, with him by your side, everything would be okay.

“I love you,” you whispered, not thinking too much, but with a truth that burned through your skin and filled your chest with something so profound that words couldn’t fully translate it.

Dave smiled, that genuine, happy smile of his. “I love you too,” he replied, before leaning in for a gentle kiss that made the world seem to pause for a moment. A kiss that needed no explanations. A kiss that said everything about who you were—and everything you were still about to become.

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mayapapaya33 · 18 hours ago

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Well at least you're disagreeing with what I DID say and not what I DIDN'T say! That's fine then, I much prefer that. Yeah, sure, agree to disagree that's fine.

As for the misogyny bit you're going for... um no. It's a bit ungenerous that you defaulted to that interpretation but ok. No, like Yeza, I am supportive of Veth's career as a strong independent adventurer lol. In your mind is there no happy medium between what happened in canon and what you just proposed? Her cowering in a basement in Felderwin forever? Do you REALLY think that's what I meant? Yeza loves her enough to not live in Felderwin in the latter part of the campaign, do you really think he wouldn't leave Felderwin for her if she had somehow managed to explain the situation to him earlier, or if finding a way to get a new body took longer than it did in canon? What if they never found an answer? What if she was stuck in the body of a goblin forever? Would she have been justified in never telling her family and never seeing them again?

Goblins are not reviled everywhere in the world, there are places they could live together in peace. And let's be real, how old is Luc anyway? Who knows? Certainly not Veth! Does he remember the terror of the goblin camp properly in his teeny tiny toddler brain? Even if he does remember, Goblins are a race of people not actually creatures so they should probably confront that at some point so that he isn't scared and prejudiced against an entire race for the rest of his life due to childhood trauma. Idk just putting that out there.

For instance, in this alternate universe where finding a spell for a new body took longer, maybe they could have set up a home base somewhere less anti-goblin for Yeza and Luc to live, much like the set up in Nicodranas during the latter half of C2 with Veth popping in and out visiting them between adventures. My point about finding a new body taking longer is that at a certain point, it does become a conscious choice to stay away from her family on Veth's part. Yes, the goblins are 100% responsible for their initial separation, but at some point, it is Veth's choice that keeps them apart. So how long does it take for it to stop being an acceptable decision? 1 year, 5 years? 10 years?

The Mighty Nein could hold off the entire city of Felderwin if they tried to start shit with Veth, so eventually it's not about her bodily safety anymore. It's about her fear of rejection. (I'm fairly certain Caleb could take the whole town by himself with a well-placed AOE lmfao). And I know they are allergic to it, but subtlety is also an option. Seriously, what if they never found an answer to get her a new body? Would she have never seen her family again? Sometimes there is no answer to life's gross unfairness, and you just have to bear terrible things and live your life anyway. That's my point. I'm thrilled for Veth that she got her wizard treatment plan and has a new body. That's fantastic! I'm saying sometimes life doesn't work out like that, and how long is it ok for her, or Anyone, Male, Female, Non-Binary, what-fucking-ever, to stay away from their family and not reconnect with them?

I hold everyone to the same standards of parenting I'm holding Veth to btw. Shitty double standards are shitty. I think Veth tries hard and does her best. But sometimes your best isn't good enough. To be blunt, she's an alcoholic who can't remember how old her kid is. Yes, the meta reason for that is because Sam Riegel can't resist making a joke and child ages are hard and he didn't think about it before the show. But Yeza knows how old Luc is and Veth doesn't. She straight up said she was drunk for most of his childhood. (1:04:26) The Mighty Nein Reunion: Echos of the Solstice.

Now, this is NOT to shame people for having a substance abuse issue, it's a serious problem and people deserve compassion and help. But it's still a serious issue that causes a lot of problems for the people around them. Again, in the entire context of the show, the scenes themselves are all very funny, but the in-universe facts of the matter are actually quite sad. Think about it, she was drunk for MOST of his childhood. Think about the implications of that.

To take the spotlight off of Veth for a moment, let's speak of probably my favorite mom in critical role, Marion. Perhaps this will clarify my stance on things, and maybe you'll still disagree, but that's ok. I love her dearly and she is a wonderful person. She is kind and caring and she love's Jester with all of her heart, but she is also not the best at parenting on the planet. She did the best she could, but her agoraphobia caused her to unintentionally neglect Jester. It's not her fault that she's mentally ill, but it was her responsibility to take care of Jester, and in that respect she failed. Life is hard and no one is perfect. Sometimes that's just the way it is. But child neglect is still child neglect, even when it's unintentional and you have good reasons. Now, I happen to like Marion as a person more than I like Veth, but I'm holding her to the same standards. Are you taking care of your kid, yes or no?

You said that Veth is indulgent because she feels guilty, yes that is 100% what it is. Which is totally understandable but doesn't exactly lead to the best parenting decisions or the best partnering decisions either. Honestly poor Yeza got volunteered into owning a dog and having their kid do combat training without even a private conversation, you'd think that would warrant a discussion between them. (I'd be annoyed if a male character unilaterally decided something like that without consulting a female character, why not extend the same consideration to Yeza?)

Here's an example, Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43): She unloads the crossbow of arrows, puts the "safety" on (lol) and stresses the importance of a balanced education, so that's great! Well done parenting right there! But she does immediately follow it up by getting the crossbow back from Luc by trading him a Grappling Hook for it lmfao. Not super safe for a 5ish year old to be playing with, those things are sharp! If she gave him extra candy or toys that would be one thing, even the dog is pretty forgivable and within acceptable levels of spontaneous indulgence given everything they've been through. I feel like THIS level of indulgence crosses some pretty firm parenting lines of Hey, maybe don't hand a 5ish year old something they could accidentally kill/maim themselves with! Maybe that's just me though?

Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43) but she trades him a grappling hook at (1:48:23) hahaha.

If you watch all those family scenes again, try your hardest to ignore how funny everyone is being, which is a difficult task I'll grant you, and actually look at what is factually happening with the characters, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Or maybe you won't, like I said, it's fine to have different interpretations of things. I'm not saying she's a bad person, I'm saying she's a complicated person and she's not super great at parenting, but she does try.

Or here's a big example, how about that time Luc straight up died because Veth and Jester couldn't shut the fuck up for 10 minutes to let Caleb cast the dome to make their families safer in a completely unknown location while they were on the run from a terrifying evil wizard? You'd think responsible parenting (or responsible daughtering, looking at you Jester, your mom is right there!) would prioritize the safety of the child, rather than wandering around chatting about future plans for a detective agency in a potentially dangerous situation.

Veth IS a rogue, they could have snuck around the whole time, but they were having fun and got careless, and the cost was steep. She lucked out big time that Caduceus is THE Cleric of all time and saved a spell slot. (The blame is shared 50/50 with Jester on this one, it's just a vibrant example of the shit I'm talking about. She's reckless, makes bad decisions, and endangers people accidentally).

Again, the meta reason for this is because Sam and Laura can't stop cracking jokes, and THEY were having fun, and weren't paying attention to the volume of the conversation because the CR cast forget to do that all the time anyway. Too bad for Veth and Jester that it reflects INCREDIBLY badly on their characters this particular time. And Veth has a history of carelessness so you can't even say it's out of character, or just a one-off incident. Considering she accidentally killed both Caduceus and herself by being careless, it's a fairly consistent character flaw at this point.

(At least she pays child support though lol you are correct. Where's Relvin's child support Liliana?! Granted the child support payments from nowhere did freak Yeza out a bit so they might also double as accidental psychological warfare, but oh well, she DID try, I give her all the credit for that!)

As for the "hag thing" it's not about "thought crimes" or whatever, it's about her having the support system around her to have the strength necessary TO resist stuff like that and like Halas, etc. It's like how without the Mighty Nein Caleb would almost certainly have ended up back in Trent's web as a Volstrucker (Liam and Matt said it themselves, and that was Matt's plan if Caleb left the group) or Fjord would have ended up releasing Uk'otoa (Uk'otoa). Thinking about doing a thing, and doing the thing are not the same. I merely acknowledge the potential inside her for doing the things, and I think it's more than "just a thought" or a "moment of weakness." In the right circumstances, I think she'd do it. But she has support and love and hope and a wizard treatment plan, so she won't.

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

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moon-and-candlelight-0501 · 1 day ago

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Five Times Daisuke Didn’t Fall for her Touch (and the one time he did)

A/N: The warnings make this look so much scarier than it is lol I promise this is VERY vanilla. Yeahhh these were supposed to be just a couple smutshots but I got way too into the story. I’m a sucker for fwb.

story is supposed to have a kind of beachy setting, but picture it as you will.

Wc: 4.3k

One - Remembering the important things. Such as (but not limited to): Dates, places, names, articles of clothing, jewelry, words that were distorted by pleasure

He had met her at a party, or she was watching from the sidelines of the baseball field. Actually, it might have been through a mutual friend on instagram. Whatever, whenever, wherever it had been, he knew he wanted her.

He knew he wanted her when her tanlines peaked out from the green halter-top she wore (or maybe it had been orange?)

He knew she wanted him when her fingers ghosted over his for longer than needed— just to pass a water bottle, or something of the sort. Her fingers left dripping condensation on the coke or sprite bottle, and Daisuke knew she wanted his warmth too.

Daisuke’s assumptions were proven correct when she pulled him into her apartment to “make a change of clothes”, and in all fairness they do technically get halfway there by the time they reach her unmade bed. [Name] is mumbling apologies into his lips — something about her strewn clothes across the room — but Daisuke is feeling much too hot and bothered to care or even notice.

They needed to meet their friends at a bar in an hour, but the way they got down you’d think they were already running thirty minutes late. He couldn’t help it (he also couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend hours exploring every inch of [Name]’s sun-kissed skin), they only had so much time together and he needed to get off, like, now (and, fuck, she’s so warm. Maybe it’s the high temperatures, but whatever it is, it’s getting him there fast).

“Shit. you’re tight. Fuckkk, g’na cum quick”

“Dai, pull out-”

And he does nothing less than to oblige immediately. He finishes himself with his hand, cursing under his breath as he does so. When he looks back towards [Name]’s bed, she’s looking straight through him whilst leaning back against her forearms.

“You uh… you didn’t like, finish, huh?” Daisuke asks softly.

“Nah, but you’re good. I don’t have to- shit!”

He’s on his knees faster than she can register it, gently spreading [Name]’s legs apart for easier access.

He’s far from experienced, tongue only just missing her clit every time he ran it up and down. [Name] is quick to guide his head though, right over where she needs him.

Experience he didn’t have, and it was evident, but eagerness? That he did. And it was working for [Name].

Lost in pleasure, [Name] didn’t even notice his hand tracing its way under her thigh and towards her entrance. He slipped a finger in, moaning softly at the warmth he had missed. [Name] on the other hand was practically singing for him, choking out moans into the back of her hand when he slipped another finger in.

“Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He snaked his unoccupied arm under [Name’s] thigh, pushing it up and allowing him to hit new spots inside her. His choices were met with the sweet reward of her gasps, followed by barely coherent words.

“Shit Dai, keep doing- keep doing that… oh my god… don’t change anything jus- just keep doing that.”

When she finished with a squeal, Daisuke pulled away quickly, giving [Name] some space to cool off. Wordlessly, she sat up and scanned the messy bedroom while Daisuke collected himself, shoving his cargo shorts and t-shirt over his body.

“m’gonna change before we leave” [Name] finally stands up, snatching an orange floral bikini and some mini shorts on her way to her bathroom.

It’s a small apartment, and Daisuke finds that simply stepping outside of the room, he is met with her living room that he had not had the time to appreciate earlier. It wasn’t an eyesore or anything, but it definitely had personality that he was too busy (for lack of a better word) earlier to notice before. A large cork board with photos of [Name] and friends, more clothes scattered over the sofa (He’s starting to add up that [Name] is very picky about her outfits), an ashtray in the shape of a sun resting atop a dark oak side table. On the table, there's what seems to be the first strokes of green paint over it, as if she had started the project but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the time. His analyzing is interrupted by [Name] finally leaving her bedroom, now in a pink and orange striped tank-top and light-blue jean skirt.

“You have a nice apartment.” Those are the first words he says after having sex with her within less than eight hours of meeting?

“Uh… thanks? You ready to go?” [Name] asked, grabbing her keys and wallet off the less-than-half-painted side table.

When she takes the lead out the apartment, Daisuke pinches his nose bridge in embarrassment and shakes his head at his own words.

The walk to the beach bar was silent, Daisuke preferred listening to cars and bikes passing by, the birds flapping their wings, and music fading in and out as they strolled past different shops and restaurants. He was burning up, and couldn’t tell if it was because of the high UV or current situation he was in. Granted, it was a short walk. Before he could reach to open the bar doors, [Name] reached for his wrist.

“Daisuke, we’re, like, cool? I mean, it was a nice time but I don’t want to make anything weird or… different… we’re cool?”

Her warm fingers were still on his skin, no different than before. So, Daisuke pulled his hand away from hers and gave her a thumbs-up with a smile.

Two - Following Alcohol Runs and Nicknames, Fogged up Windows are to be Expected

In his cheap Toyota, they have cheaper small talk. The weather, school shopping, all the works. Daisuke hopes that [Name] doesn’t notice the soda stains on his gray microfiber seats, or the smell of weed disguised by his “Caribbean Colada” scented tree hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Dai.” [Name] breaks the silence, and Daisuke freezes up in the driver's seat. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. It’s been a while, I was starting to miss you.”

It’s not like he was trying to avoid her. As the summer died down, the memory of that end-of-June (maybe it was early July?) afternoon did too. Different one-night-stands and complicated almost-somethings made that day seem to just be another drop in the pile of summer flings building for the both of them.

“Shit.” It’s like something snapped in him, Daisuke makes a quick turn behind a Walmart that had already closed for the night. He parked in the middle of the large space, and immediately rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes shut. “Uh, Dai?” [Name] called, but he only groaned against the steering wheel and ran a hand through his dyed hair, “fuckkkk”

“Daisuke. You’re freaking me out a bit.”

He mumbled a few more curses under his breath before raising his head to look at her with those deep brown eyes. Even in the dark lighting [Name] looked so hot. Yeah, she had opted for a zip up hoodie, but by now it had fallen off her shoulders, and Daisuke noticed the very low cut purple tank top she wore under.

“M’sorry” He said against the steering wheel.

“For what?” [Name] leveled her face to meet his eyes.

“Nothing was supposed to be different. It’s just, I dunno. You said my name, and like, everyone calls me Dai, but you just say it some type of way. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

By now Daisuke had turned away from her, but [Name] knew what he was feeling. He got fucking turned on from her saying his name. Well, his nickname. And in all fairness, she understands. The only time she had ever called him “Dai” was when he was between her legs.

Well, she thinks, they’re behind a Walmart after-hours, it’s dark, and no one’s around anyways. What’s another sexual encounter before school starts?

Daisuke felt a hand gliding up his thigh, and he whipped his head around to face [Name].

“I think I need to return the favor from last time” She did her best to speak seductively, but had to bite back a cringe at the fake voice. For Daisuke though, he was way too into it to care.

“What do you mean?” He has to resist the urge to hit himself on the head for this question, but [Name] just chuckles and shifts her body to face him from the passenger seat.

“Dai, just put the seat back.”

Deciding it’s best to not speak, he listens and lies back against the seat, waiting for [Name] to make her move.

“So pretty, you know that?” She praises him as her palm only ghosts over the denim covering his bulge. Daisuke let out a shaky breath, and [Name] decided they really didn’t have any time for teasing. With Daisuke’s help, his jeans and boxers were pulled down in a blur, and [Name] grasped his cock from the base, gently of course. As she leaned over the console, she gingerly kissed his tip and was rewarded with a strewn moan from Daisuke— who was clearly very sensitive, judging by how quickly pre had collected on his tip. [Name] doesn’t waste any more time and takes all that she can of him in her mouth. Daisuke swears he’s died and gone to heaven, completely lost in bliss.

“Fuck, [Name], you’re so good. Feel so good. God, just like that, you’re so good. So pretty.”

He doesn’t say it, but [Name] could feel Daisuke twitching in her mouth and knew that he was about to finish, so she pulled off and looked at his wrecked face. He had a hand tangled in his own hair, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he whined out, “No, no no.”

He looked almost betrayed at her, eyes glossy like he was about to cry. “Why’d you stop?”

[Name] only chuckled and pressed his chest down onto the carseat, crawling over his legs and going in to kiss him, “Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

The kiss was anything but slow, Daisuke nearly shoving his tongue into her mouth and whimpering against her lips. He only pulled away to moan when her hand found its way back to his cock, stroking him softly. His hips bucked up into her hand, causing her to bounce, giving Daisuke a nice view of [Name]’s tits in that low cut tank.

[Name] sped up her strokes, and Daisuke was practically arching into her touch, the only word he could repeat was “Please, please, please, please.”

When he finally came, most of it dribbled down to his thighs, but a particularly far shot splashed onto [Name]’s tank top, causing Daisuke to ramble apologies as he was still coming because she was still working him through it. when all calmed, [Name] slipped back into her seat and properly zipped her hoodie up.

Daisuke also got himself decent, and they both just sat in the heat of the car.

“Your windows fogged up.”

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment

“Nothing's different right?”

And this time, Daisuke was confident in his words,

“Nothings different.”

Three - Ashtray is Put to Good Use (And so is an Art Major)

“Shit, Dai.”

[Name] had her bare back draped over the arm of her couch, the cool leather sending shivers down her spine. Daisuke was above, her waist in his grasp as he placed open mouth kisses trailing from her collarbone down to her abdomen.

“Who taught you about foreplay?” She chuckled and reached for the sun-shaped ashtray on the side table behind her, pinching a near burnt-out blunt between her fingers.

“I’ve gotten some experience in since last time” Daisuke mumbled against her skin, and looked up at her with a coy smile. [Name] rolled her eyes and blew smoke towards him, to which he responded by pressing two fingers against her core through her lounge shorts.

“Fuck.”

Normally she would never be this sensitive, but the weed and the way she was practically on display for him made every nerve spark ten times brighter everywhere his touch lingered.

It was Thanksgiving break, and [Name] had a fat blunt that might as well have been rolled to share. All friends were home or on their way home, except for Daisuke.

It’s not like he didn’t miss his parents, but maybe he didn’t dwell too hard at the first google search revealing that there were no flights home available. Maybe another month to prepare before dealing with the inevitable questions about his future, followed by food being shoved in his face, wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Not when he could be here instead, between [Name]’s legs. And when she unravels while calling out for him, fingers gripping harshly onto his grown-out roots, for a moment everything is just the same as the first time he went down on her, his head is void of deadlines and applications.

“Damn. Definitely better than the last time.” She teased while pulling up her bottoms, as Daisuke leaned over her to take a last drag from the joint. He hovered for a moment, before she guided his jaw towards hers and spread it slightly to shotgun the smoke. When he pulled away, [Name] tapped his chest lightly, as to signal that he give her some room to sit up, “Thanks.”

“I mean, it wasn’t for you…”

“Hey not that this wasn’t great, but are we gonna keep taking turns going down on eachother or are we actually gonna fuck again at some point?” [Name] disregarded his statement, and Daisuke scoffed before sitting back comfortably against the couch,

“I mean I would. But I’m like actually hungry. Munchies, man.”

[Name] rolled her eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, making her way to the kitchen (it was only on his way home the next morning that Daisuke realized it was his t-shirt she had picked up, and forgotten to return, resulting in an awkward shirtless drive in the middle of November)

“Not that your decor isn’t great or anything, but your side table kind of throws it all off.” Daisuke chatted to her from the couch.

“Eh, I didn't see the point in finishing it. Didn’t have the right supplies, or patience to see it through. Like you said, great decor.”

“You have the paint still?”

“Yeah, Why? Gonna put that Art Major to work?” [Name raised an eyebrow at him from the kitchen, as she grabbed a couple different varieties of chips.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Four - Broken Heaters and Absent Roomates Aligned

“Thanks for letting me crash, Daisuke.” [Name] sighed, as she threw her duffel bag to the side somewhere beside his second-hand couch. Daisuke nodded, “Yeah of course. They said the freeze is supposed to be pretty bad. Wouldn’t want you sitting in your apartment with a busted heater.” Without words, [Name] acknowledged that any traces of roommates were missing. It was still only just after New Year’s, and Daisuke was clearly the only person who made a beeline to get back on campus.

1:25 AM, and [Name] had only managed an hour-or-so of sleep. She groaned and pulled the thin blanket Daisuke had oh-so graciously provided her with over her shoulders and made her way towards his bedroom.

Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the door open, she could just barely make out Daisuke’s sleeping silhouette, and the edge of his bed. Deciding she had little to lose, [Name] crawled into the bed and shook him by the shoulder slightly.

“Dai. Dai, wake up. Don’t freak out.”

She was only met with a groan, signaling that he was only slightly conscious. “I’m freezing out there, all you left me with is this thin-ass blanket,” she feigned sadness to get his attention.

“No one told you that you had to sleep out there.” He muttered into his pillow.

“I was trying to be appropriate!” She can’t see it, but Daisuke raises an eyebrow at her remark, as if to say, ‘Seriously?’

“Look, my fingers are basically gonna freeze off”

“Let me see,” Daisuke takes her fingers into his grasp and thinks for a moment, “Feels the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno. Your fingers are like, always warm. No different now.”

“Well I feel cold.”

“I know what’d warm you up” He rested his head on the palm of his hand to face her, trying to analyze her face with the little moonlight that hit her just right. She only smiled and lowered her voice,

“Are you serious?”

“If you are,” Daisuke let his head hit the pillow again, and sighed “I’m too tired to move though.”

“God, you’re such a tease. Here, roll over. I’ll get on top.”

Daisuke did as she asked and gave her a loopy smile when she climbed over him.

“So pretty like this.” He ran his hands up and down her clothed sides as she reached into his sleep shorts and gently pulled his length out.

[Name] began to softly stroke him, until he was hard enough to slip in. Daisuke was already huffing out and tightening his grip on her waist. She lifted herself up a bit to slip her bottoms off, and when Daisuke went to assist, his hand was met with thin silk.

“No shorts?” He chuckled and she playfully slapped his chest,

“Shut up. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

[Name] inhaled and sunk herself onto him slowly. Daisuke was groaning at every inch of her core that he felt. When her hips finally met his, [Name] gasped and entangled her fingers with his, pinned beside his head.

Yeah, the sex felt great. It always had. but the view Daisuke had right now, [Name]’s bottom lip caught between her teeth, hair in every direction. He thought she was more beautiful than any beach sunset, late night drive or joint shared between two lonely people. Here, in her oversized tee, was the most gorgeous work of art Daisuke had ever seen, sat on his dick.

When her hips started rocking to a steady pace, he brought her right hand to his lips and mumbled praises into her fingers.

“So good for me.”

“You’re gorgeous here.”

“Just like that, keep going.”

They finished at the same time. [Name] rolled onto her back beside him, still catching her breath. Daisuke turned his head to meet her eyes, but she wasn’t looking back.

“It’s different.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly panicked.

“We’re at my place this time, you were on top, and you’re staying over. In my bed.”

“Yeah. In your navy blue sheets. Nice.”

“Do you feel different?” He pushed, but her eyes still wouldn’t meet his.

“You told me how I feel, Daisuke,” she sighed “the same, right?”

He nodded and looked back up at the ceiling,

“Warm.”

Five - Finding Comfort in Activities Other than Sex; Baking, Reading, Calling up a friend, Painting, etc.

The biting chill of winter had long dissipated, April showers had passed and May flowers were blooming as they do every year. Pinks, oranges, greens, they bloom before [Name]’s eyes, and it’s almost as beautiful as the days and nights spent with Daisuke.

Almost.

Finals season.

This afternoon pens are scattered around her living room floor, along with forgotten notebooks and sticky notes with words scribbled on that mean nothing to either of them, what matters is their connection, where they connect. Between each other's legs, on [Name]’s brown leather couch. The familiar summer breeze made for a sweaty study-session-turned-hookup, but [Name] is in her element. She’s almost too lost to notice the puffiness on Daisuke’s face, how his eyes are screwed shut, lips tucked in. Almost.

“Wait- Daisuke, stop.”

He halted any movements immediately, all hands off her skin. He was trying to catch his breath and search for any signs of discomfort on her face.

“Is it, um, are you-“

“Daisuke, are you crying?”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is, you could’ve at least let yourself finish”

The second [Name] saw the smallest tear pricking at his eyes, she pulled herself away from him immediately, and suggested that they both get decent.

“I couldn’t possibly in good conscience hook up with you when you’re clearly upset.” She explained, whilst handing him a coke and taking a seat next to him. Daisuke muttered just a small ‘Thank you’, opened it, and took a drink immediately as if to show that he didn’t feel like furthering the conversation.

[Name] sighed and propped herself up on her palms, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But you’re more than just some fuck-buddie to me, okay? I’m not gonna send you home after you clearly had an emotional experience.”

Daisuke took another sip of coke.

“Hey, since we have the time, think you could finish painting my table for me?” She nudged him.

And paint he did. At some point Daisuke wondered how little patience [Name] must have to not complete such a project. Her side table was a standard square one, the hardest part being the wait between each coat of paint. On the third and final, Daisuke finally decided to speak up about the earlier situation,

“My mom got me an internship.”

[Name]’s eyes lit up, “Oh my god! Daisuke, that’s really awesome. Where at?”

Daisuke painted over the last small area that needed its final quote. As he put his brush down, he turned his body towards her,

“Space.”

She laughed.

One - No excuses.

July 27th.

The air was still sweetly sticky with Summer, every fan unit blowing in [Name]’s apartment.

Today, there was no meetup to attend. No late night convenience store runs, no smoke to share, no broken AC unit, and no finals to pretend to study for. There wasn’t an excuse, just an “I’ll be there in 10” text. [Name] dressed herself up without knowing why. It’s another outfit that will be thrown on the floor the moment that boy walks through the front door. She glossed her lips, and rolled her lashes with mascara, but she knew that the gloss would be kissed off within the hour, and she has to hope that the mascara won’t run by the end of the night.

Without much surprise, no words are exchanged when he walks into her apartment. In fact, the door isn’t even closed before her lips are on his. It’s messy. As a matter of fact, she might have missed his lips the first time because pink lipgloss smudged against his cheek, but neither of them seemed to notice.

When they make it to her bed, all clothes are off. Daisuke pressed his lips against her neck as he lined himself up with her. When he pressed in, he started off with strings of praises. But the closer he was to finishing, his words began to sound like whispers of goodbyes.

“I’m gonna miss you, fuck, so much.”

It was slow, and careful, and nothing like the first time. And when he kissed her, it was like he was trying to make up for every individual day he would be gone on that goddamn ship.

“I love you.” Daisuke whined as he came with her. [Name] pretended like she didn’t hear.

They didn’t exchange words that night. Both of them took turns cleaning themselves in the bathroom, and then crawled into her queen bed. It’s not weird to hold a friend who you won’t see for a while, so that’s what they did.

Daisuke woke up first the next morning, [Name] still in his arms. The sunlight had already begun filtering in through her blinds, and it made her look majestic. He took this time for himself, to trace shapes on her bare back. To brush the hair from her face, and memorize her features. When she stirred awake, [Name] did her best to avoid eye contact, a common tactic she used in these situations. Surprisingly though, Daisuke believed this was his first time seeing her anywhere near bashful. He kissed the top of her head before speaking,

“It’s all different now.”

And [Name] almost winces. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Daisuke chuckled and pulled back from her a bit, “No, it’s different.”

“Why though?” [Name] sat up now. She was trying to salvage anything left of what they had. Trying to salvage the year they had, as if she could make it extend, and they could stay 22 forever.

“Because I don’t expect you to let life pass you by, waiting 382 days for your friend-with-benefits,” he explained, “but up there, It’s like I’ll be frozen where I am now. When I come back down, I’ll still feel 22. I’ll still want to leech off my parents and drop important things just to do stupid shit like painting a table.”

“It’s only a year.”

“A year that I will only be able to think about you the entire time. As long as I see the sun I’ll think of the summer I met you, and as long as I see the moon I’ll think of how you took me in my own car, or how you crawled into my bed that January night.”

Silence fell between the both of them now that there were no more words to say but goodbye. Leave it to Daisuke to find something else though,

“Why’d we do this anyways?” He asked, more directed towards himself than anything. Still, [Name] replied,

“Why’d I keep the side table I was never gonna paint?”

#authors first time publishing smut #daisuke #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke smut #daisuke FREAK #daisuke x reader #daisuke mw #daisuke juarez #daisuke x you #daisuke x female reader #daisuke x y/n

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thegreatstoryteller · 19 hours ago

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The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 2: Athletics Run in the Family

“Hey dad! Ready for that workout? I think this football jersey is getting a bit tight. Might need a new one later.” Kyle boomed as he bounded across the hall. The sound loud enough to cause his dad, Bill to jump!

“Oh uh… yeah sure Kyle. Maybe we skip the workout today. We could go shopping and get you new clothes.” Bill offered, gulping as he walked over to his towering son.

“Haha! Very funny dad. I know how you always said that every workout skipped, is a day wasted. I finally get it now! I just beat my PR for bench presses last week! Pretty sure I could do it again this week too if we keep at it! Now let’s go!” Kyle smiled and carried his dad to the car.

Bill sighed. Kyle wasn’t wrong. Before the great shift Bill was a retired amateur athlete. He never could quite go pro, but his passion for working out and fitness was always there. It was something he tried to inspire in his son Kyle, but it never took. Kyle was always more artsy. More sensitive. Less in the physical space and more in the mental. Bill didn’t even care that his son was interested in men, only that he tried some kind of athletic activity. Even as he was making his way through college Bill held on to hope that Kyle would find some athletic spark in his son. Something for them to bond over, but it never came… despite how many times he tried to force sports on to Kyle.

It turns out he should’ve been careful what he wished for. After the great shift, Kyle had landed into the body of a professional athlete, Dallas Turner. Now his one shrimpy son was a 6’5, 250lb titan of athleticism. Suddenly, Kyle finally understood what his dad was talking about. Running around, lifting weights, hell even playing football. Kyle was in love! The consistent amount of fitness planning that Kyle had done in the 1 year since the great shift was more than he’d ever done in his entire life! And the results had shown! Kyle had gained over 10lbs of muscle since he’d got that body!

NFL scouts had even come around and asked him if he’d consider joining the league after he finished college! After all, a majority of former athletes were now in much smaller bodies that couldn’t play anymore. Kyle was considered a top prospect!

Meanwhile Bill was experiencing the opposite end. Where as Kyle had gotten huge from the shift, Bill was on the smaller end. Previously Bill was a proud 6’3, and now as a modest 5’0 he was seeing the world from a whole new perspective. Not only had he gotten significantly younger, now around the same age as his son, but he was not blessed with the same athletic disposition. Somehow most of his body was much smaller everywhere, but he maintained a bit of pudge around the belly, almost like a reminder of the beer belly he had once before. Only now smooth with no hair.

Needless to say, it was clear that Bill’s new body was not built for physical activity. That didn’t stop Kyle from dragging his dad to every possible gym that was open post shift. Kyle loved testing the limits of his new strength. At first, Bill liked it too. Helping Kyle reach his physical potential is what he’d been waiting for ever since he had a son. However, the longer they worked out, the more tired Bill became. Not only from the actual exercise, but also from discovering his new sexuality at the gym with all the hot guys in the area.

Bill had gone from a sternly athletic father, to a nervous gay nerd quite quickly. His behavior became more shy and reserved. He began to understand more and more why Kyle liked things like music, art, and games compared to football. Most importantly he even understood why Kyle could never focus around his athletic peers. Every time Bill and Kyle went to the gym, Bill would get distracted after a new hunk began their workout! Kyle was too, but more so happy to show off his incredible new bod!

These thoughts raced through Bill’s mind as Kyle drove them to the gym! Bill could only hope that his secret crush was there. The handsome bearded bodybuilder was a large Arab man who was some sort of janitor in his previous life. Now this guy was second only to Kyle in the gym the more he worked out and showed of his manly body. Bill had already rubbed one out in the gym locker room thinking of him.

By the time they arrived Kyle got to working out as Bill went to refill their water bottles. Then as he joined the gym floor he was stunned to see Kyle talking to the big bearded gym crush!

“Hey dad! This is Amir! I said he could workout with us. It’ll be nice lifting with another huge guy who could keep up with my lifts. Maybe if I play my cards right with him I could invite him over for dinner.” Kyle gave his dad a confident wink.

“W-what?! I mean. Are you sure? You just met him and-” Bill sputtered as the large man came over and shook his hand. The young father was mortified. The guy he’d been obsessed with at the gym. Here? Now!? Talking to Kyle!?

Amir didn’t seem very interested talking to Bill. His banter was mostly with Kyle as they worked out. The two of them matching their routines and flexing at one another. Bill was practically seething with jealousy as Kyle and Amir tossed their sweaty workout towels at him. They were so lost in their workout and getting to know one another they'd completely forgotten about Bill.

“Hey it’s pretty nice of you to bring your little brother to workout.” Amir smiled as he spotted Kyle.

“Oh that’s my dad. He taught me everything I know about working out.” Kyle corrected, as Bill blushed.

“That so? I’ll have to thank him, because he sure made a handsome son. I hope he won’t mind seeing more of me. Especially if I’m gonna be seeing more of you.” Amir arched an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill’s hands were over his face. His son was gonna start dating his gym crush. It couldn’t get more awkward than this!

#body swap #great shift #the great shift #race change #racial change #age regression

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katerinaaqu · 2 days ago

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Well in Menelaus's defense he also spent 7 years shipwrecked so his own mind was not in the best place in the world especially given how he was mourning the loss of his brother AND his nephew turning insane at that point. His sister in law also murderess adulteress AND murdered in cold blood by that same nephew of his. Like the dude was fighting to keep himself afloat in the realm of sanity for many reasons

Two even then he wasn't sure on the whereabouts of Ogygia or even whether the dream was true or not or if it was still in place. Imagine popping a letter up to Penelope like "Oh hey guess what! Your husband is trapped in an island named Ogygia, yeah I have no fucking clue where that place is, all I know is that he is held prisoner, the exact conditions I do not know. He could be having a good time, being tormented or even no longer alive as we speak for hey it has been a long time, maybe he is on his way to you! Cheerio glad I helped! By the way how are things at Ithaca that you are running on your own all by yourself with your son oh your son must be grown by now yeah send him cheerio too since I cannot given the situation!" His letter would be more harm than good in that case

Three who says that he didn't? And the letter get lost, confescated or destroyed? We do not know much on what he did on his way there given the situation and Ithaca was already plundered by the suitors since the year he finally set foot in his land AFTER he had to deal with everything on his own. And Odyssey takes place 4 years AFTER his return.

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

#greek mythology #tagamemnon #the odyssey #menelaus #telemachus #also I kinda avert the whole “gay” talk given how I do not ship the two of them #and I usually do not fully support the idea that every tender talk in ancient writings is supposed to be romance #but fair point it is the joke of the case here

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that-hazbin · 23 hours ago

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I have some HCs from twitter I'd like to transfer here, so pspspsps come get some food

Alastor hung out with women who liked to seduce their way to success, and inadvertently picked up their body language. When he was alive, many people thought that he was intentionally seducing men and women alike, which had landed him in some hot water once or twice. There is a DIRECT correlation between this and Vox's One-sided Psychosexual Obsession with him. He is not doing it on purpose and he has no idea what his body language comes across as.

Alastor has Uber Autism, specifically the kind where he needs to listen to the same exact song 379 times before he is satisfied. Dying and going to hell was an absolute delight because he no longer has to uphold standard broadcasting procedure, and instead can do whatever the fuck he wants. Everyone in Hell believes he's attempting to torture them when he plays Duke Ellington's "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)" for the 67th time. He's not, he genuinely just loves playing the same song over and over. (He also loves that magic can prevent his records from wearing out so quickly.)

Alastor likes to divulge the Deep Lore to Angel because he knows no one will EVER believe him. It does not bother him at all that Angel knows things about him that no one else does, because Angel ALSO hates the Vees and therefore is very unlikely to go around spilling any of it to anyone outside their mutual circle of merry misfits. And, again, no one would believe him anyways.

Alastor is hyperaware of other people's facial expressions, and believes this is normal, which is why he controls his own facial expressions so obsessively. He thinks it's a universal behavior to hyper analyze facial expressions and guess what goes on in people's heads that way. He has yet to figure out that it's not, even after a near century in Hell.

Vaggie reminds Alastor of Susan. He vaguely believes that if he ever pointed out the similarities to Charlie, it could possibly ruin their relationship. Which is pretty cruel even for him, so he'll be keeping his mouth shut.

Alastor built the entire radio network in Hell. Before he arrived, Hell was actually pretty far behind technologically. People were too busy suffering. Luckily for them, Alastor is Autistic and his special interest is Radio. Nothing will stop this man from indulging in his passions.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #charlie morningstar #hazbin vox #hazbin vaggie #angel dust #human alastor #autistic alastor #radiosilence

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bokettochild · 2 days ago

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What is Legend’s and post-totk Wild’s relationship like? Does it change or is it the same?

Honestly, I keep trying to write an answer but all I have are inexplicable vibes.

It would change. Legend's the same as he was but Wild's grown up. Wild would be either 22 or 23 by the time TotK is over (in game we're told it's been 5 years since BotW) meanwhile Legend is still, at best, 17, but likely 16.

That's a 6-7 year age gap where before they were either the same age or very close.

Legend's still got his experience, but now Wild has the context of years, of knowing what normal looks like. Post BotW Wild has no concept of normal or peace, but post TotK Wild would have spent 5 years just existing and doing People Things. He knows what normal kids are like now. He's a teacher. He's a leader. He's an adult, even if he's still a young one. But he's got that frame of reference that Legend never has had of what life looks like after the adventure, but now also with the understanding that legend does have of the fact that heroes' can be ripped away any time, life uprooted to save the world again at any moment.

Wild has life experience that Legend can't fathom. Wild knows what growing up is like. Wild knows what peace looks like now.

Legend doesn't even know what the word "retirement" means, much less "stop" or "peace". He's used to having only enough time to heal between adventures before heading out again, if that!

I think Wild would come back, thinking he could slip back in, just to realize he can't see his brothers the same anymore. I won't dig in too deep, since you just asked about him and Legend, but for the vet I think he'd just get shocked at how young his brother really is, by how screwed up Legend's outlook on life is, and I think he'd be floundering because the guy he used to look to as a veteran, an expert and a role model, is actually just a teenager with too much responsibility on his shoulders.

I don't think he'd know what to do with that, because that's still his brother, but Legend's no longer his BIG brother, or at least not his peer. Legend's younger than him now, and much as he tries to see the vet the same way he used to, he'd just keep realizing how screwed up everything about Legend really is.

Meanwhile Legend, Mister Abandonment-Issues, would be over here struggling with the feeling of being left behind and out of the know and suddenly feeling small around a hero who used to make him feel so big. Wild's an adult now, but he's not supposed to be. Wild's matured now (but still Wild) and he's not sure what to do with that. Wild is wiser now, knows things, isn't charging in without thought anymore, and Legend has to adjust his whole perception all while wondering if this is even the same guy. All while trying his hardest not to let on that he feels that way because you bet your BUTT this kid has gotten enough grief over the years for not being the same kid people used to know that he has no wish to make anyone else feel that.

Like, adventures change you, a LOT. Legend's had a lot of adventures, ergo; he's changed a ton over the years and it definitely throws off everyone who knows him every single time. it's not his first rodeo, but it is the first time he's not been the one riding the bull that is change.

I think they'd both struggle a lot with this. I think there'd be a lot of frustration and fear on Legend's side and a lot of shock and confusion on Wild's. I think both would grieve, and I know Legend wouldn't be the one to know how to fix it.

Legend fixes problems, but the thing that sets him apart from the rest of the heroes is that he's never had time between adventures to actually process and learn healthy coping mechanisms or ways to express himself. Kid knows how to fix other people's shit, but never his own.

Wild would have to be the one to cross the divide between them, and as the older brother now, I think that would just make it all the weirder for both of them.

Anyways, congrats, I had enough brainrot about this that I wrote a dang fic and then sobbed for a good ten minutes in a public coffee shop T-T

Thanks for the ask!

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu wild

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1980shorrorfilm · 19 hours ago

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the cut that always bleeds

keep clicking.

pairing…rain carradine x fem!reader x ellie williams

in which…ellie doesn’t seem to have time for you anymore; rain does.

before you read…angst, fluff. full transparency this comes forward very rain x reader but life is all about perspective 💜 don’t count how many times you see the word ‘moon.’ pretend theres no errors challenge. also pls no one get mad at this it’s just a little (4k count) gay story. . .

you’re cold.

the bonfire is blazing before you, and you’re cold. rain is sitting by your side, just barely providing you the warmth you crave— but ellie is a deep void that’s sucking it from you, sucking the joy from you that your other friends have.

she’s occasionally sparing you glances over the flickering fire, and every time your eyes meet, there’s something behind them. but she pulls away, devoting her attention to the girl beside her, forgetting you’re there.

you’re not sure what you’ve done— why she got bored of your friendship and seemingly dropped it for another. not that she couldn’t have other friends, you just take notice when someone else is prioritized over you. and it's not a nice feeling.

she doesn’t hang out with you anymore, endless excuses that are so fucking lame that you don’t even bother arguing against them. your patrols are awkward, always quiet like you’re waiting for the other to start a conversation, but neither of you do.

what could you talk about? you selfishly don’t want to hear about the details of her life without you present in it. you miss that— her, more than anything.

but you know she’s happy, her face flushes hues of pink with each interaction with the brunette. she looks nervous around her, picking at the right things to say before they roll off her tongue. that’s how you know it’s a crush— you were once the same. not now.

you feel a weird resentment. it’s not anger, but annoyance, wondering when or if she would notice you’re no longer her shadow, and if it would bother her.

rain notices the inability you have to show a smile, her sister's singing slowly comes to a bittersweet end.

she leans closer to you while your friends whistle at ellie, her head lowering in embarrassment, a habit you found cute.

“you good?”

you turn your head, meeting her blue eyes, swallowed by concern and her hand finding your knee out of habit when things are wrong. it’s not even a question that you had to answer because she knew. you tell her an easy lie, “yeah…just tired.”

she believes it, you think, nodding in return.

“do you…want me to bring you home?” she shyly offers, neither of you paying attention to the green irises locked in on you. ellie didn’t care for whatever relationship you and rain shared— she loves you both and that’s that. but, you were her friend first.

you were the new kid that enjoyed sitting quietly with ellie in the comfort of her garage, rain was more sociable and almost too kind for you, at the time. now, of course you adore it. you love that rain spends her company with you, caring for you, admiring you. she had a way of making you forget everything else, and more importantly, ellie.

so, ellie can’t help but feel the tugging of her heart, while you’re tugged away from her. and she doesn’t even care to realize, she had placed the first brick, and built the wall between you.

she’s not a perfect person. but that’s not what you wanted from her or expected. you just wanted her there, with you, not near you as someone you used to know.

rain catches you in your head again.

“hm?” she hums, a gentle squeeze on your knee realizing you let her question linger with no response. you nod, wanting nothing more than the fresh air from the forest than the heavy smoke surrounding you, suffocating you the same way ellie did.

rain gets up, and you copy, now capturing the eyes of your friends. “we’re ready to crash,” she announces, an exchanged look with ellie that you don’t read into, “don’t stay out too late, kids.”

you two ignore the groans, rain rolling her eyes with a ‘yeah, yeah,’ as you walk away together.

the dirt path darkens the farther you get away from the fire, only the moon providing light for you. it casts an eerie yet lovely shadow over the tall trees, dead with orange leaves clinging to their branches. they crunch and crumble beneath your feet, both of you finding peace at the noise.

when you turn to rain, she’s watching the moon— intently, as it could disappear at any given moment.

it’s sweet, her fixation, you wish you could take her camera and snap a photo of her for yourself. to hang above your bed the way she does with her favorite pictures…quite a few of you. then her head turns to you, and yours turns away, to your dirt-covered shoes.

“what?”

“hm?”

“you’re staring, y/n.”

“am not.”

rain laughs quietly, your face burning with heat at getting caught. it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time she’s dared to point it out. you can’t help that her features are really fucking pretty, mirroring ellie in that sense. and that when she’s super focused, her lips part an inch and her eyes narrow in, and she looks adorable.

rain changes the topic, her tone now serious, “sooo…wanna tell me what’s up?”

you bite your tongue, literally and figuratively, not having the courage to confess that her sister is the storm cloud above your head and the boulder weighing you down. again, she notices, because of course she does, and quickly talks again, “im sorry—i didn’t—you just seem off.”

rain is mentally cursing herself for how far from smooth her words come out, not sure how to help you in the way she desperately wants to. she wouldn’t push for you to tell her anything you weren’t comfortable with, and that’s often what made communicating to rain so easy.

just, not with this, not this time.

“gotta headache,” you give yet another short lie, hoping it goes over her head. it doesn’t, not completely, but she accepts it. rain nods, the silence between you two only lasting for a few seconds before she speaks again, “ellie’s singing that bad, huh?”

the joke finally gets a soft laugh from you, rain feeling satisfied she earned it from you, that it causes her lips to tug upward. now it’s her turn to stare, to observe the beauty in you that she finds in the moon, how despite the internal turmoil you’re enduring, you still manage to radiate such light.

she doesn’t blink. not until she steps on a twig, and swallows the air, redirecting her gaze forward again. it’s a weird feeling…in a daze from you. it’s forbidden, you have only ever been friends, ellie had basically built your friendship over a series of game nights as a trio.

how could she cross a line that has been firmly in place for years? would you cross it?

she goes quiet the rest of the way home, and you don’t have the energy to make a conversation, so it’s just the chirping from the insects and the occasional blowing of the wind. you don’t mind it.

when you successfully sneak back into the walls of jackson, rain continues to walk you back to your place, all the way up the steps to your porch and standing idly in front of the door.

“well…” rain starts, looking up from her white and red sneakers to your face, “i hope you feel better—your head, i mean—if not you should head to the infirmary, just in case, you know.”

she’s so doting you almost consider her words, the lie you created falsely slipping into a short reality, and you nod. “yeah, yeah, will do that.”

“cool, yeah, okay,” rain’s voice is above a whisper, almost forgetting this is the part where she walks away. that’s until you pull away from the moment first, something of a tight-lipped smile on your face that was practically saying goodbye to her, opening your door.

when it shuts, rain lets out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, lingering on your doorstep for a few passing seconds, before forcing herself to leave.

and as if you jinxed it, there’s a subtle pounding on your temple when you strip from your outdoor clothes, but you couldn’t blame that on the wires in your brain.

it was the heavy, so fucking loud, and obnoxious thoughts of ellie. how dina is probably cuddled into her side while you’re going to sleep in your lonely bed. you don’t like feeling alone like this, just moments prior you were fine— you had rain at your side.

you wish you invited her in; and that she’d lay by you with enough space in your platonic comfort zones. she would happily do so, and she wouldn’t leave you until you fell into a slumber when she knew you were at ease.

you fall asleep picturing that, picturing her.

the next few days are surprisingly, easy.

it’s easy to numb the hurt from ellie with the presence of rain, and she was making herself your shadow. lunch at the tipsy bison, leading you to the back where you’re tucked away from everyone else. it was nice, it was intimate. other evenings when the sun is setting and she’s at your door, the sky casting an orangish glow on a certain angle of her face that makes her look like she descended from heaven itself.

she'd come with goodies from the greenhouse she spent most of her time in, taking the uglier veggies and fruits that she had grown and making a meal out of them with you, for you. she was taking care of you in every sense of the word, not allowing a frown to fall upon your face.

today was different, though.

you didn’t attend the bar and she didn’t show up on your doorstep. instead, you’re in her bedroom— the smell of wood filling your senses from her rustic furniture, making the room feel cozier. a bubble from the outside world you never wanted to pop.

you're sifting through her latest collection of polaroids, mostly— no, entirely —of the moon in its different stages. you don't point that out, though, you don’t find it repetitive. you smile lightly, your fingertips tracing the edges of the glossy photographs. rain observing your face as she mirrors you, sitting crisscrossed parallel to you on her bed.

“i know it’s not super exciting—“ she says, almost apologetic, downplaying the actual excitement she had when she pulled the stack from out of her nightstand to show you. “i just think she’s pretty.”

you’re eyeing one of the blurry ones, making an illusion that there were two moons; two bright, almost ethereal orbs hanging in the sky, like they're celestial twins. you hum, taking it in, then glancing up at her, her expression soft but expectant, she's been watching you closely this whole time. curious, you ask, “she?”

“oh,” her lips curl slightly, a tenderness, maybe shyness, to her voice when she swallows then speaks again, “people in the old world used to think the moon was—well, is, a feminine symbol—sorta like a connection, i guess. and…just look at her…she’s…”

rain trails off, and you don’t seem to notice how her dark pupils are deeply set on your face, like she was trying to remember each outline, catching herself fading from the conversation and into you.

“she's just...always there...and always different—but always beautiful," she gulps, shrugging, afraid you're losing interest, “i don't know...i guess i just like that idea.”

you feel crazy for thinking there's something else to her words, something that makes your skin flush, but you blame it on the intimate atmosphere. you hum again, letting the silence settle between you two, but the air just seems to grow thick, a subtle tension building in that moment. not bad, just...different.

when you're done admiring the photographs, your gaze drifts to hers. she clears her throat, and your heart pounds in your chest. she talks first after building the courage.

“do you...” rain begins, her voice wavering slightly, but she manages to push through it. “do you wanna go to the bonfire tomorrow?”

“tomorrow? i didn’t know they planned that,” you say, wondering why her simple words and question have a weight behind them, a half inviting and half uncertain look on her face. like she's desperate for you to say yes.

but, you're already trying to come up with a reason to why you’re about to decline. things have been okay. you don’t need to be there, around ellie, and slip away again.

rain shakes her head, “they didn’t. i just thought, maybe you and i…”

your breath gets caught in your throat. it's not a typical gathering, it's rain wanting to be with you, and just you. she can tell you're caught off guard, her mouth opening, “it’s totally cool if you don’t—”

“no, yeah, we can,” you agree in the most nonchalant way you can, like the warmth isn't spreading through your chest by the mere idea. rain is not a rebel, not in the same sense that ellie was, and already took hesitation to your group sneaking out; she is making an exception for you.

she doesn’t reply, chewing her cheek to prevent the grin ready to flash, and to distract herself from overthinking it.

and then, she ruins the moment.

“by the way…ellie has been asking about you.”

damn it.

“she has?” your stomach flips, rain catching the glimpse of hope in your eyes, but it doesn’t last, not when you continue to speak again. “we haven’t been…”

“i know,” rain says softly, “that’s why she—”

“she’s busy these days,” you cut rain off, the feeling of comfort that ellie still cares, not able to overpower the bitterness you hold. going through her sister, to reach you? pathetic. she could spare five minutes from her dina-centered days to simply check in on you.

you add, “and i’ve been busy, too.”

with rain. she nods, letting it end there.

rain loves her sister, obviously, but she’s aware of her screw-ups that sometimes involve the ones she cares about. and as much as rain had a habit of figuring out her family and friend's problems, she couldn’t, not with this, not with whatever was going on between you.

ellie will cross that bridge when she comes to it. and so will you. the best she could do was simply be there when you two needed her.

and you need her.

the next night, rain had shown up at your doorstep the very moment jackson had gone dark. hair neatly tucked half up, adorned in that crimson jacket of hers, smelling like a mix of the clementines she grows in the greenhouse and the generic soap she slathered on her body. a scent that reminds you you’re okay.

rain was making simple conversation on the trail there, still on alert for any possible unwelcome eyes or visitors in the surrounding woods, whenever her eyes weren’t on you. the moon is full, and you look beautiful. she almost said that, but decided against it.

when you approach the clearing, it is an odd feeling to be there without hearing ellie’s honey voice sing a familiar song, the crack at a smile on her face if her eyes would land on you…that was a while ago, though.

you barely sigh, watching rain tug off her backpack and bend over, getting the fire started while you sit on an empty log. you wait, bouncing your knee before you interrupt the silence. “it’s quiet.”

fantastic observation, y/n. rain spares you a glance, “that’s a good thing— means it’s just us.”

though she had meant it in the sense you’re safe, there’s an edge to her voice that makes your skin flush, and your heart thuds a little harder than you care to admit.

it is the most intimate setting when rain successfully gets the fire to spark, poking at it until it grows into a steady flame, then joining you. sitting directly next to you, thighs mere inches from touching. “i brought a blanket,” she mentions, “just in case you’re cold— get cold.”

“i’m fine, rain.”

“okay—i just don’t want you getting sick or anything,” rain finds it necessary to explain, a smile flashing on your face at her taking you into consideration. you chew at your bottom lip, and rain shoves her hands in her pockets.

for some reason, the energy feels charged, somehow electrifying despite the calmness of it all, the crackling of the fire and the occasional brushing of her leg against yours.

you're both quiet for a while, not sure what to say, to address whatever was hanging in the air like the mist in the surrounding forest, acting like barrier between you two and the rest of the world. that's when you feel her shift beside you.

rain is hesitant, but she nervously questions you, “was it…really your head that night? i mean—when i walked you home.”

you weren't ready for that. it feels too loaded, and your throat tightens.

but, you glance from the fire to her anyways, ember flames dancing on her delicate features, contorted in slight worry. she looks as ethereal as the moon, and maybe it's the setting, the trust you feel in this moment; that you show her some honesty.

“no,” it comes out lowly, and you shrug, trying to pass it off like it was truly not a big deal, “just didn’t want to be there.”

she still wears that face, a gentle intensity. her brows knit together, trying to push for more without making you uncomfortable, “…how come?”

your sister. for a moment, you debate those words, considering telling her the truth, the full truth. about how you have felt about ellie, and how ellie has made you feel. like shit. chewed up stale gum at the bottom of her dirty black and white converse. it doesn't leave your mouth.

you awkwardly chuckle and fiddle with your fingers, “i dunno— i guess i just…”

you hesitate, her stare so intense you have to look back into the fire. you search for something simpler, but still raw, no longer wanting to hide all of your feelings from rain. especially when shes staring at you the way that she is.

“didn’t feel wanted?”

you hate the words as soon as they leave your lips, it sounds flat out pathetic as if you had only said them for pity. but it's true. you felt like a burden that night, there for no reason at all, dimming the mood with your disconnect from the group. it’s the nerves that make you continue to add to it.

“like…everybody had somebody,” you begin, managing to talk about ellie without explicitly saying her name, “and i was just there? i don’t know.”

you chuckle lightly at the end, but rain sees through it, through you, covering your hurt. her expression softens instantly.

“that’s not true…you have me.”

you blink at rain, her voice ever so gentle, and she reaches out, placing her hand on your knee. you like her tentative touch, so simple, yet it acts like an anchor keeping you at bay from the unfriendly thoughts in your head. it causes that internal warmth she's made you familiar with, to course through your body. from your toes, to where her hand rests, to your shoulders.

rain squeezes your knee gently, like a reassurance. a promise to her words, and the air tightens.

your gaze meets hers, the softness and sincerity behind her blue eyes, your cheeks warmer than the fire in front of you. it is just the crackling of the fire, and a howling of the wind through the trees, and you shiver. but, that's not thanks to the sudden coolness.

it's her stare. the goosebumps rise on your skin, and it happens, like that.

a mutual decision made by your eyes, a flickering between them and your lips. you lean in slightly, breath catching as your nerves grow, but she eases them when she does the same, assuring you that she wants this.

both of your hearts beat like rabbits, and your lips connect.

and then there was nothing else, no thinking, no brooding, no ellie.

just rain.

she takes it slow, cautious at first, once again squeezing your knee, but this time it’s to reassure herself— that you’re actually kissing her, that this is real, not in her head. it's not your first kiss ever, not at all, but it's the first that felt like it had meaning. like all of the love she has grown for you is on full display, wanting, needing, you to feel it.

you need to grab her, your hand slides to the back of her neck to somehow pull her closer, yet she’s the one deepening the kiss. not in a messy way, not in a rough way. she doesn’t want that from you, not yet, at least. it’s still just as tender as it is passionate, it’s like a dream.

and for a moment you had pictured with someone else, maybe even in this exact place on this exact log, this feels…right.

when time is no longer paused, and you finally pull away, your mouth is still parted collecting your breath. “fuck…” rain mumbles, and then she laughs, “holy fuck.”

the smile she wore quickly falters from her face, the euphoria switching to concern, “that was okay— right?”

“yeah—yeah,” you whisper, the little smile returning to both of your faces, ignoring the sudden sense of unease you had felt. it was okay, fucking better than okay and you think you want more. but when you look forward again, it’s to the fire, to the log across that ellie would occupy with her pretty voice and guitar.

and then there’s rain, shyly looking at her red and white sneakers.

a minute doesn’t even pass. you swallow thickly, leaning forward, and kissing her again.

it’s an hour later when the flames had died, a quiet walk back home with stolen glances. you’re both in a haze, minds foggy with the thought of the other. though, yours wavers, a certain pair of green eyes flashing in your head. it was supposed to be her— that’s what you had used to think.

ellie and you, not you and rain. so naive, you were. and so wrong, because rain felt right. she felt perfect.

and your schedule is quickly prioritized around rain over the following week. her free time was yours, and yours hers.

walks around jackson taking photos of the things she found beauty in— the light in a dark world. which included you, often off guard, or stupid faces in her bedroom.

the sleepovers sharing her bed, rain always meeting your hands beneath the blanket, a sense of relief she craved. the chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, making sure your days started nicely, and that you were happy. all rain did was make you happy.

and ellie, on the sidelines, took notice.

she wasn’t losing her friend— she lost her friend. to her fucking sister. not that she was upset with rain in any way, or you for that matter, it just was how it was. something she could’ve prevented.

it’s another night you’re getting ready to go meet rain, slipping on a hoodie when you hear the knocking at your door. you already know who it is, she was still using her signature rhymed knock. two beats off from rain.

you cross your living room, twisting the knob and opening the door. ellie stands before you, in a common dark flannel and her mullet seemingly freshly trimmed, neater than usual. probably the work of someone else’s loving hands.

“hey…can i come in?” she scratches the back of her neck, and you scoot out of the way as an answer. she enters, taking in the comforting aroma of your home she hadn’t realized she missed so much. it somewhat eases the tension in her shoulders, her nerves calming.

you slowly trail behind her, the woman sitting on your couch hunched over, elbows propped on her spread legs. this was serious, and you really don’t want this right now.

her mouth opens before yours does, though.

“how are you?”

oh. her question catches you off guard, but it’s genuine, not surprising since she’s just a distant echo in your life these days. “i’m good,” you give her a short real answer, and she doesn’t give you time to elaborate or even ask her back.

“yeah? and—you and rain?”

you blink at her. her tone is so accusatory like any possible response will just be flat-out wrong.

even if it’s the truth, especially if it’s the truth.

the unfortunate part is that ellie did have some right to know what your relations were with her sister; but there is nothing to tell her, because just like her and dina, you’re not calling yourselves girlfriends.

you’re friends, technically. friends that have gotten closer and closer, spending more time with each other than anyone else. letting the spark between you two grow into a flame, and into a fire.

maybe that is the very reason why the question had left ellie’s lips, seeing a mirrored version of her and dina in you and rain. and if that is the case, why is her voice laced with venom, not obvious, yet clearly there?

she knows you’d never hurt rain, and rain would never hurt you. there is no valid reason for her to take issue with the idea you two had something. not in your opinion, at least.

your silence is an unspoken or undecided answer, and ellie leans back, tongue-swiping her teeth.

“right, okay,” it comes out as a rasp, with a short nod. she begins again, “you could’ve told me.”

you can’t help it— you rebuttal her. “kinda hard when you’re not around.”

“wha—” ellie’s brows furrow, suddenly standing up, eyes darkened and narrow, “every fucking time i come here, you’re gone, you know that?”

you feel a nonexistent spotlight on you that you don’t want to be under, and ellie isn’t even done speaking. “there are nights neither of you are home—so what, you’re fucking sneaking out too? it’s one thing to hide it, but to be stupid?”

“so you suddenly care about me?” you mutter, and her jaw just barely drops, taking offense at your words, pausing before she even can respond.

“how…could you even say that?”

there is no irritation in her voice this time. it’s flat, even somber, matching the energy shift in the room. you’re quiet, unable to make another snarky comment. you stare at her shoes, them approaching you, staying in place when she was just a few feet from you.

then, you look back up at her.

“you know i love you,” ellie tells you blankly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, something she has said a million times over.

it’s different when you haven’t felt her love, or any sort of affection from her in weeks, and the three words seem like more of a chore. nearly meaningless to you. the only person that made you feel like you had a purpose, was now rain, and that realization fucking stings.

“i have to go,” you disregard the current conversation, ignoring the dry humorless chuckle that escapes ellie’s lips, “can you leave? please?”

she remains still for a moment, staring at you, and you dread it. the silent observing, waiting for you to crack, drop this curtain you’re holding up to prevent her from seeing how you truly feel.

how you’re coming to terms with your heartbreak, before the woman that broke your heart, that was never in her possession in the first place— not that she was ever aware of.

she nods.

ellie forces herself to move, walking past, shoulders nearly brushing when she walks past you. you wait to hear the door open, but her palm is resting on the knob.

“i…know i messed up…” she admits, “but…you could’ve come to me.”

she’s making this harder. making your mind envision a reality where you were the one that fought harder, not her. that you didn’t slowly watch the gap between you two widen, and just expressed to her how poorly she had made you feel.

that would be easier than this. she would still be your closest friend…and rain wouldn’t.

rain, who is currently waiting for you. her bed most certainly made neatly, reserved for you to fall asleep in, her arm bound to snake its way around you and stay in place until you woke up.

ellie debates her next choice of words, but nothing comes from her. with dread, she leaves you, alone, frozen in place trying to unpack everything. it feels impossible, and you no longer have the desire to see rain, as much as she could numb this.

you lay down in your own, and much colder bed, but your curtains are drawn wide open and the moon is shining through your window— and she looks beautiful tonight. rain is probably admiring her, wishing she had you next to her to do so.

maybe ellie is doing the same. and maybe tonight, you’re still on her mind, even if she’s gazing at it with someone else.

#my space lesbians #sorry this took so long im very critical of my writing #but whatever its fine everything is fine i love writing fictional lesbian scenarios #wrote while watching the love witch if anyone cares #rain carradine x reader #rain x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #horror x reader #horror fanfic #final girl x reader #wlw fanfic #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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