#and a refusal to protect the kids who were still alive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiame-sama · 5 months

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Results on the poll are in and the majority wanted Romantic Yandere Zestial with a rival. (I was honestly surprised, but seeing as romantic and platonic were so close, I'll make it platonic to slow burn romantic)

Warnings; Yandere temper, Yandere behavior, Yandere relationship, yandere v yandere, Sin Eater reader, Gender Neutral Reader, slow burn platonic to romantic yandere, rival yandere, surprise rival yandere, violence, blasphemy, reader gets one hell of a backbone (only for a bit), God, yelling in the presence of God, brief surprise guest appearances, lucifer and others call reader young/kid (mostly affectionately),

~~~~~~~~

Zestial felt a small playful grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he watched his wayward charge curiously poke around his home. The halls of his manor had been rather quiet and the change to having company was certainly a welcome one. Despite his long life and the many lovers he had entertained in the past, he felt a true connection to the Sin Eater whose very soul he held claim over. They were not only a novelty in their soul's unfortunate proclivity to violence towards sinners but they did not immediately fear or despise him upon meeting.

"(Y/n), thy curiosity is truly an endearing quality."

His grin only widened as he noticed the way you startled at his sudden presence. Though he didn't wish harm or misfortune upon you, he was still a sadistic overlord who adored the fearful looks others gave him. You looked up at the tall arachnid that loomed over you, relaxing when you realized it was just Zestial poking fun.

"Hi, Zestial. I was just-"

"Being the curious nymph thou oft remind me of."

"I guess? Anyway, Carmilla wanted me to come over and talk to her about the exterminations. Apparently during the last one, the angels were looking for a Sin Eater down here."

This made a deep frown pull at Zestial's lips, feeling a kind of anger take over his being at the idea of an exorcist getting their hands on you. His change in temper was easy for you to notice as Zestial often seemed pleasantly aloof excepting for when he was angry. Zestial was certainly unhappy at that moment.

"I see... And, did Carmilla share with thou the intent of this angel?"

"No. I think that's what she wants to talk with me about."

"I shall accompany thou in thy to visit Carmilla. I, too, would like to know how oft these angels seek thy presence. The attentions of Exorcists are oft a negative omen."

"Okay. I'm sure Carmilla would like to see you too. She always seems more comfortable when you are there with me."

Zestial hummed at this, well aware that his presence often put Carmilla at ease whenever she interacted with you. She still didn't trust you because of the many unfortunate interactions she has had with Sin Eaters, so having Zestial nearby calmed her. So long as you are still on Zestial's leash, she trusted you wouldn't act out of turn. She figured she could always call upon him should your hunger get out of hand while nearby. The deal you had with Zestial also kept you safe from Carmilla as she would not dare try to slay a soul he had claimed.

~~~~~~~~

"Wait, so I was supposed to die when they threw me into Hell, but now they want me back? How does that fit in with Heaven's logic?"

"I'm not an angel. I wouldn't know."

You frowned and pondered what you had been told. It was confusing, but it did make it easier knowing that though Carmilla may dislike you, she didn't like the angels talking about you. According to Carmilla, the angels expected you to be slain shortly after throwing you into Hell. The fact you were still alive upset and irritated them.

"If Carmilla's informant is correct, it twould seem they shall be searching for (y/n) specifically. I refuse to be one to allow these feathered nuisances to harm a hair atop thy head. They shan't have you."

You noticed the way Carmilla slightly frowned, glancing to the side as Zestial swore to protect you. Her clear respect and somewhat attraction to Zestial had been weighing on you as you didn't want to drive a wedge between the two seeing as they obviously had gone through quite a lot together. The most you could do was hope that Carmilla didn't dislike you for befriending Zestial even though she clearly disliked that you were a Sin Eater.

"Ms. Carmine? Though I know you likely told me this for Zestial's benefit, I still appreciate you letting me know about all of this. Thank you."

Carmilla seemed surprised at first before her eyes somewhat softened from her typical hard glare to a gentle expression. You had only seen her use that expression when talking to her two daughters.

"Don't be so quick to trust anyone in Hell, Sin Eater. If you weren't Zestial's soul, I would have killed you myself."

"I know. That doesn't mean I can't be thankful to you for your help."

The smallest of smiles pulled at Carmilla's lips for just a moment before she returned to the hardened expression she usually wore.

"Take care, (Y/n). I can see why you were sent to Heaven first before they betrayed you and sent you here. Heaven may want you dead, but I won't let them have their way."

~~~~~~~~

Extermination day was a brutal yearly event in Hell that always seemed to be more violent than the year before it. Zestial insisted you remain inside his estate with the curtains drawn while he left to an overlord meeting, making it clear he wanted you nowhere near the angels. You weren't keen to argue seeing as the angels were likely going to be gunning for you the moment they noticed your presence.

What you hadn't expected was the frantic knocking at the manor doors. Desperate souls in hell trying to escape the extermination going on outside. They were willingly to do anything, even sell their souls to the ancient being Zestial just to have a chance at escaping the angels.

Though you wanted to open the doors to let the poor sinners in, Zestial had been more than clear that you were to leave the doors sealed. However, those on the other side of the door did not take kindly to you not offering them sanctuary as the door suddenly caved in, a large axe blade sticking out of the door.

The body of a sinner fell into the doorway and a frighteningly familiar figure entered in. His large horns and dark mask looked identical to when you saw him at the gates of Heaven. He sneered as he removed the axe from the poor sinner he hunted down.

"How d'ya like that, demon bitch? Try and fucking run from me and I still got you!"

It was while he was taking in his surroundings he realized you were standing there, your gaze filled with terror and confusion. He didn't seem to recognize you at first before his smile became manic and sadistic.

"Found you. Did you know, you are one tough unlucky fucker to find. But Sera heard you survived, so I gotta drag your ass back to Heaven. Just had to screw up your one job, right? Now the Big Man wants your ass in His office, so You're gonna be a good little bitch and don't fight."

The fear coursing through you set you on edge as you took a step back from the man. His mask covering his face made him seem like more of a monster and set actual fear into your heart. You did the only thing you could think of, hoping beyond hope that he would answer you even if he was in a meeting with other overlords.

"Zestial, please... Please help me!"

Your plea seemed to be unanswered for a moment as the man reached towards you with a grin of triumph. Right as it seemed his hand was about to grab you, you found yourself suddenly stumbling to the side and into a pair of arms.

"Woah there! You alright?"

You looked up at the sinner holding you only to pause in confusion. The person you saw looked far more human despite his pale white skin and bright red clownish cheeks. He watched you in confusion even as he steadied you on your feet and let you lean on him to find your footing.

The room you found yourself in was not where you had been only moments ago. It seemed like you were somewhere high up as you could look down at a fair portion of The Pentagram from the windows nearby. None of it looked familiar.

"Where's Ze-?"

You were cut off by a bright light that drew your attention to the windows on the far side of the room. Several overlords- Zestial included- and even a few rather intimidating looking sinners you didn't recognize were present in what seemed to be a meeting room. In the open space before the windows was a blinding light that faded only slightly as a being emerged from the light. The being was humanoid in shape, but you couldn't make out what their face looked like as light continued to shine brightly enough to obscure them.

"Come, Sin Eater. It is not ideal that I had to retrieve you myself, but I shall do what I must."

"Who-?"

"You may call me Father, Creator, or God. Whichever you feel has enough reverence."

"You're-?"

"The one creator of all things, Damned and Heavenly souls included. And you, young Sin Eater, have defied your odds to exist to this point. Now, come and we shall discuss your afterlife."

You watched in silence for a moment, feeling anxiety racing through you as you looked at this intimidating figure before you. There was a part of you that wanted to do whatever the intimidating man told you to, but another far stronger part wanted you to yell.

You wanted to yell for the injustice of it all. To yell for being thrown into Hell with no warning. To yell for the clear suffering so many other sinners endured. To yell at the cause of all this suffering and senseless slaughter.

You needed to yell.

"No."

"Excuse you?"

"I said 'no'. If you want me to go with you I need a few things first."

The Man scoffed slightly in an incredulous manner, folding His ethereal arms over His chest. Though you couldn't see His face, you could tell He was scowling to some degree.

"A bit big in your own shoes, eh? Fine. What is it you believe you can ask of God?"

"Save them."

"Who?"

"The sinners screaming outside, being slaughtered and cut down at your behest. Save them first, or you are nothing but talk."

"They made their choice. They are reaping the rewards for sinful life."

"Really? Then what was my time down here? What do you call it when you kick someone out of Heaven and send them straight to Hell? Is that not an injustice? Is that not an undeserved fate? I went to Heaven first, and this is what I got instead."

"And I am taking you back to Heaven, is that not forgiving of me?"

You frowned deeply, feeling anger bubble up in your chest as you slowly walked forward. Step by step you approached the Heavenly being that claimed to be God Himself.

"Forgiving for what? What did I do that needs to be forgiven?"

"..."

"You claim to be the Creator of All, yet you turn a deaf ear to those begging you for mercy. You claim to be loving and forgiving, yet my only crime was an affliction I did not put upon myself and I was still thrown into Hell. You claim to be all of these things yet you refuse to save those that need it most."

He slightly dipped His head, as if He were refusing to meet your gaze and your blood only burned hotter. This Man stood before you claiming to be divine and forgiving, yet He couldn't do anything you asked of Him. He may not see it, but as far as you were concerned, He owed you a bit of grace.

"No. I will not go with you. Until you can open your arms to the damned and forgotten, I will not go with you. Until you uphold the morals you claim to purvey, I will not go with you. Until Hell itself is empty and I am the last one standing, I will not go with you."

"You belong in Heaven."

"Not any more. Those here showed me more kindness than your supposed 'angels' ever did! These damned sinners showed me mercy when I didn't deserve any from them! I belong here. And until you can prove to me that you are more than just talk, I will go nowhere with you. I'll even spit in your face if I have to, to prove I belong here!"

The Man was silent for a long moment, your anxious nerves sparking wildly as you stood before your Creator and told Him to go fuck Himself. The words spilled from your mouth like water from the head of a river, flowing forward with no regard to the end destination. All you felt was rage.

"You may have me when you earn me. Until then, find someone else to preach to."

The silence was near deafening as He stood, letting your words soak in even as you glared into the blinding light that emanated from Him. No one spoke until the sudden crack of what could have been thunder, and with a pop He was gone from view.

It was then your nerves hit you, making your knees buckle and your body sink downwards as all you had said and done weighed in your mind. At the least, you forfeited your one ticket into Heaven and a peaceful afterlife. At most, you pissed off God Himself and made it clear that His words could never reach you despite His efforts. You were forsaken regardless.

"Well, holy fucking Hell. I sure as shit didn't expect that!"

The gruff voice of one of the strangers present drew you from your downward spiral. He had a heavy Aussie accent and seemed to be some kind of abomination cross between a jester and a Christmas tree. His greenish-yellow eyes were wide with surprise, as were the eyes of the rest that were present. Even Zestial seemed surprised.

A hand rest on your shoulder and you sharply looked up to see that same man from before watching you with a gentle gaze and warm smile. His red eyes seemed so full of understanding and compassion that you could scarcely believe he was likely a sinner.

"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. Honestly, I'm surprised He didn't strike you down for what you said, but I can definitely say that I am proud of you."

"Thank you... I think? I just- I couldn't stand how he was so happy to let others suffer yet he still thought he was the merciful one. I- I'm sorry, I don't even know who you are and I'm putting all of this on you. I'm (Y/n) (L/n). I'm a-"

"A Sin Eater. Yes, I could tell by your soul. Not many of your kind down here, but hey, Hell has plenty of room for all. Lucifer Morningstar, pleasure to meet you, (Y/n)."

"... Morningstar..? Oh. Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir! I didn't mean to be rude, or intrude, or not bow. I was just calling for Zestial's help because that one angel who sent me here broke in and- I- I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I-"

"Take a breath there," Lucifer chuckled in a good-natured way, "to think, you'll spit in the face of God with no trouble but you apologize to me for not bowing when you didn't even know who I was. You've got some moxy, kiddo. I'll give you that."

He stood up again, holding a hand out to you which you gratefully accepted. It still felt like you were in an emotional limbo state given all that happened, yet you still found a bit of comfort and happiness bloom in your chest. Who knew Lucifer was such a chill guy?

"Gotta love a sinner who can stand up for themselves. Mmm. Takes guts."

A beautiful and deep baritone voice grabbed your attention and drew it to the owner of such high-quality brass pipes. Sitting with their legs crossed appeared to be a humanoid that was some kind of cross between a rooster and a Lion with three faces. They wore a finely decorated suit that seemed to glow in the low light as if they held some kind of light within.

"Guts? Talk about bringing the fire baby! Where you been hiding, Cutie? No way you've been anywhere near the other sinners with a soul that unique."

A female figured humanoid spoke up with a feminine voice, her figure much like a bee mixed with a fennec fox. Her stomach reminded you of a lava-lamp as the pink and blue colors within moved in a fluid maner. The group she sat among being the many you did not recognize.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the room where you had seen the various overlords prior, quickly finding Zestial among the faces. The relief you felt was quickly taken over with a sudden and fierce hunger.

Something about the way you or your soul looked must have changed because the overlords and even Lucifer reacted to the difference. There was something wrong with this hunger that made it different from your typical drive to consume sin. It was a deeper, more primal craving that seemed to only get worse with every passing second as you doubled over in pain from the crippling hunger.

"Damn Him! Of course He wouldn't let something like that slide. They're gonna turn feral unless they feed."

"Allow me to bare this load, your Highness. (Y/n) is still one of the souls I consider to be mine. The duty to feed should fall to me."

Zestial now stood, coming over to your side with several contracts in hand with the intention of curbing your hunger before it got too far. Before he could summon forth the sinners to feed you, another sensation overcame you that soothed the hunger significantly. A faint glow seemed to increase for only a second from Lucifer before fading back down.

"No need, already took care of it. Knowing Him it wouldn't have been a simple thing to quell. If anything, I would guess He made their sin-consuming affliction worse for talking back to him. It's possible that only a Sin can help them now. No offense."

"... None taken."

"Well, guess that just means I'll be seeing more of you, (Y/n)! I can tell we're going to get along just fine."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere Zestial #multiple yandere #yandere hazbin hotel

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soracities · 6 months

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if we should protect children because they are vunerable, this means you would protect cruel children who bullies people who different than them then. the children who responsible to trauma for someone else's entire years

You're assuming that "protecting" children is the same as absolving them of responsibility and that's not what I said. All children are vulnerable, because all children are children; they don't come out of the womb with a perfectly working moral compass anymore than they come out of it waiting to hurt people--they're vulnerable because their understanding of the world is entirely at the mercy of what we, as adults, consistently tell them and show them. Children behaving cruelly aren't exempt from that--they learn that cruelty from somewhere, or someone. Your job, as the adult, is to make sure they understand that it's unacceptable so it will not happen again--but your job is also to ask why someone that young is behaving this way to begin with, so you can ensure they become better.

"Protecting" kids is not ignoring when they hurt or torment others, it's not refusing to teach them consequences or right from wrong, it's not "zero tolerance" policies in schools that treat a child being bullied and the child bullying them as equal instigators, and it's certainly not protecting them from recognizing, and atoning for, the pain they have caused someone else. You don't have to make peace with the now-adults who hurt you when you both were kids, but you cannot let the horrors of your own childhood impact how you treat or respond to the children living theirs around you right now, either.

You don't protect kids so they can get a free pass for bullying or tormenting another child. You protect them because kids are impulsive, emotionally reactive, and profoundly social (which means deeply impressionable) human beings who are still learning & processing insane amounts of information every day about what it means to be alive, to be alive as yourself, to be alive as yourself with other people. Protecting them is realising that you can't isolate the responsibility of a 10 year old from the bigger responsibility of the literal grown adults around them, adults who are in charge of teaching them about the world and how to behave in it. Whether you have children of your own in the future or not is completely irrelevant to this; we all become those adults eventually--no matter what happened to us as kids.

#ask #Anonymous #i dont want to keep repeating myself on this but we're all carrying fucked up and traumatizing childhoods to some extent and if you want to #spare another child going through the same thing the solution is not to hate on children bc they didnt ask to be born any more than the res #of us did. but they're here now and what are you going to tell them while they are?#what kind of an adult and what kind of a compass are you going to become for them during the time they're learning about being alive?#and if you decide its not your problem the minute this child says or does something fucked up and that they're a lost cause at the age of 8 #bc their impulse control is shitty and their empathy & understanding is still buffering then that is part of the problem. they learn what #they're doing is okay and then they keep doing it--to other kids and years later other adults. our world is fucked up and makes fucked up #people and if you have it in your ability to limit that damage at its most formative and dangerous point then why wouldn't you?#notes from elsewhere

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

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Never Let Me Go

➪the one where you and leon reunite.

Part 1

Warnings: angst, fluff, re themed topics, mentions of death, descriptions of injuries, mentions of injuries, making out, sad boy leon

Word Count: 3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The feeling of regret followed Leon for weeks.

He regretted not doing more to get you back to him, whether that was to take the fall for you or to simply go in after you, it didn’t matter. He just couldn’t believe he was right there when you lost your grip and fell into the void of rock and rubble.

Leon found himself thinking back to the length of your involvement with one another, from his first day with you to the final one. He wished he could go back years ago and ask you to be his way back then. Why he had waited five years to develop the partnership into something more, he had no idea.

He hated the fact that you could’ve been his and you could’ve been together way sooner had he pushed aside his commitment issues faster and realised just how amazing you were.

He didn’t even get the chance to tell you that he loves you and had for many years now.

The trip back home was brutal.

He didn’t say a word as he stared out the window, his heart feeling like it was about to burst at the fact that he was leaving you behind in the mess while he lived on. It would take weeks for the rescue crew to locate and retrieve your body, if they ever found it, and he almost wished they wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of burying you for the second time, nor could he stand the thought of not giving you a proper funeral.

He just wished it never happened. He wished he never went on this mission with you and he wished he was the one who got buried that day. He would give anything to go back to the day you were assigned the mission. He would flat out refuse it and take you away, somewhere safe and where he could protect you. Not that you needed it. You could take care of yourself just fine, but you were reckless. You didn’t care what happened to you, as long as you were able to save someone.

And if he couldn’t refuse it, he’d stop you from going after the kid. Whatever it took; tying you to a post, dragging both you and Talia away from the site, or even going in to save the kid himself. Anything to keep you alive and safe.

What was the point?

He can wish all he wants, you’re still gone and he’s still here. You’re just someone else he couldn’t save.

Seeing how Leon lost his partner, in more ways than one, he hasn’t been assigned any new missions. He was both grateful and frustrated at that. On one hand, your absence would make him lose his mind and he wouldn’t be focused like he normally was, and on the other, he was used to distracting himself by throwing himself into his job. He needed a sense of familiarity as he tried to face this new world - the one without you there to keep him grounded.

Hunnigan was becoming more and more worried about him. He wasn’t able to focus on anything, he was at home more than he was at work, and he hadn’t filed or done research on any of the cases she sent his way. It was concerning, to say the least.

She entered the briefing room to find him still there. The meeting was long over, something she was surprised he actually showed up for, yet he hadn’t moved since it was cleared. Instead of sitting where he usually did, he sat one seat over. It was where you usually sat, your place secured next to his in the back row.

His legs were stretched out and resting on the back of the chair in front of him, his hands on his stomach as he played with a ring. He found it in your office when he went in to ask the staff to stop cleaning the space out. Well, he didn’t really ask. No, he told them to get the fuck out and to close the door behind them.

He stayed there for a good portion of the morning, sitting at the desk he had watched you organise too many times to count. After memorising every square inch of the room, he was about to get up and leave when something caught his eye.

On the top shelf of the desk, next to a framed picture of the two of you - one where you were both covered in dirt and grime and dust but still smiling because you were together - was a ring he had seen you wear many times. When he asked you about it, you told him it had no meaning to you, it was just pretty and something you found on sale.

It was a silver band with a few lines carved into it, and you only took it off when you went on missions.

Leon grabbed it without thinking twice and left your office, turning the light off and closing the door behind him.

He was twirling it around his fingers when Hunnigan walked up to him, a folder in her hand. “Kennedy,” she said in both a greeting and warning. She felt for the guy, but was also trying to do her job and he was making it more difficult than it needed to be. “The meeting is over. What are you still doing here?”

Leon didn’t look up at her as he pulled the ring off of his finger. It was far too small for him and only reached just past the tip of his finger. Maybe he could find a chain to attach it to.

Ingrid was about to speak again when he finally answered her. “I’m reminiscing,” his tone was cold and sarcastic, so unlike how he usually sounds.

She clears her throat before opening the folder and trying to ignore the fact that Leon had yet to look at her. “I have a new case for you,” she says, reading over the file before continuing, “It’s one that requires both you and your partner to attend.”

Leon looked up at her and the dark glint in his eyes had her shoulders tensing. After trying to get him to look at her all morning, she wished she would’ve known what she would be met with when he finally did. He stops twirling the ring around his finger and holds it in the palm of his hand. “My partner is dead,” he muttered, glaring at her as he leaned up in the chair.

Ingrid knew he would never hurt her, so maybe that was why his harsh words didn’t make her back down. “Just come with me,” she says and turns around. “We’re going over it somewhere more private.”

Leon’s eyes narrowed at her retreating figure. He breathed heavily through his nose before pocketing the ring and standing up, ignoring the way his lower back ached from how long he was sitting for.

He followed her down the hall and into the meeting room, letting out a huff of annoyance when the door closed behind him. “How is this more private?” He asked as they made eye contact.

Ingrid just shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “It’s not, really,” she answered. “I just wanted to formally introduce you to your partner.”

Leon refrained from rolling his eyes. “I already told you, my partner is dead-”

The side door opened and in walked someone he never thought he’d see again.

The words die on his tongue as the person looks up and at the woman beside him. “Hey, I think I left some of the papers back at the-”

Your eyes meet his and your grip on the folder falters. Almost instantly, Leon’s blue irises are covered by tears and you let go of the file completely. It falls to the floor, making Hunnigan bite back a cry of shock as she spent damn near all morning putting that together. She lets it slide as she quietly excuses herself and leaves the room.

Within seconds, Leon crosses the room and closes the distance between you. His arms wrap around your waist while yours grip his shoulders, your legs closing around his hips. You let out a happy sob when his arms tightened around you, his hands grasping at you with a desperation you had never seen or felt before.

Even the feeling of your shirt getting caught in the stitches on your hip wasn’t enough to pull you away from him. Leon feared that if he were to let go for even a second, you’d be gone again and he’d be alone. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that a life without you was one he could not live in.

Your tears dampen his shirt, making the fabric appear even darker. His own fall from his eyes and gather in your hair, his nose inhaling the scent of the vanilla soap that quickly became your signature smell.

He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not, but he knew he never wanted to wake up. It was such a difference to the countless nightmares he’s had since he lost you, each one being a replay of what actually happened to you. He would happily live in this dreamland with you forever. He never wanted to witness you dying ever again.

You died.

How were you even here?

Leon pulled away, using nearly all of his self control to do so, and looked at each inch of your face. Your bottom lip had a cut going through it, your cheek was a horrid shade of green and purple, and your left eye was bloodshot. “How?” He asked desperately. “I don’t understand-how are you-”

You just shake your head, your hands stroking his hair a few times before you bring him into a tear-tasting kiss. Leon kisses you back with everything he has, his legs moving before his mind has a chance to catch up with them.

He blindly reaches for the handle to the door and when he finds it, he stumbles into the break room with your hands tightly gripping his hair. His teeth clash with yours before they tug on your bottom lip, careful as to not rip the cut open.

He sets you down on one of the tables and one of your hands leaves his hair, your palm flat against the surface behind you as your lips messily meet. Your legs tighten around his middle and tug him even closer as his hands caress the sides of your face, his lips still locked with yours.

You pull away for air and have little time to react before Leon’s lips attack your neck. He kisses every inch of your skin as if it were the last time he would ever be able to. He was still in disbelief that it was really you in front of him. You, with your legs wrapped around him. You, with your hand tugging on his hair in the way you know he loves. You, with his saliva coating various areas of your neck as his lips made work of your skin.

Your shirt falls off your shoulder and it was then he saw the bandage that covered a large portion of your collarbone.

It really was you. A broken and beaten version of you, but still you.

He lifts one of his hands and lets his fingers gently brush over the white bandage, his eyes full of different emotions. Love. Anger. Guilt. Relief. “What happened?” He asked quietly, tracing the edges of the white fabric.

You look down at him, confused as to why he stopped kissing your neck. Your eyes soften when you see the guilt swimming in his and you gently place your hands against the sides of his face, tilting his head up so you could talk to him face to face. “I’m okay,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his. “I promise. I’ll tell you everything, I just need you. I need to be close to you.”

Leon pulled back, his hand moving up to brush your messy hair away from your face. “I love you,” he says with no hesitation. He should’ve said the three words years ago, maybe then his heart would’ve been able to grieve differently after he thought you died.

It didn’t matter. You were here, with him, and he was never letting you go.

Your lips quiver as you take in his words, your eyes flickering between his. You search for any indication that he was lying but find nothing but the truth. A grin breaks out on your lips as you gently tug on his hair. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that,” you whisper and watch as relief floods his eyes. “I love you, too.”

Leon laughs quietly before he presses two chaste kisses to your lips, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt and tugging it upwards.

“So, as I fell, the ground opened up and I landed on the floor of some underground lab. The rubble and debris piled in and covered the way back up, so I was left to find another way out,” you say, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of Leon’s neck. His arms were wrapped around your middle as he gently swayed the two of you on your office chair.

The door was closed and the blinds were shut, the only light coming from the small lamp you had on your desk. It felt like you were in your own little world, like the other agents outside your office weren’t hurriedly gathering information for their next missions, like Hunnigan wasn’t a few doors down reorganising the file you dropped.

With your legs draped over his thighs and your side pressed to his front, neither of you cared that you were still at work. Too much time had passed since you last saw each other and you weren’t about to waste anymore. “While I was looking around, I found file after file about the illegal testing they were doing in the village. It was everything we could’ve possibly needed to shut these guys down for good,” you continue, your eyes casted down as you replayed your experiences in your head.

Leon looked up at you, his hand absentmindedly tracing shapes on the skin of your thighs that your skirt didn’t cover. His eyes trailed all over you, from the bandage peeking out from under your shirt, to the multiple marks he kissed into the skin of your neck, to your swollen lip.

Scratching at his scalp before smoothing your hand back over it, you turn to face him. “I grabbed everything I could and tried to find a way out, but the next thing I knew…I was being cornered by the scientists who had survived the collapse. I bargained with them for a while before they let me go, but not without dislocating my shoulder and threatening my life a couple times,” Leon’s eyes darkened at that, his jaw clenching as he stopped swaying and tightened his hold on you. “I was kept down there for a few days before the rescue team finally found me, as well as all the evidence, and then the scientists were cuffed and taken out.”

Leon shifted slightly, his hand going back to running up and down your thigh. “They told me that they couldn’t find your body,” he mumbled, making your heart ache at the sadness that dripped from his voice.

“I was put under witness protection for a week or so after I was brought back home,” you say just as quietly.

His eyes met yours again. “You have no idea how many times I threatened to go back to that place and look for you myself. They were giving me nothing to go off of. They just said you were probably crushed by all the rubble and that it could take weeks to recover your remains-” he cut himself off as a dry sob nearly slipped past his lips.

Your eyes sting as you push his hair up and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry,” you mumbled against his skin. “I wanted to come back to you every second of every day, but they wouldn’t let me. They said it was too soon, too dangerous and to wait a few more days. I just had to hold onto the thought of seeing you again. It’s what kept me going.”

Leon looked down at his hand as it neared the hem of your skirt. “I thought I lost you,”

“I’m right here,” you say and turn his head so he was looking back at you. “I’m here and I’m never leaving your side. Not until you tell me to.”

He shakes his head, his hand falling from your thigh as he fumbles around in the pocket of his jeans. You furrow your brows as he pulls out a small object. He held your ring in between his fingers and lifted it up so you could see it.

You let out a small laugh, your hand quickly wiping away your tears as you looked between the ring and him. “My ring,” you hum, returning your hand to his hair. “I was wondering where that went.”

Leon stayed still as he grabbed your hand and slid the ring on your finger. “Marry me,” he said quietly and you could’ve heard a pin drop as silence took over the space of your office.

You shifted on his lap and moved his head so you could look him in the eyes. He was serious. “What?”

“Marry me,” he said again and held your hand in his. “I don’t want to go that long without you ever again. I can’t.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief before cradling his face in your free hand. “Yes,” you say, more tears gathering in your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say and wrap your arms around him, pressing your body impossibly closer to his. “I’ll marry you.”

I don't have a tag list but thank you for the support on part 1 @taken-by-the-wind <3

#leon s kennedy #leon re #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #resident evil 4 remake

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evilminji · 1 year

Text

Sooooo.....

Like? We can all agree, that, all other factors aside? Given the life he's lived and the personality he has? The sheer NONSENSE he's been exposed too (from rays to oozes to powders to magics etc) AND the by definition unfinishable nature of his Life's Work/Obsession?

If Batman lived in a world connected to Danny Phantom's Zone in any way... he's DEFINITELY becoming a Realms Ghost.

Like? It's not even a "possibly" here. It's an inevitability. He HAS to protect just one more person. HAS to solve one more case. HAS to protect his kids one last time. He HAS Too, HAS Too, HAS Too.

He's Batman.

It's etched into his soul. The man's ghost will literally REFORM in that outfit. Batman with a glow. Batman the protection spirit. Kindness and grief and an eternity of "I have to save just one more."

He's not going to get to die peacefully or rest quietly. It would go against his nature.

But! Why is this relevant? Because of the Elseworld stories. Those AUs. The Multi-Verse at large. They ALL... Have Batman.

Consider: Ember McClain. Rocker. Remember that name. Yes, in some worlds she makes it big. But? Tragedy and betrayal in others. Death. Do you think the Ember's of those worlds are fine with passing on silently? Shrugging and being forgotten just because some other Ember got there first?

No. They are Ember. SHE is Ember.

Just as Clockwork is Time.

What makes a Realms Ghost different then someone like Deadman? Than a Shade? A poltergeist? Your average spook?

They are only themselves.

Singular.

Small.

A tiny little fraction, of a fraction, of a part, of a small bitty droplet, if even that. You only get one soul. But! You share it. There are many "You"s. Like the universe itself, exploding out, to live, to experience, BE, and then collapsing back together in the end. Running together like rainwater in the cracks of Realitys. Seeping back into one piece, one person, in the place between places.

It's why one forgets silly things like Names and Pasts. You had so, so many. All of them were yours. Made you. Shaped you. But are not why you refuse to let go. Why you still EXSIST. Outside of Creation and Rebirth, beyond any gods you could possibly recognize. Refined to your truest SELF.

Yet... you might still be Alive. You know that you ARE. Time exists for the living. To balance beginnings, middles, and ends. Why do you care? They aren't you yet. They will be. All of you will eventually come together. You'll become something... MORE.

Ancient.

The wisdom and complexity of a complete Being. More a Person then your average soul. Like giant stars compared to a barely burning dwarves. You know, assuming you don't give up first. Most give up. It takes a certain sort of patience, after all. A LOT of timeless time. Kinda sucks.

Yet! We consider The Bat. Persistence and Stubborn Hope made manifest. Compassion born of terrible grief. Dead. Again and again and again. Dead for those who needed him. Who hated him. Who cursed or forgot or lamented him. In every imaginable age, a story played out the same. Ending the same.

Himself instead of another.

Himself FOR the others.

Himself because none other could.

Sacrifice and Sacrifice and Sacrifice. Desperation to save. Worlds burning and cities falling. Waking up, reaching out, to shield sons and daughters that are not there. That live because he does not. Dragging himself through the stubborn walls of world after world, like a haunting final curse, upon those who harmed his family, his city. His world.

A wraith. Gothams final curse upon those who damn her.

What must it be like? To keep saying good bye? To drag your aching soul, fuller and fuller of terrible memories, across the fields of jagged glass that are portals you tear, to world's on fire. Just to save friends and family. Enemies and strangers. All of whom, must in the end... bury you anyway.

Because you must kill the hope in their eyes. Must die before them again. Because you can not stay and they can not come with you. Or worse... they can, and will soon.

Sitting on fields of battle where you tried. Gave all your spirit could muster. But... it's over now. And all you can offer is the knowledge is that they should not be afraid. You will carry them home.

And are there? Nightwings and Robins and all manner of other family, waiting back in the Zone? In a Manor where Pennyworth lives eternal? Do they also hurt and fight to save their friends? Each new piece of them coming with some great tragedy that they must put right?

Do they give Walker and the Observants migraines? Probably.

Imagine, though: Time travel added to the mix. Dying in the future. Your son managing to turn everything back to before the world ended. The Ghost King is suddenly a Baby again. Every one is freaking out. "Oh no! The king!" Blah blah blah.

But you and your family are more concerned about the world ending threat that kills a part of you. So is the baby ghost king, when you tell him. You show up in your own Cave, freak yourself out. Team up time. Though you ARE growing concerned by the Baby Kings self-neglectful behaviors. Hey, Me, are you seeing this?

.......he.... you know, he COULD use more Parental Oversight. He's a good kid. Seems lonely though. Underfed. ("BRUCE, NO." "Hmmm.")

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones @the-witchhunter @cyrwrites

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

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chuuya-kisser · 2 months

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im finally free so that i can fucking scream abt bsd 117 and tell my thoughts on this heartbreaker of a chapter (will def make another post feeding my delusions)

(spoilers utc)

firstly.

ASAGIRI. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUXK ASAGIRI. ASAGIRI WHEN I CATCH YOU ASAGIRI I THOUGHT YOU WERE KILLING-YOUR-CHARACTERS-PHOBIC?????? NOW YOUVE MELTED TWO IMPORTANT CHARACTERS IN TWO CHAPTERS???? WHOS GONNA GO NEXT CHAPTER HUH WHO'S NEXT IN YOUR DEATH NOTE

well

Uh yeah so anyways basically heart broken for multiple reasons so we'll go in order

1- aya. oh my gosh aya. shes what, a ten year old?????? and in the span of a day, she has found out about a vampire lord who is responsible for destroying or saving the whole world, shouldered the responsibility of getting said vampire lord away from the enemy to save the world, developed a father-daughter relationship with said vampire lord, sacrificed herself and got saved by him, believed that the world could be saved now, saw her new father figure's body be torn apart and replaced by a greasy ratass who wants to destroy everything or whatever, with said new father's last words telling her to run to save herself, being saved by said father, then having him dissolve and die again in front of her eyes again. shes a ten year old. what the actual fuck. oh and don't forget, she doesn't know that she lost her other father figure too!

gosh she is going to be SO traumatised and even that is an understatement i really hope she has the strength to recover

2- so akutagawa is back huh? about time, about time (though im not very happy about the cost it took- but atleast he's back?)and he has agreed to protect aya on brams wish? thats surprising honestly, so im wondering if the stuff atsushi told him while fighting him at the airport or whatever affected his subconscious or something so that he consciously wants to start protecting people?

OR maybe! he sees a bit of himself in aya or smth? i mean look i dont exactly remember what happened before he met dazai and was taken in by him okay, dont come at me. but maybe he sees that terrified little kid and something stirs in him or smth anyways go akutagawa go you're her third father figure please dont die again ‼️

(also he looks so good-)

3- and the biggest bombshell

kunikida.

KUNIKIDA‼️‼️ NO NO NO THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY HAPPENING PEOPLE THIS IS NOT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT I AM IN DENIAL

just- THINK ABOUT EVERYONE. think about atsushi and tanizaki. who saw him disappear slowly in front of their eyes, to buy them time. think about fukuzawa. who wished for kunikida to be the next president because he was the most ideal. who cares so much, even if he doesnt show it as much. think about aya. she has such a deep bond with kunikida, and now she'll have to face the devastating news that one of the only people who truly believed in her is gone too. think about ranpo and yosano.

think about dazai. who is much too far away to do anything right now, who miscalculated once which led to him being too far to stop fyodors rampage in any way. who was truly doing all this because he wanted to keep the detective agency safe. who, when he realises what will happen next, his first thought is to warn them. who was his new partner, kept him alive, even made him a part of his schedules. who i think he must have to care for, even a little bit.

dazai, who thinks that anything worth wanting is always lost the moment he obtains it. and its happened again. and by the looks of it, it will happen again.

i genuinely want to know how he'll react but i dont want to at the same time. gods i cant fucking do this man

like huhhh asagiri are you tryna make me cry or some shit???? Because youre succeesing SPECTACULARLY

also- are we gonna see tanizaki get liquefied too next chapter? because this panel sure looks like it

im scared for september now like what else are you gonna throw at us, huh asagiri? and what do you mean i have to wait a whole month this is crazy

and i am STILL in denial and will continue to be in denial guys wdym, ofc kunikida is alive and well! hes coparenting aya with bram, having fun at the agency and stuff ‼️‼️ hes perfectly peachy theres no helicopter singularity out for everyone's lives!!! (wow this post is LONG)

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morning-star-joy · 1 year

Text

do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 3

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: Insight into how Joel feels about you, and a fleeting moment of passion before he leaves.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) One-Night Stand, Fingering, Unprotected p in v sex, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk including Degradation (for flavor), Praise Kink, very light Breathplay (if you squint), Language, Alcohol Use, a misogynist asshole in the beginning who Joel shoves after Reader puts them in their place

Wordcount: 10.3k

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || masterlist

ao3 link

Joel Miller stood frozen in the gentle fall of snow, abandoned by all except for the ghosts that followed his steps down every road he took.

Roads he had decided to walk alone a long time ago. Roads he was satisfied to walk alone.

Until he had agreed to take Ellie to the Fireflies.

Joel sighed as he ran a gloved hand over his face, feeling more worn down from the conversation he just had with Tommy than from the firefight that broke out with raiders at the dam earlier that day. While he was glad he hadn’t let Tommy go without him, the shootout that had occurred only worsened the worry that had been gnawing away at him; the fear that had spurred Joel to bare his broken heart and tarnished soul to his baby brother.

Twice, twice during that fight, Ellie had been in direct danger. It didn’t matter that one of those times the bandit had been going for him first, because Ellie would’ve been next. And both times, it had been that woman that saved her. Some fucking stranger who didn’t even know either of them saved the kid without so much as a second thought.

Ellie didn’t need a broken old man to get her to the Fireflies safely. She needed somebody like that to escort her. Somebody younger and faster. Somebody selfless enough to be ready to sacrifice themselves for her, but skilled enough to beat the odds and come out of it alive.

Joel couldn’t deny that he had felt a pang of envy as he watched Tommy's Firefly sit with Ellie, showing her how to hold a rifle and look through the scope. It was something the kid had been asking him to do, but he had always refused. Too stubborn in the denial of his own fondness for her, denial that Ellie had been more than cargo for a while. Yet the Firefly had picked up the role of teaching her, the role of protecting her, so easily.

He felt that envy again when they were laughing at some stupid joke made at his expense. The joke hadn’t bothered Joel, in fact it had nearly brought a smile to his face when he saw how happy Ellie was. It was how freely they could laugh with each other that bothered him. Even when Ellie’s dumb pun had broken through his defenses that one time, he hadn’t had the strength to even look at her through the darkness as they had laughed.

Joel sighed, looking up to the strands of light-bulbs that lit the street once more since the power had been restored at the dam. It had been an easy fix, just like the woman said, after the “trouble” she had also mentioned was a possibility.

Even though he knew Ellie needed someone like that to escort her to the Fireflies, he would only entrust the task to Tommy. Joel knew Tommy trusted his friend, for whatever reason in the history of his brother’s life that came after Joel, but that still wasn’t good enough for him. He wouldn’t trust anybody with this journey, wouldn’t trust anybody with Ellie’s life except for his own family.

Snow continued to fall from the night sky in flurries as Joel followed the directions Tommy had given him. It was an odd, bittersweet feeling, seeing the life that Tommy had carved out for himself since they had parted ways.

His brother hadn’t been wrong when he accused Joel of staying frozen in time while everybody else had moved on. Evidence of that claim was clear everywhere he looked in Jackson, where people were creating lives for themselves, even after the end of the world. One of them was his own brother, and he couldn’t find the strength to really be mad at him for it. What could he do about it, even if he was? Tommy had Maria now. He had a child on the way.

And he had her.

He wasn’t jealous of Tommy. Underneath his bitterness, Joel was happy to see his brother was building a happy life not only for himself, but for those he cared about. The world was too shitty for Joel not to wish him the best, despite it all. But that woman? His ex-Firefly buddy?

Her, he was jealous of.

Joel didn’t know who she was, had never even heard her fucking name before today. He could rationalize it when it came to Maria, not able to fault Tommy for that desire to settle down and start a family. Joel had felt it himself once.

But the issue of her—that was different. She was a fucking Firefly, some kind of rebel idealist that Tommy had fought alongside of. And sure, Joel knew bonds could be forged through that sort of thing, but to come to Jackson together? To be the first at his side when trouble brewed? To be the one he trusted?

That used to be me, an angry, bitter voice in the back of Joel’s head spoke. She was not a wife. She was not a friend. She was family.

She was him.

His replacement.

And despite his best intentions—if he even had any of those left—a part of himself slowly began to despise her for that.

He could tell she wasn't a bad person, or at least not as terrible as most. Joel didn’t know the kind of shit she did in the Fireflies with Tommy, or what she might have done before that—she was too quick, too skilled with both a rifle and a knife to be completely innocent—but she had risked her life to keep Ellie safe, and despite however he felt about her, that did mean something. Joel not only owed her once for that, but twice for saving his own life as well.

Joel groaned, letting his footsteps slow to try and prolong his arrival at the house Tommy had put him and Ellie in. He knew he had to speak with Ellie. He had to prepare her for being handed off to Tommy.

Shit, just the wording of that made him wince internally.

It was for the best, he knew that. But Ellie wouldn’t, and Joel couldn’t prepare himself for however she was going to react, and whatever hard truths he may have to reveal in order for her to let him go.

Let him go. The thought brought a pang of sadness, a feeling he tried to shake off by telling himself that it was for the better. He knew it was for the better.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he would eventually believe it.

Loud music and rowdy laughter echoed through the still air of the winter night as the doors to a building opened across the street from him, and a couple figures stumbled out. Joel sighed, not wanting to draw attention to himself and invite conversation, so he hung back for a moment, waiting for the two to disperse.

One of the figures stopped, leaning against a sturdy wooden pillar that held up the cover above the walkway and the sign for the bar, The Tipsy Bison.

Great, he thinks to himself, muscles aching from the long day as he rests his back against a matching support pillar on his own side of the street. Joel listened to the pair’s carefree laughter, wondering if they were drunk enough that he could just slip by without being noticed, when one of the voice’s caught his attention.

“Eh, he’s not that bad,” the voice drawled, tone lighter and easier than he had heard it before, but the lilt of it was already annoyingly familiar. “I think.”

Joel’s eyes squinted as he tried to make out the figure speaking through the darkness and light snowfall that obscured his vision, and he swore internally when he could finally see.

Fucking hell, of all the 300 people Maria claimed to have in this settlement, did it have to be her?

“Really?” the man standing behind Tommy's Firefly asked as he leaned closer to her. “He got at least half of our guards shitting their pants. I heard he got as many kills as Tommy in that skirmish at the dam, if not more.”

Joel’s gaze squinted further at the pair lounging outside the brightly lit bar. Were they…talking about him?

She whacked the man on the shoulder, not lightly judging by how he recoiled from the hit with a wince. “Can you not say that so loudly? It’s not common knowledge, people don’t need to get freaked out by it.”

“Ah, see,” the man said as he poked her in the forehead, and Joel frowned, fingers flexing at his sides as he saw her face contort into a glare up at the guy, a warning signal to Joel that the touch was unwanted. “That’s Tommy’s words getting into your head.”

She laughed, the sound devoid of that lightness it had carried just a moment before. Now it held a hint of danger to it that roused Joel’s attention. He straightened from where he was leaning against the pillar, watching her ire grow towards her companion.

“Pretty sure I can think for myself, man,” she responded bitterly. “You can leave your sexism poorly disguised as chivalry in the pre-apocalyptic world.”

Joel’s brow raised, his gaze now fixed on her with a renewed interest, though he would be the last to admit it. He had seen that resolve, that challenge in the woman when she approached him on the street earlier that day. Even before that, he had seen her defiance when she scoffed at him for whatever reason as she passed by his conversation with Tommy in the dining hall.

That last memory made him shake his head, pivoting on his feet to walk past the pair, when the sound of the man’s voice crawled down Joel’s spine and made him turn right back around.

“Don’t be like that, now. If you wanna come back to my place, I’m sure I can make you forget any other man’s words.”

“What the hell, man?” Her voice was angry now, something Joel noted in the back of his mind as his pace towards the two picked up. “You gonna turn that stupid bullshit you said into a bad pickup line? No fucking way.”

She shoved at the man’s shoulder before moving to walk past him, and Joel barely saw the hand raising to push her back against the pillar before his own hand grabbed the man by the shoulder she had shoved, pulling him backwards before the bastard could lay a hand on her.

Perhaps he pulled harder than necessary, Joel realized, but he found it hard to care as the man fell onto his ass in the snow with a yelp. He looked up at Joel, angry indignation in his eyes as he opened his big mouth to speak, before he seemed to realize who he was looking at.

“I believe the lady told you no,” Joel’s words rolled off his tongue slowly, voice low with the promise of danger he reserved for those unfortunate souls that tested him.

He really shouldn’t have felt a sick sense of satisfaction at watching the man scramble back through the snow to stagger to his feet, but he did. The man cleared his throat before beginning to back away, but not before Joel could get in another word. That rat wouldn’t get off easy for treating a woman like that, because apocalypse be damned, the Southern hospitality of his upbringing and the respect for women it instilled was hard to shake.

“Apologize.” The word was a command, his voice as quiet as it was deadly. Joel could feel the Firefly's gaze on him as he spoke, but he was too focused on the man whose eyes had widened in fear.

Good, Joel thought as that sick satisfaction in him grew at the sight of the terror he instilled.

“I, uh,” the man cleared his throat, suddenly sheepish now that another man had called him out on his bullshit. Fuck it all, Joel should punch him right in the middle of the stupid face he had leered at her and god knew how many other women with. “Sorry.”

Joel’s mouth opened, fist clenching as he was about to call out that shallow apology with either his words, his fists, or maybe even both, when the woman interrupted with a snap, “Just get the fuck out of here, man.”

Nothing more needed to be said as the overgrown weasel made a hasty departure, sending one last look of fear back over his shoulder before disappearing into the night.

Joel’s fist continued to clench and release a few times before he slowly let a breath out through his nose, an attempt to regain control of himself.

“I could have handled that,” the Firefly murmured, and he finally looked over at her.

Even in the dim light from the strands of light-bulbs above their heads, Joel could see the flush across her face that spoke to the alcohol she must have consumed inside the bar. Still, the shocking clarity in her bright eyes as she looked at him affirmed that she wasn't quite as drunk as the man had been, probably just tipsy.

Joel shouldn’t have been so drawn in by the sight of the Firefly's piercing gaze on him. In retrospect, that should have been the first warning sign, and he should have walked away from her right then and there.

“I’m sure,” Joel nodded instead, his voice flat even though his words were remarkably honest as he remembered her combat skill from earlier in the day. “But that wouldn’t have made it right for me to stand back and watch.”

Joel glanced away, refusing to look at her even as he felt her staring at him. His gaze fixed on the snowflakes that still fluttered through the night breeze as his jaw ticked, the tension that was preparing him for a fight not completely evaporated from his muscles yet.

“Yeah,” she murmured, Joel’s head tilting towards the sound of her voice subconsciously as she spoke, “guess men will still be men, even in a peaceful settlement after the end of the world, huh?”

He looked over now, just in time to see her shoot a bemused half-smirk at him.

“No offense,” she added, voice low and thick with a sarcastic humor. Joel looked away again, faster this time than he had meant to.

“None taken,” he replied, his own voice thick with something else, and he cleared it quickly.

Joel stood next to her in silence, suddenly feeling more aware of his own body and the reactions he was making than he had in a long time. It was almost…self-conscious? No, not quite as drastic as that sort of lack of confidence. It was more like unease, or tension, a small feeling hovering in the very back of his mind, hardly there.

But it was still there, even as he stubbornly ignored it. Even as that tension threatened to slowly eat away at him.

A sudden burst of cold wind made him cough into his fist as he tried to find words to speak, all the while wondering in the back of his mind why he hadn’t just walked off yet, when she broke the silence herself.

“What house did Tommy put you in?”

Joel glanced sideways at her, watching the way she shoved her hands into her pockets and shivered before he looked back out at the empty street. “38.”

She hummed, the gesture of her thumb pointing back at herself catching his attention again as she replied casually, almost lazily, “27. You’re just down the street from me.”

He nodded, suddenly wanting to be anywhere where she wasn't, but for some reason Joel found himself falling into step beside her as she mentioned showing him the way.

It was probably just because he had forgotten Tommy’s directions, he told himself. But as they walked through the snowfall in silence, he couldn’t help but think for a moment that maybe it was an illusion of camaraderie. A feeling that had been lacking from his life ever since Tess—

Joel stiffened, the line of his own thoughts shutting him down completely. He had allowed himself to get that close to somebody once since the world had gone to hell, and look how that had gone. He wouldn’t do it again.

Not that the woman was anywhere close to being that kind of option to him. Joel hardly knew her, and he wasn’t particularly interested in getting to know her. He glanced sideways at her as she walked with her head turned up towards the sky, letting the snowflakes fall onto her face and wincing when one got in her eye.

The lights of the street reflected in the color of her irises as she blinked, creating a glow effect in the Firefly's pupils that lit up the winter night. Slowly, Joel’s gaze trailed over her face, following the curve of her cheekbones down to her jaw, down the slope of her neck, until the sight of her skin disappeared beneath the collar of her jacket. His eyes flashed back up, gaze caught on her lips when her tongue darted out to catch a stray snowflake on her tongue.

Joel looked away fast, something he hadn’t felt in a while stirring inside of him from the sight. Something that he would much rather keep locked away.

Because what might be even more aggravating than how close this stranger was to Tommy, what was even more hazardous than the envy he felt for her that was slowly turning into direct dislike, was the dawning realization that she was attractive.

He had already noticed it, because even though Joel was old, he wasn’t fucking blind. She was attractive not only in her physical features, but in that calm confidence, that air of keen perception and firm persistence she carried herself around Jackson with.

What was harder for him to admit, even to just himself, was that she wasn't simply attractive, but that he was attracted to her. Joel could sense that old, familiar feeling of desire haunting him when she didn’t back down from his silent challenges, accepting them instead with a quick wit or a defiant arch of her eyebrow.

He could feel the attraction coiling in his veins when she crept through a fight, dropping one target efficiently before moving onto the next. Joel could feel a need for her that was only growing stronger as she wiped the blood of a man she had killed to save him off her scarred cheek, eyes intense and fueled with adrenaline as she looked up at him.

He could feel the arousal she evoked when she had tugged that glove off with her teeth, quick fingers running over her guns efficiently. He couldn’t help but wonder how those teeth would feel scraping along his neck, those fingers dancing lower across his stomach, lower until she reached—

Joel shook his head sharply, casting the lust out of his mind even as he felt that desire begin to stir inside him again. It was treacherous, not just because he hardly knew the woman, but because he wasn’t sure yet if his attraction to her was from the same part of him that despised her, or a different one.

He also didn’t know which of the two options was more dangerous.

“Well, here’s me.”

The confusing conflict of distaste and desire broke its hold on Joel as he blinked and looked back at the Firefly when she spoke. His gaze followed her extended finger that pointed towards the house to his left. There sat a small, humble cottage-sized house with a porch, a picket fence, and the bright number 27 painted on the sign.

“Interesting color,” he remarked quietly, only realizing he had said it out loud when she popped her head into his line of sight to glare at him.

“It’s my favorite,” she snapped, but the words were devoid of true anger as she brushed past him. Her tone held something more akin to teasing as her arm grazed his, the scent of something that was almost sweet reaching his nose, and his head swam in another strong flare of desire as he realized it was her.

Joel hadn’t realized his gaze was still focused on her as she walked up the pathway to her house until she opened up the door, catching his eye as she looked back at him after flicking on her lights.

“You…”

He waited for her to finish speaking, heart jumping into his throat as his hands clenched into fists inside his jacket pockets.

Don’t say it, he thinks to himself.

But still, he waits for her to.

After a long moment, as the tension between them grew thicker than ever before even as the distance had grown farther, she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder towards the interior of the house behind her.

Joel’s jaw tensed.

“You wanna come inside for a drink?”

Joel breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to reign himself in as his thoughts began to run wild. Did she understand the implication of her invitation? Maybe she didn’t. Surely she wasn't inviting someone so much older than her into her bed.

The tension between them may be thick, but the attraction he felt had to be one-sided. He had to tell himself that so he stayed where he was, standing outside the gate of her flawless picket fence, a necessary barrier that kept him away from her. Or kept her away from him.

And even if it was just a harmless invitation for a drink, why would she invite him, of all the options she must have in Jackson?

But as Joel squinted at her, trying to find something that could help him fool himself of her true intentions, he saw only a glimmer in her eyes. A hint of mirth and something deeper that he couldn’t blame on those strands of light that lit a path towards the Firefly through the darkness of the harsh winter night, even as he tried to resist following down that path that led straight to her.

“I have coffee,” she added as she stepped to the side, letting him see into the lit hallway behind her, leading further into the house. A clear invitation into her home, and he wasn’t sure what he was tempted by more at that moment—the hidden meaning behind the coyness of those words, or the promise of a hot cup of coffee. “If that’s your preferred poison.”

Joel huffed, cursing under his breath as he leaned back on his feet, needing distance from the woman he couldn’t seem to force himself to get at that moment.

He could deal with his own attraction. Joel could hold himself back because it was one-sided. But if it wasn’t, if she—fuck, if that woman felt that same desire that he felt growing for her with each passing moment in her presence…

Joel told himself he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, because—

Shaking his head sharply, Joel reminded himself that he still needed to talk to Ellie. And that came before anything else.

“I can’t,” he muttered as he avoided her gaze, not wanting to see if she was disappointed, or if she didn’t care at all. He wasn’t sure which reaction would be worse to see.

“Suit yourself,” she called back, sounding unbothered just from her tone alone as he stared stubbornly at the ice that had formed on the picket fence that carefully separated him from what she had offered. He heard her front door begin to swing shut, and he waited for the click as it closed, but it didn’t come.

Then came the words in a voice so quiet it was almost soft, “My door is open, if you decide you need that drink.”

Joel finally looked up just as the door shut. He blinked, chest rising and falling with a deep breath, his hand flexing as he stared. After a moment, the light that peaked through the curtains in her front window went out, and only then did he allow himself to turn, sighing heavily as he ran a hand over his hair.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, steps quickening as he hurried down the street towards the house marked with the number 38. Joel shoved the image of the Firefly standing in the doorway beyond his reach, her silhouette painted with the light of her home out of his mind as he focused himself on the task ahead.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

You felt stupid, replaying that last conversation you had with Joel in your mind as you tossed and turned.

“So fucking stupid,” you muttered to yourself more than once, remembering how he hadn’t even looked you in the eye when he turned you down.

You hadn’t even known where the invitation had come from. Yes, you knew you were attracted to him but, fuck, you didn’t think you would ever act on it. You didn’t want to act on it. There was a part of you—a pretty fucking strong part—that didn’t even like the man, and though you were pretty sure he felt the same about you in at least some way, he had still gone out of his way to stand up for you.

That must have been what did it. Yes, it must have been that display of strong masculinity, nothing more. That, and the alcohol. And the fucking need to get laid. Nothing more.

You winced as you remembered the moment you had asked him to come in for a drink again, his blank face as he stared at anything but you, and you buried your face in your pillow with a groan.

Joel probably thought you were too young for him, or was simply unattracted to you. The tension you felt between you was one of hostility, and the attraction you felt for him was one-sided. You were a fool if you thought it was otherwise.

Or, perhaps even worse, maybe Joel hadn’t even understood your proposal, and had turned you down because he didn’t even want your friendly conversation.

Somehow, that thought ended up hurting even more.

You sighed, kicking off the blankets when the light of dawn began to peek through the cracks of your curtains. Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you stretched your arms over your head, sighing from the relief it brought to your tense muscles. You stood, grabbing your robe from your closet and slipping it on before making your way into the kitchen.

If you couldn’t get to sleep, you might as well start your day a bit earlier than usual.

It wasn’t that much earlier, as you tended to be an early riser more often than not lately. Something about safety, you thought in the back of your mind. A need to be awake when everybody else was still asleep, just in case something happened.

A pretty foolish thing to think, given how something bad was just as likely to happen when you slept at night, if not more likely. Still, it was a hard habit to shake.

Your typical morning routine came naturally to you as you shuffled about your small kitchen. When getting out your coffee pot, you realized your supply of coffee was getting low, so maybe it was a good thing that Joel hadn’t accepted your invitation, if only for the selfish reason that you could keep all the caffeine to yourself.

You hummed to yourself, determined to distract yourself from the memories of last night that were popping up again. It was a song that you remembered the tune to more than you remembered the words. The chorus was a tongue twister, you faintly recalled, and the lyrics had faded with time. Still, you remembered parts of the melody, a familiar, comforting tune even as you sang it quietly to yourself while waiting for the pot of coffee to heat up.

The pleasant quiet of your little routine was interrupted by a sudden knock at your front door, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of it. Clutching your chest, you glanced back at the coffee on the stove, making sure it wouldn’t burn before walking to your front door. Your footsteps quickened as the knocks sounded again, louder this time.

Was it Tommy? You couldn’t imagine who else it would be. What the fuck had happened that was making him pound on your door at the crack of dawn?

“What the fu—”

Your bewildered cursing quickly cut itself off as you swung your door open, seeing the unexpected culprit of the persistent knocking leaning an arm against your doorframe.

“Your offer for that drink still up?”

Blinking rapidly, you stare dumbfounded at the sight of the imposing figure that was Joel Miller standing on your doorstep, asking to come in as the low light of dawn colored the winter sky in purples, pinks and blues behind him.

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there staring, struck by shock into silence, until he said your name. A question, asking for your attention, but the sound of the syllables rolling off his tongue sounded both sweet and heady in the baritone of his smooth accent, and your head jerked in a nod. You stepped to the side, allowing him room to come inside.

“Uh, yeah.” You realized that you hadn’t stopped nodding, quickly stopping yourself as he looked at you for a moment longer before stepping through the doorway. You closed the door behind him with a slight tremble to your hands. “Yeah, I’m actually making some coffee right—”

You stopped short as you turned on your heels, jogging past him back into the kitchen as you remembered you had left the coffee on the stove.

“Shit shit shit shit, ow, fuck!” your muttered curses were only interrupted by a louder swear as you burnt yourself from trying to grab the hot coffee pot off the lit stove too quickly. More jumbled curses left your lips as you searched for a towel to grab the pot with, lifting it off the stove and onto a coaster before blowing the flame out.

“Well, uh,” you stopped as you looked back over your shoulder to where Joel had followed you, and was setting his pack against the wall in the entrance to your kitchen. You paused, glancing over his gathered supplies, brows furrowed in confusion before you glanced back at the coffee pot. “Hope you like your coffee burnt.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Joel shrug as he watched you open two wrong cabinets before reaching the one with the mugs. “Coffee is coffee, I’ll take what I can get.”

His voice sounded more rough than usual. Heavy with sleep, maybe? Regardless, it sent a shiver down your spine as you set two mugs onto the counter, picking a plain taupe colored one for him, and one decorated with an engraving of a moose for yourself.

“How do you like it?” you found yourself asking as you poured the hot drink into the mugs, eyes lifting to meet his, and you froze.

The innuendo of the phrase slowly dawned on you, cheeks flushing as you stared at him, and he looked straight back at you. Tension that you had felt simmering in the air since you opened the door, tension that had only grown once he walked through the threshold, pressed heavier around you, urging you to be closer to him. Joel’s arms shifted as he shrugged his jacket off, your eyes following the slow movement before you turned back to the mugs.

“The coffee,” you rushed the words out before clearing your throat. “The coffee, I meant.”

Oh god, oh fuck, you thought to yourself as you stared down at the mugs. Did Joel think you meant something else? Did you mean something else? You certainly had last night. Had he understood the underlying meaning in that offer? Was he taking you up on it now? But why now? You had just woken up, you were completely sober, you needed to mentally prepare. You needed to—

A hand brushed past your arm to pick up one of the mugs, and you froze. You couldn’t feel the touch of Joel’s skin through the robe you wore, but the heat of his body still radiated through. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to pick up your own mug. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized he had taken the one with the moose design.

“Like this,” Joel murmured, leaning back against the counter and taking a sip of the drink. He nodded gently to himself as he looked down into the mug, letting out a quiet hum that made you bite your lip. You distracted yourself with your quickly wandering thoughts by preparing your coffee the way you liked it.

Silence descended upon the kitchen, and you found yourself in the baffling situation of sharing your morning coffee routine with Joel Miller. You were content to let it stay quiet, ignoring the glances you could feel him sending you in favor of staring into your mug. That was until his movement brought you out of the happy distraction of bliss that only hot coffee first thing in the morning could provide.

Your brows furrowed as you watched Joel set down his coffee and walk over to pick up the towel you had used to take the coffee pot off the stove. He flicked the faucet of your sink on, running the fabric under the cold water as you stared at him in confusion.

“What are you—”

Your voice faded when Joel walked directly up to you. He was careful to avoid your fingers as he took the mug from your hands and set it on the counter, but made no move to answer the question in your eyes.

At least, not with words. Joel calmly took your hand even as you jerked at the contact, and you finally understood what he was doing when he turned it over to observe the burn the hot coffee pot had left on your knuckles. He pressed the cold towel to it, and you winced a little at the feeling before relaxing at how the temperature soothed the pain you had forgotten about in your panic to make the coffee.

“You’re a fighter.” Joel’s accent was smooth on your ears, so close to you now, and you struggled to stay collected while you watched him focus on the task of treating your burn. “You should take care of your hands.”

You took the opportunity to look at his own hands at the sentiment, unable to ignore how they felt as they easily enveloped yours. Calluses not unlike your own marked his touch, as identifiable as his fingerprints or the lines on his tan palms. Scars along Joel’s own knuckles caught your eye, and you nodded towards the badly healed injury.

“Like you?”

The look he fixed you with was nearly humorous with how unimpressed it was, a laugh bubbling up from your throat at the sight of it.

Joel’s hands paused, the disinterest in his brown eyes slowly fading into something else at the sound of your laughter.

After a moment where you both stood silently, gazes locked in some kind of wordless battle of wills, he looked back down at your burn. He carefully dabbed at it a few more times with the towel before speaking.

“You’ve got a sharp mouth on you, miss,” his Southern drawl sounded stronger with the slow words. Something about the way his accent wrapped around the formality made it sound almost filthier than it should have, and that emboldened you.

“You have no idea just how much.” The words slipped out without thinking, and though your heart suddenly hammered in your chest, you couldn’t stop the smirk that curled on your lips as he looked sharply back up at you.

There was a new kind of analysis in his dark eyes as he regarded you now, different from the cold, detached calculation he had fixed on you before. In contrast, this analysis was hotter, adding fuel to a fire that would probably be best if you both left it alone. The tension between you built, the string pulling taut before he slowly released your hand, dropping the towel onto the counter and backing away to pick his mug back up.

The intensity in the room receded slightly as he moved away, but didn’t recede completely. Joel still watched you attentively, head cocked to the side while he took another sip of his coffee, leaning against the counter opposite you. Far enough to keep your respective personal spaces, but close enough not to break that strain between you that begged you to close the distance.

Quiet fell upon you again as you both sipped at your coffee, even as you now watched each other’s moves closely. More light began to creep through the gaps in the curtains you had neglected to open yet. Now, with the brother of your closest friend in your home, and the way he looked at you so intensely like he was trying to figure out your—or his—next move, you couldn’t help but be glad that you had kept those curtains closed.

It hit you again that you really knew nothing about this man, but now you were sharing your precious last dregs of coffee with him. Your fingers tapped along the side of your mug, eyes drawn again towards the pack that was sitting in the entryway to your kitchen.

“Don’t ask,” Joel said quietly, voice low with a warning not to break this strange new thread that was tying you two together at this moment.

“I wasn’t going to,” you replied smoothly, taking another sip of your coffee as you looked back at him.

That same arch of a gray-tinted eyebrow you had seen a few times appeared again. Eyes so dark brown that they obscured his real intentions fixed on you, holding a new challenge in them, and your grip tightened on your mug as that desire lit itself in your stomach once more.

“No?” The single word was soft, but not without intensity as Joel watched you closely. For a paranoid moment you worried he could tell what you were thinking, that he could feel the low flickering flames of a need that he was only adding kindle to, but you shook the preposterous thought away.

“We’re both adults, Joel,” you gestured with your mug as you spoke, “and it’s been the end of the fucking world for twenty years. I don’t give a shit what you do.”

A soft laugh pulled from his lips, a raspy chuckle that you wondered if you hallucinated as he hid the sound behind his mug, disguising the action as another sip.

“That seems mighty rare, especially in a town like this,” Joel commented, your attention catching on the stroke of his thumb against the edges of the engraving on his mug. That desire coiled further, your thighs subconsciously clenching together as you wondered what those fingers could do to you.

You laughed, the sound almost a snort as it was startled out of you by his remark, as distracted as you were by your attraction to him. “Yeah, you have no idea,” you mutter before shrugging, your finger tracing the rim of your own cup.

“Seems hard to get any kind of privacy,” Joel murmured, his voice deep as his eyes followed the circling of your finger along the cup’s rim.

“Mm,” you hummed through a sip of your drink, eyes locked with his over your cup when you lowered it. His gaze caught on the way your throat moved as you swallowed, your desire for him so intense you could feel your panties becoming damp when Joel’s eyes darkened.

“You take the moments you can get,” you murmured, voice low as you lick the excess drops of coffee off your bottom lip, satisfied by the way he stiffens and his gaze locks in on your tongue.

Joel slowly set his mug down on the counter, pushing himself up as he began to stride towards you. Your heart pounded in time with each step he took, suspense from the thickening moment making you tense as he walked closer.

“When’s the last time you took a moment?” he asked, his rich baritone thick with insinuation that wasn’t lost on you as you straightened from the full focus of his attention.

“It’s been a while.” You were almost embarrassed by the truth in your words, but the light of recognition in his eyes, and the realization that it was probably the same for him offered some relief as he stopped in front of you.

Much like before, he took the mug from your hands, but this time the rough touch of his fingers whispered over yours. Joel set the mug down beside you, his palm flattening against the counter with the smooth motion. His other hand slowly lifted to press against the counter on the other side of your body, effectively caging you in between his arms.

“Why’d you invite me inside your home last night?” Joel’s head lowered so he could look directly into your eyes, voice rough and thickened with the short space now between you. His dark gaze was so intense, so close to you now that it nearly stole your breath away.

“Why’d you say no?” you countered, voice quiet under the pressure that surrounded you both. The thread between you pulled so taut, it was ready to snap under the lightest touch.

So easy to break with just one touch.

Joel’s head shook, voice deepening as you could nearly feel the rumble of his smooth drawl in his chest from how close he stood to you, “I’m much too old for you, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flipped at the term, breath stuttering as desire shot straight between your legs. He had known what you meant, and the realization hit you that he hadn’t turned you down because he wasn’t interested.

No, Joel had walked away because he was attracted to you. He just thought it wasn’t a good idea.

The thought sent a thrill through you, a rush of desire that took over your better judgment as you realized that even that judgment hadn’t stopped him from showing up on your doorstep this morning. Joel was here now, in the privacy of your kitchen, trapping you against the counter and looking at you with eyes as dark as sin, and that made you bold.

“Yeah?” your voice was breathy with the word, his gaze flashing to your lips at the sound of it, and you tensed with anticipation. “I think you can keep up.”

You could feel the strength that exuded from him, the tension that coiled in his muscles as his arms strained on either side of you. To keep himself from touching you, maybe? Some last desperate attempt at restraint? But you began to realize you both knew exactly where this was heading from the moment he stepped through your door.

“Do you want to kiss me, Joel Miller?” your sultry words were teased on a whisper as you shifted from restless anticipation in the small space between his arms.

Joel shook his head sharply, voice smooth as he responded easily, “No, I don’t want to kiss you.”

You frowned, your mouth opening to speak, but the next words he moved to speak so deeply, so confidently against your ear stunned you into silence.

“I want to fuck you.”

The tension keeping you apart snapped.

You were on each other in an instant.

One of Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you fully against him in the same breath your own hands found the back of his neck. Your fingers danced along his skin, one hand sliding down underneath the collar of his shirt, exploring the muscles of his upper back and feeling how they tensed as he grabbed you. Your other hand traveled up to wind through his short, gray tinted curls, marveling at how soft they felt as you tangled your fingers in those curls.

His lips found your neck in the same moment, the kisses he placed along your skin all tongue and teeth. They were hardly able to be called kisses, the feeling of his mouth against your skin more primal, more territorial than a kiss would be. Your head tilted back to give him better access as his free hand slid up your back, fingers spread as he tried to push himself further against you, fueled by a need that you now knew you shared for each other’s bodies.

Your head turned, nose pressed against the hair that you gripped between your fingers, intoxicated by the clean scent of the shampoo he must have showered with mixed with something earthy, something heady that made your head swim with lust. You couldn’t name the scent, but you also couldn’t bother yourself to figure it out as both his large hands grabbed your hips.

A gasp escaped your lips, the sound softening into a moan as Joel guided your hips to roll up against his. You heard him grunt quietly against your skin as your nails scraped his scalp, rolling his hips against yours again while his tongue flattened along your neck, biting down near your collarbone.

“Fuck,” you muttered breathlessly as Joel grabbed your thigh, lifting your leg easily so he could roll his hardening erection right against your clothed cunt. You couldn’t hold in another moan at the sensation, the feeling of him pressed against you so intense and stoking the flames of your desire, even through the clothes that still separated you.

“I—” Joel grunted, cutting himself off as he rolled his erection right against you again, this time the friction rubbing against your clit through your pants and making you moan louder. He bit down on your neck again, leaving another mark on you at the sound you made before he pulled back. “Fuck, I have to go soon.”

“Then hurry the fuck up,” you panted as you held onto each other, lost in the delicious way Joel was grinding against you. You were hypnotized by the lust that clouded his gaze now that you could see his eyes, his carefully guarded walls slipping in the heat of the moment. “Don’t get me wet and not follow through, Joel Miller.”

The look he gave you at your words was pure sin, his hand following the hemline of your pants before slipping underneath them, large fingers dipping down to slowly drag over the fabric of your damp panties.

“Fuck, you are wet,” Joel grunted, his lips parting with need as he watched your head tilt back with another lustful moan, “and I’ve hardly touched you yet.”

“Hurry the fuck up,” you snapped again, pleasure blanketing the heated words as he continued to drag his fingers over the fabric of your panties. His teasing was only turning you on further, desperate to feel his rough touch directly on your throbbing clit and if he had to leave soon, he better fucking have his way with you before he goes.

You gasped when cold air hit your skin as Joel suddenly pulled down both your sleep pants and panties in one swift yank. His hand that still held your thigh pulled it up higher, easily wrapping it around his waist as it opened you up further. His other hand dipped down, fingers dragging along your wet folds and sending an electric shock of pleasure through you.

“God, you’re a tease,” you breathe through the moans he was drawing out of you with the movement of his fingers exploring your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers before they found your clit.

Joel circled the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times before rubbing over it. Your legs jerked, hips bucking to try and get closer to his touch as he began to slowly work at you. He followed the vocal cues you were giving him with your moans and gasps to find out what motions felt the best, and repeated them.

“Why is that?” Joel’s lips found your ear again as he murmured the low words, his fingers dipping down to your entrance as his thumb moved to continue rubbing against your clit. “I’m giving you what you want, aren’t I?”

“I—” Your hands grabbed his shoulders, fingers tangling in the fabric of his flannel as he slipped a finger inside of your entrance. You gasped, hips jerking as he slowly sunk the digit in, the feeling of him stroking against your tight walls mixed with the rough pad of his finger rubbing against your clit making you almost delirious with pleasure. “I—”

“Say it,” Joel commanded as his finger drew back to thrust back into you, repeating the motion a few times as your high began to climb, the sensation of him fingerfucking you removing all your inhibitions.

“Yes!” you gasped as you held onto him, desperate for the orgasm that was rapidly approaching. “Yes, you are, fuck you really are…”

Joel hummed, rewarding your answer by slowly sliding another finger inside you to join the first. Your hips rocked with the movements, picking up faster as he began to slow down the thrusts of his fingers, forcing you to chase your own high on his hand as he mumbled, teeth catching your ear, “That’s right, ride my fingers, sweetheart.”

Soft pants turned harder as you did what he told you, using his free hand that grabbed your ass as leverage to ride his fingers, his thumb speeding up over your clit as you felt yourself begin to crest over the edge.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, his voice deep and rumbling from where his chest pressed against yours as he coaxed the orgasm out of you with his words, “good girl.”

You gasped, waves of pleasure radiating from the center of your core outwards as you came on his fingers. Joel continued to stimulate your clit through your orgasm, fingers slowly thrusting inside your clenching walls as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

Your thighs shook as you came down from your high with a whine. Only then did he pull his fingers out of you, setting your leg back down on the ground and only giving you a moment to breathe as he ripped your robe off, his hands moving down to unbutton his pants.

“Turn around,” Joel ordered, and you did, hands flattening against the countertop for support to keep yourself standing on shaky legs.

The sound of pants unzipping behind you made you whine softly in anticipation, teeth biting into your lower lip as he nudged your thighs further apart with his knee. You heard him grunt, the sound of skin slapping against skin arousing you again. You pictured how he must be spreading your fluids that you had left on his fingers along his dick, and you moaned from the imagery combined with the sound alone.

One of his hands found your back, pushing you down to bend over the counter as you felt the head of his cock drag against your folds. You moaned at the same time he did, your hands clenched into fists as he repeated the motion.

“Joel—” you choked out his name, your nails surely digging crescent shapes into your palms with how hard you clenched them.

“Tell me,” he grunted, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance as his hand slid up your back. “Tell me what you need.”

He was making sure he had your consent, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind. A kind gesture, and one that you appreciated, but he had already fingerfucked you into an orgasm and if he didn’t put his dick in you now, you were going to lose it.

“God, just fuck me,” you nearly cried, satisfied only when you felt his cock press past your folds to slowly enter you.

Your head almost lifted back with the sensation of him sliding inside of you until his large palm slid up to the back of your neck, holding you down as he continued to push inside further, easier than it would’ve been if he hadn’t gotten you ready first.

Silence hung heavy in the air once he was fully bottomed out, broken only by your combined heavy breathing. Only your moan broke the quiet as he pulled out a few inches to thrust back in, the sound followed by his grunt as he thrusted again.

“Mm,” you whined, one of your hands moving to wrap around the edge of the counter as he began to fuck you in steady thrusts. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Joel’s answering grunts were quiet, barely audible over the the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin that filled your kitchen as he fucked you harder at your praise. You buried your face into your free arm as he pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you, burying himself to the hilt and making you smother a scream into your arm from the pleasure of the sudden fullness.

The pace Joel set was brutal, but you could keep up as your hips rolled back against his, ass pressing against his skin every time he thrusted into you.

“Fuck,” Joel gasped, his hand on your neck finding your hair as he grabbed the strands in his fist. “Fuck, I knew you were a slut from the first moment I set eyes on you.”

You moaned, the degradation leaving you desperate for more friction as you rolled your hips faster, trying to find relief from where the cold counter pressed against your clit.

“Oh yeah?” you whined, moaning again as his fist tugged at your hair, pulling your head back so he could wrap his other hand around your throat. He leaned forward, his hips pressing yours against the counter as he bucked into you a few times.

“Yeah,” Joel grunted, his hand squeezing around your throat for a second before letting go, moving to hold onto your hip again as he let go of your hair to spread his palm back down your back. “Knew that you would take my dick like a dirty fucking slut if you wanted it.”

You whined again, louder and higher this time, the words going straight to your head as his hand slid down your ass and around front, finding its place between your legs to play with your clit. Smothering a cry against your arm again, your eyes began to water as your muffled begs were revealed when his hand on your hip grabbed your hair and pulled your head back again.

“I want to hear those sounds you make,” he grunted, hips snapping against your ass as his thrusts became quick and shallow. “Want to hear how sharp that pretty mouth really is.”

“Fuck, I’m close, please, fuck—” your words were bordering on incoherent moans, your vision might as well have been blind in the pleasure building to an impossible high, “please, faster, I—”

Joel’s fingers picked up the pace where they rubbed over your clit, finding the same motion from earlier that made your legs shake. You were barely able to hold yourself up, your hands scrambling for purchase on the countertop as he leaned over your back, his lips finding your ear, “Be a good slut and cum for me.”

Your vision blacked out, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your second orgasm flooded your senses. The pleasure from the release was so powerful, so overwhelming that you forgot everything for a moment other than the feeling of the man still fucking into you through your high.

Joel continued to murmur into your ear, panting softly as he praised you for how good you take him, the smooth rumble of his accent comforting as your awareness of your surroundings slowly came back to you.

For the first time since he began fucking you, you glanced back over your shoulder, eyes glazed over as you watched Joel lost in the pleasure of fucking you. His brow was furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down the strong, hard lines of his face, contorted in the pleasure of a fast approaching orgasm as he struggled to keep his pace steady.

“Joel,” you murmured hoarsely, capturing his attention as he glanced at your face, his hips stuttering at your eye contact before quickly bucking into you with low grunts of exertion. “Let go.”

The simple command seemed to be all he needed as Joel’s head tossed back, his grunts turning into a long, low groan as his thrusts turned sloppy, bucking into you a couple times before quickly pulling out. His hand must have found his dick between your legs, hidden from your view, but you felt the warmth of his release coat your thighs as he panted heavily.

With the hard, wet sounds of sex now gone, the room was silent except for you both panting as you tried to catch your breath. You watched as Joel lifted his free hand, the one not covered in his own cum, to run through his hair.

“Fuck,” the curse was breathless, his chest heaving as he looked down at where he had spread your legs, bent you over your own counter and fucked you against it. “I—fuck.”

“Yeah,” your voice was hoarse from the sounds he had drawn from you, arms trembling as you turned around to try and push yourself up. “I agree.”

You heard the sound of Joel’s pants zipping back up, and you looked back again to see him looking towards the covered window over your sink, more light filtering through the curtains from a brightening sky as it transitioned from dawn to early morning outside.

“Shit, I—” he cleared his throat, grabbing the discarded towel that had been used to treat your burn to clean his hand of your combined release. “I have to go.”

“Oh,” you laughed breathlessly as you found your feet well enough to stumble over to where he had dropped the cloth to clean the mess between your own legs. “You’re gonna take my coffee, get a quick fuck and ride off into the sunrise?”

Joel didn’t answer right away, though you saw him tense from where he had walked over to the chair where he had draped his jacket.

“Look, this was—” he sighed, and you had to hold back a laugh as you began to realize just how bad he was at keeping a conversation. “I’m not sticking around here, and even if I was, I’m not—fuck, I’m not—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, tone light with amusement and the afterglow of a good fuck, the sound of it pulling his attention back to you as you grinned deviously at him.

You saw something click in his eyes as he squinted at you, and Joel sighed heavily. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

A breathless laugh escaped your lips as you leaned down to grab your pants and pull them back up.

“Remember what I said?” you asked, to which he arched that goddamned eyebrow again.

“It was mostly incoherent moans,” Joel remarked dryly as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it back on, reaching a hand up to smooth over the curls you had messed up.

The words—a joke?—pulled a surprised laugh from your lips, swollen from when you had bitten into them. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the counter.

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you reminded him as he moved to where he had left his supplies. He picked up the pack, looping his arms through it and looking back at you with a nod.

Despite your words, and how much you truly did believe them, you couldn’t resist the urge to follow him back to your front door, even with your shaky legs. You tilted your head back, meeting his stoic gaze with a small smirk as a reminder of what you had just done together, even as he seemed to be trying to move on already.

“Right, well…” Joel trailed off, looking down at you blankly before exhaling sharply, turning to open your door with a swift yank.

Your laughter echoed from behind him as he descended your porch steps back into the chilly air of a winter morning. Leaning against the doorframe, you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking before he was too far away that you would have to call out to him, not wanting to risk drawing the attention of anybody who might already be awake in Jackson.

“Safe travels, Joel Miller,” you drawled, eyes raking down the figure of the man who had just fucked you as he walked away. “Do try not to die, I really don’t want to have to deal with Tommy if you do.”

Joel didn’t look back at you, only lifting a hand in an ambiguous gesture that might have been a wave, might have been a middle finger, and you laughed again. You closed your door as he exited through your fence, unwilling to watch him leave until he was out of sight. That was too personal, and too fucking romantic.

But deep down, there was some part of you that really did hope Joel didn’t die on his trip to wherever he was going, though it wasn’t just for Tommy’s sake.

No matter how you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #a stranger's heart series

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minniepetals · 1 year

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cry me a river | the watchers

— summary: sometimes to not protect is the best form of protection

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: torture, arson

— PART 20 / previous post / masterpost

No one is coming to save you. Get up.

A splash of cold water and you’re awake once again. Back to reality. Back to being conscious. Reliving a loop that repeats and repeats until Nari is done having her fun and decides to finally end your life.

Your head is a mess, foggy with a pounding ache that refuses to leave. Beside you stands a man with chains holding his wrists together, sitting on a metal chair, his eyes alive and well, not a scratch on his face while he holds a glare watching you in the state you’re in.

Yoongi never did like watching people getting tortured whether they were his enemies or not.

He’s safe though, unlike you, because the Mins have been smart enough not to lay a finger on his hair, knowing if they were to return Yoongi in a state like you, Bangtan would have his head.

You admit your exes are quite scary when they’re upset, and anyone that touches any one of them would feel their wrath. You’ve witnessed it before, seen it during times when enemies would feel arrogant enough to put a hand on you. Although Namjoon is known as a calm and collected man who keeps his composure, he’s also quite possessive and overprotective. Anyone who tics him off would rather wish they went through hell and back instead.

So Junmyeon is smart in knowing not to touch Yoongi despite his initial offering in trying to please his daughter.

In the end, you’re the only one dying and getting tortured.

“Ah, I’m bored. Won’t you just kill me already?” You spit out a lump of blood from your mouth, licking at your teeth upon the dirty metal taste, and it only aggravates Nari.

You understand her.

She won’t kill you unless she’s had the pleasure of seeing you in pain and begging her for mercy, but you know better than anyone to go on your knees and beg to a wall. It’ll do you more harm than good.

“Why, why, why?!” Nari complains, her feet stomping as she clenches her hands into fists, throwing another annoying tantrum. “Why won’t you just cry?! Do you enjoy getting tortured so much?!”

“Yeah.” You chuckle in her face. “Who would have thought I was such a masochist? You should keep going, little celery.”

“Stop!!” She covers both her ears with her hands, trembling with anger, before deciding to turn to Sunoo who’s been in the room this entire time, doing the task that you’ve given him well, and pushes him forward.

He stumbles on his feet, knees hitting the floor, and for a moment Nari flinches before she puts on her brave act once again. “Hey kid, don’t you hate to see your little lady getting hurt?”

She’s switching her play once again, trying to aggravate Sunoo despite the other times she’s failed. What a smart kid, learning to read her and understanding that if he were to give her any reaction, she’d only continue hurting you even more.

“You really don’t care one bit about her?” She grabs him by the collar, dragging him on the floor to throw him right before you, forcing him up on his feet.

Sunoo meets your eyes where you stand, chains still holding you up without allowing your legs to rest one bit, and you see the way they falter for a split moment.

He wants to help, to do anything to ease the pain and have this whole thing shut down but he knows that the only way he can help is to not do anything. So Sunoo stays still even as Nari approaches you from behind, a dagger dragging up your neck and towards your face. More blood pools yet Sunoo doesn’t flinch.

Good boy.

She turns the blade to your nape, painting a scene down to your back which has the chains on you chattering loudly upon your trembling state. Your teeth clench tight, jaw ready to break as your pupils dilate, a breath wheezing out of you as Sunoo is forced to watch, his own eyes wanting to betray his facade.

You see the way his arms shake unsteadily from his side and warn him with your eyes to continue playing the act.

This is a play. You have to act the part or it’ll end.

He bites his inner cheek, hands balled into fists, but in the three seconds he takes to calm himself down, they release and the tension on his shoulders follows along. Sunoo looks away, rolling his eyes.

And Nari takes the blade from your skin.

“Why won’t any of you entertain me?!” She stomps around you, pushing Sunoo away, her eyes a murderous gaze as her grip on the hilt of the dagger clenched so tight to see veins popping. “You want to die so badly? I’ll gladly fulfill your wish, buttercup.”

The blade hovers in the air, Sunoo’s eyes widening, the light reflecting off the silver weapon, and when it comes right down before you, someone pushes her out of the way. Hard. And yet he wasn’t fast enough to push her out in time because Yoongi faces the consequence when he clutches onto his eye, blood dripping from his hand.

You stand there, frozen, as Nari screeches once again for things not going her way, and when her men make a move and Junmyeon walks in hearing her scream, your savior extends his free arm out to the side, displaying a phone with a certain number written in white.

His thumb hovers over the green call button, glaring up at them with a threat, and your brows furrow at how this came to be.

He was just chained up a few moments ago and how did he get his hand on a phone? Is that his or…

You take a look to the left just as Junmyeon follows along to find a dead man on the floor.

No way.

Yoongi’s always been a quiet man but you never expected he was this deadly. He broke out of the chains himself as well, and with both you and Sunoo on his side and the enemies on the other, perhaps he had been waiting for just the right moment to strike all along.

What a man.

You see his head tilted slightly your way and you catch the signal.

Min Yoongi, former heir to the Viper throne, doesn’t need your brain to figure out an escape route. He knows the escape route.

You give him a single nod and he clicks his thumb onto the call button, the phone immediately going into call mode, ringing up who you assume to be Namjoon. He flings it off to the side once it’s no longer useful, believing in the fact that your ex-husband will know what to do, just as the snakes come at him in full force, knowing if he’s getting Namjoon involved now, they’ll have no way out if they don’t kill him now.

While Yoongi busies himself with the enemies, Sunoo is quick to run to your side, his eyes panicking all over.

“Hey kid, think you can grab an axe and break these chains out for me?”

When one of the enemies falls to the floor with his axe sliding right before Sunoo’s feet, you give him a grin.

What great timing. It’s as if Yoongi heard you amidst the chaos he’s gotten himself into.

Little Sunoo picks the axe up with both his hands, and although it’s a bit heavy for him, you trust in him when he swings the blade right onto the pole that’s keeping you hanging. A few hits against them and the chains and you’re immediately folding onto your knees now that you’re no longer forced to stand.

Sunoo’s quick to catch you and help you with the fall when you go down.

“We have to go.” Yoongi returns to your side seconds later.

You look around the room, fascinated at the sight. Yoongi doesn’t like killing as much as the others do and yet he’s filled a whole room with bodies. His father is dead, his sister crouches in a corner, trembling uncontrollably, and you hear a hoard of footsteps and shouts closing in.

You take one look at Yoongi and immediately start fuming.

“Why the hell would you let yourself get hurt in my stead? You do realize that we’re back to being enemies now that Namjoon knows I killed his brother, right?” You punch his chest. “Are you mad?”

He observes you with confusion when you go to tear off a part of his shirt. “...You’re upset.”

“Of course I am. I hate owing anyone favors,” you say when you reach up to wrap the cloth over his bloody eye, tying it tightly behind him.

“You don’t have to owe me anything,” his voice is quiet. “This was…my apology.”

You stare at him as if he has two heads. “What? For what?”

“...You were right. We were still in love with you.” In love. Eleven years ago. When you walked out of their lives. “But we did nothing,” he continues. “We chose Namjoon and…as a result, you were left in a hard place. And I feel like, in some ways, whatever you’ve gone through in all the years after the divorce, perhaps a part of that was our fault.” He pauses. “For letting you leave.”

He has no idea.

But why is he bringing this up? Now? When your lives are about to die if he doesn’t make a move? Still, you say; “You don’t know anything.”

He nods. “I know but—”

“We’ll talk later.” You force the conversation to an end, grabbing the confused and awkward Sunoo so you can pull him into your arms. “For now, carry us,” you command and he blinks, unsure of what you’re trying to get at. “I’ve been tortured for who knows how long, I’m too weak to run. But you,” you beckon your head over at the broken chains, “you’re still strong.”

“My lady, I can run on my—”

“No, you can’t,” you immediately shut Sunoo’s suggestion down, “you’ll slow both of us down.” It’s cold but it’s the truth, and it’s the only way to get him to back off. Once you’ve dealt with him, you turn back to Yoongi, raising a brow his way, so he gets on his feet again but not before grabbing a gun from one of the dead enemies and handing it to you.

After that, Yoongi takes you in his arms where you’re holding Sunoo in yours, and he runs out of the room.

You give Nari a little scare by purposely missing when you shoot a bullet at her feet, smirking at her flinching, and once Yoongi’s out of the room and begins heading down a line of hallways you’ve never seen before, you prepare yourself by putting one arm around his neck, eyes pointed and alerted to guard his back.

Sunoo sits still in his place, not moving an inch, and when you hear footsteps approaching, you ready yourself.

Their bullets come flying past but never hit their targets. It only grazes the skin of both you and Yoongi though that doesn’t stop the two of you from doing your job.

You hold your strength, eyes blinking tightly one moment to keep your eyes from blurring up, and shooting down your enemies the next.

A headshot.

Two.

Three.

Someone stumbles and slows the crowd down on this narrow path.

“Hit that button up ahead, will you?” At Yoongi’s command, you use the long chain still wrapped around your wrist to swing it forward, hitting the red button to open up a door leading down three pathways.

Yoongi takes his pick and you keep your eyes on his back, taking down whoever is within your line of sight.

After a few more loops and turns, you come into a kitchen from a secret door, and once you’ve taken down the servants there with three bullets to each of their heads, Yoongi puts you down on a counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask when he runs to a lower cabinet, looking for something.

“Burning this place down,” he says when he picks up a red gas can and begins to pour the liquid all over the floor and toward the entrance of the secret passageway where the three of you came from.

“I never knew you were one to seek out revenge.” Whatever happened between the Vipers and him you sure weren’t good.

Nothing good comes out of being a child of a mafia leader.

“I’m not, it’s for you.”

“Me?” Your ears pick up more noise. “You’re wrong, the Vipers were never on my list.”

“Maybe not, but they did want you dead just a few minutes ago, didn’t they?”

“Well.”

No use arguing with that.

Once he’s done decorating the place with gasoline and adding a few metal cans into the microwave (deadly arsenic things, you’re sure), and has timed it for two minutes, Yoongi places a gas can in Sunoo’s lap before taking you from the counter, on the run once again.

You hear the microwave starting as you signal to Sunoo to pour the content of the gas can on the trail of Yoongi. He does so without hesitation, careful to not pour too much in one setting, all the while Yoongi leads with his run and you watch the back.

Once the can empties out, he throws it off to the side and you see your exit.

There’s a loud boom to indicate the microwave has gone off and just seconds later, the explosion and fire follow.

Yoongi bounces off on his feet, hurling the three of you onto the ground upon the impact of the fire, and you hear a loud screech ringing in your ears.

“Y/N?”

The two boys scramble to you after the initial shock, eyes staring with concern.

“I…” You hit your ear a few times, scrunching your face up. “I’m alright,” you say after a few seconds. “We have to hide though.”

So Yoongi picks you up once again, this time without Sunoo, and the little one follows closely behind when the man runs off.

You aren’t sure how long it takes them to find a good alleyway where Yoongi’s sure is safe, but you don’t have the energy to think when he places you down against the dirty ground. You lean against the wall from behind, breathing quickening when you finally have the chance to catch up to the torture your body had to endure.

“Just how long will Namjoon take?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“The manor’s an hour away.”

You let out a curse and Yoongi hurries to rip a piece of cloth off his shirt and wrap it over your torso in the same way you had done for his eye. He ties it more tightly, applying great pressure while you’re bleeding out, right before he wipes his hands of blood on his pants to take out a few greens.

“Run to the nearest drugstore. Find anything useful,” he tells Sunoo with a small wipe over the boy’s cheek, ridding off the blood there.

Sunoo doesn’t hesitate to obey.

“You’ve got a good soldier there.” Once he’s gone, Yoongi turns back to you to pay attention to your needs. “Have you been training the kids? I thought you didn’t want them involved.” He grabs ahold of a hand, inserting a thin piece of needling into the lock of the chain still wrapped around your wrist.

“I don’t,” you reconfirm his thoughts, “though I admit the kid did great not giving into Nari’s ploy despite it tearing him apart.” You take your time breathing in and out before speaking again. “Why have you kept all of it a secret?”

“My involvement with those snakes?” You don’t have to answer him for him to understand just what you mean. “I didn’t lie entirely about my past.”

“No. You’re not one to lie.” The chain releases from one hand and you breathe in a harsh breath of air upon the stinging sensation of your wrist. Yoongi moves onto the other one. “You were indeed someone who ran away, but who would have thought it was the Vipers you ran away from. Who would have thought you were a secret heir.”

He keeps silent for a moment. “You saw it yourself,” he says, “Nari’s adored by Junmyeon.” He doesn’t call him by father, you notice. “Ever since she was born, he spoiled her to no end, all the while his first son was neglected and left to waste.” Your father would have killed to have his firstborn a son. “I did all that I could to get his attention but in the end, it was futile.”

“So you ran away?”

He chuckles at that but shakes his head. “I simply gave up and blended into the shadows like how he wanted me to. Nobody acknowledged my presence and that’s when I left. They never cared to search for me. All their attention was on Nari.”

“Did you resent her?” You ask and he shakes his head once again.

It makes sense. Yoongi isn’t one to hate anyone.

“I played my role as the older brother, I protected her from harm and got her the things she wanted. The scar on my back was from me protecting her on the night the two of us were kidnapped by an enemy.”

“You sure love to jump in front of a blade, don’t you?”

He ignores your comment. “Nari was always greedy for more. She wanted the world.”

“Of course she did, that’s just who she is.” You adjust yourself on the wall, trying your best to not let it touch the blade trails from Nari. Everything hurts and stings and aches. “So why didn’t you tell them?” You ask, looking up at him. “They wouldn’t have cared.”

Every one of the boys went through something after all, so why did Yoongi feel the need to keep his connection to the Vipers a secret?

“Bangtan were enemies with Vipers back then,” he explains, a bitter smile resting on his face. “Namjoon saved me, as I told you. He picked up a discarded trash and raised it. If I had told him then that I was the son of his enemy, you think he would have allowed me to stay? Much less save me?”

“You think he would care now?”

It’s a question he knows the answer to, and yet something has still stopped him from giving his truth to them. Perhaps it’s his fear of the uncertain, because despite how much he knows the boys care for him, perhaps Namjoon would see it as a betrayal.

Yet he’s given his life unto him, even chose him when he had to choose between him and you.

Namjoon wouldn’t care now. No, he wouldn’t. And yet telling the truth has never been easy.

“What about you?” He turns the questions to you. “What’s your relationship with the Vipers?”

You chuckle at the changing of the subject but let it be for now. It’s not as if he owes you any answer. “Nari hated my pretty face,” you say simply. “Why do you think I’ve been beaten up so bad my face is a mess?”

“You’re still..-” Yoongi stops himself from finishing the sentence and you raise a brow, thinking you know just what he was automatically trying to say, but Sunoo returns just in time.

“I’d say between the time I called and our escape to here, it should be around half an hour or so.” He takes the plastic bag from Sunoo who takes a seat beside you, concern written all over his tiny face so you place a hand on his head, reassuring him. “Knowing them, they’re probably speeding down as we speak so they should be here soon but for now, keep conscious. Kid, talk to her so she won’t pass out.”

He takes something out.

Medicine, supplies, bandages.

“You’ll be alright, my lady.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that you know help will arrive soon so your body is catching up to the long-needed rest that’s coming. You feel each blink you take slowing down even as the treatment Yoongi is beginning on you should sting.

“Keep conscious, Y/N,” he warns with furrowed brows, and you watch the way he rips your sleeves to tend to the knife cuts there. Your heart rate picks up and you’re immediately alerted as you suddenly move to grab ahold of his hand, stopping him from doing anything more. Yoongi persists. “You need to—”

“Don’t let them touch me,” you say quickly. Quietly. “I don’t trust anyone, Yoongi, I’m only letting you do this because I know you’d rather have someone else kill a body than do it yourself, and in those three years I knew you, you’re not the type to caress another so easily, but don’t let anyone touch me. Don’t.”

When you look him dead in the eyes while using the last of your strength to grip his hand so tight it hurts you, Yoongi knows not to take your request lightly.

“O..okay.”

Only after you hear the promise leaving his mouth do you finally let your consciousness slip away.

It’s funny how you still hold onto his words.

Every once in a while, Yoongi will glance at where you’re lying against the wall with Sunoo by your side, while he keeps his eyes steady on the street, keeping an eye out for any familiar vehicles.

His feet jumps up and down consistently, feeling anxious as every second pass by. The longer this takes, the harder it will be on you, and even he himself can feel the fatigue trying to catch up on him.

The good eye he has left shakes, trying to keep clear, despite the ever so often images of flashes of blur, his legs threatening to give in.

Only when he finds a black van that rushes down the street to where the old mansion of the Viper lies, burning still, does he finally feel some sense of relief.

“Sunoo.” He turns to the kid, quick, and when Sunoo runs to his side, Yoongi points at where Namjoon walks out of a vehicle, standing a few yards away from the fire, observing with pointed eyes so as to not draw attention to the crowd that had gathered around.

There are sirens all around and Sunoo will have to run a good amount but someone has to stay with you and he can’t, not with his injured eye. Someone will catch sight of him and he can’t get in trouble with the law enforcement.

“Run to that man. Tell him you know where Yoongi is.” He makes sure the kid looks presentable, fixing his ruffled hair, wiping the dirt from his cheek, and cleaning down his clothes with his hands. There’s some blood on his clothes from where he was held by you but there’s not much he can do about that. “Be careful. Be discreet, don’t let the police see you. If they do, they’re going to question you and we don’t want that. You want your lady to get out of here safe and sound, don’t you?”

Sunoo nods and runs off and Yoongi takes a moment to look back at where you sit, just to make sure you’re still there, before watching the kid run over to where the fire is, now dying down. The Vipers aren’t completely destroyed, but with the death of their leader and heir now dead, nothing can be done to have them raise up to power again.

Not unless the living subordinates turn to him.

But he scoffs at the idea, knowing he’d never put himself in a position where he’ll rule a gang, much less his father’s mafia. They’ve abandoned him so why should he feel responsible to pick them up when they’re down?

He’s no longer associated with them, not since the moment he decided to run away.

All is dead and gone, and he knows you’ll make sure the members who’re still alive won’t continue that way once you’re awake.

They did kidnap you after all, and who can ever forgive that?

“Yoongi!”

His head perks up at the call and before he can register it, Namjoon’s body is slamming against him in a tight hold as if all those moments he’s been away from them have been the most horrifying thing he’s ever gone through.

They’ve never been good at dealing with one of them out of their sight after all, not that Yoongi can blame them. He’s just the same. So he welcomes the hold, feeling more arms coming around his other sides, and when the leader presses his hands onto his face, his eyes are quick to turn from that worried stare to a deadly glint.

“I’ll kill him,” his voice lowers.

“It’s alright, I’ve already done it.”

“What happened to you? How-”

“Before that,” he cuts Jungkook off to turn to the dark alleyway where you still lie, and rush over to your side without concern for his eye. “We have to get Y/N help. Now.”

The first reaction was initial confusion, before their brows furrow in recognition of the face of the woman they once loved years ago, lying against a wall all battered up and beaten, still holding onto life.

Barely.

Yoongi takes you in his arms, careful to not hurt you too much, and Taehyung tries to stop him. “What’re you doing? You’re still hurt, let someone else—”

“No,” he says, voice so formidable that declaration alone is something he isn’t willing to back down for anyone. The six of them stare at him with confusion, shocked at this quiet man who doesn’t usually talk back. And when Yoongi adjusts you even closer to him with such a careful approach, it takes them back even more. “Don’t you remember back in London? When she broke down mad the last time we saw her? She’s afraid of strangers touching her. Men.”

Yoongi’s right.

They’ve seen it with their own eyes how much a touch can affect you, trigger you, but it doesn’t clear them of suspicion on why you’re in this mess in the first place and why Yoongi is the one taking care of you.

“What about you?” Jimin asks. “She ran away from us too.”

“We were kidnapped together and even though she’s still frightened, she’s given me a bit of trust and it’s my job to make sure I can fulfill that trust.” He picks you up and walks over to the vehicle that finally slid up. “I owe her that much, don’t I?”

No one can refute that and so they let him go, before silently following along.

Sunoo who had stood aside, silent as he watched over everything, hesitates when they all climb in behind Yoongi, his eyes shaking, hands trembling by his side, unsure of what to do until Hoseok, who was the last in line, crouches down in front of him.

“What’re you doing, kid? We can’t leave you alone here now can we?” He says, a hand coming over to ruffle his hair. He recognizes the little boy who had been amongst the crowd of kids you saved the night you went after Jummy and Ying. “Frightened, were you? It’s alright now, we’ll get your dear lady to safety.”

“Will she be alright?” His voice breaks a little, knowing now that it’s alright to let a bit of that brave face off his facade. “I…I watched her…and…and I couldn’t do anything.”

What a ruthless world for a child to grow up in.

He was forced to watch the very person who saved him getting hurt and beaten, and catching a brief moment of what you looked like in Yoongi’s arms, Hoseok knows that must not have been easy to watch. Not for a child. Not for him.

He doesn’t know what to say so he takes the kid’s hand and they climb into the van together.

The whole ride, after Namjoon phones Mingyu to let him know you were with them, is silent to the max. There are a lot of questions Yoongi knows they wish to ask. For example, why was he kidnapped? Why was it the Vipers? What sort of relationship did he have with them and why hadn’t they know anything? There were always chances of someone in the group getting harmed by previous abusers but they’ve all been dealt with, Namjoon took care of all of them, yet Yoongi has been the only one who never spoke on anyone who could be out for him.

For all they knew, he didn’t have anyone in particular. For all they knew, he was just a poor little kid who needed the world to treat him better.

So why the Vipers?

And why were you kidnapped as well? They can excuse whatever your story is because it isn’t much of their business to know every little detail about you, but Yoongi? They’ve known him almost their entire life and yet this one detail he failed to share with him was the very reason they couldn’t find him.

And if he was kidnapped, wouldn’t that mean getting more injuries than he’s showing right now?

The bloody eye is bad but compared to the knife trails and gash marks and wounds cutting so deep they still bleed out almost everywhere, Yoongi’s treatment by the Vipers was clearly much better than yours.

They have many questions to ask him but knowing the number one priority is to get you to safety, they keep silent for the moment.

You’re rushed into a small hospital under Bangtan, and while Yoongi needs to prioritize his eye, he makes sure to be there when you’re brought into the surgery room and tells everyone off so they don’t touch you.

You need help, he knows. He knows it more than anyone really, because for a lot of the torture you went through, he saw it with his very own eyes, and yet the fact that you trusted him enough to fall asleep before his eyes and let him touch you, Yoongi knows not to betray that trust.

He can’t.

So Namjoon allows his people to back off, and the seconds tick by once more while they wait for your crew to arrive.

Yoongi makes sure to follow procedures that’ll help you ease a bit, to slow down your time under the doctors’ instructions, and it’s in this moment do the boys come to see the rare times Yoongi stops allowing himself to blend into the background and do something. He usually keeps himself invisible, quiet, off to the side, keeping his expression at a standstill so no one who doesn’t know him well would be able to tell what’s on his mind.

This Yoongi panics. This Yoongi doesn’t know what expressionless means.

This Yoongi fears.

Only when Mingyu shows up do they finally convince him to get himself treated.

He sits in the room across the emergency room with Hoseok and Seokjin standing off to the side, getting treated by a doctor of their own, while the rest of them stand around outside, waiting for the hours that they know it’ll take to treat you.

Yuna, your blind warrior, sits on the floor of the hospital, her arms hugging her knees with anxiety rocking her body back and forth. She doesn’t say a word but everyone can hear the little sniffles she does ever so often.

She’s like a child waiting on the news of her mother’s accident and everyone knows if it’s bad news, she won’t take it well.

Yeonjun has a book in hand while he sits on a chair beside her, eyes scanning the text though no pages flip no matter how much time has passed.

“I’m sorry,” little Sunoo says when Mingyu crouches down to his level, finally allowing himself to shed the tears he’s been unable to shed in a room full of strangers. “I’m so sorry,” he tells your right hand man, fists knuckle white when he clutches onto his blazer. “I couldn’t protect her.”

Such little shoulders carrying a heavy weight. He worries more about your wellbeing than his own, than the fact that he had to see a whole building catching on fire with people still inside, hear gunshots and people dying, being held at gunpoint, the fact that he could have died and he worries only for you.

Mingyu places a hand on those shoulders, shaking his head. “No one will blame you for that, Sunoo. Not even boss.”

“You don’t understand, I…” He pauses to catch his voice that threatens to bury down the lump in his throat. “Do you remember what you told me when my lady finally completed her rescue plan? When I told you I wanted to be a Reaper?” How can Mingyu forget? “You told me I had to first learn how to manipulate my feelings, that I had to hide them well, and that I needed to learn how to restrain myself during times that’ll force me to act against my will. You told me I had to be a good bystander first and initially, I couldn’t figure out what you meant. Being a good bystander? It..”

More tears fall down those precious eyes, trailing down his cheeks, hanging onto his chin before they inevitably fall to the floor. “I understand now,” his voice breaks. “I know…I know what it means and I…I never want to do it ever again.” His feelings overwhelm him so much he’s unable to stand on his two feet. Sunoo’s knees buckle underneath him and it meets the floor yet he continues to speak. “Lady Y/N was hurting and she…she was chained up and she couldn’t even sit. They forced her to stand the whole time they tortured her. She screamed and…and yet she laughed when that evil lady taunted her and every time I wanted to give up, to yell at the lady to stop, Lady Y/N always warned me not to. It was like she was saying…as if she was saying ‘It’s alright. It’s alright, I can take this. Just play your part, just pretend you don’t care about me, and I’ll be alright.’”

“You must never show them you care. Father will have you dead and I will pay more of the consequences.”

“If you stay silent, it will hurt less.”

“Do not move even a muscle when they hurt me. Do not stand in father’s way or our whole secret will be blown and none of us will survive.”

“This is the only way we can live.”

Yuna’s eyes lost.

Yuna’s eyes are lost.

Yuna.

Yunayunayuna.

Nakyum.

You reminded them constantly of what could happen to them were the truth to be revealed due to a mishap, due to their carelessness. Sunoo had to go through days watching you hurt, the Reapers spent years in silence. Watching.

And no day was easier than the other. There was not a day they wanted to step in, to defend you, to take the whips and blades and all the torture tools from the hands of your perpetrators and shove it up their asses, doing the same they’ve done to you. There was not a day Mingyu wanted to smash his fists onto their faces until they were dead. No, he’d continue even after they were dead.

There was not a day they wanted the revolt to happen so soon.

The day after?

“No,” you’d say. “Be patient. Hold on.”

But they didn’t want to hold on, they didn’t want to see more of you having to go through all those pains and agony and yet they had to. If they wanted to save you, if they wanted you to live, they had to.

They had to stay silent.

They had to watch.

They had to do nothing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her,” Sunoo says.

“I wish I can protect her,” Yuna screams. “Why can’t I protect her?!”

“You know why.”

“You did well.” Mingyu squeezes his shoulders tight, lips pressed into a thin line. “You not protecting her protected her. You did well.” He places a hand behind his head, pressing him into an embrace and the kid cries and cries, his screams buried against Mingyu’s chest. “You did well,” Mingyu repeats. “They would have hurt her more if you had done something so you did well. You did so, so well.”

No one ever told them that but the Reapers know that they, too, had done well.

Everyone in the room knows just what Mingyu means when he said not protecting meant protecting because they’ve all been through it. Namjoon has the power to never go through such things ever again but he’s seen it time after time when he was younger.

Those days his brother still lived with him — still lived — with their abusive father, both of them unable to do a thing but watch when one would get hurt. Those days when times were rougher, when his brother left for a mission and his close subordinates had to keep still and not go against his father when he was hurt otherwise they’d die. Those days when he was powerless.

“Save me,” you begged Seokjin in a moment of madness.

So broken but so full of life before it all disappeared within a split second, turning dull and lifeless like a corpse inside a living body.

You’ve never uttered that in your entire life, have you? He’s sure you haven’t, not with the way you are. Even the you then was stubborn to call for help because she was too insecure, too hesitant and always overthought everything, walls built so high even the people she loved were unable to break through.

You were too broken to ask for help and they’ve been too dumb to realize it until now.

“Save me.”

Seokjin can never forget that day, he can never forget the way you froze when he held you, trying to reel you back into reality after your initial explosion. The way you shakily reached out for him, bloody hands dirtying his white button-up shirt, and looked up at him as if he was the only one you could trust in that moment.

Perhaps a memory flashed into your mind then, perhaps you remembered the way he used to care for you, the way he used to be the one to ground you when you broke down and were having panic attacks. He held onto you when the two of you still loved and you looked for him to calm down, to settle back into the peace he’d always give you when you saw him. He’d be the fastest to help you escape from those nightmares and return you from where your mind would go.

He’d sing lullabies to help you sleep and you’d rely on him the most when it came to nightmares because Seokjin was an insomniac. He didn’t sleep. So during times when you’d awake from a nightmare or needed someone to pull you out of it, it was Seokjin that was always there.

Perhaps in your moment of weakness, you remembered those times and perhaps that’s why you turned to him. That’s why you asked him to save you.

But he knows that right now, you’d get upset if he were to bring it up and take responsibility for you uttering those words to him. The things you’ve gone through after you left them, after the divorce with Namjoon, are things he can only imagine in his head. Seokjin has gone through his fair share of trauma and one traumatic patient can see it in another who wants to hide it well.

You’ve been through stuff, horrible stuff, with Daejung, Ying, Jummy, Leehyung, and so many more on your list. At first, he thought you taking over the throne of your father was just an act of rebellion, but through the times he’s spent with you, he realizes, as do the rest of the members, that the people on your hit-list, the people you’re going after, are only the people that have done you wrong.

Seokjin should have known that someone who was as kind and gentle as you were all those years ago couldn’t have just changed without reason. No one changes that drastically without reason.

But it’s clear as day to all of them that you’d rather they rot in hell than find out the truth to those reasons. That’s why Namjoon refuses to investigate anything involving you and that’s why they’ve all agreed that it’s best to simply leave it at that.

Namjoon wants to know more than anyone what happened to his brother but if finding out about him means knowing more about you, then he’d rather wait and let you tell him instead. Because through their experience, they know more than anyone that figuring out the truth of something when it’s unwanted will only hurt that person, and as much as Namjoon felt infuriated with you at first, he understands.

They all do.

And you would hate them more than you do now if they were to figure out something you’ve been keeping a secret your entire life. No one should ever force an answer out of anyone, and they know that because of your silence, they do not deserve to know.

So until you can trust them, if it ever comes to that point, they will remain ignorant to the fact on purpose. Because why find out when there is no reason to?

Seokjin can’t be your anchor, he won’t, because you no longer trust him enough to even touch you. You’re scared of the world, the whole world, and the only one who can now calm you down as fast as he had done then, is Mingyu, your second in command.

For now, his role is to only stand to the side and watch. Though he knows watching in itself is something you won’t allow him to do. You won’t let him see your weaknesses anymore, you won’t let him near, and you won’t ask him for help.

And all of that is entirely his fault.

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