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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year ago

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SKZ DRABBLE-BANG CHAN

A loose retelling of Hades and Persephone-modernized and darker than before, but beautiful all the same.

A/N: I'm not happy with this. But you guys can have it anyway.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Bang Chan, Chan, Christopher, Christopher Bang, Y/N, Femreader, Chan as Hades, Y/N as Persephone, Underworld, Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Chan x you, Chan x reader, Chan x y/n, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Other members make guest appearances as various Greek gods, Greek Gods

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Underworld Shit, Dark Undertones, Underhanded God and Mortal shit and dealings, Death, Dying, Triggering Themes, Toxic Relationships (not main characters), Chan's fucking in love with reader to the point of obsession.

Playlist:

🌸I’ll Be Damned-Gavn

🌸Seven Nation Army-Stevie Howie

🌸Call Me-ShineDown

🌸Granite-Sleep Token

🌸Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version)-Taylor Swift

Title: Every Last Seed

He goes by many names.

He always has.

Hades.

Ploutos.

King of the Underworld.

God of the Dead.

Bringer of Death.

Lord of Darkness.

But by far, his favorite name is the one that only you are allowed, dripping from your lips, soft and sweet, like honey, like a deadly nectar he's become addicted to-

Mine.

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"Where the fuck is he?" Chan storms through the door to his office, terrifying the wraith he employs as his secretary, her throat jumping with a gulp, as she straightens her glasses, and clasps her clipboard to her opaque chest.

"Ah, sir, I was just asking his Lordship if he'd prefer tea or coffee-"

"No need." Chan growls, not even bothering to look in her direction. "He won't be staying."

Hyunjin grins from his position behind Chan's overly large desk, his feet planted directly in the middle of some important treaties Chan had been working on the day before for some particularly pesky mortals.

"Ah, is that any way to treat your baby brother, Channie?"

His given name. The only ones who dare call him by that name are his brothers and you.

Everyone else just refers to him by the name the mortals gifted him when he became God of the Dead eons ago-Hades.

Chan stalks toward his brother's reclined form and promptly shoves his feet off the desk with a little bit more force than necessary.

"The perfect way, actually. Especially when said brother is impeaching on my very valuable and limited time, uninvited, I might add."

Hyunjin sniffs, straightening the highly expensive baby blue suit he wears, and plants his feet firmly on the ground, swiveling in Chan's chair to face him.

He tucks a strand of his golden hair back behind his ear and levels Chan with a self important look that makes him grind his teeth in agitation.

"Fine. You obviously want me to get straight to the point, so I will."

Chan feels a muscle tick in his jaw as he taps his foot impatiently, motioning with his hand for the man before him to continue.

"Great. What is it?"

Hyunjin sighs, making a show of straightening the crown on his brow, and then he gives Chan a grimace which he tries to soften with a halfhearted smile that Chan sees through immediately.

It makes his clench his fingers into fists at his side.

"How's the new little wife, hm, big brother? Satisfactory, I presume?"

Chan feels himself prickle at the mention of you, but he keeps his expression unreadable, dark, as he stares back at his clearly prodding brother.

"Fine. Anything else? Or did you travel all the way here and risk your wife's wrath just to ask me how my honeymoon was?"

Hyunjin blanches at the mention of Hera, and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now in the face of Chan's obvious ire.

"Yes, well-" He stands up, planting his hands flat on Chan's desk and leaning toward him, as if to appear intimidating.

Chan wants to laugh at the pathetic display.

"-there's been a problem. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of extra souls ever since you uh, tied the knot, without her mother's permission?"

He fidgets nervously under Chan's unwavering, blank stare.

Tugging at the collar of his expensive suit once more, Chan watches as his younger brother, the supposed God of the Gods, seems to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

Finally, he sighs heavily, and seems to implore Chan to give him something, anything, he can work with.

"Her mother's fucking pissed with you, Channie, all right? I'll just come out and say it. I need you to fix this."

Chan remains unmoving, stoic, in the face of his brother's obvious plea.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin throws his hands outward and exclaims with obvious exasperation, "C'mon, help me out here. Lord knows I've helped you in the past when you asked."

Chan arches a brow. "Helped me?"

His voice is flat, cold, deadly, and Hyunjin winces subtly.

"Okay, listen-" He holds up his hands, as if the weak gesture of peace will stop Chan's building fury. "-you know the delicate balance we have between the mortals. We worked decades for that, and if Demeter keeps fucking offing them left and right, just to spite and overwork you, and the Underworld, we're gonna have a much bigger fucking problem on our hands than a petty little feud between you and your recently acquired mother in law."

Chan hates to admit it, but Hyunjin's right, as much as it pains him to agree.

Fucking Demeter and the chip on her shoulder toward him.

God forbid, her perfect, innocent, naive daughter-the goddess of Spring-fall in love with someone as twisted and dark and wicked as Chan-god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

No, the Goddess of Harvest was not bound to let this go lightly, and it seemed he needed to put a stop to this before it ever really began.

A few extra mortal souls on his workload was nothing really, but if she even thought about dissuading you-

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut. He can feel a headache building.

"Fine." He grits out, and he can practically hear Hyunjin breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll handle it."

Ignoring his brother and his babbled platitudes of thanks, he steps toward the window and looks down over the city below, flickering to life beneath the coming darkness.

"But know this-" He turns and levels Hyunjin with a dangerous, black gaze. "-if I even hear a whisper of you and Demeter's little foolish escapades putting my wife in danger, I will end you both without a second thought and with one snap of my fingers."

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He still remembered the first time he ever laid eyes on you. How could he forget?

Attending one of his younger brothers garish and old fashioned parties-he'd thought they'd stopped doing these kinds of things centuries ago-he'd been dragged over to rub shoulders with some of the greats, one stiff tuxedo away from going the fuck home where he belonged.

And then, he'd seen you, hidden in Demeter's shadow- though nothing could truly hide your exquisite and rare beauty, not even your mother's sour, pinched expression-and his feet had moved toward you without permission, as if drawn by an invisible thread of fate.

Your mother had looked at him as he approached with such disdain it would've set him on fire had he not been a god, but he'd ignored her, striding boldly forward through the party goers until he stood directly in front of you.

"Hades." Demeter had hissed in greeting, dark hatred flashing in her eyes as she'd put a protective arm out in front of you.

You stared up at him with the biggest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and extended one slender, soft hand out toward him, breaching the threshold of your mother's protection without a second thought, as if you could feel the tug of the persistent string too.

"Persephone." You had whispered, than blushed, your cheeks going red, as his fingers found yours. "Or Kore. O-or (Y/N). Whatever is to your liking, your highness."

Your hand was like velvet-warm and silky in his own-and his fingers dwarfed yours, making them feel delicate and almost fragile in his grip.

"I know who you are, Goddess of Spring." He had replied, with far more confidence in his low tone than his quivering gut felt in the moment.

Your expression had flashed surprise at his words, and you glanced away under his direct gaze, red, full lips parted, cheeks taking on an even deeper hue of scarlet.

The look of sudden shy demureness on your features intoxicated him, and his dick immediately took notice.

"I am honored that one such as yourself, your highness, has taken notice of me already."

He had cleared his throat, subtly adjusting himself in his too expensive slacks-some high end shit Hyunjin had insisted he wear-at the soft tone of pleasure your voice took on at his attention, and finally, reluctantly released your hand, even as Demeter ushered you back behind her looming form.

"We really must be going." Her expression went from pinched to furious as his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than necessary. She ushered you away. "Say goodbye, Kore."

"Goodbye." You had murmured, eyes flitting up to his briefly, before you let your mother lead you away and out of his sight.

Chan took his leave shortly after, giving Hyunjin some bullshit excuse of the Underworld not running itself, and had hightailed it home, his skin itching beneath the ridiculous suit he wore, and his hard-on aching for a release.

That night, he came with his cock in hand, and your name on his lips.

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He arrives home to find you in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, fingers dug deep into the soil.

It's a common occurrence, a sight he's grown used to, but he still pauses, watching you silently for a few moments, enjoying the way your hair falls around your face, the way the curves of your body are accentuated against the early evening light.

Cerberus notices him first, raising his giant, blocky head from his paws where he lays beside you next to the garden plot, ears erect. His thick tail thumps the ground-once, twice-at the sight of Chan and you glance up, following the dog's gaze.

Chan steps from the shadows, and the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen graces your features as soon as you catch sight of him.

It takes his breath away, and as you stand, brushing the dirt from the dress you wear, he thinks, not for the first time, that you're the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"Channie." You breathe sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck as he draws closer, burying your face in the juncture of his throat. "You're home."

"I am." He agrees, wrapping you tightly in his embrace, taking a moment to let his nose skim your hair, the smell of blossoms and springtime filling his senses.

You pull back, just enough to gaze up at him, and he lets his finger go beneath your chin, holding you there, so he can study and memorize, once again, every single intoxicating line of your features.

Your lips quirk into the start of a smile, as if you know what he's doing, but you don't say anything.

He's grateful for that.

"Did you have a good day?" You ask softly, your breath warm on his fingers, as he traces the part of your full, soft lips.

"Eh." He lifts one shoulder into a shrug and lets it fall back down heavily. "Not as good a day as I would've had staying here with you, little blossom."

You arch a brow, and he sees it, the stubborn expression wash across your face that lets him know you know he's trying to deflect.

You put your hands on your hips and stare him down, and he resists the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're adorable.

"I heard Zeus came to see you."

"Is that so?" He questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hold your ground.

He leans forward, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that frames your face, before he lets his gaze dip to your throat, the golden chain you always wear dipping tantalizingly out of his line of sight where it disappears between the swell of your breasts.

"You're correct." He acquiesces, his fingers itching now to reach up and tug the chain free, so he can dangle the wedding ring he knows lies safely between your breasts between the two of you, just so he can remind himself who you belong to once more.

His dick swells at the thought.

He clears his throat, and brings his gaze reluctantly up to meet yours once more, noting the dark flash of stubbornness that washes across your eyes.

"However." He smirks now, stepping closer, letting his hand gently close around your throat, your pulse thready beneath his palm, like a fluttering bird beating against the bars of a cage. "I don't really want to talk about my brother right now, do you?"

He leans forward, and begins to suck kisses along the column of your throat, and you giggle, batting him away and stepping back before he can distract you further.

"Channie." You whine, putting your hands once again on the swell of your hips, and he thinks, not for the first time, that your delicious curves are going to be the death of him one day. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and tries to ignore the hardness of his eager dick between his thighs, knowing you're not going to let him off the hook-or let him fuck you dumb-until he's told you what Hyunjin wanted.

"Fine." He sighs again, and drops onto one of the many benches he had had installed in the garden solely for the purpose of watching you do what you love most.

You step toward him, and he opens his legs so you can slide between them, putting your hands on his shoulders as his fingers find your hips through the thin material of your dress.

"Tell me." You insist, staring down at him and Chan tilts his head back to look at you, arching a brow at your commanding tone.

"Goddess of Spring, are you really telling the Lord of the Underworld what to do?"

An amused smirk flickers across his lips at the look of exasperation that crosses your features.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles, tugging you to him. You protest a little, but let him do it anyway, burying his face into your stomach, the soft feel of your dress caressing his skin.

He breathes in your perfume, once, twice, and then leans back, meeting your gaze.

"Your mother is throwing a little temper tantrum it seems."

Your eyes widen minutely, and Chan sees your lips flatten into a determined, serious line.

"Because of our marriage?"

Chan gives a slight nod. "It would seem so."

One of your hands clenches into a tight, white knuckled fist at your side, and your chest stutters with a sharp intake of breath.

Beyond your shoulder, a vine springs to life, fraught with large thorns, curling around a nearby tree, up and up, tight enough to strangle the bark beneath its hold.

Cerberus raises his head, scenting the sudden unease in the air, and lets out a small whine.

You take in a deep breath, and the vine begins to slowly retract its hold on the tree.

"Little blossom." Chan murmurs, tugging you down onto his lap, and encircling you in the safety of his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you. I'll handle it."

He feels you shake your head beneath his chin.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. She's my mother. I need to stand up to her."

Chan glances beyond you as Cerberus whines again, and sees the vine's thorns growing dangerously long with your distress, piercing through the trunk of the tree, cracking the bark into splinters.

"Pet." Chan warns quietly, nudging your chin in the direction of the destruction. "Take a deep breath."

You gasp, and let the air out on a long, shuddering breath, and the vine halts its upward progress almost instantly as you collapse against Chan, slumping into his chest.

He can hear the tears in your voice when you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His finger finds your chin again, and he raises your watery gaze to his own.

"Never, and I mean never, apologize for the power you hold, my love. For it will bring gods and mortals alike to their knees, and one day, when they all pass beyond this life, you will be known as their queen."

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"You know, it's usually easier to get into the palace through the front door."

The unfamiliar, male voice startled you and you lost your hold on the branch you were currently coaxing toward the palace wall, snatching it up again with a curse just in time to stop yourself from tumbling all the way back to the ground below.

"Fuck." You glared over your shoulder, down to the newcomer, but could only make out a tall, dark silhouette, cloaked in a hood.

The man tilted his head, as if he was looking up at you, and you swore you could feel his smirk even through the darkness.

"Yes, thank you for the advice." You snapped back with a huff, already reaching out for the next branch as your magic grew it down toward your outstretched fingers. "But I think I'll stick with this."

"Suit yourself, little blossom." The mystery man leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out at gods knows what.

You paused, catching your breath, and glared down at him, even though you're sure he can't see you.

"Don't call me that."

You saw his chest rise and fall in a silent laugh. "Why?"

"Because." You huffed, reaching for another branch, out of breath as you work around the gods awful gown your mother had insisted you wear to visit Olympus. "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I think you do."

You paused to consider his words, racking your brain for anyone you knew in Olympus well enough to give you a nickname, and came up with no one. Your mother didn't let you visit often from the mortal realm.

"I don't." You insisted, standing up on your tiptoes to try and reach the top ledge of the wall.

You heard the man chuckle again as you stretched-up, up, up-and just as your fingers had grazed the cool marble, your foot slipped off its hold on the branch below, and you tumbled, shrieking, back down through the tree and toward the hard ground.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

Cracking open one eye, you stared straight into the face of the mystery man, safe in the warm, strong curve of his arms.

His hood had fallen back in the act of catching you, and your eyes widened as you recognized the handsome face before you.

Fucking. Hades.

Brother of Zeus.

God of the Dead.

He grinned at you, and arched a brow, reiterating softly, "But you do."

Your heart did one sharp staccato against your ribcage, as he set you carefully to your feet, and stepped back, and almost instantly, you missed the warmth of his skin against your own.

"Thank you for saving me." You stuttered out, curtsying deeply, now that you had your wits about you.

He chuckled, staring at you as you straightened back up, and you hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining your cheeks.

"Oh, I have no worries that if I wasn't here, little blossom, you would have saved yourself."

He motioned upward with a jut of his chin, and you followed his gaze to the tree, gasping as you saw a thick, dark green vine wrapped around its bulbous trunk, stretching down from the palace wall and to the ground below, curling around your feet.

When you glanced back to the man before you, he was already pulling his hood back up over his face, ready to disappear back into the blackness.

"Wait!" You called out before you could think better of it, and he stopped, cocking his head.

You swallowed hard, and took a step toward him.

"Will I see you again, your highness?"

You swore he smiled beneath the hood.

"Call it what you will, Goddess of Spring-fate, destiny, the will of the gods-but I think you and I will be seeing each other again very soon. Very soon indeed."

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"You can't have her, you know."

Changbin took another long sip of his drink, cheeks already rosy, and followed Chan's hungry gaze across the room to you, standing close by your mother's side.

He simply shrugged when Chan turned to shoot him a glare.

"Her mother would never allow it. She hates your fucking guts. Not to mention-" He leaned over and lowered his voice, as if he was telling Chan a secret. He could smell the liqueur on the younger god's breath. "-the whole 'Underworld Ruling' thing."

Chan is saved from having to respond by the appearance of Minho, flute of champagne in hand, look of annoyed disgust on his face, as he slid past the hulking god beside Chan and took a seat on the duvet across from them.

His brother glanced dismissively at Chanbin, leaning back to take another long swallow of his drink.

"Nephew."

Changbin grinned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Uncle."

Minho arched a brow and his nose wrinkled slightly in open distaste. "Do you ever not wear armor?"

Changbin grinned bigger, and slapped a loud palm to the armor fitted perfectly to his broad chest.

"Of course not! I'm the God of War. Always have to be ready for anything, Uncle. You know how it is."

"I'm sure I don't." Minho sniffed, raising his champagne delicately to his lips, and taking a tiny sip. "The Ocean does not concern itself with the dealings of mortals. Let alone their trivial pursuits of war."

Changbin merely shrugged, and stood, slapping a powerful hand to Chan's shoulder, which sent him jolting forward in his seat, rubbing his offended arm and glaring up once more at the towering figure of his nephew.

"I'm off to find another drink. And maybe a few maidens." Changbin announced, giving Minho a mock salute, as the man stared him down with annoyed disdain. "Take care, uncles."

And with that, he was gone.

Minho's gaze flitted to Chan, and he took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Chan felt his eyes unwittingly pulled back to the other side of the room, but you had disappeared from view, probably dragged off by your mother for more introductions.

"I'm surprised you came."

Chan let his gaze drift back to his brother across from him, and offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement, reaching for his own glass of forgotten champagne.

"Yes, well, that makes both of us. I'd hoped to not find myself at another one of these damned archaic, presumptuous affairs for another eon or so."

The corner of Minho's lip flickered with amusement, and his eyes roamed past Chan to the dozens of gods and demi gods currently mingling on the expanse of Hyunjin's vast dance floor.

"Our baby brother is good for very few things, and throwing amusing soirees is indeed not one of them."

Chan felt his own lips quirk into the hint of a smirk, and he raised his glass to Minho in silent salute.

Minho tilts his own champagne in response, and they both take a deep draft of the shimmering, bubbly liquid.

His brothers were hard to tolerate on the best of days, but he'd always felt like Minho understood him just a little bit more than Hyunjin ever had.

Standing, Chan places down the now empty glass and nods to Minho in farewell.

"I've made an appearance. Now it's time to take my leave."

Minho watched him in silence for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then with a flick of his fingers, he filled Chan's empty glass back up with water.

Chan stared at him, and he arched a brow.

"Drink some water before you go, brother. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

He sighed, reaching for the glass, and downed the water in one gulp.

"There. Happy?"

Minho's mouth flickered again. "Almost." He cocked his head, and let his gaze roam over Chan's body, as if he could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his mind swirled, already thinking about running into you on his way out.

When Chan went to move past him, Minho put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Careful, brother." Minho murmured, eyes dark and discerning, trapping him in place. "Interest is a fickle, fleeting thing, but obsession is fatal."

There was a beat of tense, deafening silence, Minho staring at him like he could see right through him.

Chan shook his head, and broke the spell.

"Thanks for the advice." Chan grunted, pushing past him without another glance, stalking toward the exit, not caring as he shouldered past the partygoers, earning himself a round of nasty looks.

The cold night air of Olympus embraced him as he pushed through the double doors and into the opulent garden beyond.

Unlike the swirling colors and lights and noise of the party inside, the garden was deserted at this time of night-dark and quiet and abandoned-just how he liked it.

Taking in a deep breath, holding it as the frigid air seared his lungs, Chan strode deeper into the garden, walking between the towering, shadowy rows of hedges, clearing his head.

The music had almost faded out of ear shot, when he heard it-a small, unfamiliar sound that immediately caught his attention.

He paused, freezing, and listening.

There it was again, just around the next bend, somewhere near the center of the hedge maze, beside the fountain he knew graced the large stone courtyard lined with benches hidden amongst the neatly trimmed foliage.

Taking another quiet step so he could round the corner, he heard it once more.

It almost sounded like-a gasp?

Chan came around the hedge quietly, on full alert, his footsteps silent, and as the fountain came into view, he caught sight of a figure leaning back on one of its edges on the other side, obscured through the haze of the water.

Another creeping step forward, still hidden by the shadows of the bushes, and the person came into view.

It was you-sitting on the marble edge of the fountain, dress hiked up around your knees, leaning forward as you focused on something intently.

Chan narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was you were doing, and when he realized, as another little breathy moan left your lips and your wrist spasmed, he halted, feet suddenly leaden.

Gods above, you were touching yourself.

He should move, he should announce his presence, he should leave, he shouldn't be watching you in this very private, very vulnerable moment, but he can't seem to get himself to break the spell, watching you silently from the shadows of the hedge as you pleasure yourself.

You let out that sound again-a breathless sort of stifled release of breath-and Chan felt his dick start to swell in response, straining against the fine fabric of the slacks he wore.

You let your head fall back, eyes screwed closed, lips parted, as your fingers continue their work, and Chan's eyes are drawn to the way your chest heaves for breath, the perfect swell of your breasts straining against the corset you wear.

Suddenly, he can move again.

Stepping quietly from the shadows, he approached, moving to stand in front of you, and as if you could sense his sudden presence, his eyes on you, your eyelids fluttered open, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise as you caught sight of him.

"Y-your highness-" You stuttered out, cheeks immediately blooming pink, and Chan was enthralled by the way the rosy color spread rapidly down your chest.

You made a move to remove your fingers, tugging at your billowing skirts, but Chan held up a hand, his eyes meeting your own.

"No. Don't stop."

You froze, staring at him, wide eyed, like a fawn caught in the daylight, and he made an attempt to soften the gravel of his voice, repeating again, softer this time, "Keep going. Please."

You stared at him for another long moment, and he couldn't breathe, maybe you were going to run, maybe you were going to tell on him, what a pervert he'd been, maybe you were disgusted-

And then, slowly, eyes still holding his own, you let your fingers dip back beneath the folds of your gown.

He could tell the moment you made contact again, because your body stiffened, and that sound-the one that went right to his cock-passed your parted lips once more.

Chan watched you, mesmerized, as you let your fingers do the work, arching your body on the edge of the fountain to find the right angles, all the while, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

You were brave, he'd give you that.

You gasped, mouth falling open, and he saw the way your wrist twisted, picking up pace.

He imagined how wet you were, how easily your fingers slid in and out, and he clenched his hands at his side to keep himself in place, to force himself to let you be.

"What do you think about?" He asked suddenly, licking his lips, his mouth desperately dry.

"What-" You started to question, the words breaking off into a breathy moan that had him painfully hard, even harder than before.

He took a step closer.

"What do you think about? When you're getting yourself off?"

Your eyes had screwed closed as you grew closer to release, but you managed to flutter them back open to meet his gaze, your face twisted into the start pleasure, your fingers never stopping.

"You!" You gasped out desperately, chest heaving, free hand digging into the marble ledge of the fountain, fingers white with the effort of holding back.

Chan watched as you came then, crying out and body vibrating, and when the orgasm had finished ripping through you, you slumped back, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

Pulling your hand from your skirts, Chan tried not to focus on the way your fingers glistened as you wiped them off on your dress.

He was rooted to the spot, watching you come down, cock aching and leaking down his leg, wishing he was the one who'd undone you so fully, when you finally met his gaze once more.

Your expression was unsure, lips pressed into a thin line, when you repeated softly, defeatedly, "You. I think about you."

You sat up, straightening your skirts with your clean hand, and Chan resisted moving closer to you with what very little willpower he had left.

You were biting your lip, staring at the ground between the two of you, when he conjured a trace of shadow, using it to caress your chin and tilt your gaze back up to meet his.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, your skin pebbling into goosebumps beneath the touch of the shadow, but you didn't move, you didn't look afraid.

Chan felt the corner of his mouth lift into the hint of a smile as he let the shadow trace your cheekbone, brushing back a loose strand of damp hair into your elegant braid.

"You know, little blossom, my brothers say you're a problem."

Your eyes widened a little more, and then a flash of indignation crossed your pretty features.

"Why?"

Chan cocked his head, studying you, and you stared right back.

"Because I want you, but I can't have you. And I tend to have a fatal flaw of getting obsessive over things that are kept from my grasp."

He flicked away the shadow with his fingers, burying his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he let the words settle between you.

His dick was still unyieldingly hard.

Your lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his admission, and then a brief, mischievous smile flashed across your lips, catching him off guard.

You tilted your head, and your lips quirked upward into a bigger, sweeter smile.

"Your highness?"

"Yes?"

You hopped down from the ledge of the fountain, and found your shoes, slipping your feet into them as he watched, waiting for you to continue.

When you stepped toward him, closing the distance, he resisted every urge to grab you and slot his mouth hungrily over yours.

You looked up at him curiously, studying his features, your eyes large and dark, framed by the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, as if you were telling him a secret only known to the two of you.

"What do you think about when you come?"

He stared at you, trying to put the words with the movement of your lips.

Finally, he swallowed, watching your eyes flit down to follow the movement of his throat.

"You."

"Hm." You hummed beneath your breath, lips twitching, as you finally slipped past him, headed back in the direction of the party.

Chan whirled, watching you go, and as if you could feel his eyes on you, you turned and paused when you reached the hedges, fingers trailing over the dark, emerald leaves, leaving shining pink flowers behind in their wake.

"Interesting." You arched a brow, giving him a half, knowing smile. "And here I was, thinking my little obsession was one sided."

Chan let a shadow slink from the hedge beside you and trail around one of your ankles.

You grinned at him once more, and slipped silently from view.

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Chan steps off the elevator and is immediately met with the largest bouquet of flowers he's ever seen, shoved directly into his face.

He swats them away with annoyance, and the person carrying the atrocity comes into view, panting like they've just carted weighted rocks up the floors of the building and not obnoxiously perfumed flowers.

"Oh, hey boss." Jeongin beams, adjusting the vase of flowers in his arms, so that he can reach up and push the cap he wears back slightly, revealing a sweaty swath of dark hair.

"I got you flowers!" He holds up the arrangement, as if Chan can't see them, and follows him when he stalks past him toward his private office.

Setting the bouquet down on the front desk as they pass, flashing Chan's assistant a winning smile, Jeongin hurries to keep up with Chan's long strides, floating slightly above the floor.

"Well, Persephone did, technically, but you know, she asked me to give them to you so-"

Chan ignores the chattering messenger god beside him, and turns a left down the hall, already silently going over the meetings he has scheduled for today in his head.

Turning another corner, he's just about to push into conference room two, when Jeongin slides in front of him, spreading his arms out to block his way and trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa, boss. You can't go in there."

Chan stares the kid down, expression stoic.

"Jeongin. Get out of my way."

Jeongin doesn't budge, though Chan can see a flicker of fear flash across his dark gaze as he stands in front of Chan's looming, annoyed figure.

He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck in clear discomfort, and shuffles from one winged foot to another.

"Okay, but here's the thing-" He starts, hemming and hawing, glancing past Chan and to the hallway, then back to the god standing in front of him.

"Jeongin." Chan warns, beginning to think there's something going on that he doesn't know about, and nothing pisses him off more than to be oblivious.

Jeongin clears his throat and gives him a half hearted smile. "Persephone kinda asked me to keep you out of the conference room today because she's kindameetingwithhermomtodiscussthingswithoutyou."

Chan stares blankly at the boy in front of him, wringing his hat now between anxious hands, and then asks quietly, dangerously, "She what?"

Jeongin swallows, the gulp is audible in the tense silence, but still holds his position blocking Chan from the doorway.

It's admirable, he'll give him that.

He gives a little shrug and a sheepish smile. "Sorry, boss?"

Chan growls beneath his breath in frustration, and pinches his nose.

He can feel a headache coming on.

"Fine." He grinds out, the muscles in his jaw popping with his irritation as he clenches his teeth and glances past Jeongin to the waiting conference room. "But you're to come and get me as soon as they're finished." He points a stern finger into the middle of Jeongin's chest. "And Demeter is not, I repeat not, allowed to be alone at any time while she's in the Underworld, understood?"

Jeongin nods and gives him a little salute, even as Chan is already stalking away.

"Yes, sir!" He calls out down the hallway, voice echoing off the walls and exacerbating Chan's growing headache. "I won't let you down, boss! You can count on me!"

Chan mumbles something beneath his breath about hiring new wingmen, and locks himself in his office.

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Chan doesn't get to see you for the rest of the day.

The hours slip by, and he's faced with problem after problem-mortal souls unhappy with their judgement, wraiths he employs needing his every attention and signature, accountants wanting to see him about the toll to cross the Styx ('inflation is happening you know!')-and by the time he finally gets home, well after sunset, his every muscle is tight with irritation.

He walks in to see you in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist, Cerberus at your feet, dozing with his head on his huge paws.

The dog gives a thump of his tail when Chan appears, alerting you to his presence, and you glance up from whatever it is you're chopping, giving him a wide, bright smile.

He's not fooled. It doesn't reach your eyes.

Pushing aside the monstrous bouquet from earlier that now resides in the middle of the giant, granite island that takes up a majority of the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the stone, watching you carefully, his head cocked.

"I heard your mother stopped by today."

He watches the way your chopping stalls, but you don't look up at him, chest inflating with a silent breath before you turn, tossing the carrots into the large stew pot on the stove.

"Yes." You finally say, back still to him.

He tries to force the irritation simmering just below the surface down, relaxing his whitened fingers one by one, as he blows out a long, slow breath.

"(Y/N)."

You turn then, at the use of your given name said in his stern tone, and resume cutting, chopping blocks of beef into smaller cubes.

Chan blows out another breath, harsher this time, and rubs at his temple.

The headache from before is still lingering, pounding now that he's finally left the office for the day.

"What did you talk about?"

You flick your eyes briefly up to his, and then back to the meat beneath your knife.

"Her 'temper tantrum' as I believe you put it."

Chan winces slightly. That wording probably didn't go over very well.

"And?" He prods, leaning against the counter, leaning down so he can glance into your face.

You bite your lip, and he sees you blow out a breath, before you look up at him and force that smile back onto your face-the fake, overly saccharine one from before, the one he doesn't buy for a moment.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now? You just got home, and dinner is almost ready-"

Chan flattens his hands, palms down, on the cold granite, and doesn't let you look away.

"Yes."

Your fingers tighten around the knife, and he sees you let out a shuddering breath.

At your feet, Cerberus cocks his head, your obvious display of uncertainty grabbing his attention.

"Channie-" You start to say, and he watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow.

Anger swirls into embers in the pit of his stomach.

He leans forward, dark eyes flashing. "What did she fucking do? If she so much as made you feel bad for any of this, I won't hesitate to pay her a little visit in the mortal realm-"

"No, no." You wave your hands, finally meeting his gaze once more, your bottom lip wobbly and your eyes shiny. "It's nothing like that."

Chan feels his heart immediately sink.

A tear drips down the length of your cheekbone, and he resists the urge to lean across the counter and swipe it away.

You rub at your eyes with your hands, and breath in an unsteady inhale.

Cerberus stands, butting his blocky head into your hand, until you let out a slight, watery chuckle, and begin to pet his dark ears.

"She-" You start to say, then stop, and Chan stares at you, frozen in sudden fear.

The flowers sitting in their vase on the counter begin to wilt and turn brown and brittle, dropping leaves to the granite like snow fall.

Chan ignores them.

You take in another breath, and pick the knife back up, moving to chop again.

"She wants to make a deal. She wants me to spend Spring in the mortal realm, with her, so I can fulfill my duties every year. And then I'll stay here, with you, the rest of the time."

You look up at him, your expression vulnerable, unsure. There's hurt in your eyes.

Chan's thoughts stop. His body goes cold. There's a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn't know if the shadows are lengthening, or if his sudden loss of control is causing everything to creep in.

He turns, and without a word, flicks a shadow out to send the vase of now withered flowers crashing to the ground.

You yelp, jumping at the noise, and Chan stands, back to you, staring at the mess he's made, chest heaving, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The mess he always makes.

After a beat of silence, he hears you put down the knife, and then your soft footsteps, as you pad around the counter and kneel on the ground next to the shattered vase.

Slowly, without looking at him, you reach out and begin to pick up the broken pieces.

Chan breathes in, breathes out. His headache is pounding.

"Little blossom, leave it-"

He starts to say, moving to crouch before you, just as you pick up another piece of sharp ceramic and wince, instantly dropping the piece back down with a clatter, as you pull your hand back against your chest.

Chan reaches out and tugs your hand back into view, watching as the cut on your palm starts to slowly leak golden, shining ichor down the line of your wrist, dripping on the floor between the two of you.

His breath stalls as he glances up to your pained expression, all the anger leaving his body in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

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"You're bleeding."

Chan glanced up at the sound of your voice behind him, meeting your concerned gaze in the mirror, where he remained, leaning over the basin, palms on the cool ledge of the sink, watching the water swirl away down the drain.

"Yeah, well-" He gave a little humorless chuckle as he watched the water shimmer with the ichor he washed from his knuckles, before he straightened and dried his hands, glancing once more at you in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth quirked up into the hint of a smirk, and he winced as it pulled at the split skin of his lip, tasting fresh ichor on his tongue. "-luckily for me, my brother hits like a pussy when he's been drinking."

Your eyes widened. "He hit you?"

Chan turned, swiping a hand across his mouth now, tossing the towel to the side. "Yeah, well, I probably deserved it."

He'd no more than finished the admission than you're at his side, taking his hand in yours, your eyes raking across the golden liquid that marked his knuckles, tacky and congealing.

You glanced up at him, curiosity flashing across your pretty features.

"What did you do?" You questioned in a whisper, as if asking him to divulge a dark secret.

Chan almost grinned-you're too fucking adorable-but he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, expression serious, and lowered his voice to match yours.

"I told him, little blossom, that there's no way in fucking Tartarus that I'm going to another one of his stupid, historic parties, unless of course, it's thrown for us and planned in celebration of our marriage."

You stared up at him for a silent moment, and Chan almost backtracked, wondering if he'd been too bold, when a slight smile curved your lips up mischievously.

"Well." You released his hand and straightened the collar of the suit he wore, before stepping back, eyeing him up and down, head cocked with interest.

The look on your face took his breath away.

"Then I guess you'd better get me a ring, hadn't you?"

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Chan slips your ring carefully from your finger, lying it beside the sink, before he tends to the wound on your palm.

You protest the whole time, claiming it's fine and you're fine and he's being dramatic, but Chan's heart won't stop pounding in his chest until every last drop of your golden blood is wiped clean from your skin.

When he's satisfied with himself, he helps you get down from your position atop the bathroom counter, and pushes you gently toward the waiting shower.

"I'll just be a minute." He says, as you roll your eyes, but strip your clothes anyway, waiting before he hears the water turn on, before he darts back to the kitchen.

He cleans up the mess he made in his anger, and goes back to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, through the steamy, hazed glass surrounding the large shower, your perfect outline stretched back beneath the pounding water, and then gets rid of his own clothes, tossing his suit to the side, before he slips into the shower to join you.

You glance at him over your shoulder as he enters, wet hair plastered to your skin, lips pulled into a worried pout.

"Channie-" You start to say, but he steps to you and pulls you flush against his bare chest before you can get any of the other words out.

Your arms go around his waist, fingers tickling the skin of his back, and he lets out a long, slow breath, the exhale rustling your hair, your face buried in the planes of his chest.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes softly, and you pull back to look up at him, eyes wide and soft.

"You don't need to apologize." You say, reaching up to shove some of his thick, dark hair back off his forehead, starting to grow heavy with water.

"I do." He nods, staring down at you, letting his finger go beneath your chin, as he traces the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"You're my wife, yes, but you're also a Goddess, and I need to remember that."

You stare up at him silently, letting him continue, and he lets out another breath, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

"You have your own duties and responsibilities, and I'm being selfish keeping you here. I can't hide you away forever."

The corner of your mouth wrinkles, as if you're thinking about smiling.

"Are you sure?" You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"As much as I would like to-" He starts, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, moving up along your cheekbone. "-I can't. The mortals-and Demeter-need you."

You sigh, he feels it in the way your chest brushes his, and lay your head on his chest, listening for a moment, to his heartbeat.

He strokes your damp hair, and finally you say quietly, "All right. But I don't have to like it, right?" You pull back, looking up at him with a tremble in your bottom lip.

"No, you don't, little blossom." He gives you a half smile, bending his head to press a kiss to your throat, than to the swell of the start of your breast. His cock twitches at the feel of your soft skin beneath his tongue. "I'm sure as fuck not going to like it."

You give a little laugh, slightly watery, and reach up to swipe the tears from your eyes.

"What will you do?" You ask with a shaky breath, staring up at him in a way that makes Chan's heart squeeze, his insides feel tight with all the love he has for you. "While I'm gone?"

He gives a slight shrug, leaning against the shower wall, as you move to start shampooing your hair into a lather.

"Run the Underworld. Judge the mortals. The usual stuff. I mean, what did I do before I had you?"

"Brood." You reply back instantly, glancing at him cheekily over your shoulder as you turn to rinse your hair.

He leaps forward and pins you to the wall as you shriek, tickling your sides as you wriggle to get away from him, laughing so hard it makes you breathless.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, and you push some wet hair from your face, taking in a couple of calming breaths, before your eyes meet his once more.

The mirth disappears from your pretty features, and Chan feels his chest tighten.

"Seriously though, Channie, I-" You swallow, Chan watches your throat bob, and your eyes grow shiny again. "-I don't know how I lived all those eons without you. And now, to have to leave-"

"Hey, hey." He steps toward you once more, caging you in the protection of his arms beneath the warm spray of water. You bury your face in his chest. "Pet. Look at me."

Finally, you do, raising watery eyes to his, and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Listen to me, little blossom." He reaches up, stroking your hair behind your ear. "We're talking about months here. Just a few months topside, to soothe your mother, and then you'll be back home with me before you know it."

You sniff, swiping at your nose, and then nod.

"You're right. I know you are."

Chan gives you a half smile, gentle and soft, and leans down to press a kiss to the part of your lips.

The thought of you leaving his side is ripping him apart, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, if only for you.

He presses another, longer kiss against the column of your throat, and takes a moment to breathe you in.

"I love you. I always have, even before I knew you, even before I saw you, and nothing, and no one, will ever change that. You are, and always will be, my obsession, Goddess of Spring."

You look up at him with tear filled eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to his own lips.

"I love you too, God of the Dead. You're the only thing in my entire, immortal days that has ever managed to bring my heart to life, and I thank you for it."

A genuine smile tugs at Chan's lips now.

"Ironic, coming from the Goddess of Rebirth about the Ruler of Souls."

You give a little laugh, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. "I guess so."

Chan tugs you to him and, determined to memorize how you feel, kisses you long and hard beneath the cooling water of the shower.

Inside his chest, his heart flicks out a shadow to meet the flowering vine snaking from your own.

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"Do you think we're all fated to another?"

You ask, lying beside Chan on the grass, the cool night breeze kissing patterns across your bare skin.

He turns his head to look at you, staring up at the stars overhead, fingers twined within his own.

The ring on your finger brushes his knuckle, and a warm sensation washes over him at the thought that you're his now-for eternity.

"Isn't that mortal shit?" He asks teasingly, and you turn to give him a glare, but it only succeeds in making him more endeared, your nose crinkling up and your lips pursing.

"Well, yes, but-" You shrug, turning back to the sky, reaching up your free hand to splay your fingers against the backdrop of the shimmering stars. "-do you?"

Chan considers.

He's never put much stock in fate, or destiny, or anything else the mortals believe in, and he says as much, rolling over to look at you, his hand skimming your bare hip.

"I don't know. But what I do know is this." He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, where you lie, watching him, from the grass.

He lets his finger trail over the marks of his teeth blooming on your shoulder, the love bites already turning purple up the column of your throat, soothed by his tongue.

"Fate is fickle, I don't like to rely on it. Fuck, sometimes, I don't even think I can rely on myself, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you and I, little blossom? We were meant to be. And nobody, not fate or any of that other shit that mortals believe in, made that happen. We did."

He watches you as you pause, considering, and then you give him a smile that steals his breath, sitting up beside him to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Fuck fate." You breathe against his lips, and right now, in this moment, with your skin pressed against his, your warmth settled firmly in his lap, his ring on your finger, Chan thinks he has to agree.

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Chan trips over one of Cerberus' toys and gives the big dog a glare, tucked safely away under the kitchen table, his head on his paws.

"I swear to god, your mom is coming home today, and if she sees the state you left this house in-" He threatens vaguely, waving the toy around, before tossing it into the basket in the corner.

"I'll what?"

Chan whirls so fast at the sound of your amused voice that he almost gives himself whiplash, turning to face you in the doorway, a grin on your lips and your suitcase in your hand.

You give him a little wave, suddenly shy, as he continues to stare at you, rooted to the spot.

"Hi?"

He's moving then, crashing into you and sweeping you up into his arms with such force that you lose your breath, dropping your suitcase to the floor, as he pulls you in tight to his chest.

You're laughing and crying, and Chan breathes you in, nose pressed to the top of your head, like he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

You pull back, just enough to smooth your palms over the side of his face, your eyes still shiny with unshed tears.

"I missed you, Channie."

"Fuck." He breathes out, crushing you back to him again, never letting you go. "I missed you too, little blossom."

You laugh again, a watery sound, and press kisses to every inch of his face you can reach from his embrace.

Chan feels like he can finally breathe properly for the first time in months.

"What did you think about while I was gone?" You ask, your eyes sparkling, as if you already know the answer.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, and leans forward to kiss you breathless.

"You." He breathes back in response, and your lips part with pleasure at his answer. "Always you."

And then he kisses you long enough to make up for all the time missed-past and present.

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jacknought · 2 months ago

Text

bioware devs said that lucanis is simply ~too passionate~ to not pursue at least someone [very loud incorrect buzzer sound] and then hid a reply that says neve, their new miranda, was mostly romanced by lesbians... they will never ever change as a company .

EDIT: I think there was a misunderstanding with this post, as someone reblogged it and accused me of shitting on Neve here and I want to clarify this.

I am a huge fan of Neve and her romance is my favorite along with Lucanis'. This post is not meant to shit on her, so I apologize if it came across like that.

The comment about them hiding a reply saying Neve was mostly romanced by lesbians came from them releasing the stats yesterday. Someone joked that Neve being number one came from her being mostly romanced by lesbians. The official dragon age twitter account hid this reply.

Here's a screenshot:

This post is criticizing the way Lucanis was reduced to just a horn dog chasing women and Neve to just someone to have a fling with.

BioWare has a history of reducing one female character to the designated Male Romance - eg Miranda, Cora, Isabela, Morrigan, now Neve - and then subsequently either ignoring their queer coding or just their actual bisexuality/pansexuality in favor of making them marketable towards straight guys.

As a queer woman who romances both Lucanis and Neve, their romance does a huge disservice to both of their characters and BioWare still hates their female playerbase, that's all that this post was saying, so I genuinely don't understand the hostility in that particular reply or blocking me without letting me explain it first. I understand that this was a little too vague, as people who aren't simultaneously on here and Twitter may not have known about the hidden reply, so I apologize for that.

I don't stand with the misogynistic insults that Neve has to deal with, just because of that shitty token m/f romance she was put in. Please don't accuse of me that just because I worded my post a little too vague.

#datv critical #bioware critical #me calling neve the new miranda is not disparaging any of these women #they're my pookies but its obvious bw has their designated fem love interest for dudes #also mary kirby i am so sorry what they did to lucanis and varric #i can't imagine having a company you worked for so long shit over your stuff like that #this ama also cemented the fact that i still do not like busche at all #txt

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dy6nsty · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request sleep token x reader with a reader who is accident prone? Today alone i have slid on ice, smacked my head off a shelf, and stabbed myself with a comb.

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I LOVE THIS PROMPT. YES, YES YOU CAN‼️I also hope you’re doing good after all that..

Sleep Token x GN! reader who has a tendency to get injured

Relationship— Romantic

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Vessel:

Suddenly has eyes in the back of his head. Knows you’re picking something up. “Put it down.”

Leaves you alone for a couple of minutes and comes back to chaos. Chaos in this scenario was you breaking something.

Blueprints things in his head to figure out if there’s anything that could possibly put you out of trouble.

Was considering getting you one of those child leashes so he can keep a better eye on you.

Follows you around sometimes to make sure you don’t injure yourself or break something. Watching you bump into 70% of things you come across.

Puts rubber counter protectors on surfaces with sharp or hard corners, just so you won’t bang into them on accident.

If you can’t walk in a straight line (I can’t do it either don’t worry guys! 😊)— he’ll help you get around. “Left- right! RIGHT!”

His worst enemy is winter and spring. We have icy grounds than slippery grass. But is also your frenemy.

Is now stalked up with bandaids, glue, tape and other necessities he might need for the future with you. Which is probably a lot.

If you come to him with an injury he’ll let out a long sigh before asking what happened. Let’s you ramble on about how you’ve gotten hurt now while he fixes you up.

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II:

Call him the gigglesaurus at this point. Will watch you stumble than fall and start cackling before realizing he’s not supposed to laugh..

Likes the chaos it can bring! But he still gets a mini panic attack when he realizes you’ve disappeared from you once were: beside him.

Learned how to treat wounds, bruises, and stuff because of how often it started happening. Also learned how to fix mirrors!

Wants to know all of the dumb or serious stories you have. He’s all for it.

Likes to keep an arm around your waist to ensure you won’t get into any inconvenience.

Tries to help you with tasks you might accidentally fuck up. Reaching for things, organizing glasses, cleaning, or even will escort you around areas so you don’t trip over your own feet!

Counts up how many bruises or any marks you have at the end of the day. If he notices a new one he’ll ask what happened. If it happened in a dumb way he just stifles a laugh.

Watches you from afar sometimes to make sure nothings happen so far. If he does see you get hurt he’ll rush over to see what’s happened, again.

Feels like he’s on a news channel at this point. Honestly wonders if you have some sort of curse to how often he’s found you in these exact scenes.

Does not trust you holding glass, plastic, porcelain, or metal objects. He’ll hold them with you but he’s not wanting you to break any of those by falling over, or maybe even dropping them on yourself.

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III:

Stays serious about it but once saw you run into a door and almost lost his shit. Wanted to laugh so hard.

Keeps bandaids, a small thing of bandage wrap + tape, and tissue in his pockets. It’s become a habit.

Carries you around areas that have many things cluttered on the ground so nothing will end up broken.

Trusts you enough to look away and not keep an eye on you 24/7 but still has a physical reflex whenever he hears a crash, bang, or a small sound of something colliding.

Often times will try to fix any messed you might’ve caused. Hiding any evidence that something had happened.

Kisses any minor injuries you get. “It hurts? Want me to kiss it so it feels better?”

Deals with your injuries or things you might’ve smashed, asks how it was caused so he can prevent them from happening further on.

Moves things around if he’s noticed it’s a common occurrence for you to bump into it with the object in the room / it’s placement.

Will take over / help you with certain scenarios if it becomes a problem to where you always end up hurt afterwards.

Warms you about things he sees coming your way: “Wall, you’re gonna walk into it.”, “There’s a plate of glasses, don’t walk into it.”

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IV:

Feels like superman sometimes when it comes to you. Steadies things in your hand if he notices you’re unbalanced.

Will also laugh at you. Unless you’re bleeding. He’ll run over to make sure everything’s all right.

Stocks up on ice packs and replaceable items for ones you might knock over later on.

Makes sure you won’t knock into anyone while your walking, or into anything.

Starts following you around when he can to make sure that you’re not getting into any trouble.

Also an enemy with winter. Especially if you want to try any winter sports. You can try but he might mentally face palm if you get ran over by a kid in a sled.

Starts requesting for plastic cups instead of glass. He can’t risk fancy glasses being broken any longer.

He gets into trouble in his own way, but he swears he’s more safe than you.

Picks you up and carrie’s you away when he senses that something just might happen. Spidey senses over here!!!

He can’t walk in a straight line so your both screwed. Your bumping into each other like you have sea legs.

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i’m sorry if this turned out a little bad! i’m currently on the verge of sleep but rlly wanted to finish this! ^^

#sleep token fanfiction #sleep token imagine #sleep token x reader #sleep token iv #iii sleep token #sleep token iii #sleep token ii #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token band #ii sleep token #iii x reader #ii x reader #iv x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token #dy6

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thewickedjazzy · 5 months ago

Note

Could u do dazai x reader with ocd?

Featuring: Osamu Dazai x gn! ocd reader

Content: sfw, fluff, slightly angst, mention of some swearing words, I believe that's it?,

Author's note: hiiii anon, so sorry for the late response, I swear I was working on it since I received it. I'm also working on all of yall's requests - I'm not sure if you wanted a fic, drabble, or headcanon so I just did a rock paper scissors.

Word count: 1k

❥ Dazai is a smartass, quick witted even, and don't forget that he works at the agency as a detective so of course he will quickly notice how you constantly worry about things going wrong—whether it’s leaving your water bottle uncapped or making a mistake at work. He sees you zoning out at the office, caught in a loop of anxious thoughts, and quickly deduces that it’s more than just everyday stress.

❥ At first, before really getting to know you, he was just a quiet observer. But he never judged, not even once. He’s got his own mental shit to deal with, so he knows how fucked up minds can be. He’d make mental notes of your quirks, just in case he needed to handle them during a mission or whatever.

❥ As he gets to know you better, he figures out how sweet and lovely you are—unlike the twisted side of your mind. It’s like an addiction for him; he craves that balance. He enjoys being friends with someone who has their own dark side, just like he does. Maybe you’ll understand where he's coming from, push him to be a better version of himself.

❥ It’s only after your relationship becomes official that he feels entitled to meddle in your problems. He believes that getting involved in such matters is only appropriate once there’s a solid, established connection between you. Until then, he's just an observer.

❥ You were the one who approached him first, explaining that you have OCD. You felt more anxious than you’d anticipated, having considered telling him many times before but never managing to do so because your mind held you back. He remained calm, and it was only when he revealed that he had known all along that you felt embarrassed. In his typically laid-back manner, Dazai might say, “Oh, I’ve known about your OCD for a while now. You don’t need to be embarrassed—it's actually quite endearing. It doesn’t change a thing between us. We’ll work through it together, and honestly, it’s no big deal.”

❥ One day, while on a mission with him and Atsushi, you were deeply focused on analyzing the crime scene. You managed to uncover evidence that even Dazai had missed, piecing together how the victim was killed with remarkable accuracy.

❥ Needless to say that dazai was surprised by how quickly you cracked the complex case. Even after the murderer was arrested, you continued to ramble about additional details, anxiously checking the file in your hand and worrying about missing something, though there was nothing left to find. Eventually he stopped you, gently holding both your wrists. As you looked up, apologising profusely, he simply shushed you, saying, "It's fine. The case is solved, and we’ve caught the murderer."

❥ Atsushi the poor kid he is watched the exchange between you and Dazai with curiosity. When you reluctantly handed him the file with a nod, Atsushi leaned in and whispered to Dazai, asking if you were alright. Dazai simply smiled and replied, "They're just the perfect detective, doing their job flawlessly."

❥ Dazai is surprisingly attentive to your needs when it comes to your OCD. If you’re stuck in a loop of checking something multiple times, he’ll gently steer you away from it by engaging you in conversation or distracting you with a task. He might even playfully mock himself to make you laugh, using humor to ease your anxiety. “Looks like I’ve accidentally left my keys at home for the fifth time this week. Isn’t that a catastrophe?”

❥ If you’re particularly anxious about a big case or an important event, Dazai might surprise you with a comforting gesture. He could leave little notes or small tokens of reassurance in places you’d find them, like a hidden message in your desk drawer or a comforting snack in your bag.

❥ When you’re feeling overwhelmed, Dazai has a knack for knowing when you need space and when you need company. He might give you space to deal with your thoughts but always makes sure you’re not alone. He could show up with your favorite coffee or a calming playlist, knowing just when to intervene.

❥ Dazai might not always express it directly, but he has a deep understanding of how your OCD affects you and often subtly adapts his behavior to support you. He might avoid making sudden movements or loud noises if he knows it could trigger your anxiety. His sensitivity to your needs shows how much he cares.

❥ Dazai would likely offer reassurances in his own, less conventional way. Dazai might not be that sentimental boyfriend but he makes casual but heartfelt statements that affirm his love, such as “You’re the only one who can put up with my nonsense,” or “I can truly be myself with you, without a second thought.”

❥ Dazai would be more mindful of his humor, staying away from jokes or comments that might trigger your OCD. He might use humor in a way that’s supportive and aligns with your sense of comfort rather than distress.

❥ If someone makes fun of you, Dazai would likely handle it with a blend of nonchalance and protective instinct. He might casually brush off the mockery with a witty comment, like, “Oh, they’re just jealous of your intellect,” showing his confidence in you. If needed, he would also step in to defend you.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

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jewish-vents · 2 months ago

Note

I just don't know how to deal with my hatred for "the world" that has grown anymore. Because that's what I feel has been growing in me in response to seeing the unrepentant, seemingly completely sanctioned antisemitism that I see anywhere on the internet where Jews are mentioned as Jewish and not as token mouthpieces for them to hate the rest of us with. I know it's not really 'The World' any more than it's 'The Jews.' I know that thinking is bad for me. But it's just so everywhere. And then when people say it doesn't exist, it just confirms to me that they think it's normal to call us scheming, baby-killing monsters who think we're better than anyone for having our own goddamn culture and not giving it up the second they want us to - or for REACTING to the shit THEY did to us for AGES, through SO many places, which they don't want to hear about because it's all 'an excuse.' I used to love humanity. I used to think people were good. Now, every time I see someone posting a cute picture of playing with a goddamn puppy, I just think, "You'd happily celebrate the human's death if somebody told you they were an Israeli Jew and nothing else." A teenage hostage gets released and talks about how she's been scarred by her experience and traumatized by how the world celebrated it, and they say her 'whining' is proof that she deserved it. I don't know what to do with all this hatred anymore. I don't know where to put it or how to process it or how to stay rational. I keep feeling like if they insist that peace not be an option, that the only option is the logical alternative. And then I have to remind myself: there is no 'they' you can strike. Just a bunch of people who have also been driven mad by the awful circumstances of the world we're all in, and were given a convenient, mostly theoretical target to blame it all for. They're in pain and they're making a mistake you might make if you were fed the same misinformation and propaganda. But there's only so much that does to stop the way I am boiling over with poisonous hate, all of which was once love.

#jewish vents #antisemitism

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simp-ly-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Lasting Pictures: When We Are Together (pt.8)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Reader

Summary: John and 141 discover more about your whereabouts alongside the secrets you have been hiding from them. The lies, the cold shoulders and sleepless nights come swinging back in your face with vengeance yet never have such sweet words been shared in spite of it all. Your future awaits on the horizon, now it is up to you to decide who you are sharing in it.

Warnings: 6180 words, slowburn, swearing, mentions of blood, injury and torture.

A/N: I can't believe its already been 85 pages of this story, thank you all for the support! I hope you enjoy the sweet ending of this chapter!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

Back in London at Base

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN- KATE” Price shouts in the office space. An assistant shakes from behind the door with the force these words are projected with, doing their best to not eavesdrop from the hallway was a hard task as the rest of the task force… calmly waited in the hall while glaring daggers their way- not being allowed entry.

Back inside the room, Laswell shakes her head as it drops into her hands, her elbows resting against the table as her usual bun falls out- her hair acting as a shield. “I don’t give a shit about what any General has to say- that is my squad member, my responsibility so do tell me why the FUCK they are in a differnet country operating outside of our military?” Price shouts out once more before taking a step back from leaning over the station chiefs desk, now walking in circles just in front of it and tossing a hand through his hair.

Taking a deep breath, Laswell tries her best to formulate an answer without giving away too many details yet the Captain notices this change in her personality. “No- you do not get to hide answers away from me Kate. I have gone off the books, committed atrocities in the name of good- I deserve to know why at least. Or what about this- Kate,” The Captain stills, looking up at the ceiling for another ounce of patience as both of theirs were wearing thin. The boys in the hallway could be heard from through the door, piling question after question on the poor assistant.

Price turns his head towards Kate, casting his chin down- his eyes pointed, “Why was I NOT acknowledged when Dice was Injured on that last mission, why was I not noted on that interrogation- Christ, Laswell-”

“No John. You do not get to make these demands of me in MY office, on my base- I am not a secretary, I am not a doctor, and I am not going to tell you the answers when you integrate me, Captain. You could have had those last two answers if you got your jealousy issues over with and asked the damn lieutenant,” Laswell retorts while closing her laptop, she was taking herself off the clock early for today. Grabbing her coat, John blocks the door with his arms crossed as Laswell reflects the same- eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe me and the boys would not be having such jealousy issues if the guys were not here on base to begin with- they had no reason to be originally- and they definitely have no reason to be off with MY squad member,” John restates his points with a more leveled tone, his mouth twitches up into a smirk as he watches Laswell internally battle herself- knowing that the guys just outside would make worse demands than he.

Laswell sighs out, throwing her coat on a nearby chain before motioning John back over to her desk where she turns her laptop around and shows the thread of emails shared between herself, Shepard and Graves. The shadow company CEO demanded for Dice to be stationed with their team, a token that their contract would be upholded. As the missions dragged on, Graves became more restless- John shakes his head at this new information, refusing to read anymore.

“This is why I didn’t show you John. I know you are not a fan of these side-deals but-”

“BUT what Kate, but what. With their background, it is absolutely disgusting that you would make them do this-”

“Well they did agree to it?” Laswell states but comes out more like a question.

“Did they know? Well maybe with someone of their past, they couldn’t imagine saying no- working themselves to the bone. Fuck, we barley saw them and when we did,” John takes a moment closing his eyes as his voice comes out softer, “I looked past my jealously Kate, I saw that they were healing those memories with em’ but I will not look past them being used. I know where they're coming from, when the higher-ups keep shouting in your ear, demanding more of you until you become a husk. I couldn’t look at them Kate, I-I couldn’t look and see that version of myself reflected again. The rest of us we-” Price stops mid sentence as the door is thrusted open and shut, the assistant now fleeing the scene.

“We were feeling a load of shit- Laswell. You try and watch someone you care for gradually slip away, burying themselves in work because they ‘apparently’ didn't do enough- and when you do try and see them again, they look past you and to someone else- looking happier than ever,” Johnny states while leaning against a wall, looking out the window and onto the training grounds all those months ago. “Sure it is jealousy, yes we did give the cold shoulder but there is no worse feeling than being replaced and everyone was feeling that in one way or another,” Soap finishes as Ghost only nods in reply.

Gaz speaks up next, “If we are sharing then, I know Graves is trying to recruit them, Kate. We all knew it- saw it, and it became all the more disheartening when those shadows appeared in our own personal space and then next week- BAM! They are off without a word- I fucking wonder we were having sloppy work recently, there is only so much we can get done while functioning in the dark.” By the end Kyle is out of breath, taking a bottled water from the minifridge and sitting in one of the armchairs across from Lasswell's desk.

Ghost shakes his head before commenting, “So they worked their ass off, fearing they would be replaced in some way or better yet when another devil comes whispering in your ear, complimenting your good work, showing you friends and pleasures of the craft yet we were stuck doing time-consuming work for no use? What fucking plan is that- no actually, a useless plan that is.”

‘Well then boys, it is a good thing I am sending you off to join them tomorrow if you are done? I apologise, that's the best I can give you now with what I have been working with. I can’t do much if I got fired from Shepard- John. And the best strings I could play was ensuring that they would at least be working with people they knew in the area- I’m sorry for what this has caused. I,"Kate takes a moment, a shaky breath exiting herself, “-I see what they were starting to mean to you all and I am sorry that I was the one who had to take that away from you. But it is up to Dice in the end if they end up signing that contract- we all can only hope they do not.”

“Like fuck they won’t,” Johnny states, a smile gracing its way across his face as he pulls Gaz up and hugs the man, throwing in a hand for Ghost to join them who only rolls his eyes in reply. John shakes his head, the energy in the room having a noticeable difference as he checks his watch. The next day was not far off in the early morning hours they were in now, deployment was soon and soon was when they would make it their personal mission to have you stay with their team. The past meeting the present, and the present overtaking the past as it should- in theory.

↳ One Week Until Mission “Spill”

When the boys touch down on the tarmac, they initially do not see you leaned up against the back of Alex’s truck as you and Farah share drinks out of a water bottle. “Gorgeous!” Johnny calls out once spotting you as he shoves himself in front of a very confused Alez who pats him on the shoulder. “Hey man, it's been a long time since we last saw each other- how have things been?”

“Been better but we have work to do,” Soap replies while wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he practically drags you to sit beside him in the back of the truck. Farah waves you goodbye as she goes to talk to Price who sends you a solid nod in recognition of your presence. You look at the side of Soaps mohawk with confusion, Why are you back to being so touchy all the sudden?

As if knowing your very thoughts he gives you a wink before squeezing your shoulder and strapping you into your seat with a grin. Horangi slides in on your otherside as Alex turns the engine on, Köing rushes to shotgun, mumbling about more legroom as you kick his seat and blame it on Horangi who curses out loudly before lightly punching you on the thigh. You wince, gripping your pant leg as you invite Soap in on the backseat chaos.

“Oh my god! Is that blood!” he yells out with exaggerated gasps as Horangi tries to choke back laughter and Alex politely asks for everyone to, “shut the fuck up.” While readjusting the rear view mirror, double checking that you were not in fact hurt.

Once back at the house, the squads are gearing themselves up as you double check your notebooks on all the information you have collected thus fall, helping Farah and Price to outline the ever-growing team you all had established here.

“And drinks are on me afterwards!” Matthew announces as the crowd cheers, a few members of Farah's group had appeared half-way through the debrief that you had never met before. You giggled to yourself as quite a few eyed up Horangi and Köing, pulling on their sleeves to get their attention, you pointed like gossip girls to the people who were looking for company.

Köing turns a bright red, “Maus-I don’t know…” “Oh come on! Doesn't have to add to anything- you don’t even have to fuck, get your head out of the gutter Horangi- I know that look better than anyone,” you tease out but your eyes hold utmost seriousness. You kept thinking about your talks with them earlier in the week and the aftermath of these next few missions, everything was hanging in the air with this departure's success and yet you couldn’t help but want for everyone here in this room to have something for when they arrived back- in whatever state they would be in.

Seeing your eyes fog over with the depth of your thoughts, Simon brushes his shoulder against your own, nodding along to Farash speech as you snap out of your trance, glancing up to him with a thankful smile as you point to various entrance points you discovered while scooping out the place through public architectural blueprints.

With one last slam to the table and a battle cry being placed, Price requests to speak with you outside as you follow suit, Gaz in tow. He keeps his back to you while walking, ensuring that you all are a good ways away from the house before he starts to speak. “Before we go out on this mission, Dice. There are a few things I need to come clean about, and a few answers I would like from you in return.”

You process his words, eyes darting anywhere but his own as your palms sweat, You were not reading to make your decision whether to stay with the military or go after Spill- Please don’t ask about this, please don’t. You nod once as Gaz crosses his arms beside Price, “As your Captain I am disappointed you did not come to me for support when you needed it and I don’t just mean work, love. In that disappointment of mine, I directed it towards you rather than at myself, I misplaced my actions while addressing your old squad as did the rest of the boys. I cannot speak for their shite but what I will say is that, I’m sorry Dice. I was an arse,” Price says while casting his eyes down to his boots, he grips his vest, swinging on his feet and you cannot help but cast a smile at his actions.

“It’s alright, Price. I-I get it, I was in a downright terrible position and I should have gone to the team but when the guys came around-I… I just got lost in the memories, you know? Those good feelings came back but with the more nights we spent talking to one another… the more it wore off and the more guilty I felt knowing that I left you all without a word…” you sigh out in relief that the dreaded question did not get asked yet Gaz takes that sigh as the start of tears as he races up, encasing you in a warm hug. You smile into his skin as he chuckles at the feeling. John decides to make this a group hug as you groan at the weight of gear being toppled on you before an anxious Alex is screaming from the backdoor like a worried mother, “We are on the road in six people, get your shit together- we have deadlines to meet tonight.”

Hopping out of the trucks once more, you find Price standing on a stump as he counts heads and ultimately addresses the crowd. Soon lines are being formed throughout the treeline and comms are declared silent, you could see your first objective as part of the abandoned factory.

Distant echoes of metal grinding in on itself as trees swayed and groaned in the wind provided an eerie atmosphere to the rising tensions in your shoulders. Standing against the wall, with your NODs on, you nodded towards Gaz as he clipped the lock and you entered the room, to what would be a series of offices. Casting yourself against the further wall to your side and making your way to the centre to meet up with Soap he signals for you to unlock the next door. The first and second room were found empty.

Yet as you move deepering into the facility, through the various offices that have used coffee mugs and papers scattered across their tops, the sound of running feet can be heard echoing down the hall on the outside platform, connecting the offices to the greater factory and mining pit beneath. Turning your head to see Ghost already holding up his hand, you all pause and hear as the steps get closer.

Raising your gun to your face as Gaz does the same. You hold steady as the door handle jiggles, Johnny takes cover behind a tipped over desk, resting his gun against its side as he tries to squint through the blinds from a distance, unable to identify the possible target. A few shouts in another language can be heard as they fumble for their keys and drop a flashlight, it rolls across the metal platform as they swear out into the night air and another voice soon joins their worries.

Ghost stares at the door, gun raised in wait as he eyes you all to hold position. The door soon flies open, you all still hidden in the darkness of the room- observing their actions as they shut the door behind themselves and lean against it- panting out.

Ghost steps towards the window light, motioning them to lay flat against the ground with his gun as he orders with a strict tone, “Hands and Knees on the fucking ground. On the fucking ground now.”

Gaz dashes over to secure them both, moving them against the back wall where Soap and you wait. Equipping the flashlight on your gun you focus in on their faces and kneel to view their badges as Ghost stands behind you, reading to move in if they pull any fast actions on you. They were cousins to the working family who ran this frontal tree-logging factory where in actuality this is where they produced their newest explosive weaponry.

Both scientists refuse to meet your gaze before you grab one of their chins, ensuring their eyes meet your own. They portray confidence, yet their shaking knees tell otherwise, “I need you to tell me who else works here.”

The scientist to the man you currently hold shakes their head violently, thrashing their hands in the restraints as Soap places a boot against their body, stopping their movements with a stubble bit of pressure. “Do not try to look at your friend. I will not ask you again, you tell me- or you meet our other friends in the woods- your choice,” you speak in a clear, even tone.

The man simply spits in your face as you drop your hold on their chin and instead force their body upright, their feet slipping against the floors in an effort to hold themselves up. “What a shame, your cousin here will get to go first- let your lack of information help their screams,” you pressure them further as their eyes go wide- believing in your hold to words.

“They-they are 42 of us here, 10 in staff today- I do not know elsewise to their location. Please believe me- do not hurt her” the man shakes underneath your grip, their shirt slightly tearing as you press them into the wall- it creaks from the weight.

“That's a start, where are they, where are the 10?”

“I-I will show you,” the scientist counter-offers as the lady nods her head in agreement, “yes, we will show.”

“No showing necessary, you will tell me now- I will be taking your badges.”

“Yes, of course! Of course, t-they are meeting with accountant in west wing,” the man stumbles to answer.

“Who is this accountant? Where are they from, who do they speak to?”

“I-I do not know, you will have to ask. They only come to see we do the work and leave afterwards. They are not from here, foreign looks. That all I know, please.”

“Good, thank you,” you offer the man a tight-lipped smile before dropping him to the floor. He groans out as you search his jacket for the mentioned ID and destroy the SIN card in his phone as Johnny examines the woman's handbag and empties it across a desk.

Finding the other ID and her notebook, he stashes them in his vest before enabling comms for another team to keep watch of the two scientists in custody- they would be needed in court afterwards.

After a few moments and adjusting your gear, you hold up your gun abruptly to the sounds of rushing boots. The knocks sounded at the door follow the prediscoled pattern as you sigh out in relief and open the door for the squad to enter, Simon presents the information gathered as they radio back to base while staring down at the two scientists who refuse to make eye-contact once more.

The squad leader gives Simon a nod, signaling your exit as you all make your way towards the west wing. Greeting other squads that you find along the way as Gaz stays behind to help dress one of their wounds.

The metal stairs that you deascened for moan in the wind and shift with the building as you enter down into the west wing. A set of double doors greets your faces as you each take a side, readying to enter the space with a sudden burst. All the lights are on inside the large meeting hall as various guns are pointed up at your face, shouting for your compliance.

Setting your weapon down in your hands as Johnny and Simon do the same, it was squad 3-5 that stood in the room, already holding a tight control over those yet to be interrogated in one of the private meeting rooms or holding the exits.

Laughing out as horror exits your system, you hear the all-familiar sounds of John's investigations as you enter the room as Johnny and Simon wait outside. Price does not face you, his knuckles bloodied yet the accountant's face looks a whole lot worse, or well at least what you assume to be the accountant in their… disturbed appearance.

Letting out a low whistle, the Captain chuckles in response before leaning over. He presses his hands snuggly into their shoulders, forcing them to almost break the back of the wooden chair as he whispers into their ear, eyes flicking upwards to meet your own as he speaks, “Nice of you to join us Dice, maybe you have something to help move this investigation along. Any bargaining chips potentially?”

The accountant stays silent, only glaring into your eyes as you blink twice back at them, “I know that you murdered thousands with the numbers you love to play with back at that office of yours, just outside the city right? Women, children, awaiting fathers, it's all the same to you- isn’t it? Your wife-” you chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as you saunter around the room, “we had a splendid time after the Charity Gala together. Her moans never sounded so sweet while being stripped of that silky red dress,” you humm afterwards as if thoughtfully remembering the scene.

John keeps his eyes locked onto yours as the account begins to shift in their restraints more. He moves a gloved hand, forcing them to look back up at you as you walk closer to stand in front of their sat form, smiling down.

“She told me of how you couldn't make her fulfilled in bed. How good my hands felt in her hair, trailing down her neck of diamonds and right to her stomach…” you tisk the accountant, brushing your hand against John's shoulder before continuing, “then she told me how you had to sell your own manliness to women who only were bought for your attention, sick bastard you are truly. So much so that she found herself in the sheets of not only me, your enemy who made her feel more than you did in 20 years- but the oligarch you work for as well. How wonderful is that- no?”

“You tell lies-”

“Why would I waste my words on a man like you if not only to tell the truth? You are pathetic really…” you trail off while Price smiles, he knows that you both are almost there to crack this man's facade.

“You are pathetic, your little mind games serve as dull knives.”

“Then what will be said of you whatever would your boss think when he finds out you have been tilting the numbers yet again, but are stealing your fortune to pay off that mistress of yours- hm?” you retort with a large plaster across your face as John whistles out, giving their cheek a good pat before coming to stand by your side.

“Decision is yours, I have a member of death's door waiting, like seeing the reaper himself if you want a pre-show to your fate or you could choose to put your dick back into your pants like a good ol’boy and wag your tail for your boss- we would love a chat,” Captain Price teases out, his voice filled with grovel from all the yelling he had done today.

A low nod of the head is all you need for evidence of his acceptance before John is signaling through the window for someone to handle the accountant. And by the time you both exit the room, the accountant in cuffs walking out with another squad member before you and all of his people who laugh at his appearance. You notice as Ghost refuses to make eye-contact with you, instead shifting his feet when you ask if he’s doing alright. When turning around to face Soap, he gives you a strained grin, his gun lower than usually positioned by his core as he tilts his head, signaling towards Price, signally for assurance.

A cough can be heard as you all turn to face Gaz who stands with his arms outstretched as you walk over to give him a hug, your gun dangling across your chest as you both shimmy around one anothers gear with a laugh. With your face plastered into his side, he gives a wink towards Simon and Johnny- a look of understanding for their current state as messages are shared throughout the facility- it was time for exfil after a mission well served.

A shake of your shoulder as your eyes snapping awake, you did not mean to have a nap. Blinking your eyes clear, you notice as a corporal shakes you awake then points to the Captain. Price’s eyes scan your own in a restless search- but for what? Tilting your head towards the Captain to signify your confusion towards his actions he patches himself into your radio system while holding your gaze.

“Do you know if your shadow friends will be joining us for the next objective?”

“Unclear sir, I have yet to hear from their intelligence crews” the title you state becomes knives to John’s ears, cutting their way down to his lungs as he takes a breath in trying to calm himself, already worked up from the earlier mission as you blink none-the-wiser to your word choice’s impact.

“John or Price, your choice Dice…” John replies with a more flat tone than usual that has your head topping to the side. “Sorry Price, still wearing off the adrenaline from the mission, brains a bit scrambled as of current,” you state with a sloppy smile as he casts a tired one of his own, closing his eyes with a humm, extending his boot to touch your own as you lock your ankles around it.

Soon Ghosts voice comes through your headset as you look around to find where he was seated, five seats down, the masked figure stared down the aisle to look at you and his Captain while moving his mic down to his mouth, “Had to hold Johnny back from that Horangi guy a few days ago, same can be said about Gaz and Köing. Mop-masked was holding Kyle in a death stare in the meeting room.”

Johnny pipes up to conversation beside Simon as he notices what is being discussed from the reactions everyone is displaying from throughout the aisle, pulling down his radio system. Simon grips his thigh, as if warning him of doing something that has your eyes narrowing in mixed confusion, concern and irritation- what were they keeping from you?

“Al’right, that Horangi fucker. What is his deal, gorgeous? Really had to share some harsh words with him after what he said about you. Can’t fucking believe that you would say he’s your best with the alligations he presented,” Soap rants while rolling his shoulders, as if preparing himself for a fight.

“Is that why you were being so touchy in the car ride? You only had to ask, quite like your hands,” you ask with a teasing tone, blood still pumping through your body as you watch as Johnny's cheeks flush, the adrenaline from the mission has him on edge as your little stab has him falling back in embarrassment before he rounds his own fireback.

“Love hearing my name on your lips, may have to come over there so you never forget it,” he teases right back with a large wink as Simon whispers for you all to “tone it down,” as he looks at the various eyes looking between our squad- trying to understand the conversation happening between you all.

“If I remember, there were some other names you wished me to call you as well but first, do tell me about these allegations,” you press forward. Gaz now joins, offering his side from an unknown place in the plane. “Simon patched me into what's happening. Köing rubbed me the wrong way with his looks, as if he knew something I didn’t.”

Johnny presses the topic further, adding, “Said that I would never know what you really needed from a ‘team’. I don’t regret my actions, Y/N, I will tell you that now. But when they say those kinds of things, and you leave for those weeks when they arrive- leads me to conclusions I don’t wish to face. We acted nice in front of you, Dice. But I need you to tell me before we land, are you a part of our squad or not?”

“Always,” you answer before your brain can keep up, “I talked in parts of this with Simon one day but… you guys are it for me I think. I cannot say for sure after this mission but… I got what I needed off my plate these past few weeks with the past and now I can promise that you have only my attention,” you state with a raised chest in pride.

“I better have all of your attention,” Johnny comments back, “Alright you,” Simon voices over, taking off Soaps headset and placing it out of reach as you howl with laughter down the line, waking Price up from his temporary drift off, flashing you a smile as you wince out an apology.

Shaking your head down in your laugh to calm down, you pick your microphone back down to continue speaking, “Look, I apologise to you all for my shitty behaviour, their equally shitty behaviour- really all around shitness that has happened. You all have become my truest friends since meeting Gabby in elementary and friends is a term I do not use sparingly- I must hold my thanks. I will do better to come to you all when I am struggling,” you promise watching as Soap manages to sneak back his headset while Simon sends you a warm stare that has you flashing him a smile, enjoying how beet red he gets underneath his gear.

“Just, Friends- hm?” Soap questions with a small frown flashing across his features.

You smile and nod back vigorously, not knowing how to place your thanks into words in a better way than actions. Failing to notice the tone in which the word was replied back in as he leans back against the divider and out of sight with a contemplative humm.

Simon chuckles at your answer, the deep sound causing your heart to race and our lungs to flutter. How you wished to hear the sound again as you watched his chest rise and fall with the actions while underneath that tight black vest. As Gaz and Price remain silent to the conversation.

A few moments go by as you all allow the words to sink in. “Do you have a thing for masks, Dice?” Johnny questions in a serious tone while leaning into Simon's side, doing as he does best- lightening the mood.

You choke on your own spit at the accusation being presented as you stutter for an answer, brain firing on multiple fronts from the whiplash of a conversation.

“I-I’m sorry, could you repeat the question? I think the lack of air is getting to my head.”

Johnny merely smiles before restating the question as calmly as before, as if asking for your favorite colour or season. “Do you have a thing for people in masks? Notice you know many people that wear em’”

“I uh…” your voice trails off as you contemplate your answer, eyes slowly drifting towards Ghost who stares down your form intently waiting to hear your answer. Yet as the seconds tick by, the lack of answer eventually forms one in itself as you hear Gaz chuckle down the radio before turning himself silent and the Captain coughs a few times, turning red underneath his own mustache as he refuses to meet your stare.

“Do you?” you question back, partially curious and the other seeking a slight revenge from playing your in this blushed-filled and nervous state.

“Oh, definitely” he replies quickly before you all burst into laughter and the landing sign is singled moments after, it was home time.

Once back on base, a few days of paperwork are filled out as the days and hours clock down to your next departure. You do your best not to think about it as you ask Gabby for clothing recommendations in your room, she asks you to spin with a wave of her finger as you do so with a groan of frustration. You had been stuck in this endless cycle for nearly two hours now and you had told Gaz you would be meeting him in the lobby in three hours.

You had gone through your whole closet before you outwords protest, unable to keep to just your facial reactions as Gabby hides behind a pair of shoes she found at the back of your closet between the dozen pairs of work-boots. “It’s not even a date, Gabs. We are just making up for lost time with some coffee, nothin’ more nothing less-”

“And I know where my dad went-okay?! If this is not a date, I do not know what else is sweetheart. Treat yourself~” she sings out before throwing another pair of pants for you to try on. She claps her hands together, fixing the buttons on your shirt as she frizzles your hair. “Have fun, you look like a million dollar baby!” Kicking your butt on the way out she quickly turns around to place the mess she created of your room as you lock the apartment door behind yourself and Gaz pulls you into a hug once meeting downstairs.

He opens the door for you, helping you out of the car as well and orders you both two teas with an assortment of small snacks for lunch. Conversation flows between small hand touches and the linking of shoes from below the table. You rest a hand against his thigh, watching as he chokes down his glass of water as you cast the man a wink.

The check slamming against the table has you both stumbling out as dinner time nears, “How about I treat us to dinner?” you say while looking up nearby restaurants on your phone. “Sounds good, love,” Kyle states while wrapping an arm around your waist with a cheeky smile as an elderly couple look towards you both with disgust.

Gaz watches as your smile falls slightly and you back away. He still walks near you, arms brushing against one another in hopes that you would feel more comfortable again, casting him a thankful smile as you both walk down another block to the small Turkish restaurant.

You both sit beside one another, sharing food off each others plats as you ignore the endless stream of messages that Gabby sends you, excusing yourself to the washroom- you open your text messages and cough out in shock, “I’m sorry for spamming, you two are probably fucking right now- next time I want in, have fun! Tell me how he is~” Blushing bright red, your fingers rush across the keyboard, scolding your best friend before splashing water across your face.

Once returning back to the table, Kyle holds his arm up, allowing you to become wrapped underneath its calming pressure, “you doing okay?” he asked you in a hushed tone, lips right against your ear as your blush extends to your ears now. “Just peachy.”

When you leave the restaurant and pick the car back up, you invite Kyle back to your place, “It is closer to here and it would be best to not wake the rest of the lads up,” you comment. “If you want me more to yourself- you can just tell me sweetheart,” he teases while running circles into your knee as he makes a turn into your block.

Leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek, your voice becomes more hushed as you unlock your apartment door and rush up to Spoons. Who looks as happy and healthy as ever, note to self, the elderly neighbour gets a gift. Kyle leans down, giving your pet a quick past before yawning and stretching out of their boots.

He trails down the hallway behind you, hands on your waist as you open your bedroom door, throwing yourself on the bed with an overtired giggle. He follows suit as you roll over, giving him enough space, noticing this he pulls you underneath the covers and against him. “Thank you, Kyle Garrick,” you whisper out, hoping him to be asleep already.

“What for?” he asks out in an equally delicate tone, feeling as your heart races against his chest. “For staying with me, for understanding…” you start to cry, unable to find the right words as he kisses the top of your head, brushing some hair from your forehead. “Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart. I am always here, alright? Never question that.”

He feels as you nod once more and chuckles when Spoons snuggles themselves in the empty space at the foot of the bed, emitting a few purrs as you all drift off into the world beyond.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @ashy-kit @lilliumrorum @kaoyamamegami

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genericpuff · 1 year ago

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the last few episodes of persephone moping around have felt like less of a self-reflective moment for her to grow and change and more rachel griping about criticism and surrounding herself with yes men

this isn't gonna be in any way a formal essay like my usual sort, more of a slam post honestly, so fair warning that i'm gonna be a little salty here

EPISODE 263 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

but seriously, it's been a pity party of greek proportions because this constant "woe is me" shit with persephone that's constantly met with "no queeen you're amazing and perfect" has been going on for DAYS (real time and comic time)

literally every episode since the comic returned has had some segment of either persephone or hades (or both) being upsetti spaghetti over their current situation because oh nooo persephone made the deal with erebus and had to sacrifice something. even though they both knew that was gonna happen and yet she did it anyways. so she just continues to lock herself away in her mansion and spout adorkable quips while her husband, mother, and colleagues deal with the mess she caused.

and of course there's the constant inclusion of apollo spitting straight facts about persephone being a terrible queen and person, but of course because it's apollo saying it, it's not meant to be taken as gospel, essentially clapping back at the words of the critics who call out persephone for being a shitty and toxic protagonist by putting those words into the mouth of a literal rapist.

and yeah episode 263 had a lot of the same shit, to the point that you could literally swap out the names of the characters and the words they were speaking and it applies exactly to rachel and the corner she put herself in u.u it's been a thing for a while now that apollo has just felt like a mouthpiece for LO criticism but as mentioned by users within the subreddit during the discussion of this newest episode, it's never felt more apparent than now.

so yeah enjoy this satirical text edit of a sequence from the newest FP episode, which I honestly can't tell is meant to satirize the critical community or Rachel's reactions to the critical community because the weird reality this comic and its community exist in has just become that wack that it's hard to believe it's not directly from The Onion sometimes LMAO

-and as much as i find myself empathizing with the pressure that rachel is surely under right now - no one should have to be subject to the screeching howls of the peanut gallery - i can't help but be reminded of the memes and tweets she's put out that basically outright say "persephone is supposed to be celebrated for being a shitty person, if you can't handle her at her worst you don't deserve her at her best 💅"-

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-and how often she's ruined her own day looking for critical groups or people with the "wrong opinions" that were minding their own business, or how much she's stifled her own community's attempts to discuss the story openly by having her mods ban anyone with even so much as a question regarding persephone's integrity.

so yeah, as much as i can empathize with her from one creator to another that being under this amount of pressure and scrutiny must be immensely frustrating and exhausting, beyond that one similarity i just can't empathize or relate to this mindset of almost learned helplessness that's taken a firm grip over her writing. this is the story she wants to tell and by all means no one is entitled to make her stop, but if she's gonna keep using her greek myth "retelling" comic that's trying to be "feminist" as a mouthpiece for her own griping over criticisms that are largely on-point and justified - to the point of putting the words of her critics into the mouth of her token villain like she's playing some single player barbie doll "act out that fight that sounded cooler in your head" game - then she's gonna keep getting called out, full stop. i figured she didn't have any nose left to rip off in spite of her face but apparently not.

look, i get it, there are some opinions and behaviors within the critical community that even i'm not on board with. there are people who absolutely take shit too far on both sides of the fandom, and i think both sides need to do more to hold themselves accountable for how they interact with each other, the comic, and rachel herself. i make it a point to keep my shit in my own house, i'm not entitled to rachel's attention and frankly it's the last thing i want because i have a lot of fun here and i don't want that to be potentially ruined or dampened! but if you come into my house and complain about the decorating, then i legitimately don't know what to tell you. i used to love LO and i'm so sad for my past self knowing fully well they're not gonna be able to wholeheartedly enjoy this comic forever due to how manipulative and shitty the storytelling has become. a story that i once connected to as an AFAB who was a victim of assault and abuse and generational trauma.

if persephone being the true main villain in her own story was ever meant to be the point of Lore Olympus, then it's taken way, way too long to get to that point, and rachel herself definitely doesn't seem to be of the mindset that that's what she's become with all of her blasé meme'ing on a plot arc that she's still expecting us to take seriously. persephone was never a very complex character to begin with - being an easy self-insert for the audience and rachel to project themselves onto and relate to - but at least in the beginning she felt like she had so much legitimate potential, she was naive but put her best foot forward and clearly wanted to make a life for herself, made by herself.

now she's just mean. jaded and mean. dependent on the constant validation of others to the point of being manipulative. an absolute shell of a person who can only grow a spine when she's punching down on people weaker than her, completely incapable of standing up to the people who are a legitimate threat to her. it's not empowering, it's not subversive, it's just another pick me story about women pitting themselves against other women and never taking accountability for their own behavior, mistakes, and deliberate actions meant to hurt others, often teetering on the line of straight up narcissism all for the sake of a "boss babe" moment.

anyways, if you want an actual well-written and GOOD scene of an empathetic female protagonist struggling to find their footing in adulthood being called the fuck out for their learned helplessness behavior, go read Tamberlane, it tackles this topic much better through its main character who keeps using her brokenness as an excuse to never do better, it slaps and it's so real.

#the only thing i could possibly enjoy from these episodes is minthe coming forward #and leuce #and tori #other than that they're just a bunch of nothing #no plot #no yeehaw #just boohoo #and not even in the good way where you know the 'boohoo' is gonna lead to some good yeehaw #the shitty and toxic way where the 'boohoo' is a personality trait that everyone else has to bend themselves around #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #Instagram

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manhaxa · 1 month ago

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—Ramsay's feelings for Theon?

Original text:

There’s a lot of layers to this.

I have to make a distinction between what Ramsay feels about Theon and what he feels about Reek, because those are very different:

THEON:

Theon and Ramsay have a surprising amount of things in common:

Identity crisis:

Theon (Stark vs Greyjoy): Theon tries to force both identities on himself but in the end he is neither.

Ramsay (Snow vs Bolton): Ramsay really hates the fact that he is a bastard, his control issues and childhood also prevent him from being anything like his father which only reinforces his insecurities about being a bastard and he overcompensates by putting a whole lot of value on the name. Thinking that if he can force people to call him Bolton that’s what he will become.

Both of these character’s insecurities about their identity cause them to strongly hold on to a name to use it as a blanket of securety. They think the name can define them, rather than them defining the name they hold.

Daddy issues: Theon and Ramsay both assumed their father’s would simply approve of them (Which was very naïve). So they were not prepared for the bitter disappointment they would have to face and therefor didn’t know how to deal with it.

Narcissism: Theon is a compensatory narcissist, Ramsay is an unprincipled narcissist.

Dealing with issues: Theon and Ramsay both deal with issues in the same way, as in, not dealing with them at all. They distort reality, romanticize it to their liking and ignore any issues they have. Often replacing things they want with substitutes. Both also do a great deal of overcompensating.

So in the end what are Ramsay’s feelings about Theon? He reminds him too much of himself, and he can’t have that because he needs to be able to continue to deny his problems and he can’t do that with his problems staring him right in the face.

In addiction Theon is his prize, he managed to manipulate him successfully, showing himself to be worth more than someone of noble birth which makes him feel less of a bastard, it’s a sort of proof that confirms what he already knew, that he is as good as any Bolton. Theon is the physical proof of this, so Ramsay needs to keep him. But Theon is supposed to make him feel good about himself, not be a living reminder of his issues. So Theon needs to change, he needs to become Reek.

REEK:

We know from Roose that Ramsay and Reek were inseparable so when Reek dies this is a problem, and as mentioned before Ramsay ignores his problems. He ignores them to the point where he creates himself a new Reek to than deny they are even a different person “Reek has been with me since I was a boy. My lord father gave him to me as a token of his love” – Reek I (how sad is it that I actually know this quote by heart word for word?)

Who is Reek to Ramsay? He is the source of everything Ramsay desires, the substitute for everything he doesn’t get from others (mainly his father). He is the toy that Ramsay controls completely, the one that can’t run away, can’t deny him, can’t defy him. He is shaped to please Ramsay in whatever way he desires. Whether it be approval (he doesn’t receive from his father) or a source to work his anger out on. He is there so Ramsay can feel good and in control. Which is why I believe Ramsay would never kill him, he can’t live without him anymore because now he’s gotten used to getting everything he desires through Reek and he takes it for granted, take that away and Ramsay loses his shit! So what does Ramsay feel for Reek? He is addicted to what he provides him with.

I needed to share this somewhere bc it's too good.

#thramsay #asoiaf #ramsay x theon #theon x ramsay #theon greyjoy #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton #roose bolton

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lnkedmyheart · 2 years ago

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I like Oda as a character, I like the way he contributes to the story and how he influences the narrative. I do not however like Oda any more than say Karma or Fitzgerald. And in my very honest opinion, the huge problem with Oda's fandom characterization comes from idolization and the cool dead guy trope. The fandom sees Oda as this affable guy but also sees him through Dazai's eye where Dazai idolized him and puts him on a pedestal. The fandom sets Oda up as this faultless, flawless, perfect man who had all his shit together and was wise beyond his years and could do no wrong, all powerful token of perfection. He goes from a flawed interesting character to a Mary sue with silly quirks for "flaws". And this is why people so often misinterpret his relationship dynamic with Dazai and the impact of his final words. People are not allowed to analyse and critique Oda as a character because the moment you say you don't like him you have to put out an apology for hurting the fandom's feelings (real event, one user on tiktok had to actually apologise).

Oda is not perfect, he is not ideal and he is not faultless. Oda is not some pure soul like people insist he is, he was an assassin and while he no longer kills he was still working for the mafia. He was still involved in an organization dealing in assassinations, murders, gang violence, trafficking and more. He's barely 22 when he dies, he is young, he is traumatized and struggling to connect. Aside from that he takes dumb as hell actions like repeatedly going to visit the kids he adopted in broad daylight while there was a literal terrorist with a vendetta against him on the loose. He also repeatedly indulges Dazai's spirals, something that Ango explicitly calls him out on. Yes it makes Dazai feel like he has a peer but Oda is literally one of the most passive personalities in Dazai's life until his death, he rarely calls Dazai out on his spirals, often indulging his worst self destructive tendencies. He also struggles to place Dazai, putting him on a pedestal and alternating between seeing him as someone born to remain in the darkness and a child on the verge of tears. Oda also repeatedly fails to understand the sheer amount of hope Dazai had during dark era, most notable in their second last meeting when Dazai desperately tries to stop him from his suicide mission by trying to give him hope. Dazai is a very hopeful character who latches onto the most minor things in his life and postpones his death for them despite being actively suicidal. Oda's final words to Dazai take away any real hope he had while telling him that he should live to serve other people. Oda's words made Dazai into a martyr who only values himself through what he can do to save the innocent.

And no, I'm not saying this to slander Oda. I'm saying this to humanize him. Nobody in bsd is perfect. Everyone is flawed and human. Oda made stupid decisions, was involved with the mafia, etc and that makes him human. That makes his ending a tragedy greater than the fall of some faultless pious hero. Oda's final words were meant to give Dazai hope to keep living, to leave the mafia in a way that he never did and to do good in a way that he never could. And the problem was that he didn't understand Dazai was always this hopeful guy. He needed to be told that he will find a reason but Oda thought he wouldn't cause Oda was actively projecting on Dazai, and that's a theme in bsd, everyone projects on Dazai. In his final moments he told this suicidal kid looking for something to keep living for, that he will never find anything to live for and to dedicate himself to other people.

Yes Oda helped Dazai escape but he also broke something in that boy. And Atsushi is desperately trying to tell him now that no, Dazai doesn't need to martyr himself for others, that he deserves to live regardless.

Ready to get cancelled but I don't like the fandom Oda. I much prefer the Oda who accidentally fucked up his last words because he was projecting too hard. Like beast universe literally exists because that versions of Dazai took Oda's words way too seriously and tried to create a world where everyone but he survives and remains happy.

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detectivechen · 7 days ago

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I respectively disagree with the racism and misogyny… personally being a woc, black/asian at that too, it's crazy to see people just assume how everyone from one minority feels about something and that has to deal with the rest of us. Within the interactions given in the episodes I haven’t seen of any sort. They are just having any given conversation any characters (no matter sex/gender/race/color) would have with another character they might have been involved with.

And to the chenford of it all, I also think you are barking up at a tree that hasn't fully developed yet. Its only been the first 2 episodes, and unfortunately at the end of the day it is the Nathan/Nolan show he is literally one of the executive producers who gets a say whats put out or not when it comes to characters having screen times and whatnots. And again, we haven't really have a full on chenford scene, like in the past or a fully chenford centric episode maybe there is back story regarding their interactions…maybe we are missing something not yet revealed to the audience….maybe Tim and Lucy are hiding something.

All will come in its time. And if it doesn’t, then shit yeah let’s complain about that sure. But for now we wait

you can wait. i’ll max out what’s left of my free speech. i don’t think the way to correct reaching so hard is to not stretch your perspective at all.

there was clear misogyny here. chenford’s banter is dependent on tim making lucy look and feel incompetent in front of their coworkers. why didn’t tim focus his discipline more on seth for disrespecting his TO by arriving late, like when miles hit on lucy?

i don’t think the ending scene was racist either, but to be clear, it’s true that racism can’t be fully divested from lucy, a WOC. i’ve mentioned before that it’s a likely factor in her professional woes bc she’s going against a system that prioritizes the promotions of white men who may not have her same achievements.

i do think it’s racist to attribute all of her challenges straight to racism, just bc she’s asian. it’s like going to webmd for a headache and convincing yourself you have a brain tumor. did you even consider more likely explanations for their bias?

in fact, calling lucy submissive in her interpersonal relationships is perpetuating more racist stereotypes than any ‘hehehaha ur so hot’ jokes thus far. if there’s one thing the show’s consistent about, it’s her going against that grain as an opinionated woman who happens to be asian. very rare to see in american media but y’all wanna tokenize her anyway? weird.

lastly, it’s gratuitous to think there’s a back story that can explain why tim is so clinical in his interactions with lucy. chenford gets plenty screen time as the B couple, but their narrative is never meaningful. lucy’s arc has been tied to tim’s for like 50 eps now between UC, isabel, him being her boss, him breaking up with her, and her not getting detective. i’m tired, but i like what i’m seeing with TO lucy so far, and i’m not opposed to developing selective amnesia. genuinely hope this helps x

#the rookie #chenford #the rookie s7 #the rookie 7x02 #my rookie s7 commentary #y’all are gonna hate me #but i don’t remember what else i was supposed to talk ab #re: the first post 😅#we have 16 eps left for me to remember #btw melissa sweetie ur doing amazing 😍

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

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Moments in Domesticity HC

Joel Miller x Feral Reader x Ellie The Last of Us (Show/Game) Feral Reader Masterlist Anon Requests: --“I'm loving all the domestic joel x red x Ellie content. So can we get an insight into how red and joel deal with ellies mood swings? I feel like after settling into Jackson, she will ease into teenage normalcy. I can see red trying to be helpful but just ends up in sleeping in the stables 💀💀💀“ --“Have you thought of red and joel and ellie in jackson 5 years later? like just domestic stuff. they’re all integrated and jackson has been their home for awhile...” --“I NEED to know how Joel would feel/act if red actually left them to go back to the wild, maybe in a jealous fit or something else. I’m begging u” Here’s a long list of different moments! I’ll be touching on stuff that happens after the first couple of years in a different fic, but these touch on stuff that don’t need full fics!

Despite Joel’s concerns, Ellie does make friends though it takes a while. The older kids are only required to go to a few classes a day and then have various jobs they’re suppose to do and she does bond with some of the other teens who think she’s cool. She’s different and when she tells them she’s killed Clickers and survived a Bloater, it cements her as a bad ass amongst them.

Ellie is quiet those first few weeks. They don’t push it but it’s the start of Red leaving little trinkets for her. A lava lamp she found, posters and books and sketch supplies.

Red knows that Ellie is suspicious of the story Joel told her. Sometimes when the girl pokes, tentatively asks her about the hospital, she glosses over it. Says that she had been knocked out and didn’t come to until the “raiders” were attacking and she helped Joel fight their way out. They just had to get Ellie out. The truth is in there, under the blurry faux details, and it makes it easier to lie.

There will be a day where she knows Ellie will push for the truth and all she can do is prepare for it.

Defending Red helps draw Ellie out of her shell. That protective streak over both of them. More than trinkets and Joel trying to use board games and small tokens of the past, Ellie’s need to feel useful and protective is what does the trick.

Spending time in Jackson with the animals and food and all the new helps as well.

Jesse is older and has taken more of a leadership position over the teens and it helps that when he’s on patrol and Joel is in the group, the older man gives him pointers. Joel notices sometimes how he stares at Ellie and keeps an eye on the boy.

He ribs Ellie about it over the next year or so until it’s broken to him that it’s not boys his kid is into, but girls. Which makes him suspicious of every teenage girl that was ever over in his house.

Joel finds his footing easier than them both. He becomes a valuable member of the patrols and goes back to helping with construction, the skills coming back easily. Though sometimes it’s hard watching Tommy have the life he thought he would have. Married with a baby on the way. His little brother is now the one in charge though he still can’t measure the 2x4′s worth shit and sometimes is dumb as bricks. It hurts but he’s proud of him.

It helps when he comes back home and Ellie is complaining about dumb homework at the table and Red is sitting on the countertop in the kitchen, trying to read the faded instructions on the pasta box. He’s needed in other ways.

There are mornings where Joel and Red get to sleep in. Those are usually the mornings where she is woken up by the slight push of the door opening and then a heavy pouncing on top of her before getting covered in slobber. Joel grunts and curses, covering his face with the comforter and Red tries to duck away from dog breath as Ellie cusses out, “Oh shit, Bowie no! Shit shit, sorry!”

“Ellie, what the hell did we say about bringing the dogs in?” He’s not as angry as he wants it to be, just annoyed as the heavy 80lb dog jumps around on the bed then flops down in between them like a second child. Bowie grins, trying to lick Joel, leash still attached.

“I was just walking him and forgot something in my room and needed to come inside real quick to get it but then he looked like he wanted some water and-”

Red only chuckles and whistles before signaling the dog off the bed, Bowie doing so immediately.

Waking up to dog kisses isn’t the worst. It happens more times than they can count, especially when Ellie is walking the puppies.

Swimming lessons start once the weather warms up. Tommy joins them to show where their usual swimming spot is. Him and Red sit a little higher up on a ridge edge and watch as Joel tries to show Ellie how to move her arms and feet. She clings to him like a toddler even though the water isn’t that deep and sometimes he has to support her stomach to keep her afloat while she gets it.

Tommy makes jokes from above at Joel’s expense, grinning at the comfort of hanging out with his brother and his kid again. That is until Red shoves him off the ridge and he hits the water face first.

If he still wasn’t slightly terrified of her, he’d splash her back.

There are progressive steps forward and some steps back. Joel and Ellie argue, both pushing and testing their boundaries with each other. Red and Joel fight, one not use to people caring about her and the other sometimes too protective. Ellie and Red fight, one desperately clinging to the other in fear of being left and the other worried the closeness will only hurt her. No one knows how to properly handle their emotions.

They always make up. A tentative offer to take Ellie out to practice shooting the rifle. Joel trailing his fingers through Red’s loose hair, kissing the crown of her head softly. A book of pressed flowers given on the porch, the book Red has been keeping in her bag for years. The first pages are her journal from the beginning of the Outbreak before it stops. All peace offerings.

Joel is a helicopter parent. When Ellie begins group patrols, he knows exactly who is leading the group and interrogates them after to make sure nothing went wrong and she is doing what she’s supposed to. He knows when she starts hanging out with new friends, like Jesse and Dina and Cat. Ellie is starting to go full-teenager so he tries not to let her know he’s doing it.

Red catches Ellie making out with her first girlfriend Mia in her room. She doesn’t know what to do, only freezes and backs away slowly then walks back down the stairs. She doesn’t tell Joel.

When Ellie starts going over to friends houses, staying over often or going to hangouts, they relish in having their own space for the first time in a long while. Joel has every intention of fucking Red against every surface and wall, but only manages the couch before someone knocks on the front door. Tommy thinks Joel is going to shoot him for even asking if he can do a night patrol. Red may well murder him if Joel doesn’t.

Joel knows he has to take his time with Red, but patience isn’t a strong suit of his. He missteps a lot, tripping on invisible landmines. Her parents. Her sister. Harry. Those years after the Outbreak but before he met her. She freezes up sometimes and he knows the landmine has gone up in his face.

But she sometimes she drops fragments. Mentions that her father died in the initial chaos though there is nothing sad in her voice. Her mother’s is always mentioned in disdain. That things between her and Harry had been complicated in the year or so before the Outbreak. That things were tense with her family. The way she clams up when asked if she was with a group is it’s own hint. He doesn’t push, can only apologize and soothe the shrapnel damage of his mistake.

There are days when Ellie is just in a mood. She’s snappy, easily irritable, gets sent home early from work duty for behavior (which in turn means Joel gets after her) leading to her being a ball of teenage rage at everyone. Red stays in the kennels those days because it’s easier dealing with a group of dogs than an angry teenager. Jamie, the head vet she sometimes works with, says it’s all part of raising a teenager.

They skip the monthly Jackson gatherings often as their time in town stretches on, though Tommy does bug them to go and actually be a part of the community. Red isn’t keen, especially after her dress experience with Maria, but Joel makes sure to stay at her side every time after. He doesn’t admit that he doesn’t mind going if only because he gets to stand with her, his arms around her waist and swaying slightly to the music, and making sure every man in town knows she’s his.

He doesn’t remember how the conversation leads to Red at the construction site. They’re working and the mention of her name comes up then her last name and instinctively, without thinking, Joel mentions it’s Miller. He can see Tommy’s head whip towards him, but neither of them say anything.

When Joel finally fixes the guitar, he plays for them. His heart is in his throat but he tries to play it off as casually as he can. Ellie’s been in a mood and thank god, he sees her loosen up afterwards. He promises to start teaching her and once a week they have guitar lessons on the porch. Those are Red’s favorite nights.

They’re having family dinner at Tommy’s one evening when Maria asks teasingly if she needs to get Red some birth control. She freezes and it’s like she’s a trapped animal, breath shaky and panic in her eyes, before biting out a simple, “No.” It’s a little awkward and they try to play it off, moving on. That night he can see the nail gouges in her thighs from her own hands. Joel doesn’t know the full story, but knows her inability to have kids isn’t a natural occurrence. He’s seen the ugly scar on her lower abdomen enough times.

Outbreak day is a bad day for everyone. The streets are quiet, everyone’s faces drawn. The town hosts a yearly memorial to honor the day and world they lost, but they don’t go. It’s the first year Joel doesn’t drink himself dumb if only because he doesn’t want to freak Ellie out. The teenager doesn’t have a tie to the day, being born long after. But she knows about Sarah and knows both her parental figures faced something horrific. So she does what any kid does and tries to lighten the mood. They play every board game in the house and Ellie picks the best puns and gently asks what Sarah’s favorite things were. It helps a little.

Some nights they get more bits of the lighter Red. They play the record player constantly but some days, the days when maybe one of them finds a new couple of vinyls, they’ll have a night where they each take turns playing their favorite. Red and Joel will drink a bit (and maybe let Ellie have some) and the teenager will grab Red’s hands and force her to dance with her. Joel soaks in the sound of their laughter and it’s like Red is so many years younger. He takes turns with each other them, spinning Ellie around and teaching her to two-step and dancing with his partner to the slower songs. He loves her through rage and violence, but he is at her mercy when she lets him have the fragile bits of herself underneath it all.

Once upon a time, giving someone that kind of control over him would have terrified him but he hands himself over willingly to her now .

Ellie’s first birthday in Jackson is small but they’re still getting use to things. No one knows the exact day she was born, but she knows the day that was on her papers in FEDRA school so they go with that. Joel gets food from the Food Hall and Red tries very very hard to follow a brownie recipe from one of the ladies in the shop. Joel plays her something on the guitar and, in true to them fashion, her gifts are a new revolver, another pun book (though unfortunately not by Wil Livingston) and the news that Brownie the puppy is hers to keep in the kennels.

Red sings for them for the first time that night.

Joel makes plans for a bigger birthday next year.

Danger still exists. It never goes away and Joel wonders if he doesn’t want it to, really. There’s still a thrill when his brother grabs them both to deal with raiders. Seeing that sharpness in Red come alive and the lack of hesitation as she pulls the trigger or draws her bow. The baring of her teeth when she stabs her knife.

He’s seen her tear through a whole group to save him during a patrol. Seen her rip out a man’s throat with her teeth to get to him when they had him trapped. Joel wonders at the broken part of him that enjoys it, seeing her covered in blood and completely feral and knowing it was all for him.

Every time after, clean or tinged red, he loses himself and fucks her so hard his name is a chorus from her lips and there are gouges down his back from her nails. They were still monsters deep down but it didn’t feel like such an awful thing anymore.

It’s roughly a year and a half later when Ellie comes home with a large bandage on arm. Red is the one to see it first and after being assured she wasn’t injured, the outline of a large tattoo is unveiled, covering the bite there.

She gets it, gets the fear of Ellie having to hide her arm because they’re afraid someone will shoot their kid. But seeing the tattoo churns something in her gut because it means Ellie’s letting go of that part of her identity as “the immune girl”. And while it should mean something good, that she was moving on, she knows hidden rage when she sees it and it’s deep in the teenage girl. It’s less a letting go and more the identity being ripped away from her.

It takes a bit to calm Joel down. He knows it was Ellie’s friend Cat that did the tattoo and the dad part of him rears up, telling her he doesn’t like her hanging out with that girl. It’s fear, they all know it, because the tattoo also means she showed Cat her arm.

It’s a rough week. Ellie moves into the converted garage behind the house.

Red feels unequipped to handle Joel’s fear and Ellie’s rage and all she can do is be there for both. She helps Ellie to decorate the garage, the same as when they first moved into the house, silently there at her side. At night, she prods and pushes Joel until he takes his emotions out on her with bruising fingers and rough kisses. Violence and sex are a comfort she knows well.

Joel and Ellie make up in their own awkward tentative way. Reminders about guitar lessons and dinner plans, requests to help fix the door and some of the walls in the garage. Red wonders if raising a teenager is like this for everyone.

Red goes missing for two days. Both of them panic and raise hell, searching everywhere for her. Ellie’s never seen Joel so out of control. He interrogates every patrolman at the gate roughly and it takes Tommy intervening to keep him from beating the shit out of a few.

She checked out a horse and left, her bag missing from the first floor room. Ellie feels a knot in her throat and her mind plays on repeat “everyone always leaves” but Joel is pushing her bag into her hands and they off to the stables. Tommy and Maria don’t try to stop them. Red’s already been gone a whole day.

They search for her beyond the walls, calling out for her and checking their usual spots. The worst comes to mind of her getting hurt, getting taken by raiders, getting bit by infected. Because in Joel’s mind, Red would never willingly up and leave without a word. He can’t let that possibility sink in. Even if she did, he’d find her and drag her back to him.

They find her that evening.

Her eyes are puffy and red and there are scratches all over her arms and hands. They look self-inflicted. She looks as wild as the first day they met her, huddled at the base of a large tree and hair all over the place. Joel approaches her cautiously, like he knows to when she’s more animal than woman, but it’s Ellie that goes straight up to her and hugs her around her waist without hesitating. Because she knows why.

The book of pressed flowers Red had given her had journal entries that stopped right before the flowers began. The last entry had a date and the words “me, Harry, and Annie are going on a run tomorrow” in it and Ellie knows.

Like a wounded animal, Red tried to hide her pain. The nightmares and the screams and the sounds in her head became too much and she had to get away. Sometimes all she could hear was her sister’s screams. But they dim in Ellie’s embrace and she lets herself come to the surface enough to hug her back and then lean into Joel when he joins them, kissing her head and holding them tightly.

They'd always find her and protect her when she needed to shatter.

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