#i need to feel like a real human a real adult human.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 21

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If we died tonight, I'd die yours,"

summary: joel found you

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 21

masterlist!

previous | chapter 20

The cold seeped into your bones, icy and unyielding against the concrete floor, and you could feel every bruise, every cut, every ache in your body.

The pain was an unrelenting, throbbing reminder of everything you’d endured, but that wasn’t the worst part. What tore at you now was the horror of seeing Emma, your best friend, taken from this world in a way you wouldn’t have believed possible had you not witnessed it with your own eyes.

Her life, her laughter, her warmth—gone. Because of you.

A sob caught in your throat as the weight of it crushed you. Emma hadn’t deserved this; she had a whole life stretched out before her, full of hope and love.

She had just started it, a new chapter, a new promise. And now, because she’d tried to save you, it had ended in unimaginable horror. The images wouldn’t leave you, wouldn’t stop replaying in your mind.

Jim—God, he was probably gone too. Gone, because of you.

Desperation clawed at your chest, leaving you empty and hollow. You could feel yourself slipping, hope draining out of you like a slow bleed, and something bitter was taking its place.

A deep, aching question clawed at the edges of your mind, one you’d never dared ask before, but one that refused to stay silent any longer: 

Why would God let this happen to you?

You’d loved Him, stayed faithful, tried to be everything you were taught you should be. And yet, here you were, in the darkest pit, left to rot. 

Why?

Tears blurred your vision, and somewhere between the sobs and the silence, you felt something break inside you.

You stopped praying, stopped hoping for anything good. The words, the comfort, the promises—all of it felt hollow.

You were empty now, just a shell of everything you once believed.

The door creaked open, and in he came—Negan, his footsteps echoing like the toll of a death knell. He looked at you, pity mingling with something else in his gaze, a twisted satisfaction.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he shook his head, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy.

“Aw, look at you,” he cooed.

“See, doll, I didn’t want it to come to this. But you had to go and make things difficult. If you’d just listened to me—if you’d been my good girl—none of this would’ve happened.”

The rage bubbled up, scalding and raw. You looked at him, every ounce of hatred burning in your eyes. “What did you do to her?” The words barely made it past the tightness in your throat, but they were laced with venom.

You could feel it, the sickening truth—whatever he’d done, it was something worse than you could imagine.

Negan chuckled, an unholy sound that made your skin crawl. “Don’t you worry about her,” he said, a dark glint in his eye.

“I took real good care of her.” The words lingered, taunting, but before you could say anything more, he pulled a medical kit from his bag, the glint of a syringe catching your eye.

Panic shot through you, and you scrambled backward, heart pounding. “Don’t… don’t touch me!"

Negan’s eyes softened, his tone suddenly too gentle, too calm. “Relax, princess,” he murmured, reaching for your arm. “I just need you to play along for a bit.”

But you jerked back, thrashing against his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracked, fueled by the horror churning in your chest, the feeling of his hand on your skin like a brand.

The gentle smile on his face vanished, replaced by a cold, dangerous stare. His grip tightened, bruising, and in one swift motion, he struck you across the face, the impact leaving stars in your vision.

“Listen to me, you stupid little bitch,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly. “I’m done asking nicely. You’re going to be a good girl and do as I say, or you’re going to wish you had.”

You barely registered the sting of the needle as he plunged it into your arm. The world began to blur, darkness creeping in from the edges, and you fought it, clawing for consciousness, desperate not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

But the drug took hold fast, dragging you down, down, until the world was nothing but darkness.

***

The address Negan gave led Joel to an unassuming neighborhood, quiet and tucked away, where homes lined the street like silent sentries.

Everything here was normal, almost obscenely so, and the ordinariness of it all set his nerves on edge. How could something so terrible be hiding behind these closed doors?

How could neighbors go about their days, clueless to the horror lurking so close? He took a long, deep breath, steeling himself, fingers grazing over the cold metal of his pistol holstered by his side.

He wasn’t a fool; he knew this was a trap. But nothing—nothing—would stop him from stepping into it if it meant the chance to see you alive again.

Before he entered, Joel slipped his phone from his pocket, sending his location to Tommy, leaving the device outside on a rock by the front gate.

He couldn’t afford distractions; whatever came next would be a fight to the end.

As he made his way up the steps, he felt it in his bones, that tether connecting him to you, stretched thin but unbroken. He knew you were here, somewhere behind these walls, waiting, needing him.

His heart ached at the thought of what you’d endured. It wasn’t right—none of this was right. 

Inside, the air was thick with rot and rust, the scent of decay seeping into Joel’s lungs as he moved through the shadowed house.

Every step felt like a descent deeper into hell, each room echoing with the silent horror Negan had constructed within these walls.

The quiet was suffocating, pressing against his senses as he advanced with tense, deliberate steps, the weight of his weapon a cold comfort against his side.

The metallic smell of blood seemed to seep through the walls, thickening the air like rot as Joel moved down the dim corridor, his gaze fixed on the heavy big metal door at the end.

Blood was smeared across its surface, a dark, cruel stain, like the mark of some unholy ritual. He forced himself to breathe through the nausea rising in his throat, steadying himself with a muttered plea.

Please, God, let her be alive.

With a rough, trembling hand, he pushed open the door, entering a space so silent and hollow it felt like stepping into a tomb. The walls were metallic and gray, shimmering faintly under the dim, flickering light.

A hulking freezer stood in the corner, and around it lay instruments of terror—chainsaws, rusted wrenches, and knives coated in dried blood.

This was no ordinary room; it was a pit of nightmares.

He barely took three steps before his gaze froze on the horror ahead—a headless body hung from a butcher’s hook.

With a dress dangling from her shoulders, hair matted against blood-smeared fabric. For a sickening moment, his heart stopped, every nerve screaming as he tried to push down the dread that it was you.

But it wasn’t.

He knew you. The shape of your body, the softness of your shoulders, the line of your arms. Relief coursed through him, but only for a split second.

Desperately, he moved toward the freezer, steeling himself for whatever horror he might find. Inside, jars lined the shelves—heads frozen in twisted, agonized expressions.

Women. Girls to be exact. They don't look older than 20.

His stomach churned violently, but he couldn’t look away. And there, in a fresh jar, he saw Emma’s familiar face, her eyes closed forever in a peaceful, sickening slumber.

His chest tightened as the desperate, icy panic surged within him. He’s taken them all.

As he backed away, his gaze landed on a large object draped in thick canvas, its edges sagging like a dark secret. Swallowing, he approached, slowly pulling back the cover, revealing a small dog cage, lined with soiled fabric and stained in red.

It's you.

He could barely breathe as he took in the sight, disbelief warring with hope. Inside, you lay motionless, your body crumpled and cold, pale in the dim light, bruises shadowing your face and arms.

Every inch of you looked fragile, lifeless. Joel’s heart shattered, the pain so raw it made him stagger.

"No... no," he whispered, stumbling forward. "No.” His voice cracked, shattering the silence.

He dropped to his knees, frantically reaching through the bars, hands trembling as he fumbled with the lock.

It wouldn’t budge, metal biting into his hands as he yanked, pulled, and beat at it in fury until finally, with a final, desperate heave, it gave way.

He pulled your body in his arms, a wave of coldness seeping through his skin as he held you close, brushing a shaking hand against your cheek, as if he could will the warmth back into you.

“Baby…I’m here.” His voice was barely a whisper, as fragile as he’d ever been, a man torn open.

He pressed his ear to your chest, desperate for any sign of life, but your skin was cold, your pulse faint to nonexistent, the quiet threatening to consume him.

"I'm here now… open your eyes, babygirl," he whispered, voice raw and trembling, searching for any flicker, any faint sign of life.

He leaned close, brushing his thumb over your bruised skin, trying to will you back to him. "Doll… please… open your eyes. I'm here."

His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body trembling with the weight of the moment, and yet—somewhere, deep in his bones—he felt you.

You couldn’t be gone. Not you. This couldn’t be happening.

Desperation clawed at him as he murmured again, “I’m here… please, please… doll…” The sound of his voice, broken and laced with grief, shattered in the silence.

He clutched you tighter, pressing you to his chest, a hollow ache blooming in the very marrow of him. "Please… don't do this to me, baby…"

"Don't do this to me..."

For the first time in years, Joel prayed.

He’d long forgotten how to ask for mercy, how to whisper words into the void and hope something beyond him might listen.

But here, in this moment, he found himself clinging to the last, fragile remnants of belief, calling out to a God he’d long turned away from, begging—pleading—that you be spared.

His lips moved in a silent prayer, the words barely more than a broken murmur, all his hope wrapped into each fractured plea. Please… don’t take her. Don’t let her go.

His world collapsed into this single, unbearable moment. Everything—the pain, the emptiness, the years he’d spent buried in his own grief—shrank down to this: holding you, willing you to stay.

A part of him whispered that you were gone, that he’d come too late. It sliced through him, the pain cold and merciless, tearing at him from the inside.

But he couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t. He held you tighter, as if he could pull you back to life with sheer, desperate force.

"Come on, babygirl," he whispered, his voice a soft plea, thick with tears. "You promised me… remember? You promised."

His tears fell onto your skin, mingling with the blood that marred your face, his grief seeping into every inch of you. He bent his head, pressing his lips against your forehead, his tears hot and relentless.

Every memory, every moment with you flashed through his mind, a lifetime of love condensed into seconds. The laughter you’d shared, the softness in your eyes when you’d look at him—all of it now hung in the balance, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

Joel's grip tightened, his arms wrapped around you like he could shield you, even now, from everything dark and vile in this world. "Please, come back to me," he choked out, his voice barely more than a breath, the words pulled from the deepest part of him. 

Come back.

His chest ached, his heart beating against a wall of sorrow so thick it was suffocating. And still, he held you, as though love alone could tether your soul back to him, could fill the silence that had swallowed you whole.

Suddenly, the silence between you shattered as you gasped awake, air flooding into your lungs in a desperate, rattling breath.

Joel’s heart jolted with such force he almost pulled back, but instead, he held you tighter, his relief an overwhelming wave crashing over him.

You thrashed weakly in his arms, vision blurred, disoriented and terrified, your voice breaking in panicked cries. "No! No! Don’t touch me!"

"Hey, hey… it’s me. It’s me," he murmured softly, his hands gentle on your shoulders as he tried to calm you.

His voice was thick, a rough whisper, barely holding back the tears of relief as he drew you closer, feeling the steady warmth of your breath against his chest.

"Joel?" He felt you relax, and slowly, as if afraid you’d disappear if he let go, Joel wrapped his arms tighter around you, silently thanking whatever force was left in this world for bringing you back to him.

"Thank you...Thank you God," he whispered to God, to bring you back.

Your blurred vision cleared, and as your gaze fell on his face, the tears came, spilling over in a torrent of relief, of exhaustion, of love.

You clung to him, like a child, letting out every fear, every longing, until the weight of his presence seemed to ground you, to make you feel safe again.

“I thought… I thought I’d never see you again,” you whispered, your voice trembling, breaking.

He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the side of your head, his words soft and steady. "I got you. You’re safe now… I’m here now." His heart clenched as he felt you collapse against him, trusting him to carry the weight of this moment.

The horror of everything he’d witnessed, everything he’d feared, lingered on the edges of his mind, but with you here in his arms, he could finally breathe.

He then kissed you, you kissed him back.

The warmth of Joel's embrace, that kiss—long, desperate, everything unspoken between you poured into it—all of it felt like salvation, like drowning in relief only to be pulled into air and held there, safe.

Your lips pressed together in a fierce, shared need to feel every ache, every moment of fear, longing, and love—the kiss deepening as if it could carry every bit of pain you’d endured and let it dissolve in his arms.

For a moment, it was just the two of you against the horror, the emptiness that had swallowed you whole.

Here, with him, you are finally feel alive again.

But then, the moment split open. A shadow loomed behind him, and a chill ran down your spine, the dread slithering into your heart before you even turned.

You pulled back, eyes wide, breath catching as you saw Negan standing there, his mouth twisted in a cruel, dark smirk.

In his hands was that familiar bat, glinting under the dim light, raised with lethal intent.

"NO, JOEL—" you managed, your voice breaking as terror surged through you, but it was already too late.

The bat crashed down with a sickening, brutal force, and Joel’s body crumpled beneath the blow.

“Joel!” Your scream tore through the silence, raw and desperate. His form lay motionless, blood slowly trickling from the wound on his head, staining his face as his eyes fell shut.

The sight shattered you.

Negan grabbed you, yanking you away with unyielding strength. You kicked, you clawed, but it was no use. “NO! Don’t do anything to him! Please, don’t hurt him, don’t—” But your pleas fell on deaf ears.

He threw you back into the cold, unforgiving cage, the door slamming shut with a merciless clang.

"NEGAN, NO!" You pounded against the bars, fists slamming as you screamed. He only watched, amused, as though your desperation was an orchestra he enjoyed conducting.

Across the room, Negan dragged Joel’s limp body to a chair, binding his hands and legs with thick, rough ropes. He worked meticulously, each knot tight, his gaze never leaving Joel's battered face.

Blood dripped from the wound on Joel’s head, trailing slowly down his neck, and you felt a crushing helplessness as you watched him, your voice cracking as you screamed.

“Joel! Joel, please… wake up…”

You clawed at the bars until your nails split, your hands bloody, but the steel held fast.

The reality of the moment sank into your bones like ice, each second stretching with dread. "NEGAN, PLEASE!" you begged, your voice breaking, but he only turned toward you with a mocking, cold look.

"That’s the last time he’ll get to touch you," Negan sneered, disgust twisting in his voice as he gestured back at the spot where you’d kissed Joel, where you’d clung to him like he was your last hope. “Disgusting.”

***

Joel’s world flickered back to life in fragments, his mind swimming as he fought the waves of blackness pressing against him.

His head throbbed with a searing pain, and his vision blurred as he forced his eyes open, seeing only flashes of movement and shapes at first.

Then, bit by bit, his sight cleared, and he could see you through the haze, slumped against the bars of a cage, tears streaming down your face as you called his name, desperate and broken.

His heart twisted at the sight, fear tearing through him as he tried to reach for you, only to feel the bite of ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles.

He was bound to the chair, unable to move. Panic settled into his chest, sharp and unforgiving. “Doll…” he managed, his voice hoarse and shaky as he struggled against the restraints, the blood from his wound still warm, trickling down his neck.

Negan’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and cruel, like the edge of a blade scraping against bone. "Well, look who’s finally awake,"he jeered, stepping into Joel’s view, his eyes gleaming with a sick, twisted pleasure.

Every word that left Negan’s lips felt like an assault, each syllable laced with venom.

The sight of him, standing there so casually, was enough to stir something inside Joel that was deeper than fury—it was primal, raw, a burning hatred that ignited within him.

Every muscle in his body screamed to break free, to get to you, to tear Negan apart. He pulled at the ropes, feeling them bite into his skin, but they held fast, as immovable as the horror that had unfolded.

"I'm going to kill you," Joel growled, the words thick with rage and the promise of retribution. The air around him seemed to crackle with violence, his every word a threat, his every breath heavy with hatred.

Negan’s laugh was low and cruel, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without warning, he drove his fist into Joel's stomach, and the sound of it—the sickening thud—echoed in the room, a sharp crack of pain that sent a wave of terror through you.

“No!” you screamed, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands reaching helplessly through the bars, as if you could stop the onslaught with your mere presence.

Negan wiped the blood from his knuckles and smiled. "You think you can save her, huh? Think you can play hero, Miller?" he mocked, his voice dripping with scorn.

"C’mon, you can’t be that stupid. You really think I’d kill her? Please… she’s way too much fun to kill." He sneered, another brutal punch landing on Joel’s face, snapping his head to the side with a sickening crack.

Joel’s eyes were darkened with pain, his mouth now filled with blood, but the fire in him didn’t waver. "I’m gonna fucking kill you," Joel spat, the blood dribbling from his lips, his voice hoarse with fury.

Negan tilted his head, studying Joel with a twisted grin. "Tough guy, huh?" he said, mocking the very idea of Joel’s strength. "Well, let’s see how tough you are when you can’t do a damn thing about it."

Joel’s heart was thundering in his chest, the pulse of his veins matching the brutal rhythm of the punches he endured.

But his spirit didn’t falter; it only burned brighter with every insult, with every blow that landed on his battered body.

Negan circled him, like a predator sizing up its prey, leaning in close, his voice thick with venom as he whispered into Joel’s ear. "What were you thinking, huh? That you could just walk in here and stop me?" He chuckled, shaking his head, his voice dripping with mocking pity.

"We were fine without you. Hell, we were thriving without you." His eyes flicked over to you in the cage, a dark glimmer in them. "She was happy, you know. Didn’t need you to be in her head. But here you are, playing the white knight, trying to save the girl you don’t even fucking deserve."

Negan's voice was like poison, dripping from his lips with a slow, deliberate cruelty, each word laced with venom meant to tear Joel down, to twist the knife deeper.

He knew the weight of Joel's guilt, the shadows of his past, and now, he was going to use it against him.

"You think you deserve her?" Negan’s tone was mocking, cruel, his eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure. "You? You think you can be her hero, Miller? You’ve known her since she was a little girl, right? Since she was three? And now you’re fucking her?" His voice rose with each word, the venom thickening, as if he could make Joel choke on the very idea.

"Disgusting."

Joel’s stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t respond—not yet. Not when Negan was playing with fire, fanning the flames of his mind, trying to ignite a spark of doubt in his heart.

Joel remained silent, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his gaze burning holes into the floor beneath him.

Negan was trying to gaslight him, make him feel like the monster, make him believe the lies about his relationship with you.

Negan leaned in, his breath hot against Joel's ear, like a shadow whispering sweet poison into his soul. "You really think you’re a hero, huh?" He chuckled darkly.

"You think you’re saving her? You’re just like them, Miller. Just like Ben. Just like that goddamn pedophile you killed. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it—taking matters into your own hands, playing God, playing judge, jury, and executioner. You’re the same fucking monster they were. You’re just too stupid to see it."

The words sent a cold shiver through Joel’s veins, like ice water splashing against his skin.

The ghosts of his past clawed at him, the blood-stained memories that had been haunting him for years now bubbling up to the surface. He had killed Ben and Jamie. Killed them to protect her. 

"You killed them because you want her to be all yours. Not because you want to protect her,"

Joel’s jaw clenched, but his mind started to churn with the doubt Negan planted, each word a tiny crack in the wall Joel had built around himself.

He had been justifying everything, hadn’t he? His actions… the things he did for you. It was all for you, wasn’t it? To protect you.

But Negan was playing with fire, and his words were like gasoline—burning through the edges of Joel’s sanity, forcing him to look at the truth through a new, ugly lens.

“God,” Negan’s voice dropped to a low murmur, almost conversational, “I watched her for a long time. Long before you even fucking noticed her.”

He stepped closer, his breath sour, smelling of something rotten, something foul. “The first time I met her father… I was going to repent. I was going to change. Hell, Naomi told me to visit Reverend Gibson, to clean up my act, to find some peace. I was gonna find salvation. All those other girls—bored me. But then… I saw her."

"She was in that white sundress, innocent, pure. I thought—" He let out a dark laugh, shaking his head. “I thought God wanted me to have her, Miller. Maybe she was my redemption. To have a pure, sweet, innocent soul to redeem my sins."

"But then you showed up. Like a fucking rat you have to showed up for God's sake!"

Joel felt his breath catch, like he was drowning in the weight of Negan’s words, each one pressing down on him, pushing him deeper into a pit of guilt and self-loathing.

Negan’s laughter was sickening. It clawed at Joel’s chest, and the air felt thick, choking. “You… you played the fucking hero, huh? You couldn’t leave well enough alone."

Negan walking circled him, "You thought you could save her from her misery just because her father disciplined her. So what, Joel? Girls need to be fucking taught!"

"I agree with her father on that one. She was a brat! and oh she still is!"

The silence was deafening after those words. They hung in the air like smoke, choking the life out of Joel, filling him with a slow, creeping dread.

His mind spun, the thought of you, so innocent, so pure, now tangled in his web. Negan was poisoning everything, every memory of you, twisting it into something ugly, something perverse.

Negan didn’t stop, his words like chains tightening around Joel’s neck, dragging him deeper into the muck. "You led her to you, Joel. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t."

"You acted like you could protect her. But you can’t even protect yourself from your own past, can you? You’re so goddamn broken, so messed up. And now you’re just taking advantage of her. 

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a storm of guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. Was he—had he really led you here? Was he really just as bad as Negan said?

Negan’s voice dropped to a mocking whisper, dragging the words through Joel's mind like claws on glass. “She was your daughter’s friend, Joel. Ellie’s friend.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Joel’s ear.

“Don’t you feel disgusted? You’ve fucked your daughter’s friend. That’s how far you’ve fallen.”

Joel’s head swam, the weight of the words crashing over him, drowning him in a sea of doubt and self-loathing.

His grip tightened on the ropes, his knuckles white, but there was something else now—a spark of something dark, something cold in his chest.

"What do you think Jane would say, huh?" with the mention of his late wife, Joel's body tighten up.

"You think she’d be proud of you, molesting Evelyn’s daughter? Evelyn, Jane’s best friend. You’re disgusting, Joel. All of this? It’s on you."

Negan continued, his voice a low, mocking growl, pushing Joel to the edge. “You’re no better than any of us. Look at you, Miller."

"You took advantage of her. She was just a little girl who needed someone to teach her. And you? You saw an opportunity, didn’t you?”

"You are pathetic," Negan's word hit like a snake's fangs, stung through Joel's heart.

Joel clenched his fists harder, his body trembling with rage, fear, and a deep sense of self-loathing. His throat burned as he fought to keep the tears back, to keep from choking on the agony of his own thoughts. The floodgates were closing, but they were trembling, about to burst.

What has he done?

Joel’s thoughts were a maelstrom now. He couldn’t focus. His mind was torn between the images of you—so sweet, so innocent—and the cruel words that Negan kept throwing at him, one after another.

But then, through the haze of doubt, through the suffocating weight of Negan’s venom, Joel heard your voice.

“No!” You screamed, your voice breaking through the madness, a raw, desperate plea.

“Joel, don’t listen to him!” The words trembled on your lips, an echo of everything you needed to say, everything you wanted Joel to hear.

"Don't listen to him!" you screamed again, your breath ragged, your throat burning from the effort. The sound of Negan’s poison lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and thick, but you couldn’t let it smother the truth.

You needed him to hear you. He needed to hear you.

"Joel, look at me!" you pleaded, your hands gripping the bars of the cage so tightly your fingers turned white.

Every word Negan had said felt like a bullet to your heart, but you couldn’t—you wouldn’t—let Joel fall into the same trap. He was better than this. 

He is better than them.

"You’re not like them, Joel. You never were!" The words spilled from your mouth, raw and desperate, desperate to break through the fog that was clouding his mind.

You needed him to see the truth—the truth that was you and him, the life you shared, the love you both fought for in the darkest corners.

"You love me. In your own way, but you love me, Joel! You saved me! You gave me a life I never thought I deserved." Your voice cracked with the weight of everything you were feeling, the deep well of emotion that surged between you both.

"Joel, I love you."

"I love you, Joel. and you love me, you are my savior, you saved me."

"Look at me! Look at me, Joel! Don't let him under your skin, please,"

Negan, on the other side of this fragile moment, stood grinning, eyes glinting with amusement, as if watching a puppet fight its strings.

He saw Joel waver, saw the flicker of doubt and fear, and he thrived on it. His smile was nothing short of wicked, enjoying the chaos he had stirred.

He had set his trap, and now he watched, savoring the confusion that was slowly chipping away at Joel’s resolve.

You could see Joel, fighting against the chaos in his own mind, the weight of Negan’s twisted words pulling at him like a chain.

His eyes flickered, lost, haunted, caught between his past and the present, between the lies and the truth. But then—then—he looked at you.

For a moment, it was like time stopped. The world held its breath, and all that existed was you and him.

His gaze locked on yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the raw, unspoken love, the pain, the guilt, the shame, but also the fight.

The fight to break free, the fight to protect you, the fight to keep you safe.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice soft but steady now, as if you were trying to calm the storm that raged inside him.

"You are so much better than this. You’re not like them, Joel. You’re not a monster. You are the best father Ellie and Sarah could ever want, Joel. They will be proud of you, she would have. The best man I have ever wanted, you're my protecter, the love of my life, you are my soul, Joel."

But as you cried out to him, Negan’s smile twisted into a sneer, his patience running thin. "Enough with your fucking mouth!" he growled, turning to you with fury, his hands reaching for the cage, yanking the door open with a violence that made you flinch.

"Shut up already."

Before you could react, Negan was on you, his hand slapping across your face with a sickening force, sending your head whipping to the side.

The sound of the slap echoed in the room, louder than your scream. The sting spread like fire across your cheek, your eyes filling with tears that blurred your vision.

For a moment, the world spun—his presence, his cruelty, all of it was too much to bear.

With that, Joel—Joel is awake.

In that instant, the haze lifted from his eyes. The fury, the protectiveness, everything that made Joel Joel came rushing back.

His muscles strained against the ropes, his eyes flashing with an intensity that would have burned holes in the walls if he could.

He was no longer the broken man Negan had manipulated, no longer the victim of his words.

He was the man who had fought for you, the man who had saved you.

"You son of a bitch!" Joel roared, the raw anger in his voice like a clap of thunder. His body surged forward, every instinct screaming to protect you, to break free from his restraints.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" He screamed, his hands were shaking with rage, but that was the only thing that kept him grounded—the unrelenting need to destroy the man who had dared to lay a finger on you.

The rope binding Joel's wrists strained as he twisted, trying to force the knot loose, his mind ablaze with fury. Every word Negan spoke chipped away at his restraint, his heart hammering with hatred.

The sight of you in Negan's hold—his arm around your neck, the gleaming knife pressed to your throat—made Joel’s blood boil.

But he knew he had to keep his wits; one wrong move, and you’d be lost.

Negan grinned, tightening his grip around your neck. His voice was dripping with mockery as he taunted, "What’s the matter, honey? Scared now?" He leaned closer, his sneer twisted with sadistic pleasure.

"Oh, Joel, why’d you have to ruin everything? If it wasn’t for you, she and I—" he paused, savoring each word, "we’d have lived happily ever after."

Joel’s hands shook as he worked against the restraints, his heart pounding. Negan’s twisted words were knives slicing into him, each one crueler than the last.

"She’s delicious, Joel," Negan sneered, his voice sickly sweet as he ran his tongue along his teeth. "The way she tastes... can’t get enough of her." He licked his lips exaggeratedly, taunting Joel, mocking him with every vile syllable.

"You should’ve known," Negan laughed, pressing the blade closer to your skin, just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.

"Stop it, Negan, please," you whimpered, tears spilling from your eyes, the despair twisting in your voice.

Negan only tightened his hold, his voice low and cruel. "What’s the matter, honey? You were enjoying it too, right?" The words crushed you, and you turned your face away, unable to look at Joel, a sense of shame sinking into your soul.

Joel's fingers scraped against the ropes with renewed desperation, his fury almost blinding.

Negan’s voice slithered through the silence, every word laced with cruelty. "You know," he continued, "I thought of sharing her around with the others. She made me good money, after all. She knows how to entertain… they paid well. Maybe you’d want a turn, too, Joel. She’s… profitable." He laughed, a dark, rasping sound that reverberated in the room, tightening the coil of hatred in Joel’s chest.

"I’m gonna kill you," Joel growled through gritted teeth, his voice a low, venomous promise.

"Ah, ah," Negan teased, pressing the blade harder against your skin, making you wince. "I’m not finished yet."

Negan’s voice softened, a calculated cruelty in every word as he continued. "But I started thinking... she can’t stay young forever. Thought maybe… it’d be a shame not to pass on those… charming qualities of hers."

"And wouldn’t you know it, Joel, she was carrying a piece of me inside her. That's right, My child!"

"She didn’t agree, of course… but a little force never hurt, right?"

Joel’s heart froze at Negan’s taunts, every word tearing open old wounds he’d buried deep.

Each sentence was a twisted knife, slashing at the walls Joel had built to keep the pain, guilt, and memories at bay. Negan’s voice was venomous, slithering around the broken dreams Joel had long since given up on.

He felt the darkness creeping back—the part of him that, years ago, had once loved fiercely, only to lose everything in one brutal instant.

But pregnant? His mind reeled, the word pounding in his skull like a drum. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, carrying his child—his child—pierced through the numbness in his heart.

He could barely breathe, the thought of you enduring such horror while he was oblivious igniting a fury so primal, so fierce, it nearly drowned him.

Rage tangled with a crushing sense of failure. He wanted to rip Negan apart with his bare hands, make him pay for every ounce of pain he’d inflicted.

Negan’s twisted laughter cut through his thoughts. “Yeah, she wanted a family, Joel,” he sneered, lips curling in a malicious grin.

“She had this fucking unrealistic idea, delusional bitch. You. Her. Playing house. Kids. The whole perfect life fantasy. But she knew, didn’t she?” Negan’s gaze pierced Joel, mocking him with each word.

“You were scared of it, scared of screwing it up like you did the last time. I mean, how could she not know? You’ve got ‘haunted’ written all over you. Lost control, didn't you? When you killed your own family,” Negan laughed, as if savoring each jab.

Inside, Joel’s heart twisted. He remembered the night like yesterday. Now he was left with nothing but ashes and guilt that hollowed him out from the inside.

Every part of him was screaming to shut Negan up, to wipe that smug look off his face. But it was true, wasn’t it? Deep down, he was scared—scared of losing again, scared of failing you the way he’d failed before.

But you, you were different. Despite everything, you stayed.

Despite the darkness he carried, the broken parts he tried to hide, you’d somehow found something worth holding onto.

That fierce loyalty of yours was like a light in the pitch-black cave of his heart, something so pure it almost hurt to look at.

You were stupid, he told himself, but the truth was you were braver than he ever could be.

You had this impossible, relentless hope—the dream of a life together, a family, even though he’d told himself it could never be.

You had loved him, flaws and all, even when he couldn’t love himself. And now, the thought of what Negan had done, the way he’d shattered that hope, drove him to the edge.

"But this stupid bitch killed my baby before they could feel their daddy's voice,"

Negan's words echoed in the dim room, each one twisting deeper into Joel's heart. The pain surged through him like wildfire. You'd done the unimaginable for him, sacrificing more than he could comprehend, and now here you were, your hope and loyalty used against you like weapons.

It was more than he could take—Negan was tearing away the last pieces of himself, bit by bit. Joel's fists clenched tight, knuckles white, straining against the binds holding him back, desperate to shut Negan up, to take back what had been lost.

Negan’s voice grew sharper, each taunt slicing like a blade. "You see, Joel? this bitch is loyal and fucking crazy, she killed her own child for you! just to make a new baby for you!"

"She killed her own kid—for you. All that love, all that loyalty, wasted on you."

"But it’s over, you hear me? You and her? Done. I’ll make sure she forgets you. And when I’m finished with you, there’ll be nothing left."

The world narrowed to this single moment. Negan, too consumed with his taunts to notice, didn’t see you move.

In a swift, silent motion, you grabbed a jagged tool from the ground behind him, the weight of it heavy in your hand. You swung it, heart pounding, and plunged it into Negan's chest with everything you had.

Negan gasped, staggering back, his eyes flashing with fury and shock. In an instant, he retaliated, plunging his knife into your side.

The pain ripped through you, a white-hot flash as you felt the blade sink in, stealing the air from your lungs.

"Joel..."

Time slowed, the world narrowing to the throbbing ache and the look on Joel's face—his eyes wide, pure horror carved into every line, as he screamed for you, voice raw and desperate. 

"NO!"

Your name fell from his lips, a broken prayer, just as you stumbled back, collapsing onto the cold ground. Negan kicked you aside with brutal force, your body sliding across the floor as you fought to keep your vision steady.

You could barely hear Joel’s cries over the rushing in your ears, his desperate shout, the anguish that filled every word, but you felt his presence as if he were right there, holding you.

The sound of wood splintering filled the room as Joel threw his weight against the chair, shattering the binds that held him. In one furious motion, he was on his feet, lunging at Negan with a force that seemed to shake the air.

They collided in a storm of fists and fury, each punch landing like thunder. Blood smeared the floor, echoing the carnage that seethed within Joel’s heart, his fists fueled by a rage that seemed boundless.

Every blow was a release, a reckoning for the agony and fear Negan had unleashed.

Through your blurred vision, you saw them—Joel, relentless and unyielding, his fists raining down on Negan, every punch charged with a love he’d never put into words, a love you could feel, pulsing through every beat of your wounded heart.

The scene before you felt like a twisted nightmare, each moment a struggle to stay present, to push through the pain as blood seeped from your wounds.

You clutched your side, feeling the warmth slip between your fingers as you pressed down, refusing to give in. You had to stay awake. You had to stay with him.

Joel was still fighting, his fists relentless, fueled by desperation and a love that spoke louder than words. But Negan’s laugh rang out, mocking, dark.

“Tough guy, Miller? Is that all you got?” Negan’s face was bruised, bloodied, but he still smirked through it, as if even this pain was just another game to him.

"Bring it on!" Negan said. Joel didn’t let up, his fists a storm of anger, of love, of every unspoken promise he’d made. He was protecting you with everything he had.

But in a flash, Negan’s hand found his bat, and with a brutal swing, he sent Joel flying backward, his head colliding with the floor.

As Joel’s head slammed against the cold ground, a sickening thud reverberated through the room, a sound that echoed in the hollow of your chest.

But Negan loomed over him now, his eyes alight with a sadistic joy. “My turn,” he sneered, swinging the bat down again and again, each blow ringing out, a sickening thud that filled the room.

"NO!"

Joel tried to stand, tried to fight, but he was slowing, his strength waning. Blood pooled around him, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were glazed, his face pale.

Blood ran from his temple in a dark, winding river, and you could see the light beginning to fade in his eyes, the haze of consciousness slipping further with each ragged breath.

His gaze found yours, as he tried to smile, to offer you one last reassurance. You felt a surge of panic rise in you, raw and consuming, as you screamed, “NO! STOP IT!" you saw Negan bash his bat to Joel over and over again.

But Negan laughed, a deep, sinister sound that filled every corner of the room. “Look at you, Miller,” he sneered, swinging the bat down again, the force of it making Joel’s body jerk, each strike ripping pieces from your soul.

“You really thought you could win?”

Your vision blurred as hot tears slipped down your cheeks. The pain in your side was blinding, your own blood pooling beneath you, but nothing compared to the sight of Joel—your Joel—bruised, broken, and bleeding, his life slipping away with each heartbeat.

“Wake up, Joel,” you whispered, a plea laced with desperation, but your voice cracked as you saw him begin to fade.

"WAKE UP!" you screamed, “Please, Joel. Wake up!” You tried to rise, but agony shot through you, your body weakening under the weight of your injuries.

All you could do was lie there, helpless, watching as the man you loved was torn apart before your eyes.

Negan paused, his cruel smile widening as he noticed Joel’s lips moving, a faint whisper escaping.

“What’s that, tough guy? what did you say? oh my God! tough son of a bitch! look! he tried to speak to you!” He laughed looking at you as Negan point to Joel laying in the ground blood all over him, mocking, stepping back just enough to give Joel room to speak.

Joel’s head lifted, his bloodied face turned to you, his voice broken but determined.

“C-close… your eyes, doll…” His words were barely audible, each syllable a struggle, blood trickling from his mouth as he tried to form the words.

He lifted a hand, reaching out to you, trembling, his fingers stretching to bridge the aching space between you.

You shake your head crying, "No...Joel...", The world closed in around you, the weight of your love for him too heavy, too fierce, to bear the thought of letting go.

Tears blurred your vision, and you choked back a sob, heart shattering as you whispered back, “You can’t… I can’t lose you.”

"J-just, c-close your eyes, you're gonna be okay," he said again, blood now coming out from his mouth again.

Your chest heaved, your vision blurred with tears. No, you thought, this can’t be it.

The man who’d become everything to you—the man who’d fought against his own darkness just to hold onto yours—was fading. You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t lose him.

Then, as if by divine intervention, your gaze fell to the floor.

It's your gun. Your bible and your gun you hadn't see in a long time.

The gun and the Bible Frank had given you, lying just within reach beneath the table. A fire rekindled within you.

A fury as deep and fierce as your love for Joel, you need to save him. This man would fight to his last breath for you, and you'd do the same for him.

Then you began to crawl, inch by painful inch, toward the weapon. Negan, too caught up in his victory, hadn’t noticed, his laughter grating on your raw nerves.

“Oh, don’t worry, Joel,” Negan sneered, leaning over him with twisted delight. “I’m gonna take real good care of your girl here. Good night.”

But before he could swing, before he could deliver that final, sickening blow, you rose to your knees, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The sound shattered the silence. Negan froze, the shock evident in his wide, stunned eyes as he stumbled, blood blooming across his chest. You fired again.

You didn’t stop. Y

He looked at you, eyes narrowing, but you held your ground, staring into him with a steady, unyielding gaze.

Again and again and again, you pressed the trigger, feeling your breath hitch with each pull, each impact sinking deeper, as if each shot was tearing away the chains he had wrapped around you.

You are screaming as the fury poured from you, pouring all the agony into each pull of the trigger, trying to emptying every last round into him, watching him fall, watching his face twist in horror as his strength faded.

Finally, the gun clicked, empty, but you weren’t finished. Dropping the weapon, you stepped forward, picking up his bat.

The weight felt righteous in your hands. Standing over him, you paused, staring down into his eyes, watching the realization settle—he knew he’d lost.

Negan’s bloodied mouth twisted into a smile, his laughter hoarse and fading. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice broken, taunting to the very end. “All grown up now.”

Those were his last words.

You raised it high and swung the bat with everything you had, unleashing everything he’d taken from you, every wound he had caused, every hope he’d tried to crush.

The sound of cracking bone echoing in the room, a raw, primal scream tearing from your throat as you brought it down again and again and the bone shattered beneath you.

The world faded, reduced to the rhythmic, furious release of pain, until nothing was left but silence, his broken body beneath you.

You dropped the bat, chest heaving, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

And then you heard it—Joel’s voice, barely a whisper, calling your name, grounding you, reminding you of who you were beyond the fury.

You turned toward him, your body swaying with the weight of pain and exhaustion. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, as if the ground itself wanted to hold you back, to stop you from reaching him.

But you pushed forward, collapsing beside him, your trembling hands finding his blood-streaked face, brushing against his stubbled cheek with a gentleness that defied the violence you’d just endured.

"Joel… hang on," you whispered, but the words barely escaped your lips, thick with tears.

His head lolled against you, his brown eyes finding yours, and the blood pooled in his hair shimmered like some tragic halo.

You could feel the strength slipping from his body, a slow ebbing tide that pulled him further away with every heartbeat.

"Look at me, doll," he murmured, his voice a threadbare whisper, his hand lifting with a tremor to brush your cheek, his thumb sweeping away the tears that blurred your vision.

"You’re… you’re gonna be okay."

You shook your head, gathering him closer, your blood mingling with his as you pressed his head to your lap, cradling him as though you could shelter him from the world that had dealt you both such cruelty.

"No, we’re gonna be okay," you insisted, your voice breaking under the weight of it, a plea wrapped in promise.

"Don’t leave me… please, Joel. I can’t do this without you."

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the quiet resignation in his bruised face as he tried to smile, each line etched into his skin telling stories of a life spent fighting—and now, his final fight slipping through his grasp.

He lifted a hand, pressing against the wound on your side even as his own blood stained your fingers. Every breath was shallow, every word a strain.

He leaned his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes barely focusing but still on you, clinging to this moment, to you.

"I’m sorry, babygirl," he whispered, as if the words themselves could bind you together just a little longer.

“No. Don’t… don’t do this to me, Joel,” you begged, pressing your hand harder to his wound too, as if the pressure alone could stop the flow of time, of everything that was slipping away.

You cupped his face, tears falling onto his skin, mingling with the blood that soaked you both. "We’re gonna be okay. We have to be."

But even as you spoke, darkness edged into your vision too, the room narrowing to the beat of your shared breaths, slow and unsteady.

His fingers held yours, entwined in a desperate grip that softened as his strength faded, his pulse a faint echo in your hand. “I love you,” he whispered.

The words raw and cracked, filling the hollow spaces between you, the ache and loss that could never be spoken. “I’ll always be with you.”

The world blurred, the pain and fear blending into a strange calm as you traced your fingers over his face, memorizing every line, every scar.

"I love you so much, Joel," you whispered, voice barely a breath, pressing your lips to his forehead, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, the man who had become your salvation, your strength.

He looked at you, his gaze softening, his hand falling to rest against your cheek one last time. "I found you,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the darkness began to claim him.

In the distance, a sound broke the silence—a wail of sirens, voices muffled and faint, calling yours and Joel's name.

You heard your own name echoed, felt the vibration of the world rushing toward you, but it felt so far away, unreachable.

“Joel?” you whispered, weak and fading, your vision blurring as exhaustion pulled you under. Joel didn’t respond, his head resting still against your lap, his breathing shallow, slipping away from you.

Your name rang out again, closer now, a voice that you knew—a voice that felt like home.

"Tommy," you managed, a faint smile softening your lips as your gaze lifted, catching sight of his familiar face before the darkness claimed you.

“He found us.”

And then, like the soft closing of a book, everything faded into black.

HANG ON PEOPLE, WE STILL GOT ONE MORE FINAL CHAPTER!

[lovelaceisntdead]

depression is the stupidest thing ever. like literally just stop that.

[whatudottu]

New OC time, and for every person to call him an animal Wrau adds another tally to his shit list-

Ough fuck my hand broke

[mugwot]

hm

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw: sh, suivide

[spacemancharisma]

.

[pepprs]

like it’s VERY very important to not text and drive. and i understand how dangerous it is to do that and to be distracted at all in any way for any amount of time on the road. i know it’s important to learn about these stories and bear witness to them. but i just think. like idk. watching multiple of them every day for 10 days (with a two day break halfway through for the weekend) is realy… like idk. i think after seeing a couple you can get the point. i don’t want to sound dismissive or lackadaisacal and im scared im sounding like that but i just am so freaked out by all of this and witb every new horror they’re showing us it’s scaring me worse.

[kumashire]

I try to be Good and Strong and Independent Etc. and mind my business and stay in my lane and focus on improving myself and stay busy with my Independent hobbies but I don't think anyone likes to feel unloved and annoying all the time. I think that would start to wear on anyone a bit

[miharuhebinata]

some of y'all will really give minors a free pass for anything. if some dumbass 15 year old says some stupid offensive shit on the internet, no they obviously don't need to be dog-piled but they also don't need to be coddled??

[strohller27]

.

[leebrontide]

Every single time I see a take that amounts to "if you write about X happening, or like fiction where X happens, you like X" I'm reminded of this one time I was at a casual friends house as a young kid. We were in her room, pretending to "be orphans" escaping from an evil orphanage and having to take care of each other and fend for ourselves. It was all very Little Orphan Annie/All Dogs Go to Heaven and based on the 80s pop media.

And this girl's mom comes in, hears what we're playing and gets all MAD and UPSET. She says that if we play act something, it's because we want it to happen. So her daughter must WANT HER TO DIE.

First off lady, we were 6 year year olds, so take it down several notches. We barely had a concept of mortality for fucks sake. She made us feel so guilty and ashamed, because she was taking our game personally.

Now I have a 5 year old. And sometimes she looks at me and says "pretend you're dead, and I have to -" Whatever it is. Some adult task she's assigned herself.

And it's just so transparently obvious that she's practicing the idea of having to do things on her own. Which is exactly what 5 year olds are supposed to do. I actually find it very flattering that the only way she can envision me not being available to help her is to be literally deceased. Otherwise, obviously, she wouldn't have to do scary hard things alone.

It's a natural coping mechanism. She's self-soothing about what would happen if I wasn't there by play-acting independence in a perfectly safe environment. She's also practicing skills she needs, and making up excuses for practicing them on her own, without taking on the responsibility of being able to do them by herself all the time yet.

Humans mentally rehearse bad this in their brains all the time. We can do that by ruminating- going over worries over and over again, which tends to lead to anxiety and helplessness and depression. Or we can do it with a sense of play- by recognizing that the fiction is fiction and we can dip our toe into these experiences and expose ourselves to bad things without actually being injured.

My daughter does not want me dead. And I don't want bad things to happen in real life. But fiction and pretend help me face the horrors of the world and think about them without collapsing or messing myself up mentally.

[sensitivegoblin]

My sisters boyfriend is being a massive dick and I just have to sit by and watch her cry

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[skteezcursed]

❝greedy little darlin❞ — p.sh.

PAIRING. frat!park seonghwa x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. dom!seonghwa. switch!sub!reader. university au. frat members ateez. sex talk (among adults). drinking (not too much, but just enough). pet names (mostly darling, reader is called slut once, good girl and handsome, prob more but i cant remember now). blowjob. hair pulling. cunnilingus. tongue fucking. over stimulation. sex with a condom (please remember to do that irl). light chocking. three? slaps on the ass. not proof read. i guess that's all, lmk if i forgot something.

SYNOPSIS. everyone knew you and Seonghwa were into each other, your friends even places a bet on when that would happen, although it never did. until he gets tired of your antics and decides to put you in your place.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. ~5,6k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateez frat boys (that i will still make so give me a moment) and of the atz house event you can't out rage us. shout out to @bro-atz for helping coming up with the idea for this, and to @seulrinnie-rinrin for betaing part of this. hopefully this is me leaving my slump so yeah, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

Nothing was ever simple with Seonghwa. 

Ever since the beginning, it was as if something was pulling you two closer and closer, the tension growing at each encounter. At first, everyone thought it was because you two didn’t know each other, the thing is that, after you met, the tension didn’t falter, it actually increased exponentially, to the point where your friends were making bets as to when and who would break first. 

Park Seonghwa is the type of guy that makes you question everything. Because how can a man be so drop dead gorgeous with minimum to no effort? How can he look the squishiest human being with those adorable boba eyes, but also have the devilish look on his face when his eyes became siren and the smirk in present, making you question if you should really keep that line between friends high, blocking your passage, blocking you to reach his collar and kiss him like you need oxygen, to feel his marvelous tongue in between your folds, his hair in between your fingers as he -

“Earth to (y/n), you there?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” you looked around your friends with an apologetic look before focusing on the food in front of you, sighing. “What are we talking about again?”

“Damn, you truly dozed off,” the chuckle Mingi gave, was followed by some of the others as San just turned to you with that sweet smile of his, the dimples present, a reminder he too, was holding back a laugh. 

“Since midterms are over, we were planning on having a little get together at the frat, no big party, just a few drink with friends, it’s not like any of us have time to organize it anyways,” you nodded taking another bite of your food, the movement being noticed by San who exchanged glances with the others. “So, can we count you on?”

“Don’t you consider me a friend, Sannie?” Everyone laughed as you leaned to kiss San’s cheek, apologizing. “I’ll be there, just let me know when.”

  “We are all gonna be there, by the way,” the knowing smile that Wooyoung sent your way, made you want to push his face against his plate, “in case you want to dress up.”

  “Why would I dress up to a get together with you guys?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because Hwa is gonna be there.”

“And you have a huge crush on him,” Jongho continued Yunho’s line and you could see Yeosang opening his mouth.

“And let's not forget the sexual tension there is!”

“You two should honestly just fuck already and end everyone’s suffering at this point.”

“What the fuck you guys talking about, and another word from you,” you pointed at Wooyoung who had made the last remark, “and I’ll shove your face against the plate!”

“Oh, kinky, should we let Hwa know?”

Yunho commented and all the boys bursted into laughter as all you wanted was to be buried six feet under. 

  Of course you had a crush on Seonghwa. Of course whenever you two were together there was this small flirtatious situation, and the sexual tension was definitely high whenever you two were close in a room, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“I’m sure he’ll cave in soon and fuck you,” San’s words brought you back, making you eye him slightly shocked. “What? He thinks you are hot, he even said it to us the first time you two met, but I also don’t know why he hasn't done shit.”

“Because he likes to play with his food before eating it.”

Wooyoung jumped from the table the same second he finished his sentence already running from you trying to slap him, making everyone at the table and around you seven to laugh at the situation.

“I’ll fucking end you, Jung Wooyoung!”

  You dolled up, he knew you would.

  You always did whenever you two were to meet, only to be even more irresistible in his eyes. The fact that his brother’s from the fraternity knew how badly he wanted you, didn’t help as they would always create situations for the two of you to get close. Not that neither bothered to argue. Seonghwa had tried to reason with the younger ones, but as soon as he realized you didn’t really care, even indulged whenever it happened, made him decide to test how far you were willing to go.

  As if you knew about it, you played along. 

You accepted his drinks, laughed at his jokes, shiver under his touch, lean towards him when he was close. Yet, you would also pull your own strings. You knew he wouldn’t be jealous, you noticed on the first few tries on how he simply would smile or laugh at your useless attempts at making him feel anything when you were with someone else, which was not the case when he was the one trying to make you jealous, even if unintentionally. 

So you changed your methods. From revealing clothes and trying to make him jealous, you simply decided to make yourself present, being there if needed, and flee if that was not the case, you stopped trying to get his attention, deciding to enjoy your time and maybe, just maybe, get with someone to alleviate the ache between your thighs whenever Seonghwa got too handsy with you before leaving you high and dry.

  ATZ frat was known, as any other house on the Greek Road, to be just to mess around, never to create a relationship. Although you knew Wooyoung since you were kids, you knew that to be true whenever you and the other boys would get together, even San who appeared to be the one who leans mostly towards dating, would fuck around from time to time. The odds weren’t in your favor, so you decided to brush it off, to have fun with your friends, to go to their frat from time to time, and that was when your ‘relationship’ with Seonghwa started to change. 

Both of you knew that this was never going forward. The moment you realized that, it was like something shifted in him, he started to go towards you whenever you met, regardless if it was at the frat or not. You knew that didn’t mean he was going to accept your advances, especially after you found out Hongjoong had established a rule that family and close friends from the members were off limits after a complicated situation happened a few weeks back and that you were highly aware of.

  “So, you guys actually decided to throw a low profile party, hm? That’s a first,” you comment as Seonghwa opened the door and took a step back to let you in the frat before taking your jacket off, which he quickly took it in his hands as he closed the door. “Is anyone else coming?”

  You asked, looking around, trying to see anyone, but the house looked rather empty. “I don’t know, but the main entertainment has finally arrived,” he purred against your ear, making you shiver as you smirked, keeping your composure. “Care for something to drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll have whatever you are having,” you answer quickly, trying to brush off the shiver as you follow him towards the kitchen. “Heard it was a get together with friends… Was kind of expecting more people, if I’m honest.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Seonghwa asked as he handed you a bottle of soju, clacking the bottles before bringing it to his lips, predatory eyes scanning your face. “Or are you asking to be sure you will be the only one here?”

  As he took a step closer to you, you changed the weight of your foot before bringing the soju bottle to your own lips. “No one in particular, and we both know I don't mind sharing attention.”

  Your eyes wandered across his face, lingering on his smirk before your fingers played with the necklace that hung low on his sheer shirt, the small opening where the necklace hang allowing your fingers to brush along the skin, as you noticed the smirk on Seonghwa’s lips grow slightly, his tongue poking out before you move away from him with a smirk.

  “C’mon man, a hundred!”

  “Fuck off Wooyoung, I’m not joining,” Mingi said pushing Wooyoung slightly chuckling as both their eyes landed on you, “it will be just another night and you know it, you will lose money.”

  “So why you scared of betting?” 

  Wooyoung smirked at Mingi with raised eyebrows. “What you two up to, this time?”

  “Betting if you and Hwa finally give in and fuck,” Wooyoung says bluntly making you scoff as you took another sip of your drink as you watch Seonghwa from afar talking to a few other people. “I’m betting it will, but the others are sure it’s just another night where you two keep with your cat and mouse game.”

  “He knows I’m down, it’s in his lane,” you chuckle at Wooyoung’s words as you finish your drink. “I’m getting another bottle, do you guys want it?”

  Both denied as Wooyoung continued to patronize Mingi, making you shake your head as you moved past Seonghwa, a little too close for comfort as your hand brush on his ass and you notice his eyes fall on you as you kept going to the kitchen, giving him a smirk as you open the fridge to get another bottle of soju.

  “That’s your fourth bottle,” you hear Seonghwa’s voice, seeing him eye you from the counter, the bottle on his hands half empty, “shouldn’t you slow down?”

  “Oh, is the mighty Park Seonghwa worried about me?” You smirk as you choose your bottle, opening as you eyed him. “That’s adorable, and I would actually believe it if it was a different scenario…”

  “Why do you think I’m not?” 

  His eyes followed your form as you walked towards him, his hand instinctively finding your hip pressing it lightly, as he noticed your breath hitch as the bottle met your lips. 

  “Because we are at a party, a chill one, where nothing major is gonna happen…” Your eyes followed down to his sheer shirt, nails tracing down, touching his skin and abs over the shirt as you reached his pants, fingers vagally there before it went to the hook of the pants. “And I’m getting bored.”

  His hand on your hips pressed, making you bite your lip as he took a step closer, his lips hovering over yours as his eyes studied every reaction. “So you intend to get drunk?”

  “It’s not a solution, but it’s a possibility,” you say as your body gets closer to him, the freaking magnetic relationship you had whenever you two were together. “You have pretty friends…”

  Your eyes avert for the people behind Seonghwa, who follows your eyes as it lands on some of his colleagues and friends before reaching yours with a small knowing smirk. 

  “I don’t think they are available…”

  “Funny, because some of them already engaged in a few conversations with me,” you chuckle watching him, as one of your fingers extended and touched near his crotch area lightly, “and i can’t say I’m not interested in what they have to say…”

  “Then have your fun with them, I’ll be waiting to hear about it later,” he hinted with raised eyebrows to you as his bottle reached his lips, his eyes never leaving you. 

  “Oh, so they are the kiss and tell type…” You murmur looking at his friends once more. “Might as well prepare for a performance then.”

  “You wouldn’t need to if they knew what they were doing,” his eyes burned on you, as a smirk played on his lips, his hand pulling you as it reached your lower back, pressing you against his, against the bulge in his pants. His lips brushed against your ear, “but hey, if you are gonna fake better put on a memorable show, which I’m sure you are more than capable of doing.”

  “I always do,” your voice sounded steady but your body was betraying you, as usual. “Wouldn’t be bad to not have to fake it everytime.”

  Your hands moved between your bodies as you squeezed his bulge lightly, hearing him wince. “Feeling brave today, are we?”

  “No, just needing to relieve some stress, after all, finals are finally over.”

  You brushed your lips against Seonghwa’s before squeezing his bulge once more before pushing him away with the hand that held the soju bottle as you moved past him, smirking. 

  “So this is how we are playing tonight?” Seonghwa said under his breath. “Good luck with your boy toy search.”

  He said a little louder, which you only raised your hand dismissing his comment, as his eyes lingered on your figure. The pants becoming a bother. Finals week had taken its toll on him, and just like you, he also needed a release. His eyes trailed on you as he watched you move, talk, touch and laugh at everyone's commentaries, a knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk always present as he called in one of his friends.

  As it usually happened, neither you nor Seonghwa engaged once more throughout the night as you went on and on talking to every male, choosing if you’d bring any of them back home with you. The soju bottle now empty as your eyes wander on the last choices.

  “Found them already?”

  The amusement in Seonghwa voice already told the smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe…”

  “I’ll take that as no then,” you felt him get closer to you, his front pressing on your side. “I may have someone for you, if you want.”

  “Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” your eyes quickly shot him a confused but amused look. 

  “And you seemed too bothered right now, so what is your answer?” 

  His hot breath against your neck and ear as you felt his lips touch your skin as his eyes studied you, as yours followed around the room trying to catch a glimpse of his friends, missing one as you turned to him with a smirk. Lips almost touching as you did, feeling his hand on your lower back. 

  “I guess you got my taste correctly.”

  “Darling, when I say I know you, I mean it.”

Lips quickly found your cheekbone as his hand pulled you closer to his body. You held any sound not giving him the satisfaction.

  “Cocky as always, aren’t you?” You chuckle but not move away from him, your nails scratching his abs through the shirt and subtly, as you feel them contract. “Why don’t you go get him then? I’m getting rather tired.”

  “He went upstairs though, should we go fetch him?” His eyes were siren-like, a small smirk as he took your wrist, guiding you up the stairs. The look from some of the boys from the frat only made you laugh as you shook your head. “What’s funny?”

  Seonghwa asks curiously as you reach the second floor. “Some of the boys looked at you guiding me.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” he chuckled as well, his demeanor changing a little as he kept his hand on your wrist guiding you through the rooms, reaching the one you knew to be his. “Someone spilled a drink on his shirt, he asked to borrow one of mine.”

  Your eyebrows raised, nodding still processing what was happening, as Seonghwa was a master of teasing you and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d guide you to the rooms — or his in specific — only to get you even more frustrated. Your eyes studied his features as his hand opened his room motioning for you to enter. 

   “I’m not fucking your friend in your room, Seonghwa.”

  “Who says anything on those lines, darling?” A chuckle left his lips. “Now, will you be a good girl and enter the room, or don’t you trust me to have your best interest in heart?”

  You bit your lip, noticing his gaze fall on them for a second before you motion to enter his room, eyes looking for the friend who was indeed with a shirt from Seonghwa and a stained one in hand. 

  “Oh, hello,” the boys said moving away from his phone, putting his shirt in a corner before his eyes fell on you and then Seonghwa. “Wingman, hm?”

  You shook your head at his words, noticing Seonghwa nod as you focused on the boy that took a few steps towards you. 

  “A good wingman, nonetheless,” your voice was laced with amusement as his friend reached closer with a smirk, his hand going to cup your face. “Now, shall we leave?”

  “Just give us a second, will you, darling?” Seonghwa said against your neck as you noticed both leave you, allowing you to take a breather. Of course Seonghwa would pull something like that. Few seconds later you hear footsteps and the movement of the door. “Thank you for being such a good girl, darling.”

  At that, the door closed the same second Seonghwa’s hands found yours hips pulling you against his front making you gasp, before chuckling lightly.

  “Smart, I gotta give you that.”

  “Couldn’t have made it easy for you to figure it out, could I?” 

  His lips quickly found your neck as you moved your head to the side giving him access as you arched your back, pressing your ass against his bulge. One hand found his on your hip as the other went to the back of his neck tangling on his long locks.

  “Of course, what would be the fun in that?” You chuckle before gasping as you felt him suck on the skin of your neck, as you put pressure on his nape, feeling his right hand lower towards your exposed thigh, the tips quickly wander to your inner thighs going up teasing your clothed core. “If you are just teasing this time, I swear —”

  “I’m done with your antics, darling, it’s time to put you in your place.” The whimper that left your mouth made him chuckle against your neck as he put pressure on your clothed clit making you jolt. “C’mon darling, I think we postponed this for far too long,” his hands quickly turned you to face him, one hand on your chin before going to your hair. “Why don’t we start with you on your knees?”

  You oblige letting him push you down, until your knees felt the floor, his crotch eye leveled, your mouth watering as his other hand undid his pants, the one on your head entangling with your hair as his pants fell, leaving him only in his underwear, the outline of his cock on display as you swallow hard. A light caress on your scalp was the only ‘okay’ you got before your hands quickly went to his waistband, lowering the underwear slowly. 

  His cockhead glowing with precum as you licked your lips feeling him pull your head near his pelvis, your hands pulling the rest of his underwear down as his cockhead quickly met the touch of your lips. The groan that left his lips making you smile as the pool in between your legs grew. As one hand finished pulling down his underwear, the other quickly met the base of his cock. 

  “Such a handsome face with such a pretty cock,” you said with a smile before opening your mouth, taping his tip on your tongue, feeling his fingers tighter on your head. 

  “Such a pretty filthy mouth, I wonder how it would look filled with my cum.”

  Without a warning, he pushed your head down his length, moaning as your lips and tongue made contact with his cock, your hand working on the base of the cock as the other rested on his thigh. In swift movements you started to little by little take him in your mouth, gagging lightly from time to time, before he let you breath, the spit line connecting your swollen lips to his cock only making him twitch before fucking your mouth once more. 

  “Fuck, darling, do you like when I fuck your mouth like that, hm?” One of his hands caressed your hollowed cheeks as he slowed his movements a bit, to be able to look at you. “Such a pretty little thing for me, taking me in your mouth so well like that, I wonder how your cunt feels if this is how well your mouth treats me.”

  You mumble with your mouth around his cock, making the vibration run through his body as one of your hands went up his abs under the shirt, which he quickly took it off, throwing somewhere along the pants and underwear as you started to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks, one hand on the base of his cock, sometimes joining in the movement your head was making. The sounds and cusses that went out of Seonghwa’s mouth only made you wetter by the second, if it wasn’t for your damped panties, you sure would have made a messy spot of arousal on his floor.

  At this point you tried your best to keep yourself composed, mouth open and holding yourself steady as he fucked your mouth, holding your head in place before his movements become more erratic. You could feel him twitch on your mouth the last few times, the cockhead reaching the back of your throat, your eyes watering as your nails sank onto the skin of his thigh before his release filled your mouth and throat.

  Before he could pull it out you held his base, slurping as you got the last drop of his cum in your mouth, swallowing and opening your mouth, putting his tip again in your tongue. The smirk along with the groan that left him was enough to make you want to do it all over again, to have him fuck your mouth once more, but his hand was quickly on your chin pulling you up, before connecting your mouths, making both moan against your lips. 

  Your hands quickly found his half-hard member, swift movements as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. His hand kept firm on the back of your head, holding you close to his as he ravish on your mouth, while the other went to your thigh, raising your dress to the waistline before slapping it harshly, making you jolt and moan against his mouth. A smirk could be felt as he slapped your ass one more time, pulling your hair, parting your lips, before smacking it once more, a glint in his eyes as he watched your whole body tremble.

  He quickly moves you to the bed, pushing you down as his lips meet yours once more, your hands moving to his hair as one of his keeps holding your neck, the other quickly parting your legs as he pressed his knee to your clothed core, the hand holding your hips in place as you instinctively you started moving slowly as he restrain your movements from the grip on your hip making you whimper against his mouth.

  “Please, please Hwa, I need — argh!” You complain as you feel the pressure of his knee against your clit, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses along your neck and collarbone. “Please fuck me, please Hwa, I need you to —”

  “I said I’d put you in your place, not take orders from you, I’m sure you know the difference, right?” He hovered over you as he finished saying that, his hand previously on your hips going up under your dress to pinch your nipple making you whine and throw your head back onto the mattress. “I need an answer, darling,” he said once more, his lips hovering against yours as he forced you to look at him, his other hands massaging your breast as he pressured your clit once more, making you move your hips searching for friction, only making him chuckle. “Be a good girl and answer my question and you’ll get to cum, although I do like to play with my food before eating it, makes it even more delicious to watch you come undone on my tongue.”

  “Fucking hell,” you breath as you saw the smirk and watched his eyes fall to your parted lips, as the friction with his knee helped a little, but only made your insides burn with the need to have him inside you. “Yes, I-I know the difference, now ple-please touch me, please, Hwa.”

  “Looks like you know how to beg, that’s cute,” he said before both his hands found your dress, pulling it over your head, exposing the majority of your body, the only covered part being the place you wanted him the most. “Time to grant your wish, darling.”

  His lips quickly started a trail of wet open kisses down your neck, one of his hands holding your waist, the other playing with your nipple, pitching it as the other was finally met with Seonghwa’s mouth as he sucked in and played with the nipple, both with his tongue when he wouldn’t let marks over your chest. The lust in his eyes only got darker as he saw the marks embellishing your skin. 

  “Hwa, please… It hurts,” you whimper as you move your hips quickly against his leg, making him chuckle as he starts to kiss down your stomach, kneeling before you, siren eyes locked on you. “I’ve been good, now please fuck me.”

  Although you did plead, your voice carried a hint of demand that made Seonghwa arched his brows and smirked as his hands spread your legs wider. You lifted your upper body, resting it on your elbows as you wanted to see the sight of Seonghwa’s head between your legs, as you have imagined and dreamed about it so many times before, only to groan when he kissed your inner thigh, neglecting the heat coming from your clothed folds. 

  “Patience comes for those who wait, darling, and I rush for no one,” his voice was laced with lust and a hint of a challenge, making you bite your lip, knowing if you pushed his rules, he might leave you high and dry. His smirk grew as he realized you caught up with his hint. “I knew you were a good girl, a brat even, but good to know you can be easily tamed,” his lips touched your damped panties right above your clit making you jolt and curse under your breath. “Now, lay down on the bed and let me have my fun with you, okay, darling?”

  Before you could do as he said, his lips found your clothes core making you throw your head back with a moan, feeling his hands moving and pulling your panties to the side, his lips finding your sensitive clit making you jolt as he chuckled at your reaction, tip of his tongue touching your clit as he ravish on the sight of you squirming on his bed. Your hands quickly found his hair pulling it to you, which he obliged for the time being.

   As his lips enveloped and sucked your clit, his fingers that were parting your legs found your core, coming up and down your entrance, making you jolt and clench around nothing as he would never put them in too much.

  “Fuck Hwa, please please please please,” you squirmed already feeling tears fill your eyes as you looked down at him. “Fucking hell,” you said once more as your eyes met, the siren lustful eyes that you only dreamed of having between your legs before feeling his tongue play with your clit as two fingers enter you, making you throw your head back and arch your back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

  You screamed as you felt the build up in your stomach, only for him to stop completely before you feel his hands tanking off you panties before hovering over you, kissing your lips once more as his fingers played with your slit before entering you and curling inside, his thumb pressing on your clit as you moaned against Seonghwa’s lips, cussing and begging at the same time, as all you wish was to cum.

  “My fingers or mouth, darling?”

  “Both.”

  “Greedy little darling, unfortunately you can only pick one,” you open your mouth to complain but only a moan escapes as he adds another finger making you squirm under him. “Choose now, or you won't have any.”

  “Mouth.”

  You say breathlessly as he lowers himself so his lips hover over yours. “Good girl.”

  His lips are soon connected to your clit once more as his fingers leave you making you whine at the loss and clench around nothing as he quickly starts to ravish on your cunt. His tongue enters you in places you never thought it would be possible as his nose flickers on your sensitive clit making you tug on his hair as moans, curses and Soenghwa’s name leave your mouth at each strip he licks and each time his tongue enters your core. 

  “Fuck Hwa, so good, fucking god—”

  “Cum for me darling, I want you to cum on my tongue, only then I’ll fill you up, so be a good girl and listen to what I say.”

  You could barely process what he said as the build up in your stomach became too much, as you tried to push Seonghwa away as the stimulation started to become too great but he didn’t pull away, smirking at how much you squirmed because of his mouth. As heat flushed through your body making you numb, Seonghwa took his type to lick you clean watching you jolt from how sensitive you were before hovering above you once more.

  “You ready for my cock, darling?” You just nodded as you watched him smirk, going for a condom that was in his drawer, quickly putting it on before positioning himself at your entrance. “I need to hear it.”

  “I want you to fuck me senseless, Park Seonghwa.”

  “My pleasure, my darling.”

  At that he thrusts fully into you, holding your hips in place, keeping steady as he watched you, wondering if it was okay for him to move. Once you started to breathe again and your hand met his forearm as the other went for your breast, he smiled and started to move. Steady at first, watching how your facial expressions would change, playing with your body as he wanted to see what would make you tic, what would bring the sweetest sound from your mouth, but most importantly, what would make you come back to his bed. 

  “Fuck Hwa, yes, please, just like — argh fuck, YES!” 

  You couldn’t care less if someone was listening, if you had to take the walk of shame tomorrow, if this was only a one night stand, how you’d face Seonghwa once more if that was the case, none of it matter, all it mattered was how well he was rearranging your organs as his fingers sank into the flesh of your hip and he’d pull you towards him. 

  “Is my greedy little darling enjoying my cock?”

  “Yes, yes, yes fucking yes.”

   Seonghwa smiled at your words as one of his hands left your hip to find your clit, making you scream the moment he started to put pressure there, feeling you clench around him, his eyes closing as he could only think about making you cum on his cock, think about hearing you moan like that once more for him. As he felt his own orgasm coming closer, his other hand went for your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you roll your eyes back as his thumb still moved slowly on your clit as his thrusts became erratic.

  “Cum for me darling, cum on my cock like the good slut you are, yes?”

  And that was enough to push you over the edge as you screamed, arching your back as you creamed around his cock, feeling his thrusts start to slow down before his last thrust kept steady inside you as you knew he had emptied himself. His hand on your clit went to the mattress as the one on your neck found your cheeks caressing it lightly before he locked your lips together. 

  “So that just happened.”

  He chuckled at your words, making you laugh as well, before he looked at you with the boba eyes you knew so well on certain occasions. 

  “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” You nodded whining at the loss of his cock as you watched him take the condom out and toss it on the trash as he got a cloth to clean you up, surprising you a little, bringing a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Are you okay?” He asked as he carefully cleaned you up, eyeing you with concerned eyes when you hissed a little and he quickly apologized.

  “It’s okay, Hwa, don’t worry about it,” you comment, trying to get up already looking for your clothes, only to have Seonghwa hold you by the arm as your legs failed you. “I’m fine, I’ll be okay in a bit, just —”

  “Lay down,” it wasn’t a request although it sounded like it coming from his mouth, by how careful he said it. “You are not leaving this room, we will sleep and then talk about it tomorrow, unless you are uncomfortable —”

  “It’s fine I— I thought you’d want me to leave since…”

  “I’m a little cold, yes, but not that cold. I could never make a girl leave my room right after something like this, especially if that girl is you.” Your breath hitched and Seonghwa smiled at you. “Now, let’s go lay down, do you want one of my shirts to sleep on, darling?”

  You nodded, smiling at him as you sat back on the bed, as Seonghwa smiled at you handing you a shirt and boxers, which you thanked as he pulled the covers after putting shorts himself and laying next to you in bed.

  “Thank you, Seonghwa.”

  “No need to thank me,” he kissed your temple pulling you closer to him on the bed, his hands playing with your hair as he noticed you drifting to dreamland, chuckling lightly. “Goodnight, my darling.”

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[fondcrimes]

the "labru chapter" is the kabru chapter

this is a dungeon meshi love manifesto, but not in the way you think. sorry not sorry for the labrubait

what makes chapter 76 so amazing is kabru’s desperation has little to do with laios specifically. it’s not just about kabru being obsessed with laios and making sure he doesn't cause tragedy, either. I think this chapter emphasizes kabru's struggle with the concept of love and companionship. the point of this chapter is that every critical part of kabru collides at once and renders him useless.

(disclaimer: this post includes a lot of projection/speculation but it's to understand kabru's character arc i promise. for clearer analysis and examination of how kabru's ideologies are constructed, check out this really great post)

kabru is a lone visionary

in ch 76, kabru’s threatened by lycion exposing his true intentions to laios not only bc he wants to prevent laios from joining marcille in her destruction, but also bc laios is also from a short-lived race and kabru needs an ally in his power struggle against elves (esp when the chips are down)

but has kabru really accepted his need for allies in his plight? kabru has spent his adult life suppressing a human urge to connect meaningfully with others. he even keeps rinsha et al. at arm's length in the name of achieving his masculine hero complex/survivor's guilt goals. he's already quite disillusioned bc most adventurers don't have the same goal as he does. so he uses people and gets on their good side for systematic support. he’s well-intentioned and takes care of his party. but the idea that an ally could also protect HIM and make HIM feel safe as well doesn’t really register with him until later on in the narrative bc camaraderie and allyship, at its core, is about acknowledging intimacy. kabru struggles with intimacy sub-textually (his self-neglect and social insincerity) even though he knows how to simulate it to gain others' trust.

but he can’t crack laios, he can’t get him to listen. for lack of a better word, kabru is spoiled by the fruits of his superb perception and emotional intelligence. he also doesn’t cope well with failure (bc his goal is too valuable to ~not~ devote himself to) he puts too much value in conquering laios and when he thinks he's failed, he basically crashes out. the real problem is he still doesn’t understand his true feelings--not feelings for laios, but the root of his desire. the root of his goals and the endless search for companionship.

kabru is a strategic historian

at his core, kabru is a storyteller. he tells himself a variety of stories about his trauma and his goals, which serve as motivation and to some extent, self-protection (as shown in his conversation w mithrun). he deeply understands the role of storytelling in regards to the construction of history and drastic shifts in power.

as an utayan, he understands that the tragedy that overcame his people was not random, but resulted from elven negligence of a disenfranchised people. it is imperative for kabru to cement himself as a voice for otherwise voiceless people. in his story, he has no choice but to handle the hero, if not become the hero himself.

kabru even has a story about his pursuit of laios, mainly that laios is currently the most capable person of defeating the mage and that he must do whatever it takes to ensure laios doesn’t fuck it up. his instincts are right, sure, but at first, he places special value in laios’ capabilities that almost seems unearned… like yes he’s studied the island adventurers with frightening expertise, so it makes sense he would have a good idea about who is the most equipped to succeed. but his early suspicions of the toudens seems to complicate my perception of his knowledge by adding emotional depth and a layer of tinhattery so to speak.

canonically, kabru has been rebuffed by laios multiple times (which is so... lolll) when he's talking with his party, kabru hides behind the excuse of dungeon but he’s been trying to get his attention this whole time. to me it reads like he's got a bruised ego from being ignored and is being a hater about it (so real lol). it's funny bc kabru is usually great at taking shit from others (esp elves) if it means nobody suspects/interrogates his true intentions and he can keep the peace. so why does laios tick him off so bad? now we have to get into the psychoanalysis of it all!

kabru is a cynic

first and foremost, kabru’s cynical philosophy about humans is challenged by the touden mission. but plenty of people don’t care about the impact of their actions, so why does kabru obsess over the toudens at the start? I figured kui changed gears with kabru's characterization following his introduction, but I want to try to connect it to kabru's unresolved survivor's guilt. kabru is the sole survivor of a catastrophe caused by negligence and oversight. he criticizes the negative impact of the toudens' generosity and naïveté and confirms his cynical worldview (the road to hell is paved with best intentions), but still maintains a level-headed perspective. on the other hand, kabru's interactions with laios are tinged with irrational jealousy/resentment/desperation, even prior to kabru learning laios' character/intentions as an adventurer. I cannot emphasize enough that I am employing a neutral definition of jealousy here--it seems kabru is jealous of the freedom to not care the way laios does not care about the fate of the island. this isn't to say laios doesn't care about humans, he does, but he seems so singleminded compared to kabru esp in ch 76. kabru sees laios going to the literal end of the world to save his sister. laios gets to be human selfishly, kind-natured but ultimately self-prioritizing.

kabru correctly assesses motives (besides his own maybe). falin said she’d do anything to protect laios and marcille. laios has been socially rejected by people his whole life, and at first, he only cares about his sister and monsters. kabru has survived horror but only by accident… he doesn't agree with their pov and more importantly, it doesn’t exactly compute with him. the toudens are wholly unaware of their impact, which does not sit well with kabru at all, who understands the impact of negligence better than anyone else, esp how it ends up harming the less fortunate and extremely marginalized in society. it's reminiscent of the age-old trolley problem. while kabru has been the victim of senseless pain, I suspect kabru can’t yet make sense of senseless love. he gets to look down at their cause and call it selfish because it directly contradicts his lived experience.

kabru is an ethicist with a heroic streak

it's easy to glean that kabru wants to be the hero utaya should’ve had. while he's hardcore and intense, but not paranoid enough to do something rash. he uses violence as a means of achieving peace. he's self-aware enough to know his skill limits, which seems rational at a glance but the pressure he puts on himself suggests he views himself as inadequate until he achieves his goal. the races of humans are so split up and he sees that this is a matter of power first and foremost.

with the canaries, kabru submits to political pageantry to make a separate case for innocent people. senseless tragedy is unforgivable, but so is the "too little too late" reality of the canary system. he takes on the impossible task of rallying people together to save the dungeon. one read is that he's saving his childhood self from trauma perhaps by saving those like him… he's wishing someone did something before it got bad, wondering why nobody intervened when they had every opportunity to step in. it’s deeper than a sense of duty or fairness, this is about betrayal and retribution.

throughout his life, kabru struggles with the material inequity and limits of love. the human population is fundamentally segmented into a hierarchy due to lifespans and access to power/resources. his mother was the only one who loved him in utaya and she was ostracized because of his appearance and then she was killed due to senseless tragedy. his frustration with the elves encapsulates this idea perfectly, because he is aware of of the limits of their empathy as a long-lived race and adjusts his strategy and rhetoric accordingly. I think milsiril’s love for kabru is genuine, but still infantilizing and smothering due to the racial imbalance. this continues to inform his politics, as he views their perception of short-lived races with contempt. the worst offense is that their bigotry is nonsensical, meaning their hearts cannot be reasoned with.

dungeon meshi is a story about power and politics, yes, but genuine love and acceptance are the catalysts of change and equality. the "invisible gulf" that marcille is referring to is the inability to view other races with love and care. such is the essence of camaraderie. kabru's backstory, family history, and beliefs/motivations raise two important questions for me: who gets to be loved enough to survive, and then to thrive?

kabru is a monster

the emphasis on distinguishing between humans and monsters is quite interesting too. of all sentient beings, who qualifies as worthy of "human" treatment? who deserves empathy and acceptance? kabru seeks these answers to fix the world, but also to justify his place in it.

kabru's lack of self-worth is evident here, but what’s more interesting is he knows many humans suffer worse fates than some monsters. the dehumanization/neglect of fellow humans does not compute, if the premise is humans are superior to demi-humans/non-humans because mutual empathy and understanding. he clings to the superiority of humanity as an appeal to ethos to those in power despite what he might actually believe about himself. to kabru, the true injustice is that humans won’t even save “inferior” humans despite being the same. his unclear heritage manifests as guilt, as he feels directly responsible for his mother's suffering because he is monstrous. then here comes laios, a human who somehow can find it in himself to love monsters.

kabru doesn’t want laios to love him, per se, but laios’ love for monsters and for falin reveals life-altering possibilities for kabru: there is a world where someone could love him even if he were a monster. there is a world where somebody would go to extreme measures just to save him. kabru does not know the extent of laios' trauma but recognizes a sort of kindred spirit but inverse. taking off the ship goggles here--it has less to do with laios specifically, and more to do with what his beliefs/abilities represent for the trajectory of the world (because kabru studies how beliefs/abilities manifest into material reality, after all)

kabru is seeking the power of love

in a different story, kabru would be laios’ archnemesis. they would have a disastrous battle of opposing worldviews in their struggle for dominion. kabru has every right to want to take laios out bc while his affinity for monsters is sympathetic and even charming, it is still a natural threat… kabru has the true hero pathology. he believes he only deserves to live if he can save people for a variety of reasons/traumas. he should do whatever it takes to exterminate laios. but the expectation is subverted in chapter 76 bc we see kabru’s curiosity and ongoing quest for understanding win over his worst fears.

I feel like I’ve been projecting a lot but bear with me... a huge part of kabru’s character is him trying to figure out how to matter to people, or figuring out why people matter to others in general. it’s not to say he doesn’t matter to his friends or milsiril, but why else would he bother with all the manipulative people-pleasing? it would be less meaningful if he had ulterior motives like greed or power, but he plays into people's expectations/desires for a disastrously noble cause. he’s still actively living in his trauma as a deeply traumatized adult. it’s pure serendipity that laios can send him right back to his past and then pull him right out again. I don't think it's crazy to say kabru (correctly) projects a lot of shit on laios bc he doesn’t know how to deal with those injustices and barriers between people himself.

this is also why I believe kabru's beef with laios is as personal as it is strategic. we have to consider the trajectories of their character arcs (their big missions, respectively) in relation to one another as foils. if laios' love for falin can move mountains and do impossible things, kabru is subconsciously drawn to the magnitude of that love like a magnet. his response to cognitive dissonance is quite remarkable as well. at the root of his unbelievable capacity for understanding and curiosity is the deep wound of being unloved and unprotected. kabru does not avoid or run away from his fears, he quite literally keeps running toward them and follows it down to hell. he wants to identify the true source of his deepest wound.

to me, this omake connects his childhood curiosity to his search for love, almost as to ask “is there enough room for me to be loved?" and the same can be said for marcille's character arc/ backstory. her biracial heritage has caused her great existential pain and social isolation.

in dungeon meshi, the issues of protection and justice continue to be interpreted through love. if kabru were to go back in time and save utaya, he would’ve needed incomprehensible magic, a supernatural power to save himself, his mother, his hometown. in contrast, laios' mission to save falin is just one manifestation of the surreality of love, all of the impossibilities it permits. the touden party wade through invisible gulfs to save falin, but also each other. kabru doesn’t hate their story, he just can’t fathom it yet.

kabru is a skilled strategist and communicator. and does not listen to his heart or body until he’s absolutely forced to do it. he has insane goals and expectations for himself and will go to great measures for those goals. as cerebral and cold as he might seem, it’s critical to understand that his character arc is about love too. in my opinion, it’s almost as if he’s trying to change his reality in hopes of finding love. my favorite thing about kabru is that he has all the narrative makings of the perfect misunderstood villain who self-destructs at the end of the story. but kabru is too smart for that, too focused on the big-picture impacts and the historical trajectory of the cause. instead, kabru finds the wherewithal to stand down once he understands that laios is capable of loving humanity like he does, or that he could help him see the value in humanity at all.

to love is to understand, and then to surrender.