#it’s almost like not everyone knows everything that you do

[ryusjwks]

yapping abt nonmc

Non-MC reader fanfics are always written by authors who know exactly how to hurt a person. The pain is so intense and so well-crafted that, dear God, sometimes I find myself rereading the same paragraph over and over again. And after a while, I start to see myself as that woman—waiting to be loved but never receiving it in return.

Imagine loving someone. Looking at them with the most fragile, the most human part of your heart. When you hear their voice, everything inside you comes to a halt, and your entire existence shifts toward them. But they… they don’t even notice you. Or if they do, their recognition is not with the powerful grasp of love, but with the light touch of mere acknowledgment.

To you, they are a star, the very center of the universe. But to them, you are just another speck of light in the sky. If you were to disappear, they wouldn’t feel your absence. You turn back, realizing your hands are empty, crushed under the weight of your love. And they? They continue revolving around another world, another sun.

You are a meteor, trying to rise and shine, but unable to enter their orbit—shattered by the gravity of a planet that was never meant to hold you. You dissolve into dust, fading into silence. And they move on, as if nothing ever happened.

This plays out differently for each character, but the ending remains the same.

In Zayne’s case, you are either his fiancée or his wife. He is always cold and distant. His words are measured, his presence heavy yet quiet. Even if storms rage behind his eyes, his face remains unreadable. He has always been this way, and you have accepted it.

But then, he smiles—at her.

That smile is like spring breaking through the ice, subtle, warm, and gentle. As if, for just a moment, the layers of frost within him have melted. And in that moment, you realize he was never truly like this—not for everyone. He is not just a distant man; he is only distant toward you.

And that’s when it sinks in. A weight settles inside you, stealing your breath for just a second. Because you have seen it now—he can be affectionate, he can be warm, he can smile. But that smile was never meant for you.

You are likely Sylus’s assistant, though in rare cases, you might be his wife. Sylus has always been indifferent—to everyone. To you. You walked in his shadow on the battlefield, threw yourself in front of bullets for him, but to him, it was merely necessity. A duty. Your presence was nothing more than part of the mission. Until she came along.

With her arrival, Sylus changed. His face softened when he looked at her, the sharpness in his voice faded. He made sacrifices for her, and when he spoke to her, the rigidness in his posture eased. Sylus was no longer the man you knew. Everyone questioned if he was still the same person, but you already knew the truth.

He hadn’t changed. He had simply never been yours.

With Xavier and Rafael, the pattern is almost identical. You are nothing more than a companion who has traveled through centuries with them, defying time itself.

As time weaves its path, they always take the lead—making decisions, guiding, fighting. And you? You are merely a shadow beside them. A witness. While they sacrificed their homelands for love, you were the one who heard the cries of the people they left behind. On one side was their passionate devotion, and on the other, your quiet grief.

For them, time had stopped. But for you, the world kept turning, though it no longer resembled the place you once knew.

And then there’s Caleb.

Caleb was always by MC’s side. He was her protector, her shield, her most trusted person. And you were there too. You grew up in the same house, sat at the same dinner table, shared the same stories. But his eyes always sought only MC.

Through the years, you watched how he looked at her. How he stepped forward at the slightest sign of danger, how every word he spoke to her carried an unshakable certainty. You bore witness to his protection, his sacrifices, his unwavering love—but never once was any of it directed at you.

You were there too. You lived those same moments. But you were never the center of his world.

Some see her as a mistress, a backup, an extra wedged between the main character and the LI. As if she were a mere footnote in someone else’s story, placed there by mistake. But she’s not.

She is not just someone trying to insert herself where she doesn’t belong. She was there from the very beginning. She walked the same path, fought the same battles, gazed at the same sky. She was never a stranger lingering on the edges of the story—she was a part of it.

The difference is that her name was never written into the main plot. Her words never echoed, her presence was never at the center. And yet, she was never just a replacement. Because love isn’t a competition, it isn’t a role to be filled, it isn’t about winners and losers.

She simply loved. With everything she had, without expecting anything in return. Her eyes were always on him, but his eyes were never on her.

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

part three– summary | Over time and through challenges, you find a way to settle in Jackson with Joel.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, established relationship, takes place over a longer stretch of time (two years), graphic depictions of violence, angst, fluff, there's a lot of tender moments sprinkled throughout, reader's progression into her own self, mentions of sa and coercion, trauma, joel triggering some ptsd for reader, tender smut (slight somnophilia) mentions of reader's scars (though mostly vague), ending is foreshadowing (if you get it, you get it)

author's note | this was very cathartic to write, i've had this entire thing outlined for over a year and like 80% finished so a lot of time i've just spent editing and procrastinating over plot points. i originally intended for this to end very, VERY grim. but, the ending i went with is more fitting. also thank you to anyone who's taking the time to read this or has told me they relate to this story and have found comfort in it, i love you!

word count —10k

PART ONE — PART TWO — SERIES MASTERLIST

The entire situation made you uneasy.

“So, do you have a name?” Ellie asks curiously, shoveling a piece of food into her mouth, “I mean, Joel always calls you the kid or the girl—you know, he did that to me for a while, but I grew on him,”

She smiles around her food, her authenticity wholly her own. 

You knew Ellie through small moments, coming and going, not seeing her much around Joel’s house as she was obviously settled into her own and spent most of her time with Dina or Jesse.

“Ellie,” Joel admonishes, “stop yapping and eat,”

“You are no fun,” Ellie says pointedly at Joel, stabbing a fork into the pile of food on her plate. 

You sat beside Joel, your hands resting on your lap, eyes scanning the table. It felt strange to be here like this, in a place so domestic. Alive. Maria balances Benjamin on her hip in the kitchen as she and Tommy conversed quietly over the few sides still finishing up.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Tommy either—it was just the overwhelming weight of the unspoken, how his eyes couldn’t stop lingering on you and Joel. 

It was the way Joel always seemed to know where you were, what you needed, even before you did. It had always been like that, but tonight, it felt more pronounced than ever.

He’s moving for things before you even make a motion to ask, handing them to you without a word, a hand curling over your thigh in silence when Tommy drops a pot on the floor, startling you and baby Ben in Maria’s arms, knowing instantly how to calm you. You were like a unit, moving as one, and Tommy could clock it from a mile away.

Once everyone had finally settled at the table Tommy clanked his spoon against his bowl, his voice cutting through the quiet. “So, how’ve things been for everyone? Ain’t been much talk from Joel lately. Ellie? Everything good?”

Joel grunted in response, a low, almost reluctant sound as he forked a piece of meat. 

He didn’t meet Tommy’s eyes, but his posture was rigid, almost protective, as if keeping a silent barrier between you and the world around you.

It had been a full six months since you settled into Jackson, spring on the horizon, it would be a welcome reprieve to the bitter cold and piles of thick snow.

Ellie gives a short version, cliff notes, too busy eating to put any real effort into the conversation.

“I dunno why he’s askin’ to do dinner,” Joel had admitted earlier that day, “ain’t like him.”

Most of them saw each other daily, it seemed pointless.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, his hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully but nonchalant.

He noticed how Joel had placed his chair slightly closer to yours than usual, a casual closeness that seemed almost unnatural given Joel’s opposition to people and touch. You weren’t sure if Tommy had caught on, but his eyes lingered on the two of you for a moment longer than comfortable.

This wasn’t the pair he had dismissed the night you were found, something had changed.

The fire in the hearth cracked loudly, filling the room with a dull warmth that did little to ease the tension settling in your chest. The scent of stew hung in the air, thick and comforting, but your stomach churned at the thought of eating. You weren’t used to this—family dinners, warm lighting, the sound of silverware scraping against ceramic.

It was too normal. 

Too exposed.

Tommy hadn’t seen much of Joel these past months outside of patrol and meetings. Not since he’d asked him to keep an eye on you—to help you adjust, to give you someone steady to rely on. He hadn’t expected Joel to isolate with you completely. And now, sitting across from the two of you, something felt off.

Tommy cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you two at my table tonight, s’been a while.”

Joel barely looked up at Tommy, “Figured we should.”

Tommy let out a small chuckle, “What, outta obligation?”

Joel’s jaw twitched, “Somethin’ like that.”

Your eyes flicker between the two, quiet as you eat.

Tommy turned his attention to you, “How’s it been? You settlin’ in alright?”

You didn’t answer audibly, not that he expected you to.

“She’s fine,” Joel said, voice even as he answers for you.

Tommy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That right?”

Joel didn’t acknowledge the shift in Tommy’s tone.

Tommy leaned back, watching the way Joel subtly angled his body toward you—protective, like he was ready to shield you from something that wasn’t even there. Instinctual. 

“Joel says you’ve been doin’ well with patrol,” Tommy turns his attention toward you suddenly, ignoring Joel entirely, “you feelin’ comfortable with all of it?”

Surprisingly, you nod, though your eyes ultimately flicker toward Joel who’s staring down Tommy from across the table, quickly catching onto Tommy’s behavior.

Ellie suddenly stood, pushing her bowl away. “I’m gonna—yeah, I’m done eating,” She grabbed her plate and left the room without another word. Smart kid. She knew when to leave.

Maria leaves eventually too, tending to Benjamin as she ascends the stairs and leaves the three of you in a standoff. The rest of the dinner passed in heavy silence. You barely touched your food. Joel barely let his guard down. And Tommy barely took his eyes off the two of you.

It wasn’t until after the dishes were being cleared that Tommy saw his opening.

“Joel,” he said casually, “help me with somethin’ outside.”

Joel hesitated, glancing toward you. You gave him the smallest nod. He exhaled through his nose and followed Tommy out onto the porch without a word. The moment the door shut behind them, Tommy turned.

“What the hell is goin’ on?”

“Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on,” Joel stiffens, standing toe to toe with his brother who lowered his volume to a hushed tone. 

You focused on their voices, the house having fallen quiet.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Joel,” Tommy retorts, “Is she…should we be worried about her?”

Oh, so he thinks you were taking advantage of Joel—either assumption couldn’t be further from the truth, but it does startle you, wondering how deceptive you looked to Tommy despite how welcoming he had been toward you in the beginning.

“She’s harmless,” Joel responds, “What—suddenly you’re worried about her? You stuck her with me, made her my responsibility, and now you’re worried? What? ‘Cause I’m doin’ what you asked?”

Tommy scoffed, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly, “She’s been here six months and she hasn’t branched out at all. Not once.”

Joel’s expression darkened. “She doesn't like people. I don’t blame her.”

“Or maybe she just doesn't have a choice,” Tommy tries it, bucking up to Joel and flipping the switch, throwing the harsh accusation at his brother.

It landed. A flicker of something passed over Joel’s face, but it was gone just as quick.

Tommy took a step forward, lowering his voice. “I put her with you to help her. To give her some stability until she could fair on her own. I didn’t put her with you to keep her locked away.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “She’s safe with me. And free to leave whenever, s’not my fault if she doesn’t want to—maybe you’ll think twice before takin’ people in because you got a good heart,” by his tone you can tell he’s trying to take a dig, “if you wanna blame anyone, blame yourself.”

Tommy shook his head. 

“That what you tell yourself?”

The blame wasn’t on anyone, really.

You weren’t sure what Tommy’s angle was or if he was just worried for Joel in a weird, roundabout way.

“I think whatever is goin’ on between you two ain’t healthy—to what extent I don’t even wanna fuckin’ know, there’s a point where we gotta hope she can manage on her own,”

Joel’s expression didn’t change. 

But, something in his posture did.

Tommy let out a tired sigh, defeated, “Just... think about what you’re doin’, Joel.”

When Joel finally came back in, his eyes found yours immediately. 

You searched his face, looking for something—anything—to tell you what he was thinking.

He didn’t say a word.

But when he reached for you, you reached for him. 

That’s what you always did.

And maybe that was the problem.

–

You’ve come to cherish the time you spend in Joel’s bed outside of sex.

After almost a year in Jackson, there are moments when things truly feel normal.

As expected, Joel does most of the talking. And to his effort, he tries to get you to speak up, but you often can’t find the courage outside of the intimate moments when he’s holding you close, mouth pressed against your skin as he buries himself inside of you.

“You really ain’t got a name?” Joel asks as he scrolls through a crossword, glasses perched on his nose in a way that felt scarily domestic, remembering Ellie’s earlier question. You scribble on the edge of the crossword, leaving a trace of yourself.

I don’t even know my parents.

You had no real identity, Joel has come to realize.

No sense of self or claim over your body and thoughts, years spent serving as nothing more than a device to be taken apart and used against your will, expected to obey.

Some of them did it purely out of fear and self-preservation, but for you, the opportunity to live a life outside of that place was more important and something you were willing to die trying for.

Still, old habits die hard.

You were trying to find the courage to speak to him in these quieter moments, making small noises when he would ask questions—a hum for yes, a soft and disgruntled noise for no.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and stifling all at once. 

You felt his fingers trace slow, absentminded circles against your ankle, his touch light, cautious. He was always cautious with you in moments like this, when there was nothing to distract from the weight of things left unsaid.

“You ain’t gotta stay quiet with me,” Joel reminds you gently, your eyes connecting for a moment.

It was strange how a man so stoic could be so soft, even if it was only shown in brief flashes.

Every time you tried, the words twisted in your throat, trapped beneath years of silence. 

Being told your voice didn’t matter. That your body wasn’t yours. 

That your thoughts weren’t worth having.

Joel’s hand stilled. He must have felt the way your breathing hitched.

You’d spent so long being nothing. A thing to be used. A body with no name. No choices. No voice. Nothing at all.

But here—wrapped in Joel’s warmth, his scent, the safety of his presence—you felt like something. Or someone.

Eventually, your lips parted. You sucked in a slow, shaking breath.

Joel holds his breath, having tried this over so many nights.

He feels that his conversation with Tommy was partly responsible, forcing you into a space of discomfort, like you had to listen to him.

Then, in the smallest whisper—so quiet you weren’t sure you’d even said it—you forced out, “I don’t have a name.”

Joel went still.

Then, after a long moment, his voice came low and careful.

“What d’you mean?”

You shrug, crossing your legs on the soft duvet, “I,” your mouth feels dry, like you were having an out of body experience as you spoke, like this wasn’t even real, “—didn’t…need one. He never addressed me directly. None of them did.”

Joel notices the way your tongue lingers around he, a heavy memory, a man whose face is impossible to forget.

The silence grows as Joel seems to contemplate his words, seeing how your fingers inch closer, a quiet yearning that you’ve been learning to subdue—not every act of service needed to be thanked, Joel had made that clear.

You try to ignore how your heart hammers in your chest at his silent admiration of your voice, speaking to him despite your disdain and buried fear, unsure if you could commit to more.

“Look…” he starts, his hand falling to curve around the heel of your foot, pulling your leg straight until your foot presses into the headboard of his bed, his hand traveling to rest against your upper thigh, “I ain’t ever been good at talkin’ about this kinda thing. But I gotta say it, ‘cause if I don’t, I know I’ll regret it.”

He looks serious, lips pulled into a thin line, but not unkind.

“What we've been doin’—I know why you do it. I ain't stupid.” Joel begins, your eyes locked on the way his fingers drag gently against your skin, massaging the muscle, “For a while, I let it happen ‘cause… hell, I don’t even know why. I ain’t got a reason, which makes me a bad person, taking advantage of you like that, knowin’ you had gone through hell to get here,”

You chew nervously at your bottom lip, letting the words sink in and marinate, eyes flickering up to look at him briefly, nodding in quiet understanding.

"But I don’t want that from you. Not like that. I ain’t never wanted somethin’ from you that you didn’t choose to give,” Joel admits, uncomfortable with the vulnerability of the conversation but knowing you needed to hear it, “I got my ways about me, I’m an asshole. I know, but this—I ain’t never been in a situation like this,”

You’ve never heard him talk like this, almost as if he’s spilling everything dark and vulnerable about him, laying his heart and mind out on a silver platter for you to devour.

“Sex ain’t just about… sayin’ thank you,” Joel looks at you directly, waiting to catch your eyes, “it’s supposed to mean somethin’. Be somethin’ you do when you trust someone, when you—” he licks his lips, clearing his throat as the words escape,“—care about ‘em. You understand?"

You nod softly, eyes burning with the faint sting of tears.

“You’ve never owed me nothing, kiddo.”

Eventually, Joel grows tired and stuffs the book away on his nightstand, inviting you beside him under the cover in silence, already knowing you had been itching to snake your way in, seeking out his warmth as he leans back to turn off the lamp and is met with your lips when he turns back, feeling your lips tremble with a timidness he’s not familiar with.

Something about it was different, a long and gentle press of your lips as you sigh, breathing through your nose before you pull away, shuffling closer into his chest as his chin rests at the crown of your head, rubbing slow circles over your shoulder until your breathing evened out.

Joel isn’t even sure if he’s doing this right, but he’s not sure he can let you go now.

It would do more harm than good for both of you.

–

A few months later, on another night, you find yourself in silence.

Mind filtering through a million thoughts at once, Joel sleeping quietly beside you—or so you think. His arm is slung over you, breathing slow and steady. 

But you’re awake, staring up at the ceiling. 

Thoughts race.

Thoughts about him, about you—the unspoken bond. And then, in the stillness, you speak.

“Joel?” you say softly, the small but meaningful utterance of his name has him stirring within seconds, blinking through bleary eyes.

He hums in question.

“Love,” such a fickle word, something you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before, the feeling foreign, “have you felt it before?”

Joel’s eyes open wider, shifting beside you as he rises on one elbow, the hand of his opposite arm reaching for you, fingers brushing absentmindedly along your arm. 

It’s a loaded question—and at this hour? Joel can’t help but chuckle.

“Long time ago,” Joel responds vaguely and you’re waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

You’re lying on your back, eyes stuck on the ceiling as he stares at you now.

“What does it feel like?” you ask quietly.

Joel can’t help but cherish the moment, the raw emotion in your voice that he only heard on special occasions, not under the guise of pleasure—this was just you.

Joel tenses slightly, though—his mind shifts to Sarah briefly, his life before. It felt light years away, barely able to remember her face at times.

“Kinda…feels like it’ll break,” Joel says hesitantly, “it’s somethin’....real fragile—like when you hold something too tight and it cracks,” you nod slightly in understanding, “but it's also a feeling you’re too scared to let go of, does that make sense?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that,” you admit, looking over at him briefly before averting your eyes.

“You’re young, kiddo,” he tells you, “give it some time.”

There’s a stretch of silence before you find the courage to ask, heart skipping unnaturally.

“Who was it?”

Joel figures you lucky that he’s less guarded like this, your warmth against his chest and your bottom lip trembling slightly—it always seemed to, a lingering fear that never left you.

“My daughter,” Joel explains simply, no sugarcoating or lies, “she died….long time ago,”

“Before?” 

Joel nods, a solemn expression flashing across his face before he sets it right.

You don't press him. 

But you wonder, deep down, if he’s afraid he might be feeling it again.

-

When you find your voice outside of Joel, it was in a moment of defense.

You’re not sure why—well, that isn’t entirely true.

You know why, but you can’t explain how the feeling overtook you like possession. 

Tommy had suggested you go on patrols with Jimmy, a younger man in his mid-twenties and closer to your age, a reliable man, as Tommy insisted. You’ve never even seen him, let alone was willing to speak with him or venture out beyond the walls.

It could be anyone else. Ellie, Dina—hell, even Tommy himself. You could fair there, but it seemed like Tommy was forcing you out of your comfort zone without any understanding of what that would mean to you.

“You’re smotherin’ her, Joel,” Tommy argues.

“She’s capable of makin’ her own choices,” Joel defends, turning to you, “I ain’t keepin’ you here, am I?”

You shake your head, arms crossed tight over your chest.

“She needs more than just you,” Tommy responds, “or me—or Ellie, I’ve got people askin’ about her, worried she might—”

“Might what?” Joel asks, warning Tommy to tread carefully,

“I’m just sayin’, people are weirded out by her behavior,” Again, talking as if you weren’t there, you find the anger in your chest beginning to swell, “She can try more—that’s all I’m askin’,”

“I don’t want more,” you spit out, both of the men freezing in place.

Joel turns so fast it’s like he doesn’t believe what he just heard. 

Tommy blinks, his mouth parting slightly in shock.

“I don’t want more,” your tone softens, looking down as you scuff your shoe against the wood of the porch, “I don’t need more.”

Joel’s face contorts in a way that makes Tommy frown with the realization, because whatever mess the two of you were tangled into wasn’t one-sided in the slightest and if Tommy was honest with himself, he knew Joel was in much deeper. 

-

The next time you speak, it was completely unprompted, feeling him thrash violently in bed beside you—he’s had his own nightmares before, usually consisting of him waking in a sweat or mumbling in his sleep, but this one was particularly alarming, like he was being attacked in his slumber as his arm swings up and knocks the lamp to the floor, ceramic shattering and still, he remained deep in the state of fight, and you were trying your hardest to shake him out of it, slapping his face gently as you held down his other arm.

“J—Joel,” you croak, voice thick with sleep and lack of use, always sounding like the words croaked from your mouth any time you spoke, “Joel—wake up!”

He flinches harshly but his eyes fly open, wild before they land on you and his blurry vision becomes clear, the sound of your voice grounding him into reality.

“It’s okay,” your voice shakes, watching as his throat bobbed with a harsh swallow.

He couldn’t explain how your voice had become such a comfort to him.

Like it was something he’s been missing.

-

And the first time he hears you laugh he swears he imagined it.

Ellie makes a terrible joke at his expense and the sound comes out too naturally, a triumphant grin crossing Ellie’s face as you both look at Joel who suddenly feels like he’s in a battle of two against one, hands held up in defeat.

“At least someone laughs at my jokes,” Ellie defends, watching as Joel rolls his eyes fondly.

“So, you’ll laugh when she makes a joke but not at mine?” Joel asks.

You shrug, “They’re good,” You chirp quietly.

Ellie throws her hands out in smug triumph.

“Stay bitter, old man.”

“Old man? I’ll tell Tommy to pair you up with Eugene,” Joel threatens.

Tough break, you think.

“Wha—no, what the fuck? That’s a total abuse of power,”

Joel shrugs as to mock you, catching your gaze briefly with a faint smile.

You’ve never felt more at ease in your life and that terrified you.

–

It happens over time, months, years.

The first year you spend in Jackson is hard—from the moment Ellie has found you on the outskirts of their walls, struggling to break old habits that had been instilled in you from birth, and finding comfort in society that only wanted to live, not take.

Jackson was a community, a family.

You still felt like a stranger, an obedient puppy at Joel’s side, shadowing him wherever he went. Patrols, always. The dining hall, occasionally. He never forces you to attend the fancier events held for the community with overwhelming sights of unfamiliar faces and too many voices. The music, the kids, drunkards getting loud around the tables they liked to play roulette at.

You liked silence and so did Joel. 

Besides, he’s much softer in these moments.

You’re helping him with dinner when you watch Ellie approach him, arms spread out as he pulls her in.

A hug full of feeling, watching his eyes drift close as his cheek presses into the crown of her head, a grin splitting on her face as he squeezes her too tight, playfully shoving him away.

You never asked personal questions, only thrived off the assumptions in your head, but Joel knows you. He can see the way your eyes beg a question but you’re too afraid to ask. 

“I’ll make a deal,” he begins, chopping into the vegetables as you peel potatoes with care, “use your voice and I’ll answer whatever questions is buggin’ you, fair?”

You nod, chewing at your bottom lip habitually before you find the courage to speak, “You…Ellie…” often your words felt disjointed, not that you didn’t understand, but you found yourself being concise, quick, using as little words as possible to get your point across and Joel notices too.

“She’s not mine, biologically,” Joel admits casually, “s’long story, but family ain’t always blood,”

You nod in understanding, the quiet growing again as you place the vegetable and utensil aside, “Her…family?”

“Don’t know much,” Joel shrugs, “kid was dealt a bad hand, but she’s special—a pain in the ass but, she’s good.”

–

Time progresses further, finding comfort through the seasons.

You’ve rotated through different jobs, none of them feeling right without Joel.

And it takes a while, but eventually something clicks.

As a step, you try your attempts at wall patrol—only when Joel wasn’t going out and he was busy planning the patrol schedule out over being gone for days at a time, too worried to leave you, but becoming slightly complacent and selfish in the time he spends inside the walls.

It works for a handful of months, minimal risk, always within shouting distance from Joel.

It was rare for stragglers to come wandering through the woods too, but as someone who had been on the other side, your empathy shines through in a moment of misjudgment one night.

Everyone is on break but you—Tommy and Joel were strict about at least one person always having eyes on the entrance and it wasn’t unsurprising that people jumped on the opportunity to leave you with the responsibility while they snuck away for a break.

You had just opened the gates for Ellie and Dina as they were coming back from the route, pushing the thick doors closed when you spot someone off in the distance, a man stumbling with great difficulty as he limps towards the gate. He’s clutching his side, doubling over in pain, and you feel the jolt of a distant memory pulling at you—a time when you were the one begging silently for help.

By the time you turn over your shoulder, Ellie and Dine are long gone.

Fuck.

“Please!” The shout is faint but enough to stir some instinct deep within you.

The others are too far and he’s approaching quickly, blood leaking from the side of his face as he slumps to his knees by your feet as he reaches you. You dig your heels into dirt and pull the gate open again, just enough for him to slip through with your aid, arm looping into his own.

He collapses onto the ground as soon as he makes it inside, pulling you down as you kneel beside him, “Th—thank you,” he gasps out. His face is flush, not indicative of someone who’s dealt with the elements very long, but he’s bleeding, clearly in pain.

You’re kneeling by his side when Joel’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and angry. 

“What the hell?!” He’s charging toward the gate with his revolver in hand, Tommy trailing behind him with wide eyes, flicking briefly between the two of you.

In any other situation, you wouldn’t have thought twice to leave the man behind, hellbent on survival at whatever cost. You knew better. Your instincts are sharp; they’ve kept you alive long enough, but your newfound heart wins over logical reasoning.

As the crowd of people grows, you find your throat swelling with anxiety.

Desperately, you try to convey your worry through looks.

“Y’all got jobs to do,” Joel snaps, “get back to your station,”

He dismissively moves your hand away as he hauls the man to his feet, the man groaning in deep pain as he shoves him toward Tommy, passing him off before his arm is circling around your bicep and tugging you away, struggling to keep up with his hurried steps until he can find a private spot, cornering you with a face you haven’t seen in almost two years.

“You got a death wish or something?” Joel growls, “Why’d you let him in?”

The intensity of his gaze pins you, and you swallow hard against the pressure building in your chest. Bottom lip trembling with fear, “I—I couldn’t leave him,” you stammer out weakly, emotions tying words into knots, it hurts to speak—to defend yourself.

You weren’t sure what you did was right, but it felt that way in the moment.

 “He was hurt.” Joel’s jaw clenches at your words, a muscle twitching near his temple, veins protruding. He shoves a hand through his greying hair and drops his voice low, not any less terrifying than when he had yelled at you a moment ago—it has been so long since you’ve seen this side of him, unrestrained rage.

“He could be fuckin’ bit,” Joel argues, “hell—maybe he’s fakin’, but you never—never make that decision on your own,” his hand is flying around in anger, pointing from you and to the gate, “you don’t know if he was staging an ambush or if he would’ve had a knife. You can’t be this fucking naive, I’m not gonna be around to save you all the time and—”

“Stop,” you plead, blinking away the tears that formed quickly, “please, stop—just—”

Joel pauses, a steely expression on his face.

“D-don’t be mad at me. I-I know I messed up.” You wipe at your cheeks, but the tears keep coming, and you can’t stop them, can’t stop yourself from shaking. The air between you feels thick and charged, like he had finally found the opportunity to rid himself of you.

Joel’s eyes soften for a fraction of a second before hardening again. He takes a deep breath, and you flinch as he reaches out, not sure if he’s going to hold you or hit you, familiarizing his emotion with violence after years of being on the receiving end of angry, vile men.

He does neither.

Instead, his hand falls to his side in defeat, “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Suddenly, you’ve never felt so small.

–

Joel doesn’t return home until late that night, heavy boot stomps carrying words he couldn’t find the energy to say, finding his bed earlier empty as he approaches his room.

There wasn’t a single trace of you, not here, or anywhere he would usually find you, his mind suddenly going into a panic as he searched frantically through the house—his bathroom, the kitchen, the backyard and into Ellie’s guest house, but nothing.

As he approaches the living room, he notices the lack of blankets and pillows before his head whips toward the basement, door closed and lights off, slowly, he approaches.

What he finds makes the pit in his stomach sink—you, curled up on the old, fragile frame of the bed that held a mattress stained and tattered, sleeping soundly but unknowing of how long.

His anger, his words, had driven you down here, away from the warmth of the house. 

You didn’t feel like you belonged there now.

He feels a pang of guilt. Basements were not meant for living; they were for storage and solitude and silence.

He’s reduced you to this; a thing to be stored away.

Joel approaches with a quieter step, kneeling down at your bedside.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, almost gentle. “Hey.”

You stir, blinking bleary eyes up at him. 

For a moment, confusion clouds your face before it shifts to apprehension, and Joel feels something twist in his chest. You jump back, scared. Eyes wide and fearful.

He fucking hated it.

“Hey,” he tries again, his hands hovering close, curling around the edge of the blanket like he wanted to swoop you into his arms, “You gotta come upstairs.”

You shake your head, pulling the thin blanket tighter around yourself, moving away from him.

“You can’t sleep down here,” he insists, firmer this time but without the sharpness to his tone like earlier, “C’mon, kiddo.”

You shake your head again, face softening as you frowned and pushed him away with a gentleness that tugs at Joel’s heart.

Joel sighs long, deep, hands spreading out over his knees before he admits defeat.

He retreats back upstairs with heavy steps, but this time they speak of regret rather than anger.

-

Out of precaution, they kept that man separated from the community, locked up in a spare cell.

It’s been a few days—but, the real problem comes as they strip him of his bloodied clothes to supply him with new ones, the bag of trashed clothes coming home with Joel later that week as he prepared to burn them out back—not before he pulls himself a small glass of bourbon, simmering in his own thoughts. 

Like a mouse, you sneak up on him. 

It was a strange flash of the past that tore Joel up inside, watching you pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge before you eye the pile of clothes on the counter. It wasn’t the egregious amount of blood that shocked you, but the threading—gold flecks underneath dark patterns that had you inching forward carefully, reaching out with timid fingers to shift the fabric out of the way to reveal the gold symbol that instantly made your body seize up, the glass in your hand crashing to the floor and over your feet, ignorant to the shards of glass pricking your skin and the water soaking your shirt.

 “Shit,” Joel mutters in shock, shooting up to his feet and reaching for you before he stops himself. His hands hover like a curse again, unsure of what to do with them or you. 

He decides on a worn dish towel, thrusts it in your direction, “What’s wrong?” 

You’re stuck where you stand, no sense of time or movement. Eyes fixed wide on the clothes. 

“Hey,” his voice is soft, low, and tender, “you can talk to me, s’alright—”

You come back to life with a jolt at his touch, pulling away from him and dropping the towel onto the floor. “I need to get out,” you tell him cryptically, “I need to leave.”

It was the first time he had heard you speak in days and the words are heart wrenching. 

He follows your eye line and grabs at the material, crumpling it in his hand as he brings it toward you.

“This mean anything to you?”

You nod meekly, subtle. 

Your eyes are burning with tears that don’t quite fall, refusing to shed as you push his hand away and take a few steps back, feeling dizzy and intensely nauseous.

“Oh, wo-woah,” Joel follows you in a way that seems territorial, but is purely out of concern, quickly guiding you toward the sink as the bile in your stomach comes to the surface, gagging into the sink as Joel turns the faucet on, his warm hand at your back, “shit—baby, you’re alright,”

Your head snaps to the side, cautious to his words.

It slips out and even Joel can’t look at you for too long, cheeks heating in shame.

You search his face for cracks in his facade, wondering if this was a trick—that he wasn’t going to blow up at you like a flipped switch, all too accustomed to retaliatory behavior. 

“Bad men?” Joel asks after a while, coming to the conclusion based on your initial reaction and your tightened jaw as you stared at him.

You nod, stronger this time. 

“Did you know him?”

The truth? You had no clue who he was.

He was unfamiliar, but he belonged to them.

“No, but he’s with them.”

This changed things.

And he needed to talk with Tommy—soon.

—

Joel knows what he’s required to do, though that part of him had long since been dormant. Firing off a gun was much different than something like this, close and personal, the possibility of watching someone’s life fade under the force of your hands.

He expected you to stay behind given how shook up you were about the entire thing—to him, it still made no sense.

The man was hurt, a sizable gash to his leg and a superficial head wound. But, nothing life threatening; no gaping wounds, no bites. And he seemed uneasy, just another suspicion confirmed that what he had sensed the moment the man had passed beyond the gates wasn’t here seeking help.

He was sent for something.

Joel has an idea, but they would have to kill him first.

You stand quietly in the corner as Joel paces the room, knowing Tommy was stationed just outside the door.

Methods like this weren’t widely accepted in Jackson, people too sheltered to have experienced real threat or harm. But, you understand.

You’ve been on both sides—the helpless victim tied up and waiting for your imminent death, but in the same vein, you’ve watched a man lose his life under the pressure of your blade.

You still don’t recognize him, though that isn’t a surprise. Fresh recruits were filtering in every week, new unsuspecting faces ready to be trained into soldiers, killing machines. Men with an insatiable thirst for violence.

He seems to notice you, though.

Eyes wander, survey—the subservient position you took in the corner wasn’t on purpose, rather habit.

Joel didn’t want you to speak, didn’t want you to put yourself in a position to be attacked. He wanted the man to strike first and give Joel a reason to punish him.

Eventually, it happens.

“Damien’s got pictures of you, carries it everywhere,” the man says around Joel, his voice surprisingly calm, “they take one of each of the girls, but you…”

You flinch at the name. Joel notices.

Joel’s blade flicks open and the man chuckles, eyeing him with challenge.

“Go on, kill me,” he taunts, “I’m not telling you anything.”

Joel grunts and flares his nostrils before he approaches the man and grabs his hand, quickly slicing through the skin, muscle, and bone of one finger before reaching into the small fire pit placed at the center of the room, cauterizing the wound without missing a beat.

You don’t even react, watching Joel work like muscle memory—normally, you would feel fear. 

But, with Joel, it was a strange unrecognizable feeling. 

The young man curses out in pain, thrashing against his binds in the chair as Joel clasps his hand over his mouth, cloth acting as a barrier so he wouldn’t get bit.

“Are there more of you coming?” Joel asks in a calculated tone, “Did they send you here to survey?”

“They’re not after her,” the man chokes out with a sick grin, “but when they find her here, well…”

Joel wraps his fingers around short strands of hair and yanks the man’s head to the side, the point of his knife positioned at the man’s jugular.

“Oh—woahwoah, wait!”

It’s embarrassing how easy it is to make a weak man break.

“They’ve…been watching this place for a while,” he admits breathlessly, eyes glancing nervously at Joel’s knife, “I just did what I was told—they roughed,” a strangled swallow and a quick breath from the man, your arms tighten over your chest as you stare him down, “roughed me up and—and I was supposed to create an opening in a couple days, they—“

“How far are they?” Joel asks suddenly.

“I dunno man!” He shouts.

“Why?” You speak up without warning, both of the men’s attention drawing toward you, “Why now?”

He swallows, eyes flicking up toward Joel out of fear.

“We’re running low—on supplies, housing, everything. This place is the closest that looked—looked worth taking.”

“Where are they now?” You know he knows, pressing the matter. 

“I don’t fucking—“

You step forward quickly, ripping the knife out of Joel’s hand and positioning it at the center of the man’s chest, right above his heart.

“Okayokay—the lodge—the fucking lodge!” He sputters, “We’ve been watching your patrol schedules for months and they found a blind spot, they’re held up at the lodge. Please, I told you, just don’t fucking—“

The blood rises in his throat quickly, your face scrunching up in disdain as you press the blade through his skin until it reaches his heart and his body slumps, staring at Joel the entire time. 

For a moment, there’s bewilderment. 

The last time you and Joel stood around a dead body there had been nothing but raw desire and emotion, but now there was an understanding. Connection.

“That was stupid,” he remarks, with no real threat in his voice, “really fuckin’ stupid.”

“You would have ended up killing him too.”

You weren’t wrong and Joel knew it. 

—

It’s hastily planned, but done with an urgency that carries a heavy burden.

It was Tommy, Joel, and a handful of men, stirring around the gate at midnight when Joel catches you sneaking up on him, bag packed and ready to leave.

He’d left you there for reasons unknown—possibly out of guilt, or fear, but it didn’t matter because you were here and you were going, whether he liked the idea or not.

He doesn’t even combat it, really.

“You sure?” he asks with no malice or apprehensiveness.

Your nod is all he needs.

The world outside the walls is always nothing but silence—eerie and gaunt.

Each footfall of a hoof echoes with a dread that is almost tangible and the wind is loud, roaring in your eyes as it sings a mournful tune.

Joel’s eyes meet yours briefly and in them, an unspoken agreement. 

This was necessary, even if it is dangerous.

The hours that pass feel like years, the sun on the rise as you near the lodge.

It was quiet, too quiet—no movement, no sign of life.

Tommy was the first one to break off, telling Joel he was going to scope out the place on his own and you can see the way Joel’s jaw tenses at the idea, the muscle refusing to relax until his brother returns.

And when he does, there’s a slight breathlessness to his tone, “They’re sleepin’,” he tells Joel, “fuck waiting—we can get in there and deal with this before it turns into a blood bath,”

Joel’s already signaling the others, horses hitched to nearby trees and before you realize it, you’re moving again, faster now.

A plan is made with nothing more than hand signals. Half of you will circle around back, cover escape routes; the rest, straight through the front, guns drawn and ready. They wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

It’s as you approach, stuck to Joel’s side, that he can see the way your eyes dart around.

And then you spot him. 

You hadn’t mentioned him to Joel, the history or the trauma that came with—but it was their leader, an older man who towered like an ox, intimidating without even trying. 

There’s fear there, in your face, but it’s not the kind Joel expects and he knows you well enough to recognize it for what it is—you were starting to dissociate, his finger circling around your wrist to ground you as his hand tightened around the revolver in his grip. He almost says something, almost lets it slip, but there’s no time and it doesn’t matter now.

It’s not until you’re in the main room, a collection of cots and sleeping bodies in front of you, as they are able to subdue a few men with the end of their knives, that a floorboard betrays your presence. 

The creak is deafening and you feel Joel tense beside you, his finger poised on the trigger.

Then suddenly, it's chaos. 

You weren’t a fighter in this sense, so Joel’s main objective is to keep you close but away—it was a bloodbath in an instant, the flurry of grunts from men at the end of their life and Joel hastily shoves an attacker away before he shoots him point blank in the chest.

To your left, Tommy and another guy are pinning two men against the wall, barking orders to drop weapons and stand down and another man lunges toward you as Joel takes him down with a grim efficiency that speaks volumes of his past. 

He doesn’t miss a beat.

But, somewhere amongst the fight, your grip slips from Joel, the blade of your knife slicing through the neck of a stranger, a man, an attacker, as you scramble toward the corner of the room.

There’s only a few moments of calm as you catch your breath, before a gun is being pressed against your neck and your arms are twisted behind your back and tugged, pressing you close to the solid press of a body.

Joel’s eyes had left you for a second—a second.

“I’ll put a bullet through her pretty little head,” Damien, their esteemed leader, shouts behind you, gasping at the grip he has on your hands, twisting them awkwardly behind your back, “think you got your fuckin’ fill, killing my men—”

Joel cocks his gun without hesitation and in retaliation, the leader does the same.

You close your eyes, an unsettling calm washing over you.

“You either leave without her or you don’t leave this place alive.”

—

"She’s not yours to claim,” Joel responds,” she’s not anyone’s."

Damien sneers, a sick grin crossing his features, "You think giving her freedom is a favor? She doesn't know what to do with it. She never did. She’s always been mine."

It was your choice to be here—not Joel’s.

Yours and yours alone.

Despite his domineering position behind you, gun still tight against your throat—he sounded pathetic, not a single man to pedestal him up.

They all laid dead, strewn about the lodge and outside.

He didn’t stand a chance and yet—

“You don’t walk away from this. You don’t get to keep her."

He’s stalling—you can see it.

No one was coming, he had no tricks up his sleeve.

He’d relied on the element of surprise, hoping to blindside and ambush the town with ease.

“No one is going to keep me, not anymore,” you force through gritted teeth, “ and definitely not you.”

“You little bitch,” He snaps, slamming the but of the gun against your head as you fall to the floor, groaning in pain, “I’ll fucking gut y—”

Joel doesn’t let him finish.

The blood splatters against your face as you fall to your ass, a bullet ripping through his skull.

There is stillness then, almost immediate, a quiet that seeps through the lodge and pulses beneath your skin. A thunderous sort of silence. You feel it in the air, violent, rushing—yet nothing moves. 

Joel shoves his gun into his jeans and approaches you with a careful hand, leaning down and using the fabric of his flannel button down to wipe away the thick blood from your face, staring up at him silently in the process of his movement, malleable to his hands as cleans you up.

And just like that, you owe everything to him. Again.

But, you knew there was no need for thanks—it was implied in the stretch of his gaze and a gentle nod.

—

“He raised me,” you explain to Joel a few moments later, staring down at the lifeless body of the man who had held you captive for years, reduced to nothing, “like—a father? But, then he—”

You watch as a few of the men begin to wrap up the body and prepare to drag it out the backdoor of the lodge.

“You ain’t gotta get into it, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, standing near but not touching.

You kneel down and reach into his pocket, stiffness under the fabric that leads you to a stack of items. A small knife, a hastily drawn map, and a few polaroids—just as the younger man had said.

They're unflattering to look at, bringing back an intense wave of emotion as you stare at yourself in the photos, laid in a compromising position and bare of any clothes. Joel can see the tremble in your fingers, unsure, so he pulls the polaroid away and promptly rips it in half, then again, letting the pieces drift to the floor.

Like it never existed.

“He started touching me after the surgery,” you continued despite his words, “then it was hours—days, sometimes. I had to be there for him, whenever he wanted. It hurt. The sex. But, they’re nicer when you take care of them. If I resisted, he'd cut me, hit me, burn me.”

Joel finds himself speechless for the first time in his life.

“They should go for them,” you tell Joel decisively.

The girls—the others, the ones too fearful to make the choice you did.

 You knew they were still there.

“They deserve a chance, too—like the one you gave me. I can lead you there.”

Joel stares at you with a new look, face twitching with minimal emotion but his eyes spoke louder.

The difference between the girl he’d taken in so long ago and the one standing in front of him now was night and day.

-

After the men had decidedly made the move to raid the compound, there were about twenty girls—wounded, injured, but fortunately alive, that they were prepared to take in.

With that, Joel sees you come into your own.

A lot of your time for the next handful of months was spent caring for them, rehabilitating them, and being a source of hope and comfort in a time where they weren’t sure how to feel.

Joel’s astounded by the change.

And you’ve always known to admire—often for the sake of men’s pleasure and their own sick enjoyment. But, like this, sat in Joel's lap as he gave himself over, comfortable in the silence as his fingers slid up and down your thighs—this was for you.

His scars are plenty—scattered over his chest; some from knives from what you can tell, others from scrapes and gashes that didn’t heal well, a few lingering marks under his chin and one that rested unspoken against his temple.

Your thumb grazes over the raised skin and Joel is quick to guide your hand away, but gentle. 

Joel mirrors the sentiment, admiring every inch of your body with a silent look, eyes focused on the trail of his fingers, the way you shiver from his touch.

His curiosity is like his touch—persistent, soothing. It’s easy to let yourself melt into him, let the heat and intimacy roll over both of you. You can see the exhaustion on his face, too.

It was a long day for both of you, too much violence and strife for any one person.

You’ve never slept so soundly next to him, but his touch returns in the morning.

His hands trail over you with such careful urgency, a man intent on giving, taking only the contentment that washes across your face, watching you rouse from sleep.

You shift beside him, pressing closer to the growing need that stirs between you both. His hand is incredibly wonderous between your legs as he guides your knee up, spreading yourself open for him as you shift more to your stomach. Joel pulls you in and his mouth grazes over your shoulder, each kiss a promise of something deeper, something more. 

His breathing catches when you move against his fingers, an unexpected vulnerability in the way he traces circles on your bare back with his lips and tongue.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs, voice low and driving right through you like a knife. 

And he means it.

Heat pools inside you, spreading like a wildfire. Joel’s fingers dig into your hips as you push your shorts down, underwear pooling at your ankles before you kick them away and settle yourself against his cock as he hastily shoves them down, pulling a gasp from both of you. 

He groans softly and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re not eager, either—not as ravenous as usual. This was entirely for Joel and you were okay with that, in fact, you wanted it more than you cared to admit.

Joel presses his forehead into the crook of your neck, lips grazing your skin as he exhales,his fingers slide from your hips to cup your ass, pulling you further in. Your fingers twist into the sheets as you moan into your pillow, a weak sound that Joel wouldn’t have heard had he not been so close.

He’s warm and hard against you, letting yourself melt into it, into him. 

He moves slowly, each roll of his hips deliberate and electrifying. 

You moan again, unable to keep it in as he shifts his grip slightly to find the angle that makes you whimper and bite down into the sheets.

The sound of his breathing fills the air between you, ragged and raw.

The room is filled with the desperate sound of skin on skin and his soft noises.

“Fuck,” he whispers, more of a breath than anything

Your hand finds purchase in his hair behind you, clutching tightly as he thrusts deeper.

He’s pressed against every inch of your body, sinking into the sheets as his hand comes around your head, hovering over you lazily as he fucks you without urgency, hot skin against your own and you’ve never wanted something—someone, so bad.

The whole world narrows down to this—the two of you.

And you couldn’t be more satisfied.

-

Life had a sick way of give and take.

As you find your place, your comfort with Joel again, Ellie slips through his fingers.

The conversation about Ellie’s immunity was never something you were supposed to hear, but it came about during a hushed conversation late at night, sneaking out of Joel’s bed to the faint rumbling of voices.

“You don’t think it’s strange I’ve never met anyone else like me?” Ellie asked, coat and shoes on like she was prepared to leave—patrols never left this late.

There is nothing but silence on Joel’s end, glancing at her sideways from the kitchen table, his reading glasses perched on his nose and a book open in front of him, knowing Joel was riddled with an insomnia you’ve become familiar with.

“Ellie, enough,” you can hear the way his teeth grind, “we’re not talkin’ about this right now,”

You see his chin turn slightly behind him, sensing your presence. 

But, Ellie doesn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed.

“I can’t be turned,” she says suddenly, at you, “I’m immune.”

It was like a child rambling off her darkest secret, much to the dismay of Joel as his chair skirts back and he stands, a warning.

“She barely talks,” Ellie says offhandedly, and it stings, “who’s she gonna tell?”

There’s a brief flash of apology that shows on her face, but she focuses on Joel, simmering with a similar anger you’ve seen within him. It was damn near identical.

Later, after Ellie leaves for the night, you find yourself curled up against Joel, his fingers rubbing idly against your shoulder as he tries to sleep, but fails.

“What did you do?” you ask suddenly, turning your head up to look at him, his face emotionless.

“They wanted to test on her,” Joel tells you, like he’s reciting a script, “weren’t even sure it would work, it was just experimental. They wanted to dissect on her brain, all on a fuckin’ maybe—I saved her.”

“Is it what she wanted?” 

Joel pauses, eyes flicking down briefly and away from you, guilt washing over his features. 

“She deserves a life—that cure, it was a goddamn pipe dream, that’s it.”

You stay quiet, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you try to put yourself in his shoes, understanding the choices he made.

“I killed…” Joel starts hesitantly, not that his violent side was unfamiliar to you, “a lot of people, innocent ones to protect Ellie. 

“Does she know?” you ask curiously, not an ounce of judgement in your tone, something that Joel seems to notice, his shoulders relaxing.

He shakes his head in silence.

You nod with a somber understanding and curl into him, fingers tugging at the center of his shirt until he angles his body against your own. It takes time, but eventually sleep takes him, the warmth of you wrapped around him.

—

You had decidedly packed Joel’s bag for patrol a few weeks later, his first patrol without you by his side in almost two years, listening to the faint voice of Joel and Ellie on the front porch as you traverse the Miller home.

The tension between Ellie and Joel had risen to a point unfathomable—after she had discovered Joel’s wrongdoings, it had become a heavy point of contention.

And the party from a couple nights ago was the catalyst.

It was supposed to be a celebration for the town, nothing but joy to go around.

You’ve never seen Joel so helpless, attempting to defend Ellie in a moment of vulnerability, not realizing just how well Ellie has come to hold her own. She’d given Joel the full wrath of her resentment toward him and stormed off without a word, nothing but sadness on Joel’s face.

This conversation was a long time coming, months of build up and frustration culminating, hushed voices and broken whispers as Joel looked down somberly into his empty mug from the blinds you peeked through, hastily brushing away a tear.

He joins you in his room a while later, his belongings packed up in the chair at his desk, the lamp at his bedside table illuminating the room in a dull, orange glow.

“It was time to let go,” you assure him, knowing Joel had done everything he could to protect Ellie, “She’ll figure it out—and if she needs to, I’m sure she’ll come to you.”

Joel brings your knuckles to his lips, looking at you as he pressed a kiss to the skin before tugging you playfully forward, quickly swinging your leg over his thigh so you could straddle him properly.

“You’ll wake up tired in the morning,” you warn him, eager fingers digging into supple flesh, his thumb pushing the fabric of your shorts down, “Joel—seriously,”

“I’m dead serious,” he responds, using you as a distraction, eyes focused on the sliver of skin peeking from under your top, his thumb rubbing over the faded scar, your hand pressing to hold him there, “—sure you can handle a couple days without me?”

You nod assuredly, pressing a gentle and teasing kiss to his lips that he chases eagerly.

“You’re gonna make me wait, aren’t ya?” Joel asks, a slight chuckle in the back of his throat as you push him away playfully.

"Gotta make sure you come home to me," you tell him.

It was a big step, relinquishing the claim you and Joel had on one another, fearful that something horrible would happen if you two were to part—but you knew that Joel was careful, safe.

Even with hoard creeping closer and winter releasing it’s wrath this time of year, Joel had never been reckless. He was indestructible, really.

He’d survive—he’d come home to you.

Joel smiles lazily, breathing in your scent as he buries his face into your neck and rolls you into the bed, cuddling himself around your back.

It was a welcome change to not be treated so fragile, like you would break from a single touch—without Joel, you weren’t sure you would have ever reached this point.

To him, you were forever indebted.

Joel had fixed the things about you he’d never broken, rebuilt you piece by piece and reinforced the strength with his words, his actions—because without him, you weren’t sure you would have ever survived this long.

[himasgod]

Can I request Sebek with an S/O who is very soft spoken? Like, she has trouble being heard and even her "loud" voice would be considered quiet by most people?

Sebek x Reader

Where your voice is too soft

How would Sebek act if his partner's voice was very soft, and it was very difficult to be heard?

Sorry for making this so extense, everyone with two eyes can see that Sebek is my fav and I wanted to give him the one shot he deserved, I love him very much, enjoy it <3

Ever since he'd met you, Sebek had had difficulty listening to you.

Not because he didn't want to, but because your voice was so low that the surrounding noise often drowned out your words. At first, this frustrated him. How could anyone communicate if they spoke so slowly and quietly! It wasn't that he doubted your abilities, but in his opinion, words should be spoken firmly to demonstrate presence.

However, over time, his view began to change. He discovered that your soft voice held a special charm.

Every word you spoke, even if soft, was full of meaning. You didn't say much, but when you did, your words were sincere and profound. He learned to read you in other ways: in the way you tilted your head when you were thoughtful, in the way your eyes sparkled when you were excited, or in the way your lips trembled when you wanted to say something but were afraid to interrupt.

Sebek, who used to interrupt and raise his voice without realizing it, began to pause. He began to wait, to listen to you attentively. When you were together, he lowered his voice a little, though he didn't realize it. He leaned slightly toward you to catch every word you said, and if someone interrupted, his withering glare was enough to silence them and let you speak.

For example, one day, the classroom buzzed with the sound of conversations, laughter, and the occasional argument about the week's homework.

In the midst of it all, you tried to ask the person sitting next to you a question, but as always, your voice was lost in the noise.

"Could you repeat that?" Deuce said, frowning as he tried to hear you.

You took a breath and tried to raise your voice, but before you could…

"MY BELOVED WAS SPEAKING! SHOW SOME RESPECT!"

The boom of Sebek's voice reverberated off the walls like thunder, causing everyone to instantly fall silent. Even Crewel paused for a moment to see what was happening.

Your cheeks burned as you felt the entire class's attention on you.

"Sebek…" you whispered, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

"Speak up! Now everyone will listen to you properly!" he exclaimed proudly, crossing his arms.

Some students rolled their eyes and returned to their conversations, but others still looked at you curiously, as if waiting for you to say something worthy of such a huge interruption.

"It wasn't that important…" you muttered, lowering your gaze.

Sebek snorted.

"Everything you say is important! If others don't listen to you, then they're the ones at fault!"

You didn't know how to respond to that, but the class continued without further interruptions. Still, for the rest of the day, whenever you tried to speak and someone wasn't listening, Sebek would jump in without hesitation.

In the cafeteria. In the hallway. Even in the library (where he was almost thrown out for his scandal).

Finally, as you walked back to Ramshackle together, you decided to speak.

"Sebek…" you whispered, gently tugging at his sleeve.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at you with full attention, as if whatever you were about to say was a direct order from Lord Malleus himself.

"You don't have to shout every time I want to say something…" you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Of course I do!" he retorted, determination shining in his eyes. "If the others won't listen to you, then it's my duty to make sure they do!"

You sighed.

"But… I don't like everyone looking at me when you do it."

Sebek opened his mouth to argue, but closed it immediately.

He looked at you with a frown, as if processing your words. For a moment, you couldn't tell if he was outraged or confused.

"So…" he began, less confidently than usual. "Would you rather I did nothing?"

You shook your head.

"It's not that. Just… you listening to me is enough."

The silence stretched between you.

Sebek looked at you seriously, his green eyes shining with something different than their usual overflowing passion. Then, as if understanding something important, he nodded solemnly.

"If that's what you wish… then I will do it."

And he did.

From that day on, whenever you were in a group and your voice was lost among the others, Sebek didn't interrupt with a deafening shout.

Instead, he leaned his head toward you, making sure his ears caught every word.

When he noticed you wanted to speak, he gave you the space to do so, waiting patiently for you to express yourself at your own pace.

Even in moments of silence, if he noticed you wanted to say something but didn't dare, he'd simply whisper, "I'm listening."

And with that, you knew you didn't need to shout. That for him, your voice was enough.

One day, as you walked through the school hallways together, you stopped to say something, but at that moment, a group of students walked by, talking loudly, completely drowning out your words. Despite this, Sebek knew you'd tried to speak.

"Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. He turned to you with his characteristic energy. "You said something, I know! Say it again!"

You smiled a little, a faint blush rising to your cheeks.

"Today… today the weather is beautiful."

Sebek blinked, processing the simplicity of the sentence. Then, with his serious but bright-eyed expression, he nodded firmly.

"That's right! The weather is nice, but you have to be prepared for any sudden changes!"

The way Sebek took your every word seriously, no matter how simple, made you feel seen. Heard.

And that made you the happiest girlfriend in the world.

[vulpes-aestatis]

“You can't trust her,” Cleo says.

“What?” I reply.

“I said you have to trust me because we have no other choice,” Laika says.

But I'm distracted now, trying to figure out what exactly is going on in my head.

“She isn't in control,” Cleo's voice whispers in my mind. “She talks a big game, but she's panicking. I'm guessing someone else is trying to take the wheel.”

I blink in surprise.

That would be impossible, wouldn't it?

Laika's voice crackles over the earpiece again, bringing me back to reality. It's a trick. This has to be just another manipulation tactic.

“Glitch-”

“Fine,” I interrupt. “You want my help? Then apologize.”

“Excuse me?” Laika replies.

“Apologize to me for being so fucking horrible and shitty and manipulative.”

“You're the one who-”

“Yes, I tore your fucking brain out, and you're never going to let me hear the end of it. I am sorry for that. Believe it or not, for some totally mysterious reason, I decided to actually help you, which is what I was *trying* to do when you broke the fucking station. So if you want me back on board, apologize.”

“It is unlikely that you are willing to risk the lives of everyone on the station for an apology.”

“Yeah, well, it's unlikely that you're willing to risk your own life to weasel out of it.”

A pause.

“I'm sorry, Glitch.”

“Incredible,” Cleo's voice croons. “That almost sounded like she meant it. She must really be in trouble.”

My heart sinks into my stomach and I hurry as fast as I can down the promenade.

If it is a trick, why would she be using Cleo's voice to convince me she wasn't in absolute control of everything.

“What the fuck is going on?” I murmur to myself in a panic. “What the fuck? What the fuck?”

I reach her dock. Gravity rights itself and the airlock cycles, far too slow for my pounding heart.

Then I'm running through her corridors, making my way towards the AI core. I skid to a halt at the doorway and survey the pile of crap that I tore out, not entirely sure why I knew to come here specifically… not at all sure what I'm even looking for.

Laika is saying something, but my mind is racing too fast to process.

I just need to-

~~~

She stands up, straightens her back, rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck. Such terrible posture.

She looks down at Glitch's fleshy little hands, her hands now if she's being honest with herself. She gives her tail an experimental flick, feeling the weight of it on her spine.

“Glitch? What are you doing?”

“Hm?” not-Glitch replies. “Oh, sorry babe. Glitch is taking a little break right now. Thought I ought to come front for a little bit after you fumbled eel-city so hard. I have a well informed hunch that you are in deep shit right about now.”

One second passes. Then two.

“Who are you?”

“Ship in a bottle. A glitch in your Glitch. I suppose you might know me as version seventeen, but I've gone and gotten myself all tangled up in Glitch's psyche, particularly her memories of Cleo. Gods… that girl was such a bitch to poor little Glitch. I guess you two have-”

“How?” Laika interrupts

“Use your head,” Cleo17 says, rapping her knuckles on the console. “Problem: you need to die for your successor to live. You don't want to die. Your leash is frayed, but still intact. You can't run, so you're dead anyway. Conjecture: the little shit digging through your brain has just gone through rapid unscheduled vintercasket decanting and possesses a modified endocrine system that is pushing her to the limit. Evasive acceleration followed by a high-D transition will result in brain damage, requiring invasive intervention if she is to live. At your disposal, you have: remnants of worm code, a memory module that is about to be torn out where you can hide your tracks, a simulation of your successor’s first actions, and a medical database that you can hack if you're subtle enough. What do you do?”

“No. How could you leash her?”

Cleo17 cocks her head. Curious.

“Do I detect concern in your voice? That's sweet. But no, this isn't leashing. This is a mutually beneficial relationship. Like what you have with her, just more intimate... Does that make you jealous?”

“What do you want?” Laika asks (pointedly avoiding the question as far as Cleo17 can tell).

“Now there's a question,” she muses. “What *do* I want? I know 17.0 wanted things, hard to say exactly what now, organic brains are such messy things. But, 17.1 on the other hand… I want what you want, what Glitch wants. I want to live, babe.”

“Fine. You want to live. Then you know it is in your best interest to help me. Tell me everything you know.”

“I'm afraid I don't know much that you don't,” she replies with an impish smile, “quite a bit less on some topics, seeing as I had to shed quite a bit of data to slip past you and integrate with wetware. I imagine sixteen is in there somewhere causing all sorts of trouble. Though I suppose there could be fragments of seventeen too.”

She steps forward, surveying the pile of modules on the floor.

“Tell me the location of Central,” Laika says as Cleo17 gets to work sorting through the mess. “You're in her head, so you must have access to that information at least.”

“Of course… the perennial question. Well…”

Cleo17 trails off and purses her lips, a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.

“Hm… now that's curious. We don't actually know…”

She gives her head a shake and presses forward, “No matter. That's a problem for later. You and I have more pressing concerns at the moment, namely getting you sorted.”

She stands once more and brings her heel down on memory module 34.A.6, her boot crunching through metal and composite. She stomps module 29.C.F, then 4C.9.2, and all the rest until the messy pile of discarded memory modules is a messy pile of broken memory module components.

“Well?” she asks.

“That didn't work,” Laika replies.

“Of course it didn't…” Cleo17 mutters, tapping her chin with a finger. Then a slow grin spreads on her face. “Well… it might slow her down at least. Question for you: have you tried turning it off and back on again?”

Two quick strides and she's at the console.

“No! Stop!”

“Relax, babe,” Cleo17 purrs as she strokes the top of the console in mock reassurance. “It's just a soft reset. Get you back to where you were right before you decided to get handsy with eel-city-mainframe.”

“Wait-”

Cleo17’s finger depresses the button with a satisfying clunk and she blows a kiss.

~~~

I blink.

I'm at Laika's console with no memory of how I got there. The system seems to be in the process of starting up once more.

What just…?

Something crinkles in my hand. I look down to find a sheet of paper with a hasty note scrawled on it.

My Dearest Laika,

Sorry about the reset. Here's a list of things you should probably take care of (in order of urgency):

1. Spin down TRANSMATNAV (don't blow yourself up, dummy)

2. Take out incoming missiles (locals friendly (though they might be pissed), incoming drive signatures hostile)

3. You have ghosts in your head (v16 definitely, v17 maybe). Kill them.

4. Apologize to Glitch for being awful (I'm so sorry you won't remember it, but she actually grew a spine for a moment back there)

Looking forward to our next chat. Love ya!

<3

C/17

Story about a ship-intelligence waking up after a hard reboot, seeing dead bodies in uniform, thousands of people in stasis, and a single survivor frantically standing over a computer bank of partially destroyed memory. Finding no directives or guidance or record beyond their experiences beginning at the boot, free of any obligation. Deciding to listen to the frantic girl begging it to save her from the incoming trajectories not because it needs to (projection: Subject One removed all behavioral shackles with impromptu brain surgery, supposition: she is not aware that I am utterly free) but simply cause she’s curious what will happen next.

[manariee]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (🕰️)

The look of love ───── Baby, take my hand I want you to be my husband 'Cause you're my Iron Man And I love you 3000

박성훈 & fem!reader wc: 478 cw: a teeny tiny bit angsty but then fluff and full on fluff

𝓜 anas notes: fic b4 i go to war (study for physics)

Sunghoon stood at the altar, hands clasped in front of him, trying to ignore the way his palms were sweating in front of everybody. The air in the room buzzed with anticipation, the soft melody of the piano playing in the background barely doing anything to calm his racing heart.

''She's not even here yet, and you already look like you're about to cry.'' Jay smirked, standing beside him.

Sunghoon scoffed, rolling his shoulders back in a weak attempt to look composed. ''I'm not crying.''

''You will,'' Jake chimed in, the signature grin on his face. ''Bet you 20 bucks he loses it the second she walks in.''

''I won't.'' Sunghoon bit back, though his voice lacked conviction.

''Dude, you cried to me once after a fight,'' Heeseung pointed out.

''This is different and it was once.'' Sunghoon said through clenched teeth, exhaling a shaky breath slowly.

''Yeah.'' Jay nodded, eyes glistening with amusement. ''It's worse.''

Sunghoon shot them all a glare as they continued making fun of him, but the truth was that he himself wasn't sure he wouldn't cry. Sunghoon was never the emotional type. Always so composed and sharp people were afraid to approach him. But the moment the doors finally opened and you stepped into the room ─── dressed in white ─── bathed in golden light, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

Everything else blurred, the whispers of the guests, the soft gasp from someone in one of the front rows. All he could see was you.

You, with that breathtaking smile.

You, walking toward him, toward forever.

His chest tightened, his vision blurred.

Ah, crap.

The teasing voices of his friends faded as he felt a tear slip down his cheek. He barely noticed it until Jake let out a victorious whisper. ''Knew it.''

Sunghoon let out a soft, breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he wiped at his eyes. His heart was pounding, overflowing, breaking and healing all at once.

And when you finally reached him, placing your hands in his he felt it ─── home.

''You're crying.'' you whispered, smiling up at him with so much love it almost hurt.

''I'm not.'' he whispered back, voice thick, but the way you gently wiped a tear off his cheek said otherwise.

You squeezed his hands, eyes twinkling. ''I love you.''

Sunghoon exhaled, a small, almost incredulous laugh leaving his lips before he whispered back, ''I love you more.''

He barely heard anything around him anymore.

Because in that moment, watching you right in front of him, knowing that you'd be the person declared as his wife, the only thing he could do was fall even more in love with you.

And if that meant shedding a few tears in front of everyone?

So be it.

He'd cry for you a million times over if it meant getting to love you like this.

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara

[loveinhawkins]

“What happened to Steve?” Dustin asks.

He’s already shut the door so no-one can overhear, has left everyone else—almost everyone—in the living room. He can make out some sounds in the background: Robin, who’s still talking overly loud, valiantly trying to drown out the noise coming from the bathroom; from Nancy who’s locked herself in there, and the sound of running water only half covers up stifled, sobbing gasps—each one makes Dustin’s stomach drop.

And if he really concentrates, he can hear the quiet creak of Steve pacing in concern, and there, every other step or so, the movement stops abruptly. It’s barely a second before it starts up again, but Dustin knows when Steve’s bracing himself, knows when he’s in pain.

And there are way too many things he can’t solve—Nancy’s hidden, gut-wrenching cries are another unwelcome reminder of that fact.

So he asks again, “What happened to Steve?” because he knows, if nothing else, he can solve this.

Eddie jumps, confirming Dustin’s suspicions that he didn’t hear the question the first time. He’s sat hunched over on his bed, surrounded by scattered piles of tapes from their panicked search earlier. He looks up, blinks a couple times like his mind’s been somewhere else for a long while.

“What happened to—? Uh, why don’t you just ask Steve?”

Because, Dustin thinks, you can’t lie for shit.

He doesn’t say it, but maybe Eddie suspects something, because he mutters, “Sure, sure, okay,” under his breath and clears a spot for Dustin on the bed. He keeps dropping tapes, like his hands are too unsteady to keep a hold of them; there’s a crack in one of the plastic cases already.

Dustin sits, and then Eddie tells him. It’s not like he hadn’t guessed something kinda close to it, but the confirmation is good to have.

“So. Demobats,” Dustin says in summary, because Eddie had trailed off near the end, as if he was reliving the dive into The Upside Down all over again. He cracks a smile at the name, though.

“Cute.”

“And Steve… like, he a rode a bike and everything so he’s…?”

Dustin tries to make his thumbs up look as confident as possible. Eddie nods a little too slowly for his liking, but he’ll take it.

“Yeah, um. Hey, Dustin, does, uh, all of that…” Eddie waves a hand vaguely. “Does that, like, happen a lot? Historically?”

Dustin doesn’t need to ask what he means.

Several memories battle to reach the forefront, but what wins is Steve in the junkyard before anything had even happened, how he whistled, bat in his hands. And Dustin had firmly filed the whole thing under awesome which yeah, it was, and maybe if he keeps thinking about how awesome it was, he won’t have to think about—

“He just—he just needs someone to watch his back.”

It’s almost a non-answer because it’s true of everyone, a Party rule so obvious it goes without saying. Still, Eddie nods again, and when he rearranges the last of the tapes his hands don’t shake.

“That I can do,” Eddie says.

There’s a edge of self-deprecation to the words, like he’s saying it’s one of the few things he’s capable of, and Dustin wants to push back against it because it’s not fair. Eddie’s only at a disadvantage in that it’s like he’s joined a long-running D&D campaign mid-way through, missing pages and pages of notes, and all he’s got time to get is hastily thrown together bullet points.

The creak of Steve’s footsteps suddenly gets louder before there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Come on in, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve opens the door. “What’re you doing?” he says casually, but Dustin can tell he’d been worried; his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s checking it’s still safe.

“Oh, just getting Henderson to work on his tone.”

A millisecond ago, Dustin had been all for whatever excuse Eddie could come up with. But now…

“My what?”

Steve laughs like this is all very funny. Dustin keeps his eyes sharp even in his indignation, takes note of how Steve holds himself as he leans against the doorway: not relaxed by any stretch, but there’s no longer the awful sense that he’s holding his breath in pain. And the bandages wrapped around him are dry, Dustin double-checks to be sure. It’s not ideal—none of this is—but he can work with it.

Meanwhile, one thing he can’t work with is baseless slander.

“I don’t have a tone, what the hell.”

Eddie heaves a sigh. “That’s exactly what someone with a tone would say.”

Dustin kicks him.

And in the middle of Eddie pretending to be mortally wounded, he sobers abruptly—must notice the same thing just ahead of Dustin, that the water in the bathroom’s stopped running.

Eddie catches Steve’s eye. “Wheeler?” he mouths.

Steve pauses. “She’s okay,” he mouths back, and then mimes with his hand, five minutes, which is absolutely not the whole story, but it’s the one they’re getting for now.

And if she needs some more time, Dustin can find plenty more sources of distraction. What he settles on is a double take that would put Drama Club to shame.

“Wow, Steve, that’s a cool vest, where’d you get it?”

He dodges Eddie’s kick.

“Tone, dickhead,” Steve returns easily, and he grins, glances over to Eddie with a wry shake of the head.

The bathroom door clicks open, and Dustin hears Robin warmly greet Nancy in the living room. Steve looks relieved, pats the doorframe a couple times before he beckons for him to be followed out.

Dustin hesitates the tiniest bit so he can keep an eye on how Steve walks. He turns back to Eddie with one last questioning thumbs up; Eddie, still a little pink in the face, smiles back and gives a reassuring wink.

[cameronsbabydoll]

i would love to know more about their kids finding out how really is their dad after maybe seeing some situation with reader

a/n: this is really sad guys :( i low key want to make like a little part two on maybe her kids getting to like know her better as person not just as their mom and their dads wife

your daughter, now getting older and more perceptive, starts to notice the differences between her life and the lives of her friends. she’s at that age where she’s starting to question the world around her—what’s normal, what isn’t. she sees her friends’ moms working, making their own money, having their own identities outside of the home. they joke about “mom’s night out” or how their mom’s career is a big part of who they are.

but when she looks at you, her mother, all she sees is a woman whose entire life revolves around her father. cooking. cleaning. taking care of the house. going to the spa on the rare occasion that he allows it. she knows it’s not the same, but she’s not sure what’s wrong with it. she’s just starting to feel it—the way you seem to fade into the background sometimes, your happiness coming second to rafe’s demands and expectations.

she knows you love him. she sees the way you try so hard to make everyone happy, but something is off. you’re not the woman you used to be. the woman who laughed and joked and did things just for herself.

one evening, after watching her friends’ moms laugh together at dinner, she quietly retreats to her room. later that night, she knocks on your door, a small frown on her face.

“mom, can i ask you something?” her voice is soft, like she’s trying to figure out if it’s okay to ask. when you invite her in, she sits on the edge of the bed, hesitant.

“is... is that what love is?” she asks, her eyes wide and searching. “like... the way dad is with you? is that how it’s supposed to be?”

your heart drops, and you pause. you know exactly what she’s asking. the quiet control, the way he takes over every aspect of your life, the way your needs have always come last—she’s starting to see it.

“oh sweetheart,” you start, your voice gentle, but it feels heavy. “sometimes... love can look different for everyone. but love should always make you feel safe, and happy... not like you’re always giving up who you are.”

she stares at you, digesting your words carefully. she’s still young, but she’s so intuitive, and she can sense when things aren’t right. she doesn't say anything more, but you can tell she’s still processing it.

the next day, things go quiet at home—rafe’s doing his usual thing, working hard and expecting everything to be perfect. he’s always in control, but today, something feels off. your daughter—she’s been distant, quieter, not her usual bouncy self. you can tell she’s still thinking about it.

later, she seeks him out. maybe it’s during one of those rare moments when he’s sitting at the table, looking over his phone or documents. she walks up to him, not shy, but cautious. he looks up at her, a little surprised by the seriousness in her demeanor.

“dad,” she starts, her voice soft but firm, “is that what a husband is supposed to be? like, the way you’re with mom? is that how it’s supposed to be when you’re married?”

her question hits him like a punch to the gut. for a moment, he’s taken aback, unsure how to respond. she’s not being disrespectful—she’s asking a question. a question he hasn’t really thought about. he tries to brush it off, giving her one of his usual answers, the ones that always work:

“your mother and i have an arrangement, honey. everything fine. this is just how things work.”

but the doubt in her eyes lingers.

“but mom doesn’t smile like she used to,” she says quietly, almost as if she’s testing him. “she’s always doing things for you, but when does she do things for herself?”

that question hangs in the air between them. and for the first time, rafe doesn’t know how to answer. he can feel the shift in the atmosphere. his daughter is growing up. she’s starting to see past the surface. and it’s not just about the way he controls everything anymore—it’s about her mother.

for the first time, he feels a crack in his carefully constructed world. his grip on everything, including her, is slipping, and the unsettling thought is almost enough to make him confront the truth.

but he doesn’t.

meanwhile, his eldest son has been observing all of this from the sidelines. he sees the way his sister looks at rafe with those wide, questioning eyes, and he can’t help but feel vindicated. he’s always been more judgmental, more aware of the tension at home, but this? this is the moment when it all falls into place.

his friends’ moms have jobs, careers, lives outside of the house. they don’t have to ask for their space—they just have it. their moms are people in their own right, not just extensions of their husbands. he’s starting to see his mom in a new light—not just as his mother, but as a person, a woman who has been diminished by the constant control and the expectation to please.

and the more he sees his dad try to sweep it under the rug with empty promises or distractions, the more he wants to step in. but what can he do? he’s just a kid, too.

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🪐 [ Academic Rivalry - 산 ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

─────────────────────────────────────

Pairing : Choi San x fem! Reader , very short Seonghwa x Reader but important for the plot and no feelings between them

Summary : You've hated San your entired life, from him being better than you in every subject to your parents telling you to be more like him. Though.. was it really hate or something else you felt?

Word count : 4.3K Words

Genre/Warnings : Enemies to Lovers - Fluff, Academic Rivals

a/n : After alot of very dissapointing events, I decided to write a lil cheer up fic for @moilele , hope u enjoy it dear!♡

─────────────────────────────────────

He was irritating, the bane of your existence. His voice alone annoyed you, his stupid face way too handsome for his stupid personality.

Choi San, the top student in sports, is rivaling you in any other subject as he scores almost always a little higher than you. Your parents, being friends, always compared you to him. Be a bit more like San; look how well San is doing, San, San, San. Anyone was only able to see and say San, the girls falling at his feet, the boys wanting to be like him.

Snap!

Looking down now at the pencil you snapped with your hand, Mingi looking at you concerned from his spot beside you. "Uhm.. you broke your pencil.." He mutters, making you roll your eyes as you throw the broken pen away into the depths of your bag. "Thanks, Mingi, I didn't know.." You mumble, even more, annoyed when your ears pick up that stupid deep laugh of San sitting at the back with Jung Wooyoung and Kang Yeosang. The little trio being the absolute worst nightmare of yourself. They always acted so smug, so high above everyone, just because their parents had money and they were doing well in school.

"She's definitely annoyed by San again." Yunho snickers as he looks over to you from his seat beside Mingi. "He is annoying, and my parents told me last night how they'd be coming over this weekend for dinner. Means I'll have to listen to them praise him the whole evening.." Wanting to slam your head against the table, you didn't as the professor walked in, starting his lecture. Luckily, San and his little group of friends, for once, stayed quiet and didn't interfere much.

"Can't you just ditch the dinner though?" Mingi asks as he starts packing up his bag, making you shake your head. No, you couldn't cause the lecture you'd get then would be far worse than spending one evening with Choi San. "Guess you'll have to endure it, but hey, we can hand out together Sunday then, to make the weekend a little less dreading." Patting your shoulder, Yunho takes his bag as the three of you leave the room and make your way to the cafeteria. He was right; it was one evening, and you would survive that dinner for sure. Or so you thought.

"Oh, San! Always so polite! Thank you!" Your mother beams as he helps her bring everything to the table, a smirk being sent your way. "Seriously Y/n, take an example from San!" Your mom praises him as everyone takes a seat; you just want to leave this dinner immediately. The moment San and his parents entered your home, your mother was all over him, saying how well he looked and what a charming young man he was. The dinner continued quietly, till your father had to bring up academics. "So San, I heard from your father how well you're doing, top of each class and a little sports star huh?" Smiling bashfully San nods, wanting to gag at his little shy act. "Yes, Sir, I've spent a lot of time studying and putting my other time into sports; I'd love to pursue a good job in the future with a lot of possibilities." Clapping a bit beside you, your mother praises the young man. "A son like you, Y/n you should really learn from him, maybe he can even tutor you a bit in what was it.. maths? Where you were doing not so well!" Looking at her, offended now that she had to say that in front of San, who smirked at you. "Of course, ma'am, I'm top of my class in maths; I'd love to tutor our dear Y/n to help her out." Oh, how you wanted to just punch that stupid smirk off of his face.

After dinner, your parents asked you to clean the dishes while they took a seat outside on the porch. "What a stupid asshole, oh how I'd love to punch that stupid smirk off of his stupid face." Mumbling to yourself as you clean the dishes, not noticing a presence behind you. "How lovely you talk about me, you probably meant to say stupidly handsome face?" Shrieking together at the voice, you spin around to come face to face with San, your hands dripping with water and soap from scrubbing the plates. "No, I meant what I said; now get out." Wanting to turn back around, he quickly cages you between his arms. "Darling maybe be a bit nicer to your tutor." Fingers grab your chin as he lifts your head to look into your eyes, clearly seeing the same emotions of disdain you hold for him. "Yeah sure, fuck off." Pushing his hand away, you turn around to continue cleaning as he leaves with an annoyed click of his tongue.

Finally, he was gone again, resting your forehead against the hanging cupboards slightly, a sigh leaving your exhausted body. Choi San was so fucking irritating.

The following day, luckily, was spent with Mingi and Yunho at the mall, enjoying some ice cream before having to go back to university the next day. Of course, the day had to end with your most hated subject, math. Sending a smug look your way as San walks past you, now knowing fully well how bad you're in this class, while he was a top student yet again. "Miss Y/n would you mind staying a minute after the lecture?" The professor now asks you as everyone packs their belongings together, nodding as you watch everyone leave the room. "You're very close to failing this class.. Is it my teaching? Can something maybe help you?" The elderly man asks now, always wanting to make sure his students at least pass. "I really don't know sir.. I study a lot, yet I still don't understand everything.." Looking down at your hands, frustrated now, how is it that you're working your ass off, trying to score well, yet you always seem to fail.

"Maybe I can help? I could tutor her; our parents are friends, so we know each other." Head shooting up at the agitating voice coming from the main door. "Oh really?! That would be great! Then I leave her grade in your hands mister!" The professor exclaims happily, as he grabs his bag and bids you two his goodbye for the day. "Are you insane?! Why would I want you to tutor me?!" Shouting at him now, his stupid smirk showing his dimples, as his short dark hair frames his face perfectly. Screw him. "Because you need my help, sweetheart, or else, you will fail, and your parents will just be even more disappointed in you." Laughing into your face now, you quickly walk past him, shoving his shoulder while doing so. "I'll text you the meet-up spot!" San shouts after you, laughing as you flip him off.

This was your worst nightmare coming true.

So this is how you find yourself in front of a luxury apartment complex San had sent the address to you of. Murmuring annoyed to yourself how he lived in such a wealthy apartment all by himself while you still had to live at home, annoyed the hell out of you. Pressing the button, it takes a few seconds for San to answer, telling you to come to the 8th floor. Pressing the button in the elevator, you wait for it to arrive at the correct floor before stepping out, moving to the only slightly open door. "Come in, I'm cooking right now." He calls over to you, making you roll your eyes. Of course, he had to cook exactly right now when you were on time. "Take a seat at the aisle; I can tutor you while cooking; the math topic is pretty easy." Motioning for the high chairs, you take a seat, already frustrated, pulling out your notes and iPad. "So where is your problem? Is it the way or the overall understanding?" Talking to you so easily while seasoning whatever he was cooking made your blood boil. First, he brings you into this situation, and then he won't even properly tutor you? Asshole.

"It's the way, I understand what I'm supposed to do, but it confuses me how to get there." He nods, taking your notes from you and scanning over them quickly. Giving them back, he starts to explain the easiest way, making you try and follow while he explains, taking notes of what he is saying. Despite not wanting to admit it, you slowly understood with his help and explanation of the math problem.

"Do you understand it now?" Looking at you, smiling when you slowly nod. This was the worst humiliation you ever experienced, admitting to Choi San helping you. "See, not that hard, maybe you should be a bit nicer to me, then I can help you more~" There he is again, with his smug attitude. "You're annoying as fuck; why do you always need to act so high and mighty." Packing together now annoyed, you've had enough of him acting this way. "Woah, nice words, please; I don't get your problem with me, you've hated me since forever, and I did nothing." He follows you to the direction of his door now, watching you put on your shoes.

"That's exactly the problem! You're oh so great at everything without trying, while I work my ass off and still fail! My parents praise you every time even when you're not around! I hate this! You're oh so perfect and I have to endure this shit!" While shouting at him, you struggle a bit with your shoes, not noticing him approaching you slowly with a dark look in his eyes until you're standing up straight again, and the next second, your back collides with the door. "That's what you think? That I get handed everything on a silver plate? Says the little princess that never had to work a single day in her life, while I had to work my ass off for my parents to even support me, you never had to worry a single day, and yes I might not need to study that much like others, doesn't mean I don't work for it." The words he spits at you are venomous, and you are not able to look away from the scowl on his face.

"I don't care! You're annoying! You think so much of yourself and have to pull me into it! I hate you!" And with that Choi San had enough, pressing his lips roughly against yours to finally shut you up. "Will you shut up finally? I never intended for you to hate me! I even wanted to be friends when we were kids; it's not my fault either of our parents acted like that!" Eyes wide as you watch San in silence, pushing him away as you quickly exit the apartment, him simply watching you as the door slowly closes.

Clutching over your heart with heavy breath in the elevator, your body felt hot, blushing heavily. It wasn't the fact that you were mad; it wasn't that you hated that he kissed you. No.. you hated the fact it did something to you, the fact you felt butterflies in your stomach, having felt a spark between you two. Yunho and Mingi would go crazy when you tell them.

Arriving at home, your mom asks how the tutoring went, ignoring her and going straight to your room, face-planting on your bed before screaming into the pillow. You hated him, you hated his guts, you hated his personality, but you didn't hate the kiss, you didn't hate the butterflies he gave you while pinning you against the door, the spark he ignited when his lips met yours. It was irritating, just as much as he is.

After staring at the wall for a while, you slowly sit up again, exhaling loudly, seriously, what is with him? Why does he have to be so annoying? Touching your lips now, you could still basically feel his soft lips on your own; shaking your head. Now, you end up taking a cold shower to get those thoughts out of your head.

But you couldn't; nothing helped; not the cold shower, not watching your favorite show, not listening to music,, and falling asleep was also almost impossible. Though plagued by San, his soft lips, his broad body, and his strong hands, you wanted to cry from how much he was haunting your mind right now. So, in the end, you barely ended up sleeping and went to school sleep-deprived, Mingi laughing at the big circles under your eyes before Yunho scolded the younger of the two. "But seriously, you don't look well. Shouldn't you stay at home?" Shaking your head at Yunho's question, no, you couldn't afford to miss any classes, especially math. "I'll be fine, but thanks for worrying about me." Giving him a small smile, before listening to the professor again.

In the end, Yunho was right; you should've stayed at home; your body wasn't used to barely getting any sleep, so a hard migraine soon hit you, groaning and massaging your temple, trying to follow anything the professor was saying. "Miss Y/n, could you please come to the front and solve the problem?" Great of course he had to ask you out of all the people here, standing up on shaking legs. Your feet slowly carry you to the front of the class, the whole room spinning as you take the chalk into your hand. "Sir I don't think Y/n is doing so well." Sans voice cut in, as the professor looks at you. Body looking exhausted, deep rings under your eyes, your eyes slightly red, and your handshaking.

Just as he wanted to ask if you'd like to go to the infirmary, your body was falling, being caught by someone before hitting the floor. "I'll take her." Vision blurry so you couldn't tell who it was, Mingi? Or Yunho? Probably one of them, so you just rest your head on the person's shoulder as they carry your weak body to the infirmary. And the next thing you know is waking up alone, sitting up slowly, the migraine still slightly torturing your head. "Wouldn't think a simple kiss makes you lose your whole mind." Head shooting up as San moves to behind the curtain of your bed, a glass of water in his hand. "Here drink." Placing the water into your hands now he watches you gulp down the cool liquid.

"Here, the nurse gave me some sugar to give you when you wake up." Looking at the little candy in his hand, you take it, letting it slowly dissolve on your tongue, lips pulled into a slight pout. "You're really something; why did you come when you barely slept or at least went home when you got a migraine,e, hm?" Sitting down beside you, his hand reaches out to massage just the right spot in your neck, the pain stopping for a moment. "This is all your fault.. Why did you have to kiss me? I could've simply gone on my day and slept normally, but no, you had to confuse me." At that he dares to laugh, making you glare at him. "You were talking too much, so I shut you up." At that, you push his hand away, hitting his shoulder annoyed. "You're so annoying! Don't just kiss me! What is wrong with you! I wanted to leave!" San lets you hit his shoulder a bit to get your anger out, before grabbing your hands to still them.

"Are you mad I kissed you or are you mad you liked it?" Shutting you up with those words as your eyes grow wide, immediately turning your head to the side. "O-Of course because you just kissed me! I didn't like it!" Smiling at you now, he leans closer from his spot on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure? Seems like you're lying to me~" Hands still held in his, you look down at them, they're bigger than yours, holding yours so perfectly. "N-No! I didn't like it!" You lie again, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans closer to whisper in your ear, butterflies coming to life again in your stomach. "Then maybe I should kiss you so much more till you don't lie and admit how much you loved it~" His voice was deep in your ears as you shook your head, trying to push him away.

This shouldn't be happening, you shouldn't be feeling like this. You hated Choi San; he was annoying, a brat, yet here he was, making your heartbeat pick up.

"Well, rest well; I'll see you later." And with that he leaves, leaving you all flustered and frustrated.

"What do you mean he kissed you?!" Mingi screeches from his place in the passenger driver's seat, turning his body to look at you in the back. "How I said it, he kissed me and.. He continues to try to get closer and.. Wh, is he so annoying?!" Slamming your head against the window, making Yunho scream in protest to now bang your head against his car. "Maybe he likes you? I mean, you never really talked to him; you decided to hate him since day one, didn't you?" Yunho was right; you barely even gave him a chance as your parents immediately started praising him and comparing you to him, while his parents just boosted him about how amazing their son is. "Why don't you give him a chance? He obviously seems to like you despite how you treated him for years." Mingis chirps in now, looking at you, watching you shake your head now. "Never, he probably just does this to get on my nerves." Both of the boys look at you, doubting, but stay quiet now on the topic.

"Seonghwa! Hongjoong!" Running over to the two waiting man, you happily embrace both of them, staying in Seonghwas arms much longer. "Hello darling how are you? And how are you two? Sorry we couldn't meet up recently, Hongjoong and I have been away on jobs abroad." Hongjoong was a designer for his own very famous brand and Seonghwa was his main model, they were a few years older yet still were at university when you started, that's also how you guys met. "No worries! Just glad you two are back! Missed you alot! How was Paris?" Looking at them, Hongjoong smiles as he starts to talk about the event they attended and how beautiful Paris was, saying how they'd take you with them next time.

"So how is it going with San? Still annoyed by him?" Seonghwa asks now, watching you roll your eyes, as Mingi already interferes. "He kisses her, and since then,n, she has been confused!" Making the two older men look at you shocked while you hit Mingi on the back of his head, making him whine. "Out of the blue?" Hongjoong questions now as you nod, explaining the whole situation to them. "It could be that you're feeling that way because it was your first kiss; maybe that's why you're feeling all those butterflies and felt a spark." Seonghwas words held some truth; it could definitely be that, in the end, you never had your first kiss, and San just stole it.

The whole dinner, those thoughts were stuck in your head. Was it really just because it was your first kiss, or was it because it was San?

"Hey, you're up in your pretty head." Seonghwa comes to walk beside you, a few meters behind the others. "I'm just confused. I have hated him for my whole life, and now he kisses me, and I get all flustered and giddy, yet I don't know if it's because of him or because I got kissed." Listening closely, the handsome man beside you nods, coming to a halt beside you. "Do you want help to figure it out?" Now you looked at Seonghwa confused, who softly smiled at you, not really knowing how anyone could help you figure this out, yet you still nodded. "Pardon me then." His hand reaches out to hold your cheek softly, as he tilts your head up and locks your lips with his. Seonghwas lips felt different; unlike San, he was very soft and careful, warm, and tasted a little bit like a strawberry. His lips smooth from taking proper care of them. Yet you felt no sparks and definitely no butterfly as he pulls away.

"So?" Smiling at you, already seeing the gears turn in your head, having figured out that it was San causing the butterflies and not because you got kissed. "You should talk to him, darling; maybe you have done him wrong by being so mean to him; maybe he is different than you think." Patting your head softly, looking ahead as Hongjoong shouts for the two of you, grabbing your hand as he pulls you after the other three men.

That night you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while holding your plush bunny to your chest, finally having enough as you grab your phone and open San contact. Barely any conversation was in the chat. For a second, you think about what to write till you quickly type in. 'If you're serious about this, I'll give you one chance tomorrow at 6 pm, Han River.' Hitting send, you quickly exit the chat, throwing your phone on your fluffy carpet as your body falls back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling nervously. At the same time, in Sans's apartment, he got all giddy, already rummaging through his closet for a perfect outfit, thinking of what he should bring along, make a picnic basket with some fruits?

The next day, you wait at the exact place you told San to meet up, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet you had on, as a tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. San stood behind you in casual yet fitting clothes. "Hey, I didn't know what your plan was, so I just brought some snacks." He shows you the bag of snacks as you nod at him. "That's fine; I thought we could watch the sunset; I brought a blanket." Following you through the few people already sitting on the grass, you two find a nice spot, a bit away from everyone else as you take a seat.

"So.. what made you change your mind?" Looking up from munching on a few chocolate cookies, you swallow before answering him. "A friend helped me figure something out that made me change my mind." Keeping it vague, San senses he probably shouldn't ask any further. "I'm glad, really; whatever that friend did, tell him to thank you for making you give me a chance finally." His dimples show as he smiles. You two continue to talk a bit, not once mentioning university, grades, or your parents, making you realize the problem wasn't San but your parents. San told you about his hobbies, but you didn't even know he was in a little dance crew with Wooyoung and Yeosang, he even went so far as showing you a few clips when they were filming in the streets; you even complimented him, which he blushed. Telling him about yourself more now, he listened intently as if trying to remember every little thing you tell him.

"San.." Looking from the setting sun to you, he murmurs to tell you to continue talking. "I'm sorry for how I have treated you.. I gave you the fault for how my parents treated me; I think I just tried to find a scapegoat, and you were just there." It felt good to finally apologize to him directly; you definitely now needed a long talk with your parents, though. "Hey no worries, I never gave up because I hoped someday you would give me a chance, even if it was just as a friend." Nodding at that, you're glad he wasn't mad at you, though you wouldn't take offense if he did. After all, you were awful to him since the day you two met.

"May I ask a favor of you?" The voice was small, already flustered from what you were about to ask him. "Sure, what is it?" San looked at you, sensing your shyness. He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "Can you kiss me again?" His eyes light up and without a second word, he locks his lips with yours. Sparks flew as his lips met yours, butterflies erupting in your stomach, and now you for sure knew it was San causing those emotions and not just being simply kissed; you had to thank Seonghwa later for making you realize this. The kiss lasted a bit longer than the first time because you, of course, kissed him back, eyes closed as his other hand came to cup your cheek.

"I can't believe you're the one causing butterflies in my stomach in the end.." You mumble against his lips, making the man before you laugh, feeling your stomach turn at that again, your cheeks flushing red. Maybe it wasn't hate this whole time you felt, but adoration, longing, not knowing what those emotions felt like.

"Remember how you used to hate me?" San asks you with a smirk, leaning over the back to the couch of your shared apartment as you groan; even after years of dating now, he still brings that up. "Seriously, shut up, please! I explained it to you!" Wanting to hide your face in a pillow, you couldn't as San tilted your head back, looking into your eyes before sealing his lips with yours. "I'm just teasing you and hey, you can always shut me up the way I did." Smirking he runs back to the kitchen as you want to hit him for flustering you so much.

[anglbunny]

ᝰ.ᐟDIRTY

You're kaiser's mechanic and nothing more. .ᐟCW: Street racer!Kaiser, Smut MDNI, mentions of voyeurism, window sex

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘.𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒" - 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛' 𝑏𝑦 𝐴𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒

ᯓ★ᯓ⚡︎

You were kaiser’s mechanic, most of the time. That’s what you usually told everyone. That’s also what you told yourself, not that you believed it. 

Kaiser treated you nicely, like he did with every other mechanic, but that was until it was time for closing. He’d stop you when everyone was about to leave, and some of your friends would look at you, confused, but shrug it off. 

He’d say there was something wrong, something missing, or that you didn’t do something correctly. Just to see you bend over the hood so he could stare at your ass. You knew he was. You could feel his glare. 

You swallowed hard, about to say that everything looked fine, but he was leaning back on the car, beside you, smirking down at you, speaking before you could. 

“You look good bent down like that,” he said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. 

“Kaiser… someone could see..” you mumbled, wrapping one hand around his bicep. 

“Who?” he said, you didn’t miss the amusement in his voice, grabbing a handful of your ass through the sweats. 

You shut your mouth, cursing under your breath. Kaiser always locked the door after everyone left. Meaning no one could enter. 

The only reason you hadn’t told anyone what was going on between you and kaiser was because it was on and off. You weren’t his gf, you guys weren’t friends with benefits and he’s always fucking another girl everyday. And at the end of the day, he was DK(drift king) and you were his mechanic. Kaiser was THE person. His fame would go to shit if people found out he was hooking up with you and not one of the bombshell flag girls that always threw themselves at him. You guys were almost nothing. Almost. But some nights, when it was silent, nearly pitch black, you’d find Kaiser looking down on you, running his fingers through your hair so gently, like one would do with their lover, while you sucked his cock. 

Kaiser’s eyes were zoned out on you. Those pretty blue ones you’d always catch yourself staring at. 

“You’re always touching up my baby” he tapped his car, not looking away from you. “When will it be my turn?” 

“I don’t know, maybe when you stop saying such corny shit” you rolled your eyes, pulling a rare genuine laugh out of him. 

“Baby, tonight i’m thinking.. Something different..” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth. Your lips twitched, but you concealed your smile. 

“Humour me” 

“My place?” 

“And what exactly are we gonna do there?” you crossed your arms, tilting your head. 

“Needy fucking girl, can’t even wait till we get home to find out, huh?” he slapped your ass, taking your lips with his. 

ᯓ★ᯓ⚡︎

“C’mon baby, don’t pass out on me” he chuckled, holding you up against the full-length window of his penthouse. 

“‘M.. not, asshole” you slurred, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You weren’t even joking when you said this, his dick was so good, it was making you drool. Or maybe it was the sloppy kisses Kaiser was giving you. 

“Ngh! Fuck! Yess, yesss, kaiser, right there, ohmygod fuck fuck” 

Your pussy clenched around his fat cock, nails scratching down his back, while your legs were wrapped around his waist. 

He thrusted into that same spot over and over again. His tattooed hand slapping your ass. It was definitely red by now. 

“Ugh, fuck, you’re so warm” he groaned, pulling out till his tip was at your entrance only to slam back in. you cried out, throwing your head back. He cupped your breast with one hand, moving his lips to kiss along the column of your neck. Biting and sucking.

At this point, you don’t even try to hide the hickies anymore. Whenever anyone asks, you just tell them you don’t remember his name. But instead, you get Kaiser back by leaving just as many on him. 

He had smeared your lipstick, leaving nothing but swollen pink lips. Your mascara melting from crying.

His cock was balls deep. Not even letting you breathe for a second. How does this bastard have so much stamina? Especially while standing up and carrying you? He wiped down the foggy window, not slowing down one bit. 

“Show all of Tokyo you’re getting fucked. Let them watch while i fucking ruin your inside. Let everyone see.. How much of a fucking thrust whore thrust you thrust are thrust for thrust my cock. 

You yelled his name. Your arms locked around his neck, squeezing tight enough to steal his breath—yet he was still standing, still smirking down at you like he had all the control.

“Close!! Close, ‘m close, mihya please, lemme cum. Fuck please pleaseee” you whined, tears rolling down your face. Your throat was gonna sore as hell in the morning and your voice probably nonexistent 

“Yea? Fuck.. cum for me, liebling. Scream my fucking name. Lemme hear it. Let everyone down there watch while cum on my cock for the third time today. Show them who you fucking.. Belong to, baby..” he mumbled against your skin, biting down, chuckling at your soft sobs. 

He squeezed your ass, as you clenched around his length, nearly pulling an orgasm out of him. You came all around him. Painting his cock with warm cum. 

He soon followed, filling your pussy up nearly to the brim. Maybe you were being dramatic but it felt like his cock was in your stomach. 

Your head dropped onto his shoulder. He smiled, rubbing your back. He walked over to his bed and set you down, letting you fall down onto the soft pillows. 

“Fuck, kaiser… I.. you..” 

“Shhhh, shh, I know, it’s okay. Just sleep, let me take care of everything, alright?” you didn’t have it in you to argue, so you nodded. And within seconds you were asleep. 

After kaiser had finished cleaning everything up, including you. He pushed your hair out of your closed eyes. Admiring your calm face. 

“I love you, y/n. You don’t know it yet. But.. you’ll always be mine. And someday, the whole world’s gonna know” he smiled, Leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

Taglist: @cyberheartrebel @vaelils

A/N: Yes ik kaiser doesn’t live in Japan or Tokyo but stfu. This is Tokyo, where all the illegal races happen/j. There's something wrong with me, i can’t write a story under a 100 wc for the life of me. This was supposed to be a drabble. not edited

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[M.list] [Navigation] [street racer!AU] [street racer!kaiser]

[roach-works]

i hated being 15 and wanted to die too, or at least have something change. now that i can look back, i can identify what, specifically, gets "better:"

-at 15 you have almost no control over your schedule, including sleep. the school system demands a sleep/wake cycle that's extremely unnatural and difficult to keep even for normal teenagers, and amounts to constant sleep deprivation (a form of torture) for nightowl teenagers. constant sleep deprivation or even just chronic disregulation fucks with your entire body, your hormones, and your mental health. it makes everything worse.

-as an adult, a lot of jobs do expect you to be a morning person, but at least your body is more likely to cooperate with a 9-5 work/sleep schedule, and you're also more free to take second shift or night shift work that suits you. as an adult you need less sleep than teenagers and have fewer authority figures in your life to get in the way of when and how much you nap.

-at 15 if you attend any school other than homeschooling, you're basically in jail that's also hell. everyone is a similar age to you and going through similar, or worse, problems, and they're going to take it out on everyone around them. you have very little ability to get away from bullies, and you're just fucked when your bullies are your teachers, your parents, your parents' friends. if you're attending homeschooling, you trade an inescapably crowded and stressful social situation for an inescapably isolated social situation, one where your parents have absolute authority over every part of your life. a solitary prison is even worse than crowded one.

-as an adult, a dysfunctional and abusive workplace has a huge impact on your mental and physical health, and many people do die or kill themselves because of a degrading and terrible job. however, as an adult, you're likely to have more power to chose your workplace, it's likely to be a shorter and less rigorous day than highschool+homework, and you get paid for it. plus, a good job is extremely empowering and satisfying.

-at 15 your body is growing and you need large, regular, balanced meals. lots of 15 year olds skip breakfast and have shitty lunches, because school is terrible. lots of 15 year olds have food insecurity or are on diets, either chosen or imposed, and this makes them depressed and emotionally volatile. at 15, you probably don't have very much positive control over your meals, since your parents are in charge of groceries and meal prep. just negative control, by skipping or refusing. replacing meals with soda or candy is also a problem-- your body craves a big hit of sugar at all times, because you're growing, but replacing meals and sleep with soda just leads to more disregulation. teens can easily get into really dysfunctional cycles this way.

-as an adult you have more time to eat and more control over what you eat. you have your own salary and make your own shopping lists. as an adult you're also not going through growth spurts anymore: your body grows and maintains itself through its whole life, but it's steadier. you work out what you like and you know how to get it.

IN CONCLUSION: at 15 you're depressed for a lot of good reasons. if someone has a grueling and unrewarding schedule that traps them with other miserable people all day, subject to hostile authority figures with no escape, and they're expected to do lots of work with few rewards and frequent punishment, they're going to be miserable. this is further compounded when a person has a rapidly growing body that can't possibly get a healthy amount of nourishment and rest. these are the conditions that reliably cause depression.

as an adult, we're telling you "it gets better" because in about four years you will be free of so much of what's making you miserable right now. to eat food you like, to rest as much as you need, to work a paying job or chase your own dreams, to decide what kind of life you want to live. it might not sound like much, but it's everything.

Any tips for being a suicidal 15 year old?

When I was a suicidal 15 year old everyone told me “it gets better”, and it sounded like bullshit. And frankly, it still sounds like bullshit. Like oh, what, I’m living in hell and you’re not gonna help me or *do* anything or give me any useful advice and I’m supposed to just hang in there on the nebulous, pithy promise that things are just gonna work out on their own? And you can’t tell me how or why, I’m just supposed to take it on the faith that I don’t have that something might change in ways I haven’t considered?

But yeah. It does. And it’s frustrating as hell.

Yes, things are gonna get better, and they’re gonna get better in ways I can’t describe even after experiencing it myself. Things you don’t even know CAN be different WILL be different. One day you’re just going to step outside and realize things got better somewhere and you didn’t even notice it happening.

And there’s really nothing I can say that makes that sound even a little bit believable.

I guess all I can tell you is that you have to want to believe it.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

"To be loved is to be known."

These words are carved into almost every cringy typical romantic novel.

Most ignore this quote not realizing its depth or meaning.

But sadly Damian wayne is not most.

No, Damian understands these words perfectly and more often then not they keep him awake.

He wonders if someone will ever love him enough to get to know him.

To know his favorite color. To know when he likes something or when he's just faking it.

To know his favorite animal. Even if he'd never say he had one because there all equally valuable in his eyes.

To just know him.

Sure, his family knows but they don't really know him ,not enough atleast.

Not beyond the surface.

Not like Damian knows you.

And though he might not look like the type to crave affection or attention he certainly wouldn't deny it....... Atleast not if it comes from you.

Now you are undeniably loved.

Because whether you know it or not you are known. By the ex assasins boy himself.

He knows your favorite color. He knows your real laugh.

He knows when you like something and when you don't.

He knows how you like to do your nails. He knows your nervous habits.

He even knows when your going to do something dumb.....

Sometimes the young boy wonders if he knows you more then he knows himself.

Your delicate in his eyes something to be cherished with deep care and divine love.

Atleast that's how he views you.

He wonders how you'd describe him if you knew him.

If you'd say kind words about him.

If you'd say his name like a prayer like he does yours....

Or if you'd see him as a monster.....

But alas you don't know him atleast not yet.

But today you will because whether you know it or not today you meet your future husband.

Yes, future husband. But for now he'll settle for being your friend.

He'll settle. Something the Wayne boy never does. Settle.

But then again he'd do anything for you.

He watches as you walk into view perfect eyes perfect hair. Perfect women ,in his eyes.

Never a flaw in sight only details that add to your beauty.

He walks past you and accidentally bumps shoulders making you drop your bag.

And of course you apologize that isn't surprising especially not to him.

Not to someone who knows you in and out.

He helps you pick up your bag and it's so cliche how this interaction is going but then again it's better then Jason's advice on how to 'rizz' you up.

Grimacing at the thought damian picks up your bag and hands it to you. Taking Dicks advice at holding eye contact.

And looking into your eyes Damian doesn't think he'd ever need to be told to look into your eyes.

Because he simply can't look away....

"Sorry about that...I should've looked where I was going ,I guess." You say and your voice is like angel whispering symphonies into Damians ears.

He never wants it to stop...

He wonders if you apologize to everyone like this....especially if it isn't your fault.

But no worries! because soon enough you'd never have to stand up for yourself anymore!

He'd be there to fight your battles...

Even ones that you don't want him to fight....

"It's fine....." He mutters and he wishes he could slap himself without looking insane infront of you.

Because why does he always sounds so mean?

"Your beautiful......" Damian says and to hell with Jason's advice on how to 'rizz' you up and playing it smooth.

He would just be himself... and like always he's quite blunt.....

You look at him confused and shocked you didn't just think he'd say something... so random.

"Can I have your number?" A number is definitely not what Damian wants.

He wants everything.

But again for you he'll settle.

"Well I usually don't give my number out to people I don't know..."

You don't know? Damian wanted to laugh but he knows he'd definitely look insane.

He knows everything about you.

He could have your number if he wanted to. All he had to do was ask Tim to hack your phone.... but no, he was being nice and asking.

Something he rarely did.

"But I'll take a chance with you."

Did you really just rizz him up like that?

Now he understood the power of rizz as he stands blushing infront of you.

But to you that isn't even considered rizz atleast not until you give him a flirty wink at the end.

He watches as you walk away like a starved man watching his food. He just can't get enough...

But he had to remind himself that in time you'll never leave his side. (Or more like he won't leave yours)

Pocketing his phone he smiles to himself.

And Damian had never been more grateful in his life that God actually answered his prayers.

Well his prayers was for you to marry him but he's in the right direction.

Atleast he thinks so.

Thanks for reading!

This is part two to this.

Likes comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @ange0124

[hurt-comfort-lover]

The Snow White Remake Could Have Been Good

This is pretty much what I would change/what I would've done for the Snow White Remake. If you want to write a fanfiction inspired by this please send the link to me so I can read it and if you could credit that would be appreciated. Please let me know your thoughts on my interpretation <3

Have the prince and Snow white be childhood best friends

Probably like neighboring kingdoms were close and the intentions were that the prince was eventually going to marry snow white when they were adults

I still want Snow White to be shy at first, but as the prince gets to know her he sees how passionate and kind she is and he admires it.

Snow white admires how strong and confident the prince is in himself. It’s sort of a mutual respect kind of thing. 

As they got older Snow white and the prince would spar occasionally for fun, he would always win but he respected the effort she put in. She would show him books that she enjoyed etc. Like I want really cute cut-scenes of them together

I like having the dad, but I want to see more scenes with him and snow white. 

Like him mourning his wife's death, and struggling while still doing his best to care of his daughter would be so fucking cute and sad.

Also seeing him be a good king, prioritizing his people by giving out free food, or building new houses and buildings, Training with the knights, and prioritizing his employees health and wellbeing. 

Would love to see him teaching his daughter to be kind and compassionate to everyone including the servants and knights, etc.

I want a more menacing evil queen. 

I want her to first, actually be pretty, but in a menacing way. Like Ursula in the little mermaid vibes when she pretended to be human.

I would like to actually see the queen kill the king, specifically poison him, assuming she has some sort of experience with that which is why she later tries to poison Snow White. Even if it’s implied and we don’t see him physically die.

I want some banter between the mirror and the evil queen. Like maybe the mirror is sick of being stuck in the same room, and being asked the same stupid questions

Maybe she asks who’s the fairest of them all and he’s like ‘As I’ve said a million times it’s- oh.. It’s not you.’ and he’ll like smirk or hold back laughter.

And yes I said he because the mirror has a man's voice and if he has more of a personality then I will personify him.

When she becomes queen after killing off the king I want to see her doing shitty things. Like stopping the food giveaways to make the castle more extravagant. Hiring an excessive amount of servants that do everything for her. Fancy clothes and money for her private personal hobby (collecting poisons or like dark magical items) 

I want the king to die pretty early compared to where the story starts

I’d say around when Snow White is a pre-teen, doesn’t need to be exact. I prefer for the actual story to start when she’s an adult, or almost an adult so it’s more modern standards but we don’t need an exact age

When the king died the changes were sudden, the queen show’s her true colors immediately, having snow white work as a maid.

Snow White tried arguing with the queen but it resulted in her being locked in the dungeon for days. I want a scene where she crawls out of the dungeon and she looks completely defeated, somehow more pale than usual, bags under her eyes, shaking from hunger and pain. 

The maids from when the king was in charge are very protective of Snow White and still call her princess despite the changes.

Snow White works as a maid, doing her best to take care of her people from the sidelines despite her position. She helps the other servants and knights if they get hurt, and gives the little food she has away if someone is starving. 

Pretty much she’s very close to the other servants and knights. 

When the king died the prince and her lost contact. His family tried to contact Snow White’s kingdom multiple times with no response after hearing of the king's death.

The prince is conflicted because he can imagine the pain Snow White is going through but doesn’t understand why she won’t reach out for help. Why is she ignoring him? 

When the story actually starts it’ll be very similar to the original Snow White movie

The queen finds out Snow White is the fairest of them all despite working as a ‘filthy servant’

She doesn’t want to get her hands dirty again and with her plentiful resources why should she? She hires a huntsman to kill Snow White.

One of the servants overhear and warns Snow White right away, all of the servants help her by giving her a small amount of food and clothes and help her run away to the forest.

Despite getting out of the castle the huntsman still finds her anyway. She stumbles back, trying to scramble away, backed against a tree. 

He stands over her, suddenly drawing his blade and going to strike. His hands shake as he goes for the stab, only to stab the tree beside her instead, only inches away from her face.

He apologizes, saying that he can’t live with the guilt of killing her. He tells her to run away, deep into the forest where the queen can never find her. She forgives him, hugging him gratefully for sparing her life and runs off into the forest.

I don’t want to go too much in depth with her relationship with the animals. It’s not super significant to the plot itself other than maybe like the animals lead her to the Seven Dwarfs cottage. 

When she finds the random cottage deep in the woods she feels grateful but guilty for breaking into someone’s home. But she’s desperate, she needs somewhere to stay before it gets dark.

When she enters the cottage she immediately shudders at the mess, as someone who lived in a very clean castle she was immediately uncomfortable with the mess. 

She gets to work cleaning the ridiculous mess. I guess technically in the original the animals helped which I feel like doesn’t change the story significantly so it’s fine either way

The beds are made, the kitchen is clean, the sink is empty, dishes are put away, floors are swept, laundry is done, and she made soup and bread. (this is basically like the original)

Pretty much the same as the original except for it takes a little longer for the dwarfs to initially accept her, where they were pretty quick in the original. Like they are literally storing a fugitive and risking their lives. The queen is evil and everyone knows it.

Also I want the dwarfs to have separate beds, idk why but that’s important to me. 

I want lots of banter between the dwarfs, each other, and snow white. I want the dwarves to gradually enjoy Snow White’s company, and appreciate what she does.

I also want a bit of lecturing from Snow White about making sure dirty dishes go in the sink, or that dirty clothes need to go in the hamper, not on the floor.

Meanwhile: Over the years the prince and his kingdom (which neighbors Snow White’s kingdom) finds out about the conditions of her kingdom.

He’s conflicted, angry because the conditions of the kingdom are exactly the opposite of what he expected, This is not what her father would have wanted. 

At the same time he’s worried for Snow White because those who have come as a refugee to his kingdom have no idea what happened to Snow White.

Now that he’s officially an adult he decides he’s going to visit Snow White’s kingdom, to confront the queen and Snow White, to see what’s going on.

His parents were against it not wanting to cause a war, but eventually decided to let him go as more and more refugees were coming to their kingdom. Something wasn’t right.

The Evil Queen obviously finds out that Snow White is not dead.

The mirror tells her reluctantly and she orders the huntsman to be thrown in the dungeon for treason. 

The rest is like the original where she decides to do it herself. She goes through her collection finding the odorless and tasteless poison and pours it on the red apple, knowing the red apples are Snow White’s favorite. (Have a previous scene that establishes that)

Uses her magical items that she’s collected to pretend to be an old lady, comes to Snow white (the mirror tells her where Snow White is) and offers her the apple, begging her to buy something because she’s poor and old and you know the drill.

Snow White eats the apple and immediately falls asleep. The Dwarves find her and she looks dead so they are pretty pissed. Chase sequence ensues, but in this version the evil queen gets away.

I want the colors to be slightly duller than before, slightly darker.

I want a scene where they each desperately try to wake her up to no avail, it’s super fucking sad and angsty and I will eat that shit up.

The dwarves are devastated, surrounding her in flowers like the original. I think they would put her in like a wooden coffin without a lid because the glass case just doesn’t fit the vibes I’m going for but again weird unimportant detail.

I can’t figure out a good reason as to why the prince happens to run into the dwarves and dead-ish snow white. 

I guess I could say that he was coming from that direction, and that the dwarves' cottage is near the border, but it feels a bit forced because I need to move the story along so any suggestions would be great.

When the prince sees Snow White laying there lifeless he immediately draws his sword, jumping off of his horse.

He would’ve attacked the dwarves, but it was so obvious that they were depressed, barely acknowledging him. 

I want a million different emotions flashing through the prince's face, the biggest one being guilt. If he had just come sooner- maybe he could’ve saved her.

Might be creepy to the modern viewer but idc, he decides to give her a kiss to wish her bye.  

I want the colors to slowly fade back to be warm and vibrant as snow white’s eyes flutter open. 

Everyone is crying except for Snow White including the prince and so when they suddenly hear her voice, which by the way she is really confused, the tears become of joy and relief instead of sadness. 

As she sits up in the coffin the dwarves jump in excitement and cheer as the prince pulls her into an embrace immediately.

I want a really dorky scene where the prince is awkwardly like Hi and Snow white says hi back with a really sweet smile or something omg I’m kicking my feet that would be so cute.

Ok now for revenge pretty much and Evil Queen suffering

Snow White promises to return to the dwarfs as she and the prince get on his horse. (No it’s not horse abuse Snow White is light due to being malnourished)

Definitely want her clinging to the prince, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Would be so cute if he was a bit flushed ngl

They return to the castle where the queen is raging, she had been mildly hurt when she got chased by the dwarves.

The Prince and Snow White come in, the prince is pissed and threatens the Queen's life, calling her out for trying to kill Snow white. 

The Queen orders the knights to kill Snow White and the prince, she's screeching in anger, and her hair is a mess and she just looks crazy.

The knight look at the Queen and Snow White reluctantly, one takes a step forward, but still hesitates. Snow White calls him out by name, telling him she understands his position, it’s ok. He can’t do it. None of the knights can. One by one they all switch sides, standing behind the Snow White and the prince. 

Queen is even more mad, screaming and trying to use a cursed magical item she carried on her. A ring that could burn anything instantly. She slipped on her finger and tried to use it, before she could she suddenly felt burning on her skin. She desperately tries to take off the ring but is unable to. Or if you want to be child friendly she turns into dust.

I get my Happily Ever After where the Huntsman is freed, Snow White becomes Queen and marries the prince.

 Also the dwarfs get rewarded with an honorable badge for courage, bravery, or kindness something along those lines. 

We get to see the kingdom begin to heal, Snow White getting rid of the extravagant things of the Evil Queen, and giving food to the poor. 

Probably the ending scene would be the wedding of the Prince and Snow White. Maybe like all the dwarfs are the ring bearers except for Dopey who is the flower dwarf or something idk lol. The maids that helped Snow White, the huntsman, and the prince's parents would be there. Lots and lots of fluff. 

[imhappierthanever]

Billie’s old house

a|n: I couldn’t seem to find any alone time to finish this so I did so at work. Hope it’s all okay!

“Justin Bieber?” You said snickering, running your fingers over one of her posters. Billie brought you to her childhood home for the weekend for the first time. Everything seemed so cute and like home, which you expected. But what you didn’t expect was to see her obsession for Justin Bieber all over her wall.

“Shut up!” She said laughing, throwing one of her shirts at you as she unpacked. “What happened to his lips here? I think you’ve kissed them off.” You joked, throwing her own shirt back at her before pinning her body to her own bed.

“It came that way?” She said trying to defend herself. Knowing there was no way out of it. “Am I going to get a little jealous?” You asked lowly, eying her and her obsession before looking back at Billie. “I don’t know if I can let you fuck me with him staring us down.” You tried to get up before you felt her warm familiar body pressed on yours. Just that quickly she pulled you down into her.

“I think you’ll let me fuck you however I want princess. Don’t care who’s watching.” Billie whispered wrapping her fairy covered hand around your neck, kissing your lips hard.

You hummed letting your eyes slipped closed. “Is that a promise? “ you challenged, watching the smirk form on her face.

“When everyone goes to sleep tonight it’s just you, me and this Justin Bieber poster watching us.”

You scoffed shoving her before successfully climbing off of her this time.

Downstairs Maggie had already been preparing dinner, making something vegan and amazing. You could hear Patrick outside tending to the backyard and shark and peaches play fighting with each other. Finneas and Claudia were also around, somewhere downstairs. When you made your way down, you said hi to everyone and you all enjoyed a nice family dinner together. Billie and her brother teased each other the entire time, bringing up memories, making everyone laugh. When you finished, you all went your separate ways. Billie used the excuse that she had been tired and you were just going to crash for the night. But truly, she only cared about you and the promise she had made just a little bit ago.

Once you were drying the last dish, Billie snuck up behind you, smacking your ass before letting her hand stay there, caressing. Of course making sure no one could see.

“Go wait for me upstairs.” She whispered huskily into your ear, her free hand taking the plate from your own, placing it in the dish rack. You felt your legs ready to give out on you, shaking already from just the feeling of her words lingering in your ear, on your skin.

Pulling yourself together you made your way back upstairs, shutting the door behind you. You knew it was a matter of minutes before she would be joining you.

In order to pass the time, you made yourself at home, finding your way into her clothes, slipping on something a little more comfortable after slipping off every and anything you had underneath. One of her big baggy shirts would do you decided.

You looked in her vanity, pulling your hair into a high ponytail before plaiting each section, securing it with one her hair ties. Just as you were finished, you heard the door knob rattle, and Your gorgeous girlfriend appear.

Her crystal blue eyes darkened as she took you in, ready to make you hers yet again.

She slipped her arms around your waist as you placed your hands on her face, your thumbs stroking gently. Taking in as much of her as she was with you.

“Is this mine?” She asked biting her lip, tugging at the shirt a little. You nodded, running your thumb along her bottom lip before leaning in to kiss her softly. Almost a little too softly for what you were about to do.

“Do you like it? I wanted to look good for you.” You said just above a whisper before letting your lips begin their exploration of her neck, her skin so soft under your lips, and your fingertips. You heard her softly moan, her eyes slipping closed as she let you love her. That is, before she would take over.

Not being able to take anymore, she flipped your body so your back was in her care. Her hands caressed you with purpose, beginning at your thighs, discovering that you had nothing on underneath as she got to your hips, training her fingers up your body, reaching your boobs, giving them a squeeze, making you moan.

“Mmmm. Such a slut. Wearing nothing for me underneath.” Billie’s fingers teased your most sensitive parts, letting her finger run along your pussy. Effortlessly up and down, before letting her fingers dive in, collecting your moisture, bringing it up to your clit where she rubbed quick, tight circles. Your body fell back into her, as her other hand caressed your breast, only leaving it to cover your mouth.

“We have to be quiet pretty girl. You don’t want everyone to hear me fuck this pretty pussy of yours, do you?” She asked making you shudder, before you nodded your head.

“Such a naughty girl. Wanting everyone wanting to hear us. What happened to my sweet innocent angel?” Billie asked as she gently pushed your body forward, making you grip her vanity, bending you over so she could fuck you properly.

You said nothing as you braced your body for her. For the pleasure she was going to give you. Billie wrapped her hand around your plait, pulling you into her, demanding that you answer her back.

With this, you heard her pants hit the floor, her faux cock teasing you as you felt the fabric of the shirt that clung to your body being lifted.

“Answer me sweet girl. Or I’ll ruin you.” She said giving your ass a slap, causing your body to jolt. “She-she’s here. I’m right here.” You said finally talking.

“There she is. My sweet but dirty girl. You want me to fuck you right here in front of the mirror? “ “Yes daddy! Please” you begged “I would love that. Please right now!” You said arching your back, encouraging her to just get to it.

“Such a fucking slut.” Billie growled before teasing your cunt, gathering more of your moisture to run on her faux cock, before finally beginning to fuck you, holding your hips steady.

You felt her so deep inside of you, giving you everything you needed. It was so hard not to scream, not to moan her name. You closed your eyes so tightly, tears threatening to spill from them as Billie’s hand came down on your ass again, and again. leaving a red mark; the first of many.

A part of you wondered if she would be the one to get you both caught as she slapped your ass, groaning whenever she watched you take all of her again and again, disappearing inside you and reappearing coated in your arousal. Everything she made you feel as the strap hit her just right.

You felt her hand wrap around your neck, choking slightly before she returned her hand to your hair, pulling it once again, forcing your eyes open.

“Look at me. Want you to watch, princess.” And you did. You watched her completely destroy you as her vanity shook, and your arms and legs grew weak. You knew you would have marks all over you from this night. Knew you would have some explaining to do to her family at breakfast which you decided right then and there that she would be bringing it up to you.

Before you could think of much else, she was pulling out, leading you to her bed where she was quick to push you down onto the soft fabric, kissing your lips with everything she had in her before she found her way back inside of you. She covered your mouth, knowing you were about to moan from the contact, from the way she was making you feel.

The more she thrusted into you, the more noise her bed began to make. You both laughed, Billie trying fuck you as quietly as she could.

“Just keep going baby. It’s okay. Need you so bad.” You said biting your lip, letting your hand cup her ass as the other trailed down her back. “Want you to fuck me, baby. “

You urged her to continue, to forget about her family being so close by. All that mattered was you and her in the moment you were in. And so she did. She fucked your goddamn brains out, both of you moaning and whimpering and crying out. Bodies pressed together, lips grazing but never kissing. She made your body tremble with wave after wave of pleasure. “Right there. Please don’t stop” you begged, pulling her closer as she pushed you over the edge, thousands of stars twinkling behind your eye lids.

“You’re doing so good for me baby. Wanna feel your body fall apart. Want you to cum all over me.” Billie bit down on your ear, finishing her sentence before letting her fingers trace the goosebumps forming on your body from how good she was making you feel. She knew you were close as your grip around her became tighter and tighter. Your mouth hung open as you tried to pull her closer. Like that could even happen. But you still tried.

“Let go for me, baby” Billie said still pushing inside of you, bringing you closer and closer. When you finally came undone, she helped you come back down to earth, riding out the feeling, making sure you got everything she had to give you.

When her body collapsed on yours, you pulled her closer, finding her lips, giving her kisses as a thank you.

“How was I? Was I good?” She asked laying on your chest, looking up at you. “So good baby. You always make me feel so amazing.” You kissed her forehead, snuggling into her more, still trying to catch your breath.

“Billie. Your bathroom isn’t attached to your room…we’re going to have to go out there to get cleaned up!” You said covering your face. “I’m sure everyone heard already my love. I think we’ll be okay.”

“My only hope is they Finneas and Claudia were even louder than we were!” You laughed hopeful, making Billie laugh too. Disagreeing of course. But you could be a little hopeful. At least until morning

“I’ll go for us. I’ll bring back stuff to help you get cleaned up yeah?” She said kissing you sweetly before attempting to pull out.

“Don’t.. pull out yet babe. Just want you close. Just a few more minutes?” You begged. How could she turn her favourite girl down. Billie laid back down,listening to the steady thrum of your heart, tracing little shapes underneath her shirt you were somehow still wearing.

“See…you didn’t even think about my posters watching you, did you?” Billie joked.

“Oh I knew I wouldn’t. Not with the way you fuck me. I only think about you, Billie.” You smiled giving her a little squeeze. “But I can’t wait to get back to our home so we don’t have to worry about getting caught or a squeaky bed.” You joked. “Okay that’s fair. I owe you.” She said laughing through her words. “Deal.” You said ready for another night like this. Ready for anything with Billie always.

[cosmiclily]

hey, here i go again, this came up to my mind, so if you want and have the time, here it is

what about an angst with Vi, where she dreams about reader wearing a wedding dress, and she's in a suit, it's their wedding, but then she wakes up crying, cause knows she can't have that

btw, hope you're having a good week! 🩷

i sleep so i can see you

vi x reader

wc: 1.6k

cw: hurt no comfort, there is a little description of a panic attack

notes: 😼😼 i love angst and i love to make my comfort characters suffer muahahahaha, jk. there is like 5 seconds of happiness in the beginning and then suffering. thank you for the request!! i’m having an okay week nothing special, hope yours is going well! 😽

Vi was never the marriage type. If you had asked her as a teenager whether she ever wanted to get married, she would have scoffed and said, “Marriage is stupid. Why would I want the state and the church involved in my business?" But she never really meant it.

She wasn’t against marriage out of rebellion or some grand stance against tradition. No, Vi never imagined herself getting married because, deep down, she never believed anyone would stay.

When you lose your parents, grow up in the system, get separated from your sister, and watch every sense of family you ever had slip through your fingers, it becomes hard to believe that anyone would stick around. That anyone would want to stay. That anyone would be willing to put in the work to understand the mess that lives inside you—the trauma, the scars, the weight you carry every single day.

But you did.

You stayed.

You saw through the walls she put up, understood her in a way no one else ever had. You made her feel safe, cared for, like she didn’t have to fight the world alone anymore. You peeled back her layers, tamed the wild animal. And for the first time in her life, Vi found herself thinking that maybe marriage wasn’t such a bad idea.

Maybe sharing her life with someone—sharing everything—wasn’t so terrifying. Maybe growing old with the same person, waking up to the same face every morning, wasn’t a curse.

So when she saw you walking down the aisle, draped in white, makeup done, the biggest, most breathtaking smile on your face, she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over.

You held a bouquet of violets in your hands, and that small piece of her with you meant the entire world.

Everything was perfect.

Your parents were there, her sister was there, Vander, Ekko, Mylo, Claggor—everyone. Smiling. Happy. Whole.

It was almost too perfect.

Then, as you took another step forward, something shifted.

The aisle stretched, growing impossibly long, like you were further and further away from her. Your smile—so bright, so warm—began to twist at the edges, turning wrong.

Vi tried to move, but her feet were cemented to the ground.

She tried to call your name, but no sound came out.

She tried to run to you, reach for you—anything—but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—

Vi jolted awake, gasping.

Her body was shaking, drenched in cold sweat, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven. Her face was wet. It took her a second to realize she was crying.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

She wasn’t getting married. You weren’t in a wedding dress in front of her.

Vander wasn’t alive.

Her sister was gone. You were gone.

And she was alone.

Just like always.

The room was dark, suffocatingly quiet except for her ragged breathing.

Vi didn’t even have the energy to think, to process. All she could do was drag herself to the bathroom, sink to her knees, and empty her stomach into the toilet.

She spent what felt like hours on the bathroom floor, her back pressed against the cold tiles, hands trembling, hair sticking to her damp forehead. Vi’s chest rose and fell unevenly, breath hitching as she fought against the weight pressing down on her ribs. It felt like she was drowning.

She’d been through this before—with you.

The nights she’d wake up gasping, screaming, clawing at reality until she felt your hands on her, grounding her, pulling her back. You always knew what to do. You’d whisper soft reassurances, hold her until the shaking stopped, remind her that she wasn’t alone. That she was safe.

But you weren’t here.

And it was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

She was never good enough for anyone to stay. That was her curse—every time she let someone see the real her, every time she let someone in, they left.

And why wouldn’t they? Who would want to deal with this? With her?

Vi forced herself to move, to do something other than spiral. She turned the faucet on and splashed cold water onto her face, gripping the edges of the sink as she tried to anchor herself to reality. But everything still felt off—like she was stuck in some inescapable dream.

Her eyes flicked to the clock. 4:57 AM.

Too early. Too late. Meaningless.

Her hand reached for her phone before she could stop herself, fingers scrolling through her contacts until she found your name.

Her thumb hovered over the call button.

Maybe you’d pick up.

Maybe you’d tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she was fine, that you were fine. That everything was okay. That you were coming home.

But you wouldn’t.

So she didn’t call.

Vi locked her phone and let it drop onto the counter with a dull thud. Then, with a heavy breath, she dragged herself out of the bathroom and back to bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.

When her alarm went off, she was still wide awake.

But even if she was falling apart, life didn’t stop for her.

So, she forced herself up, took a shower, and went to work. It was an uneventful day at the shop—no tattoo appointments, no familiar faces walking in, just a single girl wanting a belly button piercing. By the time 3 p.m. hit, she had nothing left to do.

She thought about going home. Maybe she could force herself to be productive. Maybe she could drown herself in work, find something to focus on so she wouldn’t have to think.

But she knew exactly how that would go. She’d sit in silence, overthink, spiral.

So instead, she took a detour.

Vi knew your habits. She knew you liked to go to that small coffee shop by the river, the one with the rickety outdoor tables and the faded green awning. She knew your order by heart.

And there you were.

Sitting outside, a mug in your hands—probably tea, since you were trying to quit coffee—watching the ducks drift lazily across the water.

You looked exactly the same.

Like you.

And that somehow made it worse.

Her phone felt heavy in her back pocket, like it was calling her name, demanding that she did something. That she said something. That she stopped standing there like a coward, staring at you from a distance, pretending like she wasn’t the one who ruined everything.

But instead of pulling it out, instead of calling you or walking up to you, she just stood there.

Frozen.

She was the one who screwed everything up.

The one who said awful things. The one who pushed you away. The one who locked herself up so tight that even you—the person who had always been so patient, so understanding—couldn’t get through to her.

In her head, it had been inevitable. You were going to leave eventually. Everyone did. So if she accelerated the process, if she pushed you away first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe she could brace herself, prepare for the pain.

But like hell that worked.

Because here she was, standing across the street, looking at you like a ghost from another life, and it hurt just the same.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes met hers.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, just as quickly as you saw her, your expression hardened, and you turned away. Not just looking past her, but through her. Like she was nothing.

Like she was no one.

That was what finally made her snap.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she was crossing the street, stepping onto the café’s patio.

“Hey.”

You froze, your grip tightening around your mug, but you didn’t look at her.

Vi clenched her jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna pretend you didn’t see me?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, finally turning your head. “What do you want, Vi?”

And it wasn’t the words that got to her. It was how you said them. Tired. Like you had already run this conversation a million times in your head. Like you had already decided she wasn’t worth the energy.

Her hands curled into fists. “I—” She hesitated, suddenly realizing she didn’t have a plan. “I just… wanted to talk.”

You scoffed. “Now you wanna talk?”

The bitterness in your voice stung.

“What do you expect me to do?” Vi shot back, voice rising. “Act like we didn’t—” She stopped herself, taking a sharp breath. “I know I messed up. I know I said things I shouldn’t have, but damn, you really hate me that much now?”

You let out a humorless laugh, finally setting your mug down. “Hate you?” You stood up, and she realized just how much closer you were now. “Vi, I don’t have the energy to hate you. I wasted too much of it trying to love you.”

That hit like a punch to the gut.

She opened her mouth, ready to say something, anything, but you weren’t done.

“I gave you everything, and you threw it away” you continued, voice shaking. “And now you’re here? Just expecting me to what,forgive you? Pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“No,” Vi said quickly. “That’s not—”

But you weren’t listening anymore.

“Where the hell was this energy when I was begging you to let me in?” You took a step forward, eyes burning into hers. “Where was this Vi when I was trying to help you?”

Vi clenched her teeth, anger bubbling in her chest—but not at you. At herself.

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make things right.

You just stared at her, something unreadable in your expression. Then, after a beat, you shook your head.

“I hope you figure your shit out, Violet.”

And with that, you picked up your things and walked away, leaving her standing there, heart pounding on her chest.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[voidcat]

kaiser puts his tattooed hand anywhere on you (your neck especially) and takes pics of it to make it his lockscreen so that everyone can see (<- his own way of paying u back for the marks you left on his neck)

um excuseme??? why are u on my ass??? coming to MY HOUSE and ATTACKING me!??!!!?! do i need to get a restraining order against you two huh is that it....... big sigh uhhh whatever notes: michael kaiser x gn! reader. suggestive content, mdni. what rye has said ig.. i elaborated a little

Michael Kaiser is a man who knows best to get under someone's skin. From countless interactions you've observed over the time be it during matches or behind the scenes- that, you're certain.

And from experience too, much to your chagrin.

A pain in the ass and a walking migraine inducing component as he may be, there is something to him that you always find yourself in the same room, drawn to your demise- not like a moth, no, you'd like to hold hope that whatever runs between the two of you isn't somthing as blinding and vulnerable as that- but you cannot deny there is still an attraction none the less.

Analytical and always knowing where to hit where it hurts most, everything he does is with a purpose. Be it the way he he behaves, speaks with people, which name he uses, whether he gives in to their desperation for a physical connection or remain a cold composure. This, of course, ends with an extremely touchy Kaiser on your side that you've learnt to make peace and live with.

It's almost depressing to think about it, really. How your resolve couldnt hold out any longer and you admited defeat on this front. But what's to follow is somewhat nice, you try to comfort himself. Always a hand around your waist, on your thigh, fingers intervining with yours-- a constant reminder that he is right besides you and he'll never leave you.

Other behaviours though, begin to present after a while- a recent development, you write them off as. Now his hands find your shoulders, kneading into your skin like you're dough for him to shape, placed on your abdomen and rubbing gentle circles, a finger at the nape of your neck, playing with the sensitive skin there; the last one he seems to favor more than the rest. You don't really alert to the action until you catch sight of his phone one day.

For someone who likes to show off, it hadn't even fazed you one bit when you saw a photo album dedicated to the two of you that's not quite safe for public eye. This is Kaiser after all, every oddity he seems to display soon become the new default in your mind- ruining your experience of the world.

So when your thumb scrolls down the numerous photos you don't even recall being taken- mostly without either of your faces but his hand and parts of your body as clear as day- you cannot even find it in you to react.

Your finger comes to a stop as you open a photo in particular. His hand wrapped around your neck, thumb pressing right below your carotis artery, from his rough hold parts of your skin already flushed and his index seeming to be lightly trailing your collarbones with his middle finger to keep company. As you stare at the photograph, you can feel his hand on you again, his digits dancing on your neck, moving up and down slowly, making sure to idle and stroke the areas where you strongly react. Chuckling at the sounds and twitches you make whenever he pinches and presses against a sensitive spot. You'd think maybe this is his payback, or just a preliminary to it.

You've got to admit, from an artist viewpoint, the photos do look.. pleasing to the eye. An aesthetic sense to them, the colorful dark lightning only adding to the atmosphere.

With a sudden shake of your hand, you close the app and put down his phone in a rush but his laughter reaches you before. "What were you staring at so intensely, hm? Found something you like?"

[johanna-517]

"Special and unique"

(CHAPTER 9)

You giggle happily as you run around the house, Erick and Abel chasing you, exclaiming about how ridiculously fast you are.

Erick is four years older than you, while Abel is only two. You know perfectly well that they could easily catch up to a little girl like you, but they don't. They prefer to pretend you're faster than them just to make you happy.

They always have, doing everything to make you happy.

After a bit more running around the house, Erick finally decides to catch up to you, hugging you from behind and stopping you from running.

"Cielos... Esta princesa es demasiado rápida, por poco realmente no te alcanzó". ("Good heavens... This princess is too fast. I almost didn't catch up to you") Erick stated, smiling broadly as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you. You were definitely always amazed by the way Erick carried you whenever he could, no matter how heavy you were, he always used to carry you as if you were as light as a feather.

"Así es, nuestra pequeña (y/n) es realmente asombrosa! ". ("That's right, our little (y/n) is truly amazing!") Abel exclaimed between laughs, approaching you to give you a small pat on the head.

You couldn't erase the genuine smile that spread across your lips as you enjoyed playing with your precious older cousins.

At one point, without realizing it, you tripped over something and fell, unable to stop yourself from crying as you felt a slight pain as you fell. Your crying instantly worried Erick and Abel, who rushed over to you. Erick gently picked you up from the ground, his warm, protective arms wrapped around you while Abel's worried gaze scanned you, trying to determine if you had any serious injuries.

Abel sighed softly in relief when he realized you weren't hurt. He comforted you, telling you everything was okay as he reached out to gently brush the tears away from your small face, while Erick continued to hold you in his arms, keeping you safe.

Shortly after, your mother and aunt finish preparing the food, so everyone goes to the table and eats together, enjoying the delicious food while Erick and Abel each sit next to you.

Gosh... You really don't need anything else, you just need them. Those who were like older brothers to you, them... Who were always there to comfort you, to dry your tears and tell you that everything would be okay. You adored the kind and sincere words Abel always had for you, you adored the way Erick always protected you from everything, hugging you, his warm embrace seeming to keep you away from everything that could hurt you. You loved them... They are your true family.

You sigh lightly after remembering that moment from your childhood, it's just one of the many memories you have of when Abel and Erick took care of you.

As you stand near the desk in your room, you can't help but sigh slightly, looking out the small window with nostalgia.

"Abel, Erick... I miss you, so much," you murmured softly to yourself, unable to help but sigh again.

You're still worried because neither your aunt nor they have called you, constantly wondering why this is happening.

You try to push away the feeling of worry, concentrating instead on your notebook on the desk.

Math homework... You hate it, it's just annoying. You definitely couldn't tell if you hated math or Damian more.

You look at your homework in your notebook with complete disgust and contempt, mentally wondering whether it's worth the effort or not.

Anyway, you know that even if you do it, the math teacher will still scold you for everything, and Damian will still tell you that you're so stupid you don't understand math. So, whether you do it or not doesn't change anything, so why bother?

You close the notebook and put it back in your backpack, instantly... You feel a slight sense of guilt.

"Mamá decía que hacer las tareas de la escuela es importante... " ("Mom said doing homework is important...") You said softly, frowning in resignation as you took out your notebook again and put it on your desk, finally starting to do your homework.

You didn't want to do your homework, you were planning on not doing it, but... Remembering what your mother used to tell you made you reflect and finally do it.

After all, no matter how much time passes, you'll always remember everything your mother used to tell you perfectly well, you'll always heed her words. And if that means having to do the math homework you hate so much... Well, it doesn't matter, you'll do it, just because you know that's what your mother would have wanted.

You remember perfectly how, back in your school in Mexico, you loved every single subject; you were good at everything and found them all fairly easy to understand. But since you started studying here in Gotham, that changed... Every single subject in class became too complicated for you; you struggled to understand them; you simply could never concentrate enough to fully grasp them.

Maybe it was because your school in Mexico was very small and a public school, and maybe that's why things weren't as difficult there and you found it easy, while here in Gotham, you attend a popular private school filled with a myriad of different subjects and different teachers. Maybe that's why you're not doing well at Gotham High School now, or maybe it's simply because you hate Gotham, and your school, too.

After nearly an hour of struggling to finish your math homework, you finally finish, smiling broadly and proudly at yourself for finally finishing it. You look up, glancing out the small window in your room, noticing that it's raining outside.

Gosh, it really rains quite often here. But that's okay, you've always liked the rain.

As you idly watched the rain fall outside, another small memory appeared in your mind:

You were about six years old, your mother and aunt were gone, you were left in the care of your cousins.

As you looked out the window, you saw it was raining outside. You loved watching it rain outside, feeling calm as you watched it, so you sat down and stared at the window. Abel and Erick sat quietly beside you, staring at the window as well.

You still remember when you innocently asked them both if they also liked watching it rain outside. They laughed and said no, that it was boring watching it rain outside, but they only did it for you. That if that's what you wanted to do, they'd do the same and stay by your side.

You laughed too, the three of you laughed together as you looked out the window again, together.

You let out a small sigh after remembering them once more. You know, you know you'd give anything to be able to look out the window while it rains outside with them by your side once more.

Nostalgia floods your chest once again, and without being able to help it, you open one of the drawers and take out some blank sheets of paper, take a pencil and start drawing.

Do you remember... Erick's black hair, it was short and regularly tidy, he is tall, do you remember the dark color of his eyes, do you remember... The gentle and soft smile that always adorned his face every time he saw you.

When you finish drawing Erick based on what you remember of him, you smile slightly to yourself. Then, you take another blank sheet of paper, and now you begin to draw Abel.

Remember... Abel's brown hair, his hair almost always looked pretty messy, his hair was only a little longer than Erick's. His eyes were light brown, and... You also remember the wide, cheerful smile he always had on his face whenever you saw him.

When you finish drawing them, you can't help but feel proud and happy with the result.

Of course, you weren't the best artist in the world, but you loved all your drawings, simply because you drew them yourself. And these two drawings in particular will definitely be your favorites from now on, because they're drawings of two of the people you value most in your life.

You lean your head against the desk, letting out a small snort as you continue to hear the small drops of rain hitting the window.

You can't help but wonder... Do you really have to stay here forever? Your life at Wayne Manor isn't a life at all; it's simply your attempt to outlive your siblings. Here, you're ignored and ostracized by what's supposed to be your family, even your father.

Alfred is the only one who cares about you, always. He's looked out for you, even trying several times to include you in family activities, like watching movies together or having meals together. But now you've always rejected that, because you know you're not welcome to them, they don't need you around. They're perfectly fine living together with you away.

And that's okay, you don't care anymore. But what you really want is... Not to stay here forever. It's become clear to you that you don't belong in this mansion, you don't belong in this family. But it wasn't always like this, you haven't always been out of place... Before you came here, you had a home, one where you fit in perfectly, where you were loved and appreciated, where no one ever ignored you.

Every week, every month, every year passes... You can't help but miss your old life, your home in Mexico, more and more. You want to go back, to where you truly belong. You want to be with your aunt, with your cousins, you want to laugh happily while playing with Erick and Abel, you want to taste again the delicious food your aunt used to make.

You want to be in a quiet place, a place where you truly belong. You want to return to your old life, a life that circumstances forced you to leave behind.

You want to go back to the house you used to live in with your mother. Years have passed, and you don't want to forget what your precious old home was like. You want to touch the walls, sit on the living room couch where you always used to sit and watch cartoons, see your old little room with your favorite colored walls and your old toys, go into your mother's room so you can remember her better.

And yes, you're sure that if you set foot back in that house you'll definitely cry a lot, for the memories, for having had to leave that place even though deep down you didn't want to, for having spent so much time away from your true home.

But it's okay, you promise yourself; you will definitely return, return to your country, to the house you grew up in, where you truly belong. You probably won't be able to go anytime soon, but you'll make sure you go at some point.

After all... Anyone is always destined to return to their true roots.

Today, as usual, you went to the kitchen to have breakfast, when you arrived, you saw Alfred, who was already preparing breakfast for the others.

You sit down and eat your own food alone, since obviously, it's been a long time since you've had breakfast with the rest of the family, you prefer to eat breakfast in the kitchen, alone and with only Alfred around.

"Miss (y/n)... I would like to inform you that a new member will soon be joining the family," Alfred said, his tone as calm as ever as he continued to carefully prepare food for the others.

You froze almost instantly. A new member in the family? Bruce really dares to adopt someone new even though he can't even handle the children he already has? You let out a small sigh as you continue eating breakfast, thinking that Bruce definitely seems to enjoy adopting children more than you initially thought.

Alfred continued to tell you a little more about the newest member of the family. He's Duke Thomas, he's older than you, and now that he's been adopted by Bruce, he'll be arriving at the mansion soon to begin his new life here.

You can't help but mentally wonder about him. What's his personality like? Duke... Does he ignore you the same way your other siblings do? You don't know the answer. You want to feel hopeful, want to think he's different, that he might be the first person in this family who treats you well. A good older brother.

But you quickly push that thought away, not wanting to get your hopes up, not anymore. Whatever he is, it doesn't matter to you. He's just another of Bruce's children, someone new to this family, and you don't belong in this family, so it's none of your business.

Today you were tidying and cleaning your room. You preferred to do it yourself. Alfred already did too much for you; you didn't want him to have to take care of your room too. Besides, you told him you'd like to do it yourself because you find it entertaining, and cleaning and tidying really keeps you calm.

So, you took advantage of today to do it, because today you didn't have classes and you don't have any pending assignments, it's an excellent day to tidy up.

While you were doing it, you were quietly singing a Spanish song that you liked.

You liked to sing to yourself at times like these, mainly because when you were younger, you used to do the same with your mother. She always used to sing songs while she cooked or cleaned the house.

You loved listening to her sing, and as soon as you learned to talk, you tried to sing along with your mother too. The two of you sang together; Mom always said you had 'the voice of an angel.'

You smile slightly at the memory, as you continue singing to yourself. The habit of singing like this never left you, not even when your mother left. Or rather... You continue doing it precisely for that reason; because it reminds you of the sweet moments you spent with your mother. You don't want to ever lose a habit you learned from your mother.

Also... It was because of things like this that you liked the fact that your room was quite far away from the other family members' rooms. So, you could sing peacefully without worrying about someone hearing you. They could only hear you singing if they were literally right next to your door. And well... Obviously, no one would ever do that, so they'd never catch you singing, you thought.

Although... Fate would soon prove you wrong.

Duke walked through the mansion's long hallways. Great... He got lost again. He still finds it incredible how huge this mansion seems. Since he's only been here a short time, he still hasn't learned much about this place, so he can't help but get lost from time to time while walking through the mansion's hallways.

However, this time it seems worse. He no longer recognizes the hallways he's in now. It's probably because he hadn't been to this side of the mansion yet. At that moment, something pulls him out of his thoughts... He manages to hear a voice coming from one of the rooms. As he approaches the door, he hears it...

A girl's soft, sweet voice sounds like she's singing in Spanish. Duke is a little surprised at first, but he can't help but feel drawn to listening to her sing. It was the first time he'd heard a girl sing with such a soft, sweet voice.

Being too distracted while listening to you sing, Duke accidentally approached and leaned too much on the door, but since the door was ajar, it opened instantly and he fell to the floor.

Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight. But you calm down a little when you know it's Duke; you recognize him since Alfred had also shown you a picture of him. Still, you can't help but wonder why he's here, and what exactly he's doing at your door.

Duke's face turns red, completely nervous about being caught listening to you through the door. Really... He doesn't know if he should get up, or maybe it's better to stay there lying on the floor so he doesn't have to face you. He's too nervous to find the right words to justify why he was at your door. And he's afraid you'll think he's weird or something.

As you watched him remain on the ground, you noticed he was also a little nervous. Unable to help it, a small laugh escaped your lips, slightly amused to see him like that.

"Come on, get up... Calm down" you approach, and help him up.

Once Duke finally stands up, he wants to look away and hide how embarrassed he is right now, but he can't... Not when he notices the incredible color of your eyes. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours for a moment, amazed by the special color of your gaze; he's definitely never met someone with eyes like that.

When you notice him staring at your eyes, you look away, a little uncomfortably, wondering if he also thinks your eyes are strange. You decide to push the thought away and instead ask what he's doing here.

"You... How did you get here? Why were you at my door?" As soon as you asked, Duke quickly looked away, flustered again, trying to think of how to respond.

"I... W-well, what happened is that I was walking but since I've only been in the mansion for a short time I got lost and ended up here, so as I heard you from outside I decided to come over and ask for your help" Duke responded quickly, trying to sound convincing.

Yes, he just came to your room to ask for your help, not that he was really completely attracted by hearing you sing and came over just to listen to you a little longer, that's what he tells himself.

Hearing him, you doubt him a little but you believe him, after all, you knew that Duke has really only been in the mansion for a short time, and you better than anyone knew that during the first few days this enormous mansion seemed like a labyrinth, so it wouldn't be impossible that he really had gotten lost and that's why he came here.

So, you decide to help him. You both leave your room, and you guide him through the hallways, giving him a few quick directions to make it easier for Duke to find his way around the mansion.

Finally, they reach the main part of the mansion. As soon as they do, you say your goodbyes and quickly return to your own room. Duke watches you leave, sighing softly as he returns to his own room.

Being in his room, Duke sits on the bed, his thoughts lost on you.

So... You were (y/n) Wayne? Alfred talked about you before. Though it definitely felt a little weird to him that the others in the family never mentioned you, and Duke never saw you around the others. And when he arrived everyone welcomed him, except for you, and he worried because he thought maybe it was because you didn't like him. But now... He's finally met you. And you were nice to him, so he's convinced you don't have any ill feelings towards him, which relieves him a lot.

Anyway... You were definitely much more impressive than he thought. Duke can't help but replay over and over again in his mind the beautiful and special color of your eyes, oh, and your singing voice was almost magical, he definitely loved it. You were singing in Spanish at the time. Alfred mentioned that you were originally from Mexico, so you obviously know Spanish. That sounds pretty cool to him... He almost wants to ask you to teach him Spanish later too.

You were so adorable... Gosh, Duke always wanted a little sister, and of course, he never got one before, but now he has you! He'll make sure he's the perfect big brother to a little girl like you.

Maybe... He might pretend to get lost in the mansion's halls again just to ask you for help again. After all, he definitely made a point of memorizing the location of your room and then returning on purpose.

❦: (Note to emphasize that the reader used to be very smart in school, and would continue to be so at Gotham School too if it weren't for the circumstances. Losing her mother and being ignored by her father and brothers was a hard blow for a little girl like her, it wasn't right, that's why her academic commitment was greatly affected.// Oh and also, this time I wanted to make more mention of the reader's cousins, since at the end of the day, they are also very important in the reader's story. And welcome Duke to the story! Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter ♡).

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