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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months ago

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Tear Down My Reason

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader Warnings: Canon typical incest, dubious consent with allusions to no consent, smut. Word count: ~4.6k

Summary: When Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing to petition Lucerys's claim to Driftmark, Aemond is eager for revenge for the loss of his eye. However, what he does not anticipate is the object of his ire becoming his niece instead of his nephew.

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Aemond sits in his chambers, beside the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other. His eyepatch is discarded on the table in front of him, his index finger absentmindedly running the length of the scar that ravages the left side of his face.

It had itched incessantly since he had learned the news that his half sister, Rhaenyra, and her family would be arriving in King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark. His scar always grew irritated at the mention of Luke, a reminder of the boy who had permanently disfigured him and left him without an eye. It was a crime for which Luke had never been reprimanded, and so Aemond had spent almost a decade allowing his anger and resentment to fester, thinking of all of the ways he would seek revenge should he ever see him again.

He knows exactly when they have arrived the next day as he spars in the training yard with Cole; he spots the two dark haired boys circling, and takes a moment to lean against the table of weapons before him, steeling himself. He imagines grabbing a blade and carving out one of his nephew’s eyes in exchange for his. Luke had taken his left, perhaps he’d take his right, a fair exchange.

Snapped out of his reverie by Cole beckoning him forward, he picks up his blade and advances towards him. He knows that Jace and Luke will be watching, and so he works hard to put on a display that will show he’s no longer the sullen, little boy they used to torment. He is a man grown, a warrior that they should respect and fear. He ducks and weaves against Cole’s morningstar, throwing away his shield as it splinters under impact, until finally he seizes the advantage, the point of his blade directed towards his opponent’s neck.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Criston tells him, “you will be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” he utters, turning to face the two dark haired boys who stare up at him in shock. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

He is unable to stop the malevolent smirk that tugs at his lips, seeing fear in their eyes as they gaze at him. There is revenge enough in knowing that while he has advanced in training with the sword, transformed himself into a foe which any man would find themselves unlucky to cross blades with upon a battlefield, they have remained frightened, sniveling little boys that still cling to their mother’s skirts for protection. It is not enough to satisfy him though. Not yet.

Having bathed and changed, he joins his family in the throne room, as the court gathers to hear the petitions for the succession of Driftmark. He stands tall and proud beside his brother, sister and mother, as his grandsire sits the throne in his father’s stead.

His eye sweeps the hall, seeing Vaemond Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen and her granddaughter, Baela, standing to one side. On the other is Rhaenyra, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, his uncle, Daemon, and his daughter, Rhaena. And then he spots her.

Aemond had utterly forgotten of her existence; born a year after Jace, and a year before Luke, his niece. She is as tall as her mother now, and has her father’s hair - her real father’s hair - long, dark curls that, despite being half pinned up, fall almost to her waist. She is soft featured, with Rhaenyra’s striking blue eyes. It baffles him that a Strong bastard could be so pleasing to look upon, and he purses his lips in disgust, forcing himself to look away as he reflects back upon what she had been like as a child.

She never joined in with the relentless teasing that Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys had subjected him to. She had spent all of her time with Helaena, from what he can remember, the two of them sat side by side, Helaena holding up insects and describing them to her, as she flicked through the pages of books trying to see if records of them already existed, so that they could learn more about them.

The night that he had lost his eye, she had remained next to his sister, looking on with concern as he had his wound stitched closed. He remembered thinking it odd at the time that she was not with Luke and Jace, but his mind was so addled from the effects of milk of the poppy that nothing is clear, beyond the image of her mother bursting into the hall of Driftmark and tugging her away, back to her own family.

As the petitions are heard, even when his own father arrives unexpectedly, announcing he will sit the throne today, he finds his attention drawn to her, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be a meek little thing, keeping her eyes downcast, seeming ashamed of her own presence in the room. A trait that all Strong bastards ought to possess, in his opinion. Yet as the moments pass by and she does not look up, he finds himself growing increasingly irritated that she won’t look at him, despite how desperately he wills her to.

“Her children are bastards!” Shouts Vaemond, before turning to Rhaenyra, his voice lowering, “and she is a whore.”

Elation spreads like a warm glow through Aemond’s body, his attention finally pulled away from his niece to look upon the horrified expressions of his nephews and half sister. Serves them right. Finally someone is saying it out loud.

When he casts his gaze back upon his niece, her eyes are still fixed upon the floor. However, he sees the subtlety with which her bottom lip trembles, the light flush of her cheeks. She is about to cry.

Look at me.

The room falls silent as Daemon’s sword slices through Vaemond’s head, and it is only then that her head snaps up, her eyes tear filled and wide with shock, meeting Aemond’s. He finds himself smirking again, a quiet victory. Not only had the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children been brought loudly into question once more, but now he had the attention of his niece. He had forgotten her in the passing of so many years, but now she is within reach again, he will ensure she certainly never forgets him. The next time tears fill her pretty eyes he wants to be the cause of them.

Aemond groans when his mother informs him that the following evening they are to dine as a family, a request from his father to unite them all, having reestablished Luke’s inheritance. He resents the idea of breaking bread with people he does not like, that do not like him, to have to sit at the same table and make pleasantries with the boy who half blinded him.

But she would be there. He wonders where she is now. Her mother had been swift to hurry her from the throne room after the decapitation of Vaemond Velaryon, and he is unsure of which apartments within the Keep she now occupies.

He finds himself stalking the corridors of the usually unoccupied quarters of Maegor’s Holdfast, his eye scanning every closed door, wondering which is the room that she occupies. He pulls to a stop at the top of a staircase as he sees familiar long, dark curls flowing down slender shoulders, disappearing into a doorway before it closes behind her.

Her chambers are unguarded, and before he has a chance to stop himself, his feet carry him down the steps towards them, his knuckles rapping at the wooden door. It’s only when he hears the rustle of movement from the other side that his mind begins to race.

What if she is not alone?

What did he even intend to do if she was unattended?

He briefly considers turning on his heel and leaving, however, no sooner has the thought occurred to him than his niece is opening the door, startling at the sight of him, lips parting in shock. She is even prettier up close, despite her reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Aemond?”

Despite the confusion that laces her voice, it is soft and dulcet toned. He wants to hear her say his name a hundred times over, for it has never sounded sweeter than coming from her lips.

He inhales deeply through his nose, preparing himself to speak. “You are understandably upset by that business with our uncle and Vaemond. I have come to check on you, to make sure you are alright.”

Her eyebrows raise for a moment, blinking a few times as she regards him carefully. “Oh…that is…kind of you. My mother has said I ought to rest.”

“Perhaps you might welcome some company?” He offers. “It would be unwise for you to be alone after witnessing something so bloody.”

She draws back a little at the suggestion, her mouth opening to speak before closing again, her brow furrowing.

Aemond fights the urge to smile at her hesitation. Reaching forward, he crooks a finger beneath her chin. “Do I frighten you so much you cannot bear to be in the same room as me?”

Gasping, she shakes her head fervently as his hand drops away. “N–no! It is just…it has been such a long time, and the last time I saw you, you…my brother…your eye…”

He cocks his head, pushing down the resentment that bubbles to the surface at the mention of what had happened to him. “But have you not heard? My father is hosting a dinner for us all tomorrow, to unite our families once more. There is no need for you to be so cautious, allow yourself to be reacquainted with your uncle.”

Her gaze lowers for a moment, as she appears to consider his offer. “Yes, I suppose that would be nice,” she finally says, looking back up at him.

She steps to the side, allowing him to enter.

Too easy, he thinks to himself as he steps inside. There would be almost no sport in this if the fight she means to put up is so feeble.

He strides into the room, hands clasped behind his back, noting the lack of personal effects within the space, a reminder that she is a visitor. This is his home, not hers. He has the upper hand.

“Apologies, Uncle,” she utters nervously, shifting from foot to foot as she fidgets restlessly with her fingers. “I had not anticipated your visit, this room is ill equipped for guests. I have no chair to offer you.”

“That is quite alright,” he tells her amicably, forcing a soft smile before sitting upon the edge of the bed. “We are family, are we not? Such formalities are not necessary.”

He pats the space beside him. “Come, join me, we have much to catch up on.”

She hesitates a moment, before sitting next to him. There is something about the feeling of the dip in the mattress beside him, combined with the floral scent of her filling his nostrils that sends the thrill of a shiver through his body, and he turns to look at her, eyeing her much like a cat would a mouse.

Such a pretty little thing.

“I am truly sorry, for what Luke did to you,” she begins, “I—”

He waves a hand dismissively, forcing down the anger that threatens to burst forth. “Let us speak no more of it. It is in the past. Tell me, how is life upon Dragonstone treating you?”

She chews her lip, hesitating a moment before she speaks. “Truthfully, it is lonely. I miss King’s Landing. Jace and Luke have one another, and mother is preoccupied with her pregnancy and Joffrey and the babes. Daemon pays me no mind, and while I am grateful for Rhaena’s company, I can tell she misses her sister. I am a poor substitute for Baela.”

He hums with faux concern, allowing a moment of silence to present his next words as thoughtful. “You could never be a poor substitute for anything. And I expect you will soon be away from there anyway. I can imagine you have no end of suitors all vying for your hand.”

The hint of a blush turns her cheeks pink as she casts her gaze downward. “No, not yet. I have overheard Rhaenys talking with my mother. They wish to betroth Baela and Rhaena to Jace and Luke. There are no such plans for me. What about you? Are you to be married?”

“Not yet,” he says softly, meeting her eye as she looks up at him. “I have been waiting for the right woman to capture my interest. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we both find ourselves unattached?”

“What do you mean, uncle?” She asks, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Baela and Jace, Rhaena and Luke,” he shifts his hand across the bed, entwining his fingers with hers. “You and I.”

She gasps softly, though she does not wrench her hand away as he had anticipated. “Is this some sort of trick, Aemond?”

“Not at all,” he reassures her, moving closer. “What better way to unite our family once more?”

“We hardly know each other,” she utters softly.

“And yet you have scarce left my thoughts all these years,” he lies. “Let me kiss you.”

Before she has a chance to respond, he is pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens at first, taken aback by his forwardness, but soon responds, her supple mouth moving against his. He brings his hand up to her cheek, cupping it softly, the skin soft as peach fuzz beneath his calloused fingertips.

She sighs softly as he deepens the gesture, her inexperience showing as her tongue retreats from his as it slips into her mouth. It serves only to stoke the fire that rages within, tightening his breeches as the sensation of her saliva causes his cock to swell.

Pulling away from her mouth, he moves his hand from her cheek, sinking it into her silky curls, anchoring her in place as he places hot, open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck, making his way down towards her clavicle, relishing the way her head tips back slightly and her eyes flutter closed.

Tugging down the neckline of her bodice, he fights to suppress a groan of desire at the sight of her bared breasts, the hardened peaks ruddy and inviting. She is putting up so little resistance that it emboldens him to press forward, capturing a rosy bud between his lips and suckling as his tongue flicks against it, causing her to arch and mewl.

A whore, just like her mother, he thinks, shifting his attention to the other and repeating the same motion. His blood feels like liquid fire in his veins as her breaths turn to soft pants. One hand massages the breast that he is currently not latched upon, while the other creeps beneath her skirts.

It is only when his fingertips ghost upon the top of her stocking that she suddenly pulls free of him, eyes wide and breaths ragged as she hurriedly readjusts her dress.

“We should not have…forgive me, I…” she stumbles over her words, flustered and looking on the verge of tears again, before hurrying from the room, leaving Aemond alone on the bed.

He growls in frustration, smacking his hand down upon the edge of the mattress. “Ilibītsos,” he mutters angrily. Little slut.

When he returns to his own chambers, he comes harder than he ever has before, such is the force with which he fists his cock, imagining the entire time that his niece is splayed beneath him, sighing softly with pleasure as she had for him earlier that day.

As his pleasure induced haze wears off, a feeling of shame settles over him. He does not quite understand how his infatuation with her has taken hold so quickly, but now that it is, he is unable to shake it. Worse still, when she ran from her bedchamber, what if she had gone straight to her mother and told her of what he had done to her? It would be a disgrace from which he would never recover if his own mother were to be privy to such information.

He hides himself away the next day, embarrassed to face any of his family for fear they will know of his transgressions, until finally he is summoned to the feast that he has been dreading.

Much to his surprise, the entire day has passed without angry confrontation or a tongue lashing from his mother, and as he enters the dining hall there are no looks of shock or disgust to be met with, simply the shy smile of his niece as she looks up at him from her seat between her two brothers.

She has not told anyone, and she does not appear to regret what had transpired between them.

Aemond settles into his seat at the head of the table with a smug sense of pride. The dinner is a tawdry affair, musicians playing tunes he does not care for are stationed in the corner, while endless trays and bowls of food are brought out to them all.

He listens to his family toast to each other with a sneer, watching with barely concealed anger as Jace invites Helaena to dance. His only reprieve are the shy glances and smiles that his niece directs his way across the table. Perhaps all is not lost.

It is not until a suckling pig is brought out and settled before him that he is no longer able to contain his temper. Seeing Luke smirk at him, a reminder of the pig he had been taunted with in place of a dragon as a child, is too much. Is it not enough that his nephew has taken his eye, but now he continues to mock him too? He will not stand for such an insult.

Abruptly, he slams his first upon the table, halting the music and chatter within the room, as he rises from his chair, raising his wine cup.

“Final tribute,” he announces, eye scanning the room, careful not to include his niece in his speech, lest he foils the plans he has especially for her. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke, Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

The ensuing scuffle passes by in a blur for Aemond, resulting in him pushing Jace to the floor before they are all dismissed to their quarters. He hangs back, out of sight, waiting for Jace and Luke to disappear from sight, before striding after his niece.

She whips around, looking angrily up at him, eyes blazing with fury. “Why would you do that? You’ve ruined everything!”

“Forgive me,” he utters gently, taking her hands in his, “I lost my temper, but you have to know that my anger was never directed at you.”

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Jace and Luke’s betrothals were announced tonight. I was hoping we could announce ours too. Now my mother will never agree to it.”

Pride and satisfaction swell within his chest as he gazes down at her. He raises an eyebrow. “You wish to marry me? I had thought you were refusing my proposal, considering how quick you were to flee from me yesterday.”

“It all happened so fast. I have never been touched in that way before, and I allowed it to frighten me, I am sorry for it. But having had time to think on it, I do want to be your wife.”

He smiles down at her, seeing eye shining malevolently. “Then let the news of our betrothal be the balm that soothes all hurts upon the morrow.”

She smiles happily at him. “Then I shall bid you goodnight, Uncle.”

“So soon? I thought perhaps we might pick up where we left off yesterday.”

She flushes a delicate red. “Would it not be better to wait until we are wed?”

“I will not push you further than you wish to go,” he whispers, before kissing her deeply, walking her backwards into her bedchamber.

He is quick to cover her body with his own as she topples back against the softness of the mattress, kissing her fiercely as his hands push her skirts roughly up and over her hips.

“I thought you did not wish to push me?” She whispers breathlessly, pulling back from his lips.

“I shall not, talus,” he reassures her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking her the bare skin of her thighs, “but that does not mean I will not make you beg for it.” Niece.

Kissing her deeply once more, he shifts down her body, dragging her small clothes down and off of her leg in one fluid movement, before spreading the plushness of her thighs, his single eye drinking in the glistening sight of her cunt spread out before him.

He smiles to himself as he drags the tip of his tongue through her folds, hearing the way her breath hitches, his hands forcefully holding her down, keeping her still, as she attempts to buck her hips. He almost groans at the tart taste of her, his mouth quick to envelope her, alternating between sucking messily at her pearl and laving the flat of his tongue against her.

She writhes, pinned to the bed by her pelvis by his forceful grip, wanton sounds of pleasure escaping her as she clutches the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Lapping greedily at her as she falls apart against his tongue, he almost spends in his breeches taking in the sight of her arched back, tousled hair, ruddy cheeks and trembling thighs. But he is not finished yet.

The moment she settles back against the bed, her body spent and pliant, he begins his assault anew, this time crooking two fingers inside of her, rubbing urgently against the rough patch inside of her as his tongue focuses purposefully on her sensitive nub. The desperate sounds she makes are music to his ears. She is impossibly tight, he wonders how he will ever fit inside, but is all the more determined to find out as he sends her hurtling and crying out once more into the throes of another torturous release.

“Stop, stop!” She whines, attempting to back up the bed away from him, as he attempts to settle his face between her thighs a third time. “I cannot take it anymore.”

“If I am inside of you, it will not feel quite so intense,” he whispers, not moving an inch from where he lays between her legs, his chin shiny and sticky with her arousal.

“We are not yet married, Uncle, we should not,” she protests feebly.

“But we will be,” he insists, “so what does it matter? And I am afraid I have not had my fill of you, talus, so we shall have to continue as we are if you do not wish for me to be inside of you.”

“Gods…please…no…anything, just no more of that, it is too much.”

He smirks at her ruined state, bringing himself up towards her face, his voice dark. “Beg me for it.”

“Please, Aemond, please,” she cries, “put it inside, I cannot stand anymore.”

He grins wolfishly, as his fingers move to the lacings of his trousers, untying them and shucking the material past his hips.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he places the swollen head of his cock against the wetness of her opening, his eye flickering to her face for any signs of hesitation. She still looks utterly wrecked, her expression one of hazy bliss, her eyes glassy. Taking this as silent permission, he presses forward, hissing through his teeth at the resistance he is met with.

She whimpers softly, in clear discomfort, as he continues to push inward slowly, looking between her face, her brow furrowed and lips parted, and where their bodies are joining together.

He feels something give way, before he is fully rooted within her.

Her maidenhead.

Aemond fights the prideful grin that wants to spread itself across his face. His nephew had taken his eye, now in turn he had taken his niece’s virtue.

He stills, waiting for her to adjust, before moving slowly, dragging his hips back before pushing softly forward, repeating the motion. He desperately wants to snap his hips against hers, to make her cry out in pain, to disregard her comfort, but he is not a monster, he reasons. Her innocence soaking his length is payment enough.

Remembering how her body had responded so positively to his affections the previous day, he tugs down her plunging neckline with two fingers, freeing the softness of her breasts, leaning down to press gentle kisses against them, before suckling a nipple into his mouth.

She moans quietly, her body loosening up, becoming less tense beneath his, making it feel more pleasurable for him in turn. He means to be gentle with her, he really does, but feeling her grow wetter around him makes it impossible for him not to speed up his thrusts, driving into her faster, harder, causing her to whine and whimper as he trails his mouth across her chest. So lost in the sensation of her, he barely registers her delicate fingers clutching desperately at his hair and shoulders.

He knows he is done for when she squeezes around him, he knows he ought to pull out, to spill himself across the creamy white skin of her lower belly and thighs, but she is so warm, so wet, so tight around him that he cannot bring himself to leave her. He finds himself chasing his own end inside of her, his hips moving of their own accord, until finally, with a blinding white heat that tingles at the very base of his spine, he groans loudly, pulsating and spending inside of her in hot, powerful spurts.

Allowing himself a moment to settle against her, he basks in the warm afterglow of his peak, before pulling slowly out, disentangling his limbs from hers as his breath comes in shallow pants. He kneels up on the bed, pulling his trousers back over himself and fastening them. He allows himself to drink in the sight of her, her dress and hair in utter disarray, the sticky mess between her legs, her kiss swollen lips and faraway stare. Utter perfection.

It is not until he stands from the bed, smoothing over his clothing and hair with his hands that she finally comes back to reality and pulls herself up to rest upon her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my chambers,” he says coolly, “I have gotten what I wanted.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, worry lacing her tone, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Your bastard brother took my eye. Now I’ve taken the only thing that makes you worth a damn.”

Her voice wobbles, tears rimming her eyes as they widen in realisation, pulling at her dress to cover herself. “You said you would marry me…”

“I lied.”

“Why?! Why me?!”

He shrugs. “You made it easy. You might want to have the maester brew you a tea though, unless the bastard also wants a bastard.”

“I will tell my mother,” she whispers tearfully.

“Go ahead. I will deny it. Who will believe you? If you birth a silver haired babe, there is nothing to suggest that it is not a result of my brother forcing himself upon you, or perhaps our uncle. Your mother was younger than you, I believe, when he first started to show an interest in her. So if I were you, I would have the tea brewed and keep quiet, unless you wish to be branded a whore as well as a bastard.”

“You are a monster!” She spits, shoulders shaking as she sobs.

“Drīves, talus,” he utters, turning to leave her bedchamber. “Ñuha drīva issa.” Justice, niece. I have justice.

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seresinhangmanjake · 8 months ago

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The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault.

“Get out!” he yells.

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap.

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter.

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps.

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear.

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours.

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.”

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is.

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value.

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end.

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you.

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare.

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister?

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone.

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun.

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother.

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses.

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps.

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting.

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist.

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches.

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough.

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours.

“You're not hurt?” he asks.

“I'm fine,” you promise him.

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours.

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames.

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing.

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours.

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.”

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach.

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd x reader #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune movie

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 11 days ago

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LGBTQ Disabled Characters Showdown Quarterfinals Poll 1

Vs.

Please be civil in the notes. We will block people if we feel it is necessary. A character being canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. This is not a competition of who is better representation.

Check out the other polls in the quarterfinals here.

Edit: This is a two vs. one because they tied (by our defenition) back in round 4 and moved on together.

Harrier ‘Harry’ du Bois-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Bisexual. Struggles with addiction, post-polio syndrome, multiple kinds of mental illness, and whatever else he's accrued by living in a city with no accessible healthcare.

Propaganda:

You know who he is. Vote for him.

Kim Kitsuragi-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Visually impaired

Propaganda:

I dunno man. He's Kim Kitsuragi. There's nothing I can say about him that hasn't already been said. He's quiet and reserved and uncomfortable with emotions. He's a self-proclaimed Torque Dork who loves his car like a child. He listens to heavy metal music. He's a centrist. He's a homosexual. He's consistently given shit by everyone around him for his race, his sexuality, and his disability, and he's taught himself to respond to it with cold professionalism. He dresses in historical communist pilot cosplay. I love him with my entire heart.

Yang Xiao Long-RWBY

Qualifications:

She is canonically wlw (has been for years but specifically kissed and got together with her now girlfriend in the latest season) and uses a prosthetic arm and has been shown to struggle with PTSD due to the traumatic nature of losing it during the show.

Canonically had her right arm chopped off, uses a prosthetic. Has PTSD. Is canonically in a WLW relationship.

She has a canon girlfriend and canonically has a prosthetic arm and PTSD

She's canonically sapphic (part of a recently canonised wlw slowburn relationship) and is an amputee (due to events from the 3rd season finale) who wears a robotic prosthetic. She also suffers from PTSD which is explored in the show

Propaganda:

I will keep on submitting Yang to relevant brackets until I die. RWBY has plenty of strengths and weaknesses with writing, especially Yang's recovery arc, but instead of forcing her to push past her trauma and enter the battlefield immediately, we see her struggle with it, take time to process, and not be pushed into repression and when she chooses to wear her prosthetic, chooses to train to ready herself, and chooses to seek out her family and save lives, she isn't perfectly healed, as no one is. The show depicts her having flashbacks due to sudden loud noise, shaking hand the first few times she has to fight for her safety instead of training with her dad, and snapping at friends when they bring up Blake, the person she lost her arm trying to save (who, near immediately after ran away due to feeling she was endangering those she loved, furthering Yang's already present abandonment issues.) It isn't done perfectly but the intentions and general message sent are extremely positive and honest. She struggles less as the show progresses, and there are opportunities to consider herself less for being disabled or "become whole again" but she explicitly refutes these ideas and says that's she's better because of her failures and losses, and isn't any less whole. Her becoming disabled is also extremely tied to her being LGBT, because, as previously mentioned, she lost her arm protecting her then friend and partner, now girlfriend, directly after the villain who cut her arm off told her love interest that he would "destroy everything [she] love[s]. (Camera pans to Yang, he looks at her.) Starting with her." LIKE. He attacked her BECAUSE Blake cared for her so much and Yang ran to her defense blindly BECAUSE she loved Blake so much. When they reunite, they struggle with communication because Yang feels Blake is seeing her as weak, and through several things, mostly a climatic battle against the man who severed Yang's arm, they affirm each other as equals. I can go on but this is already too long. YANG SWEEP!!!!!

Yang lost her arm while protecting her best friend and future girlfriend from said girlfriend's abusive ex. Had a whole arc about learning to live with that loss and dealing with PTSD. Is totally devoted to and in love with Blake Belladonna and is just the sweetest but most badass character in the show.

She's one of the main characters, and just finished a 10 year slow burn romance. Plus, she has both physical and mental disabilities, but is never treated as lesser or incomplete.

Yang Xiao Long was one of the first examples of a sapphic character I ever saw in animated media with her character journey in the show being an iconic part of my teenage years and current young adulthood. The loss of her arm after a traumatic event in the show's 3rd volume was one of the big shockers of the show that nobody saw coming. Since then the show has done an amazing job in exploring both the mental and physical effects of her losing a limb, gaining a prosthetic arm and the recovery journey. Her character also has a major arc regarding handling her PTSD from both this and her past most notably in the 5th and 6th volume. Her character also has a slow-burn romance with her teammate and fellow main character Blake Belladonna which is one of my fave romances ever (it has everything: canon soulmates, friends to lovers, sunshine x grump,battle couple etc..) that has recently became CANON BABIEE!!! There are MULTIPLE characters in RWBY with various disabilities that are handled well in the narrative but i would say Yangs definitely the top FAVE!

#polls #poll #disability #disabled characters #lgbtq #lgbtq characters #id in alt text #lgbtq dcs quarterfinals #harry du bois #harrier du bois #kim kitsuragi #disco elysium #yang xiao long #rwby

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millersfinest · 2 months ago

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can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams smut

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just-some-random-blogger · 3 months ago

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Tormented Spirit | 2

Part 1 2 3

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, smut (piv, loss of virginity, fingering, semi-public sex, Daemon talking you through it), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation/murder, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i am surprised I got as many comments as I did on chapter 1 🥺🫶 it's not that I think my writing is bad... Well... Idk it felt aimless when I started so I am grateful for the positive reinforcement. 👉👈 I am once again asking for more pls comment n reblog I would love u forever if u did | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

Daemon heads to your chambers, eager to shake you awake and ruin your morning once more. When he arrives to the room, he stops in his tracks, disappointed to see you were risen. That is, until he realizes the state you were in.

You roused long before the sun had and could not find sleep no matter how badly you searched. You decided to draw yourself a warm bath in hopes of finding sleep in the tub; you only find more restlessness and simply accept your fate.

You hear Daemon's entrance and turn to him from the vanity you were wallowing. You were half dressed. Your corset was undone and you had given up on braiding the sides of your head. You smile weakly at him, "good morrow."

Nothing about your tired, sullen eyes agreed with that, and it irritates him to know that you're one of those people. Pretenders.

"Well, finish up then," Daemon furrows his brows, "get dressed. We have yet to accomplish our task."

You mimic his expression, brushing your dark hair back, "task?"

He rolls his eyes, "I do not believe yesterday counts as an introduction."

Upon realizing he meant the introduction to Caraxes, your body tenses. You look sick. You stand to try and convince him out of it, but Daemon reaches you before you can get on your feet. He places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Your heart thunders when he brushes your hair to one shoulder. He secures your dress from behind, and your breath grows heavy as you watch him from the mirror.

"It is not so bad, riding a dragon," the prince says to plant a false sense of trust in you, "who knows? You might enjoy it."

There is an unnatural warmth that spills across your form when your husband then completes your braids. He weaves in a manner far gentler than Gwayne ever has. It makes your lips part.

He brings you to your feet. Daemon takes in your expression, lips curling slightly, "there you are, wife."

Your brows knit.

He knew his artificial gentleness has you off-guard. There is no better moment to have you do his bidding than now.

One might be surprised to know that Caraxes actually enjoyed having you on his back, as did Daemon, not because they suddenly liked you— gods no, but because the sound of your screams were oh-so satisfying.

You could do little else but release cries of terror as you clung to your husband from behind. Daemon made it a point to do flips and all sorts of unnecessarily moves whilst flying, hoping your hold would falter. The time you spent in the air felt like eternity. It seemed your husband was set on touring the entire 7 realms.

You never thought you would be so ever happy to see the pit. The pit could not say the same about you however. You spill your guts out to the floor exactly like the first time you were here.

Daemon makes a face. He turns to the keepers and orders them to clean your mess up, lest it get on Caraxes' claw.

Woe is you who is forced to repeat the exact thing the next morning. You could not even plead your case, for your throat was sore. The sound of your screams this time were not as entertaining to Daemon, as your voice is hoarse. At some point, the terror is too great, you cannot scream. Because of this, he cuts the flight short in boredom, excited instead at the promise of watching you suffer through another retch. But, oh, by the gods, were you an inconveniencing woman.

Instead of remaining consistent, you just had to make a show and faint into him, did you?

He could not care less for you, which is why he chucks you off into the arms of a dragon keeper, but the damned old man could no longer carry such a weight, and so he was begrudgingly forced to throw you over his shoulder and bring you to a maester himself.

In truth, he'd all forgotten about his wife fainting until the next morning, when he came to the maester's quarters to ask for something to soothe his hammering head from his heavy drinking the night before. He was, in fact, offended, when the maester insinuated that he had come to check up on his bride.

Before he could give the greying maester a piece of his mind, he hears a terrible voice barking from the ward. Its grating timbre made it clear to Daemon that Lord Hand Cunttower was off on a yapping session again.

He walks deeper into the room. Weeping sounds become audible.

"—no, you do not understand," Otto snaps, hunched over at the side of your bed.

Ah, twas you who was being terrorized.

You dare not turn to your father, for you knew your throat would only tighten more that it already has. You force yourself to take deep breaths, but it's easier said than done. You remain still on the bed you laid on.

"You must sire as many children as your body can take, or you will die," the man says.

But you were dying anyway.

"The process will not be pleasant."

Nothing is pleasant.

"It will hurt-"

Everything hurts.

"-but it is a better fate than-"

"Enough!" you snap, glaring at him with angry, red eyes. You repeat, though your voice is weaker, "enough, enough, eno-"

Otto gravely speaks your name. Your body recognized the danger, but having realized upon waking up to the face of a maester, it mattered little where or who it came from, you were destined to hurt- to die.

"Do not fall complacent be-"

"You are no longer my lord," you quip. Sweat forms on your nape. This is the first time you've ever interrupted your father.

He is gobsmacked. He is bewildered. His back straightens, "what?"

You feel yourself descend into heavy fraught. Your saliva tries to choke you.

"What," he presses, "did you say, girl?"

"You are my father," your voice falters, "but not my lord."

Otto's face warps.

Your breath grows shorter and shorter, "my liege lord is my-" pant "-husband, and what he-" pant "-desires, I will-" pant "-do."

Daemon's ears and brows perk at your misplaced loyalty. Part of him wants to laugh out loud and make himself known, but then he sees, even from where he stood, how it got Otto twisted. He chuckles to himself instead.

Your father enunciates as though he means to stab you with them, "you stupid fucking whore."

You crumble like chalk. You fall into another round of body arresting tremors. Your chest is tight and you screw your eyes painfully shut. It becomes apparent to Daemon, as it would anyone who'd witness, where your condition sourced. Otto grabs your shoulders, "you know nothing of-" but then recoils.

Daemon shoves him away, glaring as he says, "unhand her."

Otto manages to balance himself, but he looks as though the veins on his temples were about to pop. He clenches his jaw, "I am speaking to my daughter."

"You mean at her," his silver hair slips over his shoulder as he turns to you, "she does not look like she can hold conversation."

"This is personal matter," Otto steps forward.

"Mmm," Daemon turns back to him, "I do say, I am glad to have interrupted," he shifts on his leg, linking his fingers together, "a dutiful husband should know all personal matters of his wife. Don't you agree?"

Though you were still wrestling with yourself, you heard every word. You knew if you did not interject, they will fight each other for your carcass. You feel lightheaded, but you force yourself to open your eyes and speak.

Of course, the only sound you manage to make is a strangled and pained one.

Otto averts his attention to you, and tries to come to your side.

Daemon steps in front of him and tilts his head back, "oh... I would adore it if you give me a reason to kill you."

You choke out, "Daemon."

Your father stiffens as he looks past the said man to inspect you, missing the way the said man smirks. Otto turns back to Daemon, feeling bile spread in his mouth as the prince says, "see. She does not want you."

Otto's lips curl and his hands ball into fists.

Your husband waves a hand, "go away. You're clearly upsetting her."

Otto does the most to remain calm, "she is my da-"

"She is my wife," Daemon snaps, imposing upon him.

You gulp with difficulty as you catch the way your father's jaw clenches. You force yourself to sit up and open your mouth to speak, but everyone's attention is averted to the Kingsguard that walks into the room.

Daemon's forehead curls at the Cargyll knight, "my prince. Lord Hand."

"Which one are you?" asks the prince.

"Arryk, my prince."

"State your business, Arryk."

"I-"

"I requested a ward for the princess," Lord Hand answers instead.

Daemon makes a face at him and chuckles dryly under his breath.

Arryk looks between the two again then slowly continues, "I and my brother have been awarded the honor of serving ward to the Princess of Dragonstone. I take first watch today."

Daemon chuckles again, "a bit late, aren't you?"

The white cloak stiffens then bows, "I was just given word this hour."

"Hmm. Well, Arryk," he motions, "why don't you go escort the Lord Hand out of the room before someone dies."

He stiffens again, but turns to the said man nonetheless. He does not question it and merely does what was instructed.

Or at least tries to.

"I do not trust you with my daughter's well-being," Otto steps forward, pointing a finger to the ground, "you are the very reason she is in that bed."

Daemon gasps dramatically. At this point, you finally had enough wits about you to speak, "please-" but your voice is easily drowned out however.

"Do you not remember thanking my brother for the, what was it," the prince pretends to think, "joyous union? Or would you like to watch me stake my claim upon he—"

Otto's face twists in horror and repulsion, but that is not why Daemon's words are cut short. It is because of the cold, clammy, trembling hand that takes his own that he looks down. He watches as you sigh out, "leave us, father."

The said man turns to you in grave offence. In your fear, you do not notice the betrayal that is mixed with it. His anger flares and he scoffs. He gives you one last look, and you knew exactly it was just that. This would be last time he would ever look upon you. When he storms away, you feel it in your chest: this is the last time you will ever call him father. You were forsaken, truly forsaken.

Otto is seen out by Arryk.

Your hand slips from Daemon's, as you no longer had the strength. You muster all your remaining energy to reach the drink propped on your bedside table. It was a futile attempt though, as instead of grasping it, you knock it over, which only leads you into another fit of tears.

Daemon curses and shakes his foot that's gotten soaked. He did mean to snap at you for it, but you were already clearly suffering. Your breathing is short and it seemed like you were mumbling something.

He hunches over in an attempt to hear you, "what?"

It takes a myriad of repetitions for him to realize you were apologizing.

His face contorts, "gods," what pathetic creature had he been given to?

Daemon's upper lip curls and he can no longer bear the sound of your whining any further. He calls for the maester, asking for another cup of water because you had knocked over your own. Just as the maester goes off to get you another drink, he remembers he came here for his own affliction because his head begins to hammer again. He rubs his temples and sits on the vacant bed besides yours.

"Here, my prince," the maester says upon arrival, "milk of the poppy enough for the both of you."

Daemon squints as the man places a tray on your bedside table. Daemon is handed a cup first, but does not drink it until after he watches you be helped to drink your own fill. After, the maester promptly leaves with a curt nod. The drink does not take effect on you until after Daemon finishes his own

Your voice shakes, "t-thank you."

Daemon puts his cup down.

"You did not have to come," you say softly.

"Do not flatter yourself," he scoffs, "I did not come for you. I came for my headache."

"Yet it remains," you turn to him, face tight and gleaming from all the tears you've shed, "you did not have to come."

He stares at you for a moment. You looked so frail, so devoid of hope. Truly, death would be mercy to you at this point.

Just then, ser Arryk returns. He finally sees you and gives you a deep bow, "princess."

Being addressed as such makes you feel sad... and lonely.

"I am ser Arryk Cargyll. I will be your ward, along with my twin brother, Erryk, who you will meet after my shift." The kingsguard straightens up, "I will do all that I can to ensure your health does not falter and that you are always seen to."

You think of your own twin as you take in the man's features. The idea that your father purposefully chose twin brothers as your ward made you feel sad and sick, but it was hardly Arryk's fault Otto liked mocking you, so you smile at him, "I have a twin."

The man nods, offering you a smile far more genuine than yours, "aye. Ser Gwayne Hightower. He is deft with the short sword."

You turn to your hands, recalling just a few days ago when you had watched him train. Your lips curl upwards, "though, not as good as I."

Daemon pulls his head back, face contorting. He is taken aback when Arryk's sniggers. The latter nods, "perhaps you will show me your tricks, my lady."

There is a twinkle in your eye as you turn back to him, "perhaps."

Daemon raises a brow at the interaction and decides to stand, "come," he reaches a hand to you, "some fresh air would do you good."

Fresh air? Your jaw slacks and you turn to Daemon with a fallen expression. Be as it was, you were no fool. You did not believe your husband had your best interest in mind, and yet, it was not like you had much of a choice. Against yourself, you to take his hand.

He pulls you up and Arryk comes to your side to assist you. He helps you to your feet, hand on your arm and shoulder.

Daemon is annoyed by his fussing. "Yes. Very good, Cargyll. I can manage to bring her to the dragon pit myself."

You close your eyes and sigh. Just as you dreaded.

"Dragon pit?" Arryk repeats.

"Yes. She needs fresh air." The prince narrows his eyes, "do you contest me?"

Arryk releases you and shakes his head, "I would not."

"Good," he motions with nod, "out of the way then."

You see, after being scorched by the fire of your maker— your father, the sight of Caraxes emerging from the depths did not strike as much fear into you as it did before. In fact, the promise of malice from the beast felt... cathartic, and for once, you welcomed Daemon's insistence on being brought to its maw.

You stumbled against Caraxes' scaly cheek. Having done nothing but lay in the maester's chambers, your hair was not tied or braided in any way. As the wind blew, it tickled against the dragon's face. Caraxes did not seem to enjoy the sensation, and so he growled and snapped his teeth.

Daemon was quick to chastise his mount, and for that, he did not realize your lack of self-preservation. Oh, but Caraxes did; he even growled again, only to be met once more by your unflinching demeanor.

Daemon would only realize your change after taking flight and landing on a beach. Upon dismounting, Caraxes takes it upon himself to screech as you hover. The prince doesn't know who is more bewildered, him or his dragon, when you screech back.

Your neck veins pop and spit comes out of your mouth at the intensity of it all. A harsh wind blows your hair and your skirt. You heave after releasing such a harsh noise.

In truth, perhaps Caraxes is more perturbed as, unlike Daemon's who presses forward, the beast pulls back and shakes his head. He bleats as he watches his rider grab your arm.

The prince means to berate you for your insanity, but then, gods, you rather conveniently succumb to another arrest to your heart and lungs. He does not know why he catches you when your legs give in but he knows exactly why he suggests: "get in the water."

You look up at him, your glassy eyes meeting his violet ones.

He lets you crumble to the ground and bends down to undo your dress, "a swim would do you wonders."

"N-no- you will regret-" you sputter.

But Daemon ignores you, not that it took much effort, for you were incoherent soon enough.

He pulls you out of your dress until you're in nothing but your slip. You sob, and he hushes you, assuring he will be by your side. He removes his tunic. Soon, he is dragging you down deeper and deeper, and you are choking and spitting saltwater.

Daemon decides to simply release you and wait until your body floats lifeless. With how you were gasping, it would not take long. He turns his head when his face is splashed by your flailing arms. When he looks back, the water is calm and your body is nowhere to be seen.

... well, that was rather quick.

He waits for a moment, watching bubbles float up. After a while, he purses his lips and decides to go back ashore. He should have done this sooner.

He freezes when you emerge in front of him, pushing your brown hair off your face. He is perturbed by the serenity across your features; it was as though you were reborn.

You sigh, "I told you you would regret it."

Daemon blankly stares at you.

"There is a great river in Oldtown," you wade around, "the water there is not nearly as pleasant or warm as this, but still... swimming was one of the only ways I could calm myself."

His jaw clenches. He does not even try to hide his disappointment.

You lick your lips at it and turn to Caraxes, who was happily soaking in the sun from the sandy shore, "take heart. Your dragon might entertain himself by eating me yet," you turn to him, "or perhaps my Lord Hand will kill me himself."

His face twists, "what?"

You shake your head and roll your eyes.

He pulls his head back, offended and confused by your sudden nerve.

You allow your body to float up in the water, "you need not pretend. I know you long to kill me."

Daemon is insulted by your brashness. He grabs your floating hip and pushes you down until you're once again face to face. Not a semblance of fear is on your features. It only angers him further.

He snaps, "I could have your tongue for that."

He cannot deny the way his stomach rolls when you place your hands by the base of his neck. The complete change in your temperament puts him on edge. Have you been playing him all along?

"Would it not be simpler to have my head?" you speak plainly, as though you were genuinely curious of his response.

His nostrils flare.

Before he can act, you are swimming off. You emerge from the water, dripping wet. Your clothing is sheer and hugs every part of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could not help but look, but then he was sorely insulted all over when you pet Caraxes head and he lets you.

It was a twisted hallucination. He is suddenly reminded of the milk of the poppy he'd drank; you've probably poisoned him and planned all of this with your cunt father like the conniving whore you really were.

You do not hear him emerge, but only know he did because he is upon you. He forces you around through a severe squeeze on your arms, "what is your game, Hightower cunt?!"

Your body seizes, but you do not succumb to the thundering of your heart, as you had just been relaxed.

He shakes you, making you gasp, "SPEAK!"

"There is no game!" you whimper.

He chuckles dryly, shaking you harshly once more "perhaps it should be said that I need no assistance from my dragon to kill you."

A shiver runs down your spine, "please-"

"Then tell me th-"

"-just do it."

The sound of Caraxes huffing brings Daemon back to reality. And yet it takes you speaking, "just kill me," for him to realize you meant exactly what he thought.

He stills where you descend into further torment. He knows then that it is true. There was no plot, or at least not one where this creature of agony could ever oversee. You were calmed by the water, but not cured. Very truly, he thinks again death would be mercy, convenient for him as well. Yet, in his nature, Daemon does opposite of what he is told and pries his hands off. He mutters under his breath, "ao mūdas run," you terrible thing.

You sob, as if you understood him.

You shed tears unlike the others he's witnessed; there is no panic or fear, only pain.

"Surely you agree it is better than living this way."

The clarity of your voice takes him aback. He turns away, uncomfortable of your sudden agency.

"I have been this way since I can remember," you confess, "and they've all have counted my days for just as long."

"Why must I bloody my hands for you?" he squints, "if you despise living so much, do it yourself."

Your laugh is haunting. You shake your head and wipe your face, "I am not as brave as you. I could not even kill the fishes Gwayne caught for me, though I ate them."

Daemon is unmoved, twice so at the mention of your brother.

"And Gwayne..." you sigh, "he would blame himself." You turn to your feet, warmed by the sand beneath it, "I would not do that to him." You shake your head again, "but again, take heart," you smile, "it will happen soon enough."

His forehead curls.

"I can feel it in my gut," you rub your belly, "it is putrid and festering... whatever it is."

He tilts his head, "then do me a favor and wallow in silence—" he walks off, sparing one last glance, "and try scheming with your cunt father somewhere you will not be caught."

You manically laugh and rip at your hair, "he is my illness, if it is not plain to you."

He stops and turns back to you.

"I am the way that I am because I-" you poke your chest, "am he, had he been born a woman." You rub your sternum, "he loathes me because he is I. I am his hair, his nose, his temper, his... weakness, only amplified because I did not inherit his cock.

"When I pray..." you sniffle, "sometimes I think the gods keep me alive for I am his reckoning— that I must torment him for all the years he has tormented others... tormented me."

Daemon watches the salt from your eyes join the salt on your slip. He stares at your pert nipples then watches you chew your lower lip. He licks his own, "did you mean what you told him?"

You watch as he inches closer, "what?"

"That he is no longer your liege lord," he reaches for your arm, "that I am."

"I-"

Daemon pushes the shoulder of your slip dress down.

Your hand darts to his chest, "i-it is the truth."

He hums and tilts his head. You gasp when he kisses your neck. He licks the saltwater off your skin, enjoying the sound you make when his teeth graze you, "very well then."

Goosebumps form when he pulls your skirt up your thighs.

"It would be beneath a prince to withhold aid for such a tormented spirit."

You do not speak for soon his mouth is claiming yours. It is not as horrid as you imagined it would be. You did not think someone who's shown nothing but aggression could behold you so tenderly. You shiver when he continues to rid you of your sopping clothes. When you break away for air, you manage to mutter, "someone c-could see."

Daemon's expression is changed as stares at you and pushes you to the ground. You gasp as you find yourself atop the garbs he already managed to remove. He undoes his breeches, "who? My dragon?"

You do not know if he means Caraxes.

"You are my wife," he drops to his knees, grabbing yours, "the sin lies with the looker," he pushes your legs apart, "not us."

You bite your lips, feeling the the need to repel him, but decide against it. You simply close your eyes and dig your fingers into the sand.

His loins burn at the sound of your sigh. He sinks into you and relishes your submission. He wraps your legs around him and rocks his hips into yours. You mewl and dig into his back. He bites your lobe before whispering, "you belong to me."

You scratch your nails up his back as his rocking hips send bolts of pleasure in your body.

"Say it."

"I-I-" you heave, "belong to you."

He squeezes your thighs, "you are to do what I so desire."

You gasp softly when he grabs your jaw, making you turn to him.

"-especially if it is against your father, yes?"

You gulp, unable to speak. You simply nod.

Daemon's eyes become hooded. He releases your jaw, claiming your thigh again, "good."

You both remain this way, kissing and rubbing, but then you begin to grow impatient. You bring your mouth to his to catch his attention but do not kiss him. He is taken aback by your unintentional tease and digs his fingers into your flesh. This is why you whimper as you speak, "you- can... enter."

He is broken from his trance, "what?"

"I," you scratch his skin gently, as if to encourage him, "know you are ready. You do not have to hold back. I am accustomed to pain."

He knits his brows, then tilts his head, "how could a virgin know such things?"

He watches bashfulness claim you. You shake your head, "I read it."

"Did your book not tell you it need not be painful?"

"I-" you let out a loud noise when you feel his fingers touch your womanhood, "Daemon-"

He purrs at the sound of his name, "I will show you how good it can feel so that you can tell your father all about it."

The horrifying thought does not even register as he makes you feel things you did not know possible. You begin to shiver and whine, but it is entirely opposite to what your body is accustomed to. Your breath begins to shorten and you instinctively begin to panic, but Daemon's voice keeps you grounded.

"Breathe," he licks your pulse, "it feels good, does it not? Breathe and think of how good I'm making you feel."

You are entirely subservient to him, to his baritone, to his fingers, to his hips. There is nothing but sand and Daemon. You whine when you feel a hard intrusion. The sensation is foreign, and it causes your belly to tense.

He kisses the line that forms between your brows, "relax, my wife. Now is not the time for pain," he hooks his hands behind your knees, "it's a time for pleasure."

It's all a blurry haze after this. Daemon moves into you in a way that makes you wonder how this could ever hurt. Every thrust sends ripples of bliss down your spine. Every hit draws out the lewdest of sounds from your throat. You understand then why they call it love making; you love every moment of it. Your bliss is heightened when he touches something inside you, and again, and again-

For once in your life, as your breath grows heavy, you do not feel like you're about to die.

Daemon alternates tempos, but ultimately resigns to fast and hard. He does not cease until your rigid body goes limp beneath him. The pressure in your stomach breaks into a million burning pieces, and just as it becomes all too much, he pulls out, propping himself up on one arm. You gasp at the heat thats spills on your thigh as he strokes himself. Soon, his arm gives out and he collapses beside you.

You behold the mess of red and white between your legs, but find no shame, only arousal, which you did not expect. You turn to your husband, watching his chest heave, his temples sweat, and his tongue lick his lips.

He's... he's beautiful.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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tofics · 8 months ago

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Broken - Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Series Warnings: Canon typical violence, trauma, child loss, mention of SA, smut. Chapters will get individual warnings.

A/N: This idea came to me after I read 'Enough' by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and our brief exchange about the attraction of men who are heartbroken beyond repair, hence the title of this series. Ngl, this story will have a lot of heartache in it; probably gonna be the darkest thing I ever wrote, but I promise there'll be a happy ending. (Usually not one to spoiler things, but seriously, the stuff the reader is gonna go through is gonna be heavy. Reader discretion is advised.)

Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death

Chapter 2 - Settling In

Chapter 3 - Worse Than A Monster

Chapter 4 - It's Not You, It's Me

Chapter 5 - New Leafs and Old Foes

Chapter 6 - Nightmare Knocking On Your Door

Chapter 7 - Shared Pain Is Still Pain

Chapter 8 - Something Else, Something Better

Chapter 9 - Squeeze For Yes, Wring For No

Chapter 10 - One Last Shirt

Chapter 11 - I Think I Know The Type

Chapter 12 - Trial Awaits

Chapter 13 - Epilogue

*Header/divider credit(s): @hgstuff, @cafekitsune

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nalyniavadelletargaryen · 6 months ago

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[ HOTD - Greif-striken Aegon ]

Summary: At the Queen Dowager's request, you take on the role of Jaehaera’s primary caregiver but bear the burden of catching the King’s eye.

Warnings: canon Aegon + dubcon / noncon + mentions of death + slight angst + hurt/comfort + smut

Grief-stricken Aegon is surprised to see you playing with his daughter in the garden, temporarily distracted from his anger by a curiosity about you. Jaehaera sits on your lap as you play with her, keeping her happy and your focus solely on her. Although the King doesn’t recognize you, he hesitates before approaching you, his anger turning into interest when you smile at him. You had been warned by his mother to be cautious of him, given the grief in the castle after the loss of the young prince. Despite your reservations, you decide to be kind and give Aegon the benefit of the doubt as you respectfully acknowledge him and then return your attention to Jaehera.

Grief-stricken Aegon leaves you with his daughter, slipping back into a quiet rage as the sight of her reminds him of Jaehaerys. You cradle the young girl close as her father stalks down the stone halls. Sighing in relief, you watch his silver locks disappear around a corner, completely relaxing when Jaehrra smiles. In a month, she had grown attached to you, mistakenly calling you 'mama' once or twice, but you always managed to correct her. Although your heart fluttered at her recognition, you knew very well that her birth mother, Queen Helena, needed no more strife and that prying ears would quickly spread the rumor of her quick attachment to you. When it happened a third time, you corrected Jaehaera as always, cheeks warm with gratitude. However, your decision remained firm. Unfortunately, you were not quick enough to hush her with a gentle reprimand, and Sir Larys overheard the young princess's adoration for you as he passed by the library where you read to her before supper. He wasted little time using the new revelation to his advantage. He tells the King of Jaehera's love for you, explaining it as a harmless but vaguely dangerous trust shift. Aegon feeds into his observation with contained interest.

Grief-stricken Aegon, overcome with sorrow, sends for you the following evening, calling you to the council room after a long day of war planning. You come at his command after putting Jahera to bed and bidding the Queen goodnight. You take your time to reach him, rightfully afraid of the man you've heard raging about the castle in a constant state of vengeance. You're particularly fearful of your growing desire to feel his pain somehow. Jaehaera is the sweet and well-mannered maiden child, much like her mother, and you can only begin to imagine how lovely her brother had been. You know well that pitying their father shouldn't be your prominent state of mind, but having a tender heart makes it devastatingly hard not to. So, you heed his call, entering the council room and standing at the doors with your head held preemptively low. You greet him quietly, withholding the tremor in your tone as you try to steel yourself against his scrutinizing stare.

Grief-stricken Aegon was far from displeased by the sight of you. Since he briefly saw you in the Keep's courtyard, hed been considering many details and assets you possessed. You appeared pious, gentle, and careful in how you presented yourself. You held the traits he knew his mother had explicitly sought: modesty and fairness. Aegon assumed you were a young lady, yet how you carried yourself made him believe you had surpassed his sister's maturity. He took note of the seven-pointed star necklace you kept clasped around your neck; the gold jewelry glinted on your bare skin, bringing out the light colors of the dresses you wore. You never bared green, a minuscule detail that pleased him. The influence of his family hadn’t reached you, and it was an odd relief. You had no allegiance to an agenda, were content with your role, and were not invested in the schemes around him. In his eyes, you were perfect, pure, and identical to the maiden herself.

Greif-stricken Aegon doesn’t confess his sins to you, though. You were never bringing to light the thoughts he’s had about you. The very sound of your voice started his descent into obsession. Hearing you sing soothing lullabies to Jaehaera, seeing you cradle her close, watching you praise her most minor achievements drove his mind to places it’d refrained from going after the death of his son. Motherly. You are sound of mind and careful with the last of his children. You embodied what his dear sister's wife couldn’t: motherhood. It drove Aegon mad in the dead night, his chambers filled with the sound of his moans as he fisted his cock to the very thought of you.

Greif-stricken Aegon refrains from forcing himself on you the first night you visit him, choosing to pry into your life with direct questions and bittersweet compliments for most of the exchange. You’re relieved to experience his generally pleasant side, amused by the scathing jokes he tells between conversations, and pleased to make him smile with your witty remarks. Your walls of caution break down little by little as he invites your company, letting you recount stories of impractical adventures with his daughter and surprisingly invested in hearing them. You ramble a bit, unsure how to feel about his direct attention and nervous to speak so casually to the King himself. Aegon reassures you that your talkative nature is anything but frustrating, reaching out to lift your chin and graze the warm skin of your cheeks with his fingertips. Your dormant blush brightens when he smiles at you, leaning in to kiss your parted lips tenderly before you can stop him. You had no intention of kissing him back, utterly shocked he'd even be so bold with you, to begin with, but he refused to let you shy away from him. One kiss spiraled into several, every one messier than the last, and your head spinning as the lingering bitterness of wine on his tongue soaked into yours. Aegon pressed for more when you pulled away to breathe. It was all too much, and you rushed to excuse yourself and leave him for the night. He didn't stop you, loving the sight of fear and excitement consuming your tender exterior at his will.

Greif-stricken Aegon calls on you often after that evening. He is no longer satisfied with pleasing himself alone. Aegon is reckless with his dependence on you, not caring that you put up a fight every time, trying to reason with him as he buries his cock in your fluttering walls. You scratch, cry, and beg. Doing and saying anything for the slightest chance of mercy, but Aegon spares you none. He forces pleasure into your veins, slaving away in your cunt night after night and committed to coating your untouched womb with his seed. You feel trapped in the cycle he starts, fulfilling your duties by day and spreading your legs for him at night. It tore you to pieces that your body ached for him constantly, the very shape of cock engraved into you, the space between your thighs undeniably drenched hours before he had you entrapped in his embrace. It’s distracting. He is distracting, and it's no help that he begins to spend more time with his daughter to spend even more with you. Aegon’s hands constantly wander where they shouldn’t, tracing your curves over the binds of your dress as you tend to Jaehaera, and it takes all of your will not to run from him. He feeds on your unease, your breaths slower, eyes fixed in the distance, and the apple of your cheeks turning red. He tells you to settle down, focus on your duties, and disregard his lingering presence, and by the gods grace, you can do just that. It’s a relief that his mother, grandsire, or anyone of consequence steals him away. You say nothing to keep him at your side, missing the feeling of his hands, the sound of his voice, and the air of control he envelopes you in, but joyous to be free of him. You can focus. You can calm the heat in your core.

Greif-striken Aegon takes no issue with keeping you in his bed for hours on end, marveling at the sight of you falling apart on his cock, begging for more of it as your legs shake from another high. You’ve given up on running, on reasoning, on being moderately intelligent, enduring the deep thrusts and mind-numbing pace he sets in thinly veiled excitement. There’s no point of hiding uit any longer, no viable way of convincing him you don’t want him to take you. Its your obligation to please him, to be that perfect little mistress, to give his lonely daughter a new playmate is it not? So, you resort to embracing his attention - as unforgiving and possessive as it may be.

Grief-stricken Aegon doesn’t ask your permission to release inside of you, forcing his seed as deep as possible, holding you down in a vice grip anytime you attempt to writhe away. It’s warm, thick, and filling. You’ve only tried to bathe once after hours of him bedding you, and he was furious. From then on, Aegon denied you the choice of washing the evidence of his claim on you away and commanding you to let his seed leak from between your thighs for a minimum of a fortnight. Appalled and rightfully defiant to the idea, you first threatened to confess to his mother about your shared deeds, but Aegon taunted you. He knew you’d rather suffer his stipulation than endure the wrath of Queen Alicent’s modesty. “Tell her and see what becomes of you..” he seethes into your ear, hand tangled in your fallen hair to keep you bent over the edge of his bed, snapping his hips harder against you when a half-hearted cry falls from your lips. You won't tell her. You can't even begin to think of unburdening yourself without acknowledging the joy you took in being used for his pleasure. Even now, as your essence dripped down your inner thighs, coating his cock with every unforgiving movement he made, you simply gave in to sin. His sin.

Grief-stricken Aegon is unsurprised when he notices signs that you are carrying his child. You become emotionally and physically sensitive. You continue caring for Jaehera while trying to hide your changing demeanor, keeping it a secret. However, Aegon cannot help but stay close to you and treats you as if you're made from glass with little regard for those who notice him showing you favor, which draws the interest of his council members—especially his ever-vigilant mother. Days pass before the maester leaves tea for you. On the night Queen Alicent visits your chambers, she expresses disappointment and scolds you for being careless. You hesitate to follow the Dowager Queen's advice, refusing to drink the remedy left for you and crying the entire night after she takes her leave.

Greif-stricken Aegon hears of your pregnancy the day after, ever so gleeful to endure his mother's berating and nowhere near ashamed of what he's done to you. He tells you it won't be the last time you carry his child, sitting you on his lap in the privacy of his chambers as the day comes to an end, and you haven't the emotional strength to keep fighting him. What's done is done, and you have no heart for ridding yourself of his so-called ‘gift.’ It's sick and twisted, but you've fallen into the headspace he's wanted for so long. A willing servant, one dedicated to her role in his domain of power, and one who will bear as many children as he desires.

What more could a lovely, loyal girl like you ask for?

A/N: Why is it so hard to write smut for this man?! It's usually so easy, but now I'm struggling. It's unfair because I have a lot of great ideas…

{ BONUS CONTENT + }

Credits to the creator 💚 He owns 85% of the space in my gallery app. I'm obsessed, and it shows…

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months ago

Text

Forsaken, Forgotten Without Any Love

A/N: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THIS FIC IS VERY DARK AND MAY BE TRAUMATIC FOR SOME READERS. PLEASE READ EACH INDIVIDUAL WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME. Thank you to my pookie @syd-djarin for betaing and the beautiful moodboard <3 this is for my June writing challenge lovers to enemies

word count: 15.3k

Summary: you and Joel Miller met in the springtime. You were as naive as a fawn, and he was a ruthless guard dog. You were willing to do anything to survive, and he could offer you protection for the exchange of your body and whatever else he wanted. The mutual understanding you had worked…until it didn’t.

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: ‼️DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️GRAPHIC NON/CON, HEAVY COERCION AND MANIPULATION, VERBAL ABUSE, THREATS, TRAUMATIC VIRGINITY LOSS, CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE, GASLIGHTING, MISOGYNY, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, LANGUAGE, IMPLIED AGE GAP (READER IS OF VOTING AGE WHEN THE OUTBREAK HAPPENS), SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, THANATOPHOBIA (FEAR OF DEATH AND DYING) MENTIONS OF GUNS/KNIVES, SEX IN EXCHANGE FOR PROTECTION, NO HAPPY ENDING, HEAVY, HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST & GRAPHIC THEMES, readers nickname is little fawn, +18 MINORS DNI!

We met in the springtime when blossoms unfold. The pastures were green and the meadows were gold. Our love was in flower as summer grew on, her love like the leaves now have withered and gone.

Forsaken - abandoned or deserted

When you and Joel Miller first met after the world had gone to shit, and the home you once knew was no longer, it was springtime in the Boston QZ. The name Joel Miller rolled off the tongues of many residents of what remained of Boston. But who was Joel Miller really? Just another survivor haunted by the looming shadows of his past? A man hardened by loss, grief, and indescribable pain? Or was he more than just his brute strength, quick tongue, and menacing stature?

You never intended to find out what laid beneath his defensive façade, but like most things, it all happened…unexpectedly.

“I can’t.” You whispered solemnly through the drenched fabric of the bandana secured around your face. A makeshift mask to help with the constant stench of rotting flesh, death, and charred bones. It was one of the many grueling jobs the QZ had to offer, but it was not meant for those with a weak stomach as you learned very quickly.

He turned to you, a ghost of a scoff painted on his cracked and dehydrated lips. He barely acknowledged your presence with a slight roll of his shoulders. His piercing brown eyes hardened on your face, and then the culprit of your reason to bother him. A child, wrapped in a dirty cloth to be discarded with the rest of the dead infected, lay in the open bed of the truck, face covered completely.

When you opened your mouth to speak again, perhaps an explanation as to why you couldn’t dispose of the adolescents body, Joel Miller let out a grunt, brushing against your shoulder rather roughly. His arms tucked under the child’s limp corpse, lifting it from the bed of the truck with ease. He felt nothing, no remorse, not a lick of empathy washed over him.

“Move.” He snipped unkindly.

Your jaw went slack at his harshness, teeth grinding down and catching on the sensitive flesh of your inner cheek causing a burst of copper to ignite on your tongue. You stepped off to the side, body working on autopilot at this mystery man’s gruff command.

Joel could have shown that his latent Texas gentleman manners were not completely buried. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead he marched past you, carrying the corpse to the nearby pit. He paused, looking straight ahead with a dull expression on his face before he dropped the corpse from his arms and into the smoldering flames below.

He walked back to the truck where you were left dumbly standing looking like a lost lamb in all of this surrounding death. He wiped the dirt and grime from his hands with an old rag that was sticking out of the worn denim jeans that clung to his thighs like a vice. “Jus’ a word of advice, don’t let anyone around here know your weakness. They’ll tear you apart before you even see ‘em coming.” His unmistakable Texas twang reminded you of home, a simpler time when the world was normal and each day was promised, or so you used to believe.

“Thank you.” You nodded, reaching your hand out as an offering, an extension of friendship that sent his right eye twitching at your meekness.

“Ain’t a reason to thank me. Didn’t ask for it.” He eyed your outstretched hand suspiciously, eyes narrowed and brows tightly furrowed across his forehead.

You frowned, unable to conceal your immediate reaction to his denial of your kindness. Despite the world fucking ending, and your own losses, you were softer than most, and that made you an easy target. You were as soft as salt water taffy melting on someone’s tongue. Or the gooey center of a charred marshmallow on a stick. Joel Miller wasn’t accustomed to someone of the likes of you. You were foreign, something taboo—too soft for his liking. How the hell you managed to survive the cordyceps outbreak was beyond him.

He didn’t even give you the chance to respond when he abruptly turned on the heel of his steel-toed boots, and stalked off in the direction of where the ration cards for the day's work were being distributed. He staggered at an angle that looked mildly uncomfortable, especially in his lower back, and you could see that he favored his dominant side based on his gait. The words you planned to present to him died in your throat. You couldn’t help but feel miffed by his dismissal, but all the more intrigued to know what this grumpy, guarded man was really all about.

Every resident in the QZ had their means to get by in life. Some kept going for family, others for power and brutality—authority above all. Some were like Joel Miller; holding little value to their life, and spending their days drinking like a fish, and popping smuggled pills to alleviate the constant emotional and physical pain that they carried like a heavy burden on their shoulders. As for you? You simply were just trying to get by unscathed. Death terrified you, haunted you even in your dreams. Your survival was purely based on luck, with little to no survival skill sets. It was a fucking miracle that you had survived this long on your own.

That’s why you were the perfect candidate to join the elusive Fireflies. Marlene sought you out one evening before curfew in the QZ’s makeshift community circle. It was an open space sheltered between two buildings where residents could converse freely for a short period of time. Marlene and the Fireflies had one goal in mind; to overthrow FEDRA and liberate all of Boston’s QZ residents from the government's cruel and unjust authority.

Marlene could sense that you were weak minded and naive the second she laid eyes on you from across the way. The way you nervously fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, glancing around every so often as if you had something to hide. You stuck out like a sore thumb, the ugly duckling in a sea of normal…people.

The chair adjacent from where you were sitting scraped along the concrete like nails on chalkboard and your posture immediately stiffened at the sudden intrusion. Your invisible safety bubble had been popped, and there was nowhere for you to hide.

“Easy, friend.” Her tone was a complete juxtaposition to Joel’s innate harshness. Marlene’s eyes were kind, soft in the low light of the slow setting sun. You felt like you could immediately trust her, and maybe even view her as an ally? “Mind if I sit?” She gestured to the chair across from you, the same chair that dragged across the concrete and made you alert in the first place.

You eyed this stranger warily, glancing around before you meekly nodded, not finding your words quite yet. Marlene pulled up the chair, sitting down quietly with her forearms resting against the table in a casual motion.

“So.” She started, “you’re fairly new to the QZ, aren’t you?”

“…yes, how did you know?” You weren’t aware that you were sitting across from one of FEDRA’s most wanted, and the leader of the rebellious group known as the Fireflies.

“Sweetheart, I have eyes and ears all over the QZ.” She gestured to the surrounding area with her hands in emphasis.

“Really?” Your eyes widened slightly in shock and for a moment you were questioning whether you should get up and leave, or wait to hear what this woman had to say. “Are you…FEDRA?”

“No, not FEDRA.” She shook her head, reaching her hand out across the table in your direction, “I’m Marlene, leader of the rebellion, and commander of the Boston QZ Fireflies.”

Fireflies. You had heard the hushed whisperings of the ‘terrorist’ group that was at war with FEDRA. Sometimes there were calculated bombings, planned attacks, all for the cause of liberation and justice for the QZ residents—so you had heard.

You reached for her outstretched hand, giving it a gentle, yet firm squeeze before retracting your own hand back to your lap. You’re just about to tell Marlene your name, when your attention is stolen by something-someone. That someone being Joel Miller. He wasn’t alone. A woman walked alongside him, and from the angle you were sitting at, you could see his hand resting protectively against the small of her back.

His eyes were looking ahead, not behind or the area surrounding him. He was intently focused even as his companion leaned in close to him, her lips moving but you couldn’t make out the words. His chin dipped towards her, thick fingers flexing against that sliver of skin between the top of her jeans and the hem of her shirt.

You found yourself transfixed by his subtle movements, his natural authority permeating the small space. No one even dared to look directly at him, no one except you. He could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of his face and he clenched his jaw tightly, cocking his head in the direction of the last empty table before he nudged his companion in that direction.

Marlene had said something to you, but you didn’t hear her the first time because you were frozen in your seat when Joel Miller’s piercing glare landed upon your face. He scowled, grinding his teeth together. He recognized you, that was a fact. But just as quickly as you had his attention for a fleeting moment, it was gone and he had sauntered off, taking the seat across from his partner.

Marlene watched the whole silent exchange go down from her seat. She observed your body posture intently, brow raised in curiosity. She leaned forward over the small expanse of the table, tone low, almost at a whisper, “do you know that man?”

You shook your head, meeting her curious gaze. “No—I mean, not really. He…sorta helped me out the other day though. I don’t have a strong stomach in the slightest and—”

An incredulous look crossed her face immediately to hear that Joel Miller ‘helped’ someone? She called bullshit immediately.

“Joel Miller did you a favor? That’s unlike his character. Only good thing that man has ever done is introduce me to his brother.” Marlene said almost bitterly.

So, that was his name. Joel Miller.

“He has a brother? Is he in the QZ as well? I guess…maybe it wasn’t a favor necessarily, but in my eyes it was.”

She nodded. “Yes, his brother's name is Tommy. He’s in Wyoming now. Tommy, like myself, was a firefly and Joel…he wasn’t too keen on his brother joining a rebel alliance. I tried to get him and his partner, Tess, to join our cause as well, but they wanted nothing to do with it. So, Joel and Tommy had a massive falling out, and Tommy left the QZ shortly after.”

“Marlene, when you said that the only good thing Joel has ever done is introduce you to his brother, what did you mean by that exactly? Is he…dangerous?”

“Sweetheart.” She started, almost in a patronizing tone, “he and Tess are the kinda folks you don’t want to associate yourself with. If you’re not careful, you’ll get caught up in their web. They ain’t good people. Did a lot of bad things before they ended up here. Killed a lot of innocent people and now they practically have FEDRA wrapped around their finger…most days.”

You mulled her words over in your head, falling into a silent thought of determining whether Joel Miller was who she said he was, or if he was more than just his past. You imagined he, like most of the surviving population, did what he had to do to keep himself and his kin alive. How could Marlene judge him for that?

“You tell me to look for the light, and I’ll break your jaw.”

His low, menacing tone rumbled like thunder in the distance, and the person he was addressing immediately scampered off into the shadows like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Marlene, I mean no offense by this, truly, but didn’t everyone have to kill innocent people at some point to survive?” You couldn’t help but question her logic and reason to judge.

“Let me reiterate what I mean by that. You know what raiders are, don’t you?”

You nodded.

“Well, Joel and Tess were raiders at one point. Tommy as well, but Joel was the driving force of their operation. He was ruthless—still is.”

All you were hearing from her words was that Joel Miller was a capable man. More capable than most. He had a history of violence, and whether that was solely for the means of survival, or because he was a murderous, blood thirsty psychopath, did not concern you in the slightest. Joel Miller was exactly the kind of man that you were looking for. The kind of man that would lay down his own life for yours. The kind of man who would tend to your wounds, and then rip your enemies apart limb from limb, and then come home to you drenched in their blood; a badge of his conquest at exacting revenge.

Joel Miller was the type of man who would ensure your own survival above all else.

“If it’s protection you’re looking for, the Fireflies can offer you that.” Marlene interjected after you didn’t initially respond to her previous statement.

You chewed on your lower lip, gnawing on it for a moment feeling vulnerable and exposed when Marlene was easily able to read between the lines. You thought you were more discreet than that. More guarded, not a weak minded damsel in distress.

“What makes you think that I’m looking for protection?” You quipped back, opting to lean into the defensive side, rather than admit that you were in fact seeking just that.

Marlene stifled a laugh, briefly catching the attention of Joel from across the way. “You’ve been on edge since the moment I sat down. You stick out like a sore fuckin’ thumb, and I’m surprised that you haven’t realized sooner that you’re practically a fawn in the midst of a pack of wolves.”

Marlene was right. She hit the nail right on the fucking head. You weren’t cutthroat like Joel. You survived this long purely based on dumb fucking luck. Not because you were skilled with a weapon, or had fists of steel. You were not violent in nature, you had only killed when necessary, and you stayed hidden when trouble arose; much like a fawn in the dense thicket. Marlene didn’t need to know that you were seeking protection, that every night you lay awake fearing death and ending up pitifully alone; unloved.

“You don’t fucking know me, or what I need.” You hissed, finally finding your voice and standing your ground. You pushed your chair back abruptly, the bottom of it scraping on the concrete, and catching the attention of everyone in the secluded, intimate space.

Marlene shrugged at your defiance, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She may have not been successful in this first attempt, but she got under your skin, and that was only the start of it.

Unbeknownst to you or Marlene, Joel had silently eavesdropped your entire conversation, growing stiff suddenly when he picked up on Marlene’s little ploy to manipulate you to join the Fireflies. You may have been a nobody, bare bones and all, but he’d be damned if another naive soul would end up wrapped and constricted in Marlene’s web of empty promises and lies.

Preventing you from joining the Fireflies was about to become Joel Miller’s personal vendetta, and you hadn’t a fucking a clue. As far as he was concerned, the only person in this entire shithole QZ who would ever get close to sinking their talons into your flesh, was himself.

He watched you storm away from the table, your fists clenched tightly at your sides. You feel someone’s eyes locked onto the back of your head, but you didn’t dare turn around to see if your assumptions were true; you just knew.

The following morning you and the rest of the QZ residents were required to attend a public execution before work would begin for the day. Three individuals were sentenced to death for breaking curfew, and attempting to leave the QZ without authorization. The three guilty perpetrators stood in a row, their faces covered with a cloth loosely draped around their heads so they could not be identified.

As the charges of the crimes that were committed were read out, you could feel your knees grow weak, and nausea bubbled deep in the pit of your stomach. Could you be next?

Joel Miller was in the crowd as well, concealed and aloof, but you could sense his domineering presence immediately, and he could sense you as if he was like a moth drawn to a flame. He imagined you couldn’t stomach the prospect of a public execution, and his assumptions were true when he saw you slipping between bystanders and fleeing towards the nearest alley.

He was quick to follow you, feeling more intrigued than anything when you scurried away like a little mouse. He took his time as he was in no rush, and well—there was nowhere else for you to go. He shoved his hands deep within the caverns of his jean pockets, his footsteps were heavy and calculated when he turned the corner to the alley.

You were waiting for him with your trusty pocket knife armed at your side, whipping around to face whoever had left the crowd to follow you. Your teeth were barred as if you were a cornered animal ready to attack if provoked.

He slipped his hands out of his pockets, holding them up so that you could determine that he wasn’t an immediate threat. His dark pools of brown locked onto your face and his head was slightly cocked to the side. “Easy there, little fawn. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He rasped.

You took a shaky inhale, palms beginning to sweat and your grip around the worn hilt of your knife began to slip from the clamminess. You took a timid step back, closer to the impending brick wall behind you. “Yeah? I’d believe that if you—”

“If I what?” He challenged, taking a step closer to where you stood.

“If you didn’t follow me here like a goddamn stalker, Joel!” You half yelled.

“Hey!” He snapped calmly, “easy. Don’t wanna be drawin’ any unwanted attention to ourselves, do we? And for the record, I do believe that you were the one stalkin’ me the other night.”

“Excuse me? I—I don’t even know you! Why the hell would you think I was stalking you?!” You took another step back, the hem of your shirt just barely grazed against the exposed brick wall.

“Oh, so that wasn’t you sittin’ with Marlene?” He questioned you dryly, shaking his head with a grin tugging on the corner of his lips. “It wasn’t you prying for some information on me? Guess I oughta go get my eyes and ears fuckin’ checked then…oh, wait! Can’t really do that, huh?” He scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

“If I’m not mistaken, it sure as hell sounds like you were the one spying on me.” You quipped back, nearly stumbling when the heel of your boot made contact with the brick wall; now he had you trapped.

“No, you are mistaken. M’jus’ a real observant guy. Plus, sniffin’ out a snake in the grass like Marlene ain’t rocket science. She give you her whole ‘liberation’ for all bullshit?”

“I don’t know, Joel. Did she?”

He looked amused by your response, not expecting you to bite back so fast, but at least now he knew you had a little gumption to work with, but instead of indulging you in your insignificant win, he danced around the subject to catch you off guard.

“That’s a pretty dull fuckin’ knife you got there, little fawn. Ain’t gonna do much stabbin’ with it lookin’ like that. When’s the last time you got it sharpened?”

You did not appreciate, nor like how he effortlessly changed the conversation on you in a blink of an eye. You glared at him, struggling to hold your ground when he was nearly on top of you, one step closer and his chest would be pressed against yours.

“I think it’s more than capable of doing a considerable amount of damage to you if you don’t back the fuck up in the next five—”

“Yeah?” He pressed, looming over you like a shadow blocking the sun, “I’d love to see you try.” He snarled.

And well, you did. A pitiful attempt that he immediately saw coming. It took nothing for him to overpower you as if you were a helpless bug beneath his steel toed boots. The knife was yanked from your grip, your wrists pinned in one of his large hands like a dart on a board. His eyes were a shade darker up close and they were locked onto you.

“Now I understand why Marlene wanted you in the first place.” He snickered, “you really are that fuckin’ gullible.”

“Y—you don’t know shit about me! You think you do, but you don’t!” You tried to push against his chest, but he was like a slab of concrete or an unmoving mountain.

“No?” His eyebrows quirked upwards in amusement. Toying with your fragile mind and now wounded ego was easier than he imagined. “Think you’re wrong, little fawn. You’re pretty damn readable, and that ain’t somethin’ that you want to deal with ‘round here. You might actually be the most transparent person in the entire fuckin’ Boston QZ.”

“W—why are you calling me that?”

“Because, you remind me of a fawn. You’re meek, quiet, and…naive.”

You wanted to yell and scream till you were blue in the face, but what was the point? Marlene saw right through you, and so did Joel. Maybe…you could use this to your advantage, somehow.

He backed off you then, dropping your wrists from his grip and gave you the space to breathe finally. He flipped your dull pocket knife over a few times, brushing his thumb against the unsharpened steel with a light scoff and subtle roll of his eyes. “You can’t even kill a clicker with this thing. You realize that, right? What was your plan if someone else followed you back here, huh?”

He was making your head spin, all this back and forth bantering, and him getting under your skin was becoming too much. Why the hell did he care, anyway? Did he always prey on the weak minded? Or did you just happen to become his unfortunate target?

“I didn’t really…have a plan.” You said quietly under your breath, taking a moment to rest your head back against the cool brick wall.

“Good god, girl. You didn’t have a fuckin’ plan of action?! You really are a damsel in distress.”

“I am not a damsel in distress! You’re just some asshole that clearly has nothing better to do except prey on the weak minded! So, how about you just go pick on someone your own size!”

“So, you agree that you are weak minded? Yeah, Marlene sure as fuck would have had you wrapped around her fuckin’ finger and indoctrinated into her fuckin’ terrorist cult.”

“Sounds like you have a fucking problem with Marlene, and not me.” You attempted to walk away for good, but his palm reached out to stop you, pressing flat between your breastbone, leaving you both feeling surprised.

“Relax, would ya? I see right through your little tough girl gimmicks, and so does everyone else. I also happen to know that you, my dear, are terrified. It’s written all over your pretty face, and of what exactly? I can take a few educated guesses, but I think I’ve already humiliated you enough for one day.”

You were stunned into silence. Pacified by his words and the weight they held over you.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He concluded. The rational part of his brain was telling him to ease off and let it fucking go. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t fall into Marlene’s trap after all. The other part of him? Well, you can just imagine how it was telling him to proceed with tormenting you. “If it were anyone else that followed you back here, they would have the means to hurt you. And I don’t mean just by killing you, little fawn. You think that just cus’ we’re under the governments ‘protection’ that evil people ain’t just roamin’ around here freely lookin’ for their next meal?”

“Yeah? And are you one of those evil people, Joel?” If he was gonna go for your jugular, you were gonna go straight for his.

“Might be.” He shrugged indifferently. “If I had the means to hurt you, I would have already done it.”

He did make a fair point. He was a capable guy, and if he had ulterior motives to cause you harm, you would surely be dead already. Still, you were weary nonetheless, but also intrigued.

“Okay, so you don’t have the means to kill me and that’s great, Joel. I’m relieved, but I’m failing to understand…why did you follow me back here in the first place?”

“Because, little fawn, I have exactly what you’re looking for, what you need. No reason to lie to ourselves here, right? Especially when I’ve already got you figured out. You can deny it all you want, but I know a terrified person when I see one. You ain’t gonna last long lookin’ like a fuckin’ target to every passerby.”

“And what exactly do you think that I need, Joel?”

“Protection.” He stated simply.

“And what's in it for you?”

He thought about coming up with a lie, something that sounded convincing so you wouldn’t question his motives, but he chose the latter in the end.

“Means that Marlene doesn’t get to sink her fuckin’ claws into another naive person such as yourself. Less Firefly scum for me to deal with, and you’re too pretty to end up with a bullet between the eyes.”

Maybe it was the way that Joel Miller was looking at you like you were about to be his next meal, or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever called you pretty before. This guard dog of a man was the first person to ever truly take in your physical appearance, and man, did that feel fucking good.

“You think I’m pretty, do ya?” Your tone came out teasingly, mildly playful, and not what Joel was expecting from you at all.

“Christ.” He laughed, “is that really all you fuckin’ got outta what I was jus’ sayin? That I think you’re pretty? Don’t let that feed your little ego now, alright? That‘ll get you killed, too.”

You wanted to tell him that no one ever called you pretty before, but that felt too personal, too vulnerable. So, instead, you shrugged your shoulders and raised your brow suggestively in his direction. “I heard you loud and clear, Joel.”

“Good. Cause I ain’t gonna repeat myself.” He glanced around the secluded alley for a moment, mulling his thoughts over before he returned your knife to you with the blade facing downwards. His rough, calloused fingers brushed against your own when he returned the hilt of your knife to your palm. “For starters, let’s get that pathetic excuse of a knife sharpened.”

You nodded, tucking it back into your concealed holster around your waist. “Lead the way, Miller.”

He looked you over once more, brows tightly furrowed together, shoulders stiff before he turned on his heel and started to walk towards the opening of the alley. “Hurry up, little fawn. We ain’t got all day.”

You had just secured yourself your very own lethal guard dog, claws and all.

Up until this point, you hadn’t thought about the prospect of Joel Miller wanting to fuck you. In your mind, he truly was just inviting you to his shitty little apartment to sharpen your knife and send you on your way. You were beginning to believe that his little fear tactic in the alley was just his bark, but you were about to experience his bite very, very, soon.

He said no more than a few words to you, a few grunts here and there when you ended up rambling because you finally had someone to talk to. He acknowledged your existence, and that was good enough for you to at least be seen.

“Do you always talk this fuckin’ much?” He gruffed out from where he was hunched over at the kitchen table, dragging the edge of your knife along what appeared to be a large, flat stone.

“Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, sinking further against the old, musty couch that had seen far better days.

“Thas’ better.” He mused.

A man of few words…unless he wants something.

“It’s getting late…I should probably head home before curfew. Can we pick this back up again tomorrow? FEDRA is gonna start patrolling soon and—”

He looked up from where he was focused on dragging the edge of the blade at an angle against the stone to gradually sharpen it. The glare he sent your way immediately had your blood running cold.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually that fuckin’ naive to believe that my generous services are free of charge, little fawn.” He tsked under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment.

Maybe you were the naive one to follow the wolf right back to his den.

Your eyes widened, fists clenching at your sides when the realization that you willingly followed this…stranger back to his apartment hit you and sent the warning alarms in your brain blaring immediately.

“I—I have ration cards.” You meekly responded.

He cocked his head to the side, lips curving upwards into a wolfish grin. “My god.” He chuckled, “you really are that fuckin’ naive, huh? You think I’m doin’ this because I’m a good man or somethin?’”

“Well, you said that you—”

He rose from the chair then, the hilt of your freshly sharpened knife clutched at his side. His eyes stayed locked on you as he staggered forward, coming closer to where you were sitting on his couch.

“And you really believed in every word that came out of my mouth?” He questioned dryly.

“I—I didn’t see a reason not to, you said that if you wanted to hurt me, you would have already done it.”

“You’re right, little fawn. I would have already hurt you if those were my true intentions, but you’re so foolishly naive to believe that I’m doin’ this out of the goodness in my heart.”

You were frozen on the spot when he stopped at the edge of the couch, bending down to meet your eye level, towering over you in such a menacing way, you truly thought right then and there that this man did lie to you, and you were going to die at his hand. Your body flinched on instinct when one of his big palms came to rest against the wall alongside your head, while his occupied hand that was still grasping your knife stayed glued to his side.

“I—I don’t have anything else I can offer you, Joel.” You met his gaze, trembling when he leaned in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you’re truly jus’ beauty with no brains, sweetheart.” He cooed softly.

Your lips parted open in shock as you began to read between the lines of the words coming out of his mouth. He didn’t want your ration cards, he wanted you, and not just a piece. He wanted all of you.

“There she is.” He preened, “Knew you weren’t all that dumb. Those gears in your pretty little head finally turnin’?”

You wanted to bite back, to snap at him so that you wouldn’t feel so fuckin’ small, but he had you locked in a trance right where he wanted you, and deep down…you liked it.

“…you want me?” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

“Mhm.” He nodded in confirmation. “You didn’t think that I just said you were pretty without havin’ some ulterior motive in mind, did ya? You’re the one who decided to trust me so easily. The second I confirmed that I didn’t want to hurt ya, you wrote me off as a good man. Well, sweetheart, I hate to break the pretty picture you painted of me in your head, but I ain’t a good man. I don’t have the means to hurt you, but I have every intention to take what I fuckin’ want from you.” His forehead was nearly pressed against yours now, hot breath fanning your face. “Jus’ remember that you willingly followed me back to my apartment, and take this as a warning to not be so easily swayed to trust a fuckin’ stranger.”

You swallowed the lump that was gradually growing in your throat as your flight or fight instincts were in full swing. You briefly eyed your knife in his hand, thinking that maybe…you could get out of this, but he would be quicker, surely. He’d overpower you in a heartbeat.

“I’m a virgin, Joel. Are you sure you still want me, knowing what you know now?”

He stalled briefly, caught off guard by your admittance. He thought that maybe this was your cheap way of trying to get out of this situation all together, but based on your trembling, and overall demeanor, he could tell you weren’t lying and he took some satisfaction in knowing that he was about to be your first; completely his.

“You think thas’ gonna stop me from wantin’ to fuck you, little fawn?”

You shook your head quickly and pressed yourself as far against the couch as you possibly could. “No—no, I—I just wanted you to know.” You squeaked out.

He nods, flipping your knife in his hand a few times while his other hand slowly drops to rest against the crown of your head, “if anythin’, it makes me want to fuck you even more now. Can take whatever I want from you, and make you mine. How’s that sound to you, hmm?”

“Can you…promise me it won’t hurt? I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want, Joel.”

Whatever I have to do to live another day, I’ll do it. Keep me alive, and you can take whatever you want from me.

“It’ll hurt a little, sweetheart. Better me than anyone else. I’ll only be gentle till you’re adjusted. After that, I ain’t gonna hold back.” While his words were blunt and straight to the point, his tone was soft, gentle even.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.”

“Good. Thas’ good to hear, little fawn.” He gently dragged his thumb against your hair, feeling the texture of it beneath his hold, and how if he truly wanted to, he could crush you like a bug beneath his hand.

Your hands worked on autopilot to reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, fingers shaking against the fabric.

He shook his head, brows raising in slight amusement. “No.” He rasped sternly, “I’m going to undress you. Hands off, and keep ‘em where I can see them, got it?”

You nodded, dropping your hands to rest along your jean clad thighs.

“Wanna show you just how sharp I got your lil’ knife now. Can cut through just about anythin’, I reckon.” He mused, secretly hoping to ease your impending fears just enough that your body would naturally begin to relax.

You took a shuddered inhale when the edge of your freshly sharpened knife rose and rested against your concealed breastbone, sending your heartbeat racing and rattling out of your chest like a stampede.

“Relax.” He whispered, careful to not apply too much pressure, but just enough that the blade easily cut through your flimsy top as if it was made of cheap paper. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your words were lodged in your throat as tears began to spring to the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help it, you were terrified. One wrong move…

“Joel…please.” Was all you were able to get out. His hand that was gently resting on the crown of your head dropped down to gently cradle your face. His big thumb brushed directly under the tears leaking from your eyes, gathering them up with a soft sigh.

“If you listen to me and relax, this will feel good for you, little fawn. You jus’—gotta let me have my fun first, alright?”

You let out a silent sob, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to wrap your mind around how this could possibly be fun for him. “This—this is fun for you?”

His nostrils flared, reminding you of one of those animated bulls from the old cartoons you used to watch as a kid on Saturday mornings. He let out a sigh, grinding his jaw and shaking his head. “Course this is fun for me. I told you already, little fawn. I ain’t a good man.” He carelessly yanked the scraps of your shirt down your arms and torso before he dragged the knife upwards towards your flimsy bra straps. “Only reason I’m choosin’ to be somewhat merciful on you is because you’re a virgin. If you weren’t, I would have shoved my cock so far down your throat, you’d be chokin’ on it, sweet girl. Gonna save that for another time.” He reassured you.

“I’d…prefer if you never did that.” This was your weak and fruitless attempt to try and gain any semblance of control in this situation.

“You ain’t in the position to be callin’ the shots on me. Keep it up, and I won’t be so fuckin’ nice. I’ll stuff your pretty little virgin pussy with my cock like you’re a fuckin’ pig on a spit.” He snapped. “Secondly, I’d prefer if you’d quit your yappin’ and start makin’ yourself useful by takin’ your jeans off—nice and slow for me. Make it last.”

“But you said—”

“Know exactly what I said, sweetheart. M’changin’ my mind, we clear?” He sternly asked while he sliced through one of the bra straps, watching with hooded eyes as it fell from your shoulder.

“Crystal.” You shakily reached for the button on your jeans, slowly undoing it followed by the zipper while he sliced through the other strap.

“Good girl.” He praised you, “you’re a fast learner. Thas’ real good, little fawn. That’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Thank you…sir.” You whispered, feeling your tears begin to dry on your cheekbones when you slowly began to shimmy your jeans down your thighs.

“Mmm…no.” He scoffed at you calling him sir. “Not sir. Jus’ call me Joel. It’s gonna be the only name you’re gonna be sayin’ for as long as I decide you’re worth keepin’ around. Best start gettin’ used to the way it tastes on your tongue.”

“Yes, Joel. I—I understand.”

He was kind enough to help you finish removing your jeans completely so you were left in just your cotton panties that were well worn. A touch of innocence could be found on the little faded pink bow right in the middle of the hem. His lips quirked at this, finding it endearingly…cute.

What remained of your bra fell away in pieces, the clasp old that was old and frayed, came undone easily. Now your breasts were bared to him for the first time. He liked that they weren’t magazine perfect, nothing like he had seen in his teenage to young adult years. They were natural, beautiful, and you.

“I know they aren’t—they aren’t anything special…” you trailed off, moving your arms up to cover your chest.

He shook his head and reached one hand out to stop you from covering them from his perfect view. “They’re beautiful. M’glad they aren’t perfect like the shit I would find in the old playboy magazines.”

“Really?…thank you, Joel.”

He didn’t acknowledge your gratitude and his eyes trailed southwards once more, right between your thighs. “Thought about cuttin’ these off, too.” He casually gestured to your panties, “But I think I wanna keep ‘em as a souvenir.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Don’t go all shy on me now, alright? Spread your thighs, sweetheart.”

You obeyed his request, your thighs falling open to his prying eyes. “You want to keep my panties as a souvenir?”

“Mhm.” He reached behind him briefly to set your knife down along the coffee table so both of his hands were free. You watched as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees between your spread thighs. “You won’t be needin’ them when you’re here, anyway.”

Before you could respond, his warm palms came to rest along your hips where his thumbs gently dipped beneath the hem of your panties and slowly began to peel them down your thighs. “Can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of tasting virgin pussy.” He chuckled. “Been too goddamn long.”

“I thought most guys weren’t into eating…pussy.” It was your turn to giggle now, and Joel was secretly relieved that you were finally relaxing.

He slipped your panties down your ankles making quick work of stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?” He shifted his hands from your hips to rest between the apex of your thighs, spreading you open further at his leisure.

“Well, uh—before the outbreak, I had a boyfriend, and all my friends at the time told me that I should ask him to go down on me. I didn’t know what they meant at first, so my friends and I bought a porno from an adult film store to watch, and then shortly after I asked my boyfriend if he would go down on me, he said fuck no.”

Joel laughed, a real hearty laugh that sent a warm vibration and tingle creeping up your spine. He used his thumbs to spread your inner lips apart before he peppered kisses against the inside of your thighs, inching closer and closer to the seam of your pussy. “No offense, sweetheart. But your boyfriend sounds like he was a fuckin’ tool that didn’t know the first thing to pleasin’ a woman and makin’ her sing, and for that reason, I hope he got infected.”

Despite the gravity of the situation you found yourself in, it felt good to confide in someone and laugh about the past. “I hope he got infected, too.”

The tension flipped once more when Joel’s darkened pools of brown flickered up from between your thighs. His hot breath was directly fanning your exposed core, and you watched as he licked his lips. “I take a lot of satisfaction knowin’ that I’m gonna be your first for everythin’, little fawn. You belong to me, your tight virgin cunt belongs to me. Jus’ want you to understand what that means before I defile you, piece by piece.”

You found your words lodged in your throat when you felt Joel Miller’s hot, wet, and skillful mouth press directly against your clit. His thick, dark lashes fluttered shut, and a groan bubbled from deep within his chest. He was immediately a man starved at the first taste of you. Lathing his tongue through the seam of your pussy as if he was a cat lapping up warm milk. And once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to.

“Sweetest fuckin’ virgin cunt I’ve ever tasted, little fawn. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re like honey.” He rambled on, slurping and obscenely sucking on your sex. He meant it when he said he was going to defile you, and this was just the beginning.

Your fingers naturally found themselves tangled in his salt and peppered streaked curls. They were softer than you ever imagined them to be. And in that moment, when your orgasm rippled through you like a tidal wave, and your pussy drooled along his tongue, you were grateful that he at least took the time to make you feel good first.

But like most good things, it passed just as quickly as it came when he pulled his mouth back from your cunt, a translucent strand of his saliva mixed with your release hung from his lower lip like a thread from a spider's web. The strand reached all the way to your glistening clit and disappeared when he licked the taste of you from his lips.

Your cheeks felt hot to the touch, and there was a sheen of sweat coating your skin when he reached for his belt and began to unfasten it. That’s when the fear began to creep its way back in.

“Joel, do you think that maybe we can—”

“No.” He gruffed out over the sound of his belt buckle clanking open, and his zipper being yanked down in a haste.

You could see just how hard he was through his worn down briefs, and when you finally got a first glance at just how thick and large his cock was, you were immediately trying to clamber off the couch. There was no way he was going to fucking fit.

He let out an annoyed growl, one hand quickly darted out and grabbed your ankle with a roughness that immediately had you yelping in surprise. “Do not fuckin’ test me, or I will really fuckin’ make this hurt for you. Do I make myself absolutely clear?” He glowered, tightening his steel like grip on your ankle. “Get back to how I had you spread open. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

Only when you reluctantly abided by his request did he loosen his grip before releasing your ankle completely. He rose to his full height, kicking his jeans and boxers off to the side as his heavy cock bobbed between his thighs. “Try anythin’ funny again, and I’ll bend your ass over this fuckin’ couch faster than you can say stop.”

“I’m sorry, Joel—I didn’t mean to upset you I’m just—”

“Afraid?” He mused. “Yeah, I gathered that. But I told ya that it’s only gonna hurt a little. All you need to do is relax for me. Thas’ it, and the pain will only be temporary. I promise, little fawn.”

He leaned over you, grasping your thighs in his hands and molded your body exactly how he wanted to take you so that he could easily wedge himself between your thighs. Now your back was against the side of the couch, the arm rest acted as a makeshift pillow for your head while he wrapped your legs around his hips for support. “Missionary is gonna cause ya the least amount of pain, but after today we ain’t gonna play it safe anymore.”

“Joel, can we please—I’m not ready for this. There has to be someone else that I can offer you…right?” You glanced down between your thighs, right where his thick cockhead was lined up at your tight opening. There was a drool of arousal that pooled and dripped down from the seam of your puffy and stimulated pussy right into the already soiled fabric of the couch.

“You jus’ don’t fuckin’ quit, do ya? I’m about five seconds away from fucking you like you’re just a piece of meat. Do you really want that, little fawn? Do you want me to fuckin’ hurt you? Is that it? You’re so goddamn lucky that you didn’t get captured by a group of raiders who would take turns gang raping you, and ripping you apart like a fuckin’ ragdoll. Show some fuckin’ gratitude for the fact that I’m not like them.” He hissed between his teeth. “You are mine. Get that through your pretty little brain sooner, rather than later.”

“You’re not going to fucking fit! There’s no fucking way that you’re going to fit without ripping me apart from the inside, Joel!” You cried out, fists clenched so tightly at your sides, that your blunt nails were digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood to the surface.

“I sure as fuck ain’t gonna fit where you’re so fuckin’ stiff. Ya don’t want it to hurt, d’ya? Well, more than it’s already gonna. Jus’ relax for me. That’s all you gotta do.”

It did fucking hurt. It felt like you were being ripped apart seam by seam when he slowly started to press himself inside of you. Your body seized up around the intrusion, clamping down on his cock like a vice as tears began to leak down your cheeks again.

“You gotta let me in, little fawn. Or so help me god, I will fuckin’ force my way right into your tight little virgin cunt.” He growled out of frustration, wanting this part to be over already because that very minuscule part of him felt bad for what he was doing.

“I—I can’t, Joel! Please! It hurts! You’re hurting me!”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping forwards and his forehead came to rest upon your own. His hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of his cock came to gently rest upon your cheek, a moment of tenderness that sent your mind reeling. “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt you, little fawn. Please jus’ relax. Take a deep breath in and out. Focus on this instead, alright?” He dropped his hand from your cheek and slowly slipped it between your parted thighs so his thumb could gently thrum your clit. “Focus on how good that feels, and not my cock splittin’ you apart and takin’ what’s mine.”

Maybe you were the masochist, and he was the sadist. The mixture of pleasure with pain was something you never had experienced before, and when your body finally began to relax and let him in fully, that’s when you finally understood what he meant earlier about the pain only being temporary. It was numbed the second he started to piston his hips into you, stretching you open more and more with each heavy and calculated thrust. His thumb stayed glued to your clit, rubbing you in steady circles to keep your stimulation present in your mind.

He did defile you, piece by piece. Taking and taking while you continue to give and give. You want to be good, you want him to like you, to want you because if he does, maybe he’ll keep you around. Maybe he’ll fuck you again, protect you, keep you safe, and maybe you’ll never have to live in fear again.

Sometime after Joel had fucked you till he felt satisfied and spent, you passed out on his couch purely from exhaustion. He didn’t tend to you right away. He didn’t kiss your forehead, and he certainly didn’t kiss your lips. He left you there, stained in his cum and completely ruined for anyone else. That’s how he intended to leave things, but his need to care and tend to you ultimately won when he appeared from his bathroom with a wash rag in hand. His footsteps were soft as he padded into the living room and knelt beside you as you slept. In comparison to earlier, his movements were very tender as he gently spread your thighs apart so he could wash between them.

You stirred only slightly, mumbling in your sleep when the wash cloth gently dragged across the seam of your pussy and everywhere in between. And even after he was finished he sat there for hours in a deep contemplation over his decisions. He was a complicated man, with conflicted feelings driven by grief and loss. And that was the reason for his unkindness. His ability to remain aloof and cold. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the notion that someone as innocent as you, had survived the cruelty of the world for this long.

Your relationship with Joel Miller, or lack thereof, turned into a mutual exchange. He offered you his protection, and you offered him your body and some semblance of control. It was his driving force, after all. To feel like he was in control of his life and the remaining frayed threads of it. The more times he fucked you, the more you began to enjoy it. You liked his meanness, and he liked how compliant you were. It was simple, no emotions tied up and he could simply just be.

Sometimes you did talk, and other times he just took what he wanted. You were like his personal punching bag, his means to get his frustrations out through having you beneath his sheets, molded however he saw fit.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Yeah, thas’ it, little fawn. You can take all of me. Know you can.” He huffs out a hot puff of air against the shell of your ear. His broad shoulders, hard chest paired with a soft stomach, cage your softer frame like a protective shield. He’s drilling into you from behind, strong hips are flush against the soft curve of your ass, where he’s molded the shape of your body into the old, squeaky mattress. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through his tiny apartment, and your mind begins to grow hazy, consumed with pleasure, and him—Joel. He’s got you right where he wants you, where he can take, take, take, and you’ll give, and give, and give. The heady stench of sex, sweat and Joel swarms your senses like bees in a hive. He drinks in the wet, familiar sound of your pussy squelching around his cock, dragging him in further like a never ending vice.

He paints your insides with hot ropes of his seed, spending himself completely before he’s collapsing on top of you, drenched in sweat. His cock pulses inside of you for a few seconds longer before he draws his hips back and sits back on his thighs, resting his weight along his forearms as he catches his breath.

You lay flat on your stomach like a limp fish while you catch your own breath. He has your attention when you feel his hand gently curve around your ankle and you immediately roll over onto your back, silently begging him with your eyes alone to let you breathe a little longer. “I can’t go another round that fast, Joel. I need to catch my breath.”

“I wasn’t gonna suggest that, sweetheart.” He rasped softly, stroking your skin gently with the pad of his thumb. “I was—uh, gonna ask if you were hungry?”

You blinked a few times, trying to understand if you were hearing him correctly. Was he…offering you a meal? Did hell freeze over?

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah…I am a little hungry.”

Maybe he’ll ask you to make him a sandwich, hah!

“I ain’t got much to offer, unfortunately. But I think I got a couple cans of Chef Boyardee and some stale bread?” His cheeks are flushed from exertion, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone. It’s not like he said he loved you, he was just offering to feed you.

“Oh, man. That guy was great!” You sat up on your elbows watching his lips begin to curve upwards into a half grin from your enthusiasm.

“I actually agree.”

You ate in his bed, sitting across from one another in comfortable silence. Your knees were lightly touching, but neither of you seemed to mind the closeness. He even offered you the last half of his bread and you felt your heart swell at his selfless gesture.

A dog only bites when provoked. Maybe your guard dog was growing soft for his little fawn.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He asked suddenly, breaking through the comfortable silence like a knife.

“Of course you can, Joel.”

He was never good at this sorta thing; talking about his feelings and emotions. He swallowed his last bit of food before reaching across to set both of your empty plates on the nearby nightstand.

“What are you gettin’ out of this? And don’t lie to me or try to give me some bullshit.”

“You make me feel safe…and protected.” You murmured softly, looking directly into his eyes for the first time that entire night.

He scoffs, gnawing on the inside of his cheek with his canines, “I ain’t a fuckin’ charity service, or your knight in shining armor.”

“You’re right, Joel. You aren’t. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to be either of those things. But—you’re all that I want, all that I need.”

His face softens slightly, that permanent frown between his brows and pout of his lips is almost not so permanent before his scowl returns.

Deep down in that black pit of his heart, he wants that too. To be relied on, wanted, needed. He likes that what he has with you is something that he doesn’t have to fight for. He could get all of this and more from Tess, but she always challenged him and wanted more. She would lay her life down for his own and he hated that. He was the type of man that would rather lay his own life down in the place of someone else. He valued his life very little at this point, and here you were acting like he had done something monumental by keeping you safe, fucking you, and providing you with a meal.

“Joel, can I ask you something?” You interjected through the silence, hoping that he wasn’t upset with your honesty.

“Depends what it is that you’re about to ask me, little fawn.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, to feel his fingers lace through your own. You wanted him to hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You were his, but only under his terms. He wasn’t yours and he would never be. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t inclined to try and break through his nearly impassable walls that he had laid down himself, brick by brick.

“Why do you wear that watch on your wrist…if it’s broken?”

He froze like a deer in headlights as his ears began to ring, the blood rushed in his veins and his heartbeat began to race. His fingers twitched at his sides, and by the way his eyes began to darken, you realized very quickly that you had crossed a boundary. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even scold you. He ignored you completely and threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up the two discarded plates.

“Never fuckin’ ask me that again.” He muttered in the doorway, his back facing you and you could only see his side profile before he stomped off towards the kitchen.

Moments later you heard the sound of the plates breaking in the sink, one by one. You had never heard him sound so…violent before. He was yelling, but you couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He might have been crying at one point, but you didn’t dare investigate.

Only when you could no longer hear his pained yells, did you finally reach for your discarded clothes and quickly redressed before tiptoeing out of his bedroom. Your plan was to slip out the front door of his apartment undetected and never look back.

That plan went to shit when you stumbled upon the massacre in the kitchen and a broken man standing amongst shattered plates and shards of glass. He looked defeated, unmoving amongst the wreckage. His hand was trembling as small droplets of blood dripped from the open wound on his palm, the same hand where his broken watch was strapped to his wrist. The crimson droplets landed on the scuffed up floor beneath his feet. He heard the floorboards creak beneath your weight and he whipped around, eyes rimmed red from his incessant, crestfallen tears.

“Where the fuck are you goin?’” He croaked out, his voice sounding like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

“Home?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but even you couldn’t determine exactly why you were trying to leave.

“Did I say you could leave?” He took a step towards you, somehow avoiding the stray shards of glass.

“N-No…I just thought that—”

“Yeah?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side as he observed your timid demeanor. “Well, unthink that. Please.”

He was…asking you to stay? Not only that, he said please?

“You’re bleeding.”

He glanced down at his hand in surprise. He didn’t even feel the glass cutting through his palm or the familiar wetness from the blood dripping from the fresh wound.

“Let me patch it up for you, okay?” You took a small step forward in his direction while he wearily watched you. He brought his injured hand down to his side, holding it out of your reach.

“Are you going to stay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Joel. I promise I won’t leave.”

So, he chose to trust you and allowed you to touch him and guide him to the couch where he was forced to sit down while you rushed to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling when you gently grabbed his hand and rested it palm side up on your knee and began to tend to his wound. He wasn’t capable of love, not after she died. He wasn’t capable of softness and kindness, not when he watched the light fade from her eyes, and yet he sat quietly under your soft touch and gentle eyes. You had become like his supply, a new addiction, a craving, a need that could only be satiated by you. It scared him down to his very bones.

The personal vendetta was long since forgotten and was replaced with his latent nature to protect and care for. You had given him that purpose again, and maybe he could do better and become a good man again because of you. Maybe you were the answer to it all.

And unknowingly, and unintentionally, you had tapped into his inner psyche, one soft touch and gentle gaze at a time. And he was beginning to believe that maybe he wasn’t better off being alone and forsaken, after all.

When Tommy Miller hadn’t returned any of Joel’s radio calls for two weeks straight, Joel was facing a tough decision that he ultimately was going to have to make. His kin was out in bum fuck Wyoming, he could be dead for all Joel knew. Despite how rocky his relationship with his brother was, he was still family, and now Joel was going to leave the QZ and find his younger brother.

This was the beginning of the end of yours and Joel’s mutual understanding, and it was happening before your very eyes.

Tonight he was in a haste after fucking you for hours. Usually he would stay in bed, his limbs tangled with yours, locked together like two puzzle pieces. You learned that sometimes he liked to be the little spoon, but he would never ask, not verbally at least. He’d turn his back to you, reaching for your hands to wrap yourself around him. Tonight, neither of those things happened while you watched him gather up his discarded clothes, throwing on his briefs over his thighs and hips.

You sat up slowly, using the old sheet to cover your breasts. Your heart began to sink when he sat on the edge of the bed, revolver in hand and bullet cartridges in the other.

“Joel?…” you asked in an unsure tone. Would this turn into another one of his meltdowns? You had hoped that it wouldn’t.

“What?” He gruffed out, reloading the bullets one by one.

You recoiled at his tone, chewing on the inside of your cheek to try and distract your mind from assuming the worst was about to happen.

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed, rolling his shoulders forward as he finished loading the revolver and looked over his shoulder, refusing to meet your eyes and instead focused on the peeling wallpaper along the walls.

“Everythin’ is peachy, little fawn.”

Even he didn’t sound too sure of his words. You had been around him long enough to pick up on his changes in demeanor. Sometimes they were subtle, less easy to detect, but tonight it was clearer than day that there was something deeply troubling him.

“You’re acting really fucking weird, Joel.”

He laughed dryly and turned to face you completely. “That’s because I got something to tell you, but you ain’t gonna fuckin’ like it.”

Your face fell immediately and your loose grip around the sheets became tight, as if the fabric between your fingers was the only grounding source available in the vicinity.

“Please, don’t look at me like that. Like I’m about to break your heart or somethin.’” He sighed. “You can’t look at me with those—eyes.”

“Well, are you about to break my heart, Joel? Cause if that’s the case, just rip the fucking bandaid off already.” Your voice cracked, and tears were already threatening to spill, but you held them at bay.

“I need you to understand that I don’t have any choice in this, alright? Tommy hasn’t returned any of my messages in two weeks. It usually only takes him a day to respond, and he’s gone completely radio silent. I’m leavin’ the QZ as soon as Tess and I can locate a truck battery, and I’m goin’ to Wyoming to find him.”

He didn’t have any choice?!

“Joel, do you realize how fucking insane you sound right now?! If Tommy hasn’t responded in two weeks he’s probably—”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ say another word, ya hear me?!” He growled, cocking his revolver and stood up abruptly from the edge of the bed. “You don’t get a fuckin’ say in this! You ain’t my family!”

His words stung, slicing your heart in a million tiny pieces from the venom dripping from his lips. Maybe this was the wake up call you needed. The rose colored glasses were beginning to lift, and the ship that you and Joel had sailed for so long, was finally sinking.

“You’re right, Joel.” You agreed with him. “I’m not your family. So, what the fuck am I then?”

He looked at you coldly, eyes narrowed into slivers. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He didn’t want to be having this conversation with you right now. He needed to focus on finding this damn truck battery and going after Tommy. But of course you just had to be fucking stubborn about the whole thing.

“You’re nothing but a goddamn liability.”

There was no emotion in his tone, just the cutthroat truth of what you truly meant to Joel Miller.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just trying to hurt me!” You tried to convince yourself that this man did care for you in a sense. That he thought higher of you than just someone he fucked, someone he held, someone he shared his meals with.

“Why are you makin’ this so goddamn difficult, huh? You want me to stand here and tell you that I love you?! That I care for you further than what our relationship is?! Would you like me to spell it out for you?!” He yelled exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration.

He didn’t even flinch when you scrambled out from under the sheets, desperately reaching for your discarded panties and shirt. You felt more exposed than ever in front of him as hot tears flooded and rolled down your cheeks. The same cheeks he had tenderly held between his calloused palms.

“You’re practically…a prostitute.”

You reached for your own gun that was resting on the nightstand closest to your side of the bed, and once you had a firm grip on the base of it, you whipped around to face him, gun aimed directly at him, mirroring his own.

“How—how fucking dare you! I’m not a prostitute, Joel! We—we have a mutual understanding! That’s how it’s worked, that’s how it’s always worked!”

“Had.” He corrected you coldly, cocking his head to the side. “And mutual understanding?! You mean our exchange?” He laughed and shook his head, “you offered me your fuckin’ body, and in return I’ve kept you alive! That ain’t a mutual understanding, sweetheart. Thas’ an exchange of services.”

“So, the time that I patched up your hand, and stayed with you even though I knew I shouldn’t have, meant nothing to you?!” You were full on screaming now, seeing red through your blurred tears. “My kindness meant jack all to you, Joel?!”

“Don’t stand there and act so surprised! I told you from the get-go, I am not a good fuckin’ man! You made those choices, sweetheart! I didn’t hold a fuckin’ gun against your head and force you to stay!”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly because you couldn’t believe how fucking delusional he was being. As if he ever gave you a choice in the first place?!

You took one bold step in his direction with your gun still aimed and at the ready. “Choice?! Oh, please enlighten me on what choice you’re speaking of when you never even gave me a choice in the first place, Joel!”

“I ain’t got time for this. It’s fuckin’ done, alright? We’re done and you’re just gonna have to find someone else to keep you alive, little fawn. You can be someone else’s liability!” In the midst of his yelling, he eyed your gun wearily, already mentally planning in his head how he was going to disarm you if you made the stupid decision to lunge at him.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, JOEL MILLER! I HATE HOW YOU HAVE MADE ME FEEL! DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME?! I—I HOPE THAT YOU NEVER FIND TOMMY. I HOPE HE’S DEAD, AND I HOPE YOU DIE ALONE, AND UNLOVED. I HOPE SOMEONE HURTS YOU THE WAY THAT YOU HAVE HURT ME AND—”

He wasn’t ready to admit just how shattering your words were. How it felt like someone had just ripped his heart out and tore it apart, piece by piece. But this is how he got by in life, by hurting those who he loved.

“I’m so fuckin’ relieved that you’re finally wakin’ up from whatever fairytale land you’ve been livin’ in, little fawn. There’s some hope that you won’t end up with a bullet between your eyes. Congratulations on joining the rest of society.” He muttered condescendingly. “Now, you’re gonna get that fuckin’ gun out of my face and go home, and you’re gonna forget all about me.” He deadpanned.

You did just that. He stood there just watching you quickly redress and tuck your gun into the waistband of your jeans. You strode past him, shoulder checking him on your way out.

“Careful. You might end up shootin’ your damn ass off.” He commented from the open doorway.

You didn’t have the strength to snap back at him. You felt broken, beaten, and defeated. He had taken all of you, and you felt like all that was left was your shell; withered and cracking away under his harsh cruelty and scrutiny.

You grabbed your backpack from the hook alongside the door and yanked the handle open, swinging it open loudly on its hinges. He waited till he heard the apartment door slam shut before he left his bedroom, padding quietly down the hall. He went straight to the door and locked it for good measure.

When Marlene found you, you were in a drunken stupor after spending a day in lockup because you had stupidly punched a FEDRA officer in the face, oops. You traded a few ration cards for a cheap bottle of hooch, and proceeded to drink it in broad daylight in a deserted alley. It was nearing curfew now, and the bottle you had been nursing was completely drained and discarded by your feet. Marlene found you slumped over, covered in dried blood, vomit, and tears. You were curled up like a little fawn hiding in the thicket. She checked your pulse before you sputtered awake, lashes fluttering and eyes squinting through the massive hangover you were experiencing.

“M—Marlene?” You croaked out as you tried to wrap your drunken mind around how the fuck she found you here in the first place.

“He broke your heart, didn’t he? Told you he was bad news, sweetheart.” She sighed with a disappointed shake of her head. “Take my hand and we’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

You neither confirmed nor denied her assumptions of why you were piss drunk in an alley. You simply reached for her outstretched hand and let her help you up from the ground. You were wobbly on your feet, like a drunk Bambi on ice, but she let you lean your weight entirely into her side.

A week later, you were officially a member of the Boston QZ Fireflies and under the direct protection of Marlene. If only you had known then that you had signed off on your own death certificate.

You were assigned to Riley’s position in the QZ mall making bombs for the Fireflies to use on an upcoming attack on FEDRA. When you asked Marlene what had happened to Riley, she cut right to the chase and told you that Riley had been bitten by an infected person. You didn’t ask for any further explanation, or where Riley had been bitten. Had you known that she was bitten in the mall, you would have begged Marlene for a different post instead.

When you proved yourself loyal to the Fireflies, Marlene decided that you were ready to be on the frontlines of the attack. Right in the midst of it. One of the bombs that you made with your own hands was about to be used in warfare; what a twisted turn of events.

Tess Servopolous was having a shitty fucking day. After being jumped by a couple of Robert’s goons, and then finding out that he sold the truck battery that her and Joel needed, she was ready to go home and drink the whole thing off, when an explosion went off directly outside of the building that she, Robert, and two of his men were occupying.

She stumbled out of the wreckage, dazed and confused when she saw a FEDRA vehicle demolished and in flames. She squinted through the blinding sun when someone from a nearby rooftop yelled, “free Boston now, motherfuckers!”

And then, directly across the street, she caught a glimpse of you; Joel’s ex little fawn turned rebel scum. You were fleeing the scene just as FEDRA had shown up. Tess claimed she wasn’t a Firefly, but they threw her into lockup, anyway.

“He sold our battery to someone else, Joel.” Tess was sitting across from Joel in their shared tiny apartment. She had just disclosed to him that the men that had jumped her were with Robert, and she was in lockup all day. Joel was fuming.

“Who the fuck did he sell it to? That fuckin’ snake. Swear to god I’ll—”

“Joel, I need you to take a breath.” Tess said plainly, rubbing her sore temples with a sigh.

“I need that battery, Tess. It’s the only way we’re getting to Tommy and without it, we’re shit out of luck. He could be fuckin’ dead out there already for all we know. Where the fuck are we gonna find a battery now?”

“I saw her.” Tess said above a whisper to draw his attention.

“Don’t.” He warned her.

“Joel, I fuckin’ saw her! She’s—Firefly scum now. She was across the street when the bomb went off. She’s with Marlene now. She was fleeing the scene like a goddamn coward, too.”

It felt like Joel’s entire world was crashing down around him all at once. He hadn’t thought about you since your ugly departure from his apartment, but to hear that Marlene had sunk her venomous claws into you after all? He was furious, disappointed, and above all, he felt betrayed.

“You swear that you saw her?”

“On my life, Joel. It was her.” Tess would never lie. She had no reason to.

He swallowed the thick lump growing in his throat. It felt like hot bubbling tar was melting his insides away, melting the flesh from his bones and leaving him bare and brittle. He could taste the bitterness of betrayal on his tongue, and the dull ache in his heart. His fists clenched and unclenched, his brows furrowed tightly and his lips were in a straight, emotionless line. He looked across the table at his partner, giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment. “If I ever see her face again, I will kill her, Tess. I’ll make it hurt. I’ll kill her with my bare fuckin’ hands.”

He was a man of his word, but he was secretly praying that day would never come because he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Not even after he promised Tess to her face that he would kill you. You were that weakness that he couldn’t shake free from.

“Good.” She nodded. “Now let’s go hunt that motherfucker down, and get our battery, our truck, and then we’ll go find Tommy, alright?” She reached for his hand that was clenched in a tight fist along the table.

“Alright.” He nodded.

Joel and Tess had a stash of weapons and supplies scattered about in different areas in and outside of the QZ. One of these areas included the boarded up mall, and this was Joel’s first stop. He had heard rumors sprinkled about that there were a handful of infected roaming the mall, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He snuck into the building the same way he always did and retraced his steps purely from memory.

His confidence only began to waver when he approached the same door he had entered through over a dozen times and saw the unmistakable Firefly logo spray painted right across the frame of the door.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath and withdrew his concealed gun before pushing the slightly ajar door open with his broad shoulder.

On the other side of the mall, you were dealing with trouble of your own. Why hadn’t you asked Marlene more questions about Riley’s death—specifically where Riley had been bitten. Would Marlene have even told you the truth?! You were beginning to question the Fireflies true motives when you overheard Marlene and a few others talking about taking this girl out west to be tested in a hospital. This wasn’t just any random girl; she was immune to the Cordyceps infection. She could possibly be the cure to save the world, but even you were smart enough to know that Cordyceps grow inside the brain. This poor girl was going to die, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

From that point forward you decided that you were going to sabotage Marlene and Fireflies plans. After setting off a bomb in the QZ, you fled back to the mall to dispose of the rest of the bombs you had made that week and then you were going to leave the QZ for good. It was supposed to be simple and go exactly as you planned it to, and it did up until the point when you ran into an infected person.

Your gun was knocked from your grip leaving you with only your knife for protection when the infected person shoved you against a nearby wall, knocking the wind from you. You fought like hell, stabbing wherever you could reach till the infected collapsed to the ground after you jabbed your knife directly into its neck before you sank down against the wall to catch your breath. Its body lay in a heap at your feet, blood pooling and leaking from the deep gash in its neck.

A few minutes later you heard a door nearby open and close followed by heavy footsteps. You scrambled to your feet, wiping your knife along your jeans and snatched up your gun that was on the floor a good few feet away. Your boots slipped in the puddle of blood and created a trail of crimson footprints. So much for remaining concealed.

Joel appeared shortly after you had taken off. He could smell the stench of blood and death permeating the air upon his approach. When he found the dead infected, he kicked it with the toe of his boot, checking to make sure it was actually dead. When the body didn’t move or twitch, he let out a brief sigh of relief before he noticed the trail of bloody footprints and followed them.

It didn’t take him long to find the room that you had been occupying. The trail of footprints had led him straight to another door and that’s when he noticed the fresh blood on the handle and proceeded with caution. When he pushed open the door, he expected to find a person on the other side but there was no sign of anyone. He was drawn to the table in the corner of the room where he recognized a plethora of materials used to make a bomb.

Jackpot.

He surveyed the small room with his gun still drawn at his side as he crept around. You were hiding in the supply closet which was an uncomfortable tight fit. You had no idea who the fuck was on the other side of the door, but you didn’t intend to find out anytime soon. Through the small gap in the metal closet, you were able to make out a pair of all-too familiar black boots.

No, no, no. Please. Anyone but him. Anyone but—

your foot slipped from the blood causing something from the top shelf of the closet to fall and cause a loud racket. Moments later the janitor closet doors were yanked open leaving you exposed. Joel didn’t see your face at first when he grabbed your arm and yanked you out onto the ground with his freehand.

You let out a yell, trying to claw at the man when he yanked you onto the floor. You scrambled to sit up, raising your arms above your head when he trained his gun on you. Your eyes simultaneously widened in shock. The masochist and the sadist together again.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” He let out a scoff. “So, Tess wasn’t lyin’ huh? You really are…Firefly scum?”

“You are quite literally the last person I ever wanted to run into, Joel.” You hissed between your teeth while you were at his mercy.

“Well, sweetheart, that makes two of us.”

“Hilarious, I’m absolutely dying with laughter right now.” You rolled your eyes and he scowled at your sarcasm.

“Turned into a joiner just like Tommy. How fuckin’ predictable.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I promised Tess that I would kill you with my bare hands if I ever saw your face again, but…I can’t bring myself to do that, little fawn.” He lowered his gun slowly just as you began to lower your arms.

“You were leaving me behind, Joel. What—what else was I supposed to do, huh? Marlene found me in an alley, covered in blood and vomit because I had gotten my ass thrown in lockup after punching someone from FEDRA in the fucking face. I had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, and Marlene offered me protection.”

“You punched someone from FEDRA in the face?” He couldn’t help but feel a little amused with this knowledge. “Never expected those words comin’ outta your mouth.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed, Joel. I did what I had to do to survive. I’m sure you think I did it to betray you, right? Not everything is about you. And even if that were the case, why would you even care, considering I’m just a liability in your eyes.”

“You’re right.” He stated simply. “I do think you did it to betray me, but clearly Marlene’s war ain’t goin’ to peachy with you fuckin’ it up. If I’m not the one to kill you, then I’m sure she’s hot on your trail already.”

“You’re probably right. After I set that bomb off I decided that I was fucking done with the Fireflies. I came back here to destroy the rest of the bombs and then I’m leaving the QZ tonight.”

“Wow.” His eyebrows rose in surprise and he couldn’t help the grin that slowly tugged over his lips. “Look at you havin’ a plan of action. I’m impressed.”

“And I take it you haven’t located that truck battery, huh? Man, that’s gotta suck.” You snickered softly.

“Watch it.” He snipped, “We ain’t friends or nothin’ and I still can kill you.”

You both fell silent as your emotions swirled like a dust bowl. You could only imagine the hate that could spew from his lips next.

“Did you…” he was referring to the dead infected that you had killed earlier.

“Yeah, I did.”

He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he observed you from where he was standing. “And you didn’t get bit, right?”

His question hung heavy in the air between you. You don’t remember if you were bit or not. It all had happened so fast—

“I—I don’t think so.” You were unsure as you slowly rose to your feet and that’s when he noticed your hand and the obvious teeth indentations in your skin. The same hand that patched up his wound, the same hand that wrapped around his middle when he wanted to be the little spoon.

“Oh Christ.” He whispered in disbelief, taking a small step back from you, his instincts kicking in immediately.

You looked down at your right hand, noticing the bite and the blood slowly leaking from the grooves in the indented marks. You quickly wiped the blood away, thinking that the bite mark would suddenly just disappear.

“No, no, no!” You yelled a broken cry, “I don’t—I don’t want to turn into a monster, Joel!” You continued to furiously wipe at the bite mark, growing more and more frustrated—afraid when it wasn’t going away.

His heart sinks and he doesn’t know what to do, or how to react. His eyes are fixated on the bite mark and what it means, and he isn’t sure how much time he’ll have left with you. The one thing that he does know for certain is that he won’t let you turn into a monster. He’ll make it quick, painless. You won’t feel a thing. It’s the least he can do for you after all the pain he caused. It’s really starting to hit him now, all the hurtful things he said. The cruelty he thrashed upon you. God, how could he do such awful things to someone like you?

“I—I need you to take a deep breath for me, little fawn, okay? Please. You need to calm down.” He tried to reason with you as he took a half step forward.

“Calm down?! You—” tears began to profusely roll down your cheeks when you faced your own realization that it was only a matter of time before you would turn into one of those monsters.

“I’m—I’m not going to let you turn into a monster, okay? I swear on my life, I’ll make it quick. You—you won’t feel a thing, okay? I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry that I’ve been nothing but cruel to you. I pushed you away, I forced you to leave. I’m the reason you joined the Fireflies. It’s all my fuckin’ fault.” He was struggling to hold his own tears at bay when he saw your body begin to tremble.

“Let—let me be till…my last breath, okay? Please, Joel. Can—can you do that for me? I’m—I’m so afraid.”

He nodded and slipped his gun into his holster. “Until your very last breath, little fawn.”

You slowly sank to the floor and despite every cell in his brain telling him not to join you, he ignored his instincts and found himself sitting alongside you.

“Will—will you hold me? I—I want one last comfort before my mind and body is no longer my own.”

How could he say no to your final request? He knew it was risky, and the Cordyceps were already laying their claim inside of your body. “Of course I will.” He whispered softly.

You slipped into his arms as if they were made for you, and he held you close, resting his chin along the top of your head.

He told you about his daughter Sarah and how he closed himself off to all feelings after she died. He told you that she died in his arms on his 36th birthday and that he wore the broken watch on his wrist because it was her birthday gift to him. He was wearing it when she died, and the bullets ripped through her body. A stray bullet had pierced the glass on the watch and her time of death would forever haunt him.

The last words you spoke to him were of forgiveness, and the last touch you felt from him was his lips pressed to your forehead before your mind and body were no longer yours.

He could sense that your time was up, and that you were no longer with him. He had gone numb when he reached for the gun in his holster and quietly removed it. When the infected head turned towards him and he was met with its dead, glossed over eyes, this was his final confirmation and nail in the coffin that his little fawn was no more.

He mouthed, I’m sorry, before he locked the infected in a headlock. They tussled on the ground momentarily before he pressed the barrel of the gun between its eyes and pulled the trigger.

The body went limp in his loosened grasp, slumping into his arms like a bag of bricks. He broke down into silent tears that wrecked through his body as he cradled you in his arms, rocking back and forth to try and calm himself down.

“I’m so sorry, little fawn. You deserved so much better.” He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before he lifted your corpse into his arms. He wanted to lay you to rest someone soft and comforting in hopes that wherever you were now, was filled with nothing but peace, love, and no pain.

He found a bed of moss nearby and gently laid you down upon it. His fingertips brushed across your eyelids, pulling them down gently so that it would appear as if you were sleeping peacefully. He placed your pocket knife between your hands and said his final goodbyes.

When your body rotted and decayed, you became one with the moss and only your bones remained.

Years later, Joel still thinks about you, his little fawn. He wonders if you’re dancing amongst the stars when he sits out on the back porch of his home in Jackson. There’s frost in the air, but it’s a clear night with the moon shining bright. His guitar sits off to the side and his mug of coffee has steam billowing off the rim of it. He catches a glimpse of the tail end of a shooting star striking brilliantly against the jet black sky. He knows in his heart that it’s you up there.

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 1 year ago

Photo

People have been asking for a Chang timeline post! Chang not only represents a turning point in the politics of the Tintin series, he also represents a sense of chronology in the otherwise floating timeline of the canon. While Tintin almost never discusses his past, Chang is a key part of his personal story in Tintin in Tibet.

I imagine him and Tintin being around the same age, with Chang being a few months younger.

Child - Chang had a happy early childhood being raised by his father and grandparents. He never mentions his mother when recounting his backstory to Tintin, so my main guesses are she either passed away or his parents separated before Chang was old enough to remember her. His father and grandparents taught him how to cook from an early age, and taught him the importance of solidarity and community, lessons Chang will hold onto the rest of his life.

Early canon - Chang is orphaned. This sudden loss causes him to act out. He turns to picking pockets and causing general mischief until an orphanage takes him in. Chang learns a lot of skills just to survive - he’s stealthy, he’s street smart and pretty decent at climbing. His experiences as a street kid taught him to be wary of authority.

The orphanage provides a brief period of stability until it is swept away in a flood. Until this point, Chang has felt pretty powerless in his life so just goes with the flow, so when Tintin drags him out of a river he doesn’t think twice about going along with him to break up a drug ring in The Blue Lotus. Going on this adventure with Tintin imbues him with a sense of empowerment and purpose he never felt before.

Student - The Wangs adopt him pretty quickly after he busts the drug ring with Tintin. It’s a sudden change he struggles to adapt to, with the Wangs being wealthy academics and Chang coming from a working class background there’s a significant culture clash.

Tintin leaves just as quickly and rarely contacts Chang, even as his journalism career takes off, leaving Chang lonely and heartbroken. Chang tries to send him letters but doesn’t know that Tintin moved out of Labrador Road.

Having missed out on education for a bit Chang struggles with school. He feels unworthy of the opportunities the Wangs try to provide him with and a part of him feels they only adopted him because they were dazzled by him taking down that drug ring, an achievement he increasingly feels he will never live up to again. He struggles with mental health issues, but finds solace in photography, his portfolio getting him a place at university despite his bad grades.

Young adult - In an attempt to try and help Chang’s mental wellbeing the Wangs decide to send Chang off to visit his uncles before he starts university, only for Chang to nearly perish in a plane crash in Tibet. Ironically, it’s this near death experience that shakes him out of it. Chang has a renewed enthusiasm for life, taking to travelling, dance and photography. Didi trains him in some basic martial arts so Chang can fend for himself.

Tintin makes an effort to stay in touch after having nearly lost Chang. The two repair their friendship, and Tintin has him stay at Marlinspike when Chang studies in Belgium for his second year of university. By the time Chang comes around, he’s had a growth spurt and has been working out - Chang is pretty haunted by his skeletal state from his near death experience in Tibet, so has been making an effort to recover.

After helping Tintin with a case, Tintin gets him a job at his paper as his photographer. Being Chinese he faces challenges in the workplace, and he uses his charm to be as personable as possible. Unlike Tintin, he frequents quite a few staff parties, and ends up pretty popular!

A couple of years later, Chang tries to unionise the staff at the paper. He and Tintin are outed as a couple and the two of them are fired.

Middle aged - After fighting fascists with the Marlinspike team during WW2 Chang and Tintin settle down in Belgium, with Chang scraping out some freelance photography work and a part time job at a portraiture studio. War in China causes them to lose contact with his adopted family.

While Tintin grows more cynical, Chang accepts the chaos of the world and mellows out a lot. He tries to be a supportive partner and makes extra effort to stay in touch with his uncles and cousins.

Elderly - Chang uses his skills in photojournalism when he gets involved in political activism. He and Tintin are finally able to reunite with Didi and his children in the 70s.

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #chang #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #death mention #homophobia mention #racism mention #my favourite design by far is the elderly one lol #look at the bumbag #look at the colourblock jacket #tinchang

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adieutristana · 25 days ago

Note

fem reader x jinx, that reader puts jinx, isha, vi, caitlyn and Warwick on an airship and they go to be happy before something bad happens

of course! thank you for the request <3

summary; jinx and fem!reader putting the family on an airship and escaping together.

characters included; jinx (romantic), isha (platonic/familial), vi (platonic), caitlyn (platonic), warwick (platonic)

tags/warnings; fluff, mother/mother/daughter dynamic, in-laws(?), but you and jinx aren’t married, mentions of war/combat, s2 spoilers, canon divergence (everyone is alive), one mention of jinx trying to khs, caitvi

men dni.

getting jinx and isha to agree to this plan wasn’t too difficult. one of jinx’s most prominent flaws was her pride, being unable to admit when she was wrong most times and when she needed to just step away. but after isha nearly dying, being thrown in jail, almost killing herself, and hallucinating her dead father figure, she decided it may actually be a good idea to just… leave. start over.

isha was at the age where she did begin to think things through more thoroughly. despite being a child, she still had feelings and wants, so you wanted to give her some say in your decision. when you first presented her with the idea, explaining it in simple terms, her brows furrowed and her eyes squinted, as she went into thought. she turned on her heel to sit down and color, but you could tell that the question was still playing on her mind. it took a few hours for isha to return to you with an answer, but she decided yes, she was okay with this.

convincing the rest of the people in jinx's life to do this anything but simple. caitlyn had a legacy, even if she was no longer commander. she had a desperate, war-torn city looking to her for guidance. for security. vi's pride as a zaunite, her family ties, the memories that zaun held made her want to stay. zaun held the stone with the heights of her and her powder as children. the memories of her ragtag crew as a young teenager. warwick couldn't bear to leave his home, either. he had spent so long as an unofficial leader of the undercity, fighting against the brutality of topside. in-laws or not, even though it was for jinx, they couldn't.

but somehow, all of them eventually came around to the idea. caitlyn took the longest, citing her father as a reason. she'd already lost her poor mother, how could she bear to leave her father? after seeing the destruction of piltover, the destruction her girlfriend's people faced, realizing just how badly she fucked up, she decided it was time to step down from any political position. her father knew she was debating winning, her mind swinging back and forth like a pendulum, an internal battle. but what fully convinced caitlyn was her father giving his blessing.

"go, caitlyn. make a better life for yourself. your mother wouldn't want you to stay somewhere you're unhappy."

vi decided to leave as soon as she realized exactly how blind she had been to the suffering of her people. to what her sister had been put through. her baby sister, who she spent 7 years in stillwater thinking about, who she treated so poorly. all for caitlyn, being pulled by the strings at the hands of ambessa.

warwick simply wanted to be with his family. after thinking it over, cutting his losses and being with what was left of his family, his girls, was all he needed. so many years separated, wondering where they were, if they were even alive, the kinds of people they turned out to be. how long had even passed? at least 7 years, by the looks of things.

the road to redemption was a winding, confusing one with so many twists and turns, so many obstacles, but sometimes the best thing to do is simply walk away.

long nights spent by jinx's side, her sat in your lap, figuring out exactly how she's going to pull this off. it's not like she had any experience flying airships, her grumbling as she tries to read the millionth instruction manual you picked up for her.

"this is stupid."

she'd groan, tossing her head back in that dramatic way you always found amusing.

"you're the one flying the ship, aren't you? it's just some reading."

"yeah, but you know me! i like to learn by doing. what are words gonna do for me?"

"you can't really chance it with an airship, babe." you'd say, trying to ease her nerves and pulling her closer to you.

"ugh. damn you, being all rational..."

and then she'd return to the manual.

loading everyone onto the airship wasn't an easy job, either. jinx shouting out orders-

"everyone make sure you have all your shit! i'm not turning around!"

"don't bring anything cold! i don't have a cooler and it's gonna stink up the place!"

it was kind of cute, honestly. seeing your girlfriend take on a position of leadership, even if it was for an escape operation. just a while ago, she had been so reluctant to accept her status as a symbol, and while she still is, she can at least feel comfortable to voice her concerns with the people she's comfortable around.

you're sat with your knees to your chest, close to your girlfriend at the wheel. looking up at her every now and then to check her nerves, and the girl shooting down smiles at you. god, that smile. vi checks out the last of the mechanics on the airship, coming up behind jinx to announce that everything was okay. and making her poor sister jump in the process.

"all looks good. you ready?"

"gods, vi! you scared the shit out of me!"

vi just puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, letting out a little huff. a lighthearted one.

"not the first time."

jinx just scoffs. "what about your girlfriend?"

"passed out. she's exhausted from packing every single thing she has. seriously, i'd say it's overkill, but she'd have my head."

you let out a chortle at that, and look back up at jinx. warwick is also sleeping- a journey like this will be strenuous for him especially. but he's there, at least.

"so where the hell are we going, anyways?"

you ask, eyes fixated on jinx's own. her short hair, her body covered in paint, her voice, it all makes your heart flutter- but this is a journey. you have to stay focused.

"dunno. wherever the wind takes us."

she replies, voice light and matter-of-fact. you groan in response, a slight pout forming on your face. tugging your knees closer to your chest. damn, jinx could be spontaneous, but the least she could do is tell you where you're going to build your new life. she giggles, and quickly squats down to your level. ruffling your hair with a smirk.

"relax, toots. i'll take us somewhere real nice, okay? somewhere you and i can start over."

she accents her words with a gentle peck to your temple, prompting you to lean into it. as brief as it was. you snake your arms around her waist, and lay your head on her shoulder, just savoring the moment. these are your final few minutes in valoran, the nation that holds so much of your past. your milestones, your hopes, your childhood dreams. the same could be said for everyone on the ship. jinx lets you embrace her, humming and leaning into your touch.

"i don't mean to interrupt the moment, but it's gonna get dark soon."

jinx groans.

"sorry, lovebirds."

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane x you #reader insert #sapphic

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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

Text

last christmas — gojo satoru and geto suguru

"Don’t make me regret this, Satoru." you mumble, your face warm. “We’re gonna have fun, but in a way we all would enjoy, okay?” “Hm, as you say, senpai!” He replies, still heavily enthusiastic. Suguru, still lying on the other side of the air mattress, lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Great. Now we’re all going, aren’t we?" "Obviously, Suguboo!" Satoru replies, his grin widening as he hops off your side. "I mean, what’s a theme park trip without all my best friends?" “Hey, don’t call me Suguboo.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, angst, fluff, humor, comfort, anxiety, lgbtqia+, friendship, found family, conflicted feelings, break up, noted romantic attraction, flashback, loss, light hearted, hurt/comfort, hurt, physical touch, mentioned character death, trauma, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, pining, sleep over, theme park, overworking, burnt out, nightmares, mentioned character deaths, mentioned trauma, this is the theme park episode folks;

WORD COUNT: 17k words

NOTE: i wanted to continue the past pov between satoru and suguru and this came to mind. i think there will be more on their holidays together but i liked this a lot because i think they'll have this sort of healthy dynamic when it came to their work before hidden inventory. anyway, i hope you enjoy it. happy holidays!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

us and them

if you want to, tip! <3

THERE HASN’T BEEN A DAY WHEN YOU WEREN’T CALLED INTO A PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. But that was to be expected. In the line of work you have endured as a sorcerer since a child has made you too used to the situation.

But you felt something different when you entered the Yaga Masamichi’s office this time around. No, everything about this moment was different. Was it the fact that fall was ending and that winter was coming? Or was it his awful cologne choice? Perhaps you will never know.

“You’re being given leave for the holidays.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not going to receive any winter missions.”

“Are you fucking around with me?”

The air in Yaga Masamichi’s office feels thick, heavy with the tension of your argument. You stand in front of his desk, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your frustration barely contained. Yaga, however, looks entirely unfazed as he reclines in his chair, his large frame a picture of unyielding authority.

"You’ve never taken a day off as a sorcerer. And you never ask for it. It’s high time you were given time off." he says again, voice calm but resolute, like he’s speaking to a stubborn child. "You’re not getting another mission right now. That’s final. The higher ups approved it."

You grit your teeth, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "I don’t need a day off. Do you even hear yourself? Sitting around doing nothing isn’t going to help anyone. Do you know how many grade one sorcerers and grade two sorcerers are going to be dealing with all the cases I don’t do? They need me out there, Yaga!"

Your voice rises with every word, the sheer unfairness of the situation gnawing at your composure. But Yaga doesn’t budge. His dark eyes remain steady, rooted, as if absorbing your outburst without so much as a ripple.

"What they need right now," he replies evenly, determination heavy in his eyes. "is a sorcerer who can stay on their feet. You’re overworked, and you know it. I’ve let it slide long enough, but this stops here."

"You don’t get it—" you start, but he raises a hand, cutting you off mid-sentence.

"No, you don’t get it, do you?" he interrupts, his voice dropping into a firmer register that makes you flinch, just slightly. "I’ve seen too many sorcerers burn themselves out thinking they can handle everything. They push and push, and then one day, they can’t anymore. I’m not about to let you be one of them."

You shake your head vehemently. "I’m not like the others. I can handle this. I have been handling this!"

"And that’s exactly why you need to stop right now." he counters, leaning forward slightly, his tone softening just a fraction. "You may not want to hear this, but you’re not invincible. Everyone has a limit, and you’re closer to yours than you think. Take a step back before it’s too late."

You glare at him, desperation bubbling up alongside your anger. You refuse to accept this—there has to be another way. "Gakuganji would give me the mission, you know?" you mutter, your voice sharp and petulant.

Yaga snorts, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement if the situation weren’t so serious. "I’m not Gakuganji." he says bluntly. "And thank the gods for that."

His words strike a nerve, and you spin around to face him fully, your fists clenched at your sides. "Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to support us—support me! How am I supposed to just sit around and do nothing while curses are out there hurting people?"

"Because I care about you." Yaga replies simply. His gaze softens slightly, but the steel in his voice remains. "And whether you believe it or not, I care about you. You may not understand that, I know. But you can’t destroy yourself like this. You’re a good sorcerer, but you need to learn to take care of yourself first.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You look away, your jaw tight, frustration still burning in your chest. But there’s no arguing with him now. His mind is made up, and deep down, you know he’s right. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“And I imagine that you’re father would want—”

"Fine, fine." you mutter begrudgingly, stuffing your hands into your pockets. "But don’t come crying to me when someone screws up the mission I could’ve handled."

Yaga exhales through his nose, a sound that’s almost—but not quite—a laugh. "I’ll take my chances with that gamble." he says, turning back to the stack of paperwork on his desk.

As you storm out of his office, shaking your head in disappointment, you could only find yourself in the silence. You couldn’t help but slam the door as hard as you could behind you, summarizing his parting words linger in your mind: Take the time off. That’s an order.

And for the first time in a long while, you’re left with nothing to do but obey. You cursed under your breath, looking at the sunset filled sky. You hated this. Now you’ll be stuck remembering those bright beaming fireworks, those annoyingly loud sing along carols and most of all, the falling snow as she said goodbye.

══════════════════

OF COURSE, YOU HAVEN’T CALMED DOWN. But there was nothing you could do about it. You had to start thinking about something to do. Or maybe try to argue about this.

You haven’t really thought about it concretely yet. But you had to do something, you just had to. A soft sigh left your lips. You really should have brought cigarettes with you.

The vending machine hums softly as you press the button, a can of something fizzy clattering into the slot below. You grab it, sit down heavily on the nearby bench, and crack it open with a sigh.

The sunset paints the sky in hues of orange and purple, but it does little to brighten your mood. You’re sulking, and you know it, but right now, you don’t care.

All of the known Kyoto missions you had your eye on—all of them—had been reassigned. Even the dangerous ones, the ones you knew you could handle. And what stings the most? Even the Special Grade missions had gone to others, like they were prizes you weren’t worthy of claiming or having whatsoever.

You know you shouldn’t sulk but you couldn’t help it. Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, of course, had gotten their fair share. And they deserve it. They get the job done well enough, for second years. It’s not that you didn’t think they deserved it. They do.

But you were their senior. And you were older. Aren’t you supposed to be doing more, so they won’t have to? You had more experience than them in this field. You were a special grade sorcerer too. Why did you have to be treated differently than them? Weren’t you doing so well? Weren’t you enough?

You liked working, it’s why you haven’t stopped since you were younger. But you also don’t want to think about what the winter holidays were going to be like. You don’t want it to be stagnant. You don’t want to sit around and think. You don’t. You don’t even want to think about the prospect of having to go back to Zenin Manor for the holidays.

If your schedule isn’t full, that old geezer is going to force you to attend the banquet. You wouldn't have an excuse. And knowing that, they’ll end up forcing you into a man and you don’t want to get married. Not just yet. You don’t want to end up marrying this winter. You bit your lip shakily in anger.

“Ugh, why did this have to happen right now?” You whisper to yourself, kicking the stone wall. “This is so stupid!”

“Hey, senpai! Don’t kick the stone wall like that. It did nothing to you.”

You stopped, feeling your eyes narrow. The crunch of footsteps on gravel catches your attention as much as the voice did. You glance up to see none other than the pair themselves. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were going towards you, strolling back into campus.

They’re still in their mission gear, looking far too relaxed for two people who’ve just returned from exorcising curses. Geto has a quiet, composed expression as usual, his long hair tied neatly back. Gojo, on the other hand, is grinning like he’s just been handed the keys to the world.

The moment Gojo Satoru spots you even closer, his grin widens. Your eyes narrow enough at him that it looks like you were glaring at him. You were still too sulky. And now that you were running out of sugar, you were getting cranky too. You ought to drink your drink soon.

"Well, well, well, Suguru." Satoru says, nudging Suguru with his elbow and wearing that ever-present smirk. "Look who we have here, moping by the vending machines. Did Yaga–sensei finally ban you from missions, senpai?"

You glare at him over the rim of your can, letting the cold metal press against your lips but refusing to dignify his teasing with a response. The hiss of carbonation cuts through the silence as you crack open the soda with a force that sends foam fizzing up brutishly.

Satoru blinks at you, then shifts his gaze to Suguru, who seems to pick up on the same thing. A rare flicker of actual concern crosses his face.

“Wait, are you actually serious, senpai?” Gojo’s voice loses some of its usual playfulness. “Did he really?”

Suguru sighs, glancing at you with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Hey, don’t be too insensitive. Senpai looks upset.”

Satoru tilts his head, still watching you carefully. For a moment, there’s no teasing, just quiet curiosity, as if he’s waiting for you to break the silence and explain. But you didn’t speak just yet. Instead, you opted to drink the carbonated drink for a little bit. They just let you drink it and watched as you put it down.

Suguru, ever the perceptive one, raises an eyebrow as he approaches. "Something wrong, senpai?" His tone is even, but there’s a flicker of genuine concern in his gaze.

"Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry about me." you mutter, though the tension in your voice betrays your words.

You take a long sip of your drink, letting the fizzy sweetness settle on your tongue before sighing and lowering yourself onto one of the cold metal benches. The bench creaks slightly under your weight, the chill biting through your clothes, but you barely register it.

"Just... no missions for me for a while." you say, the words coming out slower this time, like you’re forcing yourself to say them. "Yaga’s decided I need to take a break for the winter." You pause, glancing down at the soda can in your hands, the logo on it blurry from condensation.

"He didn’t even ask me about it. That’s what I feel bitter about." you continue, a wry, humorless smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "He filed a leave on my behalf with the higher-ups. Said it was for my own good. And... well, it’s been accepted."

You huff out a short laugh, but it’s devoid of mirth. "Can you believe that? A forced vacation. Like I’m some kind of liability."

The words linger in the crisp air, heavy and bitter. For a moment, neither Satoru nor Suguru speaks, their usual banter replaced with an uneasy silence. Even Satoru’s trademark smirk falters slightly, his bright eyes narrowing in rare seriousness as he processes what you just said. Suguru crosses his arms, his expression softening as he looks at you.

"That... doesn’t sound like Yaga–sensei at all." Suguru says quietly, his tone laced with concern. "There’s gotta be more to it than that."

Satoru tilts his head, studying you carefully. "He’s probably just worried about you, senpai. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately."

You shrug, unwilling to acknowledge their words. Instead, you take another sip of your drink, letting the cold fizz distract you from the frustration simmering in your chest. “I suppose. But I would have liked to have a conversation about that. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

Liar. You thought to yourself for a moment. You never would have considered it. That’s why you take breaks, you foolish liar.

Suguru takes a seat on your other side, his presence calm and steady, like an anchor in the swirling storm of your thoughts. "He’s probably just looking out for you, senpai. Yaga-sensei’s strict about things, sure. But he’s not unfair. Maybe he’s seen something we haven’t."

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as frustration ripples through you. "I don’t think I stick around long enough for him to notice anything about me."

"It’s probably because you’re always out in the field, senpai." Satoru chimes in, his voice lighter now as he presses a button on the vending machine with exaggerated care. "I think he notices that."

The quiet sincerity in his words catches you off guard, and for a moment, you blink at him, then at the can in your hand. "Possibly." you murmur, though your tone is uncertain.

Suguru smiles gently, a knowing look in his eyes. "Still, I get it. Sitting out isn’t easy when you’re used to being in the thick of it all the time, senpai."

You nod slowly, letting his words sink in. "It’s not just that." you admit, the bitterness in your voice softening. "It’s like... if I’m not out there, if I’m not doing something, I don’t know what to do with myself. It feels... wrong, like I’m slacking off or abandoning my responsibilities."

And I don’t wanna think about her. You want to say. I don’t want to go home either. I don’t want to suffer being alone.

Satoru pops open his own drink, taking a swig before glancing back at you. "That’s not slacking, senpai." he says, his tone uncharacteristically even. "Taking a break isn’t quitting. Yaga–sensei wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think it was important."

Suguru nods in agreement. "He’s not punishing you. He’s trying to make sure you’re okay. Sometimes, even the strongest of us need to step back and breathe for a bit."

Their words hang in the air, soft but unwavering, and for the first time in a while, you feel the tight knot of frustration in your chest begin to loosen—just a little. You sigh, slumping further down on the bench. You groaned.

"Kyoto missions are being handed out like candy. Even the Special Grade ones! And guess who’s getting them? The two of you."

Suguru snickered. “I doubt that it’s something enjoyable as eating candy, senpai.”

"Meanwhile, I’m stuck here with nothing to do but wait." You were pouting at this point.

Satoru snickers, leaning back. "Jealous, are we? Don’t worry, senpai. I’ll bring you a souvenir from my next mission. Maybe a curse sword or something. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s about to be Christmas anyway—"

"Satoru." Suguru says warningly, giving him a pointed look.

"What?" Satoru shrugs, still grinning as he holds his drink close. "I’m just trying to cheer senpai up, Satoru."

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I don’t need cheering up. I need to be useful."

Suguru leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now. "You are useful. Missions come and go, but pushing yourself too hard won’t make things better. Yaga–sensei’s just giving you some breathing room. It doesn’t mean you’re being left behind."

"Yeah, senpai." Satoru chimes in, his tone surprisingly genuine this time. "Don’t take it too personally. Even I need a break sometimes. Well, not really, but you get the idea."

You glance between them, your frustration still simmering, but their words start to sink in, just a little. Maybe they’re right—maybe this isn’t the end of the world. But for now, you still can’t shake the sting of being benched. You shake your head.

"Whatever." you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. "Just don’t rub it in."

Satoru smirks, nudging your shoulder. "No promises."

Suguru sighs, shaking his head. "Let’s just get you off this bench before you start growing roots. Come on—we’ll grab some food. Satoru’s treat."

You raised a brow as you looked at Satoru. “Oh? You’re opening your wallet?”

“If that would make our amazing beloved senpai stop sulking, the Gojo Satoru infinite wallet will appear.” Satoru says, pulling out his wallet with a maniacal laugh. “You can order as much as you can, senpai. I’ll pay for it. Just smile, okay?”

You looked at him for a moment before you ended up laughing. You finally nodded at them. Satoru pumps his arm out as he says yes. Suguru shakes his head at Satoru’s antics, but smiles. Reluctantly, you let them pull you to your feet. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem. Maybe.

Before long, the three of you walk toward a nearby ramen restaurant, the sounds of crickets beginning to fill the evening air. Satoru stretches his arms lazily behind his head, his glasses pushed up just enough to reveal the playful glint in his eyes. Suguru walks beside you, his steady presence a contrast to Satoru’s boundless energy.

“Where’s Shoko?” You asked, turning to Suguru. “I thought she would be with you two.”

“She’s stuck with the Reversed Curse Technique sensei.” Suguru says, his hands resting in his pockets. “Apparently she couldn’t get it right on a leg, so the sensei’s making her do it again.”

“Huh, I would have thought she would have gotten it right by now.” You furrowed your brows. “I sent her the scrolls on it.”

“Probably just some sensei trying to make it harder on Sho.” Satoru says, looking at you. “I mean, wasn’t it that way with our hand to hand combat sensei last year?”

“I didn’t like that guy.” Suguru admitted, shaking his head. “He wasn’t at all considerate of Shoko and made her suffer.”

“If he wasn’t a vassal of the Zenin, he wouldn’t have a job here anymore.” You retorted to the two of them. “He was also bad when he taught us.”

Suguru looked at you. “Hehhhh, so he taught you too, senpai.”

“Well, yes. But we didn’t learn much from him.”

"So, senpai." Satoru says, breaking the conversation away. "If you're not doing missions, what are you doing? Sitting around moping by vending machines? Because, honestly, it’s not a great look for you."

You roll your eyes back at him. "I’ll be training. I’ll be visiting my mother at her shrine. I need to keep my edge. And I don’t want to be stuck at home. What’s the point if I’m not putting it to use? It’s not like curses are going to exorcise themselves."

Suguru hums thoughtfully. "Training’s not a bad way to spend your time. Besides, if Yaga–sensei’s forcing you to take a break, you might as well use it to focus on something else. A new technique, maybe. You’ve been talking about improving your cursed energy output, haven’t you, senpai?"

You glance at him, surprised he remembered. "Yeah, I guess. Still doesn’t feel the same without the real stakes."

Satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "You’ve gotta chill, you know? Not every second of your life has to be spent on the front lines. Take a page from my book, senpai! Go and live a little! Relax, enjoy the quiet moments. You can’t win all the glory if you’re burned out."

"Easy for you to say." you grumble, shrugging off his arm. "Everyone’s different, you know that?”

Satoru’s grin falters for just a second, so brief you almost miss it. But he recovers it almost as soon as it happens. You blinked at that. "Sure." he says, his voice lighter than it was a moment ago. "But even I have to deal with Yaga–sensei breathing down my neck sometimes. Guy acts like I’m gonna self-destruct or something."

"Wonder why." Suguru mutters under his breath, earning a snicker from you.

By the time you reach the ramen restaurant, your mood has lightened, if only slightly. The warm glow of the lights and the faint smell of food wafting through the air feel comforting, a small reminder that life isn’t all missions and curses.

Satoru insists on ordering for everyone which was much to your dismay because he wanted to choose the desserts menu first, while Suguru sits across from you, watching him with a faintly amused expression.

"You know, senpai." Suguru says as Satoru bounds off toward the counter. "He’s not entirely wrong. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Least of all us kouhai. You’ve done more than enough between us combined. You deserve some rest too."

"That’s not what this is about, though." you say, picking at the edge of the table. "It’s just… I hate feeling useless. And I hate not doing anything too. It’s like I’m sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is out there making a difference, doing something."

Suguru leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "No one thinks you’re useless. You’re one of the strongest sorcerers here, senpai. Don’t let a temporary setback make you forget that. Yaga–sensei’s decision isn’t a punishment; it’s a reminder to pace yourself. You’ll be back out there soon enough."

Before you can respond, Satoru reappears, balancing a heavy tray full of abundant food with one hand like it’s a prize. You blinked as two other staff followed behind him, carrying just as heavy of a load on the trays they were holding.

"Alright, feast time! And guess what—I got you your favorite." He sets the tray down with a flourish, smirking when you reluctantly take the plate he hands you.

"Thanks, Satoru." you mumble, trying not to sound too grateful.

As the three of you dig into your food, the conversation shifts to lighter topics—Satoru’s latest antics, Suguru’s commentary on his poor decision-making, and a few inside jokes that make you laugh despite yourself. For a little while, you forget about the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Maybe Suguru’s right about this. Maybe this isn’t the end of the world. It’s just one time. You were sure that it would go by just as fast as it happened. You take a sip of your soup, trying to enjoy the warmth it pools on your mouth.

And as Satoru leans back in his chair, telling some exaggerated story about a curse he fought, and Suguru trying to correct him about the facts, you couldn’t help but smile at them.

They’ll probably do fine with your missions. Everything will be fine. And so, now, ever so slowly, you think that maybe, just maybe, this break won’t be so bad after all.

══════════════════

YOU BEGGED GAKUGANJI TO LIE TO THE ZENIN. You received the message to come back home a few days ago, the annual winter banquet looming over you like a heavy cloud. The thought of returning made your stomach churn.

You didn’t want to deal with Naoya’s smug, incessant taunts, nor your uncles’ cold glares, each one assessing you like a potential threat or disappointment.

And you certainly didn’t want to endure your drunken grandfather pushing every eligible man in the clan in your direction, urging you to “secure the Zenin legacy.”

At least Gakuganji had relented this time after you wore him down with incessant pleas to be excused from the banquet. He had sighed heavily, grumbled about your stubbornness, and waved you off with a reluctant nod. That victory, however small, was bittersweet.

In the same breath, you decided not to visit your mother for the rest of December either. Word traveled fast, and if the Zenin found out where you were, they’d harass her endlessly until she felt cornered, forced to surrender you back to their grasp. You couldn’t let that happen. Protecting her from their influence was one of the few things you could still control.

So, you opted to stay in your own house. Alone. Indefinitely.

At first, the solitude was welcome, a reprieve from the expectations and judgment that seemed to follow you everywhere. But the days off began to pile up like a slow-moving curse, each one heavier and more suffocating than the last. The stillness clung to you, creeping under your skin.

And that craving to work, to go out and seek danger. To seek out curses. You could feel each and every one of them. There’s one from your apartment block, from a building growing bigger and bigger.

There’s another just a few miles away, eating away the anguish of humanity. But you know you can’t do much about it. Not when they would know your cursed energy. They would recognize it. That would ensure Yaga will hear about it. He would annoy you even more. And you don’t want that.

But just as much, you don’t want a break. You want to work. You need to work. The idle hours claw at you, dragging you into places you’ve been avoiding for too long. You like the chaos of missions—the distractions, the sense of purpose, the way they keep your mind too busy to wander.

Without the missions, the silence becomes unbearable. And in that silence, the nightmares return.

You see her smile again. That sick twisted, stupid smile that lingers in the dark corners of your mind. It’s the kind of smile that hides something cruel, something broken. You can almost hear the fireworks bursting overhead, bright and loud, masking the screams.

The harmony of Christmas carols drifts faintly in the background, a jarring contrast to the chaos. Her voice echoes in your ears, sharp and cutting. Your body was shaking, but not of the cold. But shock. You were too shocked to even move as you watched her turn her back.

“What the fuck are you saying?” You asked her, your purple eyes turning watery. “You’re leaving me?”

"I don’t need you anymore." she had said, her words like shards of glass. "And you don’t need me anymore. So, let’s end it here, hm?”

Kaiko broke up with you that day.

And then she massacred hundreds.

The images come rushing back in vivid, relentless clarity: the blood, the chaos, the twisted wreckage of everything you thought you understood. You can’t stop replaying it—the devastation, the betrayal, the weight of what she had become.

You don’t want to face it. You don’t want to deal with that Christmas day again.

But in the silence, it finds you. It always finds you.

Tears started to fall from your eyes again.

“I hate this, I hate this too much.”

══════════════════

THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH SLEEP. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You always don’t sleep, you don’t want to sleep enough. Because you knew where it would lead. And you don’t want to end up there. Yet that’s where you ended up.

You wake up drenched in sweat most nights, the images from your dreams burned into your mind. No, not dreams. No no, they’re memories. You see them as clearly as the day they happened. You could feel your breath hitch over and over again, not believing you’d ever see it again. Not like this.

Namie. Her smile, her laugh, the way she’d always known just the right thing to say to pull you out of your moods. You see her standing there, in the middle of that cursed battlefield, her eyes wide with fear as she turns to you—too late.

The curse’s claws tear through her chest before you can move, before you can scream. Blood sprays, her body crumples, and you’re left standing in the aftermath, paralyzed by your failure. You tell yourself it wasn’t your fault, but the words feel hollow. You were supposed to protect her. You were right there, and you couldn’t save her.

Then comes Kaiko. The guilt tastes different with her, but no less bitter. You see her face, contorted in anger and betrayal, hear her voice, venomous and raw, shouting your name as she lunges at you.

You remember the way her cursed energy crackled in the air, the sharp clash of your techniques, the moment her attack faltered and you struck back without hesitation.

She falls, her body collapsing in slow motion. Blood pools beneath her, a stark contrast to the pale, shocked expression on her face. She hadn’t thought you’d do it. You hadn’t thought you’d do it either.

But you did. The scene plays on repeat in your head every night. Namie died because you weren’t fast enough. Kaiko died because you were too fast. Over and over and over.

You sit on your bed, staring at your shaking hands. You tell yourself you’re strong. A sorcerer. Someone who can endure anything. But the truth is harder to swallow: you can’t handle being still. Because when you stop moving, the memories catch up to you..

Namie. Kaiko. The weight of their deaths pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You glance at the calendar on your wall, the faint tick of the clock echoing in the stillness. Red lines mark the days since your last mission, stretching across the grid like tally marks on a prisoner’s wall. The numbers blur together, each one a reminder of time slipping by without purpose. It feels like an eternity.

And with each passing day, the nightmares grow louder, clawing their way into your thoughts. The stillness that was supposed to heal you now feels suffocating, like a weight pressing on your chest. You begin to wonder if this break—this rest—isn’t meant to fix you at all. Maybe it’s the thing that will finally break you.

The days drag on, stretching endlessly, and your attempts to find relief grow more desperate. You try everything—everything—to distract yourself, to fill the void the missions once occupied.

You pick up a book, hoping to lose yourself in its pages, but the words slip through your mind like water through a sieve. You read the same sentence five times before giving up, the book tossed aside onto a growing pile of failed attempts.

You wander aimlessly around town, hands shoved deep into your pockets as you roam familiar streets with no destination in mind. But the noise of the city only irritates you, and the fleeting glimpses of laughter and holiday cheer feel like a cruel mockery.

You even try your hand at hobbies you’d long since abandoned—sketching, fixing the old record player collecting dust in the corner, even cooking—but nothing clicks. Each attempt feels hollow, like going through the motions of someone else’s life.

Nothing works.

The memories are relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, refusing to be silenced. Kaiko’s smile haunts you. The fireworks, the screams, the carols—they play on a loop in your head, a cruel symphony of the past.

And the quiet of your apartment feels like a prison. The walls seem to close in on you, pressing closer with each passing hour. The silence stretched taut, oppressive, and the ticking clock became even more unbearable.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, the can of soda long forgotten on the table. "This isn't a rest. This is torture." you mutter to yourself, your voice hoarse in the stillness. "This isn’t peace. This is—"

You stop, unable to put words to the feeling, but the emptiness swallows you whole. The weight of it presses down on you, suffocating, as if the very air around you thickens, making it harder to breathe. Your thoughts race in circles, but nothing makes sense. You try to ground yourself, to focus on something, anything, but the more you try, the more you slip away from it all.

Tears fall, heavy and relentless, as if they were always there, waiting for the moment when the dam would finally crack. You rock yourself gently in your arms, the motion a desperate attempt to comfort yourself, to find some semblance of control. But it doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

The room around you seems to close in, the walls pressing in from all sides. The silence, the stillness, it all becomes too much. The space feels claustrophobic now, oppressive, like the walls are suffocating you. You can’t escape it. You can’t escape yourself.

Each breath comes in ragged gasps, as if you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, to stop the flood of memories, the flood of pain. The darkness that has always been there, lurking at the edges, now seems to take shape, swirling around you like a living thing, creeping up your spine, curling its fingers around your throat.

The nightmares that have only been whispers in the background are no longer just in your sleep. They are here, in your apartment, in the silence. They’re alive, moving through every corner of your mind and your space.

Your sobs echo in the emptiness, the only sound in the room, and for a moment, you wonder if this is it—if this is all there is. If the endless cycle of pain, of isolation, is what’s meant for you. You wonder if you’ll ever find a way out, if the break, this supposed reprieve, will ever end.

But all you feel is the suffocating silence. The crushing weight of memories that won’t let you go. The cruel reminder that no matter how far you run, you can’t escape what’s inside you.

One cold winter evening, as the sky outside turns a bruised shade of purple, you sit on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. A sitcom plays, its canned laughter grating against the silence of the room. You’re not even paying attention to the plot; it’s just noise, something to drown out your thoughts.

Then, the doorbell rings.

You freeze. No one ever comes to your place unannounced. Hell, hardly anyone knows where you live. For a moment, you wonder if you imagined it. But then it rings again, louder this time. Dragging yourself off the couch, you shuffle to the door, your brows furrowing in confusion. Peering through the peephole, your confusion only deepens.

There, on your doorstep, stands those three.

Gojo Satoru was smiling at you so brightly.

Geto Suguru greets you warmly and kindly.

Ieiri Shoko waves at you, a cigarette on her lips.

You couldn’t help as you stood there in your Sanrio pajamas, blinking at them like they’ve just stepped out of one of your nightmares—or maybe one of your better dreams. The cold winter air brushes inside as you stand there utterly frozen.

“Senpaiiiii, it’s cold!” Satoru snapped you out of it. “Please let us in already!”

“Cry baby.” Shoko snickered, looking at her friend. “Who told you to not put a winter coat on?”

“I didn’t know it would be this cold, Sho! Let me live!”

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about this, senpai.”

"What are you three doing here?" you ask, your voice hoarse from disuse.

Satoru turns to you with a grin, his usual cocky demeanor firmly in place. He was cold, but he was going to smile at you regardless. He likes doing that for you, after all. He’s carrying a bag in one hand and waving with the other.

"Nice place you’ve got here! We thought it was time for a little intervention. And talk about the heating system! Wow, really, if you just let us in—"

Your confusion deepens. "How do you even know where I live?"

"Yaga–sensei." Shoko says simply, lighting a cigarette as she steps past you into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "He was worried about you, so he gave us your address."

You move to the side, giving enough space for Satoru to come in. Suguru could only shake his head as he asked if he could come in. You finally nodded. Shoko followed him inside, muttering a word of thanks.

You glance back at Satoru, who’s already making himself at home, plopping onto your couch like he owns the place. He sets the bag down on the coffee table with a flourish. He takes the warmth of the room in with pleasure.

"And you’re welcome, by the way, senpai." he adds, shooting you a wink. "We brought snacks. And movies. And me, the best part of this little party."

Suguru, who’s been leaning casually against the doorframe, finally steps inside, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Yaga–sensei may have told us to go. But we figured you’d be holed up in here, overthinking everything like you always do. So we came to drag you out of your head for a while, if that’s alright with you.”

“I guess.” You blink at them, still processing their sudden appearance. "But I don’t need an intervention. I’m fine, you know?" you mumble, folding your arms defensively.

Shoko snorts, exhaling a cloud of smoke from her cigarette. "Yeah, you look real fine, senpai." she says, gesturing vaguely at your pajamas, disheveled appearance and the mess in your living room. "When was the last time you left this place, senpai?"

You frowned at her, but before you could reply, Satoru interrupted her, waving her off. "Don’t worry about all that, senpai." he says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a container of something that smells suspiciously like takeout.

"Tonight, we’re here to chill. No missions, no training, no brooding in the dark. Just us. And maybe a bad horror movie, if Suguru doesn’t complain too much."

"I always complain about your movie choices, Satoru." Geto mutters, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “They’re always so questionable!”

For a moment, you consider kicking them out. You don’t want to be seen like this whatsoever. messy, vulnerable, barely holding it together. But then you catch the genuine concern in their eyes, hidden behind Satoru’s little jokes, Shoko’s eager bluntness, and Suguru's tender composure. They came here because they care, when they didn’t have to.

And maybe—just maybe—you need this.

"Fine, fine." you mutter, stepping aside to let them fully invade your space. "But if Satoru picks something stupid, I’m kicking all of you out."

"Deal, senpai!" Gojo says cheerfully, already rifling through your meager DVD collection. "This is gonna be great. You’ll see."

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel something other than the suffocating weight of your memories. It’s small, fleeting. But it’s there. It was there and it was there to stay. A spark of something warmer, lighter. Maybe, with them here, you won’t have to face it all alone.

As the night goes on, your small apartment feels strangely livelier than it has been in the past few weeks. The place, once a sanctuary of silence and isolation, has been overtaken by a chaotic kind of energy that feels foreign—and a little unsettling.

The three musketeers, Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru, have sprawled out in your living room like they own the place. Once the movie ended, Satoru wasted no time grabbing the remote and flipping through your TV channels with all the grace and decorum of a toddler on a sugar rush.

The sound of random commercials and sitcoms blaring in the background mixes with the clinking of ice cubes as Shoko leans back on your armchair, casually sipping a drink she definitely helped herself to from your fridge.

Suguru, meanwhile, has settled himself on the floor, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watches it all unfold. He’s got that look, the one that says he’s aware of exactly what’s going on but finds it too entertaining to intervene.

"Did you really just switch to a cooking show, Satoru?" you ask, eyes narrowing in disbelief as you watch him channel-surf with zero sense of restraint.

"Yeah, I did, senpai." Satoru replies nonchalantly, glancing over at you with a grin. "What’s wrong with a little food porn? I’m trying to get inspired for the next big mission meal. I’ll make you a five-star ramen that’ll blow your mind."

You raise an eyebrow. "You? Cook? The same guy who couldn’t even make instant ramen noodles without setting off the smoke alarm?"

"That was one time, senpai!" Satoru protests, flicking the remote like he’s offended. "Besides, ramen's on a different level. You can’t just learn that, it’s an art form."

Shoko, from her spot on the armchair, rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her drink. "If by art form you mean you’ll burn water if left alone for two minutes then sure, go for it."

You sigh, rubbing your temples as the low hum of Satoru’s TV-flipping blends with Shoko’s quiet snark. Suguru’s chuckle is the only thing that cuts through the noise, and you glance at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You’re not helping, Suguru." you mutter back at him. “Honestly when you find yourself loosening up, you end up becoming a menace to me too.

Suguru just shrugs and smiles at you.. "Just enjoying the show, senpai." he says with that faint amusement still in his voice.

And then, as if the universe is trying to throw salt on your wounds, you glance at the time. Your stomach sinks, and the thought hits you like a freight train. They’re planning to stay the night, aren’t they?

“”Don’t tell me you didn’t have accommodations ready?” You direct the question to no one in particular.

But it’s clear from the smug glint in Satoru’s cerulean eyes that he knows exactly what’s coming. He’s like a kid who’s already picked out his spot on the couch for a sleepover. Shoko doesn’t even look at you as she casually lifts her glass at you.

"Yeah, pretty sure we’re all crashing here tonight. Hope that’s okay, senpai." she says, the words dripping with sarcasm.

"Didn’t even ask, huh?" you mutter under your breath, but there’s no real point in protesting.

Suguru gives you an almost apologetic look, though his smirk is still firmly in place. "You’re stuck with us, senpai. Might as well get comfy."

"Great, just great." you deadpan. "A full house. Just what I needed."

Satoru immediately perks up, sitting cross-legged on your couch like an overgrown child. "What are you talking about, senpai?" he says, his grin wide and unabashed. "You’ve got so much space in the living room! Look at this—practically a luxury penthouse." He gestures dramatically at the modest area, clearly exaggerating.

You narrow your eyes at him. "It’s not a penthouse. And what does it matter? You’re not staying."

He leans back against the couch, arms spread wide. "But I’ve never had a sleepover before," he says, with the kind of mock-innocence you know is meant to guilt-trip you. "C’mon, don’t ruin my first one."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink at him, surprised. "Never?"

Satoru shakes his head, that grin of his still firmly in place. "Never. Clan rules, remember? Strict schedules, separate quarters, all that fun stuff."

Something in your chest twists at that. You think of your own childhood, so eerily similar. "Neither have I." you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Suguru, who’s been observing the exchange with his usual calm, suddenly blinks in surprise. He looks between the two of you, and a flicker of understanding crosses his face. You sighed, crossing your arms at him.

"That’s right." he murmurs, almost to himself. "I forgot you guys didn’t grow up outside of clan culture."

The room falls into a brief, thoughtful silence. Shoko, for once, doesn’t break it with a sarcastic remark. Instead, she just takes another sip from her drink, watching the three of you with an unreadable expression. You shake your head at the situation at hand.

"Well…." Satoru says finally, his tone lighter, though his grin softens into something almost genuine. "There’s a first time for everything, right? And tonight’s as good a time as any. You’ve got your first sleepover buddies right here!"

You shake your head, exasperated. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you like me anyway," Satoru couldn’t help but quip, winking.

Suguru sighs, shaking his head as he leans back against the wall. "He’s not wrong about space, though. We could manage, senpai."

"And mind you, senpai, you are outnumbered." Shoko adds lazily, her voice tinged with amusement. “Three to one is an ultimate defeat.”

You glance around your small living room, taking in the ridiculousness of the situation. There’s no way they’re going to leave. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you doesn’t want them to. You took a moment and then breathed deeply. You finally nodded.

"Fine, fine." you grumble back at them. "But if any of you snore, you’re out the door."

Satoru cheers like he’s just won a grand prize, while Suguru chuckles softly. Shoko smirks, flicking ash from her cigarette. As they start debating who gets the couch versus the floor, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of warmth settle in your chest. It’s new, unfamiliar—but not entirely unwelcome.

Satoru, flipping the remote like he’s discovered a new channel once again, grins even wider. "Trust me, senpai! You’ll not regret this in the morning. You’ve been moping around here for weeks. We’re here to enlighten you with our brilliant company."

Shoko chimes in, raising her glass in a mock toast. "To brilliant company."

Suguru chuckles. "It’s a rough job, but someone’s gotta do it."

“You three are just…” You smiled at them. “Head to sleep already.”\

Satoru was right in the end, as he always was.

You didn’t regret it one bit, the next day.

If anything, you still held this memory close to your heart.

══════════════════

YOU HAD GOTTEN ENOUGH SLEEP. But not enough, like before. And you were glad about it. The faint winter morning light filters gently through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. You stir slightly, still caught in the fog of sleep, your body reluctant to leave the warmth of your blankets as you sprawled onto the soft feather stuffed pillows.

They had managed to rope you to sleep with them in the living room, almost truly like a sleep over, even when you wanted to sleep in your room. You had refused numerous times, but they kept going and asking. They weren’t giving up, so you had to defeat them in a coin toss. And they won. Hence, why you were here.

The quiet of the early morning lingers around you, comforting in its stillness, as the world outside remains frozen under a blanket of snow. It seemed like a good day to just laze around all morning. But just as you start to drift back into the comforting haze of sleep, the peace is shattered. An unmistakable voice, loud and intrusive, cuts through the silence like a knife.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" Satoru’s overly cheerful tone cuts through the quiet, followed by the sound of him banging a pan with a spoon. "Come on! Up, up, up! We’ve got plans!"

You groan, rolling over and pulling your blanket over your head. "What now, Satoru?" you mutter. “It’s too early.”

From the couch, Suguru grumbles something incoherent, his voice muffled by a pillow. Shoko, sprawled on the floor with a blanket half-draped over her, opens one eye, her expression murderous.

"Satoru, you idiot." she growls, her voice rough with sleep. "It’s too early for your nonsense. Shut up and let us sleep."

"But it’s not nonsense!" Satoru protests, his voice rising an octave in indignation. "You’ll never believe what I found out!"

He marches over to the window, dramatically pulling back the curtains and flooding the room with sunlight. You groan at the light, your eyes snapping open. It’s not even that early, well at least not to Gojo Satoru.

But to you and the other two, it was still pretty early enough to be annoyed. The sun was still up, brighter than you all wanted. You rub your eyes, squinting at the sun. Shoko however did not fare better, and nor did Suguru.

"Ow, my eyes!" Shoko snaps, covering her face with her blanket. “Satoru, you fucker!”

Suguru throws a pillow at Satoru, who dodges it effortlessly. "Whatever it is, Satoru, it can all wait." Suguru says, his voice thick with irritation. "I’m serious, Satoru. Some of us value our sleep."

"No, it can’t wait!" Satoru announces, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. "I found out we’re right near a theme park! Like, walking distance. We have to go!"

Both Shoko and Suguru groan in unison, their reactions almost synchronized. It’s like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and honestly, they probably have. You can see the shared look of exasperation pass between them, as if they’ve collectively accepted that nothing in their lives is ever going to be normal with Satoru around.

"You woke us up for that?" Shoko asks, glaring at him.

"It’s way too early for a theme park, Satoru." Suguru adds, rubbing his temple. "They’re not even open yet."

"But they will be, Suguru!" Satoru says, crossing his arms and pouting like a kid denied candy. "Come on, what’s wrong with you guys? Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"It’s still asleep, out of the jurisdiction, out of sight, out of mind." Shoko deadpans, rolling over.

Satoru dramatically huffs, throwing his arms in the air. "You’re all no fun!"

Shoko rolls her eyes dramatically. "You really have no shame, do you, Satoru?" she mutters under her breath, clearly amused but trying to hide it. "What, is this what you do now? Drag people out of bed like some kind of high-energy nightmare?"

Suguru sighed, leaning against the pillow he was hugging. "I can’t believe you, Satoru. Do you ever just… let people live?"

“Meh, meh. Sorry, I don’t talk to not fun people.” He drops onto the edge of your side of the air mattress and smiles at you. "What about you, senpai? You’re cool, right? You’ll go with me!"

You sigh, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "If it’ll get you to stop acting like a five-year-old, then... sure. Why not?"

Satoru freezes, turning to look at you with wide, starry cerulean eyes. "Really?" he asks, his voice brimming with excitement.

You, now fully awake and regretting every decision that brought you to this point, look from one to the other, then back to Satoru. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine, you win. I’m up. Can you please just leave me with some shred of dignity before you turn my whole apartment into a circus?"

In an instant, Gojo Satoru scoots closer, practically glowing with abundant joy. He almost looked exactly like a puppy, happy about being given a treat for the first time. Oftentimes, you forget that he was also a clan kid like you, who never experienced these things as well as one regular person would.

"You’re the best, senpai!" he says, his grin so dazzling it’s almost blinding. He leans in slightly, his face closer to yours than you expected, and the sudden proximity makes your heart skip a beat. “Ah, this is why you’re my favorite!”

You try to look away, feeling your entire face turn scarlet red. But his enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself smiling despite your embarrassment. You sighed at him, patting his shoulders.

"Don’t make me regret this, Satoru." you mumble, your face warm. “We’re gonna have fun, but in a way we all would enjoy, okay?”

“Hm, as you say, senpai!” He replies, still heavily enthusiastic.

Suguru, still lying on the other side of the air mattress, lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Great. Now we’re all going, aren’t we?"

"Obviously, Suguboo!" Satoru replies, his grin widening as he hops off your side. "I mean, what’s a theme park trip without all my best friends?"

“Hey, don’t call me Suguboo.”

“But I don’t want to stop, Suguboo—” Suguru threw a pillow at him, hitting him on the face.

Shoko groans again, pulling her blanket over her head. "You owe me coffee for this, Satoru." she mutters. “I need a lot of it to get through the day.”

“The Gojo Satoru infinite wallet pouch is ready to serve you today!”

“It's better buy me the best of the best, Satoru.”

"Until then, let’s drink the one at home. So, I’ll go make coffee in the kitchen." you say with a sigh.

“Hm, thank you, senpai.” Shoko grumbles from her position.

You slowly stand up from your spot, every muscle protesting the movement as you stretch. You walk toward the kitchen, hoping the smell of freshly brewed coffee will help shake off the remnants of sleep clinging to you like a fog.

“Senpai—”

You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Satoru. You can hear the exaggerated whine in his voice before he even finishes the sentence.

“No, no, it’s fine.” you tell him, waving him off without looking back. “You guys are already causing enough chaos. Let me handle the coffee. I’ve got it.”

Gojo Satoru doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he pouts dramatically, his voice rising in that almost childlike plea that never fails to get under your skin. You could feel your eye twitch.

“But, senpai.” he whines again, his tone a mix of desperation and mock sadness. “You know I’m really bad at making coffee. Remember that one time I tried to brew it and we ended up with, like, coffee-flavored charcoal?”

You can’t help but snort, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, I remember. I also remember you trying to make me some instant noodles, and I still haven’t forgiven you for that disaster.”

Satoru’s pout deepens, and he stares at you with those wide, blue eyes, his expression pleading like a lost puppy. “Senpai, please. I swear, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even throw in some cookies or something later. But just let me make the coffee, okay? I promise it’ll be good!”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, seeing his exaggerated frown, the way his lip quivers in mock sadness. He’s laying it on thick, but for some reason, it’s hard to keep a straight face. You shake your head. He’s such a child.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to burn down my kitchen, Satoru?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"That was one time!" he insists, dramatically throwing his arms up as though to plead his case. "One time, and I learned from my mistakes. I’m practically a professional now!" He gives a nod to himself as if he’s convinced of his own greatness.

You roll your purple eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch. "Fine, fine." you relent, shaking your head in disbelief. "But if I end up with a cup of mud instead of coffee, you’re cleaning up the mess."

Satoru’s face lights up immediately, his eyes sparkling with what can only be described as pure glee. Ah, he can smile like that too, you think to yourself. “Deal! You won’t regret it, senpai, I promise!”

As you make your way toward the kitchen, you hear him behind you, his footsteps almost skipping with excitement. "You’ll see! This is going to be the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had! I’m practically a coffee connoisseur!"

You try to hide your smirk as you enter the kitchen, already bracing yourself for whatever absurdities Satoru is about to bring to the table. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Satoru.” you mutter under your breath.

Satoru pauses just before entering the kitchen, looking at you with mock seriousness. “Senpai, I’ve mastered the art of coffee. I’ve trained under the world’s finest baristas. You won’t even recognize the quality!”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest. “Yeah, sure you have.”

Satoru steps into the kitchen with far too much confidence, already reaching for the coffee beans like he’s about to perform a magic trick. You know this is going to be interesting. You watch him closely.

"This is gonna be amazing." he mutters to himself, as if trying to convince both of you.

You shake your head, standing back to watch the chaos unfold. Whatever happens next, you’re almost certain it’ll be more entertaining than your original plan of quietly making the coffee yourself.

As Gojo Satoru makes the coffee, he starts buzzing around and chattering about which rides to hit first, you can’t help but feel a little less annoyed about the early wake-up call. His excitement is ridiculous, sure—but it’s also kind of... endearing.

Well, you’ve known that the moment you met him. But seeing it over and over again, it always made your heart ever warmer towards him. He’s different from every other clan folk you’ve met. And you were glad for that. You need more kind people in those spaces.

The soft morning haze still lingers, casting a gentle glow through the kitchen window as Satoru practically dances around your kitchen, his enthusiasm infectious but undeniably over-the-top. He’s already rattling off every possible ride and snack the theme park might offer, his words spilling out in rapid bursts like a hyperactive child who's had one too many sugar rushes.

"I swear, the rollercoaster is gonna be insane! I saw it on their website! And they’ve got this new cotton candy that’s like... blue and pink and it’s literally out of this world! Oh, and the haunted house? Don't even get me started. It's supposed to be the scariest thing ever! I’m telling you, we’re gonna have so much fun, senpai!”

He continues talking for a little bit more, moving around the kitchen like a whirlwind, pulling out everything he needs with too much flair—coffee beans, a grinder, and what you can only assume is the most complicated brewing setup you’ve ever seen.

You stand by the counter, watching the chaos unfold with the kind of resigned amusement that only Satoru can provoke. You cross your arms and lean against the countertop. “Did you wake up on a sugar high, or is this your normal level of insane?”

Satoru spins around with a bright grin, his hair still slightly messy from sleep but somehow looking perfect in that way only he can manage. “Who needs sugar when life is this exciting? Also, if I don’t make this coffee, I’m pretty sure your day will be cursed, senpai. It’s like a public service.”

You can’t help but snort at his dramatic flair, though you can’t deny the faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Right. And I suppose the curse you’re talking about involves caffeine-fueled chaos?”

"Exactly!" Satoru says, as though it’s the most logical thing in the world. “I mean, what’s life without a little chaos? You need this, senpai.”

You can only shake your head as he starts brewing the coffee. The machine whirs to life with a hum that cuts through the air, and Satoru, ever the perfectionist (or at least pretending to be), stands over it like a chef preparing a Michelin-starred dish. His face is a study in concentration, except for the occasional exaggerated eyebrow raise as he checks to see if you're watching.

He adds the coffee grounds with a flourish, as if it’s some kind of secret recipe, and begins to press buttons and twist knobs, making it all seem far more complicated than it really is. He’s making it harder for himself.

"Don’t you think you're taking this a little too seriously?" you ask, still leaning against the counter. “It’s just coffee, not a rocket launch.”

Satoru doesn’t even glance at you as he nods, clearly in the zone. “Senpai, the key to a perfect cup of coffee is precision. It’s an art form. I’ve mastered the art of brewing.” He shoots you a look, clearly proud of himself. “You’ll see.”

As the scent of coffee starts to fill the room, you watch him continue to move around with far too much energy. His arms are wide, gesturing as though he’s explaining some life-changing revelation. “I’m telling you, the theme park’s going to be insane. They’re bringing in a whole new section for kids! You know what that means? More rides for us!”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying how contagious his energy is, even if it’s borderline exhausting. “Right, because you’re so mature.” you tease, though you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “How does that even make sense? You’re literally going on rides for children.”

He pauses for a beat, then grins wider, as if proud of his reasoning. “You can’t blame a guy for wanting to have fun! Anyway, once this coffee’s ready, we can start planning. You’ll be wide awake and full of energy. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

You watch him for a moment longer, his utter absurdity and boundless enthusiasm filling the space like an electric current. The coffee machine hums away in the background, and you can feel the sleepiness start to melt away despite yourself.

Maybe, just maybe, a little chaos in your day wouldn’t be the worst thing. After all, with someone like Satoru around, it’s never really quiet anyway. But maybe, just maybe, that’s for the best. It would keep the nightmares away, even for a little while.

"Did you know they have this crazy roller coaster that does a full 360 loop?" Satoru exclaims, pulling up images of the park on his phone and shoving the screen into Suguru’s face, as he drinks the coffee.

Suguru, still lying on the couch as he drinks the coffee, swats lazily at Satoru’s hand without even opening his dark purple orbs. "Satoru, please.” he says in a gravelly voice. "It's not even 7 a.m. The park won’t open for hours. Go entertain yourself until then."

"But if we wait, the lines will be insane." Satoru whines, dropping dramatically onto the arm of the couch. "And if we don’t go early, we won’t get to ride everything!"

"Sounds tragic, really." Shoko mutters from her spot on the floor, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she peeks out from under her blanket. "Really, I don’t know how we’d recover from such a loss."

Satoru ignores her, spinning on his heel to face you. His glasses are perched lazily around his neck, and his azure eyes sparkle with an almost childlike glee. You drink your own coffee in silence. You didn’t want to look at him, but when your own lilac eyes and his own orbs met, you were done for.

"Come on, senpai." he pleads, clasping his hands together. "You already said you’d go. Convince these two party poopers!"

You rub your temples, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. But then he turns those eyes on you, full of such unbridled excitement that it catches you off guard. It’s rare to see Gojo Satoru like this, unfiltered and genuinely animated and fully eager, and something about it makes your earlier irritation melt away.

You sigh, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. "Fine, fine. I already said I’d go, didn’t I?"

Satoru freezes for a moment, then lights up like a firework. "You’re the best!" he exclaims, bounding toward you. He stops just shy of your position, crouching down so he’s at eye level. "No, really. You’re the absolute best. I knew you wouldn’t let me down!"

His face is close—too close. You can see the flecks of light in his cerulean blue eyes, the faint curl of his grin, and the way his energy practically radiates off him in waves. It’s overwhelming, and before you know it, your cheeks are burning.

"Stop looking at me like that, Satoru. I’m trying to drink the coffee." you mutter, turning your face away.

Satoru tilts his head, his grin morphing into something softer, more amused. "Like what?"

"Like that." you snap, though your voice lacks bite. You feel like a flustered mess, and his teasing only makes it worse.

Behind you, Suguru sits up, his hair falling messily over his shoulders. "This is exactly why I said no sleepovers. In fact, never again." he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "I forgot how exhausting the two of you can be together."

"You forgot because you’re just a party pooper." Satoru quips, standing up straight and stretching his arms over his head. "Come on, you two. Get up already! We’ve got a theme park to conquer! Sho, drink the coffee!"

"You’ve got a death wish, waking people up like this. On a Sunday, no less." Shoko says, dragging herself into a sitting position. She looks at you and smirks, her sharp gaze catching the faint redness in your cheeks. "And you. Blushing over Gojo Satoru, senpai? Never thought I’d see the day."

"I’m not blushing!" you snap defensively, though the warmth in your face betrays you. “It’s just hot, yeah, it’s just….”

"Sure, sure." Shoko says, standing up and stretching lazily. "I’ll let it slide since I’m getting Satoru’s black card paying for everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get up and drink the coffee, Sho!”

Suguru lets out a long sigh, standing and brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if I hear one complaint about how tired you are later, Satoru, I'll convince senpai to leave you stranded at the park by yourself."

"Deal!" Satoru chirps, already darting to the kitchen to grab snacks for the road. "This is going to be amazing, you’ll see!"

As the sun starts to warm your face, the faint glow of early morning sunlight breaking through the coolness of the winter air, you find yourself inexplicably smiling. You can’t help it—no matter how ridiculous it all is, no matter how absurd Satoru’s plans seem, something about this feels right. You finally finished your coffee.

“Maybe this break is exactly what I needed.” you admit, glancing up at the sky. “Not just the time off, but… well, this.” You gesture to the group, already well into some new debate about which roller coaster will give them the best thrill.

Shoko gives you a knowing look, her eyes slightly squinted in amusement. “Oh, so you’re finally admitting you’re not completely immune to chaos, huh?”

You shrug with a smirk. “I’m just saying, if I have to be dragged into a theme park against my will, at least it’s with the most entertaining people possible.”

Suguru shakes his head with a chuckle. “You know, I thought you were the one who was going to drag us into your chaos, senpai. But look at you now, following his lead.”

Satoru turns around mid-step, his energy never faltering. “Of course! It’s a lifestyle, people! Living on the edge, embracing the madness! You can thank me later when you’ve experienced true joy.”

“And I’ll thank you later when I recover from the exhaustion.” you mutter, but you can’t help but laugh.

Even if it’s a little chaotic, maybe it’s exactly the kind of break you needed. You’d never admit it to Satoru, but the thought of having a day without responsibilities or missions, without constantly running from one problem to the next, feels like the small escape you’ve been craving.

As the group heads toward the train station, Gojo Satoru still chattering about all the fun things you’re about to experience, you realize that despite all your reluctance and doubts, maybe this chaotic, ridiculous, and loud is exactly what you needed after all.

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T EXPECTED TO FEEL SO FAMILIAR THE MOMENT YOU STEPPED INTO THE GATES OF THE THEME PARK. You used to come here often, with….them. Each time you have the time of day from the week, they would suggest coming here.

It wasn’t too far from Kyoto Jujutsu High, so it was pretty easy to make your way here and then back home in a quick succession. But you haven’t been back since. So, you were surprised that it would still feel familiar and all at the same time, feel different.

The noise of the theme park surrounds you like a warm, chaotic hug—the laughter of children, the shrill screams of riders zooming by on roller coasters, the sugary scent of cotton candy and funnel cakes hanging in the air.

It’s a whirlwind of bright colors, flashing lights, and energy, but you feel strangely detached, standing on the sidewalk in front of the entrance.

It’s been so long since you’ve been to a theme park—six years, maybe more—and the memories that rise to the surface aren’t the happiest. The last time you were here, you were with Namie and Kaiko, and everything seemed so simple.

You can still remember the sound of their laughter, the way their faces had lit up when they’d seen their favorite ride, the way they had dragged you to the food stalls for overpriced snacks. It was carefree. Happy. But that’s not how you feel now.

The moment stretches on as you find yourself lost in thought, staring at the entrance like it's miles away from you. Before you can sink further into the old memories, you feel a soft presence next to you—gentle, like the calm after a storm.

Suguru stands beside you, not crowding you, but close enough to show that he’s here. He watches you for a moment, his sharp gaze taking in your distant expression. You didn’t even realize how far you had drifted from the group until now.

"Hey, senpai." he says, his voice soft and steady. "You alright?"

You blink, slowly turning toward him, and suddenly realize how out of it you must have looked. It’s hard to hide things from Geto Suguru; he’s the one who always seems to notice when you’re not quite there. You try to brush it off, offering him a small, tight smile.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking," you mutter, hoping that will be enough to convince him.

But Suguru isn’t fooled. "Thinking about what?"

You hesitate, your thoughts still clinging to the past like sticky cobwebs, but you push them away. You can’t stay in that space forever, not here, not today. You didn’t want to dampen the mood.

And you highly doubt that it’s wise to bring up Kaiko. Geto Suguru would at least have a rough knowledge about who she is. But still, a part of you was protective of her. Even with what she had become, you loved her. You still did. You always will.

"The last time I came to a theme park, it was with my own team, in Jujutsu High." you admit quietly. "I guess it’s just... weird being here without them."

Suguru doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he stands there for a moment, looking at you with an understanding that makes your heart do a small flip. Then, without skipping a beat, he asks you with a small smile.

"What’s something you’re looking forward to today? Something you can enjoy here, just for you, senpai?”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the question. It’s simple—too simple, but somehow it feels like it’s exactly what you needed to hear. Your thoughts trail back to the rides, the sweet treats, the nostalgic excitement of being at a theme park. You hadn’t thought about what you wanted. It had all been about avoiding the past.

"I... I guess I used to love roller coasters, I suppose." you admit, a little sheepishly, as you glance around at the bustling theme park. "And the food, of course. They have some good sandwiches here. But, of course, it's so overpriced, but it always tastes amazing."

Suguru’s lips curl into a soft, almost amused smile as he watches your face light up, just a little. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you, taking in the subtle shift in your demeanor. Then, with a flick of his hand, he gestures to the chaos around you, as if presenting it like a gift.

“Well, what better place to indulge, huh?”

You chuckle at his nonchalant presentation of the madness around you. It’s comforting, somehow. It’s like he can see exactly what you need without saying a word. It’s one of the reasons why, in all the chaos, Geto Suguru feels like the calm center. He can be a safe zone. You think you could consider him as one.

"Then let’s make today about you, senpai." he says, his voice warm and steady. "You like roller coasters, right? Go get on one. You can even scream as loud as you want." He pauses for a beat, his eyes twinkling just a bit. “If you want, I’ll go with you.”

A laugh bubbles out of you at the thought of getting on a ride and screaming your head off. You didn’t think you could feel even a little bit of excitement today, but there it is—a lightness that you didn’t know you were missing. You shake your head slightly, but there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Scream as loud as I want, huh? That might not be pretty, but sure, I’ll take you up on that.”

Suguru’s smile widens at the sight of you relaxing, just a little. His presence is so calm, so steady, that it feels like the weight on your shoulders lightens just from his quiet support. You find it oddly comforting, like the world is allowed to be a little less heavy for just a moment.

"You don’t have to hold back, you know." he continues, his voice soft but insistent. "Let go for once. It's just you, me, and the roller coasters. It’s about having fun. You’ve been too serious for too long." He gives you a knowing look, his expression sincere. “I get it. Sometimes you need someone to remind you how to laugh.”

His words are gentle, but they carry more weight than you'd expect. Suguru has a way of making you feel seen, like he knows the quiet battles you fight even when you don’t say a word. The tension in your chest eases, and for the first time since arriving, you feel something like hope stirring inside you.

You realize how badly you’ve been craving a moment like this—something simple, something that doesn’t feel like a mission or a responsibility. It’s just a day, just a small escape. And you were grateful, grateful that you don’t feel this heavy weight on you. Even just one day.

“I might just take you up on that, Suguru.” you say, your smile widening as you meet his gaze. "But if I scream my lungs out, I’m blaming you."

Suguru chuckles softly, a warm, genuine sound that fills the space between you. "Deal. But I’ll be right there with you. We’ll make it a proper scream-fest."

With that, you feel your shoulders relax further, the weight on your chest lifting. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve been missing the little joys like this. The chaos, the laughter, and Suguru’s quiet support. You realize that sometimes, it’s the simplest things, the smallest moments, that make all the difference.

"And hey, senpai." Suguru adds, leaning in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper, as if he's sharing a top-secret plan. "If you feel embarrassed, we can have Satoru with us. I’m sure he’ll scream worse and be scared worse. He’ll never live it down. Or better yet, let’s get him on a bungee ride. I’m sure he’ll look absolutely terrible on camera while he screams.”

You blink at him, and for a moment, you actually consider it. The image of Gojo Satoru flailing around on a bungee ride, his usual air of invincibility replaced by sheer terror, is just too funny to ignore. The mental picture has you snorting a little, despite yourself.

“You’re actually a menace.” you reply with a grin, shaking your head. “But that does sound like something I could get behind.”

Suguru’s grin widens, his purple eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought you’d like that idea. It’ll be hilarious. Can you imagine the look on his face when he realizes he’s about to jump off a platform, all while trying to look cool?”

You can't help but laugh at the thought of Satoru trying to keep up his cool guy persona while the bungee cord yanks him into a wild, screaming freefall. “You know, you’re right. He would try to act like it’s no big deal, and then probably end up screaming like a baby.”

Suguru chuckles, clearly enjoying the idea just as much as you are. “Exactly. He won’t know what hit him. And then we’ll never let him live it down. We’ll put the footage on a loop in the dorms. Great cinematic masterpiece!”

At this point, you're grinning ear-to-ear, the tension from earlier all but forgotten. “I’m so in. I’m going to bring it up next time we’re all together.”

Suguru laughs, giving you a playful nudge. “I knew you’d come around. Best part is, he won’t even see it coming. Just wait until you hear him scream. You’ll thank me later.”

The way his laughter seems to light up the space between you makes your heart skip a beat. His words, the way he’s paying attention to you in a way that feels so... personal, warm you from the inside out.

It’s not just about the theme park or the roller coasters anymore, those are little trivial things. It’s the small things—the way he cares without making a big deal about it. You don’t have to carry everything alone. Not when he’s around.

You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks redden under his gaze. "Thanks, Suguru." you murmur, looking away, not quite able to hold his gaze for too long. "I needed that."

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, like a warm breeze. "Anytime, senpai. I’m always here for you."

You give him a small, bashful smile, feeling a flutter in your chest as you turn toward the rest of the group. Satoru’s already waving at you from the front of the line for a roller coaster, looking far too excited for someone who’s supposed to be exhausted from sleeping late last night.

You could believe Shoko’s own demeanor to be more true to life, as she grumbles drinking her mocha frappe beside Satoru in the quiet. You glance back at Suguru, who’s still standing beside you, his calm demeanor making you feel a little more grounded.

"Alright." you say, finally feeling a bit more you than you did when you first walked into the park. "Let’s do this. But I’m not going on the bungee rides, no matter how much you try to make me."

Suguru raises an eyebrow, his smile still soft. "We’ll see about that, senpai. I can be pretty persuasive, after all."

You blush, rolling your lilac eyes, but as the group starts to move toward the ride, you feel lighter. It’s a small step, but a step forward nonetheless. Today, you’re going to enjoy the little things. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll let yourself have a little fun along the way.

As you walk toward Satoru and Shoko, you could tell that there was going to be chaos on the ride ahead. You could feel Suguru’s quiet presence beside you, as he follows you and the warmth in your chest spreads, gentle and comforting.

Maybe this can be a day for new memories with them. Not just old ones you’ve been keeping too deep inside. Maybe you could have more in this life than the grief too big to carry in your heart.

The moment you and Suguru start to fall in step with the rest of the group, Satoru was already bouncing on his heels, antsy with excitement. His cerulean eyes are practically sparkling as he spots the first ride beside the booths.

It was a towering, twisting roller coaster that loops and plunges in ways that make even the most adrenaline-junkie riders second guess their life choices.

“Come on! We’re going on this one first!” Satoru says, grabbing your wrist before you can even protest. His grip is firm but playful, and he tugs you along like you’re a piece of loose paper in the wind. “We’re going to have so much fun here!”

You stumble slightly as he pulls you forward, and your heart skips a beat at how sudden and strong his pull is. You knew he was enthusiastic, but you didn’t expect him to not be afraid of that. It was worse than a regular roller coaster you enjoyed.

"Whoa, Gojo Satoru—slow down!" you manage to get out, trying to keep your balance as you hurry to keep up with his eager steps. His energy is so contagious that it's a bit overwhelming, and you’re already feeling a little winded just from trying to keep up with him.

Satoru looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a wide grin, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh? You scared, senpai?" he teases, slowing just a little, but not enough for your liking. “I thought you were a roller coaster person!”

"I am!" you reply, more defensively than you mean to. "But I don’t need to break into a sprint to get on a ride, Satoru!" You wince, realizing you’re practically out of breath already. “You’re just too fast for me, that’s all.”

He chuckles, slowing his pace just enough to let you catch up, though you can still see the excitement bubbling in his gaze. He turns fully toward you, flashing that trademark grin. “Sorry, sorry! I just really want you to have fun! This ride is amazing, you’ll see! It’ll make you forget all about whatever you were thinking about earlier.” He winks, as though this is some grand plan to distract you.

You can’t help but blush at his playful confidence. It’s hard to ignore the way his presence takes over a space, even when he's just trying to drag you onto a ride. “You’re way too much sometimes, you know that?”

Satoru laughs, his hand still holding yours tightly as he walks backward in front of you, his gaze never leaving yours. “What? I’m just being enthusiastic! You’re gonna love it. I promise.”

You try to resist, but his energy is infectious, and despite your initial hesitation, you find yourself smiling. You glance over at Suguru and Shoko, who are walking a few paces behind, Suguru shaking his head with a small smile, clearly used to Gojo’s antics by now.

"Satoru," you say, pulling back just slightly, trying to dig in your heels. "I’m not sure I’m ready for that huge of a ride right off the bat. I mean, I—"

But before you can finish your sentence, Satoru is already gripping your hand a little tighter, his signature grin plastered across his face. Without hesitation, he begins turning you toward the massive roller coaster queue, practically dragging you along.

“Nope, no backing out now, senpai! You said you��d scream, so let’s scream!”

"Wait, Satoru, seriously—!" you protest, stumbling a little as he pulls you forward with alarming enthusiasm.

"Suguru, help!" you call out, half-laughing and half-panicking, like a kid being dragged along by an overzealous parent.

Suguru, who’s been watching this whole spectacle with an amused smirk, laughs out loud. "Alright, alright. I’ll come with you, senpai." He gives you a knowing look, one that says he’s not about to let you go through this alone.

"Good. Thank you." you mutter, slightly relieved, though you're not sure how much that’ll actually help. Suguru’s calm presence is certainly reassuring, but there’s no amount of support that could fully prepare you for the monstrous roller coaster looming in front of you.

Satoru, in all his glory, turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “Don’t worry, senpai. You’re gonna love it. And if you scream like a little kid, I won’t judge... much.” He chuckles, then starts tugging you forward again. “Come on, let’s make this fun! Just think about the view from the top!”

“You’re both insane,” you mutter, though you can’t hide a reluctant grin. You can tell you’re probably not getting out of this one, not with Satoru’s unshakeable confidence and Suguru’s good-natured support. Maybe this would end up being more fun than you expected—though you’d reserve judgment until after the ride.

Suguru gives you a small smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, it’s all about enjoying the moment. Besides, if you scream, we’ll have some great footage for the bungee to laugh at later. Let him have his fun here."

You pause, shooting him a sideways glance. “You guys really have it out for me today, don’t you?”

"Of course," Suguru replies with a teasing tone. "You look like you could use a good scream."

"You're going to pay for this." you warn both of them, but you can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes. Maybe, just maybe, this chaotic day was exactly what you needed after all.

“I’ll take three tickets, please.” he says confidently, practically bouncing on his feet as he hands over the money. “And they’re both with me!”

He gestures to you and Suguru with exaggerated flair, and for a moment, you can’t help but roll your eyes, though you can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. His enthusiasm is impossible to resist.

As the three of you board the ride and take your seats, Satoru buckles in beside you with exaggerated care, flashing you a playful wink. "See? I told you we’d have fun."

Suguru takes your hand and smiles at you. “It’s going to be okay, senpai. We’re here with you.”

You chuckle nervously, glancing at the massive drops ahead of you. “You know, you’re really making me regret agreeing to this.”

Satoru tilts his head, his glasses slightly shifting as he grins. "I’m just here to help you face your fears, senpai.” He gives you a look of mock seriousness. "If you scream, I won’t judge. Promise."

You snort, shaking your head. "I’m not scared. I just don’t like being dragged into things at full speed."

The ride jerks to life hard, and before you know it, the cart lurches forward. You feel your stomach leap as you zoom forward on the track, the wind whipping through your hair.

And for a split second, you forget everything, the past, the hesitation, the weight of your thoughts. It’s just the rush, the dizzying sensation of the roller coaster twisting, turning, and plunging.

And there, right next to you, Satoru and Suguru’s faces are lit up with the brightest, most carefree smile you’ve ever seen. Their bright purple and cerulean orbs are wide with excitement, and you can’t help but laugh, the sound drowned out by the noise of the ride.

You scream as you plummet down one of the steep drops, still holding onto Suguru’s hand. The other free one is trying to reach for Satoru’s, who catches yours as he laughs against the drop. The rush of adrenaline flooding your veins, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel free.

As the ride slows and the ground levels out, Satoru turns toward you, his grin wide and unashamed. "See? Told you you’d love it."

“You really are gripping my hand hard, senpai.” Suguru butted in too, grinning. “You sure you aren’t scared anymore?”

You look at him, laughing, feeling the aftershocks of the ride still coursing through you. “You’re impossible. Both of you.” you say, though your tone is affectionate, and your cheeks are flushed, partly from the ride, partly from the fact that he’s just too damn charming.

Satoru just beams, squeezing your hand briefly before letting go. “Impossible is my middle name, senpai.”

Suguru laughs. “Wah, Satoru. That’s the worst thing you could have said. Corny as shit.”

“Hey, it was great!”

And for the first time in a long while, you find yourself really laughing, your worries forgotten, at least for now. Maybe it’s not about the past at all. Maybe it’s about moments like this, moments of pure, unadulterated fun.

With them by your side, you realize you might just start looking forward to more of them. For the first time in a while, you think you could smile with the utmost tenderness from your heart.

══════════════════

THERE WAS STILL MUCH TO EXPLORE. The sun is high, and the day stretches before you, bright and full of promise. The chaos of the theme park no longer feels overwhelming; instead, it’s just... fun. Y

ou’re laughing, you’re present, and the weight of the past feels just a little lighter with every ride, every bite of food, and every moment spent with the group.

The roller coaster was only the beginning, and now, you find yourself happily floating through the park, trying out different attractions with Satoru dragging you from one to the next like an excited child.

While Suguru keeps a steady, slightly exasperated pace beside you. His protective, calming energy balances out Satoru’s manic enthusiasm perfectly, and you can’t help but appreciate how easy it is to be around him, even in the middle of all this chaos.

Shoko had taken the liberty of following you guys and disappearing, with Satoru’s black card in hand and buying at the gift stores. She was enjoying herself as much as everyone else too. When she wasn’t doing that, she was taking pictures and videos on her phone. Satoru excitedly tells her to send the videos over to him later.

But of course, Gojo Satoru’s antics are far from over.

“Look at this!” Satoru exclaims, his voice nearly drowned out by the noise of the park as he rushes over to a nearby cart with trinkets. "I have to get this! It’s a giant plushie version of a panda! It's practically begging me to take it home!"

Before anyone can protest, Satoru’s already handing over wads of cash to the vendor, grinning wildly as he tosses the plushie over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. The panda plush is almost as tall as he is, which makes it even more ridiculous, but Gojo doesn’t seem to care.

Suguru, who has been following along at a slower pace, shakes his head with a smile that’s half exasperation, half fondness. "Satoru, that thing’s the size of a small child. You really think you’re going to carry that around the park?"

Satoru doesn’t miss a beat. "It’ll be my new best friend!" he declares dramatically, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. "You don’t get it, Suguru. It has character. It’ll make the trip ten times more fun!"

By this point, you also needed a break. So you found yourself joining Shoko as the two continued to argue. You and Shoko, who have been happily munching on snacks while observing the aftermath of their ridiculous skirmish, exchange a glance.

Shoko takes another bite of her cotton candy and grins. "At least they’re both having fun, don’t you think?" she says, her tone dry but amused. "And if you’re being honest, you kind of like having them around like this, don’t you, senpai?"

You blush at her words, suddenly self-conscious. "I... I mean, who doesn’t? They’re both good people. And good natured too!"

Shoko raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint never leaving her eyes. "Right. One’s a man-child who thinks a giant stuffed panda is a necessity and the other arguing about how that isn’t a necessity with the passion of a thousand suns. Hm."

You laugh, a little embarrassed but also entertained by how spot-on she is. "Okay, maybe they’re both a little much sometimes. But it’s hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm. Satoru’s—well, he’s fun. And Suguru keeps that well–balanced, don’t you think?"

Shoko gives you a knowing look, her smile a little softer now, and you realize she might have noticed something you haven’t quite put into words. You shift uncomfortably, but before you can think too much about it, Satoru comes running back over to you, holding the giant panda up in the air like it’s some sort of victory flag.

"Look at this thing! Isn’t it amazing, senpai?" he says, practically bouncing with excitement. "I’m going to name it Taro. And no, Suguru, you can’t stop me."

Suguru sighs dramatically but can’t quite hide his smile. "I’ve given up at this point." he mutters, taking a french fry from your food box. "Do whatever you want."

You giggle at the dynamic between them. It’s like watching a child and his ever-patient older sibling, and it’s oddly endearing. You’d never had a sibling, but looking at them, you wondered if this is what it was like.

"Well, Taro looks very... Gojo Satoru coded, don’t you think?" you say, reaching out to pat the plushie’s oversized head. "You two are practically made for each other."

Satoru beams at you, clearly thrilled with your approval. "Right? I knew you’d get it!" He gives the panda a dramatic hug, causing you to laugh even harder.

Meanwhile, Shoko, who's been quietly watching the exchange, takes another bite of her food before leaning toward you with a grin. “So, do you think this is a sign that Gojo Satoru’s never going to grow up?” she asks, a little teasing. “Our very own Peter Pan!”

You laugh and shrug. "I mean, who needs to grow up when you’ve got a giant panda plushie and a whole theme park to play in?"

Shoko nods sagely, as if this is the most reasonable thing in the world. "True. At least it keeps him entertained."

As you continue walking, Satoru and Suguru continue talking animatedly ahead of you, Shoko nudges you gently with her elbow. “But hey, senpai.” she says, her voice a little softer now, “I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s not easy for you. But you’re doing okay.”

The kindness in her voice catches you off guard, and you blink, surprised by the sincerity behind her words. "Thanks, Shoko." you say quietly. "I think I needed this. This moment, today."

“Good.” she says with a small, warm smile. “We all need to have some fun once in a while. Besides, Satoru wouldn’t let you get away without a little chaos. It's his specialty."

You laugh again, the sound light and free, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like you can breathe a little easier. Maybe you’ve been taking life too seriously. Maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to be a little reckless and carefree every once in a while.

And with Satoru pulling you toward yet another ride with Taro under his arm, you realize that you’re actually happy. Maybe this is what you’ve been missing—moments like these. Moments with people who understand you, who bring out your laughter, who make you forget the darker parts of your past, even if just for a day.

As Satoru hands you a churro, his grin wide and infectious, you feel your heart lighten. Maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to enjoy the chaos after all. You and the others continue enjoying the park, the laughter and chaos of Satoru’s little antics here and there providing a comforting backdrop, you find yourself starting to lose track of time.

The once bright winter sun’s starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden light. You’re just about to take another bite of your churro when you hear a familiar voice call out to you from behind.

"Senpai….is that... you?" The voice sounds amused, a little teasing, and you immediately recognize it.

You turn, still holding the churro in your hand, and blink in surprise when you spot two very familiar faces making their way through the crowd. Iori Utahime is the first to wave, her expression a mix of surprise and slight exasperation as she spots you.

Kusakabe Atsuya is also trailing behind her, looking as stoic as ever but with a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he spots you crowding with the Tokyo trio. You blinked and then smiled widely, waving at them.

"Utahime! Kusakabe!" you say, a little surprised but smiling nonetheless. “What are you guys doing here?”

Utahime smirks, crossing her arms as she gives you an exaggerated look. "I could ask you the same thing, senpai. But I guess it’s not surprising you'd be here.”

“Hm, I still live in Kyoto, no?”

“Yeah, I know. But considering all the hype Gojo Satoru’s been making about it, it’s a different loudness to behold." She tilts her head toward Satoru, who’s still clutching his giant panda plushie, clearly oblivious to the attention it’s drawing.

Satoru perks up at the mention of his name and waves the plushie in the air like a victory flag. "Hey, Utahime! Kusakabe!" he calls, completely unapologetic about the chaos he’s caused. "Come join the party! You guys have to ride the roller coaster. It’s amazing."

Utahime raises an eyebrow but doesn't seem all that surprised by Satoru’s little antics. "I'll pass on the roller coaster, thanks. But the food smells good, so I'll gladly join you for that." She glances at the churro in your hand and adds, "You’ve got the right idea, senpai."

You chuckle, holding up the churro in silent offering, and Utahime eagerly accepts. "Nice to see you’re indulging. It’s pretty good, this churro!" she comments with a small grin, then turns to Kusakabe, who’s silently surveying the park, arms crossed as usual.

Kusakabe shrugs, clearly indifferent but still managing a rare, approving glance your way. "I’m just here because she dragged me along. She said it’s not good to hide away in the dorms all day.”

“I’m going to say she’s right.” You smiled at him. “You do hide away often, still practicing.”

“You’re not making a scene, are you, Gojo?" Kusakabe asks, his tone flat but carrying just a hint of sarcasm.

Satoru’s grin widens even further, and he walks over to Kusakabe, putting an arm around his shoulders in the most obnoxious, over-the-top way. "Making a scene? Me? Never!" Satoru says, practically vibrating with energy. "I’m just making memories with senpai and my friends, my man. This is what it’s all about!"

Kusakabe doesn’t even flinch, though you catch the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Right, right." he mutters dryly. "Making memories... with a stuff toy named Taro."

Satoru holds the panda up proudly. "Taro is my companion for the day! You can’t argue with that!"

You find yourself laughing, the sight of Satoru’s overenthusiasm, Kusakabe’s dry humor, and Utahime’s grin at the churro making the day feel even more perfect. It’s strange, but for once, you don’t mind the noise, the chaos. It feels... easy. Fun. Like this is where you were always supposed to be. Somehow, it was like the old days again.

"Okay, I’ll admit, senpai." Utahime says after taking a bite of the churro. "This place is pretty fun. I didn’t expect it to be so fun. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you till now.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, smiling. "See? I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Especially on the food.”

“Oh, I think it’s the best part!” She grinned at you.

“Right?”

“Utahime–senpai!” Ieiri Shoko called out on the other side of the park cross, smiling as she held a shopping bag on her shoulder and another in her hands.

Utahime blushed and smiled widely, waving back as she came rushing to her. “Shoko, you’re here too!”

You blinked, turning to Suguru. “Does she……”

Suguru laughed at your assumption. “I would have thought you would notice it first, senpai.”

Kusakabe chimes in with his usual deadpan humor, his arms still crossed. "I don’t know about you guys, but I was hoping for a more relaxing day. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind."

"Relaxing?" Satoru repeats with a dramatic gasp, as if the very word offends him. "Who needs relaxation when you’ve got theme park rides, food, and Taro here to make everything better?"

Kusakabe sighed heavily. “I can’t believe my day off is going to be spent like this.”

You smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t mind, Atsuya.”

///

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT YAWN AS THE PARK GREW DARKER. You can feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones after hours of running around the theme park, riding everything from roller coasters to bumper cars, and indulging in far too many snacks. Your feet are sore, your eyelids are heavy, but there's a sense of contentment that you can’t shake off. Despite the chaos and noise, you’ve enjoyed yourself more than you thought you would.

Utahime, who had been tolerating Satoru’s antics all day, is clearly at her breaking point. She glares at him as he laughs, still carrying around that ridiculous plushie, and mutters something under her breath about "never going anywhere with him again."

Shoko, ever the voice of reason, is beside her, trying to calm her down, though it’s clear she’s also amused by Utahime’s exasperation. You can think that the supposed crisis was averted when Shoko took her to go shop at more stores with her.

They were holding hands too, which made Utahime feel a little bit more at ease. Kusakabe had gone off to follow them, when Satoru indulged in more rides.

Geto Suguru, with his usual composed demeanor, is also enjoying the calm—his serene expression only interrupted by the occasional glance in your direction on his right side, already starting to feel the weariness of the day.

Unlike Gojo Satoru who had a boundless energy in him, you were already too tired to do anything except sit down. You had made your way over there, feeling like your legs might give out at any moment. As you sit down, your exhaustion catches up with you, and you rest your head on the back of the bench for a moment, just to steady yourself.

Without thinking, you lean toward Suguru, resting your head gently on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the soft weight of his presence beside you. It’s comforting. Safe. The world around you fades into a blur as your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion finally pulling you under.

The sound of Satoru’s voice breaks through the haze of sleepiness. "Hey! Where’s everyone gone off to?!" he calls out, his usual loud, boisterous tone cutting through the air. You can hear the faint sound of him approaching, his footsteps getting closer.

Suddenly, you feel Suguru’s shoulder shift slightly, and you crack open one eye, only to see Satoru was standing in front of you, his mischievous smile wide. He’s about to say something when Suguru, with an almost imperceptible shift in his expression, raises a finger to his lips.

"Shh…." he says, in a voice low enough that only Satoru can hear. “Senpai’s falling asleep.”

Satoru blinks, surprised for a moment, before his smile softens and he looks down at you, still leaning against Suguru with your eyes closed. He crosses his arms, tilting his head, clearly trying to contain a grin. "Look at you two. So cute." Satoru comments quietly, his voice teasing yet soft. “Oh? Is senpai drooling?”

“Shhhh….let senpai sleep already.”

Suguru’s dark purple eyes flick up to meet Satoru’s infinite blue, and there’s a brief, silent exchange between the two of them. Suguru doesn’t even need to say anything. Satoru already knows. He looks down at you again, then back at Gojo with a small, barely perceptible nod.

Satoru, never one to back down from a playful moment, smiles even wider, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. He lets his finger trace against the edges of your hair. He smiles.

"You know, you look really cute when you're asleep like that, senpai." He leans in closer, but not too close, his voice soft enough so you won’t hear him. “Get some sleep.”

Suguru glances up at Satoru once more, his calm demeanor never shifting, and he simply says, "Satoru, please.." His tone is polite, but there’s an edge of finality to it that even Satoru recognizes.

Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, clearly enjoying this more than he probably should, but he obeys, taking a step back. "Fine, fine." he mutters playfully. "But I swear, if I had a picture of this, I’d have it framed."

You barely hear him, still drifting in and out of sleep. There’s a soft, comforting pressure on your head from where your hair rests against Suguru’s shoulder, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing calms you, making you feel like you don’t need to worry about anything for a while.

You feel a smile tug at your lips, the warmth of their presence wrapping around you like a blanket, and you let yourself drift deeper into the comfort of the moment, surrounded by the quiet affection.

And then it happened.

Satoru looked up as soon as Suguru did.

The soft shift of your sleeping form caught their attention. You stirred slightly against Suguru, instinctively curling in a little tighter, your body seeking warmth as a chill swept through the room.

Suguru’s expression softened, his eyes tracing your movements, but it was Satoru who spoke first, his voice unexpectedly quiet. “It’s snowing.”

The faint glow of the streetlight outside caught the flurry of snowflakes falling from the sky, dusting everything in a soft, peaceful white. The world outside felt miles away from the cozy warmth of your shared space, but the beauty of the moment lingered between them.

Satoru’s usual playful demeanor faded for a moment as he watched you shift again, his gaze softening. It was rare for him to be still, his mind always racing with a thousand thoughts, a thousand plans. But the simplicity of the scene made him pause.

Suguru glanced at the window, then back at you, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while, huh?”

Satoru chuckled under his breath, but there was a softness to it that didn’t quite match his usual carefree tone. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s nice to just... be here. For once.”

The snowfall outside grew heavier, the world outside becoming a blur of white. The silence between the three of you stretched on, comfortable and warm, until Suguru shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you. He adjusted the blanket, making sure you were tucked in tightly.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit.” Suguru murmured. “No need to rush back into the chaos.”

Satoru nodded, his grin returning as he looked at the falling snow. “Yeah, I think we all could use a little more of this.”

You didn’t wake, lost in the warmth of the moment, the sound of the snowfall outside blending with the quiet of the room. For a moment, everything felt like it could stay this way forever—still, serene, and untouchable. They wanted it to.

The night stretched on, and the snow continued to fall. And in that quiet, the weight of everything outside seemed to fade, leaving just the three of them, comfortable in each other's company, wrapped in warmth, surrounded by the calm embrace of winter.

Everything was great, that last Christmas.

The next year, you thought about these memories.

And just as much, you cried too much about it too.

Because you were alone again, without them to lean on.

But you would never know about it now.

172 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 13 days ago

Text

In the mood for...

Dec 29th

Link limit has been reached, but please still leave any suggestions in the comments or replies 😊 - Mod C

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1. Hey this is for itmf! I want to see A) any bodyguard au's either wwx or lwj could be a bodyguard? Or B) Non a/b/o mpreg that could be modern au or normal timeperiod

Bodyguard king by 74243 (E, 8k, WangXIan, F/F, Modern, Idol WWX, Bodyguard LWJ, Female NHS, Platonic D/s, Loss of Virginity, Not NOT inspired by KUWTK s05e04, When u do what u love u never work a day in ur life)

lightning in a bottle by nighimpossible (E, 12k, WangXian, Bodyguard, Modern, Mutual Pining, Blow Jobs, (light) Rope Bondage, Scientist WWX, Bodyguard LWJ, Kitchen Sex, Anal Fingering)

the old-fashioned way by Anonymous (T, 1k, WangXian, Body Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Mpreg, Trans MXY, body fluids, references to canon suicide, this is a funny crack ficlet, despite the rest of the tags, trans WWX, Post-Canon, Transphobia mentioned, Trans Male Character)

The Amazing Adventures Of Jiang Xiaolian And Family by bumbledees (T, 71k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC/WN, Mild to Moderate Pining, lotus pier siblings quietly also have a penchant for chaos, WWX will make LQR like him whether the old man likes it or not, WWX just wants to have fun and not be killed and also to go to his sister’s wedding, Mutual Pining, WWX is more stubborn than a boulder and twice as dense, Everybody Lives, nobody who matters anyways, except for WN, you’re an angel and we’re delighted you’re here, WangXian canon is sad bitch let’s get you some fun, “WWX fools the entire cultivation world”, “and kicks up drama in front of their salad”, testimonial from reader Vapid_Girl and a good summary of this fic, warnings for sexual harassment due to JGS, and for the canonical behavior of the jin clan ie war crimes, forced labor, human trafficking, etc., hello naughty jin cultivators it’s revenge time :), jiang “rolling gay crisis” wanyin, wen “deserved better” qionglin, yunmeng bros feelings, copious use of bad language grace à JC, my oddball collection of headcanons concerning fierce corpses, WN has a playful streak, anyone friends with WWX has to have one on some level, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, extremely brief mention of something approaching a conversion camp but it’s just two sentences, Happy Ending, Let JC Experience Happiness, WN is technically undead in this so uhhh warning for that, he’s far more like a vampire than a zombie honestly, so JC gets his own YA supernatural romance novel basically, at least WN doesn’t sparkle????, Crack Taken Mostly Seriously, like many of WWX’s best ideas it starts as a joke!, purposeful baby aquisition, WWX when will you learn that there are consequences to your actions) arguable whether this counts as mpreg if the "m" stands for "melon", but the later fics have a lot of focus on pregnancy and child rearing if that's a plus

All I Want by Selenay (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, No Powers, Mpreg, Post Holiday Romance, Consequences, Reunions, Idiots in Love, Teacher WWX, Rating earned in later chapters, Handwavey Biology)

🧡Brilliant Mistake by brooklinegirl (E, 53k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Pollen, Mpreg, dubcon, Modern Cultivators, Dubious Medical Science)

On The Way Home by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 58k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mpreg, Non-a/b/o mpreg, Unprotected Sex, Unexpected Pregnancy, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Pining while fucking)

They Have a Son series by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 79k, WangXian, ZhuiYi, Mpreg, overly indulgent nonsense, Curtain Fic)

in a river you wade by bleuett (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Kid Fic)

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2. For INTMF do you have any recs based on the untamed version. Where wy comes back from the burial grounds and treats lwj with indifference. Basically lwj wanting to help wy but wy taking it the wrong way and tells lwj to mind his business kind of vibes. Thanks!

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

Standing Engagement by x_los (M, 18k, WangXian, ChengQing, Misunderstandings Accidental Engagement, Sunshot Campaign, Golden Core Reveal, Canon-Typical Violence, Accidental Relationship, WQ Lives, Everybody Lives, Episode 19, Episode 21).

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3. Hello, hello, hello! Good morning/afternoon/evening! For "I'm in the Mood For" - LWJ spoiling WWX. like full on indulging WWX's wants and needs no matter how crazy they are. WWX doesn't even have to say anything for LWJ to just shower him with gifts because LWJ just wants to see WWX happy!! let WWX be a kept man/trophy husband!!

bonus points if other characters call out LWJ's favoritism lol

no sugar daddy au pls. don't want their relationship to have any kind of transaction. modern au are also welcome :D

thank you!!!

my rivers tilt towards you by perfectlyrose (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fairy Tale Elements, dragonji, mentions of, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, First Meetings, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort)

Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not Rated, 4k, WangXian, Fluff and Humor)

🔒a garden, a tenderness by butterflylungs (E, 16k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators, Getting Together, casual hook up to friends to lovers, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Wound Tending, Happy Ending, Age Difference, Power Imbalance, wwx's canon problems with the jiangs, mentioned past wangxian/others, top LWJ, slightly undernegotiated kink, gege kink, Spit As Lube, Overstimulation)

The Misunderstanding by kisahawklin (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider) "Sugar Daddy" is a term used in the last two fics but Lan Zhan is NOT actually a Sugar Daddy in them (other people misunderstand Wei Ying and Lan Zhan's relationship).

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4. Happy holidays to the admins of my favorite blog! My ITMF request: fics with more serious consequences for Jin Ling stabbing WWX. I'd like more drama and more reaction from the people who were there (bonus points if Sizhui is there!) Maybe WWX dies or at least tries to lmao, and LWJ and JC lose their shit in a major way. Jin Ling POV welcome!

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5. Hello I’m in the mood for any canon divergence, time travel, fix it, or sort of do over where they prevent people from dying. Thank youuu🫶🏻 @djalexdask

Devotion of Love by SaiaiSaiko (M, 47k, WangXian, 3zun, WWX & LSZ, WWX Lives, NMJ Lives, MXY Lives, Servant WWX, WWX in MXY's Body, Sentient Burial Mounds, Healer WWX, BAMF WWX, WangXIan Adopt LSZ, POV Alternating, Canon-Typical Violence, Petty LWJ, Petty WWX, Self-Harm, Canonical Self-Harm, LWJ Plays Inquiry, WWX answers Inquiry, Golden Core Reveal, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Good Sibling JC, Good Person JGY, The Yin Tiger Seal, Domestic Fluff) It doesn't prevent all of the deaths but some are prevented. It diverges after the Masacer of Nightless City

Fowl Play by Alwritey87 (G, 2k, JYL/JZX, JZX & WWX, JC & JZX; JZX & JL & JYL, JC & JL, Everyone Lives, JYL & JZX Live, Awkward JZX, JZX & WWX Friendship, Good Person JZX, JZX Tries, Married JYL/JZX, JL Loves JC, JZX & WWX recreate the scene from the titanic but on a sword, JL & WWX Bonding, WWX makes it to JL's 100th day celebration, Happy Ending, JZX's happy family, Ducks save the day, JZX loves his wife) Jin Zixuan accidentally saves the day by being awkward

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ, WWX is Loved, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs)

And They Lived Happily Ever After… by Morgana_avalon (G, 51k, WangXian, JL/LSZ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX, A-Yuan living with his family at the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, JL gets his happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Taking care of WWX, LJY grows an attitude, set before the ambush happens at Qiongqi Path, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, LWJ will always protect WWX, Good brother JC, Good JZX, LWJ can heal WWX's injuries as it is AU, WWX is pardonned, Wen Survivors are offered a way out)

🔒 无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling’s Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

Even If It Breaks Time by WhiteSoul (T, 178k, WangXian, JC/LXC, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Reconciliation, Yunmeng Bros, Hurt WWX, OP WWX, Injury, Fighting Against Time, Blood and Violence, Implied Sexual Content)

Family by Quiet_crash (G, 57k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JLY & WWX & JC, LXC & WWX, JYL & LWJ, Time Travel Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Established Relationship)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, ...eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign)

Always walked a very thin line by tucuxi (T, 22k, NHS & WWX, JYL & WWX, WangXian, Depression, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, except JZn and JGS, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn, Oblivious WWX, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Chronic Pain, Chronic Illness, Yin Iron, Baxia Saber, baxia as mental health barometer yikes, Pining, everyone is morally grey, life is not fair and that's kind of the whole point of mxtx books)

a bow for the bad decisions by curiositykilled (T, 154k, Yunmeng Siblings, WangXian, ChengQing, Angst with a Happy Ending, eventually, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except WWX, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, POV WWX, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Temporary Character Death, Heavy Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Body Horror, nmj still dies (sorry))

A Moment's Warning by Neery (G, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Misunderstandings, Golden Core Reveal, JL Gets His Bracelet)

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo) (link in #2)

The Same Moon Shines series by sami (E, 851k, 52 works, tags and rating varies, WangXian, Asexual XiChengQing Relationship, XuanLi, NHS/OFC, The Same Moon Shines [Podfic - Cold Read] Series by kisahawklin) especially the time travel fics in that series

~*~

6. Hi! I love reading fics that are in Lan Zhan’s POV. I’m in the mood for a fic that is from his POV. Specially a longer fic that is canon-compliant or canon-divergent (so nothing modern/different universe). Time travel is good but if there are just straight forward canon-divergent that’s even better @understand-your-everything

🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, JC is slowly becoming a good sibling, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX)

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 75k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with Happy Ending)

the heartlines on our hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 47k, WangXian, Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, First Time, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 105k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Sleeping Together, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Sex Education, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Adoption, Ancestor Veneration, Golden Core Reveal, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, First Time Blow Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wei, Good Sibling JC Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character, Somnophilia)

~*~

7. Hi!! This is for itmf. Is there any fic like this? Wei Wuxian protect his husband from his clan. Or any protective wei wuxian @chibiizzy

💖 the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

🔒 Echoes, Feelings, Yet to Disappear by GravityWinsAgain (M, 1k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Protective WWX, Angry WWX, descriptions of LWJ's whip scars, descriptions of YZY's abuse of WWX, Discipline Whip, but like only in the context of the scars it left, Hopeful Ending, that feel when you're processing trauma in the middle of the night, while your husband sleeps peacefully next to you, but like in a good way) feature Wei Ying being protective of Lan Zhan against the Lans.

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, WangXian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) feature Wei Ying being protective of Lan Zhan against the Lans.

seeds by antebunny (G, 3k, WangXian, SS & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Identity Porn, Dramatic Irony, identity theft, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the Inherent Romance of Being Known, BAMF WWX, protective boyfriend WWX, simp LWJ) features Wei Ying protecting Lan Zhan against Su She and the Jins.

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8. ITMF where Lan Zhan is in seclusion after that punishment he received after Wei's death. I wonder if there is any fic that covers his time there and reflection in Cold pond cave. And his punishment of 300 whipping by iron rod. A lot of fics seem to take the novel/anime way of whipping by celestial whip (and seclusion in his house) and that's not what I am looking for. I look for series version of Lan Zhan's punishment because it is quite different. I haven't seen any fic that would cover it like it was in live action.

~*~

9. ITMF outsider POV, SI/OC, or transgmigrator into the MDZS-verse. I will take anything, but would prefer to go without romance as the focus for the OC. @br0therw1ves

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending) seconding the rec for Carmelized -- it does have romance later in the fic, but the story is really excellent.

Wait a minute! by Anonymous (T, 45k, WangXian, World Travel, Dimension Travel, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, I'm Going To Create a Fic That is So Self Indulgent, you guys know the story u make up before you sleep? yeah this is it, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Lives, Fluff and Angst, Attempt at Humor, Isekai) no romance in this one!

🔒Dream Before Daybreak by vermillion_crown (M, 189k, JZX & OCs, MM & OCS, WWX & OCs, LWJ & OCs, LXC & OCs, WIP, Major Original Character(s), Canon Divergence, Worldbuilding, Xianxia, Transmigration, Reincarnation, Isekai, Self-Insert, POV First Person, POV OC, Unreliable Narrator, Potty Mouth Protagonist, (narrator has a temper), JZX is going to have a friend, Drama, Dark Comedy, Gender Roles, (are turned into breakfast rolls), Genderfluid Character(s), Liberties taken with Imperial Chinese History and the Chinese Language, (家族祖先饶命...), Political Intrigue, Magic and Science, Physics, Mathematics, (a surprising amount of STEM concepts for a fantasy genre), The bilingual/diaspora experience as taken to the extreme with transmigration)

mary sue alert by victortor (T, 5k, Self-Insert, Language Barrier, Bad Ending, Brief mention of a hand in a stomach, Character Death, its technically not a major character death? hmm) this one is really short and kindof a downer but i found it very interesting

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10. Hellour! I had another ask for an imtf which shows wwx's connection with his sword and flute. Like i saw the fanarts of the spiritual weapon spirits interacting and suibian self destructing after wwx's death( sealing itself) and i just really wanna see its connection with its master. Maybe even wangji guqin and bichen with LWJ or something. Thank you^-^ @just-troy0-0

Your love gives me Wings by SaiaiSaiko (M, 27k, WangXian, WWX Lives, MXY Lives, Winx Club Fusion, Enchantix Form, Sirenix From Winx Club, Believix From Winx Club, Fairy WWX, Witch WWX, Curses, Bad Health through Curses, Spiritual Tools are Pixies, Accelerated Aging, older looking WWX, Fairy NHS, BAMF WWX, BAMF NHS, WWX in WWX’s Body, JZX Lives, NMJ Lives, JYL Lives, The following tags contain spoilers, Evil JGS, Trans MXY, Self-Discovery, Misgendering, Victim JGY, Curse Breaking) Ok hear me out. They are not weapons here but they are kind of existend and important. And do shit and all. But yeah, this may be strange, but maybe you'll enjoy it.

💖 Intervention of Spirits by Vrishchika (T, 4k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has a New Golden Core)

🔒 We’ll Build This House on Stone (Altars) by FluffyHippogriff (E, 279k, WangXian, WIP, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Old God LWJ, Dumb Baby WWX, Friendship, WWX Finds an Ancient Altar, what happens next will shock you, Hijinks & Shenanigans, YLLZ WWX, There’s Always a Price, But For Once It’s Not WWX’s Sweet Bod, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Chapters Will Be Individually Tagged, Bichen Sword, Wàngjī Guqin, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Bichen) features Bichen and Wangji (qin) personified.

🔒the world passes by but for me there is only you by beeswaxing (E, 82k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Accidental Marriage, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Horny Teenagers, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Everybody Lives, First Time, Wedding Night, Emotional Sex, Golden Core Reveal)

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11. Hi I'm looking for fics with the ghost girls (you know who). Just fics where they play some part, maybe not a big one, but you know they are there and present. Although if you do know fics where they are explored, then please rec them. @secretartquotes

To Wake Giants by Alwritey87 (T, 3k, JC & JL, JC & WWX, Assassination Attempt(s), Major Character Injury, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Angst, WWX's ghost brides, WWX your YLLZ is showing, JC has no chill when it comes to his nephew, Mild Gore, Mild torture, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (kinda through revenge for their nephew), Good Uncle JC, BAMF WWX, off screen death of assassin) The ghost brides aren't super prevalent but wwx does use them to get revenge post Canon 🫶

A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, WWX & Wen Remnants, Jiang Family & WWX, WQ/MM, JYL/NHS, LXC/NMJ, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel fix-it, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

Blossoms of Yunmeng by villainousfriend (katzenfabrik) (T, 5k, WangXian, resentful energy, WWX's ghost ladies, ghost bondage, Kissing, canon-typical undernegotiated kink, LWJ kisses a ghost lady)

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) features a female ghost who becomes Wei Ying's companion although I don't think she technically was one of the ghost brides.

A Long Road by Vathara (T, 175k, WangXian, Valdemar Series by Mercedes Lackey, Fluff and Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Scheming NHS, Necromancy, Fire, Ghosts, Accidental Child Acquisition, is it an accident if the ghosts keep bringing them?) This is a crossover and I can't promise it'll make much sense if you don't know the source material, but it does have the ghost girls as friends and helpers of WWX

🧡 Don't Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN) (link in #16) the ghost girls are very active in this one!

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12. Hey, so my holidays just went down the Yilling Laozu route and I could use some distraction. Any fics with interesting worldbuilding? Thank you and at least to you all merry Holidays @saiaisaiko

🔒 In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, WangXian, Android WWX, the tone is: neon seedy, Smut, rich people are bored and terrible, Illustrations, post-apocalyptic landscape, Happy Ending, Modern Cultivation, Science Fiction, Shower Sex, severe injury to a major character, time loss, BDE (big devotion energy)) if you like xianxia -> sci-fi AUs. This one was very well done, as is everything by travelingneuritis. The worldbuilding stands out to me <3

Interesting/Good Worldbuilding pt. 1 (Canon Era only)

Interesting/Good Worldbuilding pt.2 (AU’s only)

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

It's Not The Destination (But The People You Save Along The Way) by Arcxus (T, 65k, WIP, WangXian, WWX & MXY, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, LQR & WWX, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Major Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, character death is WWX, MXY Lives, God of Death WWX, WWX is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Demon WWX, LWJ humour agenda, Angst, For Want of a Nail, BAMF WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, Worldbuilding, Politics, WWX is Good With Children, WWX is a Jiang)

journey of no envies by spicymooncakes (T, 104k, WIP, WangXian, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, WWX & WQ, JYL & WWX, burial mounds family, Fix-It, Everyone lives, Worldbuilding, Inventor WWX, WQ Deserves Better, NHS loves his brother, an attempt to make sense of demonic cultivation, Everyone has their own agenda)

The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, History, Canon Divergence, Modern, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

Flowers Blooming in the Dark by TheLegendOfChel (T, 65k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, Gods & Goddesses, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, but it's still in a xianxia/wuxia setting, Mutual Pining, Courtship, Forbidden Love, Kidnapping, Kind Of, Smitten LWJ, Smitten WWX, Fluff, Courting Rituals, Secret Relationship, references to WWX's canonical kinks, Child LSZ, Tooth-Rotting Fluff)

💖 symmetry by bleuett (M, 44k, WangXian, Space, Science Fiction, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Holding Hands, Blow Jobs, Hand Feeding, Cultivation in Space, Yearning, Reunions, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Injuries, Grief/Mourning, Unconventional Time Travel, Burial Mounds)

Stars bring us apart (Stars pull us together) by Sixlayerhouse (sixlayerhouse) (E, 124k, WangXian, ChengSang, Hurt/Comfort, (Vaguely) Star Trek AU, Psychological Trauma, PTSD, Body modifications, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Recovery, married!wangxian)

one hundred, twenty thousand, thirty million series by Mikkeneko (M, 160k, WangXian, JYL & WWX & JC, Non-Linear Narrative, Space, Science Fiction, Cybernetics, WWX's memory issues, Politics, Xianxia IN SPACE!, stranded in space in a broken spacesuit, Flashbacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical flirting, Canon-Typical Pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Angst, WWX Whump, Brain Damage, Head Injury, Burial Mounds, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, all offscreen though, first arc of the series on speedrun, Sunshot Campaign, Fun with Nanobots, War & Politics, WC and WX are both canon-typical pieces of shit, Blood and Torture, Artificial Intelligence, Supportive NMJ, Good Sibling JC, Traumatized WWX, it would be PTSD except it's ongoing, really cruel and unusual methods of killing, Space Horror, Space Opera, Competent JYL, Aftermath of Torture, hand-holding, Heterosexual Soup Drama, Bath Sex, handjobs)

🔒 when we end the war by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 41k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Psychics/Psionics, Robots & Androids, Intimacy, Artificial Intelligence, Science Fantasy, POV Multiple, Major Character Injury, Canon Temporary Character Death, Glove Kink, Fingers In Mouths, Getting Back Together, Self-Sacrifice, Strangers to Lovers to Estranged Lovers to Lovers Again, LWJ is a psychic, WWX is resurrected in an android body (it's complicated), Background space politics because wangxian get to sit out space sunshot, Dubious Science, dubious medical ethics, Sexual Dysfunction, Sometimes a family is an exiled psychic an android and their AI-enabled house, What do you do when your dead boyfriend shows up and he's a robot, Mild Breathplay, Murder by a technicality, Is it still breathplay once one of the characters doesn't have to breathe?, In the background Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze are still alive because I say so)

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) Not to sound like a broken record but I will never tire of reccing "when the sun goes out" by travelingneuritis -- in this case, for it's excellent modern AU cultivation politics and Weird Shit Going On in the Burial Mounds

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13. Heya!

I'd love a fic with a heavily featured Huaisang in the role of bestie, either to WY or LWJ. I'd prefer only complete works, but don't mind setting otherwise. He just never gets enough screentime for me :(

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Porn, onlyfans au, sex worker WWX, Fashionista LWJ, in this house we support sex workers, Fluff and Smut, they're horny and in love, mental health, therapy is good actually, Domestic Bliss, tender kink, Fiber Arts, autistic LWJ, neurodivergent WWX, switch rights, Nonbinary NHS, a soupçon of gender, get in losers we're introspecting about queerness, Genderfluid Character, Gender Exploration, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, But They're Working Through It, aggressive mutual caretaking, 2nd in series, [Podfic] KILF (Knits I'd Like To Fuck in) by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash))

🔒 your problem as a mountain. by cupofwater (E, 31k, WangXian, WWX & NHS, Epistolary, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Pen Pals, Erotica Pen Pal Book Club, One-Sided LXC/NHS, NHS just thinks he's neat, Sexual Fantasy, sexual self-discovery, Smut, Letters, POV Alternating, WWX's Cottagecore Fantasies, Humor)

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NMJ/LXC, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes (T, 11k, WangXian, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, YLLZ WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wen Remnants Live, Everyone Lives, Soft NMJ, POV NMJ, POV WWX, Supportive NMJ, Protective NMJ, NMJ solves all the problems unintentionally, NHS Knows Everything, NHS's spies are talked about alot, NHS manipulates from the shadows like the best friend he fucking is, NHS & WWX Friendship, Sworn Brothers NHS & WWX & WN, BSSR makes a small appearance at the very end, Immortal BSSR is the best grandmother, Golden Core Reveal, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Good Sibling JC, Soft JC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX Lives, WWX Loves LWJ, WWX is not as oblivious as canon, WWX gets the help he deserves and his family back, Featuring WWX's inventions)

🔒 Serendipity by luckymoonly (T, 6k, WangXian, LJY/LSZ, Post-Canon, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Family Feels, The Juniors and their lack of knowledge of where babies actually come from, Fluff, First time parenting a baby, Mentions of WWX's canon mpreg kink, Adoption, WWX and NHS are BFF, Happy Ending)

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, NNHS & Wen Remnants, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, NHS Goes Farming And Hates It, Weird Horse Girl NMJ, NHS joins WWX's goth farming commune, and fixes everything)

history will call us wives by silvermarie (E, 17k, WangXian, JL & LSZ, JC & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Post-Canon, Family Feels NHS & WWX Friendship, NHS Knows Everything, Pining, Jealousy, Scheming NHS, using your shadow-broker level spy powers to hook up your friends, NHS is a bro, Misunderstandings, Family Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Playing Your Friends Like Chess Pieces - the NHS Story, Requited Unrequited Love)

🔒 the language of flowers and silent things series by Reverie (cl410) (M, 107k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & Madam Lan, NHS & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & NMJ, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the YZY warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric, Politics, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics, Protective WWX) features a Lan Wangji who is cursed to hear when people tell lies, which is a truth spell of sorts

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14. Heyo, once again, its me. Are there any really like heavy HEAVY Wei ying fics like that deal with a lot of trauma and his fear of dogs and Lan Wangji is there for him and maybe the juniors? Thank you and have a great Christmas eve😁 @yasssbassss

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian) these aren't really heavy fics but address Wei Ying's fear of dogs

❤️ in case of fire, break glass by Jenrose (T, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, unless I hate them, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius Inventor WWX, NHS Finds His Calling, No Women Die) these aren't really heavy fics but address Wei Ying's fear of dogs

Five Dogs, One Cat by ryfkah (G, 13k, JC & WWX, Accidental Dog Acquisition, taken to an extremea classic 5+1 fic, Background WangXian) these aren't really heavy fics but address Wei Ying's fear of dogs

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 60k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

🔒💖 in payment, a hand series by justdoityoufucker (M, 10k, WangXian, JC & JYL & JFM & YZY, Canon Divergence, Fall of Lotus Pier, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Amputation, Injury Recovery, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Self-Reflection, Families of Choice, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Physical Abuse, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Abusive YZY, Not for Madam Yu fans, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Weddings)

🔒 Without end by barisan (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Depressed WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Yunmeng Jiang bashing, Sentient Resentful energy, Medical inaccuracies)

Lucky to have a sister by Beginner9to5 (T, 50k, WIP, WangXian, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, WWX & Wen Remnants, LQR & WWX, WN & WQ, WWX & NHS, NHS & WQ, NHS & WN, Time Travel Fix-It, No Golden Core Transfer, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Canon Divergence, No resurrection, Failed soul summoning, Protective WQ, Good Sibling WQ, WQ is So Done, Adoptive Parent WWX, Protective NHS, Inventor WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Jiang Family Bashing, JC Bashing, Hurt WWX, Scheming NHS, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, JC Has Issues, Homophobia, Morally Gray LWJ)

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15. Hii, can you recommend some fics around like wei wuxian's protection squad where everyone is really protective of him. But he doesn't have any regards over his own health and wellbeing and always keeps on convincing everybody else he's fine when he isn't? I just want to read wei wuxian getting all the love he deserves (even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it). No jiang sibling bashing pleasee, i want to see some yunmeng bros moments, but bashing the parents are fine. Angst is definitely welcome but only with happy endings. @scorpionical

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things)

Revenge is a Side Dish Best Served With Tea by merakily (G, 7k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, JC & LWJ, JL & LWJ, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Protective LWJ, Petty LWJ, Fluff and Humor, LWJ walks around using tea as his modus operandi for revenge)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 63k, wangxian, JL & WWX, post-canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, POV JL, JC & WWX Reconciliation, eventually, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, this kid is doing his best, Pre-JL/LJY if you squint)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation, [Podfic] the stone-filled sea by yukla by Beria1021, the stone-filled sea [Podfic] by BrickGrass)

🔒Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

~*~

16. hello!! so I just really got in a/b/o, so I wanna ask for some of your favourite a/b/o fics :))

For the request for a good selection of quality a/b/o fics for #16, I just shared a list on X of some of my (many) bookmarked titles

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow by izanyas (M, 303k, WangXian, off-screen rape, oppression, violence, sexual assault, grief/mourning, unwanted pregnancy)

🧡 Don't Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN)

🧡 in flagrante delicto by synonemous (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, Serial killer WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Smut, Wangxian's Canon Kinks, Modern Yi City arc, Angst with a happy ending)

🧡 OMEGA GRAD STUDENT GETS PREGNANT: YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENS NEXT by attackofthezee (noxlunate) (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Graduate School, Unplanned Pregnancy, San Francisco Bay Area, Pining, Falling In Love, Kid Fic, Fluff, WWX gets pregnant by an unnamed character that's only briefly mentioned)

~*~

17. Hi! This is for ITMF. A bitter WWX fic? Well, not exactly bitter. But more that he swallow his anger and say it didnt affect him but in fact it did affect him. And then someone (LWJ) say or did something wrong too many times to WWX that he finally snapped. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

the dock of the bay by Haysel matches this. It's deleted, but available on the Wayback Machine

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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lotusarchon · 2 months ago

Text

macaque's successor (mk x reader)

content warnings: female reader, second pov (you/your), mild fluff and angst, season 1 events, isekai (reader dies from choking), foul language, macaque mentioned i guess, vague hints of manipulation/gaslighting from macaque, mk being a little shit, nsfw content, minors/ageless blogs dni, virginity loss,np in v sex, mild dubcon oral sex (fem receiving), public sex (reader + mk fuck in an alleyway), car sex (in the tuktuk), implied breeding kink, light bondage (the headband is a paid actor)

author's notes: requested from AO3. this literally hit 6k words so i'm gonna make it a series lmfao help

You remembered choking.

Honestly, it was an embarassing way to die, you won't deny it. How humiliating it was when people asked about your demise, anticipating a tragic if not heroic end. And usually, in the fanfics you read, that's how it always go!! Either someone dies by trying to save someone else, or by fucking suicide!! Not this!!! Not by choking on a dumpling while watching the fifth season of your favorite show; Lego Monkie Kid!!

Gods, how embarassing. Even when waking up, the memory of the dumpling stuck in your throat while you flailed wildly, surprised when the plot twist was revealed with the snake villain…gah! Just end you now!

Wait no. You died once. If you died twice again, that would be way worst.

Ah well. You couldn't say you were too disappointed. Though you missed a few things from your old life, your life was just…too boring. You didn't have much friends, your parents were emotionally distant and well, aside from your job, there really wasn't much to your current life. You felt too much like a burden to your parents, so maybe…you could free them of the worries of an unmarried, boring child.

You considered your ‘isekai’ moment as some sort of new start. Your chance to better your life! You didn't anticipate to be a part of anything major, not with your boring self, but the scenery in the Lego Monkie Kid universe wasn't so bad, and surprisingly the people seem nice. Perks of being a children's show, you guessed.

When you had first woken up, lying on the sand of some beach, you were both pleasantly surprised and concerned. It took a few minutes for you to process that you hadn't ended up in some weird coma because you choked to death and that you had, somehow, in some weird fucking way, woken up in the lego world. How did you realize that?

If the lego hands weren't enough of an answer, the green and white blur of a certain female character driving past should've been.

You were fucking isekai’d.

And then you fainted from shock.

When you woke up again, you were lying on a military cot, a thin blanket thrown over your form. There was sunlight from a window to the wall opposite of you, and the sound of clapping and cheering.

While you sat there contemplating your situation, and wondering if you were about to be canon fodder to some demon within the show, a door you hadn't been aware of opened and closed shut. A man wearing a thick black and red robe was standing in front of you. And come on, you're no fool―there was no way in hell you wouldn't know who this particular figure was. You'd have to be pretty stupid not to have recognized his dramatic robes from the second season.

Which reminded you. Where exactly had you fallen in the timeline, if Macaque found you and most possibly brought you to his weird theatre?

“You got a name, kid?” His gruff voice questioned, pulling the hood of his head to glance at you. In his hands was a tray, a simple meal of rice porridge and cut fruits. You accepted the tray awkwardly, wondering if the food would be edible if this was pre-s4/5 Macaque.

“Um. My name is (Name).” You smiled at the monkey demon awkwardly. “And…um…w-who might you be?”

“Macaque. The Six Eared Macaque.” He took a seat on a discarded chair, sharp fangs glinting in what little light it had. “(Name), huh? Well, I found you before you died from a cold, (Name). You were stranded on a beach not far from here.”

Right…that you already figured out.

“I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you have any family or friends to run home too?”

You thought for a moment. You didn't die and end up in any existing character already…..so as far as you knew, you were completely alone in this strange new world. The realization finally dawned on you that though it was a joyous feeling, being in your favorite show, interacting with nice people, there was no way you'd be able to survive. You were human for all you knew too, just some person living in a world with magic, demons and the occasional deity.

“No.” You signed, stirring the porridge. “I'm..alone.”

“You have no one?” Macaque repeated. “No one to turn too for help? Surely, your parents…friends…?”

You shook your head again.

There was a moment of awkward silence. You continued to stir the porridge awkwardly while Macaque possibly thought to himself.

“Alright.” Macaque stood. “It'd be cruel of me to leave someone as young as you to wander off on your own.” You tensed when he walked in your direction, but surprisingly, all he did was gently pat your head. “I'll offer you a deal, kid, since you're already in my debt.”

Please don't ask me to sell my soul.

“Wasn't planning on it.” Ah, you spoke out loud. “Be my apprentice. I'll feed and clothe you and in turn you train under me and help around the theatre here. It'll be a…mutually beneficial relationship.”

Well. You didn't have much of a choice now, did you?

After a moment of thinking, you nodded. There was nothing less to be done than to accept your fate. And hey, as cliche as it was, maybe you can turn Macaque over! Act like the MK to his Sun Wukong, you know?

And that was a lie.

Macaque was not a kind teacher. As the agreement followed, he did feed and clothe you. Hell, you swore he was even giving you your own salary helping him out with the theatre, either cleaning up or sending posters or dealing with guests. He wasn't so bad, that was, outside of training. During training, though, he was an entirely different person.

The first week, he was horrible. You swore you couldn't even repeat the degrading words he had said, every detail embedded in your head. Scolding you for being weak, to put more effort if you truly wanted to learn and be strong. That being weak was for those that were already dead.

It was difficult to think he was an entirely different person outside of training. Usually he would chat or show you things he's made, like puppets or dolls. If he was in a good mood, he'd even put on a puppet show for you, and you'd get to see his ‘The Hero And The Warrior’ tale up close and in person. But, if he was in a bad mood, you were lucky to get a simple grunt before he ignored you.

Between that and when you were alone, you got to explore more of your new world. You found out that his theatre was to the end of the city, so a lot of people would have to travel often to see his plays. After getting lost a few times and finally getting a map you could properly read, you found Pigsy's noodles and decided to pay it a visit.

What was the worst that could possibly happen? And anyways, you were both bored and curious to know where exactly you were in the storyline. Since you were supposed to be Macaque's apprentice now, surely that meant you'd most likely be involved now in the main story, right?

“I keep telling ya MK, you rarely ever focus!”

Ah, that should be an obvious enough an answer. There was an entire episode dedicated to MK's focusing. Erm, episode…6, was it? No, that was the racing episode.

Episode 7, maybe? Ah, yeah, that had to be it.

You dared to peek your head inside, catching sight of the protagonist and his father figure speaking to each other. Or, more like MK was clinging to his dad's leg while Pigsy scolded him with threats of firing him.

Ah, typical Monkie Kid moment. It felt so unreal to be here in person, watching them.

And then MK ran into you. Had you been that dazed out you completely missed him running until he ran smack into you, spilling noodles on the front of your shirt?

“Gah! Are you okay!?” MK spluttered, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh, shit―” Wait, was that normal? Wasn't this a kid's show? Why the fuck― “Fuck, uh.”

“Kid?” Pigsy's voice was heard behind him. “What's the keep u―oh, damn it MK.”

Huh? This is a kid's show! Why are they swearing!?

“I'm sorry!!” MK was whining. You felt his hands on your chest, dabbing away with swabs of paper napkins he must've grabbed from the counter. “Sorry, sorry!!! I'm so sorry, I just―aah!!”

You were to dumbstruck to even question the fact he was so blatantly touching your chest. Not when you were more concerned about the fact they cursed. This was a children's show. Why the fuck were they cursing!? Were they always cursing and it was just obscured because of the children audience it was aimed for!? Huh?!

“Kid, I think you've made it worst.” Pigsy's gruff voice brought you back to reality. You smiled nervously as MK pulled his hands away, wringing them anxiously from the stain he just left behind.

“I'm sorry!!” MK pursed his lips. Though he was never a favorite of yours, you had to admit up close he was kind of cute in the basic anime protagonist way. You wondered what would happen if you pinched his cheeks a bit. Would it be soft to touch? “I-I’ll um, I'll make it up to you! Promise!”

Oh. Right, he spilled noodles on your shirt.

You shook your head, waving off his worry. “No need too. It's fine, it was my fault anyway.” Technically you weren't wrong. You weren't paying attention, and how was MK supposed to know someone was kinda attempting to spy on him. “But uh….” You glanced at the sticky wet stain. “I don't suppose you have anything I can borrow…?”

MK perked up. He looked pleased you weren't yelling at him, nor demanding some form of payment that would probably give Pigsy a heart attack. He nodded quickly, fluffy brown hair growing even messier from his actions. Holy shit, was it as soft as it looked? Would it feel nice??

“I've got a spare shirt upstairs!” He exclaimed, once again interrupting your thoughts. “My friend leaves her clothes behind, there should be one that fits you! Gimme a sec―”

Oh, he was gone. You were going to tell him not to bother, it'd be too weird wearing his best friend's shirt….

Waiting in awkward silence, you glanced at Pigsy, who had crossed his arms opposite of you. He raised his head and caught your gaze, making you look away.

“You must be new around these parts,” the pig demon remarked, causing you to stiffen. “I don't think I recognize ya, kid. Got a name?”

Er….well.

“(Name).” It'd be pointless to lie about yourself. And anyway, if you chose the name of a character that was probably already in the series, it'd make one hell of a scenario. Too embarassing anyway. “Umm. You must be Pigsy, the owner of this er…fine establishment?”

The pig demon snorted, “As if the name isn't obvious enough.” You flinched, anticipating him to be rude, but who knew he was merely being sarcastic and teasing you. He shook his head at your expression, chuckling, “I'm pulling ya’ leg kid. Yeah, that's me. What brings ya’ here anyway?”

Before you could respond, the sound of someone falling down a flight of stairs, and a certain noodle boy reappeared with a clean, green and white T-shirt in his hands. He smiled bashfully, apologizing for his absence and shoved the cloth into your hands abruptly.

“So you won't have to wear a dirty one!” He exclaimed with his signature grin. “And my apology! It should be closer to your size…I think….”

The noodle boy trailed off, staring at your chest for a moment. You followed his gaze and blinked.

“I…eh?”

Instead of blushing like he was caught in the act, MK scratched his chin thoughtfully. He didn't come off as a pervert to you, merely concerned and almost confused.

“Kid. Ya staring too much.”

“Oh.” MK blinked. “Oh, my bad! Sorry, I just didn't know if you'd be comfortable wearing anything too small. If it doesn't fit, do you want mine?”

You knew he meant well, but you did feel slightly offended. You weren't that big, were you?

“Kid.” Pigsy sounded mildly exhausted. It seemed like it wasn't the first time the noodle boy had been a bit too blunt with his words. “I think ya should stop talking.”

“I didn't say anything bad this time!! Did I?!”

You and Pigsy exchanged a mutual stare, shaking your heads at the remark. He gestured towards the customer bathrooms for you to change, but when you returned MK had long since left for his job and typical adventure of the week. As a form of apology, Pigsy gave you a free bowl of noodles and invited you to return at any point for your cleaned shirt, which he insisted you leave behind for MK to wash.

You weren't sure if Macaque was pleased when you explained where you had gotten the noodles, or disappointed. By his tone and appearance, he didn't seem offended. If anything he seemed quite satisfied with your remark while you split your noodles with him, and he remarked, strangely, “That MK's a good kid. You can befriend him if you want.”

You paused mid-swallow, unsure of what to say. Macaque chuckled at your expression and patted your head.

“It's fine,” he said with a grin. “Just ‘cause I hate his mentor, doesn't mean I'll stop you from having friends of your own.” He stole a piece of meat from you. “Just as long as you don't pull a bitch move and abandon your mentor. I'd feel so heartbroken, y'know?”

There was something about his tone, that brief sarcastic comment paired with his saccharine smile that made you flinch. Still, you nodded, assuring him that you'd never abandon him.

It's not like you had anyone else anyway.

An unlikely friendship formed between you and the hero.

You returned to the noodle shop once your training with Macaque was completed, hoping to return Mei's shirt and retrieve your original one. Pigsy greeted you at the door, offering you to take a seat while MK returned from another one of his monster of the week adventures. Pigsy wasn't so bad, though you were surprised to see Tang absent. Then again, maybe the scholar was just busy―he didn't appear in every episode after all.

“Oh, Piggy! Tangy is dea―” Mei was the first to barge into the noodle shop, her eyes wide. Seeing her up close and in person, you were practically shocked at how pretty she was. You thought the Mei fans had been exaggerating, but no. The dragon girl was just as pretty if not more, and when she flashed you a grin you swore you might be a little bit queer. “Whoa! Cute girl!”

“Mei, what the hell?” You still couldn't get used to them swearing. Pigsy threw a spoon at the dragon girl, which she managed to duck. Unfortunately, the person behind her, MK, was the victim of the spoon, and he collapsed with a cry. “Just ignore her, she's always weird.”

You smiled, nodding while Mei protested against the comment. She took a seat on the stool next to you, offering her hand.

“Oh! You're the girl MK was telling me about!” Mei exclaimed as you introduced yourself. You were surprised MK would even bother speaking about you, who was pretty much an NPC at this point, but at the same time, being noticed by the protagonist was a pleasant feeling, wasn't it? “Did my shirt fit you or was your boobies to big?”

You heard MK choke at the remark, and when you glanced at him he looked ashamed.

“I didn't say that,” he quickly defended, throwing himself at Mei to stop her from sharing any more embarassing comments. “I-I just said that the shirt was too small!! I swear!! I didn't mean anything like that!!”

You smiled awkwardly. “It's fine. I'm sure it was an accident.”

The dragon girl merely sighed. You didn't miss the look she flashed at her friend, and as if they had some sort of telepathic ability, MK returned her look with his own. You were in awe at their silence conversation, and you had no problem merely observing them like animals in a zoo.

Ah, wait…there are animals here…oops.

“Sure. Accident.” Mei scoffed under her breath, turning her attention back to you. “Soooo~ cute gal. Did I tell you how cute you were?”

Basically. “You mentioned it, yes.”

“Good. ‘Cause you are.” The dragon girl pinched your cheek. The action made you wince, reminiscent of how Macaque tended to be, always pinching your face on occasion, but Mei's hands were gentler and less likely to make you tear up. She released your cheek after a while, arm still slung around your shoulders while she continued on, “(Name), (Name)...huh. You know, I actually don't think I've ever met you either.”

Without thinking, you sighed in relief. For what it was worth, you were still feeling jittery at the idea of being recognized by someone. After all, who's not to say you hadn't just ended up in a random NPC’s body that just happened to resemble you? The universe worked in mysterious ways, and you'd really not want that chance of being recognized. Even if it wouldn't be a major problem plot-wise, you'd rather not have to deal with the nagging feeling you were in someone else's body.

So, hearing one of the most sociable characters in the show admit to never meeting you before made you all the more relieved. If you could clap your hands, you really would at that moment.

MK had taken a seat on the opposite side of you, leaving you trapped between him and his best friend.

It…was a bit odd, you wouldn't lie. There was an empty seat next to Mei, so why choose to sit next to you of all places? Wouldn't it be easier to sit with his friend?

“Oh, yeah. I don't think you mentioned where you're from?” Pigsy had long since left for the kitchen, so you knew that question had been from MK. It was cute that Pigsy had chosen to mention something trivial you said to his kid, but you'd also hate having to be asked and make up a lie on the spot.

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “I didn't think it was important. My family moved here for some business stuff.”

Mei seemed to perk up at that. “Oh, you're a foreigner? That's so cool! Where are you from!?”

“Um….”

“Right. Right.” The dragon girl relaxed, her lips parted in a laugh. She waved off your nervous expression, “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn't mean to pry. But that's pretty cool.”

“It definitely is.” MK grinned next to you. “Traveling around like that sounds fun. How do you like the city so far? Have you seen the cheese tea stalls?”

They're actually called cheese tea stalls!? You sweatdropped, trying to imagine what tea would taste like with actual cheese in it. The combination in your head made you mentally gag, but with a smile on your face you merely nodded. Macaque had taught you well, even if not directly, so you'd consider yourself a pro at masking your feelings.

“Ah.” Was it just you, or did MK sound disappointed at that?

And yet, not only a few seconds later, his expression had brightened once again.

You spent at least three hours at the noodle shop, listening to MK and Mei ask you questions and share the wildest stories.

For some reason, MK always seemed to look for your opinion on something. You put it off as merely him hoping to impress a new friend he's made, as a newly turned hero.

You sat with Macaque once again for dinner.

Almost half a year had passed since you had arrived in this new world. Surprisingly, an unlikely friendship had formed between yourself and the dragon girl and monkey boy duo.

You didn't think something like that would've happened in over a million years. Someone like you, befriending people as fun and kind as Mei and MK? You'd have to either be high or dreaming.

But, you didn't mind it either way. They were fun to be around, and more often than not, they'd invite you on their hangouts. Especially that MK, who was always ready to pull you into an adventure with him.

You had to admit, you've grown quite fond of him over the past few months.

And as for Macaque…

You glanced at the simian. Though you'd like to think you two had grown closer, there was still a barrier that kept you at arms length. At this point, you assumed Wukong's supposed betrayal was still fresh on his mind after all these years, and so even if he was nicer to you, he never once actually attempted to draw you closer.

So disappointing…

You chewed on your chopsticks thoughtfully.

Over time, you've tried not to interfere with the canon plot too much. So, even when that particular episode regarding the key to unlocking the Bone Demon's tomb happened (cough, s1 episode 8), you didn't intervene. You didn't warn MK that he was toying with the very object that would change his life forever, nor did you warn him about the creepy Mayor guy.

Speaking of him…there's something really off-putting about that guy. It's like he knows something I don't. You frowned to yourself, recalling that particular interaction. Though you didn't do much, the Mayor had still been watching you.

“It would be my deepest pleasure to meet little miss once again,” he had said, oddly charming in a particularly creepy way. “So until we next meet, farewell~!”

Agh, whatever. It was canon he was total nutcase anyway, you shouldn't be worried about that.

What you were worried about though, was the episode where Macaque would meet MK. As much as you loved him as your favorite character, you couldn't deny that he had as much of a role to MK's trauma as the other villains did.

And with how fond you were of MK currently, you had to admit; hurting him just to spite Wukong was genuinely too far. When all was said and done, hating your ex best friend was fine, but there was no need to pull innocent people into the crossfire. MK might not have dwelled on it anymore, but the interactions he had with Macaque and later on Azure…it definitely fucked him up, didn't it?

Sigh. Though you knew this had to happen for plot's sake, you really wished it didn't have to happen. You didn't think you could bare to witness this scene upclose and in person, so you wondered if you should take Mei on that offer to leave the city for a few days…

“So, you and that MK boy are close now, hm?” When you raised your head, Macaque caught your gaze and grinned. He was sipping from a can of fizzy drink, something you'd never expect from him of all people, and occasionally would glance at you. He raised a brow, “You turned into a beaver, kid? You're chewing those chopsticks for so long.”

Embarrassed, you pulled the chopsticks out of your mouth. The ends were covered in your spit and bite marks, and you cried in your heart at the damage. How embarassing…

“Um. Yeah. Guess we are now.” You shoveled cold noodles into your mouth again, hiding your embarrassment. Until you choked and had to take a break, coughing and chewing soggy noodles.

Macaque slid a can to you, already opened. You accepted it with a nod, relieved at the sugary taste that freed your clogged throat.

He was speaking again. “I've been thinking. The kid looks like he needs some extra training, you know? I mean, looking at his fighting moves….something tells me that teacher of his hasn't been doing jackshit for him. Just shoved a big staff into his hands and told him to go crazy.”

If you didn't know Macaque's character in season one, you would've thought he was genuinely concerned. Though his words were criticism at Wukong, there was no warmth or genuinity in them, only a type of bluntness intended to hit home.

You stared at your can thoughtfully. Would he ask you to help him manipulate MK? Would you have to lie to him?

“Hey. Have you ever taken a break since you became my apprentice?” Macaque threw his empty can into a wastebasket, yet his gaze was still on you.

You blinked. You hadn't taken a break since you joined this world, and that been well over six months now.

Where was he going with this?

“I think you deserve a break,” he concluded and leaned back against his chair. “Spend a few weeks outside the city. It'd do you some good. I'll arrange some things for you, ‘kay? Maybe even hook you up with one of my pals to continue your training.”

Oh. Macaque hadn't sent you out of the city with good intentions. He'd sent you so you wouldn't be a hindrance to his plans―you liked MK, that much he knew. His six ears could pick up on the way you brightened around the kid, and he was well aware of the signs of affection. You adored him as he did you, but you were too stubborn to admit it.

Sure, there were some things about you that confused him. He couldn't hear anything from your past, as if it were a blank slate. No childhood, no recollection of a time before you came across him. It was if something was purposely stopping him from hearing beyond that first meeting between you both.

But to Macaque, that was fine. A hindrance, but fine. He would work with it.

As long as you weren't there to warn MK, to push him away from Macaque. As long as you weren't there to disrupt the natural flow of fate.

Macaque boredly nudged the fallen hero's face, a malicious smile on his lips. How the mighty had fallen, just a child with a heavy stick. And where was his mentor now?

“You know, it's a shame my student likes you so much,” he said, almost mockingly, and grabbed MK's chin. The little bastard tried to glare, his body weak from the sudden withdrawal of power within him. Good. “You know, she likes you so much. Thinks you're such a cool guy.”

MK's eyes seemed to narrow. His interest was piqued.

Good.

“(Name)...ah yes. She likes you so much, you know? Even told me not to go too hard on you and your fragile heart.” Macaque's smile merely widened. The longer he yapped some nonsense, the more this naive little hero bought into it.

Ah, that would be the death of him. What a foolish child, helplessly ready to believe what words were spoken. That would never do him any good.

Not that Macaque cared. Watching that look of betrayal flash across his face, the fight he had left fading…

Even when Wukong had stepped in, and he had suffered a bitter defeat, Macaque thought it had all been worth it.

You knew something was wrong the moment you returned to the city.

Maybe the plot had gone wrong. Maybe Macaque didn't betray MK because you had been his student? Maybe MK hadn't fallen fool to Macaque's charming words?

….

The city was fine. MK was fine.

When you stopped at the noodle shop, you were wholly surprised to see MK there. Aside from a bandage wrapped around his neck, he was fine. Laughing with his best friend, bothering Pigsy.

He was fine.

“Oh! (Name)!” Mei leaned over the counter, waving at you excitedly. You flinched at the attention, sparing the noodle boy a glance.

The smile he had been wearing fell. He wasn't looking at you with the same gentleness he had just only three weeks ago. Now, he looked wary, and upset.

Your blood felt cold in your veins.

Had Macaque done something?

“Hello? Earth to (Name)?” Mei gently racked her knuckles against your head. “Girl, you okay there? Did that three week vacay turn your brain into jelly?”

You tore your gaze away from MK.

Whatever it was Macaque had done, you needed to fix it.

At least, to explain yourself…

And surely, MK would listen to you…right?

MK's staff felt heavy against your chest. You knew this staff had once been a pillar in the dragon king's palace, but holy shit the show did not put enough emphasis on how heavy this staff was. The baddies that had to face the opposite end either had more plot armor than the protagonist, or fucking balls of steel.

Mind you, this was MK only allowing you to feel a quarter of it's actual weight. You figured he wasn't mad enough to crush you under it, given that he was still holding the staff above you with a conflicted expression.

You hadn't anticipated he would've followed you back to Macaque's dojo, which had long since been abandoned from his defeat. You hadn't anticipated he would've attacked you, if only to test something…

“He was right,” he muttered, caging you against the wall at the back of the building. “You…you're his student?”

Was, you thought, recalling the shadow powers you'd used to escape him. Now though…

“MK, I―”

“No. Don't you even.” You snapped your mouth shut at his remark. His eyes were glazed over, and you swore if he blinked, he would actually cry. As it stood, he merely glared at you, his expression flitting from angry, to upset, to hurt, and repeated the cycle. “You…you fucking lied. You…you were just pretending to be my friend!?”

You stayed silent.

MK laughed in disbelief.

“You won't even try. You…why?” The weight on your chest was lifted. MK's staff disappeared, but he still kept you caged between his arms, his shoulders sagging. “Why do this? Pretend to be my friend? Made me like you―” Your heart broke at the way his voice cracked. “You…you just…you lied. You lied and said I was your friend. Lied and pretended to be my friend, pretended to like me in turn, only for it to be all an act?? Why? What could Macaque have offered for you…to…to do this!?”

You heard him sniffle. “Fuck. You won't even defend yourself. Won't you lie and tell me I'm wrong?”

“But you are.”

MK raised his head.

Oh, you hated this. He looked so heartbroken. The tears had spilled, staining his cheeks. He looked so sad, and you hated this. You hated seeing him cry like this.

“I…never lied to you,” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “I did. Like being your friend. I liked…being with you. I never…I never wanted to hurt you, MK. I swear. I've always liked you. I wanted to be your friend, I liked you.”

But Macaque…

“I didn't know what Macaque was planning.” A lie. “But I never intended to hurt you, MK. You can hate me for what Macaque did, but I never wanted you to get hurt.” At least, not to this extent….

You raised your head to see MK still staring at you. His eyes wide in shock (hopefully not horror), and he looked…confused.

You never really noticed how cute he looked, all confused and lost. You wanted to pinch his cheeks.

So you did. You reached up, and squeezed his cheek between your hands. MK didn't stop you, too surprised, and you took advantage of it―squeezing and smushing, watching how red they became from your actions.

I don't like it when you cry. I really don't. If this is how hurt you are, I'll never do it again. I'll never let you cry again.

MK's hands grabbed your wrists. You stilled, expecting him to be angry, but he only pinned your hands to the wall.

“Prove it.”

“Huh?”

MK pursed his lips. The corners of his eyes were still red from crying, and his gaze had darted from your eyes, and then lower.

“You…you have to prove that you mean it,” he said, finally. “That…that Macaque was lying. You have to prove you're telling the truth.”

MK, aren't you sounding like a child right now?

You paused, but nodded. “I don't mind. But how am I supposed to prove that?”

MK stared at you so hard and for so long, you had to look away with shame. Why did it feel like he was implying something here…?

A hand cupped your boobs. You blinked when MK gave it a light squeeze.

….. ISN'T THIS SHOW RATED FOR KIDS!? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Note to future self: fucking in alleyways are very unhygienic and also just uncomfortable in general.

Other note to future self: you somehow gave Qi fucking Xiaotian a boob kink.

No, you weren't joking. MK had looked at you so pleadingly and helplessly that of course, you had to yield to his request. You liked him, he liked you, and if this meant he would trust you again and mend the bond Macaque had broken, then so be it. You'd fuck in one thousand alleyways if it meant MK would trust you again.

You just really hoped you wouldn't have too, though. Alleyways were weird.

And, you figured not to question this situation.

You ran your hands through MK's hair, sitting atop the tuktuk MK had parked in the same alleyway. Though you itched to pull his bandanna off, you decided not to. If only because when you had tried before, MK had looked at you with heartbroken eyes, and you didn't like seeing him upset.

His hand slid down the front of your pants, pushing your panties to the side. Your body tensed, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth when his fingers rubbed against your folds, following the same rhythm as his hand occupied with your breast.

Look. You were a total loser in your old life, okay? And in this one, you never bothered with dating.

So, of course, you're a total fucking virgin. The closest experience you had with anything porn related was fanfiction, and everyone knows fanfiction is never realistic!!

So, of course, you were embarrassed and completely tense, even when MK assured you not to be.

A fucking cartoon character is more experienced than me. A. Fucking. CHILDREN'S SHOW MAIN CHARACTER. HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL!? You cried in your heart, but flashed MK an awkward smile nonetheless. He grinned at you, before his lips latched onto your nipple he'd been teasing. At the same time, his fingers had found your hole dripping with anticipation, gently pushing a finger inside.

Fanfiction did not prepare you for any of this. You thought you would faint from actually experiencing this the first time….agh…

MK's tongue was wet against your tit. He squeezed and fondled the soft flesh, dragging his tongue against your perked bud with leisure. His other hand gently pumped through your walls, slow, at first, until he added a second finger, and the base of his palm pressed against your clit.

Ugh, this was awkward. You slapped a hand over your mouth, hiding your embarassing fucking noises, and hopefully your own burning expression.

Oh god, what if I get sent back home? The fuck am I gonna tell my parents!? “Hey Mom and Dad, I lost my virginity to a fucking fictional character, no big deal!” Bah!!

Sharp teeth grazed against your tender bud, and the slight burning sensation from MK's fingers inside your cunt gave way to the slightest bit of pleasure, slick easing his movements. You felt yourself squirming against his hand, unsure if you wanted to pull away when his fingers curled against a spot that made you dizzy, or push into him for more.

The noodle boy released your tit with a wet pop, saliva connecting his lips to your breast. If it had been in any other situation, you wouldn't have mind to say it was borderline lewd, but this was real and it involved you, so naturally, you looked away in embarrassment. You heard MK laughing at your reaction, his palm applying pressure to your puffy clit, seeming to find your jolts and muffled whines amusing.

His free hand tugged on your pants, pulling them lower to your ankles. He settled himself lower between your legs, and your panties were pushed higher and his head lower.

You stiffened when his warm breath brushed against your cunt, your fingers still pumping in your hole.

“...hey, wait a sec―” Your hands landed on his head. “Aren't we…I mean you're…we really shouldn't―”

MK pouted, swatting your hand away. “I thought you said you wanted to prove yourself?”

You sneaky little bastard. “Not to this extent!”

“(Name), you're fine.” As if he to prove his point, his tongue swiped leisurely against your folds. You stiffened, feeling your face grow so fucking hot―was that a fucking piercing!? “Don't be scared. Or embarrassed if you're a virgin. I'll take good care of you.”

My brother in Christ you are a fucking lego character I'm more concerned on how either of us has the body part for thi―

MK's lips latched onto your puffy clit, sucking on the tender bundle of nerves. His hand gripped your thighs, holding you close while his fingers quickened and thrusted into your cunt, pressing against the soft spot that left your knees completely weak.

You didn't want to make any noise. You really didn't!

But when MK's tongue flicked your clit, the cold piercing a stark contrast against the warmth, and his mouth worked in rhythm with his fingers…

It wasn't your fault those noises slipped out. You mewled and pushed against him, gasping at the sensation.

You'd question how the fuck MK had a tongue piercing and experience in sex after you were finished.

If you remembered, that was.

MK's fingers suddenly pulled out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing. His tongued dragged languidly against your messy folds before he pulled away, your juices dribbling down his chin. He kept eye contact with you, propping his fingers between his lips to lick them clean…

Wtf…

“Okay! I think that's enough!” MK sat up abruptly and helped pulled off the rest of your clothing. You spluttered, trying to argue because of the very fun fact of you both being in public still, but apparently, the fucking Monkie Kid had no sense of shame or dignity. He simply flipped you onto your stomach, and your hands pulled behind your back and then tied with something…

Wait. “...did you just tie my wrists with your bandanna?”

“Yuh huh.” Gods, how could he sound so innocent after eating you out? “It's hot. I've always imagined tying you up with it, you know?”

You made a face at that. Did I also give him a bondage kink? Oh boy…

MK's chest pressed against yours, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek when he pushed himself inside you, causing you to burrow your face against the seats.

Fuck. I'm losing my fucking virginity to a cartoon character. Oh, isn't that fan-fucking-tastic. And he's fucking big, what the actual fuck. Why is he big? How does he even have a dick?? He's a LEGO.

Oh wait, this doesn't hurt that badly. Fucking fanfiction ass logic.

“(Name)?” You heard MK's voice filled with concern. “Do you want me to move? Or stop? We can stop―”

If your hands weren't tied behind your back, you knew for a fact you would be strangling him. There was no fucking way he got you into this situation only to fucking pussy out because of concern. You might be a virgin but you're no coward.

Probably.

“You can move.” You grumbled against your better judgement. “Just…be gentle.”

“I am gentle.” MK laughed in your ear. His lips pressed into another kiss against your temple, and his hips slowly rocked against yours, allowing you to adjust to the feeling. He pulled back slightly, just enough to snap his hips back in place in a slow thrust.

The first thing you thought was, Wow, this is weird.

Then you also thought, This really doesn't hurt as much as it should…

Maybe you were just weird, but MK huffing and moaning in your ear was…kinda hot, you wouldn't lie. Those whimper edit audios were tame in comparison to the noises he was making right now.

With your hands behind your back and tied, you couldn't do much but squirm in place with each of his thrusts. His hand pushed your head further against the leather seats, bottoming out fully against you. The wet sounds of his cock inside you filled the night air, and you had to muffle your own noises for your own dignity.

MK's pace quickly picked up speed, taking your muffled cried as a sign to keep going. His pelvis smacked against your ass, his cock stretching your walls and hitting angles you weren't even aware of and leaving you to drool against the seats of his tuktuk.

“You…you better promise not to leave me,” you heard MK mumble against you. “You can't leave me, okay? ‘cause you promised―” His cock kissed your cervix, making your toes curl and your pussy clench around him. “And you…you would keep your promises, right?”

You really needed your hands untied. “I do,” you promised, fighting back another moan. “‘promise not to make you cry again, ‘kay? Pinkie promi..mmph!”

MK angled your head back, slamming his lips against yours. His teeth grazed at your lower lip and sucked at your tongue, swallowing your cry when the strange feeling in your stomach snapped, cumming under his cock. His hips continued to snap against yours, each thrust feverish and driving you mad with stimulation.

It wasn't until MK had finally cum, collapsing on top of you on the seat, did he pull away from the kiss, and your brain return to normal.

How sticky…and your arms were beginning to ache from this position. You tried to turn on your side, but MK simply wrapped his arms around you and grumbled under his breath.

“Are you planning on leaving me again?” He asked, and you could practically hear the pout in his voice. How the fuck was he acting like the deflowered maiden here, when the one who just lost their virginity was you!?

“I…no.” You sighed, squirming in his hold. “My hands hurt though, so lemme go.”

“No.”

“....MK…”

“In a minute.”

“MK you came inside.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Fuck you mean oh yeah you tryna knock me up?”

“....”

“Oh my god I gave him a breeding kink too.”

“A what?”

“Nothing.”

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