#so it's gonna be your personal flashlight for a little while more

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Sebastian (Pressure) fluff. I need it.

"I gotta ask, do you have personal beef with those Squiddles? Because you sure like harassing them with that light of yours."

"I don't do it on purpose! If that damn Angler stopped killing the lights in every big room, maybe I could see my own hand in front of me!" You scowled up at the sea creature while standing in his humble shop.

Why was Sebastian always taunting you whenever you died to something unexpected..only to act all friendly-like in this place?

Well, you had to be grateful he was the only thing down here that wasn't trying to kill you, and that no other monsters could barge into the shop when you least expect it.

So for once, you could breathe easy..

Until he decided to remind you of those creepy squids who were somehow always in your way.

He must get a kick out of watching you perish.

"Oh of course, blame everybody except yourself." He tsked. "You have more than enough clues on how to survive each creature you encounter...but maybe they should've spoonfed all the details to you instead-"

"I don't need this from you." You huffed. "My damn hands are cramped from holding a locker shut against Pandemonium, Eyefestation gave me a killer headache, nobody bothered to tell me about the people in the walls-"

"And don't forget about those Squiddles, hehe."

Silence.

"Okay, okay. I've had my fun. I'll shut up about them now."

"Thanks. You have any medkits available?"

"Right on my tail, buddy. Hope you got enough data."

"More than enough." As your eyes surveyed the items strapped to his tail, they eventually wandered over to the desk with batteries laying out.

But it wasn't them that caught your interest, but rather the file on the table. 'How curious..is this for a monster I'm gonna meet soon?' You went over to investigate.

"Is the document for sale?"

"Wow, you might be the first to ask me about that and be able to afford it! The others before you barely had enough for a flashlight." Sebastian chuckled, clasping his hands together. "If you're interested, give me a thousand data, and I'll have it ready for you to read when you return to the surface. And don't worry, it's all there. So I won't have to kill you to to reveal any information."

You blinked, realizing what he meant by that as you read the folder's cover and why he was asking so much for it.

Sebastian's Document

Of course, you knew he'd be recognized as a specimen, too, but to be put with Pandemonium, the Anglers, and all those other monsters that tried to eat you alive?

For some reason, it made you frown a little.

"This is your file, and they let you keep it?" You turned back to him.

"...I stole it. And I'm not gonna lie...I regret reading it." He muttered, suddenly looking a bit tense..and sad, even, although he was quick to mask any signs of vulnerability when he realized you were staring. "Anyways, it's a steep price. I'm sure you'd rather spend your assets on-"

"What if I buy it and take it off your hands right now?"

For a moment, his ear fins perked up with surprise, glowing eyes widening. But he was quick to give you a suspicious gaze. "Really? You're that nosey about my lifestory? Pretty weird if you ask m-"

"It's more of a courtesy to you."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean..you look like you're carrying a heavy weight just from that folder being there. You haven't stopped looking at it since I mentioned it." You pointed out, seeing his ears twitch again. "You've always told me "out of sight, out of mind" with the Anglers. Couldn't I say the same about you and that document?"

".....using my own words against me, eh? What're you, a damn psychologist?" He teased, although his words didn't hold as much spite or sarcasm as usual. "But no, you're right. I'd rather forget about it forever. So if you want it that badly, be my guest." His third arm made a grand gesture towards the table. "Just don't get caught parading it around. And don't come crying to me when you realize you needed something else instead of-"

"I won't, trust me." You exchanged the data, taking the folder. "I'll be on my way now. I got a crystal to find."

With that, you began ducking down to renter the vent and continue your journey into the abandoned site-

"Hey."

You paused and looked back at Sebastian, tilting your head as you wondered why he seemed nervous again--wringing his hands together.

"Um..thank you, genuinely..for taking that off my hands." He cleared his throat, sweeping back his dark bangs. "I hope that whatever you find in there doesn't..get in the way of our "partnership". I'd hate to lose my number one customer."

Nodding, you gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't lose my business, Seb. That I promise."

"..now hold on we aren't THAT close to start going by nickna-" He began to snap, but you've already disappeared into the duct. "Aaaand they're gone...hmph..well..least I don't have to worry about that anymore."

Sighing, he looked around the shop, wondering what he should do now.

What you did was certainly a nice gesture.

He only hopes you'll keep your promise and not be afraid of him.

[wvyik]

SIGNED, SEALED, SEDUCED.

dean winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: she’s high-maintenance, deadly, and doesn’t take shit from anyone; especially not from dean. but when their worlds collide, the hunt becomes personal… and a whole lot more complicated.

♯ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, (i couldn’t help myself) tons of sexual tension, mild explicit content, cursing, dirty jokes, fluff + filth combo, (because why settle for one?), some light violence, a sprinkle of possessiveness, lots of playful banter, reader is so bela talbot coded, frenemies to lovers.

♯ notes: thank you anon for the request!! im happy to oblige, such an awesome idea btw >ᴗ< think mr. & mrs. smith meets supernatural with just a pinch of unholy sexual frustration.

The first time you ever met Dean Winchester, he tried to shoot you.

In his defense, you had just scammed a warlock out of a cursed amulet that he’d been trying to track for three weeks. In your defense? He was being a little bitch about it.

“You stole it,” he’d growled, all puffed chest and righteous fury.

You’d just smiled, blood-red lipstick flawless, one perfectly arched brow lifting. “I acquired it. Stole is such a blue-collar word.”

He hated you instantly.

They say hate is just the other side of passion. Dean’s starting to believe it. Every time you roll your eyes, every time you sass him, every time you bend over in that tight little pencil skirt that definitely wasn’t accidental— he gets closer to just snapping and pinning you to a wall.

And you know it.

You flirt like it’s war. Batting your lashes just to watch him sweat. Dropping dirty little one-liners that leave him choking on air.

“So serious, Dean. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying not to get hard.”

He whips his head toward you. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh relax,” you hum, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m not gonna jump you. You’re not my type.”

He scoffs. “Good.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I like men who at least pretend they don’t want me. It’s more fun when they break.”

You’re a ghost in the hunter world. No last name. No phone number. Just rumors and red lipstick. You’ve sold hex bags to demons and then double-crossed them for hunters. You flirted your way through vampire nests and stole angel blades from under Heaven’s nose. Nobody knows whose side you’re really on.

That’s your whole thing.

Dean hates that it turns him on.

The job takes you to Louisiana. Swamps, heat, and the kind of cursed object no sane hunter touches without gloves, prayers, and a last will and testament.

It’s an old Creole relic. An amulet that traps souls in a loop of violent death. You’ve seen it before. Once. You didn’t walk away clean.

Dean doesn’t ask about it.

You don’t offer.

Instead, you two ride down in the Impala, sniping at each other the whole way. He complains about your luggage (“We’re not staying at the goddamn Ritz!”) and you call his music “sad divorced dad anthems.”

But underneath the sarcasm, something’s shifting. You catch him looking at you longer. Laughing under his breath at your jokes. And when you fall asleep in the car, head resting against the window, he doesn’t say anything. Just glances at you, once, and turns the music down.

The house is cursed, because of course it is. Two people already dead, one missing, and a sulfur trail leading straight to the basement.

You go in first. Dean protests, obviously.

“You’re not bulletproof, you know.”

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “Neither are you. But I look better while risking my life.”

He doesn’t argue.

Not out loud, anyway.

Inside, the air is heavy. Thick with bad energy. The kind that sticks to your skin. Dean’s right behind you, flashlight sweeping, gun drawn. You’re holding a small dagger you stole got from a Haitian priest once. Dean always makes fun of it— until it saves both your lives.

Which it does.

Twice.

“You okay?” he breathes after the second time, chest heaving.

You glance at your bleeding shoulder and shrug. “Ruined another blouse. Guess you’ll have to buy me a new one.”

He glares at you, then rips part of his flannel and presses it to the wound. “Stop joking.”

You blink. His hands are warm. His voice is serious. “You could’ve died,” he mutters.

You smile, softer now. “So could you.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. And for once, there’s no banter. No sarcasm.

Just that look.

That goddamn look.

The one you’ve seen flicker in motel rooms and over diner coffee, in the lull between hunts. The one he always hides before it can mean anything.

This time, he doesn’t hide it.

He brushes your hair back, careful of the blood. And you let him.

You defeat the cursed object together; barely. It shatters in a flash of flame and screams, and when it’s over, you’re both on the floor, breathless, singed, bleeding.

You laugh.

Dean groans.

“You’re the worst,” he says.

“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but stops. Because he’s realizing you might be right.

Next thing you know, the air in the motel room is heavy. You’ve both cleaned up—sort of. You’re in a silk robe now, blood rinsed from your skin but not from your memory. Dean’s wearing an old band tee with a rip near the collar and sweatpants, barefoot, jaw still clenched. He hasn’t looked at you since the kiss.

You don’t know if that’s a good sign.

You sit across from him at the little table between the beds, picking at your nail polish, pretending you’re not waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“You could’ve died today,” he finally mutters.

“You already said that.”

He looks up, eyes sharp. “You didn’t react the first time either.”

You shrug. “I didn’t feel like getting all misty-eyed about it while covered in ghost goo.”

Dean leans forward, elbows on the table, and you swear— his gaze softens. Just for a second.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Your stomach flips. Violently.

And now you’re just… staring at him. He’s not looking away. He’s not covering it with sarcasm or barking an insult or making some gruff joke about how everyone dies in this line of work, sweetheart. He’s just sitting there, looking at you like losing you would gut him.

You don’t do emotions. Not like this. Not in daylight. So you smirk, instead. “God, you’re being so clingy.”

Dean chuckles under his breath, but it’s not amused. It’s devastated.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend this doesn’t matter.”

You open your mouth to toss something clever back, but nothing comes. Because it does matter. And you both know it.

So instead, you get up.

Walk over.

Slide into his lap like it’s nothing.

But it’s everything.

His hands automatically grip your hips. His breath catches.

And you whisper, “I don’t want to lose you either.”

It’s the softest he’s ever seen you. And he looks at you like he’s memorizing it — like this might be the only time he gets to see you with your guard down.

Then he presses his forehead to yours. You sit there for a long time, just breathing each other in. Not kissing. Not speaking. Just holding.

The line between friends and lovers? It’s already blurred. Hell, it’s obliterated.

You slide your hand up the back of his neck. His breath hitches. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I’m not gonna run anymore,” you whisper. “So stop looking at me like I’m gonna disappear.”

Dean exhales shakily.

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat. His hands grip your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. You sink into him like he’s home.

It’s not neat. It’s not soft.

It’s messy.

Years of denial crash in one second— teeth, tongues, groans swallowed into skin. You push him back further against the mattress and climb over him, still straddling his lap, your hands yanking at his shirt like you’ve waited lifetimes to touch him without consequence.

Dean flips you, presses you into the mattress, mouth hot on your neck.

“Should’ve done this the second I met you,” he mutters into your skin, voice wrecked.

“You were too busy pretending I annoyed you.”

“You did annoy me.” He grins against your collarbone. “Still do.”

You moan when his hands slide under your robe. “Shut up and take it off.”

Dean’s hands are on you; rough, urgent. His fingers digging into your waist, your body pressed flush against his. His breath is ragged, hot on your neck. You’re both trembling, not from the cold but from something deeper, more raw.

You gasp as his lips meet yours again, his mouth is hard against yours, like he’s trying to consume you. And you’re not exactly pulling away either.

Your hands are on his chest, pushing his shirt off, nails scraping against his skin, making him groan low and deep in his throat.

“You sure about this?” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm and possessive. His lips move down your neck, kissing and biting, and you can’t stop the shiver that races through you.

“I’ve been sure since the first time I laid eyes on you, Winchester,” you breathe out, your voice shaky but bold. The words feel like they’ve been building up for months, desperate to spill out.

Dean’s hands slide lower, just shy of where you need him. “Yeah? Then why’d you keep running from me?”

You’re not sure if it’s the heat, the pressure, or the way he looks at you with that fire in his eyes, but you snap, your patience snapping like a rubber band. You rip his belt off, hands shaking but determined.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this too,” you snap, before kissing him hard again, all teeth and tongue, pushing your body against his, aligning the two of you in one swift motion.

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, a low growl escaping his lips as he finally lets you have control. His hands are on your hips, guiding you, the pressure between your legs sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body.

The world outside the room disappears. There’s nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the slick slide of skin on skin, and the rhythm you’re both setting— raw, frantic, desperate.

His voice breaks as he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against your ear. “God, you feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

You don’t hold back. The tension, the need, it’s been bubbling beneath the surface, and now, it’s exploding. You move against him, your body finding its rhythm with his, chasing that overwhelming heat, that burn that has nothing to do with the hunt, with monsters. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in sheets, no masks, no pretenses.

Dean groans as you shift, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Should’ve had you like this from the start.”

You smile, teeth grazing his jawline as you pull back just enough to look him in the eye, your breath uneven. “Took you long enough to catch up.”

“You feel so good,” he mutters between kisses. “Damn, you feel better than I imagined.” His voice is low, strained, the heat in his tone like fire. “Always knew this was gonna happen… didn’t realize it’d be this fucking good.”

Your movements become faster, rougher, and Dean matches you, his hands gripping your hips harder as he takes control of the rhythm. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the soft, breathy moans you both can’t hold back, fill the room. And you can feel his eyes on you, burning with an intensity that sends a wild thrill straight through your core.

His name is a whisper on your lips as you both fall into it. That final, explosive moment when you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. It’s pure, intense, all-consuming.

And when you both finally collapse into the bed, gasping for air, sweaty and wrecked, there’s no question.

You’re not just two people sharing a night anymore.

You’re tangled up in something deeper.

Something that’s not going to fade in the morning.

After, you’re tangled in the sheets, your head on his chest, his hand lazily tracing patterns across your bare back.

“You’re mine now, huh?” he murmurs, voice all husky and smug and soft.

You hum. “I was starting to think you’d never ask...”

Dean kisses the top of your head. “We’re really doing this?”

You look up at him. “Yeah. We are.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin, clearly amused, but his eyes flicker with that intense, familiar heat. “You sure you’re ready for all this, sweetheart?” He motions to himself dramatically. “I’m a lot.”

You pause, staring at him, before letting out a mock gasp. “Oh no. Does that mean I’m gonna have to be the one saving you next time?”

Dean laughs, the sound rich and full of life. “Baby, the only thing you’ll be saving is my dignity— if there’s any left after last night.. And maybe if you get lucky a few monsters along the way.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” You give him a wink, running your fingers through his hair. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you out of trouble, huh?”

Dean leans in, catching your lips in a kiss that’s lighter than before but still packed with that unmistakable Dean Winchester intensity. “You’re my trouble now, sweetheart.”

And for the first time, it feels like everything’s exactly as it should be.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @brutuuallove @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @twelveyearsofit @tinas111 @riteofpassage77 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡

[ashlinxsloves]

-AARON HOTCHNER HEADCANONS-

The promised hcs for our favourite hot dilf Aaron Hotchner 🤭 I hope you guys like them, it's gonna be a little lengthy and I've divided them between Basic, SFW Dating and NSFW.. Minors please don't interact with the nsfw content.

–Basic–

Hotch would be the type of guy who listens to classical music around the team, but once he's alone in his personal car, he has a whole collection of CDs in his glove box of his favourite bands and albums (The Beatles, etc.)

He'd also listen to audiobooks during long drives home. The genre can vary between the classics or just a light novel.

A huge overpacker. He packs the essentials during cases, but if the trip is personal, he packs almost everything – sunscreen, mosquito repellent, a map, extra batteries, a flashlight, etc. You'll never know if it might come in handy

Dad instincts are strong af, will know something is wrong before it happens

Wakes up at the crack of dawn. Became a habit after working so long in the BAU

Hotch is overall a light sleeper. Mostly because of emergencies or sudden calls from the BAU

The king of overworking. Before Haley died, he used to work so much that he got nosebleeds. He does it less now and spends more time with Jack than with paperwork.

Likes his coffee black with two teaspoons of sugar. He doesn't like it too sweet but isn't bitter either.

He most probably had a secret rockstar phase in his teens. Crazy shoulder-length hair, studded belts, band tees and EYELINER. Stopped after he became a junior in high school though.

Used to blame himself for failing to save the victims during his early years in the field. He tries to remember every person he failed to save in the past and compensate by saving more while being calm and tactful.

Spends a lot of time with Jack during the weekends. He's trying to make up for lost time after being so busy with his job than being a father. They would go on road trips, and theme parks and would do a whole lot just to see his son smile.

Hotch would unironically start drinking apple or pineapple juice after Jack just asked him to. Just for no reason at all.

He gets horrible migraines because of staying up late and not getting enough rest.

-SFW Dating-

When the two of you just started dating, he wasn't 100% sure of it because 1. your age gap (reader would be in her mid-20s) and 2. The fraternization rule in the Bureau.

The both of you kept the whole thing a secret for about four months until the team figured it out on a random Tuesday.

"I- I mean it was pretty obvious from how Hotch was hovering over you all the time and the ways his stoic face softens when he addresses you. Not to forget the way his pupils dilate-" "That's enough Reid."

When you were gonna meet Jack for the first time, you were quite nervous about it, but Aaron reassured you that he'd love you (and the little dude did).

Hotch would try to take you on dates, but it was kind of hard with your hectic schedules.

So it would usually be movie nights at his place along with some takeout dinner after putting Jack to bed.

It took Hotch a while to open up to you, but you were there to support him and he was worth the wait.

Picks you up for work and drives you home even if you told him that it was okay and you had your own car, he insisted on driving you home and seeing you get there safely.

Brings you coffee and something sweet from the cafe. It's his way of telling you he cares about you without the team teasing you after he goes into his office.

He would start to think irrationally after finding out you got hurt during a case. He wouldn't be able to think straight on the way to the hospital and blurted a mumbled 'I love you' while putting pressure onto your wound.

When you sleep over at his place, he loves seeing you wear his old college T-shirts.

Hotch thinks about Haley a lot and feels guilty for it, but you understand that she was his first love and he peppers you with soft kisses to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart... I know I shouldn't be thinking about what could have been and focus on what is.. I'll do better, I promise.."

Calls you to his office sternly as if you were in trouble but in reality, he just wants you for himself in the office for a little while.

His heart clenched yet light when Jack asked him if you were going to be his new mommy.

Pet names would be rare when it comes to him. What really matters is when he calls you by your name. But the occasional 'Sweetheart' and 'Darling' might slip out.

He shows you his unserious side. It was a whole 180 for you and it made you fall for him even more. He's an adorable dork.

Even if the two of you are dating, there's a fine line between being together behind closed doors and pure professionalism. Hotch is still your superior and there wouldn't be any special treatment even if you were his significant other.

But when he realizes he gets too rough with you he will apologize in private after the case.

His love language is quality time, so he tries to be around you and Jack as much as he can.

Cheesy pickup lines to try and make you laugh during a hard day. Only in private though.

Knows what to do when you're on your period. He'll bring a heating pad, warm fuzzy blankets, your favourite snacks and painkillers.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI!!!

-NSFW Dating-

• The sex is incredible. Hotch knows all the right places to hit and how to give you a godly amount of orgasms.

• He starts out slow, letting you get used to the stretch and how much he's filling you up. You can practically feel his cock in your throat from how full you feel.

• Gentle feather-like kisses on your forehead, telling you how good you feel around him while starting to move his hips at a quicker pace.

• From slow, gentle thrusts, it changes into something more primal and rough. As if he were lashing out all his frustrations from work into your tight, little pussy, trying to fuck you into next week.

• And he does it well. He fucks you senseless until you're coming on his cock multiple times before he finishes and spills his cum into the condom he's wearing.

• He just loves fucking you in the missionary position, because he sees how your face contorts in pleasure.

• The first time the two of you slept together was at your place after a really stressful case and the two of you had a drink too many.

• Obviously, Hotch was still a bit sober but you were out of it. He wouldn't do anything without your consent, but you had dragged him into your bedroom and things got heated.

• Bruised your cervix one too many times. The two of you rarely have any sex but if you do, you go all out. He apologises with an amazing bath and breakfast in bed.

• Amazing aftercare. He'll take care of you after the both of you are done, even if he's tired. He'd always clean you up, get you a glass of water and press soft kisses on your shoulders. Cuddling and whispered confessions under messy sheets.

• Not a big fan of having sex in public spaces. He needs privacy when he's trying to fuck and pleasure you.

• But he does know about the dirty fantasies you have about getting fucked on his desk. He's seen the books read and articles you look up. Not like you could've hidden it from him anyway.

• He fulfills those fantasies to the best of his capabilities when no one's left in the office and it's just the two of you. He looks through the last of his files, calls you to his office and closes the door.

• His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. His hair was slightly dishevelled as if he ran his fingers through them multiple times.

• Hotch makes you suck his cock until you're gagging, being a little rougher on you. Then he got you splayed on his desk, pushing your pencil skirt up and ripping your stockings by the crotch area.

• When he noticed how wet you got, he smirked, moving the gussets of your panties to the side. He then flicked your sensitive clit, making you whimper as slick gushed out your weeping hole.

• “You like this, don't you, sweetheart? Lying on my desk, messing up my paperwork with your slutty pussy?”

• He's not the type to degrade you, but if you really wanted to he would. But he wouldn't go too far with the insults.

• He's a switch. Since he's usually dominant in most of his everyday life, Hotch lets you take over once in a while.

• Loves going down on you. He likes loosening your tight hole with his mouth and savours the taste of your essence on his tongue.

• Hotch goes weak when you go down on him even if he doesn't ask you to. Praises and soft grunts.

• Isn't the type to be loud. Mostly pants and let's out soft groans when your pussy convulses around his shaft.

• Loves hearing you whine his name and complain how deep he is.

• Once he saw you looking at a site involving different positions, but the one that piqued his interest the most was the mating press.

• Was curious and wanted to try it with you. Hotch was too riled up to put on a condom that night and filled you up to the brim, having you pressed into the mattress, your calves over his shoulders as he buried himself deeper, hitting so many new places that it made you see white.

That's all for now, I hope you liked it 🤭🤭🤭

[slimybeth69]

Part 3- Your People

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

w/c~ 8k

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you. I'm coming from a place of love and respect for my readers who have ever gone through anything traumatic and maybe don't want to relive that, it's in here. I try and do it tastefully and respectfully in the best way, i'll mark it with a lil divider where you can skip the part I'm worried about. it's smut but it's sad. There is your warning. I love you.

You gotta sleep, kid. You need it.

Mister-J looks so warm and comfortable… go on and crawl in beside him.

He does look so comfortable and inviting, especially from your spot just out of his reach if you were to fall asleep. His chest rises and falls slowly as he breathes in his sleep. It’s memorizing, and almost hypnotic enough to make you forget all of your fears— forget all of the things that made laying next to him with his arms around you physically excruciating.

S’okay, Baby. You’ll get there, it’ll get easier ‘n he won’t seem so big ‘n scary anymore.

There is a reason he seems big and scary, kid. Your gut is telling you not to trust him, so don’t.

Oh, stop it. If he wanted to kill her, he would have— he would have done it by now. He’s big ‘n strong— he could, and he hasn’t.

That sweet, soft voice does have a good point…

Doesn’t mean he isn’t waiting for a better opportunity.

The dark, serious voice has a point too…

This always happens, the voices say things that conflict one another, but they both have a point. They both make sense but never about the same thing. And they argue. And they’re loud. It’s only when you need them, that you really, really want them to say something that they are quiet.

The little flashlight that had been attached to the backpack Mister-man—

Joel… he has a name. He’s a real person, kid.

You flick the flashlight off quickly so it’s dark again.

Mister-mans, Mister-J… Joel… it don’t matter none, Sugar. He’s yours, and you can call him whatever you want.

You flick the light back on so you can watch him sleep. It’s incredible how calm he is, and how he fell asleep as soon as you laid down next to him after saying he couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes that happens to you though, sometimes you need to touch yourself, and make yourself squirm and moan and come, and then sleep finds you. Sometimes the whiskey puts you to sleep before you even have the desire to do that to yourself.

Whatever Mister-J did with his tongue was so much better than your fingers, wasn’t it?

It most definitely was. It was probably the most incredible feeling you’ve ever experienced. Not that you hadn’t ever experienced it before, but this time…it was soft, gentle— and you wanted it more than anything. That made it feel even fucking better, how badly you wanted to sit down on Mister-mans face and grind down onto his mouth.

He was making out with your cunt. Deep, long, tongue swirling kisses. He would open and close his mouth, and suck. He would lick and lap at all spots you didn’t even know could make you feel good.

When you would take his cock deep in your throat and gag on it, he would moan- loudly-and the vibrations from that were like earthquakes, they touched parts inside of you that were left unexplored by anyone before Mister.

He was perfect.

The idea of laying your head down on his big, muscular bicep was nice until you were actually doing it, and then everything about it felt foreign. It was like sleeping too close to the fire, surrounded by too many blankets.

You had gotten so used to sleeping alone, that the feeling of someone next to you didn’t feel right anymore. It made you sad and you’re not entirely sure why.

So that’s why you’re here on the floor and not snuggled up against Mister-man. It’s like the universe played some cruel joke on you- and you got your favorite food but when you bite into it, it’s rancid.

But your fingers twitch toward him anyway—like roots in dirt searching for water. His arm is right there. His breath is slow and steady.

Go on. He’s warm as fresh bread.

You shift an inch closer.

Dangerous as a snake in the grass.

But his skin smells like leather and sweat and you want to taste him again. Want to run your tongue from the tip of his cock, to the spot just in front of his ear that makes him sigh when you kiss him there.

Crawling—quiet like scared prey— you move until your face hovers over his chest. His shirt rides up just enough to show a scar on his perfectly doughy stomach. And another on his rib cage. It looks newer, still old enough to be a scar, but pink instead of white.

You wonder if it aches when he breathes. If that’s the reason his voice sounds like gravel sometimes.

He’ll crush you.

He’ll hold you.

It sounds like a song the way the sweet voice says it.

You touch the scar with your pinky finger, feather-light—and he doesn’t stir. But then he sighs—a rumble deeper than thunder—and your guts twist.

You scramble back, heart slamming against the back of your throat.

The sweet voice clucks at you.

You’re spooking yourself. 

You’re alive because you spook.

The flashlight rolls under your knee when you shift—plastic clattering loud enough to wake dead things—and Mister’s brow tightens. For one gut-drop second, his eyes flicker open, staring up at you, before he grunts and turns onto his side, back to you now.

He’s mad again? How, and why? What did you do wrong? You had done everything right.

You keep poking that bear and you’re going to get mauled, kid.

He ain’t mad…look’it his hands, Sugar.

They’re not balled up into fists, they’re relaxed. His whole body is. Everything about him seems so at peace.

Your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten— and then you only had half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and some whiskey.

Joel’s boot shifts with a dry scrape of leather—and your lungs forget how air works. But he just mumbles something that sounds like “goddamn horse” with his face smushed against the pillow.

Mister-J talks in his sleep? He’s precious.

He is. It’s hard to contain the feeling in your chest when he sighs loudly, rolling onto his stomach, curling his arms under the pillow.

Instead of trying to face your fears of crawling into bed with him and falling asleep next to someone else, you crawl on your hands and knees back to the chair across the room. The whiskey bottle is still tucked between the cushion where you left it.

--

Even with almost half of a bottle of whiskey in you, your eyes won’t close. You only know what time it is because the soft whir of the solar powered generator kicks on, and the singular lamp in the corner flicks to life. It’s dark outside now. 

The electric hum from the bulb makes your skin crawl, and your head buzz.

Part of you feels bad for keeping Mister down here like this. He doesn’t even know what time it is, he’ll probably wake up soon, getting ready to start the day. You wonder if he misses the sun, if he ever walked barefoot in the grass and if he misses that feeling too.

When you weren’t allowed outside, you missed the sun. You missed the grass between your toes. You missed being able to jump into the river and swim around with your brother whenever you wanted. There were a lot of things you missed when you weren’t allowed to go outside.

Unscrewing the whiskey cap, you take a swig and relish in the way it burns. It drowns out the voices, but it doesn’t dull the ache between your legs— the memory of his mouth makes you shift in the soft recliner.

In the soft, pale light spilling into the room from behind the aged, yellow lampshade, you can see Mister-J… and how excited he is. He’s on his back, shirt riding up over his stomach again, the bulge in his sweatpants clear as day now.

There is a new voice you’ve never heard before, and it’s not saying anything— only screaming. Loud, and high pitched. It’s excruciating. It’s the only thing you hear now, not even the sound of your own voice telling you what to do, or what to think or say.

When you stand, the whiskey sloshes between your temples. It makes you sway and almost lose your balance, but you press your hand to a support beam that juts out of the floor and into the ceiling.

Heavy, clumsy, limping feet and a swollen ankle carry you to Mister-J.

His cock is hard and heavy in your hand and he tastes just like he did last night. He stirs under your touch—a low groan vibrating through clenched teeth—and your pussy tightens around nothing. Mister arches his hips up against your slow moving fist, trying to fuck your hand momentarily before stilling and settling back down into the mattress. His eyes are still shut tight beneath furrowed eyebrows.

It’s pathetically cute how bad he wants this. How badly he needs it.

The screaming inside your head morphs into static.

Your fingers rub slow circles over damp fabric between your legs while your rib cage starts to feel like a hive of wasps. Everything inside of you is buzzing as you lean over and swirl your tongue around the ridge of his cock.

Wrong.

That dark voice sounds like it’s coming through the static like old radio stations.

You pull your hand away from Mister-J's cock and cover your face with it, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill. This is all wrong, all of it.

S’right. It’s all right.

The static transmutes into tornado sirens.

Your hand finds his cock again and it throbs in your grasp. There is no hesitation when you take him into your mouth with a gentleness you didn’t know you possessed when you’re this intoxicated. Delicate movements and laps of your tongue along his shaft make him moan softly, still slumbering.

Salt and musk take over your senses as he pulses against your tongue—wanting even in his unconsciousness. Your throat spasms around him as you gag, tears hot on your lashes. One hand brushes against his thigh as you move to steady yourself on the mattress while the other slips into your own waistband. Two fingers slide into you with no resistance. You’re so wet that you almost feel embarrassed.

Inside.

The sweet voice sings to you over the cacophony going on inside your head.

Mister’s hips jerk again, involuntary, desperate. A string of saliva connects your lip to his cock when you pull back to breathe. The room tilts—whiskey and shame on your tongue—but you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not when his thighs were trembling just a moment ago.

After kicking your shorts off, you climb on top. Mister feels so hot pressed up against your cunt. Yours and his breath catch in your throats when you sink down into his lap. Your eyes close to hide from the stretch that burns in a slippery, and shameful way.

The wasps behind your ribs sharpen their stingers as you slowly start to rock your hips against his. Mister’s eyelids flutter but he doesn’t wake-up, not fully. He just hovers in that feverish space between dreaming and drowning. A place you’re familiar with.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Good. Good. Good.

You want to carve yourself into his bones before the tornado sirens rip your skull apart.

The oven mitts make useless fists at his sides as he arches beneath you, tendons in his neck pulled wire-tight. His hips stutter upward instinctively, chasing more friction, seeking the deepest, warmest parts of you.

His eyes snap open, “The fuck are you—” Mister-man’s voice is rough like sandpaper but you don’t let him finish before you slap your hand over his mouth.

“Shhhh, makin’ you feel good,” you moan quietly, your hips never faltering. His cock slides across a spot inside of you that whites the edges of your vision.

He mumbles something, his teeth scraping along your palm as he does so. It vaguely sounds like, ‘Get off’a me’ or ‘get off on me,’.

“M’tryin’,” you groan, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Your cheeks are wet, but from tears or sweat, you don’t know.

How can everything make sense up here on top of Mister-J, and still feel so incredibly… wrong?

The oven mitts start to drum against your thighs as he squirms underneath you.

It…hurts? Mister is hitting you? 

Hurting you.

You like it. 

“Knock it off!” You press harder against this mouth with your hand, your fingers digging into his cheeks. It’s impossible to stop riding him, to stop yourself from needing this brutal closeness with Mister. 

You’re being bad. 

You like it. 

His muffled growls vibrate against your palm—angry or pleading or both—but your cunt clenches harder around him anyway. Release is so close, you can feel yourself teeter on the precipice, but you can’t seem to push yourself over.

“Please, please, p-please— jus’ wanna, I just wanna— please, please, Mister-J,” you whine, face wet with perspiration and tears now, they’re flowing freely from your eyes. “I want it, need it—”

“Stop, goddammit—” he shouts at you from behind your fingers.

It makes you flinch but you don’t stop, and your pussy pulses around him. Your hand presses harder, fingernails leaving moon crescents in his flesh mingled with his stubble.

You just want to feel good, to be able to fall asleep once this is all over.

Oven mitts thump and scrabble at your hip, and that only makes your thighs clamp tighter around his waist. You want to swallow every twitch of his cock, everything he can give you– you want it. 

He bucks his hips up into you and touches a place inside you that leaves you gasping for air. “Yes, yes, yes—” you groan breathlessly, leaning forward to lay your body on top of his, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

Mister bucks his hips up into yours again— once, twice, three times and suddenly you’re being shoved off of him, pushed to the side like you’re weightless.

Before you can really even know what hit you, Mister-man has his entire body weight pinning you down underneath him. He has his forearm forced against your neck.

Your thumb instinctively presses against down, searching for the shock collar button but you just end up pressing against your own palm.

The static, and the sirens and the screaming— the voices. It all goes completely silent and the only thing you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears.

Mistake?

Mistake. 

“Got’chya,” He growls down at you, his eyes dark and blown wide.

“Get off me! Get off me! Get off of me!” You scream at him as loudly as you can, “Get off of me! Get off! Off, off, offoffoffoff! I’ll fucking kill you, you stupid fucking sonofabitch- get the fuck off me!”

“Awhh, lil crazy puppy don’t like it?” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your tear stained cheekbone.

Your legs begin to flail wildly in an attempt to dislodge him, push him, get him off. Your hands flying to his face, scratching and clawing at the soft skin, and his vulnerable, delicate eyes. You can’t find the words for how much you don’t like it, so you scream— it’s loud and rattles in the back of your throat as Mister-man clamps his hand over your mouth to silence you.

His breath is hot and ragged against your ear, the oven mitts clumsily grappling at your wrists as you thrash. "Stop—fuckin'—fightin’—," he grits out, but his voice cracks on the last word.

You taste copper—your teeth sink into his palm at some point, his blood smearing your chin. He pulls his hand back back to look at the broken skin, and you clench your eyes shut, flinching away from the incoming blows.

The room tilts and suddenly Joel’s weight isn’t just on your body; it’s inside your head, like pressure forcing memories that had buried deep to the surface like lava from a volcano.

Different hands holding you down. A different room. Different voices in your ear.

“Nononononono,” you whimper in a shriveled voice you don’t recognize. 

“Hey!” Joel’s voice is sharp and grounding.

His arm lets up just enough for you to suck in a shattered breath. You’re both trembling now, your chests heaving against one anothers. His beard scratches your temple as he turns his face away from your clawing hands, but you don’t miss it—there is a  flicker in his eyes when your choked sob hits the air between you. 

Something wet smears your cheek. His blood? Your tears? It’s hard to tell. 

“M’gonna make you feel real good, crazy girl.” His lips brush your earlobe as his hips grind down into yours, the length of him sliding between your folds, the tip notched at your entrance.

“Stop,” you whine, but the force has left your voice. Something about him breathing in your ear, something about the sound he makes as he shifts his hips and slips himself inside of you. The tears continue to fall, even as you gasp and clench around him. 

“She’s suckin’ me right in baby,” Joel purrs in your ear while his hips start to move. 

You can feel every fucking inch of him, every vein, and every single beat of his heart through the slick walls of your cunt. “Oh god,” you groan, your stiff, frightened hands curling in the hair on the back of his head, the other gripping one of his strong, strained biceps. 

You're terrified, but Joel's words and touch are overwhelming you, making your body respond in ways you didn’t know could in a position like this.

He thrusts slowly at first as he sinks deeper inside you. But soon his pace quickens and the slapping, wet sounds coming from between your legs fill the small basement room. "Yeah just like that," Mister groans, his lips ghosting over your cheek. "Take it all, baby girl.”

Your walls clench around him, pulling him in as if eager for more. You feel delirious with fear and an unbidden arousal. Tears stream down your face, but soft moans spill from your lips.

Joel licks at your tears and leaves gentle kisses in their place, his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. "Shhhh, I got you," he murmurs between thrusts.

The room spins and blurs as the pleasure builds. Nothing exists and nothing is real anymore; Mister-man’s weight pinning you down, his cock splitting you open, the sour, sweaty, musky scent of him.

He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real and he’s good. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good. He’s not killing you, not hurting you.

So good. It’s so good.

You turn your head to capture his salty, tear stained lips with yours, opening your mouth to let him in. His lips press against yours desperately, tongue licking at your teeth as he slips inside.

Your body arches up to meet him, craving more of his touch even as fear still coils in your gut. It’s like you’re two separate people wrapped up into a whole. One part of you wants him with everything that you are, and the other is ready to hide, ready to slip into the cracks into the wall and never come out.

His oven mitts move to your waist and fumble with the threadbare shirt you have on, trying to push it up over the swell of your breasts.

“Fuck,” he grunts, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He sits back on his knees, cock still throbbing inside of you while your walls flutter around him.

“Don’t, oh god, no. Please don’t go-” you sob, hands and fingers clawing at his forearms, desperate for him to come back. “P-Please don’t leave me,” you whine sadly, 

Mister says nothing as he places both mitt covered hands inside your shirt where it’s fastened with buttons. He pulls the two pieces of fabric apart like paper. The buttons fly in every direction, scattering across the floor and some landing in bed with you. Joel stares down at your naked body and you feel more exposed than you ever have in your entire life.

“Jesus christ,” he murmurs, eyes tracing every single one of your curves. His mittened hands cups the swell of your tits, thumb swiping over the stiff buds

It’s like you’ve been zapped by the shock collar. Your back arches into his hand, your eyes clamp shut.

“Nuh-uh, watch me,” he growls. He waits until your eyes are on him before he leans over and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirls and teeth graze and bite down.

“Oh my god,” you groan, your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your nails dragging red, almost bloody marks down his arm.

Mister releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air across it almost like he’s teasing you. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he takes the other into his mouth, alternating between harsh sucking and tender kisses.

You mewl softly as he begins to thrust again, each movement slow and deliberate. He drives deep inside of you and hits that spot that blurs the edges of your vision again, and again, and again.

You stare up at him in awe- his beard is longer, thicker than it was when he first came here, his hair disheveled and damp with sweat hangs in his forehead. He leans back and pushes the loose strands away from his face with an oven mitt.

Handsome.

He is.

Strong.

Being so gentle.

With you, Sugar. So gentle—

With you.

"Please," you whimper, spine bowing as pleasure coils tight in your belly as his hips snap against yours loudly. “More. Need more…”

He grins down at you, eyes crinkled at the corners, “I’ll give ya’ more, sweetheart.” If you thought Mister was handsome before, when he smiles your heart swells. and the pressure and tightness inside of you feels like it’s about to burst.

He wraps one hand underneath your knee and brings it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder by his ear, repeating the process with the other leg. He grips your thighs, the scratchy fabric of the oven mitts drags across your skin. Joel never lets up, never slows down the brutal, bruising pace he sets. 

A string of expletives and maybe his name more than once spill out of your mouth quickly, stumbling over the words as your body trembles underneath him.

All of the air is pushed out of you as he leans over, pushing your knees up to your chest and starts fucking into you with deep, long strokes. His pelvis grinds against your swollen clit with each powerful snap forward, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I can feel her squeezin’ me," he rasps hotly in your ear, licking the shell before biting down on your earlobe. “Come on my cock, crazy girl.”

That does it. It’s more than enough to push you over the edge. “Oh—” Your head tips back with a silent scream as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, making your entire body shudder and convulse beneath him. “Fuck… Joel!” Sparks burst behind your eyelids as pure rapture consumes you.

Mister sucks your earlobe as you come, his sweaty temple pressed against yours as the waves wash over you. He’s kissing and licking down to your neck, and bites down hard right over your pulse point, sucking hard enough to hurt. "That's it baby girl," he grunts against the spot he just bit.

It’s like your whole body is on fire, everything is too much, it’s all too good.

You feel a new pressure, a new sensation and it’s familiar, but foreign all at the same time. A new release, it’s different and it’s happening so fast.

“Stop! Oh my— Mist- Joel, p-please,” you plead for some sort of relief. “I’m gunna—”

Joel presses his lips to yours again, silencing you. You twist your head to the side, pulling away from his mouth as he kisses down your cheek to your jaw. “S’okay— let go...”

"I...I don't...can't..." You gasp out between ragged breaths. Hot, wet tears still leak from the corners of your eyes as the intense pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.

“Ya’ can,” he pants, resting his forehead on the side of your head. “Cryin’ only makes it feel better, baby girl.” He shifts his hips, angles them differently and fucks you harder- faster.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unsure if you’re begging him to stop, or to keep going. “S’too much!”

“Shut up,” he growls, nipping at your cheek gently, teeth scraping skin as he pistons into you relentlessly. “Let it happen, crazy girl.”

So you do- body obeying his command even as your mind reels with what’s about to happen. A second climax crashes over you, more intense than the first. It erupts from you in a wet splash against Mister’s lower stomach and pelvis, it drips down the curve of your ass and you feel it seeping into the mattress underneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises breathlessly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl cummin’ on Mister’s cock again.”

You sob in pleasure and embarrassment simultaneously as he fucks you through it, his deep voice rasping in your ear.

“Crazy,” He murmurs. His thrusts grow clumsy, and he’s panting in your ear, kissing the side of your face. His tongue captures the tears on your cheeks again like they’re his favorite drink as your fingers dig into the soft flesh on his shoulder. “Makin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he snaps suddenly, pulling back and out of you completely.

You whimper at the loss but he presses your thighs together tightly with his hands and forearms, and slips his cock between them, the length siding through your wet folds.

Mister-J kisses your ankle, his teeth biting down on the skin as he groans loudly, warmth spreads and seeps between your thighs, and slick lower lips, the crease where your legs meet your pelvis.

You stare up at him, watching as his eyes close, his brow furrows, his hips jerking back and forth clumsily as he empties himself onto your lower half.

Your legs tremble as he slides his softening cock out from between your thighs. 

That was the most incredible, and intense feeling you’ve ever experienced and you’re not sure if you should love him, or hate him for what he just did to you. The wet spot on the mattress is an embarrassing reminder of what happened seconds ago.

“S’good for ya’?” Mister asks, running one of his oven mitts over his forehead, wiping the sweat away. His eyes move from your face, down your still naked body, his cum smeared across your mound and lower stomach.

You pull your shirt closed around your bare torso, holding it closed with one hand. You use your good foot and the other hand to push yourself onto the cold concrete floor— skin scraping roughly as you shove yourself away from him.

His brows pinch together tightly, and he narrows his eyes on you. “Where’re ya’ goin’?” He sounds… concerned? Angry? Disappointed?

The words don’t find you, thoughts don’t come to you anymore as you hold the shirt over your chest and glare at him. All you can do is scream at him. It comes from somewhere deep and your lungs hurt, your throat feels like it could bleed from how raw it is after.

“Where’re ya’ goin’?”

He watches as tears continue to pour down your cheeks, your face twisting up tightly. You inhale deeply, and it looks like you’re trying to regain your composure.

Then you scream at him. It’s long and loud and hurts his ears, but he stares at you until you’re done. He continues to watch as you scurry away from him in a clumsy, stumbling crab-crawl until your back bumps into the leg of the table. 

You flinch and stifle a sob, and finally take a deep, shaky breath. You use the table to push yourself to your feet, turning away from him finally. You shove the table in his direction, grabbing the shock collar remote before you turn, and limp into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

The dull roar of the infected grows louder from upstairs. They’re still there, and that means the two of you are stuck together for at least another day or two, maybe longer.

The door opens again, and a metal bucket comes hurdling out of the bathroom and through the air. It hits the wall, and drops to the floor noisily with chaotic, metal clangs until it comes to settle in the corner by the mattress.

The door slams shut again.

You’re broken, he can see it in your eyes almost all the time, but there was a moment when he was on top of you where he thought you might have completely checked out– gone somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t mean to take you. 

Traumatized the poor puppy. Pro’lly in there cryin’.

He’s not worried that you’re crying. Nope. Not even a little. 

Alright- that’s what you wanna keep tellin’ yourself, go right ahead. 

He’s worried he just signed his death certificate. 

Joel wasn’t trying to take anything from you— not like that. You were already on top of him, riding him, but you just looked like you needed some help, like you needed him to take control. Like you didn’t know what you were doing up there, rolling and swirling your hips in any direction. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t ever going to get you there- where you wanted to be so badly.

Joel took you there, made you fucking squirt all over him and he took some sense of pride in that. 

Joel helps himself to jerky and bread, he drinks as much water as his body will comfortably allow. For the first time in weeks, he’s actually full. His stomach feels like it’s stretched like he might actually burst. 

–-

At first Joel thought you just needed a couple minutes. Maybe you wanted to clean up in the privacy of the bathroom without his eyes on you. But hours go by and he hears nothing coming from the separate room. Nothing. 

It’s silent. Completely. No shrieking or clicking of the infected from upstairs either. 

It’s the lack of control that’s pissing him off more than he would care to admit. Being captive was of course at the top of his ‘things to be pissed off about’ list,  but if he was going to be stuck here with you, he wishes he could at least have a say in what goes on. 

Hasn’t seen the sun, hasn’t had a proper shower in god knows when, hasn’t had a real meal in just as long. If you would give him just a little more freedom, things wouldn’t be too fucking bad here. 

Now you’re gettin’ it. 

You’re making Joel crazy, now he’s thinking about complying?

Y’been complyin’, Mister. Complied real damn good in that bed just then.

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. 

Has Joel been complying? What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t he kill you in bed? Why didn’t he strangle you, bite your jugular out of your throat. He could have, he felt your heartbeat on his tongue. He could have ended all of this right then. 

But ya’ didn’t! 

He sure fucking didn’t. He was so unworried about killing, that he made sure you came– twice – before he finished. 

Looked so sweet comin’ on your cock, perfect tits bouncin’, fuckin’ pussy was immaculate. 

Joel presses the oven mitts into the sockets of his eyes and groans loudly. 

--

Joel’s eyes snap open at the rattling coming from inside the room. He shoots up, looking around with crusty eyes and blurry vision. He expects to see you but is met with the sight of that fucking opposum sitting on the table with a piece of Joel’s jerky in his clawed little fingers, munching happily on the dried meat. 

“Git!” Joel shouts. The small animal doesn’t even flinch at Joel’s outburst, just continues to eat that precious protein. “Y’little fuckin’--” Joel grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. He stands in front of the table, looking down at it- the opposum- Puddin’. 

He just stares right back up at Joel, chewing quickly and swallowing. 

Kinda cute.

“S’fuckin’ gross,” Joel grumbles. He doesn’t really want to touch that thing, he doesn’t want to get whatever diseases that thing could be carrying. 

He’s got a collar on. 

Puddin’ does have a collar on. Joel imagines you taking your time picking it out for him, going through all the colors and designs. He can see you finding the teal and pink collar, holding it up against his fur and saying it’s perfect. That Puddin’ would be the most handsome opossum this mall has ever seen. 

It makes him smile. 

--

It feels like two fucking days--two goddamn days since Joel saw you walk into that bathroom and slam the door shut practically in his face. 

You’re either dead in there or plotting the most painful ways to kill him. Both choices make Joel sick to his stomach. 

–--

Joel watches you behind the metal grate that keeps the mattress store all locked up nice and tight. He’s on the wrong fucking side! He’s on the mall side and you’re tucked under the covers of your comfortable looking bed. Seven mattresses stacked on top of each other like you’re in some fucking story he’d read to Sarah when she was really little. 

Joel almost wishes he could go back to the basement because this is more dehumanizing than being tied up by the elbows or roped up to a chair. 

The metal chain around his neck is tight, and it digs into his skin. It’s thick,  heavy and has prongs on it– like he’s a fucking dog. A violent dog that lunges, and bites and attacks. 

You opened the door to the bathroom an hour ago with the choke chain in your hand, the shock collar remote taped to the other, and the most exhausted look Joel’s ever seen on anyone's face. Big dark circles under your eyes, disassociated stare like you weren’t even really looking at Joel when you spoke to him in almost indecipherable mumbling.

Joel fought you a little when you padlocked the choke chain to his neck, and added a smaller lock to the shock collar. But he stopped when you said you were gonna take his oven mitts off his hands. 

Where are all the infected? It sounded like there had been a horde of them up here two days ago and now there is not a single sign that they had even been here. 

When Joel had questioned you about what he would do if more infected came, you very confidently said that no one could get in or out that easily anymore; that you had made this place nice and safe for your ‘mister-man’.

Ain’t ever had no one like that before, have ya’?

No.

That had always been Joel’s job; to keep everyone else safe. 

Who made sure that he was safe? 

There had always been give and take with everyone else, even Tommy and Tess. There was love there, sure– but never just someone absolutely and completely tearing themselves open to make sure that Joel was taken care of. 

The only thing you wanted in return was his company. 

Might’a never touched ya’ if you hadn’t asked for it. 

He wonders what your name is. How old you are, where you came from. How long have you been out here…

Joel grabs the metal cord wrapped in some sort of plastic or vinyl material that goes all the way up to the ceiling and gives it a shake as he looks up. You’ve attached it to some other sort of rope or cable that’s been tied from one end of the mall to the other. 

The other end is connected to Joel’s choke chain. 

As soon as your eyes closed he attempted to unclip himself from it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried everything but it was like you welded the clasp closed. 

Joel wanders. That’s all he can do. He’s got more than enough slack to go into whatever store he wants and walk around, inspect.

As he does this his mind doesn’t stop thinking about you. Why didn’t you sleep with him? What did you do while he slept on the bed? Did you sleep? Have you eaten? What the fuck did you do in the bathroom for two whole days?

Joel finds a place where the sun is shining through a hole in the ceiling and faces it with his eyes closed. He could fucking cry. He didn’t realize how much he missed this, how important it was for a person to come in contact with the sunlight. He chokes down the lump in his throat and stands there, following the sun as it moves in the sky, the light coming in at shifting angles and directions. He follows it, stays in the warmth- basking in it for as long as possible until dusk settles and the sky slowly starts to turn pink. 

Joel has his backpack with him. You packed him some food and water, his flashlight. A clean long sleeve shirt in case it got cold. You even threw in some whiskey for him, which he was enjoying sip by sip. 

He pulls his flashlight out and uses it when he goes into an old bookstore. Some shelves are empty; nature guides, atlases, hunting and fishing- basically the entire outdoors section is gone. 

The romance novels are almost bare. 

Who needs those when lil puppy’s got you, right?

There are still self-help books on the shelves, almost untouched and whatever is left looks like it would fall apart in his hands if he tried to touch it. 

Why’s you even in this section?

Joel wanders to the comics and takes a look at whatever is left. Some are in alright condition, wrapped in plastic away from the elements. Some do disintegrate before he can even get them out of their place on the shelf. 

He grabs a Batman comic still in a vinyl sleeve and tosses it in his pack for later. There are tons more strewn all across the floor, some he remembers reading with Tommy as kids. He picks through them, looking for any worth saving and finds two more still in decent condition. 

There are several department and clothing stores that look bare from the outside, but he wanders into one anyway just to see what might have been missed.

There’s an exit to the outside that's been all boarded up, with what looks like every empty clothing rack pushed in front of it. He thinks about moving all those things, breaking through the boards… but where the fuck would he go? Ten feet outside of the mall where the infected were apparently moving through? 

No. 

He’ll stay inside.

He paruses the homegoods section all the way in the back of the second floor and finds a wall of empty shelves except for one. 

It’s filled with books- he reads through the titles: The Beginners Guide to Foraging, An Introduction to Wildlife Rehabilitation, LIVING WITH WILDLIFE- How to Enjoy, Cope with, and Protect North America’s Wild Creatures Around Your Home and Theirs, The Big Book of Skill Makers, The Complete Beginners Guide to Greenhouse Gardening- A Month by Month Planting Book to Grow 365 Days a Year, You Will Find Your People- How To Make Meaningful Friendships as an Adult. There are several Batman comics featuring Harley Quinn and The Joker. 

They all look like they’ve been read thoroughly and many times. 

On the same shelf there is a pink balloon animal made of glass, it has fresh flowers in it, with clean water. It takes him several seconds to realize that it’s supposed to be a bong. For smoking weed. And you’re using it as a vase. 

Joel chuckles to himself and continues to look at the shelf of your important belongings. A couple rocks of different colors, an old makeup compact that has a broken mirror in it. And a small glass picture frame of a family– a mother and a father, a little girl, and a young man but his face has been scratched out beyond recognition. 

On the wall behind the shelf Joel notices lines carved into the wall.

| | | | | | | | | | |

Twelve. Is that how old you were when this all happened? Is that the number of men you did this to before Joel came along? Are you going to add him to this fucking list?

Is that how many months you've been out here?

All of this suddenly feels like someone he can’t see punched Joel directly in the stomach. 

Sad. 

Joel makes his way to a different part of the mall, checking every entrance that he finds along the way and they’re all boarded up better than they were when he used to walk around here before you captured him. He does appreciate the effort you went through to make sure nothing could get in if you weren’t going to give him a weapon, and he couldn’t escape. 

There is an old music and entertainment store where you must get your princess movies and cartoons to watch. He picks through a couple, finding a couple classics that he watched before the outbreak Office Space, Dirty Harry, The Thing, Top Gun. 

He grabs a couple more that he watched as a kid with his dad and grandpa; The Magnificent 7, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. He grabs the three original Star Wars movies as well– the best ones, the only ones worth watching. The ones that started to come out right before the outbreak– Joel can’t even talk about it. 

He’s done his exploring and now he sits outside of the mattress store waiting for you to wake up and let him back in. As soon as Joel unwraps the sandwich and jerky you made him, that stupid fucking oppossum comes scampering along like this is it’s dinner too. 

“Get the hell outta here,” Joel grumbles, waving his hand in its direction, trying to scare it off– but it persists. 

Inching closer and closer until Joel could kick it if he wanted to. 

Kinda cute in the little collar.

Joel tosses a piece of his sandwich a good distance away and Puddin’ chases after it while Joel digs into his own portion. 

Hours and hours go by, you sleep for so fucking long. He reads all of the comic books that he grabbed and even goes back to the bookstore to look for more. He finds nothing else that interests him so he goes to your bookshelf in the department store and grabs a couple from there to look at. 

He’s flipping through the skill maker book when you finally wake up and open the grate. 

Joel scrambles to his feet, watching as you rub your eyes with your one free hand, the other still has the remote tapped to your palm. 

The two of you stare at each other for several silent moments before you notice the book in his hand. 

“Just put it back where ya’ found it when you’re done with it, ‘kay?” Your voice is deep and filled with sleep. 

Joel nods his head, and puts the book in his backpack. “Yeah, sure– hey where did all the infected go?” He questions as you toss your own pack over your shoulder and head in the direction of the food court. 

“Cleared ‘em out the other day.”

“How the hell did you do that? When? After we–”

“Yup.” You cut him off with a sharp, short response. “Wasn’t that many. Kinda easy when you get high ground on ‘em.” 

Joel eyes dart up to the rafters and wonders how good you are with a bow and arrow. He knows Ellie is a great shot, loves her bow and arrow. “And you moved ‘em all out on your own?” 

“Yup.” 

“How did you even get out of the bathroom?” Joel’s been wondering that this whole time. 

You walked into the bathroom, slammed the door and the next time he saw you was coming down the stairs to the basement. 

He wonders if you’re even real. 

Ohh our lil puppy is real alright.

If you knew that Mister-J was going to ask all of these questions you might not have ever taken the duct tape off. 

Where did the infected go? What if more get in? How did you get out of the bathroom? Where are you going now? When will you be back? Are you okay? Are you mad? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering me? 

He’s so nosy! Asking more questions than any of the other guys combined. 

Why does he even care? 

Shhhhh, this is what makin’ friends is, Sweetheart. 

“Used the vents to get out of the bathroom,” you sigh, not stopping or slowing down but Joel keeps up anyway, his arm brushing yours as he walks alongside you.

“What about the infected– you know the spores–” 

“I burn ‘em outside at night when it’s real dark–” you explain to him quickly. “I ain’t stupid. I know ‘bout the spores. I know how the fungus works. I paid attention,” you huff softly as you reach the ladder that takes you up into the rafters and eventually out onto the roof.

Mister is too big, and probably too clumsy to follow you up here. 

“M’just goin’ to get some more food… I’ll be right back– couple of minutes, okay?”

Mister looks relieved when you say this, his face relaxes and he sighs softly. “Okay, just be careful.” 

— -- --- ---

“Is that my shirt?” He asks about the green and red flannel you have on when you come out of the women’s restroom in the food court. Your hair is clean, your body feels refreshed after taking a shower. 

Mister looks good too with his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed neatly. 

You nod, not taking your eyes off of him. It’s almost impossible when he looks like a brand new man- handsome. He looks like he’s lost weight since he’s been here with you. 

You’ll fix that. He needs to eat more than you, and he wants meat so… you’ll go get it for him. Real meat this time, even if it makes you sad how you have to get it.

“Yeah, I took it ‘cause it smelled like you.” You admit with no shame. That’s exactly why you took it. So you could sleep with it so he could warm up to his new house, with his new friend. 

Mister-J chuckles, and shakes his head at you with a smirk plastered across his face. “Someone told me I stink once,” he says through his laughter. 

This makes you smile because he’s happy. He looks happy, like he doesn’t mind talking to you, he’s not saying mean things. He’s sharing. 

Told ya’ he’d get comfortable. Just had to be patient. We figured it all out eventually. 

“You do stink sometimes, but you smell real, so I don’t mind.” You share with him as you lead him back to the mattress store. He carried the TV up earlier and said he found a couple movies he wanted to watch. They don’t really look like movies you want to watch, but you’ll give them a shot.

Anything for Mister-Joel, perfect, sweet man. 

It doesn’t make this easier. Mister wants to sleep in the bed next to you, said he wanted to warm you up, but now you’re next to him again and it feels like you could burst into flames and tears all at the same time. 

“What’s your name?” He whispers into your ear, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you tightly from behind. 

“Why?” The sirens go off inside your head. No one’s asked you that in so long, it makes your stomach flip and you feel like you could be sick. 

“Told’ya mine,” He murmurs into your hair. 

Joel. 

When you go to answer, the words don’t come because the memories are gone. You can see your mom and dad talking to you inside your head but their voices are on mute. The name never leaves their mouth.  “I don’t remember…”

OFC thank you @pedrospookie for making this cutie banner and letting me scream at about all of this!!

I need to give an extra special shout-out to the couple of other people I screamed at about this. @almostempty @gothcsz( your music recs inspired me) and thanks to @probablyreadinsmut and my unnamed friend who helped me with the TW of the chapter.

I was especially nervous to post this because I didn't want to ruin anyone's day or send anyone into their own spiral. I hope you all are OK!

thank you to everyone who has been reading!! I've never gotten such incredible feedback on a fic before and you are all so nice and make writing this story that much more fun. I LOVE YOU

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories @evolnoomym @valkyreally @youdontknowe @corazondebeskar-reads @pastelpinkflowerlife @tobethlehem

please don't hate me if I forgot you, I have a hamster brain, ok?

[hopesangelsprite]

Just A Thought

⚠️ DARK CONTENT AHEAD ⚠️

NO MINORS/AGELESS ACCOUNTS

Warnings: manipulation, fake violence, mentions of blood and murder, obsession, fake sympathy, cnc, dubcon, knifeplay, primal play (ish idk), dacryphilia, hair pulling, spanking, creampie

Thinking about going camping with friends, all of you needing a break from the hustle and bustle of daily life. So, you each pack up a few tents and duffels for week in the forest, intent on leaving the agonizing flow of scrolling and deadlines to get in touch with the earth and each other.

It doesn't take long for you to reach the edge of the city, driving past the towering buildings and stop signs. You listen to one of your friend's advice and choose not to go to a state park. "It's not natural enough, too many influencers going out for a quick post.", he complains having grown up outside the city and its illusions. So, you drive farther and farther until the twinkle of city lights is outshone by the glow of stars. It's beautiful; beautiful enough to distract you from the calmly sinister energy radiating off him in waves.

Tent set up takes about an hour, each one having its own hiccups along the way. By the time everything's setup and settled, it's pitch black and the temperature's steadily dropping. Somehow, you and that friend from earlier are paired to go retrieve firewood.

As you venture deeper into the woods, the air between you two is comfortable. He cracks a few jokes, always one to be goofy and spontaneous. Wood gathering doesn't take long and you both return to camp with a large bounty. Soon, the fires lit, and everyone gathers around. That one friend stands suddenly, checking his pockets frantically. He's lost his phone and wants you to follow him back through the woods to help look for it.

You happily agree, taking a flashlight of your own and bidding everyone a 'Be right back!'.

This is your first mistake.

You travel deeper into the forest, eyes and flashlight sweeping the ground for any sign of his phone. He's much quieter now but you chalk it up to him being focused. He is focused... just not on finding his phone. It's tucked away in his sleeping bag back at the camp, and he knows it.

Suddenly, he stops without warning, nearly causing you to bump into him. When you ask what's wrong he simply chuckles, admitting he remembers packing it away. You playfully scold him and turn to make your way back toward the distant flicker of campfire, but he grabs your arm before you can.

"Not yet, I wanted to spend a little more time with you!", he whines; eyes bright underneath the gentle glow of the moon. You laugh a bit, flustered by the unanticipated proximity and the warmth of his words. You've always thought of him as good looking, his personality kind and magnetic. You pull away and tease him about his blatant confession with a shove. He laughs and shoves you back much harder than you'd shoved him.

You two continue to horse around until he's got you pinned against a tall cedar, the bark digging into your back. "Remember that time I told you I'd slice you up?", he questions. His eyes are full of mischief now and something else you can't quite place. You think nothing of it, he's threatened to harm you countless times before and you'd done the same to him. It was all in good fun you believed. "What? Gonna make good on your promise, loser?~", you tease while still fighting against him lazily.

There's a click between you two and something sharp presses against your stomach; you freeze. "Maybe... if you don't do as I say.", he explains with a hum. His eyes are still kind looking, smile still inviting, so you think he's just gotten a little carried away with his joking like he does sometimes. "C'mon, that's not funny. Put that away and let's get back to the others.", you huff and push against him. He tilts his head and laughs while pushing you deeper into the trunk of the tree. "Funny? I wasn't joking, sweetheart.", he chides and now you're really scared.

Imagining how everything becomes much too real much too fast for you. The bark scraping your neck and back, the blade nipping at your abdomen and drawing beads of blood, how far away you are from your friends. Your adrenaline spikes and you place your hands against his chest and push hard. To your surprise, he stumbles backward with a grunt. You turn and run deeper into the trees, only thinking of putting distance between the two of you.

This is your second mistake.

You've turned your flashlight off, trusting the moon to light your way to safety. Your legs burn and start to give out before you stop, finding a large tree to hide behind. It's warped, roots and trunk twisted from years of weathering. You tuck yourself in between one of those twists and steady your breathing until it's almost inaudible. The forest around you is dead silent save for the creaking of old trees and the babble of a nearby brook. In the distance, a twig snaps, and you freeze.

"I gotta admit... you're making me work much harder for it than I thought you would, princess.", you hear him call out. Another twig snaps much closer and your eyes begin to prickle with tears. "Still, I'm willing to play nice if you come out from wherever you're hiding. I'll make it real quick, be gentle with you, I promise.", he muses; voice light and jovial as if he's not hunting you like a fucking animal.

"And if you don't... I'll head back to camp and make sure no one lives to see the sunrise."

You jam your knuckles in between your teeth to muffle the sob that bubbles from your chest at the impossible decision put before you. You peak around the tree's trunk to see how close he is. Maybe if you make a run for camp now, you'll be able to warn everyone.

This is your last mistake.

As you step from within the trunk of the tree and start running, rough hands grip your waist. You shriek as you're spun, your chest meeting the tree's trunk hard. You gasp as the wind's knocked out of your lungs, but you still try to call out for help. Behind you he cackles, breath cool on your heated skin. "Scream all you want, sweetheart, they can't hear you this far out.", he taunts you. Your screams eventually quiet into broken sniffles and he coos at you, blade now pressed against the nook between your collarbones.

"Aww, baby, don't cry. You're breakin' my heart.", he hums into your skin, "I promised I'd be gentle, didn't I?". Somewhere deep, deep inside of this monster has to be a sliver of your good friend; a piece of the man you respected and thought of as comfort. So, you try and appeal to that part of him. "Please- don't do this! I-I won't tell anyone just- please!!", you plead to him, and he sighs with exasperation. " You know I don't like it when you beg, princess.", he groans while his hand tangles itself in your hair and pulls roughly, "I can't stand it, makes me all weak inside.".

You yelp in pain as he tugs both of to the ground. Now, your chest is against the mossy forest floor. It's damp, the smell of dirt and grass filling your nostrils as he pins you down. He makes quick work of your shorts, pooling them around your knees after yanking them down. He groans as he grabs the fat of your ass, kneading it roughly before reeling his palm back and bringing it down harshly. You cry out at the sting that he quickly soothes away with gentler kneading. Your other cheek receives the same treatment soon afterwards. He continues, alternating between each side until the soft skin is red and angry.

He whistles while admiring his work, fingers coming up to brush against your covered heat when his eyes wander toward your soaked underwear. You flinch away at the difference in temperatures. "Looks like those pretty eyes of yours aren't the only things wet on you, baby.", he comments before cold metal brushes against your abused ass cheek. Your face grows hot with embarrassment, it's true that some sick part of you enjoyed being treated like this. Your shame causes you to realize his intentions much too late.

Thinking about how the point of his blade snags the delicate cotton threads of your panties, and you listen to them tear apart as he cuts them off you. You shiver as the cold air meets your drenched folds, slick now trailing down your inner thighs. Both his large hands grip your cheeks before spreading them in hopes of getting a better look at you. He audibly moans at the sight of your sodden pussy, and you curse yourself at how you clench around nothing.

"This is gonna sting a bit, princess.", he warns you as his belt hits the ground behind you. You brace yourself as you feel just how hot and hard he is. Judging by the girth and feeling of his tip separating your lower lips, what comes next won't be pleasant. He shuffles forward, tip catching on your entrance, and gradually begins to push forward.

You whine at the sting of being stretched far beyond your limits, his length threatening to ruin you for anyone else. You're unexperienced, never taken anything bigger than your index finger when you found yourself awake at night dreaming of him. Now, he's damn near splitting you in two. You choke back a sob as he continues, but he's not having it. "Shhh shh shh, princess, I know it hurts. Just a little longer and it'll all go away.", he coaxes out in a strained voice. He's lying, he's not even halfway in and you're already so warm and tight. He's not letting you go until he's had his fill of you.

He curses and reaches around to toy with your clit in hopes of loosening you up, fingers skilled and quick. You cry out as he snaps his hips forward, filling you fully as his impatience gets the best of him, the head of his cock now pressed against a soft spot you didn't know you had. All thoughts in your head disappear and you see white as you clench around him and cum. He's quick, setting a steady pace before you're able to come down, forcing you to continue cumming as he abuses that spongey spot deep inside you.

His shaky exhales mix with your desperate cries for him to slow his pace, to grant you some relief. He can't hear you; his eyes are locked on the place you're connected and the white ring forming around the base of his shaft. The only thing on his mind is making you cum again and cumming with you this time.

So, he ignores your cries and speeds up, the sound of his pelvis meeting your ass filling the forest. In the back of your mind, the last bit of your sanity warns that someone could be looking for you, that they'll see you enjoying him ruining you. That thought leaves as quickly as it comes when you hear him whimper your name breathlessly, your eyes roll to the back of your head. "C'mon, princess, know you can do it for me. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon- please.", you hear him chant not sure whether he's talking to you or himself.

He reaches around to torture your poor bud one more time before that tightening coil in your tummy snaps. You cum again with a cry of his name this time, your warm arousal coating his thighs with a quickness unfamiliar to you. He moans whorishly as your walls spasm around him and bring him to his own orgasm. He pulls your ass flush against his hips, and you feel him paint your walls white with thick ropes of hot seed. You two stay joined for a while longer, twitching as you both come down before he separates the two of you. He pulls your shorts up, careful as he redresses you and himself.

He stands and helps you to your feet, making sure to kiss away your tears. "You did so well for me, baby. 'M so glad I agreed to do this with you!", he praises you and pulls you close for a sweet kiss. You giggle as you part and kiss his cheek. "Let's get back before the others start worrying too much!", you suggest as he wraps his jacket around you and leads you back toward camp.

This definitely wouldn't be the last time you two ran off into the forest.

HXH: LEORIO, Shalnark, CHROLLO, Hisoka, Kurapika Demon Slayer: RENGOKU, TENGEN JJK: GOJO, GETO, TOJI, Yuuta YOUR FAVE

[spidernuggets]

Hi hope you’re having a good/night can you do a Jason Todd x detective fem reader. She meets Jason , but she meets him when he’s red hood at a crime scene.

Jason Todd x FemDetective!Reader

"So you're the guy that's making my paperwork pile up higher than the Empire State Building."

"Christ, another one?" One of your coworkers said as the limp, dead body was zipped up into a body, and evidence collected and put away.

You shrug a shoulder, writing down in your notepad a list of suspects and witnesses involved in this new murder, which was also linked to other recent killings.

"Adam Matthews." You state the victim's name.

"Drug dealer?" Your coworker asks, looking at the substance that Matthews had on his person being bagged for evidence.

"Mm. He was a cook for a drug dealer who tested on homeless kids or orphans. But Matthews was also known for being an accessory for other murders, kidnappings, and was guilty for sexual assaults," you state, sighing, putting your notebook away.

Your coworker fell shocked. "How the fuck is he not locked up?!" He yells.

"Links with richies," you scoff. "Well, he's dead now. His long, overdue debt it now paid." You always believed these kinds of people never deserved a second chance. All the previous murder victims were similar to Adam Matthews. So, others may call you crazy, but you were thankful for this anonymous killer going out of their way, killing scumbags like Matthews.

"I'm going to scout around the area, Parks," you told your coworker as he nodded and went to discuss with the other officers around the area.

You shone your flashlight around the narrow alleys, searching for any clues or evidence you could use to help solve the crime and catch the murderer. Or in your eyes an anti-hero.

Just as you were about to turn around and return to the scene, you heard grunts and strings of profanity coming from behind one of the dumpsters.

Your hand hovered over your gun in your hip holster, walking towards the sounds.

You swiftly turned to see the source, hand on the handle of the gun, and saw a certain, outlawed vigilante leaning on the dumpster, holding his arm, his body stained with blood.

His helmet lay in between his legs, his domino mask remaining on his face.

"What the fu- Red Hood??" You exclaim.

"You mind?" He groans, holding his hand out, trying to avoid the flash shining in his eyes.

"Shit, sorry," you reoly, turning it off and placing it on your utility belt. Your head tilted to the side, seeing that Red Hood was struggling to wrap his arm up. "It's loose," you say, referring to the bandage- or rag that he was tying around his bicep.

"Wow, really? Didn't- fuck- didn't notice," he says, cursing once more when the bandage fell down.

You roll your eyes, crouching beside his and taking the bandage from his, unwrapping his arm and rewrapping it tighter as it should be.

"So you're the guy that's making my paperwork pile up higher than the Empire State Building." You mutter, tying the bandage to stay in place.

"Sorry, little cop lady. Just doing my job." He hisses.

"It's little detrctice lady to you. And I'd appreciate it if you made your little killing sprees a little more discreet. Eventually, the actual cops are gonna catch your ass," you snicker, getting up.

"As if I let them." He bites back.

"L/n. Where are you?" Parks says through your walkie. "Did you find anything?"

Red Hood gets up, putting his helmet back on, looking down at you, waiting for your response.

You click on the button to reply. "No. Nothing here. Coming back now."

The white glowing eyes pierce through yours as Red Hood chuckles. "Hiding a criminal? Haven't taken a look through the law book in a while, but isn't that illegal?" You couldn't see it, but Red Hood grinned, amised at this new encounter.

You shrugged. "I'm only doing this because I know I can't stop you, even if I wanted to. Besides. If these ass rat criminals kept scurrying around, the papaerwork would be much more than you're making." You smirk.

He laughs. "So you're saying you don't want to stop me?" He crosses his arms.

"Have a good night, Mr. Hood." You bid him goodbye, walking back to the crime scene.

"And to you too, little detective lady," he says, quietly hoping to run into again after he puts lead into the head of his next target.

"Jeez, I thought you died or something. You were gone for a while, are you sure you didn't find anything?" Parks quickly asks you.

You quickly wipe away the blood on your palms from Red Hood's wound onto your black jeans. "Save the interrogation for the suspects, Parks. Nothing there but dead rats and graffiti."

You walk off, almost missing the shine of a red helmet running off on the roof of a building in the distance as you smirk to yourself, also secretly hoping Red Hood would cause another casualty to meet him again.

Parks was about to walk off, too, almost missing the tiniest splotch of red on your white shirt as he raised an eyebrow.

I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE IT SO SHORT!!!

I didn't want to leave this ask in my inbox for too long and forget about it 😭😭

BUTTTT if you or anyone else wants!!! I can make a part 2 where Reader and Red Hood begin a constant meetup after every death Red Hood causes (only to those criminals who deserve it, obvi). And Parks becomes suspicious of Reader and threatens her or that Reader's job is put on the line!!!!

I was going to add this idea in, but I'm really bad at making long fics cuz I always wanna get it over and done with and I'm so impatient 😭

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ANYWAYS 🙏🙏

[skmhlml]

more with stay out of the house please its my sustenance 🙏🙏

keep up the great work!! 💕

Note: hey sorry! Haven't been on for a while, but let's get this started. 💕

🥩 what better way to start off the month of shamelessness then a stalker who is incredibly strong but can’t speak. Like a brainless hunk almost.

🥩 though mindless—he stalks his victims first, studies their patterns. But when he first lays eyes on you, working the graveyard shift at the dingy gas station, something snaps in him. You’re isolated, easy prey, but there’s something else—something that makes him hesitate instead of snatching you immediately. Instead, he watches. Watches how you sip cheap coffee to stay awake, how you lean against the counter in boredom, how you barely flinch when some drunk comes in looking for trouble. He knows then; you’re his.

🥩 He starts coming around more often— lurking just outside the glow of the gas station lights, hidden behind parked cars, watching you through the grimy windows. You'll feel a presence, a weight on your shoulders when you're alone outside by the dumpsters or locking up for the night.

🥩 Sometimes, you swear you hear heavy breathing nearby. Maybe even a glimpse of something in the darkness-bulky, masked, waiting.

🥩 The Abductor doesn't just want to take you—he wants to break you, to make you his before he even drags you to that filthy house. He starts messing with you: slashed tires so you're forced to call for help (but no one answers), the security cameras mysteriously cut, the store phone dead when you need it most. Then, the more personal touches start-bloody handprints smeared on the glass, a severed finger left near the back door, a Polaroid tucked into the cash register of your sleeping form (taken from inside your home).

🥩 the day you're taken, It's not quick. He makes sure you feel it. Maybe you find a dismembered body in the station bathroom, one of your regulars who had the misfortune of getting too close.

🥩 Maybe the power cuts out, and by the time you fumble for a flashlight, he's already inside, breathing heavily behind you. He lets you run, lets you taste that fleeting, hopeless sense of escape before his gloved hands wrap around your throat and squeeze. The last thing you see before blacking out is the gleam of his mask in the dark.

🥩 When you wake up, you're chained -cold concrete under you, along with a mattress, in a human-sized cage with TVs around it playing some religious culty show.

🥩 the air thick with rot.The Butcher's house is worse than a nightmare; blood-streaked walls, the muffled groans of other victims who weren't as "lucky" as you. You're different…He wants you. Loves you. That's why your restraints are just tight enough to bruise but not break. That's why you get fed when others rot.

🥩 He doesn't just want obedience-he wants devotion. Like his god. He's rough and cruel, but in his twisted mind, he thinks he's teaching you. If you scream too much, he carves his name into your thigh as a reminder.

🥩 If you try to run, he takes a finger slowly, savoring every second of your agony. But if you behave? If you finally whimper his name instead of begging for help? He's gentle in the way a wolf nuzzles its wounded prey before the kill. He'll cradle you, hold you against his bloodstained chest, shushing your sobs like a lover.

🥩 his mom…The moment she sees you, her rotting lips twist into something grotesquely close to a smile. Her yellowed, broken teeth glisten with spit, and she lets out this wheezy, gurgling laugh that sounds like something bubbling up from a corpse's throat. "Ohh, my baby boy…finally brought home a girl," she croons, her voice a whispering rasp. "Told you, I told you! You ain't gonna die alone, no sir!"

🥩 She adores you in the most twisted way possible. To her, you're not a victim-you're family now. A perfect little bride for her boy. And if you try to escape? If you so much as look at the basement door with longing? Her frail body shakes with fury, her claw-like hands curling around the arms of her wheelchair as she shrieks, her voice raw and ragged; "No! NO! You don't leave my boy! No, no, no!"

🥩 She calls for him when you misbehave.

The moment you make a move to flee, she starts wailing like a banshee, a sound so shrill and unnatural that it rattles your skull. And he always hears her. Always comes running. You think her body is frail, that she's too weak to be a threat? Wrong. She doesn't need to chase you-she only needs to scream. And the moment she does, he is there.

🥩 She laughs when he punishes you.

Watches from the corner of the room, her eyes glittering with sick pride as he drags you back, bloodied and broken. "Atta boy," she coos, rocking slightly in her chair. "Gotta teach her, gotta make her love you properly. Women need discipline, son. She'll come round."

🥩 the canabiles, obviously. When you refuse to eat, she takes it personally. "Don't you like my cookin', darlin'?" Her voice is all innocence, but there's something vicious underneath. If you push the plate away, she grabs your wrist with a strength that shouldn't exist in her brittle fingers. "Eat." And if you don't? He force-feeds you. Raw meat, blood-soaked stew, things you don't even want to name.

🥩 In some ways, she's worse than him. The Abductor is cruel, violent, obsessive, but his mother? She's patient. She wants you to love her-to see her as your new mother, to sit at her feet like a dutiful daughter while she combs her skeletal fingers through your hair. She whispers horrors into your ear, stories of past girls, of what happens when you try to run too many times. "He made a rug outta the last one," she murmurs, grinning as you shudder. "But you? You're different. You're special."

🥩 She wants grandchildren. The thought of her "sweet boy" keeping you all to himself, making sure you stay forever fills her with insane joy. "Gotta keep the family going," she cackles. "Ain't no legacy without a strong woman 'round. And you, darlin'? You're gonna make a mighty fine mama."

🥩 "Ain't nobody out there who'll love you like we do, sugar. The world's a cruel place, full of men who'll use ya and throw ya away. But here? You're safe. You're home. My boy'll take good care of you. Forever."

[chaoticlittlerat]

Father

⚠️Mentions of death and jail, past stuff, mentions of fighting and other stuff⚠️

Later that night, after another stressful day, Jessie had went to bed. But somewhere around midnight, she awoken up to a noise. It startled her awaken.

She looked around the darkness in her room, still shaken up and startled by what had made that noise. She knew it was in her room because everyone else was asleep. She slowly opens the drawer next to her bed and held up a flashlight, turning it on and held it up to what made the noise.

There stood a figure….

It smiled at her while Jessie stood there in fear and confusion. Hesitantly, she spoke up.

“W-Who….W-Who are you..?”

It was quiet for a moment before speaking in a gentle, comforting voice.

“My dear little Jess…Don’t you remember me? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, my little one…”

Jessie was taken aback by how it knew her little nickname….Only her dad called her that…

Useless…

“H-How do you…”

“Why, Jessie…I know a lot about you. More than your mother ever did. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your old man, huh?”

Jessie’s eyes widened by what the figure had just said….was it….N-No. It couldn’t be…

“W-Wait….Are you saying….Y-You’re my….”

The figure took a step closer to her, offering her a comforting hug

“Yes, my little Jessie…It’s me. You’re father..”

Jessie shivered as tears filled her eyes. She didn’t say anything and just stared in stock. Before she finally jumped and hugged the figure.

The figure smiled as it hugged her back, holding her and let her cry as it spoke again.

“Shhh….It’s alright, dear. I’m here. I’m never leaving you again…I’m so sorry for leaving you so long ago. But I’m finally here…”

Jessie took a moment to calm herself down as she wiped away some of her tears before looking up at “him” and spoke in a shaken up tone

“W-Where did you go..?”

He went quiet for a moment. He seemed to be hesitated to answer but he sighed and looked down at her with a sadden smile

“I….I had to go away for a while for a crime I’ve done. And I….I died. I thought your mother would have told you. But I guess she didn’t…”

Jessie’s eyes widened as he explained.

“S-She did tell me you went to jail…But I didn’t know you died..! But…if you’re dead, how are you here right now..?”

“Well…I work with a guy. But it’s personal right now. But, I am dead. But I can still watch over you and your brother. But only at night. I’m not allowed to see you in the daytime. My boss has me working. But the point is, I’m gonna be seeing you again”

Jessie was still confused by all of this but nodded, seeming to understand it all.

“That’s odd but…I’m happy to see you again. I missed you so much, dad. Things haven’t been the best lately. Mom’s been seeing this guy for the last two years named Aj. I think he was you’re friend after we moved here, right?”

He went quiet, but seemed pissed off. He scoffs.

“Of course she’s seeing someone. And it had to be that excuse of a “friend” of mine…Whatever. I wasted my time with her anyway. She’s not any of my concerns right now…You and your brother are my top priority. Is Aj treating you well?”

Jessie was quiet for a moment before letting out a sad sigh and shakes her head but also shrugs.

“I mean…Kinda? He kinda drinks a lot even though he stops. But…They sometimes fight a lot and…I started to freak out a lot. But my mom keeps on forgiving him…I don’t understand why she still loves him. Even Blake hates it and he sometimes gets into fights with mom…She makes us feel bad because of how hard she works to take care of us..But…I feel…unsafe here sometimes..”

He went quiet as he listened to her. He seemed VERY pissed to hear that Jessie and Blake had to go through such stuff.

“I see…I’m so sorry I left you and your brother to deal with such nonsense…I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. But for now, I’ll come and see you each night…Okay? I’m sure I can get my boss to help as well! He did help me”

Before Jessie could say anything, he picks her up and puts her back into her bed and puts the blanket over her, patting her head and kissed her forehead. Being the father she had missed.

“I’m afraid I must go now, my dearest. But don’t worry! I’ll be back tomorrow night. I will be having a word with my boss about this. For now, just get some rest. Okay?”

Jessie was sad that he had to go. But she nodded and smiled up at him, understanding that he had a job to do.

“O-Okay..I’ll see you tomorrow…Goodnight, Dad..”

The sleepiness kicks into Jessie as she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

The figure smiled down at her as he took a moment before patting her head and placed something on her dresser.

“Goodnight, my little Jess….”

Than, Just like that, he disappears into the darkness.

…….

It was the next morning. Pretty early but Jessie had grown to be an early bird. She rubs her eyes before looking at her dresser, seeing…a locket and picks it up.

A sign that a father would always watch over his daughter

End of chapter 2

[ryder-the-kooikerhondje]

A Birthday Proposal- Kirishima x GN!Reader

A/n: Happy late birthday Kiri!!

CW: Nothing that I can think of!

WC: 850

"Wow, you guys! Thank you so much!" Eijiro smiled. It was his 23rd birthday, and you had invited the bakusquad to go camping. He had mentioned a few months ago how he went camping with his moms when he was younger and it was still one of his favorite memories. So you decided that it would be the perfect way to celebrate his birthday. Now, all seven of you (You, Eijiro, Bakugo, Mina, Denki, Sero, and Jiro) were all sitting on logs around a campfire, the dark orange sky emanating a nice, comfy glow. Each of you held a stick, roasting marshmallows over the fire.

"Of course, man. Happy birthday." Sero grinned, raising his stick before ripping the marshmallow off with his teeth and eating it.

"Yeah, you deserve a break dude." Jiro remarked.

"I know, I was maybe working myself a little bit too hard." Eijiro nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"A little? You were almost taking as many shifts as me."

"I hate to say it but blasty's right; that’s a lot."

"See. Even dunce face agrees." Bakugo motioned towards Denki, who was sitting across from him.

"Okay, okay." Eijiro chuckled. "I get it. But I just wanted to make sure my rank is good, y'know? It's harder for new heroes to get high rankings."

"You're number 12 are you not?"

"Well, yes, I am, but-"

"No 'buts'! You're doing fine, don’t worry about work while we're trying to celebrate your birthday." Bakugo huffed.

Eijiro sighed. "You're right. Sorry guys."

"Don’t apologize baby, just enjoy your birthday." You say as you grab onto his arm and lean into him. In response, he leans down and kisses the top of your head, causing you to giggle.

You all sit there for the next few hours, chatting and warming up by the fire. Time flies quickly, and before you know it, it's midnight.

"'m tired, I'm going to bed." Bakugo grumbles, standing up.

"Come on, blasty! Stay for a bit!" Mina grabs his arm.

He pulls his arm away. "No, I'm tired. Goodnight." Mina frowns.

You turn to Eijiro. "Hey, can I talk to you? Alone?" You could see a slight twinge of concern in Eijiro's eyes.

"Of course baby, everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine I just…" You felt him intertwine his fingers with yours.

"Hey, me and Y/n are gonna go on a walk real quick." Eijiro announces as he grabs a flashlight. "We'll be back in a little bit."

"Okay, have fun!" Mina waves as you two walk into the woods.

-

After what felt like 30 minutes of silent walking, you made your way to a field of wildflowers, their color dulled by the night. You nervously fiddled with the small box in your pocket before stopping. Eijiro notices you’ve stopped walking so he turns around to face you.

"What's on your mind, honey?" He asks. You notice how his eyes are soft and his head is slightly tilted to the side. You fondly think of how he reminds you of a dog.

"I love you so much, Eijiro." He wasn’t expecting you to say that.

"I love you more."

"I doubt that." You let go of his hand.

"And why's that?" He taunts. You take a deep breath in before pulling the box out of your pocket. You get down on one knee, opening the box to reveal a black ring with a stripe of red in the middle, outlined in silver (image here). "Baby…" He cups a hand over his mouth, shocked at what's happening.

"I love you so much, Eijiro." You start, hands trembling because of your nerves. "You have no idea how many times I would look at you from across the room; how many times I asked Mina for your number before she finally caved and gave it to me." You chuckle at the memory. "Talking to you was honestly the best decision I ever made in my life. You changed my life for the better; you made me a better person, and I wish to love you and support you the same until my last breath. You're so kind, putting everyone before yourself… you truly are the manliest person I could ever wish for as a life partner. To wake up next to you, to love you, is a gift I know I am forever grateful to have." You exhale. "Eijiro Kirishima, will you marry me?"

Eijiro immediately bends down and picks you up, spinning you around. Sniffling, he laughs, kissing your head.

"Yes! Of course I'll marry you, baby!" He puts you down and you take the ring out of the box. Grabbing his hand gently, you slide the ring onto his finger. "It fits perfectly…" He whispers. You reach out and wipe his tears before cupping his face and kissing him sweetly. He of course returns the kiss, moving his hands around your waist. You both pull away, and he leans forward and kisses away your happy tears. After a moment of comfortable silence, Eijiro starts to sway back and forth. You join in, moving slowly with him to a silent song.

You dance together, surround by the beauty of the night and your love for each other.

A/n Pt.2: Hope you enjoyed! I've only seen proposal fics where Kiri proposes so I wanted to change that lol. A lot more Kirishima content is on my Masterlist as well if you wanna check it out :] /nf

[lunar-inkclipse]

Do I have lore about the murdle/gravity falls AU? absolutely not. Do I have more vibes about the cast (mostly Irratino)? Absolutely!!

Irratino's got a pretty good human disguise, all things considered, but there's still things that are just a little strange about him. Despite having an eyepatch, he seems to have no problems with depth perception. (What's under the eyepatch? who knows!) His hair is weighed down by a thick braid interwoven with all sorts of fun golden accessories, but stray hairs almost seem to float. The non eye-patch eye has a monocle or glasses (I'm torn between the two tbh?) that makes it look perfectly normal. But if you look at it from the side, you'd swear his sclera is black before he turns your way again. He's really hot- No, not just in the 6'2 and drop dead gorgeous way (even if his beauty is a little unnatural), he's almost feverish to the touch. Like there's too much energy brimming under his skin. Speaking of his skin, it's eerily perfect, aside from freckles that seem to shimmer when the light catches them just right. He doesn't have any scars or birthmarks or anything- Hey, now that you mention it, how has he never even gotten something so simple as a paper cut? Or a hangnail? Or a cat scratch from Buster? Or a bruise? He burned dinner just the other day but doesn't have even a slight red mark from that hot pan.

It's not just his form, but Irratino has a few other things and behaviors that are just over the line of being plain old quirky. He's just a little too good at coin and card tricks to amuse Jake and Julius, is a little too accurate in predicting what the kids might need today ("Julius, bring your umbrella, it'll rain this afternoon" it's perfectly sunny this morning or "Jake, be a dear and give these batteries to Logico?" his flashlight died later that day). Maybe he's just endearingly bad at being human. Or maybe it's a balancing act of his design, fostering curiosity and doubt in hopes the person (or people) who figure out the truth will be able to help him return to his dimension, or perhaps bring his otherworldly friends here.

If you thought Illogico wears a lot of jewelry, Irratino of this AU (Ciphertino?) puts him to absolute shame. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, a circlet, in his hair- He's glittering gold and silver and iron and platinum and crystals wherever he can. Though, while Illogico has his goth jewelry for the aesthetic, Irratino has it to help keep his powers under wraps. His jewelry is etched with runes and spells in dead languages and in alphabets not known to this universe. If asked what they say, he just smiles and says "It's for luck!" or "For protection!" or "Oh, I just saw that one at the flea market and thought it looked nice." It's not untrue, just not the full truth.

Okay, so this Irratino might be an extradimentional creature of esoteric power and more than a little weird, but he’s not a bad guy. He really does care for Julius as a nephew (are they actually related? No one is really sure) and does want to protect him from the darker sides of Gravity Falls. Same with Jake and Olivia and Buster and Logico. Is he entirely morally good? Uh, well, he’s behind one too many spooky encounters and maybe a murder or two and keeping a lot of secrets and a whole bunch of other things, but he really does have a soft spot for the gang. He loves them dearly. He's not a bad guy at all.

This is purely self indulgent (as if my this entire premise isn't) but I like to think this Irratino is fourth wall breaking and aware of the existence of other AUs because why the hell not hahaha. He doesn’t bring it up much, more just in little cryptic jokes (Julius- “Woah, Logico is like a murder mystery solving machine!” Irratino- “Oh, you’d be surprised” or Jake being like “Dang, Logico stays up so late, it’s like he’s actually a vampire!” Irratino- “Actually, a vampire Logico would rest more than this one”).

In this AU, Logico’s gonna have the Ford Pines trademark six fingers. And was about as awkward and misfit as he is in any other interpretation (sorry, Logico). But hey, the kids probably think it’s pretty cool. (Jake would probably ask how he flips someone off with six fingers and Logico is like "Aren't you ten years old????")

Logico’s journals are less documenting all the strange stuff happening in this town and more of chronicles of all the murders and theories about the logic that runs this town. It can’t be ghosts or demons or anything silly like that, there’s a scientific explanation behind everything. Magnetic fields and pranksters and the like. It’s also got a fair bit of noir style narration, because it’s Logico.

Speaking of, he wishes he wasn't so committed to the detective aesthetic. Why is he wearing a fedora and black leather gloves and a turtleneck in this heat. Or, at least, until he left his coat at Irratino’s one day and suddenly it seems to be almost…cooling? But no, he’s been in some frigid caves and basements and stayed warm, too? Like his jacket is just made to keep him temperate now, That’s odd. But it's better than a vicious cycle of sweating through his turtleneck because he has the jacket on but he can't take it off because of sweat stains.

Logico may not be as good with kids as Irratino, (because of his own awkwardness as much as the fact Irratino has psychic intuition in his side) but he really does try to be a good role model for these three weird kids and cat who managed to rope themselves into investigating with him. He tries to give them good advice and tips on investigating, fosters their respective curiosities (even if he doesn’t get Julius’s esotericism or Olivia’s computer know how at all), brings extra snacks and water, even gets cute bandaids in his first aid kit. He gets what it’s like to be isolated, and wants to make sure these three don’t feel that way. (Especially because Julius’s parents probably had a reason to send him off to his strange uncle(?) for the summer, Jake's bounced around schools, and Olivia's father is Indigo).

Some more pure self indulgence- Like Ford, this Logico is a fan of tabletop games! (Which is also why he was not seen as the coolest guy around growing up.) He would absolutely teach the kids how to play, too, and it's a nice break from the mysteries and murders, and they probably get really really into it. Olivia would be a wizard, Julius would be a sorcerer, Jake would be a fighter, and Buster is a druid who's in wildshape the entire time but bats the die to roll. It's just a fun time.

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Thirty Seven: Book Club Denial (Totally Not Projecting)

Woooo im back...(3 days how dare i leave you without new chapters)  I started writing a one piece x reader University AU and it went from intended plot to smut without plot... so.... thats where ive been. 

ANYWAY. Back to cats and pirates!

-----

After The Incident—aka the Dramatic Reading Night from which no ego returned unscathed—rules were made.

Rule One: No more acting it out. Rule Two: No touching during tense chapters. Rule Three: No eye contact during monologues.

The boys agreed. Firmly.

There would be no more dramatics.

Just reading.

Quiet. Casual. Heterosexual reading.

Totally normal.

Totally chill.

You found them two nights later in the galley.

The girls were off on the deck watching the stars.

You had left “Blood Feud: Book 4” on the table, fully expecting it to sit untouched.

Except—

Zoro was sitting with it open in front of him, eyes scanning the page.

Sanji stood over his shoulder, clearly pretending to make soup while absolutely not making soup.

Usopp was on the counter, legs swinging, clearly deep into Chapter Six.

Luffy was eating chips, whispering, “Wait, wait, did they kiss yet?”

Zoro didn’t even look up. “Shut up, they’re arguing again.”

Sanji scoffed. “So much tension. Just kiss and stab each other already.”

You stepped into the room, ears perked.

They didn’t notice.

Sanji leaned closer. “Page seventy-five. That’s where the bathhouse scene starts, right?”

Zoro coughed and turned the page faster.

You crossed your arms. “...Well, well, well.”

All four of them jumped like you’d thrown cold water on them.

Luffy choked. Usopp threw the book into the air. Zoro closed it fast enough to nearly rip it. Sanji turned pink from the neck up.

“You said no more book club,” you teased, tail swishing.

Zoro growled. “We’re not in the club.”

Sanji crossed his arms. “It’s literature.”

“Not that it reflects anything about you two, right?” you said sweetly, eyes narrowing. “Not that you see yourselves in the two stubborn, emotionally-repressed warrior types who fight constantly but clearly want to—”

“SHUT UP!!” both Zoro and Sanji yelled in unison.

Usopp wheezed from the corner. “Totally not about them. Nope. Not at all. Just two angry men covered in scars and passion—”

Zoro threw a spoon at him.

Sanji kicked a chair.

Luffy blinked. “I just like the stabbing parts.”

You grinned.

“Don’t worry, boys. Book club is open to all... even the denial-filled.”

Zoro muttered, “I’m gonna throw this book into the sea.”

Sanji said, “Right after I finish chapter eleven.”

You purred. “Knew it.”

---

It was never officially agreed upon.

There were no handshakes. No verbal contracts. No dramatic pacts under moonlight.

It just… happened.

Late one evening, well after lights out on the Sunny, you padded into the storage room—your favorite secret hideout-slash-napping cubby—and found Zoro already sitting there.

Reading.

Blood Feud: Book 4.

You blinked.

He looked up, paused, and in the most casual voice ever muttered, “...Thought this room was empty.”

You slid in beside him.

Two minutes later, Sanji arrived with snacks and a flashlight.

You all stared at each other.

No one said anything.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, you sat in a tight little triangle in the dim storage room, book cracked open between you.

The Unholy Secret Book Club had begun.

It was sacred.

You took turns holding the book. One person flipped pages. One person kept lookout. One person silently squealed, twitched, or screamed internally.

The rules were clear:

No loud reactions.

No saying “That’s totally you!”

No judging if someone squeezed their knees during a hand-holding scene.

Zoro grunted once during a particularly loaded eye contact paragraph.

You and Sanji shushed him immediately.

“Do you want Robin to find us?” you hissed.

“She already knows everything,” Sanji muttered.

“Still.”

--

You reached Chapter Twelve. The tent scene.

You weren’t ready.

None of you were.

“‘Caspian reached out in the dark, his fingers brushing Veyron’s scarred jaw. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.’”

Zoro stiffened.

Sanji inhaled sharply.

You clutched your own tail.

Then—

“Caspian pressed their foreheads together. ‘If we die tomorrow…’”

Zoro growled, low in his throat.

“Shhh,” Sanji whispered.

“I’m fine,” Zoro muttered, absolutely not fine.

You squeaked. Immediately shoved a piece of bread into your mouth to muffle it.

Sanji stared at the next paragraph, squinting. “Wait, are they—”

“They’re spooning,” you hissed. “THEY’RE SPOONING.”

All three of you stared at the page.

Silently. Respectfully.

Emotionally.

Zoro wiped at his nose. “Dust.”

“It’s always dust,” Sanji muttered, wiping too.

-

Someone passed by the door.

You all froze.

Zoro threw the book into a pile of ropes. Sanji shoved snacks into a crate. You dropped flat on the floor like a possum playing dead.

Footsteps faded.

You three looked at each other.

Collectively exhaled.

Sanji pulled the book back out with reverent hands. “We left off with the forehead touch.”

Zoro nodded. “Go back a paragraph. I didn’t… process it.”

You purred.

“Book club’s never been stronger.”

------

It was totally not a thing.

You, Zoro, and Sanji? Sneaking off at the same time each evening?

Coincidence.

You definitely weren’t closer than before—laughing a bit more, arguing a bit less, nudging each other when your “secret book club” minds synced up over a line about emotionally repressed sword-bros.

Totally normal.

Totally platonic.

Totally not blushing when someone mentioned tents.

Of course, the crew noticed.

Usopp raised an eyebrow every time the three of you vanished like clockwork. Robin smiled like she knew exactly what was going on (because she did). Luffy asked if you were “training for cuddle combat,” whatever that meant. And Nami… oh, Nami was watching.

Squinting.

Scheming.

Waiting.

That night, you were all nestled in the storage room again, Book 4 spread open between you, page 204, mid-tension scene—shirt torn, unresolved confessions brewing, one bedroll between enemies, classic stuff.

You were all locked in—eyes wide, hearts clenched, no one breathing.

And then—

The door creaked.

You all froze like kids caught mid-crime.

Nami stepped inside.

Zoro snapped the book shut and stuffed it behind a crate so fast it should’ve counted as training. Sanji launched a bag of chips over his shoulder. You casually draped yourself over Zoro’s lap like you’d definitely been there for hours, doing nothing suspicious.

Three faces turned slowly to Nami.

Three smiles.

Too wide.

Too fake.

Too caught.

Nami stopped. Hands on her hips. One brow arched into another dimension.

“…What are you three doing?”

“Just talking,” Sanji said too quickly.

“About life,” you added, tail twitching with anxiety.

Zoro grunted. “Crew stuff.”

Nami scanned the room.

Three suspicious idiots.

One empty snack bag.

One corner with a faintly glowing flashlight behind a crate.

Her eyes narrowed.

She stepped forward.

You all tensed.

She crouched down beside you, smirking faintly.

“Chapter 32 gets steamy,” she said casually.

You let out the tiniest, most panicked “EEE—!”

Sanji went rigid like he’d been struck by lightning. Zoro’s face was a brick wall, but his ears were red. You physically curled in on yourself, trying to vanish into the crate behind you.

Nami stood.

Dusted off her hands.

“And if you want the fifth book,” she added, already turning toward the door, “it’s in my drawer. Beneath the tangerine lotion.”

The door closed behind her.

Silence.

You exhaled like you’d just escaped a war zone.

“…We are so bad at this,” you whispered.

Sanji buried his face in his hands. “She knew everything.”

Zoro just muttered, “We read in fear now.”

You slowly slid the book back out and cracked it open again.

“…Let’s get to chapter 32.”

[loversberceuse]

I'm gonna ask this question because I'm suspicious, did Elias know us since before the epidemic?

Hello, anon, thank you for the ask!! :0

To answer your question, no! You did not know Elias since before the disease.

Here’s a bit more background on how you met, though….

You’re unable to sleep. It’s past midnight, and Valkryie is fast asleep on the mattress next to yours. Lune, with his chosen space a bit further, has taken up refuge in the old break room. He’s most likely asleep as well, just knowing how much he values his rest.

Though you probably should get some sleep, it seems as though it’s just not in the cards for you tonight.

After a moment of laying there and staring at the water stains on the ceiling, you decide to get up. A little night air could never hurt, and it should be relatively safe to sit by the door.

You swing your legs over the side of your bed and stand up. You kneel down for your shoes, and you struggle for a moment to get them on. The blanket on your bed is soft and inviting, and you pick it up to take it with you. It’s a Hello Kitty blanket you’d found, and it’s probably one of the softest blankets you’d ever felt. Lune has been eying it lately, though, so you’re considering giving it to him. You wrap it around your body to keep yourself warm while outside and give a quick glance at the sleeping Valkryie. Once you’re certain he’s still asleep, you tiptoe over to the door and quietly open it.

The cold night air hits your face, and you tighten the blanket around your body. The door shuts on its own behind you, and you sit on the top step of the little patio the store has. It’s silent outside, that’s to be expected at this point.

You sit for a while, and there’s eventually some rustling just at the end of the walkway to the mattress store. You squint your eyes to see what’s there, and you make out the figure of a person kneeling down by a bag. You let out a soft gasp, and the person’s head snaps up to look at you. They zip up their bag, pick it up, and start walking over to you.

Startled by this simple action, you stand up. As the figure approaches, you notice soft-looking, shiny blonde hair. A part of it seems to almost.. Bounce. Do they have it up? The person stops a couple of feet away from you, and they simply wave. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! Is everything okay?”

You tilt your head slightly to the side and nod. “Yeah.. I’m just sitting out here for a bit.. You don’t happen to be, uh, infected.. Do you?”

He’s just close enough that you notice a smile on his face. “No, of course not. Take a look at my eyes if you’re that afraid, though.”

Is he.. Mocking you?

You shrug, grab the flashlight you keep outside, and shine it at his face. He.. Should be safe, that’s good enough. “..Okay.. What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, see, I was looking for more uninfected! I sort of hoped that we could band together or something.” He has both hands behind his back, and his posture seems relaxed.

You aren’t sure how to explain it, but something about him feels off. “…I’m uninfected, and so are my friends inside. You’re welcome to join us, just don’t do anything funny.”

“Oh, no worries! That’s really nice of you! I’d love to, if you don’t mind it.” He seems to struggle to put something into his back pocket, then he lets his hands rest at his sides. “I’m Elias, by the way! It’s nice to meet you.”

You mutter out your name and move back to open the door. “It’s nice to meet you, too.. I’ll introduce you to everyone, come on.”

He nods, that odd smile still plastered on his face.

There is most definitely something off about him, but you aren’t sure what. He seems to be good with people, so it’s not that he’s just awkward.

So, then, what’s up with this Elias guy?

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

electricity

very loosely based off that one exchange from episode 6 of the dhmis show

words: 4,444

ao3

“Closing shift again, Harrington?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s face shifts from muted disinterest to something like annoyance. “Unfortunately for both of us, yeah,” he mutters, a little red in the face as he rips that stupid little sailor hat off his head and tosses it over his shoulder into the Scoops Ahoy break room. Eddie snorts as it misses the table. Steve runs a hand through his hair and cocks a hip so that he’s leaning against the doorframe. “So, what’ve you got for me?”

Patting the massive tubs of ice cream beside him, Eddie gives Steve as wolfish of a grin as he can muster. “For your beloved freezer,” he says with a low bow, and he glances up just in time to watch Steve roll his eyes. Eddie kicks up the dolly the tubs are stacked on and nods at Steve, to the doorway behind him. “Lemme roll these in.”

“You got it?” Steve asks, stepping aside but hovering at the side of the dolly as Eddie wheels it into the back of Scoops. A couple of the tubs wobble—the ones at the top, because Eddie’s stacked it ten high. He’s not making multiple trips. Steve hisses out a curse under his breath and outstretches his hands by the ice cream, as if he’ll be able to save all of them as long as they fall in his general vicinity. “Careful, careful! Jesus, Munson, these are gonna fall on top of you if you’re not careful, ruin that fantastic hair of yours.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh at the definite sarcasm as he wheels the ice cream into the freezer and sighs contentedly at the feeling of cold air on his skin. He started working at Starcourt a little over a month ago, and the summer’s only gotten hotter. It’s ridiculously hard work, carting around shit to different stores and helping out when security’s short-staffed, and Eddie’s not exactly the most fit person around. Years of smoking and skipping gym class will do that to a guy.

But what makes it all worth it, in Eddie’s humble opinion, is that he gets to spend his summer tormenting King Steve, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, Steve from Scoops Ahoy. It’s a fun little dive into Eddie’s favorite pastime—enacting sweet, sweet revenge. Sure, Steve might not have done anything to him directly, more preferring to stare down his nose at people like Eddie while his lackeys—namely Hagan—did the dirty work for him. Nonetheless, Eddie hates the guy. Well, maybe hate is a bit of a strong word, but he still can’t stand Steve and his stupid hair and his dumb little sailor uniform that has shorts that are way too tight and his dashing smile and his long lashes and his sparkly laugh and—

Bottom line is that Eddie can’t stand the guy. No amount of pretty can fix past slights.

“So,” Eddie says, drawing the word out as Steve heaves the cardboard tubs onto the shelves, and he lets his eyes linger over the cord of taut muscle in Steve’s biceps. Sue him, the guy’s nice to look at. “You got any big plans tonight, Harrington?”

Steve makes a sound that’s about halfway between a scoff and a laugh, with a little bit of contrition mixed in. “Not unless you count sitting on my couch with a lukewarm beer and watching reruns of shitty sitcoms as ‘big plans,’” he says, shifting the tub in his hands to one arm so he can do some sarcastic air quotes, and Eddie blinks. Steve raises a brow at him. “Why, are you offering?”

Willing the heat that’s rushing to his cheeks to screw off, Eddie squints. “To make plans with you? Maybe when hell freezes over, Harrington,” he says, coming off a little more biting than he’d really intended, and Steve’s shoulders tense. A minute change, but a noticeable one. Eddie taps his hands on the now-empty dolly and gives Steve a shit-eating grin. “Well, see you tomorrow, sailor.”

“Can’t wait,” Steve says.

Just as Eddie turns to wheel the dolly towards the freezer door, the power goes out. Shit.

“Jesus H. Christ, can’t catch one goddamn break,” he mutters, fidgeting with the flashlight clipped to his belt until it turns on, and Steve groans beside him. Eddie waves the flashlight around the freezer until he shines it at Steve, who squints and throws his hands up in front of his face, and he snickers. “Looking good, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs, cheeks flushed, and he smacks Eddie’s flashlight until the beam’s directed away from his face. It’s hard to see him now that he’s not directly in the light, but Eddie can still see the way his eyes dart around the freezer, can hear the way his breathing picks up. “Shit. Shit, d’you think—it’s probably just a power outage. Right?”

Eddie snorts. “What else would it be?”

Steve levels a glare at him, and Eddie makes a face back, because he hasn’t said anything wrong, and Steve’s just being a dick. “Okay, well, let’s just…get the hell out of here so we can go home,” Steve says, and Eddie couldn’t agree more, actually. He moves past Eddie to get to the door, and Eddie half-expects him to shove past, shoulder him or something, but he doesn’t; he makes himself small, even, shrinking back and around him. Steve tugs on the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. Uh oh. Steve tugs at it some more. “Wh—oh, you gotta be shittin’ me.”

“Are we locked in here?” Eddie asks, and it comes out as an embarrassing squeak. Steve’s answering groan doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. “Why the hell didn’t you prop it open if it locks from the outside?!”

Sighing as he rattles the door some more, Steve glances back at Eddie over his shoulder. “I didn’t know the power would go out while we were in here, man,” he huffs. “Starcourt uses these fancy electronic locks for all the freezers in the building to keep the cold in them as much as possible, helps keep all the stuff in ’em from going bad, but they’re only supposed to go off after hours.”

“So we’re stuck?!” Eddie asks, and Steve gives the door one last yank before giving up.

“Just ’til the power comes back on,” he says, and Eddie can’t think of anything he’d rather avoid more than being stuck with Steve Harrington for an indeterminate amount of time.

That can’t be true. There’s gotta be a failsafe or something, right? That’s a total fire hazard if it doesn’t have one, and the mall wouldn’t cut corners, would it? Oh, who’s Eddie kidding? A corporation cutting corners is, like, a given. Shit. Shit! “For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, doing some yanking of his own on the door handle, flashlight pointed down at the floor, dangling from his belt, but it doesn’t budge. “Fuck! Shit! Son of a fuckin’ bitch, man!”

“Alright, woah,” Steve says with a nervous laugh, “calm down, man—”

“I’m not gonna calm down, we’re fuckin’ trapped!” Eddie snaps, and Steve winces.

“I mean…could be worse? We could be stuck out there, in the heat…?” he offers, and Eddie affixes him with the most supremely unamused look he can muster. “At least we’ve got each other for company, right?”

He can’t make out a lot of Steve’s face in the dark like this, but just looking in the guy’s direction is enough to annoy him. “I’d get heatstroke in a heartbeat if it meant I’d have the ability to be further than five feet from you,” Eddie tells him.

Whatever expression that garners from Steve, Eddie can’t see. “Harsh,” Steve mumbles, and Eddie barks out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay, pardon me for being pissed off that you didn’t do your job and prop the damn door open!” Eddie snaps, and Steve puts his hands up. That, Eddie can see, can make out the gestures in the way his silhouette moves.

“Dude, how was I supposed to know the power would go out?” Steve asks, clearly exasperated, and Eddie hates that that’s a fair point.

He gestures out, all flappy hands and uncoordinated limbs, and he’s pretty sure he smacks a couple of ice cream tubs in his dramatics. “Because it’s common sense! You don’t let a freezer close behind you, man, haven’t you ever worked a food service job before?!” he asks, and Steve is quiet for a while. Eddie huffs out a humorless laugh. “Of course. Of course you haven’t, because Daddy Harrington probably has enough money to—”

“I’m cut off,” Steve interrupts. “Been cut off for years. He sent me money for basic groceries when I was still in school, but he forced me to get this stupid job when I graduated. Since I didn’t get into any colleges, he wants to teach me a lesson about being too dumb for higher education or some shit. I don’t have his money.”

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Steve echoes. “And besides, just because I haven’t worked a job before doesn’t mean you have to be a dick about it. It’s not like the training Scoops gave me was, like, good. Even without a manager, I'm pretty sure we’re not supposed to leave the freezer open.”

That’s…pretty fair, actually. Eddie’s kinda certain he hasn’t seen a manager at Scoops Ahoy since the day the mall opened. And most of his food service job knowledge is based off of sitcoms and movies made for TV that have someone getting trapped in a freezer as a plot device anyway, so who is he to talk?

Still, though, he kind of doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of being right. “Alright, there’s gotta be some way out,” he mutters, grabbing his flashlight to aim it at the doorframe, but there doesn’t seem to be anything. If there is, he certainly doesn’t know what it is. “Shit, shit!”

“Dude,” Steve says, and he sounds a little farther than he’d just been, “chill out. The power’s probably gonna come back any minute now.”

Eddie whirls around, and Steve is sitting on the floor, twirling that stupid sailor hat around his pointer finger. He squints a bit in the beam of light, and Eddie hates that it makes his nose scrunch up all cute and shit. He can’t stand the guy. “You’re infuriating,” he tells Steve, “you know that?”

Lips quirking up in what Eddie’s pretty sure is a sad little smile, Steve shrugs. “So I’ve heard,” he says, and Eddie’s eye twitches. Steve pats the empty spot next to him. “You can sit down, y’know.”

Eddie sits where he is. He doesn’t feel like getting closer to Steve Harrington than strictly necessary, thanks very much. Steve just shrugs, tossing his hat from one pointer finger to the other, and Eddie redirects his flashlight. There’s the soft thump of something hitting the ground, followed by a quiet swear. Eddie snorts. “You drop your hat?”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “You wanna lend me some light?”

“Not particularly,” Eddie says dryly.

Steve just hums. It drives Eddie a little crazy. “Wanna play twenty questions?” Steve asks him, and it’s so goddamn bizarre that Eddie busts out laughing.

“Are you—you’re not serious,” Eddie cackles. “What, like we’re at a high school party? C’mon, man, why the hell do you wanna play twenty questions with me in an ice cream freezer?”

A short pause. “To pass the time, I guess,” Steve says. “You got a better idea? ’Cuz I’m all ears, Munson, really.”

Damn.

Eddie doesn’t have a better idea.

“Okay, fine,” he sighs, “what’s your first question?”

There’s some shuffling, like Steve is sitting up properly, and it’s not endearing, it’s not. If anything, it should be pathetic that he’s so excited to play some dumb party game in the freezer of a nautical-themed ice cream parlor. “What’s your favorite hobby?” Steve asks him. “Like, not the one you do most often, or the one you’re best at, but the one you think is the most fun.”

Eddie makes a face. “You have hobbies that aren’t fun?”

He moves his flashlight over to shine at Steve, who nods. “Yeah, man. Like, I don’t hate them, but they’re not fun. Just something to do to pass the time, or something I do with my dad and his business partners, like golfing,” he says with a shrug. “Go on, answer, what’s your favorite hobby?”

Eddie’s having a hard time getting past the idea that Steve isn’t passionate about his hobbies, but only does them to have something to do for the sake of doing something. Or for the sake of someone else, someone that had apparently cut him off. “Uh,” he says eloquently, “I don’t know. I like all my hobbies.”

Steve tilts his head like a confused dog. It’s dumb. “Really? Huh. Alright, lemme change my question, then. What are your hobbies?”

“I play guitar for my band, I run Dungeons and Dragons campaigns—”

“Oh, shit, really? That’s cool, the kids I babysit play that game, too,” Steve says, and Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. Steve’s head-tilt gets a little tiltier, and he snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you run the club at the high school, don’t you? Hotfire or something?”

“Hellfire,” Eddie corrects hollowly, and Steve winces apologetically.

“Sorry. Shit gets mixed up in my brain sometimes. Buncha concussions, you know how it is,” he dismisses, and Eddie very much does not know how it is. Steve perks up. “Your turn.”

Eddie is, admittedly, kind of dumbfounded. “Uh, what’s your dream job?”

Frowning, Steve glares down at the tile. “Hm. I don’t know.”

At that, Eddie scoffs. “Oh, c’mon, you can’t be serious,” he says. “Everybody’s got a dream job, man, even if it’s totally outlandish. I mean, I wanna be a bigshot metal guitarist for a world-famous band—preferrably mine—even though I know there’s, like, an almost-zero chance of that happening.”

Steve just shrugs. “Maybe, like, be a teacher or something? But I couldn’t get into college, so…not likely,” he says. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” Eddie says, “yours?”

“Swear you won’t laugh,” Steve says, and Eddie blinks at him. Steve crosses his arms. “Munson, swear it.”

“Okay, okay, I promise I won’t laugh,” Eddie says. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Tiffany blue,” Steve answers finally, and, come on, Eddie can’t help it if he chuckles just a little. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

Eddie snickers, trying and failing to hide it behind his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—that’s such a snooty color to pick,” he wheezes, and Steve glares at him.

He drags his hat around in circles on the ground with one finger and pointedly doesn’t look at Eddie. “Yeah, well, I like it ’cuz it’s my mom’s favorite,” Steve mumbles, brows drawn together, and now Eddie feels kinda bad for laughing. Only a tiny bit, though. Steve glances up at him. “If you had to pick a movie world to live the rest of your life in, which would it be?”

That’s…actually a pretty cool question. Not that Eddie would tell him that.

“Um…my favorite movies are horror movies, so those are a no-go,” he says, and Steve laughs. It’s good-natured and nice, stupid and sparkly. Eddie clears his throat. “But, uh, I’d probably go with Star Wars.”

“No way, me too!” Steve says, and Eddie blinks. Steve grins. “I like the one with the little teddy bear guys, you know the…”

He trails off into an impression of the ewoks, and it’s painfully charming. Annoying. Annoying, not charming. “You know those are called ewoks, not ‘little teddy bears,’ right?” Eddie asks, because he’s nothing if not a pedantic asshole, and Steve just smiles at him.

“Eh, tomato, to-mah-to,” he says. “Your turn.”

Eddie tilts his head back. “Who was your first kiss?” he asks, and Steve doesn’t answer for a while, which is weird. There’s this pained look on his face, and he won’t quite meet Eddie’s eye. “What, is it, like, someone you’ve deemed ‘embarrassing?’”

“That’s…not it,” Steve sighs. “It’s just—I don’t want you to, like, flip out and punch me or some shit, man.”

At that, Eddie laughs, but his curiosity is piqued. “Have you seen me, Harrington? I’m a total toothpick. I’m, like, pretty sure if I tried to punch you, I’d break my own arm,” he says. “Who was it, seriously? Some dorky chick you think I know? Is that why you think I’ll flip out?”

“No,” Steve tells him, “it was, um…it was at camp, summer after fifth grade.”

“I asked you who, not when or where,” Eddie says.

“And I don’t know who it was,” Steve shoots back.

Eddie makes a face. “Oh, bullshit, dude, you were at camp with this girl and you didn’t know who she was?” he scoffs. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to forget, but just say you forgot her name, then.”

“I didn’t forget,” Steve tells him, “I don’t know.”

Crossing his arms, Eddie points his flashlight right at Steve’s eyes. “Be so serious. You gotta know. Why else would you think I’d flip out?”

“Because—! It doesn’t matter.”

“Just tell me! You’re not honoring the rules of the game, Harrington, you’re the one who wanted to play—”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know who it was!”

“Bullshit!”

“I never got his name!”

Record scratch.

Steve’s face goes bright red, and he ducks his head so that Eddie can’t see his expression. It’s just as well, because the flashlight clatters to the ground when Eddie drops it, and he hurries to scoop it back up, eyes as wide as humanly possible. There’s no way. There’s no way, right? He’s just doing this to fuck with Eddie, he has to be, that’s—that has to be what it is. It’s eerily silent, and Eddie shines the flashlight at Steve again, swallowing.

It’s audible. It toes the line between gross and annoying.

Eddie toes that line often.

“It was a dude?” Eddie asks, because he really needs some clarification here. “Your first kiss was with another guy?”

There must be something in his tone that he hadn’t intended to put in there, because Steve’s whole posture shifts. His shoulders square, his jaw goes tight, and he looks down his nose at Eddie, even though they’re both sitting on the ground, like it’s a challenge, like it’s a dare. “You got a problem with that, you keep it to yourself,” Steve says, voice carefully even. “We’re gonna sit here and—and we’re not gonna say anything ’til the power comes back on. Game’s over.”

He looks away again. Eddie’s flashlight flickers, and he turns it off, because it they might need it to get out of the mall once the power comes back, in case the timed lights turn off by the time it does. It’s silent for a long while, and Eddie’s kicking himself. He shouldn’t have pried. Shit, now Steve probably thinks he’s a total asshole.

“Sorry for ruining the game,” Eddie says after a while. “My bad, man, really.”

A long stretch of nothing. Eddie calls Steve’s name after another couple of minutes.

“It’s fine,” Steve says quietly. “I don’t know why I didn’t just, like, lie. I usually do, y’know, when that question comes up.”

“If it, um, makes you feel any better, I’m—I haven’t had one,” Eddie offers. “A first kiss, I mean.”

More silence.

“Are you messing with me?” Steve asks, several long moments later, and Eddie shakes his head, even though they’re bathed in darkness, and Steve can’t see him.

He scoots closer, close enough that he can feel the body heat radiating off of Steve without the two of them touching. “Nope. Cross my heart, hope to die, all that good stuff. Haven’t kissed anybody. Not for lack of trying, mind you, but, uh, pretty sure nobody’s exactly jumping at the chance to kiss the town freak, and it’s not like it’d be any good if they did, because, like I said, zero prior kisses,” Eddie rambles. “I’d probably suck at it.”

A light chuckle. Thank fuck. “Probably,” Steve agrees.

“Probably,” Eddie echoes.

They sit in silence for a while longer, though it isn’t uncomfortable this time, which Eddie supposes is a plus. The freezer is just barely less cold, which means the power’s still out, which sucks. How long are they gonna be trapped in here? It’s chilly as hell. How long is Eddie supposed to be trapped in a freezer with Steve Harrington, armed with the knowledge that he’s apparently kissed one whole boy before?

Eddie definitely isn’t straining to see the time on his watch. He definitely doesn’t watch it tick for fifteen whole fucking minutes before Steve speaks up again. “Hey, uh, what happened to your flashlight?” he asks.

“I’m saving the batteries,” Eddie tells him.

A beat. “Saving the batteries…for what?” Steve asks.

“Oh, I was planning on putting them in my Walkman, actually,” Eddie snaps, a little on the sarcastic side, because they’ve been trapped in here for a while, and the freezer is steadily dropping in temperature. Embarrassed, though, because Steve should arguably be the only really upset person in this freezer right now, Eddie barrels on. “Anyway, we may as well get used to being in the dark.”

“Yeah…” Steve murmurs, trailing off, like there’s another thought accompanying it that he just isn’t saying.

Eddie’s brows furrow. “What?”

“Well, it’s just not that great, is it?” Steve hums. “I wouldn’t mind looking at the mall again, and…maybe…looking at you.”

Eddie snorts. “Really? You like looking at me?” he scoffs.

“Uh…yeah,” Steve admits, voice soft. “I suppose I do.”

Eddie feels his face go hot. “Well, I like looking at you, too,” he confesses under the cover of darkness, because it feels a lot safer than it would if he could see the pitying wince that’s probably on Steve’s face right now.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks, sounding vaguely pleased, and Eddie doesn’t get him. He doesn’t understand King Steve, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, Steve from Scoops Ahoy, who apparently babysits D&D-playing kids and likes the ewoks in Star Wars and kissed a boy at camp. Steve’s shoulder presses against his own. “Thanks. For that.”

Eddie swallows. It’s audible again, and he really wishes he knew how to cut that shit out, because it does a hell of a job of giving him away. “Yeah, man, no—um, no problem.”

“You know,” Steve starts, “I could be your first kiss. For practice.”

“For practice,” Eddie repeats flatly.

What an asshole. He should’ve known this was some elaborate setup to get Eddie to admit that all the rumors about him are true, to humiliate him or some shit.

Steve laughs, but it isn’t cruel like Eddie’s expecting. It’s soft, almost embarrassed. “Sorry, I just—that’s how the boy at camp got me to kiss him, figured I’d try the line out,” he says. “Guess I still don’t have my game back.”

“Your game?” Eddie asks, because what the hell is happening right now?

“You know, how I, like, suck at flirting lately,” Steve says. “I mean, I’ve been flirting with you all summer, and it took us getting stuck in a freezer for you to be even a little nice to me. Well, to get you to admit you don’t hate looking at my face, but I’ll take it.”

Record scratch number two.

“I—sorry, what?” Eddie asks, eyes practically bugging out of his head, and Steve shrugs with a quiet laugh. Eddie shakes his head. “Not fucking funny, man, you can’t just—you can’t say shit like that.”

“What, I can’t be honest with you?”

“You’re not—! You aren’t being honest, you’re fucking with me!”

Another little laugh. “Well, I’d like to be, but you don’t seem to like me very much,” Steve tells him. “What’d you say again? ‘When hell freezes over?’ Robin’s gonna have a field day with that ‘You Suck’ board of hers when I tell her I got rejected again.”

Eddie rethinks his entire summer.

Come to think of it, if he doesn’t consider a lot of Steve’s comments to be sarcastic, it actually does come across as incessant flirting.

Son of a bitch.

“How—why are you—what makes you so confident I won’t be an asshole about this?” Eddie asks, utterly bewildered.

Steve tilts his head—the shadows move, he sees the silhouette of Steve’s annoyingly perfect hair sway with the movement. “I mean, considering you apologized for ruining the game after I told you my first kiss was with a dude, figured I’d have nothing to lose except for my pride, of which I have remarkably little,” he says. “I’m pretty much shameless, man. And besides, your whole thing is, like, standing on tables and shitting on everyone else for conforming to society’s expectations, so…it’d be pretty weird if you were homophobic.”

This shit just gets crazier and crazier. “You paid attention to me in high school?” Eddie asks, and his eyes are adjusting to the light now. He can make out the faint, nostalgic smile on Steve’s face.

“Oh, I had the biggest crush on you my freshman year,” Steve tells him. “But, y’know, you made it very apparent you weren’t the biggest fan of jocks, and I’d already joined, like, a bunch of different teams, so—”

Eddie cuts him off by practically smashing his mouth against Steve’s, all jittery nerves. He’s not a very good kisser, but Steve lets out a tiny, pleased hum anyway as he lifts his hands to Eddie’s waist, tugging him closer just slightly. It’s insane. It’s bizarre. By all rules of both basic logic and the Munson Doctrine, this should not be happening. Steve Harrington should not be carefully and softly moving his lips against Eddie’s, but here they are.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie breathes, pulling back, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Steve tells him, and Eddie can’t really argue with that, “but, uh, I’m sorry, too. The whole pigtail-pulling strategy really doesn’t work with you, huh?”

The mental image of Steve tugging his hair does something to Eddie that he’s a little too ashamed to admit. “Um,” he manages, “yeah.”

“Sorry about all of high school, then,” Steve says, and he kisses Eddie again.

And just as Steve’s hand snakes underneath Eddie’s shirt, the lights in the freezer come back on, and cold air begins to blast through the vents.

Once again, son of a bitch.

[makerofmadness]

What's with Balloon Boy and the Daycare Attendant?

The Balloon World arcade machine exists, it's in the DA's room and both characters are involved in it. It's probably one of the most cryptic minigames in the FNAF series as a whole, but while we could ponder what exactly it's supposed to mean (maybe I'll do that for all the security breach minigames eventually), the main question I have is this:

WHY Balloon Boy specifically? Why is the minigame about HIM?

Is there a connection between the two characters? Or was it a completely random decision?

Out of nowhere, thinking about Balloon World, I came to a realization:

The Lights.

Balloon Boy's entire gimmick in FNAF 2 was that if he got into your office, he would disable your flashlight and vent lights (...somehow. I know we all make the jokes about him taking the batteries [and then that FNAF 57: Freddy In Space thing in FNAF World said he just straight-up steals your entire flashlight], but you never see the battery icon disappear or appear empty in FNAF 2 itself when he gets into your office. And the vent lights also stop working, so unless they also operate on batteries, then... does he actually take them from you?).

What's the one rule in the daycare?

Keep the lights on.

His mechanic is the antithesis to what Sun wants and exactly what Moon would want. Balloon Boy doesn't keep the lights on. He prevents you from turning them on at all.

(which also makes me kinda sad there wasn't a Glamrock version of BB. Then again, I don't know how exactly he would've uniquely affected like anything. Regardless I am hoping for the day someone in the fandom makes a glamrock bb who is arch-enemies with sun and gets along well with moon skseijdndndnd-)

It feels kinda obvious and I'm guessing I'm not the only person to think about this, but I have never seen anyone else bring this up. Not on YouTube, not on tumblr, nowhere. Maybe if I go looking for it I'll see, but i'm surprised I haven't bumped into anyone else saying this just naturally. I go into the BB tags a LOT, surely SOMEONE would've said something, right? I don't even see it noted in the trivia on the page for the arcade game on the fnaf wiki.

...but is this supposed to mean anything? Or is it just a cute little reference or callback? it's hard to say, especially with how ambiguous the minigame is.

Though I DID think of ONE thing... (possible minor spoilers for Ruin under the cut):

Saw this pointed out in a youtube video that the BB World screen (with Eclipse, who makes their proper debut in Ruin after effectively being foreshadowed by the minigame in SB's base game) can be seen on the ceiling in the DA's room. Which makes sense, obviously, but also take note of the pirate-themed windows in the hallway leading to it.

...now, which character do most of us tend to associate with Balloon Boy? His "tag-team partner," of sorts?

Foxy. The Pirate.

With this, I found that there's more Foxy-related stuff associated with the daycare area than I had previously realized because I had never made any connections before. I mean, Kids' Cove is directly linked to it for god's sake.

Like. I hope i haven't forgotten to mention anything (I've been writing this post over the course of hours 'Cus I had stuff to do in the middle of it all). My brain's kinda starting to fry. But basically: Was Foxy originally meant to be the Daycare Attendant, in-universe? Was there gonna be a Glamrock Balloon Boy with him, like as his first mate or something??? Were they gonna be connected to Fazbear Theater????? (Uh basically Sun/Moon to my knowledge from confirmation in the books and a lot of more subtle implications in-game mainly involving environmental pieces were originally meant to be in the Fazbear Theater as a stage animatronic but got moved to daycare duty instead and being reprogrammed. Which actually explains a lot about them when you think about it-)

Like. Ok I'm forgetting where I was going with this, I'm sorry, but I guess it's food for thought/adds to the weird connections between DA and BB, I guess. Idk. I can't focus that well right now to keep making new ideas.

felt like sharing my interpretation of the Balloon World minigame itself at least since earlier I did kinda finally get it down concretely:

I kinda developed a theory that Eclipse is Sun/Moon's "safe mode" and that rebooting DA reactivated Eclipse as a result. Like, they're their own AI that was at one point implemented. but then Vanny happened and locked them out thanks to the whole Glitchtrap virus thing (albeit it only seemed to reach Moon, while Sun remains seemingly unaffected. Guessing it's because they're different AIs [finally implied/basically confirmed by their Ruin dialogue). Eclipse has seemingly not been active for some time, or at least never post-pizzaplex closure, given how they're seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that this place is closed with no signs of opening.

So the minigame was foreshadowing Eclipse's existence and implying their "trapped" nature, which also could be seen as paralleling Vanessa's whole "Vanny" situation, especially given how iirc one of the messages related to princess quest can be found near the arcade machine.

[kawaiijohn]

Dipper accidentally summons King Phantom to Gravity Falls to help against Bill?

okay never thought i'd write anything with GF buttttt here ya go @guardianrex <3

And Happy super late tenth birthday gravity falls. Hope this rocks.

"You're just a teenager!" Dipper pointed at the lanky boy from behind the table turned cover. His finger shakes a little as he wills himself to be brave.

"You're just a teenager!" Dipper pointed at the lanky boy from behind the table-turned-cover. His finger shakes a little as he wills himself to be brave.

"And you're just a kid," said teenager yawns, rubbing sleep out of heavily bagged eyes. "Is there a reason I'm standing in my living room with some kid I don't know at ass o clock in the morning?"

Dipper swallows. He'd meant to summon the 'Infinity King', a figure Grunkle Ford had found information on during his travels. The King of All Reality was supposedly an eldritch being of unknown origin and deathless power, one that could possibly be asked to help deal with Bill and his crap.

And his research was going perfectly! The texts Ford had shown him a few weeks ago- the very same texts that Dipper had stolen while Ford was asleep, were translated quite easily (who knew Pig Latin was a viable language in some realities?) and used without his Grunkle's knowledge. Against said Grunkle's warnings.

But ignoring warnings could have gone much worse. At least the figure floating three inches off the floor looked about as human as Dipper did. He knows from personal experience (what a weird summer) it doesn't mean much, but at least the King's skin wasn't like, inside-out or something gross. He shudders at the thought of the possibility.

Although the King looks nothing more than a teenager who just woke up, Dipper could still sense something about the guy was... off.

Unnatural

Dipper realizes he's been staring for a while, and that he's being stared back at. He points more confidently at the King and swallows his fear.

"Takes one to uh... takes one to know one!"

Smooth

The Infinity King sighs and pinches his brow. "Look, kid. I don't know how you summoned me or why you summoned me, but I'm very tired. I have no money, and I would like to go back to bed before the test I have tomorrow."

"Oh man, is it not summer break for you? That stinks."

"Buddy I'm in summer school, it does stink. So I'd appreciate being able to leave. Please."

"Oh yeah let me just-" Dipper almost falls for the believable performance before catching himself. "Wait a second, that's dumb. I'm not gonna fall for that, Infinity King!"

Dipper shines his flashlight into the King's eyes and is on the receiving end of a very angry stare. "Ancients help me..." the King sighs.

"Nobody can help you! Those sigils are for trapping ghosts and spirits! So now you gotta listen to what I say."

"I really don't have a choice, huh?" The King crosses his legs and places an elbow on his knee. "Alright, shortie. What did you summon me for? Need dating advice? Video game level can't be beat? Annoying sister?"

"I'm not so dumb to summon a powerful being for petty squabbles or whatever!" Dipper grumbles. "I'm dealing with something really really bad, alright?"

He walks up to the border of the circle and shows the King the journal, specifically the pages on Bill Cipher.

"What the hell is this thing? An evil triangle?" the King asks and begins to read. "Don't like how that page gives me goosebumps."

"He's an inter dimensional demon and a jerk. He's also evil and messing with my family."

"Well, I don't know what I can do, but inter dimensional jerks happen to be what I fight most." the King sighs. "What can I do to help?"

"First you gotta make me a-a deal!" Dipper's voice squeaks, realizing what he's said aloud before looking around to make sure Bill isn't going to pop up out of nowhere.

"Kid, I don't think deals are a good choice for someone your age, nor with an inter dimensional being like me."

"Yeah, but like, your kind is kinda all about deals, right?"

"No, but I guess if it makes you feel better... how about you buy me a pizza when this is over. A pizza, and a milkshake of my choice."

"You're serious?" Dipper squints.

"Deadly." the King grins.

"Alright, deal then-"

"Okay, drop the shield and we'll shake on it."

[kiwibeanv]

Astray in the Black Water: Chapter 3

Fatal Frame 5 x Bungo Stray Dogs x fem! Reader

Prologue --- Chapter 1 --- Chapter 2

Notes: Mostly Chuuya chapter. Slightly OOC. You could read it alone. Terrorized by ghosts lol. Long chapter... Will update this chapter with post chapter content in these days.

6/4/2024: All post chapter content posted!

You managed to finish the written report in the afternoon. After collecting the photos from the printer, you compiled the papers together and went up to Kunikida.

“Kunikida-san, the paperwork is finished,” you say handing him the clipboard with the files.

He turns to you and takes the paperwork. He quickly scanned over it to ensure you filled out everything.

“Perfect. You are free to leave and thank you again for your assistance.”

You nod and turned around to the exit. Just as you were about to leave the office completely, Dazai's voice calls out to you.

"Oi, (Name)! Wait a minute!"

Dazai caught up to you with a smile. "So what kind of plans do you have? Anything tonight?"

"I will be busy. I have another request to search for someone," you replied.

"Oh... it doesn't happen to be with a certain ginger?" He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned forward with suspicion.

"Uh... how did you know?"

Dazai pursed his lips. "Well he did approach you yesterday and asked how to get in contact with you. It's not hard to put two and two together."

You didn't think he would remember that detail. But then again, he knew Chuuya.

"If you're gonna go with him, keep your distance. He's loud, arrogant, and he's a brute! So be extra careful to protect yourself."

You blinked twice and realized how his words were much like Chuuya's. Aside from the different adjectives they used to describe each other.

"But," he leaned forward. "We might need you again."

You raised your brow. "What for?"

"Kyouka was searching for a missing girl, however with her condition she won't be able to get back to work right away. So~ I request that you search for the girl while with Chuuya."

"I can't promise I'll find her right away, but I will keep that thought in mind," you replied.

"Good! Just focus more on the girl than Chuuya!" Dazai beamed.

You sighed to yourself. "No promises," you mutter under your breath.

"Just in case you do," he pulled out a slip of paper out of his pocket, "Update me!"

He handed it to you. Inside was his phone number, the photo of the missing girl, and a little note.

Call me~ ;)

"Will do..." You say as you shoved his number in your pocket.

You managed to leave the Armed Detective Agency office and return to your district. Knowing that you had another object to repel spirits, you searched for it. That way Chuuya could have a way to push them back should the situation arise.

Later that evening, you waited in your cafe. You helped your coworkers clean and serve orders until the bell announced his presence. Chuuya walked in and looked around until his eyes landed on you.

"Oi, you ready?" He asked.

"I am," you nod.

Realizing that you forgot to mention to bring an item of the person he was looking for, you decided to ask now.

"Do you have a personal object or a photo of the person we are looking for?"

He tilts his head. "Huh, what for?"

"To have a trace. It would be easier to follow it than wander aimlessly," you replied, now feeling bad that you failed to mention it to him this morning.

"Shit, I wish you told me sooner," he sighed, rubbing his neck.

You frowned. "I apologize...I forgot."

"Do gifts count?"

You nod, since the object could have a connection.

"Got a knife she gave me, but I might need it if something happens."

"It's good enough."

He was about to turn to leave through the door when he paused and looked at you. "Just to make sure, you're fine with riding a motorcycle, right?"

You shrugged. "I'm fine with it. Let me get a few things first. I will meet you outside."

Chuuya nods, exits the cafe, and heads to his motorcycle. While he was doing that, you retrieved your camera, flashlight, and a few other items you need. Then you joined him, settling behind him, and he took off.

He drove you to Mt. Hikami. Curiosity crept in your mind. What sort of man was Chuuya? After all, he was dressed well with his suit. The cropped jacket, the long coat he wore as a cape, and the hat made him stood out more. You managed to see into Atsushi's memories, however you are aware of the possibility of seeing something more personal than you expected. This was a good opportunity to glance into his background. However, you decided against it, deeming this time to be inappropriate. After all, you barely met him.

By the time you reached to Mt. Hikami, the sunset had just begun. The red skies glowed, drawing your gaze in. The bike stopped and snapped you out of your thoughts and the two of you entered Mt. Hikami.

You held onto the knife to feel the trace. The trace was stronger with Chuuya, leading one figure to him. However, there was another figure, one of a silhouette of a woman. Her hair seemed to be in a bun and had long robes as if she wore a kimono. She walked to the path in the middle, the one that lead to the pool of purification.

You told Chuuya to follow you and you went up the path. Up the trail, you passed the waterfall. The skies were only getting darker at this point, the red hue fading into darkness. The two of you started to use flashlights. As you passed the waterfall, you heard a swoosh on your right and saw something falling. Chuuya looked over, probably seeing the same thing. Though, he saw nothing and figured it could have been a bird swooping down or a falling rock.

As you passed through the Pool of Purification and into the Unfathomable Forest, you could see more spirits wander. The infamous hanging tree showed brief flashes of those who hung themselves. There was still a lone hanging noose.

Proceeding further into the forests, you and Chuuya heard faint laughter in the distance.

Po...Po...Po....

Chuuya shined his light to find the source of the sound. It sounded like a woman's husky voice.

"What the hell?" He kept looking around and didn't see anything.

You remembered hearing that same laughter when you were fleeing with Dazai, Atsushi, and Kyouka the night prior. The pale woman in the trees that you thought you saw. Though, you don't have a clear image of her.

"I have told you before that spirits are more active at night," you remind him, turning to him. "But let's not let their presence distract us. We should keep moving."

Chuuya nods, his lips pressed tightly. You gave him an assuring nod and pulled out an adorned flashlight.

"Here, just in case," you held the fancy flashlight out to him. "Like my camera it can repel the spirits. Just press and hold that little moon button above the switch. You will know when to release when you see a blue outline."

Chuuya takes the flashlight into his hand, putting away his regular one. He studied the intricate designs. Above the switch, he saw the button you mentioned, shaped like the moon.

"So... that's all I do?" He asked, turning it on and moving the light around.

"Precisely. But only use it when a spirit attacks," you said as you led the path again. "Otherwise, you can use it as a regular flashlight."

Chuuya hummed and followed you through the forest. He felt better now that he has something to protect himself against the malevolent spirits.

The trace started to get weaker, the deeper you went into the forest. After all, the knife had a stronger connection with Chuuya. By the time you reached the Shrine of Dolls, the trace faded completely. You couldn't tell if it went further into the forest or into the shrine.

"The trace ends here," you say, turning to Chuuya and handing him his knife. "Our next best option is to see if the person dropped anything."

Chuuya took his knife and looked over at the Shrine of Dolls. He shined his light on the dolls, their dead eyes staring back at him. He can't imagine Kouyou checking out the shrine first.

"Hey, is there a map of the area?" He asked, hoping to get a reference of the mountain.

"I have one," you said as you reached for the pamphlet you brought.

He leaned close and observed it. He could see the other points of interest of the mountain. The Shrine of Ephemeral, cable car stations, and the House of Joining. He pointed at the Shrine of Dolls icon.

"So we are here. Have a feeling Kouyou--" Chuuya cut himself off when he heard distorted static.

In the trees, a tall woman in white walked out of the tree line and towards you both. She had a long dress, a hat, and a smile going from ear to ear. The closer she got, the bigger she was. The two of you had to look up and she was freakishly tall. Her arms and legs were abnormally long.

You can't escape.

The tall woman lunged and reached her arms out to grab you. As soon as she started moving, Chuuya screamed and stumbled to dash away. You take a few steps back and took your camera out. Your eyes darted between Chuuya and the woman before you looked into the camera lens to take a picture.

"What are you doing?!!" Chuuya screeched. "Fucking run!!"

You managed to take the picture before she hit you, winning a shutter chance. You took a chain of pictures, the tall woman crossing her arms over her face until you had to reload the film. Chuuya watched in awe as you managed to hold her off. He decided that this was too much and took a hold of your wrist, yanking you away to flee with him.

"Chuuya!" You gripped onto the camera and struggled to follow his pace.

But he didn't listen to you. He continued dragging you back to the base of the mountain where his motorcycle was parked. At that moment, you knew he wouldn't heed your words so you quickened your pace. You wanted to warn him that if you didn't repel a spirit, they might follow wherever you go.

Once you two were mounted on the motorcycle, he drove off. The drive calming his adrenaline down. Chuuya took you back to your cafe-residence. He cleared his throat, not wanting to meet your gaze after that incident.

"Um... You good?" He asked.

You got off the motorcycle. "Yes, but now we could be followed by that tall woman since we did not repel her."

Chuuya paled. "Oh... Do you know if... she's could follow me or you?" He asked with a shaky voice.

"Unfortunately, I do not," You shook your head with a sigh.

Chuuya considered the scenario. He came up with three possibilities. Either the tall woman haunts you and you have to fight her alone, or she haunts him but he didn't have the equipment to fight her off. Plus, he still had your flashlight but he assumed you wanted it back he goes home. The last scenario was staying with you, ensuring that the tall woman comes to you and getting the chance to take her down together.

"How about I stay the night here so you don't have to fight the woman by yourself?" Chuuya paused before adding, "You don't have to agree..."

You thought about his offer. There were more pros than cons if he were to stay the night. With that, you nodded your head.

You opened the side door that lead straight to your residence. Chuuya noticed that you set your shoes on a rack and did the same before both of you walked in. You led him to your office and turned on the computer. He raised his brow and set his coat on the couch.

"So... what's the plan?" He asked.

"We monitor the cameras and watch out for any spirits that could have followed us home. This way, we won't be surprised of any visitors," you replied as you opened the camera system application.

You and Chuuya scrolled through the cameras of your cafe-home. So far everything looked good. While nothing happened, Chuuya took a look at the bookshelf to your right. Until that faint familiar laughter came again.

Po...Po...Po...

Chuuya's gaze shot back to the computer screen. From the second floor looking down the stairs, you saw the tall woman walk down them. Both of you heard heavy footsteps hit the wooden floor. The two of you looked intently at the computer screen, waiting to see other sightings of her. You kept scrolling through the cameras and when you got to the same camera above the stairs, you were met with the pale woman's face. It was so close to the camera, her soulless eyes staring blankly at you. That same smile, from ear to ear.

I found you...Hahahaha.

Chuuya yelped and fell back onto the floor. Her face soon dissolved from the screen. He couldn't believe how pathetic he was over this ghost. Remembering the flashlight you gave him, he gripped onto it. He looked at the full moon button, remembering the directions you gave him.

"She's at the stairs... let's get her," he said as he fixed his hat.

You nod and took the camera. Chuuya opened the door, only to scream when the tall woman's face appeared in front of him. She was bending down and started to rise to her natural height. You got the camera ready. Since she was so tall, you took the bold move to step out of the office to get a good shot of the tall woman.

Chuuya wasn't going to let you take her down alone. Part of this was his fault that the tall women went after you...or him. He could see how you were suppressing your fear to take this malevolent being on. And he had to as well.

The spirit was getting more frustrated as you continued to drain her health. You were in the middle of loading new film and she took this opportunity to swipe her hand at you. Just a mere touch made you fall to your knees. It felt like your life was drained out of you, just barely holding on.

This was Chuuya's moment to take. You were struggling to get up and any moment now the tall woman could get you. He held the flashlight and pressed down on the button. It took a few seconds, the tall woman reaching to grab your arms, and the blue outline appeared. He released the button, the light harming the spirit. You managed to bring your camera up and take the final shot.

The tall woman screeched in pain. She leaned back, putting her hands on her head as she fell to her knees. You held your hand out to touch her spirit to see if she had a past, but your hand went through. No visions, no feelings, nothing... What the hell was she? She disintegrated into nothing, your home feeling warm again.

"(Name)!" Chuuya ran over to help you up. "You alright?"

You managed to get up on your feet, leaning on the wall for support. "I am...just... My energy's drained."

Chuuya took hold of your arm. "Here, let me help you lay down."

He guided you back into the office and set you on the couch. He took your camera and set it on the desk, also placing the flashlight with it. He retrieved his coat and draped it over your frame.

"Just keep it for tonight, I'll come back tomorrow," he muttered, turning and walking out the door.

Dazed, you stared at his retreating form and several seconds after he left, you blinked. I could have told him to get a blanket. Eventually, you succumbed to your slumber.

Nightmares plagued your mind for the second time. Faint voices call upon you to return to the mountain. Visions of the past.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm upstairs. The cafe needs to open. You went upstairs to turn off the alarm but you realized that you must have slept through the initial one. It has been over an hour and the cafe was supposed to be ready and open at this moment. You went down to unlock the cafe doors. You apologized and told your workers that you will have to stay inside to rest. A few customers were waiting outside too, however, you were not paying attention to their faces.

All you remember was heading back to the couch to sleep. You didn't wake up until noon and sat up on the couch.

"Oh! You're finally awake!" said a male voice.

You opened your eyes to see Dazai with a silly smile on his face. He was sitting on the chair on by the desk with the computer. He was currently scrolling through the camera footage of your residence. To the left, Atsushi sat on the floor where you had the TV stand.

"Good morning~" Dazai greets, not looking back. "You have a nice home by the way." He turns to look at you. "I see Chuuya left you a parting gift." His gaze shifted to Chuuya's coat.

"How did you get inside?" You wondered, your eyes darting from Dazai to Atsushi.

Atsushi averted his eyes, recalling the method. As soon as you opened the doors to the cafe, Dazai and Atsushi got in along with the customers. While your workers were getting the counter ready and taking orders, Dazai picked the lock of your door. Atsushi stood by him to hide his work. Really, he was dragged here by Dazai as an accomplice. Once he picked the lock, they entered and immediately found you in the office room.

"You had pretty good locks. It took me another five seconds to pick it," Dazai's smile grew.

Atsushi shook his head, sighing, "We didn't walk around your house! We found you here and... decided to wait for you to wake up."

You blinked a few times in silence, processing their words. "Please don't come in unannounced again."

"I was gonna wait in the cafe! But Dazai insisted," Atsushi raised his hands in defense.

"Hey, you wanted to see her too," Dazai pointed at him, accusingly.

You rolled your eyes and set Chuuya's coat on the side.

"So how was your little adventure with Chuuya?~" Dazai smirked. "Did you find who he was looking for?"

"Last night we made little progress..." You contemplated whether you wanted to say that Chuuya got scared. Though, considering their kind of relationship, they would probably make fun of each other. You refrained. "So tonight we are to go out again..."

Atsushi and Dazai noticed the bags under your eyes. Your eyelids covered your irises halfway.

"You must have come home late then," Atsushi adds as he got up from the floor. "We'll let you rest. Let's go Dazai."

"Huh?! But--" Dazai cut himself off with a sigh. "Fine..." He pouted.

"Kunikida will scold us again."

"I know, I know."

Dazai rubbed his neck. "I'll be seeing you later then."

You bid them goodbye and went back to rest. Hours passed, and you fixed yourself before Chuuya's arrival. Again you waited at the cafe for him. It wasn't until the evening, nearly the same hour he arrived. Dressed the same as usual, minus the coat.

You took the coat you had on the side and went up to him. Another day to search for Kouyou. This time, he brought a picture of her. The photo had a stronger trace than the knife. Chuuya brought a black car this time, as there was going to be a chance of rain at night.

The two of you returned to Mt. Hikami again. You remembered the trace ended at the Shrine of Dolls. Though, would Kouyou really end up there? You had a feeling that a woman like her could be at the Shrine of the Ephemeral. To make travel short, you suggested to take the cable car up.

Since Chuuya came earlier, there was a small grace period of less spirit activity. Once the cable car stopped at the next station, the two of you took the path to the large shrine. It was a bit of a long path, but that was the only route to take to reach the shrine.

Along the way, the sun was getting further down into the earth. Darkness laid over mountain. You started to see more spirits wander and you avoided their gaze so they do not know you can see them. As some spirits could be desperate.

Until you catch wind of a white figure in the forest. You turn and see the tall woman facing away from you. She isn't attacking, but what is she looking at? You raised your camera for a picture and heard the laugh you knew so well.

Chuuya heard it too and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He gripped onto the flashlight you gave to him. Though, in the distance, the two of you heard a yelp. After snapping a picture, you decided to check it. There was the tall woman looking at a man in a tan coat fleeing. You heard a faint voice flirting in panic.

"Huh?... Is that Dazai?" You asked, trying to see if it was an illusion.

"Let me see!" Chuuya's eyes glimmered and took a look at the picture. He recognized the fluffy brown hair and started to snicker.

"And you caught that motherfucker on camera." Chuuya laughed aloud, easing his nerves.

You and Chuuya continued along the path. Kouyou's trace did not falter and you even caught a picture of her echo. You showed Chuuya the picture on camera.

"This is the same place where I found Kyouka," you add.

Chuuya knew that Kouyou had a soft spot for Kyouka and this was not surprising to him. It made sense.

"Then hopefully we find Kouyou here," He nods.

Her trace led the two of you down some stairs on the first floor. That part was flooded but still walkable. Her trace led you to a boat in the center of the courtyard. There stood a maiden in a white kimono and a veil over her head.

When a shrine maiden's heart is full of the pain of those she's glanced, she returns to the water.

The line echoed in your mind as you captured the photograph of the woman. She disappeared shortly after her words faded. Chuuya gave you a confused look on why you took a picture.

"Why the hell are you taking pictures?" Chuuya asked. "Was Kouyou in it?"

"Not this time. You did not see the shrine maiden on the boat?"

He shook his head. "No."

You showed him the picture on the camera. "This is what I saw."

Chuuya leaned in to see. "Huh, so you think that ghost can lead us somewhere?"

"I can't say..." You looked in the direction where the ghost was looking. "But her trace goes beyond the water... We will have to use this boat."

Chuuya raised his brow. "But isn't that a closed gate over there?" He points at said gate. "I could open it with my ability. We don't need to waste time."

"Very well," You got hold of the wooden canoe. "Let's go."

The two of you got on the boat and rowed to the gate. You felt your camera react but Chuuya moved the wood with his ability. Beyond the gate was a lake with thick fog. Chuuya trusted your abilities and soon, you arrived at the Shrine on the Water.

You and Chuuya got onto the shrine. The wooden floors creaked as you walked. Shrine maiden ghosts appeared. Two guardians and a regular. While Chuuya felt uneasy, this was not as bad as the tall woman.

"Chuuya, you take the drowned ones. I'll deal with the shrine maiden," you say, taking out your camera.

He nods at your words and took out the flashlight. He held the light and held down the button to wait for the blue outline to appear. The drowned guardian attacked and made Chuuya let go too soon. Still there was damage made since the guardians flinched.

Chuuya and you managed to take down these spirits. You decided to touch them before they completely vanish. For the guardian, you saw five maidens holding hands as they walked into the lake. Further and further, knowing that they will all die together. They looked up to the sky, darkened by a wave of black water. Swept by the tainted water, they all drowned.

The shrine maiden's memories showed her glancing into people's souls before their suicide. Taking on their pains, memories, and reading their thoughts. This one was swept away, just like the guardians.

"Black water overflowing...." You muttered, seeing the connection between the visions.

"Huh?" Chuuya narrowed his eyes.

"Something I saw in their vision... not related to the person we're looking for. Let's go."

He nods and followed you further in the shrine. You opened some doors and got inside a room. There was a black box, similar to where Kyouka was found. You opened the box and inside, you recognized the kimono and light-scarlet hair.

Chuuya's eyes widen. "Ane-san!" He grabbed her to get her out of the box.

You helped her out too and took this opportunity to peer into her memories.

I'm going to be the one to save Kyouka this time. Not Dazai.

Kouyou entered from the Mikomori Bridge and wandered the mountain. She found a few tracks of Kyouka and went through the Shrine of Dolls to the Shrine of Ephemeral. If only she knew, she was so close to finding Kyouka. Kouyou passed that door.

Spirits arose and Kouyou's first instinct was to use her ability to cut them down. The ghosts were unaffected. Startled, Kouyou did a few more attempts but more spirits emerged. One spirit engrained in her memory, a tainted bride in black. She had no choice but to run from the spirits. The front doors locked, and the last thing she remembered was the black bride catching up to her.

Kouyou's eyes fluttered opened. "Chuuya..."

The two of you managed to get her on her feet. Her eyes were foggy and there were strange, black stains on her clothes, perhaps from the black water in the box.

"Come on, we're gonna to get you home," Chuuya assured as he pulled her hand. He looked so worried, it was the softest facial expression you've seen from him.

Kouyou stayed silent and didn't move. Chuuya tugged on her hand. You noticed black hair crawling out of her sleeve. He felt the hair crept onto his hand and you two turned back to Kouyou, only to be met with her pale face. Her hair lost its vibrant color, her bun undone. Her robes became drenched, becoming very similar to another spirit you encountered with Kyouka.

"Kouyou!" Chuuya released his grip and his expression faltered. "No..."

"She spirited away. We have to repel her spirit," you urged Chuuya, taking his arm.

"No!" He yanked his arm away. His voice was shaky. "It's Kouyou... You can't do this!"

Kouyou's spirit floated in the air with a laughter that was not hers.

"Chuuya... I know it will be difficult, but we need to handle this."

The wraith charged towards the two of you. You grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the attack. Chuuya was still in a state of shock so you had to step forward.

Chuuya backed away to give you more space and into a corner, crouching down, holding his head in his hands. He refused to accept the fact that Kouyou became a phantom. But the evidence was all there in front of him. The flashes of your camera withdrew him from his mind. However, seeing you battle the specter alone, he couldn't sit on the sidelines this time.

With a new mindset he stood up, Chuuya wielded the flashlight. You saw a light shine on the ghost, and from the corner of your eye, he was holding the tool. Because your attacks combined, the spirit was swiftly defeated.

Kouyou returned to her initial form. Chuuya felt the urge to speed over and hug her, but refrained from doing so. He let out a sigh of relief.

The two of you brought Kouyou out of the storming mountain. Chuuya expressed his gratitude and took you home before departing with Kouyou.

Post Chapter Content:

-> Dazai -> Chuuya -> Atsushi