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wintrwinchestr · 4 months ago

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strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door.

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here.

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit.

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat.

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again.

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like.

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression.

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug.

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you.

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full.

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.”

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial.

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing.

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today.

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits.

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother.

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down.

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why.

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night.

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened.

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples.

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items.

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?”

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of.

“Okay,” you agree excitedly.

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay.

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you.

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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vaspider · 1 year ago

Text

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

#sisters of perpetual indulgence

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redr0sewrites · 9 months ago

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HI YEAH I AM BEGGING YOU TO ELABORATE ON THOSE TWO THINGS FROM THE SUB VOX HEADCANONS⁉️⁉️

RAHH OFC!!! IM ELABORATING ON THE DRY HUMPING HERE LMAO THE SOUNDING IS LINKED HERE FOR ALL OF YALL TO ENJOY AJSJ

🥀Cw: smut, sub!vox, dry humping, pillow humping, thigh riding, little bit of somno

🥀minors dni

when it comes to dry humping, vox gets SOOO humiliated

he gen enjoys it more than actual sex, theres just something so achingly desperate about grinding against someone, too impatient to even take off your clothes

vox is soooo sensitive, but he would rather die (again) then admit that

he can't even sit on your lap without squirming, he just can't stay still, not with the "accidental" pressure you're applying to his already hard cock

he would probably try to subtly (not subtly) bring it up in a conversation once, he thinks hes soooo slick about it but in reality you can see right through his bravado

when you pull vox onto your lap to make out he audibly whines, his legs wrap perfectly around your waist and his hips r already squirming as you kiss him stupid

hes practically a bitch in heat when you both r grinding against eachother, after a long day all he wants is to he put in his place and fucked out of his mind, and loves battling for dominance while humping against you likes hes in heat

its pathetic really

sometimes he'll glitch out and truly be unable to stop himself, his mind is just so pathetically blank and fuzzy that he just can't help it, his body has a mind of its own as he ruts against you in a frenzy, small, plessurable sparks spreading across your skin

sometimes you'll come into his office while hes working and straddle him, he gets a hard on in seconds and can't help but buck his hips up against yours while he shields his face in shame

vox has a wild imagination, i mean, he has access to the entire internet at any given time, IMAGINE how filthy his wet dreams are

he def humps you in his sleep, whimpering your name and grinding down against you

he has the sweetest little unfiltered whines when hes sleeping, and more often than not will come in his pants just from rutting against you

vox def likes riding your thigh while working too, you can't help but tease him and start bouncing your knee as his claws dig into the desk, his mind going absolutely fuzzy from pleasure as he desperately tries to stay composed

he gets off on how humiliating and humbling the position is, the fact that one of hell's strongest overlords is grinding on his partner's thigh in a semi-public place where anyone could walk in? it only turns him on more

vox's preferred form of masturbation is humping something, you can't tell me otherwise

sometimes he'll be laying in bed, missing the warmth of your body, and he can already feel himself going painfully hard and horny. vox can't even get off on his own without you, its just so pathetic but his hand never feels like yours and no sex toy could imitate your perfect hole. so, vox opts for hugging the nearest pillow to his chest, slowly dragging it down to his crotch, not even bothering to remove his clothes as he drags his hips against the material. vox'll moan you name, the movements of his hips growing more sporadic as his head clouds over with pleasure until hes fully straddling the pillow, grinding down against it and panting as he cums in his pants. he's exhausted, yet he finds himself still impossibly hard, unable to stop desperately humping the pillow below him like a bitch in heat while thoughts of you swirl in his fuzzy mind.

he has the most delicious, fucked-out look on his face as he grinds deliriously for what feels like hours, until his body finally gives up and collapses, the pillow still clamped between his legs as he takes deep, shuddering breaths as his lust begins to calm down

what if i wrote a full fic about reader walking in on vox humping a pillow, and instead of helping him, forces him to continue and just gets off while watching him struggle.... haha.... jk.... unlesss....

in will prob make this into a scenario later heheee i love putting this man in situations

#vox x reader #vox x you #vox x oc #vox x y/n #vox smut #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox headcanons #vox x reader smut #sub vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #sub hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel dom reader #bottom vox #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox

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aurumacadicus · 2 months ago

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A concept:

Tony has mostly learned not to ask too many questions when he's around teenagers. He doesn't understand most things, and quite frankly, it's just easier to claim ignorance than confusion at this point. (Peter has explained "skibidi" to him three times now and he still doesn't get it.) He just tries to provide a safe place for him and his friends. Sometimes that means he's bewildered, but it's better that way. He figures it's just a rite of passage. He still remembers how flabbergasted Jarvis looked when he described something as 'tubular.'

He's just grateful that there weren't so many cameras when he was a kid. It seems like they're everywhere, and there are so many video trends it makes him tired. Luckily, Peter and his friends seem to at least be aware that the internet is forever, so they're not doing stupid shit like doing drugs or throwing slurs around. Mostly they just post pranks. Most recently, he's pretty sure MJ and Ned duct-taped Peter to a door so he'd startle anyone who opened it. Which seems. Harmless? Whatever.

But his practiced chill all seems to backfire when he walks in on them in his kitchen "because the lighting's better here than in a conference room" with pictures taped to sticks being stuck in cake. "What is this?" he asks tiredly, because he knows it's too late to pretend he didn't see them.

"It's a hear-me-out cake, Mr. Stark," MJ answers in that way of hers that is somehow both flat and mischievous.

Tony blinks at her slowly, trying to figure out what reaction would please her least, then gives up. "Why are you doing it in my house."

"Because I don't want Aunt May to see I've put Doc Hudson from Cars on a hear-me-out cake," Peter answers.

Tony squints at the pictures already on the cake. "You've got a lot of nerve to put a picture of Timothee Chalamet on a cake and say 'hear me out' about it," he finally says.

"It's specifically Timothee Chalamet in Wonka," Ned defends immediately.

"And Doc Hudson is just a good-looking classic car, it's not weird," Tony continues, ignoring him. "I have a Hudson Hornet. I'll take you kids out for a ride when the weather gets better."

MJ holds up one of her pictures while Ned and Peter gape at him wordlessly. "I have Lady Tremaine from Cinderella."

Tony leans closer, putting his hands on his hips and huffing in offense. "You chose a picture of Cate Blanchett instead of the original cartoon. You guys. You can't say 'hear me out' about conventionally attractive people, no matter how mean they are in their roles."

"Oh yeah?" Peter asks defensively. "Then who's your hear-me-out, Mr. Stark?"

"Hexxus from Ferngully," Tony retorts, and then, "At least bring me a piece of cake when you're done." Then he grabs his coffee and heads back for the workshop.

He only realizes what a mistake that might have been when JARVIS tells him that his Twitter is blowing up but he only really understands when he sees that Tim Curry himself has responded to the video Peter posted of him with "The highest of compliments, surely."

"Pepper is going to be so mad at me," Tony breathes when he sees people are already drawing fan art of it.

#ideas #tony stark #peter parker #avengers shenanigans #crack

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thehauntedetheral · 4 months ago

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Saw that requests were open. So how about a cowboy with a city girl reader who can’t do shit in the country side? Like girlie would die trying to get eggs from chicken nests or plow a field 😂🎀💅🏻

Yandere Cowboy x Reader 🤠

Requests are open!

You lived in city enjoying your life by shopping, spas, parties and spending your grandpa's money like crazy as you live with him. Your grandpa had it enough. Yes he has a hell lot of money but you should learn how to spend it wisely.

So he forcefully sends you to his farmhouse for your summer break in a town middle of nowhere. You were away from friends and with a poor internet connection. So you tried to find some thing to distract yourself only to find a handsome cowboy with his sturdy cowboy hat and boots living in your grandpa's farmhouse for maintenance.

He became your tour guide and showed you the ranch, farm and all the animals.

He did everything effortlessly. Feeding the cattles, taking out eggs from nest, farming. It wouldn't be so hard to do you thought only if you knew.

The next day you tried to get eggs from nest only to have hens pecking and running after you while yan cowboy simply shakes his head at you while having a silly smile plastered over his face.

You tried horse riding well what can I say the horse kicked you.

You thought about riding the tractor in farm but yan cowboy stopped you from harming yourself and the farm plants.

You thought you have already embarassed yourself more than enough infront of yan cowboy but you have no idea this boy is obsessed and madly in love with you.

He loves how you are willing to try new things .

He loves how you don't give up even after getting badly treated by animals.

Hens are running after you? No worries he will teach you.

You want to learn horse riding? He will personally sit behind you on horse for teaching purpose. Ofcourse not for the purpose to be close to you.

Slowly you two became friends.

Makes you breakfast.

You two take walks in the farm at evening.

Taking care of cattles together in ranch.

Going to grocery store together.

Hitting the local pub and dancing like idiots with each other.

Him and his accent just melts you into a puddle.

You love how he helps you, teaches you tricks on how to handle ranch.

You also love his athletic built and handsome face with his cowboy outfit.

Everything is going on beautiful but as the summer break ends you have to go back to city which is inevitable.

The day has arrived for your departure and you are ready to go home. You will miss this farmhouse but moreover you will miss him more. After all goodbyes are difficult.

You wished you can tell him about your feelings about how much you mean to him, how much you love him and will miss him but there is no meaning in saying it now as you both will be miles apart.

"Think I'll miss you forever

Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky"

-Lana del rey (Summertime Sadness song)

Let me know through comments what you feel about this fic.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

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th3-3d3n-g4rd3n · 5 months ago

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I’m dying scavenging the internet for more Carl grimes x fem! reader fics. I love the idea of wear the hat ride the cowboy. Maybe with the virgin trope if you write that. Love some smut! No Rush, get to it when/ if you get to it! ❤️

omg this is beautiful and you’re so sweet

(i had to write this twice because i forgot to save it the first time so i’m sorry it took so long 😭🫶)

☆彡༄

virgin! Carl Grimes x fem!reader

(reader and Carl are 18+) (i kinda pictured Carl being 18 and reader being like 22 but you can picture however you want)(suggested that the reader isn't a virgin)

cw: established relationship, riding, kindaaa subby Carl, I’m actually so unserious in the intro, dry humping, reader calls Carl cowboy, Carl is vocal and his parents are downstairs, premature ejac... he's very eager bless him, fem receiving oral

1024 words

☆彡༄

Carl Grimes is adorable. That’s the only word that comes to your mind right now, adorable.

His consistent smile, adorable. His random compliments throughout the day, adorable. His hugs from behind when he wants your attention, adorable. And, you KNOW that it should just warm your heart but for some reason, it’s warming somewhere else (if ya know what I mean…)

You and Carl were given the afternoon off so, you'd decided to read comics in his bedroom. You had eventually gotten a little bored (and bothered) so, what else to do but annoy your beautiful boyfriend?

Snatching his hat, you place it on your head and smirk up at him, sticking your tongue out. Jokingly, he rolls his eyes and says, “hey, careful. You know what they say?” You giggle at his response, “what do they say, Carl. Tell me” you reply, not knowing where he’s going with this, “wear the hat, ride the cowboy!” he chuckles.

You smile at his goofiness, before you got an idea.

You sit up and straddle his lap, “oh yeah, Cowboy? You want me to ride you?” you say with confidence that you must’ve pulled from your ass because you have no idea where that came from (hehe). For a moment, his flushed face and unhinged jaw that the boy below you presents make you think that you’ve made him uncomfortable. You consider getting off and just walking away, taking the embarrassment and probably never talking again. That was until he starts shaking his head yes rapidly.

His hands latch onto your hips, “are you being serious? Like, is that an actual offer?” You giggle a bit at his enthusiastic tone, "yeah... If you want me?"

"Hell yeah!" he shouts with wide eyes, to which you have to cover his mouth, "as much as I love your enthusiasm, stay quiet, Carl", you chuckle a bit to yourself at the situation, "your parents are downstairs," you remind him. His mouth drops to an O shape and he smirks in realisation, "oh shit... yeah."

You both sit there in silence for a minute, making sure that nobody was coming upstairs. When you hear nothing, you take the initiative to start moving your hips on top of his, catching him by surprise and making him sharply moan under the change of friction. You clasp your hand over his mouth oncemore, quickly realising how vocal the boy would be.

It doesn't take long before the boy's chest is heaving up and down, his lightly freckled face had been flushed with a deep scarlet. Of course, you promised that you'd ride him so, you couldn't have him cumming too soon. Stopping your movements, the needy boy whined from the loss of friction however, he stopped complaining when you took your top and bra off. He once again freezes in position, unsure of what to do. Since you knew he was a virgin, you took pity on his cluelessness and decided to give him some help, taking his hands off of your hips and placing them on your breasts to which he quite literally squeaks. "Don't twist your panties, Cowboy. Just take them off." You lift your hips and gesture to his jeans.

"Yes, Ma'am" he said, hardly above a whisper - unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans and, pulling them down and off before looking back up at you like an innocent puppy. God, he really drove you crazy.

Luckily, you were wearing a skirt so all you had to do was move your panties to the side before slowly sinking onto his dick. It was so annoying that his parents were downstairs because the erotic whine that emerged from the man below you was hot enough to make you almost cum on the spot. Unfortunately, it was muffled by your hand since you already knew what to expect from your vocal boyfriend.

"God, you look so pretty like this, Cowboy" you tease him. All he can do is look up at you with glazed-over eyes, cherry cheeks and swollen lips, continuing to moan behind your palm - already sporting a fucked-out expression. When he started bucking his hips up into you, you knew he wouldn't last much longer but, you didn't mind, I mean you knew he was a virgin so, you weren't expecting him to last long anyway.

"shit, shit, shit, 'm gonna-" he mumbles quickly before you feel his body tense and squirm beneath yours. You slow your movements, letting him ride out his orgasm before stopping fully. "That was so fucking hot, thank you.." he whispers to you, "you don't have to thank me, Cowboy. You're so cute."

He hides his flushed face in your neck and places soft kisses at the base of it. That was before he had a realisation, "you didn't get to cum, did you?" he said whilst wearing a lightly guilty expression. "No I didn't but, it's okay, I promise"

"No, it's not. Don't worry, I'll take care of you!" he smiles at you innocently before grabbing onto your hips, flipping you over, stripping you of your skirt and undies and lowering his face to your cunt. "You really don't have to, Carl it's oka-" you're cut off by the eager lapping of your clit, making your head fall into the mattress below you.

He was surprisingly skilled to say that he'd never done this before, keeping his mouth trained on your clit, sucking and circling whilst raising his calloused hands to your thighs and massaging them, before taking his right hand to insert a finger into your hole skillfully and, taking his other hand to your breast and massaging it like he was prior.

This time, you were the one having to cover your mouth due to being the centre of his attention. He inserts another finger and starts curling them in and out, hitting all the spots that you'd never been able to reach on yourself before.

Soon enough, you feel the knot in your stomach become undone and, your body spasms under his gentle touch; he watches you release on his fingers and listens to your muffled moans in awe.

"Shit, I could see you do that 100 times over"

I HOPE THIS IS OKAY

i quite like this one but you guys lmk what you think

love u, eden

#smut #sub character #sub x reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd #the walking dead

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wwaheoh · 5 months ago

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"Celebrity Worship" Robin x gnReader, SFW(?), Angst

a/n: contains blood, stabbing, and themes of possesiveness. jfc it was so hard to find a png pic of robin and not a webp pic its like the new fake transparent shit

Dating a celebrity was hard. Worrying about the paparazzi, time restraints, not being able to go out in public without security, overprotective brothers- though that could just be this specific case, rabid fans, the list goes on. Knowing this, you still accepted Robin’s feelings. It was great, she was the most wonderful person, spending time with her was never dull, and you accepted all of her. The problem was, everyone else.

You would be with her on a walk from a nice dinner when a news reporter would exclaim, “Robin!”, leading the vultures known as paparazzi to immediately circle in from out of the woodwork. Flashes of lights and yells blinding overriding your senses.

Days where you were at your shared home, you’d see fans of Robin loitering around. All for the sake of seeing their precious idol.

On social media, people would talk about how they wished for you two to break up or that you’d somehow die. Stating how you weren’t enough for the superstar and how you were undeserving. Even going so far as to send death threats in your comments or private messages. You always blocked them and tried to pay it no heed. Never telling Robin about what happened, knowing she’d take it strongly.

She loved you, and you her.

Robin was hosting an event, a new expansion of the Clockie amusement park opening up and she was there to present its grand opening- as well as go on some rides and get some exclusive merch. You were behind the scenes, standing farther away and watching her do her thing.

Steps unheard behind you, a sharp pain ringing through your lower abdomen as someone shouted at you, spit landing on your face as they screeched at you. “You don’t deserve her!” Warmth trickled down as they pushed you down to the ground, another sharp pain bloomed before they were tackled by security.

You lay there, as blood trickled out of you into the puddle forming underneath. You could hear Robin screaming, having abandoned the stage and run over to your side, crying for medical support.

“No, no, please don’t leave me!”

The darkness called as your eyelids grew heavy, seeing Robin being pulled back by paramedics.

Several days in the ICU, the sterile smell, heart monitor, and a sobbing Robin by your bedside were your companions. There were times where Robin would have to leave, commitments already signed off on and statements to give to the press. Surgery was required but had gone off without a hitch, Robin made sure you’d gotten the best treatment possible.

There was the question of how the fan had passed security and been able to attack you. With this being a known issue, you’d think they’d have been on high alert…

One day, Robin came, with you having asked her to come so you could discuss something with her. Today was your final day, only a few more check-ups and you’d be free to go.

She arrived, a few minutes earlier than planned. The bright- if tired smile, on her face.

Setting her bag down, she walked over to your bedside. “Today’s the day you’re going to be discharged! I’m so happy you’re okay.” There was a pause, expecting you to respond. When you didn’t, she continued, “Did you want to go out and eat? I could make reservations!”

“Robin.”

“Mhm?”

“I think we should take a break…”

“H-huh? What do you mean?”

“From us… we should take a break from us.”

Over the days you spent thinking while in admittance, you realized that you weren’t cut to date a celebrity. Robin wasn’t the issue, she was kind, beautiful, inside and out. Someone who worked hard for what she wanted, genuine, with a fire in her soul. But to date a celebrity would be to be put under a microscope, millions of people wanted to be in your position, and some were crazy enough to think that they did the right thing by attacking you, both over the internet and… in person.

“You- you don’t mean that!”

Robin’s voice rose, tears streaming across her face as she moved closer.

You already regretted this. But you couldn’t do this, not with having been attacked for the sole reason of dating someone. Not right now at least.

“Please!”

You wanted to hug her, but the phantom pain in your abdomen rang throughout your body.

“Please…”

“Only for a couple months… it’s not you. Just.. I need to… recuperate.”

Robin didn’t want to keep you, but she also didn’t want you to leave. But the dove with freedom, in her eyes, was better than the dove locked in a cage.

With a hoarse voice, “Oh- okay. Just… call me, when you’re ready. I love you…”

She stood up, every step was as if she were wearing lead boots. She didn’t want to keep you but she also didn’t want you to leave. The free dove was better than being caged. She wanted you to be free, but she also wanted you to be with her. Sunday had always talked about how caging a bird was better, better to be alive than dead, no matter the cost. His words all those years ago echoed in her mind as she made her way to the door.

“I love you too.”

Your voice broke through her spiral.

Only a couple months, and you’d be back. You survived, you just needed some time.

She looked back at you, nodding with a soft smile before leaving.

#robin x reader hsr #hsr x reader #angst #hsr angst

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plantyberry · 1 month ago

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Cloudcuckoolander Tally Part 1: Prologue + Chapter 1: 'My little poltergeist can't sound this sexy!'

Helloooo Internet. Seeing as I have nothing better to do with my time, and that people asked about it, but never actually asked for it, I have taken it upon myself to do some weird… Cuckoolander thing.

Now then, let's get ⭐🌟✨~Fabulous~✨🌟⭐

Prologue

Nothing, but Reach Out for Arthur anyway for that +2 Relationship bonus or choose to Wake Up for that +1 Will.

Chapter 1

Some of the choices there lead to you picking the 'real' option next while giving you points. For example, in your Job Choice options, you have:

Fairy Princess (with requisite singing!) (Cuckoo +1): If picked, you get a second choice with the 'actual' job pick. For the sake of not having to repeat this every time, every such choice will have (++) added to them to signify that they work similarly.

Run screaming through your apartment. That's definitely going to be helpful. Cuckoo +1 (Note: Not picking the floor lamp means you're not picking that +5 physical) Charge around your apartment while screaming epithets. You don't know if it'll help anything, but it sure will make you feel better. Cuckoo +1 (Note: This one increases you potty mouth score, which interferes with your purity score, so if you're aiming for Percy, keep that in mind)

Reptilian Eyes.(++) Cuckoo +1 (Note: Does not actually give you reptilian eyes. Or does it? * Side eyes changeling MCs *)

I whip open the closet door with a sudden movement: Doesn't give cuckoo points, but gives access to Cuckoo options. ===…it's been ransacked! Your clothes and shoes are strewn everywhere and- oh, wait, that's how your closet normally looks. Cuckoo +1 ===…there's a great hulking monster inside and it smells like- wait no, that's just your raincoat. Cuckoo +1

I whip open the closet door with a sudden movement. I also yell "HIYAA!" and strike a martial arts pose for the added effect. Cuckoo +1 ===…I said I was going to yell "HIYAA!" and I keep my promises. Cuckoo +1

Clothes:

Depending on your club picks and your character settings, you may get some cuckoo points out of them, though if you follow some restrictions like, say, a mute run, or are achievement hunting, then some combinations may be preferable even if they give less points.

Birthday Suit.(++): Cuckoo +1

Other clothing options also give cuckoo rating during the talk with Adrian before clubtime. The pick that gives the most points here, that I can see, is the Vampire cape (up to +3 points), but here is a list of the other picks and the points they give with the right club options:

Riding club:

Red Cape + Frame = 3 or height = tall: -"Little?" I wonder if Adrian has suddenly gone blind. --"Aye, Aye, fairy godmother." +1 Cuckoo

Vampire Cape: +1 Cuckoo -Strike a stereorypical vampire pose . +1 Cuckoo --"No promises" +1 Cuckoo

Tuxedo: -"Actually, I was planning to wear these clothes during practice." --"It will totally be worth it to see everyone's reaction to me riding around in a tux." +1 Cuckoo

Spandex Tracksuit: -"It's a tracksuit, Adrian. Why would I change my clothes again?" I ask 'innocently'. -- I say nothing, I merely start dancing the Tango de la Muerte. +1 Cuckoo (and the Keikaku achievement)

Fencing Club:

Vampire Cape: +1 Cuckoo -Strike a stereorypical vampire pose . +1 Cuckoo --"I never bite and tell." +1 Cuckoo --"Lies and Slander!" +1 Cuckoo

Spandex Tracksuit: -I say nothing, I merely start dancing the Tango de la Muerte. +1 Cuckoo -"I was thinking about wearing this instead of my uniform today." --"If we switched to plastic swords we could totally do naked fencing!" +1 Cuckoo

Favorite Drink:

The fresh blood of virgins. (++) Cuckoo +1 (Note: You can't pick the option if you picked 'Blood' as a fear)

When watching the TV:

If Wildlife Biologist: He was obviously eaten by a giant mutated bear. Case closed. I'm a genius. Cuckoo +1 If NOT a Wildlife Biologist: He was obviously eaten by werewolves. Case closed. I'm a genius. Cuckoo +1

Hobby:

Gadgetry gives the option to gain +1 Cuckoo point if at least Friendly with Adrian (pick 'I asked the magical 8-ball' option when remembering about your first meeting)

Once the phone pick is done, open your status page, scroll down, and select 'Magical grimoire (Phone)' bank-mobile-alert-666: Pick the overly-long reply. You'll know which one it is. Cuckoo +1 Work: Talk about your Theory (Mutant / werewolf / Zombie / Thousand eyes in their throat). Cuckoo +1

Jump up and charge at the glass doors. Cuckoo +1 (Note: You can't pick the option if you picked 'Fear' as a fear)

After the Sin choice:

I whip out a nearby Bible and try to exorcise the monitor with its words. Cuckoo +1

Mask Choice:

Jason Voorhees Pandemic Mask (ie Hockey Mask Style) Cuckoo +1 Plague Doctor Mask. Cuckoo +1

Final notes:

While character generation isn't overly-long, it's an excellent way to farm cuckoo points (If you pick the right followup options in club and with Adrien, up to +17 to cuckoo score from this section alone). Two picks in particular stand out here in my personal opinion. The Spandex tracksuit, as it's easy to move in, increases your interpretative dance score with the right picks, and gives you an achievement. The other is the Bible Exorcism which, while incompatible with mute, also gives you +1 Will, and those points are quite a bit harder to farm.

#oks #one knight stand #ThisIsHellIAmWalkingInto #oks cuckoomc

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backtothefanfiction · 3 months ago

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FELLOWSHIP

PART ONE OF THE GREEN LEAVES TRILOGY.

Summary: Part One follows the storyline of the Fellowship of the Ring. This is a reader insert with a name. (Apart from giving reader a Middle Earth appropriate name and some Elven features there’s no specific descriptors) Raea and Legolas have history, when an old friend calls in your help for a mission it brings up old feelings.

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, canon typical warnings, dodgy internet translated elvish, protective Legolas, reader insert no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.7k+

A/N: Legolas is honestly my first fictional love from this lifetime. I have wanted to write something for him for years. Seeing a prompt from @imclimbingthestairsoforthanc for more Legolas content a couple months back now really pushed me to work on something. I was just going to post this all as one, but part 2 is getting kind of long and I didn’t want to wait anymore. So I’ve divided it up by the trilogy. Anyway, I hope readers enjoy.

You had always hated Bree. It very rarely saw the sun. It was like it had its own perpetual cloud of rain falling onto the small village, its streets forever a sticky river of mud.

You tried to wipe it off of your shoes, but it was stubborn and persistent, as you made your way through the doors of the Prancing Pony, to meet the old friend who had asked for your council.

“Still sitting brooding in corners and avoiding attention I see.” You say as you sidle up to his table, finally lowering your hood.

“Still hiding your ears, I see.” He merely replies.

It’s true, of course. Ever since you fled Mirkwood after Thranduil made a show of humiliating you for being a half breed and you’d sought out refuge in your Father’s realm of men, you had always made sure to style your hair so that it covered your ears; the only physical indicator, apart from your fair complexion, that gave away your Mother’s Elven lineage.

You held the rangers dark gaze for a moment. The tension crackling between you, before you both broke out in grins.

“Raea.” He sighed in delight.

“Aragorn.” You smiled back, taking a seat at the table beside him.

“It’s been too long.” He says, reaching a hand across the table to you.

“Aye, it has.” You sigh, allowing him to take your hand in his, his thumb rubbing a comfortable greeting across the back of it, before he dropped it once more. “Tell me.” You say pleasantly, yet with an air of caution, “What ails you that you have to seek me out.”

“I have news, from a friend.”

“What friend?” You frown. You fear he means the Prince you once knew and loved, but his tone implies another.

His voice is hushed as he says, “There is an evil roaming these lands.” Your eyes grow concerned as you hold his gaze, recollecting the dark forces you sense drawing nearer, the evil who’s heavy tendrils hang thickly in the air these days, growing ever stronger.

“I have heard rumours.” You say, your voice growing lower as you lean further across the table to the dark haired man; and he you.

“They aren’t just rumors.” He cautions. “They are here- searching.” His voice says, growing urgent. “There is one.” He says lowly, allowing the raucous sounds of the tavern, mask your conversation. “One who has set out on a quest to Rivendell.”

“Who?” You frown, your body leaning even closer.

He doesn’t reply with a name, but instead looks towards a small group of Hobbits, sitting at a table the far side of the room.

“Them?” You question when you turn back towards him.

“I need you to ride ahead to Rivendell. Tell Lord Elrond.”

“But Aragorn, I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“I have not been a part of Elven society for many moons. Since before the Mayrond Star fell from the heavens.” You tried to say, growing panicked.

“I would not ask, if it were not dire.” Aragorn pressed.

Your body sagged as you conceded, your gaze falling contemplative to the table before you.

“You must go now.” He urged. “Things will happen this night and you must make haste before they are upon us. Even now as we speak, the power grows stronger.”

You meet his gaze and nod in acknowledgment. “Go now, my dear lady.” He urges once more, his hand reaching out to encompass yours in a brief yet firm squeeze of dismissal.

“Wait for us there. Lord Elrond will grant you shelter.” He attempted to reassure you as you stood.

You gave him a brief nod, raising your hood back over your head, before turning to leave; flashing a brief look to the halflings in question whose fates were to be changed forever.

———————

True to Aragorn’s word, Elrond did provide for you shelter, as you awaited the arrival of the four Hobbits and Aragorn. Upon hearing your message, Elrond’s daughter Arwen fled to help. It was she who now rode quickly back into the Elven City with one of the Hobbits held tightly to her chest. The small dark, curly haired, creature, looked sickly as the beautiful Elven princess brought her horse to a halt in the courtyard.

“What happened?” You asked frantically, as you raced to take the reigns from her, the young hobbit being pulled from atop the horse in front of her by two other elves.

“He was stabbed by one of the Nazgûl.” She replied urgently. “He is dying. He needs help.”

The frail young Hobbit, reached for something at his chest, but you didn’t get a chance to see what it was, before he was taken inside.

Aragorn arrived with the others hours later.

———————

You did not go down to the courtyard to meet Legolas or his brethren as they rode through the gates of Rivendell. Instead you merely watched from the safety of a window. But he saw you. Of course he did. He’d always said that in a sky full of stars, he would always be able to pick you out.

You hid nevertheless, yet still listened out for mention of his name amongst the circling conversations over what it was the Hobbit Frodo had brought. It was all in vain though.

His hand grasped yours, pulling you away from the pillar you had been hiding behind. You hadn’t heard him coming, his footsteps always feather light. A hunters feet.

“Why do you hide from me?” Legolas asked, pulling you into a dark alcove, his brow furrowing as he looked you over.

He had said he cared not of what his Father had said. Cared not of your parentage. If anything it had made him love you even more. Yet you had still left.

“I do not hide from you.” You replied, denial dripping out of every word.

His gaze narrowed more. You followed it as his cerulean eyes moved from your own eyes to your ears, his fingers tentatively moving to lift the carefully placed strands of hair, behind their points, instead of in front of them.

“Why do you cover them?”

“To help me fit in.”

He sighed and it was like you could see the pit that opened up within his chest. He had always been so open with his feelings.

“You should not have left.” He says softly but the statement of his words, remain.

“I could not have stayed.”

“Then you should have let me go with you.” He said, his lingering hand at the side of your face, moving to trace the lines of your cheekbones, before he cupped the soft flesh of your cheek,

You shook your head slightly, slowly pulling away from his touch as pain swimmed in your eyes. “But you could not.” You said with a faint yet pained smile, before you pushed yourself away from him completely and walked away,

———————

There was to be a meeting. Another man, Boromir, and a dwarf, named Gimli, also arriving in Rivendell, along with a greying wizard named Gandalf. As you made your way towards the veranda in which the meeting would be held, you felt a hand on your arm stop you. You looked to the fair haired elf confused.

“You will not go.” He simply stated.

His assumption and command irritated you. “What do you mean, I will not go?” You said, attempting to push past him, headed towards the door, but his grip on your bicep tightened. “Let go of me.” You said trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

His blue eyes were fixed on you, a sense of steel behind them. Still after all this time a need to protect you, even though he had been the one to train you, to teach you all that he knew. “You will not go,” he said again,

“You don’t own me.” You snapped at him, “You do not control me or what I do.” You said, trying to pull your arm from him again to attend the meeting.

He pulled at your arm tighter, whirling you around and pinning your back to the wall behind you both. “I will not have you be a part of this. You have been pulled into this enough already. If you go. If you pledge yourself as I intend to pledge, my bow, my life, I will not be able to fight the way I need to.” He said, that hard stare, boring into you. The care behind it for you, his need to keep you safe from harm, making you soften slightly and you stopped fighting his firm grip on your arm,

“Please,” he urged, his voice growing softer as he leaned into you, “I did not fight your decision when you left my Father’s kingdom. When you,” his voice grew quiet as he mustered the energy to fight through the pain of the reality of his words, “when you decided to leave me. Please, do not fight me on this. Let me protect you.” You didn’t fight him as he lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes closing.

There was a long pause as you savoured the feeling of his skin on yours after so long. “Okay.” You finally but reluctantly gave in. He lifted his head to look at you. “Okay.” You said again and his tension seemed to ease.

———————

They were due to set out at sunrise. Your bed, that once felt soft, comforting and safe in the confines of Elrond’s kingdom, now felt hard, uncomfortable, cold and far too spacious; as you turned back and forth and back again, unable to sleep. Fear and worry marred your gut. You hated that you would not go. Not help keep your friends safe. That the man you once loved so dearly, would shut you out from this for your own safety. The man you used to fight side by side with, trained with day in and day out, now thought this one mission too threatening to your lives he would have you sit out. Once loved? Or still loved?

The moment you laid eyes on him again, that ache in your chest consumed you, wanting to split you into two.

You would not, could not, let him just leave like this, on a quest that you knew only excited him due to the challenge and risk to his life. The only thing that could make his immortal life feel more alive.

You ripped the sheets from your body, wrapping yourself in a velvet robe and left your room to seek out his. The sky was starting to turn grey with the first light when you knocked on the door. You knew he was already up. Had heard him through the wood, grunting and panting as he did his usual morning exercise.

When he opened the door, he didn’t look completely surprised by your presence. When your eyes silently narrowed in question, he said, “I heard your feet come to a stop outside the door near 5 minutes back.”

“What and you didn’t think to just come open the door?” You questioned, stepping past him into the room.

“I wanted to see if you would have the courage for yourself to knock. Or if you would decide it a bad idea and go back to bed.” He breathed, closing the door behind you.

You sighed as you made yourself at home on his bed. He seemed to swallow slightly but you paid it no mind, “I couldn’t sleep.” You explained.

“Naun gohena nin-“ he began to say. I’m sorry I…

“Don’t.” You cut him off. There was pain in your eyes. Great sorrow for all that had been. Everything you had had together, that you walked away from in fear, because you didn’t think yourself good enough for him. Because you believed his Father.

He stepped across the room to you. His hand lifting to cup your cheek. “*amman car-dh *gwanna.” Why did you leave?

You shrugged him off. “Law iston.” I don’t know. “Not anymore.” You breathed as he sat himself beside you. “I feared what your father said was true. I would never be good enough for you. A Prince?”

“I have not been that in a long time. You know that.”

“But I should not have been the thing that made you step away from that.”

“You weren’t. I did it for me.”

“Do not lie.” You sighed, as you suddenly rose from the bed. This had been a mistake.

You froze as his hand reached out for your arm, forcing you to stop, to look at him- to hear him out. “I do not lie. Would never lie.” He said, a hard look in his eye. Was that really how you saw him. “You know I never aligned with my Father’s views. Would never align with them. That’s why he sent me away, in hopes it would change my mind- but instead I found you- and my resolve grew stronger.”

You both grew quiet, realising you had come to an impass.

Knowing you were unable to come to an agreement on that truth, you decided to pull from him another. “You do not think you will return.” You all but confirm from the sorrowful look that now seemed to penetrate his eyes. A look that spoke volumes to times lost.

“I plan to do all that I can for the cause. We head to dangerous lands and I long swore an oath to protect.” He says, finally releasing his hold on your arm.

“And what of the oath you made to me.”

When he looked to you, tears were beginning to well in your eyes. It broke his heart, his hands instinctively reaching out to you. “I did not think you wished me to keep it.” He confided in a whisper. “But if you wish me to, I shall. If you wish me to return to you, I shall.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was your everything. Your first and only love. A part of you would always be at home with him. Would only be complete with him at your side. With him standing before you now, you hadn’t realised how much you had missed him being there.

“Don’t make any more promises you cannot hope to keep.” You said, your eyes dropping to the floor. “You already said,” you continued, pulling yourself away from his grasp, “if I were with you on this journey, you would not be able to do what you need to- whether I am physically with you, or just in here.” You placed a gentle finger to his temple and his head softened and turned towards your touch.

You both knew you were right. Neither one of you spoke as you began to walk slowly back towards the door, unable to say goodbye. As you turned your body towards the door to reach for the door handle, you suddenly felt him at your back, his hand tugging at your own to pull you back into him. As your body turned, his lips latched themselves onto yours. His kiss was desperate, deep and filled with a longing that could span lifetimes.

You didn’t question it, the familiarity melting over you like the rays of the sun on a summers afternoon, warm and inviting. He lifted you effortlessly from the ground as his lips continued to move against yours, both desperate, yet long and drawn out to savor every moment. You wrapped your legs tightly around him as he began to lead you back to his bed. You didn’t have it in you to fight him anymore.

It all happened between a few heated breaths and desperate touches, suddenly you were free of your robe as he lay you back upon his bed. Although it had been many a year since you had last lay together, with the familiarity you still had with one another’s bodies, anyone would think it had been no time at all.

He parted from you so that he may lift his loose fitting tunic from his head as you sat up, fingers racing to undo the strings of his slacks.

Once fully naked, he leant down to latch his lips onto yours once more, but quickly parted again as he reached for the bottom of your robe, lifting it up your body and over your head, before it too was thrown onto a heap on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

The sex was desperate and quick. There was still so much neither of you had said. Each unspoken word and feeling from your time apart turned to tension that sizzled and snapped like the embers of the dwindling fire on the far side of the room. You moaned with the stretch of him, whimpered and shuddered when his lips tried to soothe you through every pounding thrust of his hips.

When you had lay together in the past it was usually tender, soft and slow, some may even say you were making love, but this, this was a different kind of fucking entirely- and you loved it.

As you both finished, he rolled off of you, both of you now laying on your backs in a sweaty mess, all angst from your previous conversation completely forgotten. As you both lay there panting and cooling down, you ran a hand through your hair before you looked at him, but his eyes were fixed to the ornate carvings across the ceiling.

You stared at his must hair. Watched as his piercing blue eyes traced the line on the ceiling above, as he silently thought.

“I want you to tie my braids.” He finally said.

His words stopped you in your tracks. You couldn’t help but blink in disbelief. Elven braids weren’t just to look pretty and keep all that beautiful flowing hair out the way. They were a statement. To have a partner do your braids for you to go off to battle, was almost a marriage ritual in itself.

When you didn’t say anything, he finally turned his head to look at you. You couldn’t help but fixate on all the whispy strands of his golden hair that stuck themselves to the pillow behind his head and stuck up in every which way.

“I want you to tie my braids.” He said again, as if you hadn’t heard him the first time.

“No.” You suddenly cut in. “No.” You said, shaking your head and closing your eyes before swiftly scrambling over him to get off the bed.

“Raea.” He tried to call after you as you reached for your night gown from the floor and placed it back on.

“No.” You said again as you picked up your robe and placed your arms back through the velvety sleeves. “No, you can’t ask that of me.”

“Why not?” He asked in that husky and breathy tone of his that always seemed to make tingles flow down your spine.

“You know very well why not.” You said, wrapping the ties of the robe around your waist and fastening them tightly in a knot. You sighed as your hands found a home on your hips and you turned to him exasperated.

“Has there been another for you?” He asks, sitting on the bed, still naked, hands resting on his thighs as he looks at you.

It takes you a moment to answer. You have indeed slept with other men on your travels since him, but you know that’s not what he means. He’s asking you if you have ever loved anyone else. “No.” You finally reply timidly. There’s another moments pause before you ask him the same question. “What about you? Has there ever been anot-“

You haven’t even finished the question before he’s standing and walking towards you as he says “No.”

He comes to a stop before you, reaching out to take your hands in his and you can’t help but seem to relax at his touch. “I want you to tie my braids.” He says again tenderly. “So that I may take you with me. To remind me to return to you.”

In another life time you would have said yes. Would have jumped for joy at his proposal, but you know how important this is. You know what this truly means. You know what happened to make you part. Know all that is still yet to be put right. Can still clearly see the things you have come to resent about him reflected in his eyes.

You shake your head, “No.” you whisper with tears in your eyes. When you slowly begin to back away, only letting your fingers slip from his when you are no longer in his reach, he lets you.

When you wake again three hours later, they are already gone.

———————

Waiting for news after their departure was torture. Talk of what they had set out to do was limited, not many made aware of the task set for the small company; but when it did come, Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen made sure you were kept in the know.

Once the Fellowship had left, they had insisted on you continuing to stay with them. You had no doubt it had something to do with Aragorn’s wishes. You were grateful for the company. Grateful for the luxury. You trained with their guards most mornings to keep you in condition and stimulated. In the afternoons you took walks with Arwen talking fondly of your adventures over the years with the heir of Gondor.

However as the days passed you grew reckless. Never in your life had you stayed in one place for so long. When the news finally reached you of Gandalf’s departure from the company, you wasted no time in saddling a horse and making ready to ride out to join them.

You knew what Legolas had said. You also had heard news of the Orc forces growing. But you couldn’t sit back and do nothing anymore. Despite Arwen’s protests you were reluctantly allowed to leave.

———————

You rode hard and fast through the days and made strategic camp through the night. After what felt like weeks of travelling you finally reached Lothlórien, where you were taken in by the Lady Galadriel and her company. When you reached the wood, you were surprised to find their guard already awaiting you. It turned out Lord Elrond had contacted the Lady of the Wood and asked her to watch over you.

Being in the wood had a strange restorative power that called to your Elven heritage. The soft breeze through the trees and song in the ripples of the waters that flowed through it made you feel peaceful and rejuvenated as you slept. They insisted you stay three days. On that final day, you wished that you hadn’t.

------------------------

@imclimbingthestairsoforthanc @starlight5cat @lillisummers

#Legolas #Legolas x reader #reader insert #Lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the fellowship of the ring #lotr fellowship #legolas fanfiction #Orlando bloom characters

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thewritersaddictions · 1 year ago

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Drabble: Call Of Duty- Body Talk

How might they react to finding out you don't like a part of your body?

John Price Bravo

"Do you think I'm pretty anymore?" You ask your husband of ten years. Price nearly scoffs at you, but when he looks up through your standing mirror, the look on your gives it all away. He can see the sadness behind your eyes and how you look at yourself with disgust in the mirror. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, love." He says, standing up to around the bedroom and standing behind you.

There's a bit more pudgness on your thighs, tummy, and even your arms, but you forget you've had two kids, and that comes with it. It also happens with simply aging. "But I don't feel pretty anymore, John. I feel disgusting, and I hate the way my body has become, and no amount of working out or eating right seems to fix it." Your voice is cracking, and Price knows the tears are coming. "Love, you're beautiful. Every day I look at you and wonder how the fuck I managed to be so damn lucky. I don't care about anything other than loving you and our kids." He says it, and he means it with all of his heart.

You let go of a large, heavy sigh. He wraps his arms around you. Your skin is cold in contrast to his warm hands and arms. "Anyways, it gives me more to hold to when I'm makin' love to you, baby," he says with a kiss on your cheek. You giggle finally, the happy noise filtering through the room. "You come here, and let me show you how much I love your body for you?" Price asks, looking at you through the mirror. You'll never be able to deny him.

Simon Riley Ghost

You never break, not in front of your teammates. Never show your true feelings until you are behind closed doors. This time, it had just been too much. In the field, you had been trying to get a family out of Hassan's territory. They had nothing to do with the bullshit going on. Your heart broke when the little girl walked out without her parents or siblings. You had picked her up in a fell swoop and taken her with you. You aren't sure how the hell she managed to escape the fire and collapsing house with nothing less than a mark on her face. She had held onto you for the entire ride back, and it wasn't until you got back to the hideout that you had to give her off to the medic.

Ghost had been watching you the entire time. Your sniffes didn't go unheard by him, so he watched longer. How you nearly ran off to bunks when you had to give the poor girl off to the medic. That's where he found you, in the bunk room, crying your heart out. The knock was not heard, and neither were his footsteps. "Athena," Your sniffles stopped, "yeah, how's the girl?" You ask, "That girl is fine, but how are you?" He asked. The worry was in his voice, and it was directed towards you. "I'm okay." You say, stuffing your emotions back in your chest. "You don't seem like it, love. You seem like you're falling apart." He countered. "I'm just, there's only so much I can do, but the weight is sometimes too much to bear. That girl has no family now. None at all because we… I wasn't able to get there in time." You say your hands on your head.

The silence is hard to tell, but then Ghost speaks. "Here's what you don't know: that girl is alive. Yes, she might not have parents, and she'll go into foster care, but she's alive. All because you grabbed her and pulled her from the fire. That counts for something, Athena." Ghost said as he sat down next to you. "you're allowed to break down; this is a physically and mentally-wearing job, so I'm offering you something. A shoulder to lean on. To cry on, to laugh on, to forget on. Whatever you need." "Thank you, Ghost." You say, "Call me Simon, now let's go check up on that kid, yeah?" He says, reaching out his gloved hand to take

John McTavish Soap

You had literally searched all over the internet about how to get rid of pregnancy stretch marks. The marks at the bottom of your belly where killing you to look at. Not the mention all the other shit you were now dealing with after your pregnancy. The milk pump sometimes worked, and other times it just didn't, which caused you significant discomfort, and then the massive fucking put-together pad you had to wear for the next two weeks. You just felt disgusting, so this added thing was just not needed.

The knock on the bathroom door made you shriek. "Shit, love, I didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to tell you that baby girl is down." Johnny says as he enters the bathroom. Your hair is wet, and you only wear a pair of panties and a sports bra. Staring at yourself in the mirror. "Love, where are you at right?" The concern is clear in his words. "You can't help but crumble at your husband's soft Scottish accent. "I'm not… my body…" "What about your body?" He asks, obviously worried about you. "I don't like it anymore." His brows furrow together. "What do you mean?" "I'm ugly now, and these fucking stretch marks, and let's not add the other shit on top of it." "Hang on a minute now, sweetness." He says, moving to look in the mirror with you but you look away.

"You grew a whole human being in your body for the last nine months. You grew a fuckin' life. You are the most wonderful thing that happened to me, along with baby girl. I know you're not liking your body right now, but I'm telling you right now, you're still just as beautiful as you were the day I met you as you are now." "But…" "But nothing. You are the mother to our daughter, and I won't have you thinking poorly of yourself." Johnny smiles as he takes your hands together and rubs your ring with his thumb. "Together?" He asks, "Together," You responded.

Köing

"Fuck Liebling, you might be the death of me," Köing says as he shifts on the bed, making room for you to lie down next to him. You were up, grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you. Padding around in a pair of Köings boxers from the drawers and his t-shirt. Nothing was more a beautiful site than you right now in front of him. "Here you go." You stand, handing the glass of water off to him. The afterglow of sex sticking to your body still. He takes it graciously from your hand and rests it on his side table before pulling back the covers and waiting for your return to the bed.

It's hours later; while he's rubbing random shapes into your thighs, he feels something. At first, it doesn't concern him, but then he realizes what they are. Straight-cut lines work themselves up your thigh. How he had never noticed before blew his mind and the thoughts of what the small lines meant. You aren't asleep. Instead, you are catching up on your most recently purchased book. Köing couldn't help himself. "what are these?" He asks. "What is love?" You request not understanding where this line of questioning is going. "These marks on your leg. I can feel them." He says, rubbing gently.

You aren't shy about it. You've had them for years. You ensured they weren't in a spot where someone like your parents could see them. So your thigh was the best place. You bookmark your book before setting it down and pulling the covers off your legs. Köing moves his hand, and you start to explain. "I had really, like, horrible depression when I was a teenager. My family didn't really believe in medication or anything like that, so I didn't know what else to do. Sounds shitty now that I say it out loud since it was so long ago. But that was self-harm because I had no other outlet." You tell Köing, who's eagerly listening to you. "And you haven't done it since?" His words hold concern. "Don't worry about me, baby; I've got my meds, therapist, and you. I'm all good now." You say, trying to push away the sad thoughts that are trailing through your boyfriend's head.

"Don't worry, Schatz, I'll fuck the depression right out of you the next time. No need to cut up this beautiful skin." Köing words make you laugh.

Completed on: 11/16/23

Posted on: 11/20/23

COD-

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hestzhyen · 5 months ago

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Already Waist-Deep

Hi internet void. Please allow me to kagura my bachi all over the place for a little bit. I've got a bad case of the brain worms about these boys that I haven't even had together for 20 chapters yet, so let me ramble a little bit about why they're already so compelling as not only a duo, but a ship.

First off, a caveat. Kagurabachi is a Weekly Shounen Jump (WSJ) action series. That means that if romance is ever addressed in the series itself, the protagonist is going to end up with a girl. Doesn't matter how underdeveloped or lackluster his relationship to her is, or how flat she is as a character. Invest lightly and come along for the ride without any expectations of m/m ships becoming canon. (That said, it might not be the worst thing in the world for our MC to end up with a girl in this case- more on that later.)

Second, I don't really ship that often. Not seriously at least. I need more than two guys being close with each other to start wanting them to be a pair, y'know? So I hope you understand the intensity of the material Hokazono-sensei has been giving us the past few chapters. I am on the brink of going all-in on HakuHiro/ChihiHaku in less than 20 chapters, it's that insane.

Third, I will be talking about current developments without marking potential spoilers. There are only 38 chapters out as of writing this, but there are at least two reveals that would be better appreciated going in blind. Spoilers for the oneshot Farewell! Cherry Boy are also a thing near the end.

Okay? Okay. Let's begin.

Who's Involved? First up is our protagonist Chihiro Rokuhira, an 18 year old boy and the son of a famous swordsmith. He was raised with genuine love and care by his father (no idea what happened to his mom yet), taking care of their day-to-day life while learning his father's trade. And from the very first chapter he is steeped in tragedy as he witnesses his father's murder and life's work being stolen. He then sets out on the long, fraught road of vengeance.

Sounds grim and not exactly compelling, right? Especially when this scene from the first chapter was making the rounds being memed to death:

But there's much more to Chihiro than meets the eye. Flashbacks to his time growing up show him being a natural caretaker to his dad and their fish- cooking meals, keeping his dad on task, and so on. We see glimpses of underlying tenderness when he meets and rescues Char, a sweet little girl with her own tragic past. And we get some insight that he might not be quite as resolute as he's projecting himself to be when he faces off against Sojo, a fan of his father who worships a much different version of the man than Chihiro knew. And now the Rakuzaichi arc has definitively shown us that Chihiro isn't as collected as he seems. One of his father's killers easily cracks the mask and shows us Chihiro is really just a desperate kid with a heaping helping of trauma, then Tenri's pointless sacrifice shakes him to his core. But despite it all he's still doing determinator things in the most badass way possible. Chihiro has layers, man. A lot of them. And the best way to understand our protagonist right now is through his foil: Hakuri Sazanami.

Who is Hakuri? A 17 year old boy with a special lineage, but he's a loser who needs to be saved from common thugs. A pathetic guy who latches on to Chihiro and doesn't take the hint when Chihiro literally runs away to ditch him. An utter failure to his family. A lost puppy looking for a samurai.

Hakuri Sazanami is one of the best goddamn foils I've seen in shounen manga yet.

Let me tell you all the ways I love the writing around this kid and Chihiro because MAN I can't even contain all these feels.

What's Going On? From the start, Hakuri looks like he's just another person for Chihiro to bail out. He witnesses Chihiro's awesomeness fighting Sojo in the streets and decides to imitate it by standing up for a little girl being kidnapped. Instead of winning out, though, he's captured and kicked around. Once he's coincidentally rescued by Chihiro he's immediately all-in on tagging along and keeping Chihiro in his life. Look at this pitiful guy:

Chihiro decides to hear him out due to his connection to the Sazanamis, the Big Bads of the arc. He's initially put off by Hakuri's intensity but brings him along anyway, as Hakuri's insider information regarding the Sazanami family makes him useful. Then, as Chihiro wavers under Hiyuki's assault, Hakuri is truly useful for the first time:

And it only gets better from here. We see Hakuri hanging off Chihiro's every word trying to be as useful as possible for his samurai, striving to do anything he can, though it ends up with him forcing Chihiro to give up his precious sword Enten in exchange for his life. (Yes, Chihiro "buys" Hakuri from Hakuri's own family.)

Later on during the invasion of the auction is where things go into overdrive though. We see their character arcs start to invert and shape each other's as the action unfolds and Hakuri's own tragic past comes to light, eventually awakening him to his special abilities. Chihiro's bravery and strength help him pull this off and finally defeat the older brother that tortured him in the name of "love". Hakuri ascends to being the strongest Sazanami since the progenitor that started their line centuries ago. He's the Special Boy!

All this to say that Hakuri Sazanami isn't just a deuteragonist or a foil…

He's the goddamn heroine.

Kagurabachi's Built Different What makes a shounen series heroine? Firstly, they support the main character without getting involved in most of the heavy fighting. A shounen heroine will usually at most have a fight against another girl while the Big Event is happening nearby, making sure the main character has the spotlight. Second, most of the value they bring to the protagonist's story is emotional. They encourage him, validate him, provide a bit of a refuge for him to safely let his guard down. They can get him to express softer emotions that he wouldn't normally show around others. Third… they're the love interest. Hinata, Orihime, Chichi, and now… Hakuri? Really?

We know the third one will not happen for HakuHiro in canon. But what about the first two? Well, let's recap what Hakuri has done for Chihiro so far.

Hakuri can defend himself now, but his most useful ability is access to an interdimensional storehouse. Given the way that his magic works -he needs to prioritize maintaining the storehouse or using Isou- he'll likely be the means of keeping the enchanted blades safe rather than a front-line fighter. Support-centric character that will still get some combat time against lesser opponents: check.

Hakuri's given Chihiro some much-needed direct emotional validation that he hasn't gotten from anyone else yet. ("You saved me." … "That katana suits you.") Hakuri's words fortify his resolve and Chihiro later pays it back by trading Enten, an incalculably precious sword and memento of his father, for Hakuri's life. He even uses the same phrase when asked why he'd do that for someone as worthless as Hakuri ("That guy… saved me."). He later reaffirms that Hakuri's encouragement gave him the courage to let go of Enten in the first place:

This is AFTER we see Chihiro open up to him for the first time just minutes after they met:

Chihiro's been a stoic good guy with buried trauma up until this point. But somehow Hakuri is the first person he outright admits his fears to- not Shiba, not Hinao, but the freaky kid he just rescued. Emotional support pillar: check.

"Well that's not enough!" you say. "That's just taking some moments and doing that thing you said you didn't do- smushing boys together just because they're close!" OK but look at how Hakuri thinks about Chihiro:

Chihiro has been his inspiration from the first time he saw him. It can be read as admiration and hero worship, but doesn't that feel like selling Hakuri's feelings short when remembering how devoted he's been since they first met?

And just look at Hakuri's face here, he's beaming when Chihiro busts in to save him just like he believed he would:

Mostly, though, Chihiro is the one who gives Hakuri strength in the moment. The Ice Woman broke him free of his family's mentality, and now Chihiro gives Hakuri what he needs most: hope. Something he never had before, which doomed his relationship to the Ice Woman; he couldn't prove to her that there was more to life than despair because that was all he knew… but that completely changed once he met his samurai.

And that's been their thing through this arc. Each one is giving the other the vital thing they needed to grow and keep going. When Hakuri was struggling at the start, Chihiro was his guiding light towards a better future. And when Chihiro struggled in the aftermath of Tenri's cruel death, Hakuri pulled him along so they could finish the job. They're in perfect sync now as they take down the Rakuzaichi. Don't just take my word for it, check out Hokazono-sensei's color page for the most recent chapter (38): https://twitter.com/KaguraShiba/status/1804898273859445181 From Hella (KaguraShiba): >Kagurabachi Ch 38 JP Color Page 「阿吽の呼吸で薙ぎ払え」 "Two people dancing to the same beat, mowing down enemies" >阿吽の呼吸/"Aun no Kokyuu" Synchronized breathing >Or when people are the most in tune with each other >阿吽の呼吸/"Aun no Kokyuu" Is a Buddhist expression in Japanese meaning something close to "harmonizing in sync together" >"Aun" is also used to indicate an "Aun relationship", indicating an inherently harmonious relationship or nonverbal communication Yeesh. But holy shit it's paying off. In chapter 38 these boys are already in harmony- Hakuri registers Chihiro into his storehouse (yes they both "own" each other now) and sends him in to fight his father. During the fight, Chihiro trusts Hakuri to interpret his intent and it works. Chihiro wordlessly tags a bunch of grenades with his spirit energy and Hakuri pulls them out into the real world to bomb the shit out of the Rakuzaichi audience. They didn't plan this beforehand- they had no idea Kyoura had fucking grenades laying around in there. But they're close enough to understand each other's thoughts already. Peak soulmate material right there!

What's got me most interested now, though, is how they will pull/push each other after this arc. Chihiro's going to be focused more than ever on tracking down his father's killer and the swords. But Hakuri, well… I think it would be very interesting if he starts to become a despair monster. A reflection of Chihiro's state at the very start of the manga where nothing mattered to him except exacting revenge. We're seeing shades of this in the most recent chapter (38) where he's slumped over and obviously depressed about how all this is turning out. He's going to end his family's cruel trade but at what cost to himself? Will Chihiro see some of himself in Hakuri and be able to help him out, or at least promise to find relief from the pain together? Obviously a Bad End where Hakuri takes himself out is in the cards given Hokazono-sensei's previous works but… on a meta level, I think his storehouse ability will keep him relevant. I mean yeah he could be used to slap Chihiro across the face by showing what a bad end for his revenge story could look like but I think (hope) that won't happen. [Note to future self: I give you permission to go batshit insane if Chihiro stops Hakuri from committing sudoku.]

And this is where my brain worms are coming from. In just under 20 chapters we have an extremely strong set up between them- so much room for them to teach each other; push to grow and pull back from the brink when tragedy strikes again.

But where's the real meat, you ask? The actual literary analysis in this gushing rant about how much I love these boys I barely know? Well, fine. Buckle up because it's time for some…

Daddy Issues The Rakuzaichi arc really digs into comparing Chihiro's affection for his dad to the Sazanami family structure. And I gotta talk about this because it's the key aspect that makes Hakuri such a brilliant foil.

First off, the similarities. Chihiro and the Sazanami kids are all intensely devoted to their fathers. All of them were raised with love while learning the intricacies of their family trade. We see the Sazanami kids getting praised for doing well, just like Chihiro. Hakuri and Tenri were even told they were special. During the arc, the Sazanami kids put their lives on the line to defend their dad and family legacy with zeal matched by Chihiro's intensity to avenge his dad. When he falls, Tenri's final words are apologizing to his father.

It's truly heartbreaking that Kyora never really loved them back.

You see, the Sazanamis are one of those families that put their lineage and craft over everything else. Every member of the family lives for ensuring the Rakuzaichi auction goes off without a hitch. One of the clan is chosen to inherit the storehouse, and the rest are trained to defend it to the death. Kyoura, the current patriarch, has no compunctions about letting his son Tenri die just to delay Chihiro and the gang for a few more minutes. He had his kids put their lives on the line to defend a storehouse door that he had already broken in secret- making it completely useless. And he's equally cold when it comes to children who can't perform to standards like Hakuri. Once Hakuri (apparently) fails to manifest an ability for sorcery, Kyoura turns a willfully blind eye to the abuse his kid starts to suffer. He knowingly lets Hakuri be tortured by his older brother for years and does nothing, then disowns him once some "merchandise" kills herself in front of him. There's no love for children who can't be useful to the family's traditions. And yet any love that does exist between father and child is manipulated as seen here:

What the fuck man.

So Hakuri is going into this arc firm in his conviction to end his family's evil ways. He's been abused physically and emotionally for at least five years straight; he knows his father doesn't love him. But even now when he's about to bring the whole place down with Chihiro, he's still yearning for his dad's praise. Hakuri's family is fucked up bad and he needs a hell of a lot of healing after all is said and done.

Meanwhile, every flashback with Chihiro shows us that he was truly loved and cared for like every kid deserves. His dad wasn't perfect but he was exactly what a parent should be- kind, understanding, and supportive. His goofy advice helps Chihiro to this day. Chihiro and his dad had a genuine father-son bond that was broken by tragedy and thus Chihiro's desire to do right by his father's memory is driven by grief, first and foremost. So when we see his expression after Tenri's death, we know why he's so badly shaken. They clashed out of love and duty for their fathers, supposedly prepared to pay the ultimate price. The Sazanami version of "love" is a very different, much less wholesome version than the kind Chihiro knows… yet no less effective in terms of motivation.

You can practically hear his heart breaking for Tenri. And his inner thoughts in the next chapter say it all: he was naive to think he could enact revenge while holding fast to the kindness he grew up with. Chihiro's kindness that he learned from his father is a liability to him in this situation. In contrast, Hakuri knew from the start that he had to finally give up the last of his familial affection. He hardened his heart and steeled his resolve to do whatever it took.

Both Chihiro and Hakuri knew what it was like to be loved. Hakuri's version might have been twisted, but it was still painful to have that bond suddenly broken. And now we've seen Edgy Revenge Man's inner softness hold him back while Silly Soft Guy has a heart colder than the arctic. I go absolutely feral comparing and contrasting their situation and how their positions have reversed. Yeah, Chihiro's going to be the action guy who saves the day but Hakuri's the reason he can do it. Hakuri's surprisingly strong core has pushed Chihiro to put his feelings aside to get things done. I can't fucking wait to see how this arc ends and where these boys end up. What will the the most important thing Chihiro takes away from Hakuri here? I hope it leads him to be a bit more openly compassionate and soft around his allies- Hakuri's situation being a lesson in not letting your family's bonds overtake everything else. For Hakuri, well… I think being around Chihiro, Char, and the rest will help him heal. But I hope it's Chihiro that keeps him stable as the person that can relate to him best.

Meta Ramblings Whew. Now then… Yo dumbass writing this, we're not even 40 chapters in yet. Don't you think it's a bit too soon to start getting hyped for a character that could be shelved as soon as the arc is done?

It's interesting to see the themes and characters Hokazono-sensei's reused in Kagurabachi. From the four one-shots available to read, it seems like he's is interested in writing about characters encountering tragedy through various kinds of love. I think it's intriguing that three out of the four end in despair, and the one that doesn't still involves a fair bit of sadness. It's a bit early to say about Hakuri's circumstances since this is only the second proper arc in the series, but given Hokazono-sensei's past works, I think Hakuri is here to stay. For one, Hokazono-sensei seems to love his color-coded foils (Chain, Enten, Roku no Meiyaku). Farewell! Cherry Boy also explores the circumstances of a blindly loyal boy who feels useless being given his first chance to prove himself… I think this is a theme that Hokazono-sensei is revisiting in a more in-depth fashion with Hakuri, so there's a good chance there's more planned.

And just for fun, if we want to look at his romance stories… Madogiwa de Amu is all about one person being the other's greatest hope, their reason to persevere in the face of hardship and seeing that reciprocated in turn. Complete with the weaker person becoming strong enough to protect the person who inspired them first. Hmm. (Hopefully it doesn't end the same way though 'cause man, I can see Hakuri doing something similar right now…) It's also not impossible for Kagurabachi to touch on love given we see Farewell! Cherry Boy incorporating love as the crux of the narrative, despite starting as a gangster story. The true MC is quite like Chihiro as well in terms of motivation and action plan.

I also think it's impossible to overstate how important it is for Chihiro to have a friendly peer to compare to, narratively speaking. Char is a woobie, Shiba's an uncle figure, and Hiyuki is set up to be the aggro rival/frenemy. Hinao could become more than a side character but it seems unlikely at this time. Chihiro needs someone his own age to just be himself with. And that, I am 99% sure, will be Hakuri. A guy who's suffered just as much as he has. Someone who knows what it's like to have a famous last name and lineage to protect. An equal who's unquestionably on his side, who will lift him up when he's down, yet will still need some protection and care. So yes I think Hakuri will be sticking around to be Chihiro's foil. He might take a back seat at times as heroines do, but he'll still be there to support our sad boi through thick and thin.

Anyway that's why I'm ready to jump feet-first into this ship. It's got all the hallmarks of a wonderfully strong bond and I hope we get to see these boys comforting each other for years to come. If you read all this… thank you? Maybe get yourself checked for brain worms? And tell everyone you know to read this amazing action-packed tragedy laced with BL crack cocaine.

#kagurabachi #hakuhiro #long post #Rest assured I have a clown suit on standby if Hakuri never comes back #This was too long and I couldn't write about her but I hope Hikyuki is the asexual violence gremlin of my dreams #Once we know more about Hiyuki in general I'll feel better trying to judge if she'll become a LI or not #I wouldn't mind her being endgame if she stays chaotic good (Come At Me Bro ver.)#Usually the frenemy/rival gets the most development with MC so it will be interesting to see how she and Chihiro grow together #Anyway Chihiro has two hands again (for now)#Boys who suffer together should find solace together

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