#the whole notebook was empty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvsupa · 4 months ago

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I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAMMM!

summary: whatever you do, do not fuck mr.ghostface!

tags: ghostface!geto x fem!reader, naoya mention .., set in the 90s and inspired by fear street!!, smut, ōral sex (m and f receiving), knife play, slightly mask kink, humiliation kink, exhibitionism kinda, death, mentions of blood, etc, mdni

w.c: around 3.6k (sorry I got carried away …)

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR 1.6K WAAAATTTT WE GOIN UPPPPP YEASSS

+ geto in tbis fic looks just like this fanart 🙂‍↕️

kinktober masterlist

you lean against the register, bored out of your mind as you scribble distorted faces on your company’s notepad. working a night shift sucks—especially a closing shift. you huff as the intercom blasts the latest rock song, a weak attempt to liven up the dead atmosphere. lately, the cd shop has been busy with customers buying vinyls, posters, and movies. ugh, it was so annoying having to scan the newest movie, scream. the line was always so long it nearly wrapped around the whole building!

you glance out the glass front doors, scanning the empty, dark streets, genuinely debating whether you should close two hours early since no one is coming. your attention shifts as you hear the bell ring, indicating a customer entering.

ugh.

your smile drops when you see naoya, your annoying coworker who flirts with you in the weirdest ways. he’s always condescending and putting you down until you found out from another coworker that he’s actually attracted to you. he walks toward you, standing in front of the register as if he were a customer. you honestly forgot he was still here after he said he would take a ‘five-minute’ break an hour ago.

“you don’t get paid to draw, now do you?” he says, leaning over to grab the notebook. you let him take it, but he rips the page clean, crumpling it in his fist. gosh, you hated when he acted like the manager. “anyways, I’m clocking out! must suck having to stay for another… two hours!” he laughs, glancing at the clock above. he giggles as he walks behind the counter into the bright red font ‘employees only’ room, leaving you scoffing in annoyance. you waste time fixing the decorations on the register as every minute drags by.

ring!

your heart stops when you hear the company phone ringing. who the hell calls at this hour? you pick up the corded telephone and force yourself into a professional tone.

“thank you for calling cursed tracks, how may I help you?” you say, lazily watching over the store. there’s a long pause, and your brows furrow. is this a prank call?

“hello—”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you burst out laughing, doubling over at the blatant prank call. there’s no way. it’s beyond cringey that you would be a victim of ghostface’s evil scheme. tears roll down your cheeks as you hang up the phone, your laughter still ringing in your ears. but then, you stumble backward, colliding with something solid—no, someone. your laughter halts as you slowly turn your head, gulping hard as your eyes drop in horror. screaming in genuine fear, you see him: ghostface, knife in hand, just like in the movies.

you stumble back into the counter, panic rising as you cry out, cornered in the booth. he drops his hand and bursts into laughter, and your brows furrow in confusion. he lifts his hand to remove the haunting mask, and embarrassment floods over you.

seriously.

“naoya, that wasn’t funny,” you snap, shoving him away as he continues to laugh uncontrollably. “you— you should’ve seen your face! I wish I recorded this— we would’ve been stars!” he wheezes, still amused as you find none of this funny. he continues to mimic your reaction, and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him.

“stop wearing display costumes, asshole! you’re gonna get us in trouble,” you scold, turning away as he playfully bonks your head with the fake plastic knife. irritation washes over you.

“jeez, naoya— just leave already, you’re ruining my alone time,” you say coldly, clearly annoyed by his antics. you hear his footsteps retreating to the employee room, allowing you to calm down from his stupid joke.

you lean against the counter once again, watching over the store in boredom, your eyes feeling heavy as each minute passes. maybe you should really quit- you’re not getting paid enough for this. you roll your eyes at the ruckus coming from the room behind you—nayoa’s making way too much noise.

bastard, you mentally insult him.

you close your eyes to rest them, feeling exhausted from the long shift when you suddenly sense someone standing behind you. your eyes shoot open, and your heart drops again as you turn around to see nayoa in that damn ghostface costume.

“very fuckin’ funny, naoya,” you scoff, trying to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. he’s breathing heavily under the mask, staying still as if waiting for your reaction. you turn to yell at him, but the words choke in your throat. your eyes drop to the knife he’s gripping in his hand, and it looks too real—dripping with what looks like blood. your breathing quickens as you glance at the fake plastic knife that naoya left on the counter, your eyes twitching in disbelief.

“o-okay, naoya, you’re scaring me.”

“darling, who’s naoya?” the male voice says, distorted through the mask’s speaker. tears rush to your eyes as you see blood seeping from under the employee room door.

you step back, your back hitting the counter, trapping you just like before when nayoa scared you. the male steps closer, tears spilling down your cheeks as fear overwhelms you; you can’t call out for naoya—he’s fucking dead!

without thinking, you attempt to jump over the counter, but before you can touch the ground, you feel yourself being yanked back by strong hands. you squeal at how fast he moves, pinning you against the wall with one hand holding you in place and the other gripping the sharp, bloody knife to your throat. your eyes widen, the blade too close to your artery. if you looked up at the popcorn ceiling. you’d see the end of it—your life flashing before your eyes.

“oh pretty, you were just acting like a big girl,” geto coos, his voice soft yet terrifying. the grip on the knife loosens slightly as he pulls back his head, and your eyes remain shut, fear washing over you.

“y’r sooo fuckin’ nasty, huh,” geto comments, and your brows furrow as you stare at the creepy face behind the mask. he chuckles, and you follow his gaze down—oh fuck. you wish your body wasn’t reacting on its own! you’re grinding your hips against his knee placed between your thighs, your rhythm so subtle you didn’t even realize.

“let’s test how nasty you really get.”

those were the last words that echoed in your head as he had you behind the counter, knees grinding against the freezing floor, your jaw aching from the relentless thrusts. his thick cock slammed into your mouth with brutal force—so deep that you swore you could feel him in your chest, the bulge in your throat visible as he used you mercilessly. both of his hands gripped your head with brutal force, his long fingers tangling in your curly locks as he fucked your face like a filthy fucktoy. his groans, muffled by the infamous ghostface mask, sent shivers down your spine, the hollow black eyes staring soullessly at you as he threw his head back in ecstasy. the obscene sounds of wet gags and sloppy suction filled the store, the mess overwhelming—drool and spit spilled uncontrollably from your mouth, coating his shaft and dripping down your chin, soaking into the front of your work shirt.

your nose repeatedly slammed against his crotch, the rough patch of his pubes tickling against your skin, making you tear up even more. the strain in your jaw was unbearable, his fat cock stretching you wide, each thrust so forceful you thought your jaw might snap. but you kept your grip on his jeans, fingers digging into the fabric as your throat was pounded raw. his heavy black boot was wedged between your legs, you couldn’t stop grinding on him. each roll of your hips against his boot sent delicious friction through your core, and you were drenched, your panties soaked through your pants, sticking to your swollen folds. the slick sounds of your cunt rubbing against his boot mixed with the wet slurps coming from your mouth, each grind making you moan pathetically around his cock.

geto’s head dropped down to watch, eyes behind the hollow mask taking in the sight of you—a filthy, drooling mess on your knees with his cock buried so deep down your throat that a bulge swelled in your neck. drool poured from your lips in thick strings, and your hips moved desperately against his foot, grinding on him like you couldn’t help yourself. but he didn’t let you keep going. his movements stopped abruptly, and with a harsh yank, he pulled your head back off his cock, making you gag and cough, gasping for air. the sound of your desperate choking echoed through the store as strings of spit connected your swollen lips to his twitching tip, your eyes wide with lust and tears. the sight of you, completely ruined in your leggings, face soaked and pussy grinding against his boot, only made him harder, his cock throbbing in front of your face.

“you jus’ can’t help it, can you?” geto growls, his voice thick with cruel amusement as he grinds his boot harder into your cunt, your soaked panties doing nothing to dull the friction. the pressure sends jolts of filthy pleasure up your spine, making you cry out pathetically, your body writhing against him. his grin stretches behind the ghostface mask, those empty black eyes staring down at you, drinking in your desperation.

in a single, brutal motion, he rips you off the ground and slams you onto the counter, CDs clattering to the floor around you. your legs fly up, bent and spread wide, exposing you to him completely. his eyes rake over your body like you’re nothing more than prey. with a harsh tug, he rips your pants off, tossing them carelessly behind him. the moment his gaze lands on the soaked crotch of your panties, your clit twitches in response, your cunt clenching involuntarily, knowing what’s about to come. the fabric is practically see through now, drenched in fear and filthy arousal, and it only makes his smirk widen behind the mask.

your eyes are glossy, chest heaving as your legs stay bent up, thighs trembling with anticipation. you should be terrified, and you are—but the heat pulsing through your core is undeniable. the sight of him towering over you with that eerie mask, black eyes hollow and unfeeling, does something sick to you.

without warning, geto pulls a another knife from behind him, the blade gleaming dangerously in the store light. you gulp hard, a whimper escaping your lips as he waves it inches from your face, the cold steel sending a wave of fear coursing through you, but it only makes your cunt throb harder.

“don’t move,” he whispers darkly, dragging the tip of the knife down your neck, making your skin break out in goosebumps. the blade hovers over your chest, your nipples hardening as he traces your curves. he presses just enough to remind you of its sharpness, enough to let you know he could cut deep at any second. the threat lingers in the air, the thrill of it making your thighs tremble.

he doesn’t hesitate when he reaches your shirt. with a quick flick of his wrist, you hear the rippppp of fabric as the blade slices your work button-up clean open, exposing your bare chest. the sharpness of the knife cutting through the material like paper sends a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine.

“cheap shit,” he sneers, but the way your nipples perk in the cool air has his cock straining even harder. his hand moves lower, the tip of the blade dragging dangerously over your trembling stomach, inching closer and closer to your cunt.

you gasp when he finally reaches your panties, the cold metal resting against the swollen lips of your pussy. “y’know. . .” he trails off, voice thick with lust as he presses the flat of the blade against your clothed clit, the cold, sharp edge making you jerk involuntarily. “never had someone so . . .desperate in their final moments.”

it’s humiliating how your clit twitches at the contact, how your cunt clenches around nothing, soaked and aching for him. he notices, of course, the way your hips twitch toward the blade, and the wetness that’s already beginning to drip down your thighs.

“fuckin’ embarrassing,” he mutters, but his voice is laced with something darker—he’s getting off on this, on how soaked you are for him. the knife slides lower, grazing your inner thigh, just shy of cutting you, the scrape of the blade against your skin sending shivers through your body. you can feel your pulse in your clit, each drag of the cold steel only making you wetter, more desperate.

“this turning you on, baby?” he asks, his voice low and mocking. you can’t even respond, too lost in the filthy heat coursing through you.

with a quick flick of his wrist, the knife slices through your panties, the sharp blade cold against your slick folds. you gasp, your pussy finally exposed, clit twitching as the cool air hits your drenched core. the knife grazes your swollen lips, barely a whisper of pressure, but it’s enough to make you moan, your cunt clenching desperately.

he hums in approval, staring down at your glistening pussy, the wetness dripping from your folds, thighs trembling as you lie there helplessly. geto’s exposed cock twitches painfully at the sight, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he drinks in how ruined you already are.

“fuckkk,” he mumbles, voice thick with lust. he lets the knife trail up, dragging it over your clit just enough to make you gasp, the cold edge sending waves of agonizing pleasure through you.

you’re fighting the urge to touch yourself, legs trembling with need, but he’s dragging it out, watching you suffer, savoring every filthy, desperate moan that spills from your lips. your cunt clenches again, dripping, aching for more, but all he does is graze the blade over your sensitive skin, keeping you on the edge, waiting for him to finally take what’s his.

without a second thought, geto rips off the ghostface mask, revealing his face in all its sinful glory. his long black hair cascades down his back, a few loose strands framing his face just right, giving him that perfect, messy look. your heart nearly stops at the sight—those silver piercings in his lower lip glint under the lights of the CD store. fuck. your breath catches as you realize just how devastatingly hot he is, a man who could ruin you in every sense of the word.

“f-fuck, mr. ghostface. . .you’re so fucking hot,” you moan, your cunt clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. he smirks, catching your reaction instantly, bringing the blade right back to your dripping cunt, but now it’s different—now you can see every twitch of that gorgeous smirk, every glint in his wicked eyes. nothing is processing in your mind at this point. you’re too far gone, body shaking as he holds all the power over you. he could do anything right now, and you’d let him.

geto leans in, inhaling deeply, letting your scent drive him mad before diving headfirst between your thighs. his lips find your cunt with no warning, devouring you like a fucking beast. his tongue plunges into your soaked hole with reckless abandon, the wet, obscene sounds echoing through the empty store. your back arches violently against the counter, the cold glass windows around the store only barrier between you and the outside world. if anyone walked by and caught sight of this—fuck, you’d be fired in an instant. but the thrill of that thought only makes the heat in your core burn hotter.

your body reacts before your mind can catch up, hands flying to tangle in his thick, soft hair, yanking him closer. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through your clit as you pull his head in tighter. mr. ghostface loves his hair being pulled—check! you think, feeling the way his body reacts to your grip, only making him devour you more ruthlessly.

his nose nudges your clit, adding to the torment as his tongue relentlessly works your insides, the metal ball of his tongue piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. it’s so nasty, so fucking loud as he slurps up your juices, the slick sound echoing around the store. you can’t believe your body is making this much of a mess, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the counter beneath you. you’re losing it, completely undone by how he’s devouring you.

geto’s tongue is merciless, and just when you think it can’t get any better, he brings two thick fingers to your entrance, thrusting them in deep. the stretch makes your head spin, his digits spreading you open wide as his tongue continues to work your cunt. he groans low in his throat, the vibrations sending another wave of ecstasy through your core. the sensation of his tongue, his piercing, and his fingers all working together has you seeing stars, your walls clenching around him uncontrollably.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls against your cunt, his voice muffled but still dripping with arrogance as his fingers curl inside you, finding your sweet spot instantly. your eyes roll back, legs shaking uncontrollably as the tension in your belly coils tighter. your grip on his head tightens, forcing him further into you, needing more, more of that perfect, filthy mouth. his lips close around your swollen clit, biting at it just enough to drive you insane, while his fingers pound into you relentlessly.

you catch a glimpse of his face between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes fluttering shut as a moan slips past his pierced lips, his tongue flicking out to lick your slick from the corner of his mouth like he can’t get enough. he’s completely lost in you, ruthlessly making out with your cunt, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. the sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you feel your orgasm building, heat burning in your stomach, your cunt clenching around his thick fingers.

“listen to how talkative she is,” geto sneers, a wicked smirk stretching across his face. without hesitation, his free hand grabs the store’s telephone, fingers working quickly to connect it to the intercom. before you can process what he’s doing, he presses the microphone right up against your drenched, sloppy cunt.

your eyes go wide in horror as the filthy, wet sloshing of your pussy echoes through the entire store. the slick, obscene sounds of your cunt squelching and dripping around his thick fingers fill the air, amplified by the speakers. every thrust makes it squirt, the embarrassing symphony of your slick coating his fingers making your stomach drop with humiliation. you’re completely exposed, the sound of your body’s desperate reactions bouncing off the store walls, reminding you just how nasty this is.

the wet slaps, the relentless gushing of your cunt, and the squelching noises leave you utterly mortified. It’s so loud, so filthy that if anyone were to walk by, they’d hear everything—and know exactly what a mess you’re making for him. every slick, nasty sound screams your shame, broadcasting to the entire store that you’re getting off to a literal serial killer!

“look at you,” geto chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with arrogance. “so fucking nasty for me. all this for a killer? huh? you like knowing what a filthy slut you are?”

geto throws the telephone, letting it dangle by the cord, before roughly flipping you onto your stomach. your feet barely touch the ground as your chest presses into the counter- bent over, giving you a full view of the empty store. his eyes darken as he takes in your position, biting his lip at the sight of your ass wiggling back, grinding against his hard cock. you can’t help but plead, your voice breathy and desperate.

“please, mr. ghostface, you’ve been sucha tease,” you whine, turning your head to watch him as he toys with his lip piercing, eyes fixed on you like he’s weighing his options. before you can beg again, he makes his choice—sliding his fat, mushroom tip past your dripping entrance. the stretch of his tip slightly burning but- oh it felt so good. your body jerks forward with the slow, agonizing thrust, his thick crownhead teasing innn and outttt of your needy, aching walls. you cry out, wanting—no, needing—more.

desperation overtakes you, and you try to fuck yourself back onto him, but his hand comes down hard, swatting your ass. the sharp sting only makes your pussy clench harder, and you hear him tut in disbelief at how filthy you’ve become for him. “unbelievable how you’re this horny,” he sneers, gripping your hips tighter as if to hold you still.

“if you’re a virgin, just say—ahh,” you taunt- gasping loudly when his fingers wrap around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his broad chest. his thick tip remains lodged inside your cunt, teasing you with how little he’s giving, yet how desperately you crave more.

he leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “i’d love to stay and prove your point,” he purrs, eyes flicking to the front of the store, where the bright blue and red lights of approaching police cars flash in the distance. your mind is too foggy, too consumed with lust to understand what he’s hinting at. “but baby, your little coworker—the one you never bat your pretty lashes at,” he continues, his tone darkening as his grip tightens around your neck, turning your head toward the ‘employee’s only’ door.

that’s when you see it—the large, dark puddle of blood seeping from under the door, your coworker’s lifeless body hidden from view.

“i-i don’t care, i wan’ you,” you plead, tears stinging your eyes as your walls grip his girthy tip, trying to coax more from him. geto chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he turns your head back toward the front of the store, where the police cars are getting closer. his hand slips away from your neck, leaving you trembling as he cruelly pulls his cock from your addicting cunt, leaving you empty and desperate as he swiftly tucked it back in his pants.

tears spill from your eyes as you feel him slipping away, denying you what you need. “he’s the one that ruined our fun,” geto says, his voice soft but menacing. “and sadly…” his words trail off, and you freeze as you feel the cold tip of a sharp blade pressing against your neck. you gulp hard, heart pounding as the reality of the situation sets in.

“’m really sorry, baby, but i can’t have you snitching to the police, can i?” he whispers, and with a swift motion, the blade slices cleanly across your throat. blood trickles down in a warm line, your breath catching in your chest as your body collapses to the floor. the cold tiles beneath you feel distant as your vision blurs, the last thing you see is geto standing above you, pouting as he watches the life drain from your body.

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nemisuki · 3 months ago

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Behind The Walls

Zombie Apocalypse AU | The society you used to know was long gone when the outbreak started. You were supposed to be worrying about what to wear at your graduation, not about what house to scavenge for supplies. You find yourself sticking together with your blonde classmate, only to be separated from him soon after. Living in a world without humans was isolating, but a world without him is just lonely.

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, no quirks, kinda depressing at first ngl, minor gore and blood mentioned bc zombies duh, angst but happy ending, first kisses, love confessions, minor time skips, starts as third years and ends around 19-20 yrs, tamed bakugo bc he's mature yet still feisty, 5.7k word count

According to the tally marks scribbled down in her flimsy notebook, it's been exactly three months and 10 days.

Three months and 10 days of being on her own.

Everyday it gets harder to think about the past, so she chooses to ignore it as her day goes on. She tries to avoid leaving the house as much as possible. Not leaving her temporary base, unless it's time to scavenge for supplies like food or water.

When she does go out, she can only hope that she’ll find something edible. Majority of the time getting lucky by finding rusted cans of food or forgotten granola bars. It's been a few weeks since she ate her last fruit. A package of dried mango.

Due to the sudden transition from fall to winter, it was hard to find such delights. Not leaving her much time to cherish it for a future occasion.

It’s winter now.

Years ago she would've been happy at the sight of snow.

But the world is different now.

Instead of feeling joy at the sight of the first snowflake, she quickly made her way back to her hideout. Grabbing her bookbag and packing all her essentials in it, which wasn't a lot in the first place.

She couldn't stay much longer in this house during the winter. The structure was practically crumbling by the day and certainly wouldn't hold up in the cold climate. Honestly, she was lucky that it held up till now.

It was at night where her mind constantly wandered back to the past.

Back to him specifically.

(∩˃o˂∩) flashbackᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

In a single day, society lost all aspects of humanity.

But moments before that, came the main topic of discussion — romance and crushes. Typical girl talk.

It didn't take long for her classmates to notice how quiet Y/N had gotten. Seemingly extra shy all of a sudden. They all squeal knowingly and nudge her to “spill the beans” on who she has her eyes on. Though everyone already knows. Hell, the whole grade probably knows.

She dismissively waves her hands around trying to deny such silly assumptions. But her eyes go on autopilot and land on the destination – his desk.

The blonde who seems to be slouching in his seat, is spewing curses towards the ‘extras’ who come up to him so casually as if it's any other day. The infamous hot head has definitely mellowed out over the three years. Yet his temper never disappeared completely, well not like anyone minds it now.

Spending 8 hours around complex personalities such as his, makes you immune to their empty threats and insults. Anyone who spends much time with him, such as his classmates, knew he didn't mean harm.

As everyone waited for the teacher to arrive, that's when the screams started in the hallways.

Y/N could never forget the scene of everyone collectively pausing their conversations to listen. To question what exactly is going on.

Soon the odd noises started multiplying. Students began running down the hallways, yelling at the top of their lungs with complete fear displayed on their faces.

It was then when panic kicked in.

The speakers soon switched on in each classroom and hallway. The principal's voice echoed throughout the school, clear unease in his tone.

“ALL STUDENTS AND STAFF LEAVE THE PREMISES NOW! A UNKNOWN VIRUS HAS SPREAD THROUGHOUT THE BUILDING. PEOPLE ARE GOING FERAL AND BITING ONE ANOTHER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! PLEASE SAVE YOURSELF-”

The sudden announcement was cut off by screams of pain and unknown groaning from the attacker. Not much longer, anxiety surged through everyone's body. Everyone ran out of the classroom trying to get away from an unknown threat.

Y/N rushes out alongside her classmates, attempting to make her way through the crowd. Students pushing one another to reach the closest exit quickly. She yells out to her friends who are farther up ahead for help. Her height comes to be a disadvantage for her as she gets shoved around left and right.

Making no progress whatsoever, her classmates make it out of her sight. Unable to hear Y/N's voice due to the screams and chaos around them.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Her heart starts beating at an uncontrollable rate, complete dread taking over her body as she's left alone in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Her mind is going on loop, praying to whatever god out there, to save her. To help her.

She can feel her vision get glossy as tears start to form. And then not a second later, she feels a warm hand wrap around her waist. Pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Her body jumps at the sudden contact and she quickly looks up to her side, only to see those red eyes staring back down at her.

“There you are” he says while inhaling a deep breath of what seems to be relief. His eyes quickly looked over her figure, seemingly to look for any sign of injury or pain.

“B-Bakugo-”

“We don't have much time. C'mon, we're leaving another way, this crowd is doing us no good” he says, cutting her off before she could even reply. Using his arm that was resting on her waist to easily lift her off the ground.

She yelps in shock and quickly wraps her arms around his neck to stabilize herself, not wanting to fall from his grasp. He shoves past the mass of students and runs towards the library, the room now empty of people and eerily quiet.

Y/N wanted to ask why he brought them here, but her question answered itself when he ran towards a window and set her back down on the floor. A fire escape visible on the other side of the glass.

“Stand back nerd” he yells in her direction as he picks up a chair then starts to continuously hit the window with all his strength.

Only after a few tries does the glass shatter with a loud crash. He uses the silk curtains to dust away the shards from the window frame for an easier path. With ease, he hops over the open wall and stands on the ground of the metal fire escape.

He looks back and beckons for her to approach quickly. She can still hear screams coming from behind her in the hallway, making her legs move immediately to the shattered window. She was about to climb over when he looped his hands under her arms, picking her up like a doll and pulling her outside with him.

Once again, setting her down beside him.

“Let's go. And don't move so fast, this fire escape might be old as hell and fall to the ground with us on it” he says while starting to walk down the steps first.

“Do you know what's going on? There were some students in the hallway with blood on their uniform” she says, completely frightened as they started to descend down the steps in a quick yet careful manner.

“No damn idea. But what I do know is that we’re getting the fuck out of here” he grumbles as he’s seemingly in thought. Likely trying to come up with a reason as to what's happening.

They both pause in their steps when they look towards the front of the school. Y/N gasps and covers her mouth in horror of the sight. While Bakugos eyes widen as he looks ahead at the entrance gates of UA.

It was a massacre. Screams of pain and terror echoing around the area. Corpses of students and staff members are on the ground, bloodied and missing chunks of their bodies. Some of the dead now standing up, and moving around sluggishly to attack those who are running by. Eating eachother alive. The walking corpses only multiplied in numbers by the minute.

The movies became reality that day.

An unfortunate reality.

“Zombies” Bakugo says as his fists clenched at his side while looking at the scene playing out before him. He mutters a variety of curses under his breath and quickly takes out his phone to check if he has a signal of any kind.

“No damn signal. Of course!” he groans and puts his phone back in his pocket. He quickly looks in her direction as he tries coming up with a plan, “Nerd listen up. We’ll go to my house since its nearby then-”

Bakugo pauses when he sees the expression on her face. Her fearful face and glossy eyes with tears already spilling out as she looks at the sick scene of zombies tearing into others flesh. Recognizing a few students from other classes or by passing them in the hallways.

A few seconds later his hand lifts up to turn her head to face him, and not at the gruesome sight below. She can see the neutral expression on his face, and she bites her bottom lip to avoid more tears falling down. Not wanting to seem so weak in front of him.

“Can we stick together?” she says with a wavered voice while wiping her tears away.

“Tch. What kind of stupid question is that? Of course we're gonna stay together. Don't need you running off and getting yourself killed” he says quickly with furrowed brows, as if he's offended she'd even think he’ll leave her alone.

He can still see the fear in her eyes and he sighs. Resting his hand on her cheek as he speaks in a confident manner, “Alright, pay attention because I'm only gonna say this once. Me and you are not going to be separated. Do you know what I did when we all dashed out of that shitty classroom? I looked for you. Because I knew your ass was gonna be scared as shit.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Her breath wavers at his words and admission. It made her body feel warm all over. Her tears are no longer present anymore. She notices how quickly he lets go of her chin and averts his gaze. Suddenly embarrassed by his own words, as the tips of his ears turn red.

“So uh, don’t cry or whatever. You're with me from now on. What, you don’t trust my abilities to protect you or something? I ain’t weak ya know” he huffs scratching his head and avoiding her eyes.

“I trust you” the words exit her mouth before she can even think.

She does trust him. More than anyone.

Y/N knows how much he’s changed since their first year at UA. And she can't help but to have fallen in love with him along the way. Though that’s for another day, for now they’ll need to survive.

“…Good. Now c'mon my house is a few minutes from here. We'll stay there and come up with a plan” he says quickly grabbing her hand all of a sudden as they walk down the fire escape. He doesnt turn around or talk much after that. But his flushed ears say otherwise.

The journey to his home was mostly silent, but their hands stayed intertwined. When she asked him about it, he simply spoke about her being “a notorious klutz” and having to keep tabs on her.

Both of them avoided the topic after that, to focus on getting somewhere safe for now. Maybe one day, when things settle, they’ll finally talk about this tension between them. It’s long overdue anyways.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

That was a year ago. And they never did have that talk about romance.

Months went by and the two were on their own. It almost felt as if they were the last survivors on earth. Not another human to be found.

Then everything changed when they were on a scavenger run.

There were just too many zombies. A huge hoard came out of nowhere, almost as if they were collectively migrating west like the birds in the sky.

Both of them ran towards the forest, assuming their best chance of survival was to camouflage alongside the patches of green. Yet neither of them could escape the corpses' line of sights.

Bakugo mutters curses under his breath as they run, “Oi! Y/N I need you to run east, find a house and stay hidden til I find you. I’m going to distract these bastards away and run in the opposite direction-”

“W-what?! No, I can't leave you!” she quickly says, looking at him as if he lost his mind.

“Damn it Y/N! At this rate we’ll both die out here. Now go!” He practically shoves her to change courses.

“B-but-” she looks back at the hoard and then to him again. That's too many to take on his own, not even he could…

“GO YOU IDIOT!”

Y/N looks at Bakugo one last time as she grits her teeth in pain and frustration, “Don’t die you dummy! I-I love you!”

His eyes widened at her sudden declaration of love. It took him a moment to react but his lips curve very slightly upwards, “Hah you idiot, as if I’ll die to these weaklings! Now go!”

With a pain in her heart, she changes directions and starts running towards the city as instructed. Some zombies break from the pack and continue chasing her but Bakugo yells out to get as many as their attention as possible.

She feels sick to her stomach despite the smile he gave her. Wanting nothing more than to turn back around to find him. But she knows it’s best to listen to him. To trust him. So she runs east.

Runs, runs and runs.

Y/N enters the first house she sees and quickly shuts the door. Sliding against the wall as she inhales gasps of air, trying to recover her energy. Other than her own racing heartbeat and breaths, it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

She’s gotten used to Bakugos loud presence around her, only feeling more lonely now that he’s gone. But he’ll be back soon. Right?

Quickly she shakes her head of any negative thoughts. He’s completely capable on his own.

She grabs her baseball bat and proceeds to walk around the house. Thoroughly checking every room for potential threats. Thankfully finding nothing in the home.

She remembers the survival tips he taught her and quickly gets to work. Making sure every door is locked, boarding up the windows and picking a resting place where there’s always two exits if needed.

Her stomach growls and she sits down, unwrapping a granola bar from her pocket. Eating in silence as she waits.

Days will soon pass and no sign of him.

She wants to go out. Look for him. Maybe he’s lost. But what if she leaves and he comes to an empty house?

After some thought, Y/N decides to track the days in an old notebook she found in one of the rooms. If he doesn't show in 2 more days then she’ll head out.

When the time comes, she leaves the house to look for him in the woods. For any clue or sign. Leaving behind a note at the house in case he shows up while she’s away. Bold writing stating ‘Bakugo stay here. I’ll be back’.

She came back that evening, empty handed with no clues. Coming back to the house exactly as she left it. That night she could only curl up in the old mattress she found, cuddling into a blanket as she cried herself to sleep. Missing Bakugo. And thinking the worst.

(∩˃o˂∩) flashback over & back to present ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Y/N continues walking east, using the sun to guide her in the right direction. A tip she learned from none other than Bakugo. It’s been 3 months and 10 days according to her journal.

No human interaction. No sign of Bakugo.

She left another note at the house, in case he did manage to make it back one day. Telling him that she’ll continue heading East.

Overnight it snowed a tremendous amount, much to her disappointment. It’s freezing and she didn’t have good quality clothing. Using a bunch of old ragged clothes to bundle herself up in layers.

What’s worse is that she’s low on supplies. It’s harder to scavenge during the winter. Animals go into hibernation and there’s no berries growing in the forests. The only food in her bag currently is a single can of beans and some crackers.

She continues walking east, taking occasional breaks and hiding from zombies who she avoids contact with at all costs. The only good thing about winter is that they slow down the zombies' movements.

Y/N doesn’t continue her journey anywhere else but East. It has to be East. Her legs take her as far as they could, til the sun starts setting. She looks around and sees nothing but trees around. No shelter in sight. But thankfully no zombies either.

So she keeps going. Yet soon she notices the wind start to pick up, snow falling down heavier than before. Just her luck.

A blizzard.

Her body battles against the harsh winds and she shivers uncontrollably. This isn’t good. She genuinely might freeze to death out here. Tears want to fall yet it’s so cold that her body is unable too. Her body feels so heavy, so weak.

After a few more hours, in the pitch black forest, she sees it. Smoke floating up into the air, the sound of engines in the distance. People.

Her heart nearly stops right then and there. People? Survivors?

It’s been over a year since she’s seen other humans who aren’t Bakugo. She doesn’t have any other choice, it’s either ask for help or die out here in the cold.

With newfound hope in her heart, she continues walking forward. Her eyes slightly widening at the sight in front of her.

A military base.

Oh my god. A campsite of what looks to be soldiers with vehicles. Concrete walls are all around the perimeter, snipers are on watch towers as they walk around.

She tries taking multiple steps forward but her legs are so shaky, “E-Excuse me…” she says as her teeth chatter, she definitely won’t get their attention like that. Even if she ran it would take her minutes to reach the base.

Slowly with weak arms she lifts her flashlight and flicks it on and off in the direction of the watchtowers. Hoping to get someone’s attention, anyones whatsoever.

After a few tries, someone on the watchtower seems to notice. They talk to the other guards and a few minutes later, the gates soon open. A military car zooming out and coming into her direction.

Her knees give out. Due to relief or fatigue she doesn’t know. She falls onto the ground of covered snow and her eyes struggle to stay open.

She hears the vehicle pause nearby and a man shout “It’s a survivor!”

Her eyes squint trying to regain her sense of sight, yet all she can hear is mumbles all around her. Then soon, feel herself being picked up and loaded into the back of a truck.

“She doesn’t seem to be infected!”

“Quick check her vitals!”

“She's freezing to the touch!”

“Ma’am? Can you hear me? You’re safe now”

“What's your name?”

Her eyes slowly start closing against her will but she tries answering, “Y-Y/N…”

Everything is a blur after that. All she could remember is the feeling of warm blankets being draped over her. Then just darkness.

(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ time skip⋆｡𖦹 °✩

It's been a while since then. Two weeks since she's been temporarily situated at the main base.

For a few days she was in and out of consciousness, fighting against her hyperthermia and malnourished body. But after much treatment from the medical team, she was able to finally wake up and adjust to her new surroundings.

It was so different, yet so familiar.

She resided in a tent with other survivors who had similar stories. Though she tended to keep to herself, despite feeling joy at no longer being alone, it wasn't the same as with Bakugo.

The survivors in her tent often spoke around the campfire as they ate the food that the soldiers provided for them. Then the topic of discussion suddenly switched. They went around speaking of their past loved ones or companions they lost along the way when the outbreak started.

“And you Y/N? Did you have anyone before the world went to hell? You don't have to share if you don’t want to of course”

All eyes look in her direction, waiting for her to speak. She hesitates but stares at the fire as she speaks, “I was at school when the outbreak started. We heard screams in the hallways, and an evacuation announcement soon after. I ran out of the classroom, lost my friends in the crowded hallway. Honestly I felt like I was gonna get trampled at some point-” she weakly chuckles at the thought and a small smile forms on her face.

“But then a classmate found me. We managed to get out of the building in time. Spent a year together after that… just the two of us” she says while a wavered voice towards the end. She clears her throat trying to regain herself and speaks quicker.

“We got separated after that. There were too many zombies chasing us, so he ran another direction to lead them away. Haven't seen Bakugo since that day-” she cuts herself when she hears silence. Too much silence.

She looks up from the fire and around at the group. Noticing their widened eyes and stunned expression.

“W-What?” she says awkwardly scratching the back of her head, not knowing why they reacted so differently to her story in specific.

“Did you say Bakugo?” an older man asked her quickly with furrowed brows.

Honestly she didn't even realize she let his name slip out of her mouth, “Oh.. yeah his name was Bakugo-”

“As in Katsuki Bakugo?!” another woman jumped in with a curious expression.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Y/N could almost feel everything freeze at that exact moment. Her eyes widened at the woman's words. Everyone seemed to notice her sudden look of shock and another man quickly interjected, “A blonde guy with red eyes and a grumpy as hell temper right?!”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Yes! Do you know him?!” Y/N says nearly jumping out of her seat and dropping her plate of food. Newfound hope in her eyes.

“That guy was brought here a while ago! The soldiers found him in the woods all exhausted and bloodied up. Apparently the guy took on a hoard of zombies himself. He kept refusing to come here, saying that someone was waiting for him back home. But he passed out from exhaustion before he could refuse. The soldiers returned with him after and he's been here ever since” the man says as the others smile at the realization.

“Where is he now?!” she quickly says, grabbing her boots and tying up the laces. Already feeling her heart rate skyrocket at the revelation.

“He works here as a soldier! His group should be coming back from an expedition any moment now at the front gates!”

“Go get him girl!”

“You got this Y/N!”

She shines the brightest she's had in a while and nods at the group, “thank you all!”

Her legs ran as fast as she could towards the front of the base. Her smile never leaves her face. She knew it. She knew he was alive.

In a matter of minutes, she makes it towards the front gate and runs over to join a group of awaiting survivors. “Excuse me, did a group return from an expedition just now?” she says to a woman as she tries to steady her breathing.

“Hm? Not yet, they're opening up the gates now. You made it just in time. I'm waiting for my boyfriend, are you as well?” a female says as she smiles at her.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up at the question, suddenly growing flustered. She didn't even know what type of relationship she had with Bakugo.

Sure they were alone together for a year and had clear feelings for one another, yet they never did establish anything between them. The woman notices and chuckles, “So you are! Then let's pray for everyone's return hm? Oh look, here they come!”

The gates slowly open up, revealing a large group of soldiers on the back of trucks and cars. People cheer as the vehicles pull into the base and the gates close back up once everyone is in. Soldiers scatter around to find their families or loved ones that are waiting for them.

Y/N walks around the crowd looking in every direction trying to find him, that blonde hair that she misses so dearly. With no luck, she can feel her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.

Til she spots it and freezes in place.

That spiky blonde hair that she hasn't seen in months.

His back is to her as he speaks with other soldiers, “Restock on supplies and take the injured to the medical tent. And someone get me a report tomorrow on the number of casualties we faced on the expedition” he says in an authoritative cold tone as he walks towards a tent.

“Yes Captain!”

Her eyes don't leave his figure as he disappears behind a large green tent. He looks both healthier and stronger now, she can tell by the increase in his back muscles through his uniform.

And captain? He's captain of a squad… she shouldn't be so shocked. Of course he is, given his incredible leadership and survival skills.

She shakes her head to get out of her thoughts, now running towards that tent with purpose. Her hand shakingly hovers over the tent curtain to move it out of the way-

“I told all soldiers to not bother me after the expeditions. Stand down soldier” he yells out as if he sensed her presence.

Y/N smiles at the sound of his voice and pushes past the curtain. It was clearly his tent. Where he slept and resided after missions. Her eyes land on his back as he is taking off his gloves, he pauses and tosses them down on a nearby desk. Turning around to face her for the first time.

“Oi. State your name and rank, for disobeying orders you shall be-”

His whole body stiffens as he looks at her. His eyes widening and his words wavered towards the end. Their eyes meet instantly. He looks like he's seen a ghost.

“Y/N-”

“Katsuki!”

Her legs moved forward before she could think. The gap between them lessened by the second. Tears were already beginning to spill out of her eyes. He quickly closes the distance, meeting her halfway.

She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him so hard that her hands shake. Crying into the crock of his neck. His familiar scent invades her nose and sends warmth throughout her entire body.

He's not doing much better. As soon as she reached him, his arms immediately wrapped around her waist. His breath came out in shaky breaths as he held onto her.

“How- thank the gods. You're alive. Thank the fucking gods” he says in a hoarse mumble to himself or her, she doesn't know. He quickly pulls away to give her body a full scan for any injuries. When he sees nothing he lets out a loud sigh of relief.

“Katsuki-”

He lifts her head with his hand and leans down immediately. His lips finding hers in a desperate searing kiss. Her breath hitches but her eyes slowly close at the sensation. His hands find her waist yet again to pull her body flush against his.

She's reminded of how warm his body was. His palms feel like it's burning his mark on her skin through her clothes. She can feel his fast heart rate against her chest, and she knows he can feel hers too.

The kiss increases as time goes on. Only after a minute does he part away from her lips. They gasp for air, yet only for a few seconds at best. Because his lips were back on hers shortly after.

But it wasn't lust filled whatsoever. His left hand trailed up her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. This kiss was more soft. More tender.

He slowly pulls away and his hand reaches her cheek, wiping away the remaining tears from her face. With this close proximity, she can see those red eyes she's missed so much. Her hand gently rests against his cheek, wanting to feel him.

Making sure this is real life and not one of those hopeful dreams she's had in the past few months.

“What happened? You went missing for months, I was looking all over for you. I thought you had…” she doesn't dare finish her sentence. Biting the inside of her cheek to avoid the tears resurfacing.

“Some people told me that soldiers found and took you in. But it's been months and you're some sort of captain now? Were you ever gonna come back to me-”

“I never stopped looking for you Y/N” he quickly says with furrowed brows. Still cradling her face. His other thumb massaging small circles on her hip to ease her nerves.

He sighs and runs a hand through his spiky hair, “Shit- I wasn't supposed to stay here that long. Wasn't even gonna join them til I fucking passed out. I woke up here a few days later. Tried to leave but I had an injured leg, so they kept me here til I healed up. After a week or so, I realized how safe it was here. Safe for you.”

His eyes meet hers again and the grip on her hip tightens. Guilt showing in those red irises.

“I joined the soldiers immediately after that. I went out on every expedition near the east to keep an eye out for you. Did my best to show off my strength so I can quickly climb up the ranks. I knew if I left this place, it would've been near impossible to find you. They had vehicles and people I could use. I managed to become a captain in no time, and got my own group. Practically had to beg the leader of this place to give me the east section of patrols.”

He rests his forehead against hers and lowers his voice in a softer tone, “I promise. I have never stopped looking. I didn't just become captain to look for you. I'm making this place safer. For the other people here sure. But mainly for you. So we don't have to be separated ever again. I don't know how the hell you found me first, or what you've gone through on your own and you can tell me later but… I swear to you-”

His warm hand grabs hers as he kisses the back of it, “I will never let you be alone ever again. Because you're mine now. Got it nerd?”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Mhm…” she lets more tears fall down her cheeks, smiling at his words. Looking into his eyes as she forces every detail in her brain. During their time apart she was terrified she’ll forget his face. But now she won't have to worry.

Bakugo scoffs and the corners of his lips turn up, “Cmon we're getting some food in you. You're thin as hell.”

She couldn't help but to laugh at his words, “I was eating a bit earlier, i'm not that hungry”

“They have real mangos here-”

“Mangos?!”

He lets out a rare chuckle and ruffles her hair as they start walking out the tent, “Yeah they do. Though I haven't tried them yet.”

Her head snaps in his direction at his words, “What?! You're telling me you've been here for months and never tried the mangos?!”

Bakugo hums and intertwines his hand with hers. She can feel her cheeks heat up as the people around stare at them with shock.

“Didn't want to have the mangos” he grumbles as he leads her to the building.

“Why not?” she says tilting her head in confusion.

“They reminded me of you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“O-Oh… I see” she says softly with new found happiness. “Um Bakugo, why is everyone staring?” she whispers to him trying to change the subject.

“Hah? Oh…. well I don't really have the nicest reputation here. The extras are probably shocked I'm holding your hand or something” he mumbles as his ears turn pink. But he doesn't let go of your hand. She doesn't mention it, thinking it's cute.

Eventually they made it to the canteen, and all eyes were on them. But one glare from Bakugo caused everyone to look away and go back to their private conversations.

Y/N follows him to a private room for the both of them, sitting down as he orders soldiers to get “the best mangos” they had. They sit in that room for hours. Both of them giving updates on the time they were away from each other. Happily eating a countless amount of the tropical fruit. The sweet taste rejuvenates both of their taste buds.

“Um so about back then… I think about the last time I saw you everyday. Thinking about how I should have done things differently. I have many regrets in my life, but my biggest regret was not saying it back” he mumbles as he stares at her, not breaking eye contact.

“Huh? Say what?”

“I love you”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“I love you too” she says shyly looking at him and resting her hand over his hand.

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Yeah I know nerd. Now give me that rest of your mango if you're not gonna finish it!”

“What?! No way!” She tries taking another piece yet she only sees Bakugo steal the plate.

The two start going back and forth, stuffing their faces with fruit. Completely content with where they are right now. Now safe behind these walls, together.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

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dyingswanpavlova · 3 days ago

Text

"Your girl" - Part 6 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You make a mistake and get punished. You try to hate him, but there's something inside of you, clearly working against you. Stick to the plan. Play along, get his trust, get the hell out.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

“Where the fuck are you?! Get your ass over here, this instant!”

You froze when his angry voice cut through the silence.

It wasn’t really all too silent. Your thoughts had been keeping you entertained all morning, if you didn’t count the whole night to that as well. Unfortunately, you did. Not a wink of sleep, again.

And all because he didn’t approach you. The door to your room stayed closed, which was something that should have been a good thing in your book. He didn’t bother you, didn’t attack you, didn’t seduce you.

It was more than good, it was heaven-sent. It was a good thing, whenever he granted you a little bit of peace, a tiny ounce of normality.

And yet you found yourself tossing and turning all night, filled with the sinking feeling of...

Disappointment.

Disappointment?

Why on earth would you be disappointed?

Because he didn’t come into your room in the middle of the night with the intention to do unholy things to you and your body?

You should have been thrilled and relieved. But instead you felt empty. So empty, that once you got out of bed and realized he wasn’t anywhere to be found, you made a mistake. A grave one.

You snuck into his room.

It wasn’t like you had any bad intentions. You were actually trying to find him, to talk to him, to ask him-

Ask him what exactly?

However, your main intention was to find him. See him. Instead you found…nothing.

An empty room with an untouched bed. The second you saw that he wasn’t there, you should have turned on your heel and left. But some devilish kind of curiosity forced you to place one foot before the other until you ended up in the middle of his bedroom.

His bedroom.

Not yours.

His.

Nothing about it had been all too uncommon. It was a room with a bed and a wardrobe, a bookshelf, some notebooks. One caught your interest in particular.

A red notebook which you found underneath his pillow. Like a little girl and her diary.

What the hell was even going through your head to touch his pillow?

At first you didn’t want to, you truly didn’t. You just wanted to get a short, small peak into the room of the man who controlled every aspect of your life, even after he had explicitly forbidden it. So far you had obeyed him, but that morning some devil drove you to get inside and take a look around.

And God, how embarrassing was the reason. You were already half on your way out, when his scent caught your attention. The subtle perfume, this gentle note of him.

And that was when your mind went blank and you were so incredibly stupid. You had felt like a stalker, leaning down and pressing your face against his pillow. Inhaling his sweet scent like a lunatic.

But you didn’t really have the time to ask yourself what the hell you were doing, because that was when you found the notebook. And your hands, well, they acted like they weren’t really your own, like they were somehow disconnected from your brain.

They opened it. And what you saw confused you terribly.

On top, your name written in capital letters and crossed out.

And below that countless names. Female names. None of which you knew.

Some were Korean, you could tell. Others French. English. Slavik. Italian. Spanish…

When you heard a faint sound from the hall, assuming he came back from wherever he went, you quickly pushed the notebook back where you found it and scurried out of the room like the devil himself was after you.

Which he, kind of, was.

But he hadn’t been home yet and still, you couldn’t get back into his room. You were far too afraid that he might come back and catch you. So you stayed out of it, went back to your own bedroom and went back to waiting.

And now you were certain. He knew. He knew.

Before you even had the time to get up from the bed, he was already there. The door to your room flew open and he came in like he was indeed the devil.

His eyes were blazing with anger. You hadn’t ever seen him that angry before. Not even that one time, after you called him out on being oh-so unlovable.

And now you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Your initial reaction would have been to beg and plead, to crawl and butter up, even negotiate.

But no. You could tell the severity of the situation had changed drastically.

So you did the only reasonable thing. You jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. You didn’t even have the time to catch on his reaction, because you were too busy slamming the door shut and locking it.

It seemed to catch him off-guard, because it took him a moment to move, but when he finally did, he pounded against the door like a madman.

You couldn’t tell why you were even able to lock it. Maybe he didn’t think about it when he made his apartment kidnapping-safe. But now you were more than grateful for that circumstance.

“If you don’t open the door right now, I’m going to kill you!”

You slowly backed away against the wall, glancing at the window. You knew it was pointless, but you decided to still try it. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get the mercy of a quick death, jumping from the twenty-third floor.

“I will gut you and then I will kill you!”

He pounded even harder against the door and you were sure it was going to give in soon. All the while the window didn’t move an inch. You started pounding against it as well, desperate to find a way to survive this godforsaken hell, but it just wouldn’t move. You felt tears sting your eyes when you realized it.

There were so many things you hadn’t done yet.

You never sailed on a boat. Never saw Prague in December. Never saw the ballet or swam in the ocean.

Never told anyone you loved them. Never loved anyone. And you never got loved in return.

You didn’t even have sex yet.

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t fair.

But it was your life and maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

Maybe this was how it was going to end.

But you didn’t have more time to think about it, because suddenly there was a loud cracking sound and you witnessed in horror as he broke the door down. Your eyes widened and you stifled a sob, while he stepped into the bathroom. He was breathing heavily and moving slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. The look in his eyes was…murderous.

But the only thing you could truly focus on was the blood on his cheek. How had you missed it earlier? Probably due to the adrenaline. But now you watched intently as you saw the small cut on his cheek, messing up the perfection that was his face.

“Please.” You whispered breathlessly, but it was barely audible under choked sobs and gasps for air. “Please, I��What did I…”

He stormed forward and pushed you against the wall, so hard that your head banged against it with a fervor that made you go dizzy. His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.

“What should I do with you?” He whispered in a low voice. It was less of a whisper and more of a growl.

You opened your mouth to beg some more, but all your words were getting lost under a veil of tears and the symphony of your desperate, breathless sobs.

“Should I cut you open and watch you bleed to death?” He whispered as he squeezed your neck a little tighter. You coughed up and dug your nails into his wrist in a desperate attempt to get some air.

“Should I fuck you to death?” He whispered in the same feigned thoughtfulness, all the while you were ferociously fighting for your life.

“Should I make you-“ He stopped and let go of your neck. You doubled over and desperately gasped for air.

“No.” He whispered and his lips curved up into a twisted smile. “I know now.”

He looked you up and down in a way that made you less uneasy and more terrified, before he spoke in a tone that resembled gentleness.

“I’ll take something from you.”

After you finally regained your ability to breathe and gingerly touched your neck, trying to assess the damage he had done on you, you slowly looked up at him. And again, your whole focus was on the cut on his cheek. Only then you realized the blood on the collar of his shirt.

It wasn’t your fault, you suddenly realized. Not entirely. He had a bad day. And you found yourself aching to ask what had happened. Despite him taking his anger out on you, unfortunately.

But after all, it was you who went into his room, despite the clear instructions not to. Never to.

Silly girl.

“And give something else to you.” He whispered while he reached out and gently ran his fingertips over your neck. The touch made you wince.

When his words made you shake your head in confusion, he smiled slowly.

“Your name, sweet girl. It’s about time you got a new one.”

Oh, and how it hurt. How it hurt not knowing what was worse. Dying? Life hadn’t ever really been your thing, it seemed. You just weren’t good at it. But your name? At least you were someone. And now he was going to take that, too?

A small part of you was relieved. He wouldn’t gut you and hang you from the window. But he’d strip you of the little identity you had left.

Your lip quivered in an attempt to say something, but he just shook his head, the crooked smile still on his lips.

“You just made me break down my goddamned bathroom door and you think you got any right to complain?”

You stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes, your vision blurry with tears.

“That’s why you wrote all the names down.” You whispered in the voice of a timid mouse.

He hummed in response. “I was going to give you a say in choosing one. But that deal is in the past, sweet girl. I have the perfect name for you.”

He leaned in and murmured: "Kneel."

You didn't need to be told twice. You would have done anything, however degrading, if only it meant he wouldn't perform heinous crimes on your body.

You were shaking in silence, only interrupted by a few occasional sobs, as you watched him pick up the pair of scissors from the drawer.

Suddenly you didn't feel so safe anymore.

"Please."

He shot you a look that instantly shut you up. There was no way out and nothing you said or did could save you.

He stalked around you like a tiger, ready to pounce. And when you expected him to land a blow and knock you out, he instead gently played with a strand of your hair. And suddenly you were painfully aware of what was about to happen.

It's better than death, you kept trying to tell yourself. Better than torture, better than not being allowed to pee, better than being paraded around-

You gasped loudly when you felt the sharpness of the scissors press against your jugular.

"I bet you look beautiful when you're bleeding." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A part of you wanted to continue begging, but you knew it was pointless. Not when he was like this.

Instead of stabbing and cutting you to death and watch you collapse under a fountain of your own blood, he took your hair into a deadly chokehold between the scissors. You gasped again.

"Hana." He purred. "It's the perfect name."

He tugged on your hair, making your head jerk back.

"Hana is the first girl, here in Korea. One. First. My first girl.”

He ran the scissors up the length of your hair until it nearly reached your shoulders. You held your breath. This was it.

The girl you once were was about to be murdered.

"Hana", he murmured, "makes you a fresh, new thing. With no past and no strings attached. All you are now is my sweet girl. My Hana."

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you got a headache when you felt the metal of the scissors scrape against your hair.

"My sweet, darling Hana." He murmured.

And then he murdered you.

You kept trying to tell yourself that you got lucky. He barely even cut anything off, right? At least he didn't cut it to your chin or shoulder length.

At least he didn't kill you.

But he did kill you. The part of you that had been you, a little stubborn, a little defiant, was gone now as well. All that was left was this obedient, sobbing mess.

He had cut off just enough to make it noticeable. It didn't even look horrifying. You knew your hair would grow back.

But would your name ever grow back?

Would your soul ever grow back?

Hana, Hana, my sweet Hana. My first girl.

The second he released you, you found yourself marching back to your room. You didn't even feel the need to run and hide. And what for? What more could he do, how much more would he take?

"I'll cut it off, piece by piece, every time you deceive me, until you look like a Young-hee doll."

You had seen the ugly, little creature in a Korean store before.

You could already picture it. You with your hair cut down to your chin, wearing a yellow shirt and an orange dress. What was left of your hair, bound in pigtails.

You hated pigtails.

"I've been too soft on you, Hana. It's about time you learned how things work around here."

And after you finally managed your death-march to your bed, you collapsed on top of it like a lifeless doll. You couldn't even cry anymore. You were too exhausted after not sleeping all night and then this.

Maybe you would never feel well-rested again.

Maybe you would never smile again.

Did you smile much before all this? No. But at least you did sometimes.

That was all gone now.

Now you were Hana.

And Hana didn't smile.

The day dragged on like that. You didn't even get up to pee when you felt you had to. It was all pointless. Why not torture yourself a little more? Maybe you deserved it. Maybe you deserved it for going in his room, for reading his notes, for deceiving him, for taking his fucking hand after he just threw someone on the train line.

You should have known.

Looking back, you should have known.

Good people don't just go around, breaking other peoples' necks. Only sick psychopaths did.

So what had driven you to take his hand?

Was it his charming, reassuring smile?

Was it the fact that he rescued you from being raped at the train station?

Was it the excitement he promised, the new way of looking at things? The prospect of breaking out. Out of your dead, numb haze.

God, how you longed for a sitcom now.

Sitcoms usually ended in Happy Endings. Unlike you. You just ended.

Hana.

The way the door flew open would have made you wince, was there any fight or any life left in you.

Instead, all you did, was slowly lift your gaze. Your red, puffy eyes meeting his in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Still sulking, are we?" He sounded cheerful. Fucking bastard.

"Come. It's about time you ate something."

You didn't move. Didn't even blink. It wasn't to spite or challenge him. Instead you simply felt you couldn't move. Getting up, eating. Water. Teeth. Shampoo. It all sounded so distant. So useless.

You had felt like this before. More than once.

Every time your mother finished beating you with the belt.

Each time you woke up in your tiny, South Korean apartment and realized there was not much to live for.

It was mostly phases. On other days you got up just fine.

But today was such a phase, far more prominent than it had been in long.

His brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. A part of you expected him to chase you to the kitchen with a chainsaw.

"Don't be like that. Don't give me that look."

When you still didn't move or blink, his frown deepened and he slowly moved closer until he was crouched down by your bed.

He reached out and touched your chin.

"Are you going to kill yourself now over some hair?" He mocked.

"It'll grow back." He sighed impatiently. "You know you can't starve yourself anyway. I'll make you eat."

You didn't protest, but you also didn't react.

His frown stayed in place, but eventually he sighed and leaned back.

"Come." He said in a softer tone. "I'm making Hotteok. You're going to like it."

And suddenly, just like that, you sobbed again. Very quietly. You didn't move. But something inside of you was aching so terribly.

You expected him to get angry, furious even.

How dare you complain? You’re my Hana, my first girl. My Hana doesn’t complain. My Hana just takes it.

But instead he resumed the notion of gently caressing your hair.

He would hit you.

Somehow magically make a chainsaw appear.

Instead he whispered. Deadly. Menacing. Scary.

Gentle.

"You're still beautiful."

The first bite was hard. The second one way easier. You only ever realized how famished you were, after you bit into the warm, juicy piece of heaven. It tasted sweet and nutty and buttery.

For a second, you allowed yourself to forget about it.

All you could think about was the heavenly taste of whatever it was he had prepared for you.

And then it came back to you, stealthily at first and then suddenly hitting you like a brick.

Hana.

He watched you while you ate, his eyes unreadable. He leaned back and rested his ankle over his knee, watching you in quiet contemplation.

That didn't stop you from chewing your way through three more Hotteoks.

You had these issues, these unhealthy habits of being unable to eat infront of other people. Your mother had always demanded of you to act like a porcelain doll who didn't eat or use the bathroom.

But the longer you were here, the quieter her voice became.

Until all you could hear was his voice.

Hana. My sweet Hana. My first girl.

Your tiny eating disorder slowly dissolved into nothingness, your neuroses turning into ash and dust.

You ate to survive. You ate because it gave you comfort.

And any kind of comfort was a great distraction from the cruel farce which your life had become.

“You know”, he suddenly said after he took a sip of his tea, “no matter how short your hair is, you would always be beautiful.”

You slowly looked up at him with a frown. Suspicious.

“It’s true.” He hummed. “So deceive me all you want and maybe I can prove to you.”

There it was. No kindness without a jab to follow.

You looked back down at the food on your plate. You weren’t all too hungry anymore and your appetite turned back to what it was before. You slowly reached out and took a sip of your water.

“I’m curious though.” He said calmly. “What made you go inside there, hm? What made you disobey me? Were you looking for something?”

You stiffened. What were you supposed to tell him? Hopefully he wouldn’t mention the notebook. The pillow.

“Underneath my pillow, anyway.”

Fucking shit.

“What? Were you trying to set a trap for me, hm?” His voice stayed as calm as ever, but the look in his eyes only ever got colder.

“No.” You whispered.

He leaned forward, looking at you with an disturbing intent.

“Then what?”

He clenched his jaw tightly and grabbed a knife from the table. It wasn’t big, but enough to kill you. He squeezed the handle tightly in his hand and rammed it down against the table.

Poor wood.

The cold fury in his voice felt almost as unsettling as the scissors had.

No, actually more so.

“I was looking for you.” You said quietly, unable to look at him.

What kind of idiot were you? What were you trying to do, admit to that? But maybe it was better than to have him believe that you went in there with some ill intentions. Like placing a blade under his pillow and hoping that maybe somehow he managed to stab himself by accident.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned even closer. All you could look at was that cut on his skin.

“Looking for me.” He repeated and the disbelief in his voice was obvious.

What the hell was he so furious about? He had been so calm, just a minute ago.

But with him, you could never really tell.

You finally looked back into his eyes and nodded. “I thought you would-“ You immediately stopped yourself.

Oh God.

You thought what? That last night, he’d come in your room and sleep with you? Were you about to just say that out loud?

You took a shuddery breath, trying to come up with some other excuse. But it was too late. He already seemed to grasp your thoughts. And he wasn’t laughing or coming off somewhat amused about it, no, the thought seemed to make him even angrier.

Whatever had happened last night must have been horrible if it turned him into that.

More horrible than what happened to you just earlier that morning? You doubted it, but still, something like concern gnawed at you.

“You thought what?” He said slowly. “That I’d come in your room and fuck you? Is it that?”

You immediately looked down at your hands like you’d been struck. Your face flushed furiously and you suddenly felt the need to throw up.

“Are you that desperate? Are you that needy? I thought you were a fucking virgin.” He practically spat the words out. And you felt more and more nauseous with every word that came out of his mouth.

“I am.” You choked out.

“And still you crave my attention so desperately that you go inside my room, even though I told you you’d get punished if you ever did? Stupid girl. Such a stupid girl. Hana, you should know better than to-“

“That’s not my fucking name!”

You didn’t know if it was the use of that name or the other thing, but something inside you snapped and your depression crumbled down just like that. You could sit here and let him insult you or you could take action and find out what the fuck was going on here.

All the while you tried to ignore the bitter feeling of disappointment and shame that welled up in you, after he tried to shame you for what? Missing him?

You nearly shuddered. Missing him? Him?

You had a mission here.

Play along. Get him to trust you.

Get the hell out of here.

Right? That was the plan. Why did everything feel so…unstable then? Especially your own thoughts. You weren’t supposed to miss him. You were supposed to run. Grab his gun, shoot him and then shoot against the lock of the door until it fell apart.

And maybe then you’d finally find peace.

Instead you sat in silence, as you watched the expression in his eyes change. The bitterness and the man that had stooped down to insult you vanished and the monster who had cut your hair and punched your gut took his place.

“What did you say?”

“I said”, you gritted out in a fit of rage, so intense it left you breathless, “that’s not my fucking name.”

And just like that he snapped. But he didn’t snap like a normal person would, no. He snapped so hard, his head nearly exploded. And he lunged at you. He lunged forward and knocked you off the chair in the heat of the moment. Your head came down onto the floor with a thud, but what was far worse was the pain that shot through your back when it hit the ground.

He was on top of you, straddling you, before you even had the time to cry out in pain. But this time, something was different. You were different.

Before he could wrap his claws around your neck, you pushed him back, with such roughness that it left you surprised by your own strength. And before he had the time to recover and slap the hell out of you, you did something even more surprising. And probably stupid.

You punched him. Right in his face, bruising his unharmed cheek. Your eyes shot wide open, but it was nothing in comparison to his own eyes.

First he looked surprised. Caught in a cloud of disbelief. And then the look changed. And just like that he was back to furious.

Murderous.

He got a hold of your wrists and pinned them down to the ground, ignoring the wince that shot through you and the cry of pain that left your lips, when he dug his nails into your skin.

“Such a stupid girl.” He hissed. “I really thought you learned your lesson. But it seems you didn’t. But don’t worry. You will in time.”

He reached out a hand to slap you, but before he could, you kneed him right in the stomach.

He let out a grunt of pain and momentarily loosened his grip on your wrists. But it took him no longer than two seconds to regain his balance and pin you down even harder.

You writhed underneath him, fighting as hard as you could to free yourself before he got the opportunity to damage your already damaged kidney, but he was on his best way to. He balled a fist and gritted his teeth, ready to make you pay.

“What happened last night?” The question sounded so incredibly ridiculous, coming from your trembling lips, underneath him, fighting for your life. And it was so ridiculous that, indeed, he paused for a moment.

“What?”

“Yes.” You gasped out. “What happened last night? What happened to your face?”

He blinked slowly, his grip on you never wavering.

“You don’t get to ask me questions.”

“Yes, I do! Where were you?”

He had trouble to control his temper, while he gripped your wrists so hard that his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking. He pressed his thumbs against the insides of your wrists so hard that a sharp pain flared through your arms and up to your shoulders.

“I was working. I had work to get done. And you don’t get to ask me questions!” He growled.

“Yes, I do!” You repeated, growing more and more impatient. His grip on you was so painful, that your legs kept kicking into the air, desperate to find some kind of relief from the pain. But it never came. And yet you forced yourself to stay angry. Don’t budge. Don’t beg. “What happened to your fucking face?!”

“Why?! Are you worried about me?!” He hissed and suddenly he was so far up in your face, you felt his breath on it.

“No!” You hissed back, still kicking into the air like a fool. You released something akin to a shriek of frustration, struggling against his grip, but he wasn’t even trying and he was so much stronger than you. “But I know nothing about you! I don’t know what you do! I don’t know what you are! I don’t know who you are! What’s you fucking name?! What is even your name?!” You were out of your mind, yelling furiously and pushing back against him, until he actually had to apply more pressure to keep you pinned against the ground.

“You want to know my name?” He gritted out. “I don’t have a name, silly girl. All you need to worry about is that you belong to me.”

“To a ghost.” You spat out. “Because that’s what you are, isn’t it? You’re nothing but a ghost. You don’t have family or people who care about you. All you have is your job and yourself and this soulless place with no windows to open and let some sunshine in. All you have are these walls covered in sunny colors and yet there is no real sun here. It’s a façade. Everything is a façade. Because you’re nothing but a fucking ghost. You could be dead and no one would care.”

You gritted your teeth like a feral animal, ready to rip his throat out with your teeth if he’d let you, but of course he didn’t. Instead he met your deadly glare with one of his own, except that his was far more menacing than yours, more dangerous. Crazier.

“I may be a ghost, but you still belong to me.”

“What happened to your face?” You whispered in the same, angry tone.

He leaned further down until the tip of his nose nearly touched yours and slammed your hands against the floor.

“Why do you care?” He hissed back.

“What happened to your face?!” You nearly shouted.

“Why do you care?!” He shouted back.

“Because I do!”

It was true, you suddenly realized.

You cared.

Not in a curious way.

Not in a matter-of-fact way.

It was eating away at you. You needed to know what had happened, because you cared, you cared so much, it made your insides twist painfully. Ever since you had seen him that morning, you were in pain.

Not because he cut your hair.

Not because he demanded you to take a stupid name like Hana.

His first girl.

Were there others? Were you truly the first? Why not the last? Why not the goddamn last?

Was that jealousy?

The cut on his cheek made something inside of you ache and you were dying to know who the hell had dared to put his hands on him.

He seemed to have the same thought, because something in his expression changed. But you couldn’t tell what it was. Not yet at least.

“You care.” He spat out incredulously. “Idiot girl. Are you falling in love with me?”

You scoffed. “Not in a million years.”

“Good.” He whispered and leaned closer.

“I could never fall in love with a monster like you.” You whispered back and tilted your head up towards his.

His breath tickled your lips, but not half as much as his gaze did, as it slowly slid down to them.

“Stop.” You whispered, suddenly breathless.

“Tell me that you mean it and I will.” He whispered back. His brows furrowed and he took in a shuddering breath. It sounded like an exhale, it sounded like a moan.

Oh God.

“Stop.” You whispered again.

He stopped tormenting your wrists and you stopped struggling against thin air.

You didn’t know how but somehow his touch was almost gentle.

You didn’t realize when but somehow your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t.” You whispered.

“Don’t…”

“Please…”

“Don’t…”

Oh, fucking hell.

Fuck it.

“Please…don’t…stop…”

______________________________________________

Author's note: I'm dying, you are all too sweet to be true! Thank you so, so, so much for your sweet, kind words and I love you all so incredibly much! Just a few days ago, I had a moment when I was feeling like everything was going pretty shitty, but then I thought about this story and all the kind and loving support I'm getting from you and it cheered me up beyond belief. Much, much love! Lana ❤️

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @whitefeathers @ennvfv @heartzxx @yourpointbreak @hell0kittt @salesmanlover08 @pascalislove @nina357 @ing9449myu @vamplivivi @tvbais @ilovenana00 @misswannadiesworld @glads-stuff @chunkzdeluluwife @estreiiuh @lokis-lovely-muse @zaimeskuna @lalalaa2210

also thanks to @i-might-be-vanny for the name issue inspiration!

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wordsinhaled · 28 days ago

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thinking of a scenario where when charles was little, his mum used to take care of his injuries and do the kissing-it-better thing, until he got older and his dad got wise to that and she couldn’t anymore. but it’s just something tiny that charles associates with comfort.

and so the first time, early on in the agency, that edwin gets badly hurt on a case and charles is patching him up, he leans in and presses a little kiss to the mostly-bandaged spot. it’s just the whole case gave him a scare, because he hadn’t seen edwin hurt bad before, and he’s just getting used to the fact that edwin’s his person, his to keep safe and he didn’t manage that this time, and in his distress he doesn’t even think twice.

edwin stiffens, and charles realizes he just kissed his best mate’s arm, and that’s not the sort of thing you do, is it, and maybe that’s really the sort of thing that’s going to get him knocked in the jaw. only edwin is just looking at him with curiosity, and edwin isn’t the sort of bloke who knocks people in the jaw but he is the type who could leave, could leave charles behind and... and now charles’s face is burning.

“sorry,” he chokes out, finishing the bandage hurriedly. “um, it’s just—something my mum used to do, y’know, kissing it better. when… um. when i’d get hurt as a kid, yeah? used to make me feel proper better, more than the plasters and all that. i know it’s silly, i didn’t think—”

“i did not mind it,” says edwin—who had never had any injury of his kissed better in his short life, and certainly not any of the damage he sustained over 73 years in hell.

“oh,” says charles. “that’s good, then.”

the next time edwin’s hurt it’s a significantly smaller injury, a really minor iron burn that’s already starting to look better even as charles applies the salve. he bandages it up anyway, though. but he’s surprised when edwin stays where he is once charles is done, still expectantly holding out his injured hand, not pulling away, as he usually does. and then he realizes that edwin is waiting for charles to kiss it better. and so he does—hesitant the whole time, in case he read edwin all wrong, up until edwin finally pulls his hand back seeming satisfied somehow, like charles has fulfilled some unspoken half of a bargain.

and that was twenty-some years ago. by now it’s just ingrained that every time charles tends to an injury of edwin’s, even one as minor as a paper cut from a page in edwin’s notebook, he kisses it better. edwin won’t move away until he does.

after edwin’s confession, things change. charles starts to notice that he feels a bit fluttery, the first time after hell that he leans in to press his lips to edwin’s scraped shoulder through a layer of bandage and the fabric of his shirt. and he tries to think nothing of it, only that then his mouth doesn’t connect with anything; because edwin has moved away, moved out of his reach, neatly risen out of the way of charles’s kiss so that he hovers, lips parted against empty air, feeling off-kilter and confused, something like hurt churning through him.

edwin had said he wanted nothing to change between them, and here edwin goes changing things himself. of course that hurts. but why does it hurt so much? and what was that fluttery feeling? and why can’t charles stop thinking about it?

#narrator voice: it was because charles loves edwin back #dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #payneland

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215-luv · 2 years ago

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HQ AS YOUR TYPICAL HIGHSCHOOL BOYS WHO HAS A CRUSH ON YOU

KAGEYAMA: a shy guy who needs the mental support of the whole volleyball team just so he could initiate a conversation with you. whenever you’re in the same room as him he just suddenly finds himself all stiff and unable to function properly. the amount of times where he catches glimpses of you is hilarious because he couldn’t speak a damn word to you no matter how much he wants to.

OIKAWA: to him, there’s something romantic about surprising you by leaving gifts on your desk and locker and there isn’t one day where he forgets to do that, no matter what the occasion is. during huge events such as Christmas, valentines day, you name it — he has everything planned out just for you. he’s actually good at being romantic and he knows that to himself. he’s spoiled you so much and he’s just at the peak of having a crush on you, what more if he’s in a relationship with you.

USHIJIMA: he’s the definition of actions over words. ushijima doesn’t talk much, but his intentions reflect clearly through his actions. one day, he offers to carry your things for you. another day, he offers you his sweater because he hears you complaining how cold the weather is — and that nearly scared the shit out of you because you’re literally at the other end of the classroom?? whenever you’re walking through the stairs, he’ll offer you his hand for support. if he notices your discomfort in a big crowd, he’ll use his body to support you incase someone might bump onto you while using his arm to support your lower back.

HINATA: he’ll always greet you with a ‘good morning y/n! :D’ or a ‘hi y/n! what a lovely morning, is it? how are you doing!’ with a smile on his face every morning before class starts and it goes the same when it’s time to go home ‘cause he always makes sure to see you at the beginning and at the end of his day. he’s so sweet because although he couldn’t bring you home due to volleyball practice, he’ll tell you, ‘have a safe trip home y/n!’ or ‘i’ll see you tomorrow y/n! make sure to send me a text when you’re home, kay!’

TSUKISHIMA: he still sends snappy remarks to you, but the difference between the way he is to others compared to you is detectable. very. so much so that everytime tsukki interacts with you, kageyama looks at him as if he’s possessed. his feelings for you comes out in a different way, but the soft glint from the way he gazes at you reflects his true intentions — because at one point he hears you complaining how you’re having a hard time at a certain subject, and suddenly he drops a whole ass notebook infront of you, all containing his notes of the lesson. he raises an eyebrow at the confused look you’re giving him, “why are you looking at me like that? we don’t want you failing with your empty head, don’t we?” he says with a snicker,,, and a slight blush on his cheeks.

KUROO: he doesn’t hide the fact that he has a crush on you. it doesn’t surprise you with the fact that he’s already leaning against the door frame of your classroom after classes has ended. he also isn’t shy with the fact that he’s sending you winks from across the cafeteria or hallways (he knows you like it). passing by him through the school hallway, at that short moment, he sends you a glance, a cheshire smile on his face as he greets you with a ‘hey pretty’ before passing by you as if he didn’t do shit at all.

AKAASHI: he’s so attentive when it comes to you. he’ll open doors for you and let you enter or leave the room first before he does. everyone is actually close to having no clue whether he has a crush on you or not ‘cause he’s naturally polite in general —but the thing is, his gaze on you is so loving??? it’s not the kind of look he’s ever given to anyone at all & i’m pretty sure the volleyball team has caught up with his intentions towards you. it doesn’t take long until they’re being ridiculously loud at teasing akaashi about it especially when they keep catching him looking at you with that gaze again.

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gghostwriter · 4 months ago

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Whispered Truths

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 0.8k a/n: This is actually a request from @bloodredrubyrose and I really liked how this came out. I also used my favorite piece of fiction here as a prop so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Couples, no matter how new or old, tend to create personalized dates as a way to strengthen the relationship. Some go on hikes together, some go on travels, while some stay in the comfort of their homes—under a blanket with a chosen book on hand.

You and Spencer definitely fall under the latter category. It was quite obvious from the first meeting that literature would be one of the strongest bonding agents between you and him. After all, it was how you were brought together—crashing into one another at the library with books and miscellaneous items scattered on the tiled floor. A few shy glances and bewitching dates later, you found yourself spending your Saturday nights in the presence of your boyfriend of six months, hosting an exclusive reading club with just two members, you and him.

“I never thought of it that way,” your left hand paving an aimless path through Spencer’s curly hair while the other held the book up high.

The pitter patters of the rain outside softly echoed through the walls. You were propped up on the loveseat sofa, his head resting on your lap as he looked upwards in question in regards to your statement.

“Never thought of which?” His voice low and soft, striking a resemblance to how he gazed at you oh so lovingly. As if you were the most riveting piece if art he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“How water played a big symbol throughout the whole book. It was really focused on during the first chapters but I—I just never quite connected the dots,” you clarified, bring the book to a close.

It was your choice for the week, East of Eden by John Steinbeck—a modern classic and had been your favorite work of literature since high school. Spencer had lent his copy to you last week and you vice versa—both turning brown from age, pages about to fall apart from its binding, annotations scribbled on the margins and any lengthy self reflections written on various notebook pages sandwiched in between.

“Your explanation on the empty pages at the end—how water is capable of bringing both life and death. Water being essential for the crops but at the same time, drowned victims. It’s such a poignant note that I think I just fell more in love with Steinbeck’s writing,” you added. “It also made me realize how water in his novel represents the dual capacity of the human soul for good and evil. How we are all filled with conundrums and contradictions and what makes us different from the other species on Earth is our ability to choose whether we are good or evil—” Spencer had sat up and leaned in, interrupting your musings. “—what?” You breathed out as his lips hovered on yours.

The once cozy atmosphere quickly charged with tension and desire that seemed to ooze out of Spencer. There was little space in between and you had no doubt that from the outside looking in, it looked like he was kissing you but he was not, rather a sliver of air was still given space to pass through. So close but so far.

You studied his features up close. How his long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings beating against the wind as his molten, darkened, hazel eyes flickered between your lips and eyes. How his nose lightly caressed yours in an endless Eskimo kiss. How his cheeks stained into a lighter shade of red. And how his pink tongue peeked out to wet his pillowy lips.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered as if it was some kind of national secret that he now felt right to expose.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was the first time he had said it. His love for you had been conveyed with every touch, with every action, and with every silence but this was the first time he had put it into words.

His lips caressed yours—the pressure almost non-existent. A ghost of a kiss to gauge your reaction and consent.

“I love you,” he repeated a little louder this time, eyes locking into the very depths of your soul. “You and your mind have enchanted me since the beginning—so beautiful, so captivating.”

The butterflies set free in your stomach caused you to viscerally shiver in reaction.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

A smile graced his face and it was bright and as blinding as the sun, like it had finally decided to stop hiding behind the clouds and show itself in all of its glory.

He leaned in once more. The pressure from his lips now heavier and headier, trying to stamp his everlasting mark on you and in between all these kisses were whispers of his utter devotion and adoration until there was no more space—until you both became one on his loveseat sofa.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid request

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mothandpidgeon · 8 months ago

Text

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you.

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller.

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely.

Her words still ring in your ears.

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life.

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said.

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you.

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart.

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder.

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says.

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask.

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room.

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid.

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you.

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better.

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now.

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say.

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture.

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say.

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh.

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles.

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her.

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there.

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time.

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face.

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy.

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself.

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze.

“Mercy?” Sarah asks.

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass.

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air.

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her.

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around.

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.”

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night.

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller.

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away.

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands.

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor.

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps.

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something.

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies.

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral.

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break.

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster.

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk.

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground.

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence.

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you.

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged.

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete.

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her.

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet.

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill.

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers.

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says.

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her.

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle.

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck.

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away.

You wait for a long time.

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now.

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes.

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine.

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare.

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you.

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family.

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope.

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning.

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday.

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt.

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you.

He left you to die but you just go on living.

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night.

You’re on your own.

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her.

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead.

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head.

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk.

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north.

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival.

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you.

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal.

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven.

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached.

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall.

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table.

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home.

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you.

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright.

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage.

“That really you?” he asks.

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope.

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife?

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner.

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller.

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up.

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become.

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up.

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel.

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival.

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago.

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath.

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall.

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened.

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks.

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out.

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes.

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says.

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you.

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious.

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself.

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder.

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark.

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back.

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say.

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing.

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall.

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel.

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today.

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine.

“You okay?” Ellie asks.

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much.

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall.

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers.

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken.

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says.

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out.

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache.

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted.

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you.

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded.

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves.

“Want some company?” you ask.

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in.

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him.

“Surprised you remember,” he says.

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.”

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living.

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything.

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck.

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down.

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.”

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him.

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says.

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear.

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him.

A thick knot forms in his throat.

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch.

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end.

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out.

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky.

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well.

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect.

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask.

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains.

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates.

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since.

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes.

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile.

“How’s she look?” you ask.

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods.

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair.

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library.

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor.

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all.

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”.

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved.

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly.

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink.

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy.

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze.

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing.

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet.

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago.

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek.

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours.

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it.

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say.

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went.

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night.

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning.

And then you kissed him.

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing.

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone.

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you.

That’s when he heard it.

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong.

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you.

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again.

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself.

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you.

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you.

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon.

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth.

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs.

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says.

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply.

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says.

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life.

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there.

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips.

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open.

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers.

“Stay,” you murmur.

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back.

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress.

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well.

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further.

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could.

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.

After a while, though, it happens.

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them.

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light.

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment.

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him.

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper.

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up.

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever.

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want.

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul.

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass.

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him.

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him.

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply.

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this.

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories.

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before.

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back.

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?”

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft.

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself.

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all.

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart.

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection.

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years.

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you.

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#joel miller #tlou #joel miller fic #bfd!joel miller #jackson!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic

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