#then she was abused and almost strangled by one.

[enchantedephiphany]

What I can't stand is romantizicing abuse. Like women get Stockholm syndrome from men or something. Idk why anyone likes those bad boy novels where the man is an abuser or worse a rapist and the girl has an unhealthy attachment to him and actually stays with him rather than an actual happy ending of someone treating her right.

There are too many incidents like this irl. Incl in my own family. Awful abusers getting rewarded. I don't want to read about that. And I'm tired of women always being the victim. Time to change thar. At least om not contributing to it. If she is a victim, she doesn't stay that way.

[llycaons]

christopher that is so sick

[marrycv]

pure smut MDI ‼️

your tongue was sucking ellie’s clit, needing to taste her so much. moaning as if you were the one receiving head. your moans vibrating through ellie’s whole body as she whined and arched her back. “fuck dont stop!” she’d yell while grinding her hips on your tongue. you’d look at her, not breaking eye contact. seeing her mouth slightly open, her brows furrowing, sweat on her forehead and tears falling down her cheeks. pure art.

her whole body was shaking as she came undone, and you couldn’t stop. she just tasted so good, she tried backing away from your touch but you didn’t let her, only pulling her hips closer to your mouth as you abused her cunt. the overstimulation ellie was feeling only made her whinier. “please- fuck! i cant take it anymore” she’d say almost stuttering and her voice all trembly from the immense pleasure your skilled tongue was giving her.

“cmon baby, i know you can take it” you’d tell her while smiling

she’d nod slightly, giving in completely. ellie was usually the one giving, but this time, since you had the chance you weren’t gonna let this opportunity pass.

her hips movements becoming all messy and sloppy, meaning once again she was about to finish.

“let go, cum on my face again babe” you’d praise her so softly

she’d let out a completely strangled moan as she saw pure whiteness and her body felt like fireworks. releasing all that pressure for the second time.

you’d hover over her and tell her how of a good of a girl she’s been, kissing her.

letting her taste herself on your tongue.

she was the hottest and the sexiest when she let herself be vulnerable with you.

[tabbedtabby]

good luck, babe! | chapter 1

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by “good luck, babe!” by chappell roan. if you’ve never heard it, definitely check it out. updates will most likely be weekly. i don’t know how some of y’all have the time to update every day lol. as a general warning for the whole fic, it will contain homophobia, derogatory language, substance abuse, and unhealthy relationships. other than that thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this first chapter!!

—————————————————————

Entering your third year of high school, you assumed you knew everything there was to know about North Shore.

Well, at least, how to steer clear of infamy. More specifically, Regina George and her shadows that followed her around like a pair of lost dogs. You knew the trouble and attention they brought with them, a constant trail of destruction that was almost as potent as the stench of their perfume. The secret to avoiding it was as simple as straying from the limelight. You kept to your group, stayed quiet, kept your head down. Didn’t do anything wild enough to trigger Regina’s predatory instincts. You couldn’t say you were afraid of her and her group, but honestly, harassment is the last thing you need as North Shore’s token plug. It would be plain stupid to garner more attention to yourself than necessary.

But even with all of that in mind, here you are, sitting in the principal’s office with enough anger in your chest to probably strangle the man sitting in front of you. Because you didn’t even fucking do what you’re being penalized for. But guess who told Mr. Duvall that you were taking pictures of girls changing in gym? Regina George. She could make up whatever she wanted and even the authority figures at this school would treat it like it was the holy grail. You stare at him with venom in your eyes as he explains to you that you will have to be suspended. For something you didn’t even do.

Regina was in your gym class. You had heard around that she was spreading rumors about you being a lesbian, but that’s not new information to literally anyone, so you didn’t especially care. Then people started giving you disgusted looks in the hallways, calling you some really nasty names, and even some of your close female friends started to avoid you. You didn’t know why until about 10 minutes ago. Apparently, you were the last person to know about your supposed photo collection.

When Mr. Duvall finally lets you leave, you feel the rage boil up inside of you before you can stop it. You’re going to get in so much trouble at home, and for what? Because the world’s most spoiled brat decided your reputation was the one to ruin this week? Does she even realize how her rumors can affect people? Obviously not, because she does it all the fucking time.

You’re way late to lunch, but the moment you step into that cafeteria, it’s like a wild dog being released into the ring. You skip on the lunch line and head straight towards the table where you see Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners talking with wide eyes to the blonde head of hair with her back to you. Regina. You lock on like a target, not glancing at anything else surrounding you. Your hands are bunched into fists at your sides as the anger rises up in your throat like bile. How dare she? How dare she completely make up this bullshit about you, get you suspended because of it? And why hasn’t anyone actually done something about it?

You see her turn around. Two ice blue eyes look up at you. Disgusted, maybe even a little confused as she sees you approaching her table. Because no one ever dares enter her territory. She thinks she’s above that. She doesn’t look at you more than a second, though, before your hands are ripping her off the bench by the collar of her shirt.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you practically snarl, your arms already dragging her towards the wall as you slam her against it. Your hands still grip the collar of her shirt, your anger almost palpable. You hear what you think to be Gretchen scream. The cafeteria descends into chaos around you. You don’t care. The only thing you’re concerned about is what’s in front of you right now.

Regina doesn’t even look slightly bothered. In fact, she cocks an eyebrow. Her eyes seem to glow with that malice now. Your hands grip the fabric of her shirt even tighter.

“Oh, no, did I hit a nerve?” she laughs, her eyes looking you over with a newfound disgust. Like you’re simply a piece of trash a wild animal found out it could not digest and spit back up. Like you’re beneath her. You hate the woman, but it’s almost impressive how controlled she is in moments like these.

“You’re just proving me right, you know. Just admit you’re the weird freak that everyone knows you are. I can’t stand a closet lesbo.” she sneers, pushing her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath on your face.

Something in you snaps when she says those words. Because it’s not even true, and you’re the only person who seems to believe that. The anger’s hot in your chest. Its flames seem to carry your arms as you ball your right hand into a fist.

And you punch the Queen Bee of North Shore directly in the eye.

-

Your suspension was extended. Obviously.

You spend the next 2 weeks cleaning the house until your fingers peel and keeping up with your school work on your computer. People are talking about your fight with Regina all over Instagram and Regina’s acting like a total victim about the whole thing. People sending her their condolences and all that bullshit. As if she was dying and didn’t only get one punch to the face before someone pulled you off of her. It was your health teacher from last year; he seemed a little too eager to grab you and pull you off of Regina.

When you return to school, it seems people still believe those rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing rooms, because your peers are giving you the same sort of looks as before. They clear away from you when you walk past, but not in the worshipful kind of way they do for Regina. More like they’re disgusted to be around you.

Some people are impressed you stood up to her, though. You’re the first of your time. Janis ‘Imi’ike from your AP Lit class gives you a high five in the morning and you give her a big grin in return.

You see Regina in your gym class after lunch, and she looks as good as new. You’re a little disappointed. You kind of wanted to see her with that bright purple bruise on her eye that you’d seen all over Instagram. But there she was, looking like the perfectly crafted Barbie doll that she always seemed to be. Not even a stand of flawless blonde hair out of place. It made you mad. It’s like you did it all for nothing.

To your surprise, though, Regina ignores you. She doesn’t whisper to her minions while giving you dirty looks from across the room, doesn’t send them after you with a raise of her finger. It’s like you’re invisible to her. Honestly, you prefer it that way. You’re tired enough of this whole situation as it is. It’s a godsend she’s not making it worse today.

Coach Carr takes you all outside since it’s one of the last warm days until fall. You stick your Airpods in and walk the track, still keeping an eye on Regina. It’s not like her to not torment someone who got suspended because of one of her rumors. You don’t trust it at all, but she seems content with pretending you don’t exist. Since Karen and Gretchen aren’t in this class with her, Regina resorts to talking to the girls who aren’t quite Plastic, but are still high enough on the social pyramid for Regina to tolerate. You roll your eyes as they mindlessly follow her lead like a pack of lion cubs.

After a couple of minutes, you get bored and sneak off to the woods surrounding the track. Your coach wasn’t the most attentive person in the world, so it was pretty easy. You needed to smoke or you were going to go insane. You take an Airpod out and grab the cart out of your bra. Have to keep it non-suspicious.

You only plan on taking a few hits since it’s so concentrated and you still have another class after this. You come out here so much that you don’t even think about it. Until you hear a voice behind you.

“Are you smoking weed?”

Your neck nearly snaps when you whip your head around. Your heart sinks back down to your chest from your throat when you see Regina George standing there instead of Coach Carr.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” you immediately respond, your voice wavering a bit as you hadn’t even considered someone had seen you slip out. The weed had just started to hit and you could feel it amplify the fear in your chest, even though Regina wasn’t technically immediate danger. Although, your heart begins to race faster as you realize she will definitely try to get you in deeper shit because of this.

Regina begins to open her mouth before you immediately cut her off. “Before you go and tell everyone on this side of the country, everyone already knows. It’s not gonna do anything to ruin my reputation.” Your voice shakes similarly to your legs out of the pure shock of her finding you. You hate feeling cornered, but after your little tussle with her, you know how badly Regina must want to destroy you. Her eyes stare at you unflinchingly, unaffected by what you said. She looks smug enough to make you nervous. You don’t know if it’s because of the weed or your pounding chest, but it seems like minutes pass before Regina says anything else.

“What about Mr. Duvall? Does he know?” Fuck. You’re not getting out of this, are you? Your mouth begins to dry, the spit thick on your tongue as you think of a response. Your dad was already mad enough at you. You didn’t need this.

“No. But I can’t imagine it’ll go well for you if you tell him. I sell to half the school, including Karen. Everyone will be pissed if I get caught.” you respond, already feeling defeated, but you keep your tone searing. You’re taller than her; hopefully it makes you intimidating enough for her to have mercy. Regina doesn’t respond right away. All she does is raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk on one side of her mouth as you watch her consider her options. She’s flawlessly gorgeous in a way that’s enviable. But you kind of need her to not take away your source of income.

“Look, I smoke behind the baseball field every day after school. I’ll give you some for free if you just keep your damn mouth shut for once.” Your voice is almost pleading now. You wish she wasn’t so dead-set on ruining your life.

Time only gets slower as Regina’s smirk begins to widen. It’s a win-win situation for her, and she knows it.

“Fine. But you better not try to kiss me or anything.” she says slowly, spitting out the words like they’re poisonous.

You feel the relief pool in your stomach as soon as you hear those words. It must be obvious by the look on your face, because Regina laughs at you. She has that angry, disgusted sort of look in her eyes that you can’t quite figure out the reason for. It’s a shame because she’s so beautiful. Your body takes multiple seconds to keep up with your thoughts until a question crosses your mind.

“Did you follow me?” you ask, your voice a little too loud as you see her head turn back around.

“Obviously. I knew you weren’t sneaking off to do anything good,” she shoots back, the repugnant expression back on her face. She curls her lip at you before stalking off back to the track field, blonde hair flowing behind her.

How the hell did she even see you leave? Maybe you weren’t the only one paying attention to what the other was doing after your fight with her. But, why? Did she seriously think you were going to try and swing at her on your first day back?

You guess you’ll find out at 3:00P.M. behind the baseball field.

[i-cant-sing]

Just thinking about Yandere Todoroki clan and reader's random moments.

Reader coming home after a particularly bad day, but poor girl cant even cry or complain without everyone immediately overreacting and pulling you out of school/college or even keeping you from going out at all. So now, reader has to either cry in self pity before she enters her home, wipe her tears and fix herself just enough to show that she hadnt just bawled her eyes out moments ago. That, or do the more risky thing and go home, go to your room and cry under the covers, but then theres always the chance of Rei or the others walking in on you any moment.

Also thinking about baby/toddler reader being sick, just a common cold or flu, nothing major. But with reader whining and being so young, the family's infantalisation goes through the roof and theyd treat you as if you were immunocompromised. I wont lie, but I think Rei is almost kinda... glad when you get sick? She enjoys you being dependant on her for the most things, even when you grow up and are able to handle a cold, she still deludes herself into thinking that you need mommy to come and help you.

I think the one person who is most affected by reader getting sick, no matter what age, is Enji. The man just cant help but view you as a fragile, starving Victorian child the moment you fall ill. In his eyes, even a harsh blow of air is too much for a fragile thing like you, let alone something as bad as the flu. He just- he's holding toddler reader in his arms, who snuggles into his warm body, your tiny nose pink and he cant get the image of you crying and vomiting and being oh so feverish- thats just way too much for your small body. Oh how he almost cried when he took you to the doctor for a shot and you clung to him, trying to bury yourself into him as you begged him to make you feel better, cried to him that you didnt want to get the "big scary needle!" He just had to hold you there in his firm grip as you writhed, had to look away when you looked at him and he saw the feeling of betrayal in your eyes, had to keep himself from not strangling the fucking doctor for not being careful, had to walk out of the clinic and hand you to Rei because he couldnt hear you cry anymore, had to have Rei console both you and Enji (assuring him that "no, Enji. Y/n doesnt resent you for making her get a shot.") and he couldnt even sleep a wink that night because he was standing by your bed, holding your tiny hand with his pinky as a tear finally slipped out of his eye.

ALSO thinking about adult reader going out of the house to meet up with friends, except shes meeting up with them at a club instead of at their house like she told Enji and Rei, and now shes standing outside, abandoned by said friends, and shes now running because a group of pervy men are chasing her and she doesnt know who to call, so she just speed dials Shotou, except someone just changed all your speed dials to one number, and you think youre doomed when Shotou doesnt say a word to you and just hangs up when within minutes, someone comes in front of you-

"Dabi?" He tells you to cover your ears and look away, and you know well by know what that means, so you obey, feeling a bit regretful as those men begin to scream in agony. You dont know how long its been until Dabi pulls your hands away and examines your wounds. He lets you crash into his chest as you sob, and this time, Dabi simply decides to take you home quietly without a lecture.

Hmmm, also thinking about Natsuo who is usually cool as a cucumber, the most normal being in the family, except for his very rare episodes of unbridled rage where he suddenly becomes the Hulk. Good thing for you is that this anger is never directed towards you, rather towards people who actively threaten your life (except Rei cause she gets to play "Im your mom who became mentally unstable because of your abusive dad") The only time NAtsuo is stern with you is when it comes to your health. He's just looking at you with those strict eyes when you refuse to take your multivitamins, or dont want to get a flu shot, or try to make up an excuse so that he cant check your vitals. And when he just grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit down so that he can do his checkup, its in those moments that you realise just how strong your brother is... and how easy it may be for him to overpower you and sedate you if he ever followed through Rei's threats.

[bunniesanddeer]

Heat: Part One

Part Two

This was my first attempt at smut, so you will all get to see it now. I hope you'll like it. I originally posted it on AO3. If it is terrible, I apologize. This is also set in the same universe as "Bound to Hell" and "Going Straight to Hell", but it is NOT canon to the official multichapter fic which will be posted when it is half done. So it is the same characters, with a much more developed relationship.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: References to abuse, going into heat, no a/b/o, female anatomy, Rosie being a good friend, references to Soul Bonds, something you can ask about haha. Minors DNI. This part is not explicit, but the next is! Alastor speaks French.

Word Count: 3,690

Alastor knew something was wrong very early on. He hadn’t been able to identify what it was specifically, but it had been unsettling. His shadow had quaked and quivered at something he couldn’t see, and his skin had felt tight. When he had left his room, the sound of crickets in the swamp fading behind him, the feeling had grown worse. It had made the Overlord not quite jumpy, but definitely uncomfortable. Then he saw the cause, stumbling from their room.

His little lamb that was slowly carving out a spot for themself in his cold, dead heart, was the cause. Their wool was disheveled, nearly matted. Their eyelids were drooping low, as if they hadn’t slept. He watched them stumble for a bit before he caught their scent. Due to their bond, and proximity, he was quite attuned to their scent. Normally, they were faintly sweet with a hint of florals, but now? All he could focus on was the deep, heady smell of them. Alastor wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was clearly drastic.

“My dear,” he called. The sound of his voice had made the little demon perk up. They whipped around, and nearly sprinted to his side. They were often enthusiastic to see him in the morning, but this was new. 

“Alastor!” Their voice was filled with joy, their eyes full of unwarranted excitement. The exhaustion that had painted their face only a moment before, was gone. Their hands wrapped around his lower arm, and they nuzzled into his side. They cooed, “I missed you.”

Alastor’s brows furrowed. How very peculiar! His little lamb never initiated contact without asking first. He didn’t mind their touch, it was rather pleasing. He enjoyed the softness of their skin, and the gentleness of their hands. They still liked to ask, though, some strange need to make him feel comfortable. (He thought it was unnecessary, he was an Overlord, and he owned their soul; if he wanted them off, they’d be off of him). Not to forget, they had ‘missed’ him? The two had been separated a handful of hours at most. What was going on?

“My dearest, are you feeling alright,” he asked, lifting their chin with his other hand. “You seem a little out of sorts.”

Their eyes wavered, and the exhaustion leeched back into them. The grasp they had on his arm tightened. “I’m sorry, Al. I feel really weird.” Their eyelids fluttered, and they released a strangled breath. “I feel like I’m burning up. Which is weird, it’s winter still.” 

Alastor could feel his smile wavering. He hadn’t heard of sinners getting fevers for anything other than strange illnesses. No one else in the hotel was sick, so how could they have contracted anything? He looked them up and down, noting the flush to their cheeks, and the sweat building up on the back of their neck. They were sick. 

“Hey, can… can demons get colds?” They asked, almost as if it was a joke. Before Alastor could muster a response, they collapsed. He deftly caught them, his surprise showing on his face. 

“Oh, dear,” he muttered to himself. Who would know about these kinds of things? Perhaps Charlie? But she was supposed to be rather busy that day. Perhaps Rosie would know! She had been in Hell for quite a long time. She was bound to know something. 

Alastor arranged his little soul-bond in his arms, and stalked back to their room. Their room was full of that smell that had thrown him off just before. It made his skin tingle, and his head feel full. He couldn’t account for it, but it wasn’t something he disliked. The discomfort came from the confusion that was growing in his breast. What a strange sensation!

Alastor wrapped them up in their blankets, hoping that perhaps getting warmer would help their fever. Before he stepped away from their bedside, he stroked their cheek with the back of his fingers. How soft their skin was! He stared down at their little face, taking in every detail. The white freckles that looked like stars against their gray skin, the way their lashes fluttered in their sleep. Their plush lips, just barely open, and the sharp teeth he knew lay behind them. His chest tightened, something aching deeply, as he looked at them. His smile tightened. Alastor decided it was time to go. 

On the way out of the hotel, he called for Husker. The cat-demon was clearly disgruntled at being called on earlier than he’d prefer, but Alastor didn’t care. 

“My little lamb seems to be sick. They’re in bed right now. If they don’t stir before noon, wake them up and make them eat something.” Alastor let the underlying threat color his words. He wouldn’t have their situation get worse just because Husker wanted to be lazy. They would eat, before he got back, and then he would help them get better. But first, he needed to know what was wrong.

“Alastor! My good friend! What brings you in on such a fine day!” Rosie’s fervor was nearly infectious, but Alastor had a mission. The feather on her hat bobbed as she tilted her head in question.

“Ah, I seem to have a problem,” Alastor replied. “Do you mind if we perhaps have a conversation in a less, public space?”

The deer-demon glanced about, as if to remind her of their location. Rosie nodded, still smiling happily. She gestured with a flick of her wrist, and led the way to the back of her store. 

When the two had finally settled into their seats, Alastor sighed. Rosie went about pouring some tea for them as he worked on his words. He conjured his microphone, idly tapping it. Something heavy weighed in his chest, and the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Oh Alastor! You know you’re my favorite pal! Just tell me what’s on your mind. You look all twisted up!” Rosie sat back in her chair, sipping from a teacup that she held delicately. Her smile was welcoming and patient, and it soothed Alastor minutely. 

He was thankful for her breaking the silence, as it forced him to finally speak. “Do you know what might cause a sinner to get sick? Even if they have not been exposed to anything?” 

Rosie hummed to herself, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “Oh, this is about your little paramour, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s smile twitched, faintly. Of course! Rosie would be able to tell immediately. She was intelligent, and she was better at reading people than even himself. Not to mention, the two of them had been friends a long time. She could read him like an open book. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “They seem to be sick, and I don’t know what it could be. I’ve never seen nor experienced such a thing, here.” His claws tap at the armrest of the plush chair, as he props his chin up with the other hand. “They looked positively dreadful this morning! Claiming that they felt hot, despite the cold.” 

Rosie set down her teacup, letting a hand cover her smile as she laughed. “Oh dear! That is quite something.” She laughed again when Alastor let his annoyance show. “They’re a sheep, are they not?” 

Alastor nodded, not quite knowing what that aspect of his little soul-bond had to do with it. 

“And they are female, yes?” Alastor nodded again, his confusion growing. “Oh dear. You said some time ago that they had reciprocated the soul-bond, yes? And they’ve been down here for several months now.”

Rosie trailed off, as if expecting him to suddenly understand what she was implying. Alastor couldn’t think of how any of that had made them sick. Rosie picked up on how deeply confused he was, and sighed.

“My, my. You really don’t know about how demon manifestations work, beyond what pertains to yourself, do you?” Rosie waved a hand. “As you know, the form we take in death often have something to do with our life. The way we died, the way we lived, all of it contributes in one way or another. Lambs, sheep, whatever you want to call them, tended to have harder lives where they had no control. Often dealing in their bodily autonomy, or lack thereof.”

Alastor’s smile shrunk. Well of course, he had known what their life had been, but seeing that their new form was a reminder of that, each day? It made him uncomfortable. He hoped that his little lamb didn’t know why they were a lamb. 

“Yes, I see that you have connected some of the dots. They’re lambs to the slaughter, all of them in one way or another. Their forms, because it’s Hell, often come with some terrible side effects that don’t show for a while. Their stress needs to level out, and they need to feel comfortable with the demons they are frequently near.” Rosie raises her brows, waiting for him to get it, but he doesn’t. “When they’ve settled, and they’re around demons they like, or they bond, the side effects kick in. Your little lamb, is experiencing that now.”

“So, they will get sick, because they’re comfortable?” Alastor feels mildly bamboozled, as he tries to clarify.

“Alastor, no,” Rosie sighs. She rubs her forehead, carefully avoiding cutting herself with her claws. “They’re in heat.”

Alastor shifts in his seat, that uncomfortable feeling tingling in his brain again. “Heat? Like, like an animal?”

“Yes, like a ewe, Alastor. They will seem sick, for about a day, then they will be clingy with you for the next, and then it will happen.” Rosie leans back in her chair, again. Unlike Alastor, she seemed entirely comfortable with the topic of discussion. “They will have the strongest drive for sex that they will have ever experienced. Going without is said to hurt terribly, like their whole body is on fire. They’ll seek out comfort in you, or by themself. Whatever quells the urge.”

Alastor felt like he had been shot. Never in all his years, alive or dead, had he heard of such a thing occurring. How tedious! How disgusting. His nose scrunched up at the thought of having to deal with such a thing himself, but the thought of his lamb… Heat rushed down his chest and into the pit of his belly. His skin was itching. The thought of his soul-bonded needing him in such a way… Alastor could not tell himself that he disliked such an idea.

He was deeply aware of how much he had grown to care for them. When he had finally relinquished some control in their relationship, offering to tie their little string tight on his end, he knew it was cemented. Alastor had a bizarre, and new, kind of love for the sweet thing he had made a deal with. They were his, and for the first, and only time, he could say, he was also theirs. He still owned their soul, but it was different. Their relationship had shifted over time. There were no more orders, and there was no more fear. His little lamb had grown comfortable, happy even, and this ‘heat’ was the proof.

Something akin to pride ignited in his chest. Yes, they were happy with him. What a delightful thing to know for sure! 

“What should I do? I am not ready for anything of that nature, and I don’t want to risk them. They have had far too many choices taken from them,” Alastor says. His hands clasp together as he gives Rosie a moment to think. He didn’t want them forced into such an awful thing again. The realization that their experiences in life had caused this…anger was a word that barely described his feelings on the matter. He wanted to tear whatever being was in charge of such transformations into pieces. 

“They will need something, at some level. Tomorrow, bring it up to them, ask. Let them know everything you know, and give them a choice. They can try and ride it out alone, or you can be beside them. How you handle it beyond that is between the two of you.” Rosie stands, a gentle smile on her face. “You should get going, my friend. You should get back to them. You’ll want to feed them well over these two days. They’ll need the energy, no matter what happens.”

Alastor stands, thanking her, almost absentmindedly. His trip back to the hotel is spent in silent pondering. He needed to plan. He wasn’t sure if sex was something he desired for himself, but he knew, deep down, he would do it for them; he’d give them that pleasure, that joy. Alastor could also feel something possessive growing. The idea of anyone else getting to commit themselves to such a task made him grit his teeth. No, if anyone was going to touch the sheep-demon, it would be him. 

Angry flames licked at the bottom of his belly, something in his thoughts igniting them. They were his, and his alone. He would be the one to drive them to pleasure. (He ignored the memory of Richard and his deeds. None of that changed anything about what they deserved. It just meant that he needed to more carefully heed their wants and needs. He would give them the bliss that no other had). 

Alastor smiled widely when he returned to the hotel. Now he needed to sit by their side for the night, and then speak with them tomorrow. Perhaps a quick discussion with the others as well? The two of them would not be available for the next few days, and he needed to make sure they would remain undisturbed. Perhaps a different location would be ideal.

When you woke, all you could focus on was the smell of food. Alastor was a very good cook, and you knew from the lovely smell of spices, that it had to have been his food. When you finally cracked your eyes open, you were delighted to find yourself right. The demon was sitting on the edge of your bed, a steaming bowl cupped in one of his hands.

“Good morning, dearest,” he said. There was something akin to apprehension on his face, but you were far too hungry to immediately comment on it. “I figured you would be quite hungry, when you awoke, so I took the liberty of making you something hardy.”

You smiled widely in thanks. How sweet he could be to you! It was new, in your relationship, but you loved it. You held out your hands, thanking him as you did, but he didn’t hand you the bowl. Alastor merely gestured for you to sit up, and scoot back. You did so, hesitantly, your back settling against your headboard. You held out your hands again, but he settled himself close to you on the bed. With his legs swung over the side, he started spooning the stew.

“No, hey, wait a minute! I can feed myself!” You glared at him, confusion and a tinge of anger mixing together. 

Alastor sighed, affection leaking into his words. “I know, my love, but I need to tell you something quite…hmm, difficult might be the best word here. I want you to just listen, and focus on eating. Plus, I just love taking care of you.” One of his hands edges towards your face, claws softly stroking your cheek. He pulls it back, and spoons some more stew. “You can ask questions when I am done, but for now, eat.”

You grumble to yourself before opening your mouth to accept the spoon. Although you were loath to admit it, the stew tasted great, and him feeding you only felt slightly patronizing. 

“Do you recall how you felt yesterday? You said you felt like you were burning up. Well, when you fainted, I went to find out what could be the cause. I went to my good friend Rosie, you remember her?” He lets you nod before feeding you another spoonful. “I came to the conclusion that she would know enough about Hell, to know what was causing your sudden illness. 

“So I described it vaguely, and she realized I was talking about you, dearest. And she said some things that upset me, more than I had been willing to admit at the time.” Alastor sighs, static, that seemed ever present in his voice, fizzling out. The room was quiet for a moment as he let you swallow your food. “The way we manifest in Hell, has to do with the way we lived, and died. The things we experienced. I know you know some of this, but I also found out something more specific about your form.”

Alastor goes quiet, and you frown. Whatever could he have learned to cause the demon that never stops talking to go quiet? 

“Sheep demons are often the result of lives lived that had very little control over themselves or their situation. You are a sheep, because you had such little bodily autonomy in your life, my love.” He feeds you another spoonful as your eyes widen. He snorts to himself. “It made me so incredibly angry, to have that confirmed to me. It only got worse when she finally told me why that had anything to do with your illness.

“You aren’t sick. You are experiencing a ‘heat’, as she called it. It’s a side effect of being a sheep, or more specifically a female, sheep demon. It occurs when the individual has been comfortable with the demons in their vicinity and stress-free for a time. Soul-bonds can trigger this too.” 

Your brows scrunched up, and you swallowed the food before you had finished chewing. It hurt your throat, but the urge to grimace was too strong. How fucking terrible. It felt like you couldn’t escape anything from your life. Your eyes drifted to the wall. You couldn’t even make eye contact with Alastor. His gaze felt heavy on you, and all you wanted to do was hide. 

“I’m sorry, dearest. You need to know what ‘heats’ are, though. Then we can talk about what you would like to do about it.” Alastor sets the bowl down on your bedside table, taking the hint that you couldn’t eat right then. One of his hands tugs at yours, large claws wrapping around your whole hand easily. “Yesterday, the fever and the exhaustion, was the first day. The second, which is today, it’s common for the affected individual to be clingy, especially with a bonded pair.” His thumb stroked the back of your wrist, as he continued. “Tomorrow, the actual ‘heat’ occurs. You will be driven to-” 

Alastor cuts himself off with a cough, and it draws your gaze. “Sorry, my dear. I’ll continue. You will want to have sex. The desire will become a need, and it will consume you. I have been told that it can hurt, to go without, but that it is possible to handle alone. This is what I would like to talk to you about.”

Your nose twitches, and your lips quiver. Of course, this would be thrust on you. How could you deal with this? The idea of sex still unsettled you. However, he mentioned that it could be handled alone. Did he mean masturbation? Would something other than penetration work? Your thoughts whorled in your head, when one stuck to the forefront. 

The image of Alastor holding you tightly to his chest, hand cupping your navel and exploring lower, made your brain halt. The thought of his fingers rubbing at your clit, and his wonderful voice whispering in your ear. Him touching you gently, talking you through the whole ordeal, and bringing you to orgasm, lit up your mind. You suddenly wanted it more than anything. You didn’t need penetration from him, but you so desperately wanted to be touched.

Your cheeks flushed, and fluttering erupted beneath your navel. Alastor’s eyebrows raised as he took in your appearance. You were so glad that he couldn’t read your thoughts. How embarrassing, especially because he wasn’t the biggest fan of being touched.

The heat subsided as you remembered that detail. That would complicate things. The idea of being left alone, right now, made you want to cry. You hoped he didn’t want you to handle it by yourself. If all he could do was be in the same room, you would take it over being alone. 

“I know that neither of us are at the point where…sexual intercourse would be the best action. However, I don’t want you to deal with it alone. As new as this will be for me, I would like to be there for you. To help you with it, if you so desire.” Alastor leans in towards you, one of his hands cupping your face. “I would bring you pleasure, and help this ‘heat’ end for you, my love.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, letting his breath fan across your face as you think. You want him with you, badly. 

Alastor chuckles, making you look at him. “I can do that, my dear.”

Oh. You had spoken out loud. (Your brain feels like it's melting. It feels hard to think, but you push through). Your cheeks flush again. 

“Please, stay with me. I don’t want sex, but I would like your help, if you would give it to me.” Your eyes shift off of his face, shame curdling in your stomach. “I don’t know how to help myself very well, as it is. I would like to learn, with you, if I could.”

Alastor suddenly grabs both sides of your face, his own getting closer. “Look at me, my little lamb. You are deserving of such pleasures, and I would gladly help you. We can learn together, dearest. We can stop if you are ever uncomfortable, I swear it. I would never take advantage of such a situation.”

You smile at him. “Same for you, Al. If you don’t wanna touch me, or vice versa, just let me know. I can figure something out.”

Alastor’s smile softens, and his pupils expand. “Oh, love, worry not. The desire to touch you in such a way has been growing, and the thought has been stuck in my head all night.” His thumbs rub your cheeks, gentler than you had ever felt him be.

Your chest aches, and the sudden need to cry grows within you. You love this strange demon, despite everything that had happened in the last months. He was growing to be so good to you, and it made your heart hurt. 

“Can I kiss you,” you ask, your volume barely above a whisper. 

Alastor answers by molding his lips to yours. His skin is cool to the touch, but compared to the fire you were bathed in the day before, it was Heaven. One of his hands clutched the back of your head, brushing by your sensitive ears. A sound breaks free from your throat, and it makes him press into you harder. You clutch at his suit jacket, your lungs starting to burn. Before you can grow lightheaded, (although you definitely were from just kissing him, just not suffocating), he pulled back from you. 

“That was splendid, ma chéri.” His voice dips lower, his fake radio accent slipping. 

You bask in his presence, as you think over what tomorrow will entail. Although he feeds you a few more times that day, and you talk more about how you feel about it, nothing could prepare you for the full force of the ‘heat’. When he transports you to a room that you haven’t been before, you let your curiosity numb your anxiety. Worrying about it wouldn’t help you, anyway.

My asks are open! Feel free to make a request or reach out to say hi! :)

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day ???

Summary: Illumi wants to get reacquainted with you after you escaped from him

Word Count: 3.9k

AN: Can we pretend it didn't take me half a year to finish this pls. This is also the last installment for Transactional, anything I write for Illumi in the future will be unrelated

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is not very nice, reader gets strangled

Day One Day Two + Three Day Four + Five

The cool night air felt nice against your skin. You take a deep breath, looking down at your feet as you continue walking. The song of the crickets was barely audible against the sound of honking cars and other city noises. You pull your jacket tighter against yourself to ease the faint anxiety that always ate away at you. 

You were returning to the motel you currently stayed at after finishing your last shift at your part-time job. Your job was nondescript, just like your disguise; an under-the-table job at a diner. It was perfect for a runaway such as you as it didn’t require IDs and paid in cash. You were offered the job by a sweet older woman you’d become friends with, her kindness extended as she had also given you a phone free of charge. It was an old model, but you were ecstatic nonetheless.

You felt stable as a pattern in your daily life began to form without unbearable dread scaring you into hopping onto the next bus and fleeing to another city. You hadn’t thought about his name quite as much but it never truly left your mind. The anxiety coupled with expectations of his long, sharp claws snatching you away at any moment slowly dissipated each time it failed to happen. 

You have learned to live again.

You were no longer going hungry for days at a time, stealing food and water just to evade starvation. You were no longer forced to sleep outside if you even could sleep, worried you were too exposed and he’d come to scoop you up in any minute. You no longer had to wear the same clothes for days on end, the rainwater being the only thing rinsing them and making them somewhat clean again.

Finding a serious buyer for the wedding ring he had given you was awfully difficult, from scammers who lied and told you it was a fake ring to almost getting robbed a few times. It was a good thing he told you how much it was worth that one time, casually spilling that he had spent one-hundred fifty-five million yen on it. As much as you wanted all of that cash, you had to settle with one million as you were becoming desperate and needed the funds to take care of yourself. 

After you were able to secure the money, you immediately got yourself a cheap motel room, some food, and some new clothes, using the rest of it to fund your travels. You never stayed at motels for long, making sure to stay on the road and get as far away from that evil man as you could. You honestly thought your escape would be fruitless, that he’d find and kill you almost immediately, but as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you wondered if he was even looking for you. Sure, you had drastically changed your appearance, but you were certain he wouldn’t need to look so hard to know it was you. 

To this day, you still wonder if you actually escaped or if he had willingly let you go. 

After weeks of begging and feigning passionate favors, you found yourself on yet another date with him — your last date with him. He had taken it upon himself to take you out whenever he felt you’d earned it, the requirements for earning it always seeming to change based on his mood. 

You felt like some kind of stress reliever, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

At least he hadn’t hurt you in a long while, or rather “disciplined” as he liked to call it. It was probably because you weren’t challenging his delusions anymore, allowing him to convince himself and others that you two were a normal, happy couple. He even began to trust you a bit, initially allowing you time out in the garden under Shiori’s supervision before allowing you to explore freely.

His family had warmed up to you as he’d said. Not in the sense that you all hung out and drank tea together, but rather in the sense that they either ignored you or treated you like you were a pet. They rarely ever refer to you by name if at all. Kikyo especially as she took it upon herself to “teach” you how to better serve her son. Her teachings were always mentally draining.

Kalluto was the most bearable Zoldyck. He wasn’t intimidating, overwhelmingly at least, he never said a word, and he never made any effort to hurt you. He only seemed curious at your existence, like you were some brand new undiscovered species. As long as he kept his distance when watching you, you had no issues with him.

Silva seemed to view you as a spectacle but never looked at you for more than a few seconds, Zeno even less. That was a guess, however, as you were too afraid to look either of them in the eye. They were aware of that and seemed to respect you since they avoided you as much as you avoided them, even if it was more so to preserve their eminence.

You hadn’t seen Milluki since the dinner, only hearing news of him from eavesdropping, and you thankfully hadn’t been forced to go back to the Zoldyck mansion for another agonizing family meal either. Shiori wasn’t as active in her role as your assigned butler, but your captor had been in his role as your “husband”. You got that skylight you wanted though it was at the price of your dignity. 

You shake your head before rubbing your temples, not wanting to let your mind wander to something that was long in the past. Picking your head back up, your speed quickens, carrying you inside the near-empty motel lobby and into the elevator. 

Your phone buzzes.

You fumble around in your pocket for it, pulling it out and tapping the message notification from your boss. It read: 

“I appreciate your hard work today. Your paycheck should come in tomorrow.”

The elevator shudders as it ascends, but your eyes remain fixed on your phone’s screen, the three little dots implying she had something more to say. 

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know that I’m here if you ever need anything or need to talk to someone.”

You had never told anyone you’d stumbled across the truth about your situation, afraid they’d be endangered if that man found out about it. You didn’t need to, however, as your anxieties were written on your face clear as day despite your best efforts. 

You clutch the phone in your hands. This was all so unfair. You hold the very object that would allow you to communicate with your family, to call for help, but you’re unable to do so, his past threats towards your family a constant reminder every time you thought about calling them. 

You refuse to put anyone else in danger. 

The elevator dings as its doors open, revealing a dimly lit corridor before you. You slowly begin walking, your phone still open on your boss’ text message as you’re unsure of what to say. You desperately want someone to confide in, someone to tell your traumatizing story to, but you won’t do it at the cost of their life. Your thumb squeezes the power button, shutting the phone off and leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

As you reach the corner you must turn down to get to your room, you stop. It’s eerily silent. Your head hurts. You feel sick. 

Your phone buzzes again, echoing within the empty halls. 

“Maybe we can sit down and chat before you leave tomorrow if you’re comfortable?”

You continue and turn the corner, looking down at the text before turning the phone off once again and slipping it into your pocket, chalking up your sudden nausea to your recent thoughts about him.

You stop. Your room is at the end of the hall, you stand mere feet away from completing your recent daily routine and yet you’re unable to get yourself to move like you had many times before. 

It was simple: wake up, go to work, go “home”, go to sleep, rinse, repeat. However, your daily pattern never featured a strange man standing still as a statue right by your motel room door.

Your expression is almost as blank as his, you’re unable to react. You stare at him as he does at you, neither of you saying a word. His jaw ever so slightly clenched, his pointer finger twitching, his eyes unblinking. 

This headache will kill you before he does.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice an unfortunate familiarity. His tone is calm as always. Slowly, he inspects you from his spot, not commenting on your failure to greet him as he had “taught” you while he takes in your disguise. He hums to himself, quiet yet audible enough for you to hear. “I’m not a fan of the new look.”

His words were blunt, his eyes meeting your gaze once more. “You disappeared for a while.” He pauses momentarily and allows the tension to build as his stare remains fixated on you. “I thought someone else had gotten to you first.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Your mouth feels dry yet you swallow hard, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as you’re face-to-face with the one person you never wanted to see again: Illumi Zoldyck.

He’s angry, he has to be.

He was interfering with your plans. You were supposed to pack up and leave the motel tomorrow in search of another hiding spot to avoid this very event. How did he even find you after all this time? Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities. You know you didn’t leave any traces because you couldn’t leave any, all products were purchased in cash or discretely stolen, your face covered and head low at all times, and you never stayed in one spot for too long until recently. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable? Unable to think logically, you slowly put your hands up in a defensive position, your body shifting as you take a step back.

“Don’t move.” He reaches out toward you — the space suddenly feels colder. Your body freezes as instructed despite the possibility of your freedom or even your life coming to an end. “You’ve run enough. Come here.”

You stay still, afraid to move let alone bridge the gap between the two of you. Illumi is static, still standing in his position with his arm outstretched to you. You’re like a deer in headlights, your face expressing nothing but pure terror to the man before you. Maybe you’ll turn invisible if you remain still enough…

“I won’t be so forgiving if I have to come to you,” Illumi threatens, a slight frown on his face.

What’s the difference if he’s going to torture and kill you either way? Wouldn’t it be better for him to be rough so you could die faster?

“Come here,” Illumi repeats once more, a much more commanding tone in his voice. You were in no position to test his patience. 

Tears begin stinging your eyes as reality sinks in even further, your heart burying itself into your stomach. With shaky legs, you take a slow step toward him. Your eyes dart from door to door hoping that if you stalled long enough, someone would come out and discover the two of you. Normally you wouldn’t wish anyone the misfortune of stumbling across Illumi, but your morals seem to dissipate now that you are being confronted. 

Illumi remains silent as you cautiously approach him, your eyes wide and your steps hesitant. Your fear grows stronger the closer you get to him. You flinch when he lowers his arm, your mind convinced that every movement he made was malicious. 

“You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?” Illumi asks sarcastically, the sarcasm in his voice is barely noticeable and the question almost seems legit. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, though that was your plan from the beginning.” 

He holds his hand out to you, the unspoken command for you to take it obvious. You hesitate, however, as past incidents of him crushing your hand as punishment resurface in your mind.  He’ll start by breaking your hands before breaking your legs and then finally breaking your neck, leaving you crumpled and gasping for air in the motel’s hallway. 

For a long moment, you didn’t move. “Give me your hand.” Illumi verbalized his command as his patience was running out. 

You’re visibly shaking, the tears in your eyes now overflowing. Slowly, you bring your trembling hand forth, cringing a few times as you envision yourself putting it in the mouth of a metal shredder. With your fate unavoidable, you place your hand in his, eyes shut tightly and head lowered as you mentally prepare for what’s to come. 

Silently, he takes hold of it with his other hand, pulling you closer to him. Illumi took note of your every reaction. The recoiling at his sudden movements, the shivering when his hand rubbed against yours, and, of course, your blatant anticipation of what he’ll do next.

His eyes move from your face to your fingers — narrowing slightly as the object he was looking for seems to be missing. He underestimated just how reckless you were, though the thought of you doing what he secretly dreaded was always possible.

He’s quiet, attention focused on your ring finger as if trying to manifest the symbol of your bond with him out of thin air. His anger was palpable. 

“Hm… you sold it,” he states, tone flat and expression unreadable. “How much?”

Your hand trembles, his itching to squeeze with intent to crush. You grumble your answer, voice timid as your eyes look off to the side. Before you could even react, his hand springs forth and grabs your jaw in a vice-like grip — his hold is dangerously close to your neck. Illumi forces your head up, his gaze meeting yours. 

He doesn’t say anything, only holding you in this unfortunate position. You let out a deep breath through your nose, your eyes shutting as you repeat yourself in a louder tone, “O-One million yen.”

Illumi abruptly releases his hold as if disgusted with you, his actions a stark contrast to your prediction of him immediately ripping your head off. He mentally repeats the number, his internal resentment battling over which to be more furious over: you being stupid enough to sell your binding to him, especially for such a low amount, and then using the cash to run away from him, or you being stupid enough to even think about selling your binding to him at all?

Ultimately, he chose both. 

Quietly, Illumi reaches into his pocket, eyes still trained on you as he retrieves the motel’s master key. He then turns to swiftly unlock your room’s door, stepping back and gesturing for you to head inside.

You don’t move, and the itch to run becomes more tempting. Seeing your hesitation, Illumi takes it upon himself to guide you inside, placing a hand on your lower back and practically shoving you into the room. Once the both of you are inside, he shuts and locks the door behind him with clear finality, watching as you back away and clumsily stumble onto the bed.

He doesn’t turn the lights on, the only light being from the moon’s glow through the window. He steadily moves toward you before stopping just shy of the window, the moonlight partially illuminating his features. He seemed less controlled, almost giving you a death stare in his own way. 

“Go on,” he says, a noticeable edge to his voice. His request was open-ended, its implication meaning anything. He wanted to see just how stupid you were. 

You scratch your head and think of thousands of ways to die at that very moment. If you’d gotten a gun from a shady seller, you could’ve made your unplanned interaction with Illumi short and messy — if you were even able to grab it. Maybe if you piss him off enough he’d deem you unworthy and side with his inner instincts, wasting no more time and snuffing the life out of you efficiently.

“You’re…” you start, ”You’re suffocating me. I just want to live.” Your arms wrap around you as you seek comfort in this unfortunate predicament. 

Illumi takes his time processing your weak excuse, the weight of his scrutiny becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. He tilts his head, “You think you can live without me?”

“I can and I did for several months!” Your voice no longer felt weak. You shut your eyes as your deep-seated disdain for him builds even further within you — your mind no longer concerned about the possible repercussions. What more did you have to lose anyway?

“You weren’t living, you were surviving.” Illumi straightens his head. He allows time for his words to sink in as he takes in the sight of you again, his eyes flicking over your cheap hoodie, worn-out shoes, and tired, yet angry eyes. “The streets hadn’t been very good to you, I see.” His eyes move to make contact with yours. “You look a mess.”

“You’ve made me look worse!” You grit your teeth. Without thinking, all your pent-up anger was released at that very moment — the worst moment. “You’ve taken everything from me and you treat me like shit! You don’t know what love is! You’re horrible and I hate you!”

At that, he moved. The air around you shifted — a menacing, yet familiar energy you realized you hadn’t felt until now. You’ve provoked him, that much evident from the visible frown on his face and a slight furrowing of his brow.

“You talk too much.” He closes the distance between you and shoves you down onto the bed. Your breath hitches, your hands up defensively as you prepare to fight a battle you know you won’t win. 

His movements are deliberately slow as if the anticipation was intended to be its own form of punishment. You go to move backward, to relieve yourself — even momentarily — of his overwhelming presence, but he pushes you down again. The bed dips under his weight, his hands moving ever so slowly towards your neck. Knowing this wasn’t a bluff, you grab his wrists and try in vain to push them away.

You’re too weak. 

“You’re in no position to speak to me in such a manner. Here, I’ll show you.” His hands grip your neck with immense pressure, causing you to gasp and claw at his wrists. 

Illumi remains reasonably calm, externally at least, as he watches you struggle beneath him. “(Name),” he says. His grip loosened completely which allowed you to breathe. You continued coughing as you took in deep breaths but your sense of relief was quickly snatched away as his hands squeezed again. “(Name),” he calls again.

An overwhelming sense of dread embodies you as you realize that he is actually going to kill you. You’re unable to deny your survival instincts forcing you to fight back despite a smaller part of you reasoning that this was the happy ending you so desperately wanted. 

Illumi’s grip loosens once more, his gaze softens watching you spring back to life and greedily suck in oxygen. He relished in the control he lacked over you for so long. He wants something from you and you know that.

“I’m… sorry!” you manage to force out between breaths. You’re crying hysterically now, apologizing again and again as you don’t wish for your final moments to be as humiliating as this. 

“For what? What did you do this time, (Name)?” Illumi asks calmly, his fingers digging into your neck the more you try to pry them off. 

You hesitate despite the situation. You’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for a damn thing. Your lungs are burning though so you have no choice. “I’m… sorry for… run-running away…”

Illumi hums, his black eyes boring into you. “Running away wasn’t your only offense. What else have you done?”

Your head is spinning though you’re still able to breathe somewhat. You tap his wrist, a pathetic admittance of defeat. He doesn’t let go though.

“Please… get off me,” you beg. He ignores your pleas and keeps you pinned beneath him, his thumbs ready to press down on your windpipe at any given moment.

“You haven’t admitted all your wrongdoings. You haven’t fully apologized,” he states flatly. 

“I don’t-“ 

You’re cut off as he crushes your throat, his eyes narrowing. “You do.”

You’re beginning to panic again. You’re unable to rack your brain for whatever thing you’d done to warrant such an assault. 

Illumi could feel your pulse quickening. The temptation to squeeze just a bit more until it slows to a halt is overwhelming. He’s had you at his mercy before, but he had never thought of actually going through with it. His eyes are glued to you, taking in the drooping of your eyelids, the paleness of your skin, and how your body is relaxing. Even now as you’re being rightfully punished for daring to betray him, you still manage to humanize him – forcing him to feel something he was taught to suppress. 

He hated it. 

But he hated the way he hesitated even more.

Illumi releases your throat, and you spring back to life. You have no tears left to cry, only coughs and hoarse sobs as you replenish your oxygen. It was clear to Illumi that you were simply too stupid and stubborn to be sorry, and that it would be a waste of time to continue forcing disingenuous apologies out of you. 

That’s okay. You’ll come around. 

He slides off of you and fixes his clothes as if nothing had even happened. His calm, blank expression slipped back into place as he took in your small motel room. “This is what you’ve run to.” His voice carries a hint of mockery.

There was a lack of concern for your struggling figure on the bed, only disapproval as if you were acting. Your throat ached, and your head spun. Why were you still here?

“You’ve proven you are incapable of handling any ounce of freedom given to you. You cannot be trusted to make decisions on your own. You don’t know what’s good for you… that’s why you need me.”

He returns to the bed, standing over you once more. “Get up,” he says, “it’s time to go.”

Though you knew it was coming since death failed to, your heart sank at the thought of stepping foot in that wretched place once again. You let out a strangled sob, your limbs quaking as you force yourself up. 

“We have a lot of catching up to do, (Name).” Illumi places a not-so-comforting hand on your shoulder. “We have to ensure this incident won’t happen again.”

His subtle threat confirmed the plans he had in store for you. Your body refused to move as the realization that you were back at square one sunk in, but you forced yourself onto your wobbly legs as you were only delaying what was clearly inevitable. 

He wouldn’t forgive you – you knew that – and the treatment you’d receive would be much, much worse. 

[asharasasylum]

Pretty Baby II ♡  Rafe Cameron x Step/Adopted!Sister Reader

author's note: Thank you for the love on part 1 and as promised here is part 2. Please really read the warnings with this one. warnings: Dark. Smut. Dub con. Abuse. Character death (kind of). Violence. Mentions of past Child Abuse. . Angst. Trauma responses. Obsession from both ends. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Toxic relationship!! Aged up characters. Step-cest. 18+ MDNI

People that love you shouldn't treat you like that but you don't know any better.

It was three nights later that Rafe finally decided he was in the wrong. In all those days, you had barely left your room once. You avoided all dinners and social occasions, making up some poor excuse that you were feeling sick. On the odd occasion you did have to venture downstairs, your neck was always covered. 

You had been extra quiet as you ventured to the kitchen at night, just wanting to catch a bit of fresh air and a glass of water. 

When he found you that night, you hadn’t even heard him creeping through the kitchen door but you had felt his presence like you always did. 

“I don’t want you here,” you told him even though it wasn’t the honest truth. 

“I know,” you heard him say behind you. “I messed up really badly, I get that.” 

He made his way closer, slipping in next to you and you did nothing to push him away. 

“Please talk to me,” he whispered, almost pleading. “I can’t stand us not talking.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you responded, feeling your cheeks already wet with tears. “You really scared me the other night, Rafe.” 

“I know, I-” He bit back on words, taking a steady breath as you finally turned to face him. His eyes dropped after a few seconds of looking at you, backing away as he shook his head. You know that he noticed it, the purple hand print that sat on your neck. “I fucked up.” 

“I can’t do this anymore, Rafe.” You had made up your mind over the last few days, you were sure of it. “It’s not fair.” The words came out on a soft cry, one that allowed you to still speak. 

And for once Rafe seemed to be listening.  

“I’ve decided I’m going back to therapy,” you tried not to choke on your words, swallowing your cries as you stared at him. “And I can’t talk to you anymore.” 

Rafe was quick to find words, almost becoming frantic at the realisation you were slipping away. “You can’t-” He shook his head, brows creasing at you. “You can’t leave me. You’re all I have.” He moved to get closer to you, tears coating his eyes as he stood in your way. “I’ll never hurt you again, I swear.” 

“It’s not just you that scared me,” you confessed to him, thinking back to the bonfire. “When I saw you with that girl.” Your stomach twisted at the thought, remembering how she touched Rafe. “You don’t get how it made me feel. I think if I saw you touch her again-” Your words felt strangled in your throat as your hands reached out to grip onto Rafe’s top. The thought crossed your mind and you felt disgust and rage wash over your body. “If I saw her touch you again.” 

“It’s okay,” he tried to soothe you but you were quick to fight him off, taking a few steps back. 

“No.” You shook your head. “I’d do something Rafe. I’d never forgive myself.” 

“I’ll never see her again, I swear.” His hand cupped your face, twisting your face up to look up at him. “You can’t leave me.” 

You tried pushing him off, but his hands moved, grabbing onto your hips to keep you from going. 

He was a mess, repeating himself over and over again. His broken voice was making it harder and harder for you to slip away. But as his grip tightened to bruising and you felt instinct take over as you shoved him away. 

“You’re hurting me,” you hissed, finally prying him off of you. 

You barely looked at him as you passed him, too fearful that you’d find yourself going back at one little look at his face. It wasn’t what you wanted, you tried to tell yourself, swearing to yourself that you’d never crawl into his bed again. 

It was only minutes later that you found yourself breaking that same promise. But instead of crawling in beside Rafe, it was him that was pushing you onto the mattress, his frame following yours. 

You weren’t exactly sure how he had managed it, not remembering the last few minutes except from those pretty three words that were falling from his lips. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, eyes wide with excitement as you stared up at him. 

“I love you,” he breathed, the words hitting your lips. 

He climbed on top of you as your frame connected with the bed, hovering his body over yours. There was something sinister in his smile as he looked down at you, enjoying the way you completely submitted to him like no other. Your wide eyes and soft pout of your lips, completely prey-like. You could tell he enjoyed you like this, his grin growing as he leaned into you.

“You love me?” 

“Yes.” 

Rafe cupped the side of your face as his nose touched yours. His breath fanned across your face, eliciting a cold shiver down your body. The smile had dropped now, instead his lips were parted slightly as he waited for you to make the next move.

“Your turn,” he whispered. 

“I love y-” 

Your words were muffled on his lips as he softly pressed them against yours, catching your mouth in a heated kiss that had your eyes slipping closed and head falling backwards. 

Rafe followed you, pushing you further down into the sheets as he pushed himself completely on top of you. He was slow in his movements, just enjoying the way your mouths moved as one. But it wasn’t long before he had himself comfortable between your legs, his own body becoming flush against yours. 

Within seconds you were needing more than just his kisses and his soft touch. The slight whine that left your lips telling him that and Rafe was more than happy to oblige. 

His hands were all over you within seconds, lips making the journey down as he started to suck and nibble against your chest. It had you breathless for him, eyes unable to stop watching the way he cherished every part of your body. His tongue made your skin wet and his hands moulded your body to his liking. 

A gasp left your lips as his fingers trailed the line of your shorts, playing with it as he pulled the cloth flush against your pussy. 

“Rafe, please,” the words fell from your lips, unable to hide your desire for him now. 

That’s all Rafe needed as his fingers tore the shorts down your legs, leaving them hanging off your ankle for you to fling off. 

It was his fingers that touched you first, dipping into your folds as he pushed the slickness around. Your thighs squirmed about, ready to close around his hand but with both hands Rafe kept them open. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Rafe chuckled, his hot breath blowing against your sensitive cunt. “I need you to keep your legs open for me, can you do that?” 

You nodded and he awarded you with a kiss to your clit. Then his fingers were back again, tracing circles against your clit with the lightest of presses to tease you. Even with your whines he didn’t pick up his pace, instead he replaced his fingers with his tongue licking against your clit slowly while his fingers reached further down. 

It was sending you into overdrive, his two fingers pushing into you slowly, massaging your walls with each thrust. He was opening you up, adding a third finger which had you moaning his name softly. This drove him to give you more, pushing his fingers in deeper and pressing them harder into you. 

Your hand reached down now, trying to grab onto anything and when Rafe noticed he placed his free hand into yours. He held onto it, allowing you to grip him as harshly as you needed to ground yourself. 

Your stomach twisted with your impending orgasm. There was an intensity with it that you had never felt before, a feeling you could never bring yourself to. With each push of his fingers and flick of his tongue, you could feel yourself getting closer to it. Before you knew it, your hips were bucking up into him and his name was falling out of your mouth in incoherent mumbles. 

The pleasure took a hold of you, hitting you in waves that Rafe wouldn’t let you escape. Even as your thighs wriggled to push him away, he kept himself buried between them, keeping you hooked against him. 

It wasn’t until Rafe knew you were finished, cunt still twitching from the onslaught it just had encountered, that he finally slowed his movements before they came to a full halt. 

Then he was on top of you again, yanking his clothes off while you caught your breath. You didn’t even have time to register that you were both bare and pressed against each other until his lips were wrapped around yours. The taste of you had you sinking into his touch further, happily wrapping your legs around his hips. 

It wasn’t until you could feel him lining himself up against you that you took a second to realise how far you were both going. It was all you ever wanted and it suddenly felt surreal as you felt his cock slide against your folds, coating it in your wetness. 

“Rafe-” 

Your words were cut off by his lips once again and eventually you forgot what you wanted to say, completely entranced by the feel of him on you.  

You gasped into his mouth when he finally slipped into your walls. Even through the slight tinge of pain, you could feel an immense amount of pleasure that had your walls sucking him back in with every slow torturous thrust. 

“You feel devine,” he groaned into your mouth, gripping onto your hips to keep himself close to you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this.” 

Once the pain faded, you started to relax and your hips started to move on their own to meet his. He was smiling against your lips at this, pushing himself in deeper to appease you even more. 

But that wasn’t enough for either of you, Rafe could tell by the whiny moans that left your lips. His hand reached to pull your legs up, pressing your ankles down to your ears. From this angle, he had you biting down screams for him as he made you feel fuller in ways you didn’t know were possible. You weren’t the only one feeling the intensity of the pleasure and you could see that with how Rafe’s eyes were completely blown out and you could hear it in his sharp inhales. 

“Rafe, it’s too much,” you let out, basically pleading for some sort of mercy. 

Your nails were digging into him as your hands gripped onto his biceps, trying to ground yourself. 

All Rafe did was chuckle at this and instead of slowing down, he went faster picking up a brutal pace that made any word from your mouth an incoherent sob. Your mind became fogged with the presence of him and all you could do was allow your walls to cling onto him in pure desperation. 

“I can feel how close you are,” Rafe said, lips pecking at your jaw. “Can you feel it, baby?” 

Your lips parted but no words came out, so all you could do was nod and bite your lip in embarrassment at how you were squeezing him so tightly. You knew you had made a mess on the couch beneath you, probably ruined the fabrics of the cushions but nothing could make you care as Rafe set his eyes on you again. It was like he was watching you like he did at the restaurant but this time the curiosity had faded and it was filled with something else. 

He was watching every noise fall from your lips, every contour of your face as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Before you know it, he’s sinking down to capture your lips with his as he curves his hips into yours. 

“I’m not letting you go after this,” he whispered into your lips. “Never-” His lips moved to your neck, pressing open mouth kisses to the bruise he had created. “-Ever. I’ve got you now.” 

You didn’t know if the words were to assure him or you and while you wanted to ask, you couldn’t bring yourself to even think about it. Not when the feeling in your stomach snapped again and your walls were fluttering around him. After that you didn’t know what was up and down, all you could do was look up at Rafe pathetically for reassurance. 

He gave you that reassurance when he began to twitch inside of you, your own orgasm sending him over the edge. Your cunt clenched around him, having him twitching inside of you as he began to shake. His head fell between the crook of your neck as he held onto you. His hips moved sloppily against you as he pumped every single drop of himself into you. 

While you knew it was bad, letting him cum inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you were feeling like this, still holding onto him to catch your breath. 

Rafe collapsed on top of you when he was finished, head resting next to yours as he kept himself buried inside of you. There were a million things you wanted to say and ask but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you just let him rest like that against you until his head moved to rest against yours. 

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look like he wanted to say anything. Instead his lips parted and pieces of his blonde hair tickled your face before his lips were on yours again. He wanted more and as you kissed him back you were willing to give him it. You didn’t care what it was, you just cared that it was him. 

You had awoken to Rafe waking you up, his hands shaking you as his voice suddenly started to make sense in your ear. 

You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light as you stirred awake. 

He seemed cold, barely looking at you as he told you to get up. 

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked, seemingly confused as you sat up in bed. 

“You need to get out,” he told you, yanking the sheets away from the both of you. “Like now.” 

“What? Why?” You questioned. 

“Dad could literally walk in at any moment,” he hissed, stepping out of the bed. 

Before you knew it your pyjamas were being thrown into your face, Rafe becoming more agitated by the second. 

“Do you need me to get you dressed or something?” 

“Are you being serious?” You couldn’t even hide your disbelief, his harsh words taking you by surprise. It shouldn’t have really because this is the Rafe you really knew. 

You followed him, snatching your clothes from the bed and climbing into them as quickly as you could. You wanted out of there, already feeling the tears sticking to your throat that you really didn’t want him to see. 

“I get your scared of Dad but fucking hell, Rafe.” 

“Last night was a mistake.” 

You spun around to face him, blinking at your wet eyes as you tried to grasp what he had just said. 

His lips were posed in a thin line and his eyes fell onto the floor, barely able to look at you.

You laughed. You actually stood there and laughed as you said, “Right.” You nodded. “Last night will be a mistake until it isn’t right. Until you can’t stand the sight of me with some other guy or daddy is mean to you and you need someone to take your anger out on.” 

He looked up then, face twisting into anger as his gaze settled on you. 

But the laughter soon died as you held in your sobs, fighting off tears. You felt pathetic as you stood there and stared at him, still hoping he would change his mind. 

Instead he just titled his head, eyes twitching as he continued to glare at you, clearly waiting for you to leave. 

“You’re sick,” you spat at him. “You’re wrong inside and no one can fix that.” 

Days turned into a whole week without even stepping foot outside of your bedroom unless it was the crack of the early morning. You couldn’t risk the night anymore, never knowing when Rafe was lurking in the shadows. 

It wasn’t like you were exactly avoiding him all together because if he really wanted to see you his door was next to yours. But you weren’t exactly wanting to be caught off guard by him either, knowing how easily you’d manage to slip at the sight of him. 

But you were sure that Rafe was avoiding you and this is the first time that he did anything like this. No phone calls, no texts, not even a quiet whisper through your bedroom door. It wasn’t like him and that worried you. 

Yet like the pathetic person you were, you lie in your bed waiting for him to call. 

Only he doesn’t come knocking but your sister does.

“Y/N,” Sarah’s voice called from the doorway.

She didn’t wait for an answer before slipping into your dark room. You felt her before you heard her again, the bed dipping under her weight as she crawled in beside you. 

“I’m worried about you,” she whispered, pressing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We’re all worried. Rose and Dad might believe you’re sick but I don’t think it’s that. Even now they’re starting to get suspicious.” 

You stirred slightly, not really sure on the right words to say but letting her know you were listening. 

“Dad wants to call the doctor and I don’t think you want that.” 

“No,” you said, twisting your body to face her. “I don’t need a doctor.” 

“I don’t want to ask because when I do you get really defensive.” Sarah’s voice croaked at this and you could tell she was worried. “But has something happened with Rafe?” 

Your whole body tensed at that, fingers reaching for the light bruise around your neck that you knew she couldn’t see. 

“You don’t have to tell me. But I do think you should start spending some more time with me.” 

You chuckled at that, smiling at her through the darkness. “I don’t want to be the annoying sister that constantly tries to hang out with you.” 

“You wouldn’t be annoying,” she instantly came to your defence. “And besides all the pogues like you. I think if you got to spend a bit more time with them, you’d like them too.” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, thinking it over in your head. 

In reality you both knew it wouldn’t happen, Rafe would rather see you dead than hanging out with Sarah and her friends. But it was a nice thought and it was nice to feel cared about by someone other than Rafe. 

“Sarah.” 

“Yes.” 

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, staring at her through the haze of darkness. 

You could see the smallest nod as she answered you. “Yeah. Of course.”  

You twisted your body round at that and Sarah got under the covers, crawling into the space beside you. 

There was something about the open water that calmed you. It gave you a sense of peace in your mind, your body too focused on fighting the tide or working with it, that you couldn’t think of anything else. 

A late afternoon swim had been just what you needed when a week turned into two weeks and Rafe had somewhat vanished from your life. 

You were driving yourself crazy, constantly thinking that if you hadn’t let him fuck you the other night that things would be still be the same. But did you really want things to stay the same. 

You found yourself fighting with these thoughts once again as soon as you climbed back onto the boat, thinking about diving right back into the open water. But you know it would be stupid. 

You didn’t expect anyone to be on the boat when you got back on but as you stepped back in, you could hear another voice. 

A female one. 

You followed it, stepping round a corner to see a pair of sandals stepping through the door. 

“Rafe,” she called out, before her  eyes landed on you. 

You recognised her from the other night, remembering those hands linking themselves around Rafe’s neck. The thought made you sick and as you stared at her plump lips, your mind could only wonder where they had also been. 

“Oh snap,” she said, noticing you drying yourself off. “Out for a late night swim.” She laughed slightly as if this was some funny joke. 

“Yeah,” you simply responded, raising a brow in her direction. 

“Rafe normally hangs out here,” she answered your unasked question, her smile fading. “I was just trying to drop by.” 

“He’s not here,” you told her with a shrug, turning away. You hoped that would be the last of it but she continued to stand there as if waiting for you to say something. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you sure he isn’t here?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at you as if she didn’t believe you. 

“Yeah,” you gave her a forced grin. “Why would I lie about my brother being here?” 

She rolled her eyes as she went to turn away, muttering something under her breath. 

You felt it then, something that was only simmering under your skin at the sight of her that was now burning as it coursed through your body. Your whole body tensed as you narrowed your gaze at her asking, “Do I know you?” 

“What?” She turned around, blinking in what you were sure was disbelief. 

“I mean you come onto my dad’s boat looking for my brother,” you explained, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m nice to you but you have this attitude about you that I can’t quite understand.” 

Her lips twisted into a smile at this as she laughed. “I mean you should know me. Me and Rafe are dating.” 

“He’s never mentioned you.” You shrugged. 

“Sure he hasn’t.” She nodded, and you could sense the animosity in her tone. But there was something else as her eyes grew wet and you almost felt sorry for her. “I mean why would he mention me to you.” 

“Because I’m his sister,” you stated with a grin as if it was the most obvious thing. 

Her face dropped at that and she fought to keep her tears at bay as she looked at you.

For a second you felt terrible, realising you weren’t really being fair. It was Rafe after all, if he had a girlfriend you were sure he’d make sure you never knew about it. 

But only for a second because when her lips parted to speak again, even you were surprised. 

“But you’re like obsessed with him,” she said, glowering at you. “You’re the reason he never turns up to see his friends. The reason he can’t ever hang out with me. Because he always has to come back to his little sister. You always so desperately need him.” 

“Right,” you replied, swallowing as your fingers started to pinch at your skin. You couldn’t distinguish how you were feeling, you couldn’t place it. All you knew was that you desperately needed her to stop talking. 

But she wouldn’t. 

“You know me and some of the other girls have come to the conclusion that you have a crush on him,” she laughed cruelly, spitting vicious words you knew were attended to make you upset. “I mean you’re not actually related and with the amount of fucking issues you have I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“My issues,” you said, laughing dryly along with her. 

She wasn’t completely wrong but what did she really know about your issues? What did she understand? 

“That’s funny.” You probably seemed oddly calm to her as you stared down at the ground, pinching at the skin of your arm in hopes it would calm you down. 

“It is?” She asked as if she was waiting for something else. 

Only you went back to drying your hair, offering her small smile as you nodded. 

“You’re so fucking weird,” she whispered, turning away from you again. 

It wasn’t like you to get like this. You were emotional, that was one thing but only when you were with Rafe. You’d never touched or hit anyone except him. Only he managed to bring that volatile side of you out. 

You were a sweet girl, you tried to tell yourself, as you heard her body hitting the boat floor.  almost everyone said so. 

But there she was lying there, unconscious by your feet and all you could do was stare at her. Your eyes only widened when you noticed the wooden lamp in your hand, instantly dropping it to the floor. 

You had hit her. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you fell backwards, stumbling into the only room you knew where to hide. Even perched into the corner of the bathroom you could still see the image of her in your mind. 

You couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t like something wedged in your pipes or water clogged in your airways. It was more that there was hands wrapping around your throat, forcing you to fight for air. And you did, gasping for breath as you scratched at the skin around your throat becoming panicked. 

Nothing seemed to be working and yet you didn’t even seem to be dying either. Just stuck there as if in some sort of horrendous loop. 

You didn’t know how long you were there until Rafe found you. You didn’t even know how long he had been on the boat for, only realising he was there until his face was inches away from yours and his hands were holding your wrists close to his chest. 

You were trembling, still dressed in your swimsuit as he held onto your arms. Tears clogged your eyes and your cries seemed to clog your ears as you could barely make out what he was saying as he stared at you. 

It wasn’t till he called out your name did you finally manage to snap out of it. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” you cried, shaking your head. You tried to breathe, taking long gasps of breaths as you focused on his blue eyes. “What about me, Rafe?” You leaned in, your sobs tearing through your body as you said, “Who’s going to take care of me?” 

You didn’t see the way Rafe looked before he yanked you in towards him. But you felt the way he pulled you in, holding you to his chest as you made a mess of his t-shirt. He didn’t seem to care, hushing you with his voice before he finally told you, “I’ll take care of it.” 

Your breathing had calmed down somewhat before he pulled you away from his chest and pressed his forehead to yours. He pushed the wet strands of your hair from your face and cupped your face and like the mess you were, you sighed and relaxed into his touch. 

“I’m going to take care of you, I swear it,” he promised, with featherlight kisses to your damp face. “I promise, I won’t leave you like that again.” 

“You promise?” You asked, peering up at him. 

“I promise,” he answered, still holding you close together. “Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

You stayed like that for a while, Rafe cradling you in his arms as he soothed you. Nothing but you two, the salty smell of the sea and the mess you made in the other room to keep you company. 

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

AN: There's something about a man cleaning readers mess that just gets to me.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 12

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If it's meant to be, then it will be,"

summary: you and Joel preparing to hot the road

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 12

previous | chapter 11

next | chapter 13

masterlist!

The days at Bill and Frank's had passed in a quiet rhythm, each one a small piece of normalcy that felt almost surreal after everything you and Joel had been through. You'd been here five days now, but it felt like you'd known this place much longer. Tomorrow was your birthday, and it also marked the beginning of your journey across the country with Joel—a journey that felt like the start of something new, something hopeful.

Joel had left earlier in the day, telling you he needed to get some supplies for the trip. He kissed you softly before he left, the kind of kiss that lingered on your lips long after he was gone. You had a feeling there was more to his errand, but you didn’t press him. Joel wasn’t one for surprises, but when he did plan something, it was always thoughtful, always meaningful.

In the meantime, you found yourself in the garden with Frank, helping him plant strawberries. The sun was warm on your back, the earth cool under your fingers as you worked. There was something soothing about the repetitive motion, the way the world seemed to shrink down to the small patch of soil in front of you.

“Ever done any gardening before?” Frank asked, breaking the silence. His voice was warm, with a hint of curiosity.

You smiled, shaking your head as you wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Not really. I mean, I helped my mom with her flowers when I was little, but nothing like this.”

Frank chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced over at you. “It’s good work. Honest work. Helps you clear your mind.”

You nodded, feeling the truth in Frank’s words as you pushed another seed into the earth. The simple act of planting, of giving life to something, grounded you in a way nothing else could. It narrowed the world down to the soil beneath your nails and the warmth of the sun on your back, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside you since you and Joel arrived.

“So, what did you do back in town?” Frank asked again, his tone light but tinged with curiosity. He worked beside you, his hands as steady and sure as his voice.

“I’m a senior in high school, but my dad is a preach--” you began, focusing on the task at hand. But before you could say more, Frank froze, his eyes widening as he turned to you with a look of concern.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re 17?” His voice held a mix of surprise and alarm.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the misunderstanding. “No, I’m not. I’m turning 20 uh soon,"

Frank let out a breath of relief, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Thank God. I almost wanted to strangle Joel if I found out he’d run off with someone underage.”

You laughed again, the sound lighter this time. “No, Joel’s a good man."

Frank nodded, but a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but he’s kind of stupid for running away with a girl younger than--” His tone was playful, but as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how they might come across. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You quickly shook your head, waving off his concern. “No, it’s fine. I get it too. Why would Joel risk everything for me? A girl way younger than him, and basically fucked up,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Frank’s expression softened, a mixture of empathy and regret. “Hey, don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said gently. “We’ve all got our shit. You’re just two people trying to make it in this messed-up world.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “I know, but sometimes it just feels like… I’m dragging him down. He could’ve had a normal life, maybe even with someone appropriate for him,”

Frank looked at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. “You really think he’d be happier with someone else?” he asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like Joel would move mountains for you. He doesn’t care about anything, or what anyone else thinks. He cares about you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand, but Frank wasn’t done.

“Love makes you do crazy things,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost reflective. “I’ve seen it. People in love… they’ll give up everything just to be with the person they care about. They’d tear down their own world for the person, they’d walk through fire, go to the ends of the earth, just to keep them safe.”

"It’s not always logical, or easy, but it’s real." Frank said again.

You swallowed, feeling the truth of his words sink deep into your bones. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm worth all that risk."

Frank chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Trust me, kid. If Joel’s willing to risk it all for you, then you’re worth it. And maybe, you’re exactly what he needs.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that let you breathe, let you think. You realized then that Frank understood more than you’d given him credit for. He knew what it was like to love someone so fiercely that nothing else mattered. And in that moment, you felt a little less alone.

Frank seemed to sense that you were lost in thought, so he gently steered the conversation back to where it had been. “You said your dad’s a preacher?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grateful for the change in topic. “I help him out with the church. It’s a small town, so everyone knows everyone. My dad’s been the preacher there for as long as I can remember.”

Frank nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “No wonder you're so religious," he said with a small smile, though his tone carried no judgment, just observation. "Growing up in a preacher's household, I imagine faith is second nature to you."

You shrugged lightly, fingers still playing in the soil, your thoughts a bit more tangled. “I guess so. It’s always been a big part of my life—going to church, helping out with the community. My dad… he has a way of making it seem like everything revolves around it.”

Frank gave a thoughtful nod, his hands pausing as he considered your words. “And what about you? Do you believe in all of it?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy and complex. You hadn’t expected such a direct inquiry, especially not from someone like Frank, who had seen more of life’s darkness than many.

You sighed, the weight of his question settling in your chest. “I don’t know,” you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“I used to believe in it all, every word, every sermon. But… sometimes I wonder. Why is it that someone who tries so hard to do right, to follow God’s teachings, ends up with a life full of pain and hardship?”

Frank watched you, his expression patient and understanding, the rhythm of your conversation slowing as if he knew you needed the space to sort through your thoughts.

“There were times,” you continued, “when it felt like no matter how much I prayed, how much I begged for things to get better, it was like my words just floated off into nothing. I’d ask for help, for some kind of sign that I wasn’t alone, that I wasn’t forgotten, but… nothing. It made me question everything. if God is there, why doesn’t He answer me? Why doesn’t He take away the pain?”

“I still pray, though” you said after a moment, your voice tinged with a fragile hope. “Because a part of me still wants to believe. Maybe God’s not silent. Maybe He’s just waiting for the right moment to answer. And maybe… He did answer, in a way."

"He gave me Joel. Maybe that’s God’s way of telling me that I’m not alone, that I haven’t been forgotten.”

Frank nodded, his gaze steady, absorbing everything you said. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” he said gently. “But you’re still here, still standing. That’s something.”

"I'm thankful for it," you smile.

Frank’s smile grew, his eyes warm with encouragement. “And don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re still young, still figuring things out. Life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, the weight in your chest easing. “It does.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the garden around you humming with life. The earth beneath your fingers felt grounding, as if by planting these small seeds, you were also planting a piece of yourself, nurturing the hope that you could one day find peace, find home.

Frank broke the silence with a soft sigh, turning his gaze back to you. “So, what’s next for you and Joel? Do you have a plan?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” you said, a hint of excitement creeping into your voice. “We’re going to travel across the country, see the states. Joel said he wants to show me everything.”

Frank’s eyes twinkled with a mix of curiosity and warmth as he listened. “That sounds like quite the adventure,” he said, his tone gentle but encouraging. “Do you know where you’ll head first?”

“We’re thinking Kansas or Louisiana,” you replied, your mind drifting to the vast, unknown roads ahead. “After that, we’ll just go where the wind takes us. Eventually, we’re planning to settle down in California.”

Frank tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “California, huh? Big state. You aiming for the coast?”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, nothing like that. Joel’s always talked about wanting a ranch, somewhere quiet and peaceful. Maybe a place like Davis, where we can have some land, grow our own food. It’s… it’s like his dream, you know? Something simple, something ours.”

Frank smiled, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes. “A ranch in California… I can see that. Sounds like a good life. Quiet, surrounded by nature, away from all the chaos.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, the thought of that quiet life with Joel filling you with a sense of peace. “It’s what we both want. A place to finally call home.”

Frank chuckled, breaking the moment with a lightheartedness that was infectious. “Well, if you two end up with a ranch in California, I’ll expect a fresh batch of strawberries in the mail every month,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And if Joel starts getting grumpy, just remind him he promised to bake pies, not just grow the ingredients.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I’ll hold him to that. He’s got a lot of promises to keep.”

Frank’s smile softened, and he looked at you with a kind of admiration. “You know, it’s really good to see Joel like this,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “He’s been through a lot, and for the first time in a long time, he seems… happier. You’ve done something to him, and I don’t just mean in the obvious way.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Do you know much about his family? His late wife and daughter?”

Frank’s expression shifted, a shadow crossing his features. “Wait, Joel hasn't told you that?"

You shook your head, feeling a slight twinge of concern in your chest. Frank's brows furrowed, clearly surprised that Joel hadn’t shared much about his past with you. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, then sighed, a mix of hesitation and empathy in his eyes.

“It’s not really my place to tell you,” Frank finally said, his voice gentle but firm. “That’s something Joel needs to share with you himself. It’s… a part of his life that’s really hard for him to talk about. When he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. The unanswered questions lingered in your mind, but you knew better than to push. If Joel hadn’t brought it up yet, there had to be a reason.

***

After dinner, the house had settled into a calm quiet. Frank and Bill had retreated to their own space, leaving you and Joel alone in the cozy guest room where you’d been staying. The room was softly lit by the gentle glow of a bedside lamp, casting a warm and inviting light over everything.

You were curled up on the bed, absorbed in reading The Catcher in the Rye. The novel’s pages whispered tales of youthful rebellion and existential musings, a soothing contrast to the day's activities. The sound of Joel’s footsteps drew your attention, and you looked up as he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a comforting familiarity.

Joel had changed into a more relaxed outfit—simple trouser and a well-worn shirt—his rugged look softened by the evening’s relaxed atmosphere. He moved with a quiet grace, as if aware of the calm that enveloped the room.

You patted the space next to you on the bed, a silent invitation. “Come here,” you said softly, setting the book aside and making room for him.

Joel settled beside you, his weight pressing down gently on the mattress. He let out a contented sigh as you began to massage his shoulders, your fingers working out the tension from the day. The warmth of his body against yours was reassuring, a gentle reminder of the closeness you shared.

As you continued your soothing touch, your curiosity got the better of you. “So, what did you get for the supplies for tomorrow?” you asked, your voice a mix of casual interest.

Joel chuckled, his shoulders relaxing under your hands. “Brought some extra food, a few things we might need for the road. Should be enough for a couple of weeks if we need it. If we run low, we can always pick up more.”

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “And what time are we heading out tomorrow?”

“We’ll be hitting the road early,” Joel replied. “Trying to get a good start. We’ll be making our way across state lines, and we’ll probably stay in motels or hotels along the way.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation and adventure bubbling up inside you. “Where are we starting from?”

Joel’s eyes met yours, a spark of excitement in his gaze. “First stop is going to be Louisiana. We’ll decide as we go along, just see where the road takes us. We’ve got a route planned out, but we can always adjust it as we go.”

You smiled, the thought of your upcoming journey filling you with a blend of excitement and nostalgia. Tomorrow was supposed to be your graduation day—a milestone that marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Instead of celebrating with friends and preparing for college, you were embarking on a journey across the country with Joel. It felt like you were stepping into a new world, leaving behind the familiar safety of the past.

As you lay there, your mind drifted to the life you were leaving behind. The road stretched out before you like a ribbon of possibilities, each mile a promise of new experiences and uncharted territories. The contrast between the expectations of a conventional future and the reality of your spontaneous adventure was both exhilarating and daunting.

Joel’s voice brought you back to the present. “You okay?” he asked, his tone gentle as he noticed the thoughtful look on your face.

You nodded, shifting closer to him. “Yeah, it’s crazy to think where we are now. I was supposed to graduate tomorrow,” you said, a wistful edge to your voice.

Joel's eyes softened as he looked at you, the weight of your words sinking in. He remembered the first time he’d seen you by the river near the church, your solitude painting a poignant picture against the backdrop of your small town. Back then, you’d seemed like a fragile bird on the cusp of flight, your future an unwritten story stretching far beyond Texas.

A flicker of guilt crossed Joel’s face, his brow furrowing slightly. He knew he had taken you away from that life—the dreams and plans you had woven for yourself. The vast expanse of your potential future lay before you, like a sky brimming with stars, each one representing a possibility now momentarily eclipsed by your unexpected journey.

Joel’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. You had plans, dreams. I feel like I’ve taken you away from everything you were meant to do.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on Joel’s cheek. “No, Joel, don’t say that,” you said softly. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault. I’m the one who feels like I’ve ruined your life. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, left everything behind.”

Joel’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. You continued, your voice tinged with confusion and concern. “No one will notice I’m gone, but you—” you looked into his eyes, searching for the answer to a question you couldn’t quite grasp. “You have a family, a job, a life. Why risk it all for me?”

Joel's eyes held yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words, his jaw tightening slightly before he spoke.

“It’s not about risking it all, darlin’,” Joel finally said, his voice low and steady. “It’s about choosing what matters most. Yeah, I had a life before you came along—a job, people I cared about—but none of it made me feel alive like you do. You’re not a risk; you’re a chance at something real, something worth fighting for.”

You could hear the sincerity in his words, but it was still hard for you to fully grasp why someone like him would put everything on the line for someone like you. “But I’ve caused so much trouble, Joel. I’ve taken you away from everything. How can you say I’m not ruining your life?”

Joel shook his head, his hand coming up to gently hold yours against his cheek. “You haven’t ruined anything. My life was already broken. But then you came into it, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I had a purpose again. You didn’t take me away from anything—I chose this. I chose you."

Your heart ached at his words, a mix of guilt and gratitude swirling inside you. "I'm sorry," you said once again.

Joel’s thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand as he held it against his cheek. His eyes softened, reflecting a depth of emotion that made your breath catch. “You don’t need to be sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice tender but firm. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his eyes making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before. It wasn’t just that he was here with you—it was that he chose to be, every day, every moment.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to let you down.”

He sighed softly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “You could never let me down, sweetheart. We’re in this together, okay? No more apologies, no more guilt. Just us, figuring it out as we go.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. “Okay,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “Just us.”

Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back slightly. “That’s right. Just us.”

For a moment, you both stayed like that, the world outside your small room fading away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “Joel... do you ever think about them? About Jane and Sarah?”

Joel’s breath hitched slightly, and you felt his body tense under your touch. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice low. “Every day.”

You hesitated, your heart heavy with the weight of what you were about to ask. “What... what happened to them, Joel? I want to know. If it’s just going to be the two of us from now on, I want to be able to trust you with everything, and I want you to trust me too. Completely.”

Joel let out a long sigh, his hand running through his hair as if he were trying to smooth out the tangled thoughts in his mind. He looked at you, the vulnerability in his eyes more apparent than ever. “I’ve never really talked about it,” he began, his voice rough around the edges. “Not with anyone.”

You squeezed his hand, silently encouraging him to continue. “You can talk to me, Joel. I’m here."

He took another deep breath, then started to speak, his words slow and deliberate, as if each one carried a heavy burden. “We were driving back home that day. It had been a long day, and we were tired. Jane and I... we’d been arguing about something, I can’t even remember what it was about now, but it was heated. Sarah was in the back, just trying to ignore it all like she usually did when we fought.”

Joel’s voice faltered for a moment, but he pressed on. “I lost control of the car. It all happened so fast... one minute we were arguing, the next... we were off the road, and then everything just... stopped. I woke up in the hospital. They told me Jane didn’t make it. Sarah... she held on for a few days, but... she was gone too.”

His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, as if trying to push down the pain that was rising in his throat. “I blamed myself. Still do. I was the one driving, I was the one who lost control. I was supposed to protect them, and I failed.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you listened, your heart aching for the man who had carried this pain with him for so long. “Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry. It wasn't your fault,"

He shook his head, his expression conflicted. “I should’ve done better. I should’ve been better.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your tears mingling with his. “You did everything you could, Joel. You loved them, and that’s what mattered most.”

As you held him close, Joel’s thoughts drifted into the shadows of his mind, a place where the past and present collided in a tangled mess of emotions. The memory of that day, the sound of metal crunching, the silence that followed, haunted him like a ghost that refused to be exorcised. It was a wound that never healed, festering beneath the surface, a reminder of everything he’d lost and everything he could never get back.

Losing Jane and Sarah had shattered him, leaving him hollow and broken. They were his world, his purpose, and when they were ripped away, it felt like the universe had punished him for daring to love too deeply. Since then, he’d built walls around his heart, thick and impenetrable, to keep the pain at bay, to protect himself from ever feeling that kind of loss again.

But then you came along, with your soft smiles and tender touch, and those walls began to crack. You found your way into his life, into the parts of him that he’d thought were dead and buried. And now, the thought of losing you was unbearable, a terror that gripped his soul with icy fingers. If he lost you, it would be like losing Jane and Sarah all over again—only this time, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

God knows what he would do if that happened. The thought alone made his heart race, his breath catch in his throat. You were his lifeline, the one thing that kept him tethered to this world, and the fear of losing you gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding. He couldn’t bear it—not again. He couldn’t survive another loss like that.

Joel knew he wasn’t perfect. He was rough around the edges, scarred by years of pain and regret. But with you, he wanted to be better. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to give you the life you deserved. And yet, the fear lingered, whispering insidious doubts into his ear—what if he wasn’t enough? What if he failed you, too?

But as you leaned into him, your warmth grounding him in the present, Joel felt something shift inside him. He didn’t have to be perfect; he didn’t have to have all the answers. All he needed to do was hold on to you, to this moment, and trust that you could face whatever came next together.

The night stretched on as you and Joel stayed up, talking about your lives, sharing pieces of your pasts that you had never revealed before. Joel's voice was a steady, comforting presence in the dim light of the room, and though he opened up about so much, he skillfully avoided any mention of your father. It was a delicate line to walk—Joel had been his best friend, after all—but tonight wasn’t about reopening old wounds. It was about the two of you, building something new together from the ruins of what had been.

As the hours passed, your eyes grew heavy, the weight of the day and the depth of your conversation pulling you towards sleep. You were just about to drift off when Joel's voice, soft yet insistent, broke through the haze of your exhaustion.

“Baby, stay awake for a while for me,” he whispered, his hand gently guiding you to sit up and face him.

Confused but trusting, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and let him maneuver you, your heart skipping a beat at the tender way he looked at you. Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, the sight of which immediately piqued your curiosity. You glanced at him, your tired mind struggling to piece together what was happening.

“Joel…?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just opened the box to reveal a delicate gold necklace. The pendant was a beautifully crafted sun, its rays shimmering in the faint light. It was simple yet breathtaking, and as you stared at it, something inside you stirred, a warmth spreading through your chest that chased away the last remnants of sleep.

“Happy birthday, doll,” Joel said softly, his voice tender and filled with affection.

For a moment, you just stared at him, stunned. No one had ever done something like this for you before. Not your parents, not anyone. You’d never been surprised or celebrated like this—never had someone put so much thought into making you feel special. The shock of it all brought a lump to your throat, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again.

“Oh, Joel…” you breathed, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “You like it?”

You nodded quickly, reaching out to touch the pendant again, feeling its smooth, cool surface beneath your fingertips. “I love it,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve never had anything like this before. No one’s ever… done anything like this for me.”

Joel’s smile faded into a more serious expression as he gently took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Well, you deserve it,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You deserve to be celebrated, to have someone make a fuss over you on your birthday. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important person in his world—it was almost too much to bear. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best possible way. For the first time, you felt truly seen, truly loved.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck, burying your face in his shoulder as the tears finally spilled over. “Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Thank you so much.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, and before you could think twice, you pressed your lips to his in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words—gratitude, love, a deep, unspoken connection that went beyond anything you’d ever known.

Joel kissed you back, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You’re welcome, doll,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. He gave you a small smile before pulling back slightly. “Now, turn around. I want to put the necklace on you.”

You did as he asked, turning your back to him as you gathered your hair to one side, exposing your neck. You could feel his fingers gently brushing against your skin as he fastened the clasp, the cool metal of the necklace resting against your collarbone. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he was handling something fragile and priceless.

“There,” Joel said softly, his voice warm with affection. “Perfect.”

You felt Joel’s fingers gently adjust the necklace, the cool metal resting comfortably against your collarbone. The delicate sun pendant seemed to radiate a quiet warmth, a perfect complement to the emotions swirling inside you.

As you held the pendant close to your heart, savoring the weight of the gift, Joel’s touch lingered. His lips brushed softly against the exposed skin of your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. The sensation was tender and soothing, each kiss a gentle affirmation of his love and devotion.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate space. Joel’s kisses continued, moving slowly along your neck and back, each touch a silent declaration of his feelings for you. His hands were warm, his touch reverent and filled with an unspoken tenderness.

The air between you was thick with emotion, the depth of your connection more tangible than ever. As Joel’s kisses grew more insistent, more passionate, you felt a powerful surge of desire and love. It was as if every touch, every kiss was a way for him to express the feelings he found difficult to put into words.

You turned slightly to face him, your body still trembling with anticipation. The look in his eyes was filled with a mix of love, longing, and an almost primal need to be close to you. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a recognition of the depth of your bond and the comfort you found in each other’s arms.

As the night deepened, the room was filled with the quiet sounds of your shared intimacy, each moment a beautiful blend of passion and tenderness. It was a celebration of your love, a testament to the journey you had taken together and the future you were building side by side.

***

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you quietly gathered your belongings. The guest room that had become your sanctuary with Joel felt strangely empty now, a bittersweet reminder of the safety and comfort you had found within these walls. You took a deep breath, running your fingers over the bedspread, smoothing out the wrinkles, as if by doing so you could somehow hold onto the memories you had created here a little longer.

Outside, you could hear the muffled sounds of Joel and Bill talking, the low rumble of voices mixed with the occasional clatter of supplies being loaded into the truck. Joel had insisted on helping with every last detail, making sure that everything was perfectly arranged for the long journey ahead. Bill, ever practical, had offered them one of his newer trucks—a vehicle more suited to the months on the road that lay ahead. Joel had tried to argue, offering to pay, but Bill had waved him off with a gruff laugh, saying, "It’s on me. Just don’t come back knockin’ on my door, you hear?"

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, the warmth of Bill’s gruff generosity reminding you of how much you’d come to appreciate these two men who had given you and Joel a safe haven. As you moved around the room, making sure everything was in order, a soft knock at the door drew your attention.

It was Frank, standing in the doorway with a gentle smile on his face. "Mind if I come in?" he asked, his voice kind.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Frank’s presence had always been a source of quiet comfort, and now, as he stood there, it felt like the closing of a chapter you hadn’t realized was so dear to you.

"I wanted to say goodbye," Frank said, his tone a mix of affection and sadness. "Take care of yourself out there, kid. You’ve got a long road ahead of you."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. "Thank you, Frank. For everything."

Frank held out two items, both of which caught you by surprise: a well-worn Bible with a cracked leather cover, and a small handgun that looked like it had seen its fair share of years. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected combination.

Frank noticed your hesitation and chuckled softly. "Happy birthday, kid," he said, his voice tinged with warmth and something almost fatherly. "I figured you might need both on the road. One to keep you safe from the world, and the other to keep you safe from yourself."

Your breath caught in your throat as you accepted the gifts, your fingers brushing over the rough texture of the Bible’s cover, feeling the weight of history it carried. The pages, yellowed with time, whispered of stories and lessons that had been passed down through generations. It wasn’t just a book; it was a relic, a piece of someone’s life, and now it was being entrusted to you.

"How did you know it's my birthday?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Frank gave you a knowing smile, glancing over his shoulder towards where Joel was finishing up with Bill. "Joel’s not great at keeping secrets," he said with a smirk. "He came to me, asking for advice on what to get you. He wanted it to be special, something you’d never forget. I had to pull it out of him, but he finally admitted that today’s your birthday."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Frank’s words, a deep appreciation for the man who stood before you. "Thank you," you said sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. "This means more to me than you know."

Frank nodded, his expression softening. "I’m not a religious man, but I know that faith is important to you. This Bible—it’s been with me for a long time, and I figured it might bring you some comfort, maybe even some guidance when you need it most."

You held the Bible close to your chest, its presence both comforting and grounding. "I’ll cherish it, Frank. Truly."

Frank’s gaze shifted to the handgun, still resting in your other hand. "And that," he said, his tone more serious, "is for when things get tough. I know Joel will do everything he can to protect you, but it doesn’t hurt to have something of your own. Just in case."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the gift. The world outside was unforgiving, and as much as you believed in the power of faith, you knew that sometimes, survival required more than just hope. "Thank you, Frank," you repeated, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

Frank’s hand came up to rest on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’re a good kid," he said softly. "You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and I can see how much you mean to Joel. Take care of each other out there, okay?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of his words. "We will," you promised.

Frank gave you one last, lingering look before stepping back towards the door. "I’ve packed some food for the road," he added, his voice returning to its usual warmth. "Figured you two could use it."

"Thank you," you said again, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."

As Frank nodded and stepped back, you carefully tucked the Bible into your bag, nestling it among your few belongings like a piece of home you could carry with you. The gun, however, felt heavier in your hands, not just in weight but in the responsibility it symbolized. You found an old handkerchief in your bag, wrapping the gun tightly within its folds, along with the bullets. This was a secret meant for emergencies only, something you hoped you'd never have to use. You knew Joel wouldn’t approve—his protective nature would have him shielding you from this harsh necessity. But you felt a strange sense of empowerment as you hid the gun deep in your bag, a quiet resolve settling in your chest.

After making sure nothing was left behind, you and Frank stepped out of the room. The hallway felt longer now, each step echoing with the finality of your departure. When you reached the front door, the sunlight greeted you, warm and bright, as if trying to dispel the lingering shadows of the past few days.

Joel was already standing by the truck, his strong frame leaning casually against the door as he spoke with Bill. He looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately finding yours, and a small, comforting smile tugged at his lips. "Ready to go?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with the same bittersweet undertone that seemed to hang in the air.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. This place, these people—Frank and Bill—had given you something invaluable: a sanctuary, a place where you and Joel had found a moment of peace in a world full of chaos. It was hard to say goodbye.

Frank and Bill stood together, their figures silhouetted against the morning light. There was an unspoken understanding between all of you—a recognition of the bond that had formed in such a short time, and the knowledge that it might never be repeated.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft yet filled with gratitude. "For everything. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you."

Bill waved off your words with a gruff, yet warm, "Just keep your head down and don’t do anything stupid. And remember, this truck’s got a lot more miles in it than that old rust bucket Joel was driving. Don’t come back knockin’ on my door for a replacement, you hear?"

Joel chuckled, the sound carrying a lightness that hadn’t been there in days. "We won’t," he assured them, though the words carried a weight of their own.

As you and Joel prepared to leave, Frank turned his attention to Joel, his eyes filled with a quiet seriousness that hadn’t been there before. He stepped forward, pulling Joel into a firm hug, the kind of embrace that spoke volumes without needing words.

"Take care of her, Joel," Frank murmured into his ear, his voice low but carrying the weight of his words. "She’s a good kid. She’s gonna need you."

Joel held onto Frank for a moment longer, his hand gripping Frank’s shoulder in silent acknowledgment. "I will," Joel replied, his voice steady and full of conviction.

Frank pulled back slightly, looking Joel in the eye with a mix of trust and understanding. Then, with a final pat on Joel’s back, he stepped away, leaving the space between them filled with the unsaid, but deeply understood, responsibility that now rested on Joel’s shoulders.

Joel walked back to the truck, you could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—stronger, more resolved. With that, the two of you climbed into the truck, ready to face the road ahead, knowing that whatever challenges awaited, you’d face them together.

As Joel drove away from Bill and Frank's place, the truck rumbled softly beneath you, its engine a steady heartbeat in the quiet of the early morning. You waved through the window, your hand lingering in the air as the two men faded into the distance, their figures shrinking until they were just specks on the horizon. The road stretched out before you, endless and inviting, bathed in the soft glow of dawn. It was like something out of a dream, a scene so perfect it felt almost surreal.

Here it was—your dream, the one you’d held onto through all the nights of despair and longing, the one that had kept you going when everything else seemed lost. Just you and Joel, no one else. He had saved you from the misery of your past, pulled you out of the darkness, and now, here you were, embarking on a new life together. A life that felt like it was finally yours to live.

As the truck moved down the road, the landscape began to shift and change, like scenes from a movie rolling by outside the window. The sun was rising higher, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, as if God Himself had brushed the heavens with His divine hand. It felt like a sign, a message from above that this was your path, that this was where you were meant to be.  If it’s meant to be, then it will be. And it felt true, truer than anything you’d ever known.

You didn’t need anything else right now—just Joel. His presence was all the reassurance you needed, all the comfort you’d ever craved. As he drove, his right hand reached across the space between you, fingers finding yours with an ease that felt like second nature. You looked over at him, your heart swelling as you watched him—his eyes focused on the road, but his grip on your hand firm, protective. It was as if he was silently telling you, I’ve got you. As long as I’m here, you’ll be okay.

And in that moment, you believed it with everything in you. This was your sanctuary, not a place but a person. The love that pulsed between you was more than just an emotion—it was a lifeline, a tether to something bigger than the both of you, something that had been written in the stars long before you ever met.

The road ahead was uncertain, the future a vast, uncharted territory, but it didn’t scare you. With Joel by your side, you felt invincible, as if the world could throw anything at you and you’d come out the other side stronger. You didn’t need anything else—no wealth, no fame, no worldly possessions. Just Joel. He was your beginning and your end, the sun that lit up the darkest corners of your soul.

As you squeezed his hand, a silent promise passed between you. You would face whatever came together, hand in hand, heart to heart. Because if it was meant to be, then it would be. And right now, in this moment, it felt like everything in the universe had aligned to bring you here, to this place, to this man.

And as the miles melted away beneath the tires of the truck, you allowed yourself to lean back, to rest your head against the seat, knowing that for the first time in your life, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

[lynnlovesthestars]

The sun, the moon and the stars.

Pairing: Astarion x reader.

Synopsis: with the solution in your hands, you give back Astarion all he has lost.

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, kinda smut but not graphic?

Warnings: mentions of insecurities and self doubt, mention of past abuse, death. Extra warning: Astarion being so loving and caring. Tav/reader taking risks for Astarion. Post act 3.

WC: 5k

Alternate name: Curses, Undead, Deseases.

Author's note: Hello everyone, before i posted "One and only" I didn't expect it to be loved so much, but after seeing the love it received, I took it to my heart to grant your wish. So here it is, the part two of One and Only, which I'll link down here.

One and Only.

Taglist: @skittleabyss

Cure for vampirism: kill and resurrect the vampire with a scroll of true resurrection or, use a scroll of wish and hope you won't fuck it up.

Finally the scroll was in your hands, the legendary wish.

The great Mordenkainen spoke plenty of this spell, the inevitable results of using it and the power it held.

The risks were great, like being sick and weak for weeks, and the chance you might never be able to cast the spell ever again. It was a one shot enchantment, and you would have done it in a heartbeat if it meant your Astarion would be free from vampirism, even if it meant not being able to control the weave ever again.

You were all on the floor, weighing the situation while you read and reread the spell.

Astarion sat next to you, his hands shaking as he kneaded your thigh. The adrenaline from the fight was still cursing through your bodies, even though you were all eagerly to get over with this, you knew that it'd be better to cast the spell in the safety of your home, where you could rest right away.

Gale spent the whole trip explaining the hows and whats of the spell, especially the risks, trying to remind you that there could have been other ways. nevertheless your mind was set. You would risk it all for Astarion.

Everyone scattered around the living room, tea cups were all over the place to ease everyone's nerves as you mentally repeated what you were going to ask.

Shadowheart protected your home, making sure you could feel safe as you rested afterwards.

Wyll was sitting close to you, in case you would pass out and needed to be carried to bed.

Gale was reading and rereading Mordenkainen's tome to make sure there was no trap.

Karlach was trying to cheer everyone up, offering hugs to everyone.

When she planted herself in front of Astarion, ready to beg him to be hugged, he took her by surprise.

He was shaking ever so slightly, the pure anxiety was ebbing through his veins, he was not going to back away from an hug.

"Can you stay next to me? I trust you" He smiled weakly as she squealed happily.

"Of course" She beamed. She took the spot next to Astarion and opened her arms to wrap the pale elf's body in her warm embrace.

When you finally raised your eyes, ready to cast the wish, you locked eyes with everyone one at a time.

All your friends were gathered there because they loved you and Astarion, and were not going to miss the moment. Even Lae'zel was uncharacteristically sweet, even in her harsh and bitter words. "Tck, you better not come back as a zombie, cause I don't know what zombies need" She scoffed. "And you already reeked like this, I can't stand zombie stench at all". She said scrunching her nose.

You took a long breath and lastly locked eyes with Astarion, exchanging a nod as the silence fell around you.

The knot in your throat was tight, your words almost were strangled out of your lips.

"I wish.." You could feel the air being knocked out of your chest. "That Astarion Acunin" the words wrapped around your throat tightly, the magic vividly ebbing from your body for everyone to see. "Could be" The soft blue-purple glow flowing out of your body, wrapped around Astarion's throat, making him breath harder. "Cured.." You felt the word drain you almost completely. "From vampirism and" You breaths were heavy, worry in everyone's eyes while you didn't stop. "Could live his life as elf" You were shaking, threatening to hit the ground, but no one had to intervene, you had to endure it all alone, for him.

"Like before being turned" As you spoke the last word, the magic that was holding you in a chokehold suddenly released you. The magical flow disappeared in Astarion as you fell to the ground, and him with you.

Everyone scrambled around the room, checking for pulses and bringing you to your shared bed.

They tucked you under the comforter, as they planned turns to take care of you both.

They didn't know how long it would take for you to wake again, but they concentrated on things they had power to do.

Your body was heavy with an inexplicable tiredness. Your eyelids felt like bricks as you fought to open them.

The soft light of the sunrise filtered through the curtains of the room, almost blinding you for a moment.

You were in your bed, tucked in and warm. An arm was wrapped around your waist protectively as you could hear the faint chatting coming from the other rooms.

You turned to look around you,then it hit you.

The arm around you, it was warm. The complexion was still pale, yet it looked like it was almost a very faint shade of pink.

You almost jolted up, if it wasn't for your limbs, that grounded you, startling the sleeping Astarion next to you.

He gasped as he awoke suddenly, his eyes squeezing for a moment before opening wide at the realization that you were awake.

He didn't change much, his body at the end of the day was mostly the same, if not for the color that he regained.

His hair was a mess from sleep, the soft white curls were all over the place, untamed. His cheeks, nose and lips were warm with a pinkish blush, and his eyes.

Oh his beautiful scarlet eyes were still there, but softer. A shade that was more pinkish blue, than red. A color so soft that swirled peacefully. His canines were still slightly vampiresque, but way duller than before.

And when you leaned in his arms, you could feel it. His heartbeat, fast in the beginning, probably from the scare, but then rhythmic as it calmed down.

Astarion's arms wrapped around you, pushing you tightly against him as he sunk back in the comfort of the bed.

Your eyes filled with tears, before you could even process the elf in front of you.

"We did it" You sobbed in his tight embrace, relishing the newfound warmth.

"No my love.." He whispered as his own eyes were teary, threatening to spill any second. "You did it" He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You cured me and I will be forever grateful for this gift" He lulled you, gently tapping his fingers on your skin.

You sobbed harder, your arms wrapping around him as well as you allowed the realization to completely hit you.

You weren't quite sure what day it was, or how long Astarion has been cradling you close to him, but you didn't care anymore.

Only when you finally regained a bit of your control, your head started filling with questions.

"How long have i been out?" You asked, before yawning.

"So.. if i did the math correctly" He counted on his fingers before beaming. "You sleep for a whole week. I fed you and hydrated you as you rested. The wish literally drained you" He gently raised your chin to look at you, a tender smile spread over his face, along with the warmth of a blush.

He took in your beauty, gently tracing the tip of your pointed ear to your cheek, resting his palm on it.

Your body chased the warmth of his touch, leaning into it.

"How long were you asleep instead?" You asked as your body was melting.

"The thing is, I didn't sleep" He shrugged. "Gale gave me a long and boring explanation of what happened, but I'm going to take out all the useless informations he added" He explained, waving his hand in the air. You couldn't help but snort at the remark.

"Anyway, making it quick, you killed me" He blurted out, making you jolt up confused, your mouth hung open and your index finger pointed up as you were about to ask something. Then you curled back your fingers and closed your mouth, thoughtful.

"Basically the cure for vampirism involves killing the vampire and using true resurrection on the body or soul" In a way it made sense, cause a vampire is a dead person turned into undead, reason why restoration spells and curing curses wouldn't be effective. You didn't have to remove a disease either, but revert the body back to its original form. And the only way was true resurrection.

"Oh, cause the spell would be able to bind your soul back to your body completely, reversing death instead of just raising you as undead as vampirism does" You whisper shouted as you connected the dots. "But your death was way past 200 years ago" You remembered.

"I'm glad you remembered how long it's been since my first death" He tucked a stray hair behind his ear. "But apparently that's where the wish spell comes in aid" He kissed the top of your nose.

"It erased the time clause from the spell, since it was a wish" He smiled.

"Mhmh makes sense" You whispered as you tapped a finger on your chin and slowly eased again in the silence.

There was so much you wanted to say in that moment, like the fine print of the spell, whether he could already walk in the sun freely now, how did he feel, and so many more questions about this new story you were going to start together, but your body started growing heavy and thick again, drawing you back in your sleep, but this time you were lulled by Astarion's steady heartbeat.

Hours later you woke up still in Astarion’s lap, though now he was using a magic hand to read a book that you couldn’t quite recognize.

“That’s a very smart use of a magic hand” You stretched your arms, squinted and yawned loudly.

“It is, and this book has been very enlightening as well” He flips pages quickly, getting back to one that had a bookmark.

“Really?” You asked mindlessly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He nodded, skimming through the page looking for a specific paragraph.

“I always wondered why you choose to sleep every night, aren’t you bothered by the weird dreams?” He asked. He never thought about it until he started reading this guide he found with the wish scroll. It was a book by Mordenkainen himself which spoke of his studies of all the races he encountered. He picked it up to read about what he missed through the decades about his culture and habits, just in case elves grew a new horn at a certain age or something. Dying so young, really cut off a huge chunk of his youth. At the time he was still considered young by his family, he was looking forward to that 100 birthday so much. At least he was glad he kept his youngish self for a little longer than his peers. if that really mattered.

“Mh, no I like them” You mumbled, another yawn escaping between one word and the other. “I found meditating boring, what even is the point of relieving past experiences when most of the memories are negative?” You shrugged, slowly stretching your legs.

“I never thought about that” He was definitely contemplating ditching meditation, if he had to see less of the memories, and more of.. anything but that. He usually slept when you happened to fall asleep next to him, or while you were traveling, and everyone would take their sweet time in the morning. He didn’t need to be up for 8 hours so why not just sleep, he always thought.

“You should do it more often” You smiled at him as you crawled out of his embrace, already missing the warmth of his chest, but you needed something to eat, a whole week asleep really took a toll on your stomach.

The house was still crawling with friends lounging all over, even withers found a corner for himself, in case a resurrection was needed, funny since the conditions of this party, you thought.

Whoever allowed Gale in your kitchen would pay the price. You walked slowly towards the chair in the kitchen, making sure you could hold on to the wall, in case your body decided to be too tired to move.

Gale didn't notice you joined until he turned and unexpectedly saw you sat with your arms crossed, staring stoically at him.

The most satisfying part? The squeal he let out, though it didn't last long. In an instant he was next to you handing you a glass of water.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he sat in front of you, playing with a peanut he got from your nuts basket.

"Groggy" you mumbled. "Tired" You took your time stretching a little more. "It truly drained me" You leaned on the table wondering what to fill your stomach with.

"I cannot even imagine" He patted your back. "Though actually i could since the netherese orb whole ordeal" He mumbled.

"The price a man must pay to seduce a goddess" You rolled your eyes jokingly.

"Ehy, if you knew Mystra, you'd do the same" He poked your shoulder before handing you a fruit that was laying nearby.

You rose from the table, taking a bite from the apple he gave you. "No, I don't think I would. I'm more the whole I will fix your vampirism I promise, person" You shrugged before taking another big bite.

"I would have never guessed" He laughed.

"Oh so I'm a type, you did this for other spawns?" Astarion chimed while wrapping his arms around you, and placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Yeah, don't you know?" You took the last bite from the fruit before attempting to throw it in the trash. "I've kept a diary with all the names of the spawns I saved" You picked up a piece of paper nearby and scribbled a few names all over the paper, and handed it to Astarion.

"So, we got: Astarion, the annoying one, the mysterious one that almost cut my throat, the one that almost sucked me dry, the one that I recently casted a wish spell for" Astarion counted on his fingers. "Damn that's a lot of people right there, you must be an expert" He joked as he folded the paper.

"Of course, don't you see?" You pointed at yourself, sluggish on the chair. "I'm so good at it, I'm not even tired" You jokingly dropped your upper body on the table, faking to be asleep.

"Well, this is my time to leave the room" Gale awkwardly said before standing up and quickly escaping the kitchen.

"I've got sad news for you, my dear expert" Astarion took the seat in front of you, and took your hand in his, absolutely ignoring your friend. You didn't even wait to raise your head, you were already lost in his eyes. "You don't have all the names of the spawns you freed." He poked your nose.

"Mh, who's missing?" You smiled at him as the sly grin appeared on Astarion's lips.

"You will know in due time"

When was the due time? You had absolutely no clue. A few days passed by, everyone left when they were sure you were at least able to move on your own, and Astarion was remembering his physical needs. For so long he only drank blood, and for most of his life, it was very inconsistent as well, so they just made sure he had all the necessary to stay hydrated and well fed, while you were still recovering.

One afternoon you were sitting outside on the porch, the chirping of the birds and the whooshing of the trees was the only sound around you. You enjoyed the warmth of the sun as you waited for Astarion to join you. You had planned a nice picnic in your garden, so together you could enjoy your first sunset since he was a normal elf again.

Astarion just appeared from the door, mittens in hand as he carried out a tray. You could still see the steam coming from it as you were eager to know what he had been fumbling with in the kitchen.

"My darling, they might look wonky, but I promise you, they are way better than what they seem" He smiled, as he placed the tray on top of the low table you set up outside for the two of you.

They did indeed smell delicious, though the cookies looked like they lost their shape.

You couldn't hold back your smile as you picked one that looked like a disfigured kobold.

As you took a bite of it, Astarion joined you. "Wow that's how you treat our dear Wyll uh?" he asked, trying to not laugh at his own joke.

"That was Wyll?!" You took another bite of it, the look of fake surprise on your lips was adorable.

"Didn't you notice the detail of the fake eye and the horns? I thought it was pretty obvious" He joke-scoffed as he relaxed.

For a moment you couldn't believe this was real: the soft breeze lullying you and Astarion as you had a late afternoon snack together. You no longer had to worry about the sun burning to ashes your other half, or to eat alone, though Astarion always sat at the table with you. You didn't have to worry about excuses or mirrors that wouldn't dare to reflect Astarion's beauty.

Just the thought of mirrors brought you back two memories you held dearly: the night you helped him read his back, and the first time after 2 centuries that he could see himself with his own eyes, rather than through yours.

It was the same night you finally awoke after a whole week. He had waited through that week eagerly, as you recovered. All those things that he lost the habit of doing, he wanted to experience them with you.

So you both stood in front of the mirror, you were behind him, your arms tightly wrapped against his hips and your head on his shoulder, as he stared wide-eyed at his reflection.

"See?" You twirled one of those curls that fell in front of his face. "This is what I mean" you gently twisted his head so he could see better his ear and the way his curls wrapped behind it.

He was speechless as you guided him through all those things you always swore to love, but sounded silly for him.

You even ended up telling him a joke about kobolds and goblins to steal a smile from his lips, just enough you could show him those creases that made your knees like jelly.

But the more he'd look at the reflection, the more he'd notice also the details he always dreaded would forever haunt him: like the bite mark on his neck, so deep that it never healed properly, or the scar he never knew was on his shoulder. It was a cold shower while you were trying to cheer him up, and he was so sad because he thought he ruined such a lovely moment between the two of you, focusing on the wrong details.

The one thing he was truly afraid of though, was looking at the rest of the body, the back in particular, terrified of what gruesome scars might have harbored between his shoulder blades, so he didn't dare yet.

He wore his best smile as he turned your way, placing a tender kiss on your lips before muttering—

"My love, are you alright?" He asked, sitting closer to you, and placing a hand on your thigh, drawing slow circles, bringing you back to your picnic and away from memories.

"Yeah, sorry" You muttered, still half lost in the memories. "I just remembered your smile, and I couldn't stop. '' You said softly, your cheeks warming up at the look on Astarion's face. His eyes were wide and soft, so beautiful as the sunset light started to reflect in them. The now softer red of his irises danced and swirled with the soft shades of pink that twinkled reflected. His lips were turned in a grin that he couldn't wipe away even if the world would be crushing on him. Even his ears had a cute reaction as the tips twitched for a moment.

Lastly his cheeks flushed, a sight that was so unique, as they took the colors of peaches.

He wanted to kiss you now that you were so close, but then his mind connected the dots, and he couldn't help but yelp ever so slightly at the realization.

"My love" He called lovingly, his gaze not leaving yours as you admired him. It was not about the admiring itself, but the love those eyes were shining with. Eyes that twinkled like that only for one, him.

A soft hum was your answer as you just enjoyed the little corner of peace you were sharing.

"In the beginning I thought me and you were like the sun and the moon, destined to chase each other and never meet in the middle. Even before we knew each other, deep down- very very deep down I might point out- I would dream of a love like this, of being rescued by a kind soul that would teach me what I never had the chance to experience." He didn't stop, he poured it all like a river during a high moon. "And even in those dreams, you were a fleeting presence, you'd run around kissing everyone's cheeks, and meeting with me in those small moments when the sun and moon would be next to each other"

You could see the raw emotions seeping through his eyes as he just let it all out, while you listened devotedly.

"I wonder if in those two hundred years, we met accidentally down the roads of Baldur's Gate. If by any chance we stumbled upon each other as we were running for errands. If the universe tried to bring us together earlier but failed over and over again" He sighed, taking a long breath before starting again.

He didn't notice your hand reaching for his and cupping it with your fingers, until the pads of your thumb brushed delicately against his knuckles.

"But then we met, and you were no longer running away. Yet I was so afraid that I ended up being the one who did, and you chased me" He smiled ever so softly.

"I was truly awful to you if I think back. I initially planned to toy with your feelings to have a safety net, and instead I had you there, poking with your dexterous fingers where no one ever did. You came every morning, before leaving camp, to say hi. You offered your neck to me and trusted me, it was so new. All of it."

He unclasped your hand, bringing it to your cheek, and caressing it.

"Then I saw it. We were no longer the moon and the sun. We became the moon and the stars. You were there in all that darkness. You listened to a story that would make anyone weep in pity, and yet you offered me a shoulder to cry on and ears willing to hear. You offered a heart to share the burden with, willing to help me carry it. You were my moon, the light that I couldn't help but yearn for. So I became the stars, lingering around you and taking in all those little things you'd do." He could feel his chest tighten as he went on, seeing the way your eyes would soften by the minutes.

"You taught me all. With you I didn't have to be afraid of being myself, I didn't need to be afraid cause you had my back. I didn't have to charm my way through you, and despite the fact that I could give you nothing, you still managed to patiently give me your everything. You taught me love, something I've never thought I could feel, in any way" He leaned forward, placing a ever so soft kiss on your forehead before sitting back.

You were still there where you leaned as well, your eyes yet to open. Then he spoke again, his voice low yet delicate.

"And I will be forever grateful for it, my love. I will forever be grateful for you to be in my life. I will be grateful of the gifts you made me, giving me a second chance at life" It was something he couldn't fully explain, and neither could you, how naturally you two fit together. How the universe made sure his arms would perfectly wrap around your waist, or how he could shake you like no one ever could. The fates truly took their time threading you two together, and you both were grateful for it.

A calm was between you two, silence filling where words could have been, silence where you allowed your eyes to say it all. Yet that silence was abruptly stopped.

"So my love." He took a long breath, mustering all his love in his heart before gifting it to you. "I was wondering if you'd like to share the night sky with me forever, until the end of time." You smiled, and he swore he saw the universe in your irises.

"I thought it was obvious, my star." You brushed your thumb along his cheek. "I'd cross the nine hells if it meant staying by your side. I'd sail the elemental planes and even at the edge of the universe if it meant to kiss you" You leaned in, your lips barely caressing his in the most delicate and pure kiss.

He hummed, closing his eyes at your warmth, but quickly brought himself back to the reality around you.

"So" He cleared his throat, swiftly reaching into his pocket. "My moon, will you marry me?" His words came out so full, like he wanted to scream the question into the void, and yet so gentle, like he was holding a single flower in his palm, out for you.

Warm tears traced your cheeks as your heart swelled. You wanted to say it out loud, to yell it. Yet the words were stuck in your throat behind the trembling lips as you were so overwhelmed.

Your head did it all for you, nodding before you could control the rest of your body.

Your touch was delicate against his chest, even when you were pushing him to have him lay down.

You towered over him, as you gripped the collar of his shirt, and crushed your lips together.

You poured every drop of you to him, cause you were his and only his.

He didn't let go of you, or of your kiss. He basked in the slow dance you were making together, while the cookies and the ring laid forgotten on the table. You don't know how or when you moved back inside, your bodies still flush against each other, and your lips still tangled.

It was something so harmonious, the way you'd moan in his lips, as he grazed your skin. You were one as you made love over and over again. So tender, slow, emotional.

Sometimes tears would swell on your eyes just for a brief moment as you'd profess your love to each other between those choked moans.

You were truly the other piece of him. The only one that would fit perfectly wrapped around his hips, and still perfect when he'd be tangled in your limbs, coaxing those sweet sounds that drove him insane. You were perfect when your arms held him to you, and perfect when he filled you to the brim.

He wanted to say so many things as you showed him the stars, as his head rested in the crook of your neck while he could feel his body lose control over and over again. For you, with you, in you.

"I'll be yours in every universe" He'd kiss your shoulder.

"L-love you in every life" He'd lock your leg on his hip.

"M-my moon" He'd moan as he'd spill in your warmth.

He was glad they were alone, secluded away from any prying ears, cause all he wanted was to drown in the sweet sounds of the love you'd give to each other.

And then you laid in his arms. Your head pressed against his chest as your bodies grew tired, as your legs were still tangled with his while he'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

"I'll never love again the way I love you" He'd let his fingers trace the hills and dips of your body, and for a moment he'd indulge in thoughts he always feared to cross his mind; like his hands cradling your swollen belly, or the tiny life you'd protect with every fiber of your beings. The byproduct of your love asleep in his arms. He dared to dream about growing old by your side, and for a moment he dared to imagine meeting you in his next life, but this time he'd waste no time.

Like that, he'd also forget about that folded piece of paper in his pocket where he added one more name to the list. He wanted to finally uncover the mysterious person you saved: your husband.

[givehimthemedicine]

El-Max parallels implying Billy's physical abuse of Max

quick mostly-gif analysis. we're told that Billy "takes his anger out on Max" and that he "made her life living hell." was he physically abusive to Max all along? nobody ever says that.

we see Billy physically abuse Lucas and Steve. but if we're talking strictly about Max, those phrasings leave room for people to argue that Billy might've been emotionally abusive, but didn't actually hit her or anything. that that arm-grab in the car is just sibling behavior and not necessarily indicative of abuse.

and, hey man, look, you're right that they never say. but there's lots of things this show never explicitly says.

note that we only see Billy/flayed Billy hurt Max twice, and both of those are parallels to ways we also see him hurt El.

the Billy-Max arm grab is suspiciously similar to the Billy-El arm grab. surprise grab, struggle/yanking, and then a rough release. he makes the same face.

(I've seen the argument that Max's daring snark before, and surprise at, the grab suggests he's never hurt her before. but I think both could just as well be explained by the fact that they're in public, where she thought she was safer from this than at home.)

we also see El and Max take facial injuries from flayed Billy at Starcourt. these close ups of their injuries are in consecutive scenes:

and we see him hurt El lots more times than we do Max.

so if the only two we know about are parallels, it makes me wonder about all the other times:

Billy strangling El

the way Billy pauses to look pointedly at Max as he starts strangling El, like he's getting something out of her, in particular, watching this. and then the way Max later looks guilty about the bruise it leaves on El's throat. (I will be discussing this at length soon)

Billy throwing the weights at El

that scene where he's lifting weights and yelling at Max (who's duct taping the skateboard he's heavily implied to have broken as punishment about Lucas)... hmmmm.

hey it's almost like the skateboard is a symbol of / scapegoat for Billy's abuse, because remember:

baby Max with the broken arm

maybe she broke it skateboarding. she did tell Nancy and Jonathan that skateboarding is why she knows first aid, but they don't look like they're buying it.

however, we just so happen to have seen another flashback of baby Max before, which makes it clear that she already knew Billy around this age. (Runaway Max says Billy broke her friend's arm btw.)

Billy repeatedly leaning over El at Starcourt

the "stay still" shit and the way he's repeatedly, unnecessarily, on top of El in that scene, using his body to trap her in. (like. if he wants her to quit struggling, it'd be easier to kick her when he's already standing than to get back on all fours and headbutt her. why does he actively get in the way of the MF to keep Doing That.) we've seen Billy block Max in before with the silent threat of his physicality. a subtle taste of a commonly overlooked form of abuse.

those all leave me wondering about the ones I can't think of Max screenshots to pair with.

Billy slamming El by the face... throwing her into the wall to knock her out... dragging El by the foot as she tries to crawl away from him (only to get back on top of her once again)...

but hey. no worries. they never said any of that.

[itsa-me-lily]

This is not what I originally set off to write, but I'm not totally mad at it. Please note I am a type 1 diabetic, so I am writing from a place of knowing about it.

Here is more Simon & Thimble Playlist

Here is the MPS Au masterlist

Content warning; Mention of medical devices, medical drugs, a lot of swearing, allusions and mention of an eating disorder (no one has an ED in this, just the concern for one), concern for possibly domestic abuse

“Are ye sure you’re okay with it hen? Simon sleeping with other people?”

You feel your patience slipping further out of your grasp with Johnny’s question. That or it’s the fucking god damn pan that you’re trying to scrape your burnt god damn eggs off of. All you had wanted was nice fucking breakfast. But the universe apparently wanted you to fucking suffer.

First you ended up fucking up your replacement insulin pod, and then when you tried a second time the syringe leaked, so while you finally got a working pod on yourself, you had the smell of insulin stuck in your nose.

And you knew that you needed to go grocery shopping, your list taunting you from where it’s magnetized to your fridge, but you weren’t expecting how bare bones it was. All that was really left had been an almost empty bag of shredded cheese, half a pouch of questionable grapes, and two eggs. Omelets and fruit it was then.

Or it would have been but as soon as you put your eggs in the pan the doorbell had gone off, and Simon was apparently in the shower because he didn't get the door, which meant that you had to, and even though you had tried to be as fast as possible, your eggs were still burning when you and Johnny got back to the kitchen. And now he was asking the same question for the tenth fucking time.

"Yes Johnny, like I said before I'm perfectly fine with it. And no before you ask it's not that I can't fuck anyone else, it's because I don't want to fuck anyone else."

In the end you just drop the pan, figuring you can just come back to it when you don't feel like bashing a scott's head in. Only as soon as you turn around you decide that maybe you should just beat his skull. Simon wouldn't be that upset right?

"For fucks sake stop eating my fucking grapes!"

Johnny stops mid grape, wide eyed and looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Wot? It's just a handful."

"It's half the fucking bowl already!"

Are you being unreasonable? Maybe, but you've already figured out your numbers, taken your bolus, and now all those numbers were fucked, and you didn't think you had anything else, and you just wanted to stop fucking smelling insulin.

Before any murder could happen though, Simon decides to grace you all with his freshly showered presence, pushing one of his protein bars into your hand. Your very loud speaking gets caught off as you stare down at the bar as if you're confused as to how it got there.

Simon doesn't say much as he grabs the list off of the fridge, and then the back of Johnny's shirt, pulling the man away from your strangling range and towards the front door and freedom.

"Going shopping. Text if you need anything else."

Before you can question why Simon has decided to do your grocery shopping for you, the front door shuts, leaving you with your few remaining grapes and a protein bar. At least it was a flavor you liked.

Outside Soap doesn't say anything until they’re in Simon's truck and already on the way to the grocery store, sounding confused and a little hesitant to get on another Riley's nerves.

"So...she always like that?"

Simon cut his eyes away from the road quickly to see how his teammate was looking at him like he was some poor damsel in distress. Jesus he wasn't thinking you two were normally having domestics was he?

"She's gotta keep track of the carbs she eats."

"Wot? Like compulsively?"

Lord now Soap is going to think you have some sort of fucking eating disorder or something. Not that Simon thought you did. At least he was pretty sure you didn't.

"It's for her diabetes. She takes insulin based off the carbs she eats, and she's gotta take it a bit before she eats. So you were messing with her carb count."

He paid attention to what you did, and he remembers what he read up on it after the possible haunted baby episode.

Soap's quiet from the passenger seat, and Simon just hopes it doesn't lead to some sort of over the top over compensation for it all. Though maybe he can swing for some free groceries.

Edit;

I'm not in love with how I ended it, but I also don't really know how I would end it otherwise. Also yes, the hanger gets real. I also was going to have this be a piece where Reader explains how she feels about sex and it's part in relationships and stuff but somehow it became more of a piece about how Simon does pay attention to how Reader handles her disease and how he kind of accommodates it. Because in my head Simon fucking hates those protein bars, but they're good in a pinch. I do want to write a different piece about Simon being a little over bearing with it as well, because I think it's an interesting idea of "This is how I'm trying to show my affection" (Even if it's maybe overbearing) vs "I am a fully grown adult I can fucking handle myself"

[skrunksthatwunk]

sorry just watched all of lacey's games (thru rabbit hole at time of writing) and i wanna talk about laceys diner can we talk about lacey's diner? we're talking about it now

tl;dr lacey's games is about the presentation and consumption of girls.

cw suicide, csa, incest, cannibalism. if you've seen the series, you know. i only speak of them vaguely here though

in lacey's diner her livelihood depends on how well people like her food, how it looks, how it tastes, how quickly she gets it to them on time. if any of these things falter, they reject her and reinforce her desperation (trauma around failure and acceptance + threat of extreme poverty via the restaurant closing).

eating her food is accepting her, choosing to be with her in some way. lacey gets eaten in the prior episode so her stalker can be with her forever, out of an obsession with her (/her body) that leads him to destroy her to better possess and consume her (like her uncle). she can't be late serving them herself, because that's not good presentation—her inability to get food out on time is a reflection of her flaws, and a cause to reject her. she must be available for others, punctual. she can't put the wrong ingredients in—elements of herself, her life—she must exclude them entirely from the part they eat, the part she gives away. she keeps the part that is filled with the disgusting, ugly, painful things in her life, about her.

and when she gets fed up and feeds those raw, authentic parts of herself to them (out of spite, tired of trying her best to no avail, to give them a taste of their own medicine), she is punished, not allowed to serve anyone again bc it's too gross and dangerous. she is punished for lashing out, for not keeping it all bottled up, and in her helplessness, resigns herself to death.

as seen in rabbit hole, jay was too boyish to be consumed happily by the audience (the mothers in the emails), so she was killed off and effectively haunts lacey. if she is not presentable enough, she too will be destroyed and discarded. if she is too presentable, she will be consumed too completely. she has no control, no say (as we know from lacey's wardrobe), no agency outside of pretending she's in a sparkly dreamy world. and jay—who said she would rather die than wear makeup—is forced by lacey to wear makeup in death. she's fixing her by making her conform to the same gender standards she's strangled by, saying that if she was less boyish she wouldn't have died. again, femininity and conformity (and thus being pleasant to others, presenting oneself to be admired and consumed) is safe to lacey, something she must perform to survive. yet, of course, lacey is hurt immensely for her being a girl, for her being a woman, and for her trauma resulting from those events.

all her talk of being ugly when she's grieving, of almost crying in front of him (her uncle iirc), of needing to be pretty even for the people who abuse and hurt her... and how she wished the world was ugly and grotesque when jay died because that was how it felt, but it was just sunny and oblivious. she was the one standing out for being upset, and the world was pretending and consumable and she couldn't anymore. she had to scrape herself together though because what else is there? when her job and stability and life is at stake, how can she afford to be traumatized? to not pretend, even when she's alone? augh. ough. look i just like lacey. i want her to be ok

i don't know that lacey herself is supposed to have a linear, consistent story. i kind of think she's an avatar for like,, girlhood suffering and trauma, and the traumatized people who come from that (hence her dying in multiple ways and coming back). perhaps as rocio's way of warning or comforting girls who went through similar things to her, or to vent her own issues because the thought of making something that's such a farce, such a forced, gussied up version of what it's like to be a girl, bothers her. the audience comes to the website to consume lacey at her best, at her most presentable, and are instead met with the harsh reality of cockroaches and used condoms. and yet, the audience of lacey games the video series consumes her too, only they are seeking out her trauma, trying to invade her mind and pick it apart. we're all consuming what we want, whatever we find appetizing, of lacey. and for rocio, you get the sense that she is also a tool, a way for rocio to express her inner distress. in that, lacey is put through all this unfortunate shit by rocio to make her more presentable and consumable to her. we are all using lacey, we all see her and eat her and destroy her. and she comes back to us and her cage because the pain's comforting in its familiarity.

in short, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. 👍

[scoobydoodean]

hot take ig but… dean wanting to contain jack was not cruel or even a bad idea…

first, it was not just dean’s idea. sam agreed, and cas had basically the same idea, just using the cage instead. but for some reason everybody ignores this!! second, containing dangerous people is what they always do. sam and cas have done so to dean. the s5 finale was all about locking up a dangerous powerful being. and there are other examples! third, jack was the most powerful being in the universe and had no soul meaning no ability to discern right from wrong. he was killing people! and they’ve always seen soulless people as dangerous. dean was willing to let sam die via the process of returning his soul bc he saw that soulless sam was not sam. and sam agreed!

like. yes dean was not handling the situation well, let alone gently, so i understand why sam and cas were frustrated. but his mother had just been killed (and ftr i do think cas was being kind of insensitive about it), and jack was still killing other people. dean’s allowed to be angry. he was being outwardly meaner, but sam was agreeing with him (he said a part of him wanted jack dead!) up until the point that dean actually agreed to kill jack for chuck.

idk i just feel like people really exaggerate dean’s actions in this situation especially in comparison to what sam and cas were saying and/or doing too. so i’m just wondering what you think of all of this? do you think dean was “right” or was he overreacting? or do you think the audience is too hard on dean (as always :/) about this? could this be another version of samdela effect? cause i feel like people misremember what the others were saying/doing in order to put more on dean…

also omg i just realized how long this became, so so sorry for the long rant!! if you can respond, thank you!

*opens my coat* would you care for some memes?

I will take your hot take and flambé it. When it comes to this subject, I don't feel inclined to be patient with fandom or carefully lay anything out piece by piece. I'm sick and tired of hearing about what a betrayal it was to put Jack in the box and how mean and evil and abusive it was blah blah blah cry me a river. I was there watching when that episode aired and saw how stupid everyone was about that episode in real time and it was annoying then and it continues to be annoying that almost no one seems to bother putting a single granule of thought into this episode or what Sam and Dean were thinking or what the stakes actually were. And yeah—it was not just Dean who did that despite the samdela effect hard at work causing people to insist Dean somehow forced Sam to go along with him when that categorically did not happen.

People act like Jack was just standing there shitting rainbows and unicorns out of his ass and Dean turned around and strangled him to death for it. What happened was Soulless Jack killed Sam and Dean's mom and then went off and turned someone into a pillar of salt for being an atheist and filled someone else's body with worms to punish them for not wanting to be turned into an angel. Then he showed up at the bunker trying to make nice in the most hauntingly emotionless way possible—calling killing Mary an accident and then in his next breath saying he snapped and killed her because she threatened to reveal that the manner in which he killed Nick was scary and disturbed. In other words—he made it very clear to Mary's sons that murdering her was not actually a fucking accident at all even while he was calling it one.

Jack: I know -- I know things have been bad. A-And, if it helps, I regret it. The accident. Sam: The -- The accident? Jack: What happened to Mary. She kept talking about my soul, t-that I didn't have a soul, and she kept pushing. Dean: Oh, so she made you do it. Jack: No, it -- it was me, but I didn't want this no-soul thing to become an issue between us. I guess I snapped. Before I knew it, it was all over. Dean: "It" being the accident.

So Sam and Dean tricked him (the most powerful being in all creation) into getting in a box and he sat in there for 10 minutes. Oh no. How horrible.

A lot of the stupid fandom response to this is rooted in the babyfication of Jack that ran rampant within fandom at the time and continues in many circles. I happen to like Jack, and when I say that, I mean that I actually like him, and not the fanon adultbabydestiellovechild the fandom invented who has the emotional and mental capacity of a two year old and can't understand the difference between right and wrong. The real Jack did understand, and the real Jack would be (and was when he returned) horrified by what soulless Jack did (and for more than just how it would impact him). Jack was always an emotional person who struggled to control great power, but he had a strong moral compass and he loved people. That Jack would never have subjected someone to the twisted biblical punishments soulless Jack did for the crime of not believing in god or in him???? That Jack would have thrown Dumah into a wall in a rage for the mere suggestion he kill people over their beliefs and said, "You're hurting people". That Jack also would have wanted Sam and Dean to lock him up to protect others.

Some of the fandom problem with this also has to do the soulless lore as a whole and the constant usage of Donatello as the "soulless people can manage" poster child. Which ignores not only soulless Jack's actual behavior and how deeply dangerous his powers make him, but... pretty much every other soulless person we ever saw in the series, from soulless Sam, to numerous victims of Amara who turned into raging murderers in season 11 after she ate their souls. Hell though—the same people who insist soulless Jack was some poor little baby who just needed gentle parenting probably also think there was nothing wrong with soulless Sam despite the fact that he watched his brother be assaulted multiple times and seemed to actively enjoy it. Just normal Sam things, right? Donatello is the exceptional soulless person—not the rule—and it's because it isn't in his best interest to make trouble.

The idea that soulless Jack could be molded was suggested by Cas, but he also (as you pointed out) ended up inquiring about putting Jack in The Cage, instead of the Ma'lak box (and after the Ma'lak box was destroyed, so it wasn't an option anymore).

Lbr—the misogyny also jumped out in this string of episodes. Countless posts one after the other about how stupid Mary was and how it was all her fault and Jack did nothing wrong. How dare she make Jack angry. God forbid. What a stupid, frail, illogical woman. She deserved to die long before that anyway because she was a terrible mother, right? I mean it was obvious this sort of nonsense would come from the fandom in advance, given how many people had meltdowns over Dean shooting Jack in the back (something that didn't hurt Jack in the least) to get him to stop strangling a black store clerk to death in 13.23. As always, the imagined frail little fee fees of the white adult baby that fans invented must supersede other people's lives. Jack should be allowed to throw whatever tantrums he wants and kill anyone he wants during them and in response, Dean should shush him and start singing lullabies and carry him to a rocking chair to nurse.

[faggot-vampire-dies-epicly]

Tear me to pieces

Summary: Vanessa was annoyed. Her dad had sent her to check on you at the old Freddy's location on the outskirts of town. She expected the eerie atmosphere and dusty hallways, but she didn’t expect the way you made her feel. | Words: 6,031K

Warnings: Semi-graphic depictions of corpses. Death, murder, missing people, references of child death/murder. Parental abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation. Cursing. A slight sexual joke. Heavy angst, hurt/almost no comfort. William is an asshole on this one, you guys. Fem!Reader.

A/N: Whew, this took so long! But I'm kind of proud on how this turned out, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I went out of my way to make William as shitty as possible because I love making Vanessa suffer, and well, there's also sort of a plot twist? It's probably pretty obvious but I tried to keep it in the dark a little :). Title is from Lovely by Billie Eilish & Khalid/Inspired by the entire album of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, by My Chemical Romance.

Main Materlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

She had arrived at least fifteen minutes ago, but her headache from her father’s berating had not yet subsided. She really wasn’t in the mood to make any effort. In spite of William’s scolding, she wanted just to fulfill her father’s orders in the most half-assed-and-bare-minimum-effort way possible.

Vanessa sighed, staring at the restaurant’s sign. The letters of the neon sign glowed dimly over the parking lot.

She cursed under her breath and got out of the car. She opened the trunk and took out the bag where she kept his fake police uniform. Her father had been trying to convince her for months to enroll into the police force, but she had refused over and over again. Vanessa knew he just wanted her to cover for him, and she refused to be more involved in his crimes than she already was.

She put the uniform over her normal civil clothes, grabbed the fake police badge and the ID and stepped out of the car. 

Vanessa took a deep breath and finally walked to the entrance. 

Doing these checkups was never easy for her. She got to meet pretty mundane people who were practically doomed from the start. From middle aged parents that just needed the job to survive with their kids to college students and teenagers that were fresh out of high school and just wanted to make some money to buy a car or go out with their friends.

They never lasted. Never.

Unfair was an understatement.

At least her father didn’t have to do with the disappearance of the majority. Most of them she would find inside Freddy. It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t get any easier, but at least she knew her father wasn’t the real cause in the end. Or that’s how she tried to convince herself.

She rang the bell, waiting for the guard of this month (or perhaps of this week only) to come out.

She looked back at the parking lot. It was empty except for her car, parked on the darkest corner she could find. The door opened and she snapped her head back to the entrance.

And she saw you, looking confused.

“Is there anything I can help you with, officer?”

She stared at you for a moment. “Another college kid?” she thought wryly, “she’s not even going to last the full week”.

Vanessa forced a smile, suddenly becoming too aware of the way your gaze wouldn’t leave her face.

“Hi,” she said in a slightly strangled voice. You frowned.

She blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m Officer Shelly. Vanessa Shelly,” she laughed awkwardly.

Vanessa extended her hand out, hoping you would understand the gesture and shook it. You complied. It was gentle, but firm. 

It made her skin tingle.

Vanessa swallowed, trying to shake the feeling away. 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious,” she began. “I just wanted to check on you. When there’s a new night guard in this place, word spreads fast.” 

You made a confused face, but you nodded. She smiled at you, “can I come in?”

“Um,” you hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah, sure,” you said while stepping aside. She gave you a polite smile and she went into the restaurant.

Once inside, she looked around. It looked the same every time, but that didn’t make it any less dreadful.

The place used to be crammed with kids and their families. There were always birthday celebrations, kindergarten graduation parties, some people just going for a quick bite after a long day. Hell, sometimes even some high school students would show up after homecoming.

She remembered it well. The smell of pizza, the laughter of children, the animatronics singing and dancing. 

And then, her father inside the suit. The police sirens, mothers crying, fathers yelling.

A chill runned down her spine, snapping her out of the memories. You eyed her curiously at the sudden reaction, but said nothing. 

Vanessa cleared her throat again, “how long have you been working here?”

You licked your lips, an action Vanessa got too caught on. “A couple of days only.”

She hummed, nodding. “Has anything weird happened?” You swallowed, “weird how?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Like someone trying to break in,” she said casually, glancing around. “Or,” she trailed off, “equipment malfunctioning, like the monitors, or the cameras, or…”

She turned to face you. “Maybe the animatronics getting a bit quirky.” She tried to be as nonchalant as possible while mentioning the animatronics.

You seemed to tense up slightly, opening your mouth to answer but then snapping it shut again.

“No,” you said finally, with a slightly higher pitch than usual. “Nope. Nothing like that has happened, ma’am.”

Vanessa grimaced at the formal way you addressed her. “Please,” she forced some humor into her voice, “don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, “I’m sorry Officer–”

She raised her hand, signaling for you to stop talking. “Just,” she sighed, “just call me Vanessa.”

You breathed out softly. “Sorry, Vanessa.”

The way you said her name had her avoiding your gaze nervously. “God, Vanessa, get a grip,” she thought.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed quickly.

You two stood there in an awkward silence for a few moments. She couldn’t bear it.

“So, what made you decide to work at Freddy’s?” Vanessa internally scolded herself for asking something so stupid and personal.

“Oh,” you said, shrugging. “I just wanted to make some money before the school year starts.”

Vanessa nodded slowly, “Highschool?”

You shook your head. “College, actually.”

Her eyes widened, you looked younger than you were then.

“That’s,” she blinked a few times, “nice.”

You nodded awkwardly, and she smiled. “What’s your major?”

“English literature.”

“That sounds interesting,” she said thoughtfully.

“You know, I never considered going to college,” Vanessa murmured, thinking how her father would reduce her to dust if she even dared to suggest the idea.

“Is that why you’re a cop?” You said bluntly. You quickly realized how that sounded and attempted to take it back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Vanessa stared at you blankly for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

You smiled, confused. 

“Don’t worry. It is probably why I am a cop, yeah,” she said, smiling, trying to regain her composure.

Not one of the previous had charmed her enough to even smile, and now you were making her laugh.

She obviously couldn’t tell you that she wasn’t actually a cop. She sighed, gazing at the clock that hung on the wall. “Well, I better get going, I still have to patrol a couple of blocks,” she lied.

You nodded, understanding, and then escorted her to the door.

“I may come back another night to see how you’re doing, alright?” 

“Sure.”

Vanessa nodded, but before you closed the door, she spoke again. “You never told me your name.”

You smiled, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” she echoed, then nodded. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too, Vanessa.”

And with that she made her way back to her car, her heart pounding inside her chest.

She returned four days later by her father’s order. 

Same routine. Choose the darkest spot in the parking lot, put the fake uniform on top of her normal clothes, grab her fake badge and fake ID and put on her bravest face. 

It was the same procedure she had done for years. Except, of course, that this time it was pouring, and she hadn’t brought a rain coat with her.

She frantically rang the bell, feeling the rain wet her clothes and soak her to the bone. 

You opened the door, letting her through. She mumbled a thank you as she rushed inside.

“God, you’re soaked,” you murmured. She snapped her head towards you, almost straining her neck, and you blushed at how that sounded. “I, I meant–” 

Vanessa sighed, looking at her uniform, “I know what you meant,” she grumbled.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I think there’s a towel in the office. Come with me.”

She followed you to the office while shivering. You offered your chair for her to sit and she gladly accepted it.

She watched you search every corner of your office for a towel, but the only thing you could find was a handkerchief. 

“Sorry, this is all I have,” you scratched the back of your neck as you offered the piece of cloth. She took with trembling fingers, and immediately dried her face.

“What brings you here again?” You asked, sitting on your desk. She sighed, untying her hair to try and dry it a bit with the handkerchief. 

“I just want to see how you are doing, honestly,” she said, making a face. “I didn’t read the weather forecast, as you can see.”

You chuckled a bit, “you’re going to be fine.”

A beat passed and you spoke up again, “actually, I have coffee, would you like some?”

She groaned softly. “Oh my God. Yes, please.”

You chuckled again, taking out a thermos from your backpack and pouring some in the mug sitting on the desk.

She took the coffee hastily and took a sip, humming in contentment. “I think you’re the first guard to bring coffee to the job,” she murmured. You raised your eyebrows.

“Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. The job is being a night guard, I can’t be the only one,” you rolled your eyes, and she smiled into the mug. “And second of all,” you looked into her eyes, “you met the other guards?”

Vanessa choked on the hot liquid, and coughed. She had said too much.

“Um,” she said, trying to recover. “Well, I met some of them,” she laughed awkwardly, avoiding your eyes. You hummed, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“And how were they like?”

Vanessa sighed, as flashbacks flooded her mind. 

Sometimes she would find their bodies still sitting on the chair, their head laid down on the desk. She would consider herself lucky when she found them like that. Usually they had been just stabbed on the chest, or the stomach. It was probably Foxy, or that’s what she liked to think.

Other times she would find them in the supply closet. Dismembered, split in a half, headless, or smashed. She would have to hide the bodies and additionally clean the whole room. 

The animatronics were relentless, especially, she had come to realize, if the person looked like her father, even if it was just the minimum. 

She didn’t blame them of course. They had been trapped in there for at least two decades, and even if they had forgotten what happened, and who did them wrong, they still subconsciously searched for vengeance.

“Vanessa?” 

She snapped out of her thoughts, “yes?”

“What were the other night guards like? I mean,” you shifted on the desk, leaning in. “I mean, I’ve heard that most of them went missing. But that can’t be true, can’t it? That’s too many people to be a coincidence.”

She swallowed, looking at the remaining sip of coffee on the mug.

Vanessa cleared her throat in an effort to regain her composure. “Well, I’m sure most of them simply quit.”

“You don’t seem so sure,” you said, arching an eyebrow. She tried to brush it off by chuckling. 

“I mean,” she sighed, “it would be too many people to be a coincidence, like you said. People don’t just… disappear.” 

You frowned. The tone in which she had said it made your curiosity rise. 

Just as you were about to ask her to explain what she meant, she drank the last of the coffee and handed you the mug.

“Well, thanks for the coffee,” she looked down at her hands, where she was holding the handkerchief. “And for the…” she waved the piece of cloth, “this.”

You smiled and her heart sped up. “Sure thing."

It had become a routine. She came back to supposedly check on you, but in reality she just wanted to see you. To hear you.

She ached to look at you as you ranted to her about a boring book you had been reading lately. 

She brought you dinner sometimes, which you always took with a smile, and a thank you in a soft voice, which made her heart leap into her chest.

Vanessa wasn't what people would call experienced in love, much less in dating, or relationships, but she knew that what you made her feel was not only attraction, but also affection.

Affection had always eluded Vanessa. First from her father, given his nature, and then from her mother, who vanished from the face of the Earth when Vanessa was a child.

But you were different. You seemed to exhale affection through your pores. It was so natural for you, whether with her or with everything else, that she could feel devotion slowly consuming her.

Her father had started to suspect that something was up. He had always controlled her outings, only letting her out at night to fulfill her duties as his spy, but she was checking on the guard a little too much for his liking.

He had even cornered her, grabbing her arm tightly and pressing her against the wall. “I’m warning you, Vanessa,” he said. “If I find out that you are crossing the line between my orders and your personal matters, it’s not going to end well for either of you. Especially not for her.”

She had suppressed a shiver as William let go of her arm.

Vanessa knew it was risky, but she didn’t want to stop. In fact, she couldn’t. It’s like she had become addicted to you.

Addicted to your smile, your humor, your voice. 

She hadn’t even touched you yet, aside from the handshake on the first night she met you, and the occasional brush of hands when she handed you some food, or when you gave her a mug filled with coffee.

She loved to hear you rant about the books you read, even if she thought that reading was boring, especially the books you always chose to read.

“I’m telling you,” you said, “this has to have some truth to it!” You exclaimed, holding the book up, whose cover read “The Turn of the Screw.” 

“What if ghosts do exist?” You continued. She rolled her eyes, slightly unamused by your interest in the supernatural. 

She knew ghosts were real. The whole place was a proof of it. All the deaths, and the attacks, it was obvious what had provoked them, but she remained silent as you kept speaking.

“I mean,” you continued, “you know energy can’t be destroyed, right? And humans are energy. So what really happens to our energy when we die?”

You seemed fascinated by the concept of ghosts now. All thanks to that stupid book.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious,” Vanessa scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes, “you just don’t get it.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

You grinned, “I could lend you the book if you want.” She chuckled.

“That won’t be necessary, believe me. I know enough thanks to what you have told me,” she smiled.

“Well, that sounds like you don’t like reading.”

 She laughed, “Not all of us can be workbooks like you, you know?”

Your grin widened. “You just don’t appreciate the beauty of reading and analyzing.”

Vanessa hummed, and smirked, “that must be why I became a cop.” You groaned. “God, no. I thought you had forgotten about that.” She smiled.

“I never forget the things you tell me,” she said softly. 

You smiled softly, blushing slightly while you looked down at your book. On the page you were left on you put the handkerchief, which you were now using as a separator, and closed the book.

“You know,” you spoke softly. “I know that might have sounded pretty mean. But I said it as a compliment.”

She met your gaze, “how so?”

You licked your lips. “Well, I could never be a cop. To be a cop you need to be brave, smart and caring. Reading is something I’ve always loved, that’s why I’m majoring in english literature, but you,” you paused. “You became a police officer to help people, something that has never crossed my mind.”

Vanessa swallowed, knowing that she wasn’t a real cop, and that she wasn’t pretending to help anyone but herself and her father.

“Your decision to pursue a career that allows you to help others doesn't compare to my futile decision to study literature because I like to read and be annoying.” You smiled at her again. “I could never be like you, and I admire you, honestly.”

She felt a little overcome with emotion, and completely filled with guilt. She swallowed her feelings down.

“Thank you. For your kind words.”

You grinned, “as long as I’m alive you’ll get to hear more kind words coming from me.”

One night, when Vanessa descended the staircase, carrying the bag with her fake belongings, William was waiting for her at the foot of the steps, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He wore that look he always had when he was planning something, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Vanessa,” he began, his voice cold like ice, “where are you going?”

She swallowed, lifting the bag for her father to see, hoping he would deduce her intentions, but he merely arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to Freddy’s”, Vanessa said in a small voice, “to check on the night guard.”

She brushed past him, walking towards the garage.

“You’ve been checking on her an awful lot lately, hm?” 

William trailed behind her, his pace slowly but his steps wide.

Vanessa didn’t turn to look at him. She opened the car’s trunk, throwing the bag inside, and just hummed in acknowledgement to her dad’s words.

“Is there a reason why?” William insisted.

Vanessa sighed. “No, dad. I just want to keep an eye on her,” she closed the trunk with more force than she intended to. “I’m just doing as you told me. I’m just doing what you entrusted me to do.” 

He hummed, sounding more like the typical cartoon villain than an actual man. 

“Remember what I told you, Vanessa.”

Vanessa didn’t answer, she just opened the driver’s side door, and got into the car.

Just as she was adjusting the mirror by her window, William grabbed her wrist tightly, and squeezed even tighter.

Vanessa groaned.

“I’m serious, Vanessa,” he leaned closer to her through the window, towering over his daughter. Vanessa felt herself shrinking on her seat.

"If I catch you spilling your guts to that filthy little friend of yours, I'll skin her alive, and you, dear daughter, I'll lock you up in the basement with the prototypes of animatronics I've been working on.”

Vanessa’s breath got caught in her throat. “Dad–” she tried to explain, but he just kept talking, squeezing her wrist harder.

“And I assure you, little girl,” William practically sneered, “this time those animatronics will serve their purpose if you dare come near them."

Finally, he let go of her wrist, or rather, he flung it away from him, and Vanessa's hand hit the mirror.

William walked away, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.

Vanessa sat there, still trembling, holding onto her hand, which hurt pretty bad. But she didn’t know what was worse, if the physical pain, the threats against you, or the threats against her.

When she had finally calmed down enough, she turned on the engine, and drove away.

Away from her father, and looking for you.

Your smile had disappeared, and turned instead into a frown as soon as you saw the state she was in. 

A nervous mess, with tense shoulders, and a bruise starting to form on her wrist. Wide, alert eyes met yours instead of the usual bright eyes that typically greeted you.

You closed the door behind her, the atmosphere was so tense that it could have been cut with a knife.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she sighed, leaning against one of the tables that were used for dinning back in the day.

You crossed the distance between you and her in two seconds, and delicately took her injured wrist.

“Then what is this?”

Vanessa’s pulse quickened. You were touching her.

Your skin felt so soft, so warm, and inviting. She suppressed a shiver as she swallowed dryly and looked away. 

“That’s just,” she gestured with her other hand, “an occupational hazard.” “I've never seen you have one of these before," you murmured. “Does it hurt?” You asked as you poked the bruise lightly. Vanessa hissed.

“Shit–” you let go of her hand as if it burned you. “I’m so sorry–”

“It’s fine,” she cut you off. “I’m fine, really.” She ran a hand through her carefully arranged ponytailed hair. “That just… happens sometimes. Sometimes things just happen to you, and you can’t explain why.” She swallowed, “you never know if you did something to cause them, or if that is just how life works.” You opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

“Come with me,” you said finally, walking towards your office.

She hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed you.

Once inside, you took your backpack and began to search inside. After a few moments, you pulled out a cold juice can wrapped in the handkerchief from last time.

“I brought this because I wanted to give it to you,” you said after you saw Vanessa’s look of confusion. “But I have books in my backpack, I don’t want them to get wet.” 

You unwrapped the handkerchief, which was now cold. With a subtle gesture, you  extended your hand towards her, indicating for her to bring her wrist closer.

She complied. You took her wrist, wrapping the cold cloth around it.

“There,” you said, “that’ll help with the swelling.” 

She took a deep breath, touched by the gesture.

“Thank you,” Vanessa said, meeting your gaze as she smiled softly.

“Anytime,” you replied, offering the juice can to her. “Besides, it matches your uniform.”

Vanessa smiled, taking the can from your hand. Her fingers brushed against yours, which caused a tingle to go down her spine.

Your smile widened, your eyes traveling to her injured wrist. “I hope it helps,” you gestured towards the piece of cloth wrapped around her wrist.

Vanessa nodded, pulling the tab from the can, and resting her lips on the cold surface of the lid. “It already feels better,” she admitted with a soft voice.

“Good,” you replied. You both stood there in silence, and Vanessa couldn’t help but notice that providing her with some comfort made you look strangely content.

“Have you seen the animatronics perform?” She asked suddenly.

You huffed a laugh. “Uh, no. Not really.”

She took a sip from the juice, “would you like to?”

You met her gaze, holding it for a second, and then you nodded.

When Vanessa woke up the next day, she lay in bed, mulling over everything that had happened the night before.

You giving her your handkerchief to help with the swelling of her wrist, the juice can, the animatronics' performance, the dancing, the way you rested your forehead against hers as you laughed after tripping over your own feet.

It felt surreal, to say the least.

When she finally decided to descend the stairs to find something to eat, her father was in the dining room reading the newspaper.

Their eyes met, but due to the fight from the night before, neither of them said anything and shortly after, William disappeared from her sight.

She was relieved, of course. A day without William meant a day without problems. No arguments, no empty threats, and no deathly stares.

Vanessa decided to just stay in and relax. It was true that she was glad William wasn’t around, but she didn’t want to upset him further by going out without permission. With her going out almost every night, deliberately disobeying him and lying to his face. She didn’t want to think about what could happen if he found out.

Hours passed and Vanessa was growing worried. Had something happened to him? 

It was true that whenever they were together, Vanessa felt like she had to walk on eggshells, always being on edge. But he was her dad after all, wasn't he? Her only family.

After a while of pacing out in front of the door, Vanessa sat down.

She started dozing off, and just when the clock was about to strike midnight, the door opened, with a very calm William stepping inside.

Vanessa immediately jumped from her seat, rushing to him.

William gave her an exasperated look, but smiled to her nonetheless.

He unceremoniously walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and Vanessa trailed behind him.

“Dad?”

William ignored her, taking the carton of milk out of the fridge, and setting it on the table. He then turned to the cupboard, taking out a mug, and lastly, took out powdered coffee from the kitchen cabinet.

“Dad,” Vanessa insisted. What was his deal now? Was he going to ignore her until his anger had dissipated?

He turned around, turning on the hot water, and filling his cup, which was now full of coffee powder. He hummed a tune, one Vanessa could recognize from the songs the animatronics used to play, she clenched her fists.

“Father,” her patience was running out, her voice was more commanding this time.

William continued on his task, now pouring the milk after having dissolved the coffee with water. Then he took the sugar jar and opened it.

She hated him. She hated him so much.

She hated his smugness, his incredibly enormous ego, the total dismissal of her feelings, the threats, the fights, the screaming, the hits –

Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. What was his problem? All Vanessa had ever done was to please him, and when she displeased him just once, he preferred to be away all day and ignore her afterward.

“Look at me!” she all but growled. 

William audibly sighed, taking a sip out of his drink. He put the mug on the counter, and finally acknowledged Vanessa’s presence.

“Tell me,” he said in a monotone voice, “are you going to visit your little friend today?”

Vanessa swallowed. “No, I’m not.”

William raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? That’s surprising.” 

Vanessa opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted her with a low chuckle. “I mean, you were so eager to see her last night, weren’t you?”

She inhaled, trying to relax and push her uncomfort down. “Yes,” she said between her teeth. “But since it upset you, I’m not going to go check on her for at least a couple of days.”

William hummed.

“Is that satisfying enough for you, father?”

“Bah,” with a dismissive gesture, he waved off her words, turning his head to the side with disdain.

“Playing the “father” card with me, like you’re a little kid,” he murmured to himself. “I know what you’re doing,” he turned to her, closing the distance between them.

Vanessa recoiled, panic etching her face. 

She tried walking away from him until her back hit the wall, and William finally cornered her.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” He smiled condescendingly at her. “You think you’re so tough, so… lucky. One day reality it’s going to hit you, and you’ll realize you’re not worth any of the trouble you’re causing.”

He raised his hand towards her face.

Vanessa’s breath quickened. She felt as if all of the air in the room suddenly vanished. Her chest felt tight, her throat was dry and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

William gently stroked her cheek before slowly sliding his hand downward. He rested his hand around Vanessa’s neck, not squeezing, just to hold her in place, like a silent warning.

His voice was soft and calm, but incredibly supercilious. “The day will come, Vanessa. Just wait and see.”

After a week of radio silence, Vanessa couldn't take it anymore and went to look for you at work.

Something had changed. She didn't know what exactly, but you weren't the same.

You would barely face her, let alone look at her. You would avoid her touch, you wouldn't accept her offerings of food.

You didn't offer her coffee anymore.

Vanessa couldn't help but wonder if it was something she had done.

Every time she tried to mention it, you brushed it off like it wasn’t important.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” or sometimes it was “I just had a rough day, don’t worry about it.”

You were lying, it was painfully obvious, and both of you were aware of it.

But why? What had happened? 

Vanessa couldn’t help but roll around in bed every night, thinking, analyzing.

Whatever it was, she was determined to find out.

There was something else, too.

Her father had also changed his behavior.

He stopped asking where she was going. He also spent most of his time in the basement, working on his projects.

Vanessa honestly didn't mind as much, she felt better with him being out of sight most of the time.

That night, when she went downstairs ready to check on you at Freddy's, he was in the living room, reading the newspaper.

“How's your little friend?” He asked, not lifting his gaze.

“She's fine,” Vanessa answered, maybe more coldly than she should've.

William chuckled, amused, for some reason.

“I've been thinking about placing an ad in the newspaper to look for another security guard.”

“Another?” Vanessa frowned. “Are you going to fire her?”

William lifted his gaze, “you sometimes worry me, Vanessa.”

Vanessa was taken aback by this, but her father didn't elaborate.

She sighed, making her way to the garage. 

Vanessa heard her father say, “have fun,” as she left the room.

She was inside Freddy's in no time. You had developed the habit of leaving the door unlocked, Vanessa knew she probably had to scold you for that, but she honestly couldn't care less.

Vanessa headed to your office, but something stopped her.

Was that the smell of…?

No, she interrupted her train of thought. No, it can't be, it's impossible.

“Is it, though?” A voice inside her head said.

She swallowed, turning around and heading to the storage room.

With her heart beating madly inside, she entered the room.

An incredibly strong and nauseating smell hit her. 

Vanessa recognized the smell easily. 

Putrefaction.

Death.

And there were you. Or rather, what was left of you.

Her heart was beating so fast that she was subconsciously afraid that her blood pressure would drop and she would faint.

Slowly, painfully so, she approached your body.

At first glance, and also thanks to the stench, she could tell this had happened days ago, if not weeks.

How?

You talked with her not too long ago, barely a couple of days had passed.

How? Who?

Vanessa could no longer stand, and her knees gave way.

How? Who? Why?

All she could do was stare at your decomposed body, the dry wounds, the rotten blood, the pale skin. 

It was like seeing the kids again. All over again.

Before she could When he realized it, big tears were sliding down his cheeks and falling to the ground.

This couldn't be happening. Not to you, at least.

It didn't make any sense, one day she had you dancing in her arms, and now you were lying dead on the ground.

Why?

Could she have prevented this?

She never even get to tell you how she felt. She never got to tell you that she liked you.

Vanessa trembled, unable to stop crying. Was this a divine punishment?

Did God see all her atrocities and decided to take action against her?

She tried to brush away the tears, being too harsh.

It hurt. Everything hurt. From her eyes, to her head, and her heart.

Her chest felt tight, she couldn't breathe. No amount of trying was going to compensate for it.

You were dead. But she had seen you, hadn't she?

And that's when she heard footsteps behind her. 

Vanessa snapped her head back, and lo and behold. You were there.

Vanessa choked, trying to say something, anything.

“You're gone,” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, barely audible over her sobs.

You nodded, softly.

She raised her voice, “why didn't you say anything?”

You just stared at her for a moment. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Vanessa stood up on her wobbly legs. 

“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” you say. 

Vanessa looks at your face after what felt like eternity. So that was why you would recoil from her touch. That was why you would never look at her, you would never let her look at you. It was disturbingly obvious now.

Your eyes were basically drained of life, hollow, empty. 

She would have realized something was amiss if you hadn't taken all those precautions.

The tears kept falling.

“I'm sorry,” Vanessa breathed out with a broken voice.

You managed a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. “Don't be. It wasn't your fault.”

She choked on her sobs, her cries getting louder.

“I don't understand,” she choked, “why are you still here?”

You (or rather, your ghost,) looked down, sighing. “I guess what they say it's true. You can't go if you have something pending.”

You approached her. "I guess I should tell you.”

Vanessa looked down at your corpse and then back at your ghost.

“Tell me.”

You sighed, smiling bittersweetly. 

“Let me tell you something else first,” you began. “I still admire you for your decision to become a police officer. I know you think it's nothing. But not for me, because I know you'll help with the investigation. I know you'll report what happened here, and I'll finally get some peace.”

Vanessa swallowed. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

“Anyways, I…” you closed your eyes, and opened them again. “I'm ready to tell you.”

A beat passed.

“I like you, Vanessa.”

Numb. That's the only way she could describe it.

Her hands felt numb after dragging your body through the cold and burying it behind Freddy's, on the empty lot William had bought a few years ago.

Her heart was numb after your confession. 

“I like you.”

It repeated over and over again inside her head, like a broken record.

I like you, I like you, I like you.

If only she could have said, “I like you too,” before your spectrum became nothing more than dust and memories.

If only she had said something before you were killed.

If only she had done anything at all.

She knew exactly who had done it. She couldn't pretend that she didn't see it anymore. 

That night, coming home felt like a nightmare.

Vanessa had barged inside the basement, and screamed at him. At her father.

The one who had taken you away from her.

She screamed, and threw everything she could find at him. She cried, and cried, and cried.

And William remained impassive until he didn't.

Vanessa made the mistake of tearing William's work plans off the wall, and at that moment he finally saw red and revealed himself.

With an incredible amount of force, he grabbed Vanessa and pressed her against his desk.

“What do you think you're doing, you stupid creature? You think throwing a tantrum will bring her back? Do you forget who you are, and who I am?”

William basically spat the words out, Vanessa took a deep breath.

“Look at what you have become,” William narrowed his eyes as he said this.

With a trembling voice, Vanessa replied, “I am what you made me. I am your daughter.”

He growled, “you're unbearable. I want you out of my sight!”

William pushed her out of the basement, and locked himself inside.

A couple of days later, Vanessa was packing everything she owned, including the handkerchief you had given to her that one time, and leaving her dad's house. For good this time.

And a month after escaping her father's shadow, she was changing her last name from Afton to Shelly and enrolling in the police academy.

A/N: Well, that was a ride, wasn't it? Reblogs are appreciated.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: My dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your shoulder hurts. Your ribs too. You keep your arm across your middle as you drag your feet down the pavement. The impact of the bed frame continues to throb tenderly in your flesh. 

The embarrassment is worse than the pain. You barely hold back the hot tears behind your eyes. You can still hear Professor Smith’s voice. He was mortified, just as much as you. How can you ever face him again?  

You’re not going to. You give up. Lee is right. You’re too stupid. You’re useless. You’re destined to end up just like your mom. Not quite. You doubt there will ever be a man who would waste his time. 

You dab away the moisture along the brims of your eyes before you enter the convenience store. You nod at the cashier and duck down the middle aisle. You find a canister of your usual brand and linger before the shelf. You don’t want to go back yet, but you know the longer you take, the more reason there is for Lee to complain. 

You pay and head back out into the street. The sky is grey and clouds dampen the air. There’s a rainstorm coming. It’s a perfect setting for today. 

The apartment rises before you and you sigh in resignation. This is it. The rest of your life. Well... 

One day your mother will cast you out. It might be sooner than later with how Lee hangs around, how he commands her. He doesn’t see a place for you there. You don’t see one for you anywhere. What will you do then?  

As it is, all you have to your name is your laptop, your ratty clothes, and the debt you won’t be able to pay back when you fail this course and drop out. You’re defeated by the time you get to the top of the stairs. You keep your head down as you enter the apartment and slide the chain into place. 

You’re met with thick grunts and the slap of flesh. Your mom’s whimpers are muffled but Lee’s carnal noises are untethered. Your breath traps in your chest and your skin razes hotly. You try to ignore it as you enter the kitchen and set the canister on the counter, leaving the change on the lid. 

As you back up, there’s a glimmer of movement from your left. The bathroom door opens, revealing the back of Lee’s rutting body. You cover your eyes in horror as he huffs and puffs, your mother’s strangled cries trickling out as she’s hidden behind the door, between him and the sink. 

“Put a pot on,” he demands as he grips the door and bites his lip, putting more into his thrust, “we’re almost done.” 

He smirks and winks before he snaps the door shut. Your stomach stirs with nausea and you quickly spin away. You shake as you near the counter. You have no other choice. You know if you ignore him, he’ll make sure it all gets worse for you. He’s already ruined so much. 

You put the change aside and uncap the canister. You peel back the freshness seal, your bandaged hand making it all the more tedious. The coffee grounds catch on the gauze. You fill the tank of the machine and set the pot in place. You measure out the coffee and flip the lid down, hitting the red button before you walk away. 

You can still hear them. Even as you shut your bedroom door. You face your room and turn on the light. It’s worse than when you left. 

Your bed is half off the frame, your bookshelf’s been cleared onto the floor, your laundry basket is overturned, and your laptop... It’s under the chair. You cross the room and bend to pick it up. You examine it; loose hinges and the frame is peeling away from the monitor. Your heart plummets and you drop into the chair. 

You have to prop the screen up against the wall to keep it open. Awkwardly, you reach across the desk to reach the keyboard and hit the power button. To your surprise, it boots and the screen lights up. The colours are all off; the dark is now light and the reverse. The mouse pad doesn’t work, or half the keys. 

It takes you twenty minutes to sign in. Aside from your burnt hand, the state of the laptop is more than enough to deter you. You watch the desktop load helplessly and several notifications pop up along the right side of the screen. You don’t read any of them as you see the name; Dr. Raymond Smith. 

You know what they are. Just like before. He's repulsed by you. By the way you live. He saw the truth and you can't hide it any longer. It's not worth it to deny it any longer. 

It was all a stupid idea. As stupid as you. It's easier to just give up. You don't know why you tried in the first place. 

You'll put in a request to drop the course. If you can. You can't do much given the state of your laptop. You can't do much at all in life. That's the way it will always be. 

📓

The last... however many days you've been awake. Waiting. Dreading. Expecting Lee to burst in and humiliate you again. 

Every time you try to close your eyes, you swear you hear the door knob. You put the chair under the knob. You're so tired. Exhausted to the bone. You need sleep badly. 

You lay down, head swimming with agony, and your eyes close without another thought. You can't resist the heavy blanket of fatigue that drapes over you. There is nothing. A void of sheer desolation that wraps around your body, submerging you like dark water. 

You wake with a start. The vision of blue eyes fade in an instant. Eyes you know. Not the vivid irises of the sinister man in your mother's room, no a pair of almost crystalline orbs, soft and diligent. You shake of the thought and rub the stitch from your forehead. 

You smell. You've been wearing the same clothes since that day. How long ago was that? You can't count. You haven't showered, the room is the same mess he made of it, your life too. 

You don't move. You don't want to. Not until the gentle tap comes at the door. You groan as the handle turns but the chair keeps the door lodged in place.  

"Sweetie," your mom calls through, "will you let me in?" 

You stare at the door. Your limbs refuse to move. You can't lift even a finger. You close your eyes and listen to her beg. You hate that. You hear it constantly, the way she begs him to stop, to listen, or just to be kind. 

Go away. 

When you open your eyes next, there's a banging on the door. The chair lurches and the legs scrape on the floor, but the door stays shut. You hide again, pulling a pillow over your head. 

Time flows into vague droning and shades of grey. Your head is foggy and thick. Suddenly, you're awake and staring up at an angry face. You're torn out of the bed and dragged to sit at the edge. Only Lee's unbreakable grip keeps you from flopping onto your back. 

You stare up at him dumbly then your eyes search past him. The chair is broken on the floor. You look back to him, head lolling. You blink as he snarls. 

"What're ya doin'? You're drivin' your ma batty! And I gotta listen to it so you get your ass up." 

You try to swat him away and whimper as your hand pulses and fire course through your skin. You force your spine rigid and try to shrug him off. You shake your head and cradle your hand in your lap, the bandage stained and smelly with puss. 

"Get on you fucking feet," he lifts you as if you weigh nothing. You as good as dangle from his grasp, "cupboards are empty." 

"Sweetie," your mom's birdish cheep comes from the doorway, "we got the credits. I wrote a list for you." 

"Laying in the dark all day, what else you got?" Lee scoffs and lets you go. You waver on your feet and look dully over at your mothers shadow. "Fucking stinks in here." 

You shuffle past him silently. You don't know what to do, you just know you need to be away from him. You feel sick. You're dizzy and drained.  

You put out your uninjured hand to take the list from your mom. Your stench ripples off the hoodie. She smiles through a curled lip. 

"Sweetie, you should get changed first," she slurs and give a doelike flutter of lashes. Drunk, as always. Maybe you should start. Maybe you wouldn't have to feel so much. 

You nod and go to the closet. Lee prowls around your desk but you're too hazy to care. You pull out a new hoodie then go to the dresser to find some loose sweats.  

You stop and stare at the man standing by your bed. The thick silence strangles you as he growls under his breath. Your mom trills with nervous laughter. 

"Lee, come on, she gotta put new clothes on. Honey, can you make sure you grab an extra chop for him?" 

You shrug and you hug the rumpled clothing with one arm and stare at the floor. He can have yours. Your stomach is so empty, the very idea of food makes you want to wretch. 

"Mmm, stop dragging your ass," he snarls as he stomps to the door, "fucking starving." 

You wait until he slams it. You expect that. You don’t even react. You lay the clothing on the desk and peel off the dingy layers. You pull on the sweats and swoop the sweater over your head. If you keep the hood up, you won’t have to worry about your hair or face. 

You take the list and stuff it in your pocket. Each step is a stagger. Your body is stiff and sore. You go out into the hall and brace yourself for another attack. You only hear your mother murmuring in the kitchen. You edge away and sit on the floor as you put your shoes on.  

You stand and fumble with the locks on the door. You can barely get your fingers to co-operate and your burnt hand is in flames. The bandages barely cling to the flesh. You shut the door behind you without using the key and head down the hallway. 

Down the stairs, you can see the yellow sunlight seeping in through the front doors. You emerge, squinting into the shine, and raise your hand as you try to see through it. Your head pounds at the intensity of daylight.  

You trod between the freshly mowed plot of grass before the building and stop by the sidewalk. You sway and try to shake the cobwebs out. You look one way then the other. The heat gathers under your sweater and you hunch down even more. It’s an unusually warm day. 

Your name startles you before you can find your bearings and set off for the store. You must be delirious. Maybe you should’ve found some stale bread to chew on. Rings of colour form in your vision as you turn around to face the echo of your name. 

The figure moves decisively towards you. You have to be hallucinating. It can’t be him. It’s probably that guy who always asks for a light between puffing smoke towards the doors. 

“I’ve been emailing,” Professor Smith says. You lean back on your heel and grimace. He isn’t real. “You... are you well?” 

You stare at him. You try to see through the delusion but can’t. You look down at your trembling hand then turn to peer down the street. 

“I have to go,” you croak over your dry tongue. 

You turn away, feet tangling, and stagger on. You can hear him following. His steps are fleet and light. In a moment, he’s at your side. 

“Please, you look ill, slow down,” he touches your arm and you rip away from him. 

“Leave--” you stumble and throw your arms out to balance yourself, stopping short as you nearly keel over. “I’m okay.” 

“You clearly aren’t. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for over a week. After our last meeting, I’m certain you can understand my concern--” 

You face him and scrunch up your nose, “Professor,” you stammer out, “you don’t have to worry about me. No one does.” 

You quickly veer past him and fall into a clumsy sprint across the street. You barely dodge a car on your way to the other side and you’re out of breath as you meet the curb. You keep your head down as you hurry away, hoping he’s not persistent. He’ll go away. He’s not real, so you just have to stop thinking.