#and now he is kind of in trouble for not notifying her about leaving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sempersirens · 8 months

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raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @breakfastupdates and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

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specialagentlokitty · 3 months

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Negan x reader - trade skill

Hello. I was wondering if you could please do Negan X reader, where Negan is unable to find Lucille and thinks that someone has taken her. So he has people to search every area in Alexandria (I think it is), only to later find out that Y/N took Lucille in order to clean and repair her, and accidentally forgot to notify him. - Anon💜

You didn’t know why a lot of the saviours were taken to Alexandria, you had a thought maybe it had something to do with Rick not doing what he was supposed to be doing.

You weren’t all too sure but you didn’t really have the time to find out either, you were busy with your own project which is why you refused Dwight when he came to get you to go with him.

Was it the smartest choice?

Definitely not, and you knew you were going to get it in the neck from him and most likely Negan after, but you were always in some kind of trouble.

Sitting on your bed, you picked up the pair of wire cutters, carefully getting ready to cut the barbed wire.

You had already caught your arm once, you just tired a bandanna around it and carried on working.

You had to be careful, you didn’t was to break it, and you had to do everything exactly right otherwise you would be more screwed than you were going to be.

Setting the old barbed wire aside on the floor, you picked up the new one and looked at it.

It was a little rusted with the weather, but it was in a lot better condition than the other one.

Wrapping it around like the other was, you nodded to yourself a little.

Setting the bat aside, you got up, grabbing everything you had been using to fix it you shoved it into a box and left the room.

Making your way down to where the workers were, you walked over and set the box down.

“I’ve not used it all so I’m sure someone can get some use out of it.” You said.

The man looked up, nodding her head as she set the box on the floor.

Humming to yourself, you began to browse through the other things that were laid out on the table, looking for something of interest.

Finding nothing, you decided to head outside instead, looking for some part of a fallen tree or a decent sized branch for a new project.

“Hey (Y/N)?”

You looked to one of the other saviours.

“We got problem with the walkers out front, a few got free somehow.”

You sighed, stopped what you were doing and you pulled out your knife, following him to the front where some of the walkers were banging on the fence.

“You said a fucking few, this is a mini horde dumbass.”

He just shrugged and you glared at him.

“Go get the fucking pole idiot.”

He grabbed the pole and you tried to make quick work of clearing the walkers that were building up.

You heard the cars and trucks pulling up and you ignored it, stabbing the final walker in the head, you turned to the man who went to leave.

“Not so fast, you’re waiting here I’ll deal with your ass in a minute.”

Opening the gate, you walked through the bodies, maybe your way to the far end of the fence, slowly looking along it.

For the walkers to get in the gap would have had to be pretty big, so it wasn’t hard to finally find it.

Kneeling down, you carefully inspected the fence and grabbed some zip ties from your jacket to seal it temporarily for now.

Making your way back over you looked at Simon.

“Sort your dumbass out Simon, this fucker hasn’t been checking the fence, there’s a massive hole.”

“You fix things, you sort it.” He said.

“Not my job asshole.”

He stuck his middle finger up at you and you did the same thing, walking over to the doors to head back inside but you stopped by Dwight.

“What was the trip about anyway?”

He glanced at you.

“He’s pissed someone took that stupid bat of his, I’d stay clear.”

You slowly nodded your head and glanced at the leader.

You had three options, either sneak the bat back into his room, leave it somewhere for someone else or come clean.

You didn’t want someone else to take the heat for your actions, and you couldn’t exactly sneak it into his room so with a heavy sigh, you walked over to where he was stood.

“Negan?”

“What?” He snapped.

He turned around and glared at you and you subconsciously took a step back.

“I know where Lucille is…” you mumbled.

“Where?!”

“I uh… could you follow me?”

Negan didn’t say anything as he trailed behind you, and you took his to your room, opening the door and you gestured to the table.

He walked inside, picking up the bat, carefully inspecting it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with her?”

He slowly turned around and you stepped inside the room, closing the door so nobody passing by could look in.

“I uh.. I forgot to tell you…”

“What the fuck were you doing with her?” He growled out.

You sighed, heading under your table you pulled out a box and set it down, showing him to contents.

“I noticed that Lucille was breaking, and you left her on the table so I decided to fix her and forgot to tell you.”

“Why?”

You shrugged a little.

“I like fixing things a guess, plus you wouldn’t be Negan without Lucille.”

Negan stared at you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his eyes practically burning into you.

You couldn’t tell if he was still angry or not, and part of you didn’t want to know.

At least if he wanted to kill you for taking his beloved bat then you wouldn’t see it coming so it would make it easier.

“Look at me.”

You took the box, setting it back under the table and began to inspect a few of your things, just doing anything to avoid looking at him.

“I said look. At. Me.”

You turned around, connecting your eyes with his, he wore a blank expression and you watched as he slowly began to grin.

It was that grin that sent a chill down your spine, the same grin that you knew was the last thing some people saw.

“She looks just as good as the first day I made her, shit (Y/N), if I knew you were so handy I woulda moved you ranks ages ago.”

He put the bat on his shoulder, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he looked at you.

“What do you want? Name me one thing and it’s yours.”

“Anything?”

“Damn straight.”

You went quiet for a moment.

“You got anything else I can fix?”

Negan blinked a little in confusion.

“I just gave you permission to ask for anything, anything you fuckin’ want, anything at all, and you want to fix shit?”

You shrugged a little and he laughed.

“Fucking weird as ball man, but alright. I got a few things for you, you’re to return them directly to me.”

“Yes sir.”

Negan began looking around at a few things you had already repaired and made.

It was why he kept you around at first, you were just handy when it came to fixing something that had broke.

He turned around to look over at you.

“How’d you know how to fix her?”

You paused what you were doing.

“My dad owned a repair shop, mostly just household shit, but he could fix up other crap too, loved baseball.”

Negan slowly nodded his head.

“Next time you take Lucille without asked I’ll start breaking fingers.”

“Understood.”

He smirked at you, and he picked up a little figurine you had fixed of a baseball player you didn’t even know the name to.

“I’m taking this too.”

With that he left and you let out a sigh of relief.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drawn more attention to yourself, but in the world it was now, you needed to have people you could rely on, so you needed to prove yourself to Negan if you wanted a chance of being kept around and surviving.

Maybe you didn’t agree with how he did things, but you sometimes had to do these things in order to survive

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #twd imagine #Negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #Negan smith imagine

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from-the-clouds · 11 months

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?”

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air.

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?”

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.”

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?”

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting.

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?”

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.”

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house.

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.”

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between.

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.”

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?”

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how.

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it.

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly.

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch.

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all.

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.”

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection.

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….”

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space.

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same.

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start.

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support.

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.”

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation.

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again.

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be.

You’re overwhelmed.

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not.

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop.

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag.

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

──�� ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened.

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general.

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd.

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them.

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered.

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.”

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle.

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.”

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement.

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone.

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.”

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him.

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to.

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street.

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers. “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….”

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.”

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?”

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either.

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you.

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin.

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.”

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?”

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.”

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.”

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him.

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable.

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.”

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ”

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.”

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being.

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face.

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.”

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.”

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.”

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.”

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes.

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.”

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself.

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point.

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?”

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside.

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed.

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates.

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.”

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning.

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back.

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long.

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that.

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing.

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too.

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little.

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move.

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips.

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after.

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.”

“We can do this again, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired.

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against.

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch.

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book.

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.”

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Are you tired?” you ask.

“Always,” he says through a yawn.

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do.

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off.

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.”

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like.

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him.

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise.

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

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melanieph321 · 7 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 7/8

Things are heating up😫

⚠️Warning ⚠️

Mentioning of violence

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

"So what are you gonna do?"

It was early, but not time to leave for the airport yet. You woke up to Ruben's warm chest against your cheek. He held you close, drawing lazy patterns on the hill of your shoulder.

"Face the music I guess."

"You're gonna confront your sister?"

"Yes and take responasbility for my life."

It felt like the most reasonable thing to do, however, the thought of facing your sister and Tyson again ached your stomach.

"Just know that whatever you choose to do, I'm here."

You tilted you head. Ruben was already looking at you, his eyes big and kind. You lay hand on his cheek, directing his face towards yours. You still had to get used to the feel of kissing another man. But compared to Tyson's, Ruben's kisses spread warmth throughout your chest.

Five hours later you left Brussels and returned home.

"You're early" Your sister said, as you and Ruben stepped through the door. Ironically she was seated on the couch, the same couch she and Tyson were getting freaky on whenever you weren't around.

"Where is Tyson?" You asked, as Ruben brought your bags upstairs.

"He's out. Left for a booking this morning."

"A modeling booking?"

"Exactly."

"Has he been getting alot of those whilst I was gone?"

"A few, why?" You sister mimicked the way you were looking at her with furrowed brows.

"Mom is not well." You muttered.

"Oh Y/N." Your sister stood, walking over to give you a hug. "I told you not to go over there. She never meant for us to see her like that."

Her hug was comforting, you gave in, forgetting the fact that you were supposed to be angry with her, then again, she had no clue that you knew about her and Tyson.

"She will always be our mother." She said, pulling you back to wipe your tears. And just like that you were eight years old again, needing your big sister to wipe your tears.

"I've had some trouble with my credit card." You said. "I should probably go to the bank for that, right?"

"Sure. We'll go tomorrow since I have some meetings tod..."

"There's a rehearsal today."

"For your tour?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, a dance rehearsal for all the back up dancers, why?"

"I should probably go to that shouldn't I. To share my opinions on things, right?"

"Um...sure, but like I said I have some meetings to attend today, so if you...."

"It's okay, I can go by myself."

"By yourself?" You sister frowned. You seldom did anything without checking with her first, perhaps that should stop now.

"Ruben will be with me of course."

"Ruben?" Your sister initially looked to want to protest, but change her mind as he came back down the stairs. "Of course." She nodded. "Ruben will go with you."

"I'll call you if I need anything."

"Yes, please do, call me."

You looked to Ruben. "I'll just hop in the shower then I'm ready to go."

He nodded. "I'll notify Taylor to bring the car around."

"Thanks." You smiled, as well as brush his arm with yours on your way up the stairs.

Rehearsal was great. You had never paid attention to the people working around you. It had always been your sister calling the shots, giving everybody directions. But without her everyone was forced to listen to you and they really listened.

"So the laser will be pointing from that camera and that camera." Your stage director, Alejandro, said.

"That camera?" You turned in that direction, pretending to hold a microphone to your lips.

"Yes and then you'll turn to the other camera before the lasers shoot down from the sealing."

"Why the lasers?" You frowned.

"For the finally? Isn't that you wanted?"

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Your sister made it clear that its what you wanted." He shrugged. "We can remove them if you like?"

"Um...no it's okay. Keep them."

You left rehearsal not knowing how to feel. The start of your tour was so soon and you needed your sister by your side, but how could you ever trust her when she's been lying to your face for God knew how long.

"Shall we get somthing to eat?" Ruben held the door open for you to climb into the car.

"No, I'm not hungry."

Taylor your chauffeur greeted you with a smile through the rare view mirror. A smile which you returned. Ruben stepped in to sit next to him. His face expressed concern as he turned back to look at you.

"Y/N, you have to eat somthing."

"I will, I just need to go to the bank first."

"The bank?" He frowned.

"Yes the bank. Taylor will you take me there?"

You arrived within ten minutes.

"I won't be long." You said, hoping that Ruben would let you go alone.

He didn't.

He held the door open for you to step out and together you made your way into the bank.

After a short wait, a bank representative named Emily greeted you and led you and Ruben to a private office. "I understand your concern, Y/ N" she said, sympathetically. "Let me pull up your account information and see what might be causing this issue."

As you watched Emily's fingers dance across the keyboard, a knot formed in her stomach. The seconds felt like an eternity until Emily's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I... I think I've found the problem," Emily said, her voice filled with astonishment. "It appears that all your money was recently transferred to a foreign account."

Your heart sank, and you exchanged a worried glance with Ruben. "What? How is that possible? I certainly didn't authorize any transfers like that."

Emily nodded in understanding. "I believe you, Y/N. However a signature was authorized electronically. Do you have your phone with you today?"

"Well yes, but no."

"No?"

"No, my phone, old phone, was stolen a couple of weeks ago."

"Stolen?" Emily's lowered her gaze, her eyes looking at you over her glasses.

"Yes. Oh my god what am I gonna do? This can't be happening."

Ruben reached for your hand underneath the table.

"The best thing I can do is freeze you account and make sure no money gets in or out." Emily said. "But I'm afraid the police will have to help you retrieve the stolen money."

You rushed out of the bank, Ruben at your heels.

"Y/N, everything is gonna be alright, you'll get the money back."

How do you know that Ruben? Everything I've earned throughout my entire career, my savings, my savings that my parents put in there for me. Gone, it's all gone. So don't tell me that everything is going to be alright because it isn't."

He pulled you into his embrace right there in the middle of the street, for everybody to see. If paparazzi showed up now your life would really be over.

"I have to tell my sister." You said, breaking up the hug. "She'd want to know about this."

Ruben nodded. "Of course, do you need to come with you?"

You shook your head. "No, Taylor will take me back."

Ruben looked conflicted, not wanting to part from you, however you had sent him to replce your computer. With your phone gone and bank account hacked, everything old had to go and everything knew would have to be fire proof and Ruben assured you that he could fix that.

"You went to the bank without me?"

After telling your sister what the bank lady said, you were suprised that this was her first reaction.

"Yes, well it was urgent."

"Y/N, I told you that I would have gone with you tomorrow. Why would you do this?"

"Are you serious right now? All of my money is gone and all you care about is the fact that I went to the bank without you?"

Your sister's expression mellowed. "You're right." She stepped forward, bringing you in for another hug. This hug wasn't like the one this morning. It was stiff and cold. "Everything is gonna be alright, you'll get your money back."

"That's what Ruben said." You muttered. Your sister grimaced at the mentioning of his name.

"What?"

"I don't trust him." She said.

You chuckled. "You, of all people don't trust Ruben? You're the one that hired him, rember?"

"I know I did, but..."

"But what?" You frowned, because your sister was really not the one to preach about trust.

"Tyson told me that Ruben keeps giving him these looks, looks as if all he wants to do is bash his face in."

"Right." You muttered. Hearing Tyson's name leave your sisters mouth simply made you nauseous.

"I've noticed it too. He cracks his knuckles every time he sees him, Y/N."

"It doesn't matter because Ruben is not the problem here." You said.

"No? Then who is?" Your sister looked terrified.

"Dickonataor 3000."

Her shoulders rose and fell with your answer. "Y/N, don't you think..."

"I know that nerd has got my phone. He's the one messing with my account. We need to find a way to track him somehow. Ruben will find a way."

Your sister stared at you blankly for a minute, like she couldn't recognize the person standing before her. "Maybe you should go to bed? Today must have really sucked for you."

You nodded. "Yes, yes it did."

You needed sleep. Sleep was your friend.

As the moon cast a soft glow upon your bedroom, you nestled comfortably beneath the covers. However you were abruptly awakened by a gentle touch.

"Ruben?" You groaned.

"No baby, it's me."

Your eyes flung open.

"Tyson?"

His lips were on yours. "I heard you had a bad day, let me make it better."

Confused and half-asleep, you pushed him away, struggling to fully grasp the situation.

"Y/N, relax." he whispered, lust lacing his voice.

Startled and groggy, your sleep-addled brain attempted to process his words. "Tyson stop, I'm not in the mood." You pleaded, never ever would you be in the mood for him. Yet, his eyes burned with an unsettling determination.

Pushing aside your obvious feelings of unease, he continued to make advances, his body betraying the desperation of his desires.

"Tyson, get off!"

He wrestled you against the matress, tracing unwanted kisses up your neck.

"Tyson, I said stop!"

He chuckled. "What, don't you want me to fuck you?"

No, now get the fuck off me!" You shouted. The last words to leave your mouth before Ruben barged into your bedroom, his face a mask of fury. His voice thundered through the room, "Get off her! Right now!"

Caught off guard and blinded by his own desires, Tyson froze momentarily. But it was the fierceness in Ruben's eyes that eventually jolted him back to reality. However it was too late Ruben was already pulling him off you, dropping Tyson on the floor.

"Ruben wait, stop!"

There was no stopping him. Ruben's eyes were dark, his expression emotionless whilst he pounded his fists against Tyson face, cracking his nose, breaking his jaw.

"Oh my god, Tyson!" Your sister emerged in the doorway, dressed in her nightrobe. She saw the two men grappling on the floor beneath your bed and started screaming hysterically.

"Please stop it, you'll kill him! Y/N, do something!"

"Ruben please." You pleaded, however his hands just kept smashing into Tyson's bloody face. There was no stopping him. Never had you seen Ruben so angry, so out of control.

"Ruben, please stop it." You cried and that seemed to do it.

He looked to you and then to his bloody knuckles. A low grunt left Tyson limb body that lay beneath him.

"Y/N, I'm so..."

You shook you head. Not wanting Ruben to come any closer to you. He looked both terrified and hurt by this.

"That's it. I'm calling the fucking police!" You sister said, storming out of the room in a tearful rage.

#fanfiction #football imagine #man city #ruben dias #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #ruben dias x black reader #black reader

75 notes · View notes

fancyfeathers · 4 months

Text

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Nineteen

A Forgotten Past

(A/N- We getting into light novel mentions now, Oooooooo)

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

You and Gaston stared at the Hunting Dog who seemingly appeared out of no where. You had a look of pure shock plastered on your face while Gaston had his usual unsurprised expression.

“I knew something like this would happen as soon as Dr. Stevenson was notified about what happened.” Gaston said, looking the hunting dog up and down.

“You’re sharp Mr. Leroux.” Jouno stepped forward towards where you and the composer stood. “I figured you specifically might notice me, after all you did do work for the European Union all those years ago, or at least your file said that.”

“I’m not in the mood for small talk what do you want?” Gaston snapped back, clearly annoyed. Something must have set him off on that job with Leo, you can’t recall the last time you saw the composer this ticked off. But Jouno only chuckled to the composer’s annoyance.

“I just want to talk that’s all, since Miss (Name) here didn’t answer my questions earlier, I figured you may be more reasonable.” Jouno spoke, now only inches away from Gaston. He smiled as he looked at the composer. “Judging by your heartbeat that’s true, you’re calm throughout all of this.”

There was a long moment of silence before…

“(Name), leave the room.” Gaston said, his eyes glancing over at you. “Notify the others on what’s going on and wait in the lounge with them.”

“Gaston-“

“No, I would listen to him, your heartbeat is already quite accelerated, after all the rush of the day it may be hard to sleep tonight.” Jouno cut you off, giving you that same smile. “I promise no harm will come to him.”

With much hesitation you stepped towards the door and turned the lock before stepping out and closing it behind you which was followed by another twisting of the lock. You found yourself stumbling back into the lounge where everyone else was gathered along with that boy who was being dotted on by Dr. Stevenson, making sure he was okay. William noticed you first, like he often does. He stood up and walked you over to sit down on the couch.

“Are you alright? What’s happening?” William questioned as he sat down besides you. His voice was kind as always but clearly worried. “Is Gaston alright? Who was that other voice?”

“I-I’m alright.” You were able to stay calm enough to speak clearly or clear enough. “A Hunting Dog snuck in… Jouno.”

The whole room fell silent, including Dr. Stevenson who was trying to keep the unfamiliar boy calm. The silence felt like it was screaming but it was quickly broken by Dr. Stevenson standing up along with the boy, her hands on his shoulders. “You all can discuss this among yourselves, I’m going to preform a check up to make sure Karma is alright.”

Well at least now you now know the boy’s name…

There was an even longer silence after the doctor and the boy left the apartment. You could see the clear distress on everyone’s faces, especially those of William and Emma. You watched as William slid off his glasses and gave a heavy sigh.

“What else happened?” William asked, his head in his hands. Now you could all see something was deeply troubling him now.

“Um… when I was in the hospital one of them told me that there was an ex assassin in the society, with a kill count over-“

“Five hundred.” Emma finished your sentence. She also had a look of stress like William had on his face. “This is exactly what I was fearing…”

“Fearing? William, Emma, what’s going on? Is this true?” You turned to look at the couple and then at the other society members and they all fell quiet as well. “Guys?”

“It… it’s an extremely long story.”

Emma answered. “One that we probably should have told you months ago.”

“So it’s true, there is an assassin in this organization.” You said, basically answering your own question because everyone else seems to only be giving you bits and pieces and it was getting to the point that you were living and working with these people, spending so much of your life with them, but you barely knew them. “Why can’t anyone be honest with me anymore, or were you honest with me at all?”

“That’s exactly what I’m wondering, you all are making my job so much harder and look at poor Miss (Name)…” You all turn to see the office door open and Jouno walking towards you all along with Gaston behind him. “Your coworker and you keep so many secrets from her, poor thing.”

“Please-“

“Please what? Stop? But I’m not wrong and we both know that.” Jouno interrupted you, stepping over to you. “You don’t belong here. I mean you almost got hit by a car and you expect to be able to fight like these people, underneath it all you are just a fragile, helpless, little girl.”

“That’s enough.” You watched as William stood up, making the hunting dog take a step back to make room for the thespian. “You came here uninvited, unannounced, and intimidating my friends. Jouno was it? You can leave.”

“Who do you think you are to-“

“Oh my god, shut up and get out, you may be a Hunting Dog but I believe, correct me if I am wrong, you are intruding on private property. So you can take whatever information Mr. Leroux gave you and leave.”

Jouno was struck dumb by William’s confidence and audacity to talk to him like that and frankly everyone else was as well.

Well everyone but Gaston…

“Excusing my friend, but to an extent he is right. You should leave, it is quite late and we do need our rest.” Gaston said, speaking in his charismatic tone, walking towards Jouno and placing his hand on his back, guiding him towards the door. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you seeing you soon, good night.”

With that you watched Gaston open the door for Jouno. You saw as Jouno turned and grabbed the composer by the shoulder and whispered something in his ear before talking a step back, and going a nod of his head, hand on the brim of his cap, and that teasing smile on his face as Gaston slammed the door in his face.

“What did you tell him Gaston?” You asked your friend as he approached you all in the lounge.

“I gave him some things to get the Hunting Dogs off our asses, temporarily at least.” He said as he sat down back on the couch. “I gave him dirt on someone who is on my last nerve, along with an invitation to the charity ball for all the Hunting Dogs.”

“You’re joking”

“I wish I was (Name), that was one of his demands. We will have the Hunting Dogs on our asses the entire night, my apologies... especially to you (Name) and William” Gaston paused on his words and sighed. “This is going to make your job to get Miss Jane back that much harder.”

…Miss Jane…

…You almost forgot about her…

—————————

There were light footsteps in the hall as Jouno left the office of the captain of the hunting dogs. With the information they have just gathered and the information they will continue to gather proving the Society is indeed an illegal organization will prove to be easy, after all money can’t hide everything and that was the society’s biggest strength and weakness.

Then the Hunting Dog stopped and smiled…

“Been awhile since you’ve been back around here, Tachihara.” The blind Hunting turned to face the other man who was standing in an alcove in. The hallway on his phone. This man would have been familiar to you if you saw him, only if he was in attire a bit different because now instead of his normal white tank top and green jacket he wears the uniform of the Hunting Dogs.

“Heard from the boss that you and Tecchou have been looking into the Society of Protection, that European group, ya?” Jouno nodded to the red head’s question which resulted in a chuckle from the fellow Hunting Dog. “I found out that that girl there, (Name) I think, she made a deal with the boss of the Port Mafia for information. Not to mention she has caught the eye of quite a few people there.”

“Oh really? That doesn’t surprise me much, she has that whole society wrapped around her finger.” Jouno replied his usual smile coming across his face. “Seems like we have quite a bit of work to do.”

—————————

On the rooftop of the Society headquarters sat William, sitting on the edge, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. It was the dead of night, the world shrouded in darkness except the flickering street lights below.

“(Name), I know you’re there. You can come out.” William said, not even glancing away from his book. From the shadows you stood up from behind the condenser unit you were hiding behind and you walked over to where the actor sat, and going to sit next to him.

“Are you alright, Will? You seemed really shaken up.” You asked glancing up at the man next to you. “That assassin thing, it’s you isn’t it?”

William paused for a moment as he was bringing the wine glass to his lips. He took a brief sip before setting it aside. You two sat in pure silence for a long moment before answering “Yes… it is me… but please I am not that person anymore… that was a long time ago and it’s not so cut and dry as just an assassin.”

“Then what was it?” Your question made William close his eyes as if it was all happening right now despite after all these years.

“I-It wasn’t exactly a Crime Organization, it was group of us who worked underground for The Order of the Clocktower, a British government entity. Our cover was a crime organization, but in reality we were just a branch of protection for the Crown.” He began this tale, speaking of it as if it is almost another life, someone who wasn’t him. “Forgive me for being so emotional, it has just been a long time since I told anyone this because everyone else in the Society already knows. For a long time that was the only life I knew, I was raised to be a spy, the greatest kind of actor. My parents were also in such a business, but they were good people despite it all, they loved me very much but didn’t have a choice. I served in the war as a child spy with them and then went on to serve the Crown as an assassin… I hurt a lot of people...”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, there was nothing you could have done. Besides what happened to them wasn’t your fault…”

“Them?”

“My parents… they were killed…” William’s breath hitched in his throat before he took a breath in an attempt to calm himself. “I was still fairly young when this happened, but my parents were on a job, guarding the Queen. They were killed that day along side many other ability users by another assassin, he almost killed the Queen as well but ended up killing her body double… I-I can remember his face clear as day, blond hair, and a black hat… god I would have given anything to kill him in that moment… they called him the King of Assassins.”

“William…”

“After that due to my injuries I was released from my duties and I… I took some time to recover mentally before moving to Hungary and marrying Emma in secret who I had met in the war and we had kept in contact via letters, it was the one good thing that came from that.”

“That must have been so hard.”

“It was.” He answered, before picking up his wine glass and downing the rest. “But if I ever encounter him again, I don’t think I’ll be seeking vengeance. I’ll be protecting my family this time around.”

“Your family?”

“The people I would die for, the people who love me for me, the Society.” He nudged you with his shoulder and ruffled your hair. “You’re my little sister, don’t forget that, blood be damned.”

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor #yandere jouno

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xluciifer · 2 months

Note

Oh Lucifer, what did you do?

Oh! You must be new to the blog and the shit that's ensued on here! Welcome! Long story short, @k1ttyb0t and Lucifer have a complex relationship with one another. She one day (accidentally) followed him home and never left. They got to know each other, she helped him with his depression to the point he actually thought he was getting better!

He often forgets she's a sex bot, always seeing her as a woman that deserves nothing but the upmost respect! It took him a while before he finally allowed Kitty to do what she's best at, she's unleashed things inside him he never knew he craved and eventually, he actually started to grow deep feelings for her.

He has no idea what she actually does outside when she leaves his home but he always misses her when she's gone, the constant company makes the loneliness feel heavier now. They've done almost everything under the sun together once he allowed himself to open up to her (but not about his trauma). And that's where tragedy struck in their relationship.

Kitty had begun to feel and understand somewhat what she was starting to feel for Lucifer, he's spoken vaguely about missing his wife but never indulged further into it. One day while cleaning around, she ran into an old audio clip that contained Lilith's voice that Lucifer had hidden away and out of reach. Kitty being a highly advanced machine thought it would be something nice for Lucifer to hear the voice of the person he missed. And portray her feelings the best she could through it as well.

In the midst of a session of making love together, riling him up into his demon form which she loved doing to him. Out of the kindness of her robotic form, she used Lilith's audio clip of her saying 'I love you' for the first time to Lucifer. It should've been an endearing and sweet moment for them, but it wasn't.

Remember how I said audio clips were hidden and kept away from reach and how anytime he spoke of Lilith, it was very vaguely? And lastly, how he has never spoken of his trauma to Kitty? Suddenly, in a heat of passionate, he hears the voice of a ghost and it triggered a trauma response in him - and while he was in his demon form.

Lilith and Lucifer didn't have a good relationship. He gaslit himself constantly, trying desperately to keep hold of any good image of Lilith but she was a good foundation to his trauma along with Heaven. And once Kitty had shared her true feelings to him through the voice of someone that hurt him; he blacked out, and instead of seeing Kitty beneath him, he saw Lilith. And all the resentment and rage he keeps inside lashed out and he ended up choking and manhandling Kitty, something he would've NEVER done. But in the midst of a traumatic response, he didn't realize what he did until afterwards.

And I'm not saying how he responded was okay, but fuck, is he tearing himself apart about it. Kitty was the closest thing he had to feeling any semblance of love in the longest time. As a little sided note too, he has his sigil also placed somewhere hidden on her body too because of how deeply he cared for her, one that she, herself, doesn't know about either. So if by chance she ever were in trouble, he'd be notified immediately.

SORRY THIS GOT LENGTHY, but it's where Kitty and I are at right now with Lucifer/Kitty until we can get their next arc going: Kitty running into the arms of Mammon and Lucifer learning about it, finding it the chance to be able to apologize and get her back.

#k1ttyb0t #long post cw #ME AND KITTY HAVE PLOTTED FOR A WHILE SO IT'S LUCIFER'S MOST INDEPTH RELATIONSHIP ON THIS BLOG THATS DEAR TO MY HEART.#blog lore.#sinner questions.#ooc ; out of heaven

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riahlynn101 · 3 months

Text

"Nothing Lasts Forever."

For a Christmas fic exchange (that I forgot to post here).

Summary: Vampire Dadzawa that forcibly turns Izuku.

Trigger warnings: blood, violence, kidnapping, and a child in distress.

Original prompt: "vampire dadzawa turns Izuku into a vampire."

Word count: 6,017

“No- wait!” Izuku shouts, waving his arms in a frantic attempt to get the bus to pull over. “Hey! Hey!” Despite his best efforts, the bus leaves him in the dust.

Izuku sighs, mentally preparing himself for the long trek home.

He sends a quick text to his mom (no need to make her worry more than she already does), telling her that school ran late today and to not wait up. Izuku watches the message send, shoving the phone into his back pocket.

The school thing is a half-truth.

Though, he supposes, detention counts as school. But Izuku would rather die than admit that to the one person he can kind of (sort of) confide in. His mom already thinks he can’t be a hero; he can’t have her thinking he’s a delinquent as well. She deserves better than that, especially when he’s all mom has left.

He stares at the streetlight-lit road ahead. Outside of a few cars whizzing past and the couple holding hands entering a restaurant, Izuku is totally alone. He takes a deep breath.

No big deal. He can do this.

Izuku starts down the street, clutching the straps of his backpack tightly. His nails dig into the fabric, and he keeps a watchful eye on his surroundings. He knows that he has nothing to be scared of.

Especially in a place like Musutufa. The cradle of heroics.

If Izuku was actually in trouble, he could just yell for help and someone would be there in a second.

This reasoning makes him feel a little more at ease (a teeny, tiny bit).

A street lamp goes out just as he passes underneath it. He yelps, jumping backwards. Izuku looks up at the flickering light. Small sparks come from the glass part of the structure, and he wonders if he should notify someone about the potential fire hazard. But there’s no one around and, as much as Izuku feels like a baby because of his reaction, he is still scared.

He continues walking, silently praying that his negligence won’t become a full-fledged fire. Small sparks from a street lamp can’t become a fire, right? Right? God, he hopes not. But what if it does? What if he’s the reason someone loses their home or business? What if someone dies because he didn’t take the time to tell a hero?

Izuku stops and looks around. There’s not a soul insight, which strikes him as odd. Usually Musutufa is teeming with nightlife. Not the kind that college kids think of with wild parties and exclusive clubs, but Izuku’s seen enough people out and about at this time of night from his apartment’s balcony.

There has to be a hero around here somewhere.

You are never further than a hundred feet from a hero in Musutufa - Izuku remembers reading in one of the many hero-related books he owns. At the time, he couldn’t have agreed more. But right now there aren’t any civilians in sight, let alone heroes.

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and he whirls around to see it better. But when Izuku turns around, there’s no one there. The street is still completely empty.

“Huh?”

The streetlights-all eight of them lining the road-choose that exact moment to go out. Leaving Izuku standing in the dark. Only the light of the moon and a few haphazard businesses still open at this time light his way.

It truly isn’t that dark, but something about the emptiness of the street and the darkened alleys hidden in between buildings makes him apprehensive.

Something moves again just outside Izuku’s line of sight. A piece of cloth, he realizes, catching a glimpse of off-white fabric fluttering in the breeze. Like a sheet laid out to dry on a windy day. It moves, and he whirls around again to meet it.

“Hello?” Izuku asks.

More movement, this time whoever or whatever it is darts into a nearby alley. The very, very dark alley.

Izuku swallows heavily, standing at the mouth of the alley. “Hello!?” He calls out. “Is someone there?” His voice cracks. Unintentionally, Izuku takes another step into the alley. Closer to the pitch-black darkness than the dimly-lit street.

The fabric Izuku saw earlier whips out from the darkness, tangling around his arms and binding them together. It happens so fast that he doesn’t have time to scream before he’s being pulled further into the darkness.

Terrified that all his worst fears about walking home have come true, Izuku passes out.

-x-x-x-

“Ahhhhh!” Izuku jolts awake, grabbing at his chest. His heart hammers in the confines of its ribcage, reminding him of the lingering nightmare he just endured.

“You’re awake,” a voice says, way too casual for someone Izuku doesn’t know. “Good.”

Cautiously, hand still over his heart, Izuku looks at the stranger. Only to see-

“Eraserhead?”

The man-one of the best, if not the best-underground heroes that Japan has ever had. He isn’t Izuku’s favorite hero-that honor has always and will always go to All Might-but he’s in the top five. Not that it matters anyway, a hero is a hero in Izuku’s eyes, especially one that takes their job as seriously as Eraserhead.

“In the flesh,” he jokes, expression turning somber. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought I might have to take you to the hospital.”

Izuku looks down, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck. “Uh…I’m really sorry. I really, truly am.”

Eraserhead laughs, patting Izuku on the head. “All that matters is that you’re okay.”

Izuku tilts his head, dropping his hand back to the blankets. “Sorry, but where am I? This doesn’t look like home, or…er- I guess you wouldn’t know where I live. I just mean…um…where is here? Is this your apartment?”

Another pat on the head that makes Izuku feel warm and tingly inside. The last person that liked to pat him on the head was his dad, but dad’s been gone for a long, long time. “So many questions.”

Izuku deflates a little, face turning red.

“Not that that’s a bad thing. And a good observation, this is my home.”

He got something right, yay! Izuku picks his head up, looking at Eraserhead. Perhaps it’s the barely there lighting or the fact that he (likely) spends most of his time in the shadows, but Eraserhead is unnaturally pale. His pale skin contrasts heavily with his long dark hair, which hangs in his face and the circles under his eyes.

“I brought you here until you woke up. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

For the second time since waking up, Izuku is struck by a warm feeling. He can count on one hand how many people care about him, and one finger how many show him genuine concern. “Thank you,” he murmurs. Speaking of people that show him genuine concern-

“May I ask what time it is?”

“Four in the morning.”

“Oh, no!” Izuku kicks off the blankets. “Sorry to do this, but I have to go home. My mom’s waiting for me.” He tries not to picture his anxiety-ridden mother pacing their living room, cell phone in hand, waiting for a sign that her son isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.

“Whoa!” Eraserhead grabs him by the shoulders, causing Izuku to look at him. “Calm down. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Izuku opens his mouth to protest.

“It’s still dark outside, and I’m sure your mother would rather you walk home in the morning when it’s safer.”

He shuts his mouth, hanging his head. “Okay. But I should still message her.” Izuku digs into his pants pocket, but his phone isn’t there.

“What?” Eraserhead asks.

“My phone, it’s not there. I remember putting it in my pocket.” He pats his other pocket just in case. Frantically Izuku pats himself down, trying to feel for his phone. “Where is it? Oh, my mom is going to be so mad.”

“It must have fallen out when you fell.”

That’s not what Izuku remembers happening. He remembers white fabric wrapping around his arms, almost like Eraserhead’s capture scarf-

He eyes the man, trying not to panic. “May I use yours?”

“Out of battery. Downside of going on patrol is a lack of phone chargers. Usually, I would charge it as soon as I got home, but you were my first priority.”

That…makes sense. But something about his tone makes Izuku feel like he’s in danger. Like one wrong move and he’s done for.

“I want to leave,” Izuku says suddenly, standing up. He starts for the bedroom door. Walking home in the dark can’t be that bad. At the very least it can’t be worse than the fate that’s awaiting him if he stays.

Before he can step a single foot out the door, a hand locks onto Izuku’s arm like a vice. He stares at it in confusion. Wha-

Izuku is pulled back against Eraserhead’s chest. The wind is knocked from his lungs, making him feel lightheaded in all the worse ways. He hits the hero’s arm, smacking and scratching at it.

“Let me go!” He screams. “I want to leave!”

“I’m sorry.” Is all the apology Izuku receives. His head is yanked to the side, exposing his neck.

“Wha-”

Something sharp bites into his neck. The pain isn’t instant, and for a second, Izuku hangs limply in Eraserhead’s arms. Shaking, quivering. And then, all at once, his senses come back to him.

He flails, kicking and scratching. It does nothing to dislodge the teeth in his neck. Eraserhead grips him tightly, digging his teeth in deeper. His entire neck burns more and more with every pulse of the vein that’s slowly being sucked dry.

Izuku groans, weakly trying to push the hero (a hero! Why is a hero doing this?) off him. He falls completely limp, face going slack.

A stinging sensation across his face brings him back. “Ow,” he mutters, only half-aware of his surroundings. Something is pressed against his mouth. It smells metallic. Izuku gags, moving his head to the side (an action he regrets as soon as he does it. His sluggishly bleeding neck aches).

“No, no, drink. You’ll feel better.”

The…voice….it- it sounds nice. Izuku tries to put a face to the name, but everything feels so blurred and disconnected.

“C’mon, drink,” the person urges.

Izuku gives in, sucking in a mouthful of the metallic-smelling liquid. It sits on his tongue, coating the inside of his mouth. He considers it for a moment.

It doesn’t taste…bad.

He latches on, sucking in another mouthful and another and another…..until the person with the nice voice pulls away. Izuku is scooped up, held against something firm. Whatever it is, it’s warm.

“Shhhh….sleep now.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, snuggling closer to the warmth, eyes sliding closed.

-x-x-x-

A warm summer night, bustling streets, and in the midst of it all, a child hiding in an alley all alone. The dead body of a much older man lay a few feet away.

Shouta watches from above, trying to decide how best to intervene.

The boy hides his face in his knees, sobbing loudly. Hiccuping cries ignored by all except Shouta. “Daddy!” The child screams, untucking his face to grab onto the corpse. “Daddy! Please….Please, wake up! Wake up! ‘M scared!”

Something about the boy tugs at his heart-strings. Shouta can’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it’s because of the child’s small size? Or maybe it lies in the devastation etched into such a cute, angelic face? Nor was it his green curls, big doe eyes, or the darling little freckles laid out like diamonds on his chubby cheeks.

Still, something about the boy keeps Shouta frozen in place. Like he can’t force himself to look away.

The boy’s cries grow louder, more desperate. Shouta drops down, landing silently in the alley. “Hey,” he murmurs softly.

The boy jolts, scooting away. He looks up at him with a terrified expression, face white as a sheet.

Shouta moves closer. “Hey, easy, I’m Eraserhead.”

The terrified expression softens a little. “A hero? Like All Might?”

He cringes. It’s not that he doesn’t like All Might. But being a pro hero and an underground hero are vastly different things, and he feels like a fraud comparing himself to the symbol of peace. But the boy stares up at him, something like a glimmer of hope in his previously terrified eyes, and Shouta can’t bring himself to feel annoyed

“Yeah, just like All Might.”

The boy practically lunges for him, wrapping his arms around Shouta’s neck. “I wanna go home,” the boy mumbles. “Daddy’s not waking up.”

“Oh? That’s not good. Can you tell me what happened?” He makes sure to keep his voice soft and even.

The boy cries, small hands grabbing onto Shouta’s shirt. “I…I found him here. I-” He bursts out crying, shaking like a leaf.

“Okay, okay, we don’t have to talk about that. How about we go find-”

The boy lifts his head. “Mommy?”

Shouta sighs in relief, at least the boy wasn’t all alone. “Yes, let’s go find your mommy. I’m sure she’s looking for you.”

The kid nods, clinging to him again.

Shouta scoops him up, eyeing the corpse of his previous victim. He tries so hard to pick lowlifes and the scum of the earth, but sometimes those lowlifes have families….

“What’s your name?” He asks, looking for a police officer. There are usually one or two stationed around here.

“Izuku,” the boy mutters. “Midoriya Izuku.” He yawns, burying his face in Shouta’s neck. “Mommy calls me, Izu. Kacchan calls me Deku, but I don’t like Deku.”

Shouta continues his search, nervously eyeing the sky. “Izu’s a nice nickname,” he says.

“Only my mommy’s allowed to call me that.”

“Oh, okay, then how about I give you a nickname. I think Problem Child fits you nicely.”

Even without seeing Izuku’s face, he can tell the boy’s pouting. “I’m not a problem child.”

“Uh, huh,” he responds, half-listening. He spots his way out in the form of a police cruiser across the street. Hurrying between crowds of people, Shouta shoves the pouting preschooler into a bewildered cop’s arms.

“What?” The cop asks.

But Shouta doesn’t have time to ease the officer into it, so he clumsily explains the situation. “Lost kid. His name’s Izuku Midoriya. Found him in an alleyway between the abandoned ramen shop on third and a bookstore.” For the next part, he decides to speak in code. “Kid found a DB. Said the DB was his father.”

“Jesus,” the cop says. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll call it in.”

“No problem. I’m heading home for the night.”

He does his best to ignore Izuku’s calls for him to come back.

-x-x-x-

Izuku wakes up in a cold sweat, neck stiff, but otherwise pain-free. The lights are off - thankfully. His head still feels a little weird from last night.

What happened again?

He remembers being pulled into a dark alley, but not much else.

No, wait…he remembers waking up in this exact room. Eraserhead’s room.

Izuku remembers being bitten by him, but that…that can’t be right. Can it? It has to have been a fever dream. Because why would Eraserhead-of all people-bite him? And why bite him in the first place?

Izuku can’t taste that good, and he seems to be in one piece. So, at the very least, the fever dream version of Eraserhead can’t be a zombie.

The bedroom door opens.

Terrified of potentially facing a real life zombie, Izuku pretends to be asleep.

A familiar voice chuckles. “I know you’re awake, Problem Child.”

The nickname strikes a chord within Izuku. Some old forgotten memory that he just can’t seem to reach. But he reacts to it anyway.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, still not daring to open his eyes.

“Hm, how are you feeling?” Eraserhead asks. “Oh, and you can stop calling me by my hero name. I go by Aizawa, Shouta, or if you prefer, dad.”

Izuku’s eyes widen. Witch!

That earns another chuckle. “I can read your mind, Izuku. It’s part of the bond we now share.”

His tired brain oscillates between internally screaming and trying to figure out what kind of monster Eraserhead is.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Not a zombie.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Not a witch…probably.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

“You’re so close, Problem Child. Though, I don’t like the term ‘monster,’ it’s dehumanizing.”

Izuku barely manages to hold in an eye roll and scoff. Isn’t the entire point of monsters being monsters is that they aren’t human. They’re something so othered that most of humanity can’t relate to them. “I don’t know….uh…a kappa.”

“A kappa, eh? Good guess but no. I’m what some would call, ‘a vampire.’”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-x-x-x-

The middle of winter hits Japan hard. Snow blankets the ground, hiding the icy ground underneath.

Shouta isn’t normally out during the day, but since it gets dark out so fast this time of year, he can start his patrol around five instead of eight or nine. He uses his supernatural agility to not slip and fall on the icy ground.

He eventually grows tired of bracing the snow-covered sidewalks, and decides to sit on a bench overlooking a neighborhood park. The park is mostly empty, save for a few kids running around. They should be heading home soon.

Shouta is about to get up to leave when he spots a familiar head of green curls. Which is impressive, given that most of those green curls are hidden under a wool cap.

“Izuku,” he breathes.

The little boy-now seven or eight-is all by his lonesome, but he seems happy anyway, kicking up the snow. Izuku giggles, content in his own little world.

The sight makes Shouta smile. A warm, fuzzy feeling wells up in his chest. He’s so happy that, despite the incident a few years ago, the little boy he found is alive and well.

But, as he leaves the park, Shouta can’t help but wonder if his newfound happiness is due to something more. A want. A longing.

He pushes it down, continuing his patrols.

-x-x-x-

“You….you bit me!” Izuku exclaims, holding his hand over the area the supposed vampire bit him. “Why?”

Eraser- Aizawa sighs. “It’s hard to explain. I didn’t want to hurt you, but this is the only way I can keep you by my side.”

Izuku’s thought processes screech to a halt. The inside of his brain probably looks like one of those DVD screensavers with the moving logo. The logo must hit the corner of his brain, because he finally gets a coherent thought out. “You- you’re a vampire, or you think you’re a vampire. And you bit me. But you bit me, because….”

Aizawa turns away from him. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain, but I promise I’ll take great care of you. Drinking blood feels weird at first, but it tastes pretty good. Once you master that, I can teach you to hunt. I like to-”

“Drinking blood? Why would I drink blood? Isn’t that a safety hazard?”

Aizawa stares at him with a shocked expression. “Izuku, I bit you. You drank my blood. You’re like me now.”

Izuku swallows heavily. He shakes his head. “No, that’s not….are you ill? If you let me call my mom, I’m sure she can help.”

Gently, Aizawa lays his hands on Izuku’s shoulders. “Sorry, but it had to be done. I couldn’t let you grow old. I couldn’t let you leave me.”

He wishes he could say his next words were eloquent but biting. Sharp and quick-witted. However, they were anything but.

Izuku brokedown, fighting his way out of the bed. Screaming, crying, and begging for his mom. Aizawa holds him, keeping Izuku from falling onto the floor.

But that just makes him more angry. He slaps at the arms wrapped around him, weakly clawing at them.

“Let me go,” he pleads. “Wanna go home! Wanna go home! Why did you take me?” Izuku’s rambles become a jumbled mess, incomprehensible to even him. Just angry noises that vaguely sound like words.

He eventually succeeds in falling to the floor, but Aizawa is right there a second, holding him close.

-x-x-x-

The third time he sees Izuku Midoriya, it’s a couple months later in early spring. And for the third time, it’s completely by accident.

He’s back to his usual patrol time, but needs to eat something (otherwise be at the mercy of his bloodlust come nighttime). Which is how he finds himself in front of Aldera Elementary School at three in the afternoon.

He wipes at his mouth, making sure that there’s no traces of food on his face. The last thing he needs is to walk around with blood on his face. Once he’s confident that all the lingering traces are gone, Shouta makes sure his hood’s secure and turns in the direction of home.

“What? Are you gonna cry, Deku?”

The nickname sets off an alarm in Shouta’s head. That was Izuku’s nickname - the really mean one that he doesn’t like. Deku.

He whirls around, and spots another kid with vibrant pink hair poking at a sobbing Izuku. His hackles raise, watching the exchange.

(Why? Why should he care?)

“Crybaby, crybaby,” the child sneers.

“St-stop. I’m not a crybaby!” Izuku shouts, tears running down his cheeks.

“Crybaby, Deku!”

Izuku stares at the ground, hurt. “Please, stop.”

“Whatever, loser.”

The insults, while childish, bring to mind a sort of irritation that Shouta hasn’t had to deal with since his days before U.A. An irritation made worse by the fact that it’s happening to Izuku.

(Again, why does he care? He shouldn’t. Just turn around and go home.)

The bully stomps off, leaving Izuku weeping. Other kids snicker, walking past him. The sight breaks his heart. Kids can be so cruel.

Before Shouta can step in, Izuku picks himself up and walks away. Leaving him to ponder if he can get away with murder two times in one day (answer: probably, but he can’t stomach the thought of murdering a child, besides their blood likely tastes rotten.) He sighs, pushing all thoughts of murder and blood-sucking from his mind.

-x-x-x-

Izuku lays on the couch. An old Hallmark movie plays on the TV. It’s entirely in English, so he can’t understand what’s being said. But it’s the same tired plot over and over, and he just needs something, anything to take his mind off the abomination he’s been made into.

Three times today Aizawa’s offered him blood, and not just a little bit. No. A whole glass full. Encouraged him to drink it all down, like it’s natural. Like it’s good for him.

And all three times, Izuku adamantly refused.

Aizawa’s on the phone right now. He can hear him talk from the kitchen. Idly, he listens in, only catching a word here and there.

“Teaching position….start when….”

By the time Aizawa’s off the phone, the movie’s over. “Izuku,” he says. “I just got off the phone with Principal Nedzu at U.A High School. They’re in desperate need of a teacher, so starting in a couple weeks I won’t be home a lot.”

Izuku stares straight through him. “‘Kay.”

Aizawa sighs, ruffling his hair. “Problem Child,” he mutters fondly.

The use of the nickname makes him scrunch his nose up. At this point, he’d rather be called by the derogatory “Deku.”

Much to his annoyance, Aizawa forces him to scoot over, sitting right next to him. Izuku groans, and contemplates-not for the first time-running away.

They sit in silence, watching commercials.

“Let me see your fangs,” Aizawa says, suddenly.

Izuku shakes his head, arms crossed, and a petulant look on his face.

“Izuku, I just want to make sure that they’re growing okay.”

“...”

A hand forces him to look at Aizawa, holding his jaw in place. Another opens his mouth, touching his fangs.

Izuku hisses, attempting to bite the hand poking at his (admittedly) tender fangs. “Stop,” he says, pulling away.

“Sore?”

He refuses to dignify that question with a response.

Aizawa gets off the couch, and he immediately takes the opportunity to take the man’s spot. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

Only to have him come back not two minutes later, popsicle in hand. “Here,” he offers. “It will ease the pain.”

Izuku takes the popsicle, and reluctantly agrees that it does, indeed, help.

-x-x-x-

He can’t get his mind off Izuku. His thoughts are like a repeating record - turning around and around in his head.

There’s something about that scared little boy he found - that he saved. But what is it? Something that makes Shouta go feral when he thinks about him for too long. Something that makes him want to hold Izuku close-just like he did all those years ago-and never let him go.

It hits him then, all alone in his little one bedroom apartment, how lonely he truly feels.

Being what he is, it’s hard to make (and keep) friends. He supposes Hizashi and Nemuri count, though they’re off at separate graduate programs half-way across Japan. Sometimes he finds himself ignoring their phone calls, bitterly stewing in his own resentment.

He chews on his bottom lip, reminiscing. The soap opera continues to play uninterrupted.

If Shouta really wants to blame somebody for all his troubles, then Oboro is at fault. His best friend and brother in all but blood, probably just as lonely as Shouta feels right now, convinced (tricked) him into sharing the same blood curse.

A curse that turns whoever’s unfortunate enough to suffer from it into blood-thristy creatures of the night.

A fact that Oboro conveniently skipped over, excitedly explaining how they’d be bonded forever. Fates weaved together until death or perhaps, even beyond that.

And Shouta, naive as he had been at fifteen, hadn’t considered how long forever actually was. Nor had he thought about the very real possibility that death would come for one of them so soon.

He pulled away from everyone. Somehow managing to attend classes, train, and later graduate, but not doing much else. Only Hizashi and Nemuri stayed, growing older while he stayed the same.

Well, mostly the same, with the added stress and sleepless nights (days? He adjusted his sleep schedule in accordance with the curse’s limitations), Shouta began to look much older than his stunted age of fifteen.

In the soap opera a child runs to their father, happy and overjoyed. They cry, finally being reunited after a long time apart.

Wait!

Shouta sits up, something warm brewing in his chest. An understanding of how to make his situation better lights up in his brain like fourth of July fireworks.

Izuku Midoriya . He thinks to himself, running around his apartment looking for his capture scarf. He needs his Problem Child. The child he saved from a life growing up under a lowlife’s thumb.

-x-x-x-

The next day, Izuku lay awake-body unused to the change in sleep schedule. Aizawa offered him the bed, but he declined, liking the freedom that sleeping in the living room gives him. Well, not really, but it feels like it.

He eyes the front door longingly. The only thing keeping him tethered here is his own fear.

Sometimes he cries, silently, body shaking. He wants his mom, and that never changes. Izuku hopes she isn’t mad at him.

He’s certainly mad at himself.

The living room windows are blocked by three or four curtains, a few blankets, and a cardboard box. It reminds Izuku of his own state. That, even if he escapes, he’s a monster now.

You’re not a monster, Problem Child.

Izuku hates when Aizawa speaks to him in his mind. Makes him feel weird, like he’s standing in the middle of an echoing cavern with no escape in sight.

Leave me alone!

Aizawa sighs, fondly. Get some sleep. We have a big night in front of us.

Izuku gulps, not liking the sound of that.

-x-x-x-

It takes three days to finally catch a glimpse of Izuku, and another week before Shouta catches him alone.

The boy walks alone, at night of all times. It’s an odd sight (a ten-year-old all by themself), and if it didn’t work to his advantage, it would make him incredibly sad.

He lies in wait, following Izuku from the rooftops, supernatural speed keeping Shouta out of sight. Growing impatient, he uses his capture scarf to take out a streetlight. It doesn’t shatter, but it does break. Which is all he needs.

The sparks frighten the boy, who instantly looks around. Knowing what he does about Izuku, probably for a hero.

Izuku starts to leave, and Shouta internally panics.

Then, as if coming to his senses, Izuku pauses, looking around once again. Giving Shouta a way in. He takes out the rest of the streetlights.

He runs around the terrified boy, capture scarf taunting Izuku. It’s not nice, but Shouta needs to throw him off. Shouta dashes for an alley.

As expected, Izuku follows him.

And in the split second between the boy’s foolish decision to come closer and his own impatience, Shouta sends out his capture scarf, binding his soon-to-be son’s arms.

Izuku passes out in the mili-seconds it takes for the scarf to take him straight into his soon-to-be father’s awaiting arms.

Well, at the very least, it makes Izuku easier to transport back to his apartment. The last thing Shouta needs is a nosy neighbor phoning the police.

-x-x-x-

Izuku’s stomach grumbles. It’s been exactly four days since he’s been kidnapped, and he hasn’t eaten or drank anything.

Aizawa sits across from him at the table, long dark hair tied into a messy bun.

In between them, sitting idly in the middle of the table, is a large glass filled with a dark red liquid. His stomach grumbles again, and despite his wishes, Izuku doesn’t think it’s out of disgust.

“Drink,” Aizawa says, pushing it closer to him. “You’ll feel better.”

He shakes his head. “No. I…I don’t want to.”

Aizawa sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Well, we’re not leaving the table until you do.”

“Fine,” Izuku shoots back, mirroring his posture.

They sit like that for, what Izuku can only guess, hours. Enough time that sunlight starts peeking in through the living room window, but still neither of them yield.

“C’mon, kid,” Aizawa says, pushing the glass a little closer. It’s right in front of him now. Izuku can faintly smell something sweet. “Drink.” His voice carries a note of desperation. A last resort before he escalates.

Izuku hates this.

Hates Aizawa for putting him in this situation.

Hates himself for venturing so close to a darkened alley.

Hates that the glass full of blood doesn’t make him want to throw up.

“No,” he says, steadfast in his decision to abstain from whatever perverse delusion his kidnapper’s under.

Aizawa runs a hand down his face. He looks up at the ceiling, words inaudible, and he’s rounding the table. One hand grabs his jaw, forcing his mouth open. The other grips the glass.

Izuku knows what’s about to happen, but he’s tired and hungry and too weak to put up much of a fight. So, he settles for muffled yelling. Which only makes things worse, especially when the liquid is forced down his throat.

Tears well up in his eyes, hands claw uselessly at the hand restraining him.

Please, stop. You’re hurting me. Please, please, let go.

I know. Aizawa responds, not sounding the least bit happy. And I’m sorry. I refuse to let you waste away. Forgive me.

The entire ordeal takes less than two minutes, but for Izuku it feels like forever.

When it’s over, Izuku runs to the kitchen sink, trying to wash his mouth out. The taste isn’t horrible, but he can’t fathom enjoying blood. He feels sick but not disgusted. And worst of all, he feels full.

And…and satisfied.

What’s happening to me?

He doesn’t get an answer to that question.

-x-x-x-

Shouta stares at the ceiling, tired but fully alert. The guilt from force feeding his son hasn’t lessened. Especially when he can still hear Izuku sobbing all the way in the living room. His heart aches for the boy, but every new family goes through some growing pains.

Right?

-x-x-x-

Aizawa hands him another glass, a stern expression on his face. “Drink.”

Izuku takes the cup, holding it in his hands. Red liquid sloshes around, leaving a pinkish residue around the rim. He can’t see his reflection on the surface, and the implications of that chill him to the bone.

He throws the cup on the hardwood floor. The glass shatters, looking like thousands of shimmering diamonds, and the deep red liquid stains the floor.

Aizawa silently goes to the kitchen. He rummages around in the cupboard, grabbing out a new cup. He promptly pours another full glass of blood.

Aizawa brings it to Izuku, handing it to him with a severe look on his face.

Izuku sips at it, doing his best to not overthink. An impossible feat for someone like him. But he finds himself downing half the glass, hunger getting the best of him. It’s not until he’s staring down into an empty cup that he regains his senses.

He slams it on the table.

“More?” Aizawa asks, sounding pleased.

Wordlessly, Izuku steps over the red stain on the floor, making a beeline for the couch.

-x-x-x-

The sun has just started to rise by the time Shouta has finished his patrols. He slides into his apartment, locking the door behind him.

“Izuku,” he calls into the apartment, taking his capture scarf and jacket off, “I’m home.”

No response.

Shouta hums, moving to the living room. It’s good to know that his son is getting used to his new sleep schedule.

Except, there’s no sign of Izuku in the living room.

“Izuku?”

He looks around. Everything seems to be in place.

“Izuku, come on out! I’m not playing around.”

Shouta upturns the couch and coffee table, pulls out drawers, and dumps out papers. All in an effort to see if there’s something, anything to give him a hint as to where his son has gone. He would guess back to his mom, but the boy is absolutely terrified of Shouta hurting her. (He wouldn’t, of course, he doesn’t hurt innocent civilians. But if the thought keeps Izuku from acting rash, then he won’t do anything to dissuade it).

A cry gets his attention. His head snaps in the direction of his bedroom. Shouta practically races to the noise, jumping over the mess he made in the living room.

He hears sobbing coming from his closet.

“Izuku?” He raps the side of the closet door. “Izuku, are you okay?”

Sniffling and then, “no.”

“No? What happened?”

Izuku doesn’t immediately answer him, quietly sobbing.

“I saw a movie on the TV, and-and there was a mom and I-” Izuku cuts himself off. “I…I want my mom!” He wails. From outside the closet, Shouta hears the way his son’s nails dig into the floor, scratching and scraping - trying to grab onto some semblance of normalcy.

“Mhm,” Shouta hums. “Your mom, what’s she like?”

“Nice,” he squeaks, voice small. “Kind. Brave, and really pretty. Dad always said it’s a good thing I look so much like her.”

Shouta smiles, sitting with his back against the wall. He leans his head on the door. “That sounds lovely. She sounds lovely.”

“She is,” Izuku confirms, sounding a little surer of himself. “The best mom in the whole wide world.”

The door to the closet slides open. Izuku peeks out, face wet and eyes bloodshot. He hiccups, crawling forward. Weak from his crying spell, he climbs into a very shocked Shouta’s lap.

He tenses up, not knowing how to react. Hands hover over the shivering child, stuck between wanting to comfort and push them away. Shouta pulls himself out of his initial shock, stroking his son’s hair.

“Nothing lasts forever, Izu.”

I promise.

#mha fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #dadzawa #vampire au #angst #tw kidnapping #tw blood #tw blood drinking #tw childhood trauma #mha au #young izuku

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claratompson · 2 months

Text

Chapter 2

Gently sitting down, Emmanuelle ran her hand over her head, trying to remember at least how the morning began, but her brain stubbornly refused to remember.

Loud footsteps outside the door made the girl distracted from the unpleasant state of "mush in her head".

Clutching tightly the plaid she was kindly covered with, not knowing by whom, the girl waited for the door of the room to open and the one who had kindly put her on the bed to enter.

The doorknob turned and the door slowly opened, a tall and handsome man in a black uniform walked into the room.

His face was familiar to her, but she could hardly remember him.

"Mademoiselle Emmanuelle Mimieux, I am glad you are awake. How are you feeling?"

"Obviously he knew who I was." - she glimpsed.

"Better now, thank you, but I still feel weak and a little dizzy. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."

Standing upright, the man said proudly: "Please excuse me, I didn't introduce myself, Sturmbannführer Dieter Helstrom of the Gestapo. At your service, Mademoiselle."

The mere mention of his name, let alone his rank, sent shivers down Emmanuelle's spine.

After hesitating a little, the girl asked: "May I ask a question?"

The man calmly replied, "Certainly, Mademoiselle Mimieux." - and sat down on a chair which was five metres from the bed.

"I don't remember at all how I got here or what happened. Could you please tell me?"

The young major smiled boyishly: "You were standing on the high staircase next to your cinema. My chauffeur and I came to fetch you to bring you at the invitation of Private Frederick Zoller to the restaurant, but because of the flimsy stairs you fell, fortunately I managed to catch you, but you fainted, so I took you to my house and called the doctor, he should be here any minute."

After Sturmbannführer Helstrom's story, the girl began to slowly remember everything that had happened in that short time.

Because of the awkwardness, she lowered her gaze. The mere inquisitive gaze of this young and charming major made her blush.

This attempt to hide her brown eyes, the Sturmbannführer perceived the girl's poor condition, so quickly rising from his chair, he approached her and with concern in his voice asked: "Mademoiselle, is everything all right? Are you unwell again?"

The girl blushed at such concern from the man and slowly looked up at him appreciatively, "No, no.... I just seem to have a little dryness in my throat."

"Would you like some water or maybe some tea?"

"Tea would be nice. Thank you, you're very kind."

His stern face lit up with a boyish smile: "I'll get it for you, mademoiselle."

About fifteen minutes later the young major came into the room again with a hot cup of tea; passing it to the girl, he touched her delicate hands with his fingers, while lingering on her with an inquiring gaze.

Emmanuelle was the first to break eye contact, saying: "Thank you, Sturmbannführer Helstrom, you are very kind."

"It is my pleasure to be of service to you, Mademoiselle. And please, call me Dieter."

"Very well, if you so wish."

Sipping some of the delicious hot tea, mental clarity slowly returned back.

"I take it that Private Frederick Zoller is still waiting for me in the restaurant?"

"Oh no, no. I took care of that by notifying him of your inability to be in the restaurant tonight. It would be rather ungracious of him to insist when a girl is so unwell."

"Yes, however." - she replied embarrassed. "In that case. Thank you, Dieter, for your help and concern, but I've already taken up a lot of your time with my ridiculous fall." - she said, hurriedly getting out of bed.

The Major hurried over to her, helping her up, "What about the doctor? He'll be here soon."

"I feel much better, there is no need for the doctor to come."

"Glad you are feeling much better, nevertheless I will be concerned for your well-being."

The girl timidly replied, "Obviously it's time for me to leave. I've caused you enough trouble as it is, Major."

The man gently put his arm around her shoulders: "Why, Emmanuelle? On the contrary, you have brightened my day with your presence. All the more so if next time you fall, I would gladly be the one to catch you."

The girl raised her gaze to the man unable to hide her embarrassment, "I must go now, Major."

"I'll drive you." - it sounded not like a suggestion, but an order.

Not wanting to be rude and ungrateful, the girl nodded her head in agreement.

In the car, Emmanuelle tried not to even look in his direction. She felt, for the first time in a long time. admiration for a man.

As soon as the car stopped, Emmanuelle gripped the door handle without looking at the Major, but the man was faster than her, getting out of the car, Dieter opened the door for Emmanuelle and gave her his hand.

The girl was forced to look at him, "Thank you Dieter."

The man gently brought her hand up and kissed it without taking his tenacious gaze off the girl, "At your service, Mademoiselle Mimieux."

At this they parted.

The girl went hastily up to her little flat and, closing the door, sat down on the bed.

"What on earth is the matter with me? Since when did I become such a sucker for a man's attention?!

And Sturmbannführer Helstrom is much more seductive and pleasant than Private Zoller. But I hope that's the end of our meetings with him. I don't think he's attracted to me."

>>>>

Just a couple of days later Emmanuelle was coming home after work.

Her lodger an old and very polite woman, if I may say so, called out to the girl, "Emmanuelle, wait a minute!"

Emmanuelle was not prepared to exchange pleasantries: "Yes, Madame Julia?"

"A Sturmbannführer came to see you. He left a bouquet and told me to give it to you."

Emmanuelle smiled nervously, "It must be a mistake. You can keep it."

"Are you crazy? Take the bouquet and don't play hard to get."

Against all odds, the young cinema owner had to take the bouquet of flowers.

Looking at the flowers, the girl felt despair rather than admiration. Deep in her heart, her intuition told her that there was something else lurking behind this act of attention, not exactly good motives.

>>>

The very next day, the young major himself came to the girl, but this time in the cinema.

Emmanuelle was nervously rubbing the fabric of her dress as she descended the stairs.

Dieter came closer to her and, taking her hand, kissed it:"Mademoiselle Mimieux, I'm glad to see you. How are you feeling?"

"Thank you, Major, very well."

Dieter: "Glad to hear it. I hope you got the bouquet of flowers I sent you?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Sturmbannführer Helstrom. They are beautiful."

With a rather sly smile he replied, "I must admit, not as beautiful as you, Emmanuelle."

The girl was embarrassed, but didn't show it, "Nevertheless, thank you, but you shouldn't have..."

The Major interrupted her, taking her by the hand, "No I should. I have to show you some consideration. Especially when you, Emmanuelle, have hopelessly charmed me." - At this sentence he kissed her hand without taking his inquisitive gaze from the girl.

Emmanuelle blushed so red that she looked like a tomato. Trying to hide her embarrassment, she withdrew her hand from the young major's tenacious grasp.

#inglorious basterds #dieter hellstrom #shoshanna dreyfus #dieter Hellstrom/Shoshanna Dreyfus #my art 2024 #august diehl #Melanie Laurent

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senanatheskenana · 2 years

Text

Like Birds In The Breeze (pt 5)

Kazuha went against his better judgement, grasping (Y/N)’s wrist, and pulling her through the narrow alley.

“I’m going to trust you. Please don’t make me regret it, (Y/N)”

She let a shimmering tear slide down her cheek as she forced herself to keep up, her knees quivering with the speed at which her companion pulled her along.

Kazuha’s head was running wild. Who was that man? And why was he such a big problem for (Y/N)? He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the thing she was running from. He didn’t look all that frightening, or anything less than friendly. But Kazuha knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

Though he ran fast, he remained vigilant; stopping abruptly at every opening but remaining strong enough to withstand the force of the girl crashing into his back, unable to stop effectively from the pace. He couldn’t care less about that. All he cared about was returning and finally releasing the thick doubt and curiosity that bubbled in his stomach. He had come to like her, and though the interaction was small, he knew from Beidou that she was gentle and wary, like a lamb.

He stopped once more and, yet again, (Y/N) found herself faceplanting into the hard back of Kazuha. She groaned quietly.

“Okay, can you please stop doing that?”

He only shushed her, ushering her to peek behind the corner that hid them.

What she saw terrified her. She felt cold sweat trickle down her back, and once more her knees grew weak and wobbly. She found herself latching onto Kazuha’s arm for balance as she tried to calm her breathing.

Kazuha watched on calmer than (Y/N). It was that man again. This time, however, he was joined by Beidou. He held a piece of parchment out to her that she wasted no time in grabbing. Her eyebrows creased as she read it before looking back at the stranger.

“If you have any information that you find relevant, please submit it post haste. This is an urgent matter. Lady Ningguang has been notified by an envoy already. If you could be so kind as to show the poster to others, it would be greatly appreciated.” “If everything you say is true, your best bet is to ask Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. I wouldn’t know anyone who could survive that big of a drop and three days at sea.” The man flinched slightly at the meaning of the captain’s words.

“I- We hold out hope. We still haven’t recovered a body so she remains adamant she must have survived,” he spoke solemnly, “I suppose, I should still take a look though, just to be sure. Thank you for your time, captain”

He was about to walk away before the woman called out to him. He turned back to her, curious.

“Fatui aren’t known for their sentimentality- much less a harbinger. So, what makes this a special case?”

His look turned cold, and the little bit of warmth in his blue eyes shifted darker, “It’s a job, not a lifestyle”

With that, he left.

Once Beidou was sure he was gone, her eyes shifted to where the two had been hiding.

“Kazuha let’s get back to the ship,” she was careful not to say her name. There were ears everywhere, and if she knew the fatui, that harbinger was not stupid enough to leave just like that.

(Y/N) looked down at the floor as they walked under the cover of shadows with the captain. She was silent and although he wanted to, Kazuha could not peak at the paper because she had folded it multiple times to hide its contents.

To her, the walk felt like years and though she wanted to (Y/N) could not find the words to speak up. She wasn’t sure if she should anyway.

She was still terrified but she pushed herself to keep walking. Was this a trap, or was Beidou really seemingly covering for her? If that was true, why would Beidou even consider putting herself in that situation if it meant she would be in trouble too if they were caught?

The three of them had made it back to the docks safely ad in complete silence, but now with the new openness of the docks, they had a new problem. “Keep your head down and get between us,” Kazuha whispered, gently grabbing her hand and squeezing it to reassure her. “We’ll be fine, I promise”

Beidou looked over at them both but still didn’t say anything.

It seemed the news wasn’t widespread just yet and they inwardly thanked the archons that there was a lack of Millelith soldiers out today. No one seemingly batted an eye as they walked past. Then again people in Liyue were usually more interested in their purchases than in the others around them.

Beidou ushered them both onto the ship as quickly as possible. She kept moving them forward and into the captain's quarters, shutting and barring the door twice for good measure.

“Ok, you’re gonna need to start giving us some answers, kid,” she unfolded the paper and slid it across the desk to her.

Kazuha inhaled sharply and snatched the page. She held her head in her hands and breathed deeply.

“I know. It’s just- it’s just complicated”

“I never believed you were dangerous, but I'm not sure this is all that much better” Beidou sighed when (Y/N) sobbed into her palm, “Look, we’re not about to throw you out. We just need to know what we’re getting ourselves into”

She raised her head, eyes red and teary.

Kazuha was still awestruck, reading the poster back to himself over and over.

‘Princess (Y/N) of Snezhnaya’

It included a rather good sketch of her in a ball gown, hair elegant and curled. Nothing like Kazuha had ever seen before.

‘Information considered useful will be rewarded'

'The safe return of the Princess will result in…’

#Kazuha x reader #Kazuha x you #Genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #Kazuha imagine #Beidou #Kazuha #Childe #reader #xreader #kaedahara kazuha x reader

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alohaemora · 1 year

Note

please talk about something subtle you've put in a story that you hope readers pick up on

This is such a lovely question, I've really enjoyed reading other people's answers to this. I don't know if you've answered it yourself yet, but if not, I may pop on over to your inbox 👀

I get way too excited whenever I find ways to plant subtle foreshadowing or references to canon in my fics lol. I try to work them into my writing whenever the opportunities present themselves - and as long as they make sense thematically, of course. The first example that popped into my head (probably because I reread it recently) is my fic The Meeting, where Dumbledore officially offers Snape the Potions master post.

"Potions?" Severus's stomach dropped.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Were you under the impression that you would be teaching something else?"

Severus's lip curled. "I assumed that I would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, as that is the position I originally applied for."

"Ah, yes, but unfortunately, we have already filled that particular vacancy," Dumbledore said, his tone apologetic, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. "Professor Slughorn, however, has notified me of his intent to retire this December. He feels much…safer, leaving the school at this time, now that the imminent threat of Lord Voldemort has been dissolved."

Severus repressed a snort. He had no trouble whatsoever believing that the portly, little Potions master had delayed his retirement to enjoy the benefits of being under Dumbledore's employ during the Dark Lord's reign.

Severus had never cared much for Slughorn, even while he had been a member of his house and of his precious Slug Club. Lily had liked Slughorn a great deal more than Severus ever had, and for that, he supposed the feeling had been mutual.

But Potions was the one thing, the one happy memory that Potter had never been able to take away from him. No one else had appreciated the subtle science, the infinite beauty of potion-brewing the way Lily had. There had been no foolish wand-waving, no silly incantations in that class; Potter had never managed to hex Severus during a Potions lesson. Even after that fateful June afternoon, there had been something achingly comforting about watching Lily's dark hair frizz up across the classroom, her kind, green eyes captivating him over the shimmering fumes…

I crafted Snape's internal monologue here to parallel his opening remarks during the first Potions lesson in PS.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses." —Chapter 8, The Potions Master, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

#fanfic writer ask #hp fanfic writer #hp fanfic #evesaintyves #ask alohaemora

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badassxbirdy · 10 months

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July Activity Update (Pinned Post)

It’s time once again for an activity update! If you’re new here: these monthly posts help me to keep track of what the frick I’ve been doing, particularly when tumblr breaks or the brainfog strikes. This update includes things posted or in drafts for the month of May. Everything else can be found in previous monthly updates under this tag. There’s also the thread tracker here, which I’m currently updating.

The full activity update (along with OOC house keeping) is below the cut. Bold text = links.

If you want to see all IC interactions without the other stuff, click here. If you’d like to start something new, there are opens, memes, and the wishlist, or you can just hit up the DM’s. You can also add Ty on Wire for IC texting.

Now onto the update!

OOC Houskeeping

@normallyxstranger has released a new book! Check it out!

@sanguinelupus is back, and so I will be using this at every opportunity. But more importantly: you should go follow!

I’ll be heading back home around the 8th, which means I’ll have PC access back. 🥳

I’m currently updating my rpthreadtracker page, so please excuse the mess over there.

The queue is currently set to post twice a day.

I still haven’t found my login for Ty’s discord. Don’t judge me. 😬

Threads, replies, and other IC interactions:

(In alphabetical order by username)

At the motel (drafted) - @demcnsinmymind

I’ll just be over here screaming about Azzy OMG. (link) - @demcnsinmymind

Ty takes Lance on a hunt! (drafted) - @demcnsinmymind

At the bar with drunk!Ty (link) - @demcnsinmymind

Car trouble (queued!) - @demcnsinmymind

No soul for you. 😤 (link) - @demonstigma

Damon shields Ty, Ty is ANGY. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Ty finds Vampire!Damon (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

“Get out of there, he’s a priest!” (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Werewolf problems (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Ghost Stories: Charmed 2018 verse (link) - @derschwarzeengel

The idiots reconcile aka Tyler can’t be left unsupervised (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Damon encounters dark!Ty (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Judging 50 shades and unexpected cuteness (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Universe differences (drafted).- @derschwarzeengel

“This isn’t what it looks like.” (link) - @discipulusmaleficus

Starter from @first-born-to-his-name! ❤️ (queued)

Birthday cuteness! (link) - @heavenguided

“I don’t understand your definition of good news.” (link) - @hvbris (for Olive)

Tyler being massively confused by Wednesday (queued) - @hvbris

Extremely normal headwear and cake experiments (link) - @imprvdente

Human!Ty and FBI!Fish (drafted! So sorry again for the wait!) - @imprvdente

Mischief at the fair (queued) - @indyflanery

Bad jokes with Charm. (link) - @innerwar

Monster encounter (drafted) - @lcbcshcart (welcome back!)

Demon problems (queued) - @magaprima

Demon problems part 2: electric boogaloo (queued) - @magaprima

“I totally didn’t do what you think I did.” (link) - @pantslessoptimism

Leaving the compound (queued) - @razorfst

Taking serious notes with her most serious pen. 😤 (link) - @tobeblamed

Drafts: 8

Memes/Asks: 12

Headcanon, dash games, and assorted silliness:

Ty’s questionable coping mechanisms (link)

She’s a 10, but… (link)

Tyler + love (link)

Dash game: What chess piece are you? (link)

Taco Tuesday! (link)

I think that’s everything! As always: please let me know if I’ve missed something. I never intentionally drop threads without notifying, rest assured that if it’s not here I simply have not seen it. Remember to be kind to yourselves, stay safe, and happy pride! ❤️ — Em

#activity update #pinned post

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djavlaalskadeunge · 1 year

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Letter 22

"I hate the California sunshine*

*should represent sunshine

Sept 15 - 1927.

I will never marry!

Darling mine!!

Thanks for your letters, I wonder what you think when I don't hear from you. Or maybe you sense that I'm a little scattered.

I'm so nervous I have trouble sitting still. But maybe you haven't felt the way I feel in the last year and then you can't understand. You see, maybe I can never be calm because I was born cranky - but I don't like it here and there are so many and many little things that get on one's little nerves. But I only dream of going home now. Moje Stiller will probably travel in November. I now have to start a film but will ask for permission for Sweden after it.

You lovely little girl, thank you for the photos, you are just as thin and pretty and petite and the same small hands, even though you are married and I haven't seen you in two years. I'm a little bit jealous of Nisse, who get's to care for you, and I have a feeling that he won't let you have a little time off if I come home. I see red, you know, when I think that there you are at home and everything around you that I thought I cared for too and I've sold myself and have to sit here.

If it wasn't so terribly unstylish and cheap tacky and ugly. But that kind of thing cannot be described, it has to be seen. God, how we insult this country, we Europeans. And I wouldn't have anything to say that hasn't seen the host, and can't emphasize its merits but I scold the worst. I'm not alive Misse. I exist because I work, but I am someone who has no idea what they do or why. The whole thing is strange. I still live in my old hotel with the suitcases on the floor so I can always see them and be reminded that one day we will go home. I have Monica here, but we don't see each other much. I don't know how it will go for her. She only has a six months contract. So maybe she goes home. I do not know. I do not know. She also thinks this is he-l.

I'm faithful to you Misse - I have no one here, no friend, if you knew how lonely I live, and yet I'm a "movie star" --- But I can't stand people anymore. I laugh at myself sometimes you know. Maybe you are the same now. Mimosa, if Nisse reads this, he'll think I'm proposing to you, but I have to tell you - I love you so. I am longing for you! Which does not mean that I speak or write English. This is very bad. But I love you in all languages. You little little girl.

Darling you sent me those things that I asked for and you know I was gone and hadn't received the letter notifying me that the things were here- I get so much mail and I don't have a secretary but I don't give a damn about the mail because I know my friends write to Miramar.

I happened to see your letter and a note from some customs house or such. I sent a man to ask for the package, but by then it was already on its way back. Do you think it would inconvenience you if they take them back, I will send for them, if not, I will leave the whole matter, because it will not come here again for a couple of months, said the man who listened, and then it is so anyway late with my present. I'm very sorry Mimosa and I thank you for the trouble. But don't forget to tell me if there is any discomfort, in which case you can only call my brother and ask for money and that it be sent back immediately. Yes, what should I tell you dear when nothing happens and I do not participate in anything. Little has happened, but what is not suitable for letters becomes gossip when we meet. By the way, I'm not a dollar princess. I don't mind the dollar, but I don't care about the princess. That liking for dollars is typically American. But people call us stupid Swedes because we are so honest and don't want to talk about money. Which is the stupidest thing imaginable.

I still hear rumors that I bathe in gold. God, I wouldn't even mind that one bit. But then I wouldn't bathe here anymore, then I would go home. But hope that the pile of gold still grows slowly. Such foul language. But that's how you become here eventually. If I stay longer than that, I don't know how ugly one will become. Shall now finish my somewhat scattered letter. Darling. My brother, I must tell you first, is so ridiculously happy to have spent time with you and he is so fond of you both, which I cannot believe. Ouch. Ouch. - In any case, you must not forget me, if I am remembered through my brother, then I shall not forget to ask him to disturb you sometime.

Don't forget me and don't look at me coldly if I come home soon. I long so terribly to see, - and touch you too, of course. - Write when you have time, say often that you like me even though you have Nisse.

jö darling. Gurra."

#greta garbo

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clowncollectr · 1 year

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Arknights - I want to see you. I need to see you. (Liang Xun / Lee) - Chapter 1

Rating: G

Word Count: 2699 (this chapter), 14804 (whole story)

Summary: Following the recent events in Shangshu, Liang Xun decides to visit Lungmen to properly give Lee his thanks and apologize for the trouble he's caused him. It's his first time visiting Lungmen, but he quickly finds that he's known in every corner of the city, despite never having visited before.

Notes: You don't need to have read Invitation to Wine to read this but it does reference some events from it. This ship is kind of obscure, but the material is there, so I hope y'all will give it a chance lol.

AO3 Link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

__________

Chapter 1: I want to write to you.

Liang Xun felt really out of his depth. Even though he insisted to his advisors that his travel be covert and unofficial, perhaps he overestimated how far he could get with only a map and an address. Despite the layer of difficulty it added, he was determined to visit Lee not as magistrate of Shangshu or a government official but as an old friend. Unfortunately, his decision to leave his post and travel to Lungmen was very spontaneous, so he didn’t have time to send a letter to Lee to notify him that he was visiting. He couldn’t help it. After the recent events in Shangshu with the goblet, he already felt extremely guilty for involving Lee in such a dangerous affair. He had heard of all the troubles his friend had gone through, being forced to fend off both the escorts and candleholders without knowing why they were after him. Liang Xun intended to give him a sincere apology and a proper display of gratitude, in addition to having paid him the meager commission fee he had requested. He knew that Lee only asked to be paid so that Liang Xun wouldn’t feel like he owed him. So he had planned on a proper visit sometime in the future, after all the paperwork was sorted out and things had settled down. Eventually, hours turned to days. Days into weeks. He worked tirelessly and without meaning to, his planned visit had been brushed aside as the least of his worries. That is, until one night, when he dreamed of a not so distant memory. It was when Lee played weiqi with that shadowy figure, the Sui sibling. He watched as Lee conversed with the ominous figure casually, accusing it of being the source of his troubles.

“That goblet of yours has done me some serious damage.” Lee shook his head and let out a long sigh. He looked back at the shadowy figure. It took on some of his features, yet it was indistinguishable enough that it was clearly not him. It was as if his imitator had wanted to borrow a physical form that was enough to be perceived but did not care to fill in the details. Despite his slight discomfort at looking at such an…incomplete version of himself, he continued.

“If that lady hadn’t exposed the truth…how on Terra would I have ended up?”

“Uncertain. Perhaps at some waking, you would find yourself to be the illusory dream instead. The bubble pops, and the one who opens his eyes, is me”, the shadow answered.

“What?” Liang Xun’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing those words. He looked at Lee to see his reaction but did not find much of one from the other person. To his left, the Cautus girl Lee had brought with him shook her head in disapproval saying,

“Now that’s just plain terrifying.”

“Terrifying, indeed.” Lee echoed with a neutral expression on his face. Liang Xun was confused at how he could be so calm in the face of his own death, or perhaps, it was a fate worse than death that the Sui was referring to. The shadow only slightly cocked its head at what Lee said, as if curious about the other’s reaction.

“You don’t seem to feel any way about it”, it said.

“Really, I said it was terrifying.”

The shadow stayed silent for a second. It stared at Lee, or Liang Xun assumed that’s what it was doing as it didn't have any defining features such as eyes. Lee only stared back at it unfazed. Then it laughed.

“Heh…I’ll leave it at that then.”

Liang Xun awoke from his dream then, feeling the sweat on his face cool a bit as it made contact with the air. His dream caused some awful emotions from that time to resurface. His feeling of powerlessness. His hopes that everything would turn out well. His fear and regret. He clutched at his chest and breathed deeply to calm down. He wondered why that memory incited such a drastic reaction from him. It wasn’t even his life on the line at that time. It was Lee whose appearance the Sui had so crudely borrowed and who was told that perhaps he was only moments away from having his entire being erased without a trace. He remembered what that shadowy figure said next. It reminded him that it was him who chose to involve Lee in the Sui’s affairs. Realizing this, the guilt he had pushed aside came rushing back a hundred fold. It was treated as a passing revelation at the time. And no one, especially not Lee, had ever blamed him. But he understood the ramifications. He cupped his hands onto his face and groaned.

How could I do this to a friend? Even if I trusted him to understand, he’s only human. What would I have done if my actions had gotten him killed? And his reaction at that time. Is he so ready to lay down his life if it meant a chance at saving Yan? Did he even know the stakes?

All these questions swirled around in Liang Xun’s head and he understood. He would not find peace until he settled this matter properly. And so, he asked for some time off to travel the following day. Given the quantity of work assigned to him lately, he expected some resistance. But to his surprise, his request was met with immediate approval and his colleagues all wished him well. That was how he found himself in his current situation, staring intently at the map in his hands to double check if he was headed in the right direction. Perhaps it would have been wise for him to hire a guide familiar with the city, similar to Shen Lou who he had hired to guide and protect Lee. But this was neither a work-related matter nor was it tourism. He was there to visit an old friend. Liang Xun steeled his resolve and assured himself that if he found himself truly off from the directions he had marked on his map, he would simply ask a local.

Liang Xun was pleased to find that fortune was on his side today. Aside from a few areas under construction and some busy roads, he had little to no trouble reaching the building that was supposed to be the headquarters for Lee’s detective agency. He was somewhat surprised by the building’s appearance. He wasn’t exactly sure what to expect as Lee never went into much detail about his work in his letters. But the building in front of him seemed surprisingly…normal? It was a simple looking house of moderate size and unlike what is typically expected of a business, there were very few signs or lights adorning the building. His only indication that he had arrived at the right place was a small sign hanging from the front door that read:

Lee’s Detective Agency

Currently out for business. Please visit tomorrow. We thank you for your patience.

“Out for business?” Liang Xun frowned. This was the consequence of his hasty decision-making. However, he wasn’t disheartened. He had predicted the possibility that Lee would be busy when he arrived, so he’s taken some precautions already. Prior to departing from the capital, he had contacted Rhodes Island and asked if Lee was busy on an operation because he remembered that his agency and the company were particularly close. He didn’t really expect to get a response in time, but the speed and specificity of their reply surprised him as in only a matter of hours, a messenger had arrived to tell him that Lee was currently in Lungmen on private business. So even if he wasn’t currently home, Liang Xun was at least reassured that he could find him somewhere in the city. He had set aside a few days to visit Lee, so even if he wasn’t able to find him today, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But given that it was his only reason for visiting Lungmen, he hoped to find the carp sooner rather than later. And besides, the sooner he found him, the more time he would have to properly talk to him.

Despite what he read on the sign, Liang Xun chose to knock on the door anyway. He wouldn't be surprised if no one answered, but he felt that he had to at least try. After waiting for a couple minutes, he sighed and turned around. To his surprise, he found himself staring directly at a young looking Lupo with short blonde hair. He was caught off guard for a second but quickly remembered his courtesies.

“Hello. Are you an employee for this agency? If you’re a client, then I’m afraid that the sign on the door says that it’s closed today.”

The young man did not seem fazed at all and laughed casually.

“Ah, I’m actually just a courier here to deliver some letters. I only need to put some envelopes in the mailbox over there then I’ll be on my way. Are you someone that needs help from Mr. Lee?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m an old friend here to visit” Liang Xun replied, shaking his head.

The courier stared at him intently without saying anything for a while. Eventually, Liang Xun began to wonder if he might have said something wrong. Finally, the young man spoke.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but…are you magistrate Liang Xun from Shangshu?”

Liang Xun was a bit surprised. It wasn’t uncommon for people to know him by name in the city where he was a somewhat high-ranking official. But he couldn’t fathom a reason why someone in Lungmen would know of him.

Upon seeing the other’s surprise, the young Lupo laughed softly and apologized.

“Aha sorry sorry. I promise I have no ill intentions. I only know you by name because I’ve delivered quite a few of Mr. Lee’s letters to Shangshu personally, which are almost always addressed to the magistrate’s residence. Combine that with what you said and the style of your clothes. It made me curious.”

“I see. Then, you have my deepest gratitude for allowing me to keep in touch with my friend. The journey must be difficult for you.” Liang Xun bowed a bit to emphasize his sincerity.

“Woah woah woah. So polite! No wonder you’re the person they’re paying the big bucks to speak for everyone back in Shangshu haha.”

“You flatter me. I only wish to express my well-deserved thanks.”

And it’s something I definitely need to become more mindful of . Liang Xun thought sadly, recalling the reason for his visit to Lungmen.

Sensing a bit of sadness coming from the person in front of him, the young courier remembered something that might cheer the other man up.

“You know…I’m not sure if Mr. Lee has ever told you this. If he hasn’t, if you can keep a secret, I’ve got an interesting little fact about the letters he sends you.”

Liang Xun raised a brow in confusion. He felt like he might end up hearing something that he shouldn’t have, but he didn’t do anything to stop the young man.

“So every now and then, when Mr. Lee is about to hand me a letter to send to you, he’ll suddenly stop and say that he changes his mind, saying that he needs to add or remove something from the letter. It happens pretty often, but only to your letters for some reason. I’ve never seen him be so indecisive with anyone else! Are you two having heated debates over those letters or something? Ah, if you don’t mind me asking that is.”

“No we don’t tend to argue…” Liang Xun wasn’t sure what to make of what he was just told.

Was Lee always this meticulous? But the courier says that he only behaves like this with letters addressed to me. What if…is it because he no longer trusts me enough to share any personal details with me?

Just then, Liang Xun had a truly worrisome thought. Ever since the incident with the Sui in Shangshu, he’s felt that he’d taken advantage of Lee’s selfless nature too much. The man was willing to retrieve an important item and travel all the way to Shangshu at the request of a friend. Not to mention everything else that happened after. But now, Liang Xun began to wonder if he’d been behaving poorly towards Lee long before that and his friend was simply too considerate to outright berate him for it. Such a thing isn’t unheard of. It’s very common for friends to drift apart, and for trust to be broken not from a singular conflict but from small incidents that pile on like grains of sand.

And even if my behavior has been unacceptable, he still takes the time to write to me despite how difficult it’s become for him. Liang Xun’s heart only grew heavier with guilt.

The Lupo saw Liang Xun’s mood worsen after what he said and quickly said something to placate him.

“H-hey! I don’t mean what I said as a bad thing. If you’re personally visiting him like this, you two must be close. And whenever he does finally give me a letter for you, he always looks like-”

“Yo can you two not block the entrance to my place like this?”

Before either person could react, both Liang Xun and the courier were abruptly pushed aside by a short Feline with curly black hair. The young man stopped to take out his keys and place one into the door handle at the house’s entrance, ignoring the two people he passed by. This gave Liang Xun enough time to react and he quickly said aloud:

“Excuse me. If you’re one of Lee’s employees, could you tell me where he is? Or when he’ll be back? I’m a friend that’s come to visit, and I need to speak to him.”

“Haah? The old man didn’t tell us about anyone visiting. Anyways, he’s gonna be out all day so if you want to talk to him so badly, go work for it and find him yourself. See ya.” The Feline waved a hand without ever looking back and promptly shut the door on the two people standing outside. Liang Xun and the courier stared in stunned silence for a few seconds. Until finally, the Lupo coughed awkwardly and spoke.

“Sorry about that. It looks like Aak is in a bad mood today. Odd since he wasn’t like that when I ran into him this morning. That said, I should go and complete the rest of my deliveries before I fall too far behind. It was nice talking to you!”

They exchanged polite farewells until finally, Liang Xun found himself alone once again. Staring at the door that was slammed shut in front of him only moments ago. He thought about what he should do next. If the boy from earlier, the one the courier said was named Aak, was right, then Lee would probably not return to this house until later today. It left Liang Xun with a lot more free time than he expected. He could make arrangements for where to spend the night but such a process doesn’t really take all that long. And it might be wiser to wait until Lee was around to give suggestions. He would be more familiar with what establishments were both safe and of good quality.

“Go work for it and find him yourself…” Liang Xun said aloud, remembering the words Aak spoke earlier. He didn’t really know where to start, but perhaps it was a better use of his time to walk around Lungmen and ask a few people if they’d seen Lee. It would give him the opportunity to sightsee for a bit. Besides, it was never a bad thing for a politician to broaden his experiences and observe the everyday lives of citizens, regardless of what city he was in. And not only was this just any city, it was the city that his childhood friend had left home for.

It would certainly be a valuable learning experience for him.

#miko the clowncollectr's fic tag #LiangLee / 梁鯉 #lee arknights #liang xun arknights #arknights

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thatforgottenbasilisk · 4 months

Text

Elias Bouchard: Post-Mortem

Chapter 2 (AO3)

Jonah knows that there’s going to be trouble. There usually is, with this kind of situation, but the eventuality still necessitates proper preparation.

The issue is, the board still has yet to notify him of his appointment to the role of Institute Head, even though he is fully aware that he put the correct checks in place to ensure that he oughtn’t wait as long as he has so far. They’re going to have to do so, sooner or later, because the Institute cannot properly function without its Head, it cannot be run by bickering shareholders, no matter how much those shareholders want to insist to the contrary.

Even so, he’s going to need the support of the Department Heads, in order to keep the Board from appointing one of the others instead of himself, because technically speaking, they are not in any way forcibly obligated to honor a supposedly dead man’s wishes, no matter how much effort he put into making sure that they did.

He isn’t entirely certain which of the other Department leads (and it grates at him to be on the same level as his employees, these children compared to him) would be best to start with- probably not Michael from Research, considering Bouchard’s work ethic had been… lacking, and Michael would have been the one most primed to know about it.

Not Gertrude, not first, because she's always been a little too observant in all the wrong ways. Artifact Storage is out, because historically, each and every one of those Departments Heads are unilaterally the exact sorts of people that survive Artifact Storage for long enough to become the Heads of it- so, again, like Gertrude, too observant in all the wrong ways.

That doesn't leave very many options left over, and Jonah is suddenly tempted by the idea of testing the waters on Gertrude. If she doesn't realize that it's him and not the real Elias, then he may be able to more easily get her on his side; and where Gertrude goes, the rest of the Institute follows, whether they like it or are even aware of it or not. His Institute does need its Archivist, and Gertrude may not necessarily fill that role to the point that he would like, she is still functional, and thus is the second most important person employed, aside from himself. If she does notice anything amiss, she won't be given the time to investigate it fully, and he can sway everyone else before circling back to her.

Deciding that this "investigation," this test of sorts is what he shall do today, he gets dressed in Elias' least-stained button-up. He's slowly replacing them, but he can't be too sudden about it lest someone start asking questions; he's no Stranger, after all, so there's nothing he can do to keep someone from noticing something amiss. Thus, his choice in dress today is intentional, since he can't guarantee that Gertrude's noticed this slow replacement, making himself seem as close as he can to the original Elias in both appearance and in attitude is optimal to avoid suspicion from the most suspicious woman in the Institute.

He tucks the key under his shirt for good measure; he's been wearing it everywhere since he found it, as a lucky charm of sorts until he can find out what it unlocks. He's sure that it's nothing at the Institute, at least, because he knows all the locks and their associated keys, and none of the keys that were on James Wright's keyring match the one that is now hanging on the string around his neck. Other than that, he doesn't have any clue about what it could possibly be to. It may be to something that either of Elias' parents may have owned or bequeathed to him, but Elias Bouchard was an orphan by time he died; if it belongs to anything that he does not currently own, then it may as well be useless, as the new owners would likely have changed the locks by now.

-----

The Archive is exactly as inviting as it always is, which is to say, not inviting at all.

A basement is always a basement, and it's impossible to mistake it for anything else. The human body always has a sense for when it's underground, a sense of not-quite-claustrophobia, a sense that it is almost toeing the line of taunting that which it should not taunt. The Buried has a very tepid grip on the underground parts of buildings, and very rarely uses this grip on anything unless it's several stories below ground level. Still, Jonah is aware of it every time he walks down to his Archives, though the feeling vanishes the moment he reaches the bottom of the stairwell and is back inside of his own seat of power.

He doesn't expect anybody to greet him right away. The Archives are a winding underground library, where visitors aren't immediately visible, so of course it would take a bit of time for somebody to notice an interloper. That's what he thinks upon reaching the bottom of the staircase; to his surprise, this is inaccurate, as Ms. Robinson herself immediately comes out of her office the moment it's within his immediate field of vision.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Elias! You are not to be in these Archives without several days' warning, my express permission, and somebody to hold you accountable for any Statements you take out of this room!" She reaches a volume that she never had with James Wright, and immediately begins in attempting to physically shoo him out.

Jonah takes a few steps back, mostly out of surprise, and allows himself to ask- but not Ask- "Why am I being so forcefully thrown out? I'm just standing here! I haven't done anything!" He puts more indignation, more emotion into his voice than he normally would, because Elias Bouchard was a rather emotional man. He clearly allowed his nerves to get the better of him more often than not, considering how even some of his donors noticed how jumpy he was around them, and besides, he was on the younger side. Younger men tend to be more emotional.

Gertrude stops and levels him with a glare that he's sure has put the fear of God into more ungodly creatures than could have ever crawled out of the pits of hell. He's even a little cowed by it, though he's been on the receiving end of quite a few of her glares, so he's at least a bit inoculated by now. "I will not have you coming down here and stealing more Statements. I am missing seventeen by my last count, all of which vanished when you were allowed in here unsupervised. Go back to your finances, and make certain you don't try it with Artifact Storage. Johnathan is well aware of your tricks with the Leitners by now." She spits, as though being a thief of Statements and Leitners is the most vile thing a person could possibly be.

... Wait. Elias was stealing Statements? Leitners, too? Where would he have put them? There was nothing unnatural or Fear-related in his flat, Jonah's checked more than thoroughly, and though he may not have been paying attention to Elias before, he's quite sure that he'd have known the moment Statements started being destroyed. Leitners, no, but Statements would have definitely tipped him off to something untoward happening immediately. They couldn't possibly be anywhere in his desk or office- to whatever degree that closet counts as an "office"- because Jonah's been carefully monitoring that space since before Elias met his unfortunate end.

He doesn't doubt Gertrude, though. The woman is observant, and she is the Archivist at the moment, meaning that she would naturally be a bit more sensitive to thieves than he would. Jonah doesn't tend to pay much attention to displacement, as long as there's no damage or destruction he supposes quite a bit of Statement theft would go unnoticed by him. Perhaps that ought to change in the future.

"Please, I'm not here for any kind of theft." Jonah puts his hands slightly up in a sort of surrender, and Gertrude does not continue pushing him out. He avoids directly addressing her, because he's not quite certain if Elias had called her by her first name or by the more respectful address of Ms. Robinson and it had slipped his mind to find the information before coming down here, as he was a bit too caught up in the excitement of seeing his Archives again.

After a moment of silence, where Jonah supposes he's being silently prodded to elaborate, he continues. "They haven't appointed a new Head of the Institute. It's been months since Mr. Wright passed, I'm not sure if he'd picked anyone but it has to have been one of us, right? The Department Heads, I mean. So if someone from the Board tries to step in instead..."

"Nobody's going to be happy about it." Gertrude finishes seamlessly. "Of course you're not vying for the job, knowing you, but most of our peers have their heads stuck in places they shouldn't be or else are too busy with their own Departments and can't find a replacement any time soon."

Jonah nods. It seems like she's on the right path of thinking, in that Elias may be the only option for the next Head that won't cause riots within the rest of the Institute. He's not offended by the accusation that he's not ambitious enough for the top position, because Elias truly wasn't all that ambitious. He was happy with his place as the Head of Finances, comfortable in having just enough power not to feel like some kind of disappointment, but still not having too many expectations that he needed to meet. "Johnathan would be good, I think, but the turnover's too high in Artifact Storage. Michael hates paperwork, and that's all being the Head is, I'm fairly sure." Jonah puts in his two cents, and Gertrude nods along.

"I refuse to leave these Archives to become the Head of anything. That's all something for the rest of you to figure out." Gertrude declares her neutrality, which is both helpful and not. At least he won't be in opposition to her or any of her actions, because she doesn't seem to care- and why would she? She's got seniority over the other Department Heads, so whichever one of them claws their way to the top- himself, of course, because when the Board inevitably fails in their scheme then he is their next best available option- is bound to pay their due respect to her, and not try to mess with her and the way that she does things.

The statement also seems to be a dismissal, so Jonah- painfully awkwardly, but he still has to be believable- says, "It'll have to fix itself eventually. I suppose I should be heading back upstairs?"

"I suppose you should." Gertrude replies sternly, and Jonah tries to awkwardly laugh, like a child being caught by a teacher, which he supposes Elias would likely feel like in this particular scenario. He turns around and starts walking back upstairs, more questions in his head than any kind of resolution of any kind of problems.

Seventeen Statements, and who knows how many Leitners. They couldn't have been destroyed without his knowledge, so they have to have been stored somewhere. But where? Nowhere immediately obvious comes to mind, at least, nowhere he hasn't already thoroughly checked and not been surprised by the sudden appearance of unexpected stolen goods. The only thing that he can think of that could possibly provide answers would be the key that suddenly feels just a bit heavier around his neck.

If he'd known that Elias would turn out this interesting, Jonah may not have killed him; or, at least, he would have delayed it by quite a while. A key is a very broad question, and merely asking Beholding where the Statements are would yield an address and little else, not even a confirmation of that place corresponding to the key or not. For all he knows, they're being held with an associate while the key is to something entirely different, and Jonah's not going to know any more unless he gets his hands dirty and directly investigates things somehow. Dead men are much more closed-lipped than their living counterparts, so Jonah has to do the digging on his own.

-----

The answer comes from a stray post-it note, of all things.

It's wrinkled, as though it was crumpled with the intent of throwing it away, and he finds it underneath a bookshelf. The bright pink piece of paper has an address scribbled on it, along with the words, "Mum's favorite summer home." The address, Jonah quickly finds, belongs to a vacation home in Bournemouth that was bequeathed to Elias Bouchard upon the passing of his mother.

He goes there on a Saturday morning, driving the car that Elias never used, didn't even know how to use, and Jonah still takes a little more pride than he should in being able to drive it. He'd learned how in a time when many had never even seen an automobile in person, and kept up with the habit in the years since. Right now, Elias Bouchard does not have a driving license, but he can easily fix that as soon as he's back in London and can take a little time off during business hours so that he can jump through the necessary bureaucratic hoops. He hasn't yet because he hasn't wanted to take any time off yet; just another thing that's waiting for his reappointment to the correct position.

The building itself looks neglected, as though nobody's been there for a matter of months; which, at this point, he cannot rightfully blame Elias for, because the man has been dead for a matter of months and thus can't have possibly provided the place with consistent upkeep during that time. He takes the makeshift necklace off and tries the key in the lock; unsurprisingly, it fits perfectly, and Jonah can finally see the place that Beholding was telling him was oh-so-very important.

The Statements are here, he can sense it with the same kind of certainty as if he were looking at them. No Leitners, though, and Jonah suspects that if Elias could have destroyed them, he would have, and therefore likely did.

He looks around every room. Everything is neat, uncharacteristic for Elias' cleaning habits if his flat had been any indication, and every crisp line and organized shelf is covered in a thin layer of dust. Considering the look and feel of the place, he's more than a little surprised that no Entity has snatched it up by now, but perhaps the presence of the Statements cemented it as a place for Beholding before anything else could take root. Even the soft furniture, the couch and the beds, they've all gathered up dust despite the perfectly tidy state that they were left in.

There is only one room in the place that looks like it was used by anyone. It's the last room that Jonah enters, and he immediately sees the wrinkled bedsheets and opened drawers of the smallest bedroom in the place. There's a tiny part of him that's relieved that there actually was human life in this place, but that part is drowned out by mild exasperation at just how much of a mess the person attached to this body was.

Then, he steps fully into the room, and sees the corkboard completely full of notes, papers, and red string.

It's... an intricate web, Jonah deduces as he slowly walks closer. All of the missing Statements are there, each one either connected to another, a note, a photograph, or some combination of all of those. There's a Statement of the Lonely connected to a document on the donors to the Institute, with the Lukas family highlighted so intently that some of the paper must have flaked away; another, with a Vast Statement connected to another copy of the same document, this time with the Fairchilds highlighted with the same intensity.

As Jonah looks at the connections, it becomes more and more apparent that Elias Bouchard figured out the theory of Smirke's Fourteen, and likely made some half-decent guesses as to the nature of the Fears. How very interesting indeed.

It seems that Jonah had underestimated him, loathe as he is to admit it. He'd believed that Elias knew nothing, and even if he had a part of the puzzle, he'd never be smart enough to put any of the pieces together; now the evidence is plain in front of him that he was wrong.

A few things are incorrect, of course, but considering that this was likely made without anybody else's interference, it's to be expected, and no less impressive. There are connections placed between all of the Fears, blurring them together more than the rigid boxes that Smirke's theory put them in, in some parts of the corkboard even making it seem like they all may be blended together. There are old newspaper reports, most pertinently, covering the fallout of some of the rituals that never succeeded; upon these articles are notes attached, with vague notes about why Elias clearly believed that they failed.

"Collapsed in on itself; no Loneliness without a taste/fear of connection," written on a document of the last failed Lonely ritual; "No fear of being Known without memory of privacy DARKNESS," written on a neat and modern piece of copy paper, upon which is copied only the barest hint of the failure of the Watcher's Crown. There are more like this, implications that each and every ritual must fail, is destined to fail before it even begins.

In the center of this web is a single piece of notebook paper, haphazardly torn, out of what seems to be a small notebook. Upon it, several times over in bright red ink, is written in all capitals:

THERE CAN BE NO FEAR IN ISOLATION

ALL IS ONE

EVERY FEAR MUST BE BROUGHT IN TOGETHER

ALL AT ONCE

Jonah stares at the note, and he thinks. Every attempted ritual in recent memory was thwarted by Gertrude, but what about the ones before her? The Watcher's Crown was not interfered with, he'd simply thought that there was a problem with his own design; there are others who he'd once thought quite competent failing at their own rituals, of their own accord; is it possible that this idiot, this miserable stoner, knew more about all of this than millennia of dedicated worshippers? More, perhaps, than even Jonah himself?

It makes sense. It makes far too much sense, and besides; the time for the Watcher's Crown is coming up again soon. Perhaps he can test this theory with his next choice in Archivist.

#tma #tma fic #my writing #elias bouchard: post-mortem #elias bouchard: post-mortem fic

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voraciousvore · 6 months

Text

In the Belly of the Giant (25/39)

***Contains vore!***

Chapter 25

Mr. Henderson felt much better after eating his cereal. His new human friend, Millie, was still hungry, so he portioned her out some more milk so she could have another bowl of cereal. While she ate, he politely excused himself so he could take care of some business. He hadn’t checked in with the school at all, and since he was feeling better he figured he’d call the vice principal just to make sure he was getting along without his help and all the affairs of the school were in order. He had taken an extended leave of absence, ostensibly due to the stress of losing his daughter, but also because privately he had been terrified he would lose control of himself and eat one of the human students. Now, he felt more confident that this latter concern was an irrational fear.

When he checked his phone, he was surprised to see a long string of text messages he had missed from the prior evening. In his fractured state of mind, he had completely forgotten about the date he had scheduled for Saturday. He didn’t even know what day it was today. Friday? Apparently, the giantess had become frustrated with his total lack of contact. She had texted him to confirm their date was still on, and when he unintentionally ghosted her she became irate, and sent him a barrage of messages scolding him and cursing him out. Mr. Henderson sighed. He felt guilty, but at the same time he was too old for this sort of drama. He sent the giantess back a simple, respectful message, notifying her some difficult personal issues had come up in his life, and that he had to cancel the date and wasn’t interested in dating anymore. He wished her luck in love and apologized. She blocked him.

Once he checked in with the school, and was assured that things were running smoothly without him, he dressed for the day and returned to Millie in the kitchen. She had finished her breakfast and remained on the counter, not sure how to get down. When she spotted Mr. Henderson, she gave him a warm, genuine smile, blossoming like a flower in response to the sun. The giant felt his heart flutter. She was such a sweet, kind person, and lovely too, inside and out. When he saw she was happy, it made him happy too. He offered her his hand and she gladly climbed into his palm. He gently lifted her up and conveyed her to the living room. He sat on the gigantic couch and held the miniature woman in his lap.

“Millie, is there anything you need me to get for you to make your life here more comfortable?” he asked.

Millie gazed up at the giant, into his brown coffee eyes that reminded her so much of her late husband’s. She couldn’t lie: She was smitten with him, deeply attracted to his magnanimous nature and his gentleness. She had never met a giant like him before and he fascinated her. All the other giants she knew had been horrendously evil and cruel. “I have everything I need here,” she replied.

Mr. Henderson opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. He saw it was Joey and hastily answered. “Any news?” he questioned tensely. Millie noticed the immediate change in his demeanor and wondered what was so important.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but Ray and I came up with a plan that might help us find Eren. You know that human doctor at the hospital? We’re going to use him as bait to see if we can lure out the kidnappers and track them back to their base. Hopefully, we can find Eren, and maybe even the missing students from the boarding school,” Joey expounded. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

“That’s good, Joey. Keep me posted.” He hung up and sighed.

“What was that about?” Millie inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh...” Mr. Henderson didn’t want to burden Millie with his troubles, but he saw no reason not to tell her. “My daughter Eren... she’s gone missing. We’re worried that she’s been kidnapped. Her boyfriend Joey works at the police department, so he’s keeping me up to date on the latest news regarding the investigation.” He frowned sadly.

Millie shuddered. Eren’s fate struck a nerve with her. “How horrible!”

Mr. Henderson gave her a weak smile. “I believe in Joey. He’ll find her. You met Joey at the hospital. He’s the police officer that made you pass out. I think he felt bad for scaring you; he wasn’t trying to.”

Millie was surprised. “Her boyfriend... is a giant? Do... giants date humans?”

Mr. Henderson laughed gently. “It’s certainly not very common, but it happens. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the human doctor you met was married to that giantess nurse too. Those kinds of interspecies relationships can be just as fulfilling as regular, same-size relationships.”

“I see,” Millie said quietly. She stared at Mr. Henderson inquisitively, as if wanting to ask him something, with her striking blue eyes. He was mesmerized by those eyes. He wondered what she was thinking, but so much about her was a mystery. “Have you ever dated a human?” she asked suddenly.

Mr. Henderson raised his eyebrows with surprise. “No. But I have nothing against the idea. There’s just not very many adult human females around, on the giant side of town.” He sighed. “I was married once, to a giantess. She divorced me because I’m infertile, and I couldn’t give her a child. I’ve been single since, but I ended up adopting Eren. She’s been a light in my life. Now... that light is gone...” His expression convulsed with strong emotion. Millie hugged his thumb, stroking the digit tenderly. After a long period of silence, Mr. Henderson composed himself again.

Millie looked down at her hands. “My husband... was murdered in front of me.” She sniffled. Now it was Mr. Henderson’s turn to comfort her. He grasped her protectively in his massive hands, caressing her back with his thumb. Millie wanted to talk about all that she had gone through, since she had been alone for so long with her own thoughts, with nobody to share her feelings with, but she found it difficult to speak. Nevertheless, she overcame her mental block and pressed on. “We lived in poverty on the human side together. We had a lot of debt, and my husband borrowed money from the wrong people. When we weren’t able to pay it back... they invaded our home and shot him. They captured me, threatened to kill me if I ever came back, and sold me to giants.”

She curled up in the giant’s hand, holding her knees and quaking at the memory. “I had never seen giants before. I was terrified, and I had good reason to be. They did... horrible, unspeakable things to me. At the time, I was pregnant with my husband’s child, and I miscarried due to the abuse and the stress. It... felt like losing the last part of him that I had left.” She wiped away tears with her arm. Mr. Henderson held her closer to his torso in a hug. She cuddled up against his shirt, soaking in his caring warmth. “I don’t know how long I was held prisoner, but it felt like a lifetime. One day, I got extremely lucky and managed to escape. I survived alone on the streets for a long time. I stayed hidden, since I feared giants and didn’t trust them. I had nowhere to go, nobody to help me, and no goals except to stay alive.”

She went quiet, before continuing, “To be honest, I don’t think I would have lasted much longer, if you hadn’t showed up. I was starting to give up any hope of living a normal, fulfilling life. I... considered letting go, and ending it all…”

Mr. Henderson wrapped his fingers around her tighter. “I’m glad I found you,” he said tenderly. “In some ways, you saved me as much as I saved you.” The sweet moment was interrupted by the audible growling of the giant’s stomach. Even though Millie trusted Mr. Henderson not to devour her, she still quivered with instinctive fright, almost like a Pavlovian response. She certainly didn’t associate the noises of a giant’s stomach with anything good after being forced inside one multiple times in the past.

Her reaction made Mr. Henderson exceedingly uncomfortable. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. “I should probably make us lunch,” he remarked, standing up in a smooth motion so as not to upset his human passenger. “It’s about that time, after all.” Millie bobbed her head with approval, making a concerted effort to calm herself. She reminded herself that she was safe. Mr. Henderson was a gentle giant; he couldn’t possibly eat her. She trusted him.

She knew it would take some effort to get used to not being scared all the time. When she lived on the streets, she had to constantly be aware of potential threats. As a result, her nature had been warped, to make her quiet and skittish. Despite her experiences, she had made remarkable progress. She could talk now, despite not having spoken a word to anyone for a long time. And here she was, riding around in the hand of a hungry giant, in his giant dwelling, without fainting from terror. She could do this.

Mr. Henderson didn’t feel like he could stomach any meat yet, so he decided to make some grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Such an entrée would be easy to portion out to human size too; he had often made the same meal for Eren, as her father. He set Millie on the countertop, as he had done that morning, and took a can of soup out of the pantry. He heated the soup in a pot on the stove, trying not to imagine the red liquid as a big vat of blood. Turning away from the pot, he grabbed slices of bread and cheese and toasted the sandwiches. While he cooked, he glanced over at Millie and his mouth started to water. She looked appetizing, like the perfect little snack to dip in his soup. He licked the moisture off his lips and distracted himself by stirring the pot.

Millie, unaware of the depth of Mr. Henderson’s struggle with temptation, admired him as he cooked. She couldn’t deny she fancied him. He was very handsome too. She wondered what he would say if she admitted her feelings to him. They hadn’t known each other for long, but his uncanny resemblance to her husband, just blown up on a much larger scale, tipped her heart in his favor. She missed being loved, and the giant was so caring to her. All his attention alleviated the terrible emptiness and loneliness in her heart.

Mr. Henderson finished cooking the meal and served up a microscopic human portion for his guest, by tearing off a teeny chunk of one of the sandwiches and using his smallest measuring spoon to dump some soup in her tiny bowl. Just as he served himself up with his own giant bowl of soup, his phone rang again. He excused himself and answered the phone in the other room, so he wouldn’t bother Millie while she was eating. Since her body was still starving, she polished off her meal in record time, and was left hungry for more.

She wanted to get herself another serving of tomato soup, but she couldn’t reach the top of the pot. She looked at the giant’s soup bowl. His spoon was propped up on the side, like a bridge. She walked up the spoon to the edge of the bowl and leaned forward to dip her own human bowl in the lake of soup before her. As she strained her arm to reach, she slipped and lost her balance, tumbling forward into the liquid with a splash. On her way down, she grabbed at the giant’s spoon, but instead of arresting her fall the spoon flipped forward and smacked her in the head, knocking her out cold. She floated unconscious in the soup.

“Sorry about that interruption, Millie,” Mr. Henderson apologized, stepping into the room. His stomach was rumbling fiercely. The cereal he ate earlier hadn’t been enough to sate his gargantuan frame. He was feeling confident he wouldn’t throw up this time, and he had a voracious appetite, so he decided to eat what he could before his mind rebelled against him. He set aside his spoon and picked up the entire bowl, bringing it up to his lips. He started chugging the soup, enjoying the feeling of the warm, nourishing liquid running down his throat to his eager belly.

Millie woke up to loud slurping sounds. She was surrounded by heat. Confused, she felt herself sliding back. She opened her eyes to behold a sea of red sweeping her away. She flipped around and was horrified to see a giant pair of lips, suctioning down the soup. Before she could make a sound, the tide pulled her in and she was sucked through the lips into the giant’s mouth. She found herself inside a cage of enormous teeth and pink flesh. She was rapidly drawn toward the gullet, where she could see the throat muscles contracting, loudly gulping down gallons upon gallons of soup. In a panic, she paddled away and clung to the edge of the giant’s slippery tongue to save herself from being swallowed.

“Mr. Henderson, stop eating! I’m inside your mouth!” she screeched in terror, hoping desperately that he could hear her.

As he drank down his soup, Mr. Henderson felt an odd, solid lump enter his mouth. The lump stirred and stuck to his tongue, and he suddenly realized with horror that the thing was alive. Oh God, it was Millie. He could hear her scream. He stopped gulping his soup and lowered the bowl right away. As her little body pressed against his tongue, he could taste her. She was even more delicious than he had imagined. Swallowing her alive would be so satisfying. Despite himself, he began to salivate profusely. He was sorely tempted. She was already inside him, halfway there. One little gulp, and she’d be in his belly.

Mr. Henderson recoiled at these thoughts, but he could barely stop himself. He vacillated, unable to swallow but unable to spit her out. She wriggled on his tongue, exciting his hungry urges. The predator within him was ready to strike, like a coiled snake. His digestive tract whined for food. He was losing the battle against the intense cravings of his flesh. It would be so easy, just to swallow.

Yet, Millie was alive. She was a person, a tasty person small enough to fit down his throat, yes, but still a person. She had her own thoughts and hopes and dreams. She had come so far, suffered through terrible tribulations, only to find herself in the mouth of a giant—a giant she believed in and trusted not to harm her. She had said so herself, he wasn’t capable of eating a human. He was too kind.

Mr. Henderson insisted to himself, firmly, that he wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ate her. Overcoming his powerful impulses, he opened his mouth and dropped her wet body into his hand. She shivered. He found himself breathing heavily, covering her with his warm breath, strings of drool running down his lips.

“W-why were you in my soup bowl?” he asked with forceful agitation. His heart was racing. His fear at the immoral act he had very nearly committed made his tone sharper than he intended.

Millie heard the edge in his voice and flinched. Nothing terrified her more than an angry giant. “I’m s-so sorry!” she stammered, and started to wail. “Please don’t be mad at me! It was an accident!”

“Oh no, that’s not…” Mr. Henderson’s face fell. “I’m the one who should be apologizing! I nearly swallowed you! I’m so, so sorry Millie!” He rushed over to the sink and ran some warm water so he could wash the soup and saliva off her body. He rinsed her off, but recognized it would probably be easier for her to just use the human bathroom instead, and then she could change into fresh clothes. He carried her over to the human suite and set her down gently.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” he repeated again.

“It’s okay, Mr. Henderson. I know it was an accident,” she replied shakily. “And I knew you wouldn’t eat me on purpose.” Her voice cracked, but she still smiled at him, then walked into the human rooms to clean herself up.

Mr. Henderson looked after her with guilt. She was correct, in that ultimately he wasn’t able to carry through with the deed. However, she had no clue how close he had truly been to eating her. He hoped she would never find out either. He was just grateful he had been able to contain his ravenous compulsions in time. He went back to the kitchen and scarfed down his grilled cheese sandwiches. He never wanted to reach the point where he was that hungry again.

Chapter 26

Chapter 1

#giant #tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #giant tiny #size difference #g/t fluff #in the belly of the giant #gt fluff #g/t story #g/t vore #gt vore #gt story #gt writing #giant men

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