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lordprettyflackotara · 1 year ago

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till dawn || eyeless jack || part three

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: LOTS OF PLOT, being chased teehee scary, unrealistic demon sex bc be so honest w yourself that’s why you’re here, breeding kink, bondage/choking kink. there will be one more part, a finale to this lil series :’) i think for my next series for the creeps im gonna go with either jeff or masky, haven’t decided yet. ANYWAYS, enjoy!!

the finale to till dawn is here

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your rib cage.

The sound of crunching leafs echoed behind you, one set of footsteps in particular on your heels. Eerie laughter filled your ears as you threw one foot in front of the other, desperate to get away.

You had decided to follow Jack once he left your house. It wasn’t a logical thing to do, knowing that from what Jack talked about other beings like him existed. You knew Jack was a one of one and so were the others he told you stories about. He promised to introduce you to them someday, but not today.

Curiosity got a hold of your better judgment, causing you to slowly trail behind him. Curiosity was about to kill the cat. You could feel your lungs burning, a whooshing sound flying past your ear. You gasped as a rusty axe had been thrown into the tree beside your head. It had nearly nipped you, your ear millimeters from the blade.

What you didn’t realize, was that the moment you walked into these predators territory, you’d become the prey.

Jack knew you had followed him. He was fine with you doing so. Up until now, he had assumed the Supernatural borders prevented any human from entering. As an animalistic growl escaped his throat, weaving through the trees, he realized he had never been more wrong.

Toby was close behind you, Jack could hear his mouth twitching with pride as he got closer to you. Your presence had alerted every creep within a five mile radius, none of them aware of who you were. It was Jacks job to stop them from getting to you, ignoring the loud drum of your heartbeat. Thankfully Jack was the fastest, his killing style driven by animalistic primal hunger. He was gaining distance on Toby, reaching one hand out and grabbing him by his hair.

You forced yourself to not look back, to not question the sudden silence of your purser. Typically you thought of yourself to be a decent runner, now realizing track in high school could’ve never prepared you for a situation like this. Once all you heard was silence, you allowed yourself to slow down. Panting, you leaned against the sharp forest bark of one of the trees. Everything around you looked the exact same, like a never ending loop.

It was official. You were lost.

The sound of rushing water intrigued you, your eyes darting in each direction to find the source. Despite the eerie feeling of being alone in such a dark forest, you felt like multiple sets of eyes were watching you. Stalking you. Hunting you. The moonlight dimly lit the forest floor, your feet carrying you in what you believed to be the direction of the river. You had been camping before, the sounds of bugs or owls having previously been a comfort.

But here, in this forest, there were neither of those things. You trudged towards the river, a large river bank coming into view. The water was harsh as it crashed against the rocks below it. Murkiness and darkness prevented you from seeing the bottom of the river, unaware of how deep it was. Or from seeing what creatures lurked below.

Jack was close to catching up with you, his focus on Jeff and Jane as they slowly closed in on you. Jane was nimble, using her small frame and agility to swing through the trees. As Jack watched them both close in on you, it occurred to him neither of them realized the other was present. If the situation wasn’t so dire of your safety he’d watch in amusement just to see what happened next. Jeff went for the kill first, Jacks body flying forward to stop him. But Jane had beat him to it.

The loud crashing sound behind you caused you to jump, instantly turning around. A man and woman, whom you could almost think to be siblings, were visibly fighting in front of you. “What the fuck Jane? Can you not see i’m doing something here?” The man growled. Unsettling crimson blood dripped down the carvings on the side of his face. His cheeks were mutilated beyond belief, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Fight or flight was not crossing your mind, your body frozen in fear. “I found her long before you did dipshit,” Jane snarled. Knives occupied both of their hands, her unsettling, soulless black abyss for eyes glancing at you. “She’s a cute one, I can see why you wanted the kill. Sadly she’s mine Jeffrey, all mine,” She smirked. Jack went to intervene, the overwhelming sound of two more heartbeats stopping him. Shit, Masky and Hoody. Surely Slender had sent the proxies to check on the situation, Toby beating them due to his speed.

Jack felt conflicted, trying to rationalize what to do. If he intervened Jeff and Jane now, he would have to take both of them on as well as the proxies. His gaze landed on the two pale killers, both of them still bickering. But, if he managed to stop the proxies fast enough, he could come back and retrieve you. The proxies wouldn’t be hard to find, their heartbeats and smell practically giving Jack a map. He felt awful leaving you, the petrified look of horror written across your face as you watched the fight in front of you.

As the sound of the proxies grew closer, Jack turned around, chasing after the sound of pounding hearts.

“You always do this! I find a good kill and here comes Jane!” Jeff argued. Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault we have the same type,” She debated. Slowly you tried to back away, hoping they’d be so involved in their debate they’d forget about your presence. “You’re such a bitch, always copying me and my shit, find another hobby will ya?”Jeff spat harshly.You swallowed as you kept your eyes on them, trying to figure out if you could out run them.

Snap.

Both sets of eyes landed on you, your blood running cold. You could feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, everything in you screaming to run. Their eyes contained a certain unnatural hunger, the kind that would only be satisfied by watching you bleed. “You know, the more I think about it, maybe we can call it even just this once, since it’s a special occasion,” Jeff said softly, glancing at Jane. As his eyes moved you noticed that he didn’t blink, his never ending gaze shifting back and forth. His eye sockets were hollow, your mind struggling to make sense of his rancid appearance. He had no eyelids?

“Maybe we should, how often do humans stumble through our forest like this?” Jane replied, chuckling. The two had seemed to come to a decision, moving in unison. They seemed to be patiently waiting for a chase, waiting for you to run. As you turned your back you heard an animalistic growl, one that you could only assume came from one of the pale killers.

What you didn’t realize, was that Jack was ready to rip Jeff apart limb by limb. The two pale killers were blindsided, Jane gasping as she fell to the ground. The demon had Jeff pinned to the ground, snarling above him. It was forbidden to kill another creep, especially on Slender’s grounds. “EJ what-” Jeff began babbling, the animalistic snarl from Jacks throat silencing him. Jane scoffed as she stood up, brushing off her dress.

“If you wanted the kill yourself there’s no sense in being so dramatic, just say so,” She quipped. Jacks gaze stranded from Jeff, settling on Jane as she fully regained her confidence. Jack was never one to hurt a lady, so instead he came up with a different solution. Standing up fully he picked her up, harshly gripping her arms as he tossed her into the nearby river.

You could hear her screams of despair as you continued running into the forest. Whipping your head around to look behind you, for the first time since you had entered the land of terror no one was following you. Your legs burned, your mind spinning. You felt dizzy, your vision beginning to be clouded with stars. The only thing you had on you was your phone. Shakily you took it out of your pocket, thumbing in the password.

Who would you even call? Jack didn’t have a phone, you had no service. You sighed, blankly scrolling between the apps you couldn’t use. Your eyes widened as your screen went black. Did it die? On seventy nine percent? You tilted your head to the side as a camera came into focus, a young blonde man with black and red eyes staring back at you. “Oh wow, hello there gorgeous! EJ sure does know how to pick em huh?” He asked. His pointy ears twitched. That was the final straw. You tossed your phone onto the ground, stomping on it with your boot. The glass shattered, your once prized possession now garbage.

Tilting your head back you let out a pained sigh. How long was it before these maniacs caught up with you? Looking around you found a decent stick. In comparison to the knives and axes the others were equipped with it would be nothing, but you’d go down fighting.

Snap.

You quickly turned around, gripping your stick tightly. Wincing as the wood cut the palm of your hand, you braced yourself. Swallowing, you tried to find the noises creator. A gush of wind breezed past you from a different direction, your eyes darting to your left. What if they were all circling you? Like a pack of wolves? What if this was in the end?

In the dull moonlight you were able to make out a tall figure, your fight or flight kicking in. Hastily you rose your stick, slamming it down on the shadow in front of you. A large hand grabbed your stick, snapping it half, before sending you on the ground. Your collision with the ground knocked the air out of your lungs, your back hitting the dirt below. Instinctively you began thrashing, a strong set of hands pinning you down.

“Hey, hey, HEY, calm down! Look at me!” Jacks voice was firm, filled with worry. Were you going insane? Seeing Jeff was definitely enough to make someone do so. He didn’t want you to end up like Nina. You blinked a few times, Jacks mask long discarded. Blood dripped down his nose, staining his upper lip. A gash sliced across his cheek, the same crimson paint dripping down his gray skin. “Jack?” You panted.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, Jacks attention temporarily preoccupied as you attempted to catch your breath. His mind returned to normal the moment you began rambling.

“Holy shit there was a guy with an axe who sounded literally like a ticking time bomb and then this like mutilated albino couple wanted to kill me as well and then this dwarf-”

Jack gripped your shoulders, shaking you.

“Why would you come here? Do you understand how difficult it is for me to protect you here?” He panted. His body was becoming tired. Sprinting across Slender forest and fighting off all of his friends was exhausting, even for him. Your eyes were widened as his hands gripped you harder unintentionally. “You single handedly alerted every monster in the goddamn area that there was fresh meat on the market,” Jack continued. You winced in pain as his grip tightened.

“Jack, you’re hurting me.”

His eye sockets widened, the demon releasing you. He stayed on top of you, the two of you blankly staring at one another. “You’re bleeding,” Jack commented. The deeper he inhaled the stronger the scent became, electric cravings crawling across his skin. You didn’t have a chance to tell him where it was coming from, the demon grabbing your wrist to examine your palm.

The blood wasn’t bad, a small stream dripping down the precious little lines of your palm. To think that when he wanted to, he could hunt down whoever he wanted. That truly, you belonged to him. No matter the danger that he created or that others around you did, he was able to restrain himself. To protect you. The scent of your blood made his stomach flip, his body flooding with desire. Your legs shifted under him, your body becoming warmer as he touched you.

Your voice was low, a desperate whisper, “Jack…”

The worry that clouded Jacks mind was washed away by the sound of your soft voice. The only sound that could calm him down and make him feel at ease,was the enchanting sound of you saying his name. You yanked his hoodie, desperately bringing his lips to yours. Your blood soaked into the clothing, a groan escaping Jacks throat.

The delicious sound of your heart beginning to race flooded his ears, his hips slowly grinding on yours. You whimpered, pawing at his hoodie to bring him impossibly closer. Your lips melted against his, submitting to his rougher desperate kisses. His large hands slithered up your shirt, squeezing and kneading at your breast. You groaned into his mouth, the demon trying to be careful as to not nip you with his teeth.

“Here?” You panted, whimpering as he pushed up your bra. Jack kissed down the side of your neck gently, the throbbing pulse of your throat almost too much for him to handle. “I’ll make it quick love, I just need to let everyone in a five mile radius know who you belong to,” Jack huffed, bringing your right nipple into his mouth. You felt his multiple tongues attack the bud, his name spilling from your lips. With a pop he released your nipple, kissing down your stomach.

“How long until they come looking for us again?” You asked nervously, Jacks nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning and sliding down your jeans. He looked up at the sky. “I’d say till dawn,” He guessed. You giggled as he repositioned himself between your legs, your jeans shoved down to your ankles. “Guess you better hurry up then,” You say. His slender fingers began teasingly rubbing your slick through your panties, the thin cloth drenched.

“Let’s make sure you can take me first you troublemaker,” Jack teased, grinning at the sound of you moaning for him. He slid two of his slender fingers in front of you, your walls squeezing him as he curled them inside of you. Desperately you bucked your hips upwards, throwing your head back as he hit your g spot. “All that running made you awfully sensitive, huh?” Jack joked, relishing in the sight of you grabbing at his wrist, the one that was connected to the hand inside of you.

“Jack, fuck, please,” You whined. Jacks eye sockets widened.

He hesitated, “Please what?”

Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, the humiliation of him making you say what you needed settling in. “Please fuck me,” You pleaded, your voice cracking. Jacks hands were quick to work on his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a chill down your spine. You bit your lip as you eyed the leather, Jack noticing. A devilish sadistic thought entered his mind, his lips curling upwards.

“You want to try something new?” Jack asked, slightly guessing. You nodded, meeting his gaze. You vocalized a plea, Jack quick to flip you over. Your bare knees hit the dirt of the forest, the smell of the earth flooding your nostrils. Instinctively you went to arch your back, Jack stopping you by yanking you back by your shirt. “You might want to stay on all fours,” He purred in your ear, kissing your earlobe. He wrapped his belt around your neck, holding the metal buckle in his hand.

It cut off a decent portion of your airway, a groan escaping your lips at the sensation of being choked. “You’re into bondage now? Such a whore for me,” Jack chuckled darkly, stroking his cock. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, trying to lubricate his cock as best as possible. Despite how drenched you got every time he was around, you always struggled to accommodate his size. And every single time it sent Jack into a frenzy, determination to make it fit ensuing.

He glanced up at the sky, the sun rising very faintly in the distance. “We don’t have very long, be a good girl and take it,” Jack snarled, shoving himself inside of you. You felt your body being split in two, his spare hand snaking down to your clit. He rubbed circles around the sensitive bud, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “You wanna be good for me don’t you slut? Relax for me,” He huffed, bottoming out inside of you. You were tense, grabbing handfuls of leafs and dirt.

He could feel you spasm around him as you struggled to accommodate to his size, whimpering as your vision became hazy. After what felt like forever to Jack, he could feel your body relax. “There we go, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” Jack purred in satisfaction. He pulled back his hips, taking himself out of you. He then brought himself back inside, pleased to hear the sound of you letting out a choked out moan. He continued to swirl around your clit, his thrust becoming faster.

You felt light headed as the leather pressed against your throat, choking on the sinful noises that echoed through out the forest. “Fuck, if I had known letting you into Slender’s forest would’ve gotten you so hot and bothered, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your g spot. You were seeing stars, each thrust sending you into orbit. “Taking me so well, just like a good mate should,” He growled. His grip on the belt tightened, your airway temporarily cut off.

His thrust became more animalistic, the gears in his head turning. The savage and primal instinct washed over him, his coherent thoughts now vanished. Instead they were replaced with one thought and one thought only:

Breed breed breed.

“Fuck, you’re going to look so pretty with my cum leaking from that pretty cunt of yours,” Jack snarled. He released the belt, the leather flying forward and onto the ground. His large hands instead grabbed your waist, squeezing the flesh so harshly you swore you’d have bruise in the shape of his fingers. “Jack, fucking shit,” You moaned, his thrust merciless and brutal. He showed no sign of stopping, no sign of slowing. You could feel a familiar knot form in your stomach, one that Jack had made more times than you could count.

“I can feel you getting close for me. Need you to cum for me, need to fill you,” Jack huffed, holding back his own orgasm. Your back arched as you fell further forward, the side of your face pressed against the dirt. The sun was beginning to rise, your thighs trembling. “Jack I-,” You mewled, your orgasm washing over you like a ton of bricks. Jack couldn’t resist himself, fucking you through your orgasm. His hips began to stutter, the demon screwing his eyes shut as he came deep inside of you.

Dazed, you continued to hold your ass up in the air as Jack pulled out of you. The sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt was divine. With two fingers he scooped up the dripping cum, pushing it back inside of you, ignoring your whimpers. Gently he guided you onto his lap, wiping the dirt off of your face with his thumb. The sun began rising, the beams of sunlight dancing in between the trees as they hit the forest floor.

Jack could hear your heart rate begin to turn to normal as you inhaled deeper breaths. “Cmon, gotta get you dressed before the others get back from their hunt,” Jack murmured encouraging, readjusting your bra to fit you correctly. Still in a daze, you leaned your head against Jacks shoulder, allowing him to redress you. A small breeze blew past the two of you, the faint smell of blood hitting Jacks nose. He was sure the other creeps would be back any moment now, their kills fresh blood still staining their skin and clothes.

Quickly he dressed himself, scooping you into his arms. You had never been picked up bridal style before, instinctively you nuzzled your head against Jacks chest. Making sure you both had everything, Jack quickly looked around, noticing your shattered phone. He began walking towards the mansion, taking note you were beginning to drift off.

“Yeah, I think it’s time you met Ben. He owes you a new phone anyways.”

#eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x eyeless jack #eyeless jack x jeff the killer #eyeless jack #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta

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kaciebello · 1 year ago

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Offspring garden

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Demetre! reader (fem) Summary: Luke and the reader are the unofficial parents of the camp, whether they like it or not. Warning: Non, no use of y/n author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ ) Requested! word count: 1.2k

“LUKE CASTELLAN” A yell could be heard throughout the whole camp. The boy in question lifts his head from his sword to look for the source of the noise. Only to see a familiar girl with an angry scold on her face. He stands up when he sees her, dragging two familiar boys behind her. He just signs and makes his way to them.

“Hello, honey.” He says, hoping to de-escalate the situation. She just huffs and points a finger at him before turning to the two boys who were now looking at the floor in shame.

“Don't you even dare to sweet talk me, Luke?” To him this was comical. The Stroll brothers often did something they shouldn't, they however did not get caught that much. No, seeing them being scolded by a girl who’s just a few years older was funny. She resembled a mom giving a lecture to her children She turned to him again.

“Keep your siblings in check, because if I catch them again in my garden-”

“You're gonna what?” Luke says, coking his head to the side with a smile. Her eyes narrow at him as she steps closer. The boys yelp out a little ‘ sorry, mom’ teasing tone in their voice, as everybody noticed some of the younger kids calling her that by accident during the campfire last night. She ignores them and takes our step to Luke. He secretly waves his arm at the boys and they scatter away as quietly as they can, although few giggles leave them anyway.

“Don't try me today Luke, we have so much to do and I don't have the time or the patience for this. And you, you are- Luke where have they gone?” She says her eyes flipping between him and the place where the boys were standing a minute ago. Luke just shrugs and smiles. The girl sighs placing her shaking her head.

“You can’t just let them go, I brought them here for a reason.” She says kicking a stone with her foot. Luke took her hands in his, wrapping them around his neck. Now that he had her undivided attention he rocked them back and forth.

“They're just kids.”

“Cheeky, that's what they are.” Luke just laughs. Leaning in, their noses brush on each other. Before Luke could continue, a pair of giggles were heard before the water fell on them from the top of the Hermes cabin. In shock, the pair steps away from each other and look up. There they were, the Stroll brothers, with two buckets of water having the time of their life.

“LUKE!” He's not sure he can get them out of this one.

—

Being the counselor of their cabin did give them an advantage. Granted, it was more work than the normal ‘training to be a hero ‘ thing. The older campers however did not mind, because it meant they got to call light out. Now the Demeter cabin went to sleep almost as soon as the sun set, not fans of the dark. The Hermise cabin, however, is quite the opposite. If they had to pick they would switch the whole camp to night one.

However, it was not unusual to see the Demetre cabin counselor at the Hermes cabin after she called light out on her own. Not that Luke was having a problem with his cabin, no. Well kinda, it's always hard for the new kids, and he and his siblings are more mischief than anything else. The friendly face of the Demetre kids makes them calm down and fall asleep despite the noise.

He was leaning on the doorframe, his eyes glued to the girl reading kids' stories. He was supposed to keep an eye on his siblings. That was their deal. But he only started to pay attention to them when a shirt was thrown in his face. Taking it down and looking up to try and find a culprit, he finds Chris with a smirk on his face. Luke just rolls his eyes and throws it back. Making his was the girl who was tucking in the last camper. His hand lands on the small of her back as she straightens.

“ All done?” He whispers although it is useless when he hears his sibling laugh at full volume. The girl looks up at him and nods. Turning and making her way to the cabin door. Luke follows her very close by.

“Will you walk me back?” She asks, playing with his bracelets.

“Why? Scared of the dark?” He cocks his head to the side. Only receiving a glare from the girl. Before she can answer one of the Hermes girls pipes in.

“You have the same conversation every night, You are boring as an old married couple with kids.” She says before letting her head hit the pillow. Both Luke and the girl look at her. The Demeter girl shakes it off before he does. Letting off his hand and clearing her throat.

“Alright, that is enghou, lights out!” She said, making sure everyone could hear her. Some kids listened right away and some hesitated before laying down too.

“But you not our-”

“I SAID LIGHTS OUT.” The light switch was flipped to the end she said. All that could be heard was the cabin door opening and closing, indicating that the two counsellors had left on their adventure.

—

They were both sitting on the floor. Her back was pressed to his chest as she sat between his legs. Watching Annabeth, Percy and Grover fool around the arena. Luke insisted they needed training, although he was not teaching them anything. The girl opted to read her book, as this is as quiet as it gets around the busy camp.

“What do you say we go on an adventure next summer,” Luke says catching her attention enough to listen but not enough to put away her book.

“Chiron is not letting us go on a quest Luke.” She says nonchalantly. Luke just shakes his head and his hand goes to play with the corner of the book.

“No, I meant like, go and have a trip, Europe maybe.” He finishes and the girl chuckles. Turning over a page before finishing her chapter. Make sure she places a bookmark before closing the book and putting it aside. She leans even further onto him before answering.

“ As if Mr. D is gonna let us leave. We basically run the camp for him.” She says and Luke laughs. His arm now resting across her chest, both watching the trio who were playing some kind of game. It looks like a twisted version of Marko Pollo as Annabeth kept going invisible to confuse Percy even more. Luke leans down and kisses the girl on the forehead. She looks up at him with a smile before reaching to pat his head and tug at the base of his curls.

In bliss they sat, soaking in the sun. A quiet day where they get to be teenagers. All, however, comes to an end when someone yells out ‘Mom’ and all heads turn to her. The girl can just groan before getting up and following the sound. Flowers blooming in her hair out of frustration. Luke does not stay that far behind

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #demetre!reader

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fkinkindagauche · 8 months ago

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Wild God

This is for day 20 of @steddie-spooktober, "cryptid" as well as @strangerthingswritersguild Kinktober prompt "worship". I fell asleep before I could finish it last night, so it is a day late on both! If you haven't listened to Nick Cave's new album, Wild God, yet, you should. The album is not actually about monsterfucking, but I like to think he really wouldn't mind the title being co-opted for that.

Summary: Mothman is in the woods of Hawkins and he's apparently a really good lay.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,229 | Tags: Anal Sex, Rimming, Monster Eddie Munson, Monsterfucker Steve Harrington, Blood, Biting, Unsafe Sex with Cryptids, Prehensile Tongues

Steve has become increasingly obsessed with the creature in the woods. Lucas says it's Mothman, who came to Indiana from West Virginia (“he has wings, you know”), while Dustin claims it’s just a weird sandhill crane.

Steve doesn’t tell Dustin and Lucas what he knows, from overhearing a discussion at a party a few weeks before. He’d been pouring himself a drink in the kitchen when two girls came in, excitedly whispering to each other, not noticing Steve was there.

“And it was so big,” one of the girls whispers. “I’ve never seen a cock that size before. It felt amazing.”

“You’re joking, right?” the other girl says, incredulous. “You didn’t actually fuck a random monster in the woods.”

“I swear, I did,” the first girl says, looking annoyed at not being believed. “Mary did, too, ask her.”

“Mary also said she fucked Justin Bieber. That’s not exactly helping your case.”

“If you don’t believe me, go try it yourself. If you spend the night out by Skull Rock, he’ll come.” She suggestively waggles her eyebrows. “In more ways than one.”

Steve doesn’t really know why, but his interest is piqued. He asks around over the next few weeks, and finds out more. It’s apparently become a bit of a thing with the people around his age in Hawkins. The girls are calling the creature the Wild God, saying they’re going into the woods to worship, and the boys mostly seem to think the girls are all making it up to piss them off.

He talks to three separate groups of girls who tell him similar versions of the same story - they went to Skull Rock to camp, and around midnight, the creature approached, standing at the edge of the camp. He’s been described to Steve as anywhere from seven to ten feet tall, with wings, red eyes, and a huge cock. All you have to do is walk up to him and say, “I’m yours for the night,” and, if the girls are to be believed, you’ll have the best sex of your life.

Steve, who has become increasingly bored with the girls of Hawkins, his sex life more of a slog than it is enjoyable, finds himself wondering what it would be like, to be fucked. He’s never experimented with men before, even though he has had thoughts. He especially wonders what it would be like to be fucked by a wild god.

He makes Robin tell him everything he needs to know to spend a night in the woods, refusing to tell her why he needs to know. He goes to other sources (a sex shop in downtown Indy) to find out what he needs to know about what else he hopes will happen. He purchases varying sizes of dildos ranging from beginner to gigantic at the sex shop, and purchases a tent at a more respectable establishment. He spends a few weeks getting used to the feeling of his fingers, and then the dildos, inside of him. He likes it, almost more than he likes having his own dick buried inside someone.

Once he’s graduated to the largest dildo, he decides to give his plan a try on one night in late October. He reaches Skull Rock around 10pm, with the moon high and full in the sky. He sets up his tent, starts a small fire, and settles in, prepared to wait as long as he needs. He can be patient. One hour passes, then two. He hears the sounds of the forest at night around him, small animals and insects going about their business, rustling and chirping.

Just as he worries he may be about to nod off, he hears something larger moving through the undergrowth. His eyes scan the forest around him, the moon shedding plenty of light on the scene as a large shape comes into focus. It’s taller than a man, but not by too much, with the shape of unfurled wings making a shadow against the light of the moon. Steve can see two red orbs glowing in the dark - eyes.

The creature stops about twenty feet from Steve, eyes pointed directly at him where he sits by his fire. It moves closer after a few moments, and the closer it comes to Steve, the more he can see in the light of the moon.

It’s mostly humanoid, but covered in a thin layer of fur, with large wings extending from its shoulders. The figure wears no clothes, and Steve’s eyes take in the size of the cock between its legs, which had not been exaggerated by the girls, before being drawn back up to its head, surrounded by a halo of unruly, long dark hair.

The creature approaches closer, reaching a clawed hand out toward Steve. Steve studies its face, feeling a gentle thrum of something like recognition. Large, dark eyes, now with a distinct red tint, full lips, frizzy mane of hair, lines at the side of the mouth where dimples would be if it smiled.

“Eddie?” Steve says, shock in his voice. It can’t be Eddie. He died five months ago.

The creature tilts his head to the side, confusion apparent on his face. The more Steve sees, the more he knows in his core that this is Eddie in front of him, changed almost beyond recognition.

“Do you remember me?” Steve asks, as Eddie reaches out one clawed finger and strokes down his cheek.

Eddie doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at Steve, eyes hungry. Maybe he can’t even speak anymore. Steve remembers why he’s here, eyes tracking down to where Eddie’s cock rests between his legs. He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been attracted to Eddie even before he got turned into a monster with a giant cock.

Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I’m yours for the night.” He wants to worship at the feet of the Wild God, especially since that god just happens to be Eddie Munson.

Eddie makes a noise which Steve can only describe as a growl, then leans forward to press his mouth to Steve’s. Calling what ensues a kiss would be a mischaracterization. Eddie plunders Steve’s mouth, all sharp teeth and inhumanly long tongue. Steve tastes blood from where one of Eddie’s incisors has nicked his bottom lip. He moans into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie licks into him, mapping the inside of Steve’s mouth with his tongue.

One of Eddie’s now huge arms wraps around Steve, pulling him flush against his body. Steve can feel Eddie’s cock growing hard where it’s pressed against his hip, so warm even through his jeans that Steve is worried it will burn his bare skin. He feels one of Eddie’s legs slot between his own, and starts to rut down onto it, his own cock so hard it’s almost painful.

Eddie’s mouth moves to Steve’s neck, biting and licking, no doubt leaving ample marks which will be hard to explain to anyone who sees them. His clawed hands bunch in Steve’s sweater, pausing for a moment before tearing. Tatters of fabric fall from his body and he shivers as his skin is exposed to the cold.

Eddie unfurls his massive wings, wrapping them around Steve, effectively blocking out the cold. It’s warm in this protected little alcove in the woods as Eddie moves his clawed hands to Steve’s jeans.

“Wait,” Steve says, and Eddie pauses, red eyes inquisitive. “These jeans are expensive,” Steve explains, not sure Eddie understands him at all, but taking advantage of the pause to remove his jeans and boxers so they don’t also end up in tatters on the forest floor.

As soon as he’s naked, Eddie starts to back him toward the fire, wings returning to their furled station on his back and clawed hands encircling Steve’s waist as he picks him up like Steve is a small child and not a fully grown man. He lays Steve on the ground beside the fire and blankets himself over him so Steve doesn’t even have a chance to be cold.

Eddie starts to kiss and bite down Steve’s body, briefly nuzzling Steve’s straining cock before licking the whole length of it. His tongue is way longer than it should be, and seemingly prehensile, wrapping around Steve’s cock almost like a snake and gently stroking him. Steve moans loudly, bucking his hips up and grabbing handfuls of Eddie’s tangled, matted hair.

Eddie moves further down, licking over Steve’s balls and grabbing his hips, pulling them up to get access to Steve’s hole. His tongue plunges easily inside of Steve, who opened himself up using his largest dildo right before setting out on this trip. The tongue presses and curls inside of him, seeking blindly until it finds that spot that makes Steve scream.

Steve thrusts himself up into Eddie’s face, fucking himself on that absolutely earth-shattering tongue. Eddie continues to press perfectly into his prostate and Steve feels an unbearable pleasure start to build in his lower abdomen. He reaches down for his own cock and starts to stroke. It only takes two pumps before he’s coming all over his belly and chest, moaning and writhing on Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie keeps tongue-fucking him until the overstimulation becomes unbearable and Steve tugs on his hair. Eddie moves his face up, red eyes locking onto Steve's as he leans down and bites Steve’s hip, hard enough to break the skin. Steve groans and feels his cock twitching with the intense pleasure-pain of the sensation, Eddie’s tongue coming out to lick up the blood.

Eddie moves up his body, kissing and licking and biting as he goes, until he’s face to face with Steve once again. Steve can feel Eddie’s hard cock pressing against his hip, huge and very wet. He reaches down and grabs hold, stroking. There’s an ample amount of a viscous fluid coating Eddie’s cock now, as if he can make his own lubricant.

Eddie shudders as Steve strokes him, bending to lick into Steve’s mouth once again as Steve shifts to position the head of Eddie’s cock at his entrance. Eddie moves slowly, pressing his hips forward gently as he breaches Steve, stretching him. Eddie’s cock is about the size of the largest dildo he bought, a dildo he had been sure would be much larger than any actual cock he would ever take.

The extensive prep that Steve did earlier, along with Eddie’s natural lubricant, are the only reasons it’s even physically possible for his body to accommodate Eddie. He sinks in slowly, giving Steve ample time to adjust, the care with which he moves belying his monstrous appearance. He pulls back to stare at Steve, gaze intense and more human than it has been this whole time, the red fading a little from his eyes as he finally bottoms out.

Steve feels gloriously full and claimed, in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He presses a hand to his belly and he can feel where Eddie’s cock makes a palpable bulge. Inside, it presses into his prostate, and as Eddie starts to move Steve can feel his cock miraculously hardening again, almost immediately after his first orgasm.

Steve lets out a constant stream of wanton groans and pants as Eddie starts fucking into him in earnest, clawed hands braced on either side of Steve’s head as he pounds Steve into the forest floor. Steve meets each of his thrusts with his own, bucking up into Eddie as much as he’s able.

Every brush of Eddie’s cock against his prostate builds inside of Steve until he feels like he’s going to explode. As Eddie bends his head to one of Steve’s pecs and bites down hard, Steve feels a second orgasm tear through his body, cock spurting a miniscule amount of cum onto his stomach as his whole body clenches around Eddie.

Eddie lets out a noise that can only be characterized as a roar and Steve starts to feel a warmth spreading inside himself as Eddie thrusts as deep into his ass as he can go and comes. It lasts a long time, longer than Steve ever thought an orgasm could last, and he feels excess cum dribbling out of his ass around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie collapses against him, panting heavily, wings coming out to form a protective barrier around the two of them. Steve can feel Eddie’s cock starting to soften inside of his ass, and eventually it softens enough to slip out, a gush of cum following to coat the tops of Steve’s thighs.

Eddie pushes himself up a little, looking down at Steve. The red of his eyes is more muted now, the color closer to the brown Steve was used to seeing. Steve reaches a hand up to cup one of Eddie’s cheeks.

“Can I come back to see you again tomorrow?” Steve asks.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice gravelly with disuse and much deeper than it had been before. “Please.”

Steve smiles, elated at this evidence that Eddie is still in there somewhere, able to understand and respond. Then Steve remembers how he even found out about Eddie, and his face crumples into a frown.

“And stop fucking other girls. You’re my monster now,” Steve says, glaring.

“Okay, Stevie,” Eddie says, as he moves down Steve’s body to start thoroughly cleaning up the mess with his tongue.

Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics.

#steddie #steddie fic #monster eddie munson #monsterfucker steve harrington #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #my fics #steddie fanfic #stwgkinktober2024 #gauche writes

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starshideurfics · 6 months ago

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Off the Deep End

part one

steddie, omegaverse, cw: underage, scentmates, mdni 🔞

Newly-presented omega Steve comes back to school at the end of his freshman year, walks past Eddie’s locker and the scent makes him slick his pants so much it looks like he pissed himself. His math teacher takes pity on him and sends him to the nurse’s office.

Eddie is also in the nurse’s office—some jocks jumped him—where he’s waiting with a bloody nose and a black eye developing.

Steve mewls when he realizes he found the source of the scent, slick running down his leg.

Eddie can’t smell so well, on account of the bloody nose, but he’s suddenly got a lapful of horny freshman. Steve is moaning, “Alpha!” all pathetic and needy and rubbing his leaking pussy through four layers over Eddie’s soft cock.

Eddie looks like he pissed himself by the time Steve is pulled off; the nurse actually has to call the gym teachers for help since every time she tries to get Steve to stop molesting Eddie he growls at her. It takes two full grown alphas to pull Steve from Eddie’s lap and into the little room with a cot at the side of the nurse’s office.

She’s already called Steve’s mother.

She has Eddie call home too, and he tries to get her to let him walk home, but she insists that he needs to be released to a parent or guardian.

Wayne sounds tired when he answers, obviously woken by the phone ringing. Eddie only tells him about the bloody nose, and his uncle says he’ll be there soon.

Eddie may not be able to smell, but Wayne sure can. He doesn’t ask beyond a simple, “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“No one else hurt?”

“I kneed Chris Baker in the junk…”

“Chet Baker’s boy is an asswipe, like his daddy. But none of your… friends were in the fight, too?”

“Wayne! It wasn’t a fight!”

“Okay. We’ll get some frozen peas on that eye when we get home, you can lay down for a bit.”

💦💦💦

Mrs. Harrington is MORTIFIED when she picks up Steve from school.

Steve is half-feral and inconsolable because his alpha is gone.

It makes it easy for his pediatrician to proscribe strong blockers.

Steve can barely scent anyone at school the next day. Lucky for him, Eddie spent the night huffing the slick stains on his jeans and jerking off until his dick was chafed.

He brings Steve a perfect rock, flecked with pyrite, and asks if he wants to go to the movies that weekend.

Steve wears a skirt for the first time on their movie date, and pays no attention to Friday the 13th Part 2 because Eddie fingers him through the whole thing.

Steve soaks Eddie’s hand and the theater seat, and they sneak out as quickly as they can before the credits roll because of the mess.

💦💦💦

Steve loses his virginity in the flatbed of Wayne Munson’s pickup truck.

Eddie borrowed it for their first date of the summer, as soon as Steve got back from the fancy, omegas only sleep-away camp his parents insisted upon sending him to, hoping time away would end his obsession with the Munson boy.

It clearly didn’t work.

Steve wrote Eddie a letter every week for six weeks. He also grew an inch a week. He came home almost as tall as Eddie, giggling with delight when Eddie picked him up and he realized he had to bend his head down to settle his nose to the smoky-spicy scent gland at his neck.

Eddie takes Steve to Benny’s for burgers, both of them fighting their teenage metabolisms, splitting a massive plate of chili-cheese fries, and getting malts—strawberry for Eddie, a black and white for Steve.

Benny’s working, the gruff omega has a soft spot for Wayne, and by extension for Eddie. He brings them a piece of his mama’s peanut butter pie, on the house, and Steve makes the most unintentionally pornographic moans when he takes his first bite.

Eddie pays the bill, and after tip he has $3.27 to his name. He’s gonna need a job, since half a summer of extra chores got him one dinner date.

Eddie considers driving to the quarry, but he knows the cops patrol there pretty regularly.

The truck has all-wheel drive, so he commits and drives into a little, well-hidden clearing in the woods. He’s fully planning to stick to kissing and hand stuff, but Steve crawls into his lap & hits the horn with his ass, startling them both.

“We should move somewhere with more space,” he mumbles against Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve agrees breathlessly.

Pushing open the door, they carefully climb down from the cab, the ground is a bit wet, and there’s a patch that looks suspiciously like poison ivy. Eddie leads them to the back of the pickup, and gives Steve a hand up into the truck bed.

He spreads out his jacket and guides Steve to lay back on it, protecting his head. He’s still planning to just kiss for now, but Steve’s fingers go straight to Eddie’s belt buckle.

“Please, Eddie,” he whines, biting his lip and looking up at Eddie with heavy-lidded eyes. “Need you.”

Steve brings Eddie’s hand down to press against his crotch, to feel how wet he is already, how badly he wants this.

Eddie nods, struggles to swallow, having to remind himself to breathe, and pulls out his wallet for the condom he’s kept there since he presented and Wayne bought him a box.

He manages to get his whole dick in before he blows his wad, but barely.

Steve doesn’t mind. He clings to Eddie, kisses him. His first time is still good—still special—because it’s with his alpha. With Eddie.

And next time will be better.

💦💦💦

Steve spends the rest of the summer wet.

Mostly, it’s because he’s swimming, in the pool every day to build his stamina, to perfect his kickoff from the wall at turns, to see how long he can hold his breath.

The rest of the time is because he’s with Eddie.

He has to wear a pad when he’s around his. boyfriend.

It’s embarrassing, he’s sure everyone can see the outline of it beneath his khakis, and it feels like wearing a diaper. But it’s better than the wet spot that will seep through his crotch.

The first time he wears one on a date, Steve blushes when Eddie’s hands stray down to his bottom.

“What’s the matter, Puppy?” Eddie asks, moving his hand back up to the safety of his waist. “You’ve never been shy before.”

Steve shakes his head, blush deepening, his cheeks burning as he hides his face against Eddie’s neck. “I’m too much,” he whispers, repeating his mother’s words. “A freak.”

She’d said it when she picked Steve up from school after the first incident. Said it to his pediatrician. Said it when he can back from camp. Said it when she harshly placed the box of pads on his desk.

Said it when he had to wash his sheets for the third time that week after waking in a puddle.

Eddie smiles. Steve can feel it, the muscles lifting where his temple is pressed to Eddie’s chin. Can smell it in his scent. “Then I guess we’ll be freaks together, because there is no way you can be too much for me.” He kisses Steve’s hair, lets his hand slide back down to cup his butt and squeeze.

Moaning, Steve feels a gush of slick from his needy pussy. It’s safely caught by the thick pad, slimy wetness trapped against him, rubbing into his skin.

He hates it and he loves it.

He presses his legs together, trying to will away the sticky, chafing feeling against his sensitive bits.

“I just wish I could control myself around you. Just a little. Because all this is just for you,” Steve whispers.

“Guess we’ve gotta practice then,” Eddie says, squeezing his ass again. “Lots of practice to get you in control.”

Steve nips just to the side of Eddie’s mating gland, loves the spike of scent it causes, feels more slick flow from his pussy.

Eddie must smell it, how ripe and strong Steve’s scent is, and he chuckles, guiding Steve’s lips up to meet his. “And until then, we’ll find things to help.”

Steve nods as he pulls back from the kiss. “I’ve got one already.”

Holding Steve still by his hips, Eddie steps back and looks down between them, sees how dry his shorts are. Technically, they’re in public, at a park, but no one is close to the little warming house that only gets used in winter.

Eddie’s touch is gentle as he cups Steve’s crotch, more gliding over the fabric at first. Then he presses up, feels the squish as he pushes the pad into Steve’s mound.

The blush is back, but Eddie’s dark eyes have become impossibly darker. “It’s just for me, right, Puppy?” he whines, suddenly desperate too.

“Show me. Show me what your perfect pussy’s been up to, how it’s begging for me.”

Steve doesn’t think, just undoes his fly and pulls down his shorts and panties, a string of slick connecting his lips to the puddle in his pad. His little cock twitches at being exposed, and Eddie drops to his knees.

Part two

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #supersoaker steve #soulmate au

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queenpiranhadon · 8 months ago

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╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ꩜ .ᐟ: You and your family decide to go camping for the week. However, you discover that you aren't the only family camping in the area, encountering a boy your age at the creek by your campsite. Slight problem though... He doesn't seem to talk.

꩜ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: No curses AU (?), f!reader (or at least implied), Toge is mute (?), reader's had to move, reader is 15, reader has two younger twin brothers, older sibling woes, flufff

꩜ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Toge Inumaki x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ꩜

It's been a long five hours.

Especially when you're stuck in the car with your parents and your two twin little brothers, the latter of which seemed to especially enjoy screaming their heads off like the rest of the family didn't have ears attached to their heads.

And after walking for a good 30 minutes with heavy gear to find a good spot and then setting up half of the gear on your own - including wrangling your giant tent - you were exhausted.

"Hey mom - I'm just going to go down to the stream, okay? I'll be back soon." You say, poking your head into the tent where your mom was, and she nods, smiling at you.

"Go ahead, sweetheart, just don't go too far, okay?"

You roll your eyes teasingly and nod. "I won't mom, thanks!"

Making your way down the path by where you set up camp, you find the stream you noticed earlier.

The sun is only now starting to dip below the horizon, making you feel at ease as you sit down beside a tree, resting your back against it and leaning your head back to rest on its trunk, closing your eyes and you bask in the sounds of nature.

It's not silent, but it's quiet, a soothing quiet that lets your mind relax further and further and you relish in the feeling of being alone.

Snap!

Jolting up, your head whips around, searching for the source of the sound until your eyes come into contact with a pair of wide violet ones.

"O-Oh!" you say, surprised. "H-Hi."

It comes out a little more awkward than you intended, but you can't help but stare at the boy across the stream, with pretty white hair and a thick black hoodie on, and you can't help but wonder if he's sweating underneath.

He doesn't say anything, but there's no animosity, as he smiles as waves.

You smile back, and pat the ground next to you, offering a spot under the tree by your side.

The boy turns his head for a minute, looking back at the way he probably had come from, before cautiously stepping on the rocks, making his way over to you.

He plops down next to you, and points to the sky.

You smile. "Pretty, isn't it? It's been a while since I've seen a sky like this. We're from the city, so it's usually just really cloudy. Where are you from?"

The boy thinks, before leaning away momentarily to grab a stick, starting to write out letters in the sand.

"Hm? Oh!" You exclaim in understanding, leaning forward to see what he's written.

Watching as he carefully traces out letters in the dirt, you watching him form out the phrase “I’m from the city too.”

You look at him, surprised. "You are? Are you by Tokyo? That's where I'm from!"

The boy smiles and nods excitedly, quickening writing more in the dirt. "I go to school there!"

You grin, before you cover your mouth on surprise. "Oh god- I didn't even ask what your name was!" You exclaim, giving him your name with an embarrassed look on your face.

The boy laughs, and you feel your cheeks heat up a little. Who knew someone's laugh could be so...refreshing?

Writing in the dirt some more, you see him spell out "Toge Inumaki" , before circling the former of the two words.

You smile widely. "That's such a cool name! I'm assuming you want me to call you Toge?"

The white haired boy nods and you sigh happily, resting your head on the bark of the tree.

Being with Toge was a breath of fresh air. He was quiet, and frankly, you liked quiet. No, at this point you craved it. It was nice, being able to have the space to be able hear your own thoughts, while being in the company of someone else.

You and Toge would hang out everyday for the rest of the week, and you learned a lot about each other.

You learned that he was just a year older than you- 16. He loved tuna mayo onigiri - something you've never had before but were more than excited to try. Toge was a little offended when you had told him thought - drawing the biggest "x" in the dirt that he could and a small angry face right beside it.

It was Thursday, when you and Toge decided to sit by the stream for a bit, your fingertips lightly grazing the water's surface as you relishing in the slightly cold sting of the mild current caused by the rocks along its path.

Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning your head to see Toge writing something in the dirt.

"Do you think I'm weird because I can't talk?"

Your eyes widen in shock as your shake your head vehemently immediately, with such a sad look on your face that Toge feels a little guilty for asking in the first place.

"No of course not!" you exclaim, and you take his hands in yours. "Toge, I've known you for a total of four days and somehow I prefer your company more than some of the people I've known for years." You say, laughing despite the irony.

You sigh. "I have two little brothers - combined with living in the city, it's always so... loud." You smile at him.

"I can actually hear my thoughts for once whenever I'm around you." you say sincerely, and you can see the tips of Toge's ears take on a light pink tint. "I don't think you're weird for not being able to speak Toge. I'm more than happy with the you I have with me right now."

Toge grins back at you, a genuine, heartfelt smile, and you feel your heart flutter a little.

He brings his hands up, hooking his two index fingers interlocking them in a sort of sign.

You stare back at him, confused, as realization dawns upon him in his eyes, grabbing the stick to write out a word.

"Friend."

You feel your cheeks heat up and you smile. You're not sure what this feeling is, but you don't necessarily hate it. The feeling on something new.

"Forever?" you ask, feeling suddenly a little shy, but Toge nods, the smile almost permanently stuck on his face.

Forever.

A/N: The things this episode did to me oml

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@beaniesayshi @abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip @riririr11

@ladygojooo @abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

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gullemec · 6 months ago

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Bitten

ao3 Bitten Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel left the QZ together a year ago in search of something better. Against all odds, the two of you have formed a bond, something quiet and rare and fragile. Then, on an ordinary day, it all comes crumbling down.

Warnings: description of infected, gore, description of mortal injury, gun use, mild non-sexual bondage, talk of death/dying

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.6k

A/N: My first TLOU/Joel fic I'm ever sharing! And you best believe there's more where this comes from! Also I've included another note at the bottom so please read that!

It’s a cool evening in the rugged wilderness between what remains of Billings and Big Sky, Montana.

The air carries a bite of late spring chill, sharp and clean, the smell of pine and damp earth lingering after days of torrential rain. The sun has dipped low, casting the forest in shades of deep green and dusky blue, streaks of gold like brushstrokes on the jagged peaks on the faraway mountainscape.

The river that snakes through the dense forest is a merciless torrent, swollen from the rains. Its waters, frothy and wild, churn over boulders and logs, their jagged edges slick with moss and spray. Branches, stripped bare of leaves, whirl chaotically in the current, their twisting shapes snagging on stones before being pulled back into the fray. The sound is constant and deafening, a relentless cacophony of crashing water and guttural growling of rocks grinding against each other beneath the surface.

You crouch at the river’s edge, boots braced against the slippery rocks, arms outstretched to catch the icy water in mason jars to filter back at camp. Overhead, the canopy is dense, needles interwoven with skeletal branches still clinging to the remnants of rain, droplets falling sporadically to pock the surface of the river. Despite the chaos of the water, you feel grounded here, your focus narrowed to the task at hand. The white noise of the rushing river drowns out the rest of the world, and for a brief moment, the wilderness feels almost serene.

Then, a movement— quick, sharp —in the corner of your eye. You freeze mid-pour, breath catching in your throat. Turning slowly toward the treeline, you rise to your feet, knees protesting against the sudden shift. The forest stretches out before you in stillness, dense with towering trees and underbrush thick with rain drenched ferns. Your eyes dart through the gloom, searching for the source of the movement, but the dimming light and shifting leaves conspire against you. The world feels suddenly larger, the quiet of the forest pressing in at the edges of the river’s roar, your pulse quickening in the cold dusk.

The snap of a branch shatters the stillness of the forest, cutting through the constant roar of the rain-swollen river. You freeze, heart lurching in your chest, as a low, guttural snarl ripples from somewhere just beyond the treeline. It’s faint, almost lost between the river and the rush of your heartbeat in your ears, but unmistakable.

But before you can fully process the danger, it’s already too late.

A blur of movement, a rush of air, and then a heavy weight slams into your side.

The impact sends you sprawling, crashing hard onto the slick, rocky ground. Pain jolts through your ribs as the world tilts, your vision swimming from the force of the blow. The jar in your hand shatters on impact, slicing your palm as shards of glass scattering across the wet earth.

The creature is on you before you can even catch your breath. Its weight is crushing, its limbs flailing wildly as it pins you to the ground. A feral snarl tears from its throat, a horrifying mix of rage and hunger, as its face, a twisted mask of decay and filth, looms inches from your own. Its skin is gray and bloated, patches of it sloughing off to reveal sinew and bone beneath. The stench of rot and old blood is overwhelming, its acrid breath clawing at your senses.

You thrash beneath it, hands instinctively going to its shoulders to push it away, but it’s strong, so fucking strong, and its gnashing teeth snap just shy of your face. Droplets of its fetid saliva spray your cheek as its jaw clamps shut on empty air.

Panic surges like a shot of adrenaline, cold and sharp. Shit. You twist your body, feet scrambling for leverage on the slippery ground, but the creature’s weight is unrelenting. You try to reach for your knife, only to remember — you didn’t bring it. You thought this area was clear, that the river’s roar would drown out any noise that might attract them.

A mistake. A stupid, deadly mistake.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as the stalker lunges again, its teeth snapping so close you can feel the rush of air against your skin. With a desperate yell, you plant your feet and buck upward, trying to throw it off. But it doesn’t let go, its rotting fingers clawing at your jacket, its growls reverberating through your body.

You twist violently beneath its crushing weight, legs curling upward as you fight for leverage. With a guttural cry, you shove your boots hard into its torso, muscles straining as you push with everything you’ve got. The creature topples to the side with a grunt, its limbs flailing as it scrambles to regain its grip. Wasting no time, you roll over and claw your way forward, boots slipping on the wet earth as your eyes lock onto one of the mason jars lying just out of reach.

Your fingers are inches from the glass when a cold, rotting hand seizes your waist, nails tearing through fabric and skin as it drags you back. Then the pain hits, a searing, white-hot agony as the creature buries its face into your side, teeth scraping into flesh. You scream, the sound ripped raw from your throat, and your free hand finds the mason jar. Without hesitation, you swing it with all the strength you can muster, smashing it into the creature’s skull.

The jar shatters on impact, shards of glass slicing into the putrid flesh. The stalker reels back, momentarily stunned, its snarls faltering into gurgles as blackened ichor oozes from its shattered head. You’re screaming again, this time desperate, panicked.

“Joel!” The name tears from your throat as you shove yourself backward, kicking at the writhing body, desperate to put distance between you and the thing on the ground.

A single gunshot cracks through the chaos. The creature jerks once, then stills, its grotesque form collapsing into a lifeless heap.

Your chest heaves as silence rushes back in, broken only by the relentless roar of the river and the distant patter of rain. You scramble to your feet, legs trembling, hands flying instinctively to your side where pain pulses in hot, angry waves. The world feels unsteady beneath you, every movement uncoordinated and raw as you clutch at your side. Your fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt, and with a hiss of pain, you pull it up to inspect the damage.

Blood. So much blood. It blooms across your skin, bright and vivid, the gash at your hip jagged and cruel, clawing its way across your waist. Your breath catches, panic rising like a flood as the implications hit you.

Before you can speak, before you can even think, you hear it. The unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked.

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto Joel. He stands a few feet away, his face a mask of hardened resolve, his breathing labored but steady. The barrel of his pistol is trained on you, unwavering. His eyes are dark, unreadable, jaw squared.

“Joel —” your voice trembles, barely a whisper.

“Don’t move,” he warns, his tone low and sharp. His grip on the gun tightens as he steps closer, each movement deliberate, measured.

“Wait!” Your voice cracks as the word bursts out, painfully desperate. You throw your hand out in front of you as if it could shield you from the inevitable, as though the small gesture might protect you from the bullet with your name on it. “Please, just… wait,” you beg, the words coming out as a broken, trembling whine that shames you even as you say them.

Joel doesn’t move. His shoulders are stiff, his hands trembling around the pistol, knuckles white with the pressure of his grip. His eyes dart frantically, torn between your face and the wound at your side, the gash you’ve tried to hide, like covering it could somehow erase it from existence.

Your left hand moves instinctively, tugging at your shirt to pull it over the gaping wound. The thick cotton clings to your skin, soaking up the blood in sticky patches. You feel the wetness against your fingertips, warm and damning, and your stomach churns at the realization of how bad it is. You don’t need to look at it again to know the truth, you can feel it.

“No…” Joel murmurs, the sound barely audible over the rushing river and your own ragged breathing. His voice is shaky, distant, like he’s talking to himself now instead of you. His gaze hardens, his jaw clenches, and his finger hovers near the trigger. He’s slipping away from you, mentally already miles ahead, as if you’re not even standing in front of him anymore.

You know what he’s thinking. To him, you’re already dead. The infection is a foregone conclusion, the gash on your body as good as a death sentence. You see it in his face — this is no longer you standing here. In his eyes, you’re just a corpse waiting to fall, a hollow body waiting for the bullet that will silence you before the sickness has a chance to take hold.

It’s over.

“Joel.” You force his name out through chattering teeth, your lips trembling uncontrollably. “Listen to me. Please.” The words crack with fear, barely holding together as dizziness washes over you. Pain radiates outward from your side, agonizing, but the ache in your chest, the utter fucking hopelessness gripping your heart, is far worse.

In any other moment, you’d hate yourself for this. You’d hate the way your lip quivers, the way your voice shakes, the way you’ve laid yourself bare in front of him, vulnerable and pathetic. You’d curse yourself for throwing every card onto the table, for showing him just how desperate you are. You’d tell yourself to stand up straight, to act strong, to meet death with dignity.

But none of that matters now. You’re not ready. You don’t want to die.

This isn’t the first time you’ve begged for your life. There were countless moments over the years when you were forced to plead, to barter, to lie just to stay alive. But this is the first time you’ve begged knowing it’s utterly futile. Knowing that no amount of pleading will change the truth, or his mind.

You’d talked about this moment, back when you left the QZ together, when survival was still something you both believed in. You’d made a pact, as so many travelers do.

If you get bit, I won’t hesitate.

The words had come from Joel himself, blunt pragmatist that he is, delivered in that steady, gravelly tone you’d grown to trust.

And you’d agreed. Of course you had. It was practical, logical. You’d said the same thing to every companion before him. A foregone conclusion this late in the game, but still you'd felt the need to make it entirely clear that your definition of mercy was a swift bullet to the forehead.

And yet, here you stand, begging the man in front of you to wait, listen, hear me out.

“Joel,” you whisper again, softer this time, pleading. “You have to listen to me. I’m not —” Your voice catches, the words faltering as the weight of his gaze presses down on you. His face is unreadable, stone cold, but his eyes…

His eyes tell a different story.

You see the anguish there, buried beneath the hard lines of his face. The war waging inside him. The man you’ve come to trust, who’s fought beside you, bled beside you, isn’t made for this kind of mercy, no matter what he says.

And yet, you see his finger twitch on the trigger.

“Joel.” Your voice is shaking, but louder now. “I’m not ready. Please.”

The world feels smaller, darker, as you wait for his answer. For the sound of the shot and the unknown that follows.

This was the reality you’d known since you were a child, torn from innocence and thrust headlong into the nightmare of the end of the world. The collapse had been swift and merciless, leaving you to navigate the horrors of survival before you even understood what it meant to truly live. Death had been a constant companion, circling you like a predator, never far away. You’d faced it down more times than you could count, each encounter stripping away another layer of who you once were.

You knew it now with the intimacy of an old, cruel lover. The way it crept in quietly, the way it demanded submission, the way it took and never gave back. And yet, now that it has finally come for you, fully and undeniably, you recoil. You flee.

Your breath shudders as you stare into Joel’s eyes, searching for something, anything, to hold onto. His gaze is hard, but there’s something beneath it, a crack in the armor. You plead with him, your voice trembling, words spilling out in a desperate torrent, but it’s more than words. It’s the raw urgency building in your chest, clawing its way up your throat, begging him to feel it.

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly at first, then harder, his face tightening in anguish. His lip quivers, just the faintest tremble, but it’s enough. It’s a crack in the foundation, a glimmer of doubt in the man who never hesitates. You catch it, latch onto it like a lifeline.

When he says your name, it’s like a prayer, soft and broken. A plea wrapped in the syllables of something he’s never wanted to say. It cuts through you, sharp and cold, leaving you raw and exposed.

His hands are shaking now, the gun unsteady in his grip. You watch it tremble, the barrel wavering slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might miss. That if he pulled the trigger now, the bullet would veer off course, grazing past you instead of ending you. Your mind whispers, Run. Maybe you could bolt, maybe you could make it. But deep down, you know better. Joel doesn’t miss. And if he did, he wouldn’t miss again.

The two of you remain locked in this fragile standstill, unmoving, unblinking, as the moment stretches unbearably long. The adrenaline that had flooded your system begins to ebb, leaving you hollow and weak. Your outstretched hand, once rigid with desperation, falters and starts to fall. It drifts downward, as if surrendering to the weight of inevitability.

Your legs buckle beneath you, the strength draining from them as exhaustion and pain take hold. You collapse slowly, leaning back against the rough bark of the tree behind you, its surface digging into your shoulder blades. Joel’s gun follows your movement, unwavering, the barrel trailing you as you sink to the ground.

“Just wait, okay?” you whisper, the words barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your eyelids flutter, heavy with exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep your gaze locked on Joel’s. “Wait until I turn. Don’t shoot me… not yet. Just… wait.”

He doesn’t move. His grip on the pistol is steady, but his chest rises and falls unevenly, betraying the storm inside him. For a moment, the silence stretches so thin it feels like the world itself is holding its breath. Then, he exhales, a long, ragged sigh slipping past his lips.

“D-darlin’...” His voice cracks on the word, soft and uneven, a plea in itself. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, and you see one break free, tracking a shining path down his cheek. “We agreed. You —” His voice falters, breaking on the words he can’t quite bring himself to say. “You were bit, and I… I have to.”

The way he says it, have to, isn’t just broken; it’s shattered. The weight of the words twists something inside you, but even now, as death looms close, the tenderness of his pet name stirs a small, bittersweet pang in your chest.

“You don’t have to do anything, Joel,” you murmur, shaking your head, your voice unsteady. “Just let me live a little bit longer, okay? I didn’t get to see much or do much… Just give me a few more minutes. Please.”

The words feel foreign, like they’re coming from someone else’s mouth, distant and detached. The adrenaline that once roared through your veins has ebbed, leaving you woozy and untethered. The world around you feels unreal, a blurry haze of pain and fear.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he fights with himself. His finger hovers near the trigger, but his hand trembles now, betraying the conflict raging inside him. You watch his face carefully, every muscle tense as he weighs the impossible decision before him. His eyes flicker, darting around the clearing, searching for something, anything, that would deliver him from the scene laid before him.

He tilts his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. His gaze turns skyward, as if beckoning the heavens to intervene. The seconds crawl by, agonizing and infinite.

Then, slowly, Joel lowers his gun.

You shudder as a strangled, heaving sigh escapes your lips. Relief floods through you, too sharp and too cruel, making your chest ache with its weight. It tricks you, just for a moment, into believing you’ve cheated death, that you’ve won. Your lips twitch with the urge to laugh, but you hold it in, choking back the sound before it escapes.

Joel moves quickly, breaking the fragile stillness between you. He drops to one knee, his pack already in his hands, and begins digging through it with a kind of frantic determination. You watch him, your body too heavy and your mind too dazed to question what he’s doing.

When he stands and starts toward you, a small bundle clutched in his hands, your stomach lurches. He unfurls it, and your breath catches, terror and confusion gripping you. Your eyes squeeze shut, bracing for the feel of a knife piercing your skull.

“W-what are you doing?” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with fear.

“Fuckin’ — stay still,” he growls, his tone clipped and uneven.

Your eyes flutter open as his arms reach around you, and you realize what he’s holding: nylon rope. He pulls it around your torso, cinching it tightly against the tree. His breath comes in sharp, hot gasps, fanning against your cheeks as he works.

“Joel,” you gasp, your voice rising in alarm, but he doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked on his hands, refusing to meet yours as he ties knot after knot, the rope biting into your sides with cruel precision. The pressure sends fresh waves of pain shooting from your wound, and you wince, clenching your teeth to keep from crying out.

The final tug is brutal, the knot digging into your flesh, and he ends up behind you, his hands lingering for a moment as if testing the ropes’ strength. You feel him pause, his breath shuddering as he finally stops moving.

“Joel,” you say again, softer now, your voice cracking under the weight of everything left unsaid.

But he still doesn’t look at you.

When he steps back, his shoulders are slumped, his face shadowed by something you can’t quite name. Grief, guilt, maybe both. He wipes at his face roughly, as though trying to erase the evidence of his tears, but they’ve already betrayed him.

You’re bound, defenseless, and hurting, and yet all you can think about is how utterly broken he looks as he stands there, staring at the mess the world has forced you both into.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice small and steeped in guilt. The words hang in the air, fragile and trembling, but Joel doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even glance your way.

Instead, he turns on his heel, his shoulders tight and his head bowed, and walks to another tree about ten feet away. He plants himself at its base, his back to you. His silence cuts deeper than any words might have, and you feel the weight of it settling over you like a suffocating shroud.

The two of you share the silence, your shallow breaths filling the void between you. Each exhale feels labored, your body struggling against the pain radiating from your side, but you force yourself to focus on something else. You lean your head back against the rough bark of the tree, the texture biting into your scalp, and lift your gaze to the heavens.

The stars are impossibly bright tonight, scattered like shards of broken glass across a velvet sky. You try to commit them to memory, tracing their constellations with your eyes, knowing these moments might be your last chance before you navigate them on your imminent departure.

As you stare upward, memories begin to filter through your mind, unbidden and fragmented, slipping through the cracks of your composure.

Your parents, once so vivid in your mind, are now nothing more than faint, blurred shapes. You can almost feel the warmth of their presence, the comfort of their arms around you, the safety they once provided. Almost. The memory is fleeting, like a firefly winking out in the dark.

Will their faces greet you on the other side?

Your adolescence in the QZ flashes through next, a sharp contrast to the hazy warmth of childhood. The cold, unforgiving reality of it all. Hunger gnawing at your belly, desperation clawing at your throat, the endless days that taught you how to survive but left little room for hope.

Then the years on the road in between QZs, each one harder than the last. The faces of strangers, some kind, most cruel, blur together. Every day had been a gamble, every night a test of endurance. And yet, through it all, you’d kept going.

Finally, your thoughts settle on Joel. The better part of a year spent in his company, you guessed. It had started as a shaky partnership, the two of you circling each other like wary predators. Two feral creatures lowering their hackles just enough to agree to watch each other’s backs. You’d both been so used to solitude, to the cold comfort of self-reliance, that you’d resisted the vulnerability of companionship.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, that had changed.

The memory surfaces vividly, as if it had only just happened. The two of you had set up camp, the evening falling quiet save for the crackle of the fire. Joel had rolled out his sleeping bag next to yours, closer than he ever had before. It was unmistakable, deliberate. Your breath had caught in your chest when you realized just how close he was. Close enough to reach out, to touch. To feel his warmth radiating.

That night, he’d taken first watch, as always, sitting cross-legged by the fire with his rifle resting across his lap. But you hadn’t slept, not really. You’d stayed awake, your heart pounding in your chest, stealing glances at him through the dim light of the flames. The moonlight dusted his features in silver, softening the hard lines of his face. You’d stared at the rough stubble along his jawline, aching to reach out and trace it with your fingers.

You’d felt like a teenager again, giddy and restless, wanting something so badly it made your chest ache. It was dangerous to feel that way in this world, to allow yourself even a sliver of something as fragile as hope, but you couldn’t help it. That night had changed everything for you, though you couldn’t say if Joel even realized it.

Now, sitting bound to this tree, your side throbbing and your vision dimming, you wonder if he’s thinking about it too. If he remembers that night, or any of the moments you’d shared since. You glance toward him, his back still turned to you, his shoulders hunched. You want to call out to him, to say something, but the words catch in your throat.

Instead, you close your eyes, letting the memories wrap around you like a threadbare quilt. You hold onto them tightly, as though they might somehow tether you to this life for just a little longer.

You’d never said anything. How could you? This life wasn’t made for love, for relationships, or for anything that resembled romance. Whatever you felt for Joel, whatever that small, fragile thing blooming inside you was, had always seemed impossible to name, let alone act on.

The world you lived in was harsh, brutal, and unforgiving. There wasn’t room for tender words or soft moments, and certainly no place for anything as foolish as hope. All you knew was that you felt safe under his protection, warm under his rare but lingering gaze. Anything beyond that, any flicker of desire, longing, or affection, could be swallowed whole by the world so long as it meant keeping him close.

But now, things are different. You’re staring down the end, and there’s nothing left to lose. Everything worth losing had already been ripped from you piece by piece over the years. Maybe it’s selfish of you to want this moment, to unburden yourself of something you could have taken silently to the grave. Maybe it’s selfish to pile this weight onto Joel when he was already carrying so much. But then again, you’d already been selfish, hadn’t you? Begging him to forgo his own safety for the sake of putting a bit more time between yourself and his bullet in your brain.

And he had complied, hadn’t he?

Fuck it.

“You know what I thought of you when I first met you?” you ask into the silence, your voice low and trembling, but steady enough to carry through the night air.

Joel doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even flinch. His broad shoulders remain rigid, his gaze fixed on the darkness in front of him like it holds some kind of answer he’s desperate to find.

“I thought you were an asshole,” you continue, forcing a small, breathy laugh out of your chest. It sounds pathetic, even to you, but you push on. “A grumpy asshole.”

Still, nothing from him. But you’re certain, almost certain, you catch the faintest twitch of his shoulder.

“And once I figured out how easy it was to piss you off, I couldn’t stop myself. I’d say the dumbest shit just to get you all riled up.” You smile softly at the memory, even as the ache in your side deepens. You stop to take a deep breath, hoping he might take this chance to interject, beg you to shut the fuck up and die quietly already. But he doesn't. “You’d get so mad, Joel. Your face would do this thing, this little twitch, like you were trying so hard not to tell me to shut the fuck up. And I think— no, I know —you liked it.”

That finally earns you something, a sharp exhale from his nose. A sound so faint you might’ve missed it if you weren’t straining to catch every little thing.

“If I was nice to you, you’d ignore me. But if I said something dumb just to piss you off? You couldn’t help yourself,” you press on, emboldened now. “I think you liked the banter. The arguing. Maybe it made things feel… normal.”

You pause, drawing in a shaky breath. Your chest feels tight, your body heavy, but you force yourself to keep going. “Do you remember that night a few months ago? When you set your sleeping bag up right next to mine?”

His shoulders tense at that, but he still doesn’t turn to look at you.

“I liked it,” you admit softly. “A lot. Probably more than I should’ve. And I couldn’t sleep that night, Joel. I just kept laying there, staring at you while you were on watch, thinking… Maybe you liked me, too.”

Your voice breaks on the last word, the confession hanging between you like a dwindling thread. You don’t expect a response, but part of you still hopes, desperately, foolishly, that he’ll turn around and say something. Anything.

Instead, his shoulders shudder, and you hear a ragged, broken breath that shakes his entire frame.

“Joel?” you whisper, your own voice trembling now.

But he doesn’t answer. He stays where he is, his back to you, his head dipping forward like the weight of your words, and everything they mean, has finally crushed him.

You lean your head back against the tree, the bark biting into your scalp, and close your eyes. The pain in your side throbs in time with your heartbeat, and your breaths grow more shallow with each passing moment. But you don’t regret saying it.

If this is how it ends, if this is your last night on this broken earth, you’re glad you told him. Even if he never responds. Even if the silence stretches on forever.

“I know what you're gonna say, Joel. You're gonna tell me it didn’t mean anything, and…” You stop, your breath hitching as tears well up and threaten to spill. “Fuck, maybe it didn’t. I don’t know.”

You inhale sharply, struggling to keep the flood of emotions from overtaking you.

“But you should know that it meant something to me. All this time we spent together, it wasn’t just survival for me. Being with you, it’s the closest thing to happiness I’ve felt since… since before the world ended.”

Your voice cracks again, the weight of your confession pulling it down to a trembling whisper. The tears that had gathered finally spill over, streaming hot down your cheeks. You can’t wipe them away, but even if you could, what would be the point?

“If I could go back,” you continue, “I would have told you then. I wouldn’t have waited. I’d have kissed you just so I could’ve known what it felt like. I’d have asked you to lay with me, to hold me, to —”

“Stop.”

The word cuts through the air like a whip, startling you into silence. Joel’s voice is hoarse, like maybe he's been crying too.

Your eyes dart to him, still sitting against the tree, his face hidden in shadow but his posture stiff, tense. His shoulders rise and fall heavily, and for a moment, you think he might stay there, unmoving, until the sun rises.

“Joel — ”

“No,” he snaps, the word cracking like a fraying rope. “You need to stop.”

Before you can respond, he pushes himself to his feet in one swift, almost frantic motion. His boots crunch against the underbrush as he rounds the tree, his long strides closing the distance between you in seconds.

The gun glints in his hand as the moonlight catches it, but he doesn’t raise it. He doesn’t point it at you. Instead, he stops just in front of you, towering over your slumped, trembling form.

His head blocks out the moon, casting a glow around his mess of curls and plunging his face into darkness. You should be scared, you realize. The anger in his voice, the speed at which he moved toward you, his imposing stature above you, his mere presence a threat designed to cow and intimidate. He’s used it countless times against others, and now it’s turned on you. He wants you to be afraid of him.

You should feel afraid.

And yet, the only fear you feel in this moment is for the darkness you know will soon steal you away.

You stare up at him, the moonlight weaving through his curls like a halo, his face cast in shadow. He looks like some tragic figure out of a dream, the kind that lingers in your bones long after you wake. Your lips part, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“I love you.”

It’s barely a whisper, cracked and fragile, but he hears it. You can see the way his shoulders tense, the faint shudder in his breath. Despite yourself, you smile, a soft, bittersweet curve of your lips. You want nothing more than for him to drop to his knees, to pull you close, to press his lips to yours and grant you one final wish before the inevitable.

But you don’t ask. You know better.

You’ve been selfish enough, asking him to delay the mercy he’d promised you. And Joel... Joel is many things, but generous isn’t one of them. Not when it comes to matters of the heart.

He shakes his head, the motion jerky and stilted, and you feel tiny droplets splash across your cheeks. For a second you fight the urge to chuckle at the insult of sudden rainfall added to the injury of your imminent demise. Of course you would spend your last moments shivering, cold, and wet.

But when you glance up, the sky is clear, the stars sharp and bright against the endless black.

It’s not raining.

The realization dawns slowly, your gaze drifting back to him. His broad shoulders quake, his head bowed, his face hidden from view. A sob tears free from his chest, the sound of a man breaking under the weight of something far too heavy to bear.

“Oh no, Joel — please don’t cry,” you croak, your voice trembling as guilt twists like a knife in your gut. “I’m sorry, I—”

Your words catch in your throat as a sob wracks your own body, your tears flowing freely now, warm and relentless. The two of you stand there in the heavy blue night, heaving cries and choked sobs filling the air between you.

And then he moves.

Joel drops to his knees in front of you, the motion unsteady, like his legs are buckling under a weight he can no longer carry. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, trembling, before it finds your cheek. His palm is rough and calloused, but his touch is impossibly gentle, wiping away the tracks of your tears. His thumb lingers, as though he’s memorizing the curve of your cheek, the warmth of your skin, before it fades forever.

He leans forward, his breath shuddering as it fans across your face, and presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s soft and lingering, a silent prayer offered up to whatever gods might still be listening.

When he pulls back, you tilt your head up instinctively, angling your lips toward his. You can feel his hesitation, the way he freezes, his hand faltering on your cheek. His eyes dart between your mouth and your tear-filled gaze, his own eyes wide and uncertain, searching for something he can’t seem to find.

But then he pulls away.

Your heart clenches, fracturing further as he backs up, his boots dragging across the dirt. He doesn’t stop until he’s ten feet away, where he collapses against the base of another tree. His posture mirrors yours, slumped and defeated, but he’s unbound. Untainted.

You can’t blame him. You know how the infection spreads, the risks it poses. A kiss might seal his fate as well as yours, and you couldn’t bear that, not after everything. But there’s a cruel, gnawing thought that whispers something worse: that he didn’t want to kiss you at all. That it wasn’t the infection that held him back, but a lack of affection.

You’d been his companion, his partner in survival. Nothing more. His tears now are a testament to his enduring humanity, to his ability to feel for others despite the walls he’s built around himself.

And you’re a dying woman desperately clinging to the scraps of a life already slipping through her fingers. A life at its end, spent confessing your love to a man who might never have loved you back.

You let your head fall back against the tree, your vision swimming as fresh tears blur the stars above. You’ve never felt so small, so painfully insignificant. The weight of the unspoken words between you drains you of what little life you have left.

The two of you sit there in the thick, silent night, your breaths the only sound between you. For what feels like forever, you both stare at each other, the words too painful to say aloud lingering in the space between you. The moonlight plays across his features, painting him in shadows and silver, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if he sees you the same way, if he’ll remember this night after you’re gone.

You start talking.

You tell him about your life before the world ended, the warmth of your parents’ smiles, the taste of summer nights spent in the quiet of a safer world, the way everything seemed so simple back then. You describe the house you grew up in, the creaky wooden floors, the old red bike you used to ride around the neighborhood, the smell of your mother’s cooking wafting through the open windows. It’s all so distant now, like a dream you can’t quite remember.

Then you move to the people you’ve met since the world burned down. Companions, friends, lovers, whatever they were, however brief. You tell him about the ones who had your back, the ones who betrayed you, the ones you couldn’t save. You tell him how, despite everything, none of them ever quite compared to him. There’s a rawness in your voice, a truth you never dared speak before now.

You find yourself laughing a little, shaky at first, when you tell him about the time you tricked a QZ guard into giving you double ration cards. The image of his face when he handed over the papers is enough to make you chuckle even now. The momentary relief, the feeling of outsmarting the system, feels almost like a lifetime ago.

But then your voice falters, and you recount the loss of your parents, their faces gone too soon, their absence an ache that never quite goes away. You talk about the lengths you went to survive in the aftermath, how the world didn’t stop for grief and how, somehow, you found a way to keep moving, even when everything inside you screamed to collapse. Your eyes never leave Joel’s face, watching him as he listens. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t offer pity or comfort, just listens, soaking up every word, every part of you you’re willing to offer.

As the words flow, they start to spill out faster, louder, and more frantic. You’re no longer telling stories, no longer reminiscing. You’re unraveling, thread by thread. You talk about your regrets, your fears. You speak of all the places you never got to see, all the dreams you’ll never chase, the future you’ll never have. You tell him about Yellowstone and Old Faithful, about the sunrise over the Grand Canyon, about the quiet peace of a morning in the mountains. You make him promise, with desperation edging your voice, that he’ll go. That he’ll see it for both of you, and your hope that, in doing so, you’ll somehow live on.

Your heart aches with the weight of it all. You want him to know you, every little piece of you. You want him to hold onto your stories, to carry them with him long after you're gone, so that maybe, just maybe, someone will know you for who you were, not just what the world reduced you to. You want to be remembered.

But as you talk, you begin to feel the distance between you grow. The adrenaline that once fueled your desperation, your need to be heard, starts to wane. You feel it in the weight of your limbs, the fog creeping at the edges of your mind. You know the end is near, even if you don’t want to admit it. You can feel yourself fading, your words becoming less coherent, your thoughts scattered like the leaves in the wind.

And Joel, he sees it too. He sees the way your shoulders slump, the way your eyes flicker like you're trying to hold onto the present but failing. He watches you, his face hardening with the realization that no matter how much he listens, no matter how much he tries to understand, he can’t stop what’s coming. He sees you slipping through his fingers, and it makes it hard for him to focus on anything else.

You try to hold onto the last few fragments of yourself, the last words you want him to hear. But your vision blurs, and the words begin to jumble. You hope, in the deepest part of yourself, that somehow he’ll hold onto them, that something will remain after you’re gone. That somehow, in this moment, you’ve found a way to live again.

But as the world narrows, as the last threads of you unravel, you realize that perhaps all that’s left now is for him to remember you in the way you are right now. Alive, speaking, a fleeting presence in the shadow of the man who, in this moment, matters more to you than anything else you could have ever dreamed.

“I… I gotta go.” His voice cracks as the words leave his mouth. “I’ll just move over there,” he gestures toward a large tree about ten feet away. “I’m not leavin’ you. I just… I can’t see you like that. I can’t watch it happen. I’m sorry.”

The words hit you like a blow, but not the one you expected. Not the harsh sting of rejection, but that of heartbreak. You hold his gaze, letting the weight of his apology settle between you. His eyes are regretful, heavy with the pain of his own helplessness.

In the year you’ve spent together, he’s given you more than anyone else ever could. Tonight, though, he’s sacrificed everything, pushed his own limits to keep you alive just a little longer. You can’t ask him to stay by your side and watch as you slip away, but God, you want him to. You want him to hold you, keep you anchored, be the one who’s there when you cross over.

But you know what’s fair. What’s right. You know he’s already given you everything he has. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to breathe through the ache.

“Joe, will you still talk to me though? Please?” You whisper. “Just until… until it’s over. Please.”

It’s his turn to nod now, his eyes wet but unwavering. He gives you one last lingering glance, a soft promise, something too sore to touch. A mental photo to keep in the locket of his heart. You catch a brief flash of sorrow in his eyes, something deeper than words can express, before he turns away.

He walks a few paces, the sound of his boots crunching against the damp earth almost too loud in the heavy silence. Then, as he settles at the base of the tree, his back to you, you realize something. He’s doing this for you. He’s giving you space to fade without the burden of his gaze, giving you dignity in the last moments when it matters most.

You can’t help but wish for the opposite, wish for him to be by your side, holding you as you fall away. But you don’t voice it. Instead, you whisper, as though your words are the last thread tying you to this world, to him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible through the thick air.

“It’s okay,” he answers, his voice strained like he’s holding back tears. It’s a simple phrase, but it means everything to you.

You smile weakly, the gesture trembling at the edges, as you whisper back, “Please don’t cry.” It feels like an echo, your voice thin and fragile in the night, but you say it because you know it’ll be the last time you can.

“It’ll be okay,” he replies, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket, soothing in the way only he can.

But the darkness is creeping in now, inevitable. You’re so, so tired. The exhaustion is more than physical, it’s in your bones, in your soul, and you can’t fight it anymore. You pull your head up just enough to see him one last time, to glimpse his silhouette framed by moonlight, his broad shoulders, the fray of his dark curls.

A weak, tremulous smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. It’s a smile for him, for everything he’s been for you, everything you never expected to have. For the kindness, the tenderness, the fleeting happiness you got to hold onto before it all slipped away.

You feel the weight of your own eyelids, heavy. Impossible to avoid now. Your head slumps forward, your gaze unable to keep hold of anything.

And then, just like that, you descend into the dark, the world slipping away from you like sand through your fingers, the last breath you take a whisper in the wind.

Hoo boy, did that hurt as much to read as it did to write?? 😭 Believe it or not there are (at least) two more chapters that follow this so... 🌚 I won't be updating this as regularly as golden cage partially because i don't have it all written just yet, and partially because i am doing my master's degree while working full time lol. also please like/comment/reblog, i'm a new writer and all the encouragement i get genuinely means the world to me!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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mya-valentine · 7 months ago

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I need something with Kinich taking in reader who's at least fourteen and becoming their mentor after they cling onto him and he finds out they have a backstory similar to his but even worse than his own

The Weight of the Flame

The sands of Natlan stretched endlessly under the unforgiving sun, the heat shimmering like molten gold over the jagged cliffs and rolling dunes. Kinich, the Saurian Hunter, walked silently along a narrow path leading toward the base of a canyon. His keen amber eyes scanned the terrain, his every movement deliberate and calculated. Behind him, the raucous voice of his companion K'uhul Ajaw echoed in the still air.

“You’re walking too slow again, Kinich. Do you even know how to keep pace?” Ajaw’s tone was teasing, but it carried its usual sharpness.

Kinich didn’t answer. He never did. Ajaw’s words rarely required a response, and the two of them had been traveling together long enough for the silence to speak volumes. But as they descended the trail, a faint sound—ragged breathing, perhaps—caught Kinich’s attention.

“Wait,” he said, his voice steady but firm, as he held up a hand.

Ajaw groaned in protest. “What now? Did another beetle cross the path? Or are you just—”

“Quiet,” Kinich snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The sound grew clearer—a soft, almost inaudible whimper, followed by a shuffling noise. Kinich’s sharp eyes pinpointed the source: a figure huddled beneath an outcropping of rock, half-hidden in the shadow of the canyon.

It was you.

Your clothes were torn and dust-covered, your skin scraped and bruised. You looked like a wisp of a person, clutching your knees to your chest as though you could make yourself disappear entirely.

Kinich approached cautiously, his movements slow and measured, while Ajaw hung back, his expression a mixture of impatience and curiosity.

“What’s this?” Ajaw muttered. “Another stray?”

“Be quiet,” Kinich said, his voice low. He crouched down, meeting your wide, fearful eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Your gaze darted between him and Ajaw, your body trembling as though you expected to be struck.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” your voice cracked, and tears spilled down your cheeks. “Please don��t hurt me.”

Kinich frowned. You were just a child—fourteen, maybe fifteen at most. You looked like you hadn’t eaten in days. He sighed, his pragmatism battling with something deeper, something he didn’t care to name.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” he said firmly. “But you can’t stay out here. It’s too dangerous.”

Ajaw scoffed. “Dangerous? For us? If anything, they’re just making themselves a burden. Leave them. They’ll figure it out or they won’t.”

Kinich shot him a glare that could have melted stone. “Go on ahead, Ajaw.”

“Fine, but don’t expect me to wait when this turns into another one of your pity projects.” With a huff, Ajaw floated off, muttering under his breath.

Kinich turned back to you. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated before whispering your name, barely audible over the desert wind. Kinich nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Can you stand?”

You nodded shakily but stumbled when you tried to rise. Without a word, Kinich reached out, steadying you with a firm but gentle grip. Your eyes widened at the unexpected kindness, but you didn’t protest.

---

It wasn’t until later, after Kinich had set up camp and shared a portion of his food with you, that your story began to unfold. You spoke haltingly, your voice trembling as you recounted the horrors of your past: how your father had descended into madness, how he had killed your mother in a fit of rage, and how, in the chaos that followed, you had accidentally killed him while defending yourself.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I didn’t want to… but he—he wouldn’t stop. I was so scared.”

Kinich sat in silence, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer empty platitudes. He simply listened.

When you finished, you were shaking, the weight of your memories threatening to crush you. Kinich’s voice broke the silence, calm and steady.

“You survived,” he said. “That’s what matters.”

You looked up at him, startled by the lack of judgment in his tone.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to carry something like that?” he continued, his amber eyes meeting yours. “To live with the weight of what you’ve done—what you had to do?”

For the first time, you saw a crack in his stoic exterior, a glimmer of something raw and unspoken.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said. “But if you want to survive out here, you need to be stronger. Smarter. You can’t let the past control you.”

“Stronger?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he said simply. “And I’ll teach you. If you want to learn.”

---

True to his word, Kinich took you under his wing. He taught you how to hunt, how to defend yourself, how to read the shifting sands of Natlan’s treacherous terrain. His methods were harsh but effective, pushing you to your limits while never crossing the line into cruelty.

Ajaw, of course, had plenty to say about the arrangement.

“Really, Kinich? You’ve got time to babysit now? What’s next, tea parties and lullabies?”

Kinich ignored him, as he always did. But when Ajaw’s comments struck too close to home, you found yourself speaking up.

“Why are you so mean all the time?” you snapped one evening, glaring at Ajaw.

Ajaw raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Mean? I call it honesty. You think the world’s going to coddle you just because you’re sad?”

“Ajaw,” Kinich warned, his tone low.

“What?” Ajaw said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just telling it like it is. Not everyone’s going to put up with a sob story.”

You clenched your fists, anger boiling in your chest. But before you could retort, Kinich placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Save your energy,” he said calmly. “He’s not worth it.”

Ajaw snorted. “Oh, come on, Kinich. You’re getting soft.”

Kinich didn’t respond, his focus already shifting back to your training.

---

Over time, you began to see Kinich not just as a mentor but as something more: a steady presence in a chaotic world, a guide who understood your pain without needing to dissect it. In turn, Kinich found himself growing protective of you in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

One evening, as the two of you sat by the campfire, you hesitated before speaking.

“Why are you helping me?” you asked.

Kinich was silent for a moment, staring into the flames.

“Because someone once helped me,” he said finally. “And because you remind me of myself.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You didn’t press him for details, sensing that his past was a wound he wasn’t ready to share. But his admission warmed something inside you, a fragile ember of hope in the vast, unforgiving desert.

In the days and weeks that followed, you continued to grow under Kinich’s guidance. The scars of your past didn’t fade, but they began to hurt less as you found strength in the skills he taught you and the bond you shared.

Kinich, for his part, remained as pragmatic and cold as ever to the outside world. But when it came to you, there was a softness beneath the surface, a quiet understanding that spoke louder than words.

And though Ajaw continued to mock and prod, he too seemed to recognize the change in both of you, even if he would never admit it.

In the heart of Natlan, where the land was as harsh as its people, you had found something rare and precious: a mentor, a guide, and perhaps, in time, a family.

Masterlist

#kinich genshin #genshin impact kinich #genshin kinich #kinich #kinich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader

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absofckinglutelys · 7 months ago

Text

researcher; lighter x gn! reader

author's note; hello lighter lovers nation! its been awhile since i posted anything here, what with my finals, procrastination and 4-5 typhoons in a month (seriously i wish i was joking). i've become kinda rusty when it comes to writing, so i hope you can be kind in these trying times. not beta read nor is my first language english so expect grammar mistakes.

word count: 2,400 words

enjoy!

_________

The afternoon sun beat down your skin as a light sheen of sweat dripped down from your forehead. But you were used to it by this point, it was more of a daily annoyance in your self-appointed work. You've built up a tolerance to it the longer you stay in your small camp.

You looked at the Hollow from afar with worry.

It grew more potent the last time I was here.. You thought to yourself as you packed up your findings in an old duffel bag while writing down some of your thoughts on your notes. You only bring back your journal and photos, not stuff that could potentially harm anyone as per the agreement to continue in your research and to stay in Blazewood.

The ache in your bones and the way your brain was turning itself off the longer you stay here tells you enough. It's time for a break.

Your camp was far away from the source of your research, the Old Capital. Far enough to not be affected, but near enough to observe it. Today, you were planning to go back to your lodgings in the Outer Ring, specifically Blazewood.

Although..

You checked your watch for the time. Normally, your ride back to Blazewood would be here by now..

Just as you were about to take out your phone to call, a familiar sound of an engine roared through the empty streets.

A bike that you were vaguely familiar with but weren't expecting at all, came closer to you at high speed before the tires screeched right in front of you. You gave the rider a smile once you recognized her.

“Afternoon, Researcher!” The soon-to-be leader of the Sons of Calydon flashed you with a wide grin, sweat dripping down her face under the sun. Her bike's engine continued to roar as she set her foot down to balance herself.

You chuckled as you placed a hand on your hip, “Caesar, how many times do I have to tell you that you can call me by my name?”

The nickname the Sons of Calydon, and by extension, the people of Blazewood started calling you once you started researching the Old Capital. You did give them your name, but apparently ‘Researcher’ stuck. You've grown used to it by this point.

Caesar flushed in embarrassment, putting her hand on her nape as she laughed, “Sorry, sorry. It's a habit at this point. Anyways,” She cleared her throat, “I'm here to bring you back to Blazewood!”

“Not that I'm complaining or anything,” You hummed as you approached the biker, “But normally Big Daddy is the one who picks me up, did something happen?” You eyed her curiously as Caesar adjusted herself so you could sit behind her, she revved her bike as you got on.

“I think so,” Caesar admitted, but quickly followed up as you looked at her with a frown over her shoulder, “But it's not anything bad! Big Daddy's been gone since yesterday. He said something about taking care of some business or something.”

You let out a sigh in relief as Caesar started driving at a slow pace before she made a U-turn back to Blazewood. “Well, at least it's not anything bad. Did he say why?”

Caesar picked up the pace, enough for the wind to whip at your face, you narrowed your eyes at the onslaught of dust and bits of rocks.

“Not really! He said something about meeting up with someone I think?!” Caesar shouted over the wind, you clutched the back of her bike for stability at the fast pace of her driving, eyes still narrowed due to the dust. “Guess we'll have to wait and see!”

––

Caesar's driving was a stark contrast compared to Big Daddy's, you were pretty sure you swallowed a bug during the ride back to Blazewood. You couldn't complain much though, at least you were back in your lodgings before late in the afternoon.

“You good, Researcher?” Caesar asked as you got off her bike, you were sure you looked like a hot mess judging by Caesar's concern, but you were pretty sure she was trying not to laugh at your face. To her credit, she was doing a pretty good job.

“Peachy, thanks for the ride, Caesar.” You adjusted your clothes and fixed your hair effortlessly, again you can't really complain. The Sons of Calydon and the people of Blazeword were already kind enough to take you under their wing, providing food and shelter. It was more than you deserve, so you help around if you could.

Besides, most of the people in Blazewood used bikes more often than not. There was Steeltusk, but you did not want to be another victim of Piper's driving anytime soon.

“Anytime–” Just as Caesar was about to get off her bike, a voice called out.

“Big Sis, Researcher! You're back!” The red jacket was already a telltale sign, the Champion of the Sons of Calydon approached you two as he raised his arm in greeting.

“Just in time, Big Daddy's been looking for you.” Billy said as he grew closer to you, you and Caesar shared a look, “Huh, Big Daddy's back already?” Caesar inquired as she got off her bike and kicked up the stand. You had half the mind to go inside your lodgings to drop off your bag as the two conversed.

It was a simple apartment on the second story, you climbed up the stairs as you took out your key, opening the door and promptly dropping your bag on the single sofa in the room before going back to the two members of the Sons of Calydon, still conversing but Caesar had a look of surprise on her face this time.

“What'd I miss?” You asked curiously.

“We're about to meet up with the others. Come on, Researcher!” Billy exclaimed, taking your arm in his hand without another word as all three of you walked to the lift to the main part of Blazewood, you didn't protest much since you and Billy were close enough for friendly touches like these every once in a while. But you were growing confused as you got on the lift.

“Did something happen?” You asked as the little bangboo pulled down the lever to take you up.

“Big Daddy's came back with a guy.” Billy replied as the lift’s creaky fence opened to let you out. You raised a brow at his vague words, “A guy?”

“Yeah, Big Daddy said he'll explain everything once everyone's there. So he sent me to wait for you two to come back.” You and Caesar shared a look again in confusion as Billy led the way, Blazewood was small, so you can already see the other Sons of Calydon members and the mayor of Blazewood just by the old diner along with an unfamiliar face.

“Do I have to be there too?” You asked as the three of you grew closer to the others.

Billy shrugged, “I guess so? Big Daddy did say to ‘make sure Caesar and the Researcher meet up with us once they come back’. I guess since you're our honorary member after all!” He joked as you let out a sigh.

Another thing, aside from your research, you spent most of your time with the Sons of Calydon in your free time. You enjoyed the company of the people of Blazewood, but you felt a deeper connection with the Sons of Calydon. Maybe because Big Daddy was the reason why you were here in the first place and he always insists you join them at their down times.

You sometimes think it was his way to make sure you weren't an anti-social shut in.

So while you weren't an official member, you were an honorary member. Which was why you were being dragged to this meeting right now.

“We're here!” Billy announced as the other members of the Sons of Calydon and the mayor of Blazewood greeted you, you smiled at them with a tip of your head.

“Now that everyone's here,” Big Daddy started, the group fell silent as they listened to him speak, “I'd like to introduce the newest member of the Sons of Calydon.” Big Daddy approached the man a little aways from the group.

The man stepped forward as Big Daddy gestured to him, his arms were crossed with his head down. You observed him from head to toe, trying to assuage what kind of person he was. You tried not to narrow your eyes at the guy and make him uncomfortable, so you smoothed your face into what you hope to be a welcoming one.

“Oh? Well, welcome to Blazewood, mister..” The mayor of Blazewood spoke up first, she trailed off,

The man cleared his throat, relaxing his stature as he looked up. “... Lighter, Lorenz. Nice to meet you.”

The man, Lighter, as he introduced himself. Had shades on when he looked up, you saw a glimpse of his eyes as he flickered his gaze around you. But you weren't entirely sure.

Big Daddy addressed the group after Lighter spoke up, “Lighter will be with us from now on. So, make sure to make him feel welcomed.” As the Sons of Calydon gave their confirmation and greetings to their new member, you stayed back and observed him.

Lighter was on the tall side, maybe as tall as Billy. But he seemed to retreat to himself as the Sons of Calydon started to approach him. No, not retreat. He looked like he was expecting a fight, wound up like a spring ready to jump. You can see his jaw clench and unclench as the others continued to ask Big Daddy question after question, most often than not, asking questions about him.

He was good at hiding his unease, you were just way too observant for your own good.

“Where are you from, Lighter?” You asked him directly, making the others pause and look at you. But your eyes were on him as he perked up in surprise, most likely not expecting anyone to ask him directly.

The man cleared his throat as he looked at you through his shades, it looks like this time he was observing you.

“.. Just by the old oil ridge, a bit far from here.” Lighter's voice was deep, raspy. As if he hasn't used his voice for awhile now. You had a hunch to think he had no reason to. “You look like you're from the city.” He followed up, more evident he was observing you.

You simply shrugged while crossing your arms, your expression remained neutral. “I get that a lot, but no, I'm not from there.”

“The Researcher's been with us for a couple of months now.” The mayor shared, looking at you with a smile which you returned.

“Yeah, but they didn't really share where they're from.” Caesar added as she looked at you thoughtfully, you put a finger to your lips mischievously. “I have my reasons.”

The group let out a small chuckle as the unspoken tension let up, it quickly died down as Big Daddy spoke up again, although it was noticeable he was glad for the distraction. “Anyways, let's get Lighter set up for now. Miss Kasa,” Big Daddy turned to the mayor. “Do we still have some room available for him? I’m afraid most of the space in our quarters is–” Big Daddy seemed to cringe, making you raise a brow in curiosity. The other members of the Sons of Claydon looked sheepish.

It made you think what transpired while you were busy with your research.

The mayor sighed but nodded in understanding. “I know. Unfortunately, most of the houses here are already occupied with residents and their respective families. And most lodgings at the lower level are already occupied.”

Big Daddy sighed as the Sons of Calydon started debating with each other what to do. You just stood by with the mayor as you watched them argue back and forth. The new guy (you decided to call Lighter), seemed to be mentally checked out of the conversation.

They're going to be arguing about this all day… You thought to yourself as the growing fatigue started making itself known as you watched. Unfortunately for you, you were way too determined in your research, which leads to not more than four hours of sleep a day. Along with sample gathering, data collection and whatnot, you're body was yelling at you to stop ignoring it's needs and go the fuck to sleep.

All you can think about is the bed inside your lodgings, and the duffle bag full of data you have to sift through.

So, before you can even pause and think, your mouth betrayed you as your mind was dead set on sleeping until the next morning.

“He can room with me.” All discussions seemed to pause, as everyone looked at you.

Curse you, you stupid mouth. But there was no turning back now.

“Are you sure, Researcher? We don't want to disturb you.” Big Daddy turned to you, he seemed to search your expression for any doubt as your face remained neutral. Instead, your gaze landed on the new guy, who seemed to be caught off guard. Huh.

You shrugged, trying to let some reassurance drip in your tone, but really. You really just want to pass out now. “It's fine, Lighter and I can room with each other for awhile as you, uh-” You narrowed your eyes at the others, “-sort out whatever happened to your headquarters.”

The other members of the Sons of Calydon nervously laughed before Big Daddy cleared his throat, waving away the unspoken question. “Well, since the Researcher offered,” Big Daddy turned to the new guy, “I hope you don't mind rooming with the Researcher, it's just until we can find a place for you to stay. That alright with you?”

“I don't mind.” Lighter answered quietly, shifting his gaze between you and Big Daddy. The Sons of Calydon perked up, reassuring the new guy about his accommodations. Sometimes you think the Sons of Calydon aren't a biker gang by how nice they are, at times, you mentally compare them to a group of eager pets with a new playmate.

You silently pray for the new guy as everyone continues to plan for his part in the Sons of Calydon.

#zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #lighter x reader #lighter zzz x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #i love my men with lore #lighter my beloved #had to contribute to the lighter love in some way #everyone say thank you lighter for bringing back the brainrot

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