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worldofkuro · 2 days

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXVIII

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I enjoyed this chapter. Everything is going smoothly for your couple... Right? This chapter is a little longer than usual, I hope you will enjoy it.

You knocked at your parent’s door, hugging your mother when she opened the door for you. It’s been two days since you found out you were pregnant and you didn’t know how to announce it to your parents. So, you just decided to go to them and tell them the news just like that.

She smiled at you as she went into the living room, asking about your day. You bit your lips, you couldn’t help but feel giddy as you watch her talk about her week. You didn’t know how to tell her you were pregnant with your first child. You observed your mother who had gotten older. She was still beaming with her energy but you could tell she wasn’t as strong as before. How did she feel when she got pregnant with you? Was she afraid? Excited?

“ Are you okay, sweetie?” your mother asked you, placing her hand on your knee, looking at you with a worried gaze.

“ Well… yes, yes, I’m okay. I was just wondering, how did you feel when you discovered you were pregnant with me ?” you asked, tilting your head.

She laughed behind her hand with a nostalgic smile.

“ Oh, it was… beautifully chaotic. Your father was working on a farm and I was helping him. He worked there so he could have money to move to the city. I think I fainted because of the heat and he carried me to a doctor. How chevarious of him. The doctor then said I was pregnant and your father fainted. “ your mother smiled as you laughed, surprised. You knew your father loved you, but he was always shy with his affection. So imagining him fainting because your mother was pregnant was kind of cute.

“ Feeling you growing inside my belly was… indescribable. It was only you and me. We were one… It was… yes, indescribable.” She smiled softly at you. “ That’s why seeing you all grow up and married is always… Well, it’s always making me nostalgic.”

“ Mom, I’m pregnant.”

You stared, smiling softly as your mother gasped, standing up so quickly you were scared she would stumble over the couch.

“ Are you joking? Baby, are you joking with me right now?” she asked, her voice shaking with emotions as tears were beginning to gather in her eyes. You bit your lips before nodding, standing up slowly.

“ I’m ten weeks pregnant.” you whispered, feeling your voice shake thanks to the emotions that were beginning to choke you.

Your mother squealed before hugging you, screaming in delight. You laughed, hugging her back and looked toward the stairs as you heard someone running toward you. You wiped the tears from your cheeks before your mother cupped your face between her hands and kissed your nose with such fondness you felt like you were a little girl once more.

“ What is going on?” asked your father, looking at you and your mother with a worried expression. Your mother stepped back, giggling as she wiped the tears from her own cheeks.

“ Everything is fine, I’m just pregnant, dad.”

“ Oh lord, I was afraid you were hurt or– Pregnant?” he shouted, jerking his head toward you with his eyes wide open. You chuckled as he started to stutter. “ What do you mean, pregnant? You.. How?”

You rolled your eyes with a happy smile. Your father could be so cute sometimes. Was he still thinking you were a little girl? You were married, and pregnant, you were a grown up woman.

Your father hugged you carefully, stroking your hair while mumbling how his sweet little baby was having her own baby. You closed your eyes, letting your parents hug you. It felt good to feel like a little girl once in a while. Your father forced you to sit down before your mother ran toward the kitchen to give you something to eat and drink.

You turned your head toward your father who seemed very worried, his hand squeezing yours.

“ My little girl… I’m happy for you, truly. But please, be careful, we still didn’t find anything on the serial killer.”

You looked at him, your face never showed any sign of weakness. You wondered how he would react if he knew you were the one he was after. Well, your father was getting old now, so he couldn’t really do this difficult case, but he was still in the police. You knew John was after the serial killer, who was Alastor and you, but you knew he didn’t have any clues.

“ We know they don’t target women.” you smiled at him but he frowned. You squinted your eyes at him, it seemed like he knew something you didn't know yet. “ Dad..?”

“ I don’t want to put stress on you, even more now that you are pregnant but… We found the serial killer’s new victim, a woman.”

You freeze. It was impossible. You and Alastor didn’t kill women, You focused on men, only. You didn’t kill this one.

“ What do you mean..?”

“ She had her left eye taken off and a smile carved on her face.”

You frowned. You always took the right eye, never the left one. Someone was trying to copy your murders… But why?

“ But, the killer only killed men so far. Why would they change their usual routine?”

“ I don’t know. John thinks this murder was made by a copycat. He said he could feel something was different.”

You nodded, looking at your hands. Well, you didn’t expect John to be the one who would see the truth but you didn’t know if this was good news. You didn’t know if Alastor knew about it, you had to see him. You didn’t know what you should do, was it good for you to let this copycat run free so if they messed up, they would be the one getting arrested…

You stayed with your parents all day, waiting for Alastor to come pick you up. Once your father slapped him on the back, congratulating him for your pregnancy you both left the family’s house. You waited for Alastor to start driving before opening your mouth.

“ Did you know about the woman who was killed ?” you turned your head toward your husband.

“ Yes, dear. I just learned it today. What are your thoughts?” he took one of your hands in his hand before kissing the back of it, his eyes still on the road.

“ I… I don’t know? I think it would be nice to let them be caught and not us but… Someone using our title and killing innocent people is making me angry. Furthermore, what if they knew we were the killer of all the previous victims? What if they knew more than they let on?” you bit your lips, looking at Alastor with a new determination. “ We need to find them.”

“ Finding a stalker, finding a copycat, life is always entertaining with you my love!” Laughed Alastor with an excited smile. “ I went to the crime scene this morning, guess who invited me?” he looked at you, beaming at your confused look. “ The one and only John Felleur ! It seemed like his cousin, Alice’s husband, forced him to work with me to find the serial killer.”

“ Wait, why would Trey want you to work with John?”

“ Well, from what I heard, he wants this killer to be found as soon as possible. And he told John I could be useful to trap the murderer.”

“ And how is that possible?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“ With my radio, dear! This copycat must want to be like us because they want to be the star of the show~! They want people to think about them, the radio to talk about them, and the world to know about their evil deeds.”

“ But, we are the real serial killer…” you were so confused.

“ Exactly, dear, so if I play my cards right, they would want to have a real name for themselves and so they would look for us, to get rid of us.” He smirked as he parked in front of your house. “ And then, we will kill them. Or send them to the police, I’m still not sure.”

Alastor held the door open for you, kissing your forehead, whispering sweet nothing that made your body relaxed. You both walked home, Alastor already going into the kitchen as you walked into the room that would be for your first child. You looked around with a soft smile. Soon, you will hold your baby in your arms… You walked toward your own bedroom and laid on the bed. You took Eamon in your arms with a happy smile.

“ What do you think they are going to be, Eamon, a boy or a girl?” you whispered against the plushie’ fur. You looked at the deer, stroking the red fur with a little smile.

Being a family.. You never really thought about it, in your head you already had your own family. Of course, they were your parents, aunts and uncles but there was also Alastor and Alice. Since childhood they have been in your life and encouraged you in every goal you had, no matter how twisted they were.

Now, in less than eight months, you would see someone who was the perfect mix of yourself and Alastor. Someone you would love even before they gave you anything, before they gave one thought about you, you would love them.

“ Dearest, wake up, dinner is served.”

You opened your eyes, looking at Alastor who was smiling at you, stroking your cheek with so much care you felt butterflies in your belly. You sat up and placed Eamon on its usual place before walking down in the living room, smiling as you smell Alastor’s cooking.

“ You are spoiling me.”

He laughed before you both began to eat. You talked about your daily lives, about the baby, mostly you. Alastor would look at you as you blablated about the baby, so excited to meet them. Alastor was just smiling, nodding at your words. You wondered if he was telling the truth about his feelings about the baby… Was he not as excited as you?

After dinner, you went into Alastor’s office and sat on his chair. You looked at his books with curiosity and watched as your shadow pointed a book on a shelf. You took it and smiled when you saw it was a voodoo’s book.

“ What do you want me to read?”

The shadow was showing its claws before pointing to the book, and seemed excited. You tilted your head but opened the book and flipped the page each time your shadow moved its hand. It beamed at you when you flipped a page and saw a spell in front of you.

“ Voodoo’s doll..?”

“ A Voodoo’s doll reflects the targeted person because an intimate aspect of the person is attached to it, often with the use of pins. Contrary to much popular assumption, the pins are not usually used to inflict harm on a person. Strands of hair or pieces of paper with the name of the person are most commonly used. The best ingredient is, of course, blood, but be careful, you need to be powerful enough to bind the target’s blood to the doll. If you do it badly, the person could feel something is targeting it and attack back.. ”

You looked at your shadow which was smiling down at you, buzzing with excitation. You closed the book, your shadow losing its smile.

“ Well… That’s great, but we don’t have anything to bind our aggressor. Nothing from the woman nor from the man. But, it was interesting, thank you.” You smiled at your shadow which facepalmed itself.

How rude.

You crossed your arms on your chest, frowning. You weren’t an expert in voodoo, you were still surprised you could do everything you were doing, so your shadow better not judge you. You looked at it, as it was showing you its hand and making a gesture like he was slapping someone. What in the..?

“ You want to slap them..?” you asked, trying to understand what your shadow wanted. It buzzed with anger when it saw you didn’t understand it. It did the same gesture, toward you and almost touched you. “ Hey! Don’t be violent!” You shouted, sitting on Alastor’s chair.

You looked as Alastor’s shadow came into the room and looked at your shadow which seemed depressed. You felt sorry but you didn’t understand!

“ I’m sorry.. I just… Don’t understand…” you sighed.

Alastor’s shadow touched yours and then walked toward you and opened the book to the Voodoo’s doll’s page. It put its finger on a word, tapping it eagerly.

Blood.

“ We don’t have their blood ! We were the one–” you stopped talking, staring at your shadow which beamed at you, showing you its finger once more, making the gesture to slap someone.

You remembered. It wasn’t slapping someone, like you believe it. It was clawing at someone. Before running away, your shadow clawed at the man’s face… Did your shadow have some of his blood on itself ?

You stood up so quickly, Alastor’s shadow flinched before smiling like a madman at you. You walked toward your shadow and looked at its fingers. There was nothing until you could see something red dripping down from its form.

Blood.

“ Alastor !”

You turned your head toward the door, hearing him walk toward you. He opened the door, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smirk.

“ Dearest?”

“ Do you think you could create a Voodoo’s doll?” you asked him, feeling excitement swirling in your belly. He tilted his head before looking at his shadow which seemed to be explaining to him everything that happened. Was Alastor able to talk with his shadow…? Why couldn’t you..?

“ Oh, interesting…” Alastor purred, walking toward you and your shadow which was still buzzing with excitement. He took the book from your hands and looked at your shadow with a wicked smile. “ Let’s get to work.”

You nodded, smiling widely at him. Alastor opened a secret door, behind a fake shelf, and you walked into the room. You and your husband managed it so you could train your power, but mostly for Alastor. He was the one who needed this space so if he wanted to make a spell, like the one he was going to do, he needed a … safeplace.

“ How are you going to make one..?”

“Most of them are filled with soft cotton that is bendable. The pins must be sharp so they can easily pierce the doll, without any effort. This shows how the targeted person is weak and very manipulatable.I should use moss… But, cotton, straw and old rags could also be used. There is far less rigidity in its materiality, however, many items of the doll are specific to the spirit to be invoked. The color, for instance, can help attract a certain desired spirit, as the food arranged around the doll can.” he said, working on the doll while explaining everything to you.

You always loved that about Alastor. He knew so many things and yet he never made you feel like an idiot. He would always explain everything to you, no matter the subjects. He would never sigh because you didn't understand. He would just explain again. He would make a wonderful dad to your child…

“ You are going to invoke another spirit..?” you frowned. Was it a good idea? You didn’t want Alastor to be sick once more.

“ Yes, but not something… Very powerful. I’m just going to have a spirit tail the man, so we can see where he lives.” he smirked, looking at the ceiling with an excited glint in his eyes. “ If I can hurt him the way he hurted you, I might let myself get tempted.”

You crossed your arms on your chest, frowning.

“ He was supposed to be my prey.”

“ What is yours is mine, and what is mine is yours, isn’t it, dear?” he chuckled when he felt your lips on his cheek.

“ You are lucky I love you.” you mumbled against his skin.

“ I know.”

You looked at him as he turned your face so he could kiss you on the cheek. You smiled before sitting on a chair and entertained the two shadows which were bored. You sang a song, making them dance with each other until Alastor’s shadow crushed your shadow’s foot and then they ran somewhere in the house, bantering as always.

You yawned, stretching yourself. It was getting late…

You turned your head toward Alastor who was still working on the doll. You pouted, you wanted to go to sleep but not without your husband… You closed your eyes, waiting for Alastor to finish.

“ Perfect.”

You opened your eyes, your mind still blurry from sleep. You looked at Alastor who was standing, the doll against the wall. You called your shadow at your side, which immediately did what you just told. Alastor held his hand toward you and you looked at your shadow which put the blood on the doll, snickering as it did so.

You watched as Alastor began to call on a spirit. You could see Kalfu behind Alastor, watching the scene with an amused smile. You couldn't hear anything when Alastor was calling for the spirit, was Papa Legba censoring the name of the spirit so you wouldn’t be tempted to call upon it? You saw a red light swirling around the doll before going inside of it. You gasped as you saw a monstrous owl looking at Alastor with a wide smile.

The spirit was crouching on the desk, next to the doll. It had big fangs, so big it seemed like the spirit couldn’t close its mouth because of it. You could see saliva drooling from its mouth, its eyes never leaving Alastor’s form. Feathers were all around its body, it really looked like an owl… a Terrific owl. Its eyes were all black, not a single glint of life was inside it… What did Alastor invoke..?

“ A pleasure to have you, you shall be rewarded if you do your job.” Alastor said, never being bothered from the hideous creature in front of him. “ Find the person who owns this blood. Tell me everything about it, and then, I shall kill him, and give you all of the man to you.”

You shivered as the spirit made an inhuman noise. You were used to spirits which looked like humans, your shadow, Baron Samedi, Kalfu and Papa Legba. It was the first time you really saw a spirit which looked like… a monster.

The owl opened its wing before flying through the ceiling. You looked at your husband who was smirking at the doll. He took it in his hand and laughed.

“ You are mine.” he spat, staring at the doll with madness and fury. You watched as Kalfu vanished and Alastor looked at you with his red eyes. “ Hah, dear. We are going to find him.” he sighed in bliss.

“ I’m… I’m worried, Alastor. You know you can count on me, right?”

“ I have known this since our childhood, dear.” He tilted his head at your words. He took one lock of your hair before kissing it affectionately. His eyes dived into yours with sincerity and mad affection. “ Why? Are you doubting my trust in you?”

“ It’s just.. I feel useless in times like this.”

“ How are you useless? You are the one who told me to make a Voodoo’s doll with the blood your shadow collected. Where are you useless, my love?” He smirked at you. You smiled at him.

“ It’s just… You know, for you, I would give all of myself to the devil–”

You gasped as Alastor took you by the throat, pinning you against the wall with a smile so big it looked inhuman, his shadow behind him taking more place in the room, taking away the light from the room. You looked at Alastor’s red eyes which were shining with pure madness. He squeezed your throat with one hand while the other one was stroking your cheek.

“ Don’t say that. Don’t say you would give yourself to someone else but me.” he said, his breath hitting your lips. You felt lightheaded when his grip on your throat tightened. You felt warm in your belly. How you loved him, him and his madness. “ I would fight the devil to keep you by my side. Angels, devils, who cares.” he spat.

You nodded, clinging at him, breathing hardly. You knew Alastor knew how to kill, so he knew how to play with your body without giving any real harm to it.

You kissed him, watching as even with your lips against his, his eyes were still dead staring at you, like he was waiting for you to say something. You closed your eyes, moving your lips against his, giving all of your love for him in this kiss.

“ I’m sorry…I’m yours…”

You felt his body relaxed and the grip on your throat lessened. You opened your eyes and looked at your husband whose eyes were their usual brown color. He stared at you, still smiling but he was less tense.

“ Of course you are, dearest. Running away right now would be pointless.” he smirked at you before kissing you once more. You hummed against his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He tapped your thighs, making you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist. He left the room and walked you toward your bedroom. You were so exhausted you fell asleep as soon as Alastor laid you on the bed.

You woke up in the night. You didn’t know why but you were having a bad feeling. You looked at the clock and saw it was almost 3am. You groaned, wanting to sleep again but you couldn’t… You looked at Alastor who was sleeping against you. He looked so peaceful..

You smiled, stroking his cheeks.

You looked at Eamon and frown when you saw his was illuminated in a reddish, greenish color. You stood up from the bed and took your plushie. What was going on..? You turned toward Alastor and almost shouted when you saw him, standing in front of you.

“ Alastor.. You scared me.” you smiled at him. He didn't answer so you showed him Eamon. “ Is it normal?”

You squealed as Alastor tugged you on the bed and sat on your thighs. You giggled, was he in need of attention? He took the knife from under his pillow and turned his face toward you.

“ I’m not really in the mood for … knife play.. Let’s cuddles?” you opened your arms for him with a big smile. You looked at him as he raised the knife and then you noticed it.

His eyes were closed.

You screamed his name when you saw him so close to stabbing you.

Your shadow jumped on him, pulling him off you. You quickly left the bed as Alastor was struggling against your shadow. You were panting, backing up from the bed. Was he a somnambulist and you never noticed it? Maybe he was having a nightmare..?

But this hypothesis flew out of the window when you saw Alastor’s shadow jumping on him, trying to pin him on the bed. What was going on?

“ Alastor, my love, talk to me..! Wake up!” you screamed, feeling so lost and scared. You walked toward him and took his hand with yours. You looked as Alastor opened his eyes, finally he was waking up…

Or not.

His eyes looked gold. Long gone were his chocolate eyes that you loved so much. He was staring at you with gold eyes.

You stepped back, your eyes turning red.

It wasn’t your Alastor.

“ Don’t make me hurt you, please.” you whispered as you were already telekinesising some object in your room. You watched as Alastor managed to struggle from the two shadows, his gaze set on you. You moved the pillows and cover toward him, but he quickly avoided it, running toward you.

You created a shield around Alastor, blocking him with your power. He was snarling at you, looking around, trying to find an escape. You stared at him, you didn't want to hurt him… You truly didn’t want to hurt him but how could you wake him up…

You turned your head toward Eamon which was still glowing. Maybe using the bound…? You quickly took Eamon as Alastor was hitting your shield with his fist, making himself bleed for his own strength.

You squeezed Eamon against your chest and closed your eyes. You needed to stay calm. If not, you wouldn’t be able to do anything.

You felt your soul detached itself from your body. You looked around you and saw Alastor, but you could also see something attaching itself to him. You couldn’t make out what it was but it was controlling him. You watched as the red thread was still connecting you and your husband. You moved toward the creature which opened its wings, snarling at you.

Oh no, not today.

You used your telekinesis to try to pull it off from your husband. You could see Alastor groaning in pain, falling to his knees. You then used Eamon, you didn’t really know how, but you were asking him to help you, and then, the red thread began to glow and you saw Alastor’s eyes turned brown for a few seconds. The creature hissed in pain, and then you saw with horror that the creature was trying to make Alastor hurted himself. He was taking the knife and dug it in his thigh, still controlled by the monster.

You felt a fury you didn’t know you could feel in this form. With a scream you manage to call on your power and project the creature from Alastor, out of your shield. You needed to kill it now! But as you moved toward it, it vanished.

You came back into your body without wanting to. You fell to your knees, gasping for air. Eamon wasn’t shining anymore.. You looked at Alastor who was looking at his hands with anger and confusion. He was losing a lot of blood…

You crawled toward him and asked him to take off his pants. He looked at you frowning.

“ You won’t heal me.”

“ You don’t have a choice… Hurry up…” you gasped. He looked at you and then at his wounds that seemed too deep to not be dangerous. He cursed before taking off his pants. You looked at the wounds before licking the injury, your tongue sliding against the blood pouring from his cut.

You winced when you felt a pain on your thigh, you already knew. Alastor’s wound was being transferred to you. You kept licking until his thight was as good as new. Alastor took you in his arms, his whole body shaking while your thigh was bleeding. Was he scared? You looked as both of your shadows were looking at you, frowning.

“ Are you okay, Alastor..?”

“ Kalfu!” Alastor shouted. You turned your head toward Kalfu that was sitting next to you, looking at your bloody thigh with a smirk even if the wound was already cured. “ You knew it was going to happen, didn’t you?” Alastor asked with a furious smile.

“ Of course! You were so full of yourself ! Making a voodoo’s doll against an opponent that maybe was using an angel’s power!” Kalfu laughed, looking at the both of you with a mocking gaze. “ You really used a weak spirit, thinking the spell wouldn’t turn against you, didn't you? Well, you learned something new tonight, Alastor.” Kalfu laughed once more, mocking you without hiding himself. “ But I must say, little missy did wonderful. You felt something was wrong before Alastor was possessed.”

You frowned. So that was really what happened. But how could you be awake before it happened..?

“ That’s Legba’s portégée for you.” Kaflu spat with anger but envy. “ But you always were connected to energy around you, so it isn’t very surprising.” He said, looking at Eamon.

You looked at Alastor who was biting his lips, making it bleed. Without thinking you lick his wound while he was trying to speak to Kalfu.

“ They aren’t working with an angel, and you knew it.”

“ That’s my protégée for you!” Kalfu clapped in his eyes with pride. “ Indeed, they aren’t working with an angel…”

You looked at Alastor, feeling your lips bleeding a little because of the cut. You touched his face, making sure he was looking at you.

“ Are you okay?”

Alastor’s body relaxed a little as his eyes fell into yours. He sighed before kissing your forehead.

“ Did I hurt you, my love?” You shook your head. “ I’m sorry.. I didn’t expect them to be… this skilled.” he said.

“ Who are they working with? Kalfu?” you looked at the spirit with a death stare. You really didn’t know if you could trust him, he seemed to enjoy putting Alastor in difficult situations..

“ Oh no, I wouldn’t want to work with them. I already have Alastor!” Kalfu laughed at your stare. “ They are working with a powerful being, someone who used to be God’s favorite!”

You blinked.

“ They are working with Samael.” Alastor said, in the quiet room. “ But he is known as Lucifer.”

Lucifer? Lucifer? Lucifer, as one of the most powerful angels before he fell to Hell? This Lucifer?

“ But… how.. How could we win against… Lucifer? Lucifer… Are you really sure?” you asked, looking at Alastor once more.

“ Yes, that is why we found a lamb in the abandoned building. That was a sacrificial lamb. And from what I saw, the woman was also a sacrifice for him. A catholic virgin woman.”

“ But.. But, they were… holding a Bible..” you were so confused, you felt a headache coming.

“ Yes, it was the Bible cover, but the book in itself is not. Trust me, before they managed to get the spirit and possess me, I managed to see where they were. And trust me, they won’t live another week.” You felt him grab you tighter. “ How dare they… Making me attack you…I'll tear out their heart and force them to eat it.”

You felt anger inside you, your shadow snarling with fury. Alastor knew where they were, it was now just a question of time. Kalfu vanished and Alastor took you to bed and checked your thigh.

“ I’m okay, my love.” You smiled at him.

“ You … You were amazing. Using the Eamon to make me come back…” he kissed your inner thigh, closing his eyes when he felt your hand in his hair. “ How could I let this happen…”

“ Alastor… I’m not mad at you.” You tugged him toward you, laying on the bed and placing his head against your chest. “ I made a vow to always be there for you, to protect you or heal you if needed… Don’t worry.”

“ Aren’t you scared we will fight two people who had asked for power from Lucifer, the fallen angel?” he asked you.

You looked at the ceiling. All you knew from Lucifer was that he was a fallen archangel who was banished from Heaven after attempting a failed rebellion against his father, being sent to Hell as its new ruler. You sighed, you fought against many opponents, you would win this one too.

You slid your hand on your belly and smiled. Yes, you would win.

“ I’m not scared. We are going to win. We are fighting against humans, we will win.”

—-----

“ Alright, I will tell you were with me all night.”

You hugged Alice. You told her you knew where the stalkers were and you were going to kill them tonight. She said she would be your alibi which you were grateful for. Alastor was sitting on the sofa, looking at Alice.

“ Where is your husband ? He will see we weren’t with you.”

“ Oh, he went into a business affair, he is going to come back in two days.” She smiled at you. “ Don’t worry, our alibi is safe.” She winked at you, making you smile. You asked if everything was going smoothly with her husband which she replied with a smile. “ Oh, perfectly! He knows everything about me~ I feel like I’ve known him for so long! Even if there is no romantic love involved.”

You looked at her belly, smiling.

“ So, did you find a name?”

She beamed at you, taking your hand in hers.

“ Oh, yes, I found it and Alyzée accepted it. I need to tell my husband but he doesn’t have his say.” She said with a big smile. “ I wrote the name in this envelope, I shall tell you the name when you come back.”

“ Why be overdramatic for a name?” Alastor asked, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile. “ Just tell her you didn’t find anything so you want to buy time.”

“ I’m the one being overdramatic? Do you hear yourself on the radio, Alastor?” She spat at him, giving him the middle finger.

You smiled at the scene in front of you. You couldn’t wait, will your child be friends with Alice’s child? You hoped it would turn out this way. Alastor would roll his eyes but you were sure he would like to see his child play with Alice’s.

But before this happy ending, you needed to kill the one threatening your story.

You stood up, Alastor doing the same and all of you walked toward the door. Alice hugged you strongly.

“ Please, be careful. Promise me, you will come back.”

You smiled at her. Alastor was smirking at her, full of himself like you liked it.

“ We will be back, don’t worry.”

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lochnymph · 2 days

Text

love’s divine charm - one shot

dark!joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit 18+ minors dni

word count: 19k

summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, Joel finds himself consumed by an all-encompassing desire: to claim the heart of a girl, whose innocence and purity stand out like a beacon amidst the darkness. He determined to make her his own.

warnings: rape/non-con, dead dove: do not eat, age difference, explicit p in v sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, loss of innocence, manipulation, possessive, blood, violence, murder, abusive parent, emotional fragility.

The cold grips the winter air of Wyoming with a firm handshake today. Though snow no longer falls, it covers the ground like a thick, white blanket, obscuring the grass as Joel and Tommy walk through the frosty landscape.

Joel is aimless as he follows Tommy through the winter’s cold, a bouquet of magnificent roses in Tommy’s hand. The beauty of the flowers is a contrast to the barren landscape, like a breath of warmth in the chill air. Three months have passed since Joel and Ellie made their home in Jackson, and yet Joel still feels out of place. He wonders where Tommy is leading him with the delicate roses in tow.

“Where are we goin’ exactly?” Joel asks.

“You’ll see,” Tommy answers.

With each step they take, an English-inspired cottage comes into view. Joel gazes upon it with a lingering appreciation. However, his attention soon shifts to a girl sitting gracefully on the front porch floor, your focus solely set on painting your toenails with a vivid shade of cherry red. Little brown bunny sleeping on your lap. The pink shorts you wear are so short that they appear to be a bit too small for your frame, exposing your bare legs. The knit brown jumper adds a touch of warmth to your look. "Pretty," Joel whispers to himself, enthralled by the sight.

“What?” Tommy asks.

“Nothin’.”

As Tommy carefully opens the quaint little gate, it emits a low creak that breaks the silence, causing your attention to shift to them.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Tommy says.

“Mr. Miller, good morning,” you says.

You quickly lower your head, gathering your nail polish and your brown bunny, trying to maintain your composure as you stand before the two men. Joel takes note of your timid expression, with his attention now fully on you. He feels an overwhelming sense of protectiveness towards you as if he wants to own you.

“I’m gonna call Mama, wait here,” you say with that soft voice of yours.

“No need to darlin’, I came for you,” Tommy says.

Joel’s gaze suddenly shifts towards him with an inquisitive look. What could he be up to with you?

“What?” you whispers.

“Here, it’s for you… Happy birthday,” Tommy gives you the flowers with a grin on his face.

As you accept the flowers from Tommy with a smile that illuminates your beautiful face, Joel can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He wishes he had been the one to offer you these beautiful blooms, seeing your cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink. Joel’s eyes linger on you, admiring your appearance, unable to tear himself away.

“You remember? Thank you so much, Mr. Miller,” you says. “Please come in, I just baked some brownies, and do you guys want some tea? … Mr?”

As your eyes meet for the first time, Joel is struck by your striking gaze, and he can’t help but think how beautiful they are. However, he soon realizes that you are unaware of his name, and he feels a sudden sense of self-consciousness. He quickly introduces himself, hoping to make a good first impression on this girl.

“I’m Joel, Joel Miller.”

As you introduce yourself, Joel’s heart flutters with a sense of admiration. He repeats your name quietly to himself, savoring the way it rolls off his tongue.

“You have a brother?” you ask Tommy softly.

“Yeah, he just moved here.”

“Oh… okay. Come in.” you gesture them to follow you inside.

As you bustle around the dining room, preparing a cozy table setting for Joel and Tommy, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride in your efforts. The soft pink tablecloth with tiny roses on it, coupled with the delicious brownies and red cherries, all placed in a decorative bowl, is an enticing sight. But what truly warms Joel’s heart is the sight of you smiling as you serve them, and he feels a growing fondness for this angelic girl. The aroma of camomile tea wafts through the room from the teapot you’ve placed on the table.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel says.

“Please eat,” you say with that pink shade on your cheeks. “My mama’s upstairs, I’m gonna call for her.”

As your mother enters the dining room, you eagerly spring from your chair to greet her with a warm smile. However, her attention seems to be solely focused on Tommy and Joel, and she doesn’t even glance in your direction. This makes you feel a bit hurt and ignored, and you’re not sure why she’s acting this way. You remain standing by the table, feeling awkward and uncertain about what to do, looking from your mother to Tommy, Joel, and back again.

“Joel, Tommy. What are you guys doing here?” your mother says excitedly.

Joel’s attention shifts to the change in your demeanor, and he can’t help but feel a pang of concern. The hurt in your eyes is palpable, and he can’t fathom why your mother and Tommy seem blind to it. He feels a strong desire to comfort you and make you feel better, but he’s not sure how to approach you without drawing too much attention to the situation.

Eventually, your mother joins your side, dropping her bag and settling beside you. She and Tommy chat about every topic, but your gaze is solely fixed on your mother. Meanwhile, Tommy seems to be playing matchmaker, as your mother cannot keep her eyes off Joel. To make things worse, Joel does not reciprocate her interest, as she continues to flutter her eyelashes in his direction.

Joel’s attention remains firmly focused on you, deaf to the conversations around him. The noise of their chatter becomes little more than an otherworldly soundtrack as his gaze continues to be transfixed on your face. He cannot look away and the thoughts of you occupy his mind entirely. He wants your attention.

“That little rabbit over there, is that yours?” Joel’s finger gently points at the brown rabbit, who sits by the window, peacefully munching on some spinach.

“Yeah,” you beam at his question.

“What’s its name?”

“Her name’s Cinnabun.”

Joel smiles. “That’s a cute name, baby.”

Joel can’t help but notice the way you blush at the nickname, and it fills him with a strange sense of satisfaction.

“You’re a good cook by the way. The brownies are really good,” Joel smiles towards you.

Joel notices the way your eyes sparkle with a unique glimmer with his words. “Thank you, Mr. Miller, I’m glad you like them.”

“I think it’s a little bitter, you could do better, Rosie,” your mother says.

“I tried my best,” your innocent face shows a hint of sadness, and it pierces his heart to see it.

“Rosie…” your mother says with a distressed face, “I told you not to wear this tablecloth, it’s only for special occasions!”

“It is a special occasion, it’s my special day.”

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, and the sight fills Joel with a profound sense of sadness. He yearns to be able to wipe your tears away and comfort you.

“Here we go, talking back again,” your mother laughs sarcastically.

Joel is at a loss as to why he feels this way about you. A strange, primal drive within him compels him to protect and possess you, almost as if you are his very own. The thought of your mother treating you badly, on your birthday of all days, fills him with a deep rage as if a red mist has settled over his eyes. He swears that he would never treat Sarah or Ellie in such a way, and the thought of doing so is unthinkable.

“How old are you again?” Joel asks, ignoring your mother.

“Eighteen.”

“Happy birthday again, sweetheart. Thank you for the food and everything, it’s perfect.”

The sight of your pink cheeks is a sight to behold. He can’t help but feel a deep sense of admiration for you, as your blushes paint a picture of beauty and innocence. In that instant, Joel knows that his desire to possess you is all-consuming, and he’ll stop at nothing to make it happen. His feelings for you are so strong that he feels as though he’s been swept up in a tidal wave. He knows in his heart that he’ll do whatever it takes to make you his own, whether you want it or not.

“Is Rosie your nickname? Like the flower?” Joel asks.

“Yeah. I’ve loved roses since I was a kid, that’s why Mama starts calling me Rosie.”

Rosie. Rosie. Rosie.

As Joel arrives home from your place, you occupy his mind. The memory of you is like a shadow cast over his waking thoughts, and he can’t seem to escape it.

Joel knows he is not a good man, and he never pretends to be one. He has never believed in God. He knows it, even before the outbreak, and the loss of Sarah only served to further cement his resentment. In his mind, if God existed, He would never have allowed the horrors of the last 20 years to happen. Until he met Ellie, Joel struggled to believe in a higher power. However, her presence in his life has brought him a sense of gratitude and wonder, and he can’t help but feel thankful for the blessing of having her in his life.

And then you came…

A pure-hearted girl with innocence and beauty. He prays to the Lord above, hoping that He will forgive him for the thoughts and desires that are consuming him. He yearns to have you all to himself, to protect you from the cruel world and its dangers. Whether it’s love or an obsession, Joel doesn’t know. But what he does know is that he’s willing to do anything to keep you safe and to be the one to make you his.

Your beauty is imprinted on his mind. He can’t seem to get enough of your face, your beautiful eyes, long lashes, pink lips, and skin like satin. He’s also drawn to your scent, and he wants to be near you all the time. God, your scent. Joel wonders if it’s your natural scent, you smell like vanilla and flowers. He yearns to bury his face in your neck, to smell the aroma of your skin, and to feel your pulse against his lips. His desire for you is all-consuming and he can’t seem to get enough of you. He wants to savor every moment, to breathe in your scent, and to feel the warmth of your body against his own. He wants to be consumed by you, to be inside you, to lose himself in your eyes, and to become one with you. He feels as if he’s drowning in his feelings for you, and his heart is racing at the thought of being with you, and it turns him on.

Those pink shorts you wore that are too small and too tight for you… he could almost see your bare pussy. He can’t help but ponder the feeling, the sensation, the thought of what it would feel like with his head between your thighs and what your taste would be like, he just knows that you must taste sweet. The lovely noises you’d make when he…

Joel seriously needs to stop, but he can’t. Instead, he pulled his thick cock out of his pants and begin to stroke himself to the thought of you, and it feels so fucking good, he never came so quick. He feels slightly guilty afterward, he knows you are so much younger than him, but he can’t help but feel a little in love with you. He’s an old man, ravaged by time and the harsh realities of life. And here you are like an angel fallen from the heavens.

And now he is determined to come up with a plan to have you, to make you his only, by any means necessary.

A week later…

Joel finally says yes to your mother, after she pesteringly asks him to go for a drink and talk. It’s obvious that your mother is very fond of him, she doesn’t even try to hide it, everyone can see it, Joel thinks. He knew your mother before he even met you, he saw her around Tipsy Bison drinking and gossiping with a group of women after she came back from patrols, but they never got paired together, and he doesn’t even care.

He sits by the fireplace, surrounded by the warm flames that dance before him. The heat from the fire radiates out, warming his body and easing the tension in his muscles. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and allows himself a moment of peace. Just as he’s about to drift off, he hears footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s Tommy, returning with their drinks. He takes the drink from Tommy’s hand and takes a sip.

“Where’s Maria?” Joel asks.

“Upstairs, lull Oliver to sleep,” Tommy takes a seat beside Joel.

“Is she okay?”

Tommy smiles. “Yeah, she’s much better now.”

“That’s great.”

“So, how ya doin’, Joel?” Tommy asks. “How’s Ellie?”

“I’m fine,” Joel takes a sip of the drink, “You know how Ellie’s now, spendin’ too much time with her new friends and school stuff. I barely see her, since she moved to her little garage.”

“It’s normal Joel, just like us when we were around that age. Too busy spendin’ time with friends and forgot to come home,” Tommy says.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he admits, his voice soft and vulnerable. “But I can’t help but feel as though she’s slowly driftin’ away from me after we came back from the hospital.”

“Maybe she needs time, Joel.”

Joel lets out a deep sigh. Maybe Tommy’s right, he thinks. Maybe she needs time.

They sit together in comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts. But then, Tommy breaks the silence, and the moment is shattered.

Tommy speaks, “Is it true, Joel? That you’re goin’ out with Rosie’s mom, Louisa?”

Joel’s head snaps to Tommy, and his face is unreadable.

“Wait, what? How did ya know?”

“Calm down, Joel,” Tommy snicker. “Louisa told me this mornin’, at the dining hall. She said ya asked her out.”

Joel furrows his brow. “That’s not true, she’s the one who keeps pesterin’ me. Askin’ me to go on a date with her.”

“I know, Joel. I know,” Tommy laughs.

“Wha’ do ya mean you know? Why er’ ya laughin’?”

Joel’s brow furrows in wrathful indignation. Yet though he and she had yet to embark upon a single date, she was already concocting falsehoods.

“Why do ya think I played cupid at Rosie’s birthday last week?” Tommy says with giggles. “She’s been botherin’ me too, askin’ for my help.”

“Jesus, we’re not even goin’ out yet,” Joel shakes his head.

“Honestly I was a bit taken aback, I didn’t think you would say yes to her.”

If only Tommy or anyone else knew the true motive behind Joel’s agreement to go on a date with your mother, that the only reason he accepted was because it was the only way he could be with you and own you.

Joel’s first date with Louisa is a tedious one, if he can describe it in a single word. They spend the evening sippin’ whiskey and scarfing down grub at the Tipsy Bison. Not only is Joel’s first date with Louisa a tedious affair, but her self-centered chatter makes the evening even more unbearable. She blabs on about her own life, never bothering to ask about Joel’s family or interests. But Joel reminds himself that every hour of it will be worth it because he can get to know you. Sometimes he wonders how you could be such an angel, so different from your mother.

It feels like an eternity after listening to Louisa babbling about herself, until she finally mentions your name, as if waking his brain from a trance.

“I’m tired of Rosie. She can’t even seem to do one thing properly. This morning, she almost burned the house down after trying to make some fucking pancakes, for goodness’ sake. Not to mention, she burned the skirt I was supposed to wear tonight when she said she wanted to help iron them.” Louisa rolls her eyes. “She just makes everything worse by touching them, such a useless girl.”

Joel’s blood boils as he listens to Louisa’s cruel words. He can’t understand how a mother can talk about her daughter like that, or about someone who was trying to help and care for the people they love. All he can think is that your mother doesn’t see you for who you truly are, only seeing you as a troublemaker who doesn’t deserve love or attention. Joel would never treated you that way.

“Does she know where you are now?” Joel asks, trying to compose his anger.

“No, why should I tell her?” Louisa scoffs.

Joel struggles to hold back his anger until the dreadful date finally ends, trying his best not to show how much he cares for you, to not come across as too obvious about his feelings. Like the gentleman he is, Joel walks Louisa home with their hands intertwined, until they finally arrive in front of her house.

He can’t remember the exact moment when Louisa kissed him, as if the whole evening had been one long blur that led up to that point. All he knows is that he ended up inside her house but realized what he was doing and broke away when he saw that you were sleeping peacefully on the carpet in the living room on your stomach, using your book as a pillow. What a sight.

Joel’s eyes wander, as his thoughts wander to your beauty; your hair cascading across one-half of your pretty face while you rest peacefully, wearing a skimpy baby pink pajama set comprised of a sleeveless shirt and short pants. Such a breathtaking sight to behold, your serene appearance makes his heart sing.

You stir in your sleep, soft murmurs escaping your lips, a symphony of innocence that stirs a primal fire within Joel. His gaze lingers on your form, you provoke him. He can feel his cock getting erect and hardening in his jeans. Meanwhile, Louisa is lost in the tender art of kissing his neck, oblivious to your presence, or just doesn’t care.

“You’re hard,” Louisa chuckles as she palms the bulge in his jeans. “Is it for me?”

It is for you.

She kisses his lips again. In a flash, Joel clasps her face and kisses her in return, even though he doesn’t like it, their lips colliding in an urgent dance. For he would do anything to return here and see you again. If he refuses Louisa, he might never have the chance to see you. So, he resolves to play along until he gets what he wants.

Ascending the staircase, she guides him to her bedroom.

He fucks her hard from behind, her face pressed down. Fingers imprinting her hips, breath searing her spine. He closes his eyes and envisions you in every fervent thrust. A symphony of desire echoed through the room, a tantalizing melody of wet, pornographic sounds—skin meeting skin in rhythmic harmony, each slap echoing with primal passion, and echoing moans.

He replays the intoxicating memory of your sleeping form in his mind—the soft symphony of your moans, the tantalizing way you writhe, the smooth curve of your bare thighs, and oh, that tight pink shorts hugging your round ass—it all pushes him over the edge, sending him spiraling into ecstasy.

He can feel her walls clenched against him as she reaches the peak of ecstasy. Joel withdraws just in time, his own arousal reaching its peak. With a primal groan, he strokes himself feverishly, releasing a torrent of warm cum all over her quivering back.

Joel lay next to Louisa who was still face down, his chest laboring for each shallow breath. He closes his eyes for a moment and whispers – Rosie. Because you are all he can think about.

“What did you just say?” Louisa asks, turning to face Joel.

“I said: are you okay?”

“Never been better,” Louisa smiles and kisses Joel’s cheek. “It was so great, Joel.”

Joel’s heart stops for a second; he thinks she heard it. Louisa starts to hug him, and he can’t help but feel uncomfortable, so he immediately gets up from the bed and puts his jeans back on. He doesn’t even take off his shirt when he fucked her.

“Wait here, I need some air,” is all Joel murmurs before slipping out of her bedroom, never meeting her gaze. He leaves her there, untouched and untended, not even offering to clean her or bring her water.

Joel drifts into the living room to see you, but you’ve already vanished. Where are you? Did you hear everything? He wanders into the kitchen, thirst driving him, but instead, he finds you—a solitary figure, perched on the cold floor, bathed in the refrigerator’s pale glow, spooning strawberry jam from the jar, lost in the ruby sweetness. He can’t help but admire your innocent beauty.

“Rosie,” Joel softly calls for you.

You hadn’t noticed him until the moment his presence intruded upon your solitude, a sudden jolt to your fragile reality. Your eyes meet Joel’s, wide and apprehensive, a doe caught in the trap of the hunter’s gaze, reflecting a mixture of fear and guilt, as if you’ve been caught in the act of wrongdoing.

“Mr. Miller?” you whisper. “Why are you here?”

“Ummm…,” he honestly doesn’t know how to answer that question. “What are ya doin’, baby? Why aren’t ya in bed at this time?”

“I can’t sleep, I’m starving,” you say quietly. “Please don’t tell Mama I eat this.”

You quickly put the jar back in the refrigerator.

When Joel draws close enough, he looks down at you, noticing your pretty eyes—swollen and shadowed as if haunted by tears. Now, the glisten returns, eyes welling up once more, and what startled Joel most was the bruise blossoming on your left cheekbone, a delicate mark of some cruel, hidden suffering. What happened to you?

“What happened, baby?” Joel asks.

Joel crouches down, his voice a soft inquiry as he reaches to touch your bruised cheek. You flinch, recoiling from his hand, and the sight of you like this—fragile and wounded—tears through his heart.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he says calmly. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Joel’s hand reaches for your face once more, and you allow it, his touch a hesitant whisper on your skin. He caresses your bruised cheek with tenderness, careful not to awaken the purple pain beneath the surface. Your skin, so soft, is a stark contrast to the rough, calloused landscape of his hand. You seem to linger, caught in a hesitant stasis before the words find their escape.

“Nothing happened,” you sway your head. “Are you Mama’s date? Did you two just fight?”

Fight? What are you talking about?

It seems like you’re attempting to sidestep his question.

“No, baby, we’re not fightin’. Why’d you think that?”

“I heard sounds upstairs like you were fighting and screaming. It woke me up,” you say.

Joel's heart falters, he freezes like a startled deer caught in the unyielding glare of headlights.

God, you are so innocent.

He never fathoms your innocence runs so deep. Yet, the sincerity etched upon your face betrays an innocence untouched by the shadows of knowledge. Truly, you are a pure angel untouched by the world’s taint.

He doesn’t think you’ve heard them, he believes he’s being careful and quiet, but evidently, he is not.

“I’m sorry I woke you up. I promise ya we’re not fightin’. Can ya tell me what actually happened to yer face and why are you cryin’?” Joel says, attempting to shift the topic away from himself and onto you.

“And don’t dodge the question now, tell me the truth!” he says sternly.

He thinks his tone fractures you, tears cascading from your delicate eyes, as you struggle to contain your sobs. Joel’s conscience weighs heavy with remorse for his harsh words, yet he needs you to tell the truth. But Joel can’t help but think you are so pretty when you cry.

“She makes me promise not to tell,” your voice is vulnerable and quiet almost like a whisper.

Joel’s hands instinctively cradle your cheeks once more, tenderly sweeping away the tracks of your tears. He sits before you now, upon the floor, his face mere inches from yours, eyes locked.

“I don’t fuckin’ care, baby. Who?”

You seem hesitant for a bit before you utter, “Mama.”

Joel speaks, anger palpable in his voice. “She did this to ya?”

“It’s my fault, I accidentally burned the skirt she was supposed to wear tonight,” You shed more tears. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. Please don’t be mad.”

“No, baby, I’m not mad at ya.”

He releases his grasp from your face, seizing your exposed thighs and enveloping your quivering frame in his lap, drawing you close in a tight embrace You appear tentative, yet eventually, you intertwine your fingers around his neck and wrap your legs around his hips. He tenderly strokes your hair, burying his face within its strands, inhaling deeply the scent of your vanilla-scented shampoo, finding solace in it. He can feel your tears on his shirt.

Joel’s fury surges as the reality of your mother’s actions settles in. His jaw clenches, and he struggles to contain the rage building within him. With a sharp inhale, he manages to utter, “How could she do this to ya?” Each word drips with a potent mix of disbelief and indignation, his eyes ablaze with righteous anger, ready to confront the one who had caused you pain. “Did she do this a lot?”

You nod.

“What else did she do? Tell me, baby.”

“She grabbed my hair roughly, hitting me, and wouldn’t allow me to eat. Sometimes, she locked me in a closet until she returned home,” your whisper barely audible.

It suffices for Joel. The realization sets in that your mother’s anger ignites over the smallest things. How long has she tormented you, inflicted such pain and abuse? How long have you suffered her cruelty? He vows to act, to end this. He must put a stop to it.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he kisses your hair. “I’m here. I’m not gonna let her hurt ya, alright?”

Joel gently grasps your face, looking into your teary eyes. He caresses your cheek and whispers, “You’re safe with me. You can tell me everythin’.”

“Please don’t tell Mama,” you sway your head. “Promise me, Mr. Miller.”

“I promise, baby.”

Joel presses his lips upon your forehead, then moves to your right cheek, tenderly touching the bruise upon your left, before finally planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. He yearns to kiss your lips, yet he restrains himself, at least for now.

He rests his forehead upon yours. He takes in your features—God, you’re so pretty. He adores the hue of your eyes, the flush of your cheeks, the plump pink of your lips. Suddenly, he’s acutely aware of your body pressed against his, your warmth and small frame on his lap, contrasting with his broad build. He can feel the heat between your legs through his jeans, a sensation that pierces through him, and despite his efforts, he cannot suppress the arousal stirring within him. He feels his cock growing erect and hardening, poking into your covered little pussy. Shit.

Joel’s arousal surges at your sudden whimper, stirring something deep within him. His cock, already hard, now throbs painfully, and he can’t suppress a groan.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers.

He lifts you, your small form a weightless burden on his arm. With a ghostly grace, he shuts the refrigerator door, its cold breath sealed away. The house sighs in darkness as he carries you, silent and solemn. He hopes your mother slumbers deeply, so she won’t intrude on you.

He tucks you into your pink bed, you had some stuffed animals. Your room, a shrine to your essence, with its floral walls smothered in posters. The dim light casts shadows that dance on the edges of your sanctuary.

“Go to sleep, Rosie.”

He caresses your face and kisses your forehead before he leaves your room. His erection is still half-hard, but he decides not to take you now. Soon.

All Joel can think about right now is how to put a stop to it, so your mother won’t hurt or bother you again.

It’s been a week since Joel started going out with your mother. The whole town knows; your mother made sure of that. Joel can tell that every woman in this town fancies him; the way they bat their eyes at him in the dining hall or at the Tipsy Bison, sometimes even daring to ask him out. He turns them down gently. Despite his rough past, people have seen him change. A handsome man with a daughter, a guardian of the town, always lending a hand. In everyone’s eyes, Joel Miller is a good man. But people don’t just fancy him; they fear and respect him.

Joel visits your house nearly every day under the guise of dating your mother. She appears preoccupied, her attention solely on Joel. She has little time for you. The silver lining is your well-being; as long as Joel is there for your mother, she doesn’t cause you harm. Yet, Joel can discern from your sad expression that you love your mother, craving her love and attention despite how badly she treats you.

It’s one of those nights when your mother is away, patrolling Wilson Valley. He still comes to your house after she’s gone, expecting to find you alone. But as he reaches the doorstep, he hears your laughter mingled with a boy’s voice. He rushes inside, finding you on the carpet in the living room, surrounded by books, with a boy your age. A surge of rage courses through him at the sight of you alone with a boy.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Joel’s voice brims with rage.

“Mr. Miller?” you speak softly. “Mama’s not home.”

“I came for ya, what this boy doin’ in this house?”

Your face reflects confusion at Joel’s obvious irritation. “We were just studying together.”

“Studyin’? Alone, at night? Don’t you go playin’ games with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” your voice breaks. “We were just working on our homework. Mrs. Potts paired us up.”

“I ain’t interested in hearin’ none of your excuses. You know better than to be alone with a boy,” Joel says with fury.

Perhaps you’re unaware, but Joel sees beyond the facade of that boy’s face. He senses the ulterior motives lurking behind his seemingly innocent presence in your home at night, and the smirk adorning his lips only confirms his suspicions. Joel understands the minds of boys your age, and it fuels his anger further. His jaw tightens, his knuckles pale against his clenched fists.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t mean to upset you,” tears trickle down from your eyes as your voice quivers low. “But I didn’t do anything wrong. Why are you so angry?”

“Why am I angry?!”

“Please, don’t be mad. I’ll never do it again,” you bow your head.

“You’re damn right you won’t. From now on, you’re not to see this boy again without supervision. You get that?”

“Go home, Luke. I’ll finish this,” you whisper gently.

Luke’s expression twists with dismay as he observes your compliance with Joel’s orders. “What? No! Why should we listen to him? He’s not even your dad.”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Luke scoffs in disbelief, casting a disapproving gaze at you. “What a waste,” he remarks. “Shouldn’t have picked you.”

“Get up, you!” he bellows at Luke, seizing his shirt before he can react, guiding him forcefully to the front door, and shoving him out. “Don’t you dare return here!”

He slams the door shut before Luke can utter a word, swiftly locking it behind him. Hearing your quiet sobs, he returns to find you hunched over, collecting your scattered books and papers one by one. Despite knowing he has shattered your heart, he feels no remorse for his actions.

“Baby girl,” he whispers to you.

He approaches you with a measured pace, lowering himself to crouch before you. Yet, you refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes fixed on the ground. He attempts to reach for your face gently, but you flinch away, emitting a soft whimper of pain.

“Please don’t,” you whisper.

“No, baby. I’m not gonna hit ya,” he speaks softly.

He seizes your books, flinging them to the floor, enfolding your trembling frame in a tight embrace. Tears soak his shirt as you weep.

“Never repeat that again,” he whispers sternly.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, your voice almost a whisper.

“Let’s get you somethin’ to eat, I brought you some food.”

He carries you to the kitchen, gently placing you on the dining table. With meticulous care, he prepares the meal he had brought for you: pesto pasta and a bottle of apple juice.

Setting the plate before you, he watches, his eyes filled with a silent plea for you to eat.

Your eyes are swollen and reddened, your cheeks flushed, with streaks of drying moisture upon your skin. Your face is softened, yet marked by an unmistakable weariness and vulnerability.

“Where’s yours?” you ask.

“I‘ve already eaten. Eat, little one,” he speaks and takes a seat beside you, gently stroking your head.

After taking a bite of the spaghetti, you close your eyes and continue to eat. Joel smiles at the sight of you.

“Taste good,” you speak softly.

After finishing your meal, Joel leads you back to the living room and settles onto the sofa beside you.

“Can I go to my room?” your voice barely a whisper tinged with apprehension, noticeable even to Joel.

“We’re not done yet,” He speaks firmly, leaving no space for debate.

It silences you, your gaze fixed upon your lap, lacking the courage to meet Joel’s eyes. Despite his desire for you to feel secure in his presence, there’s an unsettling pleasure in witnessing your fear of him—it stirs something primal within him, awakening a dormant darkness. It’s as if he holds dominion over you, and you find yourself unable to resist his will.

“Listen to me real good now, little one. If I ever catch you alone with a boy again, there’s gonna be some consequences. You hear me?”

“B-but we were just stud—”

“I don’t care ‘bout your excuses. I ain’t gonna tolerate no more of this behavior. If it happens again, you’ll regret it, baby girl.”

“I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Make sure it doesn’t,” he says. “Bedtime, c’mon.”

You trail behind Joel to your room, obedient as a shadow. His satisfaction lies in your compliance, unblemished by questions. With swift precision, he readies your bed and then commands you to sit. The room is a dusky cocoon, illuminated by the faint, flickering light of scented candles he’s bestowed upon you, souvenirs from his patrols. Each day this week, he’s returned with offerings—scented candles, perfume, a delicate dress, or dolls. Your blush betrays your gratitude, a silent affirmation that feeds his need for dominance. He’s aware that no one has ever treated you quite like he does.

It seems like your mother feels jealous of you. Sometimes, they argue about it at night when you’re sleeping downstairs. It’s about how Joel seems to care more about you than her, and how he never brings her any gifts or does anything special for her. He’s not particularly bothered either way, to be honest.

He goes to your drawer to fetch your nightly attire and chooses the skimpiest option: a white tank top with frilly edges and a cute pink bow at the center of the cleavage, paired with shorts. To him, there is an intoxicating allure in seeing you adorned in such finery. In the periphery of his vision, he spies the delicate undergarments neatly folded within the drawer’s confines. Perhaps he had filched a pair or two of your panties in your absence, clandestinely preserving them for later reverie. Yet, it appears you remain unaware.

He turns to you, now standing in front of your seated form, as you look up at him with innocent, doe-like eyes.

“Let’s take off these clothes, little one,” he speaks gently.

He now kneels, his stature still towering over yours, emphasizing your diminutive form. Your countenance betrays a mix of confusion and fear in response to his directive. His hand ventures towards the hem of your top, only to be abruptly halted by your trembling hand, panic flickering across your face.

“B-but Mr. Miller,” you whisper.

“It’s okay, little one, it’s just me,” he says, his palms stroking your hips. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with this. I’m technically yer dad now, so it’s my job to take care of ya. Do ya trust me?”

You seem lost in thought for a moment, a shadow passing over your face, before you answer with a hesitant, fragile “o-okay,” barely more than a whisper.

He observes you momentarily, your face so pure, almost too beautiful for its own sake. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

His hands move slowly from your hips, sliding underneath your top to stroke your sides, then tracing the hem of your top before gently removing it from you.

God, you’re so beautiful.

He gazes intently at your body, your skin like delicate silk. The baby pink bra with its dainty bow in the center clings perfectly to your form; he wishes he could capture this moment forever. Perhaps, on his next patrol, he might stumble upon a Polaroid camera. The sight of you elicits a deep groan from within him, and his cock grows erect.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Miller?” you ask.

“Nothin’, baby. You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice deep.

Once again, he makes you blush. You bow your head shyly as he struggles to conceal his smile. With a gentle touch, he unclasps your bra, revealing your soft, inviting breasts. They are full and supple, with curves that seem tailor-made for his hands to explore. Hardened nipples beg for attention. He wants to bite and suck on them until you cry and beg him to stop. His cock throbs painfully hard in his jeans at the mere sight, and he whispers – Jesus.

His eyes darken, the smile fading from his face as an urgent need to devour you overtakes him.

Then, he swiftly moves to your jeans and yanks them down a little roughly. You whimper, and he doesn’t realize he’s hurting you, your skin slightly red from the force. He notices your frilly white panties with a tiny pink rose in the middle, slightly damp in the center.

Joel tries so hard to maintain his composure. He takes a deep breath, needing to regain control. He feels like a wolf stalking a lamb, a hunter closing in on his prey.

“It’s wet, little one,” he speaks, eyes on your panties. “Let’s take this off too, alright?”

“A-alright,” you whisper.

He gently caresses your thighs, savoring the softness of your skin, then removes your panties as you lift your hips. He spreads your legs and finally gets to see your bare pussy. He holds back a groan at the sight, noticing the gleam of your wetness on your lips, shining in the dim light. He’s determined to devastate that little pussy of yours. He uses his index and middle fingers to part your soaked lips, spreading them apart to reveal your little clit, which gleams as a bead of liquid trickles across his fingertip. He presses your hardened clit, causing you to jolt. He deliberately traces agonizing circles over the sensitive bud, coaxing forth a delicate whimper from you—the sound he always longs to hear.

“Mr. Miller, stop,” you speak, swiftly retreating, yet in an instant, he seizes your thighs and firmly returns you to your position.

“Hey, stay still! You’re wet, baby girl. I’m gonna take care of it, you wanna get sick?!” he speaks sternly, irritation evident in his tone.

“Am I sick?” you whisper.

He knows he shouldn’t lie about you being sick or something of the sort, yet he finds himself unable to resist any longer. He craves you, not when you’re squirming and attempting to flee from him. He sees the tears in your eyes, the furrowed lines on your brow, and the downturned corners of your mouth. At this moment, there seems to be no other choice; he must touch, feel, and taste you.

“Not when you let me take care of you,” he says.

He caresses your delicate cheek, it feeling so small in his hand. Your gaze is distant as you meet his eyes. He traces your features, then moves to your pretty lips, and without hesitation, he kisses you. You attempt to retreat, but he swiftly maneuvers his hand behind your head, anchoring you in place. Your hands, trapped between his chest and yours, are unable to move.

Your lips, soft and tempting like a forbidden fruit, fuel a primal hunger within him. Each kiss leaves him craving more, lost in the intoxicating sensation of desire. He loves the taste of your sweet lips. As you attempt to catch your breath through parted lips, Joel seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, eagerly savoring the taste of you, his tongue gliding against yours, slick and slippery. He kisses you with haste and fervor, his lips leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. You moan into his mouth, the sound reverberating straight to his core, eliciting a groan from deep within him.

He lifts you up and gently maneuvers your small body onto the bed, placing your head on the pillow. Now atop you, he kisses his way from your mouth to your neck and sucks on your pulse, your fingers tangling in his hair. Your core was pressed against him, feeling incredibly hot against his abdomen.

“Mr. Miller,” you whimper.

“Was that your first kiss, baby girl?” he murmurs against your jaw, and you only answer with a nod.

Joel adores the notion of being your first in everything, reveling in the idea of your purity and untouched innocence, a feeling he can’t quite articulate. He savors the sight, etching every detail of you into his memory; your exquisite body and divine face, eyes teary.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, little one,” he breathes.

He kisses you again, working his way from your lips to your throat to your breasts. His hands find your breasts, eager and needy, his mouth kissing and lightly sucking at the soft flesh until, with an unintended force, he bites down too hard, drawing blood, and you scream in response.

“Shhh, I’m sorry, baby. Got carried away,” he says. He feels the blood on his lips and instinctively licks it, savoring the metallic taste. With a newfound desire, he continues to lick some of it from your breast until it’s clean, he leaves behind red and purple bruises as evidence of his passion. His mouth latches onto your erect nipple, sucking and licking as he gropes your other breast. The sounds of his actions and your soft whimpers fill the room, creating an obscenely erotic atmosphere.

He silently thanks the heavens that your mother isn’t home, allowing him to do whatever he pleases with you, free from any interruptions. Even your quiet sobs fail to deter him.

He kisses down to your soft tummy, trailing lower until he reaches your slit. He presses his lips to your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from you. You attempt to close your legs, but he firmly holds your thighs open with a hard grip. He needs to taste you. He languidly flattens his tongue, letting the puffy walls of your pussy parts allow him to skim your slit. You let out soft moans at this, and he groans in response to your cute noises.

“Mr. Miller!” you moan.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers. “This pretty pussy has never been touched before, has it?”

He slaps your cunt hard, making you jolt and cry out in pain. “Mr. Miller, please. It hurts.”

Despite your quiet begging, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t know what has come over him; it feels like the animal inside him has taken full control. Your small hands try to stop him, but they are no match for Joel’s strength He continues to slap your cunt multiple times until it’s red and puffy.

Then, he roughly grabs your thighs and begins to ravish your cunt. You whimper once more, fingers tangling in his hair, eliciting a groan from him. Your feet squirm, causing the sheets to become disheveled. He vigorously sucks on your adorable little clit, swirling his tongue around before pressing even deeper.

“Such a perfect little pussy, taste sweet too,” he groans.

He inserts two fingers inside your tight hole while kissing and sucking on your clit, his tongue stroking the sensitive bud. Your little hole is so tight that his fingers almost struggle to enter. He can’t help but wonder what it would be like when it’s replaced with his big cock—whether it would fit inside you or not. But he’s determined to make it fit.

At last, his fingers slip inside your tight hole, eliciting a loud cry from you. You start kicking and squirming, trying to get away, but he slaps your thigh hard and holds your hip tightly to keep you still. He begins pumping his fingers roughly and quickly, curling them into your g-spot, his tongue devouring your clit. Your back arches gracefully off the bed. He can feel your walls clenching against him as he continues to pump you.

“Come on, little one,” he speaks, voice muffled by your pussy. “Come for me.”

“Mr. Miller,” you cry, a tortured melody, pierces the air and reverberates through the room. He felt the surge of your climax, the bittersweet rush of your cum cascading into his waiting fingers as he guided you through the tempestuous depths of ecstasy.

He smiles. “Such a good girl.”

He withdraws his fingers from inside you and brings them to his lips, savoring the taste of your sweet cum. A guttural groan escapes him at the exquisite flavor, surpassing even the intoxicating allure of the fentanyl he once indulged in.

You yield to a tranquil lull as the relentless throbbing subsides, but Joel doesn’t let up, continuing to work your sex with a merciless tongue. He’s not going to let a single drop of your essence go to waste, drinking it up greedily. You moan and writhe underneath him, seeking escape from the overstimulation.

“T-too much,” you whimper. “Mr. Miller, please, stop.”

Joel remains unmoved by your pleas, enraptured by the symphony of your sweet sounds. He simply can’t get enough of the taste of you. He laps up every last of it until your pussy is clean.

He takes a good look at your fluttering pussy now, noticing its raw and tender state from his abuse. Despite the damage, it appears absolutely primed for penetration.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs.

His cock throbs painfully, straining against his jeans, precum leaving dark stains on the fabric. Hastily, he sheds his jeans and boxers, followed by his shirt, leaving him fully exposed atop you. Your puffy eyes flutter closed in response to his movements, your body barely stirring. He savors the sight of you in this state, thoroughly satisfied by the knowledge that he’s the one who brought you to such a pleasured surrender.

He tenderly brushes your hair away from your face, his fingers tracing the dampness on your cheeks. With gentle kisses, he caresses your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. Your soft hands find their way to his arm, holding him gently yet firmly in place.

“Mr. Miller,” you whisper softly, your voice barely audible.

He embraces you briefly, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before whispering – Daddy’s good little girl.

He withdraws from you and positions himself between your legs. He aligns his swollen cock at your virgin cunt, pushing forward with a determined, almost desperate thrust. Your reaction is immediate, a sharp jolt and a loud moan, your hands pressing against him in a futile attempt to stop him. But he is relentless, his grip on your hips firm and bruising, a testament to his strength and resolve. He groans as he forces himself deeper, your tightness almost impossible to breach, but he continues, driven by an urgent need. The resistance only heightens his desire, turning every thrust into a potent mix of pain and electrifying pleasure.

“Stop!” you cry, your hands pushing desperately against Joel’s thighs to no avail. “Mr. Miller, please stop. I-it hurts.”

“It’ll feel better soon, baby girl,” Joel says, his voice low and commanding. “Just stay still.”

“I-I can’t. It’s too much,” you sob, your voice low and trembling.

“Yes, you can.”

Amidst your tears and pleas, Joel silences you with his palm, muffling your cries as he thrusts forcefully into you, penetrating to the depths in one brutal motion, nudging against your cervix. Your scream is swallowed by his hand. He releases an animalistic groan, overwhelmed by the sensation of your tight warmth, marveling at how intensely pleasurable it feels.

He kisses you tenderly after, his lips a soothing balm against your trembling ones, his gentle strokes across your cheeks offering solace in the aftermath.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance. “You’re okay.”

“It’s too painful,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Joel rests his forehead against yours, enveloping you in his embrace, savoring the intoxicating feeling of being buried deep inside your warm, little pussy. It feels like a dream realized, and he marvels at how you can feel so good even without him moving yet.

“Takin’ it so well, such a good girl,” he whispers.

With a shudder, he recoils, clutching your hips in a vise-like grip. He pulls back, his gaze fixated on the crimson evidence smearing his cock, before plunging into you with a force that muffles your cries even as they escape your lips.

“Mr. Miller,” you whimper.

Joel observes as your delicate hand ventures downward, exploring the contours of your stomach before pressing gently against the soft flesh. His hand descends to join yours, hovering near the lower curve of your abdomen, where he can feel the unmistakable length and girth of his arousal straining against the confines beneath.

He smiles. “You feel that, baby girl?”

You sob. “It hurts.”

He begins to move his big cock into you with deliberate slowness, savoring each sensation as he resists the urge to succumb too quickly to ecstasy. As time elapses, the room becomes saturated with a symphony of pornographic sounds—the wet squelch of your cunt being stroked by his shaft, the rhythmic slap of skin meeting skin, punctuated by your soft whimpers and his guttural groans. The cacophony fuels his desire, driving his thrusts to quicken in pace.

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Cute little pussy, so fuckin’ tight for me,” he groans. “Fuck, tell me how it feels, little one. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels so good,” you whimper softly, fingers clutching the pink sheet beneath you.

“Yeah?” he grunts.

“Mm-hmm” you nod mindlessly.

His pace quickens, each thrust becoming more forceful and rough, blurring the line between pleasure and pain until they merge into a single, intoxicating sensation. He wets his thumb with his saliva and begins to rub your clit roughly. The sudden, intense sensation makes you jump, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as the pleasure courses through you.

“God, you feel so fuckin’ good, baby girl.”

He gazes at the obscene sight, your beautiful form lying limp beneath him, breasts jiggling with each relentless thrust. Tears streak your pretty face, glistening in the dim light. The sight of his cock connected to your little cunt, the blood and sweat mingling, inflames his desire further.

“So fuckin’ pretty.”

He kisses your lips hungrily, devouring your moans as his hands explore every inch of your trembling body. With a swift motion, he lifts your legs over his hips, drawing you closer until there is no space between you. His thrusts grow more relentless. He drinks in the intoxicating melody of your moans, each one a testament to the pleasure he elicits from you.

“Fuck…, you’re squeezin’ me,” he groans. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

With each thrust of his hips against yours, the headboard brushes against the wall. The bed creaks and groans beneath you. He can feel the walls of your core tightening around him, pulsating with every thrust. Your brows knit together as tears cascade steadily from your eyes.

“Mr. Miller… Mhhhmmmm,” you whine.

“Come on, baby.”

Joel’s thrusts grow even more relentlessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. He mercilessly pounds into you. And then, as his movements reach a fever pitch, you can’t hold back any longer. You squirt uncontrollably, your juices flowing freely and coating both of you in a hot, sticky mess. You evoke a gentle yet audible whimper.

“That’s my girl.”

Joel’s grin widens, a feral gleam in his eyes as he revels in the primal satisfaction of making you squirt. His chest swells with pride, his cock throbbing with anticipation. With each unforgiving thrust, he unleashes a guttural, animalistic groan, his primal instincts driving him to chase his own release.

“Fuck, baby girl. I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” he mumbles in your ear.

With a primal roar, Joel surrenders to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing through him. The massive length of him pulsates deep inside you. Hot streams of cum erupt from him, painting your insides with his essence, filling you up before he collapses on top of you. He plays with your hair and kisses your temple, breathing hard.

It was the most intense climax he’d experienced in his 56 years of life.

He cradles you tenderly in the aftermath of hours entwined upon the bed, coaxing forth orgasm after orgasm with his skilled fingers. Then carries you to the small sanctuary of your bathroom. The room, suffused with pink tiles and walls adorned with pressed flowers, is a haven of your essence. He revels in the embrace of your aura, finding solace in the softness that surrounds him.

In the soft glow of the bathroom, he draws a bath, the warmth enveloping you like a comforting embrace. With a tender hand, he reaches for the scented body soap and shampoo, their fragrances swirling in the steam-filled air. As he gently washes your hair and body, his touch is a symphony of care and affection. He watches as you surrender, your eyes closing in blissful repose.

He surveys your nakedness, the aftermath of his ardor evident in the scattered bruises adorning your body—on your breasts, shoulders, thighs, and most notably, the dark imprint of his hands upon your hips.

Though a twinge of guilt flits through his consciousness for the roughness of his touch, it is swiftly overshadowed by the primal satisfaction of having marked you as his own.

He joins you in the bathtub, positioning himself behind you as he tends to his own cleansing, all the while bestowing upon you soft kisses. The steam envelops the space, mingling scents until he smells just like you. After a time, he rises from the water, drying himself and then you with tender care. Then, he dresses you in the clothes he had prepared earlier. Finally, he cradles you in his arms, tucking you into bed with a whispered promise of sweet dreams.

“Keep this between us, little one. There’s no need for your mama to find out,” he whispers before you drift off to sleep.

Joel doesn’t see you for a few days after that night. Louisa returns from Wilson Valley the next morning.

But he remembers your sleeping form, beauty like an angel, as he leaves at dawn. He doesn’t see your mother either that day, choosing instead to spend time with Ellie, watching movies and cooking for her—stolen moments of family time. The next day, he goes on patrol with Tommy.

He visits Louisa the following day but doesn’t see you. When Joel asks Louisa where you are, she lifts her shoulder nonchalantly and says, “Probably in her room.”

He spends the entire day with her because she begs him, claiming she misses him desperately. He feels trapped, unable to refuse her pleas. Thus, he surrenders his morning to her desires, engaging in intimate acts within the confines of her room. The day unfolds like a forced script: a visit to the dining hall, participation in movie night among the other Jackson folks, and hours spent drinking at the Tipsy Bison until midnight. It is one of the worst days he can recall, a day where he would have preferred facing the dangers of clickers outside the safety of the wall rather than enduring her company. Yet, he has no choice but to give in to her demands.

Joel has to take Louisa home after she gets too drunk. He lays her on her bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He considers going home, worn out from the day’s events, but his mind drifts to you. He realizes he needs to check on you; he misses you desperately. He longs for your touch.

He goes to your room downstairs, but it’s empty and cold. The candles have burned down, casting the space in darkness, save for the moonlight streaming through the window. A sense of foreboding grips him as he takes in the scene. The room is a mess, your belongings scattered as if someone had thrown everything in a fit of rage.

His gaze falls on your bed, the sheets disheveled. As he inspects it more closely, he notices a bloodstain on the pink sheets, just as he had left it after taking your virginity. His heart drops. Where are you?

Joel calls your name into the stillness, but silence is his only answer. He goes to your bathroom and turns the handle, finding it locked. He jiggles it and knocks, but still no response. His heart pounds in his chest, each beat louder than the last.

“Rosie, open the door!” he keeps calling for you but only meets with an oppressive, unyielding silence.

He doesn’t even know if you’re inside, but his instincts tell him you are. Losing patience, he rams the door with his body, each collision echoing through the air until the door gives way, revealing what lies beyond.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat as he stumbles into the bathroom, eyes wide with a mixture of dread and desperation. Seeing you there, lifeless in the empty tub, a thin towel draped over you like a makeshift blanket, his heart clenches painfully. He rushes to your side, hands trembling as he reaches out, his voice breaking as he whispers your name, hoping for a response.

“Baby girl,” he whispers.

He gathers your limp body into his arms, sitting on the floor and cradling you gently like a fragile doll. Though you remain unresponsive to his calls, your hands move faintly, and the shallow rise and fall of your chest confirm you are still breathing.

He can hear your faint voice, like a whisper, calling out “Mama.”

Your face, pale as a dying sun, sends a shiver down his spine, and as he studies you closely, he notices the pajamas he had dressed you in still cling to your form. Dry blood stains your cracked lips, and your eyes are bruised, the purple hues marking your skin where his hands had never touched. Everywhere he looks, bruises mar your body, a painful testament to the unseen violence you have endured.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he whispers and kisses your head.

Overwhelmed with a flood of emotions, Joel feels a lump form in his throat, and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Holding you close, he fights to keep his composure, but the sight of you, battered and broken, is too much to bear. Gently rocking you in his arms, he whispers words of comfort, his heart heavy with sorrow and anger at the injustice of it all.

He knows damn well that your mother is behind this. Anger consumes him now. He vows she’ll pay for what she’s done. But why? Why would she do this to you? How long have you been in here, all alone and broken?

He swiftly carries you to your bed, tucking a thick blanket around you to keep you warm. He fetches water, food, and medicine from the kitchen, then gently sits you down and wakes you up, whispering, “Don’t fall asleep on me, baby.”

He gently pats your cheek, coaxing you back to consciousness. Your eyes flutter open, glassy and lost, and you murmur, “Mr. Miller,” the words barely escaping your lips. Tears glisten in your eyes. To Joel’s astonishment, you lean your head against his chest, your embrace fragile and trembling, like the last leaf clinging to a winter branch. He embraces you in return.

“You need to eat and drink, baby.”

You sob. “I-I can’t, my body hurts.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” you whisper, your voice faint and weary, the sickness evident in every syllable.

Joel’s lips brush your forehead, a fleeting touch before his eyes lock onto yours. “You must,” he says, a shadow in his voice, “or else you’ll get worse.”

After some effort, he finally persuades you to sip and nibble on the food he brought from the Tipsy Bison earlier. He’s never seen you like this—lifeless, pallid, devoid of energy. You, who always radiate a smile, a beacon of light in Joel’s world.

He pleads with you countless times before you finally relent to take a hot bath. As he tenderly cleanses your body, he places soft kisses on every bruise scattered across your skin—some from him, others from your mother. Guilt consumes him now, for being too rough with you before. But a nagging worry seizes him: Did your mother notice the evidence he inadvertently left behind? Did she know?

After your bath, he dresses you in warmer clothes, selecting a nightgown from your drawers. Gently, he guides you to the rocking chair in the corner of the room while he changes the bedsheets. Once the bed is made with fresh linens, he tucks you in snugly under a thick blanket. Joining you, he envelops your small body from behind, finding comfort in your presence and the soothing scent that surrounds you.

“Please, tell me what happened to you, baby girl. It’s all I ask,” he speaks calmly, his voice tinged with concern and a desperate plea for understanding.

There’s no answer, just a long silence. He thinks you’ve fallen asleep. Then, the quiet is broken by your low voice.

“I don’t know. I just remember waking up to Mama screaming at me for not making breakfast like she told me to. Then she yanked my blanket away and looked at my body…” you sob quietly, your voice trembling with each word.

“A-and then she started beating me, calling me a whore and saying horrible things. She accused me of bringing some boy over, of acting like a whore as she looked at my bruises. I don’t understand, I-I didn’t do anything wrong. Luke only came to study, that’s all. I don’t know why she’s so mad. It was so bad, mama’s never been that mad before. She… she kept beating me… and kicking me, I couldn’t even move anymore. I kept saying sorry, b-but she didn’t want to hear me. Then she threw me to the bathroom floor and locked it. I couldn’t get out, and it was dark. I-I was so scared, she’d never locked me up that long before,” you say, your voice weak.

As you continue to sob and express your distress, Joel gently turns you around to face him. His embrace tightens, his own heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and anger. He whispers soothing words, his voice a gentle balm against the pain you are enduring. With each tear that falls from your eyes, he feels a surge of empathy and a fierce desire to protect you from further harm. Holding you close, he whispers, “You did nothin’ wrong, baby girl.”

As Joel holds you close, a sinister thought flickers through his mind: perhaps if he doesn’t touch you, you won’t suffer this relentless torment from your mother. But he doesn’t regret it. What he regrets is not stopping your mother from the start. Anger, now a thick fog, blinds him, seeps into his bones, wraps around his heart. He won’t hold back. He is going to end Louisa.

“Mama said she’s embarrassed of me. She said she never wanted me from the start, that I was just a mistake and a burden she had to take care of. But I love Mama. Why would she say that?”

His heart fractures upon hearing those words, the weight of your pain bearing down on him with crushing force.

“Sometimes people say things they don’t really mean, baby girl. You don’t need to dwell on it, it ain’t your fault. You’ll never be a burden. You know you’re the most precious little thing I’ve ever known?” he says. “Nothin’ can change my mind, baby. You’re so damn perfect. You’ve been such a good girl.”

“Am I?” you ask, looking up into Joel’s eyes.

“Of course, baby girl,” he says, softly kissing your injured lips. He wraps his arm around your waist until you’re pressed against him. “You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

You bury your face in his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

“Did you tell your mama about me takin’ care of you?” he asks.

You sway your head and say, “No, you told me mama can’t know. Why?”

“Nothin’ baby, just askin’.”

He feels a little relief hearing that; your bitch mother, the difficult one, certainly can’t know about this. He’s resolved not to let her take you away, not anyone can.

“I never had a dad before. You said you were like my dad,” you speak softly. “Is this what it feels like? Is this what dads do?”

He smirks. “Yes, baby girl. This is what daddies do.”

It’s twisted, he knows, but he doesn’t care. After some time, you drift off to sleep in Joel’s embrace.

The winter wind whispers through his hair, its chill a ghostly touch as Joel and Louisa ride their horses through the forest, with her leading the way.

This is Joel’s first time patrolling without Tommy as his partner. Unbeknownst to him, Louisa has been persuading Tommy to pair her with Joel. He only discovers this morning at the stable.

But he feels deep gratitude, believing this is the perfect moment to end all the pain you endured from her—a prime opportunity to take action.

Louisa drags herself through the haze of a hangover, her complaints of exhaustion a relentless, dull refrain. He doesn’t understand how Louisa seems so unbothered, oblivious to the fact that her daughter almost died alone in the bathroom because of her. Anger surges through him whenever he recalls what you told him. All she thinks about is herself.

They continue their patrol, clearing the infected and gathering supplies, moving from the watchtower and lookout point, through the supermarket’s mundane corridors, to the library’s hushed echoes, and finally to the lodge, a fragile promise of rest. They were supposed to head back to Jackson now, but Joel stopped her.

“Why don’t we go somewhere, just the two of us? I know a good place,” he says, his voice carrying a dark edge.

Louisa seems surprised by Joel’s sudden proposal. He knows he’s never invested anything into the shadows of their so-called relationship, and he suspects Louisa knows it too. Her surprise is a flicker in the gloom, but his intentions remain shrouded in a darkness she cannot yet see.

He leads her through the deep forest, where snow-laden pines stand silent and solemn. Darkness falls, the sun slipping below the horizon. The only sounds are the soft, rhythmic crunch of their horses’ hooves upon the snow and the whispering wind.

“Let’s stop, we’re goin’ to walk from here.”

It is a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of the wind and their footsteps crunching on the snow. After a ten-minute walk, they discover an old, abandoned mansion, completely overgrown with nature and fungus. It looks untouched since the outbreak.

“What is this place, Joel?” Louisa asks.

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” Joel says, extending his hand toward her. She looks scared as she inspects the building.

“Why?”

He sighs, wrestling with his simmering frustration as she asks him so many questions. He endeavors to veil his exasperated tone as he speaks, “I have a surprise for you, it’s inside. Don’t worry, you have me. Nothin’ can hurt you.”

“I’ve checked everythin’, you don’t have to worry. It’s safe,” he lies.

Her face relaxed into an eerie calm as she took Joel’s hand, finally following him inside. The place resembles a haunted house—filled with silence, dust, crumbling walls, and remnants of past lives. It’s a chaotic mess, overrun by nature. Joel leads her through the corridors until they arrive in a spacious room. In the center stands a grand old bed. With a click, Joel closes the door behind them.

She chuckles softly as she surveys the room. “Joel, what is this? What are we gonna do?”

As she turns to face Joel behind her, he swiftly grabs his rifle and slams the handle onto her head with force, causing her to drop to the floor, unconscious.

He feels a grim satisfaction settle within him. She has twisted his life, and yours, into relentless torment, wasting his time. He doesn’t need her—he needs you. After all the agony she has inflicted upon you, he will make sure she pays for it. He will end the ceaseless mental and physical anguish you endure.

Joel quickly grabs a rotten chair from the corner and places it in the middle of the room. Roughly, he seizes Louisa’s body and ties her to the chair with a rope he brought. He will wake her and ensure she is conscious while she endures the pain he intends to inflict. Dying quickly would be too merciful. Besides, he needs to talk.

He sits in front of her on another chair, patiently waiting for her to awaken, all the while formulating a plan in his head. His foot taps impatiently as he waits, the winter wind whispering through the window. Faint footsteps echo from upstairs, barely audible unless one listens closely. He knows all too well there is something upstairs.

After a while, Louisa stirs, her body shifting. “Joel, what happened?” she speaks faintly, her gaze shifting to him. As she attempts to touch her head, she realizes she can’t move—she is tied up. Joel smirks.

Her face contorts with panic. “J-Joel, what… what is this? Why am I tied up? A-and you hit me.”

Joel laughs a cold, mirthless sound. Poor Louisa tangled in her own confusion and fear. He sees the blood trickling down her forehead, a stark reminder of his actions.

“What game are you playing at? Answer me, Joel?!” Louisa’s voice trembles with a mix of fear and desperation.

“There’s no fuckin’ game, Louisa,” he retorts sharply, his tone laced with a cold determination.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, tears welling in her eyes.

“You seriously ain’t got a clue what you’re doin’? Or you just playin’ dumb?” he asks, his voice as cold as ice. “And quit fuckin’ cryin’ like you’re the one who’s hurt. It ain’t no use.”

“What are you talking about, Joel?”

“Fine, since you’re so goddamn stupid,” he spat. “You didn’t think I knew you’ve been hurtin’ your daughter all this time?”

“I never hurt her,” she says, her surprise poorly masking the lie evident on her face.

Joel’s voice is low, filled with accusation, “I’ve seen the bruises, the fear in her eyes whenever you’re near. Don’t try to deny it. You’ve been hurtin’ her, and I won’t let it continue.”

“You’re delusional, Joel. Rosie’s always been a problem child, always getting into accidents. It’s not my fault if she can’t take care of herself.”

Rage surges within him as Louisa spews venomous words about you, his precious girl. “Shut your goddamn mouth and stop lyin’,” he raises his voice, dripping with cold darkness.

“When was the last time you saw her, huh? What’s the last thing you said to her?” he demands, but is met with only a hollow silence. “You can’t even fuckin’ answer. You locked her in the bathroom for days without food or water. I found her in the bathtub last night, bruises all over her body, and blood on her face. If I hadn’t come to find her, she coulda died. You didn’t even bother to check on her. Don’t tell me you didn’t purposely try to kill her.”

“Joel, you’re not seeing the whole picture here. When I found Rosie on the bed with bruises, I was shocked. I know she was seeing boys behind my back, bringing them home like a whore when I wasn’t around. I lost my temper, yes, but I was trying to protect her, to teach her a lesson,” she says, attempting to defend herself. “I was just trying to be a good mother, to keep her safe.”

“Well, you’re not doin’ a good job being a mother,” he spat. “A good mother wouldn’t do such a horrible thing to her kid. You’re a bad one, and Rosie doesn’t deserve you, nor any child.”

“Please, Joel, just listen to me for a minute. I know I messed up. I love Rosie more than anything, and I’ll do anything to make it right. Please, untie me so I can prove it to you,” she pleads, her voice quivering, tears cascading down her cheeks like raindrops.

“It’s too late now. I know damn well it’s not a one-time thing. You always hurt her. I’ve found her cryin’ countless times, with bruises stainin’ her skin. Sometimes, she doesn’t even eat, and you’ve locked her in the closet. I’ve been payin’ attention,” his voice is cold, devoid of any warmth or sympathy. “And don’t forget how badly you talk about her, your own daughter. Everyone can fuckin’ see it, maybe you should stop actin’ like a perfect mother all the time.”

“Oh, so she told you, huh?” she retorts. “Why do you care so much, Joel? You’re not even her dad. And why did you even go to her room that night? What… were you trying to do something to her?”

And now she’s accusing Joel. He knows damn well what she means by ‘something’ as he looks at her face. It’s like a realization dawns on her, the weight of her words sinking in.

A long silence ensues as Joel waits for Louisa to speak. He no longer feels afraid, after all, she’s going to die anyway. Perhaps it’s time to tell her the truth he’s been hiding. He imagines the look of horror that will spread across her face, relishing the thought of making her suffer before she dies.

“Joel. What did you do to my daughter?” she asks, her voice filled with dread.

Joel remains silent, his gaze cold and calculating.

Suddenly she yells, “Joel! What did you do to her?! Answer me?!”

The sound of footsteps upstairs grows louder as Louisa’s screams pierce the silence of the room. She looks up, her face contorted in terror. He rises from his chair and approaches Louisa, standing in front of her and looking down at her.

“You wanna know what I did?” He places his hands on the armrests and leans down, speaking with a cold and dark tone. “I led her to her room, kissed her, went down on her, and then we made love in her little bed when you weren’t home.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. You wanna know the best part? She’s a virgin. I convinced her it’s somethin’ dads do and she had no idea,” he says with sick, twisted satisfaction, to fuel her anger. “And yeah, I’m the one who left those bruises and love bites on her skin. She’s been such a good girl to me.”

“You’re a monster, Joel!” her face contorted with anger.

He smirks devilishly. “Maybe I am. But it’s all on you, isn’t it? You can’t escape that. If you had actually cared for her, maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Why do you think I wanted to date you, huh? You’re delusional to believe I’d want someone like you,” he scoffs, his eyes filled with contempt as he glares at her. “I only used you to get your daughter. She’s consumed my thoughts. It was all part of my plan from the get-go, darlin’. I never desired you. You’ve been nothin’ but a waste of my time. But now, I’ve finally achieved what I want, and ain’t nobody gonna take her from me.”

“Fuck you! You’re gonna pay for it, Joel!” She squirms, desperate to free herself.

“No. You’re the one who’s goin’ to pay for everythin’,” he hisses, his eyes ablaze with fury. “Rosie doesn’t need you. I don’t need you. No one does. You’re goin’ to rot in hell, and no one will care. You’re utterly worthless.”

Louisa screams like a banshee, her voice echoing through the house as footsteps thunder closer upstairs. She struggles against the restraints, eyes wide with panic.

“Let me g—” Joel cuts her off, plunging a knife into her neck with a sickening crunch. He twists the blade and slices her throat wide open. Blood gushes out in a torrent, splattering across his face and pooling on the floor. Her eyes widen in terror as she gurgles, crimson bubbling from her lips. Her body convulses violently, hands clawing at the air, feet twitching uncontrollably. Joel watches with twisted pleasure, relishing the sight of her life draining away.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers.

A weight lifts from his shoulders, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding finally released. No one is going to hurt you now. It’s reminiscent of that day at the hospital, the air thick with tension as he slaughters the Fireflies to save Ellie. He can’t bear to live knowing someone he loves is in danger.

Louisa’s body hangs limp, lifeless, in the chair. He cuts the rope, and her body falls to the floor. Quickly, he hides inside the closet, watching as two infected creatures enter and ravage her corpse. After a tense minute, he emerges from the closet and dispatches the infected with his rifle, their bodies slumping lifelessly to the ground.

He meticulously cleans the evidence of his torture, then wraps Louisa’s corpse in a dusty blanket from the bed, concealing her. With no remorse, he carries her back to Jackson with the horses.

At midnight, they open the gates of Jackson for Joel’s arrival. As he steps inside, people rush to him, their voices a flurry of questions about what happened. Someone calls for Tommy.

They seat him in the meeting room, the familiar space where patrol routes and schedules are plotted. He’s given water and offered a visit to the clinic, which he refuses. He purposely cut his own cheek, making sure he didn’t arrive without a mark.

A wave of panic ripples through the room at the sight of the body he brings. Maria, Tommy, and Eugene hurry in, their anxious faces betraying their worry. They besiege Joel with questions, desperate to understand what transpired and what happened to Louisa.

Then their eyes fall upon the body shrouded in a blanket on the floor.

“Everybody silence!” Maria says loudly.

Finally, the room falls silent, the hushed stillness mirroring the quiet resolve of the patrollers.

“What happened, Joel?” Tommy inquires, taking a seat beside him.

“There was an accident. After the patrol, Louisa asked me to accompany her to a mansion she’s been wantin’ to visit, a place outside our usual route. She mentioned it reminded her of her life before the outbreak. She wanted to check on it, and I agreed,” Joel fabricates, weaving his deception with practiced ease.

“And?” Tommy asks.

“So, we entered the house. She went downstairs, and I went upstairs to search. There were no infected on the second floor. Suddenly, everythin’ went eerily silent, my senses heightened, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat. I descended the stairs to find her, only to discover her dying in a room, two infected tearin’ at her body. It was a horrific, Tommy. She was still alive when I found her, so I quickly shot the infected. But she was beyond saving, so I had to end her suffering. It’s my fault. I didn’t hear her cries for help, and now she’s gone. I couldn’t protect her,” he says.

He hadn’t anticipated their easy acceptance of his lies. After all, he is Joel Miller, the town protector, known for his integrity and bravery. But even a good man can’t always prevent tragedy.

They make plans to lay her to rest in the Jackson Cemetery tomorrow morning, honoring her with a memorial service at the church to commemorate Louisa’s bravery and the ultimate sacrifice she made to protect Jackson.

“What are we going to tell Rosie?” Maria’s voice trembles with sadness, her expression reflecting the weight of the situation. “That girl is all alone now. She never had many friends at school, and losing her only parent…”

“Yeah…” Tommy’s concern is palpable in his voice. “I know she’s old enough to take care of herself now, but… maybe she could stay with us for a while, Maria. Maybe Oliver’s presence could cheer her up a little.”

“No,” Joel says more sternly than he intended.

He won’t let anyone take you. You’re going to come with him, no matter what. You belong to him.

“She’ll stay with me at my house. I know her well, we’ve grown close since I spent time with Louisa. I’ll keep her safe, no matter what, and I’ll take care of her,” Joel declares. “Besides, perhaps she could become friends with Ellie.”

Tommy sighs. “Fine, you sure about this, Joel?”

“I’m sure.”

“That can wait. We still need to speak with Rosie first about Louisa,” Eugene insists. “Let’s meet at dawn at her house, before the funeral. We’ll talk to her together.”

“That’s a good idea,” Maria says.

Eugene’s tone brooks no debate, leaving Joel with no choice but to agree.

At 6 o’clock, Joel, Tommy, Maria, and Eugene stand on your front porch, the morning air heavy with unspoken concerns.

“We should just go inside. Rosie was sick the last time I saw her, she’s probably asleep in her room,” Joel says, pulling the house key from his pocket and unlocking the door.

“Wait, you have a key?” Tommy asks, surprised.

“Louisa gave me the spare one.”

They step inside, the house cloaked in darkness, the warmth of the dying fireplace lingering. In the dining room, three untouched plates of food sit like silent witnesses. The candles, long burned down, their flames extinguished. You must have been waiting for Joel and your mother, he thinks, preparing food for them. He recalls the fear in your eyes when you told him how angry your mother would get if you didn’t cook for her. God, he aches to hold you right now.

The others fan out to inspect the house, their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. Joel makes his way to Rosie’s room, his heart pounding, and knocks gently on the door.

“Rosie, are you asleep? It’s me,” he calls softly, his voice tinged with both hope and worry.

He knocks once again, and you open the door. He takes you in, hair is disheveled, face bearing the soft lines of sleep. To him, you are a poignant portrait of fragility and grace, a vision of beauty that stirs something deep and ineffable within him.

“Mr. Miller? The door’s not locked,” you murmur, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes.

“I know, baby.”

You open the door wide and let him in. He senses you are unaware there are others in the house.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I fell asleep waiting for you and Mama last night. I promise I won’t do it again.”

“No, it’s okay, baby girl. Don’t ever say sorry, alright?” he says, guiding you gently to sit on your bed.

He wrestles with his arousal as he beholds you in that scanty nightwear. Your satin-smooth skin feels incredibly soft as he gently touches your arms. Kneeling before you, he notices the delicate baby pink satin ribbons crisscrossing your bare legs, tied into large bows above your knees. They add a whimsical charm while discreetly covering the bruises you wish to conceal. Your feet are adorned with frilly white socks, completing the enchanting image.

“What is this for, little one?” he gently touches the soft ribbon, his voice deepening, pupils dilating.

“To cover my bruises and wounds. Wish I could do the same for my arms, but I can’t.”

He takes a deep breath and whispers softly, “It’s beautiful. You cold?”

You nod, and he swiftly slips off his brown jacket, draping it over your shoulders. His smile widens at the sight of you enveloped in his jacket, its size engulfing your small form. He cherishes the thought of you wearing his clothes regularly.

He gently caresses your cheeks. “How are you feelin’ now?”

“I think I’m better now.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Mama? I cooked food for all of us so we could share a meal together.”

“Baby…”

Before he has a chance to explain, the door creaks open as Tommy enters the room, it startles you. His gaze lingers on you and Joel.

“Joel?” Tommy speaks.

“Mr. Miller, w-what are you doing here?” you ask, meeting Tommy’s eyes.

“Baby, there’s somethin’ we need to talk about,” Joel says.

Your face shows worry. “Did I do something wrong?”

Eugene and Maria follow Tommy into your room, filling the space with their presence. The air thickens with tension as they join Joel and you.

“No, baby. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong,” he murmurs, gently caressing your face.

“Where’s Mama?”

“Your mama had an accident while she was on duty, I’m so sorry, baby girl,” Joel gently explains.

“What?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Where is she now? Is she okay? Is she at the clinic?”

Your eyes are well up with tears now. You attempt to rise, but Joel’s touch holds you gently in place. Maria comes to you, sitting beside you on the bed, and tenderly caresses your hair.

“Rosie, I need you to try to stay calm, okay?” Maria starts gently, though her face is filled with sadness. “I have something difficult to tell you. Your mother was on duty when she was in an accident. I’m so sorry to say this, but she didn’t make it.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your hands trembling as tears well up. You look at Maria with disbelief, struggling to comprehend the devastating news.

“No,” you whisper hoarsely, shaking your head in denial.

“No, it can’t be true,” your voice cracks with emotion, the weight of Maria’s words sinking in with crushing finality.

Maria reaches out, gently holding your hand. “I wish it weren’t true, sweetheart. I know this is incredibly hard for you.”

“We’re goin’ to bury her this morning,” Tommy says quietly.

You start sobbing uncontrollably, and Joel’s heart breaks to see you in such anguish.

“I-I can’t believe this is happening. I love her so much. How am I going to go on without her?” your voice trembles with grief.

“Baby, you have me. We’re goin’ to get through this,” Joel says gently.

“I’ve been bad. How am I going to apologize to Mama? I’ve been such a bad girl.”

“No, baby. You haven’t been bad,” Joel responds softly, reaching out to comfort her. “You’re a good girl with a good heart.”

Joel embraces you tenderly, planting a kiss on your temple, and you respond with a heartfelt embrace, finding solace in his comforting presence.

“It’s my fault, Mr. Miller. Maybe if I had been good, mama would still be here,” you whisper.

“That’s not true, baby.”

“How did this happen?”

“Infected attacked her, I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shiver in his embrace, sobbing softly into the crook of his neck. He won’t allow the ghost of your mother’s words to twist your mind, to make you believe that everything is your fault.

Joel senses their eyes upon you and him, pondering silently the thoughts they harbor.

The sun now bathes the day in unseasonable warmth for winter. Few attend the funeral—just a handful of patrolmen and Louisa’s friends.

Joel stands beside Tommy, his gaze fixed upon you across the grave. The wind tousles your hair, your face pale with streaks of dried tears. Faint bruises shadow your eyes and cheekbones. You wear a delicate black dress that falls just below your knees, paired with weathered school shoes and a brown leather jacket.

You stand with Maria, your eyes locked on the grave as a few people gently place flowers on the soil.

The atmosphere at the funeral is somber and subdued. People stand in small clusters, speaking in hushed tones, their faces etched with sadness and reflection. The scent of flowers mingles with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil, a poignant reminder of loss.

People begin to depart after offering a few words of condolence. Everyone loves you in this town, Joel knows this well. He remembers Tommy once telling him how everyone adores you—how kind and helpful you always are, especially when people need it most. Even when Tommy was on patrol and Maria was pregnant, you loved spending time at their place, keeping Maria company with your mother’s permission. How your mother, strict at times, often shielded you so much that you didn’t have many friends and only ventured out when necessary.

After everyone departs, you sit by the dirt beside your mother's grave.

“Please leave me alone,” you speak softly to Joel.

With a heavy heart, Joel, Tommy, and Maria leave you alone. As he turns the corner towards the church, he catches a glimpse of you crying, embracing your mother's tombstone.

Joel continues to wait for you, but you don’t come to the memorial service. The church is a bit more crowded now than during the funeral, filled with people who have come to pray for your mother. The service has started, yet you still haven’t arrived.

“Where’s Rosie?” Maria asks.

“I don’t know, she’s not here,” Tommy answers.

“We gather here today to honor and remember Louisa, offering prayers for comfort, reading scripture passages that provide hope, and sharing cherished memories of their life…”

Joel searches for you restlessly, his discomfort growing in your absence. Where are you now, his sweet girl? He lingers through the end of the memorial, but you do not appear. Afterward, he makes a beeline for your house, consumed by worry.

He slips into the house, unannounced, like a shadow creeping through an empty corridor. He goes straight to your room, but you aren’t there, and the bathroom is empty.

He calls out for you, but his voice fades into the silence, unanswered. Then, through the oppressive stillness, he hears the faint, heart-wrenching sound of crying drifting from upstairs. Following the melancholic trail, he reaches your mother’s room. There, he finds you curled up on her bed, clutching her shirt to your chest, tears streaming down your pretty face.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs gently.

You sob, your eyes swollen from the tears, cheeks flushed. He comes to the bed and gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping you in a tight embrace. The hem of your dress has ridden up around your hips as you bury your face in his neck, arms clinging around him, crying uncontrollably.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. I’m here for ya.”

His heart shatters seeing you like this, but he feels no regret for what he has done to your mother. She deserves it. Why are you crying over her? She doesn’t deserve your tears.

“I-I can’t live without her,” your voice trembles, choked with emotion.

“I know it’s hard, baby,” Joel whispers, holding you close, “but you’re stronger than you realize. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

“I miss her so much…”

“I know, baby.”

Joel kisses your head, then your face, and finally your lips, each touch gentle and reassuring. He holds you close, rocking your body softly to comfort you.

Your tears begin to ease as you grow sleepy in his arms. Joel holds you tenderly, overwhelmed with love, wishing he could embrace you forever and shield you from the world, keeping you just for himself.

“I actually have somethin’ on my mind,” he says softly, inhaling the scent of your hair.

“W-what?”

“Come and live with me, little one,” he speaks tenderly, his words a soothing balm. “I promise to always take care of you. You’ll never have to feel lonely again.”

You’re quiet, hiding in Joel’s neck as he waits patiently for your answer.

“B-but I can’t just leave the house,” you stammer, your voice filled with uncertainty. “We’ve lived here for years. I don’t think I can leave behind what’s left of our memories.”

“But you can’t live here alone now,” Joel says firmly, his voice taking on a stern tone. “This house is too big for you. Sooner or later, someone else will need a home. You have to give it to someone who needs it more.”

He doesn’t like your excuses about wanting to stay alone in the house. You have to come with him, no matter what.

“But I—”

“Please don’t be selfish. Be a good girl,” Joel implores gently but firmly.

“O-okay,” your voice tinged with sadness.

“That’s my good girl.”

He gently caresses your hair and kisses your tear-streaked lips. His hand moves to your neck as he begins to kiss you passionately, savoring every moment. God, he loves the taste of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it. Your lips taste like cherries, sweet and intoxicating. Your hands clutch his shirt, and you start to moan into his mouth. He seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Your moans go straight to his core, and he grows hard beneath you, his erection pressing against your clothed pussy. Both of you start to lose your breath, tangled in the intensity of the moment. Unconsciously, he whispers – Heaven.

His hand descends from your hair to your panties, slipping inside. He cups your swollen, wet pussy with his calloused hand. Then he runs a finger down to your clit, rubbing lazy circles with a deliberate softness.

“You’re so wet.”

Your whimpers send a thrill through him, fueling his desire. He watches your face closely, savoring every expression of pleasure as he teases you with tender, measured movements.

“She’s throbbing, little one. She’s beggin’ for my attention,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky.

“W-who?”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of her.”

He kisses you again, his lips capturing yours with increasing intensity as his fingers move faster against your clit. You try to stop him, but he wraps his arm tightly around your hips, holding you firmly in place. Your whimpers grow louder, a beautiful symphony to Joel’s ears. Your arousal drenches his hand, slick and warm, as he continues to drive you closer to the edge.

“Feels good doesn’t it? You dirty little girl.”

You sway your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t want to,” you cry, your voice trembling.

Joel ignores your words and swiftly turns your body, pinning you beneath him on the bed. Your weight is nothing compared to his strength. He tears your panties away and discards them without a second thought. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach, and he lowers the straps to reveal your soft breasts.

His cock throbs painfully against the confines of his jeans, desperate for release. He swiftly removes his pants, freeing his rigid manhood. He positions his thick, pulsating cock at your entrance, the tip flushed an angry red, aching to claim you. Your pussy squelches as he forces his cock inside your tight cunt, the sound mingling with your cries and his groans. He finally reaches the end of you. His hips press flush against yours, the heat and intensity of the moment palpable between you.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, little one,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. He might pass out from the intensity, having never felt this good before.

Joel pins your wrists tightly to the bed, a thrill coursing through him as he starts pounding your pussy roughly. You writhe desperately under his grip, a pleading cry escaping your lips as you gaze at him with helpless eyes.

“Pretty little cunt,” he whispers.

He revels in the power and the pleasure, each forceful thrust sending a jolt of ecstasy through his body. He feels your cunt clenching in fluttering, desperate little pulses around his cock, the sensation only heightening his enjoyment as the pressure builds. The way you react to him, the way your body responds, drives him wild with desire.

“Mr. Miller!” you cry.

He groans deeply into your mouth as he feels you cum hard around his cock, the intensity of your orgasm drenching him with your wetness.

The sensation only fuels his desire further. Wrapping his arms possessively around your hips and the back of your head, he continues to pound your dripping pussy relentlessly. Each powerful thrust targets your sweet spot, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through your trembling body.

“Give me one more, little girl. Just one more.”

His breath comes in heavy, heated pants against your sweat-dampened skin. All you can do is cry, clutching onto him desperately, your nails digging into his shoulder. Soft whimpers escape your lips with every thrust, blending with the rhythm of his movements.

“Mr. Miller, please...”

“Stop cryin’, little girl. You’re makin’ me come,” he says in a broken voice.

He kisses you vigorously, his saliva wetting your lips as he sucks on your tongue, savoring the taste of you.

His cock continues pounding into your tight cunt, each thrust met with your desperate clenching around him. You release a high-pitched moan as you spasm around his cock, your body shuddering with pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, yes! That’s it, little girl. Keep clenchin’ on me like that!”

An animalistic groan escapes his throat. Unable to hold back any longer, Joel gives one final, powerful thrust and comes inside you, his cock twitching as your pussy convulses around him in mutual release. Soaking your dead mother’s bed.

He takes a deep breath and kisses you messily, his breath still heavy with desire. Resting his forehead against yours, he slowly withdraws from you, leaving a mixture of his cum and yours dripping down your ass and onto the bed. The sight is obscene yet strangely beautiful. He notices your pussy starting to bruise now.

He feels a sickening thrill, knowing he can use you whenever he wants now that your mother is gone.

It’s been a week since Joel forced you to move in with him, hauling all your belongings to his house while you were at school.

You’ve cried almost every day since your mother’s absence. Joel had to soothe you, a task he relished. Using his fingers or his cock to bring you to ecstasy until you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

He offered you Ellie’s room, now abandoned for the garage, transforming it into your sanctuary instead.

He painted your room in your beloved hue. With tender care, he adorned the walls with your old posters and delicately arranged flowers, evoking memories of your former sanctuary. He made a rose sculpture from wood, your favorite flower, resting it gently upon your study desk.

Despite having your own room, he insists you sleep in his bed or he sleeps in yours. He feels incapable of being apart from you, even for a moment. He makes love to you every night now, even while you sleep.

He talked to Ellie about you moving in and explained the situation in detail. She agreed that you should come and live with them.

Ellie revealed that she knows you and that occasionally your paths crossed at school, where you exchanged brief greetings despite the years that set you apart. She told him how you were kind to everyone, always helping, yet shy and solitary. She recalled how you would quietly slip away after school, retreating home without lingering.

Tonight, he plans a dinner together to get to know each other, gathering at Tommy’s house to bond as a family.

Joel and Ellie wait for you in the living room. Until you come. You’re so pretty, he thinks. You wear long denim overalls, over a checkered top of dark red and white, a burgundy ribbon tie at the neckline. Your hair cascades, framing your face. Joel rises from the sagging couch and drifts toward you.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you both waiting,” you say softly, your voice a fragile echo in the room’s stillness.

He stands before you now, studying your face intently. Your eyes, tinged with a faint redness and your cheeks flushed. He discerns immediately that you’ve been crying.

“Don’t be,” he says.

“You’re so pretty!” Ellie’s voice chimes in from behind Joel, breaking his reverie.

You smile at her graciously. “Thank you. You look beautiful as well,” you reply warmly.

The three of you stroll through the night, Tommy’s house just a few doors down from his.

Joel and Ellie chat away, their voices weaving a lively tapestry of shared laughter and stories, while you remain quiet. But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, feeling as though a spell or a love potion has been cast upon him. The cold wind tousles your hair, and you hug yourself, rubbing your hands along the leather arms of your brown jacket.

“Why do you always wear that jacket?” Ellie asks curiously.

You stay silent in response to Ellie’s question, your gaze fixed on the ground as you continue walking. Joel notices your distant expression, realizing your mind is elsewhere.

“Hey,” Ellie calls out your name, her voice breaking the silence with concern.

“Yeah?”

“I said: why do you always wear that jacket? Is it your favorite?”

“It’s my mom’s. It’s comforting, I guess,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were talking to Mr. Miller.”

“Why are you calling him Mr. Miller? It’s so fucking weird, even though he’s practically a dinosaur. Just call him Joel, right Joel?” Ellie nudges his side with her shoulder, teasingly.

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” Joel says with a playful grin, tousling Ellie’s hair affectionately.

The dinner is surprisingly delightful, Joel muses. Laughter fills the room as stories and jokes flow freely, and he finds himself captivated by the sight of you laughing—a rare and beautiful expression that warms his heart. You don’t talk much, but your quiet presence is comforting.

You playfully interact with baby Oliver, tenderly kissing his head as you stand by the crackling fireplace. Joel’s gaze darkens with a primal intensity as he watches you like that. A fleeting, intense desire surges within him, imagining a future where he could impregnate you, and build a family with you. But he quickly pushes them away, shaking his head to clear his mind. He refocuses on the present moment, enjoying the warmth of family and the joyous atmosphere around him.

They drink some whiskey as Tommy plays “More” by Bobby Darin on the record player, and then he eagerly begs you to dance with him. Maria and Ellie laugh, enjoying the scene.

Joel watches, feeling a pang of jealousy as Tommy’s hands rest around your waist and you wrap your arms around Tommy’s neck, comfortably resting your cheek on his shoulder with a soft smile. Joel doesn’t like that at all; jealousy seeps through him, gnawing at his thoughts.

“Hey, Tommy,” Joel calls out, trying to keep his tone light and casual. “We should probably get goin’ soon. It’s gettin’ late.”

Tommy looks over, slightly surprised, but nods. “Sure thing, Joel.”

Joel walks over, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Ready to head out?” he asks, his voice calm but insistent.

You nod in response. As you step away from Tommy, Joel masks his emotions behind a neutral expression, concealing the turmoil brewing within him.

“C’mon, Ellie.”

“Oh man, you’re a party pooper. I only go home because I’m tired,” Ellie says.

He stands by the front door, ready to leave, and gently helps you into your jacket.

“Thank you, for inviting me. It was nice,” you say softly.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. Please come here more often. I think Oliver would love that, he adores you,” Maria says warmly, her smile genuine.

“She’s right,” Tommy says.

“O-okay, I will.”

When the three of you arrive home, a heavy silence cloaks the air. Ellie, weary and spent, retreats to her little apartment, saying goodbye. You and Joel step inside, and the quiet is almost suffocating. Your gaze refuses to meet his. He senses the tension, aware that you know he has something weighing on his mind.

“I’m tired. I think it’s time for me to go to bed,” you say quietly.

“No, go to my fuckin’ room,” Joel says, his voice rising sharply.

You flinch, your breath quickening as you quietly look up at Joel. Nodding, you obediently go upstairs to his room, and he follows closely behind you. He closes the door firmly behind you and locks it once you are both inside.

You whisper, “Why can’t I sleep in my room?” your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Joel’s anger simmers in a dark, calm, twisted way. His eyes bore into you with an unsettling intensity, his voice eerily steady as he confronts you. “Do you even know what you were doin’?

“I-I’m not sure,” you say, your voice innocent and unsure. “Did I do something wrong?”

Joel’s face is tense with anger. “You know exactly what you did. Dancin’ with Tommy like that? What were you thinkin’?”

“B-but we were just dancing. He asked me to,” you stammer, your voice wavering.

“Dancin’ that close? You looked like a damn slut! You should’ve known better!” he says, his voice rising.

Your face crumples as tears threaten to fall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I… I didn’t think…”

“Exactly. You didn’t think. You never do!” he cuts you off sharply.

He walks closer, cornering you. Tears well up in your eyes as you begin to sniffle, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort.

“I thought we were having a good time,” you say.

“That’s your idea of a good time? Rubbing yourself on my brother right in front of me?!”

He doesn’t understand why his blood boils so fiercely inside him. The sight of you with another man, even if it’s only his brother, is unbearable. You belong to him, and no one else. The thought of you sharing moments, laughter, or tears with anyone but him fills him with a consuming rage. He wants to be the only person you turn to, the only one you share your joys and sorrows with. The idea of losing even a fragment of your attention drives him to the edge of madness.

“No, Mr. Miller. T-that’s not what I mea—”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Joel seizes a porcelain object within reach and hurls it beside your head, the crash against the wall making you flinch and instinctively cover your ears. Trembling with fear, you begin to cry uncontrollably.

A perverse mix of excitement and rage courses through Joel as he revels in your terror, seeing you cower like prey—it ignites something dark within him. Desperate to escape, you flee to the corner of the room, curling up and burying your face in your knees. But Joel relentlessly pursues you.

“Hey! Don’t you fuckin’ run away from me!”

You continue to bury your face, trembling. “Please, please, I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. Please don’t.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he growls, his voice laced with venom. He seizes your hair in a cruel grip, yanking you upright, but you fight back, clutching his hands to wrench them away from your scalp. Tears stream down your face, mixing with your sobs in a desperate plea for mercy.

“Please… I-it hurts! I’m sorry…”

Joel slaps you harshly across the face, the force knocking you to the floor with a resounding thud. Your head collides with the nearby chair. You cry out, trembling, and touch your forehead with a shaking hand. Your fingers come away smeared with blood, and fear fills your eyes.

With no shred of remorse, Joel seizes your body from the floor, handling you roughly as he hauls you to his bed. He flings you, face down onto the mattress, stifling your cries beneath his overpowering grip.

He shatters all your clothes until you’re naked. Your small hand tries to stop him, but he laughs callously, amused by its weakness.

“Bad fuckin’ girl.”

Joel harshly slaps your ass cheeks repeatedly, each blow leaving your skin red and purple. He squeezes it forcefully, his fingernails digging in until they draw blood. Meanwhile, all you can do is sob uncontrollably and writhe in agony.

Then, he fucks your little pussy hard from behind, filling you with his cum. He needs to teach you a lesson and it is for your own good after all.

Joel kisses your body and holds your trembling form tightly afterward. He’s surprised when you hug him back and cry on his neck.

You didn’t go outside for a week after the incident. Joel told your teacher and everyone else that you fell in the bathroom and hit your head. When someone tried to come to see you, he didn’t allow them, saying you needed to rest. However, Joel accepted the flowers and food people brought for you.

He tended to you on his own, taking care of you until you healed. He knows he’s too hard on you and sometimes feels guilty when he looks at your innocent face as you sleep. But he can’t risk losing you, if he’s strict, you’ll learn your boundaries and won’t cross them again.

You changed after the incident, becoming more mindful of your actions.

A few months passed, and you finally finished school. Joel made sure you didn’t go out unless absolutely necessary. To make you feel comfortable at home, he brought you books, vinyl records, and films on VHS every time he returned from his patrols. He wanted to create a cozy and safe environment for you, filled with things you loved.

You never crossed the line again. You never went out and didn’t talk to anyone, not even his family, except Ellie. Sometimes he found you baking cookies with Ellie in the kitchen and watching movies together—a scene that warmed his heart. However, he forbade you from being friends with Ellie’s friends, so you stayed in your room when they came over to visit Ellie.

Joel slept with you every night in his room and made love to you, like the good girl you had become. You obeyed everything he said and followed the rules he set for you. If you didn’t, you knew very well what the consequences would be.

Sometimes he heard you quietly crying, attempting to hide it from him. He loved owning you, knowing that no one else could touch you because you were meant for him and him alone.

It felt like a dream come true seeing his sweet girl walking around the house in skimpy outfits every day. Joel had the freedom to fuck you whenever and wherever he wanted in the house.

Everything had been running smoothly, just as he wanted.

In the soft glow of your bedroom, you were a vision of lust, half-dressed in a baby pink tank top, hair tousled as you knit a tiny sweater for Cinnabun. Joel was going down on you, and you pushed Joel’s head away, trying to close your legs, but he persisted, devouring your little pussy like a madman while you whimpered.

You’re his addiction, he can’t get enough of you.

He vigorously sucked your little clit and stroked the sensitive bud until you cum, eagerly licking up every drop. The half-finished sweater lay forgotten on the bed.

Afterward, Joel pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a tender, passionate kiss.

As he held you, he whispered softly, his voice filled with admiration and affection, “You’re incredible. The way you make me feel… it’s like nothin’ else. You’re everythin’ to me.”

“And no one can ever take you away from me, not even yourself. You belong to me, little girl,” Joel whispered, his voice taking on a dark, possessive edge.

His grip tightened around you, his eyes flashing with intensity as he asserted his control. “Remember that. You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

“If you ever dare to run away from me, you know what will happen, little girl. Do you understand?” Joel’s voice held a chilling intensity, tinged with a hint of threat.

All you could do was cry softly and nod in agreement, feeling both comforted and trapped in Joel’s embrace.

“Use your words.”

“I-I understand,” you whispered.

“Good girl.”

taglist @paanchusblog

#dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #girlblogging

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lovelyjj · 1 day

Note

Could you do jj saves reader from kitty hawk and they catch feeling for each other or something idk?

Kitty Hawk

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1,494

requests open

*some dialogue is from outer banks season 3 episode 9*

(not my gif)

It was late in the afternoon when you decided to go home and ask your parents if you could go to South America. Your parents however had other plans for you.

When you arrived at your house a truck pulled up and a man in a grey uniform stepped out.

“Hey Y/N,” he spoke.

You turned to look at your house, when the man said, “Hey, come back. I’m not gonna hurt you. l just want to talk to you.”

You started walking up your driveway, “Uh, no, thanks.”

“Y/N, it’ll just take a second,” the man insisted.

“Stranger danger,” you walked up your porch.

The door to your house was locked when you tried to open it. You started knocking on the the door and shouting, “Hey! Dad. Uh, Mom.”

To your surprise, another man you’ve never seen before opened the door to your house.

“Who are you?” you asked startled.

“Look. This can go one of two ways.” The second man said.

You exhaled. “No, no, no.”

Your mom came out from behind the door, “I’m sorry, honey. We’re sending you away for a while,” she expressed.

“They say that Kitty Hawk’s the best.”

“Wait, what?” you breathed confused.

“We just need to try this, okay? We’re just trying to help you,” your mom explained.

“No.”

“Stay calm,” one of the two men instructed.

“It’s not forever baby. I love you,” your mom said goodbye.

“Mom. Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom apologized.

“No no no. I can’t do this right now,” you begged.

The two men were grabbing ahold of your arms and taking you away.

“We’re trying to help you,” your mom pleaded.

“Mom, Mom, Mom!”

“You have to try.” Your mom said.

“You can’t send me to wilderness cuckoo’s nest!” you exclaimed.

“They’re not gonna hurt you. They’re good people. They’ll help you out,” your dad explained.

“Don’t fight it. Just go, baby. It’s best for you right now,” he continued.

“I said I don’t wanna go. I don’t want to!” you fought.

You grabbed onto the fence trying to pull away from the men.

“Y/N. Stop fighting it” Your dad yelled.

“I don’t want to!”

“I have somewhere to be. No! No!”

“Mom! Dad! Please!”

They threw you in the car and you slapped the windows with your hands calling out to your parents. “No. No. No. No.”

“Mom! Dad! Please! No!”

——————

Everyone was wondering why you weren’t at the airstrip. JJ was getting worried. He figured he would have to go and get you. He wasn’t going on this trip without you that was for sure. JJ was determined to get you on this plane if it was the last thing he would do.

“We’re gonna have to do this without her,” Pope announced.

“No. Give me the keys.” JJ told John B.

“No, dude. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Gimme the keys.”

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea right now, JJ.” John B warned.

“Look. Her parents already hate me. All right?”

“Just give me an hour.”

“It’ll be like. black ops mission, in and out.”

“Surgical removal type shit alright.”

“Plus… I kind of owe her.”

John B ended up giving JJ the keys and so JJ made his way over to your house. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. Your parents were sitting on the steps of the porch.

JJ found out your parents sent you to that wilderness camp and he was angry. He was flabbergasted. His blood was boiling and he was seeing red. All that he could think about is rescuing you.

He found out where you were staying from his cousin. Then he was on his way to save you. When he arrived at kitty hawk he knew he had to play this strategically. He couldn’t just walk up and drag you out of there. He had to be sneaky.

——————

At Kitty Hawk, patients will not be allowed to contact the outside world for the first six weeks of their stay. Patients will not be able to use their phones.Patients will work to be diligent and polite.Patients will be expected to get to work on time. Be awake by 6:00 a.m. and asleep by 9:00 p.m. Failure to adhere to the rules will result in time in the reflection cabin. This is all in the patient’s best interest.

You were thrown in the reflection cabin for trying to escape through the bathroom window. So you stood in there crying because this was the last place you wanted to be and you were feeling hopeless.

JJ got to the gate explaining that he just needed to drop off some packages and they let him in. He went to the office right away.

“How’s it going, ma’am? Um…?” JJ greeted.

“Uh… Can I help you, son?” the woman at the desk said.

“I have a message for one of your campers here. Um… Uh, her names Y/N, uh, Y/L/N. She’s here, right?”

“Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to do that. You’re not even supposed to be here on campus.”

“Okay. It’s… It’s just that it’s a very important… May I sit?”

“Uh…”

“It’s a very important matter, ma’am.” JJ pressed on.

“Oh, i’m sure it is, sweetie, but we have a policy. No contact from the outside world for the first six weeks.” The lady at the front desk responded.

JJ looked at the picture frame on her desk and saw the picture of a cat. So he got an idea.

“Right. Ma’am. It’s actually a family matter, and, uh… I’m… I’m related to her. Im her cousin.”

“So, look, I know you got a policy and all, but there’s just been something that happened recently that… You know what? I’m getting a little emotional right now. So I think I should go. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t even be here, like you said, so I’ll leave you alone. But before I leave, could you just let her know, um… just that, uh… …Marley didn’t make it?”

“Who’s Marley?” The lady asked.

“Marley’s her best friend. A Siamese mix, and, um, yeah, it was really sudden.”

“And, you know, uh… the mailman was coming at 40 miles per hour so…” JJ snaps his fingers.

“He’s in a better place now.”

“But, um, could you just let her know for me? I’d really appreciate that.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You have a great one.”

The lady went to you after JJ left. She told you the news about your cat. You were confused at first but once she said your cousin was blonde you connected the dots.

Later on kitty hawk staff came in to relocate you. You told them to hand on a sec. Then you took a sharpie and wrote cabin 6 P4L.

JJ went looking for you then saw what you wrote on the wood and went to cabin 6. He used a credit card to open the door to the cabin.

Once he got in he whispered your name a few times. One of the girls woke up and turned on the light.

“Sorry I come in peace I’m just looking for someone i’m just looking for- looking for-“

“Me.” You sat up on your bunk bed.

“Y/N.” JJ was flooded with relief.

I guess JJ always had a thing for you but he pushed his feelings aside because he didn’t want to ruin your friendship. When JJ saw you in the dimly lit cabin, he felt something in his chest. You were stunning and he realized it has always been you.

As soon as JJ found out your parents sent you to that wilderness camp he knew he needed to save you immediately. There was no question. He’d do anything for you.

When you saw JJ it was like the whole world stopped. You couldn’t believe he came to rescue you. You quickly realized that without him you would be nothing. That he was your person.

You got down from your bed and met JJ in the middle of the room. You threw yourself into JJ’s arms and engulfed him in a huge hug.

“How how did you-“ you whispered.

“Long story no time to explain.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

JJ reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Believe it.”

“I just wanted to let you know, I would do anything for you,” JJ confessed.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

JJ cupped your cheek with his and and leaned in for a kiss. The two of you were wrapped up in each other and kissing. The kiss was heated and intense. Your mouths crashing together and your hands roaming your bodies. The other girls on the room started cheering.

You and JJ ran out of there and escaped. You never thought you were gonna leave that horrid camp.

“Thank you for rescuing me.” you voiced.

“No problem baby.”

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harlowcomehome · 1 day

Text

Pheromone perfume:

Requested by @exoticr0ses

You finished packing Jade's bag when Jack rushed into the room frantically checking his watch. “We have to go, like now!” His face was flushed and he was worried about being late, which wasn’t abnormal.

“Daddy we have plenty of time!” Jade giggled as she patted her dad’s leg. She was right, the drive was only about five minutes to Maggie and Brian’s house.

Jack cracked a smile, “I just don’t want to keep grandma and grandpa waiting” he told a white lie as he grabbed both Hazel and Jade's bag before running out to the car.

You grabbed your purse, spritzing on a new perfume before rushing to put it in your pocket and get both of the girls out of the door behind their dad.

“Did you remember the bag that was in the bedroom?” You raised your voice slightly so Jack could hear you over the car as you checked over the bags in the trunk before shutting it.

“It’s down here mom!” Hazel pointed to the bag under her feet as you slid into the passenger side of the car.

Jack had a lot on his mind lately and hadn’t heard you so you thanked Hazel as you started to make your way to Maggie and Brian’s place.

Jack smelled the air, side-eyeing you through his sunglasses. You hid a smile as you noticed before turning to the girls, “You two have to be on your best behavior this weekend okay?”

“I’ll be on my best behavior but I can’t make any promises for Hazey” Jade giggled poking fun at her older sister.

“I think it’s the other way around!” Hazel teased back making Jade giggle in her seat.

“What are you wearing?” Jack interrupted unable to pinpoint which one of your usual perfumes you had on.

“It’s new! A sample I got in the mail. Do you like it?” You batted your eyelashes dramatically at him as he readjusted in his seat.

“It’s different” he bit his lip as he pulled into his parent's driveway, they were waiting in the garage for the girls.

You and Jack gave both of the girls a hug and kiss goodbye, thanking his parents a final time for watching them for the weekend.

The both of you got back into the car and Jack was wearing a huge smile on his face, “Baby what is that? You smell so damn good.” He leaned over the center console to kiss your neck and breathe you in.

“Our windows are tinted but they aren’t that tinted, go!” You felt your face get warm as Jack let out a low raspy chuckle, putting the car in reverse.

The drive to the private airport felt like it was miles and miles away as Jack readjusted in his seat.

“Are you okay? You seem distracted” You tried to hide a smile, knowing exactly what you were doing as you fingered a stray curl that sat against his neck.

“Mhm,” he ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek, wondering exactly what you were up to.

When you pulled into the parking garage you got out of the car first, taking the small bottle of perfume out of your pocket and spritzing it on you again.

Jack walked around the back of the car, getting both of your suitcases as you got the bag from the backseat.

“I heard that” he leaned against the car, blocking you from walking past him. “What are you putting on?” He was eyeing you up and down, feeling overwhelmed by the thoughts swirling around in his head.

You couldn’t hold in your giggles as you reluctantly handed him the perfume bottle.

“Pheromone perfume? Is this that tiktok perfume?” His eyes got wide as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He walked over to you, smelling you again before he started to kiss your neck. He dropped the bags beside the two of you, causing an echo.

“Is it working?” You played coy, knowing it clearly was.

He leaned you up against the car, knowing the two of you were the only people in the parking garage. His hands explored your body, resting on your ass as he started passionately kissing you.

“I’m trying to get into the mile-high club on this PJ,” you said only half-jokingly through breaths.

“I can make that happen… again” he smirked reminding you it had already happened a time or twelve before.

“Oh yeah? Promise?” You looked into his eyes, knowing all too well with the look on his face that he wasn’t in the least bit joking.

“It’s our anniversary weekend, you already know you were getting this di-” he grabbed his crotch knowing there wasn’t anyone around to see.

“Jack!” You playfully slapped his chest before the two of you broke into a fit of laughter. You grabbed your bag and started to run to the plane with him following close behind you, his eyes zeroed in on your figure.

“You know damn well you don’t carry your own bags” he huffed as he followed you up the narrow steps into the private jet.

“Maybe I’m purposely pushing your buttons” you winked as he followed you to your seat.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #fic requests #exoticr0ses

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puppetwoman17 · 2 days

Note

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

#batman #dc #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake #red robin #joker #joker junior #Barbara #oracle #jim gordon #bruce wayne #nightwing #red hood #Robin #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas

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cheri-2047 · 1 day

Note

Helloooo do you write for aventurine from hsr?

If you do, would it be possible to request an aventurine x gn reader where he tries to comfort the reader who has religious trauma? If that's a little too complicated then something like aven trying to comfort the reader when they were suddenly reminded about their trauma from parents.

I'm really just desperately trying to make myself feel better 😭 anw the decision is still up to you <3 I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope that you stay safe and healthy, take care!! 💞💐

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭 I LOST MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING 😞😞 I’d love to write this for you but I’m not so sure on what religious trauma is so I focused on reader getting triggered by their parents instead, I hope that’s okay. Please don’t hesitate to comment if I mischaracterized him, this is based off what I see online since I don’t play hsr, thank you!

Aventurine comfort:

TAGS: slight mentions of self harm, hair pulling (out of stress) angst, fluff and comfort at the end

CHARACTERS: Aventurine

You were on your way home after meeting up with your parents. It’s been awhile since you last saw them so you thought you’d pay them a visit.

They welcomed you with open arms and were very glad that you came over, your mother excitedly sharing new stories of what’s happened while you moved away and your father just simply listening to you two.

Everything was smooth sailing, you had fun with them, sharing laughs and all until it all went down the drain.

“haha…” you chuckled it off. You hated hearing about the incident that had happened. Your parents brushed it off by now as a joke, but to you it was anything BUT that.

you continued to catch up to them, holding up a smile to get away the memories that ran through your brain.

stop stop stop

You clenched your hands tightly, continuing to laugh along with the “jokes” your parents made. You couldn’t stop thinking about it now, everything that happened, everything that you worked so hard to forget, all of it GONE just because of a few simple words.

“I might be home a bit late sweetheart, please don’t stay up waiting for me. Love you”

Your phone buzzed, a message from your boyfriend, Aventurine.

perfect.

You took this to your advantage, deciding it was a good excuse.

“Ah I need to go home, sorry mama, urgent things at work.”

You made a white lie. You knew it was a bad thing to lie, it would make you a sinner, but you would do anything right now to get away from that so called ‘home’

“I hope you visit again, we love you”

Your father kissed you on the forehead, before both waving off.

You quickly shuffled to your car, driving as fast as you can away from your parent’s home. You were thankful for your boyfriend’s text, not only can you have alone time but you also were able to lie with getting home.

You drove faster, the music louder, anything to try and get the flooding memories away. You clenched the wheel tightly, taking rough turns, completely ignoring your surroundings.

shut up shut up shut up shut up

please.

You reached your home, running to your bedroom, your safe place.

You opened the television, had your snacks around you and all but for some reason, nothing would work. The thoughts still lingered at the back of your mind, the unspoken memories, the things you’ve tried to hard to forget.

Little did you know, you ended up spiraling. Your eyes on the TV, your mind elsewhere. It all came back too quickly, too much for you, the way you were treated, the rules you were forced to have, the life you so desperately wanted to escape, and it felt like you were back. “…y/n… y/n? Hey hey-“

you got started by the sound, only to realize you had been pulling your hair a lot,

“ah- y-you’re back earl-“

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, Aventurine pulled your hands away from your hair,

“Shh, shh… there there”

he rubbed his hand on your back, you leaned into his touch, before looking down to see blood on your fingernails. “What happened?”

Aventurine pulled away, cupping your cheeks and rubbing your hand, careful not to touch the skin you picked.

You didn’t even notice it, but you were crying. You had tears run down your face as if your eyes were waterfalls.

“I visited my parents today”

“mh…did they do anything?”

“they just…mentioned something and I got triggered and started spiraling I guess…”

as you spoke, aventurine started to wrap some bandages around your fingers.

“What did they say?”

(cutting this part off here so you can like…. Explain to him ykyk. He doesn’t know much of your trauma so u explain that you went through that before)

“Oh sweetheart…”

he wiped your tears and kissed you on the cheek, before hugging you and hurrying your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know that’s ever happened, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to remember…”

he frowned and pulled you closer,

“I’m sorry…. If you’re up to going to your parents again, I’ll be here to accompany you. If you don’t, then that’s alright, I understand.”

he kisses the top of your head multiple times, hoping to sooth you with his affection.

He intertwined his hand with yours as he continues to speak reassuring words. “I am always here for you, alright my dearest? If you feel triggered by anything ever again, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I’m never ‘too busy’ for you or any of that. I love you”

you smile as he tells you how he has your back and how he will never leave and swear to always protect you. As you stop crying, he starts to clean up the snacks you left and comes back with more of your favorite foods.

“I got some before I left work”

he chuckles, lying next to you on the bed as you two stayed in the comfort of each others arms.

“I love you, I always will and I will never stop.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, pulling away to see your smile, which makes him smile as well.

A/N: OKAY… so I tried to make it like him as much as I could, I think he’s the type to gen take things seriously in scenarios like this, and the part where he like… pushes(?) your head to his neck for comfort, that means a lot since I hc him to not like being touched there or anyone touching him there either, so yeah. Thanks for requesting and I hope this is ok!! Comments are appreciated (for tips, if I mischaracterized or just to say hi) I hope ure okay dude, if you want more of these feel free to request

#Hsr #star rail #x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #Fluff #headcanons #aventurine fluff #Hsr x reader #Star rail x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr

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dracure · 3 days

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private chef barty who’s been employed by mr and mrs rosier. a few months go by, barty loves his job and the responsibility, and the fact that it’s not what his father would have wanted for him. barty is so happy in his own little world that he’s forgotten mr and mrs rosier’s twin son and daughter are coming back from college for the summer.

barty meets pandora first, and pandora immediately sparks his interest. for someone whose parents are ordinary, pandora is anything but. with her big doll eyes and skunk-styled black and white hair, barty can’t look away from her. she’s fun and welcoming and after a few minutes of getting to know each other, pandora’s excusing herself with the reasoning of jet lag and then she’s whirling away out of the room and barty’s staring after her long after she’s gone. barty’s wondering what his chances are at being with her, whether she’ll let him touch her and make her feel good, but he’s getting a semi thinking about it and still has to finish preparations for the family’s dinner so he gets back to his work.

it isn’t until the evening that he meets the son. mr and mrs rosier are annoyed at evan's lack of appearance so soon before dinner but just as barty is finishing with the food in the kitchen, the boy whirls in through the glass doors from the back of the house. he hesitates as his eyes land on barty, probably taking a moment to realise who barty is, but barty doesn’t think evan has the right to be looking at him so questioningly when evan has been essentially missing—although barty just assumed that was an exaggeration from the parents—for several hours, and here he appears with streaks of mud on his shorts and t-shirt, dirt under his fingernails, a twig sticking out of his ridiculously blonde hair and a cut on his knee that has formed a trail of blood running down his shin. “jesus,” barty says, unable to form a proper sentence.

“hi,” evan answers. “sorry about the entry. i was just trying to avoid my parents. you won’t tell them will you?”

“that you’ve been…foraging?”

“foraging?” evan scoffs.

“what were you doing then?”

“oh, nothing.”

“how do i know what not to tell your parents if i don’t know what you were doing?”

evan just stares at him and barty shifts on his feet before deciding they should probably start afresh.

“i’m barty,” he says, holding out his hand.

evan’s gaze drops to barty’s hand but he doesn’t take it in his own. “i don’t shake hands.”

barty drops his hand instantly. “okay. i’m not really a hugger—“

“god no.”

“what about a high five? no, a fist bump—“

“i’m going to go get cleaned up,” evan interrupts quickly. then he’s storming past barty and out of the kitchen.

barty turns and stares after him, half fascinated, half disturbed. if pandora was alluring, evan is a whole other thing entirely. barty has to fight the urge to go after him and find out what he was doing in the woods behind the house that would make foraging such an absurd idea in comparison.

that night as barty leaves the rosiers’ home, he’s half way down the drive when he feels chills. for a moment he passes it off as the breeze but then he glances over his shoulder and does a frantic double take when he sees to figures stood in one of the upstairs windows of the house. he recognises the figures as evan and pandora but the distance is too great between them and barty for him to see their expression, yet he has a feeling they must be watching him.

foraging my ass, barty thinks, suspecting that both the twins have something far more sinister going on. he turns away from the house sharply and speed walks down the rest if the drive. he makes it to his bike and doesn’t look back as he secures his bag and puts his helmet on.

by tomorrow morning he’ll be back here for work, but he will have surpassed the initial discomfort that evan and pandora have given him and he’ll be ready to get to know them both better & find out what they have going on with then that makes them so unironically mysterious.

#evan rosier #pandora rosier #barty crouch jr #rosekiller #bartydora #marauders au

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sserpente · 1 day

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For Old Times' Sake

Synopsis: When your landlord drags you before Lord Gortash to settle your debts, your life gets turned upside down. It is not the fear of imprisonment that paralyses you at Wyrm’s Rock—it is him. Enver Flymm, as you’d once known him, a shy and clever boy and your only childhood friend. Will he recognise you and show mercy, help you out?

A/N: My obsession with Gortash is getting out of hand. I don’t think I care.

Words: 2853 Warnings: angst, homelessness, mentions of death and abuse

The number on your tax letter was bright red—quite possibly scribbled on there with the previous tenant’s blood. Three thousand and five hundred gold pieces. That was more money than you had ever seen in your life.

“I’m a little short.”

The half-orc—your landlord—rolled his eyes. “By how much?”

“Um…about three thousand and four hundred ninety-nine gold pieces.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“I’m not, I…I am trying to find work right now. I was preoccupied with organising a funeral and scraped together the last of my savings to buy my parents a coffin. I will start paying off the debts and all the money I owe if you give me just a little bit more time…”

The half-orc scoffed. “Funny, that’s what your parents always said too. Just a little bit more time. I’m done playing games, kid. In times like this, the Fist can’t let this keep happening. You pay your rent, you pay your taxes, you contribute to the city’s safety—and you face the consequences if you cannot do so.”

It was this new Steel Watch mainly that ate up most of the tax money. An entire Foundry had sprouted from the ground down by the docks seemingly overnight. They were rather scary automatons and they were not known for their mercy.

“It’s Friday,” the half-orc continued. “We are settling this once and for all. Your missing payments are biting a hole into my coin purse.”

Your eyes widened. Each Friday, Lord Gortash—the city’s new hero, protector, and saviour—held public hearings where citizens could voice requests, concerns, or other pleas. You’d never seen the man in person. He looked handsome enough on the posters, you’d read about his good deeds and heard about his generosity. But apart from that, he was a stranger to you. You’d known a young boy once called Enver though—Gortash sharing the same first name could only bring you luck, no?

Perhaps…perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. You could make your case—explain to him that when your parents died from sickness, the remaining debts from all the medication that didn’t help in the end had been passed on to you.

You inherited a small house with broken windows, corroding wood and a serious rat problem in the cellar rendering food rations useless. Not that you had many to spare. You’d always wondered what a full stomach felt like.

“Will you come with me willingly or do I need to get a Fist?”

“This really isn’t necessary, saer. As soon as I’ve found work—”

“I am done making exceptions. We are leaving for Wyrm’s Rock. Now.”

You didn’t want to make a scene, not here. Not with the Steel Watchers within reach. With a sigh, you folded the letter from your landlord and handed it back to him, then followed him through the Lower City to Wyrm’s Rock as if you were walking to the gallows.

The place was packed. You’d expected little else. Lord Gortash was very much in demand. There was a long queue when you arrived, several Fists positioned at every possible entrance along with some patrolling Steel Watchers to ensure no one cut the line.

Five minutes turned into ten minutes, ten minutes into twenty. With every passing second, you felt the nervousness tightening its iron grip around you more. The punishment for evading rent was eviction, for one, and imprisonment for another. But perhaps Lord Gortash would hear you out.

It took another ten minutes before you were called up to the audience chamber. As if he was worried you’d try and make a run for it now, the half-orc grabbed your upper arm, dragging you with him. At the far end of the hall, two Steel Watchers were positioned on either side of a pretty throne in front of which stood a handsome man with short black hair and elegant black armour.

“Lord Gortash…thank you for your time,” your landlord began. He bowed—and so did you. Gortash’s eyes skimmed over the half-orc with mild interest before moving on to you. Dark orbs boring into yours, stirring…recognition within you. His face…you could have sworn you’d met him before.

“How can I be of service, hmm?” he asked with a sly smirk. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest. That scar on his chin…that little boy you knew from your childhood…a boy named Enver…

“E-Enver? Enver Flymm? Is…is that you?”

Your landlord’s head whipped in your direction, the disrespect apparent, even more so when Gortash began to frown. Who were you to call the archduke by his first name? But this…this was different. You knew him. He was…or used to be…your friend.

“It’s me!” You told him your name, excitement washing over you like a wave. “R-remember me? We used to play together as kids. You…you just disappeared one day. I never found out what happened to you and your parents wouldn’t talk to me…”

Your landlord cleared his throat before Gortash could answer—the archduke’s face, however, was painted with recognition. He did remember you.

“Whatever, Lord Gortash, this…tenant of mine has been behind with paying rent for months. I am currently missing nearly four thousand gold pieces which she claims she’ll be able to ‘pay back soon as soon as she finds work’.”

Enver knew your family was poor, they always had been. He himself didn’t have a lot growing up. While other kids would brag about the new toys that they got for their birthday, Enver got a beating out of asking for some simple tools for his special day. He’d always been a tinkerer.

“I see. I am going to deal with this. Would you excuse us for a moment?” Gortash finally spoke.

Taken aback, your landlord nodded. Dismissed. You breathed out audibly. Good, this was good. You’d get to tell him your side of the story and he’d help you, he had authority now, he had the power to…

“You have chosen a criminal career then?”

Your heart dropped. “C-criminal? I’m not a criminal.”

“You refuse to pay rent. And tax evasion too?”

“I don’t refuse. I simply…I can’t, I have no money left. You…you remember my parents, right? They passed two ten days ago. We spent all we had on medication and healers and that was after they started struggling with their health. They couldn’t work as much anymore and so we fell behind.”

“Hmm.”

He tilted his head and for just a brief second, you saw the young boy flash before your eyes again. You couldn’t help but smile despite your sad circumstances. Gods, you were a childhood friend of the archduke… Now that your parents were gone…perhaps you wouldn’t be all alone after all.

“I…I thought about you a lot. You were my only friend back then. I always assumed your parents sent you off to some private school outside the city to give you better opportunities or…or that an incurable sickness claimed you. Just earlier today I thought I once knew a little boy who would have loved these Steel Watchers. And now it turns out it was you all along. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I put my talent to good use.”

“You did. I remember when we were little kids we would roam the streets and search the city for old metal parts. You’d tinker away and build your own toys with them. This one time you made me a dancing ballerina, do you remember? You…you found this old music box a merchant had abandoned. The music was all distorted at first but…you made it work again. That was the best toy I ever had.” You paused. All of a sudden…you were mourning him. Mourning your childhood friend you thought you had lost for good.

“What happened to you? Where did you go?”

Gortash’s brown eyes locked with yours. But then, his expression hardened. “That matters not. Your landlord expects a solution for his dilemma.”

Your face fell. “You…you could help.”

“I could,” he mused. “But I am the archduke of Baldur’s Gate now, my dear. If I start waiving laws in favour of an old acquaintanceship, people are going to start questioning my reliability.”

“But—“

“Your landlord is in the right. If you cannot afford rent, he has the right to evict you. I am going to spare you the dungeons—for old times’ sake.”

“Enver…”

“That is Lord Gortash to you. We are not children anymore.”

Your lips parted. “Is…is that it?”

“Yes. You are dismissed.”

You didn’t even notice your tears until they wet your cheeks. You turned around without a word of goodbye, without a formal bow. Your landlord was seemingly pleased as you rushed out. You didn’t wait for Enver to tell him the good news.

As of right now, you were homeless. And even though you hadn’t seen your only friend in years, against all reason, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You just didn’t understand. Enver used to be such a sweet boy. Innocent, full of visions and dreams, shy, quiet. Everyone who knew him including his own parents labelled him as ‘odd’ but you knew better.

Now, he was the reason you’re homeless. Wait, no. That wasn’t right. Your landlord was the reason you were homeless. Enver had simply honoured the very rules set in place before he became the archduke. Perhaps he was right and he couldn’t make an exception—it would be unfair on others. He could have sent you to prison but he didn’t. That had to be enough.

As you made your way through the Lower City past merchants, civilians, and Steel Watchers a few weeks later, wondering if you’d be able to have a meal today, the sudden tumult right in front of Basilisk Gate had you pause. You frowned, hurrying toward the crowd of people that had formed before the gallows. Three men with nooses around their necks stood on the wooden platform, in front of them, facing the citizens, stood Enver.

What in the hells was happening?

“…so let this be a fair warning. These are the consequences of disobedience. I am not going to tolerate disrespect. I have led this city to glory—and I ask for recognition and your trust in return.”

Your frown deepened when Enver gave a court nod to the hangman. The very moment the trap doors gave way under the prisoner’s feet was the moment you looked away—but not before the archduke’s eyes met yours.

“I am telling you,” you heard a citizen whisper to another, “there’s something foul about this man. He acts like a bloody Banite.”

A Banite. You swallowed. That was a serious accusation. Surely, a sweet boy like Enver wouldn’t turn to Bane worship.

“My words exactly,” the other citizen responded, “I heard he is friends with the chief editor of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette and only what he approves of gets printed.”

A scoff. “Talk about propaganda.”

You’d heard enough. With your heart in your mouth, you stepped away, attempting to disappear in the crowd and perhaps ask for a gold piece or two. You flinched when a Fist touched your shoulder and flipped you around to face her.

“Lord Gortash has requested your presence. You will follow me.”

“W-why? What does he want?”

She didn’t respond. And if you refused to follow her? You didn’t want to find out.

You hadn’t expected to return to Wyrm’s Rock any time soon, nor that you’d be led up the stairs to Lord Gortash’s private quarters. The place was imposing. And of course, when you spotted him behind his desk, he was accompanied by two Steel Watchers.

“Ah, hello, my dear. Have you been faring well?” he mused. You could have been mistaken—but it was almost like you sensed scornfulness swinging in his voice.

“I am homeless. How do you think I’m faring?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, don’t give me that reproachful tone. We are all bound by laws and order, my dear.”

You blinked. “What do you want from me?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“You do?” Hesitation mixed with suspicion. After seeing him hang people in public today…you weren’t sure a proposition would do you any good.

“It’s quite simple, really. Serve me and I shall give you a roof over your head.”

“Serve you?”

“I’ve had my Watchers keep an eye on you. It is quite noble of you not to resort to stealing. Surely, you understand why the citizens of Baldur’s Gate are becoming more and more hesitant to spare a few coins, though.”

You’d read in the Gazette only yesterday that the tax rates were going to be increased yet again starting next month. Both the Fist and the newspaper itself had become very vocal about their dismay when it came to the poor and those in need. It was concerning—terrifying, even.

“Being archduke comes with a lot of responsibilities. My hands are full with political duties, I need people around me to run errands for me and assist me. What do you say? For old times’ sake?” he continued.

“You want me to work for you?” Only weeks ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity. You and your childhood friend reunited at last. Him being the archduke, you being his assistant, his right hand. Now, however, the request left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. You did not agree with his cold-hearted choices to hang usurpers. There was always a more peaceful solution. Imprisonment, for one.

“Do you know what people are whispering, Env-…Lord Gortash? They have suspicions you could be a Banite. You hung people for disobedience! How is that a fair judgement? How can I work for you if this is how you—”

“One of them plotted an assassination against me. You have no right to question my rule, my dear. Lest you’ll end up like them.”

Your lips parted. He didn’t even deny it. He…he didn’t deny he was worshipping Bane… Damn all appropriation. “Enver, please, what happened to you? You used to be such a sweet boy, you comforted me when the other kids picked on me, you—”

“My parents, my dear, sold me to a Warlock. I disappeared because I was shipped off the hells to serve a devil called Raphael in his House of Hope. I faced years of degradation and abuse until I finally managed to escape. I had nothing, I was nothing. The Black Lord picked up the pieces that were left of me and made me what I am today. And I am giving you a chance now. You have potential. Serve me and we can rise together.”

You blinked, processing his words. Sold? To a devil? No wonder his parents had refused to speak about him after his sudden disappearance. The torment he must have experienced…you could almost understand why a tyrannical god like Bane would infiltrate his dreams and promise him power and glory.

“I…I don’t know about this, Enver. This…this is tyranny.”

“In times like this, tyranny is what people need. They don’t listen—and they need a strong leader to help them make the choices that are best for the city. As of right now, free will is their greatest enemy.”

“Is that truly what you think?”

Enver’s expression darkened. He took a menacing step forward. All of a sudden, you felt so much smaller than before.

“I will not have you belittle my faith.” He paused. “I expect an answer. Now.”

You were torn—way too much so. This answer should be a decided No. Working for a Banite, for a worshipper of one of the Dead Three…it was wrong. It should be wrong. And yet…you were hesitant. Not only did Enver promise to end your homelessness but also an alliance. You were clueless as to how he assumed you would be of any use to him but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that ever since he’d stepped into your life again…it felt like a part of yourself had returned to you. Against all reason, that made you happy. Relieved, even. You weren’t entirely alone—and you certainly wouldn’t be if you accepted his proposal.

You took a deep breath. “F-fine. I…I accept. I…I don’t want to lose you again.”

If he’d expected you to agree, he didn’t expect this. For just a split second, his composure faltered, surprise and something ever so soft washing over his face. It was gone again as fast as it had appeared.

“Splendid. A wise decision, my dear. I shall have one of the empty servants’ rooms prepared for you. Unless of course, you’d rather stay with me?” he mocked.

“You know, I would actually like that,” you said with a weak smile. Because you’d missed him. Banite or not, you were grateful he’d found his way into your life again. Not all was lost—perhaps you’d be able to talk to him. Help him be a better person just like he’d helped you be one when you were young. You’d find a way. For old times’ sake.

A/N: I already have an idea for a Part II.

#gortash #gortash imagine #gortash x you #gortash x reader #gortash x tav #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #enver gortash imagine #enver gortash x you #enver gortash x reader #enver gortash x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #jason isaacs

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kafkaesque22girlfriend · 11 hours

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The Damned Pt.7

Toji Zenin x fem!reader

Synopsis: forced to get in with the Zenin clan by your parents as a servant, Toji Zenin seemed to damn you more than himself….

hi guys i’m back :3 sorry for not updating. i have so many ideas for this fic, pls go back and reread if ur confusedddd. chap is coming after the sexy times that have just ensued :33

blood, sexy stuff, pillowtalk, violence, typical Toji stuff

Toji cleaned you up in the bath after such a passionate night. You were both silent. He dried your hair, dried your body. His gaze didn't align with his soft touch... so he could be gentle?

Interesting.

He was never this attentive to women, but this was something he wanted to do. Toji should have thrown you out right after, he should have been at his wits end and come to his senses- realizing that this was a mistake, a line he shouldn't have crossed.

He laid you on the bed, both of your clothes strewn all over the floor, you flushed at the sight of him.

“Stay with me.” Toji muttered, hoping to God that you wouldn't hear him, but he might as well hold a megaphone to your ear and say it- you listened to him as per usual. You immediately curled into him, resting your head on his chest, Toji was stunned, he didn't know where to put his hands, or what to do with his fingers. He hadn't cuddled before. The revelation was stunting him, he didn't know what to do, any of his upcoming actions were on instinct and should be considered pure, right? Toji reluctantly put his arms around you and brought you tighter to his chest, he hesitantly stroked your hair, enjoying the way such softness felt under his calloused fingers.

“Just for tonight. But that's all, I'm throwing you out in the morning." He said gruffly, he was contemplating the risks right now but he just wanted to feel a body without it hurting him.

You nod reluctantly as you agree. He was right and you loathed it, but this stolen moment would be something to be cherished along the twisted path borne of Zenin hate. “Can I ask you something?” You whisper softly. Your soft padded fingertips traced the little scars littered on Toji's chest.

He couldn't help his eyes widen as you so casually yet so intently thumbed at his scars. This was the first time in a long time that someone had asked about his scars. Normal people within the clan, the chambermaids, the gardeners, the cooks were afraid to even look because of the fear of being reprimanded by him. But you...you weren't scared. You were curious, he liked that about you. But he knows that you'll die because of it. “Ask away...” He said lazily.

“Do you have the same nightmare every night?” You mutter, your solemn tone pierced his ears as your words hang in the air. You were obviously referring to last night when you found him thrashing in his bed, he almost broke your hand because of it, the purple stain on your skin meant nothing to the stain you wished to know- the one burdening his mind. You wondered if he went through the same torment every night.

Suddenly he glared at you with cold steely eyes and gripped your wrists to stop you from touching his scars. “Don't.” Toji said firmly.

You were mortified. “I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.” You murmur under your breath, he could tell it wasn't on purpose but he still felt agitated because of it. He watched as your face flinched, he had to take a minute to process things and in the end, he finally spoke.

“It's fine.. Just don't touch them again. Never. Do you understand?”

“I'm sorry.” I understand. You whisper, you knew he was protecting himself from you, he doesn't want toopen up and you understood that. But it was difficult for you to let go. He looked so scared that night, he grabbed your wrist so hard that the bruise was still in full bloom. Your eyes flit to your wrists to inspect it as you remember the event. "You were so scared... I've never seen you that scared before.” You mumbled as concern etched over every perfect feature.

Toji tensed up. He was ashamed of what he had done, the way he had acted, the fact he still had fears at all. He had never felt guilt in this way before, it seemed like you were guiding him through multiple firsts. “I'm sorry... for hurting you.”

"No!" You blurted absentmindedly. You clear your throat as your eyes lock with his. “No. It's not your fault at all.” Toji hated it, hated how you said such meaningful things as if it was a casual thing. It wasn't. Your mind reeled to what else he could have done last night, he could have killed you.

Toji's hands wrapped around your sides to keep your body pressed against him. He felt quite protective of you at the moment and he was becoming more and more confused, more and more unravelled by every passing minute. He couldn't explain it but it felt too comfortable. “Don't feel scared when you're with me…stop trembling…it’s pathetic..”

You frown at his words, why was he making this an uphill battle. A war waged on no-one? You sigh and roll over to your side, facing away from him.

“ I'm not scared...I'm just cold.” You reply firmly, growing abit tired and confused at all of this. Tonight was overwhelming to say the least.

Toji groaned in irritation, not wanting to deal with this little huff. “What are you so scared of? You're shaking like you're trying not to freeze to death. Are you...are you that afraid of me?” For a split second moment, a small hole pierced through his heart: Are you scared of him? Are you pretending not be?

“No. I'm not afraid.” You say simply, yet you weren't giving your thoughts away in the process. Toji was getting more and more irritated at the fact that you were making this difficult for him. He sighed and put his palm on your back. "If you're not afraid of me, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me... I want to see the truth."

Your ears perked up at the sudden declaration, you turned your head to look him in the eyes, almost as if you were challenging him. “Do you want me to be afraid of you? Is that it?” You say softly, sadness dampening your features, you weren't scared, you were sad.

“If you want me to give you a reason to be afraid of me, I can do just that.” His jaw clenched, his hands flexed and it's obvious that he wasn't lying-

You turn back over to face him and after a few moments of silence and deep pondering, you sighed, a serious look covering your face. “ I'm trying to understand you. All I want is to be close to you, but you're making that really difficult when you keep pushing me away like this.”

His eyes widened slightly and the stern expression on his face softened just a bit. You hit him in just the tender spot and he didn't like how he was acting, he was ashamed of it. Toji didn't understand what he was feeling so he reverted to the only thing he could comprehend other than violence and hatred, he pushed you away. “Right...” He said lowly.

You avert your gaze from his, trying to figure out what to see to get through the cold exterior of his bloodied heart. You sigh, he didn't need to be reprimanded, he needed warmth. "I'm sorry I pushed you." You whisper. We don't have to talk about this. This is the only night we can spend together... So can I hold you?" You compromise, why should you waste a night in bed arguing? You wanted to hold him, one last time.

Toji let out a groan, your body was like velvet under his scarred fingers, your lips like rose petals. He won't ever have this ever again. He won't ever have you ever again, so why should you both argue? Toji didn't want to get too attached to you in a short amount of time... but it seemed that he really didn't have that much of a choice, and he could tell that his heart wasn't listening to his brain...he didn't want to let go of you at all. “Please….Just don't touch my scars.” His voice was almost desperate, pleading.

Toji looked gorgeous right now, his dark hair ruffled, his chest rippling, the pale moonlight dimly exposing every chiselled feature on his perfectly sculpted face, his scar quirking with every move of the lips you so passionately kissed. He pulled you close when he noticed your probing, that curious look on your face he couldn't deny. He wondered what it would be like to fuck your face, the thought was certainly intoxicating, yet he couldn't have it. The atmosphere was far too sensually charged for something as vulgar as that. You looked like an angel, it disgusted him. You rest your chin on his bare chest, refraining from touching any of his scars. You sigh softly and lean into his jaw. “I really enjoyed tonight...” You whisper.

Toji let out a husky grunt, your sweet breath tickled his skin. "You're getting pretty close...C’mere...let me kiss you.”

You pressed your fingers against his lips, softly stroking his lips, carefully avoiding the scar on his lip. "I like the way you press up against me...” He muttered against your fingertips, he fell so deeply into your eyes, he felt like he was protecting you from the whole world in his arms- like he's the only one that can protect you.

He moved your hand from his lips and immediately grabbed you by the nape of your neck. Toji put his mouth to yours, a sensual and deep kiss that stole the air out of your lungs. His hands buried into your hair, his face scrunched up in desperation, like your kiss was the breath of life in his world of death, your tongues melded into one. He pulled you onto his lap, Toji's warm palms lifted up his shirt that you were wearing. Your skin was like heaven, he kissed your neck and collarbone, he sucked on your breasts and nipples as your hands raked through his hair.

“Toji….hah…” You gasp softly, his passion was unrelenting. He pulled back and searched your eyes for an answer, a sign, to find something that he couldn't find within himself. “What are you doing to me?" He said through a strained breath, his words hung heavy in the air.

What were you doing to him...

He was weak for it

He hated it.

Toji could feel your body relaxingin his arms as it slowly made its way to laying on his chest. You nuzzled into his neck and you were pretty much fully exhausted and ready to go to sleep. Toji let out a hesitant deep breath as he let his eyes close. He had you in his arms, there was this overwhelming urge to keep you safe, he always wanted to protect you, this was his way of showing you that he had never felt his satisfied with himself.

Yet his love for killing was your toughest opponent in comparison.

The night chill was lulling his body, the soft whisps of wind flowed through the slightly creaked balcony door. The stars twinkled across the compound lake, the garden flowers fluttered in the breeze and the owls cooed. Everything was peaceful, serene, and quiet, but alas...nothing goes right too long for Toji.

Sweat soaked Toji's forehead, his heart thumped in his ribcage, his hands flexed his hands, his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched.

That shouldn't be happening-

You're there.

You shouldn't be there.

“Toji. Wake up. Hey, hey....it's okay...just please wake up!'”

Toji shot up and awoken suddenly from his sleep when he felt you place your hand on his shoulder. The cold sweat was dripping down his forehead, a mere trickle that spurred on a consecutive series of horrifying events conjured up in his own head. His hands trembled, eyes narrowing into mere slits.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

The Zenin's didn't exist.

He was making love to you, such sweet love.

You were happy.

He was happy.

“Toji. You were having another nightmare…it's okay. I'm here, you're fine.” You whisper, his face was pale, his heart was clenching, he felt like he was being strangled slowly. He saw you there, and he immediately grabbed you by the shoulders and stared directly into your eyes.

“Don't... You need to stay away from me...” He gritted out through clenched teeth. “I could hurt you..”

You sighed out deeply, a little frustrated about this undying conviction for him to push you away right now when this was the only night you would have together. "Hey.” You said firmly this time, tilting his chin up and holding his face softly so he could look up at you; deep, sad, distant eyes met yours. “It's just us - just you and me right now. No one else. I'm here, okay? I'm not leaving.” You lean in and give him a gentle kiss on the lips and pull away caressing his scalp slightly.

The words that spilled from your lips were like a soothing balm, and the simple touch of your fingers felt like the touch of an angel. Toji's narrow eyes softened the tiniest bit, that small kiss...

Your kiss. -

“You’re so gentle...” He muttered, his tone bittersweet.

In that nightmare, you were there. Caked in blood as he loomed over you. It was in your hair, on your face, your body…..Your throat slashed. A trademark Zenin cut.

the angst and the smut i have planned is diabolical.

Taglist (mwah!) @wo-ming-bai @xduskydollx @chilichopsticks @maskedpacific @kaizxnx @gojoslefttoenail @idreamitski @miraes-world @misscats-mha @niss2mpm @taylorazureeee @sweetteez @21aurora

#jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji angst #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x y/n

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vodika-vibes · 15 hours

Note

😌 idk if my first request for a fox x reader went through but i’ve been reading a lot (ofc whats new) and uh uh I found I really love fics with CX-2 (Clone Assassin) aND SO, to my favorite SW writer I ask;

How bout a soulmate au with CX-2 (?) Could be a bit of angst with a happy ending, and everyone is just wondering how reader could be with him after all the things he’s done (uh im getting sunshine!reader x grumpy character vibes)

dont have to write this! i just would love to see some more cx-2 fics after reading one just now lol also im down the rabbit hole again that its cx-2!tech whose been reconditioned, do what you feel is best but i just love that theory bc I’m a firm believer too that tech never died 😌

Protective

Summary: For a long time, your parents feared that you didn’t have a soulmate. Until, one morning, you woke up and found a wild dog curled up next to you on your bed. You named him Noir, and the people around you quickly learned that he was fiercely protective of you. However, after Noir kills an Imperial Officer after he threatens, you have no choice but to go on the run.

Pairing: CX-2 x F!Reader, background Tech x Phee

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have spirit animals representing each other.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't able to get the angst to work, largely because I wasn't in an angsty mood. Also, as much as I love the CX-2 being Tech idea, I had a different idea for this fic, so I hope you like it!

“What d’ya have there, Noir?” You ask as you return to the small hut that has been your home for the last three months and crouch in front of your oldest companion.

Noir’s tail wags rapidly as he nudges something in your direction.

You gently rub his head, then carefully pick up his offering, “Oh, it’s a fish. Did you find dinner for us, pal?”

Noir releases a happy yip, and you laugh softly, “Good job, Noir.” You stand and carry the fish over to the rough kitchen to divvy up the portions. Most of the fish will go to Noir, while you’ll prepare your portion with some seasoning that the Wookies traded with you.

Three months ago, Noir slaughtered an Imperial Officer who threatened your life. You’ve always known that he is fiercely protective of you, and you knew that there was a chance that he would kill again if you were threatened.

The first time it happened you had still been a child. Your uncle tried to kidnap you, and Noir reacted violently.

That time, the authorities just nodded and said it made sense, that your uncle had bad intentions. Neither you, nor Noir, were punished for the death of your uncle.

The Empire is much less understanding.

You had no choice but to take Noir and flee from Coruscant.

The pair of you bounced from planet to planet for several months and then were offered a safe house on Kashyyyk, in the Shadowlands far below the treetop homes of the Wookie people.

It’s not easy.

You are, at your heart, a city girl. Hunting and survival skills do not come naturally to you. Luckily, you have Noir. He really is the greatest equalizer.

If not for him, you’d have died several times since you moved into the small hut.

The biggest downside to this whole situation is the knowledge that you’re not likely to ever meet your soul mate.

Well, unless your soulmate is a Wookie, you suppose.

Carefully, you fillet the fish on your cutting board and toss the large majority into Noir’s bowl, the rest is set in a bowl of marinade and shoved into the fridge.

At least you have electricity.

Sure, you don’t have a holo, but you do have a radio that allows you to keep up to date on the current events, and, much more importantly, listen to books while you fight to keep the Shadowlands from reclaiming the hut.

You’re about to flip the radio on, when Noir releases a low growl.

A growl low enough that your hair stands on end.

You turn your gaze to Noir and see that his ears are flat against his head and his teeth are bared. Spooked, you reach for your belt and grab your blaster, and then you nudge the door open.

Noir slinks out of the hut and, cautiously, you follow him.

The forest is silent. Eerily silent.

You scan the forest around you, not that you expect to be able to see or hear anything. It’s enough that Noir is still growling as though he’s on the verge of attacking.

There’s a rustle in a bush, and you lift your blaster, only to lower it as a small, curious-looking creature ambles out. It’s red, black, and white, and you’d almost think it was a raccoon if not for the colors.

Noir is still growling like there’s a threat, but he’s ignoring the small creature, which is still ambling towards you. It stops at your feet and raises on its hind legs, and you crouch to get a better look at it.

When Noir first appeared in your bedroom all those years ago, no one was sure what kind of animal he was. Not even the zoologists at the local university were able to determine a species.

So you spent a lot of time as a child flipping through various animal encyclopedias. And, while you’d never claim that you had a perfect memory, this little creature does look familiar.

“You’re a Red Panda, aren’t you?” You murmur as you lightly stroke the soft fur on top of her head, “Your kind isn’t native to Kashyyyk, how did you get here?” What’s more is that she’s soft, as though someone’s been taking care of her, though based on the scarring around her ankles, she’s been chained up a lot. “Are you someone’s pet?”

The red panda climbs into your arms and promptly falls asleep, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, you’ve clearly been socialized. Maybe I can do something about the scarring.”

Your head snaps up as there’s more rustling and Noir’s growl lowers.

Five Stormtroopers stumble into the clearing, “There it is!” One of them says as he points at the Red Panda in your arms, “Get it!”

You stumble backward as they lift their blasters and Noir launches himself at the Stormtroopers.

You’ve always known that Noir was quick. Quick and with a strong bite, but the last time you’ve seen him move this quickly was when you were a child. He manages to kill three of the Stormtroopers before they recognize that he’s a threat.

The fourth and fifth, however, turn their blasters on him.

And, for a moment, you think that you’re going to watch Noir die.

You only think that for a moment, as another man emerges from the forest. He’s clad in black armor, much unlike the stark white armor of the Stormtroopers. And you watch as he uses a blade to kill one of the Stormtroopers from behind.

You watch as he and Noir work in concert to kill the last of the Stormtroopers.

And then you watch as Noir jumps up on the man, his tail wagging faster than you’ve ever seen before. The armored man seems surprised at how friendly Noir is, and, to be honest, you are too.

He’s so friendly with the armored man, in fact, that you can’t help but think that Noir is the representation of said armored man.

“Noir,” You say, drawing the attention of both the wild dog and the armored man, “His name is Noir.”

It’s kind of hard to read him, seeing as he’s wearing a helmet, but you’re pretty sure that he’s staring at you. “Ka’ra.” He gestures to the red panda in your arms, “She’s been a prisoner her whole life.”

“That explains the scarring,” You walk over to him and pass him his spirit animal, a small smile crossing your face as Noir drops to his paws and bounces around you. “I have some medical stuff, to wrap her scars if you want.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then nods once, “I’d appreciate that.”

You lead him into the hut, and motion for him to take a seat anywhere while you dig around for the first aid kit.

Once you find it, you set it on the table and open it to dig through what you have left. “You know, you don’t have to leave your helmet on.” You note lightly, “This is a pretty safe place.”

The man hesitates for a moment, then he nods once and reaches up to pull off his helmet.

You’re genuinely surprised to see that he’s a clone. He looks like every other clone you’ve ever seen, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin…though he does have some nasty scarring along the side of his face.

He’s handsome, you decide as you focus back on your medkit. He kind of looks like Noir, if you squint.

Though, now you have to wonder if you look like his Ka’ra.

“Ah, here we go!” You pull several rolls of bandages from the bottom of the kit and some scar powder. “If I remember correctly, this needs to be added to water, and then the bandages need to soak in it for a bit before we apply them—” You mumble under your breath as you flip the bottle and squint at the instructions.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

You glance at him and introduce yourself absently, before you squint at the directions again, “What’s yours?”

“...CX-2.”

You pause, “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never actually met another person with a soul animal before.”

“It’s rare, then?”

“One of the rarest soul bonds.” You agree, “The only one that’s more rare is the teleportation one.” You stand to grab a clean bowl and fill it with water before placing it on the table.

“I have a brother with the teleportation soul bond. He vanished one day, never saw him again.” CX replies as he watches you.

“Well, there are a lot of you.” You reply as you add some of the powder to the water and stir it in.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, “What is a human doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Ah…well.” You pause, “Noir killed an Imperial Officer who threatened me.”

CX stares at you for a long time, and then his lips curl up into an amused smile, “Good.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“He’s as protective of you as I would be.”

“Yeah, well…he is representative of you, right?” You reply with a small shrug.

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it,” CX notes, “You do realize that I’m an assassin, right?”

You start unrolling a roll of bandages, “When I was about eleven years old,” You say quietly, “My uncle tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. Noir,” You nod at the wild dog who is gnawing on a bone, “ripped his throat out before he got me out of the living room.” You look at him, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

CX looks startled for a moment, and then a quiet laugh falls from his lips, “I suppose you have good reason to not be afraid.”

You shrug, “I would prefer it if you didn’t assassinate people anymore, but I’d also prefer to not live in a hut on Kashyyyk, so—” You shrug again, and finally drop the bandages into the water.

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Mm, you can join the Rebellion?”

“Ick.”

A laugh falls from you, “I mean when the Republic was still standing, I never had to worry about Republic Officers threatening me. Within a month of the Republic turning into an Empire, I was threatened by an Imperial Officer.”

“...I suppose that it fair.”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” You say lightly, “We can stay here if you prefer.”

“We?”

“Well, I assume that you want to stay with me?”

CX gazes at you silently, “I want you safe. So staying does make the most sense.”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I’ll definitely be safer with you, compared to away from you.” You agree.

CX is silent for a long moment, “Mandalore.”

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s a group of former Commandos who have a compound on Mandalore. They’re housing clones and their families.” He explains, “We’ll be safe there.”

“How do you know that?”

“All of the Clones know it.” He says, “Well, save for Alpha Prime, I suppose.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I have a ship.”

You grin at him, and then pull the bandages out of the water, “I think it’s a great idea.”

It takes three weeks for you and CX to get to Mandalore, and it takes even longer for CX to prove that he’s not an active threat to his brothers. You’re not able to help with that, but watching him interact with you does a lot to earn him some goodwill.

You like your new home, it’s not Coruscant, but there is plenty of room for Noir to run around and get spoiled, and he does get spoiled. Not quite as much as CX’s Ka’ra, but pretty close.

Surprisingly, CX is somewhat clingy. When he’s in the same area as you, his arms are around you, or his hand is in yours. You kind of have the feeling that he’s a little touch starved, so you don’t mind it.

On this particular day, you’re lounging in the sun, watching Noir and Ka’ra play together, while CX is sparring with Ordo (only the Nulls aren’t hesitant about sparring with CX, which is sad, but understandable).

You enjoy watching him spar largely because he tends to spar shirtless.

You’re allowed to be a simple woman when it comes to your soulmate, right?

“Watching them again?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your musing, and you tilt your head back to look up at the familiar man approaching you. “You could join them.”

“Hardly, if Ordo so much as scratched me, both Noir and CX would rip him to shreds.” You pat the ground next to you, “Have a seat, Tech. No need to hover.”

“He still wishes to be called CX?” Tech asks as he sinks to the ground next to you.

“It’s his choice.” You reply easily, “How was your physical therapy?”

“Painful,” Tech replies, matter-of-factly, “However, my healer believes that I am getting to the point where I will no longer need to see them.”

“That’s something. Are you thinking of reaching out to your brothers? Or your soulmate?”

“I am…unsure.”

“Oh?”

“I died.” He says bluntly, wincing as CX manages to flip Ordo onto his back, “I died, and my soul bond is weaker than it was before.”

“I assume your doctor has an opinion on that.”

“Of course. He says that I just need to reach out to Phee.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Tech anxiously adjusts his glasses, “What if she has found someone else?”

“Do you really think that she would?”

“...she is a beautiful and clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have her—” Tech starts.

“You’re borrowing trouble, Tech. You need to call her.”

Tech opens his mouth to reply but stops as CX jogs over.

You smile up at him adoringly, and offer him his water bottle, “Having fun, love?”

He smirks, “Ordo is bitching because I managed to flip him. So we’re having a round two.”

“Of course you are.”

He flashes a tiny grin at you and crouches so he’s able to kiss you quickly before he jogs back over to the sparring ring. His training was so different from his brothers, you can tell based on the scars covering his body, and based on the fact that he’s not quite as solid as Ordo and the other Nulls.

Not that any of that matters to you.

You love him as he is.

“It does not make sense to me how someone as kind as you ended up with someone like him,” Tech admits, “He intimidates everyone, and lashes out when pushed.”

“I’ve never been afraid of him.” You reply with a small grin, “Even when he killed someone in front of me, even when he loses his temper.”

Tech shakes his head, “I believe I understand.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“You are just as insane as he is.”

You aren’t able to help that laughter that bursts from your lips, “I suppose,” You say through your giggles, “that’s one way to view it.”

Tech flashes a crooked smile at you, and then gets back to his feet, “I am going to go send Phee a message, and hope that she forgives me. Enjoy your ogling.”

You fling a handful of grass at him but don’t deny his accusations.

The spar ends an hour later after it gets too hot for them to continue, and CX makes his way to your side, dropping onto the ground next to you. Immediately his arms slide around your waist and he presses his face against your neck.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you card your fingers through his curls.

He hums in response, his arms tightening around you, “I’m glad that you don’t mind coming to these.”

“I enjoy watching you spar.”

He pulls his face away from your neck, “You enjoy watching me do anything.”

“You are ridiculously handsome.” You shift in his grip slightly so you’re able to press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m a lucky lady.”

“Mm, is that right?” CX asks as he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re all sweaty,” You whisper to him.

“So maybe we should go home,” He offers with an arched brow, “You can wash my hair for me.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Deal.”

CX grins at you, and crashes his lips against yours, knocking you back onto the grass.

Everything isn’t perfect, CX still needs gene therapy to remove the enhanced aging, not to mention regular therapy to help deal with all of his issues. But so long as you’re together, everything will be fine.

You won’t allow for anything else.

#star wars #tbb #star wars au #vodika vibes 650 event #cx-2 x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #soulmate au

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always-coffee · 2 days

Text

When I was seven or so, my parents were called into the school guidance counsellor’s office. I have no memory of what prompted this, only that my parents were informed that I was too blunt. They were told that I was far too direct and needed to work on how I spoke to people (especially adults?)—I needed, they said, to learn the Oreo cookie way of speaking: sweetness, truth, sweetness.

Again, I was seven. My folks, originally from New York, were ticked off. If you knew my mom, you can picture her how dare you face and know that someone was going to regret what they just said. (Dad, too, but he has strict rules about how he appears on social media, which is to say, he does not. I only ever, and rarely, share photos of my pops and siblings person to person.)

Anyone who has known me for five minutes knows I’m not mean. I wasn’t a bully. I was being bullied, but that’s a different story. I was, simply, an honest kid who said what she meant. If you ask me a question, you get a real answer. And, in turn, I always want the truth. That’s just how I’m wired.

Even now, as an adult (or pretending to be one), I tend not to mince words—and if I care, it is a fact I want you to know. Because we are so often left to doubt or wonder—and our brains can play tricks on us. So, I try to be as clear as possible, and I still fail at that occasionally. But I still cannot fathom not wanting honesty from someone, even when it’s difficult. It just doesn’t compute.

There are, in life, people who are going to want you to be different than who you are. (I am not one of them, fwiw.) They are going to try to tell you that you really should be more this or more than. They can be sly about it or loud.

They're wrong. Just like that counsellor was, when I was a kid.

We are all messy and messed up. Imperfect and quirky, with tumultuous hearts. We have a past littered with heartbreak and things we don’t talk about. Stories that helped shape us, for good or ill. But even on your worst day, you are still brilliant, still worthy. This truth can slip through the cracks, pushed down by insecurities and doubt. But pick it up—I’m holding it out to you, right now.

#messy #but kind #none of us our perfect #I am who I am #sorry not sorry #also a dork #but you already knew that

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aziraphales-library · 17 hours

Note

Hey yall!! I have to say just how much I appreciate the blog and especially the tagspost (the one pinned, sorry, don’t know the right word), it has helped me find the best fics for me! I have gone through all of the warlock dowling fics, but was wondering if you had any more? Specifically any having to do with crowley being a mother-figure to warlock. Thank you again!!

Hello. We do have a plentiful #warlock downing tag. Here are more to add, a couple of newer and a couple of older fics...

Dear Hellspawn by Schlorzdottir (T)

After his nanny and the gardener abruptly leave, a confused and lonely Warlock finds a poem that Nanny wrote for him.

On a Sunday Afternoon by lazysundayafternoon (G)

Nanny and Warlock sometimes go on weekend outings to London. Once, they went to a very special bookshop.

Family by Association by otherhawk (G)

Warlock Dowling is over-dramatic, insecure and inclined towards running away, which makes sense since he was primarily raised by a certain over-dramatic demon. After the apocalypse Warlock heads home to England to find his nanny.

Raising Hell (Drops of Heaven) by Crystalshard

When Warlock's parents die, Aziraphale and Crowley step in to raise the kid on their own. It takes several childhood incidents, a birthday party, and a near-Apocalypse before Warlock finds out exactly what his fathers are. (They're a family. He knew that all along.)

When the World Needed Her Most, Nanny Ashtoreth Returned by yetrop (T)

Crowley didn’t bother explaining any further, instead placing his head back in his hands. “I don’t even know why I’m saying anything nice about him. I’m not supposed to be nice. Besides, I should be focusing on everything else he’s got wrong with him, and trust me, there’s a lot.” “Like what?” asked Warlock, who suddenly seemed interested in the conversation again now that he knew he could get some dirt on kind old Brother Francis. “Well, he’s always living in the past, for one. And furthermore, he’s naive, and petty, and he can be so obnoxiously pretentious, and…” Crowley’s voice trailed off, looking for more negative qualities, but only finding one agonizing truth. “...And I miss him so much that it physically hurts.” — The last person Crowley expects to run into a few months after his fight with Aziraphale is Warlock. Luckily for him, Warlock is an expert at helping people through breakups (according to Warlock, that is).

A Shepherd’s Crook by angelwithawand (T)

For the first time, Crowley realizes that he doesn’t have a couch in his Mayfair flat. Naturally, this fact sends him into an existential crisis. Naturally, this existential crisis ends with him adopting a child.

- Mod D

#good omens #warlock #warlock dowling #crowley & warlock #the dowling years #nanny ashtoreth #mod d

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Dust and Darkness Prevail

Panspermia is the theory that human life was seeded by comets, asteroids, meteoroids, and space dust falling to Earth. Directed panspermia is the idea that an unknown third party purposely seeded life onto this planet through similar means. These are perhaps the most ancient of aliens. For whatever reason, be it propagation, a future food source, or simply contamination from an explorer’s boot, somehow, we were created. It’s easy to see why mankind looked to the stars for parentage- we are made of star stuff, after all. As our understanding of the stars grew, so did our desire to understand them in relation to ourselves. Staring down the concept of being a mere dust mote floating within sunbeams, some of us began to wonder if the Gods we abandoned weren’t actually a different form of sky daddy. In the words of Giorgio A. Tsoukalos- “Aliens.”

Science fiction has a rich history of depicting ancient Gods as alien lifeforms. Doctor Who is no different. Sometimes these extra-terrestrial visitors are used to explain odd phenomena, and other times, they’ve been used to outright undermine the achievements of ancient civilisations. One of the most popular ancient alien theories is that aliens helped build the pyramids. Some Egyptian-themed polyhedron-obsessed aliens influenced ancient Egyptian culture. You can see it in movies like Stargate, or in television stories like the 1975 Doctor Who serial “Pyramids of Mars.” Recent books like Erich Von Daniken’s scientifically dubious “Chariots of the Gods,” or numerous documentaries narrated by Rod Serling had garnered interest in ancient astronauts. A year after “Pyramids of Mars,” aired, NASA released photos from their Viking 1 orbiter that would only feed these theories. The black and white photos of the Cydonia region appeared to depict a carved facelike structure and gigantic pyramids on the planet’s surface. Needless to say, some people let their imaginations run wild.

While many of the concepts explored in the History Channel’s “Ancient Aliens,” have been labelled pseudo-science or even racist, some of these concepts still crop up in popular media. A more benign example would be Marvel’s own Thor and Loki. Sure, they call them Gods, but they are very clearly from advanced alien civilisations. It feels appropriate then that Doctor Who returning with Disney money might also explore one of its own ancient aliens in Sutekh the Destroyer. Considering the build-up with the Toymaker and the Maestro, it all seems fairly obvious in hindsight. But what does this have to do with Ruby Sunday? In seeking out her own parentage, might she also benefit from looking to the stars?

One aspect to this season of Doctor Who that I feel has actually fallen a bit flat is the question of Ruby Sunday’s parents. Considering that the fandom has been interacting more with the question of the identity of Susan Twist’s character, it’s safe to say I’m not alone in this. It’s just not a very interesting question, and I think it’s partly because we already know the answer. Doctor Who’s official Twitter recently asked fans who they think Ruby’s mother really is, and only a few people actually got the answer right. It’s Carla Sunday, obviously. I find this whole question to be as flawed as the conversation around it. Ruby uses words like “abandoned,” to describe herself. And while I can understand the desire to know your roots, I know my adopted siblings were never abandoned. They were found. They have a family who love them. My mother who was also adopted had a mother in my grandma. My greatest hope with this storyline is that this is what Russell T Davies has been leading up to all along. Ruby’s real mother is the one who changed her diapers and cleaned up scraped knees.

Speaking of family, “The Legend of Ruby Sunday,” begins like a bit of a family reunion. Yasmin Finney is back as “Rose.” As are Gemma Redgrave as “Kate Lethbridge-Stewart,” Bonnie Langford as “Mel,” and Alexander Devrient as “Colonel Christofer Ibrahim.” Also returning is the Vlinx, with a shiny new chassis. Strangely absent is Ruth Madeley as UNIT’s scientific advisor “Shirley Anne Bingham." In her place is Lenny Rush as “Morris Gibbons,” a boy genius with a taste for excitement. We’re also introduced to Harriet, UNIT’s newest lead archivist. More on her later. The light tone of this family reunion is much needed as the majority of this episode is Doctor Who at its most bleak.

Something I have completely failed to mention this season has been the TARDIS’ weird groaning. It’s not as though I hadn’t noticed, there have just been so many things to talk about lately. I had meant to bring it up last week when the Doctor told Rogue the TARDIS doesn’t like bounty hunters. I figured then that it was the Doctor ignoring a bigger problem. Speaking of which, it does strike me as a bit odd that the Doctor hadn’t addressed the issue for such a long time. The TARDIS has been groaning and sliding into landings like a football tackle. I understand that the Doctor has a lot on his mind, but it would have been nice if they could have shown the Doctor showing any kind of concern for the TARDIS. He’s been flying her for thousands of years, he would notice any slight change. This isn’t a huge issue for me, though it does feel a bit out of character. But who am I to complain? Even I forgot to bring it up.

The Doctor does have a lot on his mind, which is what brings him to UNIT HQ. It was nice to see the Doctor lay all of his cards on the table for a change. You don’t often see the Doctor outright asking for help. Luckily, UNIT was already on the case. The woman the Doctor keeps seeing also exists in modern-day London as Susan Triad. I found it a bit odd that the Doctor would know a politician from an aborted timeline like Roger ap Gwilliam, but not a tech industry giant with her name on a skyscraper. Even Colonel Ibrahim recognised it as an anagram of TARDIS, so what gives, Doctor?

Part of their gathering intelligence on Susan Triad has been using Mel to infiltrate her organisation. When I had heard they were bringing back Mel, I was excited. Mel has never been a fan favourite, and even I took a lot of time to warm up to her in classic Doctor Who. But bringing her back feels like a no-brainer. She’s a tech whiz and Bonnie Langford is a great actress. There is only room to grow with her character, and grow she does. Not only have they given her a bit more backstory with losing her family, but we also get to see her acting as a double agent and puttering about on her scooter. Seeing Mel in this capacity is a delight. I am really enjoying how they have built up UNIT to be more like the ‘70s (or was it the ‘80s?) with recurring characters. Instead of Yates and Benton, we’ll now have Ibrahim and Sullivan. I really hope they continue this trend, though I would appreciate it if they stopped haemorrhaging scientific advisors.

Despite around-the-clock surveillance, the most UNIT has managed to gather on Susan Triad is that she’s a seemingly nice human woman with no underlying alien traits. Her company’s upcoming event will announce that she is making the Triad OS free to the world, which seems like a weird flex. Ubuntu and Fedora are both free operating systems, so this is nothing new. What’s even more perplexing is that UNIT would integrate Triad into their own systems. Call me crazy, but if I were a government organisation spying on a tech giant because their name is an anagram of an alien time machine, I might opt to use Windows or Mac. The whole storyline was giving shades of “The Sontaran Strategem/The Poison Sky,” or even “Kingsman: The Secret Service,” wherein miracle technologies are secretly deadly. We still don’t know the ramifications of the Triad system’s worldwide rollout, but I imagine we’ll find out next week.

Something a friend pointed out to me that feels important happens during the Mrs Flood scene. According to Kate, the Triad press conference was scheduled for fifteen hundred hours, or 3 pm. What’s odd is that when Ruby and Rose show up to Ruby’s home, Cherry’s digital clock reads 15:08. At first, I had misremembered this scene and figured it must take place during the events at UNIT HQ, but the inclusion of Ruby and Rose implies that it’s not. I can think of three possible explanations for this. One explanation is that it was a continuity error. The production crew simply goofed. It happens. Another explanation is that Cherry’s radio is like my coffee machine in that the digital time display is incorrect. That’s possibly the most human answer. But television doesn’t often allow for such realistic discrepancies as they can confuse audiences. Seriously, how often do you see fictional stories where two characters share the name John? One of my closest friends is also named Natalie, but that wouldn’t usually work in fiction. This leaves us with a third explanation which is that it was done on purpose. Either something wibbly wobbly is happening, or they goofed.

As expected, Mrs Flood appears to be someone. With the reveal of Susan Triad being Sutekh, my hopes of the Rani have been dashed against the rocks of reality. Or have they? In explaining regeneration to Ruby, the Doctor describes it as a way to hide away with a new face. When Ruby fetches Mrs Flood to mind Cherry while Carla joins them back at UNIT, Mrs Flood mentions hiding herself away. While Mrs Flood was a bit rude to Ruby and downright hostile toward Cherry, these could be the actions of a bitter Susan Foreman, aka the Doctor’s granddaughter. However, I am reticent to call her Susan for a couple or reasons. For starters, Carole Ann Ford was present at the premiere for the 60th anniversary specials. Sure this could have simply been due to her history with the show, but it could also imply she’s been filming things for the RTD2 era. You could speculate that the only thing she actually filmed was a flashback regeneration scene into Mrs Flood, but that feels like a waste of a much-needed reunion. My money is on the Rani, but mostly because I want her to be and because Carole Ann Ford deserves her moment. If they bring Susan back, there’s only one person I want to see play her.

Ruby and Rose fetch the surveillance tape from the night Ruby was left on that church stoop. I loved that Carla joined them the moment she learned that Donna was involved with UNIT. It’s nice to see that at least one character hasn’t forgotten who Ruby’s real mother is. This also gave rise to one of my favourite Doctor moments of the episode when he says "Yeah but it’s Carla. Come on," in response to the claim that not even the prime minister has access to UNIT HQ. I loved the exchange between the Doctor and Kate about their possession of a time window. They claim they don’t have one, the Doctor knows they do. Classic. It’s the Doctor knowing of the existence of the Black Archive all over again. Even further, I loved the Doctor laughing at the way UNIT has “lashed together,” the time window. I doubt he really feels that way, but the Doctor needs to remind UNIT not to get too comfortable. Undercutting their achievement is a reminder that these items aren’t toys. It’s a subtle way to establish himself as an authority while also reminding UNIT of their limitations. The Doctor’s aim isn’t to belittle UNIT, but to instill a healthy fear of these technologies. As it turns out, the Doctor’s fears were well-founded.

The time window is a large room capable of viewing moments in time. The Doctor refers to time as a memory which is a bigger Whoiverse change than people are giving it credit. I always thought of the TARDIS as a supercomputer that stores moments throughout time in its memory like files. It makes sense that time and memory mingle like this. The effect of the VHS degradation on memory is one of the coolest visual effects in Doctor Who. It’s nice to see that Disney money coming into play. I also have to tip my hat to Lenny Rush for his performance as Morris here. Lots of UNIT characters were given little moments to shine in this episode like Harriet and Colonel Chidozie. The latter of whom we’re given a bit of background information about so that when he meets his demise, we care a little bit more. He’s just a Manchester lad with a cheery disposition. It would be a shame if something were to happen to him.

In an almost cruel twist of fate, the visual of Ruby’s mother is obscured. Not just obscured, but seemingly darkened as if on purpose. The moment she walks close to the Doctor and Ruby, she glitches past them. It’s sad for Ruby, but I feel it’s important that Carla is there to witness this moment. She needs to see that the mystery of Ruby’s life isn’t just one of being an orphan, but that something is deeply and darkly wrong. I feel as though Carla’s involvement in this storyline is due a rather big payoff next week, and I am looking forward to that. The Doctor notices that the TARDIS appears more corporeal than a simple image from a video. He asks the tanatalising question “If time is memory and memory is time, then what is the memory of a time machine?” It’s a question I have been mulling in my head ever since, and I still don’t have a great answer.

Colonel Chidozie disappears around the same time a swarm of dark energy begins to incircle the memory TARDIS (omg I think I just figured it out). The MEMORY TARDIS! Ok. I see what you’re putting down, Russell. Carla refers to the dark energy as “the Beast,” as in, the devil. But who among us didn’t automatically think of the Beast from “The Satan Pit”? Hell, it’s not as though it would break the show if Sutekh and the Beast were one in the same. They’re both voiced by Gabriel Woolf. Furthermore, we know Sutekh takes on multiple forms like the doggo or Susan Triad. There are plenty of examples of gods taking on multiple forms. Christianity has the Holy Trinity of God, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Hindu gods often have multiple forms such as Vishnu manifesting as Krishna, Rama, or even Buddha. It’s fully within the realm of possibility that the Beast is yet one more aspect to Sutekh. After all, the Fourth Doctor did refer to him as Satan at one point. Why not?

Possibly the most interesting aspect of the scene is when Chidozie’s speaks out from the darkness. It’s not so much the fact that he’s in Hell or that his consciousness feels like it’s been hijacked like Angel Bob’s was, but rather the fact that he only seems to respond to Ruby. The Doctor tries to commune with the entity and gets nothing. Kate commands Chidozie to report and comes up equally empty-handed. It’s not until Ruby attempts to communicate with the entity that it responds. If Christianity has the Trinity and Hinduism has the Trimurti, perhaps Sutekh has the Triad. Perhaps there’s Sutekh, his doggo form, and Ruby Sunday. This might explain why Ruby’s birth mother has been obscured- she never existed. Whoever left Ruby at the church that day could have been a servant of Sutekh, or even Susan Triad herself.

The tone of the episode by this point is very gloomy. I think the last time Doctor Who gave me the creeps to this degree was “The Impossible Astronaut.” As a fan of dark and disturbing movies, I consider myself rather resilient to horror and dread in media. But there is something about turning the TARDIS into a malevolent force that chills me to my core. Bad Wolf Girl once said “You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning. That sound brings hope wherever it goes.” But here, the TARDIS offers no comfort. It goes beyond seeing our beloved symbol of hope twisted and perverted. We have seen what the TARDIS is capable of doing. We know how powerful it can be. We can also imagine what that power can do in the wrong hands. My dear late friend Quinn and I used to say that the cloister bell was the scariest sound the TARDIS could make. But this howling groan and sinister energy turning into a hound of Hell is like the cloister bell on steroids.

The Doctor and Mel head off to S Triad Technologies in the vain hope that Susan might be the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan. It’s a last-ditch effort to gain insight into what is happening. Earlier in the episode, we see Kate telling the Doctor that he brings joy, but after Chidozie’s death, you get the impression that her view has sobered up a bit. The Doctor sees the fear in Kates eyes. He sees the fear in Carla’s eyes. He even let down his best friend Ruby. But it’s Mel who picks him back up. Mel who has seen him at his worst and knows who the Doctor is underneath it all. Only she can give him the tough love he needs in this moment and I loved that they gave this opportunity to Bonnie Langford.

The Doctor makes contact with Susan Triad but there is no Time Lord recognition on either end. However, we’ve been here before. Maybe she has a fob watch she doesn’t like to look at. Maybe she’s hiding away. With her press conference due to begin, Susan is whisked away. But as she leaves the Doctor calls out asking if she’s ever dreamed of a girl named Lindy. Has she ever dreamed about a place called Pacifico Del Rio? Has she ever dreamed about being an ambulance? Out of context, he sounds insane. I mean, sure, I dream of being a sail barge, but that’s my special time. It’s enough to set things into motion.

At this point, we still don’t know the true identity of Susan Triad. She very well could still be the Doctor’s granddaughter. But the moment she walked onstage doing that awkward Theresa May arm thing, I knew she had to be evil. Historically speaking, if you want someone to appear evil in Doctor Who, compare them to a Tory. It worked in “The Happiness Patrol,” and it still works now. Could you imagine being the person who milkshakes Sutekh? I feel like throwing a sweet banana dairy concoction into the face of a terrible god would only resort in eternal suffering. While Susan Triad is having her public meltdown for all to see, UNIT’s own Harriet Arbinger is doing one as well. Once again we get another Harbinger. I’ll be honest, the H. Arbinger joke isn’t nearly as strong as RTD seems to think it is. But then again, Batman is the “world’s greatest detective,” and it took him a while to learn that E. Nigma was the Riddler.

I had begun to fully suspect Sutekh by this point, but part of me was starting to wonder if Harriet wasn’t going to turn out to be Sutekh instead. It would have been a very effective misdirect. I was really liking Harriet up to this point too, so I was a bit sad she just turned out to be a servant of the God of Death. Her “I was born for this,” line had me a little hot under the collar. But it looks like she’s gonna get a lot to do in the next episode, so that softens the blow a little bit. As she names off the various gods of the Pantheon, I was very happy to see them reference the Mara as I am a big fan of both “Kinda,” and “Snakedance.” Some have also speculated that the threefold deity of malice, mischief and misery could be a reference to the Gods of Ragnarok. I really hope this is true because I’ve always thought they were cool.

I’ve seen some people complain that they seem to have somewhat retconned Sutekh. People have said it makes no sense to make him the god of gods. He’s an Osiran, not the most powerful god of them all, right? Well, if you think about it, in many ways, death is the ultimate power. If a god like the Toymaker can die, then of course he would run from Sutekh. Also, he’s a god, of course he’s going to claim to be the best. That’s kind of their whole deal. They’re quite full of themselves, gods. Sutekh’s whole deal is that he believes himself the only being worthy of life. Thus all living creatures are an affront to him. Where he treads, he leaves only dust and darkness. Sutekh demonstrates this by reducing Susan Triad’s poor assistant to dust much like he did to Chidozie. With the TARDIS commandeered by evil Anubis and the Doctor being next in line to receive Sutekh’s gift, things have never looked darker for our Time Lord and saviour.

So who was Susan Triad? Was she always Sutekh? Harriet referred to Sutekh as “the mother, father, and other of them all.” I suppose I should start using they/them pronouns for Sutekh. But who were they? Did every incarnation of Sutekh know they were Sutekh? You could wager that they had a hand in a lot of what was happening, and a lot of what was happening could lead to death. The Space Babies were forced into existence and left to die. Roger ap Gwilliam and the Maestro were set on nuclear annihilation. Lindy and her lot were racists which often leads to death. And let's not forget the cold algorithm of the capitalistic war machines from Villengard. What’s even more interesting then is that if these are all aspects of Sutekh and death, then we know Sutekh is stoppable. In “73 Yards,” we’re shown that whatever Ruby’s follower said to Sutekh was enough to send them scurrying. Sadly, Ruby has no memory of this aborted timeline.

With a new episode of “Tales from the TARDIS,” in the pipeline, I expect we’ll see the return of the memory TARDIS in a big way. According to news sources, the new episode will feature the Doctor and Ruby discussing the events of “Pyramids of Mars,” so make sure to watch that if you need a refresher or have never seen the original. One aspect you might find interesting is that Sutekh initially manifests at a priory on the site of the original UNIT HQ. I have no idea if that will come into play, but it’s interesting that both stories are focused around UNIT, if nothing else. Even more interesting is the fact that in both stories, Sutekh is intent on possessing the TARDIS. I wonder if the Doctor will be forced to use the memory TARDIS to stop Sutekh since the regular TARDIS is compromised. We see Ruby’s memory begin to manifest once more when she and Sullivan enter the time window again. It’s entirely plausible.

I’ll be watching the finale like many others in the UK this weekend, at the movie theatre. The last time I got to see a Doctor Who episode in the theatre was in Kansas City when they simulcast “The Day of the Doctor,” at a local indie-theatre. I’ll never forget the feeling of a theatre packed with nerds cheering over Peter Capaldi’s attack eyebrows. I’m also going to see it in the theatre because, evidently, this is a big enough episode to merit a cinematic experience. I bought nine tickets, so it’s going to be a bit of an event for me. I’ll try not and let that colour my experience too much. All in all, I loved this episode, but we’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I loved “Fugitive of the Judoon,” but the lacklustre finale left me retroactively disappointed. But for the time being, RTD has my full attention. I can’t remember the last time Doctor Who left me this excited for what’s to come.

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