#but there's other things that if the choice was between eating them or starving to death there's

[actualaster]

I think some people genuinely don't grasp the concept of "sensory issues" when it comes to things like food.

A food sensory issue is not "I don't want to eat that because it isn't my preferred flavor"

A food sensory issue is "something about the taste/texture/smell of this is incompatible with my brain and it makes me gag and if you try to force that into me I will choke on it and/or throw up"

A food sensory issue is "something set me off and now I can't eat for hours because I feel sick to my stomach and there isn't a way to fix that especially if the sensory trigger is lingering like a smell"

A food sensory issue is "you might as well have asked me to eat a bowl full of rocks because this is about as edible to me, no matter how much I wish that weren't the case"

A food sensory issue is "I haven't eaten anything decent in 3 days because I haven't had a chance to go to the store and I don't have anything left I'm physically capable of eating"

A food sensory issue is "I'm super fucking hungry but I took one bite and no matter how hard I tried to eat it I automatically gagged it back out because my body completely rejects it because of the taste/texture/smell"

A food sensory issue is "struggling to maintain a passable diet so you don't have a bunch of deficiencies because what you can eat is restricted"

Quite frankly, food sensory issues should really be treated similarly to food allergies in that you cannot safely try to trick or force a person to eat them.

[boxingcleverrr]

Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.

Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.

But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.

The Abduction is The Thing.

Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.

Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.

It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.

I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!

It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.

"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.

And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.

They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.

Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.

That's how it went.

I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:

This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!

Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! Thank you all for your support for the "Arthur misunderstands what a warlock is" au! Here's part two! You can find part one here!

As a quick recap, is this au Uther spread propaganda that warlocks were soul-eating demons in order to justify killing young warlocks. When Merlin finally reveals his magic to Arthur, Arthur's fairly chill with it, up until he realizes that Merlin's a warlock. Then, Arthur thinks that Merlin needs to eat souls in order to survive, and orders Merlin to kill a prisoner who was going to be executed the next day to make sure that Merlin was "fed".

And without further ado, on to the new stuff!

In the days following the... meal that Arthur had provided him, Merlin still wasn't looking any better, much to Arthur's dismay. Arthur agonized over the situation for many nights, unable to come up with any solution. They didn't have any criminals currently being held in the dungeons, and there weren't many bandits left in the woods for Merlin to feed on.

However, despite Merlin still looking tired and restless in the days following his "meal", he started to slowly look better after a week had passed, so Arthur, with a heavy heart, counted his plan as a success. Eating the criminal's soul really had reinvigorated Merlin, and wasn't that just terrible? As guilty and sick as Arthur felt about the whole situation, he could only imagine how Merlin had felt, carrying this burden for his entire life.

Merlin was such a gentle and kind soul, crying over unicorns and sick kittens! Arthur knew that this terrible burden must haunt Merlin like nothing else, being forced to devour the souls of others in order to keep himself alive.

Based on his observations over the past months, Arthur could see that Merlin never went actively hunting for prey, only waiting until an enemy of Camelot showed up for him to quietly dispatch. Arthur could see plainly that Merlin would rather starve than seek out a meal, and that most certainly was a problem.

Arthur wasn't sure what would happen if Merlin starved himself, if he would either lose control over himself and devour whatever poor souls he could find or would simply weaken and wither away, but Arthur wasn't keen on seeing such a thing happen. Merlin seemed to be able to go several weeks in between feedings, and there generally was one execution a month with how many bandits, assassins, and vengeful sorcerers came to Camelot, so if he...

Arthur swallowed dryly as guilt and self-disgust welled up in this throat. He... he didn't want to do this. Hell, he knew that Merlin surely wouldn't want to do this, even if it is for his sake!

But what other choice did he have? As awful as it was to admit it, Merlin's life meant far more to Arthur than any enemy's soul. If Merlin wasn't going to actively seek out souls, then Arthur had to hand them over to him, whether Merlin liked it or not.

Meanwhile, Merlin wasn't having a very good time.

He had thought that he was prepared for any negative reaction from Arthur to the news of his magic. And Arthur had been so accepting of Merlin's magic when they finally sat down together and talked about everything! Arthur had even become accustomed to seeing Merlin use magic for his chores! Arthur was comfortable with him, magic and all!

But Merlin had been so, so naive and hopeful. He had hoped that showing Arthur the softer, more mundane uses of magic would give him a new perspective on magic, teaching him that magic was not just the fearsome weapon that Arthur had been raised and conditioned to view it as.

And Merlin had thought that he was doing so well. Arthur didn't so much as bat an eye when Merlin used magic to scrub the floors or polish his armor! Arthur was comfortable with eating magically-heated food and sleeping in clothes covered in protection enchantments!

Arthur was clearly still comfortable with Merlin, and he still trusted Merlin! Merlin had shown him the softer side of magic, and yet...

Yet Arthur had taken him down into the dungeons and ordered him to execute a prisoner with his magic.

Arthur had looked him dead in the eyes and told him to kill the imprisoned noble in cold blood, and then was too disgusted with Merlin to even watch as his loyal manservant carried out his orders, harshly twisting the noble's neck with a simple spell.

Merlin couldn't fall asleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he either saw the noble's blank, dead stare or, even worse, Arthur's stern expression as he ordered Merlin to take a life with his magic.

It wasn't the first time Merlin had killed someone with his magic, not by far, but it was the first time he had done so outside of battle, on an unarmed enemy. It was the first time he had killed on Arthur's orders, and he wasn't sure who he was more disappointed in: Arthur or himself.

But the worst part of it all was that it proved Merlin wrong: he hadn't made as much progress with improving Arthur's opinion of magic as he had thought.

Arthur clearly still thought of magic and now, by extension, Merlin himself as a weapon, one that could be harnessed against his enemies. One that had been used against his enemies for years, without his knowledge.

Merlin felt helplessly stuck. He had done all he could to show Arthur how wonderful magic could be, yet the only use Arthur saw for it was as an executioner's blade!

Was that truly the only use Arthur saw for Merlin now that he knew the truth? The very thought of it hurt, it made Merlin want to curl up on his bed and sob and never have to face the world ever again.

Still, despite Arthur ordering Merlin to execute a man with his magic, Merlin persisted in his efforts to show Arthur the more wonderous side of magic. He doubled down on showing Arthur all of the useful littler enchantments that he knew and all of the beautiful things he could create with his magic.

And once again, for several weeks Merlin had thought that he was making progress! That was, until an assassin targeting Arthur was caught by the knights and sentenced to die the next day.

That night, when Arthur sent for Merlin, he knew exactly what Arthur wanted.

Once again, Merlin slowly followed Arthur down to the dungeons, he was fighting tears the entire way down. Was this supposed to be his punishment for lying to Arthur for ten years? Forcing him to commit atrocities with the magic he was trying so hard to show was not a thing to be feared?

Arthur slowly led him to the same cell as before, with the assassin tied to a chair in the middle, just as the noble had been. Merlin turned to Arthur with tears in his eyes, only to be met with grim determination from his king.

"Please," he nearly sobbed out, hoping his friend would take pity on him, "please, I don't want to do this. My mag- I'm not meant to do this. This is not what I was made for, what I was born to do."

Merlin thought that he saw tears gathering in Arthur's eyes as well for a split second, but they were gone in an instant, replaced with cold determination.

"I know that you don't want to do this, but despite what any of us may wish, this is what you are meant to do, Merlin. You must do this."

Merlin lowered and shook his head slowly, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to process the awful things that Arthur was saying. How could he possibly think that? He really did think so low of Merlin that he would claim all Merlin was good for was for, all his magic was good for, was senseless violence.

"No, Arthur, I won't- I can't do this!"

Merlin looked up again, ready to plead with Arthur, to try and make him see reason, only to see Arthur at the door of the cell, blocking the only exit.

"I'm sorry, Merlin." Arthur's voice was thick with sorrow and remorse, and Merlin didn't know why. Why was Arthur doing this? Why would he feel so remorseful over something that was completely unnecessary?! Merlin stared at his friend in shock and disbelief as Arthur cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I'm sorry, but you need to do this. Neither of us are leaving until it's done."

Merlin choked back more sobs and slowly turned to face the prisoner, wondering how Arthur could be so cruel.

Merlin made the deed itself quick, not wanting to make this any longer than it needed to be for everyone involved. A simple flash of gold in his eyes, and the assassin was dead.

Merlin was unable to sleep that night, too haunted by the anger in Arthur's eyes to find any rest.

What was perhaps even more disturbing for Merlin was Arthur's insistence on still acting normal, like nothing was wrong at all, in the days following the execution. Arthur's willful avoidance of the topic was confusing and frustrating in equal amounts.

Still, Merlin continued serving Arthur. He had to hold out hope that things would get better, that Arthur would learn that magic was more than just violence. What other choice did he have? He had gotten this far with his destiny, he couldn't stop now, not when they were so close to the golden age!

The weeks went on, and Merlin thought he saw more improvement in Arthur's opinion of magic, but doubt was always present. Merlin held his breath now whenever Arthur sentenced criminals, praying that none of them would be sentenced to execution, as he knew what would happen next.

However, as more weeks went by and no executions were scheduled, Merlin slowly let himself relax. Perhaps Arthur had seen reason after all!

Merlin carried this hope with him into the spring, which brought with it more frequent hunting trips and patrols. And when he and Arthur went on a hunting trip or a patrol, trouble was always found.

In their current situation, "trouble" took the form of an angry Sidhe, which still held a grudge against Merlin for murdering two of their own and ruining their plans to take over Camelot.

The good news was that Merlin was able to beat the Sidhe, banishing it back to Avalon. The bad news was that the Sidhe had managed to land a rather powerful spell on Merlin, which left him with several broken bones and various injuries.

Merlin groaned where he laid prone on the ground, glad to see that everyone else was unharmed, but unable to ignore the pain burning throughout his body. Anyone else would have probably died from his injuries, but even now he could feel his magic mending his bones and flesh. But despite his magic already trying to heal him, everything hurt like hell.

As Merlin tried to sit up, Arthur rushed over to his side, supporting him as his back protested his every movement. Merlin smiled at Arthur gratefully, trying to alleviate his friend's worry, but he soon became concerned that Arthur took a blow to the head while fighting, as Arthur started rambling nonsense at him.

"Merlin! You haven't eaten in week! It's no wonder you got so hurt, you've been starving yourself you idiot! You... you'll recover, right? You have enough energy and magic to heal yourself?"

Merlin groaned in pain as he tried to make sense of what Arthur was saying. What did it mater how long it had been since he ate?

"I- I can recover, yes. My magic is doing all it can for me right now, but it'll be slow. I'll probably be fine, I've come back from worse."

Merlin tried to give Arthur his most reassuring grin, but Arthur only paled further.

"But you were... you say that your magic is doing all that it can, but it can't fully heal you right now, can it? You need..."

Merlin watched, confused, as Arthur paused to blink back tears. What on earth was going on?

"You need to eat, Merlin. And there's no- there's no bandits, no assassins, no criminals anywhere around for us to use but you need one!"

Merlin just stared at Arthur, still unable to grasp what was going on. He glanced behind Arthur at the knights, and while Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival looked just as lost as he felt, all of the other knights looked upon Merlin and Arthur with looks of shocked horror.

"Arthur, what are you-"

"No, this needs to be done. Merlin, Camelot needs you. I know that we face much adversity despite accepting magic now, and Camelot needs its greatest protector. There will only ever be one Emrys. But a king? A king is replaceable. Should I fall, Gwen will take my place, and I have np doubts that she will be a fair, just, and wise sovereign for Camelot.

It is fitting, as I have condemned others to this fate for the sake of my kingdom, that I should bare the same end."

"What are you even talking about?! Did you hit your head while I wasn't looking?"

Arthur shook his head, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. Yup, Merlin decided, Arthur definitely had a concussion. He'd have to get Gaius to check him over once they returned to Camelot.

"No, Merlin, please stop denying the situation. You need a soul to eat if you're going to recover, and I am offering you my own!"

Merlin blinked, wondering if perhaps he was the one that had a concussion instead of Arthur. Because there was no way that he had heard that correctly.

Following Arthur's tearful outburst, Leon rushed forwards, grabbing ahold of a weeping Arthur's shoulders. Good, Merlin thought, Leon was a very sensible man, he would surely make Arthur see reason!

"No, sire! You can't! The kingdom needs you just as much as it needs Merlin! I will offer myself in your place! Merlin, you must take my soul instead!"

... Or not.

Had everyone hit their heads? Perhaps the Sidhe had cast some madness-inducing spell before he had banished it? And why were they going on about souls?

"Hold on now, what are talking about? Why would I be taking anyone's soul?"

Leon and Arthur stared blankly at him, as if he was the one spewing nonsense, until Leon cleared his throat and responded in a hesitant voice, "But... but isn't that how warlocks like you fuel their powers?"

There was a brief pause as the air held still before Merlin finally forced words past his dumbfounded lips.

"YOU IDIOTS THOUGHT I DID WHAT?!"

And that's a wrap on this au for now! Thank you all for your support and your patience! This turned out to be much longer than I anticipated!

A big thank you to everyone who requested this continuation! I'll try to tag you all here, my apologizes if I forget anyone, there were quite a few of you! @veryroadpartystatesman-blog, @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu, @that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction, @keitorin3, @chaosofbelievers, @stateofdreaming14, @melodymeddler, @arrowlovesdragons, @notquitehumanwrites, @caraspud, @ikol-art, @linotheghost, @murder-drones-4ever, @error-username-not-available, @theroundbartable, @magicalmischel, @skatercashew, @xxv2axx, @tobythetrashytrash, @auldsusie, @everything-but-the-not-natural, @ramadiiiisme, @idk-anymore-mydudes, @tamaha, @kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick, @merthurogies

Once again, thank you all for exploring this au with me! I'll be back soon with a new au idea! Until next time!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[pearlessance]

Lust Among Thieves [part one]

Raider!Joel Miller x reader x raider!Tommy Miller

Summary: Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, dubcon definitely but not quite noncon, reader is held hostage by Joel and Tommy, threesome, canon typical violence, mean!Joel and manipulative!Tommy, unprotected sex, slowburn, angst with a happy ending NOTE: this is a fic i've cowritten with my bff joelmillersgirlfriend!! she has sooo many good fics over on her A03, her most recent one is called Hangover In the Sunshine and if you don't go read it I'll cry kay <3 Read on A03! MASTERLIST

It felt as if every vein in your body was pulsing, begging for a moment to stop and breathe in fresh oxygen. You couldn’t stop moving though, you had to keep running like your life depended on it - because it did.

You had grown desperate after fleeing the QZ. In the QZ there were rations, yes, but it had never been full on starvation. You had to steal from them. You had no other choice.

But now you were caught and fleeing the scene, tumbling through the thick Massachusetts snow. The sound of rapid steps behind you made you speed up, your worn boots crunching in the snow. You had seen the two men from afar, both broad-shouldered and scary. They weren’t like the other raiders you had encountered in the city, loud and rambunctious. Those were easy to spot, easy to avoid.

These two, on the other hand, were cool, quiet, and calculated. The only reason you had the upper hand was because you watched them from inside the city, following them back to the cabin they resided in deep in the woods. You watched silently from the window as they unpacked everything they had scouted out; food, batteries, medicine, even something as futile as beer.

They didn’t need everything that they had. So, every time they went into the city, you would steal little by little. You didn’t anticipate that they would actually notice. You made sure to cover your snow tracks, but they were simply too observant.

A hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back hard enough that the air was knocked out of your lungs. You huffed and fell to the ground, the snow melting around your aching body.

“Got the bitch, Tommy,” graveled a voice from above you. Before you could turn and glance up, you felt a heavy boot press into the side of your face. It smushed your face into the snow, the heat of your cheek making the snow burn as it melted against your face.

“Let me go,” you growled, flailing your body in an attempt to escape. The weight of the boot on your face shifted, a warning. You could tell that if this man wanted to crush you under the boot, he very well could.

You could hear a low whistle blow behind you, the man who you assumed was “Tommy” beginning to speak. “Damn, brother. She’s a feisty thing. Didn’t think a little girl was the one comin’ and stealin’ our food.”

“A little girl who took what didn’t belong to her. I say that we make sure that she never steals again,” spoke the voice from above you. Pathetically, your eyes watered at the threat.

“P-please,” you begged, clenching your fists into the snow. “I’m sorry, okay. I-I’ve been out here on my own, I would’ve starved.”

“Not my problem,” growled the man from above once more, his boot pressing harder into your face. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe from the weight of his foot.

“Come on now, Joel, she’s beggin’ so nice. She’s young, could be real fit if we put some food in her. She could be useful,” Tommy said, tutting at the sound of your sniffling.

“I didn’t sign up for no babysittin’. She would be just another mouth to feed,” Joel grumbled.

“No,” you pleaded, whimpering when Joel’s boot heel shifted, pushing into your throat. You gasped, wrapping your hands around his thick calf. Even though you couldn’t turn your head to look at him, you still clawed at his leg, trying anything to get him to relieve the pressure. “I can be useful.”

Your words sounded more like wheezes at this point, but suddenly, both men were silent. Perhaps they were exchanging glances, silently conveying a message without even speaking. Whatever it was prompted Joel to release his boot from your neck, finally allowing you to breathe. Your coughs were rough and raspy, interrupted by you taking in deep breaths.

“She’s your responsibility. If you wake up and see her standin’ over you with your own gun, don’t be surprised.”

Instead of replying, you felt four hands grabbing you and pulling you up. Two held you in place while the other two tied your hands quickly. You didn’t even have the opportunity to glance back before you were being dragged forward, a heavy palm wrapped around your wrist.

“Names Tommy,” greeted the voice from beside you. Tommy leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. He continued to walk even as you stumbled over your own feet, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity of the stranger.

Seeing him from afar did him absolutely no justice. Long, dirty blonde hair, bright eyes, and a charming smile that made your face warm, despite the situation.

“What’s a little thing like you doin’ all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up with your daddy in the QZ?” Tommy asked, but not with malice. He held a natural curiosity behind his words.

You didn’t speak, unable to form a coherent sentence, too busy thinking about the situation at hand. What were they going to do to you? Kill you? Torture you?

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said in a hushed whisper, trying to hide his sentence from Joel. “I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. You’re safe.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t. Not even when you got back to the very same cabin you had stolen from earlier. Not when Tommy removed your restraints, because when you finally got a good look at Joel, you knew he’d kill you if he got the chance.

All arms and frowns and enthralling gazes - just the thought of being alone with him made your stomach drop.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked Tommy when he pulled you into one of the bedrooms, sifting through the drawers to find you something dry to wear. He glanced back at you, his aquiline nose enhancing the rest of his side profile. He was certainly nice to look at, as much as he shouldn’t have been.

“Joel can be… rash sometimes,” Tommy sighed, glancing back at the drawer. “You don’t deserve to die just because my brother is throwin’ a fit.”

Finally deciding on a shirt, Tommy slunk back over to where you were standing. The backs of your legs were pressed against the rotted bed when he approached you. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to move.

You looked up at Tommy, at this staggering man who was at least a decade older than you. You should’ve been trembling in fear, scared of the anticipation of what they might do to you. Instead, you found yourself oddly excited, suddenly fearless.

Being in the QZ, you lived a strict life. Your father, the guards - you had no freedom. At least now, you could decide your fate. Try to run away, or play along. Make Tommy and Joel happy until eventually, you could slip away.

Tommy used his free hand to run across your bottom lip, pulling a stray piece of hair away. His eyes moved down from your eyes straight to your lips, watching the way they opened. He pressed his index finger into your mouth, spreading your lips slowly.

“Wonder what this mouth could be useful for, baby. You said you’d be useful for me, right?” Tommy whispered, leaning down to brush his lips across yours. Goosebumps erupted across your body, an unexpected rush flooding in between your thighs.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Tommy pull back, not quite kissing you. You glanced back to see Joel standing in the doorway, most likely watching everything. The expression on his face wasn’t one you could read, but the way his shoulders were squared off told you everything you needed to know.

“Get changed. Knock on the door when you’re done,” Tommy commanded, handing you the fresh clothes before walking out of the room. He shut the door behind him, but you could still hear the hushed whispers from the hall.

“Jesus, if you fuck her, Tommy, I’ll kick your ass back to Texas.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do with her then? We can’t kill her, Joel. She’s a little girl.”

Even with the door closed, even with a sound barrier, you can hear his frustration. “She stole from us. You got no idea who she belongs to. Could be part of a bigger group. What happens if we let her go and she brings back a whole other world of problems? She knows where we sleep, Tommy.”

There’s a single, fleeting moment of hesitation before he says again, “No. We’re not going to kill her. That’s not who we are.”

“Isn’t it?”

You don’t bother to listen to the rest of their bickering. That moment of doubt was enough to remind you how dangerous a situation you’ve wound up in, bringing you back to the task at hand.

The room is small, furnished with little else but the withered bed and beat-up dresser. There are two windows with sheets hung up in front of them, but of course, they’re both nailed shut.

The nightstand beside the bed has a lamp on it. You could use it to smash the window open, but they’d hear the shattering of glass and be on you in a minute.

You try to pry out the long, iron nails securing the window closed. The rust turns your aching fingers a sickly shade of orange, a vivid reminder of how you’re stuck and at the mercy of two strangers.

“Goin’ somewhere?” spoke a voice from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Both Joel and Tommy are standing near the entrance of the bedroom, watching you as you try to escape. They must’ve opened the door when you were trying to pry the window open, too distracted by your hopes of escaping to notice the men.

Shaking your head no, you cowered in the corner of the room, praying that Tommy would protect you from Joel’s wrath.

Tommy stood behind Joel with his arms crossed, a small expression of disappointment painted across his face. He truly had faith that you wouldn’t try to escape, which was as endearing as it was ridiculous. Of course you’d try to escape.

“Guess you can’t leave her alone, Tommy. If she eats, sleeps, pisses, you better have an eye on her,” Joel growled, his eyes staring daggers at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your free hand still clenching the clothes that Tommy gave you. Joel’s eyes move down to the clothes, then back up to you.

“He gave you a chance to have some privacy, but you fucked that up real quick,” Joel said, nodding his head in your direction. “Get on with it.”

You hesitated, glancing at both men with wide doe eyes. “With what?”

Joel huffs, crossing his arms without even explaining any further. Both men were mirror images of each other, arms crossed and gazes heavy. You glanced over to Tommy, thinking that maybe he’d rescue you from the situation. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see the toothy grin that spread across Tommy’s mouth, his eyebrows raised in excitement.

He shrugged, but the smile on his face showed you just how much he was enjoying the situation. A wave of anger washed over you, at how much neither of them cared. They weren’t as bad as other raiders you had encountered; cannibals, rapists, slavers. Still, they were holding you hostage, upping the ante if you made any mistakes.

Your hands shook when you gripped the wet puffer jacket that was covering most of your upper half. You slowly pulled it back, the nylon material swishing against your body, dropping to the ground at your feet. Pausing, you looked to see Joel looking away, a frown etched into his face. Tommy, on the other hand, was watching you like a hawk.

The skin on your stomach broke out in goosebumps when you slid it up, exposing your warm skin to the brothers. Joel still wasn’t looking, confusing you. Why would he order you to undress for him but not even watch?

Soon, you were standing in just your worn bra and panties, reaching to grab the fresh clothes.

“How long have you been on your own?” Tommy asked suddenly, making Joel glance up at you in response. You stood there stupidly, attempting to cover yourself from their gazes. It had been months of scavenging on your own, rarely finding something to last more than a couple of days. You knew that you had lost an uncomfortable amount of weight, but you didn’t need Tommy to point it out.

“I thought that you assumed I was with a group?” you asked, your face turning pale from the way Joel looked at you. A seemingly permanent scowl reappeared on his face, the muscles in his arms flexing, like he was controlling himself not to close the distance between you.

“Okay, smart ass,” Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes at you. “I can tell you’ve been on your own, with how skinny you look,” he pauses before speaking again. “Must’ve been hard.”

You swallow, nodding stiffly at the statement. It was unbearably difficult, fleeing the QZ after you watched your father get executed. Though your relationship with him was on the rocks, he was all you had left. You had to survive on your own, on the outside. You heard stories growing up in the QZ, of how dangerous it was outside of the city walls.

The rumors were nothing compared to what you had seen.

“It has been,” you whispered. “Hard.”

Something shifted behind Joel’s eyes before he turned away, brushing by Tommy as he walked out of the bedroom. Tommy frowned at the sight of his brother exiting the room.

Turning back to you, he spoke, “Well, hurry up and get dressed so you can get somethin’ to eat. I’m sure it’ll do you good.”

You nodded, shivering in the corner of the room. “Cold.”

Tommy laughed, that Cheshire grin of his making your stomach twist. He moved over to you, rubbing his palms against the skin of your bare shoulders. His large, rough hands moving swiftly over your shoulders, the consistent friction creating a warmth that started from your shoulders and spread between your thighs.

“How’s that feel?” Tommy asked, rubbing his thumbs into the collum of your neck. He added a bit more pressure at the tip of his fingers, digging them into your now-warm skin.

“Good,” you squeaked, still clenching the shirt in your hand. Tommy’s hands left your shoulders, pulling the shirt away from you. He raised your arms up, letting his hands slide over the skin of your wrists, higher, higher. Slowly, he worked the worn, long-sleeved cotton shirt over your frame. When your head peeked out of the hole of the shirt, Tommy winked down at you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“You’re a pretty thing,” Tommy whispered, moving down to his knees to remove your boots and help you step into the shorts he had given you. His hands slid up the shorts, warm palms spread across the apex of your thighs. You could hardly bring yourself to look down at him, the heavy look in his eyes making a shiver run down your spine. “I told you, I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you, and that includes Joel. Just try not to set him off, alright?”

You nodded, watching Tommy run his lips across the skin of your thigh. His mustache tickled your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react to the feeling. You were frozen and your eyes couldn’t move away from Tommy’s.

He kissed a path across your thigh, creating a trail of goosebumps. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, experimentally extending your hand to run through Tommy’s hair. It was long and shaggy, but surprisingly soft, the strands falling through your fingers easily. Tommy hummed at the feeling, those sharp canines making yet another appearance.

“As much as I’d love to let you braid my hair, we better not leave Joel waitin’. He’d get suspicious,” Tommy joked when he stood, groaning at the sound of his knees popping.

You pulled your hand back, peering up at Tommy through heavy lashes. This was insane, you were insane to be entertaining his advances. But, he wanted to take care of you. He could protect you.

“Suspicious of what?” you asked, blushing when you felt Tommy’s hand take hold of yours. He laced his large fingers through your own, grinning down at your question.

“Of me not being able to control myself. Now, come on,” he spoke, pulling you along with him, not allowing you time to process his words. Your clothed feet followed Tommy out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the tiny kitchen and living room space. Joel was using a portable burner to warm up some food, not even looking up when both you and Tommy walked in.

“Look, Joel,” Tommy said, gesturing to you. “It’s your favorite.”

You watched Joel’s frowned face meet your own before dropping to look at your shirt. Your eyes followed, reading the name Bob Dylan. Tommy snickered at Joel’s expression; full of frowns and impatience. Their dynamic was interesting, to say the least.

Even though you should have felt scared of Joel, you found yourself relating to him. To use anger and lack of empathy. After watching your father die, and losing everything, you understood that empty feeling that you recognized in Joel.

“The moment I saw it, I knew you would like it. She winnin’ you over yet?” Tommy asked, pulling your hand to walk further into the kitchen. Joel rolled his eyes, propping his body up against the counter behind him. He was so broad-shouldered, you couldn’t even process how he fit in the tiny kitchen.

“Cute. Can’t say she is, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, stirring the pot that he was working on. Tommy released your hand, joining Joel in preparing dinner.

“I really am sorry,” you suddenly sputtered, both of the men looking at you in response. “I was desperate. In the QZ they always had at least some food, I-I’d never starved before.”

Tommy’s smile faltered, his eyes meeting Joel’s in a silent conversation.

“You were in a QZ? What are you doin’ out here?” Joel asked, cutting off the gas burner. You could feel a shift in the energy, though you couldn’t figure out what exactly it meant.

You nodded. “Went to the Boston QZ with my dad when the virus hit. I was there ever since.”

“But now you’re not.” Joel huffed. “Why?”

“It's not important,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me,” he replied.

Tommy’s eyes caught yours, silently pleading for you to play along. After all, you did tell him that you would try to stay on Joel’s good side.

“They killed him there, and they were going to kill me next. I had to flee.”

He stares at you for what feels like a long time, skin burning beneath his gaze. In the moment of silence, you see the similarities between them; they share the same rugged exterior, the same aquiline nose, the same crease between their brows. Though Tommy’s quite a bit softer, face not contorted into a perpetual scowl like Joel’s.

“Your dad,” Joel says simply. Not a question but rather a demand for information. An order.

You shake your head, averting your gaze. “It doesn’t matt-” you began, but after you saw the dark look on Tommy’s face, you corrected yourself. “There isn’t much to say. He broke FEDRA rules, so they made him pay.”

“Not much of a daddy’s girl, I take it?” Joel questioned. This was the most that Joel had looked at you since the moment you met him, and the heat of his gaze was overwhelming. It felt like an interrogation, a “good cop, bad cop” scenario - with much higher stakes.

“He was all I had,” you said, tone wavering. The room was heavy, shrouded in uncertainty. Neither Joel nor you spoke or created a new rebuttal. The silence lasted for a couple of minutes before Tommy spoke.

“Come on, you two. You can play twenty-one questions later. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

And even though Joel had only warmed up a few cans of chicken noodle soup, you swore that it was the best thing that you had eaten in years. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you hadn’t had a meal in days, but either way, it was delicious.

“Slow down, little girl. Gonna make yourself puke,” Tommy teased. He sat across from the table with you, his feet propped up the table as he ate from the bowl in his hands. Joel was sitting alone in the small living room, slowly sipping from his bowl.

“It’s been days,” you spoke in between bites. Tommy nodded, suppressing a grin.

“Yeah, we know. You really dug into our stash the last time you came. When was it, a month ago now?”

You swallowed, sheepishly avoiding his smile. “Thirty-eight days. It lasted for twenty-seven of them.”

Tommy hummed. “That’s a long time with no food. I can’t blame you, for what you did.”

“Tommy!” Joel hissed from the living room, but his brother paid him no mind.

“Come on, Joel, be serious. She’s harmless. Probably spent the past ten years livin’ in the QZ, that’s half her life. She hasn’t seen what it’s actually like out here; she hasn’t lived it.”

Joel exhales through his nose angrily, turning back to focus on his food. “I’m over this conversation.”

And when Joel said he was over, he meant it. For the rest of the night, you were a ghost to him; invisible. Even later on, you were sitting with Tommy on the small couch in the living room. Tommy was pulling information out of you - what your name was, where you were from, if you liked living in the QZ - but Joel didn’t bat an eye. The only question that made Joel shift in his seat at the kitchen table was “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” you said, suddenly very aware of how insane the situation was. Both of the men were probably almost double your age, rabid, dangerous, but you weren’t really scared. You were more so… intrigued. They had fed you, and Tommy had comforted you. Maybe being with them wasn’t any worse than being on your own.

“Christ,” Tommy exhaled, “Barely old enough to drink. Not that that matters anymore.” He reached down, pulling his bag over from the corner of the couch. His slender fingers produced a bottle of Jack, half empty. “Was gonna use it for a Molotov but I think we could all use somethin’ to take the edge off. Ever have some of this before?”

You shook your head. “I’ve only ever drank vodka,” you admitted, watching how Tommy’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I had some friends in school who would steal bottles from some of the stalls.”

“Bad influences,” Tommy said, instantly becoming hypocritical when he passed the bottle of jack over to you. You took it from him, glancing down at the bronze liquid glowing from the setting sun. Your fingers twisted the cap off, swishing the liquid back and forth before you took a swig.

You winced at the feeling of the liquid fire running down your throat, a chortle coming from the end of the couch. Both your throat and face were burning with the way Tommy was grinning at you.

“Got a little somethin’ right there,” Tommy said, reaching across the couch to wipe up the excess liquid that dribbled down your chin. He brought his index finger to his lips, sucking the alcohol from the tip of his finger. “Mmm. Sweet as pie.”

The heat on your face made you take another sip of the alcohol. A sudden scrape came from the kitchen, with Joel standing up tall and reaching for his rifle. “I’m taking watch.”

He was out of the house before you could blink.

“He’ll come around,” Tommy reassured, taking the jack out of your hand before swallowing down a big swig.

“There’s a half-decent bed in that room there,” Tommy said, gesturing to the hallway. “You can lay down if you’re tired. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

You eyed the bedroom, gazing longingly at the queen bed. You spoke before thinking through your next words. “You’re being very nice. Why?”

Tommy locks eyes with you as he drinks from the jack bottle. “‘Cuz I think you’re cute,” he winks when he finishes swallowing. He stretches out his long legs, resting them on the small coffee table before leaning his head back. His throat is exposed, showing off his thick and unruly beard.

“Either take the bed or I’m gonna beat you to it,” Tommy paused to yawn. “I’m exhausted.

Standing, you took his advice. Tommy’s eyes were shut, not watching you trail into the bedroom. You momentarily considered running to the front door but for all you knew, Joel was standing right outside. You needed to think, work slowly to build their trust, and then try to escape.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said from the bed, climbing in and tucking yourself beneath the sheets. He hummed from the couch, not sleeping but also not paying you much mind. It was surprising how much he had already begun to trust you. His trust would be easy to win over. Joel’s… not so much.

Stretched out in the bed, you doubted you would be able to fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing, your father's death, being held captive. It was just too much to sink in. You glanced around the room momentarily, taking note of how this bedroom lacked windows. No escaping through here.

What made things so much worse was how you found yourself watching Tommy resting on the couch. His Adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, his long, slender legs stretching across the coffee table. His long, layered hair covered his face from you, and you could practically feel the way it felt between your fingers.

You thought about how he had kissed you earlier, all of his affection confusing you. You shouldn’t be attracted to him. He was holding you captive.

Pathetically, you found yourself thinking of Joel as well. Of his heavy presence, of how he could make the energy in the room shift just by stepping into it. The heat of his gaze shouldn’t have made your palms grow clammy and your head go all fuzzy; in both fear and some sort of weird attraction. Men in the QZ weren’t like Joel and Tommy, not rugged and full of pure testosterone.

Somehow, in between creating escape plans while simultaneously reminiscing about the way Tommy’s palms felt against your skin, you ended up falling asleep. Your dreams were full of images of strong, thick hands, as well as crunchy snow. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep before being woken up by Tommy.

He was leaning over you as you groggily blinked up, uncertain of what was happening.

“I’m about to take watch. Joel will be on the couch now. Everythin’ okay?” Tommy questioned, brushing his fingers across your forehead to see your face more clearly. The light from the lamp streaming from the living room into the bedroom accentuated Tommy’s features. This could be a moment where you use his flirtation to your advantage.

Without thinking, you laced your fingers through his hair. It was a quick, instinctive action that ended with you pulling Tommy in for a kiss. The kiss was rushed, fervent, an electric buzz shocking your entire body and making your pussy hum in excitement.

He took every opportunity to deepen the kiss, nipping and licking at your lips. You’re manipulating him, using him to your benefit. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s only natural for your body to react to the feeling of his hands running across your throat.

“Well, good mornin’ to you too,” Tommy laughed into your mouth, pulling away. A web of spit connected between your lips, both of your eyes moving to watch the string break. “Fuck. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

He glances over to Joel, who is stretched out on the living room couch. His arm was thrown over his eyes to block the light of the lantern, not paying any attention to what you and Tommy were up to.

After realizing that Joel wasn’t watching, he used both of his hands to cradle your face. He kissed you so passionately that it was almost hard to breathe, a mashing of lips and teeth. One of his heavy hands reached down to palm your breast, experimentally squeezing a handful. The sensitive peak of your nipple brushed against your bra from the way you were arching your back, making you gasp into Tommy’s mouth.

“I’m gonna be hard for you the whole damn time I’m on watch,” he whispered, pulling both his hand and body away from you. He stood over you, adjusting himself in his pants.

“Be safe,” you said breathlessly, running your palm across his hand. Tommy shot you a toothy grin, flipping your hand over into his own.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

Your plan was working.

In fact, it was working incredibly well for you. You were slowly starting to gain Tommy’s trust, and you had survived past the first night. Nights turned into days and soon it was weeks that you had been held captive by the men.

Tommy couldn’t help but grow close to you, not with the way you would bat your eyes at him when Joel wasn’t looking. You clung to him like a dog, trying to work anything out of him. It wasn’t before long that he finally spilled some information.

“Why does Joel have a stick up his ass?” you asked Tommy, helping him gather the wood that he had just chopped.

“Hey now, watch your mouth,” Tommy said, but the amused smile told you that he agreed with your statement. “He wasn’t the same, after outbreak day.”

You nodded, holding a piece of wood to your chest. “None of us were. I was so young when it happened. I’m glad that I can’t remember what it was like.”

“It was terrifyin’, not knowin’ what the hell was goin’ on. But losin’ her, that’s what did it for Joel. Wasn’t no time machine to go back in time to fix it.”

He was cracking, getting much too comfortable with you. This was your chance to get something to use against Joel.

“Who was she? His wife?” you asked, making Tommy laugh through his nose.

“Joel was no romantic. She was his daughter, Sarah. Best soccer player in the goddamn world,” Tommy chortled, grabbing the rest of the wood from the snow-covered ground.

It made sense, that Joel had a daughter who died. Only a deep, soul-crushing pain could make someone as empty as Joel.

The look on your face must’ve alerted Tommy that he probably shouldn’t have told you any of that information. His eyes widened as he swallowed, chuckling nervously.

“Don’t tell Joel that you know that.”

And you didn’t. You held the information and waited. The perfect opportunity would arise where you could use it for your benefit.

For weeks you’d watched them. Memorized their patterns, their habits. You’d taken note of every rotation in watch shifts, every outing to gather food or supplies. It’s Tommy’s turn to check the snares today, leaving you and Joel alone in the cabin.

The two of you had established a routine of your own on these days. Silence, as Joel prefers, and to keep far enough away from each other. Tommy didn’t bring up your kiss around Joel, but he was just as flirtatious as ever with you.

They’d fed you, clothed you, returned the strength to your bones. Carved room for you in their lives, despite your unplanned arrival. And yet despite all of this, you knew you had to get out. And if you were to ever have a chance, it had to be today.

Joel sits in the living room, knife in hand as he carves something into the piece of wood to pass the time. You can hear the steady grating of metal, a soft hum that echoes in the cabin.

You don’t get close, too afraid to look him in the eye, too afraid his heavy gaze will deter you. Instead, you stand in the doorway, creeping slowly towards the front door. “Tommy should be back soon, right?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just whittles away at the wood in his hands.

“I hope he catches another deer,” you say, steadily creeping towards the front door. It’s less than a foot away, so close you could reach out and touch it.

But you wait, holding tight to your patience.

“Said he’d teach me how to skin it,” you continue, timing each step with your voice, with the scraping of his knife.

Joel makes a sound at the back of his throat. Not quite a response, but an acknowledgment that he’s hearing you.

You reach out your hand and take the iron lock between your fingers, trying to draw at each syllable as much as possible without sounding strange. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it, to be honest with you. All the…the blood, you know? I’ve seen it before, up close, but…it’s different. Isn’t it?”

This time he does respond, and the sound of his voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “Blood is blood,” he says.

Unlocked.

You reach for the handle with shaking fingers. Slowly, you twist it open, heart hammering so hard behind your ribcage you can hear the pulse in your ears.

He’ll kill you if he catches you.

But you have to try. You have to.

Gently, you ease the door open. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say, voice a little louder than before.

The wind is cold as it hits your face. The most refreshing breath of fresh air you’ve had in weeks, as it’s been the first that’s belonged to you only.

“Blood is just blood,” you say, stepping over the threshold. “I guess, in the QZ, it always just got washed away so quickly.”

The door creaks when it closes. You’ve memorized that, too. So you leave it open in hopes it gives you a couple of extra minutes before he realizes you’re gone.

“Sorry, Joel,” you say. “I’m sure I��m annoying you. Tommy will be back soon.”

You don’t wait to hear a reply.

The moment you’re out of the cabin, off the porch with your feet on solid ground, you start running and you don’t look back.

It’s been so long since you’ve been granted this much freedom, and in only moments your lungs begin to ache.

Still, even with no true destination in mind, you push your legs as fast as they’ll carry you. The snow crunches beneath your feet and your breath fogs in front of your face, but it’s the best you’ve felt in weeks.

There’s an end to the woods somewhere, right? You needed to get out, to find someplace to hole up in temporarily. Someplace that Joel and Tommy haven’t checked a thousand times over. Someplace far.

Tomorrow, you could make a better plan. For now, away was all that mattered.

You’re not sure how long you’re running before you nearly fall against a tree trunk, rough bark scratching against your sweaty palms. Straining your ears, trying to keep your panting breaths quiet, you listen for footsteps, rustling, any sound of life apart from your own.

And when you hear nothing but the wind in your ears, you let yourself feel it for the first time since setting foot in that cabin.

Hope.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

His voice comes a second before the click of his rifle.

You don’t listen.

This time when you begin running from him, your adrenaline is fueled by much more than trepidation. You’re not running for your freedom, you’re running for your life.

Joel’s heavy footsteps are right behind you, his unheaded warning echoing in your head.

You spare a glance over your shoulder to see that perpetual scowl on his face has turned murderous, deadly.

His pace slows only long enough for him to raise his rifle. The shot reverberates between the trees, and pressure builds behind your eyes as you realize how dangerous this man is.

You’ve known it from the moment you’d seen him, but it suddenly feels much more real. He’s going to kill you.

Another shot.

He’s going to kill you.

You run faster, push your legs harder, warm tears sliding down your cheeks.

But Joel’s much bigger than you. Faster, too. And when he crashes into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground, he presses his knee into the small of your back. Pain shoots up through your spine, down to your toes.

He’s speaking but you can’t hear it, can’t hear anything but the sound of your own cries in your ears. You fight him, even knowing you have no chance, even knowing he’s going to take this opportunity to do what he’s wanted all along.

“Please,” you find yourself saying. “Please, just let me go. I’ll never come back, I’ll never tell anyone where you are.”

He laughs. It’s a sick, maniacal sound that frightens you so much more than anything else ever has. “What makes you think I’d believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?”

You can hear the sound of fabric tearing, and then he’s taking your hands in his and pining them against your back. He ties the scrap of his flannel tight around your wrists, immobilizing you.

Trying to break free of the well-practiced knot is fruitless and you know it, but you try anyway.

His breath is hot against the back of your neck. “Stupid little girl,” he says. “Know that whatever happens now, you did to yourself.”

The fear starts to fade and is replaced with exhaustion. Every muscle in your body aches but it’s your mind that simply can’t take the torment any longer. You let out a slow breath, savoring the way your lungs persistently expand, breathing sweet life into your veins. And when you exhale, you say, “Just do it.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

You close your eyes.

His hand is warm as he wraps it around your arm and pulls you to your feet. “Get up.”

He’s taking you back to the cabin? To make for an easier cleanup, you assume. But if he’s going to kill you, you’re not going to have your life to him on a silver fucking platter.

No. If you have to work for it, then so does he.

You pull out of his grasp. “Do it right here.”

“How about you do as I say.”

“Took you for a lotta things, Joel. But I admit, I didn’t think you were a coward.”

His jaw tenses but he says nothing. Just grabs your arm again, hard enough to bruise, and shoves you in front of him. The metal point of his rifle digs into your spine as he pushes it against you. “Walk.”

“No.”

This time he stabs the rifle into your spine so hard a hiss of pain escapes you. “Walk,” he repeats.

What are you to do? You can’t run, can’t hide, can’t fight him off.

You follow his order with gritted teeth. It isn’t until you’re halfway back to the cabin, adrenaline wilting away, that you realize you’re bleeding.

There’s a clean-cut slice through your right shoulder, crimson dripping slowly down the sleeve of your shirt. “You fucking shot me.”

“You asked me to.”

“No, I asked you to kill me. There’s a big difference.” You narrow your eyes at him, to which he gives nothing in response but that stupid fucking scowl.

The sun is beginning to set, casting him in an orange hue. It silhouettes his profile, accenting the scruff on his chin and that thin scar across his nose. The thought crosses your mind that he’d be really handsome if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Walk,” he says again, announcing each letter.

“No.”

He shoves the point of his rifle into your ribs this time, knocking you to your knees. But then he waits for you to gain your composure, and says, “Make me repeat myself one more time, and I’ll pull the damn trigger.”

Joel wraps the strap of his rifle around his forearm and pulls you roughly to your feet. You expected him to push you forward again, but this time he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you off your feet entirely.

“Asshole,” you murmur. You contemplate kicking him but know it’s in your best interest to just stay still. With how angry you’ve made him, you can’t imagine there’d be any saving you. Not unless Tommy’s returned from his hunting trip early.

But when Joel kicks open the cabin door, it’s still empty. Your one saving grace is absent.

“Must be hard,” you say as he shoulders you onto the couch. “Blaming the whole world for your fuck ups.”

His jaw feathers as he clenches his teeth. “Feel free to keep quiet.”

“Bet the two of you have done an awful lot to survive. Know you have, ‘cause I have, too. And you and Tommy have been out here on your own far longer than me. If your first instinct was to kill me, I’m sure I’m not the first wanderer to pass through here. Am I?”

He sets his rifle on the counter and runs his hands through his hair. There’s a light dusting of snow on the ends, melting as the seconds tick by.

“You ever killed a girl before, Joel? Or was I going to be your first?”

The muscles in his body go rigid. He turns to you, eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth.”

It's his reaction, after so little of them, that lets you know you’re on the right track. Your mouth forms a satisfactory grin, which only seems to incite his anger further. “No,” you say. “I wouldn’t have been the first.”

Joel reaches to his wrist, adjusting the broken watch. “Should’ve killed you on day one,” he says. “Before you got your claws into my brother.”

“Who was it?”

“Put a fuckin’ bullet in your head from fifty yards out. Never should’ve even approached you.”

You tilt your head, trying to adjust the position he’d put you in. Your fingers have gone numb, tied too tightly behind your back. “Heard stories about outbreak day,” you say, voice taking on a manipulatively soft cadence. “People had to kill their loved ones when they got bit. Parents, siblings, children. That what you had to do, Joel?”

He crosses the room in a few short strides and takes your face roughly in his hands. “Shut your mouth.”

So quietly it’s almost silent, you whisper, “Who was she?”

In a last-ditch effort to silence you, he wraps his hand around your neck, crushing your windpipe, but all you can focus on is the way he looks at you. Those dark, haunting eyes. Filled with hunger.

Joel looks at you like he’s starving.

And even though you know it’s wrong, know it’s terrible and vulgar, you can’t shake the ache that settles between your thighs as you realize what exactly it is he wants from you.

He lets you go suddenly, running his hand down his face in exasperation. Joel disappears down the hallway for a moment, and you can hear him rustling around, but you don’t realize what he’s looking for until he returns to the living room with gauze, medical tape, and Tommy’s sacred bottle of Jack.

He pours the alcohol over your wound and every muscle in your body tightens at the pain of it. It’s not deep, just a graze from the bullet, but it’s enough to hurt. “How noble of you to treat the bullet wound you gave me.”

Joel doesn’t respond. He dabs the cut with the gauze, cleaning away both the drying blood and the whiskey.

“Can’t believe you missed,” you say, light laughter laced through the words.

But Joel’s not laughing. Not even a little as he tells you, “I don’t miss.”

It can’t be true. You figure it’s just his bruised ego, which is hypocritical considering you’re the one with your hands tied behind your back being mended while he’s got nothing to show for your near escape but a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

But if it is true…and he doesn’t miss, that means he had no intentions of killing you. Joel had every opportunity and every excuse to. Hell—you’d even asked the man to. Yet still, here you sat, untouched save for a scratch.

You’re not quite sure what to make of it.

Now, it’s you who sits in silence while Joel speaks.

“We did what we had to,” he says. “We found this place, fixed it up. It’s ours. Sometimes people get too close. Try to take what doesn’t belong to them. There’s a price for that these days.”

He stays focused on the task at hand; cleaning your wound, placing clean gauze, and taping it to your skin. “Is that why you’re so angry with me all the time? Because you think I owe you something?”

When he tears what remains of your sleeve away from your shirt, the feel of his hands on your bare, sensitive skin is foreign. Not bad, but different from Tommy’s. “You sleep real good at night. Hardly seems like we’re even.”

Joel’s hands are rough and big. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and wind chap on his knuckles, a display that does something to you. He’s so rugged, so masculine…

“There are other ways I can repay you,” you tell him. His eyes snap to yours, shrouded in a dark mystery you can’t help but lean towards. “I bet it’s been lonely out here. No one but Tommy to talk to. No one to touch but yourself.”

He says nothing. Turns his attention back to patching you up dutifully. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t tell you to shut your mouth, and you take it as a sign.

“I’ve been lonely too, Joel. Before the two of you, I hadn’t spoken to a human in weeks. Do you know what that can do to a person? Makes them desperate.”

You can see his pulse quicken in his throat and begin to wonder why you waited so long to try this tactic. It worked for his brother, it only makes sense it would work for Joel, too. He must be just as wanton, just as deprived.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” you tell him softly. “We can help each other. I can…I can repay you.”

When he’s finished patching you up, you stand awkwardly on your feet, hands still tied behind your back. Joel stares up at you with a heat in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Just because you’re used to flashin’ those eyes at Tommy doesn’t mean it’ll work on me. I know what you’ve been up to with him, workin’ him up, usin’ him. I’m not that easy.”

You step forward, stumbling a bit before Joel reaches up to steady you by holding your thighs. His palms are so big and wide, stretching easily over the expansion of your legs.

“I’m not using anyone, Joel. I’m only trying to help you out. I know how much it terrifies you, to get close to someone. To lose them.”

Joel’s palms tighten around your thighs, his dark eyes glaring up at you. “You don’t know me, little girl.”

Your heart thumped in your ribcage so loudly that you were scared Joel might hear it. Joel’s chin is almost tucked in between the middle of your thighs, his rough beard brushing against your denim jeans.

“Then show me, Joel. Show me who you really are.”

“This how you survive for so long? Sleeping with all the men you run across?” Joel questioned, one of his palms running along the inside of your thigh. His touch shouldn’t make you feel like this; ignited, aching unbearably.

“Nope,” you exhaled, “just you and your little brother.”

Joel growls, fingers twitching as they traverse higher, one hand gripping tight to the back of your thigh, keeping you balanced, the other dancing dangerously close to the seam of your jeans. “Fuckin’ brat. I bet you gave your daddy hell, didn’t you?”

His palm moves higher, slightly grazing against the outline of your pussy in your jeans. He sits a little straighter, chin pressed to your navel. When he looks up at you like that, it forces you to acknowledge just how handsome he is. Rugged and strong in a way that enhances his loveliness, shrouded in a magnetism you can’t help but fall victim to.

Joel’s hand on the back of your thigh moves slowly over your waist, around your side to the button of your jeans. You watch with rapt attention as he skillfully undoes it, wasting not a second before he’s parting the metallic teeth of your zipper. “S’a shame Tommy ain’t here to save you now, little girl.”

You watch him, but Joel watches you. His attention warms your cheeks, sets your skin ablaze. He hooks his thumbs into your waistband and tugs both your jeans and panties down in one sure movement.

The force of it has you stumbling forward, falling onto his lap. Not so much as an ounce of shame flashes in his eyes as you situate yourself comfortably, becoming acutely aware of the bulge in his jeans. He knows you can feel it. Knows, too, why that little whine forms in the back of your throat.

He looks so proud of himself, like this has all been a game and suddenly the tides have changed and you’re the one on the losing team.

If only he knew the truth.

“Let me repay you,” you breathe out, grinding yourself against him. The rough denim feels harsh against your too-sensitive skin, yet somehow like relief. “For feeding me.” You shift your hips against him with more pressure this time and his lips part. “For putting clothes on my back.” Again. “For protecting me.”

Joel leans up so quickly it startles you. The look on his face is so devoid of emotion, you’re not sure if he wants to fuck you or kill you. He says, “Should be thanking my brother.”

You can’t help the sinful smirk that tugs at your lips. His words say one thing, but his hands find the swell of your ass and squeeze, pulling your forward, pushing you back, encouraging that sweet friction. Joel’s mouth is an inch from yours, so close you’re sharing the same breath as you tell him, “I owe you both.”

There’s a moment of hesitance. A second where he just stares at you, thoughts you wish he’d speak aloud running through his mind. But then he makes his decision, and he presses his mouth urgently to yours.

Every movement is rushed, hurried as if he worries he may change his mind at any moment. Joel’s lips move against yours, tongue slipping between them, tasting you, drinking you in like a man starved for it.

Despite how desolate he moves against you, he’s strangely affectionate. A perfect balance of coarse and soft, of harsh and tender. Your hips move on their own accord now, the apex of your thighs so wet and slippery you stain the denim beneath you.

He slides his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, crushing your mouth impossibly closer to his.

“Joel,” you pant, unable to catch your breath. He bucks his hips up against you and it makes you whimper. Again, a little stronger this time. “Joel.”

He stops kissing your swollen lips and starts biting gently at your collarbone instead. He doesn’t say it, but you know this is his way of giving you a chance to speak, to tell him what you need to say.

“My…my hands,” you say. “Please. Please, I won’t do anything. I just want to touch you. I want—oh, God.”

Joel smiles against your skin as he slips his free hand between your legs. You’re sure it pleases him to feel the mess he’s made of you, but you can’t think much of anything past the way the rough pads of his fingers feel as they circle your clit.

He sets a slow but consistent pace, desire steadily racking up higher and higher and higher. You can’t speak, can't breathe, can’t do anything but moan as he creates a bliss like you’ve never known.

This man’s a lot older than you, much more experienced, and it shows. The way he touches you is incomparable to the boys you’d been with back in the QZ, boys who liked you a whole lot more than the man beneath you but somehow knew so much less about how to touch you.

“If I knew playing with this sweet little pussy was the key to getting you to shut up, I’d have done it ages ago,” he says. But there’s no irritation in his voice. Instead, it’s filled with something that sounds a lot like admiration.

You breathe out his name, right on the precipice of an orgasm, when he pulls his hand away. It’s been so long, and you’d been so close, that pressure builds behind your eyes. Your shoulders drop, your head falls forward. “Please,” you say. “Please, Joel—I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I swear, just—!”

“Shh,” he coos, unbuttoning his jeans. “S’enough of that cryin,’ now.” He pulls down his zipper and shoves the denim down just enough to pull himself out. It surprises you, in truth, to see just how big he is.

Yet still, you find yourself lifting on your knees, making it easier for him to slip inside. You ease down onto him and the stretch is somehow both painful and delicious, the low groans Joel makes like music to your ears.

He reaches behind you and pulls at the flannel scrap that binds your hands together, freeing you from restraint. The blood flows back to your fingers, making them tingle. You place both hands on his shoulders and begin to move slowly, experimentally, easily finding a rhythm and an angle that has you hurtling toward euphoria once more.

He’s so big and warm beneath you, cock filling you so full, and you can’t hear anything but the sound of his voice as he begins to murmur such filthy things.

“Told Tommy to leave you alone,” he says. “Told him not to touch you…I can see why he’s been ignorin’ me now. He’s been blinded by all those pretty smiles you give him, all those nice little kisses. But it’s this he wants, ain’t it?”

Joel squeezes your hips tight in his hands, holding you still while he thrusts up into you. This feels impossibly better, his cock nudging the sweetest spot, and your heart hammers in your chest in response. “God, Joel, I—!”

“Wants this tight little pussy,” he continues. “Should be him fuckin’ you good like this, by all rights. But Tommy’s not home, an’ girls like you just need’ta be filled up, huh?” His pace quickens, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the empty cabin. You can feel him throb inside you, holding himself back. “Might be my brother you want, but it’s my cock you’re soakin,’ ain’t it?”

You think if your brain wasn’t scrambled, reduced to mush at the sultry cadence of Joel’s voice, that maybe you would’ve heard the creak of the door being open.

But you don’t, and neither does Joel. Not until Tommy’s voice cuts through the lusty fog. “What the fuck, Joel?! What happened to not fucking her?!”

You reached down to cover yourself, but Joel smacked your palms away, continuing the movement of his hips. “Christ, Tommy. We’re almost finished,” Joel growled, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you in place. His grip tightened the closer he got, exposing his neck to you after throwing his head back.

Tommy’s eyes were burning a hole into the side of your face, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His brows were knitted together, a deep crease between them. His lips twitched as if he wanted to yell an objection, but he swallowed down the words.

You bat your eyes at Tommy, reaching down to trap your clit in between your nimble fingers. Every time Joel pushed up into you, his cock stretched you in the most perfect way.

Tommy couldn’t pull himself away, actively watching his brother fuck some girl that they’d both been holding hostage. Just the circumstances should’ve had your stomach churning, but instead, you felt another wave of wetness rush against Joel’s cock.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, watching the way Tommy’s mouth was parted, frozen mid-breath. The muscles in his jaw tightened when he finally watched you orgasm, speared on Joel’s dick. A deep tremble in your thighs had you shaking in Joel’s grip, your entire body jerking at the feeling of Joel continuing to use you for his benefit.

Joel pulls your focus back into him by lightly slapping the side of your face and turning your head to look at his. The strained expression on his face, the veins bulging from his neck, the way his teeth were clenched in frustration showed you just how close he was.

“Bet you’d like it if I filled you up, huh?” Joel asked, not paying any attention to his brother, who was still stupidly watching. “You wouldn’t even be able to stop me. You’d just let me treat you like the little slut you are.”

You nodded your head desperately, trying to push him further and further until he was finally falling. Joel’s lips were parted slightly, stuck momentarily before quickly pulling out of you. Long ropes of his semen splattered across the skin of your thighs, warm and sticky against you.

The muscles in Joel’s face, which were usually tense and solid, suddenly melted into soft, languid lines. It was nice, looking at him for a moment, imagining what he would’ve been like before. Was he a nice man, who worked a usual 9 to 5, minimum wage job to keep the lights on? Or had he always had a darkness inside of him, one that existed before the world ended?

Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Care to give me a goddamn explanation now, or do I have to wait another ten minutes?” Tommy said. Even though he looked incredibly intrigued not even a handful of minutes ago, he was back to the angry demeanor he had upon walking in.

Joel’s eyes watched yours momentarily, his cum drying on your thighs as you watched him back. You thought that you saw a sliver of something on his face; remorse? Tenderness? But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Joel stood, his frame towering over yours. He tucked himself back into his jeans as if nothing had changed and explained, “Your little girlfriend made her grand escape while you were gone. Well—tried to, anyway. You should keep a better handle on her, teach her some discipline. ‘Cause next time I have to waste a bullet on her, it won’t be a graze.”

Tommy sputtered, glancing between Joel and you. You were desperately trying to cover yourself now, left grabbing for clothes while both Joel and Tommy stood over you.

“You tried to fuckin’ escape?” Tommy asked, but there was no malice behind his words. Instead, he seemed genuinely disappointed, and for a second, you actually felt bad for letting him down.

You looked over to Joel for help, for something, but his eyes were back to staring through you like you were a ghost. Like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless.

“Come on, go get cleaned up. I’ll deal with you later,” Tommy said, a hand on his hip as he shook his head at you. Why was it that you felt embarrassed for what you had done, your failed attempt at escaping the two men? You were embarrassed for trying to finally be free, yet you didn’t even regret letting Joel push himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” you began, standing and covering yourself with your hands. “You both have to understand my position. I know that you’re not bad people, I know that you don’t trust me, but keeping me here isn’t right.”

“I told you that she was just playin’ with your emotions. She doesn’t care about you, she just wants you to let your guard down,” Joel scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

You stepped closer to Tommy, needing to get your point across. “I do care about you, Tommy. I know that you’re a good person, just trying to survive. I’ve had to do the same.”

Joel moved towards you, trying to square you off from his brother. “You don’t know us, little girl. Just because you let us get between your legs doesn’t mean that you know either of us.”

Stiffening up, you squared your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. You locked your gaze on Joel’s, not allowing him to have the upper hand in this conversation.

“I’m not Sarah, Joel. You can’t control me, as much as you wish you could.”

The expression on Joel’s face was deadly, and if looks could kill, you would be lying in a pool of blood at his feet. He closes the short distance between you, his teeth clenched and fist balled tight.

“If you ever say her name again, it’ll be the last thing you say,” he hissed, his fist wavering by his side. “Do you understand?”

As much as you wanted to spout something back at him, you knew better. If you kept pushing him and pushing him, he would eventually bite you right back.

“Fine,” you spat, turning your head away from Joel. It made no sense, he had just given you the best orgasm of your life, but now you wanted to fucking kill him. You understood what it was like to lose someone, to have scars so deep that they never fully healed. It could turn you into a monster. Joel, unfortunately, had succumbed to the latter.

“Deal with your fuckin’ girlfriend. I need some air,” Joel said, grabbing his rifle before walking out of the cabin. The air in the cabin was still tense with the heat of Tommy’s eyes burning through you.

“I fucked up, Tommy, I know. I’m so sorry,” you begged. His mouth was a hard, narrow line, clearly trying to keep his fury at bay.

“The one thing I asked, the one thing, and you couldn’t do it.”

He scoffed, glancing down at your still half-naked body. “And then you tried to run away, brought up Sarah, and slept with him? Christ, what a fuckin’ mess.”

Tommy couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, and it made the pit in your stomach sink a few more inches down.

“I’m sorry Tommy. I care about both of you,” you tried to explain, but Tommy just shook his head.

“Go wash up. Should have some water in the tub,” Tommy said, dismissing you. You paused, hesitating to leave the conversation. You hadn’t gotten any resolution - it wasn’t fair. Joel and Tommy couldn’t just expect you not to retaliate.

Talking to Tommy wasn’t going to resolve anything. You’d have to gain their trust back again, slowly, and you would be lucky if you even got it back through just time. No, you would have to prove it to them.

Time passed since then. It was getting towards the end of winter, the snow less harsh and cold a little more bearable. With the way things were going, winter would be finished in just a few weeks. With winter being over, you could survive on your own again, you could take the risk to escape.

You just needed one distraction. Anything.

You did everything you could to regain Joel and Tommy’s trust. Preparing dinner, tagging along for any wood gathering; you had even cleaned the house when Joel complained about the dust lining the kitchen cabinets.

When Joel had returned home from patrolling the perimeter, the look of surprise to see a spotless cabin made you bite back your smile. Even though he didn’t say thank you, he gave you a bit more of his food in a silent reward.

He had even gone out of his way to search the basement for tampons for you after he heard you complaining to Tommy about it. Joel acted like he hated you, but something made him sleep with you. Something was there.

Though Tommy still didn’t let himself grow incredibly close to you, things did get somewhat better. He allowed you to spend time taking watch with him some nights, spending the night talking about whatever came to your mind first. Whether it be “What would be your dream job” or “if you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future” - the conversation always felt easy with Tommy.

It felt like he was trying so hard to not trust you, but the moment he sat down with you, he talked to you like an old friend. Maybe it was because he had been tied to Joel for so long, years of the same conversations over and over again. You were new to him, a new presence to absorb. You understood why it was so easy for Tommy to fall into old habits.

You were sitting up with Tommy when it happened. Joel was asleep in the bed, and you didn’t have it in you to lay with him. Sometimes you shared the bed with Tommy, and Joel would take the couch, but you had never laid with Joel. After what had happened, the intimacy you shared with him - sharing a full-sized mattress would feel like a prison sentence.

So, you stayed up on watch with Tommy while Joel slept. He had passed you the bottle of Jack one too many times, and you were buzzing a little bit in your seat.

“I hope the snow lets up before I gotta go out and do my rounds. I’m gonna end up freezin’ my dick off,” Tommy groaned, stretched out on the couch. The light from the lantern lit up the small space, casting shadows over Tommy’s face.

He was a handsome man, you had to admit that. Just like his brother, who was softly snoring a couple of meters away.

“You better make it quick. I’m not going out there to find your dick if it falls off,” you said back, making Tommy snort in amusement.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that. Probably wouldn’t even give it back to me,” he said. His legs were stretched out, his knee pressing into the meat of your thigh. Tommy’s warmth comforted you, as much as it probably shouldn’t have.

“You’re sick,” you said back, trying to get a laugh out of Tommy, but he was suddenly shockingly serious. His eyes widened as he straightened up in his seat, hand reaching down to the revolver at his side.

You followed his eyes, turning your head until you finally saw it. Three people standing in the tight hallway, directly in front of Joel’s room. They must’ve snuck in from the cellar since you didn’t hear the sound of the window breaking.

Tommy’s hand lifts quickly, aiming the gun at the group. His free palm pulls at your arm, standing up to tug you behind him. He uses his back to shield you from the group. He’s protecting you.

“Y’all don’t have any business bein’ in here. I’d suggest you go back out the way you came from,” Tommy spoke, loudly, as if to wake Joel. They were blocking the door so neither of you could see if he was still asleep in the bed.

The group was made up of two men and a woman. They almost mirrored you, a short woman with two hulking men surrounding her. The way that they were dressed revealed that they were raiders, with one of the men wearing a necklace of teeth. A hum started buzzing through your brain at the situation - this was bad.

“Seems like it’s quite cozy in here. You wouldn’t believe how bad it’s snowing outside. You should let us stay,” the woman spoke, grinning up at Tommy. Her smile was sinister, laced with wickedness.

Tommy stiffened up, cocking his revolver before raising the gun directly at the woman. “I won’t ask again.”

Before anyone could even react, a gunshot rang out. The man with the teeth necklace had a bullet rush through his brain, gasping before dropping down to his knees.

“Johnny!” the woman shrieked, her other male partner swinging around to see where the shot came from. They finally parted from the front of the bedroom door, revealing Joel aiming his own rifle at the group.

The lantern that was sitting in the living room barely cast enough light to even see Joel, but you were able to see enough. He looked deadly, like death himself. You hadn’t seen him like this before; even with you, he had never come off that furious.

The man who was still standing lunged at Joel while he was attempting to reload, both men fighting over the gun.

Tommy spun to you, cradling the side of your face. “Stay back. We got it, okay?”

He turned back, approaching the woman who just unsheathed a machete. As soon as she lunged at Tommy, you heard the flash of a gunshot light up the room. The bullet swished past your face, a hair length away from touching your skin. You could feel the heat of the bullet.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” you heard Joel shout, jumping onto the man to rip his rifle out of his hands. Tommy had wrestled the machete out of the woman’s hands, but his own gun was a couple of meters away, tucked under the table in the corner of the room.

A loud clatter from the bedroom showed Joel and the man wrestling around on the ground, the rifle long forgotten about. The brothers were fighting for their lives, it was no longer up for debate.

You have to do something. You glanced over at the front door, unblocked and easy to access. You could leave. You could run out into the snow and run for your life, and let these two groups fight to the death.

It would be easy. Your jacket was right at the door, you could grab it on the way out. It could work.

But then you looked over at Joel, who was straddling the intruder. His biceps were bulging from how hard he was choking him, muscles flexing in the excitement of the kill.

Moving your frantic eyes back over to Tommy, you saw the woman lay a rough punch to the side of Tommy’s jaw. His head snapped to the side with a sickening crack that made her cackle in pleasure. Tommy was momentarily disoriented, which the woman took advantage of.

She turned to lunge at the machete while also ripping her own gun out and aiming it at Joel in an attempt to save her friend. You found yourself jumping on top of her before you could even throw one last look at the front door. She hadn’t even reached the machete yet, thank god, but you still had to rip the gun out of her hands so she wouldn’t be able to shoot Joel.

“Little bitch,” the woman hissed when you slipped your hands around her neck. She clawed at your palms, your wrists, leaving jagged nail marks embedded into your skin.

Your ears were ringing, your face hot and pulsing. It had been so long since you had killed anyone, it felt simply barbaric. To watch the life slowly drain from her eyes, empty and gray.

“P-please,” she gasped, punching her fists softly against your chest. Your head was pulled back high, glaring down at her without an ounce of remorse on your face. She had tried to rob you, to hurt Tommy, to hurt Joel. She deserves this.

After a couple more tight grips of your palms, she stopped struggling beneath you. Heavy, breathy gasps left your throat while a low gurgling sound left hers. The sound of death was never a comforting one, but you found yourself unable to release her throat. Long after she had taken her last breath, you still found yourself strangling her, your knuckles white from the pressure.

“Hey… kiddo,” graveled Joel from behind you. He pressed his palm against your shoulder, his hand heavy and distracting. You stop, glancing up around the room. All three of the intruders were now lifeless, lying haphazardly around the cabin. Thank god that there wasn’t too much blood.

“It’s over,” Joel whispered, rubbing his palm in circles against your shoulder. “Let her go.”

You didn’t even feel yourself release your iron grip - instead, you watched, like you were in an out-of-body experience.

Tommy’s hand is warm on the small of your back. He gently pulls you away from the woman, her body still warm under your palms. He holds you into his grip, trying to make you meet his eyes as he speaks. “Hey,” he says, voice filled with tenderness. “It’s okay. It was her or us, alright?”

He’s speaking to you as if you’re fragile, as if you’ll break. But your hands don’t shake, and even though her eyes are open and watching you lifelessly, you don’t feel any regret. Tommy’s warmth seeps beneath your skin as he attempts to comfort you, but it’s Joel who you look to for answers. “I did what I had to,” you say. “Right?”

Joel nods, eyes full of certainty. “You did what you had to.”

Tommy and Joel took care of the bodies, even leaving you alone while they did it. Killing her had gained their trust. She was the key.

But still, you didn’t leave while they were gone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. So, when they returned, they comforted you and allowed you the have the entire bed to yourself.

“Won’t be able to sleep now anyways,” Joel muttered.

You move through the next day in a thick fog. You’ve seen death your whole life, and have done your fair share of bloody deeds. But for some reason, this feels different. Weighted. Like maybe fleeing when the opportunity presented itself instead of killing them will have lasting effects.

When Tommy suggests that you get some rest early in the evening, you agree with him. He sees you safely to the bed, pulls the blankets over you, and urges you to sleep.

But you don’t, of course. And when the door creaks open again, Joel’s heavy footsteps enter the room. The mattress bows beneath his weight as he sits beside you. “What you…” He stops. Reaches up to squeeze the scruff along his jaw. “What you did today…I know it’s not easy. But…I want you to know, too that it’s…that I appreciate it. You saved Tommy. Saved me. So…you know. Thank you.”

Though you’re unsure what exactly possessed you to do it, you find Joel’s hand in the dark and slide your fingers through his. His grip is strong and his palm calloused, but there’s a gentleness in the way he cradles your small hand in his that surprises you. The urge rises in you to ask him again, to hear those reassuring words that the decision you made in killing someone with your bare hands was the correct one.

But you already know the answer he’ll give, because your brutality means he gets to see another day. What you don’t know, however, is why he leans over and softly presses a kiss to your forehead. You don’t know why it ignites a fire in your chest, either. Something akin to desire but not quite.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Tommy fixed you a plate.”

And for the first time, it’s a dinner without the weight of Joel’s glare from across the table. His stare is now filled with something different, something that feels a whole lot like adoration. Like he was truly grateful for what you did.

You help Tommy with the dishes, and when you tell him you’re ready for bed he wraps an arm around your shoulders and promises to fend off nightmares, promises you only good dreams.

But you realize as he wraps himself around you, smothering you in the masculine, pine scent of him, that it’s not just good dreams you want.

You want him.

Tommy leads you back to the bedroom, and on the way you pass the bloodstain on the floorboards. A stark reminder of what had happened, of what you’d done for them.

For both of them.

You can feel Tommy’s gaze on the side of your face as the two of you linger in the doorway of the bedroom. Joel sits on the couch, whittling knife in hand, permanent crease between his brows. He’s so handsome, so dark and brooding and mysterious in a way that keeps you on your toes, a way that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

It isn’t just Tommy you want. When you look back at him, you think the yearning must be written on your face.

Because he doesn’t even ask the question, doesn’t even seem surprised by it. Tommy just nods once and says, “Go on, then. Ask him.”

You swallow, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for what is about to happen. For what you wanted to happen.

“Joel?”

He raises his head to look up at you. There’s a moment of hesitation as he stares down your outstretched hand that reaches for him, but then he’s setting his knife down on the table and wrapping his calloused palm around your fingers instead.

Tommy crawls into the bed and lifts the blanket for you, a beacon of warmth, of familiarity, of kindness. You melt against him, and it feels good, but when Joel toes off his boots and you can feel him at your back it’s different. Better than good. It’s…perfect. Satisfying. Wedged between them, a soft center to all their strength, you wonder how this sick desire that rumbles low in your belly has managed to go undetected for so long.

You turn between them, facing Joel instead. Tommy’s hands find your waist, dipping beneath your shirt, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of your jeans. Joel’s eyes are heated and intense, drinking you in, swallowing you whole.

He brushes a stray piece of your hair behind your ear at the same time that Tommy’s hand dips beneath your waistband.

Silently, you wonder if they can hear the way your heart beats behind your ribcage. A loud, incessant hum that reverberates in your ears.

Tommy’s hand sinks lower, wriggling in the small space between your skin and the denim. He slides his fingers gently over your clit, and when your lips part in a gasp Joel traces over your mouth with his thumb. You can feel Tommy at your back, cock hardening as he presses it against your ass. He kisses your shoulder over the fabric of your shirt and says, “Wet already, filthy little girl.”

There’s no sense in denying it. No sense in fighting it off, not when your desire has overcome all sense, drowned out by nothing other than the aching need for them. For both of them.

Joel slips the pad of his thumb into your mouth, rubbing it against the tip of your tongue. “Suck it. Put that mouth to good use.” You nod, obeying his command before hollowing out your cheeks to suck on his thumb. You whimper around it at the feeling of Tommy’s middle finger rubbing tight circles into your clit. His pointer finger spreads your folds, working at the wetness pooling in your panties.

“You always get this wet?” Tommy asked, finally pushing his finger into your throbbing heat. You gasp, looking up at Joel through a hazy gaze, watching the dark expression on his face. “Or is it just because of us?”

You nod your head, rocking your hips against Tommy’s palm. “Fuck, yes,” you moan into Joel’s thumb, not even properly answering the question but neither of them seem to mind. Tommy’s finger still works through your pussy, curling around in your tight, wet heat.

“Playin’ with her pussy shuts her up quick. We should've done it together weeks ago,” Joel teases before reaching down to unbuckle his pants. The sound of the metal belt clanging and his zipper being pulled down makes you shudder into Tommy’s body.

Should you feel guilty for how much you enjoy this? Feeling worshipped? Feeling wanted. For so long you had drifted, never truly having a place. After the death of your father, it was solidified, that you weren’t important to anyone. Nobody had come to your defense, nobody had tried to protect you.

But Joel did, and so did Tommy. And even though the situation was a little fucked up, you couldn’t help the way your hips stuttered when Joel pressed his cock against your lips. Without hesitating, you wrapped your tight mouth around his girthy length, humming pleasure at the feeling of his dick stretching out your throat.

“You belong to us, don’t you?” Tommy asked, playing with your clit as he continued to finger you. The combined sound of Tommy’s fingers slamming into your cunt and your mouth sucking Joel off had your head spinning. It was overstimulation of the best kind, Tommy’s cock hard and chasing relief by rutting into your ass.

You nodded, watering eyes still glued to Joel’s face. The look of pure pleasure on his face was enough to tip you closer to the edge, a ragged whimper moaned into Joel’s cock. His neck was flushed, knuckles white, and clenched into a fist. It was empowering, having this big, brooding man at your mercy.

They’re both so stubborn and strong but for you, they break. It’s this thought, combined with the fullness in your mouth and the feel of Tommy’s fingers working between your thighs that sends you reeling, an orgasm wrenching through you mercilessly.

Within seconds, before you even get a chance to come down from the height of it, Tommy’s dragging your jeans down your legs and unbuttoning his own. “S’only fair I get you first, sweetheart,” he says. He wraps his hand around your knee and drapes your thigh over his hip, positioning himself behind you.

And you want him, you do, but every nerve ending flares on edge. Every inch of your skin feels too sensitive, too tender. You pull your head back, making just enough room in your mouth to mutter around Joel’s cock, “Tommy, slow down, wait-”

“Nah, baby,” he says. “Wanna show you what you’ve been missin’. Waited too fuckin’ long to spread these legs of yours to wait anymore.” And then he’s pushing into you, the sticky remnants of your orgasm smoothing out any resistance he encounters.

Joel takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a strangely gentle touch, and says softly, “Mouth open, little girl.”

You look only at Joel as Tommy grips your hip and begins to rock slowly into you, breath hitching in your throat as the head of his cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. You part your lips, and Joel slides himself back into your mouth, down your throat.

Tommy’s heat behind you blankets you in a sweet warmth, and despite his eagerness, you’re delighted to hear the groans that leave his mouth. You like that this is making him happy, you like that you’re making him feel good. “So tight,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “Always knew this pussy would be good. From the moment I saw you, baby, I knew it. Can feel her squeezin’ me, wanna feel how wet she gets when I make her cum a second time.”

The thought of it makes you whimper around Joel’s cock. He laughs, thumb stroking lightly over your cheekbone. “Think she’d like that, Tommy,” he says.

It’s so strange to see him like this. Scowling, uptight Joel-soft and delicate as he cherishes you, as he worships you as if you’re something holy. As if killing for him has altered his brain chemistry, flipped a switch, and made him see you in a brand new light.

Joel reaches between your legs and presses the tip of his middle finger against your clit. It aches beneath his touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. “Wouldn’t you? Hm?”

You can’t speak, but you moan around his cock and hollow out your cheeks, sucking him harder. A flush creeps up Joel’s neck and he lets out a low groan in response.

Tommy thrusts his cock into you at a steady pace, pawing at your hip. You clench your walls around him and his rhythm falters. “Oh, she likes that, Joel,” he says. “S’that feel good, baby?”

It’s all too much-the filthy words, the pressure on your clit, the fullness in your belly, the ache that settles in your jaw. And then there’s the way Joel looks at you, and before you realize it you’re shuddering, your second orgasm ripping apart what remains of your defenses.

You may have stolen from them but the two brothers have stolen from you, too. Stolen connection and fondness and sentiment—things you’d sworn off long ago.

But as Joel strokes your clit sloppily, attention faltering as he chases his release with you, how can you keep yourself from feeling something for him? How can you see this big, brooding man become delicate for you only, and keep yourself from the edge of devotion?

“Yeah, there you go,” Tommy whispers. “Cum for us. Soakin’ my fuckin’ cock, little girl. That’s it. That’s it, baby.”

Joel’s release is salty as it hits the back of your tongue, but you swallow it down, taking him into your mouth as far as you can.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, and it’s like music to your ears. A crude praise. His hands tremble as he slowly descends, that permanent crease between his brows finally smoothing over.

Tommy’s hips stutter. You reach your hand back and thread your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His grunts fill the room and you can feel his cock as it twitches inside you. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You don’t register the fact that he already is until it’s too late, until the stickiness spills out of you, coating the inside of your thighs. There’s so much, and you’d be angry about it if it didn’t make your skin ignite with desire, another fresh wave of arousal.

Because as stupid as it is, as irresponsible as it is for him to cum inside you, you like that for once, he didn’t ask—he just takes. As if you belong to him, as if you always have.

He sighs contentedly, and slowly pulls himself out of you. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had, sweetheart,” he says, falling back against the pillows.

Joel tucks himself back into his jeans and crawls onto the mattress beside you, stroking your hair as you lay your head on his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a soothing beat.

“Which was the best dick, little girl?” There’s a little bit of amusement in Tommy’s tone as he asks it. “Which brother was better?”

Joel leans up just enough to scowl at Tommy. “That’s enough,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Let it go.”

Tommy laughs, and you fight off the smile that threatens to form on your face as the three of you settle back into the sheets. “Alright, fine,” he says. “Joel, you take watch. I’m exhausted.”

Within moments, Tommy’s soft snores fill the room. You lay there in silence, your head on Joel’s chest, for so long you think he may have fallen asleep, too. But after some time, his chest rises as he inhales a deep breath.

He says, “I always plan for the worst. Don’t like surprises. But…I’ll admit, I didn’t plan for you. Kinda blindsided me.”

Joel’s words blindside you. This had always been the plan, to gain their trust just enough to escape, to be successful your second time around. But you’re not sure why it hurts, or why his dance around an admission makes your chest pull tight. But maybe you’re taking it out of context, maybe you're assuming too much. “What do you mean?”

For a moment he just stares at you, eyes roaming over every minute detail of your face, pupils blown wide. Finally, he says, “Nothin.’ I’ll explain another time.” And before you can change his mind, he’s shifting out from under you and lacing up his boots. “I’ll go and do the rounds. Get some rest, alright?”

Joel glances down at you, his eyes still full of contemplation and something else that you couldn’t quite read. He leaned down quickly, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips, taking your breath away. The rough hair of his beard scratched your face in the most delicious way, but the kiss also felt heavy. Like Joel had something on his mind but could only bring himself to express it by tasting your tongue.

His forehead pressed against your own momentarily before he raised back up. Joel’s large palm held your face gently, his touch completely different from the Joel you’d known so far. The man who had shot you, who had fucked you into submission. You knew that there was something in him that was soft and malleable. You had finally found it.

“Sleep,” Joel said, pulling his fingers away from your face. The tips of his fingers left goosebumps in their trace, and you felt the weight of the situation set in. This was it. The moment Joel left to do his regular route, you could go the opposite way. Joel’s route was one that you had memorized because you went on the same one with Tommy. It would be easy to avoid him. It would be easy to leave.

Joel left the room quietly, cracking the door closed behind him. It only took him a couple of minutes to shrug on his jacket, grab his rifle, and head out of the front door. If you timed it right, in ten minutes he should reach the east corner of the cabin’s perimeter, which would give you enough time to leave before he is even near the cabin.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced over at Tommy, who was still softly snoring. You slide off of the bed, rifling through the side drawer to grab Tommy’s pocket knife. Quietly, you go through one of the unused canvas bags, pilling up the same supplies you had stolen so long ago. Food, ammo, batteries - anything that could help you survive on your own.

You stood at the doorway of the bedroom, watching the lantern light wash across Tommy’s face. After being with him for so long, it hurt to walk away. Even though it was a sticky situation, quite literally, you still found yourself caring for the brothers.

‘Goodbye, Tommy,’ you thought to yourself before leaving the bedroom. Striding across the living room, you could feel your heart thump in your throat at the sweet taste of freedom. You grabbed Joel’s spare jacket, tugging it over your shoulders.

This is it. You don’t have to stay here.

You remembered the feeling of Joel’s lips on your lips, the way Tommy rutted against your hips. The feeling of being wanted. The feeling of being protected.

You were scared to leave. But you had to.

The snow crunched under your feet when you walked out of the cabin’s front door. It was late in the night, the air crisp and heavy in your lungs. You saw your feet running before you actually processed that you were sprinting through the woods. The more you ran, the deeper the snow got, the icy slush melting into the bottom of your jeans.

You didn’t run into Joel, or Tommy, or anyone else for that matter. You couldn’t remember how long you ran for, or how far you had gotten, but your legs continued to stomp into the wet ground beneath your feet. The heat from the morning sun warming up your face was enough to let you know that you were finally free.

[seungkwanniee]

pairing : idol!seventeen x fem!reader

genre : angst , little fluff too

warnings : eating disorder , anorexia , bulimia , vomit (seungkwan , vernon , dino) , mention of food , mention of starving for hours (seungkwan) , half naked body (joshua) , pet names

synopsis : s.o. having truble with food

an : it's a really deep topic to be written , so if you don't feel comfortable with it , I ask you to not read it. I tried to not making it tooo angst and I think you can deffo say it (i'm a little dissatisfied 😭). Plus, I've been through this , so I know what i'm talking about.

(masterlist)

SCOUPS 』

wants to talk to you as soon as he notice the bad habit you was growing

when one day he got off pratice later, and see that you prepared a meal only for him, he decided that it was the day

the excuse "I've already eaten" was too weak for him, didn't belived it for a sec

drags your chair closer to him effortlessly

"what's up with you, sweetheart?"

he leans closer to your face, now his breath slightly tickling your neck

hand on your thing, while the other tucks your hair behind your ears

looks up at you with puppy mixed authoritative look

would stay silent until you don't open your mouth to give him explanations

deffo would put you between his legs, feeding you and pratically forcing you to eat

looks at you so proudly when you finish a meal

JEONGHAN 』

he is smart, he knows immediatly when something is off

notice how he doesn't catch you eating your favorite snack at the same anymore, they aren't even in your kitchen shelf anymore

starts buying it for you, but he is pouts when he sees that you still don't eat them. All the red packaging sitting there waiting to be opened

"love, can I know why you don't eat your snacks? you don't like them anymore?"

he acts dumb, he wants to hear the reason slip out your mouth

when you admit your fears to him, he decides to actually take control

(as the relationship is public) he decide to do lives togheter while eating, trying to distact you from what you are actually doing

JOSHUA 』

he opens the bathroom door without thinking too much 'bout it, he tought you was napping in your shared room

well, it wasn't really like this

"oh, im sor- honey..."

he was about to leave when he noticed you was in bathroom instead, but rethinking his choice when he see the scene folding in front of his eyes

from above your clothes, he didn't notice how thin you've got. He is blaming himself for sure

his eyes looks at your tiny and fragile figure, only underwear was covering you

shivers go downs his spine when he can see clearly the form of your ribs

"come here, don't look at it" he refers to the nosense number written down here

and when he talks about it to Jeonghan, blaming himself, oh man he is crying like a kid when he don't get what he wants

JUN 』

Jun is so lost when you don't accept your usually month chinese resturant date

he overthinks it so much: "I made her angry?" "I forgot a date?"

but he will just overthink all alone, by himself. Maybe it's not just the right week for your date, university can be stressing

He would ask some days later, hoping you was craving Chinese food as he was

but when he recives another no, I think he might tear up

"i'm asking Minghao then"

may sound mad, but he was the saddest man living right now

you can notice his little pout and his eyes was saying evrything he wasn't

that's when you decided to tell him the truth behind your rejecting, it hurts you see your man like this

he is in shock when you confess him your worrys

he holds your waist, reassuring you

"we can eat something delicious togheter? only a little bit"

loving him bye

HOSHI 』

when he runs into you, crying in front of a meal, he is so shocked

he would pout for a sec, too stunned to move

at the start, he don't even thinks that the main problem it's right in front of him

he hugs you, letting your head rest on his stomach, petting your hair

"cutie, something happened at work? someone said something to you?"

PANICKED BOY

when the only thing he can hear are your little sobs, he coups your face making you look him straight on his face

when you finally open to him, he is almost crying too. How his beloved can think this strict of her?

cuddle until you fall asleep, while his mind a mess of solutions he is trying to think

WONWOO 』

you climb on the bed with a bowl with the only things you've been eating lately

you like to sit here and watch your pretty gamer boyfriend playing some dumb games

you tought he wouldn't even notice you, seeing how immersed in the game he is everytime

but it wasn't really like this

"can i know why I only see you eating bananas and ice"

he turns around togheter with gamer chair, moving to his neck his headphones. Sign to tell you indirectly that his attention is all on you now

makes jump from surprise for his deep but caring voice and for his sudden moves

absolutely panicked because you don't know if to tell him the truth

moves his head on the side with an halfmoon smile to encourage you to speak

once he knows how the things actually are, he have the sweetest words for you

starts to buy recipes book so you can have baking dates and you can eat properly

WOOZI 』

usually, when you are around his studio, you would order something to eat togheter

anyway, this was the third time that you didn't even mention food

from his comfy chair, he eyes you laying on the little sofa playing with your silly games on the phone

despite he's being busy clicking something on his laptop, he would notice how you clutch your stomach painfully

so, he just decide to order you two food without even telling you

knows you too well to already know that you would reject every kind of food he would propose

he wasn't even hungry, but he will not let her girlfriend eat all alone knowing she is struggling

"ji, did you ordered food?"

you frown when a bag of tteokbokki already cooked it is delivered to the studio door

just smirks, already saved everything on his computer so now nothing can disturb your meal

DOKYEOM 』

today Jeonghan and Seungkwan invited over some of you to eat dinner

you was mad nervous, after some weird thoughts invaded your mind

"baby, we already done it so many times, why you're nervous today?"

he looks at you for a sec worried

one hand on the wheel, while the other caress your knee

you don't want to worry him, it would just ruin the dinner because he is worried for you

you shake it off, knowing tho he didn't buy it

but you're safe for now, no?

no you weren't

as soon as you two get out of the car, he grabs your wrist making you lean closer to his chest

"I can tell something is bothering you, plese don't lie to me"

he cups your cheeks, looking at you straight into your eyes

they look so worried, so you know your making things worst for not letting him know as he should, so you decide to tell him

he reassures you the whole dinner, not forcing you to eat to not making you overwhelmed

a kiss on your forhead or on you cheeks every now an then is a must. It's like he is saying he is here for you

MINGYU 』

he ALWAYS cooks for you, never letting you doing it

(also because you are a mess at cooking)

meanwhile he is cooking, you'd always be around him, trying to eat something

tho, today it's not like this

he finds so weird and empty the kitchen without you messing around

but he just thinks you are busy studing for your upcoming exam

it couldn't go worst when he calls you because the food is ready, and you reject it

"baby, why you're acting weird today?"

he comes to your room with a plate of food, a no isn't in his list

when you say for the umpteenth time that you aren't hungry, and him not buying it, you decide to admit it

"baby..." he slightly pouts wrapping his arms around you

"tell me something you would eat now, i'm making it"

would cook you thousand dishes only to see you eating

MINGHAO 』

gives you a side eye when you reject the snack he was trying to feed you

but this looked too weird to him

he can see how you aren't focused at all on the tv playing a comedy film

you were eyeing the food your boyfriend was putting in his mouth

"i'm full, eat them"

liar, he could ate another thousand of them but he wanted you eat them

he leans closer the plate to you, so you can easly picking it

boy wasn't going to give up when neither this time you were eating it

so he just decide to cling on you, and feeding you them

at this point you were too hungry to say no

SEUNGKWAN 』

it was common that Seungkwan mother would pack some leftovers for you two, as you both adore her kitchen

when Seungkwan come home with a bowl of food, you involuntarily wrinkle your nose in disapproval

he was OFFENDED, like how you can make a face for HIS mother food

you didn't want to expose yourself too, so you just keep it quite

he started to eat alone, giving you side eye

but he was feeling too bad for you, you wasn't eating dinner and you should always eat properly

"come here" he pat his tight, giving you an hint

the chopstick he was holding were keeping in balance the food

you really wanted to say no, but you didn't want to make him more upset and you didn't touch food since last night

you were going almost one day without feeding yourself that you were scared you was going to throw up as soon as you would put something in your mouth

you end up sitting on his lap, being feeded by your boyfriend that was making you laugh so much

VERNON 』

vernon didn't minded that much when you quickly got up and went straight to the bathroom

you don't stay in it for too much, so why he should worry for something innocent?

he would bump in you eating late at night, a pretty good amount of food

he would just think that you're cute with your cheeks fluffly and full of food

he kiss your cheek, mess with your hair and go to sleep again after whising you a goodnight

he started to get suspicious when a day, after having snacks, he heard weird noises inside of it

"babe? you kay?" he knocks the bathroom door

deffo not okay as you don't answer him and the worrying noise continue

now he can't do nothing but enter even without your permission

the scene folding in front of her eyes completely breaks his cold heart

you kneeling in front of the toilet, your arms shaking and your back going up and down because of his sobs WASN'T something he wanted ever see

patting your head, trying to mantain his calm behavior because its what you need right now

never ever letting you using the bathroom after eating again

DINO 』

"take a bite" he hands you the sandwich he was eating

Dino got hungry mid day, so he just decided to do a sandwich, not before asking you if you wanted to eat too

he was feeling guilty eating right in your face, without you having atleast a bite

how you can't be hungry too?

"come on honey" he repeats after you shaked your head

he can't do nothing, he can't see you looking at him eating. You should eat properly too

Dino at the end of the day always wins with you, but at what cost?

as soon as the sandwich touches your tongue, a weird and annoying feeling it expands in your mouth

you quickly get up running to the bathroom, the feeling of thorwing up was too strong to let you pretend nothing

he drops the sandwhich, don't even know where, and he runs after you

completly blaming himself for pushing you and don't noticing something was off

he holds your hair back, caressing your back and apologizing maybe too many times

after this, now he always make sure he doesn't force you in ANYTHING

it kinda traumatized him

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt.3

Space

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Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary The relationship between you and Negan progresses, but is that necessarily a good thing? tags mentions of bullying, violence, angst, crying

wc 1.2k words

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

 It was finally the Friday before spring break. After what happened yesterday, you didn't want to come to school, but you had to give Negan his sweater back. You were tempted to keep the garment and just tell him you lost it, but stealing is wrong which is why you washed it and put it in your backpack to give back to him. 

...

 Your leg bounced anxiously as you watched the clock. Lunch couldn't come sooner. It wasn't that you were starving and eager to eat, you just wanted to be with Negan. Today was going horribly; people would point and snicker whenever you walked by but just roll their eyes and ignore you whenever you asked what was so funny. Being the butt of a joke always sucked, but not knowing what the joke was made it that much worse. As soon as the clock read 12:45 and the lunch bell rang, you were out of there, backpack on your back and quickly striding down the halls. 

"Hurrying off to see your boyfriend?" Some random taunted in the hallway. You ignored them, not knowing who they were or what they were talking about and continued your path to the gymnasium. 

"Hi!" you greeted cheerily. You felt better once you were in his office. Spending time with Negan felt like stepping into the sun after being in a freezing room. 

"Hello," he replied, but he didn't sound like his usual self. He greeted you as if you were any other student and not his favorite. You parked yourself in your usual chair and handed him his sweater. 

"Thanks again for helping me out yesterday," you mumbled, cringing at the memory of being in that locker room. He just hummed in response and accepted the sweater. You were on edge, he was off and not knowing why made your heart sink. Was he mad at you? Had he finally had enough of you coming into his office every day? You wanted to ask, but every time you thought you built up the courage to, the words died in your throat. You took out your lunch and handed Negan the extra sandwich you always packed for him. Concern flooded your face when he didn't accept. 

"Is something wrong?" you asked weakly. 

 Negan sighed. He didn't want to hurt you like this, but he had no choice if he wanted to keep his job. He already felt bad for being so cold toward you, but he needed to bite the bullet and get this over with. 

"Listen, kid." He knew you hated when he called you that. He called all his students 'kid' since he didn't feel like memorizing so many names; so him calling you that really made you feel less special. 

"You can't keep comin' in here during lunch...or ever." Your face dropped and you started nervously fidgeting with your fingers. 

"Why? Did I do something wrong?" Negan noticed you were already struggling to fight back your tears, which made this all the more harder. 

"There have been rumors going around and in light of those rumors, I realized it is inappropriate for us to be hanging out together like this." 

“What rumors?” You asked indignantly. He so desperately wished you could connect the dots and figure it out for yourself so he didn’t have to say it, but he knew your mind wasn’t twisted like that. So disgusting and twisted as to think that something as innocent as a teacher and student sharing lunch could be anything but that. 

“Rumors that…” he thought of a more delicate way to put this, not wanting to say ‘people think we’re fucking,’ “the relationship between us is inappropriate. Inappropriate in the way that I could lose my goddamn job, you could get fuckin’ expelled, or I could even get my ass thrown in jail.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, especially after seeing the way you cowered in your seat with tears silently streaming down your face. 

“B-but we’re not doing anything wrong? Can’t you j-just tell them that?” You pleaded. 

“Now you know that won’t work,” he said softly. 

“I-I’ll tell them, I c-can explain-” He said your name firmly, and that shut you up immediately. 

“You gotta go. Now.” He gestured to the door and waited for you to leave. Your hands shook as you placed Negan’s sandwich on his desk and clumsily gathered your things, the tears blurring your vision making it difficult. Your pleading eyes bored into his hazel ones as if to beg him to take it all back, but he couldn’t, and he couldn’t even bear to look at you anymore. 

“Negan?” You whimpered. 

“Out.” 

You grabbed your backpack and hurried out the door, closing it gently behind you. Negan let out a sigh, not quite one of relief, but he still felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, but at the cost of a pit in his stomach. He was relieved that he may have put the rumors to rest, but having to hurt you in order to do so overshadowed that relief. He looked up at the clock, only five minutes had passed since lunch started, meaning he left you to fend for yourself for the remaining time. When he grabbed the sandwich you left him, guilt crushed him. How you could still be so kind to him after he deliberately crushed your heart puzzled him. 

…

“Break up with your boyfriend?” One of the girls from yesterday jeered as you stormed through the halls. Her smug face boiled your blood. The one good thing you had going for you at this hellhole of a high school was ripped from you by the very people who made your life a living hell in the first place. The aggravating laugh that tore from her throat had you seeing red. The ringing in your ears tuned out everything but her shrill laughter and before you knew it your fist made contact with her face, knocking her over. She wasn’t the only person who’s bullied you, but she was the one beneath you, at your mercy, so you took out all those years of repressed rage on her face. You landed blow after blow on her, her pained screams nothing but background noise. 

“Leave me alone!” You sobbed as your rage dissipated into emptiness. Seeing the bloodied half-conscious girl wailing on the floor brought you back to your senses. The shocked faces of the surrounding crowd of students as staff hurried to the girl’s aid made you nauseous. You were yanked up from the floor by someone, your mind was too addled to care who, and dragged to the principal’s office. You looked back at the scene only to make eye contact with a shocked Negan. You tore your eyes from him, not wanting him to see you like this, to see this side of you you didn’t even know existed. Neither did Negan. He was actually happy to see you defend yourself for once instead of just rolling over and taking it. He couldn’t even hide the pride that swelled in his chest. 

 You felt numb sitting there in the principal’s office waiting for one of your parents to get here. This was no way to start spring break. 

next part ▶︎

[novelconcepts]

In watching more interviews with Liv about Van and the escalation of Van's pragmatism to such dark degrees, I find myself genuinely baffled that anyone could ever think Van the bad guy. I mean, I'm perplexed at finding ANY of these girls The Bad Guy. The bad guy is the situation. It's being lost. It's freezing. It's starving. It's being scraped down to the barest bone of being alive. They make choices that might be snippy, or cruel, or hard-headed, sure--Shauna refusing to just hash it out with Jackie; Jackie being too stubborn to come inside; Taissa refusing to discuss her situation plainly; etc--but by the time we reach the end of season 2, it doesn't even matter. Petty bullshit doesn't matter. Jealousy doesn't matter. Those things are still going to be present and complicated, because--for all their choices, for all the distancing they're trying to do--these kids ARE still human beings. But it isn't the point.

The point is survival. Plain, simple, straightforward. Van's pragmatism is survival. It is the difference between living another day with blood on your teeth or dying pretty. It is the difference between fighting forward through the fire and the snow and the hell of it all, and laying down to die. Van knowing, in watching the ritual violence of Shauna beating Lottie nearly the death, that they will be killing and eating one another soon. Van coming up with the cards for the hunt. Van not blinking when the moment comes, Van choosing a weapon that doubles as a tool to bring the body back, Van refusing to apologize for staying alive--it's not evil. It's not Bad Guy behavior. It's purely about survival, because there is nothing else left to her--or to any of them. They can play the pretty little Sweet Angel Girl game and die, or they can get dirty, bloody, horrific and fight. Van chooses the fight. Van chooses to fight for herself, for her lover, for her team, even knowing not everyone is going to make it out...because the alternate path there is that no one makes it out. Van knew the baby wouldn't live. Van knows the rest of them won't, either. Not unless they start making the hard choices.

And, honestly, the fact that Van sees this narrative coming. Comes up with this plan. Brings out the cards. To me, that is the opposite of Bad Behavior. That is as close to justice as anyone can find in the wilderness. If someone else came up with an idea, maybe it would have come down to voting--but that would have had such a human element to it, with bitterness or hostility or whatever ultimately petty shit always comes of humans selecting who to Other. The cards don't leave room for that. It isn't fair, because the situation isn't fair, because Man vs. Nature isn't fair, but it's as close to a just system as they could possibly find. It's the kindest solution to an unwinnable game. Not to bring it back to American Gods again, but all I can think is "it's easy, there's a trick to it: you do it, or you die." Van gave them that.

[msmpictures]

[☬ Ramshackle O.C ☬]

•{☬Basic Data☬}•

[ Name ]

Astrid Voldemort

Storm > Work's Pseudonym

[ Age | Birthday ]

23 - 27 | October 1st

[ Family ]

Robert Voldemort - Father

??? - Step Mother

[ Job ]

Hired murderer.

[ S.O ]

???

[ More detail of the wound ]

Second degree burn | Cuts = Enucleation (Eye removal).

•{☬ Likes - Dis. ☬}•

[ Likes ]

• To sleep [her only one 'escape']

• To draw [In her days of rest, she draws her father to remember him, even if she is not a very good artist] Although she doesn't show anyone her drawings.

• To smoke

• 💐 [She can describe them as the rainbow of her grey, so that relaxes her a bit]

• ☕ [She is addict at the coffe]

• To stare at the stars [ that makes her forget her shit of job for a while ]

• Children [Doesn't show it, but she really likes children.]

• Rural spaces [That relaxes her]

• 'Acid Candies' [I hope you understand what I mean] Although, she doesn't eat them often.

• Boxing [Is not really something that she likes, but she practices boxing often]

• Agriculture (frustrated dream)

[ Dislikes - Hates ]

• [H] HeR bOsS

• [D] To socialize [She can't actually do it, Astrid just talks with the people when it's about the business and when it's her next victim, so it's kinda awkward for her to get a conversation for more than 30 minutes]

• [H] Her own job [ She is forced to do it, she has no other choice. ]

• [D] Alcoholic drinks [ She says that tastes horrible ]

• [D] Her work partners

• [H] Did I say her Boss?

• [H] Her step mother [She is the reason why Astrid is here]

•{☬ Origins ☬}•

Warning: so long xd

( I don't wanna write a shit but this is how u could sorta understand x,d )

- Astrid Lived with her father in the Ramshackle Streets. Robert was a miner, so they were low class, despite that, they always had enough to survive without ever starving.

- She didn't care about her economic status, since she was working by selling lemonade (as a lil child) and saving her cash to buy a little house In the countryside. Besides, her father always loved her, there was nothing that someone could consider a problem between them.

- Although, Robert couldn't help but feel lonely, so he decided to look for a new lover. A woman who appeared in their life, when Astrid was about to 14.

- The woman was an alcoholic one, always spending the cash into whims and useless things, she was kinda aggressive alone and because of that never had a good relationship with Astrid, but Robert never knew about the circumstances, so he didn't do anything.

- Since the woman appeared, The small family began to have debts, so both Robert and Astrid had to work twice as hard, which did not prevent the debts from increasing drastically, in just two years. For this reason Robert decided to go with a 'friend' (who was a member of a criminal association), to request loans with the condition of paying later, but it never happened.

- This 'friend' He decided to collect everything Robert owed, and as a result of having empty pockets, he kidnapped Astrid (she was 16).

- At first they planned to use her as bait to get the money and then kill her, But after pleas from the minor, they decided to recruit her at a low level, as a kind of servant for anything basic, even burying corpses that they eliminated.

- All this in order to be the one to pay Robert's debts. But it would take a long period of time until now.

- As she grew older, the members began to promote Astrid's position, from making her infiltrate meetings to extract information to turning her into a hitman, having to sell this service to others, In order to recover the lost money.

- The rest, is History..

[⛈️] = Sometimes, she pretends to be mute, so she doesn't need to talk with anyone [That's until she finally she likes u]

•{☬Additional Data☬}•

[🌪️] = The grey hairs are sign of her stress x,d

[🌪️] = She could know everything about weapons and how to play them, but she doesn't know how to cook.

[⛈️] = I don't know what to add about her biological mother.. I'll say she divorced Robert and he won the custody of Astrid 👌.

[🌪️] = Astrid just knows Vinnie, and that because she tried to steal her and found a gun in her purse. (In that moment, Astrid was infiltrated, Vinnie too)

[⛈️] = They're not so close friends, but they help each other sometimes. Either to get information or to get beans.

[🌪️] = Once she finished paying the debts, she will go away from Ramshackle, and live her dreamed life in a house in a rural space.

[⛈️] = Astrid doesn't tell her affection with words. She does it with flowers. If she gives you a daisy, she considers you as her family. If she gives you a rose, she loves you <3.

[🌪️] = She is the kind of person who doesn't understand the jokes. She doesn't have a sense of humour. (She tries man, she tries 😞)

[⛈️] = In an attempt to kill A drunk scammer, this one stroke her with a vodka bottle in her face, and as she failed on the floor, he tried to let her blind, burning her face with a lighter.

[🌪️] = Robert doesn't know if Astrid is still alive, but he is still trying to report her missing, no matter what.

[⛈️] = I could tell she is depressed, and because of that she eats the acid candies. I thought, as Stone with Pebble, she could have an 'interior Demon', with a similar appearance to her 14-year-old self. Despite that, I can't find a name for her..

The whole pic

THREE DAYS DOING THIS SHIT I GIVE UP

[twistedwriting]

Azul Ashengrotto Character Analysis

I have many thoughts of Azul, yet not a single word comes to mind when I try to write them down but I will try my best.

There are certainly a few topics that are questionable or even judged upon the fandom, some also seem to forget that Azul is more than his contracts and his shady ass business. Some view him as manipulative while I believe he just saw stupidity in humanity and took this weakness of mankind and turned it against those who were foolish enough to not ask questions. Azul has never lied in his contracts, not a single time. He provided what he had offered and taken what he was entitled to take. Let's take the main issue of Book 3: The contract Ace, Deuce, Grim and many others had signed: Offering their magic for a study guide - If they'd make it to the top 50, they'd get their magic back. If not, they become the Sea anemones that are to follow Azuls every order. He provided the guide and it helped everyone who has gotten their hands on it - Did he lie? He didn't. All he did was *exactly* what people had asked - Nothing less and nothing *more*. And that is the exact point: He didn't give information if he wasn't asked for it. Or Yuus contract: He took Ramshakle, he provided what the Freshmen needed - He didn't lie. In fact, he offered more than he had to: The Potion. The twins interfered but was it against the contract? It wasn't. As I see it, Azuls contracts are much like the wish of a genie: If you wish, be most specific or live with the consequences. You don't want anyone interfering with your stealing? Should've said so, simple as that.

What Azul made the "Villain" was the naivety of those who signed their name on the contract.

But there's more of Azul than this. I think it's justified of what he does. People are stupid, people are naive but most importantly: People are cruel. Especially kids are worse than any demon from hell. If you're being bullied as a child or even up to being a teenager, you'll be emotionally fucked for a long time, if not forever. You'll become insecure of whatever you've been bullied of for something that'll feel like eternity. You want to avoid this very thing, no matter how important it is supposed to be in your life. It'll cause you to break down at some point just for you to pretend like nothing happened afterwards - Especially if you've built up the very picture of someone who's got it all together like Azul did. While he pretends there's no issue, I refuse to believe that he doesn't have an Eating Disorder. Being bullied for your weight as a child (which is - in his case - not even really justified since you basically compare an octopus to a fish. A comparison that is found in every sense of the equation) leaves a mark. A deep, burning mark. Avoiding mirrors, pictures, tight clothes or being seen by anyone without your clothes. You can't tell me he's willing to get rid of his childhood and not have an eating disorder, that he wants to pretend the little healthy octopus child didn't exist and that he can look in the mirror without suffering. It's Canon that he's strictly taking care of his weight - But it's also Canon that his favorite food is fried chicken, possibly the worst choice for strictly keeping your weight. A diet is all good and stuff but strictly starving your body of certain things will only cause mental distress.

I can see he's a sensitive soul, trying to hide behind the mask of sheer confidence and superiority. His only friends are the two weird guys who didn't leave him alone - Sure, they're not the best choice but having two eels by your side is better than being alone. Whether the relation between these three is toxic or not, they depend on each other - especially Azul depends on Jade and Floyd and by the way the twins reacted to Azuls overblot, I'm confident to say that they also depend on him. After all, they might "Can't stand" each other as they'd say, they still stuck around even though there are many reasons to be "like the others" and turn away.

There was something else I had in mind but it just won't come to me right now, so I'll leave it at that for now. All I'm gonna add is that I'd really like to hug Baby Azul and tell him that he's perfect the way he is. To be his friend and let him know that it doesn't matter how he looks like because no matter how much you Weight, if your nose is crooked or if you're labeled "ugly" by modern society, it's your heart and soul that is meant to be you; not your mortal vessel.

[the-words-we-sung]

Thoughts and pictures - S3E4

I've never been that slow with a Young Royals rewatch >< It's hard for me to get through this season (especially now that I'm in the last 3 episodes...)

And here we go, starting directly with a very sad Simon 😞 Omar plays a crying Simon way too well, it breaks my heart every damn time...

I like hearing Wilhelm call Simon his boyfriend 🥰 Also is it me, or do we have a lot more close up shots in season 3? (No clue if that's what it's called, I mean shots that are very zoomed in on their faces like this one.)

Vincent drawing a dick on the ground, of course... And I don't get his explanation: "why even try if there's no reward for the effort?". It means if the school closes, they all won't graduate and have to do their grade all over again? Surely if they're taking tests and all, it counts for something? Why fail an important test and take the risk to fail your year? 🤔 (Not gonna lie, most of Vincent's reactions to what's happening to the school this season left me quite perplexed ^^') And if it's just the graduation ceremony that is cancelled, it still doesn't mean they're not graduating, does it? 🤔

But can you really Simon?

And Wilhelm repeating his mother's words "it's a privilege, not a punishment" breaks my heart >< (Also I'm gonna be a little shit about it but even the Royals have a choice in the end about accepting or not their role and job: after all, Wille is gonna renounce it in 2 episodes :p)

I do like what he said about the role of the royal family in Sweden! We have very little information on that in the show so I appreciate it here. And he looks so pretty in this light!

Wilhelm sounded so surprised that Farima said yes immediately when he told her they needed to help Simon. He was expecting to have to fight them on that.

Why did he have to delete his whole account? Why not just put it on private? (I know I've read in several fanfics the idea that searching and deleting through all the new people who followed him before going on private would be too much of a hassle but I feel like it's a stretch, and an acceptable price to pay to keep his account?)

Their conversation about Wilhelm's choice of foundation makes me so so sad! I had hoped that he would see Simon's point of view on how he can use his role as Crown Prince to try and make things better! I was actually pretty surprised that he was 100% not interested. It's a new facet of Wilhelm's personality that we hadn't really seen before I guess? And it feels like it creates a serious gap between them, it shows that they're not on the same page at all about a pretty serious subject (which is not good for the future of their relationship...)

This shot of these 3 made me laugh :p

This one hurts... Another crack in their relationship 😩 Simon is realizing how different they are. He knew they were but this season is showing us a side of Wilhelm that just seems incompatible with Simon :/ It's not just differences in tastes or personality, now it's differences in their core values also. And that is a huge problem.

So we learn that Simon mostly avoided Micke for Sara's sake. Or maybe he's exaggerating that fact because he's really angry at her.

The sit-in scene is very funny, they're all so dramatic, thinking they might starve to death xD I didn't think that August's eating disorder would be confirmed this way! Also I guess Vincent does have ADHD then? It was not just an excuse to get pills.

"Because we are different?" Yeah... that's what this episode is really about, how different you both are. Which wouldn't be an issue for me if it was less about such important matters :/ I wish we had seen them learn more from each other this season, instead of being in conflict to much.

I agree with Felice that it's getting out of hand! (I still enjoy the whole thing though 😁). I don't dislike Stella as much as a lot of people seem to, but I don't like her in this scene and how she talks to Felice!

Cutest scene of the episode.

I adore this scene. It makes me want to cry. I love them both and I'm so happy that they're slowly finding their way back to each other <3

"Erik was there." This sceeeeene!! Such a punch in the face, so fucking terrible >< (So well acted also!!)

Another trauma for my poor boy...

So lots of mixed feelings with this episode! I'm very frustrated with Wilhelm and his reactions, but I love the Sara arc. I really like the end of the episode, with some very good scenes. But now I really don't wanna go watch the next one ><

[chris-continues]

Only for me..

A Jennifer’s Body AU w/ Uncanny Vash

SUMMARY: in which Vash is your part demon boyfriend.. who has a rather interesting diet.

TW: mentions of murder, corpses, cannibalism, blood, light gore, slightly suggestive (you kiss and get close to one another w/ some suggestive touches), mentions of not eating (nothing too heavy)

NOTES: Ray said smth along the lines of “I need to kiss him when he’s covered in blood” and I felt that. Jennifer’s body is one of my fav movies ever (and while I was watching it w Ray and a few other friends he was like “…so uncanny vash-“ AND I WAS LIKE “YES.”) so take this thingy hehe

TAGS: @h4venpha @vashfantasy @lune010 @captaintweet @millionsvash @beanibon

“..I hate that you have to- to lure them in like this.” You were well aware of how beautiful and captivating your boyfriend was, charisma rolling off of him in waves.

He was inhuman.

“..I know mayfly, I’m sorry..” his gaze drifted towards the ground, swinging the corpse around like a rag doll sheepishly. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Blood covered him, head to toe, splattered across his cheeks and even the lens of his glasses.

You stood, arms crossed on one side of the room pouting. “Mm.. ok.” Your foot tapped on the ground of the abandoned house- you’d made it habit to meet with him afterwards, terrified at first but soon warming up to it. He didn’t enjoy it either.

There were days you had to convince him to find food. Starving himself, for the sake of others- which was selfless, and perhaps it wasn’t morally correct of you to cast others aside but you needed him alive. So you compromised. He wouldn’t do this alone. He was eternally grateful for that, really. He much preferred his other, more temporary way of feeding. When the.. incubi part of him gave way to you. He’d never bring himself to hurt you- god no! But you seemed to have your own allure, feeding him in waves. In some irony, you were the dessert he fed from after a meal from one unfortunate victim.

He gently lays the body down on the couch for others to discover later, making his way toward you. His pupils contract unnaturally, stomach probably making room for it’s assumed second course now. A rumble erupts from his stomach, hungry, depraved, even. It's a bit scary to you still, even more so when you'd first found out about his little secret. That the likable tennis nerd in your bio class was secretly a serial killer- not by choice. He was such a sweetheart, despite the feral look glinting in his eyes he held you tenderly against the walls of the rickety house at the edge of town.

"..'m only yours.." He murmured against your neck, nipping gently. His jaw creaked, bones rearranging from the previous tearing of flesh with his teeth. "All mine.." You smiled into his hair, stained a slight pink. "Mm, you gotta shower." Your hand found its way into the strands, ruffling his hair affectionately. The hum he released was rather otherwordly in pitch, content chirps growing closer and closer until-

"Clean your mouth first, uh uh."

Of course you made him use mouthwash before kissing you, duh. Cross contamination was a thing. You truly wonder if that applied to your situation, however either way you weren't too fond of the idea of having his leftovers between your teeth.

He whined, tossing his head back and rummaging throughout his pockets. "Fine, fine..." a cute pout settled on his lips. One you couldn't wait to kiss off. "Hurry up.." you tapped your foot impatiently, "Had to wait so long earlier." "You act like you're the one getting fed!" Ah, the irony. Amusement dripped from his tone as he hurriedly spat the mouthwash out the half opened window. "I'm a very lucky person to be feeding you. Now c'mere." You slung your arms over his shoulders once more, his neck craning down as he dipped you playfully, pressing you to the wall once again. His lips met yours briefly- a warning for what was to come- before he groaned. The demon in him had yet to be satiated.

Vash craved you immensely, and would go to extreme lengths to truly prove it to you. So dutiful. Devoted to you.

Warmth emanated from him, as if he were a heated, weighted blanket. Everything about him made your head spin- although that may be apart of his quite literal otherwordly charm and aphrodisiac. Well, that, and the fact you were head over heels in love with him. "Love you mayfly," he groaned, "Only you. 'm sorry, 'm so sorry.." He whimpered, message to you broken between kisses. Oh god, he was so sweet.

"You're the only one for me." He continued, pressing into you further. His breath mixed with your own, his arms encasing you. He was your safe haven, yours. And he'd do anything for you. Blood trickled onto your shirt, chest pressed to his front. Crimson tinged every article of clothing he wore when feeding, you both had to make routine trips to the thrift store in town nowadays. It made for cute dates out, though, so you weren't complaining. "Love you too.." You breathed out, barely able to get a word out as he kissed you deeper, and deeper, inhuman tongue plunging into your mouth. He seemed to always crave more of you, the taste of you intoxicating. He hummed, hands rubbing up and down your biceps before tightening around you once more. Everything about him was exhilarating, always giving you so much it almost felt overwhelming in the best possible way. A coppery taste still made its way into your mouth, but you'd grown to not mind the taste. Not if it was Vash, the boy who'd cherish you through and through. Who would bite at your bottom lip, practically devouring you with such need as he continued to cling to you in full.

You'd love him through and through, making this all work. You had so much love to give him, pressing back against him in an attempt to match his feverish need in your kiss.

He was yours. And in return? You were his, unapologetically, unconditionally, and that would remain unchanging.

[onsunnyside]

🚨🚨🚨sneak peak of captains legacy i repeat sneak peek of captains legacy

here it is besties !! [here’s the other snippet I posted a while ago] — the end of the mean game of truth or dare:

Steve turns, “truth or dare, baby?”

You refuse to meet his gaze, “truth.”

“That’s all you’ve been picking when it’s your turn.” 

“Because I have a choice.” You snap back. 

Steve’s jaw ticks, the other alphas watching with cocky amusement. “Fine then, you don’t get to choose anymore. You only get whatever we give you.” 

“That isn’t how you play—” You’re cut off by a yelp when your thigh is roughly squeezed, hard enough to leave a nasty bruise. “Ow, Steve!” You try to push him away, but he only switches his hold to your neck, fingers digging into either side of your throat. 

“Watch that fucking attitude.” He spits, dark blues narrowed, “unless you want to get paddled again, this time in front of the guys?”

Your lips snap shut, tears welling in your eyes and just barely spilling over. The ache in your thigh bleeds through your body, filling you with deep dread and fear. He could hurt you right now, leave you battered and weeping, and his friends would only watch and laugh at your pain. You were trapped, locked down in a stupid house you didn’t want to be in, outnumbered by monsters who have taken over every inch of your life. 

You didn’t deserve this, no one deserved this. 

A single tear slips down your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. Steve’s eyes follow it, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “I dare you to take off your pants.” Your choked protests die in your throat when he tightens his grip, “or, suck me off right now.” 

Your silence speaks for itself and he turns you to face the guys, their faces clouded with heat or twisted curiosity. They’re smug as hell, soaking in your humiliation like they’re starved for it. 

“Slowly, legacy.” 

Wiping your nose, you squeeze your eyes shut and steadily pull down your shorts. The fabric drags along your skin, leaving an awful burn that only erupts into shame. You feel so small, so insignificant, reduced to nothing but sick entertainment. 

You hesitate when it reaches your trembling knees, you weren’t wearing anything underneath and Steve knew that. 

“You won’t need it.” He said as he laid out your clothes, clothes as in his hoodie and nothing else. 

The snap of fingers makes you jump and swallow a cry, the nightmarish thoughts flooding your head. Just for a moment, your eyes flicker open and meet theirs. Across the cluttered coffee table and seated on the various couches and chairs, they watch you. Unblinking, unwavering, unreadable. You didn’t know what they were thinking, if they were plotting to use you like nothing but a set of holes. You knew at least one of them was used to treating omegas like that—and he was smirking right at you as if he were thinking the same thing. 

But, Steve wouldn’t let Ari touch you. Right?

They could do much worse than just look at you—and that was the scariest part. The tears increase tenfold and stream down your cheeks hotly, pitiful whimpers leave your bitten lips. 

Steve leans back, spreading his legs. “Bend over and apologize to me.” 

When you don’t move, he kicks your leg. Taking one final shaky breath, you bend over and pull your shorts to your ankles. Exposing your bare cunt for his eyes only, but with the others just feet away. “I’m so-sorry for my attitude, alpha.” 

He doesn’t speak and you stand there for a few seconds, but it feels like hours. The open-air is misery personified, stripping away your dignity and making a feast out of it. Steve eats it up, groaning under his breath and rubbing over his growing bulge. He salivates at the sight of your wet cunt, your needy button nestled between your folds. Your hole is so small and tight, he’d have to spend time opening you up for his cock. 

Your heady smell saturates the air and only makes him more ravenous and greedy because he knows he’ll be the only one to taste you. He catches a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, it’s undoubtedly one of the guys getting a whiff of your sweetness too. Too bad that’s the most they’ll get. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

Those two words are followed by him yanking you into his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist. You’re seated sideways with your legs pressed together tightly and his hoodie fisted in your hands. You don’t hear whatever they’re talking about, bitter grattitude muddling your head. 

You feel objectified, like his personal toy to show off to his friends and yet, you aren’t fighting to escape his hold. 

What was happening to you?

Steve rubs up and down your side, “Now… Was that so hard?” 

“I don’t want t-to play anymore.” Your voice cracks from the lump in your throat, “please don’t make me play—daddy.” You tag on, brushing off the terrifying confusion to meet his gaze. 

Steve looks at you for a while, thick lashes kiss his prominent cheekbones with every slow blink. Then, he gives in, “Okay, baby, you deserve it.” He leans down and meets your lips.

You should feel sick, you shouldn’t like the feeling of his mouth on yours, calmly claiming ownership.

He pulls away with a strangely soft smile, “see? If you’re a good omega, you’ll get what you want.” With a final peck to your tear-stained cheek, he turns to the guys, “I’m taking her turn so… Buck, truth or dare?”

HEHEHE I MISSED THIS FIC SO MUCH !!

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

What made you want to recover. I have anorexia and I don't want to recover I just want to get worse and worse until I'm sick enough. I'm in forced recovery but faking it as I just want to starve is there any reason to recover?

Hello anon, this is a difficult question to answer because for me, personally, it wasn't any one thing that made me want to recover. The truth is that when I started, I didn't understand the long-term effects of what I was doing to myself. I sort of knew about them, but the importance of being thin had been stressed to me all of my life and so I was in a self-destructive place where I was willing to make that choice again and again and risk throwing away my health for thinness. That's pretty fucked up, true, but again, I didn't understand the full extent of the damage I might be doing to myself.

I think it's also worth mentioning that I had an undiagnosed chronic illness and some trauma that I was quietly sitting on because I doubted my own perspective and my ability to access real help for these things. Because of this, I didn't have a frame of reference for mental and physical wellness, because I hadn't felt mentally or physically well for a very long time. Even now, looking back at symptoms I was experiencing, it is hard to know if I was experiencing these things due to my eating disorder or something else. I think it was all cumulative damage, to be honest. The eating disorder didn't help.

But looking back, I think I actually had an eating disorder long before I "decided" to start restricting food. I remember going through a growth spurt during puberty around age twelve and being hungry all the time, but we frequently had the kind of foods people call "junk food" in the house because that's what my parents bought. So that's what I ate a lot of, constantly, and my mother was constantly remarking on it in a negative way and trying to stop me. I have a very complicated relationship with my mother, and she raised me with a complicated relationship to food and body image. I remember doing fucked-up things like sneaking food into the bathroom with me so I could eat snacks in the shower unobserved, or hiding snacks under my bed, and just absolutely gorging on food at other times while knowing I was eating way past the point of being full and not knowing why I wanted to. So I officially decided to start restricting when I was fifteen, but the truth is that I had a fucked up relationship with food way earlier than that.

When I was nearing my seventeenth birthday, I experienced a breakdown in health due to chronic illness. I was suffering terribly. At the time I had this hippie friend who believed everything could be cured with the right diet and supplements. As I mentioned before, I was raised in a household where we didn't fully understand proper nutrition, and I had been raised eating a lot of low-nutrition meals. Because I had a stronger relationship with this friend than with my family, I bought into the mindset that if I got the right nutrients, I would be cured. And, in my mind, I had to get as many of those nutrients as possible as quickly as possible, so I immediately turned back to bingeing. But I was bingeing on a lot of high-nutrient hippie foods, so I didn't see a problem with this. I didn't understand that my relationship to the food wasn't fixed. I wasn't enjoying it, I was gorging on it, and between meals I was desperately anticipating the time I could gorge again. And because it was hippie food, I thought that this would cure me.

The thing was, after over a year of severe restriction, my GI system was wildly unprepared to handle the level of food-stuffing I was about to put it through - even though it was super-healthy hippie food. So I actually got sicker, experiencing the symptoms that come along with suddenly eating real portions after restriction. This led to me alternating between not understanding why the food wasn't working to cure me, to not understanding why I felt so addicted to eating. And this kick-started a violent binge-restrict cycle where I'd force myself to go hungry until certain times a day, at which point I'd unleash myself upon food and be unable to stop. Then I'd restrict again the next day to make up for it, get increasingly desperate for food, and you see the pattern. The binge-restrict cycle is so real.

So I was super trapped in that life and I wanted out. I knew I wanted to get out long before I actually started getting out. Because every time I binged, my immediate response was to hate myself and restrict. That was all I knew. By the time I even started to make a bit of progress on breaking that pattern, I had achieved enough real healing to understand that my restriction days had been a part of what led me down this hellish path and I didn't want to go back to that. To tell you the truth, in order to truly stay away from it - because I'll be real, I do get tempted to go back to restriction from time to time - I have to remind myself that while restricting feels like it would save me, it would only be a stepping stone back into that horrible pattern that kept me so sick and felt impossible to break. And I have to choose wanting better for myself.

Now, your story may not look like mine. So I'm not sure your motivation will end up looking like mine. But what do you need for yourself in order to want better for yourself?

You say you want to do this until you are sick enough. Can I just ask you to take a moment to ask yourself, what do you think is "sick enough?" Would you really stop when you got there, or would you just keep moving the goalpost until your body gave out? Because if you're stuck thinking "I have to do this till I'm sick enough" then believe me - you are sick enough. Your struggle counts. You don't have to wait until the damage is irreversible.

Because the thing is, when you start experiencing long-term sickness as a result - GI disorders, internal organ failure, etc - your suffering will be out of your control. Eating disorders feel like you're taking control, but you're not. And as someone who suffered with chronic illness for years, let me tell you, you don't want "sick enough." I can't tell you for sure what you do want, but allow me to take a guess. Maybe you want the validation that comes from being sick enough. Maybe you want to showcase how awful it got because you want people to care, to be concerned, to validate you. You want indisputable proof that you are well and truly fucked up, that you truly were hurt by whatever it is that hurt you.

The fact is, even some people who are sick enough to be on death's door, from some chronic illness or another, never get that validation or support. Our system is fucked up like that. But understanding that also means you don't have to wait for someone else to validate how hard you struggled and how much you've suffered. You're already sick enough. You don't have to wait for it to get worse in order to deserve better. So what do you need? What do you need in order to affirm to yourself that what you've been through is real? What do you need in order to feel you deserve to get better for real? What do you need in order to keep seeking out that desire to heal even when you're triggered as hell and struggling and forget all the breakthroughs you had once made and all you want to do is say "fuck it then, I'll self-destruct" because that's addicting in its own way?

I hope you're able to seek those answers in your treatment, anon. I hope you're able to affirm to yourself that you deserve to be more well than this, and to love yourself enough to fight for it?

[euphorajeon]

(i think) i'd have a heart attack | jjk

— pairing: roommate!jk x reader

— genre: fluff | college au, roommates au

— word count: 4.9k

— warnings: cheese everywhere like it's just cheese in written form, jk eats ssam like he hasn't eaten in months, they're both idiots, mostly oc though, angst on oc's part but eh what is new, (another) mention of iron man (sorry i love iron man (jk does too))

— summary: having feelings for your roommate is never not complicated, all awkward glances and (not-so) subtle avoidance. after weeks, you think you’ve buried them deep enough for your roommate not to notice. but jeongguk digs deeper.

— author's note: another shitty summary by yours truly but pls give it a chance ;-; also i wrote this back in 2019 and changed the pov so i hope it's not too weird or anything. of course inspired by jeongguk's twitter video when he was still actively sharing what he eats on a daily basis hahaha :D

masterlist

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with a sigh; you’ve been working on your assignment at the coffee shop near campus but was forced to come home when the battery of your laptop ran out and you conveniently forgot the charger in your rush to get out to class this morning. The assignment is due tomorrow morning, so you have no choice but to go home considering it’s nearing 10 PM already.

Stepping into the living room, you almost feel your blood boil upon seeing that the lights are on as well as the television, displaying your roommate’s Netflix home page, but there’s no one in sight. It’s not that big of a deal—at least he’s not leaving behind a used bowl or some unfinished pack of chips on the coffee table—but you figure it’s because he is the one behind it that makes your skin crawl in irritation.

You decide to leave the mess behind, let him deal with it however he pleases later. You intend to grab a glass of water from the kitchen but are stopped in the doorway to said room when you see your roommate sat on the bar stool, shoving a huge ssam into his mouth like he’s been starved for the past month. It doesn’t faze your more than his presence itself does.

“Oh, hey—where are you going?” Jeongguk calls out around a mouthful of lettuce, tone changing quickly from bright greeting to a confused one when you bolt out of there as if you saw a ghost instead of your roommate. You ignore him, opting for hastily going into your bedroom before locking the door to ensure your safety inside.

You almost jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on the door; no doubt that it’s Jeongguk. You know he would go after you, you know he would knock, heck, you know he’s home so why would you be so jumpy?

“Hey, are you okay?” Comes Jeongguk’s muffled voice from the other side of the door, concern clearly etched into his tone of voice. If this was months ago, you would be endeared by the way your roommate cares so much about you like this, but this is now and the sound of his open concern for you just makes you annoyed.

“I’m fine, go away, Jeongguk,” you try to let out in the most friendly tone you can muster right now, but you know your go away must make him upset despite the lack of bite in the way you let it out. You hope you just sound tired to him.

There’s a moment of silence as you just shuffle your feet around, restless in the way you worry you have upset Jeongguk in some way. You shouldn’t be acting like this, he’s just being his usual nice self and being a good roommate. If you keep this up he might find out and things will get messy.

“I bought extra in case you want some..” Jeongguk says, voice quiet with the barrier between you both, “uh, the food, I mean,” he continues when he realizes that he didn’t specify what it is that he bought extra of.

“Uh, thanks, but I ate earlier,” you reply with a lie, all you had today was that crappy sandwich from the coffee shop and you think you cannot have anything more what with the feelings nestled inside of you right now. You don’t know what to name it, but whatever it is makes you want to drop everything and just sit on your bed doing nothing.

Jeongguk’s okay from behind the door surface sounds slightly dejected, before you hear his footsteps, fading away along with his disappearance back into the kitchen. You let out a loud sigh, you can feel the beginning of a headache coming because you still have that assignment that needs to be done no later than 7 AM and you have to do it without the help of coffee nor food in your system. Going back out to fetch food doesn’t seem like an option because it would mean both seeing Jeongguk again and telling him that you lied about already having dinner.

As you change out of your clothes to a more comfortable one—pajama pants and a hoodie lying on your bed—you couldn’t help but think that this whole thing started because of you and your thoughts alone, Jeongguk having no business whatsoever in this newfound thing you recently discovered named feelings. Yes, laugh as you will, but liking your roommate seems inevitable because Jeongguk is just.. Jeongguk.

It isn’t clear when this thing actually started, because as far as you know, Jeongguk has done absolutely nothing different to show that he has some sort of attraction to you. He’s always been nice to everyone, laughs just as loud when he’s with you or any of his other friends, and that one time he had to stay a night at the hospital because Taehyung had a really bad fever proved that he’s always had that caring nature in him for those whom he cares about.

Still, you find yourself feeling funny inside whenever Jeongguk does something to you that should be normal for otherr people, like buying you food and asking you to eat it togetherr with him, letting you choose what to watch on movie nights, even lending his hoodie when it’s too cold without one in the apartment. Those things are mundane, friends do that, right? So why do you feel different?

To avoid any weird changes in your friendship, you decide to just bury these feelings deep inside of you until sometimes you even forget you have them. That only lasts until the next time you see Jeongguk and be reminded that this is the subject to your misery these days. You bemoan this fact only to your best friend Yojeong who somehow always has time to deal with your constant whining of he looks good today, what the fuck, I should’ve stayed in my room and not come out until the next century or something.

Maybe that’s why you unconsciously stays away from Jeongguk as much as you can these days. When you have a morning class, you’d make sure you go out of the apartment before Jeongguk even wakes up. If your class ends at noon, you would stay out as long as possible and would only come home when it’s nearing midnight to avoid bumping into him in the apartment. Thank God you’re both in completely different majors, so avoiding him in campus isn’t necessarily a hard thing to do. It’s a bit pathetic, but you choose to keep your sanity rather than losing it over your handsome and friendly roommate.

You do the rest of your assignment in peace, finally submitting it a few minutes past one in the morning. You stretche your arm above your head, suddenly feeling really tired after being hunched over your laptop for hours with your back leaning on the wall beside your bed. Yes, you do your assignments on your bed just because.

You really want to sleep right now, but your stomach rumbles in protest because that one crappy sandwich wasn’t enough to last you through the day, moreover with the assignment needed to be done. You know that it’s dangerous for your health if you forgo eating, so you open the door of your bedroom before stepping out to search for something to eat.

In your haste to reach the kitchen, you miss the fact that the lights in the living room are still on, along with the hum from the television that’s playing some anime with a low volume. You miss the movement from the couch, where Jeongguk quietly looks up from where he’s perched on it. You miss the way he follows you to the kitchen, and finds you rummaging through the fridge.

“The food is cold now, but I can heat it up for you,” Jeongguk says upon seeing you pull out the container from the fridge. You let out a gasp of surprise, accidentally knocking your hand against the top part of the fridge. You hiss while closing the fridge door, turning your head to shoot him a dirty look.

“Thanks, but I can do it myself.” You don’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it came out, and actually feel sorry that Jeongguk has to receive this kind of treatment from you when he does nothing wrong. Like you said, seeing Jeongguk just brings back the fact that you like him to the surface of your conscious and you hates being flustered when being around him.

You expect him to go away after that, but he does the exact opposite as he sits down on one of the bar stools, making himself comfortable. You curse in your mind, hands almost shaking with the sudden nerves that overcome you. If you’d known he was still awake, you wouldn’t have dared go outside of the safe haven you call your bedroom. Let you starve just until tomorrow morning if it means not seeing this guy’s face at one in the morning when your brain doesn’t work that well.

You feel numb as you robotically move the food from the container to a plate, putting the dish inside the microwave before punching the buttons to start heating it up. You lean a hip against the counter, fishing for your phone from the pocket of your hoodie just to give your something to do that doesn’t involve human interaction. Shaking, you open your chat room with Yojeong before typing furiously into the device.

im fucked

shit yojeong what do i do

i was tryig to get food

jeons still awake

he wont leave

you know how i get around him

im fucking shaking

shit

The microwave lets out a sound that signals it’s done heating up food, startling you because you were too focused on your phone to keep track of the minute on the device. Getting the food out, you place the plate on the counter, ignoring how Jeongguk is staring at your every movement like a hawk eyeing its prey. You’re just about to fetch a pair of chopsticks from the drawer when Yojeong’s replies come in.

yojeong: babe

yojeong: breathe first

yojeong: hes your roommate hes allowed to stay

yojeong: if you cant take it just stay with me

yojeong: okay?

you: fuck

you: he wont stop staring

you: at me

you: what if i accidentally blurt it out

You’re just in the middle of typing the word fuck when suddenly your phone is being taken out of your grip, before a pair of chopsticks is thrust into your hands to replace it. You’re too stunned to say anything, eyes looking up to meet Jeongguk’s dark ones. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you almost feel scared because it looks like he would snap at you the next time he opens his mouth.

“Stop playing with your phone and eat.”

See? He does snap.

Slowly, you sit yourself down on the stool while Jeongguk goes back to his previous spot; the stool opposite yours. You’re glad that there’s at least a kitchen counter to separate you both, because you don’t know how you would be able to breathe if he stays close to you for too long. His gaze stays on you though, and you curse this fact because apparently it’s still making it hard for you to breathe normally.

You quietly eat the food you heated up earlier, mentally crying and wailing when you realize that Jeongguk got your favorite from the restaurant. You don’t know how he manages to know, because you never really mention anything to him. Shit, can this boy stop doing things like this to you? It does things to your heart. Unhealthy ones.

You noticed that while Jeongguk plucked your phone out of your hands unceremoniously earlier, he didn’t do anything to it. He just locked it and put it face up on the counter, and you feel this sense of gratefulness toward him for still respecting your privacy.

“Why did you lie?”

The quietness in the room is broken by Jeongguk’s question, tone softer than you would like to admit you anticipated it would be. Though soft, it’s still got  a tinge of assertiveness that makes you feel slightly guilty for blurting out that lie to him hours ago.

Your gaze stays on your food when you shrug, answering his question with vague gestures which you hope he doesn’t question further. But deep down, you know Jeongguk is not one to take unclear answers when he’s serious like this.

“Hey,” Jeongguk says sternly, fingers gripping your chin to force you to look at him instead of your food. Your eyes meet, and you have to force down the gasp of surprise that’s threatening to spill from your lips. Not because of the sudden skinship, but more because despite his firm tone, his expression is anything but. Instead, you see some worry in his eyes that only confuses you rather than scare you. “Answer me.”

You stop chewing to control the sudden spike in your heartbeat, taking a deep breath through your nose to give your brain a bit of oxygen supply it desperately needs. Jeongguk doesn’t let you break eye contact, and you swallow with great difficulty to give him what he wants.

“I don’t know..” you let out quiety, cringing inside when it comes out in a whisper, “sorry.”

Though he doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, he lets your chin go, making you break eye contact as soon as he does. You clear your throat while looking anywhere but him, and you just realize that he’s wearing a pastel yellow t-shirt tonight instead of his usual black or white. This fact is completely irrelevant and you curse in your mind for noticing even the smallest detail about him.

“You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” Jeongguk’s voice sounds again, this time with a tinge of sadness in his question. You look at him again just to discover that he has a small frown on his face, flawing his otherwise perfect face. You mentally tell yourself to get a grip.

You open your mouth to answer him despite not knowing what to say when Jeongguk stops you from doing so with a bitter chuckle.

“Yeah, I noticed. We’re roommates but I barely see you anymore. When I wake up you’re gone, when my class finishes early and I come home you’re not there, when I finish everything at night and come home you’re not home yet and no matter how late I stay up waiting for you, you always come home even later,” he says with a glum smile, and you are too stunned to reply.

“I end up just going to my room to lie restlessly, waiting for the sound of your footsteps to start appearing so that I can assure myself you’re home, you’re here, and the most important thing is; you’re okay and unharmed. Sometimes when I don’t hear you coming home past twelve, I ask Yojeong if you’re already home or not. It puts me at ease whenever I discover that you’ve been home all along, you just won’t come out of your room. It’s okay. At least I know you’re there.

We stop having movie nights, stop eating together after classes, stop telling each other about our days, we stop hanging out altogether. At first I was upset with you, but then I thought to myself, maybe I did something wrong to make you avoid me to that extent. I mean, you won’t push away someone without some reason, right? So I started listing in my head the things I’ve done that could’ve upset you. I even asked Yojeong about it, surely you’d tell her if somehow I made you upset, right? But she won’t tell me, I—“

“Jeongguk,” you call, voice strained with the way you’re holding your tears in, “it’s not.. you didn’t do anything to upset me,” you continue, letting out a breath. You feel really guilty now that Jeongguk has told you the past months in his point of view, you didn’t think that your lack of appearance in front of him would go noticed, let alone affect him this way.

“God, I’m really sorry if you think like that, but you didn’t do anything wrong, really..” you mumble out, hands covering your face because you can’t bear to look at his face in this state of guilt you’re in. Who knew that an attempt at sorting your heart out would cost you the exact person who’s the cause of all of this?

Jeongguk lets out a puff of breath, chuckling. “That’s good to know,” he says, “I figured, though, otherwise you won’t be wearing my hoodie right now.”

You have never whipped your head down so fast in your life, looking at the hoodie you’ve been wearing ever since you got home earlier. It’s his? No wonder it feels slightly bigger than your usual oversized hoodies, because if there’s something common about you both, it’s your love for oversized clothes, including hoodies. Now that you know it’s Jeongguk’s, you just realize that the hoodie smells like him, but because you’re so used to having his scent in the apartment, the thought that the hoodie is his didn’t even come to you. Stupid you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face again to hide your blushing face from Jeongguk’s eyes, “sorry, I didn’t notice it’s yours. I’ll give it back later.”

“No, it’s okay. You look cute in it.”

You drop your head on the counter because what the fuck, Jeon Jeongguk. You don’t just throw out words like that!!

It’s quiet for a while and your plate of food quickly becomes forgotten because you have a more serious issue to focus on; your racing heartbeat. You’re thinking of ways to shrink or disappear so you can flee Jeongguk’s presence in order to calm yourself down, preferably forever if it means escaping the flustered state you always seem to be in whenever he is around.

“Hm? You like someone?” What? Why would he—

You snap your head up to see Jeongguk looking at the lit up screen of your phone on the table. You snatch it to read the notifications that’s started to pile up on your lockscreen; it’s Yojeong, replying to your stressed messages earlier. A very late reply, considering you’re already a mess in front of Jeongguk.

yojeong: what, that you like him?

yojeong: i know you’re not stupid enough to do that

yojeong: but if you are

yojeong: dont forget me when youre happily kissing him

yojeong: hehe lub u babe

What the fuck.

You feel your face become hot at Yojeong’s messages, hoping to every deity that exists that Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to read beyond the first message. Yojeong might be your best friend and you might love her to death, but sometimes she can be a little shit that you just want to strangle her.

“Hey, are you okay? Your face is really red..” Jeongguk trails off, seemingly worried that his roommate’s face is like a ripe tomato.

“I’m fine, Yojeong just said some weird shit.” You put your phone face down on the table, fanning your face with your hands to get rid of the warm feeling still lingering on the apple of your cheeks. It’s already embarrassing that Jeongguk now knows the fact that you have a crush—though he doesn’t know that said crush is him—and now he sees you with a face so red you could rival that of an apple’s.

“About your crush?” Jeongguk inquiries, suddenly interested in this crush of yours, “Who is it? Do I know him?” he asks excitedly, but you are too busy being embarrassed to notice that there’s a slight downturn of his eyebrows, eyes losing their spark.

You let out a groan, hands stopping their movement of fanning your face because it doesn’t work in lessening the warmth. Now Jeongguk has decided to talk about this crush and you think your red face won’t leave tonight, so might as well leave it be.

“Come on, tell me,” Jeongguk prompts, fingers poking at your hoodie-covered arms, making you swat his hands away with a frown. He doesn’t stop though, instead pulling one arm toward him and continues poking it with his forefinger.

“Stop it, you don’t know him so it’s no use anyway,” you mumble, eyes going wide when suddenly Jeongguk lays his palm flat against yours, fingers eventually entwining with yours. Sure, you share hugs occasionally, but hand-holding is something entirely different, at least in your opinion. Maybe Jeongguk goes around holding his (girl) friends’ hands so this is normal occurence for him, you’ll never know.

“Would it be no use if I told you I like you?”

If your eyes were wide earlier, you don’t know what to call them now. As much as you want to believe him, Jeongguk is far more playful for you to just take his bait straight away like that. You thank your brain for still being able to be reasonable even when your heart is already beating out of control.

Controlling your expression from one of surprise to one of doubt, you pull your hand away from Jeongguk’s grip, heart clenching when his bright grin dims as soon as you do it. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“N—no! Why would I?” Jeongguk splutters the answer out, eyes going as wide as yours. “I thought it was obvious that I like you? I thought you avoided me because somehow you knew of my feelings and you don’t feel the same way?” He sounds as confused as he looks.

You don’t know who’s more stupid; you or Jeongguk.

“No it’s not obvious, Guk,” you let out a sigh. “You don’t treat me differently than you do any of your other friends—“

“Seriously?” Jeongguk scoffs, “babe, I don’t share food with anyone,” he continues matter-of-factly, but the thing you are focused on is the way the nickname rolled off his tongue smoothly, like he’s been calling you that all his life. It also makes your face heats up again, and you don’t know when the temperature would come back down to normal.

“I don’t share clothes either, and the fact that I let you wear my hoodies says a lot about my feelings,” he continues, lifting two of his fingers to list off the things he’s about to say, “I buy you food, I let you pick the movies on our movie nights—though the reason I do is because you also like Iron Man and the first person not making fun of me for that—heck, I stay up nearly every night just to wait for you to get home and I can only sleep after knowing you’re safe and sound in your bedroom.” He gives up lifting his fingers up, choosing to run said fingers through his hair instead. “I think Yojeong knows that I like you, what with the way I always message her asking about you.” Jeongguk lets out a chuckle, eyes going back to yours after running all over the room, “If that’s not obvious, I don’t know what is.”

You are left gaping at him, eyes blinking as you try to process everything that Jeongguk just said to you. It doesn’t help that it’s nearing two in the morning now, your brain functioning just a little slower than it does in daylight.

“But.. I thought those things you mentioned just.. I mean, friends do those, you don’t necessarily have to like someone to lend them your hoodies, right? And eating together, letting them choose the movies.. Guk, what the fuck?” As always, words fail you whenever you need them the most.

“Stop denying, babe, and just say it to my face if you don’t like me back.”

“Stop calling me babe,” you say around a pout that unconsciously formed on your lips.

“You called me Guk earlier and you usually call me Jeon or Jeongguk, it’s only fair that I give you another nickname as well,” Jeongguk retorts back, and after a thoughtful pause, he adds, “babe.”

You cover your face again for the hundredth time tonight, grunting in frustration because the nickname sounds really good coming out of Jeongguk’s mouth, you won’t mind being called that for the rest of your life. Reserved only for Yojeong and Jeongguk, though.

“Guess you already know that I like you back, huh?” you mumble out, face still covered by your hands, “I just.. never thought that you’d actually like me too.. like, I always thought it’s just me being too affected by the simple things you do, I thought it’s just simply me overthinking everything.. Why would you like me anyway? I’m not that pretty, I’m dumb, I say curse words all the time.. heck, Jeongguk, I never even buy you food.. what kind of friend am I? I’m really sorry..”

You are too busy rambling out that you don’t notice Jeongguk has risen up from his seat, going around the kitchen counter standing between you to stand directly in front of you, prying your hands from your face and replacing them with his warm hands cupping your cheeks. Your eyes are wide and your mouth opens and closes repeatedly like a fish out of water, your face is also still very, very red. Jeongguk thinks you’re adorable like this.

“Are you done?” he chuckles, thumbs stroking your cheekbones slowly.

You scrunche your nose, “not really, I’m still really sorry for being such a shitty fr—“

Jeongguk stops your sentence by slotting his lips over yours, pressing softly when he feels you freeze up. After a few seconds, you relax, and he lets out a breath through his nose before moving his lips against yours. You feel your head spin at the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips on yours, soft, so soft you could kiss him for hours.

After minutes just massaging each other’s lips, you pull away for breath and you have to push at Jeongguk’s shoulder to stop him from going forward, chasing your lips. You then smack said shoulder, making him wince before rubbing at the spot.

“What was that for?” He pouts, lips red and shiny. Shit, you shouldn’t be staring at his lips.

You glare, “that’s for cutting me off mid-sentence, with a kiss,” you smack his other shoulder, “and that’s for taking my first.” Now it’s your turn to pout. Despite that, you have to bite your lip to prevent a huge smile to spread across your face.

Jeongguk’s eyes are comically wide as he stares at you. “That was your first kiss?!”

You purse your lips in embarrassment, “don’t make fun of me now, you—“

Again, Jeongguk cuts you off with a peck. And another. And another until you’re almost giggling because it starts to feel funny but before you have the chance to, he’s kissing you so deep it takes your breath away. When he pulls away, it’s only from your lips but not from you because he trails his lips down, to your jaw, the column of your throat, until his fingers pull the material of his hoodie aside to allow him to mouth at your collarbone.

“Hey, hey, stop,” you hold both his cheeks in each hand, pulling him away from your clavicle only to see his pout right away. “Seriously, Jeon? I just told you that I just had my first kiss and you want to continue like that?” as if my face isn’t already red enough, you grumble under your breath.

Jeongguk’s pout turns into a grin, “Why not?”

You smack his chest for that, internally fawning over how hard his chest feels beneath your palm. You have to get used to this, don’t you? To Jeongguk being all over you, smiling that stupidly adorable grin of his, giving you kisses that take your breath away, doing things that just makes your stomach do that flip.

“I have a class at eight, that’s why,” you deadpan, reaching for your phone to glance at the time, “and it’s nearing three right now. We should go to sleep, Guk-ah,” you continue while grimacing, thinking of the lack of sleep you’re going to get tonight.

“Together?” Jeongguk says, excited. You give him a fourth smack of the night for that, holding back a smile when he laughs. “Come on, you cuddle up to me all the time when we watch movies together, why so shy now?”

You roll your eyes, “fine.”

You end up going to Jeongguk’s room, as per his insistence, where he tells you to change out of the hoodie and into one of his big t-shirts instead. It’s overwhelming, to be surrounded by his smell from both the t-shirt and the person himself, but you’re not complaining.

Cuddling on the couch with Jeongguk while watching a movie felt nice, but cuddling with Jeongguk on his bed feels even better because of the additional kisses he drops against your hair and temple. He gives you a kiss on the lips as a final good night kiss, before you both drift off to sleep in each other’s embrace.

a/n: sorry you had to go thru all that cheesiness, i didnt know where that came from either.. honestly. and its rushed toward the end alsjas i know it was nearing 3 am and i had a class in the morning SO. also fun fact: jeon placed his hoodie on oc’s bed lmao i wanted to include it in the story but didn’t seem to find the right time, heh. ok bye bye

secreto

[magpod-confessions]

it seems like a lot of people, when discussing avatars, fixate either solely on their villainy and how completely bereft of morality they are, or how they are just a poor manipulated pawn of their patron. there’s a large focus on avatars either having malicious intent or a lack of control. and i feel like the thing a lot of fans are missing is that the fears don’t work like that. avatars don’t work like that. yes, a few of them are just shitty people, but the majority of them? what they do isn’t out of malice or cruelty. they are a thing obeying its nature. they hunt and hurt and kill because it feeds them and feeds their power.

as to how much of their actions are taken of their own volition and how much are the influence of their fear, i don’t think it matters that much. free will doesn’t really exist. people make choices based upon their life, circumstances, emotions, situations, and a hundred other factors. it’s a complicated knot that’s impossible to untangle.

but we know that the fears both

a. build off of and enhance what’s already there, what people already desire and feel and do

b. ramp that up to insane levels and twist it around to fit their own agenda (food and rituals)

c. make their avatars unable to back out of servitude without death, and detach them from both their own humanity and the rest of humanity to the point where choosing between their own lives or the lives of their prey is a simple decision.

basically, it’s like a rabbit who becomes a fox that must eat rabbits or die. the fox may be haunted by guilt in the early days, for eating what used to be its kin. maybe the occasional fox is even grief stricken enough to starve itself. but in the long run, that fox is a fox. the rabbits are no longer a peer with the same thoughts and feelings as them, to be sympathized with and understood. they are simply a food source, and the fox is not one of them anymore.

if the fox spends years and decades and centuries killing and eating rabbits, it might feel the occasional twinge of pity or amusement at their antics, but ultimately, they’re just food. feeling guilty about eating it gets them nowhere. after all, they had a choice in what they became, and they made it a long time ago.

it’s kind of like helen and jon’s conversation, where she explained that she felt the same guilt jon did at first, but it wasn’t getting her anywhere and eventually, she had to let it go and choose to eat to survive. jon started this process, too. in season 4, mainly, and also in season 5, but in season 5 he has the constant buffer of martin’s presence as a safeguard so it’s a little more complicated. but within months of his transformation, he started willingly taking live statements, uncaring for the victim’s state, just wanting to eat. it’s either eat or die, and any living avatars chose to eat. there is a reason they all admit that they did what they did not because they were under someone else’s control, but because they liked it and needed it and chose it.

so, trying to assign this narrative of avatars being either innocent pawns of their power with no choice in what they’re doing, or an evil entity with malicious intent who wants to be cruel, just doesn’t work. both could be viewed as part of the truth, but also, neither is really accurate, for the simple fact that anyone who serves the fears is operating off an entirely different mindset and lived experience that human morality just doesn’t really translate well to.

ironically enough, i think michael phrased it best- “There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it?”

anyways, this is getting pretty long, sorry if it doesn’t make much sense. i’m just irritated by fandom trying to find a Morally Correct way for avatars to exist, and ignoring the fact that being an avatar doesn’t just give people a few spooky powers, it completely upends their entire existence and mindset and priorities and morality.

yeah exactly . morality and avatars is such an interesting concept that a lot of people simply handwave !! i . have thoughts but i can't word them right now but . i do agree with you anon - deceit

Im eating this anon - rosette