#feral reader

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DESPERATELY NEED FERAL READER WITH EP 8 WITH AN INJURED JOEL AND KIDNAPPED ELLIE…….. I KNOW OUR CRAZY QUEEN WOULD KILL EVERYONE ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Yall asked for it lol

Violent Delights Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: They took her kid and she was getting her back. Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and torture

She woke up with a start, having drifted off unknowingly after trying to keep watch, a sense of disorientation as she tried to figure out where she was and what was happening. The basement. They were still in the basement, the cold leeching any warmth from the walls and floors, the haggard breathing of her companion her only company. It’d been over 48 hours since she last slept, since Joel was hurt and they’d had to drag him into the house and patch him up. He wasn’t in good shape. Joel was so close to death’s door, it terrified her. They were so close to losing him and she had never felt more helpless.

She could still hear his pained groans, the glazed and blank look in his eyes, as she put pressure on the bleeding hole in his stomach just a couple days before. “Don’t you dare die, Joel. You still have to make shit up to me and you can’t do that dead. You can’t leave us again.” He’d tried to tell them to leave him. To go back to Tommy’s and leave him behind, the stubborn asshole. But Ellie managed to find the first aid kit and they’d sewn up the hole, wrapping it best they could with the little supplies they had. She knew it wasn’t enough. There could be shards left from the baseball bat, they weren’t the cleanest, nothing was sterile. She didn’t even know if something internal had been damaged. But it was all they could do. They’d been so focused on getting to Colorado they’d been using their food storage rather than hunting over the past week. Now it was biting them in the ass, their supplies dwindled. She’d managed to briefly go out and hunt down a rabbit, but game seemed scarce and leaving meant leaving Ellie and Joel alone. Without Joel, it was hard to sleep, look after Ellie, look after him and keep him stable, look after the fucking horses, and hunt. She was overwhelmed. So sleep went out the window. She took watch when Ellie was asleep, went and tried to hunt and scavenge the nearby houses when she was awake, and kept an eye on Joel in between taking care of the two horses in the garage. But at some point she’d fallen asleep finally, fallen deep and hard enough that she hadn’t noticed Ellie slipping the rifle from her hands and leaving the two adults alone.  A small scribbled note was placed on her lap on a piece of what looked like newspaper, “Be back soon -E.” She scrambled to her feet, looking around and cursed herself. Joel was still breathing steadily but his brow was covered with sweat from the infection he was staving off. Both their packs were against the wall but Ellie’s was gone and the panic that took hold was like a lightning bolt. It stole the breath from her lungs. Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone- it was a racing thought that circulated over and over again. Her main purpose, main job, and she’d fucking fallen asleep.

Her heart jumped further at hearing footsteps above her head, the slight creak and shift in the old wood, a door slamming…then it all came out in deep relief as she recognized the light shuffling.

Ellie raced down the steps, cheeks pink from cold and wind, and breath huffing out in a rush as she entered the basement.

She grabbed the girl immediately, shaking her by the shoulders with the vestiges of panic still in her blood, “Where did you go, Ellie? You weren’t supposed to leave!”

The teenager paused, eyes frantic and a little wild, but a tough set to her lips as she shook her head, “I went hunting and you needed sleep! I had to, but look! I got Joel medicine!” Ellie took the bottles out of their wrap, quickly moving away from her and kneeling down to Joel, beginning to lift up his shirt before she could even get a good look at what she had. The wound was ugly and discolored and she could hear him groan at the small touches. Her mind was still caught up in the panic of discovering the girl was gone and she quickly snatched the bottles away before the syringe was inserted. “Where did you get this?” she asked, turning it over in her hands. Penicillin. Two whole bottles of penicillin, practically liquid gold in their world, and Ellie had managed to get it while she slept. The teen looked nervous and tried to snatch it back, but she was quick even if she was exhausted and pulled her hand away, “Please, can we give it to him first and then I’ll explain?” Her eyes were so big for her face, cheeks pink. Her desperation to help Joel was evident. Ellie knew how bad he was doing and believed she held the cure to it all in her hands. She could only sigh and hand it back over, instructing her to give just a fourth of the bottle and to tap the syringe. Joel would probably have a heart attack if he knew she was letting the kid give it to him, but she knew Ellie had to do this herself. It was her win and she had to feel like she was the one saving him so she let her. But then they both stared, her knowledge only getting them that far. “Where the fuck am I suppose to put this?” Ellie cursed, looking at the wound and Joel’s arm, eyes switching between hers and his closed ones, “Fuck, how are we supposed to do this?” She cursed herself. Her medical knowledge was mediocre. Stitching, cleaning wounds, pulling out bullets, the basics they needed. Infections and medicine she had no clue about, “Just give it to him in his stomach. As long as it enters his blood stream, it should be fine.” At least, that’s what she thought. Ellie winced and inserted the needle, Joel giving out pained groans as it sunk into the sensitive area. They both watched the plunger empty the contents and then she pulled it out, trying to clean the needle the best she could. They only had one syringe and would have to reuse it. “And now we wait,” the teen commented and looked at his face as if at any second he would be magically better. He would wake up and smile and tell her good job. But he didn’t, staying silent on the small makeshift bed. “No, now you tell me where you went and how you got that,” she bit out, sitting on the other side of Joel to face her. Ellie winced and looked down at the small glass bottles in her hand, “You needed to sleep and we needed food. I know you think you can take care of all of us, but you can’t and I wanted to help by trying to hunt.” “That’s not your responsibility-” “It doesn’t matter. I wanted to help,” Ellie cut her off but then sighed, “And I did manage to actually get a deer…but I ran into these guys...” Instantly, she was on high alert, eyes searching everything that was visible and checking her for any wounds, “You ran into people and you’re barely telling me!” “I know!” the young girl argued back, hand resting on top of Joel’s, “They found my deer before me and said they were from a group with starving women and children. They offered to trade for half the deer and said they had medicine. I did everything I was supposed to! Got them to drop their guns, unloaded their rifles, and had them back away. One went to get the medicine and I kept the gun on the other.”

“So you gave them half the deer and they gave you the medicine then just let you go?” she asked and clenched and unclenched her fists. Ellie wouldn’t look so nervous if  that was the whole story and she wasn’t nearly tired enough to have been dragging half a deer carcass back. Shrugging, Ellie grimaced and refused to meet her eyes, “That was the deal…but they knew who we were. The people that attacked us at the university belonged to their group and this guy started talking about how one of theirs had been killed by a crazy man with two girls. He knows that was Joel. I don’t know why he let me go, but I think they’re looking for us.” With a curse, she quickly stood, hands on her hips and pacing in a tight circle, “Fuck. Fuck. And they didn’t come after you?”

“No, I think they let me go because I was a kid.” She doubted that. People rarely were that charitable, even to children in this world. Especially a child with a gun and an attitude like Ellie’s. The unspoken words were there though. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t come for her and Joel though. Ellie may be deemed innocent but the two of them were problems and only one of them was in commission currently. But what could they do? They couldn’t move Joel in his state. They couldn’t leave him behind either. They were stuck. “Okay. Maybe if they let you go they don’t plan on coming. Maybe they think both of us are injured if you were out on your own and won’t come,” she lied comfortingly and tried to speak the words into existence, knowing the kid was probably feeling guilty and needed some hope. They needed rest, needed to breathe for a second, and panicking now wouldn’t help.  It took a while to relax enough to let the adrenaline fade away.

Ellie laid down, exhausted, tucking into Joel’s side as she had the past couple nights and resting her head on his shoulder. He subconsciously leaned into her, still alive for now. Her heart ached at the sight, the way they held each other in their own ways. She didn’t have the strength to get after the girl more or uproot them out of precaution. They were all exhausted and Ellie had somehow managed to bring hope even if there was a cost.

She sat down by the stairs, flipped her knife between her fingers to keep her awake and focused, and watched the two sleep with her heart in her throat.

The men would come. Now that they knew they were in the area, they would come and they were stuck in this spot until Joel was better. There was no way they could get him on a horse and move him now without undoing all the healing he’d done. A thousand scenarios went through her head, sleep now a distant memory in the face of the panic and anxiety plaguing her. How was she supposed to fight off a group and keep them both safe?

She couldn’t. That was the reality of the situation.

The thought hit her over and over again like a blow to the chest, the knife turning between her fingers. _________________________________________ Morning came and she could see Ellie’s disappointment that the medicine hadn’t instantly woken Joel up and made him all better. To ease her mind, they gave him another dose, trying to make the bottles last before shoving the remainder in their bags. They were out of food, the rabbit she had caught two days ago long gone without a way to store it. Joel still wasn’t eating or drinking and she worried that even if they got the infection under control, his body wouldn’t be strong enough to get better. Things were bad. The possibility of Joel dying was a constant chime in her head. It felt like a mockery that he had left and came back only to be almost taken from them permanently. She was angry. He wasn’t supposed to be the one that took the hit. It had been meant for her but he’d pushed her out the way as the bat swung, breaking on the tree, and then tackled the guy. If it had been her, Joel would know what to do. He could take care of them both or at least would have the strength to leave her behind if necessary. She wasn’t sure she could. She was failing him. Failing them both. The basement was suffocating, pressing in on her, and she took the opportunity to go tend to the horses, leaving the girl and her unconscious companion to the pressing weight of disappointment. Her body was beginning to ache from the lack of sleep and food, joints protesting her movement, but she reached down and scooped snow into the small metal bucket for them to get some water. Soon the horses would starve too or be too weak to carry them. Death was creeping up on them. Looking over the neighborhood they were held up in, she sighed at the obvious foot steps leading up through the streets before beginning to methodically cover what she could. Ellie knew better than to leave a trail but she guessed in her hurry to get the medicine back to Joel and get away from the men she had forgotten. And as birds took off in a rush further down the road towards the wooded outskirts, she froze and her heart thundered in her ears. 

She felt fear run through her as her thoughts from the night resurfaced and became reality, a living nightmare. They were coming. They had waited for daylight to search them out and were coming now. She knew it, could feel it, and they were out of time. Quickly covering what she could and making false tracks from the other houses, she ran back inside and flew down the stairs to the basement taking two at a time. No time, there was no time.  Ellie startled at her rushed appearance and the way she flew across the room to the rifle and her own pack, “What’s happening?”

“Those men you saw are coming,” she huffed out, grabbing the rifle and checking it was loaded before looking around the room as if she could find the answer there.

Turning to Joel, Ellie began to shake his shoulders as if he were merely sleeping and not borderline in a coma, “Fuck. Joel! You have to wake up, Joel. Joel, wake up! Wake the fuck up, Joel!” But he only gasped, pained whimpers leaving his lips, eyelids fluttering.

She bent down and grabbed Ellie by the shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes, “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. I need you to take the horse and run.”

“What? No, what about-”

“You run and I’ll follow behind and try to pick them off,” she interrupted, voice adamant, “They’re going to search every house and they will find us eventually. I can’t hold them off like this. I need to know you’re good first and if we’re away from here then it will take the focus off Joel.”

“You want me to go without you?” Ellie’s eyes were wide with fear and her heart ached at the sight, but there was no time.

“I’ll find you,” she promised and dug her fingers tightly into her shoulders as if she could sink the words into her skin, “I will. But you have to go now. We’ll block the entrance to down here, give Joel some time.”

Ellie pressed her lips together and nodded, running to grab her backpack and last minute grabbed one of the larger knives they had. Running back over to Joel, the teen knelt down and placed it on his chest, forcing his hand to grab it. She let her while grabbing the rest of her stuff and placed Joel’s pack into a small cubby under the steps to make it less noticeable.

“Okay, look at me,” Ellie whispered to him while he only groaned in reply, “There are men coming, okay? I’m gonna lead them away from you, Red is going to help get rid of them. But if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?”

“Ellie, hurry,” she bit out, peeking out the small window along the top of the wall. “Joel, do not fall asleep,” the teenager pleaded desperately, squeezing his hand around the knife. She could see his eyes partially open, see his lips trying to move and his fingers twitching trying to grasp the knife. But Ellie finally got up quickly and rushed up the stairs. She went to follow after her and paused, staring back at the unconscious man on the floor. A part of her whispered that this could be the last time she saw him alive. One or both of them could be dead if this didn’t go right. Heart in her throat, she ran back to him and kneeled, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand. “Stay alive for us, please, Joel,” she whispered, squeezing the hand around the knife, but getting back up and running up the stairs. She tried not to look back. Both of them moved the tall kitchen cabinet over the door entryway to the basement, trying to shuffle things around to not make the spot obvious before heading to the garage. They got both horses out, grabbing what she needed from hers and sending silent apologies to Tommy before forcing it to gallop away in the opposite direction with a sharp smack. The other she saved for Ellie to ride, closing the garage door behind them. They’d figure out transportation later when they were out of this mess, but they needed the guys off their trail and two different horse tracks would help. With quick hands, she helped Ellie climb up onto its back. 

Shakily, she bit out, “You ride hard and fast and loud. They’re going to come after you but if you go fast they won’t catch you and I’ll hit them from behind. They only know for sure about you right now. Do not look back, Ellie. I’ll find you once it’s safe, I promise.” Ellie was shaking but tried to put on a brave face, nodding and holding onto the reins. She wanted to hug the girl, tell her it was going to be okay, but she wouldn’t lie to her. Not now. The men were close, she knew that. She patted the rear of the horse and nodded a final goodbye, beckoning her to go forward. Her heart screamed to not let her go, that it was safer with her than alone, but they were backed into a corner and she had no choice. They wouldn’t win in a shootout and losing meant Ellie would die. So she watched as the girl rode away down the street away from her, turning until she was completely out of sight, and tried not to flinch at the gunshots that came soon after and the yells of men. She tried to shut off the part of her that wanted to panic, to react and worry. That wasn’t the part she needed to listen to at the moment. Running as far as she could, crossing over fences and staying against the walls of the house, she followed the sound of loud hoof beats and chased after them as they chased after Ellie. Her ears caught on one of them screaming that she was to be left alive, but that didn’t ease the worry in her. Being captured alive wasn’t always a good thing. One of the slower men chasing Ellie fell the furthest behind, wheezing in the cold and trying to clamber in the dense snow. Her own knife in hand, she ran and jumped onto his back, using both their weight to send them forward onto his front behind the cover of some of the shrubs. 

He hadn’t been expecting to be attacked from behind and it took him a moment to try and struggle, to lift his face out of the snow to breathe, and she took advantage of that by stabbing deep into the back of his neck. He groaned, the sound muffled, and she pulled the blade out and sunk it in again and again with a growl. The snow was staining red around them. He stopped moving. One down. She stood and took off, the cold biting into her lungs and stealing her breath. The terrain was hard and the one kill had put her farther behind the group, forcing her to cut across more backyards to catch up, but she could only hope Ellie had done what she asked and was out of range. She could catch the rest of them once they scattered. But then a gunshot rang out close by. The sound of a horse’s cry ripped through her, tore her soul to shreds, and she knew if she lived beyond the day she would hear that sound forever in her nightmares.

She ran. She left all care of stealth behind and ran fast and hard, dodging trees and fallen branches and then ran faster when another gun shot rang out. The chest felt like it was being cleaved open by the panic, fear gripping her tightly. They wouldn’t have shot her. They wouldn’t have killed her. She was a kid, they wouldn’t-

And then she watched from the trees as the group surrounded Ellie who was on the ground, her horse unmoving not far away, and a tall skinny man picked her up and began to walk away with her. She raised the rifle, looking down the scope, and cursed as the men separated and began to head back into the neighborhood. No doubt to continue their search for Joel and her.

She could see Ellie’s face through the scope, the loll of her head, but she was gripped too closely to the man’s body. He was walking further and further away. Two sides of her screamed. Leaving to go after them meant abandoning Joel, but staying behind meant leaving Ellie. She wanted to press the trigger, shoot, but knew it was too risky with Ellie in the man’s arms. She could so easily accidentally kill the girl if she was one inch off and her hands were too shaky from exhaustion to be precise. Only some of the group was going back, the others looking like they were continuing to scout the area.

She knew what she had to do, what Joel would tell her to do, but the reality of it felt impossible. If they found Joel, he’d die for sure. But she wasn’t sure she could live with leaving Ellie.

The men with the girl were getting farther away and a choice had to be made.

So she swallowed the sob in her throat and let the rage she felt consume her completely, push her forward, and followed behind the group to where they would take her kid.  __________________________ It was getting harder and harder to follow along as the wind began to kick up a notch. She needed to see where they were taking Ellie, but she was tired and the cold was sinking in, her body struggling to keep going. And as they entered the town, it was getting difficult to avoid being seen. Too many buildings, too many open areas, and she didn’t know who could be watching. She knew they had entered one of the nearby buildings, but wasn’t sure which. The clock was ticking in her mind, Ellie’s life on one hand and Joel’s on the other. What good was she if she couldn’t save her people? Blood crusted on her fingers as she entered the first of the buildings quietly, finding a back entrance. It was dark but she could hear voices nearby as she found herself in some kind of storage room, the cold still reaching her through the walls. She wasn’t used to carrying the rifle. It had always been Joel’s weapon thanks to its weight, her preferring knives or a small pistol or even a bow when she could find one. So when she crouched down to ease her way over to the swinging door leading further inside, she winced when it thudded and scraped against the floor, the sound so loud in her ears. The voices paused and she froze, eyes wide and watching the door. There was shuffling and she quickly backed away into a darkened corner, pulling her knife out. Steps came closer and she held her breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The door swung open and she could see a man enter, beard a little rough and looking a little ragged, cheeks red from the cold. He frowned, looking around, gaze shifting over what he could. He turned to look at the back door, back facing her, and only then did she realize she had tracked snow inside and it hadn’t quite melted. Lunging, she stuck the blade deep into his lower back with all her might and threw her arm around his neck, choking him hard. A cry of pain tried to leave his lips, breath cut off, and he struggled wildly. She twisted the knife, feeling blood coat her hand. “Where is the girl?” she hissed, jerking the blade deeper. He sobbed and made pathetic mewling sounds of pain, voice wispy from lack of air, “Please, I don’t know-” She twisted, hearing the squelch of flesh tearing, “The teenage girl your buddy grabbed, where is she?” The distinct smell of piss lingered in the air and he sobbed out, “I don’t know! Oh god.” Steps were coming close again and she growled, keeping her grip on the knife buried in his body and shifting her arm away from his neck to hold the back of his collar. He wheezed in air, blood starting to bubble from his lips. The door burst open and the distinct sound of a gun rising echoed in the tiny room, only to pause as she held the man in front of her like a shield, mostly hidden by his body. “Howard-” A woman’s voice. All the people who had attacked them had been men. 

She wouldn’t have the information she needed. With a growl of frustration, she shoved the body at her, letting his dead weight hit her and trap the woman against the wall. She let out a startled cry and the delay gave her just enough time to unholster her pistol and shoot her in the head. The numbness that was a twin to her rage had sunk into her skin, blanketing her all over. She’d search the buildings, one by one, and kill whoever she had to to find her kid. She didn’t care. Stepping over the bodies, she moved into the area they had been in before she drew their attention and paused, icy horror filling her. A leg was in the process of being cut apart, small chunks set aside and being wrapped up as if to store for later. It was a kitchen, most likely used to prepare food for stage, large makeshift smokers and pits along the back unused. The ticking clock in her mind sped up as the reality of what she’d uncovered hit her. Cannibals. These people that had taken Ellie were cannibals. A strong hit to her back sent her stumbling forward and clattering to her knees. She grunted and scrambled forward as a stomp missed her, hitting the ground instead. There’d been someone still in the room and she’d been too distracted to notice. 

Rolling onto her back, gun still in her hand, she aimed and managed to shoot the knee out of her assailant as he raised a butcher knife. He crumpled to the ground with a cry and she got to her feet slowly, gun raised and trained on him. 

The guy was younger, but thin and haggard looking. His bravado hadn’t fully left him though as he stared her down, anger in his eyes, “You fucking bitch. You blew out my fucking knee.” He tried to get up but she aimed at his head, making him freeze. “I’ll shoot the other one too if you don’t shut up and tell me where the girl you kidnapped is,” she snarled, adrenaline helping to keep the firearm steady on him. His nose wrinkled and he spit at her, brow furrowed.

Stubborn. Younger guys were so stubborn.

She pulled the trigger and watched his other knee explode as the bullet met his target. The man screamed and she quickly knelt down, shoving her hand over his mouth and placing the still warm barrel against his forehead. Tears leaked out his eyes, making little dirt tracks through the grime on his skin.

“Where the fuck is she?” she screamed into his face and the sound was almost inhuman, gravel and fury warping it almost into a howl.

But he only shook his head, eyes defiant. Frustrated, she stood, looking at the meat cleaver in his hand and the human leg on the table. She didn’t have time for this. Ellie was out there and the situation was worse than she thought. Not even meeting his eyes, she raised the gun and shot him in the head. He wasn’t going to give her any information.

She raced back outside through the back door she had entered, heart in her throat and a panicked scream wanting to leave her lips.

The storm was picking up as an idea hit her. If she searched each building, there was no guarantee she’d find someone with information in time. She had to draw their attention. Maybe lure them out. They had wanted Ellie alive for the moment. If she could distract them, it may buy her time.

Chewing her lip, she kneeled behind the building and swung her pack around to dig through it. Her hand wrapped around a small glass bottle that had been carefully secured in the middle of her clothes and yanked it out along with one of her old shirts. They’d been saving it for emergencies, using it to sterilize what they could, but she needed it for something else now. Her face stung from the cold wind and her hands shook, but she managed to tear cloth and shove it into the liquor bottle, saturating the fabric, before she put her pack back on and stood.

Time to make a big fucking distraction.

Blocking the wind with her hands, she lit a match and watched as the tip of the cloth burned bright with flames.

With a snarl, she tossed the molotov through the window of the next building, ducking down and watching as the flames exploded inside. Screams and shouts followed, telling her there had been people inside, and she waited for more voices to join them. Someone would investigate or come outside.

Like clockwork, a man rushed out into the cold and she gripped her bloody knife at the familiar face. One of the men that had come back with Ellie. He cursed and ran through the snow, yelling that he was going to grab the fire extinguisher next door while the others scrambled to put the flames out. She followed, quiet, lava flowing through her and teeth bared. She couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. 

The wind blocked any sound she made as she rushed after him into the alley and lunged, shoving him into the cold brick wall with a loud crack. She growled and grabbed his hair, gripping it tightly and smashing it into the bricks once then twice. He tried to push away and turn, but she kneed him hard in the spine, driving him to his knees. “Where is the girl?” she snarled into his ear, knife to his throat. Blood poured down an open wound on his forehead, one eye blinded by red, as he finally took in who had grabbed him, “fuck you,” “Wrong answer,” she yanked his hair and slammed it into the wall again. When he went to raise his hand to fight her, she stabbed the blade through his hand and into the ground. His screams were carried away by the wind and snow, the shouts of his group telling her they were still distracted by the fire. “The girl your group grabbed,” the words were all razors and broken glass, almost the sound of an animal snarl, “Where did you take her?” He sneered at her, trying to put on a strong front through the pain, “That bitch is probably soup by now.” She stepped on the knife, the blade so far in his hand the hilt was pressing against the back, “I can make this last a fucking lifetime. Your choice. Where-” “Please, don’t-” Frustrated, she ripped the knife out and placed the tip just inside his mouth, “Last chance. Where is she?” The tip clinked against his teeth and he hung his mouth open to avoid being cut, his beard a mess of blood and spit and green eyes wide with fear finally. She tried not to feel satisfaction as seeing that, understanding setting in for him. He lifted his bloody hand and tried to point across the street, stuttering out, “Steakhouse. The fucking steakhouse. David has her in there.” She looked at him, eye swollen, and blood coating the front of his face, clearly terrified.

Slowly, she took the blade away, watching his lips wobble with sobs and slight relief. Then she slit his throat, continuing to move behind the buildings even as his blood sprayed out and soaked her clothes and his pleas gurgled and quieted.

The steakhouse was a few more buildings down across the street, “Todd’s Steakhouse” still written on the sign out front. The storm was a blizzard now, sharp stinging snow hitting her skin and turning the blood on her into patches of ice. There were yells, panicked screams, and she wondered if they had found the bodies. If they had found the blood and chaos she had left in her wake.

But with a destination in sight, she had let her guard down and she cursed herself later on for it. Arms wrapped around her torso, crushing the rifle into her back, and she kicked at the air as she was dragged back against a brick wall.

“You fucking bitch!” Screamed into her ear and she was tossed to the ground, teeth clattering from the impact.

A kick landed in her stomach and she grunted, the air leaving her lungs, but she had enough sense to grab onto the leg and cling to it. The move caught the man off balance and he tripped, falling to the ground next to her. Her blade was somewhere in the snow and she struggled to dig around for it, sharp steel nicking her fingers as she found it only to be thrown onto her back.

The man climbed on top of her, straddling her waist, his weight so heavy and her pack on her back making the move crushing. She grit her teeth and bucked, thrashing to try and get him off of her. But he only grinned, pulling back and decking her in the face. Stars lit up behind her eyes, a high pitch ringing all she could hear as pain exploded through her head.

He pulled back to punch again and her fingers found the cold metal in the snow. She wrapped her hand around it, feeling the sharp steel cut into her palm as she grabbed it by the blade instead of the hilt, and stabbed it into his lower throat. She didn’t stop, only switching to pull it out by its handle this time, and stabbed again and again, blood reigning down onto her.

With a howl, she shoved him off of her and sent a final stab into his face, snow soaking into her and pain a radiating heat. Everything hurt and it was an effort to get up and roll onto her side, staring at the decimated body next to her. 

She spit blood on him and stood. There was smoke coming from all around her, the fire having caught from the molotov and moving on building to building. Across the way, smoke could be seen from the steakhouse and she swallowed her pain, letting adrenaline carry her to the front doors. Her hands shook as she tried the handles, pulling again and again but they stayed locked and shut. Growling, she threw her shoulder into it. She was so close. She had found the place and was so close and a locked fucking door was all that was keeping her away. Her breathing was quick and frantic as she looked over the front and tried to reason that there had to be a back door or an employee entrance. Her hands skimmed the wall to try and keep upright, knowing soon the exhaustion and pain would take over, but she tried to push it back. Ellie had to be close. She needed to keep going a little bit further and then she’d get her kid and they’d go get Joel. 

Her steps stumbled and she pushed off the wall, screaming at herself to stay steady. There, she could see the back door. Plain and wooden, easy enough to shoot the lock off and get inside. With shaky fingers, she unhooked the rifle from her shoulder, the weight of it almost unbearable, and took two shots to get the lock blown off. Her legs were shaky as she climbed the few steps and opened the door, smoke pouring out. She coughed and tried to wave it away, stepping inside and feeling the heat. She had taken only a few steps into the building and stopped, hearing a familiar voice. “Red?” Relief flooded her, eyes instantly filling with tears, as Ellie emerged from the smoke not too far in front of her. Ellie was there, hair a mess and half tumbling out of her ponytail, blood splattered and smeared all over her face and clothes. It took her a while to realize she was standing there, actually standing there, watching as the girl stumbled forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. 

Smoke and fire was all around them, but she couldn’t care because she had Ellie and they were both alive and safe now. With shaky hands, she managed to direct them back out of the building and into the cold, fresh air. Her promise rang in her ears and she whispered them out loud as she clung to the girl, “I found you. I found you. I’ll always find you.” And she had, but not quick enough. She knew that something awful had happened, that Ellie was now one step closer to being what her and Joel were. The tough exterior had crumbled away and all that was left was a shocked girl who’d had a piece of her soul cleaved away. Her nose was busted and she knew that look in her eyes, the horror and pain at doing something ugly but necessary. Ellie’s lips were shaking as she looked her over and she was so focused on the girl she almost didn’t see Joel coming around the corner. Joel, standing and whole and alive, coming towards them like Ellie was a gravity well pulling both of them towards her. His eyes met hers and the relief was bright, even if she was dripping in blood. But Ellie hadn’t noticed the shift in attention, hadn’t heard his steps, and when he went to grab her she bucked and thrashed in his arms in sheer desperation. So much like her, a wild animal fighting not to be caged. Her heart tore apart, shredded to pieces, at the painful screams then broken sobs as she realized who was holding on to her. 

Joel only kept whispering, “It’s me, it’s me, I’m here.” “He- I-” she stuttered, eyes glazed and searching both of theirs. Joel held on with all his might, trying to ease her, gentle words soothing. And the girl crumbled, falling into his arms and clinging to him tightly as much as he was clinging to her. His eyes met hers and she let the exhaustion hit her and carry her towards them, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around them both. All three of them, blood soaked, finally home with each other.

______________ Feral Reader Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111

[creepypastasomethingsomething]

[openminded-freak]

Wally x Feral!Reader Pt. 3

I woke up on the floor with a killer headache and a lot of questions.

First of all, where the actual hell am I? I know damn well this isn't my house because there's not a single object in my home that is as colorful as these fucking walls. There was paint splatters everywhere and not a drop of white to be found on them. There were also painting supplies littered around the room, like paint cans and brushes.

And second of all, what's up with this shitty headache? I know it's not a hangover because there's not a drop of alcohol in this neighborhood. Trust me, I've looked.

I figured I'd sit up and look around. At least I wouldn't be laying on the nasty ass floor. Seriously, when's the last time this room's been swept?

There were papers taped all over the walls. Some were cute drawings of the neighborhood and it's inhabitants, some were detailed paintings of random objects, like an apple or a colorful feather, and there was also just random doodles. That wasn't what got me concerned, however. The drawings of me were what really got my attention. Not just drawings though, there was messages along with them.

"You're the apple of my eye."

"I'm your best friend."

"I can't see you. Do you see me?"

"You don't like me, Neighbor."

"I'm looking at you."

I was so distracted by the messages that I didn't notice him come into the room until I heard a quiet giggle behind me. I whipped around to see Wally standing there with his arms behind his back, smiling.

"Dafuq?-"

"Neighbor! I'm so glad you're awake.. You were asleep for a long time.. Ha.. Ha.." He stood there staring at me for moment, waiting for me to say something. I just stared at him blankly.

"Ha.. Anyways.. I brought you here so we could bond together! I know we had a rough start, but I want to be your friend-"

"You literally kidnapped me but pop off king."

His smile became strained at that. "Ahem.. As I was saying.. I think we could become great friends if you'd give me a chance, Neighbor.. Home won't let you leave until you do.."

I gave him a weird look. I mean, yeah, Home can lock all the doors but has this mf never heard of windows? Crazy aaah.

He ignored my look. "Did you like the messages I left for you? I think they're the most.."

"What up, I'm Jared, I'm 19, and I never fucking learned how to read."

"What-" He didn't get to finish whatever he was gonna say before I picked up a paint can and shattered a window.

Wally yelped and Home screeched something terrible. The noise sounded like it was coming out of the walls themselves and it was ear-piercingly loud. It didn't affect me much though. After all of the death metal that I used to blare through my speakers, I was almost deaf.

"IT'S FREE REAL ESTATE, BITCH," I screamed as I leapt through the broken window. I hit the ground hard but got up quick and started running to Julie's. I'll hide in her fucking hair if I have to, as long as I'm safe from this fucked up muppet.

[z0-ne]

Hi! It’s me again I was wondering if I could request another goku + younger sister reader but this time can it be but like them being siblings and them doing sibling stuff (Hc’s please 😚🫶)

HIIII! Yes! If you couldn't tell by now I love doing any platonic goku stuff its so cute and fun to think abt

GOKU AS Y0UR BIG BROTHER!

• Okay so just an FYI, you weren't raised by your big brother. Sorry, chi chi has enough stress with sayains as is, and not enough budget for three mouths again.

•Also, because you didn't hit your head when you landed, you werent exactly good.

•Not to say you were 'Abduct his child' type evil, probably because you're only four years older than Goten, but tou weren't good either. You blew up some stuff, injured people and tried to establish your dominance over the planet, gave Yamcha several heart attacks, and you had No idea who Vegeta was.

•So when they tried to get him to order you around that clearly backfired when his authority was tested by a sassy adolescent.

•"cease this absurd behavior! Your prince demands it!"

•It didn't help that he was wearing the pink shirt with some odd sandels. You looked him up and down before you scoffed.

•"Sorry princess, but I don't listen to stupid men in pink."

•Safe to say, you were a jerk, Goku knocked you out and Vegeta had to sit this fight out or he'd strangle a child.

•It took yall a while to get along, not because of trust issues from Raditz but because you were low-key evil too and you didn't like ANYONE at first.

•Hell it took a while to get you to stop being territorial or just flat out running away.

•Goku was the last person you bonded with, and that was because he kept having to drag you back home with your teeth latched into his arm.

•"Hey there- AH!" he cries out as you lunge at him and sink your teeth into his arm,, he swings his arm around hoping to detach you but its like you're locked on!

•"Ouch! Who just goes around biting people?!"

•Things changed a bit when you guys actually got along though. I guess the biting brought you closer??

•Goku doesn't visit that much, when it isn't involving training. I mean, the guy has work and trains with gods. He's very busy, but he makes time for you.

•Since you're close to gotens age but also a few years older, he likes to make time to pick you up from school to hang out with him and Goten for a bit.

•Its not like he just snatches you up out of school, he knows better, he's a father afterall, but after-school he's always excited to pick you and Goten up.

•"Hey! Ready to go?"

•However sometimes he forgets that he can't fly in public. Easy slip up, can you blame him though? It's as natural as walking!

°"Goku! You're flying!"

•"oh! Shoot!"

•Outings and shopping sprees are rare but he has experience with Chi Chi so he learned how to juggle the bags you throw to him while you go crazy in the mall.

•He doesn't mind it though because its a way to spend time with a non-deadly family member. Although he questions how deadly you are when it comes to a sale.

•"Hey! Thats on sale!"

°"But didn't that lady already cut infront to take it?"

•"That doesn't mean I'm gonna let her keep it!"

•Its like watching deers headbutt eachother. Then you just come back with the biggest grin holding up the shirt you wanted and adding it to the pile.

•When it comes to the food I pray for the people cooking..

•The two of you together have nearly been banned due to how much you eat, one restaurant offered to pay you two to just leave and stop ordering.

•You guys do play fight, at random times too.

•One minute you're getting along and they next, one of you is punching the other in the face.

•Goku bites. It's Canon, we see it all the time so don't think he won't chomp down just because yall are play fighting.

•it might also be payback for when you bit him...

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar  slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too  secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells,  there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs  bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your  arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.

[ivanzplaid]

Hi! Can you do a The grabber x reader, that the reader is a gremlin. (Aka, sneaking out of the basement at 3am to get snacks, and is just crazy, lol)

i can see this happening later in you and the grabbers time of knowing eachother, once you and him establish some type of bond ( maybe trusting, maybe he gets to know you more, etc. ) he wouldn't put it past you :) going into a but if a more non-canon direction in some parts, so take it w a grain of salt 💪

as usual, requests, messages, n reblogs r a great way to communicate w me!! thank you sm for the request <3

This is The Grabber x Gn Reader!

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome effected reader, The Grabber, Manipulation, The belt

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The banging of the winds on your petite window kept you up, you've been growing restless over the day since you could never keep still, and being locked in a stingy basement only fueled your need to move. Besides the evening check in, he hadn't stopped by at all today, and the more you thought of it, he hadn't really given you anything to eat. So you came to the conclusion that it wouldn't hurt to take a quick trip upstairs, you and him had spent, what, atleast months together now? You'd seen him for what he really is, not what the public saw him as. He'd shown you all his masks, and you'd shown him all there was to show about yourself, so you thought, fair is far.

The stairs creaked under your nimble steps. You did try to be quiet about this, after all, you didn't want to bother him, just a quick snack, a harmless bite. You slowly approached the wooden door, and with a tap, it opened, making a painful noise as you pushed it further. Putting one foot in the door frame, you stepped up, and the sight you saw shocked you, or at least surprised you the tiniest bit. The man you'd spent all your time with, sat silently asleep on a chair, directly facing the door, a belt in one hand, and the other left comfortably open.

You raised your eyebrows at the show, but didn't care enough to take a second thought, after all it was late, and both of you had obviously had long days. You kept onward, treading even lighter to not wake him up, and you finally got a hand on the freezer door. Its metal hand cooled down your hand as you pulled it open, a nice wave of cool icy air hit your face, and among it revealed a delicacy you hadn't had in years. A box of freezie pops stood infront of you, opened, but still good. In an instant, you pulled the first flavor you saw, and shut the freezer door.

You began to tear off the top, before feeling leather swiftly wrap around your neck, holding you back into a silky chest. Hot breath landed on your neck as you tried to comfortably turn your head to look at the person responsible, but of course you already knew who it was, you felt the makeshift mask on you. A grunt came out of him before he spoke,

"My dove, what have I caught you doing?"

He always framed his sentences that way, always making you feel smaller, or that he was in charge. You hesitantly spoke, the belt keeping you in place from moving all too much. A shaky breath came out before speaking,

"Nothing, nothing. I just got hungry, y'know?"

You gave a shaky smile, hoping to not trigger the belt to choke you. You were being honest, so you waved the ice pop to him, showing him you were really just hungry, not trying anything. What came from him was an amused chuckle, leaning his head onto yours, you could tell he was tired, his voice exposed that. His hand clasped your should before letting go of the belt, and he turned you around, moving the free hand to your chin, gazing into your eyes, his hardened eyes stared at you blankly. What you thought was strange, he thought was working, he was looking to see if you were truthful, and thankfully, you were, his months of effort to make you his were out to good use as you had an opportunity to leave him, the life he'd sculpted you, but you didn't, you genuinely just grew hungrier.

"Im sorry, I know I didn't show a lot today, I've just been busy, thats all."

You smiled at him, your eyes reflecting your tired state, nodding, you understood him, he was too a human who had a schedule. You didn't blame him, and he took value in that, you didn't blame him. While he admired your adventurous face & traits, he did wish you did them when he was awake. He took your shoulder and guided you downstairs, both you and him feeling rather exhausted after long nights, but he still felt the urge to make sure you made it down before him. You two made it to the mattress, and he gave you his sweater as a pillow to lie on, but he also sat next to you, hugging your shoulder, whispering nothings to you as you drifted to sleep, and not soon after did he as well.

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I really wanted to keep his character in this one and you can see where I tried while keeping the prompt alive, so I hope you liked it!!

Also sorry for the late releases of some requests, busy day today, but my requests are still open, anything you have is welcome :)

have a great day/night <33

[p-e-b-b-l-e-z]

HIIIIII :3 anywho can you do kevin and bob with a feral reader like the reader can make weird animal noises , has abnoramlly sharp teeth , has chew stim toys , bite ppl affectionately if you dont want to you dont have to do kevin

Ofc I can!! I actually saw another person do one like this so it’s really inspired by that, so ya!!<3

Also this is my first time so it might not be that good. Anyhow, enjoy!!

Kevin

I think he would be extremely surprised by the animal noises, like he would think there was an actual animal outside.

He would be kinda scared by your sharp teeth at first (especially if you bite to show affection),but after a while he gets kinda used to it.

He doesn’t earn a lot of money from his job at the candy club, but he will try and save up to get you new chew stim toys!! (I headcannon that you chew through your stim toys easily because of the teeth)

Kevin kinda jumped when you bit him for the first time, but after a while he gets used to it. Just remember to bite him softly!!

Bob

He was super confused at the animal noises, but he doesn’t mind.

He absolutely ADORES your sharp teeth<33

I feel like he would provide you with all the stim toys you need. (He would probably steal them too because he’s a wanted criminal.)

The first time you bit him he was kind of shocked, but once he figured out it was you showing affection, he would softly bite you back like on your shoulder.

I headcannon he also has sharp teeth, so you guys kinda just bite eachother sometimes. He makes sure he isn’t hurting you tho, and you do the same.

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Scorched Ambition (I'm Choking on Your Heat)

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Rating: Teen/Mature

Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending

Pairings: Kyojuro/Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Reader, self-loathing, violence, Second-Person POV, no breathing style for reader, demon fighting, self-hatred, major angst, violence

Wordcount: 4.2k

Your fixation on him was unnatural, you told yourself. He barely knew of your existence, and yet you spent a great portion of your time loathing that you were unable to reach the same heights as he.

You swallowed the bitterness down along with the alcohol.

You would never be as strong as Kyojuro Rengoku.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

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The moment you first met Kyojuro you were overwhelmed by his presence. A man like that was larger than life; searing ambition and heart hotter than the surface of the sun. It burned you to look at.

You’d spent your whole life hiding in the background, disappearing into the shadows cast by people like him. Your job was to sit down, shut up, take orders, and care for others. Do the dirty work. Take the brunt of monotony that filled the greater part of the world’s workings. You were never content, but never pushed outside of your dark corner. All of your dreams, hopes, and measly desires squirrelled away inside a small box that would likely never see the light of day.

At one point you’d desired to become a slayer yourself: protecting others just like him. Just like all of the Hashira. They were people to look up to. Their presence was meant to be basked in, but you couldn’t even show your face without shame. No matter how hard you trained and tried your hardest, you were unable to master any breathing style. You could wield a sword, but no nichirin would ever change color for you.

It had been a sunny day when the realization had hit your full in the chest, hands blistered and bound, muscles raw as you stared at them, the sword you’d practiced with broken in pieces around you when you’d slipped up, ruining the angle and shattering it with a deafening crack that left you drowning in despair. You would never be able to prove yourself. Your dreams were stuffed into the recesses of your mind; hopes of someday growing strong enough to fight alongside those who protected the innocent dashed to pieces like the sword you’d broken.

You relegated yourself to serving in Shinobu’s mansion with the young girls. Each day reminded you of your failures as you scrubbed bloodstained sheets and bandages, sterilized Shinobu’s medical equipment, and cared for the injured. It didn’t matter what anyone said, you could only think of yourself as a cog in a machine. A face that would soon be forgotten.

You couldn’t help the choked feeling in your chest each night as your fingers itched to pick up a sword again. You had to prove yourself. To the master, to the Hashira, to everyone who’d told you that you could be nothing without a breathing style. Sleepless nights had you pacing the edges of the estate, disappearing among the shadows you’d grown accustomed to living in.

Why didn’t my sword turn?

Why can’t I learn a breathing style?

Why am I useless?

The questions thrumming in your chest and head were always louder at night as you bruised your knuckles against trees and whatever stuffed dummy had been left out, but during the day you managed to muffle the thoughts, exhausting your aching muscles by doing as much heavy-lifting for Shinobu as you could manage. Time quieted the desperate need for answers, but the knowledge of your inadequacy never failed to prick your pride.

Shinobu’s request that morning to accompany her to the biannual Hashira meeting was strange, but her words were kind.

“You’ve spent too much time cooped up at the Butterfly Mansion.”

As if this was any less cruel.

Now you were forced to dance the edges of the circle of warmth and honor that was the Hashira. It hurt to look at any of them for more than a moment, knowing that you couldn’t hold a match to their strength and innate talent. Small mercies meant Shinobu had agreed to let you cover your face on the trip, donning a mask like the kakushi. She knew of your self-loathing and desire to disappear from the view of those you idolized. You stumbled around in the buzz of the conversation that filled the air at the Master’s estate after a meeting, offering your hands where needed.

You slipped a plate of onigiri between Shinobu and Giyu, pulling back as soon as was polite, eyes flickering up for a moment. Smoldering irises caught yours, eating away at your resolve like flames at kindling. You snapped your gaze away, hurriedly picking your way back to the kitchen to hide.

The Flame Pillar’s gaze had always felt like fire eating up paper: curling the edges up and devouring it until there was nothing left but ash. Just like the first time you’d seen him, all those years ago. You doubted he remembered. The memory of his hand tugging yours along, speaking those innocent yet scathing words that had etched themselves into your ten-year-old brain.

“Mother says you must always help the weak.”

Oh, how those words had angered you. You weren’t weak: you were lost and ashamed. Your tears weren’t from pain, they were from frustration at the circumstances that left you wandering a forest after barely escaping from the worst night of your life. And yet you’d never found the time to correct him as he led you to his father, a Hashira. Kyojuro and his father had followed you back to where you had said you’d been attacked. The distress on your face was plain as day when the only thing you found were the mangled remains of your parents. It was a fraction of a moment before Kyojuro had covered your eyes with his hands and led you back to the village, his father staying to hunt the demon.

You’d been determined to become a demon slayer after that, and were sent to study under a master. Years passed and your body strengthened. You kept waiting for something to click, but nothing did. You tried everything, even travelling to study under another master, but there was no change. No matter how hard you worked, there was no innate talent flowing through your veins. There was no way to avenge your family, and no way to prove to the boy who’d become a Hashira that you weren’t weak. So you hid at the Butterfly mansion, forever relegated to servile duties.

The chatter around you was cloying, pouring down your throat like an unwanted dose of medicine.

You needed air.

Not bothering to excuse yourself, you left the kitchen, tearing off your mask as you reached the edge of the estate, debating on whether or not you should just head back by yourself. Shinobu wouldn’t fault you; you knew that much. The desire for something to numb all of the tumultuous feelings in your chest grew more incessant the longer you stared into the distance.

Damn Shinobu for asking you to come with.

Your feet moved before you could stop them, treading down the road back home. There was no way you’d reach it by nightfall, but you didn’t care. Dusk fell, the humid air making the dust your feet kicked up stick to your skin. Sweat dripped down your back under your clothing, and you cursed the heat. Darkness followed not long after, leaving you to tread more carefully for fear of rending yourself injured on a loose stone. It was a good thing the moon was full, or almost there, as you’d neglected to bring a lantern with. As it was, this road was well travelled during the day, and frequented by the occasional traveler at night.

A small village halfway to your destination had you pausing, the warmth and light from a small tavern enticing you. There was enough pocket change on you for a quick drink. It wasn’t like the mansion would go anywhere, you reasoned.

There were rough hewn tables and benches inside, and you seated yourself at one. The light here was gentle and warm. It reminded you of the Flame Hashira, but tolerable. Here you were comforted by the heat, near him it was unbearable. He broiled your skin without even knowing.

Your fixation on him was unnatural, you told yourself. He barely knew of your existence, and yet you spent a great portion of your time loathing that you were unable to reach the same heights as he. You swallowed the bitterness down along with the alcohol.

You were jealous.

You seethed with envy at all of the younger slayers whose swords had changed color. Hell, even a black sword would have been acceptable to you. You’d take anything if it meant you had a fractional chance at clawing your way through demons and up to the same level as the Pillars. They could protect people. And what could you do?

Jack shit.

You swallowed your drink miserably and threw your money on the table.

The night was finally cooling off, but you couldn’t enjoy it with the sake running through your veins. Absentmindedly you wondered if Kyojuro ever felt the fire of alcohol tear through him, or if his breathing style meant that he always felt like he was scorching under his skin. The road was empty and you tugged the top of your uniform off to hang around your waist, letting the breeze caress your arms and neck, the sweat on your skin drying cold.

The buzz in your chest was strong enough to distract you from the gentle noise behind you, but faint enough that your neck prickled with learned warning to alert you of a presence close by. Pausing, you half-turned your body, head craning to look behind you as you instinctively placed a hand at your waist where a sword would have normally rested.

Shit.

You hadn’t brought a sword. Shinobu had been with you, and you hadn’t even known if you would be gone past dark initially. You faced the noise, half assuming it to be another drunk heading the same way as you, but quickly realized the sounds were coming from the trees and not the road. Fingers twitched at the throaty laugh echoing through the trees, dulled senses sharpening with the adrenaline starting to drip into your stomach.

“What’s this?”

The voice was a bit scratchy and hoarse, but filled with sick delight as the demon came into view, limbs lean and wiry. Its face would have been pleasant to look at if not for the sickening smile pasted across it, black hair tangled in a ratty mess at the back of his head.

“I’m not in a good mood tonight,” your voice was low and irritable, stating the obvious as if the demon was another human and not capable of ripping your limbs off.

The demon wasting no time in launching itself at you in an eager frenzy. You dodged its first pass, narrowly missing being gutted, but still feeling the sting of claws across your stomach. If it thought just because you were unarmed that you’d be easy, it was wrong. Gritting your teeth, you lunged forward and ducked, grabbing the demon’s hair with one hand and jerking your knee up into its face. There was a satisfying crack and a wetness on your pants alongside your throbbing knee. Before the demon could recover, you dug your nails into the flesh of its neck, digging your nails in and ignoring the horrifying feeling of muscles contracting around your fingers as you grabbed the trachea and ripped.

The demon gurgled, pitching forward, and you crouched down, not knowing if it would regenerate quickly or not. Bloodied fingers wrapped around its head, twisting it around while garbled screams filled your ears, reminding you of the night you’d lost your family almost ten years ago.

Blood-curdling shrieks rent the night air, your feet pounding against the ground, spurred on by your fear. Your parents had told you to run, and you’d foolishly obeyed without a second thought, their cries piercing your back as you fled.

With an inhumane strength you didn’t know you were capable of; you ripped its head from its shoulders- flesh and bloodied bits flying to either side- turning the head over to face you as disgust colored your features. The demon’s eyes twitched in tandem with its body, and you slammed a foot down into its chest, feeling a slight give as the ribs cracked.

“I’m gonna fucking rip you into a million pieces,” you snarled, holding the demon by its hair with one hand.

You kept driving your heel into the same spot, willing the chest cavity to cave into your enraged desire. Blood had sprayed up your face, leaving a copper taste against your palate. The demon’s hands raised shakily to grab your leg and you stomped down on one, dropping the head to free both hands as you grabbed it, twisting it with the same ferocity as you had its neck earlier. You pushed against the unnatural angle, hearing snap and dropping the arm to drive your elbow down into its chest. You finally felt the sternum buckle, bone scraping your skin.

“You’re so fucking weak!”

You didn’t know if the screech spilling from your lips was meant to berate yourself or the writhing demon beneath you, but your hands pried the ribcage apart, leaving you to dig out the demon’s heart, beating unnaturally in your stained hands. The head was starting to heal, and you picked it up by the hair a second time, bashing it into the ground with an animalistic growl.

Mangled bodies, bones sticking out, terror on their faces.

The memories plagued you like a nightmare, filling your head with nausea as you continued to beat the demon’s head in. You wanted to howl your frustration out, but you were too focused on tearing muscle from bone.

You had no sword, there was no way to kill this demon aside from destroying it until the sun rose several hours from now. You’d tire yourself out well before then, but your addled brain didn’t much care as it soaked in the wet sound of violence.

You didn’t know how long you played in the chest cavity and ground the head into the hard-packed dirt, but the moon hid behind a cloud, as if afraid of your anger. The fury in your chest began to wane into somber resignation, leaving you bloodied up to your elbows, and not much cleaner beyond. With a rattling sigh, you straightened, fingers buried in the knot of greasy hair clinging to the decapitated head in your grasp. The moon peeked out from behind its soft blanket of mist, caressing your exhausted features with its soft light. Your spine cracked as you stood, each disk popping as you rolled your shoulders, neck lolling in a circle to smooth out the kinks and strain as a humid breath flew past your lips.

It took Kyojuro’s breath away as he appeared around the bend several paces back.

The man had left Master Ubuyashiki’s not long ago, making good time on his way back. The last thing he expected was to see a familiar uniform on the road ahead. You were a sight to behold: bloodied spray adorning the skin kissed by sweat and dirt, eyes half-closed with the kind of tired only extended self-loathing can bring. Half the uniform hung off your waist, showing your skin flushed with alcohol and the exertion of beating in bones. The slowly regenerating head in your hand was not held aloft in victory, but dangled at your side with a listless discontent. There was no sword in your hands, and -if Kyojuro matched those eyes to the correct person- you had none.

You gaze flickered toward the movement in your peripheral. The sight of the man burned you- Kyojuro’s  existence burned you. You couldn’t bear to look the Flame Hashira in the eye, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from the rich amber reflected in the pale moonlight.

“Do you need assistance?”

You wanted to laugh, but the only movement was from your heaving chest as you stared blankly, fingers finally loosing from the death grip you had on the bloody pulp that had once been a demon’s head. Stepping back numbly, you watched Kyojuro draw his sword as the head began to regenerate alongside the body. He slew the demon with a single blow, not a trace of sweat to be found on his thick brows.

“You did well holding your own,” Kyojuro turned to you with his signature smile.

It infuriated you so much you couldn’t find the words to answer. What could you say anyway?

“I’d have died if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I’m too weak to slay a demon myself.”

“Why do you have to find me when I am most vulnerable?”

You clenched your jaw, dropping your gaze.

“We should tend to your injuries,” Kyojuro drew close to you.

The sting of air on your exposed nerves finally grew loud enough for you to register. You put a hand to your stomach- demon’s blood mixing with your own in the open wounds- and couldn’t suppress the shudder.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

“Please,” Kyojuro took off his cloak, the sound of ripping fabric bleeding in your ears.

“I shall be fine until I make it back,” you pulled away as his hand reached out.

His intense stare made you shift uncomfortable, taking a step back out of his halo. He chased you slowly, deliberately as soft words left his lips.

“You are hurt. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help!” you snapped before you realized who you were speaking to.

The terror gripped your stomach more than the pain, and you dropped your head. You expected a reprimand, a lecture on your stupidity.

“Here, then you do it.”

Fabric was thrust into your hands and you chanced a swift glance towards the Hashira. He was still intently staring, but his demeanor had changed. The chipper attitude was gone, replaced with the kind of delicate smile that someone wears when they know you’re about to break. It should’ve made you angry.

Silently you wound the fabric around your waist, watching it dye itself red on your blood. You secured it tightly, feeling the bite of tension around your middle.

“Thank you,” you whispered. The words withered on your tongue from the heat rolling off Kyojuro.

“Of course. We appear to be heading in the same direction. May I accompany you back?”

If he had phrased it as a demand, you could have snapped at him and brushed him off, but the gentle request made you nod. You’d feel like an ass if you denied his offer.

The walk back was quiet, and you could feel every time the man looked over at you. Crickets sang in the background, mercifully granting you reprieve from absolute silence. You just needed to ignore him until you reached the estate and then you could shove the memory of this night into the far recesses of your mind forever.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

The words cut through your thoughts like a machete; sloppy and disorienting.

“You remember me?”

Kyojuro laughed a little.

“Of course. You don’t look much different.”

You hissed at the sting of his words. Even time had not been able to change you from the sniveling brat you’d been before.

“Yes, I remember,” your reply was terse.

“I was surprised to see you again,” Kyojuro commented. “It’s been so long.”

You hummed a reply, unsure of how to respond. You had nothing to add. He didn’t need to know that you’d caught glimpses of him through lattice and dappled shadows at the Butterfly mansion when he’d visit. You had always hidden away when he stopped by, but found yourself spying on the boy you once knew.

“I am glad to see you’ve found a place in the corps,” he continued, oblivious to the tick in your eyelid. “At first I was worried that you wouldn’t make it, but I’m happy to see you fulfilled your dreams.”

“Happy?” the incredulous pitch of your tone drew his attention from where he’d been admiring the moon. “Happy?”

You barked out a pained laugh.

“I’ve never been less happy than I am now. I’ve achieved nothing that I set out to do. I’m the weakest slayer in the corps: I have no breathing style and no sword will ever change for me. I’m defective: I’ll never be as strong as you.”

You spat the last bit out with venom, fingers twitching at your sides. Kyojuro’s brows were reaching for his hairline, eyes wider than usual. His face bespoke disbelief, and you wondered how he could have mistaken your weakness for strength. Then again, a fire doesn’t pay attention to the brambles it consumes.

“You may not have a breathing style,” Kyojuro had stopped walking, and your feet stopped as well, “-and you may not have a nichirin sword, but you are by no means weak. You tore a demon apart with your bare hands-”

“Because I had to!”

Your hands were balled into fists.

“You don’t get it! I can do it because there is no other way! I can’t stop a demon like a true corps member can. All I’m good for is slowing them down and making a mess.”

Tears were pricking your eyes against orders, but you refused to brush them away.

“You say that as if slowing down a demon is not noble in and of itself,” Kyojuro rest his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Had you not been able to do that, who knows what poor soul would have been devoured. You kept the demon in place without assistance until I arrived.”

“What good is holding a demon if I can’t kill it? People don’t always come. It was pure chance and luck that had you showing up,” you growled.

Kyojuro began to walk again, sandals making soft thuds on the packed dirt.

“Despite your words, I still believe you are strong,” Kyojuro said, slowing to match your pace as you started after him. “Most people don’t have the mental fortitude or physical capability to tear a demon limb from limb.”

Shame pooled in your stomach, knowing that Kyojuro had witnessed your feral breakdown.

“It was… not my brightest moment. I was so angry at myself…”

“You speak of your anger like it is something to be disdained,” Kyojuro shook his head. “But you channeled your anger into strength: a highly valuable trait among the corps. You used it to keep yourself alive and fight. That is nothing to be ashamed of.”

The buzz in your chest had begun its departure during the last few minutes, and the resulting feelings in your chest felt mucky.

“I’m ashamed of everything about me,” you confessed. “I’m weak and I’ll never be able to stand among the Hashira, or even the regular corps members who pass final selection. I-I’ve only ever wanted to prove to you that I’m not weak.”

Honeyed eyes met your desperate ones, taking in the pain written in their honest reflection.

“I want to be able to stand next to you as an equal.”

“You already have,” Kyojuro’s words, meant to be a soothing balm, blazed down your spine and in your ears. “Even though you have no nichirin or breathing style, the moment I came upon you in the road and saw the way you refused to leave the demon even though you could not slay it was the moment you proved yourself as a corps member.”

“It’s not nearly enough,” you muttered.

Kyojuro stopped, looking you dead in the eye.

“What more can you want?”

“I want to stand with you and not be burned,” you choked out. “Please, Kyojuro; I want to be worthy of you.”

Time stood still under the stars and moon, the sun yet a couple of hours from its ascent. Kyojuro’s hair rustled in the breeze as his face donned a soft smile, the curve of his lips seared into your memory for all of eternity as crickets quieted their chorus just for his words.

“Then set yourself ablaze next to me- as an equal- and forgive yourself for your past weakness.”

Your tears wobbled on the edges of your waterline for a moment before tipping over and racing down your cheeks.

Forgive yourself for your past weakness.

For being a child who couldn’t save their parents, and for doing everything in your power to grow stronger, only to be told there are limits to what you can do.

“Are you able to do that?” Kyojuro asked.

“Yes,” your hoarse voice was barely above a whisper. “If it means I can stand next to you, I can.”

“Do it so that you can stand alone,” Kyojuro put a hand on your shoulder. “And be someone that you can live with.”

You nodded, the rejection a stinging reprimand.

“But,” Kyojuro removed his hand. “I do desire that you stay next to me.”

He offered his hand to you. It was rough- calloused with years of sword practice- and scratched your when you took it hesitantly. When did his heat start feeling more bearable? Still scorching against your palm, but pleasant and comforting.

Was it your coldness all along that had made him feel unbearable? The rapid heating of your body too much to handle when he showed up, reminding you that things could be better- that you could burn too with a desire for betterment that didn’t involve hating your flaws.

The night air had turned from cool to cold in the early morning hours, but you couldn’t feel it as you walked the path back to the estate with Kyojuro, hand-in-hand, determined.

Kyojuro Rengoku was a man of passion.

And you were willing to match it.

[darkestspring]

HTTYD!Feral Reader biting everyone except Helaena, Luke, and Joffrey. And everyone (Daemon) is asking them how the hell they got the reader to like them.

Helaena: She and I baked cakes and she shared them with my spiders

Luke: She said my sword fighting stance was shit and now she’s training me

Joffrey: *Doesn’t have a clue on what the f*** is going on but wants to go back colouring with reader*

reader, gesturing towards helaena, luke, and joffrey: baby. babies. love babies.

reader, gesturing towards daemon: evil.

[ohraicodoll]

Territorial

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Warning: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Violence. Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

She didn’t care when Jackson got new people. She wasn’t one of the regulars that crowded around the entrance, watching patrol bring them through, so similar to how they joined. No, she didn’t care because the rest of Jackson didn’t matter, just the two people she currently lived with. If it didn’t have to do with Joel and Ellie, she didn’t care. So it was at least a month before she met Harper, when she was added to their patrol duty. 

The other women in town, the ones that frequently fawned over Joel Miller, were different from his companion and she knew that. Her insecurity frequently reminded her that she didn’t belong in Jackson with these women that still took the time to dress up and do their hair. But she had seen Joel downright ignore their flirting enough times, had heard him reassure her that wasn’t the type he was interested in. Someone to watch his back. With teeth, he had said. Harper had teeth. She was a good shot, wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and never complained about the work. She got along well with Maria, with everyone really, able to get them to talk about their interests and lives easily and seemed like an open book. Harper helped with the horses and in the food hall and knew how to cook and how to clean a rifle properly. And to her dismay, as she watched the patrol party enter the gates where she definitely wasn’t waiting for the man she lived with, Harper could make Joel smile. Not a smirk or a condescending tilt of the lips, but an actual smile. She watched them dismount from the horses and the woman laughed at something Joel said, his lips curving into a grin, and her heart dropped in her stomach. Because she wasn’t sure the man had ever smiled like that around her. Easy and charming, relaxed. Suddenly she was the old version of herself, anxious and unsure, insecure in her own skin and embarrassed. All her faults and problems blared in her head alongside the echo of the threat hanging over her head. Assimilate or get kicked out of Jackson. She was on her last strike after three rough months of living there while this woman had shown up and fit in better than she ever could after only a month. Her nails dug into her thigh sharply, the small hints of pain trying to keep her grounded. She’d almost convinced herself to turn around and walk home, leave before Joel could see her standing there with all her defects, but then his eyes met hers. And if she didn’t feel awful enough, his smile dimmed a bit, became unsure and almost bashful. Like he didn’t want her to see it. She wondered if Harper had noticed his eyes were more hazel than brown when he was in a good mood. They both walked over to her and she stood there, stiff and stabbing into her own skin, wanting to bolt. Harper turned to her, light hair catching the sun and blue eyes glistening. Perfect and still pretty even after the world went to shit while she was very aware she hadn’t brushed her hair in three days. “Oh hi, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she smiled sweetly, adjusting the rifle on her back and the bandana around her neck. Joel cleared his throat, nodding towards her and ignoring the furrowed brow that was permanently on her face around strangers, “Harper, this is Red. Red, Harper.” “I’ve heard so much about you. Red’s such an interesting name,” she smiled with a light chuckle though it wasn’t as wide as the one that had been aimed at Joel, her eyes roaming over her. Taking her measure. She only frowned and ignored her eye contact, staring at Joel’s shoulder instead. “It’s not my name,” the words were quiet but raspy, a growl. Harper’s smile tightened in the corner of her eye. The silence weighed between them, stifling, and Joel cleared his throat, “Harper happens to be from Austin. We frequented some of the same spots surprisingly.” The words were almost an explanation or an apology, or an excuse. She didn’t reply, eyes still solely focused on his shoulder and avoiding looking at either of them. Small talk was hard on most occasions but this seemed impossible. She wasn’t sure how she should reply to that. Congrats? Good job finding another person you could easily talk to besides me? She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling uncomfortable and desperately wanting to run, words stuck until she nodded and spit out, “I’ll see you at the house later.” His brow had furrowed when she swiveled on her heel and started walking down the street, rigid and feeling the small welts of blood seeping into her jeans from her nails. ___________________ It wasn’t long before she started seeing Harper everywhere and she grit her teeth every time. 

When she walked into the bar, the location on her list of places to search for Ellie, she found Joel and Tommy chatting with the woman at the bar top. She was talking rapidly, a smile on her face and hands waving as she told some story. A hand talker. Tommy was behind the bar, leaning on it and seeming enraptured by the conversation while Joel was standing with his elbow resting on the counter, body fully turned to face Harper. All three chuckled at something and she watched as her hand landed on Joel’s arm, staying there a few seconds too long before sliding off. Too lingering to be innocent. She wanted to snap her teeth at her, go up to them and put her hand on his back or in his belt loops, a move he’d done so often to her. Push him against the countertop and take his mouth with hers or even straight grab Harper’s perfect hair and slam her face against the table. A million images flashed through her head only to come to a halt at remembering her predicament. Joel’s urges to try to join the community or risk getting kicked out. She knew she was a fine thread away from getting booted. One wrong step out the door and probably bashing in perfect new girl Harper’s face would do the trick faster than she could blink. So instead she pivoted, snarl in her throat, and walked out the bar. Harper became a regular on Joel’s shift. She only worked with the newcomer a couple times. She was good and that irritated her. The woman was a survivor and knew how to handle herself and watch out for others. All the things she usually found lacking in the townspeople and hated, Harper had that and more. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge and the growing list of the woman’s skills. They’d been scouting out a small location, a couple of cabins a few hours away from Jackson. She’d rode to the far side of them and gotten off, checking the houses for anyone hiding out or seeing if there was anything good to scavenge. When she heard the sound of glass shattering and heavy thumps a few houses down, voices crying out, her heart almost pounded out of her chest. That’s where Joel had been checking. She’d ran fast, bow out, feet carrying her quicker than she’d ever run before on the muddy Spring ground. Previous moments flashed in her mind. Too many close calls. Joel’s blood on her hands from a stab wound. Joel hurt. But the action was already over as she barreled into the room. A Clicker lay bleeding out on the floor, a large hatchet stuck in the fungi petals of its face, mouth in a grotesque scream. Joel was panting on the floor with his back against the corner, pistol in hand unfired, while Harper stood over the infected triumphant. With a grin, she ripped the hatchet from its head and walked over to Joel, offering him a hand. She felt useless. Harper had his back. Teeth. _____________________________ Tommy had finally found her a job she was actually fairly decent at, after being taken off both kitchen and farming duty, but noticing she seemed calmest with animals. People didn’t want to work with her and in her mind that was fine, but in Maria’s it made her a problem. But she liked the dog kennels. They weren’t unlike her. She could understand their wants and needs, their habits and what they deemed their territory. Training them wasn’t easy but it was rewarding and it came with the added benefit that she was around the animals more often than people. She didn’t have to be talkative or put on a mask. They knew hand signs, could read her feelings and what she wanted. It felt comfortable to be with them. Often in the morning she would go and feed the dogs, go over their exercises, walk them in the outside yard they had set aside behind the kennels. Ellie had fallen in love with them as well and sometimes would tag along, was even there when one of the dogs gave birth. She’d been grossed out initially but once the blood and the goo and all the disgusting parts of birth was over and done with she held the small puppies in her hands and helped them find spots to feed. Joel had come a few times, watched them with arms resting on the pen door as they sat in the hay and held the tiny jelly bean puppies. Ellie had grinned, taking over naming duty, and had even held one up forcing Joel to name one. He’d frowned, shrugging at the little brown squirming blob, scratching at his beard, “I don’t know, Brownie?” “Really?” Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “So original. Naming it after its color.” “You named me after my shirt,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Those first few days when she hadn’t known how to interact but knew she had to make sure the girl was safe. Unwilling to give any piece of herself, especially her name. So Ellie had formed a piece from the rubble and taken it for herself. Ellie huffed with a sniff, nose turning up, and ignored the dig, “Whatever, Red suited you.” She held the squirming puppies in her lap, watching them seek warmth while holding a small container of sugared ice for the mama to lick and enjoy after pushing out ten little bodies, “Good thing I wasn’t wearing a different colored shirt.” Joel’s eyes were on her and she looked up at him, finding him watching her with the slightest tilt of his lips. She knew he was worried about her, had already been fighting tooth and nail with his brother and his pregnant wife over her position. He was working harder to help her than Ellie who had adjusted quickly. This was the one job inside of Jackson’s walls she was relaxed in and she could feel him taking in the way she seemed at ease. The smile grew, warming. “Did Maggie have the pups?” a familiar voice rang out. The smile vanished and she stiffened.

The kennels had been converted from one of the old stables, the dogs held in old horse stalls on either side of the room. She couldn’t see the woman from her position on the floor, the walls of the stall blocking the view, but she knew it was Harper that had walked in. She came up to Joel’s side, almost touching shoulders, and looked down at her and Ellie with the pups and Maggie. “Oh, hi Red,” Harper’s smile became a bit tighter, head tilting, “I didn’t realize you were the one taking care of her.” She didn’t answer, averting her gaze to Maggie and adjusting the bowl for her to lick. Ellie answered instead, enthusiastically holding the puppy up in her hand, “She takes care of the dogs now! Joel named this one.” The man frowned almost bashfully, shrugging, “It’s Brownie.” Harper laughed and her dimples showed, head quirking as she looked at him, “That’s adorable.” She couldn’t get up and leave with the puppies all around her and both Joel and Harper leaning on the pen door. She was trapped, listening to them chat and laugh and Ellie showing off all the dogs while she sat there and tried to be invisible. She wanted to scream, rage, do something other than be meek and small. It was like every time the woman showed up, the version of her from two decades before took over her skin. The girl who had been shy and timid and didn’t know how to fight back. She wanted to scream at her to do something, say something, snarl at Harper that if she touched Joel one more fucking time she’d break her wrist and shove it down her throat. Instead, she sat there, listening to Ellie talk to her easily and Joel’s soft musings, the three of them getting along better than she ever did. Try. Try. Joel’s pleas haunted her constantly. She was trying. God, was she fucking trying so hard. But this wasn’t an instance like with Grant who had touched her and paid the price or his fucking brother who had sneered in her face and called her a bitch. She could argue those were justified. She could have done worse to them and didn’t. But the problem was Harper hadn’t done anything wrong to her. She hadn’t been mean, she hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything but make her feel small in comparison to her presence. There was no reason to fight her, to twist her pretty locks in her fingers and smash her face in until the strands turned red and she was nothing but a cavernous hole. She hated settlement life. She hated the fucking politics of it all, the dance to be respectable. Before, there was no time to worry about feelings or what her and Joel were, how he felt towards her, what her role was in their complicated mess of a relationship. It had moved beyond just sex, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. They’d gone through hell together. Maybe it was that she happened to be there, a place holder to fulfill all he needed while taking care of Ellie, but now he had options. There were other women that could fill that place. Could be a better guardian to Ellie, could take care of Joel, could watch both of their backs. One that didn’t cause problems or that he had to jump to defend or cause Ellie to yell at gawking strangers on her behalf. She tried not to focus on it. Swallowed it down deep in the pit of her stomach and refocused back on the things that mattered, which were caring for Joel and Ellie. 

She tried not to think about it when later that evening when they’d gone to bed he pulled her into his body, hands roaming over her soft belly before gripping her tightly and pushing his hard length against her backside. She tried not to think when his fingers slipped inside of her, pumping in and out as his other hand squeezed her tit and pinched her nipped. Tried not to think if he was pushing into her from behind because he was imagining someone else’s face. The confusion turned to a twisted sort of pain and hurt and rage that needed an outlet. Defiance against her situation. She couldn’t do anything outside the walls of their house and her frustration was tearing her up. She was a fox with its foot caught in a trap, snapping and snarling at whatever she could but unable to do anything. She pulled away, feeling him slip out of her, and shoved him onto his back. Joel let out a small grunt at the hard push, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of him, watching the small bit of confusion in his eyes. He knew something was off, but didn’t stop her. Let her take what she needed. She had to feel some ounce of control. So she rode him hard, nothing gentle to the way she rose and fell on him, sweat coating her skin and panting. There was no rhythm to it, only primal need and hurt carrying her movements. He sat up, brows furrowed and not keen on the distance of laying back, the angle changing enough she groaned. His hand caressed her neck softly in contrast to her harsh movements and the small tattooed stars on her collarbone he was always infatuated with. Almost as if he was trying to bring that version of her back to herself. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to give him an ounce of control over her, show him he could affect her at all. Because that meant someone else had the power to hurt her. Twisting her fingers in his curls tightly, she crushed her lips to his to avoid his searching eyes, swallowing every sound he made from the pleasure of their jutting hips. Her nails scraped along his scalp and into his shoulder hard enough she knew there would be red lines in the morning. He was letting himself be distracted, giving in, snapping his hips into hers equally rough with arms a tight band around her middle and holding her to his chest. They were wrapped around each other. For once there wasn’t the coaxing sound of his urgings as he drew her moans from her usually quiet throat, his praise at how good she was for him and how she felt. He was silent in the face of her aggression and she wasn’t sure how to feel, trying desperately to chase that control and release of her emotions. Her lips left his swollen and bruised and she pressed open mouth kisses onto the hard muscle of his shoulder as the pace became a mess. It wasn’t about her orgasm at that moment. She wanted to make him come, drag it from him like a trophy. Show him exactly what she could do to him. And when he did find his release, the hot spend of his arousal filling her, she bit down hard into the skin of his neck making him groan harder and dig his fingers into her skin. He tasted like sweat and salt and the earthy air from working outside. She didn’t come, didn’t mention it or even want it, only held him tightly as he came down from the high and slid his hand over her naked back. His grip was a little harder and she kept her face tucked into his neck when he tried to meet her eyes. They went to bed without any discussion, him holding her to his chest while her eyes stared into the darkness longer, listening to his breaths. The sound of knocking in the early morning woke them up. She heard Joel curse and throw on pants and a flannel, not bothering to button it up before lumbering down the stairs. Sleep beckoned to pull her back under, breasts pressed into the cool sheets and covers slid down from Joel leaving. It was usually Tommy, up early and taking care of things or letting him know of any problems. But she paused at the distinctly female voice she heard. A few minutes later Joel came back into the room and began to dress fully. She bit her lip, watching him from where her face was shoved into the pillow, brows furrowed. Boots, jacket, holster, gun. Everything signs he was leaving the walls. He looked at her after snapping in his gun and paused when he noticed she was awake and staring, two large unblinking eyes watching him from behind her arms. Joel hesitated in the darkness, contemplating, almost guilty. It was supposed to be his day off. Yet here he was, racing off. “Harper said one of the guys is sick and they’re short one so I’m gonna go help out with morning patrol,” he explained and nodded to himself, thumbs in his belt. A reasonable excuse. She wondered if he hadn’t noticed she was awake would he have left without telling her? But still, she said nothing and tucked her face back into the pillow, exhausted and a little sad and drowning in her own deteriorating self-esteem and doubt. A few moments later, she ignored the trail of his fingers on her naked back, soft and apologetic, before he left the room. Most of the time it was Tommy asking him to fill in. He didn’t say yes often and would tell him to shove it before going back to their bed. But Harper had asked this time and she felt her hackles raise at the fact she’d come to their house. To ask him specifically. And he’s been quick to say yes. 

These feelings weren’t something she knew how to process or handle. Who the fuck handled being jealous of all things in the apocalypse? It was ridiculous, but settling in Jackson had allowed those things to creep in. She became aware of all she lacked and all she couldn’t handle and how other people didn’t have the same issues as her. She let her instincts guide her. The kennels became her home. She knew when Joel was home and avoided him, knowing that if she didn’t see him with Harper then it wouldn’t hurt as much versus death by a thousand cuts. She knew better than to try and sleep in the downstairs room, he’d only find her and yell at her to go upstairs, so she went to bed early or late. Asleep before he would show up or waiting until he was sleeping himself. Ellie followed her around when she wasn’t going to classes or helping out where she could. The girl never asked directly what was wrong, but she knew something was up. There was worry in her eyes and she would ask for help with inane tasks, trying to lure her home like luring a frightened dog home with a treat. She didn’t want to worry or hurt her, but the feelings were choking her and she didn’t know how to cope. Some nights, she missed her sister and having someone to walk her through it all. Annie had been so much smarter than her despite her young age. She understood the world better, was sassy like Ellie, and could read people so well. Unlike her who was gullible back then and immensely naive, unsure and anxious constantly. Book smart, but not much else. But Annie was gone along with that version of her. 

Sometimes she’d feel Joel inching closer to her in the bed, hands ghosting over her shoulder or brushing through her hair when he thought she was asleep. His lips brushing her skin. Never pushing, far too patient. 

When he left for morning patrol, she pretended to stay asleep. Harper would be in his group and when that happened, she liked to wait outside the house for him. The kennels welcomed her and she spent time with each dog, shoving her face into their necks and running her hands over their fluffy coats. She checked on the puppies and weighed them all, walking Maggie so she could get a break from the squirming things. She even spent time with the older dogs, taken off duty, making sure they got attention and massaged their joints and hugged them in her lap. Her brain made backup plans. If Joel asked her to leave the house, she could set up a cot in the kennels and stay there. There was even a small converted garage she could live in if she needed to. If they asked her to leave, she could go north and stay within distance enough she could visit Ellie often enough. Maybe set up a radio code similar to what Joel had told her about their friends Bill and Frank so she could set meet up spots. The latter was more likely. People only put up with her because of Joel and if he chose Harper then there wasn’t any reason to keep her in Jackson to them. Ellie would have guardians, she wasn’t necessary.

Hours passed while she cared for the dogs. She skipped breakfast and lunch, choosing instead to spend time training them or napping with the senior dogs in their pens.

It was mid-day when the doors opened and she heard footsteps enter. They weren’t familiar and her body stiffened instantly, shutting the pen door behind her as she exited Maggie’s enclosure. Sometimes it was one of the patrols, coming to switch out the dogs, but they didn’t always take them out unless someone was spotted and none had been taken that day. Her heart thudded even louder when she saw who it was, Harper’s smile a little too tight as she made eye contact. In all the times since the newcomer had joined Jackson, she’d never been alone with the woman. Now she didn’t like the lack of a buffer, the way her focus took in every inch of her. But in the same way, the cracks in her mask were showing. What had seemed gentle in the lines of her face were now condescending, mocking, ingenuine. Her lips were stretched thin in almost a sneer and those blue eyes were hard. Oh. She could see the game then, the cunning analyzing way this woman looked at her. She was right. Harper was a survivor, was so very smart, and was also willing to do whatever to get her way. You don’t survive this long by being sweet and kind and caring. You had to be ugly sometimes, but Harper had gotten good at hiding that ugliness from the right people. There was no reason to hide it from her though. 

The woman stepped further in and walked towards her languidly, trailing her hands along the stable doors. Her exit was cut off, having to move around the woman to leave, and she began to see the situation for what it was. A standoff. A fight. Her teeth were grinding, nails sinking into her palm if only to inflict some kind of violence to keep herself in check. 

Harper smiled, faux kindness painted on her lips, “They told me about you, warned me to be careful around you, and all the problems you’ve been having. They told me how you’re on your last leg here.” She paused and the smile widened, “You should just go and save everyone the trouble. Ellie’s doing great here and from what Joel has told me, he’s enjoying having his brother back and this new settlement life. If you really care about them, you’d realize you’re holding them back.”

Her blood was boiling, rage roaring through her head at Harper’s gall to mention her people, and she growled, “And you’re so worried about them, right? Concerned citizen?”

“Joel has been through a lot,” Harper spat out and she wanted to snap her teeth as if she didn’t fucking know, “He shouldn’t have to worry about some woman messing things up and getting them kicked out.” Some woman, as if that was all she was. The words were spit out of her mouth like they were covered in grime and blood. She didn’t even bother to hide what she meant. The words were all there, the implication that the man had opened up to her, told her about his life and what they’d been through, and his feelings regarding this new chapter. Things he hadn’t told her yet, too busy trying to douse fires and help her get settled. 

Cleaning up her messes.

With a clenched jaw, holding in the hurt and the anger to keep from showing the damage, she bent down and grabbed her bag to try and leave. There was no winning in this sense because she was right and she’d never been good with words. Better to get out of there, go somewhere else before the damage took hold and would start to fester, “Your concern is noted.” Moving to go around her and leave, Harper stepped in her path, shoulders straight and spine rigid with her chest puffed out, “It’s not just for them. This is a civilized place.” And you’re not that went unsaid, “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go? They’ll be fine and happy. No one has to worry if you’re gonna freak out and kill someone and you can finally roam the forests and be back home.”

She was so close she could smell the trees and wind on her, the slight hint of sweat from the horse. Too close. Close enough she could wrap her teeth into her flesh and bite and rip. Too tempting.

“Or you can get the fuck out of my face?” she hissed with her teeth bared. It was all rising, the urge to hurt her. She’d hurt so many people for less and it would feel so good to break her knuckles open on her mouth, to hear the cartilage in her nose crack. But her smile turned smug and she only pressed in, almost chest to chest, and using her few inches of height to look down at her, “Or what? What can you do? They’ll kick you out and do you really think Joel would be on your side if you hurt me?” That made her hesitate. Because she wasn’t sure. With the other women, the men and their obvious disdain for her, yes he would defend her. But this new person who was like a merging of all he liked? Tough but good with people and pretty and able to hold her own, someone he trusted at his back. Would he defend her? Harper sensed that hesitation and, before she could blink, took advantage and shoved her back. She stumbled, losing ground, so aware she was trapped. The fox with its leg in a noose, all over again. Fighting would give her exactly what she wanted. Not fighting back made her weak, someone to trample on. Someone too weak to live. 

“Come on. Settlement life make you lose your bite or are the rumors hot air?” Harper hissed and shoved her again. Her instincts were screaming to fight, to shove her back, grab her knife, or use her fists. Beat her teeth in and make her swallow each one to the point she could only eat soup until she choked on it. But that hanging threat was there like a guillotine, Tommy’s voice saying Maria was considering kicking her out.

Joel asking her to try.

So she did nothing. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue until blood coated it. And when Harper threw a punch, snapping her head to the side, she still did nothing. 

Shame and anger and resentment bloomed in her chest and the small taste of blood grew until she could feel a steady trickle down her throat as her nose took the brunt of the damage. She’d killed so many people for simply touching something of hers, looking at her, had done awful things to protect herself and her two people, and yet she would take this if it meant keeping them safe and happy. But it felt so much like losing to just let it happen.

“Can’t do anything, can you?” Harper chuckled, “They don’t need you, ya know that? You’re baggage. Joel and Ellie’s lives would be so much easier without you dragging them down-” “The fuck you just say to her?” The moment the deep voice snarled through the kennel, she saw Harper freeze. It came from the open doorway and she watched as the sneer on her face morphed into surprise and then tried to turn soft, apologetic. Fake. They both turned and watched as Joel entered the kennel, lips twisted into a hard frown and brow shading his eyes. He was looking at the woman differently now. Like an outsider or a threat. She could see the subtle fear and discomfort swim to the surface under that gaze. The game was up. Mask invisible. “Joel-” “Not another word. You shut your fucking mouth,” he snarled and Harper shrunk in response. She watched it all with a disconnect, feeling the blood slide down her lips and into her mouth. There was no relief at his appearance. Shame was still a heavy blanket on her shoulders at him finding her cowed.

With a gulp, Harper’s gaze swung between the two and she slid away, scurrying around him and towards the exit. But not before he called out, “If you say a goddamn word to her ever again, I’ll let her finish what you started and swear before the whole town that you deserved every bit of what she does to you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get punished for a single fucking thing.” The threat was there but not from him. No, even catching them with her own blood smeared across her face, he knew she could do the damage herself unrestrained and untethered. That this moment was a special circumstance because what she could do was far worse than what he would. Harper ran and didn’t look back. Silence took over between them, tension thick enough the dogs whined and pawed at their pen doors. She stood stiff and unmoving, eyes not meeting his but looking off into the darkness. He was the first to break the silence. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Joel asked, a growl still in his voice but not towards her. She smiled humorlessly, hands on her hips and staring down at the door floor. Her blood was speckled on the ground, “Because I’m trying.”

Joel scoffed and stepped more into the room, grabbing her chin until she looked up at him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a rag and gently began to wipe the blood from her face, “Trying to do what? Be a punching bag?” Blood was in her throat when she swallowed, heart beating a little louder at his touch, but she continued to avoid his gaze, “Integrate.” He paused at the word, his thumb rubbing the edge of her jaw compulsively. Then his grip tightened and he turned her forcefully to meet his gaze. Joel’s eyes were hard and lips pressed thin with anger but also regret and frustration, “I don’t give a shit if we’re integrating or whatever. Someone gives you shit, lays a hand on you, fuck even makes you feel like you don’t belong with us then you knock their fucking teeth in.” She swallowed as he all but snarled the words at her, his fingers so tight on her skin, but he continued, “Settling down here doesn’t mean I want you to become a doormat and I’ll argue with Maria until I’m fucking blue over that. They start shit? Then you sure as fuck finish it.” Her teeth clenched and she felt the sharp coppery tang of the blood still in her mouth, “They’ll kick me out-” “No, they won’t,” he hissed angrily, “I fucking mean it, Red. I don’t want you softening for our sake if it means people try to make you feel like shit. Your place is here with us. No one is going to get between us, I can assure you that.” “She wasn’t wrong,” she replied softly as if saying it out loud was exposing an open nerve, exposing her insecurity to him, “I’m baggage. She could take care of herself and you and Ellie. She can cook and watch your back and gets along with people. I can’t do that-” “Stop,” he ground out, “I’m not that easy. Jesus, I’m not going to chase after the first woman that can hold a gun and make me a fucking pie.” Despite his hard words, he still gently wiped her face clean, taking such care in checking her over and making sure she was okay. It was almost too much, “Give yourself some credit, Starshine-” “You spent a lot of time with her,” the words were like ripping open her skin, bitter and stupid and raw as they spilled out of the wound, “She’s…from Austin and…you laughed and smiled with her. You just seemed happier around her.” Joel paused and pulled back a little to fully take in her expression and what was at play. She could see the moment he saw her, really saw her no matter how hard she was trying to hide her feelings. The insecurity. The jealousy. Everything she had struggled with. He chewed his lip and nodded, brow furrowing a bit harder, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what she wanted or how she was making you feel. But you’re fucking stupid if you think I wouldn’t turn her ass down in a second.” The words weren’t gentle or soft, but they were said as a fact. The simplest fact that Joel would never choose Harper. That he wasn’t actively pursuing that. And it worked. She felt the tightness in her shoulders ease a bit as he pulled her forward into his embrace, pressing a kiss against her forehead. Her fingers dug into his back, gripping the worn denim fabric of his shirt tightly and she couldn’t help but sigh into his embrace. Home. It felt like home and comfort and everything she had felt she was missing. Breathing him in, she mumbled against his chest, “She’s probably going to complain next time you have patrol with her.” “She’s not going to be on patrol with me,” he murmured into her ear, pulling back to sweep her messy hair behind her ears, “I’m gonna make sure she works exactly where she belongs. On shit duty.” “You don’t have to. You don’t have to come to my rescue,” she argued albeit weakly. “Oh I’m not,” Joel chuckled, lips turning up into a smirk, “This is all for me. No one insults what’s mine.” She looked at him, brow furrowed at the words, mind trying to process them. But she didn’t get very far before his lips were on hers, kissing her hard and tugging her back flush against his body so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Her nails dug into his skin, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, while his hands kneaded the soft curves of her ass, pressing the hard front of his jeans into her stomach. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away enough to speak against her lips, grip on her still tight, “Let’s get back home so I can fuck you so hard you’ll stop doubting yourself.” She chuckled, wanting to argue that that was a hard promise to keep, but he was already dragging her out of the kennels and into the darkening streets as the sun began to lower. True to his word, Harper found herself with a brand new post going forward. Tommy didn’t mention the reason why to her, didn’t pull her aside and question her over what happened. Ellie didn’t even mention her bruised nose. Whatever Joel had told them was enough. The woman went out of her way to avoid going anywhere near any of them going forward, even straight turning in the opposite direction when she saw them and eventually coming off patrol duty all together. She tried not to feel satisfied at that. Tried not to feel more at ease or proud of herself when Maria told her she was doing a damn good job with the kennels and asked if she wanted to take on more duties, almost cementing that she wasn’t going to be asked to leave. Joel and Ellie did that for her, celebrating every small win and reminding her exactly where she belonged. With them.  _________________________________________ Taglist:  @alouise20 @faceache111​​ @hawsx3​​ @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover​ @emlovesya  @agent007knight​ @spaacerabbit​ @namgification @wonwoosthetic​  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8

[creepypastasomethingsomething]

[gogandmagog]

I’m no intellectual. I’m skipping that mf foreword.

[theneurodivergentdummy]

Dude holy shit I just thought of something-

A purely random thought that might be genius. Ok so basically gremlin reader that can match Blue’s energy who is a big fan of him and wants to be trained under him. They go through daily training montages that includes running around, making tacos (usually explosive-), and battling each other until they just crash at home and munch on snacks and probably fall asleep in the living room.

Lol so basically a oneshot of their daily chaotic training. Can be platonic or romantic, your call.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!! 💙

BLUE X FERAL READER (gender neutral) (crackfic??) (Platonic)

enjoy!

Blue was asleep in his room when your dumbass self decided to crash through his door.

At 2... IN THE MORNING.

Blue woke up with an anxious start that day, and nearly skewered you with a bone too, if it wasn't for your quick reflexes.

You did a half squat, stared at him before raising your hand to point a finger at him.

"YOU"

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU HUMAN?!" Blue screamed back."MY FREAKING DOOR!"

"TRAIN ME" Your face bent in determination...oh wait... never mind you were just stepping on a Lego. Your face was bent in pain.

"WHAT?"

"TRRRRRAIN MEEEEEEEEE" You shouted, rolling the r in train.

Blue stared at you, he looked over at his clock, then back at you.

He went back to sleep.

"HEY!" You glared at his figure.

Stretch walked in, alarm written on his face at the sight of the demolished door.

"what the actual hell happened here-"

"BLUUUUUUEEEEEE!!! WAKE UP!!! TRAIIINNN MEE-" you screeched jumping on top of his bed, trying to pry the blankets off him.

"GET OUT YOU STUPID HUMAN ITS TWO IN THE MORNING!!!"

"Fine but are you gonna train me tomorrow?"

"YEAH SURE WHATEVER"

Stretch looked between the two of you confusion etched on his pale face."What??"

THE NEXT MORNING!-

It was 7 am, and blue was going to teach you how to make his famous breakfast tacos.

Stretch watched from the living room, fire extinguisher in hand, And his phone set to dial the firemen...just in case.

You walked in, with the ugliest apron on ever. Blue stared at you in dismay.

"IS THAT A JOKE." He said staring at your stain ridden apron.

"What are you talking about?"

"YOUR APRON IS HIDEOUS, THROW IT AWAY YOU CAN BORROW THE GREAT BLUES EXTRA ONE"

He threw you a green bundle of fabric. Unfurling it revealed that it was in fact... a dinosaur apron. Your carnal desires have been satisfied.

+2 charisma

After a long morning of taco making, bomb diffusing, and getting good use of the 84 fire extinguishers stretch bought, the tacos were finally done.

They were the worst thing you could possibly conceive.

Next you two were going to go on a 12 kilometer run.

You put on your old tennis shoes and started stepping out the door. Blue had packed only the necessities, water. So mutch water. And he made you carry it. 10 GALLONS OF WATER.

Let's just say the run ended with him carrying the remaining water, and you sporting two very busted knees.

Don't worry, stretch brought sparkly bandaids. So many bandaids. Everywhere.

You were exhausted. Completely drained. You managed to convince blue to skip the 14 hour deep clean of the entire house, and instead watch movies and chill.

It was 8pm, you were tired, so very tired. And hungry. You collapsed near the couch, too lazy to actually collapse on the couch. Blue confidently walked through the door, the remaining water in hand, approximately 4 gallons.

Upon seeing your exhausted figure on the floor he sighed. He dropped the water, and walked over to you.

"HUMAN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING."

you groaned into the carpet.

Stretch peered through the doorway. "They said they can't move... or breathe. You should probably move them to the couch. Before they y'know...die." he translated from your indescribable groans.

"AH I SEE. I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR A SWEATER WHEN RUNNING."

He picked you up and moved you to the couch.

The rest of the day was spent watching transformers on the tv, with stretch brining in his stash of chips and various candy. And blue made lemonade.

Thank you for requesting!!!

[anime-b1tch19]

I will not be the same when these get animated I apologize for who I will become 🙏 (made by me)

[deunmiu-dessie]

pillow princess!reader who decides that they want to try being on top for once and anchors their small hands on ghost's chest, bouncing sloppily on his cock and whimpering at his praise. “that’s it. good girl, just like that.” pillow princess!reader who pants in small, short puffs, cheeks flushing red and legs cramping. pillow princess!reader whose movements start to get slower just when they're on the brink of cumming. “ i c-can't, m’tired, si.” bf!simon who rumbles deep in his chest at your whiney complaint, "ah, fuckin' hell." bf!simon who grabs the fat of your hips and fucks up into you, hard and fast, gravelly voice mocking. "look at you, can't even fuckin' ride me properly." bf!simon who simpers at your scrunched up face and bleary eyes, mouth open to let out pitiful sobs. "m' sorry, d-daddy--mmn!" he chuckles softly, "'s alright, pet. " ˙ᵕ˙

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒! ⁽ nsfw ⁾

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”