#in a way i kinda want it to. is like having a charged gun at all times but the metaphor falls short when i realize some thoughts are..there

[erraticroses]

...........

[writing-makes-me-human]

HEYYYYYY

I couldn't help but see your requests were open l😏

So I wanted to ask for a human reader who Neteyam finds but he goes to kill her and she kinda charms him so he stops?

Then they become mates, the story and stuff is all up to you but yeahhhh that's my idea

I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW AND I HAVE READ NEARLY EVERYTHING!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 

Thank you for the lovely words and your support it gives my writing purpose <3

Here is your request, I really hope you like it!

I named it Charming Killer after your request.

ps: If people have put in a request it is on its way!

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Part Two

Summary: You get chased into the wilds of Pandora with a broken communication collar and a bullet wound, but Neteyam finds you. He goes to kill you but an omen from Eywa stops him, and as he approaches you he realizes you are his destined mate.

Warnings: blood and injury were mentioned, nothing else.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I’m taking a quick little break from writing for the same two series and breaking out to some requests. Check my master list for my posting schedule for Love and Guests. And what are we feeling? Part two or keep this as a one-shot? (God why did I just offer to create a new series but also this is such a cool idea and I want to write more)

Neteyam didn't like humans, and he never had. His mother had raised him to stay away from them as much as possible, and he had obeyed to keep her happy, but as he grew up and his siblings came back from ventures to the human labs that lay beyond their village with stories about Norm and Max in their human forms, he found his simple obligation of dislike turn into hatred.

Neteyam avoided all of the dream walkers that operated in his village to the best of his ability. His father advised them not to bother his eldest son or his wife, which they respectably agreed to. Still, even if they weren't around him Neteyam could always feel their presence, and it irked him.

One day, this feeling cropped up in his mind as he was out in the rugged outback of Pandora, hunting a stray tapirus for his mother.

He jumped from a tree to the ground as he continued to track, but then as Neteyam pressed his fingers into the newest set of prints in the dirt, he smelt it.

It was the distinct smell that often surrounded humans, something of a mixture between an unnatural chemical smell and wafts of artificial scents that attracted them to one another. Still, to Na'vi, the smell was a distinct warning.

He raised his head, abandoning the hunt in favour of locating the emitter of the stench that was offending him.

He followed his nose for a few meters, and then with the tip of his bow, he dipped a low-hanging branch to divulge a clearing.

There, standing in the middle with not a soul around was you, trying to aid an injury to your lower arm and fix a device at the same time with only one working hand.

He quirked his brow in confusion. He had never heard of you from his father, which only led to one conclusion: you were a sky person under Quaritch's jurisdiction.

He watched you for a few seconds to take inventory of what you were doing all alone in the middle of Pandora without a jarhead next to you with a gun. He could tell immediately you were not military because you were pacing around in a circle, speaking a mile an hour to yourself, using words he didn't understand with no sign of a weapon anywhere on your person.

His eyes dipped to your arm, which you were clenching shut as blood dripped onto the ground and soaked itself into the fabric of your shirt.

You were in shock from what Neteyam could interpret in distinction to your actions. The wound didn't seem like it had come from an attack by any beast on his planet because you would surely be dead if that were the case.

The injury looked like a bullet wound which only charged his curious streak further, but you were human, and one less sky person on this planet was a plus for his cause. So, he nestled down on the ground and silently replaced the branch so he could pull back his bow and aim his righteous arrow at your head.

He felt his heart beat in rhythm with your steps as you desperately tried to fix a communication com device with one hand, fighting against the panic that was starting to take your breath away.

The wilderness was vast, and you could feel the race against time fight in opposition to the blood which was slowly collecting a trail by your feet.

He let out his breath and readied the shot, but before he could let it go, a seedling from the tree of souls floated into his vision and landed on his hand, a silent plea not to fire.

He was stunned for a few seconds and held his posture, but when the seedling took off again, he finally let his hands relax and brought the longbow back down to his lap.

He was captivated now as he tried to lean closer through the foliage to see your actions. Eywa had spoken, and he would not kill you.

He thought back to the story his mother had often told her children about how she met his father, and his nose scrunched up at the similarities between the two stories.

He decided he would not take you to his father, and he would leave you here. If Eywa didn't want him to kill you, that was fine but he wouldn't become responsible for your safety.

He had filled his hunger for curiosity, and the thought of returning to his hunting materialized in his brain. With that in mind, he turned to step away, but as soon as he moved, another seedling crashed into his chest, making him stutter back in an effort not to crush the precious soul.

The sound of crunching leaves caught your attention, and you rotated on your heels in the direction of Neteyam. He kept his head low and out of your sight before he shook his head at the seedling which hovered in front of his face.

You couldn't see anything, but the sound was distinct, so you darted your eyes around to try and find anything to defend yourself with, but your search was broken when you found a white seedling floating just to the side of Neteyam's hiding spot.

You gasped as two other seedlings joined the beautiful sprite. They all floated towards you, pushing air down as they climbed higher and higher up on their way to you.

Neteyam let his eyes leave the seed in front of his way and looked towards you. Your face was lit up at the sight of the seeds, and it seemed their appearance had taken all of your focus off the pain and the gadget in your hand because you softly stepped forward to greet the specimens.

He watched as you steadily reached out a shaky hand to the wood sprites, laughing uneasily as they all gently landed along the uninjured arm.

You looked so excited at their presence, and that confirmed his suspicions of your scientific origin.

You took another step forward, and Neteyam cursed mentally as he turned to leave, but again, the seed of Eywa stopped him with its stagnant stature. The sign was clear. He had to speak with you. He rolled his eyes and held back a sigh but acted to comply with the great mother's desires.

He stood to his full height and stared at you with a frown. You still hadn't noticed him, but when he smacked the lower branch away and tramped forward, the white sprites took off and left you to yearn after them with a sad stare.

What was so special about you? He wondered. You were just another arrogant human who was part of an unkillable mass that had arrived here with an open palm.

Your eyes then fell from the vacating pure souls and settled on the 10ft Na'vi in front of you, which caused a shriek.

Immediately you stumbled back and tried to start protesting for your life at the sign of his lethal bow, but you stopped when you noticed he was staring at you with an unwavering eye filled with mystery.

You called something to him, but he only understood the odd word. You had jumped straight into elucidating that you were not a threat which made him want to laugh. 

Of course, you weren't a threat. You were standing here like the perfect prey for any number of predators to pounce on and devour. He could kill you with a single toss, and the idea that he feared you was amusing him.

He took another step, and this time you crouched down, letting your hand leave the wound to try and coax him to stay away from you like he was a stray animal that could be redirected.

The bright blood on your hand shone in the light, your face was pale compared to the rest of you, and he felt a pang of pity for you, making him scowl at himself for his stupidity.

He stepped forward some more, his tail flickering behind him with agitation as he pulled the bow over his head and let the string fall over his chest.

"Who are you?" He growled as he marched further into the clearing.

His body was tall and very masculine, his muscles hugged his body as he looked down at you with contempt, and those were your only thoughts as the Na’vi man looked ready to murder you.

Your face wrinkled in confusion as you shrugged one of your shoulders at his words, your head shook from side to side in order to tell him you had no idea what he was saying.

He rolled his eyes at your conceited unknowingness, but just as he was about to start yelling at you, he paused as your scent hit him.

The standard note of human was definitely there, but there was something else, something sweet that had him hooked the second now that it registered in him.

At first, he thought you had used some chemical warfare on him, but when your confused face only intensified as he took a carnivorous inhale at the air, he knew the fragrance was only coming from your skin.

He took another stride, and the movement triggered your fight or flight. You tried to stand to run, but he grabbed your intact arm and gently yanked it forward, making you drop the communication device to the ground with a clatter.

You tried objecting to his harsh handling of you and cursed at him in English. He ignored you, and without further conversation, he shoved his face into the crevice on your neck and pushed your jaw up with his forehead so that your neck lay before him with no guard.

He took deep whiffs of your scent and nestled deeper so he could bring in as much as his body and the restrictive oxygen mask you were wearing would let him take. His tail flicked wildly behind him as he tried to commit the smell to memory. It smelt something crossed between a sugary treat and a warm fresh wood scent that made his brain fizz with the desire to have more of it closer.

He could feel your heartbeat on his cheek, but he ignored it. His need for the scent consumed him. He was only brought back to reality when you let out a whine at his very close touch that was making you uncomfortable.

He ripped his head back and shook it wildly, trying to shake off the remnants that tickled his brain. Your eyes that had originally been looking at him with confusion were now eyeing him up and down with uncertainty.

He dropped your arm and felt his body surge at the loss of touch. You faltered backward as he let you go but didn't try to run again, which he appreciated.

He was attracted to you, that was certain, and it made his body lurch with disgust, but before he could spend longer than a few seconds being disgusted, the scent of your skin drilled its way back into his brain, and he was overcome with butterflies that attacked his stomach.

You spoke again; this time, he identified the words 'Na'vi' and the name Max from your speech. He cocked his head, and you watched as his braids fell to one side of his head as he brought his face closer to yours to stare into your eyes.

You took a step back, but he followed you. He decided to ignore whatever you were saying and let his exploratory nature grab hold of him. He extended his head around to stare at your body, and you let him touch you as he pleased with your chest heaving in anxiety that at any moment he would have his fill of interest peaked and he would draw back to kill you.

His fingers came to your waist and gripped the lower hem of your elastic shirt, and pulled at it before letting it snap back, which made you smile a little despite the fear raging through you. Perhaps the blood loss was making you hysterical.

His ears twitched at the sound of your giggles that accompanied the smile, and his scrutinizing eyes turned softer as he reached forward and repeated the action, letting you huff with amusement.

He continued his curious search of you and let his fingers prod your cargo pants. You watched with your own set of prying eyes as he leaned down so he could gather the material between his fingers and rub it together to feel the texture. He let it fall back into place and pulled himself back up to his full height, which made your smile falter as you reminded yourself he was not a curious child and was a fully grown Na'avi hunter, if his bow was anything to go by.

The silence was loud, but it communicated volumes. You could tell by his erratic behavior that he wasn't going to kill you, but he was clearly fighting an inner conflict with his actions.

You didn't know much about the natives, but you knew one thing that had been hammered into your head since orientation day on this planet, Na'vi killed sky people on sight, and this man didn't look like he was reaching for his bow anytime soon, so what was he doing?

You tried your luck and reached out your hand to poke his bare chest before quickly retracting, making him let out his own small chuckle at your scared actions. You smiled cautiously before you reached out and ran a finger over the string of his bow that dug into his front, watching his chest shiver at your touch before you finally pulled back and stared up at him.

He let his smile disappear, and his frown replaced it as he stuck out his hand to grab your oxygen mask, but this seemed to be a step too far because you pulled back and quietly said something he didn't understand, but he knew it was a denial.

He was satisfied with his investigation and pulled himself back to look down at you while you awkwardly returned your hand to clutching the hole in your body that wasn't meant to be there.

Neteyam felt the pity in his heart worsen at your predicament, and he decided that he wanted to help, even though his naturally taught ethics told him it was wrong. He knew that the only reason his body was reacting to you like this, along with the cause of the omens from Eywa, meant one thing, but he was trying to suppress that epiphany for the moment.

He couldn't understand your language enough, but the device that lay on the ground behind him was obviously crucial to you. Hence he walked over to it and picked it up, this caused a chain reaction as you stumbled forward and tried to take it back from him with a yelp of protest, but he placed his hand on your forearm and gently pushed you back, which calmed you down enough that he could look at the tool.

He stood up and held the com to his face to see if it was fixable. Jake had a few of these around, and Neteyam had to wear one for a long time when he was younger, but this technology was slightly newer than anything Neteyam had seen for a while.

He flipped the collar over in his palm, and to his surprise, he immediately zoned in on the issue. The chip that powered it was simply dislodged and needed to be adjusted, so he pushed it back gently and shook it a few times, much to your aggrievement, and then when the red light sparked back to life he crouched down and placed it in your hands.

Your eyes widened in surprise as the collar was now partially workable.

You looked up at him, and his breath caught as your beautiful eyes gazed into his own with such pure gratitude in them that it made him want to keep you close to him forever, as his mate.

And just like that, the epiphany broke the surface of his mind and his pupils swell as he realized why you smelt so divine and why your laugh made his body weak. You were his mate. Even without the means to make the neural link or any of the accompanying features found on Na'vi women that were deemed as attractive, he knew as he observed you desperately press down on the com and speak into it that you were his destined partner.

The intercom sparked to life, and he heard the sound of Max's voice come through it. This interaction only worked to intrigue him more than last time, as he tried to figure out what you were doing all alone out here with a broken body, seeking out the rouge scientists.

You quickly yelled back to Max with relief overthrowing your face, which made Neteyam smile again as he watched you let out a consoled chuckle.

You spoke for a few more seconds, and Neteyam let the sound of your strange accent wrap around him before you broke his trance and held up the collar to him. He quirked a brow, but you shook the device in your hand and nodded for him to take it.

He gently took the end of the com and brought it to his ear so he could listen to Max translate what was happening to him in Na'vi.

Max was shocked to find out it was Neteyam who had saved his exposed spy from Hell's gate, but he described your issue to Neteyam, and he agreed to take you to the laboratories on the edge of his village so you could be patched up.

He returned the device and pulled off his bow to set himself up to walk you through the wild to the labs.

You hadn't understood Max's translation, so you pulled the com closer and tried to remain polite as you smiled up at Neteyam, but he could tell you were not pleased with the improvised escort that was surely threatening to your tiny stature.

When the conversation was over, you sighed and dropped the intercom to your side, gripping it tightly as you looked back up at Neteyam, who was now tying his hair of individual braids up with a hair-tie while holding the bow between his teeth.

He looked like a beautiful angel from your angle as he effortlessly strung up his hair, showing off his triceps and pecs while his canines were left exposed around the wooden bow. He pulled an arrow from behind his back and fit it into the bow. Neteyam then set off into the woods again, with your body mindlessly following the god-like boy.

You watched him move; he was the most graceful thing you had ever seen. His attitude was strange, and while you couldn't understand a word he was saying, you finally identified his aura as one of interest and possible endearment rather than intimidation.

He looked over his shoulder and called out a sentence to you that once again you couldn't understand but you just nodded and tried to sustain his pace.

He looked over his shoulder every few steps, but it was clear you were struggling to keep up with him as the pain from your injury was now becoming prevalent thanks to your adrenaline levels being brought down.

Neteyam grumbled something under his breath but turned to you, sliding the bow and arrow over himself again as he stepped towards you.

You backed up a little as his alarming size came toward you, but he reached out and gently touched your shoulder so you could see that he was trying to suggest an idea.

"You're never gonna get there if I don't carry you, come here", he stared into your eyes, repeating the sentence at least three times before he tut his tongue in annoyance and reached down to hoist your legs into his arms so he could carry you bridle style.

You screeched, and his ears flickered at the sharp noise before you hissed out and clung onto him as tightly as you could while he rose you high above the ground. He could feel your heart rate speed up, and he was dumbfounded as to why you were reacting this way to him just holding you.

You said a word, and it rang a bell in his head as he tried to remember it.

Oh, height.

He quickly put you down, and you tried to relax your breathing after being speedily hauled into the air by about 7 or 8 feet and then replaced just as swiftly.

You tried to balance yourself on his leg as you felt your heart calm down, heights weren't your strong point, but you had to agree that it was going to be the best way to get there with the time restraint your injury put on you.

He spoke something else as he crouched down, putting himself at eye level with you.

"I can't understand you!" You hopelessly whimpered as your hand came to rest on his shoulder so you could try and take the pain off your other limb.

His ears downturned at the sound of your desperate groaning, and he remained silent for a second, looking off to the side in thought.

You took a deep breath, dragging his attention back to you. You stared into his eyes for a second before you nodded and held out your arm for him to take with a single word.

"Slow", your eyes tried to show bravery, but your body was still shaking like a leaf under his touch.

He felt a part of his body twitch at your word that was paired with heavy eye contact and an out-of-breath tone, but he ignored it.

This time he went much slower as he swept his hands underneath your thighs and lifted you into the air. He allowed you to get a good hold around his neck so that you weren't afraid of falling, lying to himself that the touch was for your comfort and not his own.

When you were to live with him once you agreed to be his mate, he had to get used to going slower with things. It was lucky for you that he had probably the best patience out of any of his family.

You weighed nothing to him, so he set off as soon as you were steady, and your fear slowly gave weight to amusement as his long legs steeped over each obstacle in his way that would have taken you minutes to clamber over with your one arm pinned to your side.

The whole way there, you could feel his grip around the lower part of your legs tighten when you tried to clamber closer to him, and you wanted to apologize for invading his space and deterring him from his task that he would have had to abandon to help you, but the words couldn't come out.

It took about twenty minutes of heel-and-toe walking before he finally managed to get you to the lab's opening.

Upon seeing the large metal containers, he screeched to a stop, and you looked at his face with confusion as he seemed to have caught your fear like a contagious disease as his face scrunched up. He didn't dare go any further.

Neteyam let his hands slip under your armpits and gently set you down on the ground. He looked down at you and then glanced at the containers behind you.

You were a sky person, and while he couldn't deny that you reeked of his mate, this was the most unlikely pairing anyone had seen.

You called out to him, not by name, as he hadn't told you, but he finally sighed and slid back down to a crouch as he found he had to do a lot when talking to you.

"I will be back for you, my mate, until then, look after yourself better, now go get patched up", he pressed one of his hands into the side of your head, and you lovingly pushed against his palm with a sad smile as you took his words as an apology for needing to go.

"Thank you--" You trailed off as you tried to use the silence to ask for his name.

"Neteyam", he stated with that boyish smile overtaking his features again.

"Neteyam", you repeated as you nodded, feeling the skin of his rough palm rub against you.

"You?" He found the word in English and spoke it with a heavy accent, making your smile turn to a grin.

"Y/n", you stated with a gleam in your eye.

"Y/n", he said the name verbatim to you and nodded to himself as the sound of a door opening ruined the moment.

He quickly pulled back from you and stood back up, allowing his height to take over the silent threat as Max stood on the steps to the metal lab with his hands raised to show he was unarmed as he called out to you and asked if you were all right.

"Goodbye, y/n", Neteyam’s accent was incredibly thick, and it made your skin shiver as he quickly put his fingers to his forehead and retracted them in a respectful farewell before he turned on his tail and walked back into the wilderness of Pandora, leaving you alone with your own kind.

[cheriecelestial]

Angel Pt.1

pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader

disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. slight suggestive content (?). swearing. canon typical violence. kinda long. not proofread !

a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ based on that one prompt “Wow ! You’ve grown so much since I last babysat you” “I want to rail you so bad”. Reader is like 26 and Jason is 19-20. Set in the WFA verse + joyfire are a team. Kinda non canon complacent. Smut in part II

Part II

Under the nocturnal skyline of Gotham perched on a towering building was the vigilante anti- hero Red Hood watching, observing the city like a hunter stalking its next prey. His jacket whipped against the wind of the boisterous and animated city. He closed his eyes and listened to song of wailing sirens and the distant cries of people, ready to respond to the city's calls for help.

Gotham was a city that, much like its vigilantes, thrived in the night. The city was hued in the rapturous and vivacious of the nightlife. Neon signs flickered casting flashes of colours across the pavements of the night clubs. People scattered across the pavements like ants, some making their way home from a tiring day of work, others more aimless and leisure - their destinations less defined and indulgent. He pulled out his grapple hook gun and shot to a building a few blocks away from where his bike was parked.

In the shadowed alleyways, Red Hood felt a sinister presence stir. He kept walking without letting them know that he noticed their presence. By the footsteps, he could tell six no.. seven. Four of medium build and three a bit more burly. Judging by their lack of ability to mask their footsteps, he could guess they're amateurs. Well in all honesty, almost everyone was an amateur compared to him. Slowing his pace, Red Hood's hands instinctively moved to his holster, anticipating a potential confrontation. Nothing beat the thrill of beating up bad guys. However, amid the approaching group, he discerned another set of footsteps — urgent, lighter, tinged with fear, and most importantly heading directly toward him.

He felt someone clutch the lapel of his jacket desperately. "You're a vigilante, aren't you ? Please help me sir. I think there are bad people following me." Red Hood looked to his side and saw a woman much shorter than him and shaking like a leaf in wind. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her. It had been almost a decade since he had gazed into those warm large eyes—a fragment of his childhood that he had long relegated to oblivion. Jason Todd had what most would call a troubled childhood. Abandoned by his birth mother and the only other one he had dead from drug abuse and an even worse father who died the hands of Two Face. Tossed through the foster system, he eventually found himself on the unforgiving streets of Gotham. Amid the darkest moments of his youth, one saving grace remained —his angel,Y/N L/N. One he completely forgot about when he assumed the mantle of Robin.

"Help me please." She implored, her voice trembling and on the verge of breaking - the same one who would calm his raging storm on bad nights and tell him that he was going to be okay, and in the moment he swore he was. Her gaze shifted between the men and the vigilante, moving closer to him without realizing to shield herself from the villains in the shadows. Almost as if in a trance, he raised his gloved hand to caress her cheek as if to check if she was real or not. "Just follow my lead." He spoke in a low tone and the woman nodded frantically. His hand encircled her wrist and he started running, dragging her behind him the second he heard the thugs charge. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't think twice before starting a fight and having it his way. But he couldn't bear endangering her in the slightest so getting her to safety was the only viable option.

Her breath came in rapid gasps, and beads of sweat glistened on side of her forehead as they navigated the maze of alleyways in their path. The flickering glow of distant streetlights created fleeting glimpses of their pursuers. Her heart pounded in her chest like the strumming of a frantic drum as adrenaline pumped poisoned her veins. Jason noticed that she couldn't run fast enough to outrun the thugs with her stamina. "Sorry about what I'm about to do”,he warned in a hushed whisper and without hesitation, he lifted her over his shoulder and began running. Y/N gasped, clutching onto the vigilante for dear life. Wind ruffled her hair as she watched the vigilante leave behind their pursuers effortlessly. "You know if this vigilante thing doesn't work out you could try out for the Olympics." She muttered not realizing she said it out loud. Red Hood let out a gruff laugh, "I could but I like beating up bad guys and saving people such as yourself just a tad bit more angel." Y/N blushed at the nickname but waved it off as commonplace banter.

He set her down next to his bike. And took off his chocolate coloured jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "How could I ever thank you?" The h/c haired woman smiled at him with a smile so infectious that the corners of Jason's lips curled up without his realising under his mask. "Don't thank me just yet princess. They aren't near done." Y/N blinked in confusion and followed Red Hood's line of sight where she saw three black cars racing towards them. Her features morphed from relief to horror and alarm in the blink of an eye.The vigilante revved his bike and looked at her,"What are you waiting for?" The woman looks at the approaching cars and back at the vigilante, contemplating her options and got on the back of his bike. His hand envelops her and plants it onto his waist as if silently asking her to hold onto him. Y/N flinches at the contact as it she touched something really hot and retracted her hand.

The masked vigilante plucks a helmet out of the saddlebag and strapped it on her head."You might want to hold on angel." Y/N hums in acknowledgment and holds the grab handle behind the seat. Jason rolled his eyes at her refusal to hold onto him and revves the engine making her lurch forward and crash into his back. Realising that doing this any other way apart from his was futile, Y/N timidly encircled her arms around his waist.

The vibrations of the engine shook her whole being as he raced down the streets. The streets, trees, people blurred in her peripheral vision and she started feeling light-headed. Gathering all the morsels of courage she could find, she looked behind her to see the thugs chasing them. They hadn't lost the three cars and things just got worse when she saw a man peek his head out of the window with a fun in his hand. I'm so dying today. She clasped her hands tighter around him and pressed her face against his rigid muscular back in fear.

Sensing her unease, he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her infront of him. Y/N let out a yelp from the suddenness of the contact.

"What are you -"

"You don’t want your back facing them when they start shooting soon." Y/N looked over his shoulder to the thugs and then sunk back into and then sank back against his chest.

"You know if it makes you feel better just know this is an average Tuesday for me." Y/N blinked at him incredulously and in a small voice muttered,"It's Thursday today." A nonchalant shrug was all the answer he decided to give her. How the hell does he manage to remain calm through it? I'm on the verge of a panic attack and he's swerving as if this is a joyride in his kingdom. And in that moment if someone said that he was the king of Gotham, Y/N would find it hard to refute it.

The bike picked up speed causing the h/c haired woman to crash against his chest harshly. It was as if the pressure of the wind glued her against him. To calm herself, she decided to try concentrating elsewhere. Absentmindedly trailing the ridges of his armour and the red bat symbol on his chest. She heard whispers and rumours about Red Hood, the prince of crime, the scourge of the underworld—an outlaw employing more lethal methods against crime than Batman. Despite initial conflicts with Batman, he was acknowledged as a Bat vigilante some time ago. This man was dangerous and unpredictable then why did he feel so familiar to her ?

“I know I have god-tier pectoral muscles but I’d appreciate if you stopped distracting me like that.” Red Hood quipped, sounding almost smug at her fascination. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she quickly withdrew her hand, realising how inappropriate that must’ve felt and hastily clarified,“ I’m so sorry, I’m not a pervert I swear.” Y/N felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“Hold on.” Red Hood skidded the bike across the road with a loud screech, making Y/N wince at the sound of the metal scratching against the gravel. He loaded his gun with one hand still wrapped around Y/N protectively and aimed at the tires of the approaching car. “I’d suggest for you to not look at it.”Y/N averted her gaze and moments later, she heard a series of crashes and explosions.

“Jesus Christ I thought I was going to die !” She exhaled in relief. Red Hood turned his face towards her slowly and looked at her as if deadpanning through the mask,“ I’m here you know. What makes you think I’d let you die ?” He retorted taking full offence of her words. “I- I didn’t mean it like that -” she stammered, partly scared to offend the vigilante.

"Whatever I'll drop you off." Jason rolled his eyes and patted the seat behind him. Y/N hesitated, remembering her mother's warning about getting on bikes with strange men, but given her current situation, she realized it was too late to dwell on that now. With no one pursuing them, the ride felt much more pleasant. The speed and the wind against her hair seemed to turn her blood to gasoline as the air dissipated from her lungs. Adrenaline fueled activities weren't for her, at least that's what her sense of self preservation told her. Y/ N pressed her cheek against Red Hood's back. Vigilantes had a symbiotic relationship with the city and as was a common saying in Gotham "The less bats you run into the happier your life is." She knew that this encounter might be a fleeting one, so she decided to relish the moment for now.

Feelings and thoughts were long forgotten, where everything faded into the background and only her physical self exists and the dancing lights at the hazy edges of her vision offered an intoxicating taste of freedom that was indescribable — stripped of obligations, responsibilities and consequences.

Y/N almost doesn’t notice when he stopped the bike. “Do you plan on holding onto me for long ? Not that I mind but we’re here.” Red Hood hopped off the bike and Y/N took off her helmet and hung it onto the handlebar. She scanned her surroundings, they were in front of a five star hotel with sports cars parked on either side of of the road. “Why are we here ?” The woman asked following behind the masked vigilante. “Well for one I don’t know your address so I can’t drop you home and second it’s too late so you should stay the night at a hotel and go home in the morning. It’s safer that way.” Y/N stared at him in disbelief,“ But I don’t have the kind of money to rent a room in a place like this.” Red Hood retrieved a key card from his pocket and placed it on her palm,“Who said anything about paying ?” The h/c haired took it reluctantly and slowly walked to the entrance of the hotel, looking back at him again and again. It wasn’t until she was inside the hotel that she saw him drive off. Y/N walked to the concierge desk and showed her the card. The receptionist eyed her with suspicion considering how she looked so out of place compared to her opulent setting. “Please fill this form. It’s for security purposes.”

The form asked things like her address and her phone number. As reluctant as she was, the receptionist looked like she wasn’t letting her through unless she filled it. Wary of the dangers of misuse of information, Y/N tried to keep her responses as brief as possible. Paranoia was the best friend of a Gothamite considering everything that went down in this hellhole. It was good to always assume the worse and subsequently prepare for it.

The receptionist offered her a tight smile and walked her to the suite. Calling it a suite was an understatement since it was the penthouse on top of the hotel. Just how rich is this guy ? Y/N assumed that the house was a property he didn’t live in because the place lacked personal touch. Either that or he was a real minimalist which was unlikely considering bat vigilantes’ love for theatrics. Y/N wondered if all the bat vigilantes were like a huge family with Batman as papa bat. Where would Red Hood fall in the hierarchy ? If she were to guess, she’d say he was probably the black sheep of the family. Y/N looked around the house, it was one straight out of architectural digests with its high ceilings and cool grey and white interior. She looked at the time and decided it was best if she hit the shower and go to bed and finally put an end to this crazy day.

Jason Todd checked into the hotel the next morning and was greeted by the overly friendly receptionist, personally he didn’t mind fangirls but anyone with even half a braincell knew the risks of being a vigilante groupie. She passed him the form that Y/N filled. He couldn’t help but smile at the form. Filling her work address and a phone number both which were most likely false give the conspicuous number of 7’s in the number ? She’s smarter than most civilians, he’d give her that. The penthouse looked almost unhampered with. His jacket was neatly folded on the dining table with a note reading “Thank you so much for saving me. Regards.” The tone of the note was clear ‘I appreciate you saving me but I hope we never meet again.’ Jason pocketed the note and left the penthouse. Fates had been kind enough to reunite him with his angel and he’d be damned if he let her get away .

“Yoohoo Y/N to earth. Anybody home ?”Y/N’s coworker snapped her fingers in front her face, snapping her out of her reverie. “Sorry about that Steph.” Y/N apologised with an awkward laugh. Stephanie Brown, albeit several years younger, was one of Y/N’s closest friends. She was a bubbly and cheerful soul anyone could tell that by the first impression she projected.

Since the night almost a week ago with the mysterious vigilante, Y/N often found her thoughts plagued by him. Curiosity of where he would be or what he would be doing right now. Her eyes often looked for any news of him while watching the news. I really have to stop thinking about him, even though they lived in the same city, the odds of them running into each other were minute.

The door opened and the bell on top of it clanged, announcing the arrival of a customer. “Mornin’ ladies.” The customer greeted. Y/N turned her attention at the newcomer at the counter. “Good morning detective !” she greeted the customer with a bright smile.

Dick Grayson served as a police officer under the GCPD and was one of the cafe’s frequents. From experiences of her own childhood, Y/N consider the police nothing but corrupt individuals on payroll of powerful people who bullied those weaker than them. But detective Grayson was one of the good and honest ones. He played a massive role in restoring Y/N’s faith that there were those in the police force who could be relied upon and ones that fought for a better Gotham.

"I'll go with the..." he glanced at the menu, a ritual he often performed. "the regular?" Y/N finished his sentence. He responded with a smile, revealing his dimples. "I never understand why you bother with the menu when you always order the same thing," she remarked. He shrugged nonchalantly, as if saying 'who knows.' A smile crept onto her face as she made his order.

“So how’s everything with the family ?” Y/N asked, making small talk. Beyond his consistent ordering and punctual 9:00 AM café visits, he frequently shared his sibling issues. "Oh, where do I begin? My brother is acting up, yet again. He pulled some crap about a week ago. He broke one of Dad’s rules, even though he said he did it to help someone but Dad was just not having it."

“ Which one ? The cool rebellious one or the little gremlin one ?” Y/N laughed sympathetically. She didn’t feel the need to probe and ask much but she always lent an ear to a friend so naturally she knew them by characteristics and not by name. From what she knew, Dick Grayson had three younger brothers - the broody rebellious one, the caffein addict smartass and the 4 foot gremlin edgelord from hell.

“The rebellious one.” he sighed wearily. Y/N placed his order on the counter, including a small pack of cookies. “On the house. You could use some sugar anyway. They’re free testers before we put them on the menu.” Dick accepted the coffee and cookie packet, flashing a bright smile. “Thank you so much. You’re an angel.” An odd feeling resonated within her when Dick called her that. That’s what Red Hood called her. Somehow the way the word rolled off his tongue seemed so different compared to when anyone else said it.

“Hey Dick do you mind if I ask you something ?” Dick nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “What do you know about the Red Hood ?”

Dick choked on his drink and burst into a fit of coughs. It took him a while to compose himself. “He’s alright. I mean he does help the GCPD I guess but he’s too unpredictable and we don’t exactly approve of his methods. He doesn’t hurt innocents but he’s bad news. Why do you ask ?”

“No reason.”Y/N brushed off the inquiry, and although Dick seemed skeptical, he left after leaving a tip. There. Is your curiosity satiated ? Even Dick said he’s bad news now can we stop thinking about him ? Her inner conscience reprimanded her.

Y/N's weary steps echoed in the quiet street as she walked home from work at night. The flickering light from the street lights streetlights casted long almost sentient looking shadows. Her thoughts — a mix of the day's challenges, the longing for the comfort of home blurred into oblivion when a strange chill crept up her spine with a sense of foreboding. Cautious of her surroundings, Y/N constantly kept watch around herself. Just a few yards before her apartment building, she heard their neighbourhood strays agitatedly hiss to something near the dumpster. Not wanting to get involved in whatever trouble Gotham had brought to her feet, she fastened her pace. Suddenly, a flash of vibrant red —the same shade she had been secretly craving to see in the past week, caught her eye.

“Red Hood ?” Y/N stepped into the shadows cautiously as if ready to flee at the first signs of trouble.

“Angel ?” He asked gruffly. Y/N walked closer and found him against the wall, clutching his side. His wound wasn’t a death sentence but needed to be tended to quickly. Her eyes widened in horror when she noticed the crimson coating his fingers,“You’re hurt !”

“ ‘Tis but a scratch m’lady.” He let out a pained laugh seeming to ease her nerves. “We need to get that treated.” Y/N urged. She knew that vigilantes couldn’t just walked into hospitals to get patched up because of the whole secret identity thing. And she also knew that taking it upon herself to treat him would go against every plan of self preservation she had. But she owed him his life. I’ll pay off my debt and we’ll never meet again. Y/N mentally decided and looked at him with newfound determination in her eyes. “My apartment is just upstairs. I have a first aid kit. Come with me.”

Red Hood gazed at her, momentarily lost in thought, then lifted his other hand to gently stroke her cheek. Y/N flinched at his touch, making him withdraw his hand. “Sorry I thought I was hallucinating you because from the blood loss. ” He admitted meekly. Y/N sighed and placed his hand over her shoulder. “Can you stand?” The masked vigilante nodded, rising slowly with a grunt.

Swallowing her rising concern, she brought him to her house and beckoned him towards her couch. Red Hood’s every step betrayed a hint of discomfort, his grimace almost visible even behind that signature mask. The second he dropped on her couch, she disappeared. He caught flashes of her running around the house like a busy bee at work. In seconds, she produced a first-aid kit and knelt next to him. “Lift your shirt.” She maintained her clinical tone, but the concern was evident with her eyes trained on the wound.

“Angel you know if you wanted to –” Jason started with a cheeky tone but was cut off by a stern glare, “Ahem yes ma’am”

Y/N breath hitched every so slightly when she saw the injury. It didn’t look like a bullet wound, the malformed spindle shape resembled a stab wound. “I’m sorry I don’t have any anaesthetic.” She didn’t look up from the wound as her cotton swab glided over the grevions injury. Shifting her elbow to his other hand on his thigh, Red Hood tilted his head seemingly questioning her,“ You can hold my arm and squeeze it if it hurts. I’ve heard that helps.”

“Appreciate the gesture angel but I’m pretty sure I’d snap your arm in half if I did.” His tone was both dismissive and endearing. Y/N didn’t insist, given his strength what he said was probably true. Vigilantes were exceptionally trained, surpassing conventional human limits. Unlike the caped metahuman from Metropolis, the bat vigilantes were more cryptid in nature. None would be where they came from and where they went. Invulnerable and insurmountable. Despite him being in a position that would render others vulnerable, he appeared unfazed, akin to a wounded yet formidable beast. There was a natural aura of dominance and power about him. They don’t call him the Prince of Gotham for no reason that’s for sure.

“You’re good at this. Like one of the best I’ve seen.” He spoke up, seemingly trying to come off as capable of being civil. “Well three years of med school. Some stitching is the least I can do.” She explained. Red Hood visible froze for a good second and inquired,“ You’re a doctor ?”

Y/N scoffed,“ Look around. Do I look like one ?” Red Hood looked around her apartment. Although well maintained, an ode to her efforts, the apartment was old and almost pitiful . Most of the furniture looked second hand and cheap. The curtain rods were rusted and the paint was peeling off from the walls with damp spots on the ceilings.

“You dropped out ?” He guessed. “Yeah. Couldn’t afford it.” She chuckled bitterly.

“Didn’t they offer scholarships or something ?” Jason was aware of Wayne Enterprises’ scholarship programs for talented students. When Bruce took him in, he assured Jason that if Y/N met the criteria, she would be enrolled in the program. Y/N’s intellect had always impressed Jason since childhood, he remembered that she would often sneak into libraries and memorise books worth of stories to recite them to Jason to help him sleep. There was just no way she wouldn’t be accepted into the program.

“They did but that didn’t pay bills. I needed to find a job to pay for my mom’s hospital bills.” She kept her response short, clearly not wanting to delve deep into the topic. “Work for me.” The statement was like a whiplash for Y/N. Work for him ? There weren’t many things Y/N had to take a double take for but this proposition was entirely unexpected. It caught her off guard, she stared at him incredulously with widened eyes. Red Hood was know for operating in the gray areas between legality and criminality and wasn’t exactly your quintessential example of a righteous lawful hero.

“Not in the way you’re imagining.” He hooked his free hand under her chin, gently closing her agape mouth. His tone was soft and reassuring,“ I’ve been meaning to find a backstreet surgeon to stitch me up. Comes in handy for a guy like me. I’m sure you understand angel.”

“B-but why me ?”Y/N stuttered, avoiding eye contact as her nerves threatened to overwhelm her. She could feel a chill of nervousness and panic creep up her spine. What if he got angry if she refused ? Jason noticed the change in the air around her and the stiffening of her muscles in panic that she was clearly trying to hide from him.

“Because you’re convenient. Your place is easy to get in and out of undetected, you’re talented and most of all —“ He gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Y/N let out a shuddered breath as Red Hood stroked her cheek with the back of his gloved hand. “— you fear me enough to not go around squeaking to the wrong people about me. No ?” Jason couldn’t help but relish in the reaction he elicited to the feeling of the leather gliding against her cheek in a silken featherlight touch. How adorable.

Y/N swallowed nervously before nodding slowly. A beat of silence passed and she let out a small sigh, recollecting herself and weighing her options. “How much are we talking ?” She asked him in a low voice. Jason could hardly contain his excitement, grinning wildly under his mask. A sense of pride washed over him as her first question after his offer focused on the financial aspect.

“Let’s see how about 2 grand a month ? Too less ? 3 grand ? 3.5 ? That enough ?”he suggested eagerly. Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief, almost bulging from their sockets. Without waiting for her response, he added, “Plus, there’ll be extra incentives when I’m feeling generous.”

“All that for some stitching ? There has to be a catch.” She reasoned. It seemed implausible that he would offer such a substantial sum for such a minor task. Jason chuckled," You’re smart. I like that in a woman. And to answer your question, it’s not just stitching. It’s about your discretion and loyalty. It’s a complete package. Plus that sort of money is pretty much pocket change to me.”

“And if I were to betray your trust ?” Y/N asked in a hypothetical sense, of course she had more sense than to betray someone of his stature and power. “Do you really want me to answer that ?” He countered sounding equal parts smug and menacing. Y/N shook her head in negation and continued stitching his wound. The process of stitching became a meditative rhythm - the needle piercing the skin, the pull of the thread, the knotting, and the slight twitch of Red Hood’s muscles with each stitch.

“I’ll take it.” She muttered. Jason was grateful for his mask and injury otherwise, he might have been unable to hide his urge to jump up and punch air in celebration. Agreeing to his proposition marked just the beginning of his grand plan for making Y/N his and for now, everything unfolded according to his wishes and he couldn’t be happier.

Y/N wrapped gauze around the wound and secured it with a metal clip. “Normally I’d suggest a few days’ rest but I have a feeling there’s no point in saying.” Red Hood commented with a shrug as he inspected the injury. Y/N rose and fetched him a glass of water from the kitchen, setting it on the table. “If you’re trying to get me to remove my helmet, it won’t work.” he remarked. As much as his distrust stung, Y/N rationalised that it was typical for someone like him.

She retrieved a scarf from the coat rack, folded it and tied it around her eyes before taking a seat on the edge of the couch, keeping a respectable distance from the masked vigilante. "What's with the blindfold angel ?" Red Hood asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Isn't trust earned through actions?" she responded. Y/N heard the thud of his helmet being placed on the table. Jason seemed genuinely impressed by her gesture. His gaze lingered on her figure as she remained motionless, noting how much she had changed since his childhood memory. Yet her kindness to those in need while still keeping herself guarded from those who would abuse it still remained unchanged. Jason’s hand twitched with the impulse to touch her. To hold her. He wondered how her face would look in his palms with her bare body melded against his own.

“ ‘Suppose it is.” Jason chuckled as he downed the glass of water and put his helmet back on. “I’m finished. You can remove that blindfold now, although it does look adorable on you.” He noticed her chest rise with a sudden hitch, and her cheeks flush red. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed, knowing the other implications blindfolds carried. As she removed the scarf and looked around, Red Hood had vanished without a trace. Her window was open and it was as if disappeared into the wind just as he came. She got why the bat vigilantes were often likened to cryptid beings and phantoms. Y/N was left to ponder over the events that had unfolded. Under the glass of water she offered him three hundred dollar bills were tucked. “I suppose I’m now working for the Prince of Gotham now.” Y/N mused to herself, realizing her attempt to avoid getting involved had failed miserably.

Jason's parents engaged in another round of screaming matches, this time he decided he’d had enough and thought of running away. Despite previous fleeting thoughts of escape, each time night fell — he faced the harsh reality of lacking sustenance and shelter. Convinced that the streets offered a marginally preferable refuge to the shithole he was force to call home, he wandered aimlessly till he found himself at the dumpster of a bakery. He knew shops like those threw away left overs even though they could’ve given them out — Jason saw it as a glaring manifestation of selfishness of adults.

He hid behind the dumpster and waited for someone to come and throw away the leftovers. After waiting for almost half an hour, the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Glancing cautiously from his hiding spot, Jason spotted a young waitress walking out. She was likely just a few years older than himself, a middle school or a high school student maybe, he thought to himself. As she approached to dispose of the food, she paused midway. No way did she see him ? Jason shrank back against a cardboard box, hoping she wouldn’t notice him.

“Hey kid you can come out. I already saw you.” the waitress said softly. Jason slowly crawled out and approached her. He eyed the tray of leftovers in her hand, wondering if he could snatch them and escape quickly enough ? The waitress seemed to notice this and raised the tray above his reach. “Against bakery policies kid. Where are your parents ?” She asked. Of course she wouldn't be generous enough to offer him any. In his mind, all adults were rotten to the core and selfish —why would she be any different ?

Jason scoffed,“ Does it matter ?” His statement was met with a sigh from the waitress, her expression conveying annoyance, a scene all too familiar to him. Bracing himself he said,“ Just do it already. I’ve had it from guys thrice your size.” Jason was well acquainted with the drill with diner employees — catch a few shoves and slaps, pretend to go away and wait for them to leave and then come back pick up the food.

He shut his eyes and waited for her to slap and swear at him to drive him away like everyone else. Yet moments passed but the expected blow never came. Instead, Jason felt a gentle pat on his head and looked up to see her smiling empathetically, though her eyes betrayed a hint of sadness. Wondering why she seemed so melancholic, he accepted the loaf of bread she offered and wolfed it down. “Won’t you get in trouble for this ?” He asked. With a forced laugh she admitted,“ I probably will but I can’t let a kid hungry now can I ?”

“I won’t tell anyone.” The young boy promised earnestly and she returned his smile. His gaze fell upon her nametag—Y/N L/N. Maybe not all adults are bad.

It had been barely four days since she last saw him that she heard from him again. In the dead of night, her doorbell rang. She approached the door cautiously and grabbed a baseball bat from the umbrella rack as a just in case. She didn’t hear any movement on the other side of the door so she cautiously opened the door, peering out. To her surprise, she found only a small, shoddily wrapped parcel resting on the floor with her name written in red.

There was no one except a small poorly wrapped parcel on floor with her name on it. Retrieving it, she carried it inside. Within the parcel lay a modest yet exquisite golden necklace accompanied by a handwritten instruction manual. Observing it she realised it was one of those necklaces that acted as an SOS signal. The parcel also contained a big folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she discovered a map of Gotham City with specific locations ominously marked in red and the stark warning “DO NOT GO” emblazoned in bold letters. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtful gesture, maybe this is not all that bad.

Over the following days, Red Hood would appear unannounced giving Y/N enough jumpscares for lifetime, when she would walk into her living room and find him bleeding out on her couch. He wasn’t much of a talker which wasn’t a surprise.

His injuries presented a variety of shapes and sizes each time he visited, but recently, his injuries bore uncanny resemblance the markings of knife wounds. Some were superficial, while others cut deeper. However, considering the depth, placement, and angles, Y/N questioned whether they were the result of his typical fights. "Are you testing my loyalty? Seeing if I'll betray you?" Y/N clenched her teeth with silvers of anger and frustration glinting in her eyes. Red Hood appeared slightly taken aback but remained silent in response to her outburst. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice ? Either that certain type of knife has become Gotham’s thugs number one choice or you're doing this to yourself. Why ?" She pressed further.

“ I knew I shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”Jason wasn’t accustomed to others fussing over his safety. Typically he received, at most a pat on the back from those who worked alongside him, knowing he had endured much worse and could handle it. Her anger and frustration hinted at concern, echoing the tone when he would go and pick fights with boys twice his size.

“What’s that supposed to mean ?”

Red Hood let out a sigh and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, I enjoy spending time with you and I wouldn’t bother coming unless I needed medical attention. So you know —"

“— So you cut yourself ? To hang out with me ? What’s wrong with you ? What if you actually got into a fight with those injuries ? What if you got hurt for real ? You could really get hurt. How could you do that to yourself ? ”

Jason lowered his head in remorse, realizing he hadn't fully considered his actions. Despite understanding her perspective and acknowledging the wrong in purposefully hurting himself for her attention, he couldn't deny a secret sense of satisfaction. "I’m so sorry," he muttered his apology, genuinely meaning every word. Y/N released an exasperated sigh and took a moment to compose herself before speaking again. "Next time, just ask. It's not that complicated."

Jason's head lifted with hopeful curiosity, resembling a puppy eager for a treat. " I can do that ?" he asked tentatively, unsure if her words were genuine. Jason blinks, and then smiles. Her words cause something to stir within him, a sensation of warmth and affection he hasn't felt in a while. Y/N nodded and got up to dispose of the bloody cotton swabs in the kitchen. Jason’s eyes followed her eyes, watching closely and to see if she was still mad at him. Y/N was a pretty forgiving person but in all honesty, he did mess up pretty bad. She returned and settled back down with a sigh, causing a slight nervous flutter in Jason. “So what do vigilantes when they’re not fighting bad guys ?” Y/N initiated as an icebreaker, much to Jason’s relief. It’s not like he could say ‘hey I’m in love with you please hang out with me with marriage in mind’. Wait marriage ? Where did that come from ? Images of Y/N in a white gown walking down an isle flashed through his mind. Y/N Todd. That had a nice ring to it, Jason mused silently. He had heard that Bali was a popular honeymoon destination but Y/N once told him that she always wanted to see the stargazing so the Atacama desert isn’t a bad destination either.

“Um earth to Red. You still here ?” Y/N waved her hand in front of Jason who seemed to have spaced out.

“Red ?”Jason asked sounding positively amused by the unexpected nickname. She shrugged and replied,“ Calling you Red Hood seemed too long, so Red it is. Not very creative, I know.”

Jason chuckled,“ I’ll allow it. And to answer your question, vigilantes don't have much time for leisure. When we're not fighting, we’re either training or passed the fuck out from exhaustion.” Y/N felt tired just hearing that, understanding the reasoning behind it, but the question remained: he wasn’t wasting time by being here, was he ?

“Seems like there’s no room for hobbies?” Y/N quipped, eliciting another soft laugh from Jason as he visibly relaxed. "I suppose so but pros can squeeze in time for special things here and there." he replied, his voice still quiet but now tinged with a smile. His body language seemed brighter and happier, and for the first time since she saw him actually looking relaxed.

Y/N reached for the TV remote, flipping through channels before tossing it onto his lap and standing up. “I’m going to fix myself something. Do you want anything?” she asked politely. Jason shook his head, declining, “I’m good.” Y/N walked to the kitchen and started making herself popcorn. What sort of movies and tv shows would vigilantes enjoy ? She guessed they might lean towards crime-related or action-packed content, but then remembered her friends’ complaints about the inaccuracy of such portrayals.

“Seriously Janet ?! There’s no way you’re picking that dress. Just cuz it would look good on Jessica doesn’t mean it would suit you ! I can hear the wails of the colour theory all the way from here.” Jason shook his head, sounding genuinely disappointed. He probably didn’t even notice Y/N shuffling closer to the television, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. So I guess that answers my question.

“That’s an interesting choice.”

Jason rolled his eyes and diverted his attention back to the television again. “What ? Can’t a man enjoy some good entertainment ?” He retorted. Y/N laughed lightly dismissing his remark,” No no it’s not that. Personally I’m more of a k-drama and anime girlie but I hold nothing against reality tv.” He nodded in acknowledgment of her preferences and resumed watching. Sitting beside him, Y/N observed as he commented on almost everything the people on TV said, finding herself amused by how much more entertaining his live commentary was compared to the actual show.

Minutes rolled by and after almost a couple hours, Y/N got up to go use the washroom and when she returned he had vanished once again, as was his habit. A small note lay where he had sat on her couch earlier. She picked it up and read, “Had a great time. Thanks for today - R” Y/N chuckled and shook her head, Damn these bats and their theatrics.

Jason would show up every three four days, most of the time unharmed thankfully. The two would do a variety of things like watching movies and tv shows together, playing board games and video games and just talking in general. At first it was just discussing their common interests but eventually he would sporadically divulged minor, unimportant details about himself. Some things she was able to piece together were that one, the bat vigilantes was a dysfunctional family with Batman as their patriarch. Second, the Red Hood worked alongside Starfire and Arsenal as his teammates. And third, that he had to be the biggest classic literature nerd she had come across.

“What do you mean your best friend tried to set you on fire while you were taking a shower ?! Didn’t you like lock the door or something ?”

“Locked doors don’t really do much to people like us angel.”

“So who’s your favourite bat sibling ?” Jason fell silent at her question, contemplating the answer. “Well that’s a tough question. I have my set of challenges and grudges with all of them. We’ve tried to kill each other atleast once. More so with my brothers than the girls. I’d say I get along pretty well with spoiler and batgirl. And if you ask about my brothers, I’d say Nightwing. He’s the funny nice one, Red Robin’s the smart, loyal one and Robin is the little obnoxious one.”

Y/N chuckled,“ Guess the article checks out.”

“What article ?” Jason asked curiously. Most of his intel came from law enforcement agencies databases, informants, surveillance technology, his fellow vigilantes and his own investigative work so he didn’t really feel the need to keep up with the cheesy articles in Gazette.

“The cinnamon roll tier list !” Y/N’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

“The what now ?”

“So there’s this popular meme going online,”she started to explain,“ so there are four categories - first, looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll. In that category are the signal, the spoiler and nightwing. Second, looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you. That one is for Red Robin and the Robin. Third, looks like could kill you but is a cinnamon roll, that one is for Batgirl and the last is -” she paused because she knew the next tier on the list might potentially sting him.

“Looks like could kill you and would kill you ? Let me guess that’s one for me ?” Jason chuckled humorlessly, fully aware of the kind of reputation that preceded him. He wondered if she held the same perception of him. Y/N remained silent, neither confirming nor denying his statement.

"You know, you don't need to constantly worry about offending me. Believe me, I've heard far worse than anything your pretty mouth could say to me." Y/N couldn't help but feel upset, while his words were true, there was more to it than that. She wanted to express that she wasn't entirely afraid of him, but that wasn't entirely true either.

“Anyways – ”She interjected, clapping her hands once to shift the flow of the conversation,“ I got a new video game from a friend. Let me go get it. DO NOT DISAPPEAR. I’m serious it’s creepy.” Jason responded with her a cheeky salute,“ Yes ma’am.” Y/N disappeared into the bedroom briefly and returned with the DVD. When she came back she noticed Jason had reclined on the couch, appearing to have dozed off.

“Red ?” she asked softly, approaching him. She tried to get his attention again, but he remained unresponsive. He must’ve fallen asleep, she figured remembering what he said about his schedule. Retrieving a blanket from the side of the couch, she gently covered him. She sat there for a while, observing him as he slept. Watching him like this felt natural and familiar. Leaning back on the couch herself, she tried to unwind in the peaceful silence. Y/N couldn't help but admire him and all that he had achieved. Finding a friend in such an extraordinary circumstance was something she had never anticipated.

After a while, a somewhat wicked notion crept into her mind. She tried to shush the voice. Hanging out with Stephanie was sure working its magic, she thought to herself. It was a harmless little prank really, surely he wouldn’t mind. Against all logic and rationale, she decided entertained the idea. Tiptoeing to her closet, she retrieved the item from her closet and cautiously returned, double-checking if he was asleep. Here goes nothing.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Helloo! It's my first time requesting:)) I love your fics lol. You write so good!!

Can I please request yandere bonten men with a slightly chubby bimbo reader who's insecure about her weight. She's bubbly, gullible and naive. They caught her talking to someone who's tryna hit her up. For the nsfw part can I please get belly bulging 😔

no? *sigh* fine.. here's my offering..

🫱🏼(‿o‿)🫲🏼

Yandere!Bonten!Mikey x Chubby!Insecure!Bimbo!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, wife!reader, mention of Sanzu and Bonten execs, brief mention of murder, gun use, lowkey naive!reader, size kink, belly bulging, big dick!Mikey, spanking, unprotected sex + creampie, kinda rough sex, not proofread ♡

note: I didn't know if you wanted a poly relationship or separate, so I just chose Mikey (I couldn't do all of them, I'm sorry but my brain is fried), I'm trying to keep the note short so anything else I have to yap about is in the tags

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You, your husband, and the Bonten executives were out at one of their nightclubs, trying to enjoy the little bit of time they had to spare due to their demanding jobs. You were in your cutest little dress, Mikey's favorite dress to be more precise. The one that hugged your curves just right and drove him damn near insane from how bad he wanted to rip it off of you.

Bonten had all gone their separate ways throughout the night, essentially leaving Sanzu in charge of watching you. He walked away from the booth you were sitting at for not even five minutes just to turn around and see a man, who he recognized as one of your coworkers, sitting across from you and quite obviously flirting with you.

Sanzu's first thought is to get this man away from you, by any means necessary. He walks back over to the booth, drawing his gun and pressing it to the man's temple.

"I don't know if you know this, but this lady right here is my boss's wife. So I suggest you move unless you want a piece of metal in your brain."

As soon as he's made aware of the situation, Mikey gets security to escort the man out the club, you can tell he did it because he has the slightest of smirks on his usually blank face. He sits down next to you and pulls you into his lap, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as if to give you a warning.

"What did I say about talking to strangers?"

"But he's not-"

"Don't talk back to me, I could have this whole place burned to the ground in a matter of seconds with that bastard trapped inside."

Soon, the rest of Bonten comes over and surrounds you at the table, naming off all the things they could do to your coworker.

"We could send some of our men to his house, teach him a little lesson without-" Koko tries to suggest.

"Or we could just take care of him ourselves." Sanzu interjects, itching to whoop some ass.

They couldn't care less about the man being your coworker because employees are always replaceable and they know Mikey would rather you not work with him anyway, so they all silently agree to take care of him permanently later on. For now, Mikey has to take care of you. He excuses himself, dragging you from the club into the car, and as soon as he gets you home he's bending you over the kitchen counter and pushing your dress up past your hips.

"C'mon baby, you know better than to test me like that, don't you?"

Mikey brings his rough, calloused hand down on your ass, smirking as he hears the little squeak that slips out your mouth. He grips your soft hips, his bulge pressing right against your pussy through your panties. He unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and underwear down. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your plump thighs to reveal your soaked cunt.

“Look at you, all wet and ready for me.”

His middle finger slides back and forth between your folds, brushing lightly against your clit and making you weak in the knees. He lines himself up with your entrance and eases in, his fat cock stretching you out and causing a painful yet pleasurable burning sensation deep in your stomach. You can feel the tip of his dick knocking against the inside of your tummy, bulging through and pressing you firmly against the counter.

"Fuck! You're squeezing the life outta me."

"T-too big 'Jiro.."

"Too big? C'mon you can take it baby, you always take me so good."

His hips slap against your ass as he thrusts hard, his hand burying itself in your hair and pulling you off the counter to get a deeper angle. His free hand reaches around, cupping your tummy and applying pressure to the bulge formed there.

"You're so full of me, aren't you baby?"

All you can do is nod hurriedly and spew out nonsense in the form of moans, too fucked out to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. He presses soft kisses down your neck to your shoulder, his thrusts slowing down as he feels your pussy clenching around him as you cum. He lets out a raspy grunt shortly after as he starts to cum, filling you with his hot, gooey load.

He chuckles breathlessly as he pulls out, high off of his orgasm as he watches his cum leak out of you and drip down your thighs.

"You did so good princess. Gonna start behaving now, right? No more talking to strangers yeah?"

You mumble a soft 'Mhm' as your legs start to give out and you lie against the counter.

"Good." He peppers kisses on the nape of your neck before fixing his pants and helping you walk to the bathroom, knowing that he wouldn't have to worry about anyone stealing you away.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[moondirti]

i’m so sorry but i’m such a simp for big men in masks. this is very self indulgent buuuuut could i request a ghost x reader who is shy and relatively unexperienced with sex? like has been with maybe 1-2 people but kinda just let them take charge? also really want some size difference in there too if possible? like i’m 5’6ish and underweight due to health issues but i can’t stop thinking about being tossed around by that mountain of a man

i have no excuse on why this took so long to get to babe, i'm sorry! he might be ooc in this idk, i just got done with a lengthy price oneshot so i need to warm up on ghost. corruption kink with ghost warnings: size kink, painful sex (kinda)

You don't tell him - not on your own volition, anyway.

But Ghost has seen you gut men twice your size, ripping their pancreas from between cracked ribs, dousing your hands in viscous red that still encrusts your cuticles days afterwards. You hold your weight on the team, your ledger stained with anyone who dares question it. He doesn't ask, but he only assumed the brash confidence to extend to every aspect of your being.

Which is why, when he cups your face or growls an obscene request in your ear, it throws him off guard to see you withdraw. Flushed, your cheeks warm with babydoll humility. You've never wavered with anything as much as you did him; not death, not merciless fusillade. It's a bizarre contradiction with everything he had you pinned down as.

It doesn't take him long to figure out why. You eventually blossom, just the slightest bit, and find yourself in his bed mere hours later.

"Gorgeous fuckin' thing. About stuff you full."

"Haah- I... You're huge, shit."

"You're a big girl, pet, you can take it."

"I've never- fuck! Slow down, please, please..."

His body locks at the first crack of your voice. You've got your face hidden in his shoulder, tucked between his neck and a thick muscle. He can't see it, but he knows. Your lashes flutter, damp on his skin, a hot pool of fresh tears trekking the scant space between you.

Simon pulls out, only a third of the way in, and detaches from you. He doesn't exactly have the words for comfort - his vocabulary whittled down to military jargon and bad jokes - but he rests his hand on your calf while he waits for you to collect yourself.

It's enough. A voiceless agreement permeates your relationship, some quick-trick tool for times when war unravels; one nod over the body of a gun, a pat on the shoulder as you fight your separate ways. It holds relevance, always, even now.

So he waits, because it's the only thing he can do. Waits, and reels over what went wrong. He'd thrown you over his face, sucking your honeyed slick directly from the source, until your body shook with concerning violence. He'd pumped you with two fingers, stretching your tight hole in preparation. He'd kneaded your supple flesh until you spilled to a puddle underneath him. All of it has usually sufficed before now.

It isn't your full-bodied heaves stop that you break the silence.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You didn't do anything, it was just... overwhelming. I've only ever been with one person before, and they were-"

"Bad."

"Smaller, asshole. God-"

He grabs your wrist, wrapping it in a large hand.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Not nearly. Just-" You gesture to yourself. "Like I said. Overwhelming."

"Shy, then."

"Si-"

You're practically squished when he bends over you, full lips grazing your jaw when he gruffs his intrusion.

"We have all night, pet. Plenty of time to get you to open up."

[jellybonbons]

Calm husband x Assertive wife headcanons

DI!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

A/N: heavily inspired by safa and fahad’s relationship from dubai bling.

Leon with a wife who is a bit of a firecracker—she's got that bratty streak, a stubborn side, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. But beneath all that, she's also incredibly understanding, compassionate, and fiercely loyal (only to him and her loved ones).

After all he's been through, he's looking for someone who can keep him grounded, bring him back down to earth, or just take charge in the relationship. He wants to be pampered and taken care of.

Leon, who's all about going with the flow, has this "it is what it is" mindset, but you, his wife, are the one who calls the shots on his behalf. As Leon grew older, he stopped giving fucks except for his darling wife.

Take driving, for example. If someone cuts him off, he's the type to shrug it off. But you? You're the one with road rage, ready to give them a piece of your mind. And when his order gets messed up, he'll just eat it, but not you. You'll be marching up to the manager, making sure he gets what he paid for because, hey, it's all about getting your his money's worth.

"Sweetheart, it's fine, really," he said, offering a small smile.

"No, it's not. You specifically said no chilli. And what do they do? Add it in anyway. It's like they're gunning for you," you replied, clearly irritated and a tad dramatic. Poor white man can't handle his spice.

Sometimes you'd push the limit, and he'd have your back. But once you're home and out of the public eye, he'll give you a lecture about where you went wrong. It might take you a minute to actually hear him out because, let's face it, you're stubborn. But he's got his tricks to make sure you eventually listen, if you know what I mean.

People might raise eyebrows at your marriage because you two are total opposites. They whisper nonsense behind your back because of your straightforwardness and confidence, and that's something Leon doesn't let slide. That's when he gives a damn, because nobody gets to badmouth his wife.

"I heard Leon's wife is quite controlling. Poor guy can't even make a decision without her approval," someone remarked, their tone condescending.

"Excuse me," Leon quickly interjected. "Let me make one thing clear: my wife is not controlling. Decisions in our marriage are made together, as equals."

“And if I hear anyone disrespecting her again, there will be consequences. Understood?" His tone was firm as he addressed his subordinates with a hard gaze. 

"Yes sir," the subordinates replied hastily, scrambling to return to their tasks.

This might have been the only instance he'd wield his authority as the top agent, but it was a line he wouldn't allow anyone to cross. 

What really makes your relationship click is the mutual respect and understanding you both share, along with your shared drive and ambition. You get that his job can eat up a lot of his time, with weeks and even months away from home, and sure, it gets to you sometimes. But he's pretty good at making it up to you (material gestures and physical affection).

Leon really appreciates how you get his career demands, and he's all for you pursuing your own career path too. He'd rather see you doing your thing than stuck at home while he's away. However, if and when you decide to have children, he might lean towards the idea of you being a stay-at-home mom, though ultimately, he respects it's entirely your decision.

As for that tracker thing, it's not about being controlling; it's more about being protective. With him going on those risky missions, you like having a way to keep tabs on him and make sure he's safe. At first, he wasn't too keen on the idea, but when you explained how it eases your mind, he kinda got it. Plus, it's kinda fun to mess around with it sometimes, right?

“Hey, where'd you sneak off to earlier?" you asked with a mock sternness, tapping your foot as Leon entered the room. "Your little dot disappeared for a while there."

Leon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about? I've been right here the whole time."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Oh really? Because according to the tracker, you vanished into thin air."

A grin spread across Leon's face as he produced a cup of boba from behind his back, "I may have noticed a certain someone was feeling a bit down, so I thought I'd surprise her with her favourite pick-me-up.”

“Aw, Leon!” you exclaimed, jumping on him and nearly causing him to drop the boba and possibly break his back in the process.

[fredbydawn]

I have gathered further evidence for my Strahm is autistic theory, specifically stims and stim-like things he does

So we had the pen clicking thing, very cool, we love to see it

We also have him pacing in circles and swinging the key around before lobbing it at Hoffman for no goddamn reason (imaging a world where, whenever he’s pissed at a Hoffman he has to use all his restraint to not just PITCH shit at him full force Randy Johnson dove incident style)

I was also informed by @mickymunders and @xchxsex of the way he’s literally always flexing his left hand when holding his gun, I know just about fuck all about guns so idk if he’s meant to be adjusting his grip, but it does seem like he does it a lot when tense/nervous

We also having him constantly T posing to assert dominance, not sure if that’s necessarily a stim, but makes me want to study him nonetheless

And while this last one isn’t a stim, I do think him nearly colliding with Hoffman in what is very clearly an open space is so funny and yeah kinda autistic and gay, cuz he’s like “how do I piss this guy off and show him I’m in charge while also getting a chance to get near him?”

Like, babe, please get assessed 💖

[zweetpea]

Wisdom or Spuriousness Part 1 of 2

Warning: Swearing

"This is not how I thought this would be going down. Let's review. Two weeks ago I got shot all the way to Sumeru desert and ended up at the feet of the Eremites. So far they've only kept me around as a servant."

"Get back to work and stop talking to yourself!" The Eremite leader said. He was one of those Stone Enchanters that summoned those geo alligators. You picked up the broom again and kept sweeping.

"Malakai! Give us the money you owe us." A Geochanter called out followed by a Hydrogunner.

"I still have a week you Fatui Bastards!" Malakai shouted at them. 

You held the broom firmly in your grip and charged at them. In the blink of an eye you were behind them, electricity pulsing through you.

"What just happened?" You shook. You held up the broom and blocked a few rocks the Geochanter threw at you. Your delusion glowed bright purple as the world slowed around you. You swung at the Hydrogunner several times, until he fell to the ground. "I don't know what I just did. Did I kill a man?"

"Viktor! Don't you Go dying on me!" The Geochanter cried. 

"Ivan... it's okay." Malakai swung at 'Ivan' and Ivan blocked. He swung his weapon around and Ivan kept backing up. You walked over to the Hydrogunner and looked over him. "You..." He hissed. "Stay away from My Ivan."

"What have I done." You whispered. You looked around and saw his gun. You grabbed it and pointed it at him. "This will heal you right? Right?!"

"With my delusion yes."

"Give it to me then, I'll heal you and then you and Ivan will go. Deal?"

"...Would you do that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be a killer, and I see value in people. I want you to pay it forward and forgive the eremites their debt." 

"...Okay." He hands over the delusion and you shot him with the gun. "Thank you." He stood up and threw Ivan over his shoulder. 

"Ivan, catch!" You threw the gun and delusion at him.

"What was that?" Malakai growled at you.

"Malakai! We'll take care of the debt!" Viktor shouted at you two. 

"...Get back to work.

...

Thank you for that." He whispered.

After that The Eremites started to treat you better. They'd give you more rations, start to say please and thank you when they made demands of you, even gave you a few blankets to sleep on. But they still weren't giving you the Debauchery you were promised.

"I hope you guys know that our viewers are going to be very disappointed."

"How many times do we have to tell you?!" A floral ring-dancer picked you up by your collar and held you dangling several inches off the ground. "You are not a protagonist of some erotic romance novel!"

"I have humble beginnings! And of course it's not an Erotic Novel! I've only gotten dicked down by three people and that happens very sparsely!" You're dropped on your ass. "You know sometimes I wish I'd landed myself in a fanfic or an actual Erotic Romance Novel. I wish my life was more like the 50 shades series or the 365 days series." 

"Like Anyone would ever actually want to sleep with you."

Now your butt and your pride were bruised. "Fine! Don't believe me! ...I miss Dvalin."

After a few more weeks of this Hell on earth a girl with hair resembling cat ears strolled up to the Eremites, along with a girl with dark purplish-blue hair. "Malakai! How are you?"

"Dehya! Coming home for the weekend huh?"

"Yeah. You aren't getting up to any trouble are you dumbass?"

"No! Of course not."

"Who is this?" Candace asked looking over at you.

"Hello. Um the Eremites kinda kidnapped me. But it's okay I get kidnapped like every nation I go to."

"That's... not good."

"Do you guys want them? They keep trying to flirt with everyone." Malakai asked.

"No-" "Sure." Candace cuts off Dehya. 

"What?!" Dehya exclaims.

"Come on Dehya. If they need help then I'm obligated to help them as long as they're in the Sumeru Desert. And If we don't take them with us then Cyno will definitely arrest them all."

"Yeah! I don't want that to happen."

"Are you really kidnapped?"

"Well I didn't really get a say but I don't want them to get in trouble. I was promised Debauchery though so I think the best way for me to get that would be going with you guys.

"Fine, whatever." Dehya grumbled. "But you better not try to get freaky with us okay?"

"Yes ma'am." You smiled and the women took you away.

Upon your insistence the girls brought you back to Sumeru city instead of Aaru Village. 

"Thank you ladies." You bowed like a magician doing a trick would. "Until we meet again." You used your Electro powers to race up to the Akademiya and rush into the Grandsage's office.

"Who on earth are you?"

"THE GRIM REAPER, BITCH!!"

[writemekpop]

Double Life | Lee Jeno

Summary: You’re thinking of ending things with your boring boyfriend Jeno – when he confesses that he has a surprising secret life. 

Genre: No jam Jeno, he's kinda dumb but he cute, established relationship AU

Word Count: 1.3k

“Okay, okay, Spongebob or Patrick – who would win in a fight?”  

Jeno was speaking so animatedly that his dark wavy hair flopped up and down.

“I don’t know, Jeno,” you sighed, walking through the supermarket aisle. 

Once again, you wished your boyfriend was… different. Less nerdy. You wished he helped you with the chores, rather than sneaking Froot Loops into the trolley. You kept planning to break up with him… you just never got round to it. 

Just then, you heard a gunshot. Your muscles turned to jelly. It had to be a store robbery! 

Suddenly, Jeno grabbed your hand and pulled you into a nearby janitor’s closet. 

Your bodies were pressed against each other in the dim light. The firm muscle of Jeno’s chest pressed against yours. You’d never noticed how toned he was. You felt heat rush to your face. 

“Listen to me, Y/n,” Jeno’s voice was deep, confident… sexy. You’d never heard him talk in this way before.

“What?” you said, heart racing. 

“I’m – a secret agent.” Jeno said. “US government.” You blinked. “Sorry?” 

“Clandestine operative?” 

You frowned.

“Black ops?” 

You shook your head.  

Jeno huffed impatiently. “Y/n, I’m trying to tell you that I’m a… spy.”

Despite your fear, you laughed. “Jeno! Stop messing around.”

Jeno sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I figured I had to tell you the truth. You’re about to see me use seven different kinds of martial arts.”  

A thrill ran through you. Was Jeno – a guy who couldn’t kill a spider on his own – putting his life at risk for the nation?   

You heard footsteps approaching the door. Jeno began unbuttoning his shirt. “Now, I don’t mean to surprise you, but I have an idea.”  

You nodded, unable to believe your passive boyfriend was finally taking charge. 

Just as the door was flung open, Jeno – now shirtless – pulled you into his arms and kissed you with a passion that took your breath away. 

There was nothing gentle about this kiss – Jeno pushed your back against the cool concrete, bunching your shirt in his fists. You shivered at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue in your mouth.

“Are you hiding in-“ a voice barked, then fell silent, before suddenly shutting the door again. 

You burst out laughing, trying to hush your giggles against Jeno’s neck. He was chuckling, too. “I had a feeling that might surprise him,” Jeno said. 

You looked away, suddenly conscious of Jeno’s nakedness. Even though he was your boyfriend, he felt like a stranger today. 

Jeno’s hand brushed a stray hair out of your face. “It’s okay. You can look.”

You slowly turned your face, taking in the smooth ripples of Jeno’s tanned stomach, the faint trail of dark hair winding down it. You realised you hadn’t seen Jeno naked in over a year, maybe.

Your heart was heavy. Jeno’s career, Jeno’s body, Jeno’s life – you knew nothing about any of them. It felt like he wasn’t your boyfriend at all. 

Jeno’s eyes refused to leave yours. “Everything I do, Y/n – I do it for you. To build a world where we don’t have to be afraid anymore.” 

You clutched Jeno’s hand. “Let’s get out of this place before someone comes looking.”

You both crept out into the supermarket aisle… when you were confronted by a masked man holding a gun. “Hey!” he yelled. “We missed one of ‘em!” 

“I’m sorry, does this supermarket belong to you?” Jeno boomed.

You were so shocked you couldn’t breathe.  

Laughing, the man called two of his friends over. “Check out this punk!” 

The man shoved Jeno’s shoulder. Jeno stared right back at him, towering over him, his face like stone.

The man’s voice darkened. “This guy’s got a death wish.”

Jeno reached for his back pocket. All three of the guys took a step back. “Now, gentlemen” Jeno said, “I don’t want to use this, but if you try anything, I will.” 

Relief trickled down your body. 

Until one of the guys at the back said, “I call your bluff. He ain’t got no gun!” 

The others, realising that this was true, glared at Jeno. 

“Beat him up or something!” you hissed at Jeno, who was still frozen. “Use your – karate or whatever!” 

But Jeno just raised his hands above his head. He was shaking. 

“I… can’t,” he breathed.

“What do you mean? Use your spy training,” you said. “Don’t give up now!”

Jeno turned to you. His face was deathly pale. “No – I literally can’t.”

Fear enclosed you, like barbed wire around your throat. “What do you mean you can’t?”  

A tear slipped down Jeno’s cheek. “I’m not actually a spy, Y/n. I don’t know a single martial art, I’m not trained in anything… heck, I’ve never even left the state!” 

“You… lied to me?” you said. Of course. You couldn’t believe you had fallen for it. The weight of your anger surprised even you.  

“I just - wanted you to see me – as more than your dorky boyfriend from high school.” Jeno said quietly. “And now I’ve put us in danger…”  

“Shut up,” you snapped.

Raising one hand above your head in surrender, you grabbed Jeno’s shirt and started slowly pulling him backwards. “I’m so sorry.” you called. “We didn’t mean it. I promise – we’ll leave you alone.” 

The masked men were not backing off. Sweat dripped down your top lip. 

You pulled off the gold birth chain on your neck. It clattered on the floor. “It’s real,” you called. “We’ll run out of the store and not look back, okay?”

“You run right out…” the man said. 

“Right out,” you whispered. 

Turning, you pulled Jeno by the hand and ran out of the supermarket. True to your promise, you did not look back. 

You kept running till you got to your car, then drove right home. Despite showering and eating a hot meal, you and Jeno were still on a knife edge. 

Jeno sat down beside you on the bed. He touched your arm, but you pulled it away. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t know why I did that,” Jeno said, sniffing. 

You touched your bare neck, staring blankly at the wall. “I’ve had that necklace since I was born.” 

Jeno wrapped his strong arms around you and buried his head in your chest. “Please forgive me!” Jeno begged, his voice muffled against your shirt. 

You pushed him off. “Jeno… I need some time to think.” 

---

One week later… 

You and Jeno were nestled together under a blanket watching Netflix. The shock had worn off, and now you missed your boyfriend.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Jeno said for the thousandth time. “I’m know I’m not some – hero. I’m an idiot.” 

“That was such a dumb thing to do,” you snapped. “I can’t believe you lied to me!”

Jeno flinched. 

“But…” you continued, urging yourself to relax. “You’re not an idiot. And I’m sorry that I treat you that way.” You hugged Jeno as tight as you could, pressing your face into his shoulder. “You’re wonderful, Jeno. You’re creative, and funny, and sweet… I don’t want a spy. I want you.”

Jeno kissed your neck, making you shiver. “I want you, too,” he murmured.

“There is one thing that’s been on my mind, though,” you said, pulling away. 

Jeno’s eyes widened. “What?”

“When did you get abs?” you said, lifting Jeno’s shirt and pressing kisses to his stomach.

Jeno’s face darkened. “Um… I guess… I’ve been working out."

You frowned. “Well, agent, your first mission is to get that shirt off. I need all night to explore this new development.”

He grinned. “Jeno to the rescue…”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[messrmoonyy]

- you sunshine, you temptress

Tess Servopoulos x Female reader

Request- already in like Jackson, and so Ellie and Joel live together but Tess doesn’t. They’re new in town so they’re still not used to the whole nice civilized thing, but the reader is her nice neighbor who wears her down. She plants stuff and even like cooks for tess. But she’s not a wimp either, very skilled with guns and stuff. Just a fic where they meet and like reader takes care of Tess. Smut too if you want

A/N- I took this request and ran with it. It took me a long ass time I apologise but I do really like how this turned out. It became far more angsty than I’m sure you wanted it to be but. Here we are. I wanted to explore an idea that Tess didn’t like Jackson and took time to adjust, didn’t really like reader as well. Tess leaning to adjust and love and be loved. Also in transferring this over none of my italics saved and I could’nt be fucked to go back through this again and add them back lmao

Warnings- 18+ | tess is quite low for the majority of this, canon compliant discussions of death and violence, vague/ implied smut (wc- 13.2k )

Tess masterlist | AO3 - Tess requests are open but not currently top priority

SPRING

Tess didn’t like Jackson. Not at first. The drastic change from Boston to the nomadic lifestyle she had been living with Ellie and Joel as they crossed the country had been difficult enough. But to then transfer to something so wildly different from both of those things? Yeah. It took some getting used to.

She didn’t quite know what she had been expecting really. Maybe something like Boston but without the soldiers. Small pockets of people doing their own things to get by, together for safety but nothing much else. Not the working, thriving town she had walked into. Not the cleanliness, the stores, the diner, the hot water- that apparently was only a little temperamental in the colder months compared to year round like Boston- and clean clothes. Jobs. Families. Farming. She felt like she was in an alternate dimension.

She didn’t like the way everyone was so… cheerful. Which was a weird thing to say, but it was true. Because it threw her off.

She had developed her own bubble of happiness with Joel and Ellie over the months. They laughed together at Ellie’s shitty jokes, shared in her joy when she found a can of ravioli she liked. But would be stoney faced in an instant to protect each other. Joel and Ellie she loved like family, they were her family. She was used to warm smiles from them, a desire to be near her and talk to her. She wasn’t used to it from others.

Other people were scared of her. They moved out of her way and they did as she asked. They kept their heads down in case they upset her and they didn’t cross her path. But not in Jackson. No.

They smiled at her in the street, asked her how she was, said good morning.

And it spooked her. She didn’t like it. And she hated that she didn’t. That she had become so hardened that genuine kindness scared her. Because no one was kind anymore. No one showed care unless they wanted something else in return.

So she didn’t know how to take it. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the new found trust people had in her, their ease at having her around. To her surprise Joel didn’t seem to be struggling as much. He had Tommy back after all and that seemed to be easing his discomfort. Ellie was fitting in… kinda. Her colourful vocabulary and brashness had put some of the kids off at first. But they seemed to be warming to her now.

So it was just her. Trapped in some odd isolated headspace where she didn’t quite know what to do. She didn’t mention it to Joel, didn’t want to interfere with him and Tommy as they rebuilt their relationship again. Maria had tried to pull Tess into things more, and Tess liked her. Maria didn’t take shit, she had power and was in charge. People respected her. And she didn’t let Tess mope around for too long either.

But even Maria couldn’t quite pull her out of that disconnected state completely.

Part of her felt she was being ungrateful. She was alive and as safe as anyone could possibly hope to be in the current climate. Joel was alive. Ellie was alive. She was alive. But there was just… something.

Maybe a sick part of her missed it. Missed Boston. But then again maybe it wasn’t so sick. She hadn’t liked Boston really. But spending so long in one place would always make it hard to leave behind. Even the things she had so often complained about. She found she couldn’t even sleep on her new bed, Jackson having been looked after for so long that the mattress was actually still soft. She was too used to the lumpy one in the zone, and sleeping on the ground for months.

She’d been sleeping on the couch since she’d arrived. If she even managed to sleep at all, unable to fall asleep on the soft sheets and bed.

She missed her power too. Got tetchy when she thought about who was running operations back in the zone now. Who was living in her and Joel’s apartment, had they found their stash? Who was selling her shit and walking around like she had? She had to remind herself she shouldn’t care. That wasn’t her life anymore. It never would be again. Boston was a distant memory she needed to put to rest.

But it was difficult.

The new house felt too big. The town too clean. The people too nice. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself. She mildly regretted living separately from Joel. Just out of… familiarity. She wasn’t used to such an open space to herself. Even before the outbreak the house she had shared with her husband and son hadn’t been so big. And she had had two other bodies to fill the space.

In Boston that tiny apartment she had had Joel to fill the gaps.

But she knew she couldn’t impose on him any longer. Joel was handsome and mellowing. He would no doubt find someone in town… and she couldn’t be the one to stand in the way of that. Especially seeing as she herself had no desire to go there. Their relationship had always been purely platonic and she had no intention of changing that.

So when Maria had asked, she had taken her own place. Ellie had taken the garage. They all had their own space. But those two seemed far better at living in it than she was.

It had taken that stark shift though for her to realise that maybe she simply wasn’t made for being alone. She had met her husband in college. They had moved in together immediately after, and had their son young. Then she’d fallen into the group heading for Boston, met Joel… she’d never really been alone.

Though she also wasn’t particularly doing anything to change that either. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Back in Boston she’d get lonely from time to time, would go out and pick someone up with ease. Now? She didn’t know where that confidence had gone.

She felt people looking at her when she ventured out. She knew she wasn’t exactly unattractive, she knew people liked to look. But she had no desire to pursue. She didn’t even entertain them for a second. And they all grew bored of trying and moved on.

Everyone was friendly enough, but some kept their distance when they realised she wasn’t the… happiest of people. But one person didn’t let the permanent frown glued to Tess’ face deter them.

You.

You lived across the street from her, would wave hello every morning when Tess ventured out to find out what tasks Maria had to keep her busy for the day. You’d smile. You’d say hello. You even left her things on the porch.

And you liked flowers.

She gathered that pretty quickly. The window boxes were full, potted bushes and blooms littered your porch and edge of the dirt path street. It made her own place look incredibly dull. But maybe that was fitting.

She’d never been one for flowers. So expensive for them to just sit and wilt away in a vase, to be left with nothing but some crisped petals and dead stems within a week. So amongst the sandwiches and pies left at her door, the odd flowering embellishments she knew came from you.

A lot of people in town left stuff for her and Joel, to welcome them. To give them things they needed. She didn’t like accepting any of it. She didn’t like the feeling of… owing people. Feeling like they would have a hold over her, that they had given her a new jacket so now she owed them something. That you had left her a pie so now you were owed something too.

So she left the majority of it exactly where it was placed on the porch, Maria being the one to bring them inside for her.

“ You are gonna attract every damn animal in town if you keep leaving this stuff on your porch Tess “ Maria used as a greeting when Tess opened the door one morning, seeing the woman standing there with what seemed to be a loaf in her hands “ and wasting food? Really? Especially this? Now this looks delicious. Still warm too “ Tess scoffed but before she could speak she heard your voice.

“ Good morning Maria! Good morning Tess! “ she looked over Maria’s shoulder to see you jogging down your porch steps and waving, thankfully turning to walk into town rather than try and start a conversation

“ morning hun “ Maria responded with a smile, glancing over to Tess when she ignored you as she always did.

“ what? “ Maria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in the way she so often did when she was at her wits end. Usually with Ellie and Joel’s bickering.

“ I’ve told you a million times. We all get along here. It’s a small town Tess, you can’t have grudges. Or.. at least public ones. I have a few secret ones myself “ Tess sighed and stepped back to let Maria inside, who only sighed too when she eyed the blanket on the couch “ you’re still sleeping on the couch? “

Tess brushed her off and grabbed her boots from by the door, sitting down to pull them on. She could already sense another of Maria’s lectures brewing, and the headache pulsing behind her temples made her hope she’d hold off on it.

“ I just fell asleep there I was… reading “ Maria did not seem even remotely convinced and walked through to place the bread down in the kitchen.

“ And what’s with the silent treatment with the doll across the street? “

“ she’s too… happy “ Maria laughed and shook her head

“ She's harmless. She’s kind “

“ she’s fuckin annoying “ Maria’s eyebrows flew up and she gave a small laugh again

“ Theresa “ it sounded almost scolding. Tess scoffed at that “ you sound like Ellie “ Tess scoffed again. Fucking Ellie?

“ calling me a kid now Maria? “

“ yeah. Cause you’re acting like one “ she sighed and stood with her hands on her hips, the way that told anyone nearby that she meant business. To shut the fuck up and listen to her “ you’re here now. And you need to stop isolating yourself “ she walked over to her and placed a hand to her arm, a gentle comforting squeeze “ I know it’s hard. I do. But you have to try “

She knew she did. She was just stubborn and stuck in her ways. And you really were… peppy. One of those people that seemed constantly in a good mood, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses and trying to spread your joy.

Tess’ own glasses had smashed a long long time ago. And she saw no reason for the amount of joy you seemed to hold.

“ I’m trying “

“ Try harder then “ Maria said before folding her arms and tilting her head a little as she watched her “ what’s going on with you? “ Tess stood up again and ran a hand through her hair, wishing she knew. Wishing she had the words to explain.

But how could she? How could she tell Maria that she wanted to go home? She wanted Boston back. That she felt out of place in Jackson and had never felt as lonely as she did in her entire life.

“ I’m fine. I’m just tired. Shall we go? “ Maria didn’t seem convinced but nodded, following her outside.

It was a nice day. Spring was in full swing now, in the weeks between Salt Lake City and settling into town the chill of winter had finally disappeared. She could see daffodils sprouting in the window boxes of your house. Her own were barron.

“ I’ve put you on farming rotation today. Sounds good? “ she nodded “ okay. It’s easy enough. Pot things, label things, pull things. It’s quite therapeutic “ she’d be the judge of that one.

She followed Maria around to the greenhouses, watching how people greeted her and smiled when they saw her. She didn’t know whether she was jealous or annoyed.

“ okay. Greenhouse 4, shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. When you’ve finished in there come find me if you want to help out some more. Okay? "She followed where Maria was pointing and stopped when she spotted someone already inside greenhouse 4.

“ are you fuckin kidding me Maria“

You.

Maria smiled and squeezed her shoulders, leaning close to her ear

“ Be nice “ Tess scoffed and turned to try and beg her to assign her anywhere else but there, but Maria was already walking off.

“ Maria- “

“ be. Nice! “

“ fuck “ she gave a frustrated huff and headed into the greenhouse, you turned around at the sound with that usual beaming smile on your face. She didn’t have the energy for this today. Didn’t have the energy for you.

“ Oh hi. I didn’t know I was paired with you today “ she stood not really knowing what she was supposed to do, annoyance practically steaming out of her ears “ you wanna get that side and I’ll continue with this side? Seeds are in that bag there, compost and soil is there, tools in the crate under the table. Okay? “

She gave a small nod and headed for the crate of tools, pulling out a small trowel and grabbing a pot. But she found her hands refusing to move. Simply staring down at the equipment in her hands. It felt like a weight was pushing down on her shoulders, crushing her chest, turning all of her muscles to lead.

“ I thought Maria would’ve had you trained up for patrols by now “ you said lightly, the sound of your trowel filling another pot “ from what I’ve heard your pretty handy with a gun “

What had you heard?

“ yeah “ she said, almost having to force herself to reply “ soon… they don’t like new people straight on patrol “ her hands still wouldn’t move.

“ figures. You could always ask her to put you on my regular route at first if you like. It’s one of the busier ones, you seem a little stressed. And well blowing the head off a clicker might be beneficial “ you laughed as you said it but quite frankly she felt you were right.

She didn’t like being unarmed. Adults in town were allowed to own their own weapons but weren’t to bring them out of their house unless they were heading on patrol. Her back pocket felt too empty without her gun there. Her fingers itched to hold it, if only for the familiarity of the metal on her fingers.

“ or why don’t you see if she’ll assign you on the hunting crew? Shooting rabbits isn’t exactly as fun as putting down clickers but. You know it’s something “ you seemed fully convinced that the answer to Tess’ supposed stress was killing something one way or another.

What had you heard about her? Who had been talking?

“ right “ she still hadn’t potted a single seed, some unmoving crushing sense of dread still heavy on her shoulders.

She didn’t know why the weight of her problems was weighing her down so heavily in the last few days. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just adjust to Jackson. Why was she feeling more anxious and depressed in the safest possible place she could be, than when she had been living under the looming threat of being murdered everyday?

No normal person's mind worked that way. No normal decent person craved the life she had once had. The familiarity back at least. She felt sick.

You were humming a song to yourself now. It felt irrationally loud in her ears. She could hear Maria’s voice in her head too. Telling her to try. To try be nice. Try to mingle.

“ thank you. For the bread “ she said in an attempt at conversation. She’d known it was you that had left it. Had seen the sprig of some kind of flower tucked into the cloth it was wrapped in. Obviously you “ but I don’t need charity “

“ it’s not charity “ you said, the sound of your tools stilling “ it’s a gift. I don’t know… welcome to town gesture that’s all “

“ Whatever it was. I don’t need it “ maybe this wasn’t exactly nice. But it needed to be said “ you can take it back if you want. I haven’t touched it “

“ alright “ she didn’t have to look at you to know your face would be reminiscent of a kicked puppy “ keep the lavender though. It’s calming… it’ll help you sleep” she turned around to look at you then. How did you know she wasn’t sleeping?

“ how- “

“ I came from a QZ myself, I spent years after that roaming. I know it takes time to adjust Tess. I barely slept a wink when I first got here… paranoid an infected was gonna jump me in my sleep or FEDRA was gonna come arrest me cause they suspected me of rebel activity… silly I know but. Our brains are hardwired into survival mode and it takes some time to shake it off “

It sounded genuinely sincere. Caring. She barely knew you and yet you seemed as though you actually wanted to help her. It made her skin prickle.

“ yeah. Well. I’m not you “ she turned back around as if to resume her previous activity. Though she had still not potted a single seed.

“ That's very clear “ even annoyed you sounded remotely cheerful still. Like no malice truly laced your words.

What was she doing here? The world was a hell hole, it was full of shitty people all doing shitty things. And there she was planting fucking carrots. In some odd altercation with you about her behaviour.

“ Tess? Everything okay? "Your hand falling on her shoulder shocked her into reality. She stepped away from your touch, moving so quickly it was as if you’d burnt her, heading for the door. She felt like she was suffocating she needed to get out “ Tess? “

“ I- I have to go “ you hurried out after her and she took a deep breath of the fresh air trying to calm herself. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t skittish and scared. She didn’t get anxious and erratic. She didn’t recognise herself anymore.

“ Can I do anything? I can get Maria or-“

“ look. I know you mean well. But I don’t need… any of this. I don’t need you thinking you’re helping all of the time “ her words were harsh and as much as you annoyed her, it was like looking at a kicked puppy “ just. Stop “

She turned away from you and headed straight for home. Home. Home that felt nothing like the word.

She felt ungrateful. People were sleeping out in the woods or in derelict buildings basically waiting to be attacked by infected. And she had a house. Warmth. Safety. But she couldn’t shake the feelings and she hated it.

She closed the town out behind her, closing the door and leaning against it to catch her breath. Why was this all so difficult for her? Why was she so incapable of adjusting to some kind of regular society again?

She debated talking to Joel. If anyone in town understood her it was him. Joel knew her inside out, could talk to her with just a look, knew what she was going to do before she did it. But he was settling in fine. He wasn’t struggling like she was. She didn’t want to weigh him down with that when he finally seemed so light.

She hid away for the rest of the day, almost expecting Maria to come and drag her back out again. But she didn’t to her relief. She had her peace and quiet to mope. To wallow in her own stupid sadness and isolation.

Until the evening.

She sighed when there was a knock on the door, probably Ellie ready to go charging around the room rambling off every piece of information about her day with an amused Joel in tow. Though she actually wouldn’t mind that.

But it wasn’t Ellie. Or Joel.

“ hey “

“ I thought- “

“ I know. Look. I just wanted to come and tell you I was sorry if I offended you or something. You just… you seemed like you needed a friend and I wanted to help “ she could tell you genuinely meant it. That you truly were one of those people that was just… nice. Good. Even after the past two decades that had twisted and warped so many others, herself included, you had somehow remained what she assumed was the same.

“ well I don’t… need any help “ you gave a small nod but didn’t immediately leave, shuffling a little awkwardly on the spot “ anything else? “

“ I noticed. I noticed you don’t have anything in the window boxes. I have some spare seeds… flowers can really help brighten the place up. I find that on sad days it’s always a little bit nicer to look at a flower than an empty box “ she opened her mouth to decline, to tell you she didn’t want you in her way. But you seemed to anticipate it “ you won’t even have to see me. Or talk to me. I can do it when you’re not home or if you are I can… I can just knock so you know I’m there. So you can wait for me to leave or- it’s just an idea “

She figured that in the long run giving you something to do that you might take as being helpful, might actually make you leave her alone a little more. And so, ever so slightly reluctantly, she sighed and nodded.

“ fine “ the smile on your face after that almost made her want to smile too. Almost. So kind. So genuine. So… bright.

“ yeah? Okay. Do you have any preferences? Or allergies? Colours maybe- “ she lifted a hand in a silent request for you to shut up.

Be nice.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gave a steady sigh, forcing some attempt at a smile onto her face.

“ anything. Anything is fine “ you gave a nod and turned slightly before pausing. You seemed to debate something for a moment before delving into your pocket and pulling out a small jar of something that looked like jam.

“ I know… I know you said you didn’t want- it goes real nice with the bread “ she waited a second before taking it from your hands. You said nothing else, just gave her a small nod of a goodbye and headed down the steps and across the street.

That evening she ate bread with the jam. It was annoyingly good.

———————————

You’d appeared the next morning to plant the seeds. And then you tended to them everyday. Watering them and doing god knows what to the soil. You would let her know you were there each time, a small knock on the door that you didn’t even mind if she didn’t answer. Just letting her know you were out there. Just as you’d said.

And as time passed she found herself answering it from time to time. Just poking her head around the door to see what you were doing, always there with your small watering can and a smile.

And that was okay. You were okay. Nothing else in her life felt right at that moment. But having a new constant did. And she had to admit that even when she woke up on the couch, rubbing at her sore neck, seeing the sprouts through the window almost made her crack a smile. Almost.

SUMMER

As the cold completely shifted from Jackson’s air she found that not even the warmth could truly raise her mood completely. Everyone in town seemed far more cheery, like the sun had some odd healing ability to make everyone more joyful after the bitter winter and the final week of spring which had been nothing but solid rain fall.

Though Tess, begrudgingly enough, found that her own joys still only stemmed from her family. But also from you. As much as she refused to admit it, she’d found herself looking forward to your small knocks on her door each morning, or on mornings where she left early for patrol she found herself almost hoping you’d be on the porch with your watering can and your smile.

Which she didn’t exactly understand or care to understand either. In fact she blatantly ignored the voices in her head warning that she was going soft. That she was beginning to almost look at you as some kind of friend.

She opened the door more often than not now, even made attempts to ask you about the flowers or ask about your day. You never probed her about herself which she liked. You didn’t pry. You let her be. You let her keep her walls fiercely guarded without so much as a complaint. And she kind of hated the fact that made her like you a little more.

And that morning was no different to the rest now, you had knocked and she had gone out to say hello. Had offered you tea and you had accepted as you so often did.

Her night had been filled with bad dreams. And she had feared that it would send her into another one of those days. Where she wanted to do nothing but hide and mope. But she had forced herself to go outside. At least to say hello.

Annoyingly to her, Maria had been right. And she lived there now. And that meant she had to try. She had to try adjust. Fit in. Be… nice.

She still felt wary around you. Maybe even more so because of how she was beginning to sort of like you. Or maybe tolerate was the better word. She told herself it was anyway. But she had been in Jackson a few months at this point. And after a few months your joy and happiness was bound to wear her down. Even if she was reluctant about it.

“ you know if you take good enough care of these they’ll bloom next spring too “ you said as she hovered by the door watching you “ it takes time and care though. Pretty things but strong enough to survive the winter if they’re tended too correctly “ your eyes flitted up to her for a moment as you said it and she felt the statement were a little more loaded than just being about the flowers.

“ I’ll leave that up to you “ you smiled warmly and looked back down at the plants.

“ here’s hoping “

Tess watched you carefully, still unsure exactly how to pinpoint what she was feeling. She was beginning to like having you around. But also your joy drove her insane. You were annoying. So unbelievably annoying with your bright smile and desire to care.

And yet… you had managed to be the one to coax her out of the house. Yes it was only to her porch but it was still out. You had given her something to almost look forward to each day.

She didn’t like it.

“ oh shit “ she blinked a couple of times to drag herself out of her head to see blood in her peripheral, dripping between your fingers and between the floorboards of the porch.

“ what did you- “

“ fucking sheers they slipped I. Look, it's fine it’s just a cut… You got a bandage or something? “ Tess nodded and glanced towards her door. She realised how bad it would seem to keep you out on the porch. To just leave you there whilst she went looking. But also the thought of you in her home…

“ yeah. Do you wanna… come in? Wanna wash it or something “ part of her almost wished you’d say no, but the relief on your face made her regret the thought instantly

“ thanks Tess “ she headed straight for the kitchen. Not even looking to see if you were behind her, rummaging around in a cupboard for her box of medical supplies.

“ wash it. The sink “ she murmured, watching you carefully from the corner of her eye as you headed for the sink beside her, cupping your hand in some attempt to not drip blood onto the tiles. She looked at your bloody hands, ignoring the guilt rising in her chest at the fact you had injured yourself doing something for her, and reached out for you. She held your cut hand in her palm, leading it carefully under the water. She could feel you watching her, eyes almost burning into her skin as she gently washed away the blood and the soil.

She focussed on the pink swirls twisting down the drain rather than looking at you.

She didn’t like it. Didn’t like how you put her on edge. She didn’t want to go delving into why exactly that was either. Why in the space of 6 months she had gone from despising your very existence, to having you in her home because you’d hurt yourself tending to her flowers. It was a lot to try and process all in one go.

“ Marias always laughing at me “ you said as she turned off the water “ says I’m one of the best snipers in town yet I’m clumsy as shit with anything else. Can shoot a clicker miles off but can’t handle a pair of gardening shears? Idiot “

Maria had told her all about your impressive skills out on patrols. She was yet to see them for herself though, Maria hadn’t paired you together yet. Thankfully. Though she couldn’t lie that curiosity on the matter was strong. She’d always had some morbid fascination with the nicest of people that were able to kill like it was second nature.

A silent chaos raging behind a gentle smile.

“ guns more important than sheers “

“ well that depends on the situation don’t you think? Gun won’t help clip the weeds “

She bandaged your hand silently with the care and tenderness that few saw from her, wrapping it up and admiring her work for a second.

She stood back when she was done not exactly knowing what to say anymore. And she hated it. Despised it. Tess always knew what to say. She was always one step ahead of everyone in the room, but she faltered when it came to you. And she didn’t know why. Or what power you seemed to hold over her as of late. Was it your kindness? Was it the simple fact that you had never shown her nothing but care and respect since day one and she just didn’t know how to accept it? Maybe.

She wandered if you noticed how she looked out of place in her own home. Surrounded by so many things that she had no connection to. Objects that weren’t hers, placed into a house that had once been lived in by others. Loved by others.

Like so many others she had gotten used to not getting attached to materialistic things. She could see you glancing around, how you could probably see that from the way the place looked so… bare. Unloved by her. Un- lived in by her. That you probably figured it out pretty quickly.

You were watching her intently as you wandered the kitchen and she didn’t like it, she didn’t like the way you made her feel like a prey animal ready to dart any moment. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t prey. She wasn’t the hunted. She was the hunter. She was the one with the upper hand.

But not with you. Not with you and your unyielding kindness and desire to know her.

So she turned around and started packing away the medical box slowly and carefully. Just to give her hands something to do.

“ why are you so afraid of me? “ you asked suddenly and she turned around with a confused look on her face. Afraid of you? Why would she possibly be afraid of someone like you.

“ what are you talking about? “

“ you’re afraid. You won’t let me in. You barely even let me be your friend. You keep trying to scare me away with being so… miserable. You have to let people in Tess… and I think it’s because you’re scared yourself I- “

“ I’m not afraid of you “ She said immediately. Her heckles raised at the intrusion. And at the confusion for your sudden lack of ability to not interfere “ are you afraid of me? “ she asked, her voice calm. And low and steady. Intimidating. The way she spoke to people in Boston who were pissing her off and she needed to remind them who she was. Her eyes had not left you for even a second. They were burning into you. Calculated. Smart. Intense.

Some desperate attempt and desire to keep you out. To make you back off. Even if it meant missing those morning knocks and tea on the porch. She couldn’t let you in. She wouldn’t.

But you weren’t afraid of her. You never had been. She could tell. You were stubborn. So unbearably kind but stubborn. Stubborn in the way you had kept up your daily visits even when she wouldn’t answer her door, in the way you still waved at her before she even spoke to you. So stubborn in the way you were standing your ground before her.

“ no. I know I should be. I know what you did. But I’m not “ she folded her arms across her chest, quirking a brow. Who had you been talking to? What could you possibly know. So you hadn’t been refraining from asking her questions all along, you’d been getting your information else where. She was almost impressed. It was smart. Calculated even.

At this point she wouldn’t be surprised if you’d cut yourself on purpose to get inside and make her talk.

“ oh? Oh you know what I did? “

“ someone in town… was gossiping I- everyone’s done bad things “ you said with a shrug.

“ what do you know? “ she advanced on you then. Slowly. Crossing the room to where you stood by the wall. You didn’t move. You held your ground.

“ a lot “

“ tell me “ she wanted to hear you say it. To confirm if what you knew was true. But also because maybe some sick part of her needed reminding what she had once been capable of. Of what she had been before she had become that misery of a human whose only joys came from her pseudo kid and the woman who planted flowers for her.

“ all the people you killed. Tortured “ your voice had dropped to almost a whisper as she stood in front of you. But you still didn’t look scared. And she couldn’t decide how that made her feel. Annoyed? Because she clearly didn’t hold the fear inducing powers she once had. Or… relieved? That she had finally come across someone that took what she had done and dusted it under the rug. Accepted it and moved on.

“ and it doesn’t scare you? “

“ you must’ve had your reasons “ there was a heavy tension hanging in the air, she could feel it thickly between you. Soon enough one of you would choke “ I know what you did. I don’t care. You can’t scare me away Tess “ at this point she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

No one had challenged her like that. No one like you anyway. No one so… sweet.

Her old self would’ve laughed. Would’ve laughed in your face and thrown you out. But then again. Her old self would’ve laughed at what she had become too.

Things had changed. And she needed to accept it.

“ stop trying to scare me off “ to her surprise you reached up, your hand gentle on her face. She recoiled at first. As if your fingers were steeped in acid and you’d blistered her skin with your touch. But you waited a moment and did it again. And she froze, unsure of what you were doing or how she was supposed to react to it “ I want to be your friend. Let me. You don’t have to scare every single person that wants to care for you away. If anything you damn well need it “

She didn’t know what to say. Stood there like she was made of stone with your gentle hand on her cheek, your face full of nothing but warmth and affection for her. She felt like a deer in headlights.

“ you don’t know what I need “ she finally spoke, taking a single step back so that your hand fell away. Though she was certain she could still feel it. A kind touch was so unfamiliar to her, so rare that it lingered in her skin “ you know nothing about me “

“ I know enough “ so stubborn. So unwilling to take no for an answer or let yourself be pushed away. She kind of liked it. Liked the challenge “ you have to let people in. Let me in. I know how you feel- “

“ how could you possibly know how I feel “ she almost spat “ you’ve lived here. Comfortable and safe “ you gave a small laugh at that

“ not always “ she didn’t know why she had assumed you had been there so long, maybe because you were so… settled. Adapted “ spent two years captured by a bunch of slavers before I even set foot in Jackson. I’m not some sheltered little girl born into comfort Tess “ she took a step back, eyes narrowing as she tried to asses the new information presented to her.

She knew about slavers. Had been taken by them herself at one point. But two years? She had been there two days, in a tiny camp as they prepared to move her to their main base before she’d managed to get away. Those two days had been hell. She couldn’t imagine two years.

Maybe she had underestimated you after all.

But before she could answer you properly there was another knock to her door.

“ only me! “ Maria’s voice sounded as she entered the house, opening her mouth to say something else but stopping when she saw you stood there. She looked violently overjoyed “ oh! I’m sorry. Didn’t know you had company “ it must have been an odd sight to walk into. Tess as stoney faced as ever and you practically gazing at her.

“ sorry I- “

“ did you need something? “ Tess asked

“ lunch, the whole family. Good haul from the hunting crew today “ family. Her family. As dysfunctional as it was she very much wanted to escape the current situation and see them “ but if you’re busy- “

“ no. I’m not. She was just leaving “ she glanced over at you as you gave a small nod and a smile, quietly excusing yourself and heading for the door.

“ just. Think about what I said Tess? I’ll see you tomorrow “

She didn’t hear the end of that for the entirety of lunch. Maria not usually one to pry. But knowing very much that Ellie and Tommy would. Casually mentioning it and… that was that.

Ellie seemed particularly delighted. Looking at her in a way that she recognised from her own childhood when she realised liking girls wasn’t just a her thing. That she wasn’t the only one. But Tess didn’t probe. Though she was happy in the knowledge Ellie would come to her if she needed.

“ y’know I think it’s real nice “ Joel said to her when she stepped outside stating she needed a little air “ she’s softenin you “ Tess scoffed and folded her arms across her chest

“ you have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s a neighbour. And she looks after the flowers. She’s a pain in my ass”

“ baby steps Tess “ she glanced over at him and he was giving her that look that said he knew something was going on inside her head “ you leave the house more now “

“ to my porch and back “ she mumbled not entirely wanting to get into that conversation. She was not in the mood to discuss her long hours trapped inside her house. And her head.

“ baby. Steps “ she sighed and ran a hand over her face. She was tired.

“ she wants to be my friend “ it sounded so unbelievably juvenile to say out loud. She almost regretted saying it

“ and… you don’t want that? “

“ no “ she said maybe a little too quickly

“ right “ she could feel him watching her, trying to read her as he so often did. The way only two people who had been together for so long could do “ I don’t think I believe that “

“ I’m not asking you to “ he sighed again, used to her stubbornness. Her bad moods.

“ you are allowed to have friends Tess. And… more than that. I don’t know what that girls intentions are, I don’t pretend to know how your mind works either. But if you really didn’t like her then why are you still lettin her around? Tess I know would’ve told her to fuck off and threatened her for good measure for even tryna talk to you if you didn’t like her “

“ you’re talking shit “ he laughed and shrugged

“ you’re proving my point. Tess. Just do something. If you want her? Go get her. Tess I know would. And if not? Tell her to leave you be. Cause this mood you’re in… it’s not nice to see “

“ ‘ the Tess you know’ “ she muttered under breath. She didn’t feel like that Tess anymore.

By the time she walked home she couldn’t tell if she was more annoyed by the entire situation or relieved by it because somehow Joel of all people had begun to put things into perspective for her.

Maybe it was both.

Though the annoyance was slightly winning out. She wasn’t soft. She didn’t like the implications that you were softening her. She was stronger than that. Stronger than you. She hadn’t pushed you away because Maria said she needed to be nice. That’s why.

It was.

Wasn’t it?

She felt a sudden desperate need to prove to herself that what she was thinking was correct. And not Joel.

She was not soft. She was in control.

She didn’t quite know what it was that compelled her feet to head up your porch steps rather than her own. Knocking on the door before she’d even fully come to a halt.

Waiting impatiently for you to answer, looking a little surprised to see her when you did appear.

She pushed past the threshold, watching you take a step back in mild confusion at her sudden intrusion, cupping your face in both her hands and kissing you. You stumbled for barely half a second, kissing her back with a muffled moan and your fingers wrapping around her wrists.

The confidence she was used to felt far more present in your space, in the four walls of your home rather than her own.

She pressed you up against the closest wall, kissing you like her life depended on it. Far more in control than she was a few hours earlier. Than she had been in a while.

And this was it. This was the familiarity she had craved wasn’t it? This was the power she had been missing, the ability to take what she wanted when she wanted it. Even when she wasn’t entirely sure it was what she wanted.

So why didn’t it feel the same. Why did it not even slightly fill the void in her chest.

You were breathing heavily as she pulled away to catch her own breath, a joyful almost dopey smile on your face. You looked so incredibly beautiful. Sweet.

She’d break you. She would. She knew she would. It was a vicious awful cycle. Anyone she got close to got hurt. Friend or… more. It would all end the same way.

“ this won’t end well “ she said quietly, not entirely meaning to say it out loud. The words escaping her as she watched you, someone so beautiful and kind didn’t belong with someone like her.

Someone who had not let the awful things that happened to them twist them into something unrecognisable. In the way that Tess had.

It would be a mess.

“ maybe not “ you answered, voice just as quiet “ but did you ever stop to think that maybe it will be okay? “

“ no “ you laughed softly, head leaning back against the wall and your eyes falling closed for a moment. She wished she could have such a carefree look. She didn’t think her face even knew how to relax into such an expression.

“ have a little faith “

AUTUMN

It had been over 20 years since her life had completely fallen apart. And a lot could happen in 20 years. A lot had happened. Tess was good at having bad shit happen and then burying it so deep down that she didn’t have to think about it. She was good at having a blank face when inside she was screaming. But in the end, one person could only hide so much stuff for so long. Eventually it would spill. And every now and again it did.

And when it did? It was suffocating.

It struck her out of no where. She never saw it coming.

Sometimes it almost scared her. Scared her that the stuff she had done wasn’t even the worst of what kept her up at night. She had no remorse for the people she had killed. Tortured. Those bodies and those sounds. They didn’t haunt her. The stuff that had come before that had damaged her beyond repair.

The first few years had been the worst. Before FEDRA had full control, before any rules were in full effect. When everyone ran rampant, when people looted and murdered because they felt like it. When groups formed and did whatever they wanted. To who they wanted. When Tess had been alone. Had left her home with nothing but the clothes on her back and ran. And ran. And by some miracle survived.

That time before Joel. Before the entirety of the group making their way up to Boston.

Tess didn’t get scared. She wasn’t afraid of things. But she had been back then. She had been so afraid.

So utterly powerless and out of control.

She tried to see the positives as ridiculous as it sounded. Tried to twist the shitty things that had happened. The shitty things that she had done. She had done them to survive. And maybe that scared her even more. That she felt justified in her actions.

That she could think back to certain people she had tortured. Killed. Ambushed. And justify it. Not feel as though she had done the wrong thing at all.

And that she would do it all again if she needed to.

She would throw herself in front of trucks feigning an injury. Just a poor, defenceless woman. Beg for help only for Joel and the others to spring from the bushes and take everything they had. She’d kill every man and woman that got in the way of her rise in the smuggling ring. She’d tortured ever last piece of information out of those fuckers who had taken Ellie. Murdered every. Last. Firefly. In that hospital.

All again. A million times over.

But her humanity was still in her somewhere. Buried deep down but there. And when it reared its head it was ugly. Filled with words to make her feel like the worst person alive. Fill her ears with the strangled cries of her son. The sickening sound of the blood that pooled in her husband’s throat.

It made her feel numb. Like she was floating. No longer in her body and desperately trying to claw her way back down to it.

“ Tess? “ she was too lost to react. Too deep inside her own head to even turn around and look at you. But she knew that voice. The voice that had become as familiar as Maria’s. Ellie’s. Joels “ Tess what are you doing it’s freezing out here “ your voice was soft compared to the voices that were screeching inside her head, soothing. Gentle. Quieter yet somehow speaking over the screaming ones.

Your hands fell onto her arm and she flinched, shifting away from your touch.

“ hey. Sorry “ you said softly, hands raised in some kind of surrender “ won’t touch you again “ the voices were still shouting at her, but a little further off now. Like she was on one side of the room and they were on the other. And wasn’t that interesting. Where in the past only Joel had been able to coax her back to reality. Ground her. Now you had. And she had known you far less “ can I sit? “ she gave a small nod and you sat down, leaving a small gap between you both.

Things between the two of you had been a little different as of late.

You hadn’t kissed since that day she’d barged through your front door and re established that she was very much the one holding the reins. But she was letting herself be lighter. Trying her hardest to open up to you. To go into town more. Smile back at people. And it was hard. And slow going. But she was getting there.

Baby steps. Like Joel had said.

“ I’m gonna go get a blanket okay? It’s so cold “ she listened as you went inside, returning a few moments later.

“ why are you here? “ she asked as you sat down beside her again, wrapping the blanket around you both.

“ I was out on late patrol. I saw the light on… was gonna come see why you were still up. Have a chat or something… you didn’t answer so I just poked my head inside and I saw the back door was open“

She gave a small nod and continued staring out at the backyard. She hadn’t really done much to it. But there was a rope swinging attached to the large tree at the bottom now. Ellie loved it.

“ do you need to talk? About anything? “ you asked quietly “ it’s what friends are for you know. Talking “

“ I’ve never been very good at friends “ you gave a small laugh and nodded

“ yeah. I figured that one out myself “ you shuffled a little closer to her, nudging her leg with yours “ you must’ve had friends at some point “

The ones that truly stuck in her mind were Bill and Frank. Frank would’ve loved you she realised very quickly. You were so alike. So happy. Made to see the positive in absolutely every single thing. Yet becoming friends with Frank had been far easier than becoming friends with you.

She’d been different back then.

“ I had. I had friends “ she started, realising in that moment that she had never actually spoken about Bill and Frank since they’d died. Her and Joel had done as they always had and refused to talk about it. Let it settle and weigh heavy until it began to dissipate on its own “ they lived a few miles out of Boston. Met them over the radio “

“ they weren’t in a zone? “

“ no. Bill… fuckin crazy been planning for doomsday his whole life. Had the whole town mapped out and wired up “ she actually cracked a small smile thinking about it “ Frank though. I think. I think he’s the closest thing to a friend I really had “

She missed him. She missed them both. And missing Bill was something she never thought she’d feel, even if he was more open to her company than Joel’s.

You listened diligently as she spoke about Lincoln. Dinners in the garden and Bills stash of supplies, the awkwardness that always lingered between Bill and Joel. The bi monthly drop offs that had started increasing in distance as Frank got sicker and Bill got older. And then finding them with Ellie. The silent moment she had taken in the garden to cry for her lost friends whilst Ellie showered and Joel fixed the car.

“ they sound like amazing people “ she shrugged and glanced over at you for a moment. And maybe it was silly of her to take so long to realise it. But maybe she had a friend in you, maybe more than that. Maybe she had done all along and had been too blinded by her own self loathing and moping around to truly notice it.

It was the early hours of the morning and there you were, sat on her porch steps in the dark. Listening to her talk. Comforting her. And she realised that you were exactly what she needed. In that moment and every other moment to follow. Your compassion and your calming force of a personality. The way you cared…. Loved even. Your stubbornness. Your loyalty.

“ thank you “ she said quietly “ for being here “ you looked up at her and smiled. That warm, sweet smile that made even the coldest of days feel mild. Tess was all sharp edges and bitter words, someone so soft should be keeping a safe distance to ensure they didn’t get cut. But you weren’t afraid. You never had been “ for everything “ she didn’t want to elaborate and you didnt make her.

She reached forward to cup your face in her hand, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You understood her in a way it had taken Joel 20 years to. Some odd force of nature that wiggled your way through the cracks in her heavily guarded walls.

Her eyes drifted down to your lips. Remembering the hard, forceful kiss you had shared that one time before. The kind she was used to. The kind she was good at. She wasn’t very good at being tender and caring. Kissing and all that lead from it had long since been something she did out of care and love. It was a means to an end. A release. A way to remind herself she was human.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore.

“ you gonna kiss me or not? “ you whispered. And it made her lips twitch into a smile.

Tess had kissed a lot of people in her time. And if she was perfectly honest she wasn’t entirely a fan. Kisses were not like how the movies or books portrayed them most of the time. Uncoordinated or clumsy, too much teeth or tongue. She didn’t care much for kissing.

But kissing you was different. Kissing you was like a shot of adrenaline straight into her veins. It was the closest she felt she could come to understanding why Joel had been so hooked on pills before Ellie. It was addictive.

But something had changed now. Some locked gate inside of her had finally clicked open and you had seized the opportunity to slip your way inside. And she surprised herself with the realisation that it actually didn’t seem all that terrifying now, having you there. Having those feelings and thoughts.

Of course there was still… something. But it was less so.

Holding your face in her hand, your willingness to let her lead and melt into her. With every soft and gentle movement of her lips against yours she felt herself slipping. Like when the winter storms would hit Boston and her worn down boots couldn’t find grip on the icy paths.

But this slip wouldn’t end with her falling flat on her ass and nursing a bruised leg. You were keeping her tethered. Your fingers that were looped around her wrist, your hair that was tickling her face.

It made her feel startlingly real. Alive. Present. Present in a moment in a way she hadn’t done all day, she’d spent the day drifting. Some far off place in her head where her demons scrambled over her and suffocated the air out of her lungs. But she was breathing fine now, breathing in air that was yours, breathing as if you were her air.

She kissed you until her jaw started to ache, not sure how long it had been or how many quick seconds apart to catch her breath there had been. But when she finally did let you go the fog that had been blinding her all day seemed to have disappeared. Everything felt as though she were looking through glasses that had just had the lenses cleaned.

Sharper. Clearer.

“ it’s really fuckin cold “ she murmured, causing a giggle to bubble past your lips.

“ yeah. It’s freezing “ you didn’t seem even mildly pissed that that had been her first words after practically kissing your face off. Instead you both silently seemed to agree to go inside, collapsing onto her couch and kissing some more.

Something had shifted after that. Had changed after she’d woken up the following morning on the couch with you.

She actively chose to be around you, even more so than she had been. Spent enough time with you that people began to murmur about it. But she found she no longer cared.

There was still an odd weight looming in her chest, one she was certain may never actually go away. But it was far lighter than it had been.

WINTER

Tess had always preferred winter to summer. Especially after Boston. She hated those sticky summer days. Especially in that apartment that was freezing in winter but a sauna in the summer, no comfortable in between. Days when she felt like the heat was suffocating her and every drop of water she drank sweated its way out of her within the minute.

Winter felt so much… fresher. She liked the snow and the opportunities to wrap up and be warm on her own terms.

Some people found it bleak. But she rather enjoyed it.

You seemed to like it too. Because you could use the cold weather as an excuse to be close to her. And it felt nice. To have you there, to have you wanting to be near her. Even if she was beginning to believe you were forgetting your gloves on purpose now so she would hold your hand.

The arrival of the winter months had brought along the silent confirmation that you two were… something now. Dating didn’t feel right. That word didn’t feel like it belonged in the world anymore. And there had been no real discussions of the matter, mostly due to her own refusal to mention it. And ‘girlfriend’… it felt a little juvenile. Even if was Ellie teasing her every fucking day that you were in fact her girlfriend now.

Jackson was starting to feel more like somewhere she could begin to call home. Riding back through the gates with Joel, watching them close behind her but not feeling that feeling of imprisonment anymore. Not feeling as trapped as the walls in Boston, but finally feeling safe.

She walked into the Bison, happy to find it slightly less crowded than it could be. She walked over to the bar, smiling at the guy stood drying off a glass

“ hey… she here? “ something in her still prickled with an odd sense of anxiety that she didn’t need to ask for you by name now. That they all knew who she meant. That Tess would not venture into the bison alone for anyone else, and that you would never be leaving with anyone else but her.

But she pushed it aside.

“ yeah she’s out the back. I’ll grab her “ she waited patiently as he disappeared through the door, glancing around with some still deep rooted fear that someone was watching her. She didn’t think she’d ever shake that. But she had to remind herself that no one there was after her. No one there was watching her to find her weakness and abuse it.

“ hey you “ you appeared through the door a few moments later and you greeted with that beaming smile of yours, looking at her as if she were the singular source of joy in your life. You leant over the bar and she met you half way, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that was… familiar. The kind two people in love shared without thought, something as simple and regular as breathing.

“ having fun? “

“ oh yeah. Making sandwiches, riveting stuff “ she watched you wipe your hands off on a towel before slipping your way out from behind the bar “ but I’d really like to go home now “ Tess nodded and offered you her arm without needing to be asked, your hands slipping into their usual place and huddling close against her.

It was getting chillier out, the sky had taken on that odd yellowy state that signalled impending snow. The kind of day that back in Boston would’ve been some forewarning of an impending low ration season. But there was no such thing in Jackson.

You spoke about your shift in the bison as you walked and Tess listened diligently, all the while silently musing over you asking to go home. And very much heading with Tess towards hers.

But. You stayed over more often than not now. Your things were starting to intermingle with her own, the space that had previously felt so barren and so disconnected from herself… now felt almost like a home.

There were some of Ellie’s drawings tacked to the fridge, her talent alone making the space seem a little more lived in. A few pictures had been framed now too and dotted about the place. Tess, Joel and Ellie over for dinner at Tommy and Maria’s. Another of Ellie pulling a stupid face with Joel looking slightly amused at her side. One of you and her, you beaming at the camera as she looked at you. Maria had taken that one much to Tess’ original dismay. But she was quite thankful for it now.

That was the first piece of you that had made its way into her home.

You had a toothbrush in her bathroom now. A spare jacket on the hooks by the door. A small box of gardening tools by the front door. A hand knitted blanket across the back of her couch.

You were in the air even. The air wafted of the flowers you adored wherever you went, you filled the place she had only ever referred to as a house into home.

And sometimes it almost made her want to laugh. Laugh at herself for what she had become. Tess didn’t take things slow like this. Tess didn’t let her space be invaded by someone else. Tess didn’t have feelings or let herself… love.

Which was exactly what she was feeling more and more these days. Which was completely and utterly terrifying but she found she was just letting it happen. Because she could. And because she was allowed to.

She wasn’t old Tess anymore. If anything she was beginning to feel as though she was slowly becoming more and more like the version of herself that had existed before an apocalypse had destroyed the world. The kind of woman that did date and did take things slow. That had girlfriends or boyfriends and wasn’t scared. Was care free and happy.

And maybe that was more scary than the fear she had felt at losing the version of herself that had developed over 20 years of hell.

She was beginning to think that nothing would ever be without fear these days. But she was working on it. And it was lessening.

And you becoming a permanent fixture in her house was part of that.

Quite often the nights ended exactly as they currently were too. With you walking home together, cuddling up together on the couch to escape the chill of winter.

And making out until she forgot how to breathe.

It had not been more than that. She hadn’t allowed herself to let it be. Had happily let you sit in her lap or let you pull her down over you and sink into the couch cushions. But she never let it progress.

She didn’t truly think about why and you had never asked it of her either. Until tonight.

“ why are you holding back? “ you whispered, pulling back from her slightly. Still close enough that she could feel your breath against her lips.

Why was she holding back?

Because you weren’t some random girl she picked up in the zone because she was bored and lonely. Because until you, sex had become something with little feeling. Something to do because she needed some human contact that wasn’t Joel stitching up a stab wound.

And it was funny, really, when she thought about why she was holding back. Why as much as she may have wanted to, as much as the old her would’ve gone and gotten what she wanted months ago… she hadn’t.

Because it hadn’t felt right. Hadn’t been the time. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than a quick, meaningless fuck off somewhere secluded because she wanted to feel like a human being again. No, you deserved more.

Maybe you still did. She couldn’t figure it out yet.

But what she did know, was if now was not the time then she would wait. She would wait a million and one lifetimes. As much as she knew the short serotonin boost would breathe some life into her for a few hours again… she would endure. Because when she really thought about it, that wasn’t what she wanted really.

She wanted you. Of course she did. Needed you. In every single sense of the phrase. You had been a shiny little light in her darkness, you had prevailed and endured her bitterness to discover something sweet hiding beneath.

And so you deserved the best. Deserved every ounce of love and compassion Tess could find deep within herself.

“ where’d you go? Hm? “ you whispered softly, fingers trailing along the side of her face and tucking an unruly strand of her greying hair behind her ear “ you seem… else where “

“ just thinkin “ your touch was gentle, fingertips somehow still smooth and soft. So different to hers, calloused from years of fighting and doing shitty jobs in the QZ. She felt too rough for you. Too sharp around the edges. Like her hold on you alone could shatter you.

She knew in reality you weren’t delicate. She had watched you shoot like a trained marksmen. Had seen you jump on clickers and stab them until you face was splattered in blood. Chop firewood for town like it was nothing. You were strong. Capable. And yet she felt like she could bruise you like a peach just by looking at you wrong. She was no stranger to your strengths, your capabilities. Yet to her? She felt she could always see you as breakable.

Fine China. Soft fruit. The petals of the flowers you cared so much about.

Soft and pure and delicate. Not made to be touched by the rough and ready hands of the likes of her

And yet…

“ thinking about me? “ you said it with a small laugh, half joking. Half hoping. She gave you a small smile, a small nod.

“ of course “ it came out so quiet she wasn’t even sure she’d really said it right away. But your warm smile told her she had. And you’d heard. And even now, even in that moment, she still took a moment to be amazed at that smile. Amazed that it was because of her. You were smiling because she was thinking of you. You were on her mind. And you liked that.

Her hands twitched slightly at their place on your waist. Almost involuntarily. Like they were trying to make her move, go ahead. Do… something.

You looked down for a second before letting go of your gentle hold of her face, sliding your hands along her arms and trailing your fingers over her wrists.

“ I’m not going to break “ you picked up her hands, moving them down to brush over your ass, your thighs “ you can touch me “ she was afraid she’d do something stupid like blush. So she kissed you again, gently tugging you close by her soft hold on your thighs.

Your hands slid back up her arms, over her shoulders, up to hold the back of her neck, your fingertips slipping under the collar of her shirt. Everything about you was soft. Precise and purposeful. She could practically feel the desire radiating out of your fingers. But also the care.

She hadnt been touched like that in… a while. Touched in a way that conveyed love. A way that was gentle. Caring. Deliberate and slow. Like you wanted to take your time, in a way akin to how you had behaved since you had met her. You wanted to know her. To understand her. To peel back the layers she kept pulling on to keep you out.

And maybe a part of her would always want to keep you out, deep down. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a vulnerability she was still learning to adjust to.

But she was adjusting. Had been. And it felt right now. Felt right having the soft weight of you on her thighs, having your gentle fingers rid her of her sweater. Felt the shame of her equally as raging desire dissipate.

It was okay. She was okay.

She watched your deft fingers carefully unbutton your plaid shirt, one that now she thought about it looked remarkably like one of hers. When had you taken that she wondered.

She let her hands slip over the bare skin of your waist, disappearing under the soft worn cotton of your- her? - shirt. There was a scar along your ribs, the kind that had been there a while. No longer angry and red but faded and soft. She ran her thumb across it.

“ chains “ you said, answering her unasked question.

“ the slavers? “ she murmured, still tracing her thumb over the long stretch of scarred skin. You hummed a reply, your eyes watching her intently

“ plenty of permanent reminders of those fuckers on me “ it still baffled her how you had endured such cruelty and appeared on the other side as gentle as you were. She wanted to track those fuckers down. Torture every single last one that had even looked at you wrong. And reserve a special place in hell for the ones who had left their permanent marks.

She leant forward, dipping her head and pressing her lips to the scar. Your chest deflated in a soft sigh as she did, ghosting her lips over the skin in some feeble attempt to replace the pain with care. Your fingers laced into her hair, silently urging her to kiss you some more. And she did. She kissed up your chest, breath stuttering embarrassingly as her cheek brushed against the cotton covered swell of your chest as she pressed kisses to your sternum.

Everything about you was soft.

She inhaled deeply, your skin smelt of that familiar scent of being outdoors. As if winter air had been bottled and sprayed across your skin like perfume. Something so usually mundane and common place, yet intoxicating on you.

She kissed up your neck, skin in flames with every single soft sigh it caused you to let out.

“ can… can I.. “ you said in between kisses, hands now fumbling with the button of her jeans.

“ not here “ she murmured, pulling away from your lips slightly reluctantly “ you deserve better than the fuckin couch “ that made you smile, head titling to the side inquisitively.

“ well aren’t you just a lady “ Tess scoffed, patting your leg gently to urge you to stand up

“ lady? You must be thinkin of someone else “ you seemed reluctant to stop kissing her, grabbing her multiple times on the way out of the lounge. Including a long pause on the stairs where she almost regretted suggesting you move. And seriously debated just letting the entire thing play out right there on the staircase.

She’d never really been one for kissing. But with you she couldn’t stop. She was obsessed. A woman possessed. And she was taking her time.

But she remained on track. Leading you into her bedroom and the bed she had barely slept in.

She sat down on the edge, watching you as you closed the door before turning to her. Leaning back against it for a moment.

You were truly something. Stood there in your jeans and your bra. Your mismatched socks and your ruffled hair. Lips kiss swollen and eyes watching her intently.

“ c’mere “ she said quietly, gesturing you over with a tilt of her head. You wandered over, coming to a stop in front of her and reaching out to cup her face gently “ you’re so fuckin beautiful you know “ she said, not entirely intending to say it out loud and rather just think it. But the blush that crept across your cheeks made her glad she had said it.

“ you think? “ she hummed a reply, her fingers trailing up and down the backs of your thighs.

She didn’t know what it was about having you there in that room. Her room. Alone. It felt so incredibly intimate. In fact the entire night had. She’d never taken such… time. Time to explore and to appreciate, to admire. And now to have you in bedroom, a room she had barely been able to step foot in alone since arriving in town. But felt almost at ease with you there.

It was a lot to attempt to process all at once. And so she decided not to. That it wasn’t the time to send herself spiralling into yet another pit of despair and dread, she focussed all her attention back to you.

“ you’re sweet “

“ I’m not sweet I’m honest “ you smiled again at that. In reality she was not an honest person. She was deceitful and not to be trusted by anyone but Joel. But you trusted her. And she was honest with you.

She was. You truly were beautiful. And she felt a fool that it had taken her as long as it had to stop and really look at you. Had spent so long despising your presence rather than admiring you from day one.

She slipped her hands further up your legs, cupping the denim clad flesh of your ass and pushing you forward slightly. You took the hint, stepping over her legs and placing yourself back in her lap. Your arms looped loosely around her neck.

She couldn’t resist diving forward, lips against your neck and teeth grazing your soft skin in a way that made the most delicious sounds leave your lips.

“ oh, Tess “ your fingers tugged lightly at her hair as she continued her gentle assault, hands wandering and desperate to touch as much of you as she could. “ I can’t take much more of this teasing “ you whispered after a few moments, tugging at her hair to make her raise her head.

Her fingers ghosted over the blooming marks on your skin. Blossoming spots of red and purple, marks of a gentle cruelty that had sent the most beautiful look of bliss to overcome your face. Yet another mark of possession on your skin, but not of chains and binds this time…. Of hatred. But of teeth. Of lips. Of desire.

Possession through the deep rooted need to keep you as her own, but simply to hold. To protect. To love.

“ Tess “ she wouldn’t make you wait any longer. She wanted to keep touching, to commit every single inch of you to memory. But she figured that she’d have plenty of opportunities to do so.

And she would give you anything you asked of her. So she would not make you wait.

Through a desire blurred haze she manoeuvred you to lay down, a blur of clothing making its way to the floor and soft moans as her hands ventured downwards.

“ no no keep looking at me “ she said, her voice as quiet as it had been since you’d lead her up those stairs, coaxing your head up from where you were hiding with her free hand “ that’s it I wanna see you “ you slipped a hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to press your forehead against hers with a small nod, lips parted slightly as she moved her fingers in soft circles.

She lost track of time. Of all straight forward thinking. The seconds and the minutes all blurring into a moonlit haze of body parts in her mind. She took her time, breaking you down and unwinding every single knot under your skin.

Nothing else existed outside the four walls of that room, just you and her. The soft lewd sounds of her fingers between your legs, your quiet whimpers and gasps into her mouth, the rustle of the sheets beneath you as you arched and writhed beneath her.

There was something incredible about having you there, foreheads pressed together as she hovered over you, something so… romantic. How your hands held onto her, fingertips warm like they were branding her skin. Isolated in that room in a newer way than she had been used to.

And when she finally brought you to your long awaited climax, she watched you intently. Admiring the beautiful way your face moved and contorted in pleasure, watching your lips part and your legs tremble.

You returned the favour once you’d regained your regular breathing pattern. Pushing her onto her back and leading a trail of soft kisses down her chest and her stomach, settling between her legs and sending her eyes falling into the back of her head.

Her back arching off the mattress and her hand twisting into your hair, relishing in a bliss she hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time.

And then you lay there together. A comfortable silence enveloping the room, only disturbed by the occasional kiss or soft sigh.

Tess’ fingers played gently with your hair, inevitably lulling you into sleep. And she took the time to think.

She realised that in the time she had lived there it was her first night actually sleeping in her bed. She glanced down at where you were sound asleep on her chest, the weight and warmth of you pressed against her keeping away any anxious thoughts that wanted to creep into her mind.

And she didn’t want to escape downstairs, didn’t want to run. To push you away and tell you to leave. That sleeping together was far more intimate to her than any form of sex act could be.

The thoughts didn’t come.

It had taken her meeting you to finally come to terms with what her life was now. And the things that she had done. That in the current climate there were really no good or bad people. Just human beings trying to survive. Do whatever it took to live to see another day. Doing unspeakable things to get by and trying to convince themselves afterwards that they had done the right thing. That they had had no choice.

And that was okay. She was coming to peace with that. She would never fully forget, but neither would anyone else. But that was okay. Because as long as she had you by her side, she was quite content in the knowledge that she could handle it.

That then come spring those flowers you had planted would bloom again and she would let her fears die with the frost.

Everything would be okay.

[vvatchword]

In Defense of BioShock Infinite

Although I had preordered BioShock Infinite with all its bells and whistles, I did not actually play it until January 2023. And lordy, I had me another Experience with a capital E. How the hell a bunch of urban Yanks could capture my experience as a queer democratic-socialist atheist struggling with her roots as a rural evangelical-cum-fascist is kinda magical, honestly. As to the game itself, it didn’t hurt how good it looked—the kickass skyhook gun battles—that novel setting—the complex characters—that delicious historical setting—that bloodthirsty critique of America—and to top it all off, they had pulled yet another Cassandra. Hell, speaking of which—not only was the game fun, it was fucking smart. It was intelligent, memorable, and meaningful in a way I hadn’t experienced in video games for years.

Now, back in 2013, when I had realized that I would be spoiled for Infinite, I left the BioShock fandom. After completing the game, I headed to Tumblr to re-engage, wagging my whole body like an excitable golden retriever, only to discover that BioShock Infinite was remarkably absent, and when mentioned, brutally derided. 

“I hate BioShock Infinite and all my friends do, too,” someone said in the tags under a post. 

I was utterly befuddled and deeply sad. I wanted to talk about BioShock Infinite! I wanted to dig into it, uncover unexpected ideas, learn new things, talk shit, make new friends—the full fandom experience. And instead I kept stumbling into hateful diatribes and super-charged disgust.

Obviously, I first looked at myself and my own judgment. Had I missed some obvious problem or misread some theme or dialogue? This wouldn’t be the first time I’d snapped down on a hook. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

There are two parts of BioShock Infinite that are unquestionably terrible: the fridging of Daisy Fitzroy and the false equivalence of violence between haves and have-nots (lol what are the have-nots supposed to do, ask nicely?). Additionally, one could look at the use of real Native American tragedies as tasteless. Personally, I do not—in the same way that I don’t find it tasteless that real war victims were used as inspiration for Splicer deformities. This is what really happened; this is commentary on events that really happened to real people. 

At this point, I’m sure I don’t have to explain why two of these themes are Unequivocally Bad. 

Anyway, I thought that perhaps these were the reasons BSI had been condemned to Super Hell.

I was wrong.

How Criitcsim Werk

This wasn’t the fandom I’d made friends in over 2010. Hell, this wasn’t the fandom of 2013. This was a fandom made up of Babies. They were making their first coltish stumblings into media criticism and with it, dredging up the same brain-dead bullshit from Tumblr circa 2008.

Suddenly I was brought face to face with people who seemed to think that if a character couldn’t be likable or good that the story itself couldn’t be likable or good; that one bad element means the story is unsalvageable (lol u pussies); the implication that one is bad for liking it; the destructive juvenile insistence that media accurately measures its fans’ moral qualities en masse like an astrological sign. This goes far beyond simple like or dislike and plunges head-first into Puritanism: praying loudly on street-corners instead of quietly in a dark corner where God might hear you.

At one point I had a kid go off about how they wouldn’t take time to understand Booker DeWitt’s perspective because he had (fictionally) taken part in a genocide. (That same person said the Native American element had been employed for shock value, a thought that sometimes keeps me up at night, because it is legitimately one of the dumbest criticisms the game has ever received.) At another point I saw someone acting personally offended that (fictional person) Dr. Suchong’s (fictional) data was being stolen (in a fiction) by a (fictional) racist who would (fictionally) take credit for (fictional person) Suchong’s (fictional) inventions “while calling him slurs”. Sure, a better question would have been, “Why would the creative team opt to do this” rather than assume intentional racism from a Jewish creative director with an in-office multi-ethnic team in the year of our lord 2013, but why not handwave the choice with prurient moral dismay so your audience won’t beat you to death with bats? 

It was as though fans were treating these completely fictional characters as real people whose personal gods had opted to torment them, and that their tormentors merited the kind of censure that psychopaths should receive. As I hope all of you understand, this is fucking madness.

More than once I saw people posting about hating the studio or the creative director in ways that seemed intense, unreasoning, and excessive—notably an “I Hate [Irrational Games creative director] Ken Levine” stamp (rofl the more things change amirite). People get so performatively moralistic about it that I started wondering if I missed something big along the way. Was there some secret Voxophone I missed swearing fealty to baby Hitler or some shit?

Double Standards

At the same time, I was utterly confused. BioShocks 1 and 2 both featured some absolutely ghastly bullshit based on real-life horrors and a thick mix of complicated human beings—many of them victims who have become monsters. The fact they are grounded in historical tragedies is a huge part of their appeal. Hell, I don’t think those games would have had half their meaning without World Wars I and II and the threat of a third.

A gay man who feels so cursed by his orientation that he is incapable of intimacy and systematically destroys his ex-lovers—including the man he loves the most. A Korean who survived Japanese occupation and a Jewish Holocaust survivor repeat the violence and traumas exacted upon them and their people, subjecting a new generation to agonies unthinkable. Chasing the shadows of Bolsheviks, a Russian citizen becomes the brutal tyrant that he loathed. A rich lawyer with an easygoing drawl designs a concentration camp and systematically harvests hundreds, if not thousands of political prisoners, selling them out to medical testing for a quick buck.

But a Native man who destroys his own people and class to ensure his own survival and social acceptability is too far? This character is where people drew the line, so much so that the entire game is disavowed? Hell, if you’re just talking about Booker (rather than Comstock), he doesn’t have anywhere near the largest bodycount. If we were to judge on the metric of human misery alone, Booker wouldn’t even hit the top ten. 

Keep in mind that the most-discussed BioShock game on Tumblr is BioShock 2, and that one of the biggest fandom favorites is Augustus Sinclair—the easy-talkin’ Georgia lawyer who sells your character into horrors past all human comprehension, as he sold hundreds before and after you. Sinclair is a motherfucker so vile that BioShock 2 gives you no choice but to murder him. But Sinclair is also pleasant; good-looking to some; spends the whole game making sweet love to your ear; is one of the only true positive experiences you experience in a horror story. Unlike DeWitt, a man who is brutal and awful from step one, Sinclair is smooth and sweet. Unlike DeWitt, Sinclair’s victims are faceless, completely fictional, and carry no political or social baggage.

People fuckin’ ship this guy with Subject Delta, his explicit victim. He’s usually described as a squishy cinnamon roll. In most fanfiction, he often gets to escape to the surface and fuck Delta while helping raise Eleanor as Dad 2. It is rare that I find fanfiction that acknowledges his monsterhood in all its glory. In fact, I can only think of two.

Literacy Comes in Levels

My problem with the over-the-top hatred of BioShock Infinite is along the same lines as my confusion at Twilight and Harry Potter hate: there is so much worse out there (how much do the haters actually engage with media if they think this is that bad—yes, even considering the shitty creators themselves!), the hatred far outweighs the sin committed (in BioShock’s case, the truly bad bits are not central enough to derail the larger narrative), people don’t seem to hate it so much as they want to be seen hating it, fans want to enforce an unspoken rule hating it (bitches this is poison. Stop this), and there’s something about the hate that stinks of poor reading comprehension.

A great metric for general literacy is the newspaper. In journalism, you’re writing for the lowest-common denominator, which for years here in the USA has been about a fifth-grade reading level (about 10-11 years old, for my non-American readers). The AP posted an article a couple years back about how the general reading comprehension of Americans needs to be dropped to a third-grade one (8-9 years), and baby, I’m here to say it’s true. 

Most of the problem is that the American education system is shitty as fuck. The rest of it is from an extremely American disdain of intellectualism and the arts. People are not taught how to interpret art or literature—a difficult and subtle skill which involves accepting such truths as “multiple contradictory readings can exist and yet be simultaneously correct”, “the author can be a complete tool and still be right about things”, “the author can be a great person and still write horrifyingly incorrect bullshit”, and “worthwhile works can be ridiculously long and it really is your fault for not having an attention span”. 

Media criticism must be learned through trial, error, asking questions, confidently swaggering into a public space to announce your brilliant insight only to have your ass handed to you (usually by your older self ten years later), being willing to admit you swaggered confidently into a public space to state bullshit and then amending your bullshit only to produce more bullshit, and otherwise making a complete and utter cock of yourself. We are taught to fear and flee pain and failure, despite the fact this is how we learn and improve. Because we judge our value by whether or not we are “smart,” we are afraid of displaying that we don’t know something or might be mistaken–better not to try at all than to reveal ourselves to be fools. And yet the best way to learn is to crash up against someone else and be proven wrong!

American parents are terrified of hurting their children to the point that they spare them cognitive dissonance of any kind, disavowing difficult art—without any appreciation for the fact that art is how we provide safe spaces to explore key human experiences, better preparing us to face those difficult subjects when there are real-world consequences (sex, gender and social expression, grief, violence, predation, illness, interacting with people of different ideologies, whatever new issue is pissing off some smooth-brained old motherfucker somewhere). 

If parents and teachers aren’t teaching us how to interpret art, we’re probably never going to develop the skill at all, or crash unsubtly into it in a piecemeal fashion (hello it me). Another unfortunate side effect is that these readers tend to be blitheringly superficial: they are literally intellectually incapable of reading deeper than the uppermost layer of a text. The curtains are always blue.

And let’s not forget the role moral performatism plays in media criticism, which although faaar from new, has reached hilarious levels in the age of social media. What’s important isn’t understanding something, it’s finding something to symbolically burn at the stake so everyone knows God loves us: please keep loving me, please don’t hurt me, please don’t throw me on the fire—for performatism is not for outsiders. We long for human connection so fucking much that it’s more important to destroy what might point out our fallibilities than it is to let ourselves stand in the furnace and burn out the dross.

What do you think the point of BioShock Infinite was?

Emotional Machines

Let’s face it. Human beings give a lot more credence to how something makes them feel than they do its complex invisible reality. We are not logical creatures; we are emotional ones. Our logic is too new a biological mechanism to override something as powerfully stupid as our primal lizard brains.

Knowing this, let’s take BioShock’s most popular characters. The first two are Subject Delta and Jack Wynand, the protagonists of BioShocks 2 and 1, respectively; and why not? They’re the characters we play. In the first two BioShocks, whether or not you kill Little Sisters determines the ending you receive. In other words, Delta and Jack can only be as “wicked” as the players are. 

How do people want to see themselves? As good. What do people want to see around themselves? Good. (What is “good”? Uh, well,,,,,,) What do they want? Simple moral questions with simple moral answers. And in the first two BioShocks, what is moral is obvious: don’t kill little girls. It’s actually kind of insulting once you say it out loud.

In-fandom, Jack and Subject Delta are almost never painted as murderers or monsters, but as victims and heroes; I saw someone musing about putting Subject Delta on a “gentle giants” poll and I nearly choked on my own tongue. I only saw that musing because someone put Subject Delta and Jack in a “Best Fathers” poll. Nobody in-fandom really considers the “evil” or “complicated” endings as canon choices, despite those versions being fully understandable alternate readings, with a story that doesn’t make sense without them. (I don’t believe Burial at Sea is necessarily canon; in fact, I would bet good money that it is a huge middle finger lol, mostly because a number of brain-dead motherfuckers won’t take unhappiness for an answer.)

Most fandom art and writing is gentle, sweet, good: the symbolic healing of the damaged, the salvation of innocents, the turning of new leaves. These things are not just saccharine sweet—they tend to be unrealistically sweet. Now, far be it from me to demand these works cease. There’s a reason they exist. People write them because they need hope and happiness; I have enjoyed them greatly myself and intend to enjoy them in the future. But if y’all get to have your dessert, I demand the right to have my dinner.

The Colours Out of Earth

Let there be media where the opposite can also be true: where everything is unbelievably complicated and unforgivably fucked-up. Let there be characters who slide slurs into their speech without thinking. Let there be characters who destroy themselves in a thousand different ways, not all of them obvious, some of them horrifying. Let there be well-meaning people struggling with all their mights to do what is right only to destroy everyone around them and then completely miss the fact it’s all their faults. Let there be wickedness painted as goodness, superficial appearances accepted over essential and inherent values, denial of change and transformation, failure to accept that what is old must die and what is new must live, human stupidity and short-sightedness and cruelty in all their flavors. Let’s smash it all together and see how it plays out. 

Oh, badly? No shit! But “badly” isn’t the point. How does it play out?

Let there be a world of gradients—a place I can float from color to color, hue to hue, value to value, while attempting to figure out where, why, how, and by whom they transform—to taste concepts in a hundred different ways, test their textures by a hundred different mediums, insert them into a hundred different contexts. I need to understand why I feel the way I do; I need to understand morality in all its hideous, fragmentary glory. For I have been sold to a ideology of blacks and whites, and let me tell you: it prepares you for nothing, and it will always destroy what is most precious about human life.

I can no longer believe in a world where what is lost always returns, because that world does not exist. I have a reflexive need to come to terms with Finality: what I have lost, what I have destroyed, what will never return, what will never be better. I have a reflexive need to understand Transformation: what I am now, what is as of the present, what has risen shambling from the ashes, what turns to gaze upon me in the darkness. I need to understand what is wretched about me as much as I need to heal myself. How can I heal if I can’t understand how I have hurt and been hurt? 

I need to shine a light in the dark. Not to remodel it, not to destroy it—because I also can’t believe in a world where the wicked is destroyed forever—but to behold it, to learn from it, to view my own impact upon it, to accept how it has become a part of me, to learn how to do my best (because that’s all one can do). I must learn to love people more than causes, I must learn to love people rather than the act of winning, I must learn to love people rather than battle. I need to stand in that endless black with the lamp off and my eyes closed, letting the agony roll over me, burning with a fire that throws no light, rolling back and forth from an intense self-loathing to a fury at a society that destroys what is most valuable because it didn’t make them feel the way they wanted.

The Unforgivable

I believe that there are only two differences between Booker DeWitt and his equally cursed cohorts.

In the Hall of Whores: The Unmarked Slate

First, unlike the previous two games, where you enter the world as a tabula rasa and might roleplay as what you perceive as a good person, you are explicitly put into the shoes of a monster, and nothing you do can save you.

With other shitty BioShock characters, you are passively watching other people, and you are able to hold yourself apart. Sure, everyone else is crazy as fuck from using biological Kryptonite, but you’re too smart to end up a crazy fucking asshole like them! Sure, you are now technically a mass murderer, but those fuckers deserved it, damn it! 

“Look at this crazy bastard!” you say, rolling your eyes at the Steinmans and Cohens and Ryans and Fontaines. “It sure is a great thing I’m not a crazy bastard!”

You are able to escape acknowledging that you, too, in certain circumstances, might be the crazy bastard. You are being challenged to stand in the body of a person who has committed unforgivable sins. Imagine if you yourself committed those sins. Imagine what sins you have already committed. Imagine what brutalities you cannot take back. Imagine what horrors you have wreaked just by breathing.

“Ahhhh!” said players, probably. “What do you mean I’m not allowed to be good?”

Because that’s what the game was designed to do. Because “good” is a fucking cop-out and if it’s how you live with yourself wait until you find out you’ve been doing horrifying bullshit all your life without question. You can be evil by association through no fault of your own.

Original Sin

Second, the plight of Native Americans is a sin that non-Natives will always carry, and the socially conscious are aware of this even if they don’t know how to put it into words. The state of affairs being what it is, it is unlikely that First Peoples will ever be treated humanely, much less have their land returned. They must struggle for scraps of what is rightfully theirs while we lounge on their corpses. We cannot help but benefit from their destruction; we are made unwitting partners with our forebears; we steal the fruits of their lands and make mockeries of their faiths and identities. We have destroyed part of what made this world fascinating and unique and most of it can never be returned. Even if everything were to be made right tomorrow, their genocide is a sin that we will carry until we die, because the only reason we could be here at all is because they were killed. 

The obvious solution stands before us, but the powers that be are so much greater than we that we are effectively powerless, and achieving anything less than total restoration smacks of anticlimax. 

This is unbearable.

How can one think of oneself as a good person if one sees the good that must be done, but cannot achieve it? If one’s actions are meaningless? Goodness without action is pretension.

We are all Booker DeWitt. We have all set fire to the tipi. We swept the ashes away, we ignored the sizes of the bones, we built a CVS on their graves, and then we made statues and holidays commemorating Native Americans like the world’s cheapest “Thinking of You” card. We have de-fanged them, transformed them into cardboard cutouts, and set them up as cute little side characters in our sweeping American dream.

Booker is not a man. Booker is America and Americans—and America and Americans are monstrous: one part hypocrisy, two parts incessant violence, three parts constant peacocking, and four parts dumb as a stump.

The Monsters We Make

Outside of the message about “choice,” an enormous part of BioShock’s thematic ensemble is the creation of monsters. How are monsters created? Who or what is responsible for creating them? What do the monsters think made them the ways they are? Can a monster be saved? How? Is it enough to acknowledge you did wrong and want to be a better person?

Maybe most people are aware on some instinctive level of what facing one’s own monsterhood means. No one wants it. It’s not fun. It hurts. It’s embarrassing. It’s destructive. It’s admitting you don’t have it all together and might never, ever—that despite your best actions, you can have it horribly wrong at any point. In an age where we demand moral perfection, it demands vulnerability: you must admit that sometimes you’re the racist, the transphobe, the sexist, the nationalist, the classist, the homophobe, the violent, the wrong, the dumbfuck. 

Human beings are not built to be moral; human beings are built to survive. We so rapidly learn how to deal with our contexts at such young ages that we don’t have the time or capabilities to question why those contexts are the ways they are or why it is demanded we perform the ways we do.

In a very real way, BioShock Infinite demands vulnerability of us. It demands you look in the mirror and see what is monstrous in you—how you have been created—manufactured—a tool, a machine, a trained animal. It asks you to recognize that you can be a monster simply by association. And if we can’t look into the mirror and truly acknowledge that monsterhood, we run very real risks of becoming or enabling those monsters in one way or another.

Worst of all: perhaps monsterhood isn’t optional. Perhaps the monster was inside of us from the very beginning. It’s not a matter of if you become a monster, but when, under what circumstances, by whose hand. What is more, believing the “right” moral stances will not save you. Monsterhood can afflict anyone, in any ideology, any political stance, in any social movement, in any faith. The only element that can save you is to truly love other people, and even then, you can fail, for there can be states where there is no winner and ways to misread how best to treat another person.

Environment and Society: Context Will Not Be Denied

BioShock 1’s original ending is Jack-as-monster, regardless of how many children he saves, regardless of your feelings as player. He passes through the gauntlet of Rapture, but he has supped of its poison. And he wasn’t poisoned when he entered Rapture the second time—he was poisoned the minute he was conceived. He was born of it. He had no hope of ever escaping it—he never could have—he’d never had a choice to begin with.

No matter what choices you make in BioShock Infinite, Elizabeth will always kill you. Why? Because she has seen every world—every context—every limitation—every boon. And there is no way to stop what has been; there is no way to undo what has been done. The minute you have committed to a decision, you have split the universe; there is no telling what kind of person it will make you. In fact, there’s no telling which of your decisions will matter at all. Only Elizabeth can see because she is the unlimited future: your offspring stands before you, judge and jury, and you will have no choice but to accept her verdict, for despite your name, you are incapable of controlling how you are interpreted. 

Elizabeth sits across from you in the boat and stares without blinking. She sees a million million similar Bookers. Some are a little bit taller, some a little bit shorter, some a little heavier or lighter. Some more-resemble one grandparent or another. They have different colored ties. This one blinks when rain hits him in the eyeball. That one took a brutal beating back on the airship and one eye is swollen shut. That one can’t stop shaking; this one is unable to speak at all; one hasn’t yet lost hope, although even he doesn’t realize it.

They all lowered the torch to the tipi.

The baptism determined Comstock; what determined Booker?

Why Booker Is

In BioShock 1, characters are often stand-ins for larger concepts. Thus Ryan stands in as Ayn Rand’s Objectivist Ubermensch; Bill McDonagh as Andrew Ryan’s conscience; Diane McClintock as the citizenry of Rapture; Captain Sullivan as law and order; Frank Fontaine as the truest expression of Objectivism in its distilled form.

Who is Booker? Most importantly: why is he?

Booker is a fictional character with a brutal background based on historical events, alternative and true. Booker might be Lakota; Booker might have undergone forced Anglicization; Booker might have been ripped from his parents; Booker is a product of violence, perhaps literally. Booker is American exceptionalism distilled. Booker is the past in constant judgment of itself, unable to live with itself and unable to die. Booker destroys what is best in him and around him in exchange for belonging. Booker has sold the future to absolve his sins. Booker has sold his daughter because he is a fictional character in a work of fiction who needs to be propelled.

Booker is a shell, a sluice, an environment. Booker is the broken shape you are meant to fill, horrified. His internal shape should torture you as it has tortured him: the messy slaggy soul of a shitty tin soldier.

Does Booker take the baptism and become Comstock? If so, it might be his second one. His last name literally means “the white.” His first name can mean “author.” It is most likely his second name: an attempt to rewrite himself. And when he was unable to rewrite himself the first time, when the cognitive dissonance boiled at the edges of his skull, he found there was only one way to cleanse himself the second: to remake the world entirely. To force transformation on everyone else. To take vengeance on a world that could never love him, never want him—to create a world that has no choice but to love him. If he can’t change the world’s mind, he’ll change the world.

Note what he opts to do: to take the fight to the environment–to the unyielding universe.

Context Is Everything

It is no mistake that BioShock Infinite occurs in 1912: the sinking of the Titanic is often credited with ending an unfettered optimism, a period when the Western world believed technology had brought the human race into a golden age. With World War I—which would follow a mere two years later—came modern warfare and all the horrors thereof, not the least of which was the realization that humans had created a kind of war that could destroy the entire world. World War I also seeded the rise of the United States: much of the wealth of warring Europe—itself fat on the blood of subjugated peoples and stolen lands—would rattle into America’s coffers.

It is also no mistake that BioShock 1 directly follows World War II. With WWII came a heightened terror—that this war is not the last war, that there will never be an end to war, that war will go on expanding and expanding until it has consumed us all. World War III would not be denied: prettily packaged in the ideals of its children, it simply followed the utopians down to their underwater tombs. According to BioShock 1’s original ending, World War III is not a matter of if—it’s a matter of when.

But even more important than the history in the BioShock games are their settings. Mute leviathans, Rapture and Columbia determine all of your behaviors: from where you can exist in space to all of your desires and goals to how you choose to present yourself to how you opt to behave. Isolated in extremism—whether that extremism is the crushing depths of the ocean or the unbearable lightness of the air—most of their power is that they simply cannot be escaped. You can’t outrun them. They are everywhere. They are everything.

Like Lovecraft before it, BioShock acknowledges the greatest horror of all: you cannot escape your context. Your context does not only involve your immediate surroundings. It is also historical; contains zeitgeists from various cultures and subcultures; is filled with pressures both personal and impersonal, human and nonhuman. Many of these forces can hurt you. Many more can destroy you. What you do to survive depends very much on where, when, and with whom you must live.

Human beings are not built to be moral.

The Death of the Future

In the film Operation, Burma!, a soldier asks Errol Flynn: “Who were you before the war?”

“An architect,” says Flynn.

Who were you? Because that “you” doesn’t matter now. That “you” is irrelevant. So you’re an architect. What the war does to you; what these deaths mean to you; your past, your education, your loves and desires and forward motivation, the you that could have been outside war, the you that slogs alone into the brutal future—all completely irrelevant. Your forebears don’t care so long as you can bleed. 

Children are the manufactured tools of their creators—helpless before the enormous strength of their elders and the zeitgeists that enclose them, poisoned by their parents’ insecurities and flaws, utilized like weapons regardless of the cost—often with great love.

Consider something more than the traumatized culture: consider the society filled with traumatized children; consider the traumatized society. Consider channeling children through that trauma over and over and over again, if you can. Poisoned—poisoned—poisoned—all of us poisoned. Poisoned by those who loved us most. Poisoned by the people we trusted. Poisoned by the people who meant to make a better world.

I believe it is notable that creative director Ken Levine is Jewish; I have read from multiple accounts that the European Jewish diaspora was uniquely traumatized from the Holocaust and passed that trauma down upon their own families. I sometimes wonder if he saw that firsthand.

The fathers eat sour grapes; their children’s teeth are set on edge.

Choice: Player Expectations and Entitlement

For players who experienced BioShocks 1 and 2 with their multiple endings (Good, Bad, and “ok bye then I guess” respectively), it must have been jarring to suddenly reckon with being a monster. How often I see players grousing that nothing they do will change their wicked pasts! These players completely miss that the only meaningful choice had already been made, that it had nothing to do with the player at all, and even if they had been there, DeWitt was still unforgivable. The only way to go on was to bow out and allow the future to redefine herself.

Nobody was ready for that shit. 

Like it or not, BioShock 1 had set a precedent. Not everyone’s going to read up on creator intentions. If any keyword came blaring through the noise, it would have been “choice.” Most players only recognize choice by the ability to make it, not the absence of it, and most of them weren’t equipped to recognize that its lack was the point. The meaningless choices were commentary, and they were as much about the player as they were about DeWitt himself. Not every choice will be meaningful, will it? And there will be choices you make that will be momentous, but they will seem very small when you make them.

Because most players had experienced what they thought was a basic moralistic tale in the first two games, and would see Infinite not as reflection upon America’s destructive personality, its obsession with a meaningless Good/Bad duocracy, and the infinite, cyclical nature of violence, they saw Booker’s death as corrupted artsy claptrap.

“I did the good schuut,” they say. “I want the good schuut end. Where happy end??? Where treat :(”

Bitch the future is here. 

Time to die.

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Generally I despise essays that end with, “But the real fault lay with the clueless motherfuckers who played the game!” Often, if enough people complain, there’s something to it; the message has been obscured somehow. Details or explanations weren’t clear or intuitive enough, some mechanism isn’t working somewhere, some character needs to talk more or less, some setting needs to be transformed. O artist: stop whining and get cracking. If everywhere you go smells like shit, it’s time to look under your shoe. 

But sometimes it’s true that a piece of media is on a level folks aren’t equipped for. Think of every literature and art class you’ve ever had, if you’ve been fortunate enough to have one. There’s always someone scoffing in a back row, like here are all these jokers making more of something than they should. Similarly, some of you have been arguing with me this entire time, saying: “I just wanted a video game. I just wanted to shoot something and feel better and instead I get this bullshit ending that makes no sense.”

First of all, smart bullshit (and even fucked-up attempts at smart bullshit! Hi BioShock 2) gets to exist on this Earth along with Gmod and Roblox or Schuut Big Tits 84 (there are 84 tits and you must shoot them all. They explode into smaller tits) or whatever-the-fuck-else you think is a worthwhile gaming experience. Second of all, miserable bullshit also gets to exist, and what did you fucking expect if you played through either BioShocks 1 or 2? When you hear a football player quavering out in the darkness for his mom to pick him up, how’d that make you feel? What did you think was going to happen to Jack after pounding back the entire Plasmid library, the cancer cocktail that explicitly destroys the fuck out of its users? Third of all, if you missed the smart bullshit going on in BioShock 1 and didn’t think BioShock Infinite might be larger in scope in more ways than one, that’s on you. Fourthly, if you were simply satisfied with saving like, 15 kids from a violently-perishing city of thousands and call it good, I mean… is that really where your thoughts end? Are you really that fucking small?

It’s Not You, It’s Me

You ever meet those motherfuckers who talk shit about Shakespeare or modern art? And you’re just left there staring with dead eyes at this poseur who mistakes playing devil’s advocate for intelligence, cheek resting on your fist, thinking about the fanfic you’re writing, wondering who it’s for, remembering that all your smut-writing friends get ten times the viewers, and considering throwing yourself in front of a bus.

Yeah, there’s a personal element to this: the fact that BioShock Infinite is the kind of art I like and long for and want to make myself, the fact that the game was successful and yet the studio was closed, the way its DLC was so rushed that the story plopped out like half-baked mystery meat—realizing that the same forced rush was at 2K’s behest for BioShock 2, as well, and wondering how good art can ever be made in this unforgiving capitalist hellscape. The game was weirdly niche and I’m not 100% sure I’ll ever experience anything quite like it again. And with the whiners in this fandom, the loud ones controlling the narrative, some fresh brain-dead exec in some brain-dead publisher might be like: “We must keep it safer and simpler for these fuckin babby adult!”

Nah bitch nah. Naaaah. Cry some more while I enjoy me my fucking dinner. I’ll eat it while making loud smacking noises and keeping unbroken eye contact. Come here. Let’s look at each other. It’ll be like Lady and the Tramp but we want to punch each other. What truer form of love can there be here in the modern world?

I keep having to remind myself that this response isn’t new. I keep having to remind myself of my place. I keep having to remind myself why I write, why I read, why I like to experience art to begin with. It’s not for the reasons other people do it. Oh, I want the same emotional release as everyone else, I want the same rollicking plots, I adore the same tropes. I seek out everything and anything for a good time; I’ll read Moby Dick today and a smutty 5,000-word abortion with the world’s most suspect grammar tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if it’s low- or high-brow; there are all kinds of ways to have fun and there are all kinds of ways to engage with art, and lord knows I’ve done my share of smooth-brain criticism. The problem is that I’ve always wandered off by myself, sunk into an all-consuming reverie, on tracks that no one else ever seems to be on, and then looked up to talk excitedly about something only to realize I’m alone. And whose fault is that?

By the same token, maybe I haven’t talked enough. Maybe I spend too much time with my mouth shut. Maybe I haven’t stood up enough for things that are worth our time, worth talking up, worth setting on pedestals.

I tell you, BioShock Infinite will stand the test of time. It’s too good for this. It’s too good for you, warts and all. Some of you will grow to understand that; some of you won’t; many of you will shrug and go on with your lives (and this is fine; it is only a video game). But I’ve truly not seen anything like it. I can’t believe a mainstream video game was allowed to be so fucking brutal about the American juggernaut, and what’s more, that it sold like hotcakes. Plus, I can’t think of any works in recent memory that have struck me so close to my own heart. No creative work has made me start beating a monster’s face into a washbasin for ten hours only to lift her by the scalp and see my own eyes looking back.

Look into those eyes. See your own stupid impulses pouring out. Your own stupid excuses, your violences, your sins—your claws, your teeth, your costumes, your hilarious attempts at interpretive dance. The beast doth protest too much.

O, monster—behold thyself—and tremble.

[zh-lele]

Oasis Part 1

In a hostile environment or in a sequence of unpleasant situations, an oasis provides pleasure.

▪︎Pairing: vampire!Doyoung x club dancer!fem reader x vampire!Johnny

▪︎Genres: supernatural, horror, smut, romance if you want to call it like that (it's not).

▪︎Warnings: mature themes; explicit sexual content, drugs and alcohol involved, guns, violence, death scenes and mentions of it, and some gore scenes. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

▪︎Wordcount for Part 1: ~16.8k words.

Author's note: hey everyone 👀 it's been ages. Writing this fic got out of hand lol so I split it into parts. This is all plot building 😭 more is coming. Also, the characters are sick to their heads so none of this is alright ofc and it's a twisted fic so if you are uncomfy don't read it! I rlly don't wanna bother anyone. Read pairings, genre and warnings before proceeding. And enjoy this first part! More is coming your way. Here's a playlist to kinda set the mood if you'd like. Tysm!!! 🖤

Who sees them walking around the city if they are all blind? They hold hands; something speaks between their fingers, sweet tongues lick the moist palm, run through the phalanges, and above is the night full of eyes.

01: words that will satisfy me

Lightning split the sky as the rain lashed the roof of the old bus, the drops seeping through the leaks, wetting the worn leather of its seats and spreading on the floor. You were lucky that public transportation was running that night and under those conditions, even more so considering that you had to be on time for your show at the casino—you couldn't afford to lose another night of work to torrential rains, even if it meant walking for forty minutes under the water from your house to the luxurious building.

The dirty streets of Seoul were already empty by the time you got off the bus, except for the old man you couldn't escape from even a single night arriving at the casino. While he wasn't inside, spending what was probably his last life savings on alcohol, drugs, and women (like most of the men you saw every night), he was living on the outskirts; under the big billboard of neon lights and on the fine and cold marble of the entrance serving as his refuge, along with a bed made of cardboard and an old, dirty mattress. Yuta kicked him out every night, especially the moment you arrived and he remembered the old man's presence due to the nasty comments he would give you, as you started up the stairs and toward the big golden doors.

Tonight was no different. Yuta left his position at the entrance as fast as he saw you coming and felt the old man open his mouth—although he didn't have a chance to say anything. As if Yuta could guess his intentions, he was in charge of throwing him in the hands of two high-security guards to the street and under that torrential rain; the homeless man's few belongings getting completely drenched, and causing the man to wail as he wandered off in search of a different place to spend the night. Only a series of what you assumed were complaints and curses came out of Yuta's mouth, in his native tongue.

Yuta lit a cigarette and didn't bother to return to his position. A quick wave of his hands was enough to have another man replace him, while he smoked under the cover of the water, resting momentarily from another night enriching his pockets in the largest casino in the city.

The look he gave you as you waited for this other man to read your work card was hostile as if Yuta could guess your intentions too. And he put you on alert for a moment.

He opened his mouth to speak. A cold ran through your whole body at the same time that lightning struck right on the building across the street, highlighting the silhouette of the Japanese above the violent discharge. He squeezed then opened his eyes, already too irritated by all the interruption, to continue:

"Go upstairs. Dry yourself up and put on some other clothes. Doyoung wants to see you."

"But my show starts at two o'clock."

"Just do as I say."

When the man at the entrance returned your card indicating that you could now enter, you hurried to walk on the red carpet, passing between round tables and banquettes padded with burgundy velvet. The smell of alcohol mingled with that of fine perfumes and that of the money, scattered on each table among glasses, cards, and chips, and also kept in the pockets and wallets of the rich.

The back pocket of your black imitation of leather pants buzzed, so you reached for an old phone, its broken screen showing a message from Soyeon where she attached a picture of a ladder; the red neon lights of a "V.I.P." sign shone above it. You wondered why she was at the entrance to the third floor—an exclusive place that humans like you and Soyeon rarely frequented. So you quickly typed a message questioning what that photo meant before going downstairs.

The club was located below the casino and just above the parking lot. The stairs were marked with neon green arrows indicating floor -1 if you went down—your designated place of work. It was a very different world from the casino. While above the gold metal-edged bars gleamed in the warm light of huge chandeliers, below the place could barely be defined; cigarette smoke obscured what little vision the red lights dangling from the ceiling provided, and the confines of the club were lost in darkness, making it easy to get lost in that dive for hours.

The floor was slippery from the amount of alcohol that had already been spilled throughout the night, and you had to be careful not to trip or injure yourself on a dropped glass bottle. It was hard to move through the bodies that wouldn't stop dancing and pushing and gasping for breath as the club got more and more crowded. But still, you made it backstage and to the dressing rooms where you and the dancers were getting ready for the shows every night.

You got inside in a hurry, making one of the boys that shared the stage with you get up from an old black leather couch and offer his help. "Girl, you need me to do something for you?"

"Please," you begged while looking at him through the mirror. "Can you get my suit and my boots?"

Without wasting a second, you started working on your makeup. Red and black eyeshadow that accentuated your gaze, and a lipstick that was about to run out after so many nights of shared use—bloody red is what said on the side of its cover.

The boy returned shortly after with your clothes in one hand and a glass of liquor in the other. He lit a cigarette inside the small space while you changed, his eyes following your every move. Only the music coming from the club filled your ears until you opened the door ready to go out and he questioned you.

"Where are you going? There's still five until the show starts."

"Yeah, I know but…" you hesitated on telling him. It wasn't a secret amongst the human workers that you and Doyoung kind of had a thing—they knew you fucked from time to time, but you had no clue why he wanted to see you at that moment.

Doyoung managed everything and everyone at the club and knew your schedule like the palm of his hand. Work had always been his top priority as well, so you knew for sure he wasn't going to make you show up late on stage. Still, you didn't want to raise suspicions about anything, didn't want people to talk too much.

The boy—that was named Ten and was the second nicest person you knew as soon as you started working at the club—raised his brows at you, growing impatient, making gestures with both his hands for you to keep talking.

"Doyoung wants to see me," you finally concluded. "I don't know what he wants, but it'll be quick."

Ten only hummed and reached inside of his platforms, taking out a small blade and putting it in front of your face. His breath, which smelled like mint and whiskey, brushed your face while he talked. "Be careful." And he hid the blade inside one of your boots.

Ten had been working at the club for years and knew vampires very well. Even though none of the vamps in charge had ever harmed him, he couldn't say the same for the customers who came from the outside. For this reason, he didn't trust them, and he always reminded you to handle yourself with special care, especially when he found out about you and Doyoung.

You gave him a nod along with a sympathetic smile and closed the door behind you on your way to Doyoung's office.

A long corridor connected the backstage dressing room to a mezzanine at the other end of the club. Suspended in the air from one side to the other, its tinted glass walls stretched to the roof of the club. Doyoung kept his office lit to a minimum, and the red lights outside it blocked all vision through the glass and into his office. This allowed him to have absolute control of everything that happened in his club, and to give orders without even having to get up from his chair.

You knocked on his door and looked above, at the corner of the corridor, letting the camera focus on your face. The door buzzed, indicating you were good to come inside.

Doyoung was sitting in his green velvet upholstered chair, facing the glass walls. A suit almost as pale as his skin accentuated his defined figure, even in that position. He turned to you, a welcoming smile adorning his face, and extended his left hand, the one not occupied with a glass feeding his vampire tendencies, inviting you to get closer.

He called your name before holding your hand and bringing it to his lips. A soft kiss on your knuckles, which left them stained with a slightly thick red liquid. "I'll be brief since I don't want to delay us in our tasks, but I had to tell you this in person."

He set his glass down on his desk and moved you even closer, positioning yourself between his legs. He looked over your body with his gaze and dared to open the fine, shiny cloth robe that covered it. He caressed the curves of your hip and passed the palms of his hands over the micro tulle that covered your abdomen until he stopped below your breasts.

"You will dance on the third-floor stage tonight, along with Soyeon," he finally said, his clear eyes piercing your dark gaze. "Whatever happens there, you must tell me. Don't forget who you work for."

You swallowed dry. So Soyeon was at the entrance to the third floor because the two of you would be working there that night. Dancing for the vampires. Anxiety quickly took over your body, and you felt your hands and feet start to sweat. You were lucky Doyoung couldn't notice that temperature change, or he would have given you away.

"Won't you be there with the rest of them?"

This was not going according to your plan.

He denied it with his head. His hands began to move again, caressing your back and reaching the edge of your see-through dress. He lifted it, you felt the cold on your skin, and he squeezed both buttcheeks, awakening the lust within you.

He took a breath of air that inflated his chest, causing the emeralds that hung rimmed in gold around his neck to rise and fall. He moved you at his will until you were sitting on top of him, your sex barely covered by a thong that resembled black leather in contact with his bulge, and you had to make an enormous effort not to forget the plan and take him right then and there. Getting rid of Doyoung would be much more difficult than you had imagined.

"Don't forget who you must be loyal to."

02: this is not a threat

It is important to create eye contact with the audience when you are performing. That was never a problem at the club, with its stage right in front of Doyoung's office. And while you couldn't see him from your place, you knew that he was always watching you from above, so your gaze was directed most of the time towards his tinted windows. He helped your concentration and allowed you to focus on the dance. On the third floor stage, however, you felt quite lost; too many things happened there.

In the club, just a large group of mortals huddled under the smoke and red lights, paying little attention to what was happening onstage. In the vampires' cave, distractions were everywhere. The white lights that illuminated the stage blinded you from time to time but still allowed you to make out the scenes. Vampires sipping drinks at the bars, smoking around a game of poker, passing through heavy velvet curtains, going in and out of small cabins with humans who had a job other than yours. Some came staggering out of there, like drunk on something and wiping their lips, while others just came out arranging their clothes to resume their activities around a table or on the small dance floor.

But despite everything that was distracting, you were forced to make eye contact. You felt a presence, someone's gaze heavy on your figure, hidden in a dark corner of that exclusive area. The lights spun illuminating him for a split second, but it was long enough for his amber eyes to finally find yours. From that moment on, you felt attracted to the man as if you were magnets. You went down the stairs of the stage and walked between the chairs and tables, making some of the vampires who hadn't paid attention to you yet turn to look at you. Not for a second could you lower your gaze from his or focus on anything other than dancing for that man.

He was sitting in the middle of the round table smoking a cigarette, looking a little too relaxed for your liking. His white shirt was slightly ripped, revealing a barbed wire tattoo that stretched from clavicle to clavicle on his chest; below, on his right pectoral, a spider tattoo. Resting the weight of his body on a semi-extended arm holding a cane, looking too vampire-like under your eyes. His tattoos seemed to end on his hands: a floral engraving on the back that contrasted with the phrase on his fingers: be afraid.

You got on that rounded table on your hands and knees, not caring about whatever game was going on between the rest of the men and the women who sat with him. You wanted to seduce him, that you knew. And he didn't seem to mind, because when a tall, blonde guy got up to protest, this man silenced him with a simple gesture of his hand. You thought it had to be a common thing amongst these vampires—they held so much power they didn't even need to use many words. So you danced the rest of your choreography for him, felt and touched your body as if your hands were his until the music ended and the lights turned on again.

Reality came down to you as if you were descending from the sky at miles per hour, and you landed on the ground in your black platforms after getting off the table. You felt incredibly out of place, yet an incessant throbbing between your naked legs and this man's gaze on you was sending your mind into a spiral. You had no idea what just had happened.

His deep voice cut through the air in that cave—like lightning from the storm outside the casino. A chill ran down your back for the second time that night.

"No one tells Doyoung about this."

But he didn't mean it for the rest of the people seated with him—he knew they would remain silent.

He meant it for you.

Soyeon appeared next to you with her hands full of bills, and she began to push you in the opposite direction while addressing this man very politely.

"Please excuse us, sir." But it sounded highly strange to you, she didn't talk like that to any of the vampires, not even to Doyoung. "Thank you very much, sir. Ladies, gentlemen." She bowed and you followed automatically before the two of you started walking behind the stage.

"Who was that?" you asked once the two of you were alone, inside the luxurious dressing room of the third floor.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You saw her undress hurriedly and change into her regular clothes, leaving the little dress–the same one you were wearing—inside her backpack, then starting whipping out all her makeup to re-do it into something different, more relaxed.

"I kinda felt like it, yeah," you finally replied, after processing how you unashamedly danced in front of that man and all of his friends, being so evident that you wanted him—as if you didn't have a thing with Doyoung. As if you weren't the little dumb human fucking the man in charge and everyone knew about it. "Who was that man?" you insisted.

"Seo Youngho," she hissed and looked at you with narrowed eyes as if it weren't obvious. "He owns the casino. He owns like, ninety percent of the clubs left in Seoul, actually. Friends call him Johnny."

Your plan was to become one of them, then kill them all and keep the fortune. Survive the fate that seemed inevitable. Defeat the decay of the world and humanity through that eternal immortality, as the vampires had done through each of the crises in history.

You were shocked, your face losing all color and your legs almost giving out when you realized that all this time you were after the wrong man.

When Doyoung hired you, he made it seem like he was the real leader. And everything seemed to indicate that he was. Because you knew Yuta, you knew how the rest treated that vampire—but it wasn't half the respect they had for Doyoung. From the countless nights you'd spent with him and been woken by his phone at any hour of the morning, you knew that most of the responsibilities fell on him as well. The fact that it was the first time you were hearing about this Seo Youngho after almost half a year working at the casino only made the situation more unbelievable.

"And you danced for him," Soyeon continued, her expression between a mixture of shock and amusement. "Holy shit. You literally felt all of yourself in front of his eyes."

"I know," you recognized with difficulty, taking your head in your hands while you sat in the chair; soft and padded compared to the garbage where you sat every night, in the dressing room on floor -1 "Please stop reminding me, it was embarrassing."

"It wasn't embarrassing!" she contradicted, "It was fucking hot. You never do that shit when we dance at the club."

"Of course not!" You straightened your back to look at her and denied with a disgusted face. "I don't want to seduce any of the bodies that frequent the club. Those are disgusting."

"Right, you want to seduce vampires." She pointed one of her makeup brushes at you, and golden dust flew across the room. A complicit smile adorned her face. "You want to seduce handsome, sexy, and rich vampires. You'll be collecting them? I know you have one already."

There wasn't any malice in her voice, none that you could notice. She left it there and went back to stand in front of the mirror to apply a clear lip gloss that made her face even more attractive. She wasn't looking for an explicit answer. Even if she only wanted to mess with you, you still weren't convinced you could trust her—or anyone inside that casino.

And that's why you were scared. Scared to death that she or anyone else could tell Doyoung what happened earlier. Because yes, he wasn't the most powerful of them, yet he could still do whatever he wanted to you and no one would even go looking after you. That's how the dynamic worked. That's why it could be a vampire's world.

Youngho's words resonated inside your head as if he was whispering in your ear.

"Youngho said something when our number ended," you decided to confess. Maybe out of fear, to test your luck and try moving in this new direction, or to risk your plan along with your life. Soyeon turned around and raised his brows at you, expectant of your next words. "He said not to tell Doyoung."

A knock on the door exalted the both of you. Soyeon looked in the direction of the sound, then down at you, same spot on the couch. She smiled with her lips sealed together, the tips of her thumb and forefinger joined and moving from left to right over her smile. She winked at you after walking to open the dressing room's door.

A rather young man leaned out from the other side, a bottle of champagne in a cooler and two glasses in hand. His bright red eyes quickly scanned the room and settled on your figure. "Youngho wants you at his table," he said. "Both of you." And he moved his eyes to Soyeon, who quickly looked at you with an excited smile, then turned back to the boy. "He also sends this. Says to enjoy yourself and get there whenever you feel ready."

The young vampire left the champagne and the glasses in Soyeon's hands after she greeted him with a polite 'thank you', and closed the door.

"Very good," she turned to you, ready to open the bottle. "I also want to go hunting for some handsome, sexy, and rich vampires."

—

Sitting on the velvety cushions and sharing a table with the vampires you learned that everything you thought you knew about them was actually nothing. Only two of them were the most talkative: Donghyuck, the young vampire they sent with the champagne bottle to get you and your friend, and Taeyong, a slightly older-looking vampire you often saw with Yuta or Doyoung. While Donghyuck concentrated mostly in annoying his superiors and catching Soyeon's attention, Taeyong was surprisingly kind to you, trying to engage conversation about various topics.

"I was studying in Tokyo to be a designer when I met Yuta," Taeyong said while pouring himself another glass of blood. "We met at a fashion exhibition. I remember he was wearing a three piece suit that looked very expensive. He introduced himself, Nakamoto Yuta," Taeyong made his own impression of the Japanese vampire you knew from greeting him every day at the casino's entrance. And it was on point, his deep voice and accent rolling out of Taeyong's lips as if he had been observing the vampire for an eternity now. "He liked my work and said he wanted to support me financially. You can imagine what I thought it was about."

"Thought he was offering to be some kind of sugar daddy?" You asked him, taking a drag from a joint and passing it back to Taeyong.

Taeyong nodded his head. "I thought I had to sacrifice my body for it," he said, then paused for a moment to reflect on his words. "I mean, it's not like I didn't like him. He was actually really hot," he finished in a whisper meant for your human ears only.

The white haired vampire laughed it off, looking a bit nervous after such a confession. Yet Taeyong's laugh was adorable and contagious, much so that it distracted you from his red-stained lips and teeth every time you saw his mouth open to a big smile.

"But I was really, really wrong about him–"

"I could hear you talking shit about me all the way from the first floor."

That deep voice characteristic of Yuta cut off Taeyong's story. His eyes found the Japanese approaching the vampire table, behind your field of vision. However, his presence sent a shiver down your spine—the idea that any of them could be listening to what you were talking about when you least expected it horrified you, and it was enough to bring you back to reality.

You weren't there because they were nice and wanted you to know more about them, to become close. They must have been using you somehow, and you had to find out their true intentions as quickly as possible so that they couldn't take advantage of you, but you could take advantage of them.

"Yuta, you're so nosy!" Taeyong accused him, pointing his index finger at him and then crossing his arms, half indignant. "I was just telling my new friend the story of how I met you and the guys."

The Japanese vampire collapsed into the free space on Taeyong's other side. He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his long red hair before fixing his gaze on you: his brow furrowed, and his eyes full of judgment on your figure at the table. "Doyoung's human?" he asked, sounding slightly confused.

Taeyong opened his mouth to reply, yet it wasn't his voice that gave the answer to Yuta's question.

"She's my new favorite."

It was Youngho's.

He got up from his place and walked around the table until he was positioned next to your figure. He bent down until he could whisper in your ear—a proposition to come back with him, to his apartment, right in front of everyone but especially in front of Yuta, who was still judging you from afar with those furrowed brows.

You feared Yuta didn't trust you like the rest of the vampires seemed to do. You feared he could smell your true intentions, somehow get in your head and know you were doubting every move, every decision. You were ashamed because you knew he could definitely hear your conversation with your boss and his leader even if you were whispering to each other. And you were expecting he wouldn't tell Doyoung you actually said yes to Youngho, that you'd love to go back to his apartment that night.

The night at the vampires cave seemed to come to an end when you found yourself in the passenger seat of Youngho's luxury car. Since your friend Soyeon and Donghyuck left in his own car seconds before, it was only you and Taeyong in the private parking lot, waiting for his boyfriend, for Yuta, and Youngho to get in.

Contrary to your experience with Doyoung or even with Yuta, you never had the pleasure of getting to know Taeyong in depth, and that was because you didn't really have a chance to interact despite a formal greeting when you passed him in the casino. But you were left both alone and drunk on many substances in the car, and you found out you definitely enjoyed his presence way more when he's not wearing a serious and intimidating expression, and when his huge eyes turn bright and he laughs at everything you say.

Taeyong made you feel like, if you were given the chance, you could form a beautiful friendship.

"You don't seem like the other girls."

"What do you mean?" You asked Taeyong, who was sitting behind and across from the passenger seat, stretching your neck to the side and resting it on the headrest so you could face him more comfortably.

"Every girl Johnny has been with has only wanted one thing," Taeyong answered. He took a deep breath and there was again, the serious, almost scary expression on his face that you knew him from. You gulped dryly, hoping it could go unnoticed before he continued. "To take advantage of him and what he owns. And my friend is a good guy, he really just wants to love someone before the end of this fucking cursed world, so he just lets them in, you know?"

The sensation of being exposed drained your face from all its blood, probably making you look pale even under a thick layer of makeup. You felt embarrassed thinking Taeyong had read you and figured you out perfectly, so much that you couldn't look him in the eye anymore. Nonetheless, Taeyong kept telling you how good he felt around you while you tried to believe that he was being honest with you, and not actually trying to induce you in some sort of manipulative game.

When fighting against an organized group, you don't need to attack them nor defeat them all at once. It will take one of the parts—only one of them to be the weakest and the beginning of their own downfall.

You wanted to believe Taeyong was the weakness.

Beneath all the beauty and luxuries that Taeyong carried around, his hard expressions but also his sparkling eyes, and most importantly all the substances that were dancing inside his body that night, your drunken mind considered there could be a soft heart that spoke the truth. And you didn't want to get carried away with that sweet, biased best friend talk and forget about what you really planned to do tonight—which was for sure not to fall for any vampire.

So as much as he would let you get closer to them, you would let him believe your connection was genuine.

"I don’t want you to do the same to my friend." He smiled at you.

You were about to reply, to reassure him you're not like the rest of the girls, when he turned his head to the window at the sight of a tall and very handsome guy walking in your direction, followed by Yuta and Youngho. Taeyong's smile didn't fade. In fact, it only grew bigger when the tall boy opened the door, ready to climb into the back of the car.

"Please don't get scared if you see my boyfriend or any of my friends snorting a line in front of you," Taeyong turned to warn you.  "They're just weird like that."

"Tae, we don't do that in Johnny's car," the guy scolded him as the car was getting crowded. He held a bottle of vodka in his hand that he hurriedly wanted to finish before you got on the road and to Youngho's place. A long drink and he tossed it to Taeyong, who took a sip, squeezing his eyes shut at the burning feeling down his throat and then he handed it to you.

"It's fine with me, anyway," you inform Taeyong, accepting the bottle with a subtle smile. "It's what I usually see around the club…"

"Yeah, of course she's fine with it." The tall guy laughed and gave Taeyong a knowing look that you caught through the rear view mirror. "Stop putting on an act, Tae."

"Shut up, Jaehyun! You're the one acting. I just don't want to scare her away, I like her!"

"You won't like her more than you like me, though." The tall guy—who's name you learned was Jaehyun—got a serious expression sending Taeyong that warning, with only a small hint of mischief in his tone, very hard to catch if you didn't pay enough attention.

But Taeyong must have known him very well, because he laughed awkwardly at Jaehyun's comment which made him smile pretty lovingly, dimples showing and eyes going into the shape of two crescent moons in Taeyong's direction.

"You two make me want to throw up," Yuta said as he closed the door, squeezing Taeyong, Jaehyun, and himself up in the backseat and only confirming Jaehyun had to be the boyfriend Taeyong was talking about earlier.

"It's not us what makes you want to throw up, Yuta." You heard Jaehyun's voice while he spoke facing the windshield. "It's all the blood you mixed up and drank tonight."

The bottle of vodka was almost empty in your hands when Youngho arrived, occupying the last empty space behind the steering wheel. One second he was turning on the engines, and the other you were tasting the iron of a quick, chaste kiss he planted on your lips and in front of everyone inside the car. He bit your lip before breaking the contact, and your blood mixed with the remains of what Youngho had been sipping all night that managed to transfer to your mouth. Then he turned around to ask, "Are we all continuing this at mine?"

"Drop me near my place on your way," Yuta was the only one to speak, his tone colder than his looks and the lack of temperature around the vampires. "I don't want to be part of any of this."

03: chaos

Soyeon and Donghyuck didn't waste a second from the moment they walked through the front door of that luxurious apartment. Kissing violently and obstructing their way into what seemed like a room, they moved without separating from each other to breathe, attached as if they were feeding on each other. In contrast, Taeyong and Jaehyun walked in completely relaxed; Taeyong with his arm around Jaehyun's shoulders, and intertwining their fingers in a way that almost moved you. You remembered Taeyong's words in the parking lot and wondered if love could really exist inside such cursed creatures.

Youngho looked tired after collapsing into the big leather couch in the living room, bottle of whiskey in hand. He opened it and poured four glasses, which you took as an invitation to join him and circle around the small table, along with the other couple.

There was a golden tray covered in white dust that looked ready to be used at any time. The first was Taeyong. He set up the line, brought his face close to the tray, and you heard him inhale the cocaine. After that, it didn't take more than a split second for him to finish his glass of whiskey in one gulp. And even though you knew it took a lot to intoxicate a vampire or alter their senses with some mundane substance made for human consumption, you were surprised how Taeyong didn't even flinch; not a sign of a slight dizziness, nothing. Jaehyun asked Youngho for a refill for his glass, and when he finished it, he and Taeyong said a hearty goodbye before retiring to the second floor.

Youngho was a man of few words, you had learned in the hours you had spent with him that night—even though you had already lost track of time. Your old cell phone had been left behind in the dressing room at the club, long before you saw Doyoung, and long before you met Youngho and your whole plan was completely ruined. Looking outside couldn't give you any clues as to what time it was either, since the sun hadn't shone in weeks.

The sound of the incessant storm was barely drowned out by the music from a vinyl that Youngho had just put on. He returned to your side on the couch and, again, he didn't need to say much: the vampire handed you the tray of cocaine, you inhaled a line, and he finished the whiskey straight from the bottle. That tired expression he wore before was suddenly gone; as he watched you recover from the dizziness, it had been replaced by one that could be mistaken for euphoria, or maybe desire.

Your head felt extremely light, and your body was on the verge of losing control and letting yourself be carried away by the melody playing in the common area of that huge, cold, and dark apartment.

As if Youngho had been reading your thoughts, he asked:

"Dance for me."

His throat, probably irritated by all the alcohol consumed, made his voice reach your ears deep and attractive, awakening chills throughout all your skin. And you obeyed, of course—it was your job, and he was your actual boss. On top of all that, there was the possibility of desperately wanting to dance for Youngho once again.

Youngho pushed the small wooden table away, moving it with his leather boot on it without a care, making room for you to dance right in front of where he was sitting. Arms and legs outstretched as if he were in paradise, Youngho made you feel that if looks could kill you would probably already be dead—eaten alive, drained from all your blood. And in some twisted way, you couldn't help but enjoying it: the feeling that even though they could have whoever they wanted, there were two the vampires who continued to choose you over the others—who had you as the object of their desires. Doyoung did it regularly. And you had to find a way to make Youngho want to do it too without getting killed.

You could hear the sound of the fire burning the paper that wraps the tobacco, and the room quickly filled with its white smoke coming out of Youngho's lungs. The music that was making you dance wasn't particularly sensual—the melody and the sounds made the situation of being in the vampire's house even more macabre. Still, you tried your best to impress Youngho, who was huffing and running his hand through his hair restlessly, as he watched you with the same eyes that had mesmerized you in the casino. They looked brown, normal one second, and bloodshot red the next. You thought it was a consequence of your drunken state that it altered your perception of things, or of the desire that you felt existed between you.

Your outfit that night left nothing to the imagination. You were still wearing your performing clothes—a see-through dress and the set of faux-leather underwear that you assumed had been tempting the vampire in front of you all night. He wasn't leaving much to the imagination either. The tent on his dressing pants were giving you enough confidence to take it a step further.

You turned around, trying to follow the beat of the music. The hem of your dress rolled up the curve of your ass when you squatted down in front of him. You heard him groan over the music, and the sound of ruffling against the black leather couch. It made you smile when you turned your head to the side and saw him out of the corner of your eye, struggling a little with his hard-on. So you got your knees and the side of your head to touch the cold, white marbled floor, while maintaining that eye contact that was so mesmerizing to you. You opened your knees and broke your back to have your ass moving up and down in front of Youngho a couple of times, then straightened your back to finally get rid of the thin and shiny tulle that caressed your skin.

It was when Youngho lost it, grabbing you by the arm and turning your body around to sit you on his lap. "Keep dancing," his voice came out raspy and desperate.

The tension, the strange beat of the music and all the smoke accumulated in the room squeezed your chest, making it difficult for you to breathe, and if something didn't happen in the next few seconds you felt like your heart might explode. Even when you tried to remind yourself to not fully give in to him and lose control, you couldn't really concentrate on what you were actually there for. You felt like you had accepted leaving with Youngho for a different reason, far, very far away from fucking him. Nonetheless, that seemed like the only thing you could really think of at that moment.

A whine came out from your mouth when you felt his hands touching you for the first time and pushing you even closer to him. And when he squeezed your ass to place your clothed sex right above his bulge you gasped, your lungs purified with clean air, as if something had been restricting them all this time.

It was that feeling again—a downforce pulling your body down, feeling as if you were descending from the sky at miles per hour, and your brain processing reality way too fast for your drunken state. An incessant throbbing between your legs, extremely turned on by the vampire under you, and you having no clue of how you actually ended up in that position.

Because yes, of course you remember what happened that night. You remember going to talk to them at their table, then getting into one of their cars and talking with Taeyong, accepting the drugs from Youngho and wanting to dance for him… But you didn't work like this. You've never worked like this. Every move and interaction had to be absolutely thought out and premeditated and this—it just felt totally wild, like you were out of it when you were in front of Youngho. Just the way you felt when you saw him at the vampires cave, back at the casino.

Despite looking the most young and fresh above the majority of them, given his position amongst the vampires at the club, you assumed Youngho was probably one of the oldest, if not the oldest of them all. You wondered if he was really that powerful; there was the possibility that he was messing with your head, you'd read older vampires were able to do so even to humans.

You thought he was absolutely insane when you felt the cold air hit your nipples and then his warm mouth attached to them. He let you grind on top of him, while you tried to contain your moans and to concentrate on what you actually had to do, that was getting out of there before you were food for vampires.

Your plan was screwed. Youngho being the leader of them changed everything you had been working on for months, even before you got your job at the strip club. You thought you had him, but there was a high chance that he was just using you to benefit from you somehow. Either it was getting on Doyoung's nerves, feeding from you, or just to get his dick wet—this wasn't about you. You needed to make it about you.

You needed to have control over the situation again. Change the plan and keep moving as soon as possible, without being suspicious. But Doyoung was already too involved and, fuck—he wasn't the vampire you had to get with, and you knew he was already kind of attached. You could said he had feelings, you knew that was possible for immature vampires, so you had to deal with that too and–

"Care to explain what this is for?"

You felt the blade pressing into the skin of your neck, threatening to cut just above your jugular if you made even the slightest movement. Youngho shook your head and tightened his grip on the nape of your neck even more, the force he exerted there beginning to ache and the sharpness of the weapon demanding a response from you more than the fear and adrenaline you knew were giving you away, no matter how hard you tried to stay calm.

You closed your eyes and silently cursed Ten for giving you the stupid razor, and yourself for accepting it even when you knew a little blade would be a waste of time when it came to vampires. You cursed yourself for being so careless after months working to get to this point—not in the way you really wanted, though.

"Five seconds to explain yourself before I kill you," he talked from under you once again.

Your eyes met his, no longer changing from brown to red but fully bloodshot now, and looking more scary than ever. You gulped one time and decided to speak—it's not like you had another choice anyway.

"It's because I work at the club," you managed to get your voice out. "I'm not sure if you know, but most of the men there are nasty." The words came out as fast as you could, but the anger on his face was telling you he wasn't having any of your bullshit. You concluded your lie struggling to maintain eye contact. "Wouldn't be the first time someone has to defend themselves from them."

Youngho loosened his grip on the back of your head and lowered the razor from your neck, only to caress your body with its sharp tip, tickling your skin as he ran it across your chest, the curve of your breasts, and your abdomen.

"Nobody dares to enter my house with weapons, you know that?" He applied more force to the blade against your skin. "Who the fuck you think you are?"

"It wasn't to hurt you," you dared to say, chest breathing heavy under the movement of the blade. "I swear I'd never think of using it on anyone. It's just to scare the guys from the club away if things get ugly."

The blade stopped on the flesh above your left clavicle, right besides where a scar was placed. Doyoung wasn't used to feeding on you, saying he didn't like it and that it wasn't what your relationship was about. But sometimes you would let him, when the moment would get too intense and you noticed that he was fighting too hard to control his tendencies. He was happy getting drunk on your blood from time to time, and he rewarded you with amazing sex and aftercare. All that was left was a little scar in that spot. Youngho laughed looking at it, and you felt the sting of the edge cutting the skin, then his tongue licking the blood that emanated from the superficial cut.

He hummed satisfied after getting a taste from you, and his fangs rubbled the zone before he spoke.

"I don't believe shit you're saying, my darling."

Even though you had imagined a moment like this before, with the most important vampire of all making you his in every way, you prepared yourself for the worst outcome. There was no chance you were getting out of there the way you wanted it.

Yet the surprise of a door being opened violently interrupted Youngho, who was about to open your chest in two, and his gaze focused on a scene behind you. His face deformed rapidly, and his expressions were no longer covered with desire and hunger but full of fury and anger. Even though you had no idea what was going on at your back, you were internally grateful that you weren't the cause of the sudden outburst of the vampire.

"Johnny, I think I messed up."

Donghyuck's voice managed to get to your ears when Youngho got you off his lap and shoved you to the other side of the couch. He got up in a rage, and you took care of calming your breathing in silence before he could remember that he was literally about to kill you. You heard Youngho start to mutter to Donghyuck, but you were too busy checking the small cut on your skin that kept bleeding, staining your fingertips every time you touched it.

"The fuck have you done?!" You heard the older vampire scream this time, and when you looked up he was pushing a Donghyuck completely covered in red back, causing the boy to hit the wall and become unbalanced. "You know we don't do this here, it's strictly forbidden."

Donghyuck stood outside the room he locked himself up earlier. Barefoot, only wearing a pair of briefs and the blood dripping from his mouth, painting his neck and chest a deep red. He was trying to explain something to Youngho, yet your mind couldn't concentrate on anything different than the scene inside of the bedroom.

Soyeon's body was on the bed. Her neck hanging off the edge with her eyes open, a terrified look penetrating right into yours. She must have been full of fear, is what you thought as you saw the fresh blood covering her neck and the champagne-colored bed sheets—now stained in red. An open wound on its left side that had stopped bleeding. Donghyuck must have sucked her dry.

"I damn Mia for turning you, Donghyuck, I really do. You're nothing more than a pain in the ass," Youngho said, and you watched him start to dial a phone number from your place on the couch.

Donghyuck seemed like he didn't care much as he started heading towards where you were sitting. You tried to move back even further in place by drawing your legs to your chest, clearly scared of what he might do to you. This was not the way you thought you'd die. But he simply stopped at the small wooden table and took out a cigarette.

"Relax, I'm not going to do anything to you," his mouth barely opened to speak, as he tried to hold the cigarette between his lips. He lit it up, inhaled all the tobacco smoke, then let it out to mix with the heavy, tense atmosphere. His lips left the filter painted with your co-worker's blood. "Yet." He finished talking with a macabre smile, and even dared to wink at you.

He quickly scanned you up and down, suddenly reminding you of the situation you were in with Youngho before he showed up and making you feel utterly exposed, so you crossed your arms over your chest in the best attempt to shield yourself from the hungry eyes of the young vampire.

"You're not doing shit more than taking care of this mess," Youngho spoke to Donghyuck as approached the scene. "I called Mia, you'll do it together. And be fucking reasonable while doing it. I don't want to see her on the news tomorrow because she was found laying in an alley."

"And what do we do about her?" Donghyuck asked while pointing at you with the cigarette. "Can't you make her forget? 'Cause I doubt you really wanna deal with another dead body."

Youngho stared at your body for a few seconds, thinking. Donghyuck waited for an answer, shifting his gaze from his boss to you, and you could feel Soyeon's eyes, dead but full of fear on you all the way from inside the bedroom. The smell of blood emanating from there and from Donghyuck's dripping mouth was beginning to be nauseating and the music playing from the vinyl threatened to drive you crazy.

"She doesn't need to forget," he finally said. Then he pulled your blade out of the back pocket of his pants and threw it forward, the little weapon landing on the couch right next to you. "You don't fuck with vampires. Consider this a lesson."

04: through the storm

Check the window. Watch the raindrops fall. Take your hand out and feel the water in your skin. Wipe the humidity with your clothes. Check the time—it's been twenty-six hours and thirteen minutes since you left Youngho's house; twenty-five hours and two minutes since you left Kun's apartment with your hands stained with blood. And try not to lose your mind. Check the time only one more time just to make sure you're not disconnecting from reality.

Not even a minute had passed since the last time you unlocked your phone to do that.

The wind from the storm that had been going on for days suddenly became more violent, whipping your face and forcing you to close the windows of the house, leaving you in the dark after the candles have gone out. The dim firelight between your trembling hands lighting cigarette after cigarette was the only tangible evidence of your emotions at that moment. The room quickly filled with smoke as the wax burned back onto the table, and that poor light allowed you to summarize what you were doing.

Your eyes scanned the thick paper, reading the information that had been kept from you over and over again. National Intelligence Service, printed in blue ink, and a 'classified' red stamp just below it.

Serial 090295-127. Name: Seo Youngho - Alias "Johnny".

A voice resonated inside your head, almost torturing you, and you feared closing your eyes in case you'd be reminded of the events of the past hours.

"Did you really think you'd be able to do this alone? Are you that naive?"

Address: Unknown. Jurisdiction: Seoul. Additional info/scars/tattoos/weapons/etc.: tattoos of a barbed wire on his chest; hummingbird, beast, and wild leaves on his left shoulder (colored), spider on his right pectoral, flower arrangement in his right hand, letters on his fingers. Master hand-to-hand combatant. Masters various supernatural powers (includes supernatural strength, speed, super bionic hearing and vision, telekinesis, mind control.)

Two checked boxes under that information:

Suspect. Previously arrested.

The rage would make you tremble and break a cold sweat that dropped down the sides of your body. You closed the blue folder violently and you piled it on top of the rest of the documents carelessly. Yuta's, Taeyong's, Jaehyun's, Doyoung's—all of them—and tossed them across the room to somehow deal with the irritation. The papers that keep track of the vampire organization's crimes up to a year ago, before Qian Kun was fired for not agreeing to stop investigating them, flew through the air and landed next to the pile of clothes you took off just a couple of hours ago. The candlelight hardly reached that area of the house. Still, it was enough to illuminate the red stains on your white fur coat, and remind you of the scene you left behind at the retired cop's house.

You can't really say that it was premeditated, although you can't really say that you simply acted out of a violent impulse, or a nervous one, or whatever. You wanted to finish off the bastard, just not under those circumstances. After finding out that he had only been lying to you and using you to catch the vampires first, and that by hiding information as important as who their true leader is, he ruined the whole damn plan you were carrying out. You thought the bastard deserved nothing more than to die right away.

Kun's apartment, in a crumbling building just a couple of streets from the casino, had become an exact replica of the Seoul police investigation office after he was kicked out. Target pictures pasted on the walls, phone numbers, bank account aliases, contacts from all around the world, photos from outside and inside the casino—you name it. The man studied the vampires who ruled the casino day and night.

When Kun arrived in Korea from China, he was a newly recruited police officer hungry for justice in a dirty, corrupt, and dying world. He had followed the vampires who had their illegal businesses in China and, frustrated by all the obstacles the authorities put to judge them, he decided to go in search of the root of the problem. Kim Doyoung, was what he told you the night you met him in the old bar where you worked and where Kun often went to drown his sorrows.

Kim Doyoung was supposedly the man in charge of the biggest chain of clubs and casinos in cities like New York, Los Angeles, Beijing, Tokyo and, of course, Seoul. Kim Doyoung, a rich, powerful, attractive, timeless man. A vampire. Someone who would survive the supposed last of humanity's crises, filling his pockets exponentially and living peacefully for all eternity. Absolutely everything you were looking for. 

You were going to kill Kun after you had become what you wanted and rid yourself of the vampires, but that evening he left you no choice.

The morning after the night you met Youngho and your life suddenly got upside down, you went to Kun's apartment for explanations.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep the memory from creeping into your mind.

"I didn't lie to you," he had the nerve to say. "I just kept information from you, for your own safety."

"Bullshit!" you almost spit in his face. All the anger generated by the situation you found yourself in with Youngho, Soyeon's unnecessary death, and Doyoung's strange attitudes, you were unloading on the police officer. If your plan took a one hundred and eighty degrees turn it was his fault, and you were going to let him know. "If you cared about my safety you would've told me the truth from the start. And I would've been dealing with the right vampire from the beginning. Wouldn't have gotten my mind fucked, maybe my co-worker wouldn't be fucking dead!"

"You could never have dealt with the situation on your own."

"I would have planned it differently! I thought I had Doyoung eating from the palm of my hand."

"You have Doyoung eating from your hands, though," he shot back, maintaining an incredibly calm composure even though you had been yelling at him for about ten minutes.

"But he's not the right guy, for fuck's sake!"

Kun left the room leaving you shaken, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and your throat closing more and more in response to all your accumulated anger. After a couple of seconds he returned with a file box in his hands and begun to search inside it, until he pulled out a blue folder and opened it with the intention of reading its contents to you.

"Okay, listen. This is how we're going to proceed."

"Hell no. I'm not doing this with you anymore." Your face contorted in disgust as you looked at him, and you pointed an accusing finger at him to speak, "You think I can trust you after you lied like this to me?"

"Did you really think you'd be able to do this alone?" Kun asked once more, but this time with a much more incredulous tone, his eyes narrowed and a nasty smirk on his lips. "Are you that naive? Look at you."

He motioned to you with his head and you followed his gaze all the way down to your own self. You were still wearing your outfit of the previous night—your performance clothes, only covered by a fur coat you managed to take before leaving the casino that barely reached your thighs. You hadn't had the energy to shower nor change clothes since you came back from Youngho's apartment, so your makeup from the previous night was trying to survive the water from the bathroom sink and the rain, almost completely smudged off your face now. To be quite honest, you were a disaster.

"You're nothing more than a whore who makes men horny for fucking money, and you're going to die as that, nothing else," he stated disgustingly. "There's no chance you can fool Youngho and run away with his money. It's not happening. Be fucking realistic."

You felt your eyes burn and fill with tears. A lump settled in your throat, and you couldn't warn him at all. When Kun turned around and had his back to you, you just saw the perfect opportunity to vent all your pent up rage.

The knife you were hiding in your boots felt incredibly heavy in your right hand. Kun's hair was soft to the touch as you took hold of him to angle his neck to the edge of the blade. A clean cut from left to right was all it took for your skin to feel the heat of his blood, and the floor began to turn red—a dark and stinking red, like the one you often see Doyoung drink from his fine glass bottles.

You let out a cry of exhaustion watching the body fall limp to the wooden floor and hearing the retired officer struggle to maintain his life.

"¡Fuuuuuck! ¡Fuck, fuck, fucking shit!"

The pool of blood didn't manage to reach the sole of your shoes, as you walked away and busied yourself with taking the file box that Kun had just revealed to you, along with some other photographs and bank account numbers. You didn't take all the items that were hanging on his walls, because whoever entered, found his lifeless dead body, and then saw how he had been following the vampires for years, would only think that the crime was their own doing—that they discovered him and wanted him out of the way. Nobody would ever suspect you, because you always made sure there were no traces left of your relationship with Kun that could incriminate you. There was a high chance that the case wouldn't even get investigated, as no one dared to touch the vampire organization and Kun didn't have family in Seoul that could worry about him, anyway.

The old plan to get to the vampires was completely screwed, so you needed to think about a new one as soon as possible.

You opened your eyes and you found yourself sitting at home again, by candlelight, this time with a joint in your hands. You turned it on, took a puff, checked the time through the broken screen of your phone. Only a minute had passed since you last did the same, but in your head it felt like an hour. 

Nothing coherent would emerge under that state of mind, so finally, after approximately more than thirty-five hours awake, you went to sleep trying to convince yourself that you were not losing your sanity.

05: every splendid thing gathered as if to tempt me

You weren't asked to go to the vampire's cave again after what happened with Soyeon. When you went back to work at the club alone though, Ten was the first to suspect something had happened either when you were there or after. He asked if you knew the reason why she was absent, but you weren't gonna tell him the truth–you couldn't imagine what would happen if your coworkers found out their bosses didn't mind killing his employees only because they couldn't control their thirst for human blood. You were afraid that, if you said a word, they'd find out and get you killed too.

Your answer did not convince Ten at all, who questioned you, crossing his arms and frowning.

"You think she's sick?"

You just shrugged, looking at him through the reflection in the mirror of the club's dressing room.

"It's been a week since she's absent," he remarked. "You think she's gonna miss a week of work, considering how shitty the pay is, just because she's sick? She doesn't have any more income."

You swallowed dryly and couldn't stand his gaze any longer. If Ten noticed how guilt took over your senses, he chose not to say anything about it. Only his footsteps could be heard, the sole of his white platforms sinking into the wood as he walked away from you to collapse on the old leather couch.

Your phone vibrated and the screen turned on, showing a text indicating to be at the private parking lot in five minutes. Doyoung explained he had a busy week and that he couldn't make much time to contact you, but that he admired you from his office every night that you were dancing at the club's stage, and it made him miss you even more. He wanted to compensate you for all the time you couldn't be together.

"Doyoung might know something," you finally tried to reassure Ten, even though you knew Doyoung wouldn't have a clue . "I could ask him about her."

His long, thin legs crossed while he lit a cigarette up and drank whiskey as if it were water. "Please do," he said, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "I'm worried sick about her."

—

You thought it would be easier to deal with the situation, however the image of Soyeon dead in Youngho's bed haunted you day and night, just like the tail of your lies. The sound of the flush filled the bathroom right after the conversation with Ten made your stomach turn. You opened the sink, rinsed your mouth, touched up the red color of your lipstick and bit into a mint.

Five minutes later, you found Doyoung waiting for you at the side of his white sports car. He was busy on his phone, a frown on his brows as he discussed with someone in a low tone you couldn't catch anything of what he was saying. Even though he looked frustrated, his eyes relaxed as soon as he saw you approaching his spot. He did that characteristic gesture of him, extending his arm to you to get you closer, and you intertwined your fingers as he ended his call on the phone.

"I'll have an answer tonight, Johnny."

Your stomach flipped for the second time that day as soon as you heard the name leave Doyoung's lips. He frowned once again, maybe sensing a change in your mood, but only smiled at you and caressed the back of your palm with his thumb. You thought Doyoung might not have known what happened, but somehow he could've been trying to comfort you.

"Alright, see you tomorrow." Doyoung ended the call.

He cupped your face with his hands locking eyes with you. He had a tender look, and it made you wonder if Doyoung might see it through you—all the sleepless hours, the crying, the fear, the stains of blood, the lies. Yet he only pushed your head closer to his, locking your mouths with a soft kiss. His lips were cold to the touch, but after what felt like the most chaotic and stressful days of your entire life, you found some kind of comfort in them. His gentle manners disconnected you from reality, so you stuck to that kiss like your life depended on it, deepening it more and more as time passed.

You tugged Doyoung closer, his perfectly white shirt wrinkling in your fists while you felt his body adapt perfectly to yours and his expensive cologne filled your senses. It reminded you of the reason why you started seeing Doyoung in the first place—you liked him. You liked his body, you liked his face and the way it seemed like he only had eyes for you. You loved how he smelled, how he always kissed your cheeks, how his silk shirts felt on your skin after he got you naked. Then you got used to the rides on his expensive cars, the delicious meals and the comfort of the king sized beds he would fuck you over everytime you were together.

Maybe you liked all that a little too much, got ambitious, wanted it all only for you. And you wanted it forever.

He broke the kiss and laughed when he saw you chasing his lips for more. His hands moved up to hug your waist and you opened your eyes to find his slightly bloodshot red, his irises slowly going back to its normal yellowish as you both struggled with your breath.

A lopsided smile was plastered on his face.

"Let's go home."

And maybe, only this last time, you didn't want to think of following plans, of keeping secrets and fearing betrayals. Maybe you wanted to have a moment with Doyoung, only a moment, like it was when it all started.

After weeks of torrential rains, all that was left in Seoul was empty streets under an eternal starry night. The wind that entered through the apartment’s open windows made the black curtains dance around a king-sized bed where Doyoung laid naked. Through the gold-ornamented mirror he observed you fix your hair, then put your panties on and add some more lipstick after it transferred all to your lover’s skin.

Against popular belief, you were able to catch his silhouette through the reflection coming close to you. His body was illuminated by the moonlight only, yet it was enough to admire all the muscle and the ink that adorned his body. It was just as they described it on the documents you got from Kun’s house, each tattoo placed in the exact place, and it made you wonder if those previous investigators had gotten the information the same way. How many lovers could Doyoung and the rest of the vampires possibly have had that were not their lovers, but some desperate humans trying to make something out of this miserable world? How many other girls have touched Doyoung’s velvety skin under the moonlight, over those same sheets, and how many more would if you’re not the last one?

His touch was cold over your shoulders, even when he placed his soft lips on your naked skin it felt terribly cold. From behind you, his right hand traveled past your navel until it reached the only trace of fabric you were wearing. The other hand over your neck applied the right amount of pressure to get your entire body pressed to his, and he whispered in your ear.

“There’s something you need to understand very clearly, my dear.”

The coldness reached your insides. Doyoung started rubbing on your sex very gently, enough for you to pay attention to what he was saying.

“Even if you start dancing occasionally for other vampires at the cave, you’re my human.”

He added a finger as he finished the sentence, making you throw your head back over his shoulder.

“You can’t be with anyone else.” When he sensed you were ready, a second finger came in alongside a tight grip on your neck. “Understood?”

But a moan got caught in your throat. You had to open your eyes to check your reflection in the mirror because you couldn’t believe what your ears heard.

That wasn’t Doyoung’s voice asking the question, nor was it his figure behind you and with his hand between your pussy.

It was Johnny’s.

The older vampire let go of the grip on your neck before putting your panties down in one go. The contact on your skin no longer felt cold, but it was incredibly hot, almost burning the places he was grabbing you from. With both hands behind your back locked between his, he started fucking you. You looked for Doyoung around the room, wondering where had he gone and if he was okay with it. It was hard to understand how one second he was telling you you’re his, and the other he was letting his superior have his way with you.

“What are you doing?!” You asked the vampire behind you, while he was restlessly going in and out of you and you were fighting not to scream his name.

“This is lesson number two,” Johnny said between breaths. “You can’t play both ends.”

It’s hard to explain what truly happened that night, because you couldn’t decipher it yourself.

When you started to fight the pleasure, he seemed to have no other option than to let you go. After quickly putting all your clothes on and apparently coming down from the high, you ran out of Doyoung’s room, full of embarrassment and in fear of encountering him and got him questioning your state.

But you couldn’t avoid him.

His hand on your forearm stopped you from getting through the front door.

“What happened?” He asked a little out of breath, only wearing a pair of briefs and a confused expression.

“Where is he?”

“Where’s who?” Doyoung returned the question.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” you apologized as you fought to get rid of his grip, rotating your gaze wildly between his body and the bedroom door, hoping that Johnny would simply disappear from there. “I just need to go.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.”

“Did you not like it?”

And what were you supposed to say? You couldn’t quite wrap your head around the idea of Doyoung letting Johnny fuck you. In his own house, right after himself. It just wasn’t part of Doyoung’s nature, you knew that. So, to say you were extremely confused once again, was an understatement. Doyoung was still looking at you expecting an answer.

The problem was, you liked what Johnny did to you a little too much.

“Are you scared of me?” Doyoung asked after not getting a word from you. “Is this because of Soyeon?”

“No.” You furrowed your brows. Doyoung knew something and was clearly keeping it from you. But how much did he know was the real problem; he better not have an idea you were with Johnny the night she died, or it would be all screwed. Doyoung simply couldn’t know you saw his boss, or you would lose your job and contact with the casino, completely. That’s why you got a little defensive and started questioning him, even when you already got all the answers. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Uhm, no, it doesn't have to do anything–”

“What do you know, Doyoung?” You demanded with a firmer tone. He remained silent, perhaps debating whether to confess or not. So you feigned a little more concern.

“She’s missing! Don’t act all dumb Doyoung, I know something happened to her!”

“One of the vampires of the cave, Donghyuck,” he finally started. “Well, he can’t control his impulses too well.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“He’s young! Like, very recently turned and… Apparently he impulsively sucked all the blood out of her–”

But it was impossible for him to finish the sentence because you started gagging. Not because of what he was saying, but because of the mental image you had of Soyeon’s dead body, and Donghyuck all covered in her blood in front of you. You even remember the nauseous smell, and your eyes filled up with tears because of the disgust.

“I know she was your friend. I’m sorry for not telling you, I just didn’t want to scare you.” His voice came out desperate as his touch sought to comfort you, through caresses on your arms and your cheeks. “I know I get possesive sometimes telling you you’re just mine, but it’s because I’m afraid you might get involved with them and end up like that.”

“I already got involved with you. What makes you different?” You countered a little defensively, dodging his hands.

Doyoung had always been very respectful of your boundaries and your emotions, so you weren't surprised when he brought his hands to his chest, guarding himself against the desire to come into contact with you after you avoided it. His murmur still echoed in that huge, dark living room of his apartment.

“That I… I really care for you. You’re more than a good fuck to me. You know that, right?”

The empty look of a defeated body was all you gave back to him, as if you no longer had the strength to deal with the situation.

He approached you very slowly, still in a state of alert that you could feel. “I care for you.” He repeated. “A lot.”

“You vampires can’t develop feelings and shit,” you finally spoke. “Don’t try to lie to me.”

The vampire shrugged with his head down, an attitude you have never witnessed before. That level of vulnerability he was showing was completely new; deeper than the sex, even deeper than sharing your blood with him.

“I can,” he confessed, looking back into your eyes. “I’m not that old, you know? To completely dissociate myself from my feelings.”

While you remained silent, you let him close the space between the two of you once again. Doyoung’s fingertips were soft caressing your cheeks, yet his lips felt even softer. He wore yellow clear eyes full of worry, far from those arrogant or lustful looks he gave you most of the time. On his naked chest, right above where his heart should’ve been beating, a perfect shape of your lips in the color of red.

The gears were turning inside your head trying to think of how to use this to your advantage and put the plan into motion with Johnny.

“I need some time alone to process all this.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Doyoung was quick to reassure you. “Whatever you need, you know I’m just one call away.”

You nodded your head yes and were out of the vampire’s place.

Once on the street, you searched your small bag for the cigarettes you had taken from Doyoung's nightstand and lit one. In a reflex act, you looked up in the direction of his balcony, where its black curtains still fluttered due to the unusual wind and blended with the darkness of the night in a decaying Seoul. Suddenly, the windows closed. You exhaled the smoke from your cigarette smiling.

"Stupid vampires."

And you stopped the bus that would take you back to the Oasis.

06: tell me how you want to keep me for eternity

Multiple murmurs from came to your ears as you opened the doors to the red room. The waitresses opened bottles of champagne and filled the mortals’ glasses as the vampires sucked on their blood cocktails. There was some jazz playing in the back while you were opening your way to that particular table that caught your attention so much on the first day you were at the vampire’s cave.

That night, however, you noticed there were a few missing faces as you performed on the stage.

When you encountered Yuta at the casino’s main entrance and he told you you were back at the third floor, of course you were expecting to dance for Johnny. Yet he was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t even feel his presence like you did the first time you were there, and you thought it was strange. Why would he call you to dance if he wasn’t going to be watching? And why would you bother dancing if you were going to do it for other people?

The call of your name startled you, making you realize you had already walked by the vampire’s designated table during your train of thought. Taeyong's friendly tone made it quite difficult to hide the reality that you weren't interested in stopping at the table unless Johnny was there.

“Come have a drink with us.” 

You nodded your head politely and sat down at the rounded table. Taeyong and his boyfriend were attached at the hips as in every situation you had shared with them. On their side, a rather young looking man with a perfectly defined nose and plump lips with an unnatural red. The remains on his glass made you think you couldn't make up his age based on his looks because he was also drinking from the blood cocktail. Between him and Yuta, some girls you had never seen before. Lastly, Donghyuck was sitting on your side with a cocky smile that you started to think was characteristic of him.

“You and the dancers were amazing tonight,” Taeyong said as he offered you a bubbly glass that you drowned in one go.

“It was a new show,” you responded with a smile. “A different one we haven’t presented in the club, so we didn’t have much rehearsal before this.”

“You work at the club?” One of the girls asked, arching a brow and getting a laugh out of her friend.

You confirmed with a nod of your head and a slightly embarrassed smile, yet the rage was already bubbling up inside you. She only added, “Must be hard dealing with all the shit that goes down there.”

That made both of them laugh and you scoffed in response.

“Why don’t you go down there and see if you can deal with it,” your face frowned as you challenged them with the same impudence. “I’m sure you won’t act all tough once you’re outside your little privileged bubble.”

Yuta was the only one that dared to show a reaction to your response. He laughed and poured another glass of champagne before handing it to you as some kind of reward. “You won’t want to mess with this one, girls,” the japanese said and he got up in his place, not looking them in the eyes even once but rather concentrated in the rest of the cave, as if looking for someone.

“Yeah, I can see,” the girl that remained silent and only laughing until then, spoke. “You can’t hide where you come from. It always shows.”

And with that they left the table, leaving you alone with the vampires.

“I think you’re one of our best dancers,” Jaehyun said. “But not the best.”

As the sensual tone of an electric guitar came to your senses, he stood up and asked his boyfriend for his hand. “Would the best dancer in the building give me the honour of sharing this piece?”

Taeyong laughed out of nervousness, asking ‘what?’ as he laced his fingers between his lover’s. But his expression turned quickly as he recognized the song. “Wait, is this our song?” He asked getting up.

“I paid the musicians to play it for us.”

Jaehyun dragged his partner to the center of the dance floor, attracting everyone's attention except for one person. It seemed like Yuta had finally found what he was looking for, and you saw him smile for what you think was the first time in your life. A genuine smile formed on his lips and forced him to leave the table in search of an infernal woman who was entering the cave. He kissed her knuckles almost hidden by a huge fur coat, and the tip of her stilettos echoed across the floor as they both left through the red curtains she had just entered.

A few seconds passed by with Jaehyun and Taeyong swinging to the music, before you were startled by the last person setting at the table with you.

“Just you and me, huh?” Donghyuck asked and you hummed. “Should we go dance too?”

“No, thanks.”

“What?” He laughed, sounding like he was a little shocked by the quick denial. “I thought you enjoyed dancing for the vampires a little too much,” he added with a disgusting tone eyeing you up and down.

His wandering looks you caught from the corner of your eye obliged you to cover up a little, uncomfortable. But it wasn't enough for Donghyuck to catch the signal, or maybe he decided he couldn't care less, hence the young vampire moved his right hand to your knee and started squeezing there, feeling your skin through the red stockings you were wearing.

“Red’s my favorite colour,” he whispered getting closer to your side.

Your trembly hands tried to pour another glass of champagne but failed once you noticed the bottle was empty. Beyond Donghyuck’s spot on the table there was a bottle of whiskey, so you tried to reach for it but couldn’t when you felt his hand go further up your knee.

You stopped him right there and looked him in his blood-shot eyes. A wicked smile took over his features and he licked his lips after squeezing your thight once more. “What?” He asked after your silence.

From his being emanated a mix of whiskey and that nauseating smell that reminded you of the night Donghyuck had appeared before you covered in blood, and of the floor of Kun's apartment covered in the same red.

“You scared of me?” Donghyuck whispers once again. “Scared you might end up like that pretty friend of yours?”

You held your breath, trying to endure the nausea that the young man caused you. You knew he meant you were scared of ending up dead.

“Trying to be fucked by you?” A laugh made your entire body shake. “Not even in your wildest dreams,” you finished to get his hand off your skin and up from the table.

As the loverboys still danced slowly at the center of the floor and in front of the musicians, you fixed your clothes and went a little over him to finally reach for the bottle of Black Label.

“I need to go see your boss.”

—

“Ten,” you called his name as soon as you heard the boy on the other side of the phone.

Since Soyeon wasn’t around anymore, you decided you had to trust someone else. You had been working at the casino for a few months only, so it was needed to keep in contact with someone who knew the interns and could give you quick information.

Ten showed himself trustworthy since the very first moment you met. He was the nicest coworker you had too, along with Soyeon. During your first rehearsal at the club it was only him and you; he spent hours teaching you all the choreographies and showing you around so you wouldn’t feel so lost on your first day of shows. Later that same day, after he drowned glass of whiskey after glass of whiskey, the confessions came to you while you two sat on the rusty couch of the changing room.

“I fell for them too,” he said, head thrown back on the couch, getting his eyes lost on the dirt of the ceiling.

You rolled the tobacco between your fingers with some difficulty and passed it to Ten. “How did that happen?”

“Honestly,” the boy lit the tobacco up and it struggled to burn due to your poor arming skills, but he didn’t seem to mind. “They’re intriguing, I don’t know. And they’re handsome and hot despite all that coldness they carry around. But there was this particularly nice vampire that came to the club one night,” he confessed while pouring another two glasses of liquor and passing one to you. “That’s unusual. You’ll never see them around here, not even Doyoung, he’s always observing but only up from his office.

But this one was there. He came to see the show and then I encountered him in the bathroom.”

“In the bathroom?” 

“He was doing coke,” Ten laughed in disbelief. “But he was so nice,” a sigh came out of him remembering the moment. “The most defined jaw I’ve seen in my life, nose and lips carved by the Gods, a soft pastel pink hair that reminded me of how the beautiful afternoon sky looked before all this world went to shit.”

That made you wonder. Ten looked ratherly young, maybe around your age or just a couple of years older, yet you had no memories of how the initial world was. You had only lived during the beginning of the end. “How long have you been around here, Ten?”

“Many years,” he said, calling your name. He stood up from his place and went to look in front of the changing room’s mirror. “I got beside him like this, only looking at him through the mirror but I could see him eyeing me up and down with a dopey smile.”

It looked like nostalgia took over his body, a sad smile adorning his face when he turned around to finish his sentence.

“Taeyong has always been easy like that.”

“You fell in love with one of them?”

“Mhm.” Ten walked on his platforms until he was sitting on your side once again. He put the tobacco down in the ashtray and took the black, thick choker he was wearing around his neck. “We got close like this.”

A slightly visible scar of what looked like a pair of fangs was there on his skin.

“I think it can happen to most of us.” Ten searched for something in between his tight clothes until he took out a tiny bag of powder. “I do wish to feel that high again, everyday of my life.” Opened it, collected a little on the inside of his long nails and inhaled. “But I don’t wish for anyone else to experience it at the same time.”

“Girl,” he said through the line. “You good? Are you done with your number?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied and hesitated for a moment on asking what you really wanted to know. “Do you know where I can find Johnny?”

A moment of silence, then Ten’s voice finally came back to your ears. “Last floor. His office is the only room you’ll find there.”

—

A gold painted door read Seo Youngho in front of your eyes. Under your black platforms, a petrol-colored carpet that combined perfectly with the dark walls of the hallway. You knocked on the door and checked above it and around the corners of the hallway to see if there were any cameras announcing your arrival, but opposite what you were used to in Doyoung’s office, there wasn’t a single one. You only heard a disturbed ‘come in’ from inside, and the voice made your stomach turn upside down.

The room behind the golden door was giant, covered in dark wood and black-out windows that reached the meters-long ceiling. Adorned in a typical gothic style, the office of your boss was what you would call a vampire's refuge, with thick blue curtains, and ornate armchairs sporting matching velvet. To your left, shelves that covered the walls full of books and boxes with files. To the right, a giant frame holding the most horrible canvas you've ever seen of Saturn devouring his son.

The voice of the boss himself made you turn your head to the center of the room.

Far from where you were, towards the end of the room and sitting behind a huge wooden desk covered in papers and candle wax was Johnny. He called your name a little surprised and made you feel stupid with a half empty whiskey bottle in your hand.

“Seems like you finally made a choice,” he said standing up from his place and coming in front of the desk.

You smiled with your lips sealed and started walking towards him. It was only a few steps, yet it felt like eternity. The room was incredibly cold, so much so that it gave you goosebumps and you had to fight a shiver once you were in front of the vampire. He looked down at you and laughed, taking the bottle out of your hand to pour two glasses of the liquor.

“The right one,” Johnny finished clinking his glass with yours.

The vampire went back to his place behind the desk, placing himself on his big wooden chair and inviting you to sit in front of him. “What brings you here?”

He was acting extremely weird, as if he wasn’t moved by your presence despite the initial surprise, not even after he fucked you in Doyoung’s bedroom what felt like hours ago. And when you saw him manspread as he lit up a cigarette, all you could think of was those same furrowed brows while he took you from behind in front of the mirror. You couldn't take him off of your mind. But he was unfazed.

“I expected to see you at the cave today.”

“I had a lot of work to do, as you can see.” He extended a hand showing you all the papers on his desk. “But luckily for you, I'm almost done.” That sparkled something inside you. A little bit of interest shown, enough for you to squeeze your legs together in excitement. Johnny looked down to your red stockings and lace and gifted you a lopsided smile. “I suppose you're still interested in seeing me?”

He took out another cigarette and lit it up, its black end burning while he handed the golden filter in your direction. When you put it between your lips, it was slightly humid.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.”

“Good then. I just need to go run some errands. It's gonna be quick. You can come with and then we’ll be heading home.”

It made you smile inevitably. You let the smoke come out of your mouth before agreeing to the plan. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Johnny stopped the car in front of a building you were too familiar with. It wasn’t your apartment, nor it was too far the casino to be Doyoung’s place. It was the entrance to Kun’s rusty apartment what made your blood run cold. He didn’t come out of the car immediately, only looking through the driver's window until two figures appeared through the front door. It was Yuta and that stunning female you saw him leave with earlier in the cave.

“What are we doing here?” You tried not to show the desperation in your voice.

“You stay in the car.”

The harsh sound of the closing door surprised you as Johnny went out to his encounter with Yuta and the female. You didn’t want to look suspicious, but you were dying to know what they were talking about and what they were doing in front of the building where the man you killed days ago used to live. So you tried your best to at least read the lips of the vampires and make out a little of what they were talking about. But it was all in vain, with Johnny showing his back to you and covering the figure of this intriguing female.

Shortly after, an old man came through the front door and greeted the vampires. His black suit and the police ID hanging from his neck left you frozen. They exchanged a few more words, an incredibly serious expression never leaving Yuta's face–the only one you could really see from your angle–, and then they parted ways.

Yuta and the female in the fur coat walked right in front of Johnny's car, and the japanese didn't miss the chance to suck the soul out of your body with his look. It took you back to what he said to the people sitting in the cave with you. You won't want to mess with this one.

What did he mean by that? What did Yuta know about you and how much did Johnny?

The closing of the driver’s door catched your attention and Johnny was sitting behind the steering wheel once again. Like a habit, the vampire caught your lips in a quick kiss after starting the car engine.

He looked at you fondly through his red irises. “Pretty little girls like you shouldn’t be playin’ with dead things, huh?” He asked with a smile. “Yet here we are.”

—

Johnny’s place looked nothing like the first and last time you were here, not with the curtains open and the dim lights of the streets finding their way through the windows. You checked the time on your phone screen and it was almost six in the morning. The sun was supposed to be showing behind the horizon already and warming up the world, but that was a scenario that didn’t take place anymore, and you had grown accustomed to it, to the darkness and the cold that surrounded and followed you every step since you had use of reason. You also noticed on top of your screen there was no service inside there.

You thought, in case something happened to you, at least Ten knew Johnny was the last person you were meant to see from that call you had with him earlier.

It was incredibly warm inside Johnny's house, and all the previous hours you had spent sleep deprived began to hit you one by one. You let out a big yawn as your arms relaxed on each side of your body, surrendered and exhausted.

A pair of lips came in contact with your cheek as your view got completely blocked by a tall and defined figure. Johnny kissed your skin softly while he caressed your arms up and down.

You couldn't help but think about how similar it felt to Doyoung's touch, and you avoided closing your eyes in fear that something strange would happen again. At that moment, you were suspicious of your desires, which seemed to confuse you to the point of imagining things.

“You’re pretty tired,” he noticed. “The boys told me you did really great today.”

“I really wanted you to see the new show.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

You nodded with a smile yet chased for his lips, what made Johnny laugh a little. “I’ll run a bath for the both of us.” Then he took your hand in his and started dragging you towards the bathroom.

Unsurprisingly, the room was painted in all dark colors and adorned in gold pieces. A wall decorated with what looked like figures of religious hearts was what caught the most attention. At its feet, a magnificent bathtub that could definitely fit more than two people, which Johnny quickly set about filling with hot water, and the image of the bathroom began to dissipate due to the steam. Among all that cloud, his hands invited you to take off his clothes, and he did the same to you with delicacy.

Johnny's body was incredible, even more toned than Doyoung's. Soft to the touch but firm under your grab, it made you want to tangle yourself between his arms and legs forever. And as if he was reading your mind, he put a foot inside the bathtub and extended a hand to you, inviting you in. The vampire laid his back to the end of it and placed your body between his long legs. You got so close to him that you were sure that, if he happened to be alive, you’d feel his heartbeat through his chest.

You allowed yourself to relax into his caresses as you fought to keep sleep from completely taking over you.

He massaged your scalp with shampoo, then moved his hands to release some of the tension in your shoulders. A sigh escaped your lips out of the satisfaction, and Johnny’s laugh resonated throughout your entire body due to the contact. His touch was quick but careful to explore the rest of your body, and when you felt it reaching the end of your stomach you had to make a confession.

“Johnny.”

He hummed at your call, so you continued talking.

“I don’t think I can fight it any more.”

“Fight what?” A curious tone reached your ears.

Then you felt his right hand traveling further down, and further down. The sensation of his fingers between your lips made you spread your legs wider and lay even more on his chest. And he started rubbing there, carefully, with no rush in his movements.

The stimulation of your clit made you moan out in pleasure and you heard him ask again.

“Fight what?”

You were wet and warm just like all the bathwater that surrounded you two, so it wasn’t difficult when he introduced one of his fingers to you. In fact, it felt so good you were no longer fighting the sleep that was taking over you a minute ago. What you actually meant earlier was that you couldn’t keep awake anymore, the bath becoming too relaxing for your exhausted self. But as you felt Johnny grow hard against your back you also felt all the sleepiness going away.

“Johnny,” you said once again between agitated breaths. Not once did he stop his finger from going in and out of you and from making you moan along with his movements.

“What?” He laughed as you kept calling his name and telling nothing to him. “Want another one?”

So he did introduce another finger without waiting for an answer. The steam from the water combined with the heat your body was radiating started to suffocate you, but it wasn’t enough for you to get out of there. You were finally having what you wanted, after all. Johnny grabbed one of your tits to alternate between squeezing and pinching on your nipple, as his fingers kept stimulating you all the way from your clit to deep inside your hole.

You clenched around his fingers as you felt the pleasure build up every second it passed. His long strands of hair, humid in your hand when you brought one of your arms up to pull on them. And you couldn’t wait to finally have Johnny inside of you once again. At that point, after experiencing how good he was with his hands only, you were dying to sit on top of him and to be under his body for hours and hours.

As your hand reached for him behind your back and you felt all the worries leave your mind, you finally spoke to him. “I want you, hurry up.”

“Hey, no need to rush,” he said while leaving sweet kisses on your neck and getting your hand out of the way. You were getting closer and closer, feeling like you were either about to explode or pass out once you were done.

All worries gone, except one.

The problem was that you felt like you had your days counted before something bad happened to you. You needed a vampire to turn you, to get the fuck out of Seoul with a ton of money as soon as possible, and you had been expecting that vampire to be Johnny. But once again, he didn’t seem to mind.

Johnny ignored your plea as he whispered in your ear:

“I have all the time in the world.”

Taglist: @doiefy @neonc1tylights @hoshitaro

[nikkisheep]

Rick Grimes' Girl

Rick Grimes x female!reader

Warnings: season 5 Rick, kiss, cursing, Judith crying, Aaron looks at the reader for a second too long for Rick's liking, everything Rick does is hot

kinda short but I rushed because I have too any ideas for this. Kinda bad too. Sorry

Summary: When meeting a stranger in the woods, the group seeks out the stranger's cars. Leaving you and Rick with the stranger in the barn with Judith.

The rain had cleared up. Maggie and Sasha came back with a man. A man we did not know if he was bad or if he was good. We knew nothing about him. Rick was talking to the man, at least he was before he punched the man. You were holding Judith, since taking him from Carl's arms, and watched the toned man's back flex after the punch.

Michonne wanted to check out the man's words but Rick did not trust them. He was not going to put his kids and the group at risk over something a man said. Eventually Rick caved to her words and gave them an hour to get back.

"You have 43 minutes," Rick said to the man who claims to be named Aaron.

Judith started crying while Rick tried and struggled to crush acorns in a bowl with the handle of his gun. You walked up to him and removed the crying Judith from his arms.

"Let me take care of her," You offer, bouncing the baby in your arms.

Rick looked at you with love and adoration which was not all that rare when he looked at you. With everything he had seen and done, you could barely believe that he was still able to look at someone with that stare.

"Did you see the apple sause in my pack?" Aaron spoke.

Rick then went on a crazy spree, not trusting the sause for his daughter. He forced the man to eat a spoonful to prove that it was not poisoned or anything that could harm Judith and then licked the remaining bit off the spoon. Now was not the time to fantasize about his tongue sticking out for just a second to lick the spoon.

You fed Judith and flattened her growing hair. Rick kept glancing at his watch, waiting for the group Glenn took out. He just itched to be proven right by the man that was bound on the ground of the barn. Yes, there was a small part of him that hoped there was actually a camp or community or whatever the hell Aaron had said but he just did not trust the man. Something in his gut was telling him not to trust the man who claimed that he could help the group and give them a home. He just did not want to risk it.

Aaron looked worried when the group still was not back after about 35 minutes. He looked at you while you cooed the baby to sleep and he smiled. He looked at how Judith fit right in your arms and how much you may be the mother.

"Is she yours?"

"No, I wish but no she isn't."

"She kinda looks like you."

"Shut you fucking mouth," Rick said. He did not want you to be talking to the stranger. He did not want the memory of Lori coming back to mind. Even after so long, she still haunts him in his sleep. But not when you can help it. You knew that he loved his wife and you knew that she would always have a place in his mind. She was the mother of Carl and Judith. Even if Judith wasn't Rick's, he still loved her as if she was. And in a way, she was his. She was everything to the former cop.

----

The group made it back with the news that Aaron was telling the truth about the cars, at least. Rick was listening to Michonne and Glenn speak while you moved to a haystack to sit on. Aaron looked over at you for a minute, hoping you could talk to the stubborn cop who threatened to stab him in the skull.

Daryl noticed and leaned down to Aaron's ear.

"I would stop staring."

"I was't staring."

"Listen, tha' girl is with the man in charg'. That's Rick Grimes' girl and ain't no body gonna touch her'. So if I was ya, I would stop lookin'."

Aaron looked at you and then the archer beside him. Daryl was giving him the look as if to say, "Go ahead and see what happens". Aaron simply bows his head and then glances up when Judith started to cry softly.

"Tell me where the camp is," Rick demanded.

Rick argued with the tied up man and he kept noticing that Aaron looked at you for help. But Rick did not think this quickly. No, no, he thought that Aaron was sizing you. Looking at you for too long and he was tired of it.

"She.is.mine." He gritted out and strutted over to your area.

Rick grabbed your head and pulled you into a kiss. His lips moved against yours and you started to get dizzy from how good it felt. Rick pulled away all too soon and you leaned to get another kiss from his soft lips. He chuckled and turned to Aaron.

"Stop looking at my girl and tell me where the camp is."

[maximwtf]

readder takes a bullet for izzy. need this fic asap. omfg. did u want finale yet???

Izzy x Reader

words: 1700

google docs pages: 3

warnings: ! S2E8 Spoilers (Kinda?) ! Gunshot wound, mentions of smoking and drinking, blood, death

opening: Ricky turns to fire his pistol and run, but you saw it coming and push Izzy out of the way. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! I can’t even lie, my angst loving heart was highkey excited for this one XD Thank you for the request, I love writing stuff like this !! This shall also heal my soul after watching ep8, I’m still a mess from it waaa

 “I’ll wait for you”

The long ferns dragged along the freshly stolen British navy coat as you made your way towards the shore with the rest of the crew. Your palm was around the handle of your sword, still convinced that this was a clear suicide mission. There seemed to be absolutely no chance for the whole crew to make it alive all the way to the ship and to make an escape. The Republic of Pirates was swarming with British soldiers, every corner being watched and checked actively. Though, you weren’t going to try and stay here either. You’d rather die as a pirate than get captured and be hung by the British. 

Izzy marched a little ahead of you with Ricky. You weren’t sure why he had been put in charge of the man, but there was no use in asking for him to hand over the job to you. He was still the first mate, and as loyal as he was he continued on with his duties. You weren’t scared for his sake, he was most certainly a more skilled fighter and a sailor than you were. But there was always the what if, at the back of your mind. As far as you knew, the whole area was surrounded by British soldiers. Each and every time you’d peeked to take a fast look, at least three men stood near with their guns. So the odds of one of them spotting the group and shooting weren’t nonexistent. 

Blackbeard and Izzy had a long history together, but so did you and him. From what you’d talked with Izzy, you’d joined the crew only a short time after him. The man wasn’t even the first mate just yet, which was one of the reasons why you’d dared to start chatting with him in the first place. By God, you wouldn’t have started hitting up someone in a much higher position in the crew just after joining. But there had started your decades long, complicated relationship. He’d always been a little snappish, and that had only amplified once he was given the position as first mate. But every time you’d been with him at the sidelines where he usually spent his time, he was just slightly different. He was the same man, but like there was less of a wall he had to keep up. So because he was seemingly comfortable with you around, you sometimes spent time with him. Share cigarettes, watched him carve figures out of small pieces of wood, whatever he was doing. Sometimes there were no words, just silent companionship. At times the air felt tense, and at some point that wasn’t just an itch you had sometimes. There was real tension, but neither of you addressed it. All the way up until you’d sat down to drink a bottle or two of rum with him. There were not many memories of said night, just one of the tension breaking kiss you’d shared with him. And of course the morning after, and the days that followed. The silence that suggested the both of you being at loss of what to do next. 

Your eyes focused on the soldiers in front of you, listening to Ricky speak to them as he’d been told to before. So far the plan was going as intended, but that wouldn’t last for much longer. The prince swung around, alerted the soldiers that the group he was with were pirates and pulled out his pistol. Your eyes widened and without more than a second to think you pushed the man next to you. There wasn’t time to check if he'd landed okay, since that hadn’t been a part of your plan, only to get him out of the bullet’s way. You heard the thud as he fell over, and soon after followed one of the most agonizing pain you could have imagined. The bullet must have hit you instead. There was no time to properly locate where it had hit, but you didn’t have to just yet. As long as you could somewhat walk, that was enough, since after you’d made it to the ship you could take a look at the damage. 

The rest of the unit had heard the gunshot and were hurrying to the scene. You reached out and offered a hand for Izzy, the other hand holding the spot you could see blood seeping through. He took a hold of your hand, noticing that something was clearly wrong. You could see his mouth open slightly, but before he was able to question you, you let go of his hand and pushed him forward by his back. “Fuck off, go!” You growled, eyes scanning the area for the easiest way out. 

The walk to the shore was a blur. You could tell you were stumbling, even the smallest of rocks getting in your way. Izzy was walking in front of you, but you could tell he was stalling more than a person running for their life would. “Did I not tell you to go?” You snarled a little at the stinging pain, now more obvious that it was coming from somewhere deep near your side. You wished he would have just followed the others, gotten away faster. But this brand new version of him wouldn’t do that to you, to anyone from the crew for that matter. You’d been proud of him through his change, but this was not the time for him to care about you. “Come on, I’m not leaving you here.” He paused enough to get you closer to him, and hoisted you up a little by your arm. “Fuck you.” You cursed, trying to walk a little faster now that he was helping you. 

The boat ride felt like forever, and as each of the waves hit the boat the stings of pain just felt worse and worse. You felt light headed and even without noticing you leaned on Izzy just a little more for support. He stiffened up, but kept you in place so you wouldn’t accidentally lean over the edge. You could have sworn you felt his thumb repetitively go over your forearm, as if to keep some sense in the moment .

Izzy got out of the boats first, and with the help of the others he got your form on the main deck. The first mate tore off his coat, laying it flat on the wooden deck before leaning your head over his lap. You could feel cold sweat creep onto your forehead and back, breaths shallow and quick. It was only now setting in what had happened, but you tried to bite back the feelings of panic. You felt Izzy tap your cheek, making your eyes land on his face. Some dirt had stuck to his face from the fall he’d taken because of you, you thought to yourself. “Come on, stay awake.” Izzy said, his voice a little shaken, but the same old commanding tone somewhere in there. “Oh, you’ll be fine, you carouser.” A groan left your throat, making you close your eyes for a moment. You didn’t feel like opening them after, but you did. You did when Izzy’s hand made contact with your cheek again. 

Before this you’d thought of the crew members watching. You’d noticed they were around Izzy, some of them hurrying to get anything to help. Though, you knew this was the day you’d feed the fish. Izzy’s expression looked tight. Like he wanted to cry, but tried not to for your sake. He was hunched over your form as his eyes watered. “Aye, now. Don’t hang the jib. You’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him. He’d changed so much, gotten to see how much the crew actually cared about him. He’d be just fine even if you weren’t there with him to stand at the sidelines. Only if he could see that as well. “You don’t do this now, ye fucking hear me?” He said, brows furrowed. You looked at him, his eyes. He looked oddly blurry, your head was spinning from the lost blood. Though, you didn’t mention it to him. “I’m not going anywhere.” You grit your teeth, finding breathing a lot harder than it had been before. You wanted to go, if that meant the struggle would finally end. “But even if I did, I’d be leaving you with the…best possible people.”

Your gaze stayed on Izzy, trying to follow his lips in case you missed something he said. But he was silent, like he was holding back something. The first mate swallowed uncomfortably, leaning over carefully, just to hide his words from anyone else. “You need to tell me if you-” He started, but that was enough. A faint smile appeared on your face. “Of course I fucking love you.” You said, for his sake silently, but you didn’t find it in you to speak any louder anymore. Izzy froze for a moment, some tension leaving his shoulders as he nodded. It was subtle, but as long as you’d known him you’d learned to find even the most minimalistic emotions from his face. His jaw trembled, but his mouth opened and he silently replied; “I love you.” Which was enough for you, more than so. But at that moment, you hoped those words would have been said earlier. Then maybe, just maybe everything could have been different. “I’ll wait for you.” You said, the struggle starting to feel better, like it was coming to an end. Izzy’s face blurred into a soft darkness, which slowly became the only thing still holding you. 

AN// Requests for Izzy are open, I love writing for him ahhh >:(

[sanjisblackasswife]

Your thoughts about Sanji and Zoro liking the same girl…Go👀

Love you🤎

A/N: :O Love you more <3

Sanji & Zoro Liking the Same Girl Headcanon (SFW)

CW: Zoro and Sanji.

Lmao.

I mean if y’all thought they couldn’t get pettier then well….

They can

Sanji immediately suspected Zoro liked you from the beginning because of how “nicer” he acted towards you.

He still had his stoic demeanor but Sanji always noted the slight glint in Zoro’s eyes when he talked to you. You didn’t even really notice considering he was too busy making you laugh as well.

“Since when the hell did you become a comedian.”

“Shut up, jackass.”

Zoro didn’t care if Sanji liked you. He likes all women so he figured one day he may end up fighting him, but in the same instance Zoro had his pride and knew he wouldn’t want to fight over a woman with the damn love cook so he knew the best way of stealing you from Sanji was to just one up him on everything.

Sanji cooks you a meal? That’s fine Zoro would offer to let you nap with him after wards.

Zoro wanted to carry you back to the ship? Awesome because now Sanji will rub your feet when you get home to the Sunny.

It was kinda awesome honestly.

It always. Always. Led to a fight.

You knew both of them liked you after Robin made a slide comment one day.

“They what?”

“Well of course they both are very fond of you, Y/N. Sanji didn’t surprise me, but Zoro did. Aren’t you a lucky girl..”

You realized they’d never admit it without wanting to kick and slice everything in sight so you decided to tease them a bit to see who would crack first.

Today was a very relaxing day on the ship, and all the guys was playing with waterguns again. Franky made you a special one for you per request so you played with Luffy and Usopp.

“NO WAY YOUR WATER GUN IS AWESOME Y/N!” Luffy gasped seeing how powerful it was compared to theirs.

You laughed with Luffy until you felt your entire exposed back get wet, you were shocked at the sudden cold liquid rolling off your body when you turned to see a smirking green haired man staring at you.

“YOU ASS!” Spraying him back, but just barely missing. You sometimes forget how fast he can be.

Zoro was Running away until Sanji decided to spray him back with full force making him fall on his butt. It earned him a giggle from you in turn making Sanji’s ego rise about 10 times over.

Zoro However wasn’t having it—how dare he embarrass him in front of you!

“YOU TWIRLY BROW BAFOON THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

“ME?! THE NERVE OF YOU TO SPRAY MY Y/N LIKE THAT DO YOU HAVE ANY HOME TRAINING?”

“I WILL KICK YOUR ASS—“

They both were too busy arguing that you began to charge up your gun and spray them both so hard they nearly flew off the ship.

“So….when are you both ganna stop being dumbasses and tell me the truth.” You smiled at their dumbfounded faces with Luffy laughing behind you.

“What?!”

“Robin already told meeeeee…” You sung charging up your water gun again for another vicious spray, “If you both liked me you should have came clean and I would have already told you both—“

“Told us what?” Zoro and Sanji tilted their head in unison.

“I’m dating Luffy…”

“You WHAT?!”

You immediately shot at both of their faces for being so dense. Clearly they should have known from how their captain has already gotten so close to you. Granted you and your boyfriend weren’t that much into sensual PDA but the constant handholding should have been a clue! But alas they’re just as much of an airhead as him to not see the signs.

They both were on the ground mouth agape shocked seeing you get pulled back by your Captain’s stretchy limbs to play with him instead. The swordsman and the cook just couldn’t comprehend what the hell you seen in that idiot and when the hell y’all even started dating in the first place???

Zoro was in a grump all day and Sanji was on the ground crying why his life is terrible.

“LUFFY YOU LUCKY BASTARD!”