#there's the utter fear of the unknown

[beevean]

Mega Man X5

Zero Stage 1

[letshavedeernnertogether]

Sleepyhead, part one

the plot is: you feel yourself very sleepy all the time, and alastor finds it adorable

here is the part two

tw: none, it's just cute

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You felt cold. Your eyelashes trembled, you frowned and opened your eyes. Bloody red firmament was the first thing you saw, as you were lying on the ground. A bright pentagram crossed the sky, thin clouds flouted across it, and it looked like a piece of meat. There was a glaringly white spot in the left side, which you took for the sun at first, but then you thought it looked more like a planet. A planet with wings. You tried to find the sun or a moon, but in vain. You couldn't tell if it was day or night. A specific pungent smell hit your nose. The smell was extremely bad and you didn't even want to know what had caused it.

You sat up, slowly got to your feet and looked around: a desert with black sand and dead small trees. There was a city ahead. It was densely dotted with skyscrapers and simply high-rise buildings. You headed for it straight away.

You felt utter drowse, it was so strong, you walked some part of the way with your eyes closed. A minute couldn't pass without you yawning. You slowly moved your legs, staggering side to side, getting closer to the unknown city.

You thought it was a dream. A strange one, but very realistic. Last thing you remembered was that you were lying in your bed trying to fall asleep. Usually it never posed you any problems, but that time was different. You barely could lie just in one position, barely could keep your eyes closed, barely felt drowse.

And now you were extremely sleepy. All you wanted to do was lie down on the hot sand and sleep. But nevertheless you continued your way.

Getting closer, you saw a high building on the hill just in the border of the city. You descried a neon sign on the roof of the building: "Hazbin Hotel". So, there was a refuge in such a strange place that looked like hell. You had no money in the pockets of your pyjamas, of course, but you hoped, you would be let to stay for a night in the smallest room under the stairs for free.

The closer you reached the city, the louder became screams and explosions, like a war was waged in the city. In normal situation you would feel fear, but it was a dream, so why should you be afraid?

You stood in front of a street-door with strained-glass windows depicting apples, snakes and eyes. Yawning one more time, you opened the door and entered.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Honeyed soft light of old chandeliers flooded the hotel lobby. A red carpet covered the floor and the birfucated stairs. On the walls with difficult pattern, in which you recognized snakes, hung many painting. It was quiet. Only rustle of your steps on the soft carpet broke the silence. Suddenly you heard a quiet jazz melody somewhere from the left. You turned your head to the side and saw a big black cat at the bar. A cat with wings. And moreover he had a top hat and a red bow tie on his white chest. He was on the place of a barman and poured alcohol in a glass for himself.

Yeah, what a strange dream you had, but the strangest thing was that you couldn't wake up. Usually, when you understood that you were in a dream you immediately woke up. But now you couldn't.

The cat noticed you and looked at you. His stare was vacant, and you understood he was drunk. If a cat could drink, than he could speak too, right? You came up to the bar and asked,

"Excums me, is this a hotel? The Hazbin hotel?"

The cat blinked twice and answered in the affirmative. His voice was deep and low. It reminded black velvet.

"How can I get a room here?"

"Do you want a room?" He frowned. He was looking at you with a blend of suspicon and disbelief.

"Yeah... This is the hotel, isn't it?" You placed your hands at the counter, "Where is reception?"

A slowly saxophone melody hovered between you, making this conversation more surreal.

The cat poured an amber-coloured liquid in his glass, drank it, looked at you again and smirked.

"So, you wanna be redeemed?"

You were irritated at this question. What it did actually mean? You just wanted to sleep, you wanted it so bad, you could kill for having a chance to take to bed.

"I just want a room," You said, gritted your teeth.

"So you don't know?" He said without hiding his smile.

The cat started to dust the counter, and as you didn't answer anything, he continued,

"This is not just a hotel. Living here ain't the main point. The princess of hell founded it on to give all the sinners a chance to get a redemption and go to heaven. So, you're welcome here, but only if you want be better." He glanced at you with a mocking sparkle in his eyes. A smile played at a corner of his mouth. It was clear, that he just repeated the words, he heard million times before, from a host of the hotel maybe, and it seemed funny to him. But not for you. What was the point of all of this? Nevertheless, you needed a room and you wanted to get it by all costs.

"I wouldn't be mind to be better... And to be redeemed," You said seriously. If it could bring you to bed...

"Oh, really?" He raised his red eyebrows, which seemed to be feathers.

Suddenly a high female voice exclaimed from the stairs, "Vaggie, I tell you, someone has come! I saw them in the window!"

You turned to the voice and saw two young women. They noticed you too and opened their eyes in surprise. One of them, a tall, ruddy-cheecked blonde in red jacket and the same colour trousers, smiled widely, showing her white sharp fangs. The other one, with grey skin and white long hair, frowned and took out a spear from somewhere.

They two quickly went down to you, but the blonde was much faster, and as she appeared towards you, she took your hands,

"Welcome!!! I'm Charlie, the founder of this hotel! I'm so glad you've come here!" She was so happy, you wouldn't been surprised, if she'd exploded with sparkles and spangles.

"I'm (Y/n)."

"What a beautiful name! Fits you so well!"

The other girl came up to you, still holding the spear, but not going to attack, "Charlie, we don't even know why they had came here. Maybe they've lost."

"I haven't actually lost. I'm here to redeem." You said loudly. You heard Charlie, she said she was the founder of this place, so it depended on her, whether would you stay here for a night. And also you remembered what that cat told you. The princess of hell founded it on. So you decided to be polite with this young woman. You didn't want to have an enemy in the face of the princess of hell even in your dream.

After your words were said the smile on the Charlie's face grew even bigger, her eyes filled with tears, and she pressed you to her chest in a tight embrace.

"I'm so so so so so so so glaaaaaad!"

"I would be glad too," You barely moaned in her firm hug, "but I'm afraid you'll rather strangle me."

"Uh, sorry!" She let you go straight away.

Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "It's not like... Well, I mean, it's not that this place is very unpopular or avoided, but it's like not everyday somebody comes here..." Her shoulders slumped and you saw sadness in her eyes. Vaggie gently put her hand on Charlie's shoulder with a soft smile, "Charlie..."

The young woman looked at her and a wide smile shone on her face again.

"Anyway," She said to you, "Welcome to hell! And to Hazbin Hotel! So you can be welcomed lately in heaven!" She almost sang the last word.

Hell? So you understood all rightly. It was hell. A dream about a hotel in hell. Well, why not? Maybe when you'd wake up you should write a book about it?

"Hell?" You asked.

"Yes! You're a new one here, I believe?"

You unsurely nodded. Somehow you started to doubt that it was only a dream. You felt cold. After all it was too real. You could swear you had never heard that jazz melody from the radio, you smelled Charlie's apple perfume, you felt her embrace, and you were sleepy like you were kissed by Mortheus himself. But people don't feel themselves sleepy in their dreams, do they?

But to be in hell you must to be dead. Were you dead?

"Am I dead?" You felt cold inside of you, but it didn't help you to overcome another yawn.

Charlie and Vaggie looked at you with sympathy.

"Yeeaaahhh, you are, I'm very sorry," Said Charlie with an apologetic smile.

You tried to remember, what had happened before you opened your eyes and saw the red sky.

You spent your whole day in your bed, daydreaming, reading books and sleeping. Just like always. You spent your whole life avoiding reality. Fantasies, fictions, daydreams were the only refuge from the horrors of the world you lived in.

"I thought I was too young to die during the sleep..." You pronounced.

Charlie covered her mouth with her palm, "Oh! This must be very... Sudden for you."

"Look at this from the other side. You didn't suffer," Said Vaggie.

You yawned very widely. Yes, you didn't suffer when you died, but now you were probably cursed to never have enough of sleep.

"May I get a room?" You were so tired. What's the matter thinking about your death. It was more important to find a bed. You could think about your death and curse later.

Charlie glanced at you.

"Oh, damn, yes, sure! It's very late already, and of course you need a room!"

"Thank you," You smiled. Getting a bed had never been so difficult.

Charlie took a key from the cell near the empty one, and you three, Charlie, Vaggie and you, headed for the stairs. You glanced back to look at the barcat again. He raised his glass, looking at you, like he was drinking to you. You turned away and asked Charlie about him.

Charlie stopped and exclaimed, "Oh, shit, I absolutely forgot about it! We need to make a tour around the hotel!"

"Charlie," Said Vaggie, "We can do it tomorrow. I'm afraid, our new guest is about to fall asleep in any moment."

"You right." You took the key out from Charlie's hand and turned away.

"What are you doing?" Exclaimed Charlie.

Still going forward you turned your head to Charlie and said, "I'm very grateful for both of you, really," You stopped, "but now I just want to be alone" To sleep, you thought, "to accept the fact I'm dead now," You said. "It's not hard to find a right room, when I know the floor and the number, so don't worry, I can handle it. Good night, girls!" You waved your hand and disappeared in shadowed corridor.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You slowly walked forward along the corridor. It seemed endless, though you turned time after time to the left or right. Art Deco lamps glowed dimly, filling the place with an amber light. Sometimes golden candlesticks hung on the walls instead of lamps. There were candles on them; they burned, but wax didn't drip from them. The walls were crimson, and so was the carpet. Although the corridor and the entire hotel were buried in warm colours, goosebumps ran down your skin. Especially in this quiet and dark corridor. It seemed that this place was uninhabited. But judging by the number of empty cells for keys at the reception, at least six or seven people lived here. “Maybe they just opened recently?” You thought yawning again.

You turned to the left again and went up one floor. Here, on one of the upper floors, your room was supposed to be.

Suddenly you heard a melody. You stopped and listened. A piano sounded off quietly and melancholy somewhere in the distance. Music led you forward. You walked past the room with your number. The melody became louder, and now you heard singing. A male voice sang some old song in French. You stopped for a second and then went further.

The lights flickered, and you heard something, what sounded like a crackling radio. You turned to the right and realized, that the melody was coming from the far door on the right. You stopped in front of this door. The sound wasn't clear, like someone was listening to an old radio or gramophone. You leaned your back against the door and began to listen. It was a beautiful and very old song. The melody lulled you. The man’s voice was so beautiful and bewitching, that you forgot all your worries, and drowsiness enveloped you again. But now the feeling of sleep did not press on you, did not suffocate you, sleep gently hugged you by the shoulders and let you rest your tired head on its chest. You felt cosiness and comfort. What a beautiful song... What a beautiful voice... The refrain began, and the voice became louder. You closed your eyes and slowly sank onto the carpet.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor took his hands away from the piano and turned his head to the door. Someone had been standing behind it for several minutes already. How dare they? He immediately felt their presence but did nothing, hoping they'd leave. But no.

Alastor stood up, took a sip of water to moisten the throat after the long singing, and headed for the door. The was silence. He expected he would hear the steps running away, because now it was obviously, that he knew they were there and they'd disturbed him. So it was better for them to make off. But there was silence.

Alastor opened the door and saw nothing. Something fell at his feet. He looked down and saw the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

A young lady lay at his feet. Her skin was velvet black as night sky and starred. Milliards of tiny stars shone on her arms, hands, and neck. Her hair was glaringly white and fluffy as a cloud. The hair shone with soft moon-like light in the candlelit room. She was wearing a silver pajamas with a pattern of little moons. The night herself, he was captivated with her.

Alastor knelt down in front of you and gently put hair from your face. It shimmered with tiny stars just like all of your body. Your face was calm, you slept well. Your chest slowly upped and downed with every breath.

Alastor studied you just with his eyes. How did you end up here? You didn't look like a demon — too beautiful, but you weren't an angel either — too nocturnal.

Alastor noticed that you had something in your hand. He carefully unclenched your fingers and saw a key. So, a new guest? And living so close to him?

Alastor smirked to his thoughts.

"There's no way you'll sleep on the floor, my dear," He wispered.

He took you in his arms and left the room.

You pressed your head to his shoulder and wispered something. You were light as a feather. Alastor headed for the room with the number that was on the key in your hand. You yawned in sleep, and wispered something again, that made Alastor softly chuckle.

He made the door of your room opened and he entered. Alastor put you to bed and wanted to straightened up, but your hands embraced his neck. He leaned on his hands and hung over you so as not to fall.

On your eyelids he saw a big amount of stars and violet fog, like a little universe slowly whirled on your eyes.

Your hands slipped from his neck, but Alastor stayed still. Then he sat next to you. His hand ran through your hair.

"Suppose I am the guard of your dreams now?" Said Alastor to himself.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You woke up, yawning widely and stretching yourself. You thought, that you had never had such a good sleep. But then you opened your eyes and found yourself in an unfamiliar place. It was a bedroom, quite big and beautiful bedroom in violet, blue and silver colours. You looked at your hands: black and starred, just like yesterday. So you still was in hell, still dead. Or was it better to say, already?

You yawned again and got out of your bed. In the bathroom you saw new you. "Night" was your first thought. Maybe spending your whole life in sleep was a sin, because you once heard, that despondency, that led you to daydreams, was a deadly sin... And moreover you died in the middle of the night during your sleep. Could it be the reason why you looked like a daughter of Nyx?

In a wardrobe you found a big amount of clothes that suited you just perfect. Not only in your size, but it also suited to your appearance. There were a grey pinstriped suit, long skirts, warm sweaters, shirts. All was in dark blue, silver or black colours. You found a lot of different ties and bow ties, kerchieves, gloves. Somebody did a good job with your wardrobe. You changed clothes and only now noticed the clock above the bed. It was a midday already. You hastened to leave your room.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Walking down the main stairs you heard Charlie's voice.

"Here you are, (Y/n)! Good morning! or good afternoon already... Nevermind!" She waved her hand, "You can go to the dinning room and have breakfast. I asked Alastor to cook another helping. He was surprised that we have a new guest hahaha! And after you finishing your meal, go back here, we're going to do some exercises," Charlie looked to the side, where several demons were sitting, "and we will do it together!"

Last words she said with a forced smile, almost growling. Apparently, someone didn’t want to do these exercises together. You saw yesterday's cat among them.

After finishing breakfast (oh, how delicious it was) you went to the living room, where all the residents had already gathered.

You were introduced to the demons in front of you. Niffty was a maid, she gave you a cute smile, but you noticed a sharp big knife in her hand. Nobody seemed to care about it, so didn't you.

Angel Dust, the spider, winked at you with a smile. He was the first resident of this hotel.

Husk, the cat demon, he was a barman. He nodded you, when Charlie said his name to you.

And Sir Pentious, another resident. He smiled to you, and his smile seemed the most warm and not assumed.

"And where is Alastor?" Said Charlie looking around, "Oh, asked him to come and join us."

You saw a big shadow behind her. It took a shape of a tall man with a cane, and he appeared.

"Alastor," You guessed. This name suited him, it had something devilish in its sound, and it sorted well with his appearance. Especially with his ear-to-ear smile with big sharp yellow teeth. A thought of being bitten by him fleeted your mind, but you shook your head.

"Alalstor, this is our new guest, (Y/n)!" Said Charlie with a big smile, pointing with her two hands at you.

Alalstor came up to you and gave you a hand, "It's a pleasure to be meeting you, dear!"

You shook hands.

His voice seemed familiar to you, but you couldn't understand why. He spoke with transatlantic accent and with radio sound. It was strange, but you liked how it sounded.

"Well, let's begin our exercises. All" Said Charlie, growling on the last word again. Angel Dust rolled up his eyes.

You sat on a couch near Alastor. In front of you on other couch sat Angel and Husk. Vaggie stood near Charlie, who was explaining the rules of to-redeem-game. Sir Pentious sat on the floor near Husk, and Niffty, the maid, sat on the arm of the couch near Alastor.

At first you tried to listen to Charlie, to all her explanations why it was so important to be honest, and how the following exercise would teach you to trust each other and to be frank. But somehow you couldn't keep your eyes opened anymore and you hadn't noticed how you fallen asleep.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Angel poked Husk with his elbow and said, "Are my eyes deceiving me?"

Husk had been watching in the same direction for four minutes already and still couldn't believe in what he saw.

"What d'ya think? How long does she have left?"

"No more than thirty seconds, when she wakes," Husk replied phlegmatically.

"What? What are you looking at?" Asked Charlie throwing her hands. These two hadn't listened to her for several minutes and just stared at one point.

At the same time Angel and Husk pointed out the direction, where you were sitting. Charlie turned back and saw Alastor and you, putting your head on his shoulder. You were sleeping.

Everybody was staring in confusion at you and Alastor. Nobody had noticed, when you fell asleep and leaned against Alastor. He didn't understand at first what was that. Just something restet against his shoulder. And when he glanced down right, he saw your crown.

And he didn't dare move.

Charlie opened her mouth to say something, but Alastor interrupted her, "Shh... Don't you see, our new guest is resting?"

Nobody could understand what was hidden behind his sly smile and this half closed eyes.

You lifted your head a little to make yourself more comfortable, and then you tried to bury your face in his arm but slipped off.

You opened your eyes and saw wide smiling face with red glowing eyes leaning over you. Alastor looked down at you. The light of a chandelier behind his head looked like a halo. It was a strange combination with his antlers and deer ears. His red eyes shone and his yellow teeth seemed did the same.

Suddenly you understood why he was looking down on you, and why you saw ceiling behind him. You were lying on his knees.

You quickly sat up, almost hit his head, and began to apologize.

"Hahaha" Alastor laughed, "don't worry, my dear, I know a great method to deal with sleepiness." He stood up and said without looking back at you, "Follow me."

Only now you noticed that all the residents were staring at you, someone with their eyes wide opened, someone with a smirk. You apologized and followed Alastor.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

While Alastor was making coffee for you, you were watching him, sitting at a table, resting your head on your arm. This man was extremely tall, his movements were elegant but a little bit too sharp. The kitchen filled with coffee aroma.

You were following his movements, when he said, "It's oddly, dear, that fourteen hours of sleep were not enough for you."

"How do you know, how long I slept?"

He chuckled, "I know not only when you fell asleep, my dear, but also when you ended up in bed."

He turned to you with a mug of hot coffee in his hand. He came up to you and put the mug on the table. There was an inscription: "Sleepaholic."

Yeah, how funny.

You looked up at Alastor. He was smiling as always. His voice, these words he said, the fact you didn't remember how you got to your bed...

"Did I..? Did I yesterday..?" You began hesitatingly. You didn't want to say it aloud, hoping that Alastor would finish your sentence. But he was silent. He glanced at you, obviously enjoying with your confusion.

"Did I fall asleep at your door yesterday?" You said very quickly.

"You did," He answered with a satisfied smile and leaned closer to you, "Drink it, dear, I don't need another body of a somnabulist at my threshold."

You quickly drank the strongest coffee you'd ever had, and you two returned to the living-room

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

As you were sitting on the couch near Alastor, and Charlie was leading the exercises, you felt boredom suddenly, and your eyes began to close. You opened them wider and tried to focus on what Charlie was saying, but you could no longer understand anything. You covered your eyes and remembered the yesterday's evening. That song played in your head again. It was so beautiful, so charming... And it was sang by the man, who was sitting next to you right now.

You opened your eyes and looked at Alastor with a tired gaze. Angel answered something to Charlie, but you didn’t listen. You idly and yet with curiosity looked over Alastor from head to toe. Despite his sinister and dark spirit, that you felt in him, you couldn't deny that you were attracted to him. His charm was beguiling, it's true.

You covered your eyes again and turned away. You didn't notice how Alastor quietly moved closer to you.

"I think, coffee doesn't work on me," You mumbled.

"Hmm?" Alastor leaned closer to hear what you said, but you didn't repeat your words.

Your eyes closed again and you saw him, making coffee for you. You felt that bitter smell again. Then you saw his face, the moment when you woke up on his knees. The vision disappeared and you saw Alastor carrying you into your room in his arms. The piano sounded in your head again and you felt rocking, as if you were a baby in your mother's arms, being sung to in a lullaby. You felt something in right side of you and leaned against it. A soft fabric touched your face, you felt a bitter-salty scent mixed with fur and forest smell. You felt warmth.

In your dream you lay on bed and were kept in warmth in someone's arms. You breathed in the same smell. Somebody patted your head and you felt someone's breath on your crown. An old song was playing on a radio; it drowned in static.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Charlie stopped talking and looked in your direction. So did everybody.

You were sleeping on Alastor's shoulder again, cuddling very close up to him and embracing his forearm. He was looking at you with the softest gaze everyone had ever seen on him. He patted your head and said not taking his eyes off you, "Our guest is indeed a sleepyhead."

He looked up at everyone, "Don't you dare to disturb her, for I will make everyone of you fall into eternal sleep," His eyes turned into radio dials, his voice became lower and more static, "unable to wake up from the nightmare I cause."

You cuddled closer to Alastor and smiled in sleep. He backed to his normal form again. A quiet old melody played from his staff.

Charlie broke the silence, "Uhh, okay..." She said with a forced smile.

Alastor glanced at her, and then embraced you, and you both sank into the shadow.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

@noraunor

[dollita-fawn]

Uncanny Reunion

pairings- Nemesis x S.T.A.R.S Fem! Reader

a/n- i’ve been thinking about him a lot today idk why he’s taking over my brain rn // I rlly need to know if his cum would infect you or not

TW DARK CONTENT

NSFW WARNING:

contains- mentions/ implications of violence, monster fucking, fingering(f!receiving), non con (he kinda doesn’t know any better), MAJOR size difference, tentacle fucking 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For several days, you remained oblivious to what was happening in your city. You spent most of your time holed up in your cozy one-bedroom apartment, not even bothering to glance out the window or switch on the TV. However, everything changed when the terrifying figure emerged and forced you out of your safe haven into the unknown dangers of the outside world.

You’re unsure just what the thing is, but you know it’s not something you want to stick around and figure out. It had already injured you more than you’d expected, making your escape difficult.

Outside, you're met with a scene of utter chaos. The streets are devoid of any signs of normalcy, and instead, you see hordes of undead creatures shuffling aimlessly. You take a deep breath, grateful that you have your trusty gun by your side. However, your heart sinks as you realize that you're running dangerously low on ammunition, thanks to your earlier confrontation with that colossal monster.

You limp your way through the wrecked streets of the city, hoping to find at least one normal person. But you’re surrounded by nothing by hungry, man eating zombies. Definitely not how you wanted to spend your evening.

The zombies were definitely easier to deal with at least. But you’re running out of bullets quickly. Regardless of your perfect aim to the head, there’s too many to just avoid. One bite is all it’d take, even just a scratch and you’d be done for. You just couldn’t make it out of this without proper supplies.

So, you reroute to the gun store. Just a couple blocks away. You were confident that you could make it there somewhat safely. You internally hoped for there to be survivors, even if the chances were slim.

But when you round the corner towards your destination, you freeze in fear, coming face to face with the intimidating being once more. It would be one thing if it was just huge, but it’s huge and armed. With a rocket launcher no less. And it was incredibly fast on its feet. There was absolutely no way to outrun the bastard this time.

As it comes barreling towards you, you almost want to give up. There was nothing you could do, not with 3 puny bullets. They had no effect on the thing before anyways. There were no tricks to pull to make an exit.

You just stand there, not even understanding why it was after you. Was it because you were the only one there? It seemed to be targeting you specifically.

It didn’t matter anyway. You were prepared to accept your fate. Just letting it happen.

Its strong form pummels you into the nearby wall, its force strong enough to completely bust through. But for some reason, it’s holding back.

Wincing, you slit your eyes to take a peek at what’s in front of you. It's got you tacked, but not pushing any further. Just staring down at you like it had some kind of crazy realization.

It lets out a low growl, seeming as if it was fighting itself internally, looking almost pained. “S.T.A.R.S.” Its rumble is almost incoherent, but you understood clearly.

He must be one of Umbrella’s experiments. A So-called bioweapon. That explained why he was after you, but made his hesitation to finish you off all the more confusing. The way he was looking at you almost emotionally. As if he knew you.

There was no way he could. You were aware of how Umbrella mutated and experimented on people. Once they change, their soul and all that they once knew vanish. The human they once were is gone entirely. Even if he knew you prior, those memories were gone. He was just doing what he was designed to do. So why was he looking so hurt? Why wasn't he killing you?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His breath is hot and heavy through his exposed teeth. He was too close for comfort. More so when his strange tentacle makes its appearance, snaking around your neck. You were certain your life was about to end. But then next thing you know, your clothes are being forcefully ripped off.

You're completely disoriented. Raccoon City is crumbling, zombies everywhere, and now a bioweapon is stripping you of your clothing?

His pained expression turned to something else entirely. Almost like before when he was hunting you down. Completely driven with need.

“W-what the hell is this..?” you stammer, only to get a low growl in return. As you try to squirm out of its grasp, he only tightens his hold on your neck. You know there’s no point in even trying. He almost destroyed your entire apartment complex, he could just as easily end you right here and now. Though he’s not.

Instead he’s pinning you to the wall, looking at you as if considering eating you as his next meal.

You let out a squeal at the feeling of his large finger stretching through your entrance. Just one finger was the size of three of your own normally. He was fishing around inside you. Toying with you.

The more sound you made, the more intense his movements got. His breath quickened with yours. This mutant creature was showing human emotion. Driven by pure excitement and lust. His finger glided with no particular rhythm, soaking in your growing wetness.

You feel your knees growing weak. The combination of your lack of oxygen from his stronghold and his relentless massaging of your insides is overbearing. You were already powerless against him before, this just made you 10x weaker.

Just as your vision begins to go spotty, you’re allowed air again. His lengthy tentacle release your neck, instead traveling further down. His finger slips out, leaving you empty for the briefest moment before you’re filled again. This time by the rope-like tentacle attached to him.

It slithers deep into your cunt, pushing past your limits and your cervix, all the way up into your womb. The feeling makes you want to scream, to get away but he holds you there against the concrete wall.

But as it starts to move, you feel an overwhelming heat in your stomach. Your logical brain falls somewhere far away.

The bioweapon continued to play with your hole, letting out low grunts as if he was feeling great pleasure from this. Your eyes roll back as the tentacle slides in and out without mercy, whines and whimpers escaping your lips. You can’t help but cling to the huge form in front of you for support in your helpless state.

Your touch does something to him.

Nemesis struggles, his entire purpose being a killing machine. He was supposed to wipe out the STARS members. That's what he was designed for, yet you did something that made him feel something so overwhelming. He forgot all about his duties as real feelings came into play. He can't remember where he's seen you, or why he feels this intense necessity to have you. But he can't just ignore it. Especially not now. The way you're holding onto him, meekly panting and whimpering as his tentacle fuck up into you, he needs more. You've made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, something he doesn't even remember to be possible.

The tentacle slips out so he can lift you to his height. He does so with ease, his giant arms hook under your legs and lift you up. You sit midway on his stomach, and he just stares at you for a while. Noting your half-lidded eyes, and heated skin.

It gives him uncontrollable urges. Just like his purpose to fulfill Umbrella’s orders. He needs you. Needs to claim you as his own.

Nemesis was a superior being to you, but looking down at your petite form stirred something vile within him. The way your tits sat on your chest, rising and lowering with every breath and your pussy was puffy from his stimulation.

He couldn't stop himself, or understand whatsoever.

Nemesis strips away his lower clothing, revealing the largest and most strangely built dick you've ever laid eyes on. If you could even call it that.

There was no way that thing could fit, anywhere. So you thought.

Nemesis saw no restrictions, stuffing the girthy member into your tight hole. You cry out in agony as it stretches you deeper. You weren't wet enough for it to go in easily. Even if you were, you doubt it would feel any different. Its girth was the size of his forearm.

As he bounces you with his thrusts, the being lets out primal groans, still bearing its teeth and heaving breaths heavy enough to blow you away.

He can't comprehend what this feeling is. He just knows he can't stop. He keeps bullying his cock into your cervix relentlessly, reaching the back of your canal without even having to go very far.

Once again, you rely on him for support. He was fucking the life out of you.

He goes feral with need as you hold onto him again. The feeling of your warmth against him reminds him of something he just can't quite reach. Your helpless cries make him throb.

His hardened length doesn’t cease its assault even for a second as he desperately chases his high. He can hardly feel your nails raking at his back, all the feeling flows to his cock. Your tears wet the thin cloth of his covering, but he doesn’t understand. And it was too good to stop.

Through your blurred vision, you couldn’t even make out where you were anymore. Your thoughts were being stolen from you. You can feel him fuck all the way up into your stomach. Your walls struggle to conform to his shape but he makes them. It felt like you were being torn apart from the inside. You couldn't take it.

Your cries for help go unheard, instead only driving him further. He stuffs you like a toy, ramming into you with his enormous cock at an alarming rate when he feels something. A tightening feeling like something was about to explode.

His breath falters as the sensation takes over.

It spurts out, giving him a strange euphoric high. He groans, continues to fuck into you and milk it out of him. He stuffs his cum as deep as it can go, the slick lubes his need. He couldn't stop. It felt so good.

Your legs tremble along with the rest of your weaker from, there was nothing you could do to get out of this. You thought he'd never stop.

He was addicted to this newfound feeling.

Unexpectedly, he slows. His body is tense and shaky as it begins to feel too good. Almost painful. He pulls out quickly trying to make it stop, his arousal steadily leaking and twitching now beneath you.

Once more, Nemesis just stares at you, that human emotion apearant on his mutated face again.

[monstersflashlight]

Caught (part 1)

Orc x non-gendered human || Chasing, primal play

Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears it felt deafening. You barely heard your name when the council president announced you’d be the next sacrifice. Mother was crying in the background, the rest of the village avoided your eyes when you looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. They choose you.

They needed a sacrifice, and they choose you.

It’s been ages since the last sacrifice was made, but the crops died way too early this year. The village was struggling to feed all the people. So the council sent an emissary to the old witch living in the mountain. She made it simple: give the woods a human sacrifice, mother nature would provide after that. Everyone ignored what you already knew: mother nature wouldn’t answer their sacrifice.

But the monsters in the dark forest would be glad to get you.

The council didn’t say anything as they led you through the forest, leaving you in the middle of what long ago was a field of flowers. Long dead, the only thing remaining was a patch of dirt and some fallen leaves.

You felt hyper-aware, the councilmen were talking but you couldn’t hear anything, you didn’t care. They didn’t care. You were just a sacrifice, not part of the village anymore. They weren’t expecting you to return, they weren’t expecting you to run. You were there to be devoured by unknown beasts.

First you couldn’t hear a single sound over your heartbeat, but as the men disappeared in the distance, the darkness became alive. You could feel everything. The sound of little animals, the sound of breeze through the leaves, the smell of humid dirt and dead flowers under your feet, the coppery taste of your fear. Some owl in the distance, maybe a dog if you listened closely… Then silence. Complete and utter silence.

Tales as old as time ran through the village, tales about green giants living deep in the forest. Tales of unsuspecting victims being caught by them. You didn’t believe in those stories. Not back then. But now, in the middle of the woods, the darkness consumed you. Maybe… Maybe those tales were true.

And then you felt it, profound fear blooming inside of you. You were supposed to be quiet, to be still, to let them, whoever or whatever they were, to catch you.

A branch broke at your right, the clouds disappeared and a ray of moonlight shone through the leaves, illuminating something. Someone. A tall figure not far from you, you couldn’t make out their features, but they were at least twice your size. The old tales were true, there were monsters deep in the woods. Some primal part of you could feel the anticipation running through their veins, as your own anticipation rose to match it. You expected the world to stop, to feel something as your life passed behind your eyes in a blink. But you didn’t.

You were supposed to be quiet, to be still… but deep down you knew they wanted you to run. So you did. You bolted from there and started running, not knowing where you were going. Something inside of you urged you to escape, to survive. You ran for what felt like hours, but were probably just minutes. You pushed yourself, but it wasn’t enough, they were close. So close. Their steps way too fast for you to have even a chance of running away.

You knew it was a bad idea, probably the worst idea you ever had, but you did it anyway. You looked back. The first glance at the big orc chasing you made your body react, almost tripping over your own feet. You expected to feel scared, to fear for your life. But one look at them and fear wasn’t the only thing pushing you. Arousal joined your conflicting emotions, filling every cell of your body with adrenaline, making it hard to breathe as you kept running.

You knew you liked the fear, that peak of anxiety and anticipation that made your adrenaline flow and your body fought for survival. In the dark nights, you imagined being chased through the forest, a presence behind you. And you felt scared, you felt like a demon was coming after you for your impure thoughts… But over that, over all that fear, was a deep desire to be caught.

Your heart was beating so hard you feared they could hear, but other parts of you were awakened. The deep secrets you were hiding weren’t so scared of the monster behind you. The deep secrets were burning you from inside out, trying to escape as fast as you did. The deep secrets made arousal overpower your fear, a wave of heat crashing on you like a tsunami.

“I can smell your fear, little human.” You could hear him inhale, an appreciative hum leaving his mouth. “And your desire.” Your face flushed, you couldn’t stop running, you knew you couldn’t. But the heat racing through your body, pooling at your abdomen, was really hard to ignore. They would catch you. And you didn’t want that. Did you?

You couldn’t answer your own inquiry before you tripped over a root, your body propelling forward. You barely caught yourself before you hit the floor, your palms stopping the worst of the impact. Your body was hurt, your hands were probably scratched. You could smell the blood in the air, and something else. Something different. A deep woodsy scent so similar but so different, spicier, than the woods surrounding you.

“Well, well… You, my little morsel, are a treat.” A deep voice said behind you, making every hair on your body stand up. Shivers ran down your spine as you tried to get up and run again. But you didn’t have time, a big green figure towered over you, grabbing you and throwing you over their shoulder. You screamed, they laughed. “It won’t be long before you are screaming in pleasure instead of fear, little morsel.”

It was too late, they caught you.

To be continued...

[write-and-wander]

That Night

Astarion x Female Tav/Reader Description: A slowed-down, in-depth retelling of the aftermath of the Cazador fight; looking deeper into the thoughts and feelings of Astarion and his lover. Warnings: Violence and trauma mentions

She loved him.

That was all she knew. That was all she could think of, in this moment.

He had finally conquered his demons- no, his own hell. It was over, now, and the story could continue however he wanted it to. And instead of jumping head-first into any direction, he looked to her for guidance. Because despite the past that drove him to this point, the only future he cared about was one she would be a part of.

So he looks to her, bloodied Cazador at his feet, fate-sealing dagger in hand, heart laid out in a state of vulnerability completely unknown, and asks her what to do.

She looks back at him, her own hands bloodied from the exhausting battle they had just endured, and knows that she loves him. She loves him. Just as he is. She wouldn’t wish him any other way.

She can see the fear, yes. The drive for power, and revenge, but even more than that; the ecstasy of being able to take the one thing Cazador wants after he had taken so, so much from Astarion- the perfect act of justice.

And she asks him only to take it from Cazador- she asks him not to take it for himself. She asks him to keep his freedom, rather than submit himself to the shackles of madness that unprecedented power would demand.

And his open, bleeding heart is suddenly soft.

Though he may not get to take and keep, he is more than happy to take and watch evil lose.

So he does.

With shaking body and ragged breath, he drives the dagger into Cazador’s chest as a mortician’s hammer drives nails into a coffin; sealing death. The death of Cazador, the purest form of evil he has ever known. The death of who he could have been, in all the corrupt power he could have basked in. The death of life as he once knew it, defined only by the black and white chess game between power and powerless. He stabs straight through Cazador’s heart, and again, and again, and again; a desperate frenzy that will never quite feel like enough, until he is forced to stop.

His body fails him in its divine relief. Decades of pain, fear, and torture are at last released with his final act. He will never know Cazador’s pain again. His will never have to run from the monster that chases him again. He will never be a toy or a lure again. He is free, and he won, and he is still, somehow, despite everything, in tact. Inexplicable tension is finally let go completely. He collapses to his knees, wails ripping through his chest and echoing against the stone cold walls that surround him.

She watches as her very heart weeps in a grief she could never even begin to comprehend. The heart that beats in her chest seems to twist in its own turmoil, and a sympathetic hand- or perhaps the hand of a friend desperate to grip something else in an attempt to maintain their own balance- finds her shoulder. Her own tears stream down her face, as do the tears of the friends who helped them make it here.

Astarion’s “siblings-” not by blood, but certainly by bond- rush over to him, their faces contorted in concern combined with utter disbelief.

Her mouth opens for a moment; she wants to ask them to stop, to give her heart space to breathe, to please, gods, don’t touch him, but the words stick in her throat. She’s too choked up to speak, but gratitude sinks in as she realizes that this is their moment of blessed freedom, too. They shared in their pain together- they deserve to share in their relief together, too.

He steels himself as they approach, and she sees Astarion the Upper City Magistrate show himself as the suddenly gentler elf seamlessly steps into a place of leadership. The others look to him in a sudden cry for a compass- they are free, but they are left without direction; and he so easily gifts it to them. He gives them direction, and offers what little encouragement he can to the now-freed slaves. Thousands of spawn are suddenly given a second chance, now that the pale elf had changed their fates- a thankless act that outweighs his sins tenfold.

It isn’t until they leave to fulfill their last charge that he returns to his lover. He hesitantly takes her hands in his, and she grasps them with the same gentleness in confidence. He had done it. It was over.

There’s an instinct in her to hug him; to enfold herself around him in an act of love, and yet, she knows her beloved vampire better than that. He will come and effortlessly wrap himself in all that she is when he is ready. Instead, she gently presses kisses onto his bloodied hands.

He looks to the companions that now stand beside her- his friends, who have so selflessly fought for this moment despite his outward reluctance to fight for them.

Though he wouldn’t be able to say it out loud until years later, he loves them. That is what he feels in this moment, in its purest form. Though it is seamlessly woven into waves of gratitude and grief, he feels love. For all of them. For her.

Later that night, after the sun goes down and most of the others had retired to their tents, Astarion does, indeed, find himself in his lover’s tent. Later still, after a long and tear-filled conversation periodically interrupted with near-silent fits of weeping, Astarion buries himself into his lover’s arms. He cries until trance overtakes him.

And all through that night, she holds him.

And the sun rises. And a new day comes. And they will find out all it holds, together.

[cambion-companion]

Echoes of Orpheus

I wanted to write. It's been a while! Exploring the idea that after Tav dies, Raphael isn't okay with just letting their immortal soul slip away.

Raphael x Tav!reader (gn)

The Hero of Baldur's Gate they had named you, dragging you time and again back into the spotlight of a fame you never wanted.

Survival.

That was all you had wanted. The will to escape the worm inside your head had evolved and taken on life of its own until you were teaming up with angels, devils, druids and warlocks to take down an Elder Brain.

With glory and infamy alike you had lived.

Just like every mortal, your body grew weak around the soul it harbored and eventually passed on.

Like a gossamer thread, your soul was freed from its mortal coil, slipping into the next world gratefully. You felt light and young, strong again.

Echoes and shadows surrounded you, an inexorable pull drawing you down into unknown space and time.

Stars whirled around your vision, hues of azure and lilac danced and merged to create a midnight sky. Up ahead, you saw a white light and knew that was your destination.

But something was wrong.

The gravitational pull guiding you to safe harbor lessened, another sensation arose. You heard your name whispered behind your ear, turning your head to see only a vast abyss that drew fear into your heart.

A familiar smell, a purple light replacing the white-golden rays up ahead. You willed yourself toward it, apprehension and excitement roiling through your being.

So close now. You reached out and a large hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you forward with a great heave.

"Raphael." Your first words uttered since your death. In his ironclad grip you felt almost alive again, awakening the tethers to your mortal life. To him.

He wore the crown of Karsus, the source of that purple glow. The silver metal twisted perfectly amongst his sharp horns, his eyes familiar and blazing hellfire-gold.

"Not even a word of farewell?" Raphael did not relinquish his grasp on you. "I taught you better manners than that."

You did not know what to say, shock holding your tongue as you fought to understand how he could interrupt the natural course of your spirit. "The crown." You whispered.

Raphael nodded. "I understand death has not dulled your wit." He intoned dryly, then tugged you a bit further into his plane. "Nor will it succeed in taking you from me. We still have work to do, you and I."

"You have no right to my soul, I made no deal with you."

"Therein you are most grievously in error." Raphael smiles, dangerous and sharp, the touch of his hand becoming more heavy and real with each passing moment you stayed in his presence. "I am your past. I am your present. And I am your future, little mouse. No mortal frailty will alter that law."

Another tug, the draw to him inescapable as it had been in your previous life. Your palm found the front of his chest, pressing until you could feel the fabric of his velvet tunic.

Raphael tucked a finger beneath your chin and raised your gaze to his once more, his tone softening to that familiar sultry purr. "I will give you life anew, more than any god could offer. You were mine since the moment I laid eyes on you, little mouse."

The old nickname sparked a flame within you, defiance and desire. "I will not be trapped in one of your gilded cages, or placed on a pedestal to be drooled over by your incubus."

"There you are." Raphael squeezed your chin before releasing you, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Already coming back to yourself, it seems. And no, dear...you will be put to use, not shelved with my other prizes." He held out a hand. "Now come. Worlds anew wait for us to conquer."

[saintrvckwell]

Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life (joel miller x platonic!reader)

joel miller x platonic!reader

summary: perhaps now, twenty one years later, joel finally found the courage to face his fears. aka joel finally allows himself to accept the role he has in your life.

warnings: father-figure joel miller (more like an invitation rather than warning), fluff, slight angst at times, father-daughter duo kind of moments.

words count: 9.5k

a/n: joel miller was always the coolest father but pedro's portrayal took that to a whole new level. dedicated to all the daddy issues strugglers out there (myself included). here's the dad you deserved to have.

ps: this is my first work focused solely on joel's character so be patient with me. <3

enjoy!

"and I will go if you ask me to. and I will stay if you dare."

•

You were a mission, something that was supposed to have a beginning and the end. Someone he was supposed to lead to a given location and walk away. It was supposed to be easy—that what Tess promised to Joel when she begged him to take you, fulfilling her dying wish. How easy it was for her to ask, how difficult it was for Joel to keep that promise.

There was a reason as for why was Joel so reluctant to take you—to temporarily care for you. Reason unknown to you. He was cold from the day you met him; made sure you knew all the rules and understood that whatever role you were going to assign him, he was not going to take it. After all, that was what he promised himself.

To keep his distance, to put the walls up and protect himself from the possibility of being hurt again. But you were too determined to tear them all down.

And at a certain point, he didn’t know for whom he was fighting anymore. To protect himself from you or to protect you from him? You’ve encountered things, places, people and tragedies one could only fear.

And with each strike he took, with each throat he slit before they lied their hands on you, Joel fell deeper. Into the sense of protection that was rising within him each time a danger appeared in your sight. Before he knew it, he was in the same spot he was twenty years ago.

That’s when the breaking point came. And he turned around, grabbed your hand and walked back to the only place that could’ve offered you the life you deserved. And deep down hoped Tess would’ve understood. In the end, he kept the promise—he made sure you were safe, more than that. He gave you the opportunity of the best life you could’ve had, given the fungal conditions around.

And you didn’t protest, didn’t utter a single objection. Because you would’ve followed Joel to the edge of the universe and back.

Or at least to Jackson.

You arrived at dawn, holding tightly onto his back, nearly falling asleep on the horse. The last few weeks you’ve spent outside were taking its toll on you. It was deadly cold out there with temperating falling down every second. You heard his voice, calling out your name three times before you opened your eyes. You were standing by the stables with Joel’s younger brother walking towards you.

“We’re here,” Joel whispered.

“Oh,” you yawned. “I’m sorry,” you pulled your hands away and slowly got off the horse with Tommy immediately offering his help.

“Good to see you,” he smiled politely, “both of you,” his eyes landed on his brother.

You waited outside whilst Joel and Tommy stabled the horse.

“So,” Tommy spoke again as soon as the three of you were together, “how long is it this time?”

And your eyes met with Joel. He shrugged his shoulders and briefly looked at you before his eyes met with Tommy’s again.

Joel was never good with words which you learned pretty quickly. It was all about his subtle actions—that’s how the two of you bonded. For all those days on the road and nights under the dark skies, you never led any deep conversations, instead found a comfort in each other’s presence. In your signals.

Being back in Jackson felt strange at first. Accustoming to such world after months in the wildness was odd to say the least. But it felt easier with Joel by your side—or at least, that’s what you were hoping for since he brought you here. Yet, after a few days in, you couldn’t overlook the way he was trying to distance himself from you.

First, it was about the house.

With the previous one being given to a family that recently came to Jackson, Maria and Tommy had to find a new place for you.

“I wanted you to have something of your own,” Joel admitted one night whilst the two of you were sitting in the kitchen, eating leftovers. “But Maria said they’re full right now. As soon as something opens, I will let you know… if you’d like.”

You were caught off guard by that.

There was a part of you that hoped—no, that took this as a foregone conclusion that you and Joel would be living together. You couldn’t even picture yourself being alone considering how accustomed you’ve gotten to Joel’s constant presence. In certain sense, he represented some sort of safety blanket. He was the reason you came to Jackson in the first place.

Perhaps, you thought, now that his job was done, he might have thought that the two of you should go your separate ways. At the end of the day, he wasn’t your family—just someone who was promised to look after you.

Perhaps, you were not as significant to him as he was to you. There were too many scenarios running through your anxious mind. But you never asked.

Then, it was the patrol duty.

When Tommy showed up at your doorstep, three days after your arrival, he mentioned that kids your age were starting to learn how to shoot so they could join the junior patrol groups.

“You should go,” Joel proposed once Tommy left. “Tommy’s good with guns. You’re going to learn from the best.”

He sounded almost uninterested.

You looked up from your bowl of breakfast, hurt glancing in your eyes.

And he quickly became aware of that.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t know whether it was care or rather annoyance that you heard in his voice.

“You promised you were going to teach me how to shoot.”

There it was again in his eyes—the regret.

He thought, with genuine worry in his heart, that giving you space was what you wanted—what you deserved. Without realising he was hurting you both in the process.

Joel didn’t know how to walk in this, how to approach this new situation he found himself in. He wanted you around, he wanted to make sure were alright. But didn’t know how.

That afternoon, when you left the house to join Tommy and the rest of the kids, Joel was already gone. His brother had him signed on old kinds of duty around the settlement—giving him an opportunity to contribute. And as much as Joel complained and growled, he like the idea of being of use—being needed.

You arrived by the Tipsy Bison, joining the group of kids standing around and registered.

A young man, approximately in his early twenties looked upon the list of names he was holding before his eyes met with yours.

“You’re signed on the East Gate, Tommy’s waiting for you there,” he informed you.

You squeezed the straps of your backpack as you walked by the stables, nervously looking around. You were still trying to adjust but it felt so difficult at times, especially when you were alone. Tommy was nice, considering he most likely knew nothing about you, beside what Joel must have told him. But you didn’t felt that kind of safety you had around Joel.

Joel, who was standing three feet away from you, with riffle hanging over his shoulder.

Maybe he joined the patrol group as well, you thought as you headed towards him.

“Do you know where Tommy is?” you asked as you looked around, looking for his brother.

Joel frowned, almost offended.

“Am I not capable enough?” he mumbled playfully.

You couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on.

“What?”

Before you uttered another mumble of confusion, Joel stepped closer and handed you the riffle.

“C’mon kid, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

The gate opened and Joel headed outside the safety, with you following his steps. There was a smile on your lips as you looked up and saw him, already explaining the route you were going to take—the high spots you were searching for. This was his way of apologising—his way of trying to do better.

Of making sure you knew that.

That day, you spent the whole afternoon together. What was supposed to be a regular two hour training that most kids took Joel turned into five, with the two of you coming back shortly after sundown, already past dinner time. It was the first time in a while you saw Joel genuinely laugh as he watched you struggling to reach the target.

You returned to Jackson with an empty magazine and one successful shot. But as you the two of you were walking home, side by side—it didn’t matter to you. It didn’t matter how terrible your aim was, how much of Tommy’s ammo you waisted. What mattered to you was the look in Joel's eyes, the smile on his lips he had as he was watching you.

He let his guard down, even if it was just for a second. And there he was—the Joel that was watching stars with you on the road.

It was about these moments. They meant whole world to you.

“You hungry?” he asked as you passed the dining hall.

You shook your head. “I’m alright. Besides, I think we’re already past the dinner time.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you eat since breakfast,” he commented. “I could make you something at home.”

Home.

It stuck with you.

He didn’t think about it when he said that. Perhaps, that was the revelation you were waiting for. That Joel felt the same way and what you had was, indeed, a home.

Joel’s parental instincts were always there, no matter how determined he was to suppress them. Every night on the road, he stood by your side with gun in his hand, every time you fell asleep without ur blanket, Joel made sure you were tucked in. Each time he promised himself it would be the last. But always failed to do so.

Truth was, without the fear of enemies lurking in every corner and in the safety of Jackson’s settlement, it was easier to slip back into his old, fatherly habits without even realising. Only took a few weeks for Joel to accustom to this life—to having you around every day.

You sat together for breakfast every morning and met by the gates every afternoon after your assignments ended to take you for another shooting lesson.

Month later, you hit three out of six targets. Each time, he stood beside, that proud smirk on his lips. Three weeks after that, you hit five of them. That night, Joel even offered to take you to the movies as a reward for your successful lesson.

You were so excited—you wanted to join the others for so long but didn’t feel like going by yourself so having Joel propose that idea felt quite nice. But after all the training and another two hour long shooting lesson, you started to get weary. Twenty minutes into the movie, your head crashed onto Joel’s shoulder as you slowly fell asleep. His eyes landed on your sleepy face and there it was again—that smile. The one he didn’t have in a while.

Two hours later, you woke up in half empty dining hall.

“Need a hand?” you heard a familiar voice around you, mixed with laughter.

“I got it,” Joel replied.

A few seconds later, Joel’s hand caressed your cheek. “Kid?”

You quickly became aware of your pposition and immediately pulled away, despite the tiredness still wearing off.

“Shit,” you whispered, rubbing your sleepy eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Joel shook his head. “Let’s go get your jacket.”

He got up and you, still not fulling woken up, followed his steps. Joel noticed how somnolent you were, so he walked you to the door, helped you put on the your jacket, wished Maria and Tommy good night before you headed out back to your place.

You were barely seeing above your own feet, tiredness still having power over you as you struggled to keep up with Joel’s pace. Didn’t take long for him to realise that you were two feet behind. He swiftly turned around, rushing towards you.

“I’m so tired,” you yawned. “I just want to lie down.”

“Absolutely not,” Joel mumbled. “Let’s go, we’re two streets away.”

“That’s so far,” you whined. “I could just lie down right here and fall sleep.”

He couldn’t help but laugh over your statement. He stepped closer, threw his hand around your shoulder and pulled you closer to keep you warm. “Two streets and we’re home.”

There it was again.

Being too tired to notice, you paid no mind. This time it was Joel who was caught off guard by his own words. As the two you walked through the quiet streets of his brother’s settlement, it slowly dawned on him. There was no point in denying. It was a home—to you, to him. Even if he wasn’t strong enough to admit it out loud, it was your home.

Three weeks later, Jackson county was covered in snow. Due to an ongoing blizzard, all of Joel’s shooting lessons were postponed until further notice, as Maria prohibited him from taking you outside the settlement in such unpredictable conditions.

That afternoon, she showed up unannounced by the east gate—already figuring out your and Joel’s teaching schedule. To keep the two of you busy, she signed you to decoration duty instead.

As the holiday season was slowly approaching, the whole settlement was getting ready.

Joel’s disgruntlement over her orders couldn’t be more obvious. But he swallowed his need to object and accepted the orders, leaving you in Maria’s hands.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t like those little trips of yours,” Maria admitted whilst the two of you were scavenging the decorations for the Christmas tree Tommy, Joel and other men were putting up.

You shrugged your shoulders, “We’re not going that far. Just around the settlement.”

“Why can’t you just go with the other kids at school?” she asked.

“Don’t you always say that we should only head out there with those we trust?”

She saw the look in your eyes and knew there was no need to say anything more. You knew she meant well—Maria wanted you to adjust to this place, to make friends of your own age. But she was also aware of the fact that separating you from Joel would do more harm than good. She did not agree with most of his actions but still respected that man. After all, he was her family.

That day, you got there late. Joel was already back, sitting in the living room with book in his lap. As interesting as the crime thriller could have been, Joel’s attention was elsewhere. Sitting in an old chair by the window, he was impatiently waiting for your arrival. It was shortly after nine when you came. As soon as he saw you on the porch, he grabbed the book, suddenly finding interest in every line.

You entered the dark hall, seeing the only source of light coming from the living room. That’s when Joel finally looked up, seeing you standing there with snowflakes in your hair.

“Hey, didn’t hear you coming,” he greeted you, closing the book. “How was your decorating duty?”

“How was yours?” you mumbled sarcastically, ready to roll your eyes.

Joel chuckled over your reaction. “Fair enough.”

For a second, the awkward silence crept in until Joel spoke again.

“I grabbed you some food on the way back,” he announced. “Left it in the fridge for you.”

“Oh… thanks,” you whispered, quite taken aback by that gesture. “But uh, Maria took me to dinner…so.”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head.

There was a reassuring smile on his lips—even if it was for a moment.

“By the way…” Joel spoke again, sensing that you wanted to head upstairs. Once he got your attention again, he continued: “Tommy asked me today if we’d want to join him and Maria for Christmas Eve dinner next week.”

We.

You tried to hide that unexpected excitement his words left in you, yet Joel still managed to spot that glimpse of sparks in your eyes.

“It’s not mandatory, so if you don’t want—“

“No!” you interrupted him. “I mean yes… yes, we can go.”

“Oh,” he whispered, surprised by your sudden reaction. “Alright then, I’ll tell Tommy.”

After that, the awkward silence appeared again. You stood there for moment or two before Joel considered that it was time to go—he wished you good night and quietly disappeared upstairs, whilst you stayed there for another second. It was so unusual to see Joel this nervous and you wondered what could’ve been the cause of that.

With the holidays approaching, the thought of the old days was harder to avoid, especially with all those children running around. Everywhere he went, he saw her, saw the memories tied to her. It was easier to avoid those when he lived in Boston. The only haunting things were his nightmares which he usually deadened with a bottle of whisky and sack of pills. But here in Jackson, it was different. There was the glimpse of normal life—as normal as one could get in such world. It was way too easy to look at those luckier than him and wonder what could been.

That could been the root of the problem as for why Joel struggled with the way he felt about you. Each time he grew closer, it frightened him. He was frightened by the idea of encountering the same pain again because he knew that this time—he couldn’t bear through. He couldn’t suffer through the loss of another daughter.

Because that's who you were for Joel.

You were his daughter. Despite the numerous times he tried to fight, despite his inability to express this, deep down, Joel knew it. Even as terrifying as it was to admit it, you were his kid. He never stopped being a dad, he was just now yours.

And when he lied awake that night, he made a decision. Maybe it was time to stop running away from it—to stop running away from you.

When you woke the next morning, something felt different. Dressed up and ready, you ran down the stairs, surprised to see what was in front of you. Lighted and decorated, there was a Christmas tree standing by the fireplace. You couldn’t quite comprehend that sight.

It was barely after eight o’clock. You couldn’t help but wonder when did Joel managed to do this. In the kitchen, you found a message on the table along with a piece of apple pie that he must have brought from the dining hall.

Tommy and I had to leave early, there’s been accident at the power plant. Maria’s going to bring you dinner tonight. We should be back in a few days but if not, Merry Christmas kid.

— Joel

A part of you felt saddened over the thought of Joel possibly missing the Christmas Eve. But at the same time—you couldn’t help but smile over him doing all of this before he left. Putting the Christmas tree, getting you breakfast. He wanted to make sure you would still have good time, despite him missing it.

Later that day, Maria stopped by with dinner. As soon as she entered the hall, she couldn’t overlook the shining Christmas three. You two dined together in silence, washed the dishes and even offered for you to stay at their place until Joel and Tommy return. But as kind as her offer was, you politely declined. That night, you fell asleep on the couch, staring at those lights, hoping Joel was alright.

The blizzard out there wasn’t going away anytime soon. Each morning, whilst walking to your training, you couldn’t stop worrying. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, yet that didn’t stop the ongoing fear that was rising within you each time you came home and he wasn’t there.

The house felt so empty without him there. Even though the two of you spend most of your time in silence or in separate rooms, you both had your comfort in each other’s presence. The idea of Joel being door away from you felt reassuring. Naively, you never thought that could change. In this sense, Jackson has softened you. Those gates around gave you sense of protection.

But he didn’t have that.

Each night, you waited. Sitting in his old chair by the window, you held your switchblade between your fingers and waited until you fell asleep. Fell asleep with a hope and woke with coldness wrapping around your body and disappointment that dawned on you when you found his room empty.

Three days before Christmas, you felt the need to express your anxiousness to Maria.

“The plant is a few of miles away. And with the snowstorm out there, it would be too dangerous to head back in such conditions,” she explained. “They’ll be back soon, you’ll see.”

You knew she was worried as well. But she did much better job at hiding it. She promised you that even if Joel and Tommy didn’t make it in time, you would still celebrate the Christmas Eve, together. And as much as you appreciated that effort—you didn’t care about celebrations of any kind. The only thing you cared about was Joel.

On twenty third of December, the clouds of fog and heavy flakes of snow finally disappeared. Yet there was no sign of Joel nor Tommy. You waited by the East Gate whole afternoon until your fingers felt numb from the coldness. You waited there until the sundown when Maria came to pick you up. You protested, begging her to let you stay up with men from the night watch.

“You’ll wait for him at home,” she insisted. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re freezing.”

But you didn’t care and she knew. But there was no point in fighting with her. You sighed, jumped down from the lookout and with disappointment hidden behind your eyes, you returned to that empty house. That night, you sat in that chair with switchblade in your hand—just like all those previous nights and waited.

On the twenty four of December, Christmas Eve, you were sitting by the kitchen table with Joel’s note in your hand.

“We should be back in a few days but if not, Merry Christmas kid.”

The chances of Joel and Tommy returning before the Christmas dinner were slimmer with each hour that past. At noun, it was decided that small group of patrollers would head to that plant and bring them back. With the weather conditions improving, you knew there must have been a different reason as for why they were still not coming back. And Maria knew it as well, despite her best efforts to keep you calm.

“There’s Christmas dance going on at the hall tonight. We could go if you’d like,” Maria offered when the two of you met at the stables. “Or we could still make the dinner.”

“I think I’ll just stay home,” you whispered, grabbing your backpack from the floor. “I’m quite tired. And I have the kindergarten duty tomorrow, so.”

“Y/N—?”

“Just tired, really,” you interrupted her. “Don’t worry.”

“Alright then,” she sighed, not trying to persuade you. “But tomorrow—dinner at my house. No excuses, six o’clock sharp.”

You felt guilty for declining again. So this time, you agreed to her proposal. After all, you could really use a moment out of your house. Maria meant well, she cared about you and she wasn’t exactly happy with the thought of you being all alone there.

On your way back, you passed the gate again, stayed a second or two and waited. For a moment, you thought you could sneak out tonight and try bribing one of those junior patrols guys at the watch to let you sneak up there. But you knew one of them would tell and you didn’t want to cause any more unnecessary worry for Maria. She already cut you a lot of slack with all those assignments you signed yourself off of.

When the clock stroke eight, you lost all your hope that Joel could make it before midnight. But knew that he wouldn’t want you to stare out of that window forever. So you decided to stop by the Christmas dance to grab a dinner, at least. When you returned, you lit a candle and sat down by the tree. Though as much as you tried, your eyes always landed on that view.

Shortly before midnight, you headed upstairs to his bedroom. His bed has not been made since the day he left. There wasn’t much of sight of him, besides the stuff in the clothes where you were headed. You opened the wooden door and took out his old jacket. Maria forced two of you to get rid of most of your old clothes and gave you new, not ripped and stained ones, but he still kept that one jacket.

You took it off the hanger and put over your sweater. It still had it scent.

With that, you went back and with switchblade in your hand, you sat down on the stairs on the front porch. You heard the celebratory noises coming from the hall but didn’t feel the need to join. Instead, you looked up at the stars.

During one of those night out there, you told Joel how much you loved the constellations and even showed him some of them—which he found profoundly interesting, as much as he tried to tell otherwise.

There you saw it—Big Dipper. The one you showed him, the only one he managed to spot.

That’s when midnight stroke.

And tears rolled down your face. As you looked ahead and saw the darkness.

And a shadow.

Shadow of a man.

For a second, you thought you could blame it on your somnolent mind. But when your name slipped from his lips, twice, it wasn’t your imagination anymore.

It was Joel.

“Joel?” you whispered as you saw him, heading towards you.

You couldn’t quite believe it.

“Joel!” you called out, not waiting another second to rush towards him, meeting him halfway.

He was out of the darkness, standing right there in front of you.

It was him.

But the smile you had on your lips faded away the second you saw a blood seeping through the fabric on his right leg.

“Are you—“ you gasped, eyes landing on his injury.

He immediately realised where your mind went.

“No,” he reassured you, stepping closer. “It’s just an injury, a scratch. Nothing more.”

You noticed the trouble he had whilst walking.

“I still have aid kit in my backpack upstairs,” you mumbled, worried thoughts jumping from one another in your mind. “It’s not much but I can fix it. I could just go and fix it, just let me—“

“Y/N!”

His voice echoed in your ears. Suddenly, he stood right in front of you, his cold hands grabbing both of your puffy cheeks. There was one thing you had in common in that very moment. The fear that rose in both of you, the worry that was put on display when you looked into his eyes. You couldn’t hold it together anymore, despite the efforts.

“I thought,” you gasped between the sobs, “I thought you didn’t come because…”

“No,” Joel reassured you again, this time with a smile on his lips. “See? I didn’t. I’m alright, I’m alright.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, trying to comprehend what was going on.

And as he saw you, standing there in his old jacket, freezing and crying—if there were any remaining walls, they all fell down. In that moment, every single one of his parental instincts kicked the minute he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m alright, kiddo,” he whispered, caressing your hair as you cried out. “I’m alright.”

As soon as you pulled away, Joel threw his hand over your shoulder as you quickly helped him get inside. Sitting him down on the couch, you ran upstairs, throwing the backpack on the bed as you impatiently took out one thing after another until you find the first aid kit. Only then you rushed downstairs, fix Joel’s wounds.

You almost tripped over your own feet.

He was sitting in the same spot, eyes landing on the lightened Christmas tree.

After you sewed his injury, the two of you sat there in silence. Neither of you needed the words in order to embrace the comfort you had in each other’s presence. You sat there, watching the lights until you fell asleep on his shoulder. In that moment—Joel didn’t need anything else. He was home.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” he whispered, looking down on you.

Twenty minutes past midnight, Joel made it.

But then the dawn came.

You woke up, eight hours later, finally without those worries hanging over your head. In the same spot you fell asleep, only with blanket covering your body. It was quiet, peaceful. Until you slowly awakened and your eyes landed on the wall clock above the living room dresser.

Within a second, you were up on your feet.

“Shit!” you yelled out, ignoring the possibility of Joel, still being asleep.

With tiredness wearing off, you tripped over your feet tree times, with each almost landing on your face. You quickly changed your clothes and ran back downstairs.

And there he was.

Leaning against the kitchen desk with cup of coffee in his hand, Joel couldn’t overlook the distress pictured all over you.

“Ever heard of a hairbrush?” he commented your appearance, being in the mood to have a little dig at you.

You didn’t have the time to roll your eyes over his words.

“I’m running late,” you whispered, looking around, trying to find your backpack. “I was supposed be at the kindergarten twenty minutes ago!” you cried out, stressed, trying to find your possessions. “Maria’s going to kill me. And where is that fucking thing?”

“Tried your room?” Joel proposed, visibly being amused by your current state.

“Dammit!” you yelled out, running back upstairs.

Within seconds, you were rushing back down, pushing your switchblade into your back-pocket.

“Gotta go—!” before you managed the disappear outside, Joel’s voice stopped you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he headed towards you.

You turned from the doors, “to my assignment? I already missed most of them this week. Can’t screw this one as well.”

“Where’s your other jacket? The down one that Maria brought the other day?”

You stared at his, utterly confused over that question.

“What?” you shook your head. “What are you talking about?”

“Y/N, it’s freezing out there, you’re not going in this,” he pointed to your windbreaker.

In this moment, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“I don’t have time for this—“

“Y/N, this is not open for discussion,” he stepped closer. “Go and get the other jacket.”

“Joel—!”

“Now, Y/N,” he repeated, admonishing look in his eyes.

He was never more parental than in that moment as he watched you grumpily running upstairs to grab your other jacket.

You came down, clothes changed.

“Now hat, and gloves. Where are your gloves?”

“Seriously?!”

There was something unimaginably funny as he watched you losing your temper when you did a second round of running and came back, redness in your cheeks.

You put it on and looked at Joel, annoyance expressed all over your face.

“Happy?” you mumbled sarcastically, grabbing your backpack from the floor.

“That you’re not going to freeze out there? Yes, I am,” he shrugged his shoulder. “Although,” he stepped closer and pulled the zip of your down jacket up to the top. “Now, I am.”

You rolled your eyes, once again.

He couldn’t help but chuckle over that response.

“You’re warm enough?” he asked.

“I’m sweating like a pig, Joel.”

“Better than freezing, don’t you think?” he couldn’t help but have another dig at you. “If you caught cold, I would be the one running around you.”

“Well, I couldn’t rob you of your favourite I told you moment, could I?” you grinned. “Besides, with this leg… you can barely walk so I don’t know what running you’re talking about, old man.”

He bursted into laughter.

“You're such a stubborn pain the ass, you know that?” he observed between laughs.

But then it happened.

“Okay, dad.”

That one sentence that was supposed to be an innocent joke—a little dig.

Carrying little no meaning.

Until you saw how Joel’s eyes suddenly shifted. And the laughter was no longer there. The spark was gone and he stood there, quiet and frozen. Stiff and numb over your words.

It’s been more than twenty one years since he last heard that.

His heart dropped into his stomach, the world around became too heavy.

There she was, in his mind again. That day, that exact moment. His eyes landed on his watch.

He heard his name coming out of your mouth, three times before he looked up—seeing the genuine worry displayed right in front of him.

“Joel—?“

“Go,” he whispered, so coldly.

You shook your head, confused. “Joel, are you—?”

“Go,” he repeated. “Your assignment is waiting. Leave.”

You stood there for two second, before you heard him again—urging you to leave. All at once, you couldn’t recognise him. You had no idea what caused this strange reaction, but didn’t dare to ask. Instead, you obeyed. You bowed your head and walked out of your house.

Each step you take, the further you were from the house, the more guilt was rising within you. What could you have done to displease him this much?

You’ve experienced Joel’s anger a few times, while the two of you were on the road. To be honest, Joel’s patience was thin and you knew what strings to pull to get him into rage. Him yelling at you became a daily routine at one point. But you’ve never seen him like this. The stare he had, the emptiness in his eyes.

As if you were dead to him. Truth was, you would much rather had him screaming at you than being this eerily quiet.

You arrived to your assignment and quickly got to work, hoping no one would notice your delay. But even with the amount of work you had around, you couldn’t stop thinking about that odd encounter with Joel. What could’ve been that made him so upset?

Could’ve been the joke, you thought. But it was an innocent statement, with not much truth in it. Or was it? Or was it something that accidentally carried more truth that you were willing to let on? Could Joel sense that?

One too many scenarios running through your worried mind.

“Y/N?” Maria’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You looked up and saw her, standing by the door.

“Hey,” you mumbled, putting the basket with toys on the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Just checking in,” she replied, smile on her lips. “I stopped by your place but forgot your had your duty today. Wanted to take Joel to infirmary but looks like you already took care of that.”

“Oh, yeah. It was nothing,” you whispered, eyes landing on the floor, the desire to avoid every conversation that included his name rising with each second. “I have a lot to finish today, so…”

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Maria laughed. “Just wanted to say that since Tommy and Joel got back in one piece, we thought we could have the Christmas dinner today. After all, the holidays are still on.”

“I don’t think Joel’s in mood for celebration of any kind,” you admitted.

“I already talked to him and he agreed.”

So maybe he managed to cool down, you thought. Or at least, you were hoping for that.

Maria stayed for a few more minutes, asking you to come earlier tonight to help prepare the dinner. She freed you from your afternoon assignments to have enough time to change and get ready. You stayed at the kindergarten until one in the afternoon, then helped for two hours at the stables before you headed back to your house.

You learned from her that both Tommy and Joel had a day off so part of you hoped you would run into him. But when you came, the house was empty. Joel’s backpack and gun were lying by the chair but he was nowhere to be found—as you searched every room around. You tried to not think much of that but there were still those doubts inside you.

Luckily, you were running out of time—which meant you had to hurry up and pull yourself out of your worried mind. You didn’t have any decent clothes to wear, except for the regular ones. So you just grabbed a clean sweater, pants and tied your hair up before you headed to Maria’s.

When you arrived, Maria was already cutting the vegetables in the kitchen. You let yourself in, throwing the jacket on the hanger in the hall as she called you in. It was the first time you were in their home as they mostly came to visit you and Joel. It was much bigger than what the two of you had but all those details displayed around implied that they’ve been here for quite some time. Each corner had a track of them. There were pictures on the walls, books on the coffee table with an empty cup, flower pots on the windowsill.

But what caught your attention was a board, resting on the top of the fireplace.

You didn’t mean to snoop but when you saw those names, you couldn’t look away. There were two of them, along with four dates. Took only few seconds for you to realise what this was supposed to meant.

Shivers went down your spine. Especially once you heard Maria calling you again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, rushing into the kitchen.

“It’s alright, just finish these carrots,” she handed you the knife. “I need to start preparing the meat.”

You took the orders without any objections.

You wondered. Were they Tommy’s or Maria’s children? Or did each belong to one of them? You wouldn’t guess the two of them to experience such loss since they’ve both seen so well put together.

But you knew yourself how easy it was to put up a believable surface. You did that after Tess’s death, despite how painful it was to lose someone so close. You didn’t have any other option. Maybe they were once in a similar position.

Eventually, every person finds a way to live with their pain. They either face it or suppress that, deep down.

You only now realised how important must have been this child to Tommy and Maria. Get a second chance in a world like this was almost a miracle.

“Tommy’s memorial caught your attention?”

Almost as if she read your mind.

You startled, nearly accidentally cutting yourself.

“I wasn’t… you mumbled, embarrassed. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Maria looked up, reassuring smile on her lips.

She was kind, like always.

“I’m sorry about your kids.”

So you felt the need to let her know.

Her eyes locked with yours again, “Thank you. Although, just a kid, Kevin.”

“Oh,” you nodded. “So Sarah was Tommy’s daughter?”

“She was his niece,” Maria replied, still preparing the meet.

In that moment, the world around stopped for a second.

Tommy’s niece.

Meaning?

You had to take a deep breath.

“So, she was…” you swallowed, feeling the frog in your throat growing bigger each second.

“Joel’s daughter,” Maria finished your sentence, paying no mind to your current state.

Joel’s daughter.

Joel had a daughter. A daughter just three years younger than you.

You needed a moment to process this.

He used to be someone’s dad.

Then the last piece of the puzzle was found. And the mystery was solved.

And your shattered heart dropped into your stomach.

He used to be a dad.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Suddenly, you’ve never felt worse. For what you said, for being so cruel. All those days, all those moments, all his words—all at once it made sense. It was the last clue you needed to win the prize. Was it worth though, was the question.

“Y/N?” you heard Maria’s voice calling your name.

Three times before you looked up, still a little spaced out.

“He didn’t…” she whispered, putting two and two together. “Oh…”

“That’s alright,” you shook your head. “It’s not your fault.”

You didn’t know how to approach this newly revealed information, how to solve the problem without causing even more of them. Joel was never the most sharing individual, neither of the two of you was. Though you couldn’t blame him. He was keeping this inside of him for more than twenty years. One could one fear how difficult that must have been.

“How did it happen?” you dared to ask.

Maria looked you. She knew this wasn’t her place to talk but still gave in. “I don’t know the details. Just that it was the day of the outbreak.”

You thought there was no chance this could get any worse.

“Day after Joel’s birthday.”

Somehow it did.

And you felt even more guilty for asking these questions in the first place.

You thought of this afternoon, when you were rushing back to your house, hoping you would find Joel there. Now you were on the verge of praying to every none-existent higher power that he could change his mind and not come. You wanted to do everything you could to avoid him, out of the shame that you were feeling.

That of course, did not happened.

At half past six, Tommy arrived from Tipsy Bison with bottle of scotch and smile on his lips. He had a stitch above his eyebrows, meaning both him and Joel were involved in whatever fight that went down at power plant, probably with those raiders Maria kept mentioning. Greeting both of you, he kissed Maria on the cheek, placed on the bottle on the kitchen desk and disappeared upstairs to change his clothes.

Thirty minutes after him, Joel arrived.

You were in the middle of settling the dinner table when you heard the door slam. You paid no mind, placing the four plates on their spots. Only when you turned to get the cutlery, you saw Joel standing by the coffee table—his eyes immediately landing on you.

The fear in your face was difficult to overlook. For a second, your sight shifted from Joel to the memorial board right next to him.

For a second.

Yet he still managed to catch that.

Without a thought, you turned around and headed towards the kitchen to grab the tray with glasses and cutlery. When you came back, you saw him standing on the same spot. Only now, his full attention was directed towards that board before you caught his attention, again.

It didn’t take much for him to realise the nature of your behaviour—beside what happened this morning.

You stood there, staring at the each other. Your heart was pounding louder with each second, hands were sweating, the tray in your hands shaking. Only when Tommy’s voice called out for Joel, you looked away and went to finish your job.

Feeling even more ashamed than before, if it was still possible.

To say the dinner was awkward would have been an understatement. The four of you sat by the table in silence, with mostly Tommy or Maria leading the conversation. Their words and the conversation in general was revolving mainly around Jackson and things related to that as both of them sensed that none of you were in the mood. Maria kept checking on you—she didn’t miss how determined you were to avoid Joel’s eyes.

It was after dinner when you saw him lighten up a little. Tommy grabbed the bottle of scotch and took Joel into his little office space downstairs, right in the entrance hall. Which you and Maria used as an opportunity to wash the dishes.

You placed the dishes right next to the kitchen sink when you heard Tommy’s laugh.

“…it’s time consuming!”

Shortly, it was followed by Joel’s brief laughter. Still, it was nice to know he was easing up.

“It’s that stupid clock joke Tommy heard this morning,” Maria commented as you handed her the dishes, one by one.

There wasn’t any response coming from you. Your mind was too preoccupied for that.

And as much she didn’t want to cross the boundaries, she was worried about you.

“Joel cares about you, you know,” she spoke, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at her, handing her the plate.

“I’m not really sure about that right now,” you admitted. “Although, I couldn’t really blame him.”

“You worry too much,” Maria chuckled.

“Can you blame me?” you muttered, looking down.

“I had plenty of evidence to be confident in my previous claim.”

“Like what?” you sighed.

“A, he brought you here—“

“I saw him spare a rabbit once. So not leaving me out in the cold is not a strong argument.”

Maria chuckled again.

“He brought here and asked for the two of you to be placed together.”

Wait a minute.

You looked up once more, confused over Maria’s words.

“No,” you shook your head. “Joel said you just didn’t have any other place for me…”

“We have a few houses specifically for kids of your age. Since I knew your situation and wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to be around your peers. I offered that to Joel. But he insisted that you stay under his roof.”

That sudden new information needed a second to process.

You thought that, perhaps, he thought the two of should take your separate ways—that’s why he mentioned that you should have a place of your own. When in reality, he wanted you around. He asked to have you around.

“What’s B?”

Maria took a deep breath and placed the plate into the sink.

“It’s tough to lose a child, in any kind of world, fungal or not. And it is even harder to allow yourself to care this way again, for somebody else. Which is why you might have felt like he was pushing you away at times, maybe even right now. But despite his actions saying otherwise at times, you mean a whole world for him. You are his whole world.”

You wanted to believe every word of that statement. Because that’s what Joel was to you. After everything you’ve encountered, Joel was the closest thing to a family one could have in this world. And you wanted to believe that you carried that value for him as well.

“You just have to cut him some slack. He might be scared,” she continued.

“Scared of what?”

“Scared of having another chance to be a parent. It’s way too easy to screw that job, in every world.”

Maybe all you needed to understand Joel was one conversation with someone who was once in the same position.

Suddenly, each attribute of Joel’s personality, each strange detail about him pulled together a one, bigger picture. Although the losses in your life might not have been as traumatic as those of Joel’s, you were starting to understand him. And deep down, hoped that you didn’t blow up all your chances to fix what you’ve broken.

That evening, you headed home first. After you helped Maria clean everything, you asked her to tell Joel that you were tired and left early. Even though there was a part of you, wanting to run after him and apologise, you couldn’t do it. Once you heard his laugh, you knew you owed him a moment of peace. Your conversation could wait for another day or two.

It was first time since this morning there was even the slightest amusement on his face. Could’ve been the simple stupidity of that joke, the bizarreness that somehow made him chuckle. He stood there, leaning against the grey wall with scotch in his hand, trying so hard to suppress those laughs.

“You can laugh, it’s funny,” Tommy teased him, finishing the rest of his drink. “It’s a great joke.”

“A really lame one,” Joel commented, squeezing the glass in his hands.

“Well, you never really had a good sense of humour so,” Tommy chuckled.

Joel shrugged his shoulders over that statement, partially agreeing before he drank the rest of his liquid courage.

It was getting late, he wanted to head home and get some rest. He handed Tommy the empty glass, patted his shoulder and gave him a fleeting smile—enough to let him know that he was thankful for the distractions. Only then he went into the living room, looking for you.

He found Maria instead.

She knew the answer he came for in the first place.

“She left a few minutes ago,” Maria answered the implied question. “But she left this in here,” she turned around and grabbed pair of green gloves. “Could you give that to her?”

Joel nodded, bitting his lower lip, slowly immersing into his thoughts.

“Well,” he snapped out his head after a second, squeezing the gloves in his hands, “I should probably go too. Thank you for the dinner, though.”

“My pleasure,” she smiled.

He knew where he was going. Yet before he made a single step, the memorial board caught his sight again. He was aware of not always being the most pleasurable human being to others around, though he always justified that by saying that he was only trying to protect himself. But when he visited today, for the first time, and saw the board—there was regret. For, maybe, being too harsh at times.

Everyone was carrying around their own kind of pain. Some were just too good at hiding it.

So before he left, he turned to Maria.

“Listen,” he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “About…”

She knew where he was headed. And wanted to spare him the difficulties.

“I know,” she whispered. “Me too…”

Nothing else needed to be said, they both understood.

With that, Joel grabbed the rest of his stuff and set off.

As he walked through the streets, seeing the lights hanging on the houses and snowflakes falling to the ground, his mind wondered. Towards you, towards this morning. Part of him felt guilty for pushing you away so suddenly. You must have meant it as a joke, he thought. That’s what he’s been trying to tell himself the whole day.

Yet there was a part of him. Part of him that was terrified of you, being serious with that title. Joel came to terms with the way he felt about you, with the amount of care and sense of protection he had for you. But why was the idea of you feeling the same way about him so frightening? Why was it so easy to accept you as daughter but hesitate to become your father? He was in this same position twenty one years ago. And he couldn’t promise to not fail again.

There was guilt. Guilt he was carrying around for more than twenty years. Guilt of failing, for not being the father Sarah deserved to have in that moment. And it felt selfish of him to put another child through that. Maria was right. It was scary to have another chance with something so fragile. Perhaps, he should’ve just walked away, could’ve given up.

But somehow found himself standing in front of your door. With pair of green gloves in his hands and shame in his eyes.

He knocked on the door two times to make sure you were still awake. Only when he heard your voice, he let himself in.

You were standing by your closet, carefully folding your things.

Somehow, in this moment, seeing you so accustomed this place, it made Joel happy.

Then he saw the curiousness in your eyes and panicked. For a second, he panicked, overthinking his actions.

“Maria,” he mumbled, looking for the right words, “Maria… Maria said you left this at their place,” he finished his attempted and stepped closer into the room.

Your eyes landed on the pair of gloves in Joel’s hands.

“Oh…” you raised your eyebrows. “But these… these are not mine. I gave them back to Maria weeks ago because they were too small for me…”

You stopped for a moment and realised she achieved exactly what she wanted with that gesture. And you couldn’t help but chuckle over that.

Joel, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the embarrassment rising within him.

Quickly, you saw that. Saw him clearing his throat and placing the gloves on the edge of your bed.

He stood there, for a second or two and you wondered if, perhaps, there was more to his visit. You looked into his eyes and saw the struggle—saw how desperately he was trying to find the appropriate approach to this situation and took this as an opportunity to set things right.

“Listen,” you whispered, catching his attention. “I just…”

You both struggled with finding the right words.

Placing the clothes you were holding just a second ago onto the closet shelf, you stepped closer to him.

“I’m sorry for what I've said this morning. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t know that—“

The shame he had in his eyes was now glancing in yours. And he saw that, saw every bit of that.

That’s why he stopped you.

“No,” he shook his head. “Y/N, please no.”

He followed your lead and stepped closer, sitting down on the edge of your bed as the frustrated sigh left his mouth.

“It’s not your fault. How could you know…”

It was the first time you saw Joel like this. It was the first you spoke of this.

There was hurt in his voice and you knew he must have been trying to suppress that for quite some time.

You quietly joined him, eyes landing on the floor.

“Maria told you?” he asked, filling up the hollow silence.

“I saw the memorial Tommy made… you probably figure the rest,” you whispered.

Joel nodded.

“Don’t be mad at her, please. I swear, if I knew… I wouldn’t—“

He finally looked into your eyes, stopping your words. “Y/N, it’s alright. I am not mad at her.”

There was a sense of relief that flew through your body.

Although, there was also one question remaining.

“What about me?” you dared to ask.

He heard the tone of your voice and saw the worry in your eyes.

There it was, the confrontation he couldn’t keep running away from. For a moment, the hollow silence returned just as your fears. In the same exact moment that Joel finally decided to face his.

“If you think about me this way, if you feel about me this way… then I don’t… I don’t mind if you want to call me that.”

That certainly was not what you were expecting.

But it turned out to be better.

“I’m trying to say that even though I can’t promise you that I’m worthy of that title… if you want me to have that role in your life…” he whispered.

“I thought you already had that,” you admitted.

The shock in his eyes was evident.

“Listen,” you whispered, turning to him. “I was on my own for most of the time before Tess finally found me and brought me to you. I’ve never had anyone like that. So I don’t have much to compare with. But if dad is supposed to be someone who makes you feel safe, who feels like home, then for me, Joel, you are worthy of that title.”

There it was. It was no longer just an assumption but a long lasting wish. He got the truth, got what he wished for and feared at the same time.

“Depends on if you want it.”

In that moment, he wanted to allow himself to want it. But in order to do that. There was one last step remaining.

Joel needed to forgive himself.

He needed to finally put down that baggage of guilt he’s been wearing around for twenty one years. He needed once and for all, stop looking behind him. And look ahead and take the opportunity the universe gave him.

Perhaps, you were what he needed to achieve that. By making sure you were safe, he would able to forgive himself for failing at that twenty one years ago. Deep down, he knew, she would never want him to wear his sadness around his neck. There would always be a part of her in Joel, nothing was going to change that. But maybe now, he was finally able to make space for you, too. To be your dad.

You heard the chuckles and looked up again. And there he was, looking down at his something to fight for. His whole world.

He smiled quietly and replied, “I do, kiddo.”

And when the word left your mouth, calling him that officially for the very first time, he barely managed to hold it together. Every remaining piece of his baggage disappeared, every last piece of the sadness he was wearing around his neck fell down as he finally put his guilt to rest.

And he kept the promise he gave. To both of his daughters.

[penguinbuttcheeks]

Not a Woman - price x reader

summary: you get called to price’s office after a mission gone wrong in russia. after internalising your emotions for so long, you’re unable to hold back and finally reveal your deepest secret.

pairing: platonic!price x transmasc!reader

cw: mentions/hints towards sa, internalised transphobia (from reader), stereotyped sexism (cuz this is the military and the 141 boys would absolutely have some internalised misogyny ingrained in them)

word count: 3,079

A/N: there’s not really any fics out there targeted towards male readers, specifically trans men- and i wanted to write something (somewhat of a vent) about my own experience as a trans masc person.

this was originally posted on ao3, but i also wanted to post it here since i’ve gotten some good feedback and it boosted my confidence a bit :p

this is my first ever fic, so any feedback or tips would be super appreciated !!

After a particularly hard mission, you were called into Price’s office for a little chat.

The TaskForce's recent mission in Russia hadn't panned out as smoothly as he had hoped.

While the team's intel was thorough, word had gotten out that the 141 were planning to infiltrate a terrorist organisation from an unknown source. The plan had been disclosed before the group had even managed to reach their location.

It was complete and utter chaos. The entire team outnumbered with masses of last minute reinforcements.

The five of you barely made it out alive and Price now had the added stress of trying to locate the mole who had leaked highly confidential information from the TaskForce.

The following weeks succeeding the mission, your attitude had started to become short with some of your teammates and often ended in hostility.

The four men were starting to reach their limit, originally approaching you with care, however their patience soon ran thin. It was a draining mission for everyone after all.

Patience soon turned to agitation as each attempt to reach out to you was shut down. All that they had received in return were your harsh, snarky retorts and violent yells. Your behaviour was a stark contrast to the usually friendly and calm nature everyone at the base knew you for.

The taskforce Captain needed to check up on you - for the sake of his men, and for the sake of their own sanity.

Upon hearing the news that Price had called you to his office, you were immediately on high alert.

You weren't oblivious to your behaviour. Each attempt to open up to your comrades about any internal struggle that was so deeply buried was replaced with hurtful insults.

It hurt, but you knew they were hurting more.

You entered Price's office after knocking swiftly on his door with three simple knocks, his tired voice granting you permission to enter from inside.

Price had tried to approach the conversation professionally, tried to keep a level head, however when you snap at him in a sudden fit of anger - the calm, almost fatherly attitude is immediately gone.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” He growls, standing up from his desk. The palms of his hands pressed firmly in to the wooden table surface as he towered over you.

The anger in his eyes was palpable. Terrifying almost.

The hardened gaze you keep trained on Price falters slightly, a small flash of fear crossing your features before it's quickly buried away, trying to maintain a strong composure in the midst of your Captain's presence.

His expression doesn’t change, keeping his cold stare trained on you. A small part of him respects you for standing your ground but most of him is disappointed. Hurt.

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest, Sergeant? Something bothering you?” His voice is hard now as he glares down at you, his anger bubbling just below the surface as he watches you trying to maintain your facade.

Price is met with nothing but silence as he stares down at the soldier in front of him.

With your head held high and shoulders tightly squared - you simply glare back at him in defiance.

The office is eerily silent, the tense atmosphere could easily be cut with even the dullest of blades left discarded to be sharpened in the training room.

Time seems to still as the two soldiers stare each other down.

If it weren't for the emotional turmoil fogging your rationale you would be horrified by your lack of respect towards Price on any other day.

Despite your futile attempts to maintain your composure, hot, angry tears spring to your eyes, a heavy lump forming at the base of your throat.

It’s not long before they’re spilling over your cheeks. Fat, hot droplets dripping from your chin and leaving rain-like splatters on the tiled floor surrounding your feet.

Price’s expression immediately softens at the sight, the cold mask of his exterior cracking as the pain in his voice rises.

“Damnit…”

In one swift motion, the towering behemoth of a man is rounding his desk to stand in front of you, his concerned gaze never leaving your trembling form.

Despite the angry glare you shoot at him your tears never cease.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly, his blue eyes filled with a flurry of numerous emotions. “What’s wrong?” He continues to press.

The cold front you try your best to maintain drops immediately, head hanging in defeat and burying deep in to the palms of your hands. You desperately try to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, turning your body away in complete mortification.

One question was all it took. A simple inquiry on your wellbeing sent your defences crumbling to the ground.

Harrowing sobs and sloppy sniffles echo off the brick walls of the small, cluttered office. You whimper through your cries, teeth biting harshly in to your trembling lip in a desperate attempt to muffle any escaping sounds.

The display of vulnerability is humiliating.

“Hey… It’s okay.” He gently assures you, large palms rubbing against your shoulders in an attempt to calm you. He can sense your embarrassment and tries his best to put you at ease.

Any trace of his anger is immediately wiped from his demeanour, replaced with concern for the soldier stood before him.

“Just breathe for a moment”

He continues to stand beside you, his reassuring strokes along the tense muscles of your back slightly alleviating your distress.

“I want to know what I can do to help you.”

Price’s voice is gentle with a hint of unease.

“You can talk to me” he reminds earnestly. And what he says is true.

His priority as Captain has always been towards the wellbeing of his subordinates.

A deep sense of shame spreads through you at Price’s desperate attempts to try and break past the walls that had been so highly constructed around you.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting him.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting your comrades.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting yourself.

“I know!”

The sob that escapes is gut wrenching.

“I know I can talk to you- I know I should have, but I was scared- so embarrassed, so humiliated by what happened-" You're stumbling pathetically over your words as you try in desperate attempt to form the words that you want to say, but your mind is racing far too fast for you to keep up.

You sink to the floor on your hunches, your body curling in on itself- face still buried deeply in your hands.

"I'm so sorry!"

Price can't help but watch the scene unfold in bewilderment. In all the time you have worked together he had never seen such an intense display of emotions from you.

"I'm sorry I was so angry at everyone- so angry at you, my comrades, my family-" Each word is laced in despair at your confession.

It stabs deeply at Price when he realises just how much inner turmoil you have been struggling with.

The tall Captain crouches down on the ground beside you, lowering his level to meet your own.

A strong arm places itself around your small shoulders. It's clear with just how unsure his touch is that the situation is miles out of his comfort zone.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asks, his voice low. "I know you're embarrassed, but it's alright. Just take your time. Breathe."

He makes sure to assure you throughout your emotional distress, letting you curl up and continue to cry as you lean in to his words of support.

You slowly lower you shaking hands, peering up at Price who looks down at you with consideration.

Your eyes are red and puffy, cheeks flushed red and blotchy from your mourning.

"It was the mission in Russia" You begin to explain to Price, his gaze never leaving yours and his body turned to you in full attention.

Price's demeanour shifts as the memories of our recent mission flash through his mind. He was there leading charge and he recalls how brutal it was for all of his subordinates.

He nods his head in acknowledgement, listening thoughtfully to your words.

"Go on" He nods, urging you to continue.

You think back to the operation - recalling specifically the moment you had been separated from the group.

Price had chewed you out on the heli for going radio silent on the rest of the team while they furiously defended themselves against the never ending onslaught of enemies that never seemed to cease in their swarming.

No one knew what had happened when you were forced to go rogue, despite multiple attempts to draw the information out of you.

Eventually they had ruled it off, concluding that you were fine and simply agitated from stress - that it was what had resulted in so much tension between you and your comrades.

"I ran in to some trouble" you shakily exhale.

Price immediately recalls the incident, nodding again.

He is fully focused as he listens, silent as he prepares himself for what he's going to hear. Price can sense that this is a difficult topic based off your tone of voice alone.

An uneasy feeling settles in his stomach, realising that what you're going to say next is not going to be easy.

You didn't want him to know about the details of what went down and he gives you the space to open up on your own accord and choose for yourself what you're willing to reveal.

As quickly as your emotions had died down they start to build up again rapidly. The trembling in your body returning as you brace yourself for what you're finally about to reveal to your Captain.

"I tried to get away from them- I tried so hard" your voice quivers, barely above a whisper as your eyes clench shut. "There were so many of them, they wouldn't let go of me- they completely overpowered me."

He feels his heart drop.

Price's rhythmic strokes on your back freeze to a halt, the reality of your words sinking in.

He doesn't let you continue with the details. He doesn't want to force you in to that position of vulnerability.

The expression on his face immediately turns from sympathy to anger, his eyebrows curling down at the thought of what you had endured.

"I should have been able to fight back, or at least run away" You spit out angrily.

Your words snap Price back to reality, his train of thought abruptly coming to a halt at the realisation of your words.

"I'm a trained fucking soldier. It was pathetic" You sneer.

Your hard gaze is trained on the ground in front of you, tears still streaming down your face, leaving trails of silver streaks across your cheeks.

The expression on Price's face hardens as his large hand grips your shoulder tightly. He shakes his head sternly at you, speaking solemnly.

"You were attacked by a group of men. How the hell were you supposed to defend yourself while so heavily outnumbered?" He barks at you authoritatively.

Too many thoughts were swimming through Price's head for him to realise the harshness of his tone. He was horrified that this had happened under his command. Devastated that this had happened to one of his soldiers.

You lift your gaze to meet Price's once again.

"I've seen you do it. I've seen all of you do it" you hiss out in frustration.

So many times you've bared witness to your male comrades almost effortlessly fend themselves against multiple enemies with ease.

Deep down you knew it was a physical advantage. You were smaller, weaker in comparison to the rest of your team.

It made you feel repulsive.

"I'm a man," Price reminds you harshly, making you flinch. He doesn’t realise the impact of those three, simple words.

The anger in him is clear, but not towards you. He is furious that this had happened to you, and even more so that you were blaming yourself for something purely out of your control.

"Even the strongest of men would have struggled in your situation."

Your body is tense, jaw locking in anger as you coldly stare at Price's chest to avoid his gaze.

"I hate being a woman" you mutter. "I hate it. I wish I was stronger, that I was taller. I wish I could walk down the goddamn street by myself without being absolutely terrified of the men around me- I wish I was a fucking man!"

Your voice is desperate, growing louder as you gasp out each word of remorse for your gender.

His grip on your shoulder loosens, retreating back to his side as he takes in the desperation of your voice. He can see the struggle that lies behind your usually confident mask you wear so proudly every day.

It breaks his heart to see how much this affects you.

Price doesn't say anything, only listens as you release your frustrations without judgement. He doesn't want to interrupt you with words of comfort just yet. He can tell that this has been deeply concealed for far too long. His focus is completely on what you have to say, however harsh it may be.

"I never should have been born in this god forsaken body- I never should have been born a woman!" your hands tug at your hair furiously. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

Finally, after listening to your frantic outburst, Price steps in with a gentle voice. A combination of pity and sadness.

He hates seeing how much this attack has affected you, and is feeling a deep shame at his inability to protect you in your moment of need.

"Shh... you don't mean that" he coos softly, voice cracking slightly as he tries to control his own emotions.

"But I do!" You glare at the Captain that kneels before you. "Ever since I was a kid- I've despised myself for being a woman- for being born in this body" you fiercely seethe. "Why couldn't I have just been born a fucking man?" You slam your fist down in anger.

"No matter what I do. I can't love myself when I'm like this- when I'm a woman!" The word 'woman' spits venomously from your tongue, as if the very word itself felt like poison upon your lips.

Price feels a sting in his heart as your words hit him with such harshness and rage.

He had never imagined being so desperate for something, anything that would strip your confidence so brutally from your own body, that you'd learn to hate yourself so much that you wished you were something else. Price comes to the realisation that this stems much further than your assault.

He looks at the broken soldier in front of him. A soldier so ashamed and severred by a cruel hand that they were forced to live with.

A heavy silence hangs between them, all the while Price's eyes move analytically over your form.

"It's just something that I have to live with - something that I have to come to terms with."

You're nothing but defeated.

"I'll always be a woman, no matter what." you whisper dejectedly, staring blankly at the floor.

His eyes are locked on you and the pain across your face. He's torn between trying to ease your struggle, but not wanting to say anything until you are finished pouring out the pent up anger and hatred that you so desperately needed to.

When the room is silent, Price speaks up again, the words leaving his mouth almost instinctively.

"What if you didn't have to come to terms with being a woman?" Price inquires softly. "What if you accepted the fact that you're...." Price trails off, letting you take the initiative to finish his sentence. He doesn't want to step out of line with something so personal.

"That Im trans.." You quietly finish

He nods his head solemnly, taking a deep breath with you at the revelation.

The room is engulfed in silence once again. The admission alone is something you had buried away so deeply, something you never thought would ever leave the confines of your thoughts. Something that would never reach listening ears. It's almost surreal as you process your confession.

"You know that's not something you have to hide from us, right?" Price asks gently, shifting on his knees so that he was fully seated on the floor with you.

"Gaz, Ghost, Soap... We'll accept you for who you are and whatever you want to be. You don't need to live a lie" Price is tender with his approach.

He watches as you anxiously chew your lip, pulling your knees to your chest tightly.

Your eyes dart around the room, a small feeling of dread slowly creeping up your spine.

"I'll be the laughing stock of the base" you chuckle bitterly, though Price can tell that his suggestion to embrace your true self hasn't been fully shut down.

Like a terrified child, you curl in on yourself further, pressing in to a small, defensive ball.

"Do you really think we would let anyone treat you like that? If they so much as look at you funny, they will personally have to answer to me."

You smile gently at Price, feeling a sudden surge of affection for the man's protectiveness.

Price's shoulders relax slightly at the sight of your smile.

The two of you were a sight to behold, huddled on the floor of his office. It's almost comedic.

Feeling the stiffness in his body, Price slowly rises to his feet, a hand extended towards you to lift you off the floor with him.

You accept gratefully, standing shakily as your body groans in relief.

"Come on soldier," Price calls out to you, heading towards the door to his office.

"We have some arrangements to be made" He smiles at you warmly.

Your stomach flutters at your Captain's immediate acceptance. Just like that, no further discussion was needed

In this moment- you know that this is your chosen family.

This is the home that you deserve, and you were not going to let yourself feel like a stranger in it any longer.

You bite down your smile, nodding at Price as you follow after him and out of his office.

[squarenail]

Some absolute nonsense inspired by @pfhwrittes recent post on British Wildlife.

T141 and the British Wildlife they’d lose to

Kyle: 🦊

Kyle Garrick feared no man. He’d looked plenty a terrorist in the eye, pulled the trigger to ensure they couldn’t hurt anyone again, throwing himself into unknown territories in the pursuit of world peace.

But this was no man.

This was a London Fox.

Kyle was trapped, helpless, watching his hard earned dinner be scarfed down by a mother and cubs who had all but robbed him at knife point for it. Some fights were not worth the trauma, and this was definitely one of them.

Simon: 🦔

Silence lay heavy across the dark country lane, disturbed only by the hissing of a newly crumpled car radiator.

“Unfucking believable” Simon muttered, perched on the rise of dirt that bordered the ditch his car was currently head first in.

He watched, hands twitching, as the hedgehog that caused him to swerve continued its slow plod across the road.

“Stupid spikey cunt” he thought, wondering just how mad Price is going to be that he’s totalled his 3rd job car this year.

John: 🪿 (I know it’s a swan, best I could do)

It took police 8 minutes to respond to the call at the beach. Concern for safety, said the log, for a man shouting at the sky. On arrival they were presented with old mutton chops himself, screaming at a seagull perched on the lifeguard post.

“You fucking feathery fucking cunting bastard, you wait till I get my hands on you, I’m going to rip you wing from wing you utter cunt”

The seagull, completely unbothered by the noise, continued to peck at the cigar it had mistaken for a sausage.

Johnny: 🐿️

“Ach ya wee prick” Johnny hollered, only managing to get to his feet by the time the squirrel had scaled the tree. A picnic in the forest seemed like a good date idea until his homemade trail-mix was clocked by the local wildlife.

“Johnny it’s fine, just come and sit down” his beau soothed.

“Naw. It’s the principle of the matter. Those walnuts were fucking expensive” he replied, never taking his eyes off the bushy tailed target hopping between branches.,

Johnny didn’t get a second date. Nor did he get his nut back. Apparently spending twenty minutes jumping to swipe at a squirrel and cussing out its da’ gave them ‘the ick’

[tired-teacher-blog]

Pro hero Deku is big, strong, gentle, and a total klutz.

You still remember the first time he nervously approached you, all sweaty and anxious and stammering what you later made it out to be an invitation for dinner.

He was cute that evening, trying his hardest to impress you, to live up to his title of being the fearless and charismatic number one hero, but failing miserably to maintain that flawless facade in front of you.

That night he honestly thought you'd make fun of him for being too shy and awkward, or at the very least that you would get up and leave without looking back.

You didn't though, it hadn't even crossed your mind to be anywhere but right there with him. His kind eyes, bashful smile, and deep blush that reached the tips of his ears, drew you in each second that passed and rendered you unable to avert your gaze from him.

He mesmerized you just as you did him.

The beautiful perfect you, whom he couldn't chase out of his mind ever since the day you barged into his life unannounced and uninvited, you messed him up and flipped his world upside down with a simple glance.

Him, the handsome pro hero whose name alone is enough to strike fear in the hearts of the deadliest villains, was but a shy puppy in front of you.

You still remember that one time you asked him inside for a cup of coffee as he leaned back from a kiss goodnight after one of your dates, but it wasn't coffee you wished to share with him that night..

_ "Are you.. sure about this?" and you could see it clearly in his eyes, that despite his reluctance, the only answer he craved to hear you utter was a 'yes'.

_ "Yes, I haven't been more certain of anything in my life." and as confident as you might have sounded then, there was an undeniable nervousness running through your veins as you slowly guided those big warm hands to your naked flesh.

Awkward, embarrassing, and probably even uncomfortable, that's how first times are supposed to feel, right? Two unfamiliar bodies stepping into unknown territories while exploring each other? It's bound to happen.

Well perhaps, but that was not what you've experienced -not what either of you have- because for you two, it was precisely as if putting two puzzle pieces together. It clicked, was perfect, and felt right.

You wished the time would stop as you made love for the first time that night, as he kissed you gently and passionately, as he touched you softly and slowly, as your fingers threaded through his beautiful locks, as you sank your teeth into his scarred skin, as your sopping walls hugged his throbbing stiffness, as his thumb wiped that single hot tear rolling down your cheek, as you both breathed out each other's names again and again, as he said it for the very first time, "I love you, I always have and always will," in a rare moment of boldness, and as you said it back eagerly, in the dazzling gleam of afterglow.

_ "I love you, Izuku."

[sprout-fics]

Hitman 141 would be TERRIFYING, an entity that ppl only whisper about-ESPECIALLY at the mention of Price, or someone being told to stfu if they do dare to utter his name, ppl keeping their heads down everytime 141 enters a room like they're THAT GOOD

Hitman 141 Headcanons

(Call of Duty Masterlist)

Rating: M Wordcount: 800 Tags: Hitman AU / Mercenary AU, Dark 141 Warnings: Brief descriptions of violence and torture A/N: Thank you for the brainworm anon

They don’t go by any name. There’s no title for their unit. 

The living know better than to speak of them

They’re known in the underground only as ‘The Four’

Black paint smears across their gazes, like the hand of the grim reaper has dipped its skeletal fingers in charcoal and tried to blind them

Their eyes gaze forward even so, looking for their next target, their next kill

It’s rare to see any of them, and even rarer to see them all together. When they enter into the secretive enclaves and dens of the world’s finest assassins, a hush falls over the crowd, and you see them grin- knowing that their mere presence invokes fear

They know how to kill men a thousand different ways, they say

There’s no target that’s too large for them

They can disable a government overnight, can sweep in under the cover of darkness and eliminate an entire cabinet in one fell swoop

And yet the depths of their deeds remain entirely unknown, with a finger pressed to lips of their victims before they grow cold

Nobody knows their real names. Those that have tried have failed- and the dead hold their secrets

They do go by names that only the damned dare to whisper

Gaz, their intelligence specialist who leaves no loose ends, who draws secrets from the graves of those who gasp words with their dying breaths

He knows, they whisper, knowing that he has ears everywhere. That even the shadows come to murmur in his ear. His sniper scope finds his targets, and he reads their lips before he fires a killing shot

When he talks to others, his smile is easy, that of a friend. Yet there’s a flicker in his eyes that speaks of a second sight, an ability to bleed words from your mouth before you can stop yourself

“Thanks, mate.” He tells you with a clap to your shoulder, and you watch in dread as he depart, and wonder what have I done?

Soap, their supplier, their demolitions expert, the man who leaves behind only a trail of ash that can’t be traced

He’s the friendliest of them, with his easy going smile and blue eyes. Yet there lurks a darkness in his gaze, a challenge, and you know if you get too close you’ll be incinerated by the flames

He’s rumored to have killed the president of a foreign country- the man dying in a tragic house fire with no discernible cause. They say it was a catastrophe that couldn’t have been stopped

Of course not, not when he created it. He smiled as he watched it burn

Ghost, the assassin, the reaper they say

He fought death, and won, but in his victory his soul is forever held by the grave. 

There’s a hundred different stories about his survival. He was lost in the wilderness and killed a bear to steal its pelt. His feet were poured into concrete and he broke his hands cracking himself free. He dug himself from the grave and took the scythe from the reaper to kill his enemies himself

His figure will be the last thing you ever see. There’s not even time to scream

Red drenches his bone white mask, and behind them stare the eyes of a dead man

Then there’s their leader- Price.

Price, they say, for a price must be given for the lives of those who’ve been killed. It’s a steep cost to deal with him and his men, and even steeper to refuse them

Smoke follows him in a mist, chokes the airways of his victims. There’s a brutality to him that’s untold, hardly restrained, witnessed by few who survive only to see him in their nightmares

The others yield to him, defer to his guidance. There’s rumors he’s immortal, has lived many lives but is cursed to roam the earth like Cain, having slain his own blood and now lives in eternal damnation

He tips his hat to the man he leaves hanging upside down from the rafters, leaving him to a slow and painful death even as he begs for mercy

What they don’t know is that his chosen targets are those that lurk in the dark, festering underbelly of the world- whose crimes damn them before they’re even revealed. The violent, the corrupt, the selfish, the takers of the innocent. None live beyond the sight of one of the four- a vision just before the end

They say they were soldiers once, defenders, warriors

Yet the world betrayed them, set their lives ablaze. In the ashes they were reborn, bent on the destruction of those who wronged them

By bathing in the blood of their enemies, they signed their souls for the devil to keep, bestowing upon them an inhumane darkness they wield at their fingertips

And some day, the devil will come to keep them

[justabrunettewhowrites-stuff]

Can you do a Clarisse x reader fic where reader snaps at Luke after he calls Clarisse the lightning thief pls? 😇 Fem reader also.

'Thunderstruck'

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

A/N:Hii!Ty for requesting,lovely!I tried but it turned out rather short.But still I hope you like it!Also sorry for beint inactive I had a ton of tests.Probs gonna post more this weekend then be ia for weeks again(hopefully not)

You snap at Luke after he accuses Clarisse of being the thief,and he reveals his true nature.But unknown to you-Clarisse saw it all.

Among campers,accusations of the lightning thief circulated,asting suspicion on Clarisse La Rue-the one who 'had a motive to do it' as luke claimed.Anger swelled within you as Luke pointed fingers at her.It ended with you and him arguing in his cabin "You've got to be bullshitting!You think Clarisse is the lightning thief?" you snapped, eyes burning with frustration. "You're out of your goddamned mind,Castellan!"

Luke's eyes narrowed, his gaze gleaming with a sinister edge. "Watch your tongue.You might not want to make enemies with the wrong people," he warned, a dark undercurrent in his voice.

But you weren't one to back down. "I don't give a single fuck who believes you! Clarisse is not the thief, and you know it,you fucking liar!" The words flew from your mouth like arrows, fueled by a mix of anger and frustration.

But unbeknownst to you, Clarisse observed the heated exchange from the shadows. She saw you defending her honor, even when she wasn't present. Something stirred within her, a warmth that surpassed camaraderie.

As the argument escalated in Luke's empty cabin, his true nature unveiled itself. The revelation sent a shiver down your spine. "You're working with Kronos, aren't you?" you accused, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.

Luke's malevolence was palpable as he threatened you, his true colors unfurling like a dark banner. Refusing to be intimidated, you clenched your fists and, without a second thought, delivered a resounding punch to his face.

In the aftermath, as the echo of your punch lingered, Luke's cruel grip on your chin startled you. "Keep your mouth shut," he hissed, leaving you with a sense of vulnerability and shock.

Leaving Luke's cabin, you sought solace by the lake. The water's gentle ripples mirrored the storm within you as the storm outside continued to brew.Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse had followed,silently watching as you grappled with the turmoil of emotions.Sensing your frustration, she approached and sat next to you.

The clouds overhead darkened, and a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air. Raindrops started to fall, gradually turning into a torrential downpour. With the rain cascading around you, you and Clarisse found yourselves drenched in water.

"Hey," she said gruffly,not even paying attention to the rain,but earning your attention,a flicker of surprise crossing your features as you looked at her. "Thanks for standing up for me back there.Means more than you know."

You managed a small smile,still surprised but as you were about to speak,but before you could utter a word, Clarisse pulled you in,by your shirt as she silenced you with a sudden but equally passionate kiss. It caught you off guard, but the intensity of the moment overwhelmed any protest that might have crossed your mind.

Clarisse released you, her gaze locking onto yours. "Don't need your words right now,just your presence,pretty girl." she asserted.Though,seemingly aware of your shock-and enjoying it,she gave a smirk and spoke again, "Don't ruin the moment with words.Just enjoy it."

As the rain intensified,the world around you blurred into a watery haze.The raindrops, echoing the heartbeat of the moment. In the midst of the storm, your lips met again, a mix of passion and a tinge of vulnerability.

A/N:I'd punch and kiss Luke at the same time but how dare u accuse my girl like that 😭

[admirxation]

the perpetual chase | chapter two

links to other parts: part one | part three [this series has moved to ao3, link in pinned post]

pairing: las plagas!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab) AND Chris Redfield x fem!reader (afab).

disclaimer: this fic will deal with dark content, containing topics of abuse, manipulation, non-con and under the DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT category. this is also a piece of fiction and i do not condone everything i write. you’re responsible for the content you consume and if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, click off now.

specific chapter warnings: death, attempted suicide, mention of losing a baby, trauma, imprisonment, & mentions of postpartum depression.

word count: 4k

a/n: i’m sorry for taking forever, i had a 10,000 word uni project, but i’m free for a little bit to get some writing done. just a mention, if u want to be tagged in chapters just comment or message me (just a note if ur a blog that has no content, and is ageless i wont interact). also to note anything italicised is a flash back to a memory.

Chapter two: Cruel Consciousness

“I’m… I’m sorry, Y/N, I love you, and I would never hurt you if… if —”

“I know Leon, I know who you are, but… I don’t think the real you can survive now.”

“I know… That’s why I need you to kill me right now… Please, I can’t take it anymore. It’s too much!”

“I’m sorry, Leon. I wish it had happened differently.”

“We would have been happier… l love you.”

“I love you too.”

The sensation of searing pain ripped through, the deafening roar of gunfire, and the overwhelming rush of fear and adrenaline flooded the mind. Voices were barely whispers, attempts to sit up and continue survival were slim to nothing; the vision was blurry, surroundings darkening as if god pulled the night sky in front of the peripheral. Right then and there, the feeling of coldness and abandonment set in, clouding every inch of known existence; it was so cold, with no warmth or comfort, just stranded in a vein of mystery that would forever be kept locked up like a forgotten trinket that has nothing left for existence but to collect dust, and be apart of fond memories — and only memories. Haunting silence set the scene — at first — with the icy tendrils creeping through the veins, numbness. Until a blood-curdling scream was released into the unknown and dark atmosphere.

In cold sweat with tears brimming up in his eyes, Leon had awoken from an icy cold abandonment, realising his sudden reality, remembering the feeling of unknown silence for years — he was in a coma for years, unaware and lost in his atmosphere, but had finally came back the to the material world that he knew in life. He slowly picked his limb body up, watching in utter surprise and bewilderment as he stared at his pale hands, shocked at how the light was now surrounding them and not perpetual darkness; he watched as his chest lifted up and down and appreciated how he was finally breathing, pressing his hands to his heart — it felt like a miracle a god bestowed upon him. This newfound appreciation continued when his hands travelled from his heart to his fingers pressing against his forehead damp with sweat; he couldn’t believe how his mind was clear now; there was no intrusion, no splitting of discomfort as two entities tried to squeeze into one consciousness, his mind and every physical manifestation belonged to him and only him now, feeling like there was no longer a parasite that manipulated every aspect.

That was when he remembered everything. He had constantly dreamed about you while in a coma; those final moments that resulted in his death were on replay in his mind, but when sympathy was granted to him, he would remember the sweet moments when it was an innocent crush next door. That moment in Spain was something he found comfort in consciously delving into. He sat there for a moment and remembered when he saved Ashley.

On his escape from that dreaded Island, he reminisced about how she had asked him to stay, with prominent hints. Still, he denied telling her, “I got to go see a girl back home,” while there was a tinge of disappointment in her voice, she didn’t dwell on it; she was happy and wished him well with the lucky girl; he was going to confess his feelings to you when he took Ashley back home and gotten his thank yous from the president. He had it all planned, the romantic gesture of flowers, telling you how he always looked forward to when you came knocking on his door with your cooking — he loved how caring you were for him. But after he had safely returned Ashley and gotten his thank you, he was dismissed to go back home, and that was when his reality had shifted.

He was coughing up blood, feeling weak as he tried to walk back to the car to be escorted home; he felt like it was nothing, at first, feeling like it was just exhaustion from the trip, which often happened with needing rest and to let his body fully recover from the pain and strain it went through. He ignored it at first, and it rested while he was being escorted back; he was returned home later in the night, and as the driver waved him off, he looked up to your window, noticing your silhouette move toward the curtains, smiling to himself that he knew you were still going to be up at the late hour. As he pulled his key… That was when it happened. An uncontrollable shock coursed through his body, feeling his muscles tense up and jaw clenching down as he grinned his teeth in pain, his fingers tensed up into balls of fists and collapsed on the ground as well as the bouquet he had just for you. This pain was familiar. Las Plagas. He watched his veins darkening, his body shiver in the darkness.

“I thought I was cured,” he whispered to himself, “no, no, I was cured; Ashley put me in Luis’... AH!” he tried to remain quiet, but the pain was now taking over and manipulating his autonomy.

He rushed into the darkness as people looked outside their windows in curiosity and worry, but Leon’s figure was nowhere to be found as he ran into the shadows. He remembered the tears that rolled down his cheeks as he tried to keep quiet, trying to accept his fate, as he pulled his gun from his trouser pockets and wished it ended right there not to cause harm as he saw back in that little village — all those innocent people who had lives, history, not lost from the parasite and resting in death.

“It’s not that hard; just do it,” he told himself as his shaking hand tried to pull the trigger, “you know how to shoot a gun. It’s not impossible. Don’t be a coward. Do the right thing.”

But he couldn’t do it.

The gun jammed when his finger finally pulled it back, feeling the metal shake against his head.

After that was when the parasite took over him, but unlike the people in Spain, it manifested alongside the consciousness and personality of Leon but still overpowered him—resulting in the pain and trauma caused to you. As he remembered everything that happened that night, everything he did to you, the pain he caused and how he dehumanised and objectified you — he was ashamed of himself. He remembered how he tricked you into falling in love with him, into relying on him through his abusive and manipulative behaviour; that was not who Leon was. He knew he was better than that, and he wanted to make it right with his new chance of life. Leon tried to move from the bed he was on, but his legs were unresponsive.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself as he pressed his fingers onto his legs. He could feel his fingers prodding his skin, giving him some relief that they weren’t paralysed; he needed to wait until they ‘woke up’ and allowed him to move about freely.

His body was almost… delayed; only his upper body was mobile and able to move freely, but he couldn’t just sit there and let this haunting memory eat at his conscience with guilt. He used his upper body strength to pull himself from the bed, a thud on the hard ground as he tried to move with determination, his lower body holding him back and having to drag himself like a pathetic creature. The room he was in was unfamiliar; he recognised it as an ordinary hospital room, but as he went to the door and tried to pull the door handle, a voice surrounded the room.

��I admire your determination, Leon, but you’re not getting out of here.”

That voice. That voice was familiar.

“Chris?” Leon was more confused than ever. His appreciation for a second chance at life was slowly short-lived as he lived in another nightmare. “Why am I being trapped here? Answer me!” Leon felt his anger making his face warm, desperately clawing at the door and screaming for release.

“You won’t be getting out any time soon, Leon. You’re not safe from the outside world.” Chris felt pained to tell his friend that he had to be a prisoner in this lifeless room that gave him no joy.

“Not safe! Not safe! I’m cured; that part of my mind is silenced. Why else am I in this room?”

“You’re cured… Temporally,” Chris sighed. " We’ve managed to make a supplement to keep giving you. Our team quickly made it, but a cure is still far from us.”

His heart sank. His desperation had halted and was replaced with a numbness. He thought he was finally cured, but this bliss was temporary; he needed to rely on a needle inside of him to be sane and to keep the monster within him taking everything; life was so fragile; he was so vulnerable, and this kept circulating in his mind.

Leon had pressed his back on the cold wall, tilting his head with closed eyes to process information nobody should have to deal with. ‘It isn’t fair,’ he kept thinking. It felt like a force just loved to torment him for his whole life. From his family being cruelly taken from him, Raccoon City, Spain and now this, was this all a cruel joke to a higher power? He thought to himself.

Right there — as Leon paused to be lost in a sea of thoughts — that wall opposite him had a flicker of uncertainty that danced across the seemingly bland and grey wall; Leon watched as it materialised into pixels, then watched as his attention focused further to see the wall turn into a screen. To his astonishment, it revealed Chris’ face, which he hadn’t seen in so long. It was too much to process; he could not find the words and did not know what to say as he froze. Alongside Chris, he saw strangers in the background with screens of research in front of him; he noticed a flicker of files that he had accumulated back in Spain and even saw a picture of the face of Luis in his laboratory jacket with his team when he was working for Umbrella — his heart still hurt for the man.

“What… What’s all that?” Leon managed to string some sentences together, but his voice trembled with disbelief as his hand pointed to everything behind Chris.

“It’s… complicated,” Chris replied, his gaze flickering to the monitors behind him where charts and graphs danced in a mesmerising data display. Chris’ heart pounded in his chest as he spoke to Leon; he knew he would wake up at some point but didn’t know today would be that day, especially just after he confessed his feelings for you — almost like the universe was telling him something. He took a deep breath before he continued dialogue, “It’s research for a cure… It’s still far away from us, but —” he was cut off.

“You have the files from Luis’ research; shouldn’t that be good enough? He gave me the suppressant before; isn’t that enough of a lead?!”

“It’s been a good lead, but your… situation is more complicated.” This was more bad news that Leon dreaded hearing: “With this disease… You were supposed to turn into what you encountered back in Spain, but it seems like it… evolved into something different.”

“Are you trying to say I’ve turned into some evolved creature?”

Chris laughed as he tried to turn to humour in this moment, “If you want to think of it that way, then be my guest. But the good side is that you won’t be like what you saw back in Spain. We have enough suppressants for you to remain, but until we find a cure, you’re not going anywhere.”

“What about Ashley? She was infected, too.”

“She was cured. It stayed the pure strain so she could be cured back in Spain; you were just unlucky… But try and keep some positivity; you’ll stay alive, and a cure is possible.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the steady noise of typing by the strangers. Leon’s mind was whirling with trauma and neverending questions, with fears too vast to name or even get into. But amidst the chaos, one thing arose into Leon’s mind.

“Can I see her?” Leon’s voice was barely audible above the hum of machines, “Can I see Y/N? I want to… set things right.”

Chris’ expression softened, but Leon’s eyes filled with sadness as he begged and begged, “Please, Chris. I’m behind a wall, and I just want to tell her everything I want to. Please, while I have a sound mind.”

“As… As much as I would say that’s a good idea. She’s… um. She’s gone.”

The words hit Leon like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs. Images flashed before his eyes — your smile, your laughter, the warmth of your touch. And now, all that remained was emptiness, a void that threatened to consume him whole. Guilt ate at him as he tried to agree that he couldn’t make it right. He knew he couldn’t turn back the clock and stop all the damage he caused, but he wanted to start with recognition and apologise for everything he did, even if it wasn’t his fault.

“I-I don’t believe you,” a lump in his throat hindered the audibility of his voice, “I-I’ll never get to, n-never get to,” he paused for a moment again, “Did the baby make it?”

Chris momentarily thought, “She lost it while we took her out of your… You know. I’m so sorry, Leon.”

Behind Chris, the scientists exchanged uneasy glances. One of the women tried to hold a steady position as she teared up, hearing his brokenness and the transparent lies Chris was telling him. Everyone in the room could understand, but they also saw the person behind whom they were researching and were told to be cautious. But Chris remained unchanged.

“I have to go now, Leon, but me and Jill will check up on you… We’re here to help.”

Leon nodded; he didn’t want to fight and even wanted to be left alone.

Leon felt at ease as the screen materialised back to the blank wall. He knew people were watching him, but being unable to see a range of faces made him feel alone with his thoughts. All his thoughts were just glimpses and flashes of picturing you, imagining everything he wanted to say to you, and trying to understand that you were gone. ‘I wish I were the one that remained dead,' he thought.

As Chris walked out, he bent over to the team leader. “Don’t tell him the truth,” he murmured in a low and urgent tone. “Keep up the illusion.”

That charade would continue, a fragile facade of woven lies. Leon had to deal with a reality that was just an illusion to keep up appearances. There was now a quiet stillness as Chris left the room, finding his footing to return to the area you and Mason were in. On his way, he noticed Jill standing outside, waiting for another conversation with Chris. She waved him to beckon him over, and of course, he wouldn’t ignore her — even though he wanted to after the not-too-long-ago encounter that still left a bad taste in his mouth. He stepped outside, taking in some much-needed fresh air, waiting for Jill to guide the conversation; she was eager to get her words out.

“I’m hoping you told Leon the lie we agreed on,” she raised an eyebrow, greeted by Chris nodding in agreement.

“I know why we’re not letting him out… We must find a cure before we even consider placing him somewhere. But why did we have to lie to his face about Y/N? Wouldn’t it have been better to say she didn’t want to see him?”

“If he were his normal self, he would have taken that.”

“But he is his normal self; we have a suppressant, and we have managed to keep giving him that.”

“I know, I know. But we don’t know too much about his condition. Luis’ research is limited to a single strain. I doubt we can just go to Umbrella for information,” she took a deep breath and noticed her voice raising in volume gradually, “Let’s say this strain becomes something else; it’s already evolved into another strain; it could get more serious. I would rather him think Y/N is dead so he doesn’t go after her or Mason. I’m not having her be taken away from me again… And I doubt you want that after your little moment with her.”

“Are you still mad that she and I have something?”

“No, I’m so happy I’m practically planning the wedding… What do you think, Chris?” sarcasm at its finest.

Chris sighed deeply at Jill’s stubbornness, “I’m all for protecting her, and I admire how far you’ve gone to protect her, but wouldn’t you rather that she be with someone you know? You know I’m not an awful person,” Jill wanted to open her mouth for a witty remark, “Ah, no comment from you. But back to the point, you know I won’t hurt her, and you’re round, and she’s near you for as long as possible in this quarantine zone if you suspect I’m doing her harm… Which I won’t… You’re there.”

Jill’s hardened exterior softened with the voice of reason: " I didn’t think I would say this, but you’re right, Chris. I just have to get used to it, but I swear if you hurt her, I will do way worse and won’t keep you alive like I am with Leon.”

Chris nodded in acceptance.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You sat alone in a dimly lit room, your only company with the shadows and the ambient noises across the walls, hearing the occasional footsteps outside your living quarters and the soft hum of the air conditioning filling the silence as you stared at the blank wall, with a still expression. Chris was beside you, and you felt his warm breath and the scratch of his facial hair on your arm; it was strange to have him sleeping soundly beside you. You had spoken to Jill with Chris while Mason was getting his lessons, and there was no point in keeping the secret up. At the same time, it did take away a specific aspect of fun; it was a lot less stressful to keep it from her. All you were doing now was waiting a little longer before Mason knew about it — but that was no worry since Chris was a father figure for him while you were raising him.

Alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but drift back to the memories of Leon. You were getting tired of this same routine of having a romantic connection with Chris and then looking back, but you also were patient with yourself, knowing you weren’t going to get over this; no matter how many years passed, it would only be a little easier to cope with but never get over. These memories would invade your memory like an unwelcome ghost haunting and tormenting, stirring up a tumultuous mix of emotions within you. The guilt gnawed at you as you felt like a prisoner even with Leon in the grave, feeling like a fool with the clutches of Stockholm syndrome keeping you and making it unable to break free.

However, as you sat there — lost in your memories and thoughts — another thought started to take the forefront: your conversation with Jill a year after your rescue.

You remembered that night; it was a year from your rescue, and within that year, you thought about so much. The year started with the early days of raising Mason; oh, how much of a darling he was when he was tiny. Before you had given birth to him, you were so excited every time you looked at the ultrasound, your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about how close it was until you could finally touch him, skin to skin, and introduce him to the world. When you saw that face, tears of joy rolled down as you looked at the life you brought into the world; you didn’t care how much he looked like Leon — at that moment — all you cared about was the relief you felt when knowing he was healthy and didn’t have a strain of infection in his veins, you had the privilege of having a beautiful and healthy baby.

But as the months went on, it was getting hard to cope with life after pregnancy; Mason was no trouble, not fussy, and was quite an easy baby; you even had Chris and Jill help to look after him, so you had nothing to complain about. But you remembered how fatigued your eyes were; every day felt like a struggle to continue. You remembered how your body weighted you down and your spirits corrupted with the weight of postpartum. The medical staff were dismissive at first, but after seeing your condition, they began to take a look at it more; it was only more accessible with people by your side. You felt like you were drowning, then suffocating beneath the waves of sadness and emptiness that threatened to consume your every waking moment. But while you were in your solitude, you had time to think, to deeply remember and process what had happened to you, and think deeply about Leon. That was when you built up the courage to ask Jill everything your mind wouldn’t silence itself about.

Your memories echoed that picture as you remembered how you sat across from Jill, your fingers nervously tapping against the tabletop, and you couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling that something wasn’t right for a long time; your mind had delved into a strain that had a gut feeling that there was more to the story that Jill let on. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation you couldn’t sit in silence about anymore.

“Jill,” you began hesitantly, “I need to ask you something.” You had her full attention, and she smiled before she knew exactly what you wanted to discuss. “I have to ask you about Leon.”

Jill’s eye flickered. You didn’t know this then, but her mind was racing to string together words to maintain an appearance, an illusion. She deeply breathed, “What do you want to know?”

You hesitated; your mind raced with the words and everything you wanted to ask, “I… Did… Did Leon actually… die?” Jill looked at you with false confusion.

“Of course he did… Don’t you remember you pulled the trigger, Y/N,”

“What did you do with this body?”

“Excuse me?”

“I killed him… okay… but you wouldn’t have just left his corpse there. You wanted to keep this secret from the general public, or so I’m told, so you wouldn’t have let it stay there for anybody to come across,” Jill was panicking; you didn’t know since she managed to keep a calm composure, but she wasn’t expecting these questions and thoughts from you.

“Well, we didn’t tell you this, but we got some other people to collect him, and we were taken; we don’t know where, but he is dead and was taken care of… I’m sorry.”

You had a gut feeling that she was lying; Jill’s voice had sowed seeds of doubt, and the root of uncertainty grew with each passing moment. You couldn’t keep a straight mind after that and kept thinking, but raising Mason and the constant medical checks was a good distraction.

You continued to stare at the blank wall, with that moment replaying. To this day, you still feel like there is more to the story, like everyone is caught up with the truth, and you kept in the dark. You didn’t want to ignore your gut feeling. Still, for the years you called this place home, you were given no evidence to have doubt but just your ideas from decoding Jill’s demeanour, body language, and how she avoided your gaze in conversations about Leon and what had happened years ago.

But another bit of curiosity crept upon you—the restricted area. You were told that there were just experiments and research on the bioweapons from Umbrella; Jill showed you pictures of the enemies she and Chris encountered, but you thought about how Leon would be a good suspect for experimentation after you learned about where he had gotten infected.

‘What if he’s there?’ you thought.

my links: masterlist | ao3 | kofi

taglist: @cassiecasluciluce @itzkawaiix @pastel-skies-and-doves @argreion

[bloodywickedvamp]

Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 2

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: Michael and Reader continue their argument off the boardwalk for some privacy. Michael tries his best to explain, but it’s Michael so you can imagine how well that goes. Interrupting vampires say wha-?

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: angst, arguments, cursing, lil rough grabbing of reader, blatant disregard/disrespect for readers own opinions (looking at you marko), vampires and their isms.

Hello all! I'd like to start by saying thank you so so SO much for all the love and support I received on part 1. I truly was not expecting that and it warmed my heart and made me so happy to know you enjoyed it! I love you all and hope you like part 2!!

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Our? I barely had time to register or retort back at the presumptuous claim before Michael grabbed my hand and stormed off to the beach, steam basically pouring out of his ears.

“Michael slow down, you’re going to rip my arm out of its socket!” I screeched trying to gain his attention, to no avail. He just kept speed walking his way down the stairs of the boardwalk till our feet hit the sand, his pace nearly causing me to stumble.

He made a hard right and pulled us both underneath the boardwalk. Now far from the people above and the drunken beach goers littered around campfires producing noisy chatter and blasting music. We’re shrouded in almost complete darkness with the faint lights from the busy stalls and flashy rides peaking through the wooden slats high up.

The tension in the air still lingers from before. To his credit, he does try to calm the heaviness we’re both feeling, albeit for different reasons, as he stops walking to face me and rubs his hands up and down my arms. It’s nice, reassuring even. But I won’t let it deter me. I won’t fall for those deep brown eyes that can suck you in so easily with a simple look and a slight tilt of the head that make him seem remarkably innocent and angelic. Like anything he does couldn’t possibly be from any fault of his own. No matter how much I want to give in and let any number of the excuses he’s already fed me slip past his lips and wrap my mind in a warm blanket of faux vindication.

I can’t, I won’t. My mind slips back to the look of sorrow on Lucy’s face earlier today. The fear I saw as the first few tears pricked her eyes before being pooled together with the back of her palm, an attempt to recollect her fading front of the strong, single mother she was recently thrust into. The utter confusion of what was happening to her eldest child paired with the obvious frustration of helplessness she exuded while I grabbed her shaking palms in encouragement and solidarity. Silently telling her she wasn’t alone, we would be navigating through unknown territory together. Vowing to come out the other side unscathed and bring our former Michael back with us.

I won’t fold or be persuaded by pretty words and empty promises of ‘I’ll do better’ or ‘I’m not acting different, the move has us all stressed out that’s all it is’ and one of the more recent, harsher comments like ‘I’m too busy to talk right now and I can’t deal with this, geez, cool it with the paranoia’.

I’m pulled back to the present when he finally starts talking. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” as I’m pulled a little closer, strong calloused hands still soothing my upper arms. Chest rising and falling as he takes in the air around us in deep breaths. A look of calm starts to encompass his visage, like one would do after smelling their favorite scent for the first time in a long time.

“So you’ve said.” I can’t help but throw a little more lip his way.

“You weren’t paranoid when you tried to call me out all those times. I’ve been a complete ass to everyone- to you.” He admits more willingly than before. I finally see a sliver of truth after weeks of the exact opposite. “Something happened to me…something I’m still trying to figure out. I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t want to, I was scared you’d be in danger. Of what they might do if you knew.” His eyes speak volumes over the vagueness of his speech. The same fear so recently shown to me mere hours ago is mirrored within his own.

Reaching out to cup his check in my palm, I implore him to continue. Beg him to fully tear down the wall hiding the truth, after the initial crack in its foundation. “Michael, whatever it is, whatever you got yourself into - let me help you. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.” Affection passes through the heady mix of emotions swirling around his face as he leans into my touch. Showing that’s all he needed to hear from me he shuts his eyes for a second and nods his head yes, signaling to the both of us that he’s ready. Ready to let me in once more, ready for my reaction, ready to let me help him, ready to obliterate that damned wall he’ll never have to put up again.

“Those guys from the boardwalk, they’re not normal. The first time we hung out they brought me back to their place, a cave at Hudson's Bluff. The whole time going back and forth between fucking with me and making me feel like I could be one of them, like I belonged. After a while they offered me wine, told me to drink and I actually would be one of them. It’s like they were offering me something no one else could. So I did and ever since then I…” He exhausts, pausing for just a moment to squeeze his hands on my arm and hip grounding himself.

“Baby.” whining slightly before continuing. “It wasn’t wine that they gave me…it was blood, David’s blood. They’re vampires and they turned me into one. Told me I’m only a half and to complete the transition I have to make my first kill.”

I’m unmoving, shocked at the words revealed to me with a sigh from his lips and the weight lifted from his shoulders. There’s really only one thing I can think to say though.

“How fucking stupid do you think I am?” I quickly admonish him, a look of worry in response to my vehemence as he realizes I didn’t believe his tall tale. After thinking I finally got through to him I can’t believe he’d try to pull something so unbelievably stupid as this. I’m half expecting him to start laughing and saying ‘got you babe’ like i’m just some big joke to him.

“I’m telling the truth I swear on everyth-”

“No Michael I’ve had it I’m so done!” I scream in his face trying to rip myself from his grip, but he doesn’t let up. His hold only grew tighter in a panic to keep me still. “Let.Me.Go. Now.” I try again pulling and thrashing but it’s like he’s suddenly gained the strength of a hundred men and I can’t seem to move either of us to get away.

He suddenly grabs my face forcing me to look at him and whispers with all sincerity “I didn’t want to do this, I’m so sorry but you have to believe me. Please don’t be scared.” Faster than my brain can comprehend, he shifts. His face morphs into something I’ve only ever seen in movies or the occasional nightmare. The bones within his face move beneath the skin, forehead protruding past its normal position as his eyebrows are suddenly gone from sight, glowing yellow eyes stare back into my own, long and sharp looking fangs poke out just over his bottom lip begging to pierce through skin.

“Oh my god” is all I can seem to whimper out from what I just witnessed. How is this possible? This can’t be real. Suddenly very aware of myself I freeze in his hold, breathing no longer a concept I’m familiar with. That’s when he bolts into action as he hears my heart pounding within my restricted torso.

“It’s okay please please don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you I’d never ever hurt you my love.” Michael professes as he slightly releases the hold around my waist with one arm and completely lets go of my face only to slide down towards the middle of my back with the other.

Before a response can be given by either of us, we’re no longer alone. Peaking over Michael’s shoulder, just behind him stands the four boys from before staring, if it weren’t for the cherry red glow of the end of a cigarette I probably wouldn’t have seen them. Michael bristles though, like he knows they’re there without having heard or turned around to see, maybe he somehow does know. As if he can sense things in a way I can’t or anyone else for that matter.

“Michaelllll” David tauntingly says. Finishing off the cigarette before he flicks it from his grasp landing with a silent thud somewhere in the sand, smirking towards our entangled form. “You’re not speaking ill of me and my boys are you?” He goads through that final puff of smoke. With all eyes on me, now knowing what they are, what they did to my Michael, a wave of dizziness rolls over my body and I’m forced to release the air I've been holding in so as to not pass out. 

“Let’s not start throwing out accusations, you willingly drank, accepted our offer. Pointing fingers doesn’t change that. Trying to make us look like the bad guys to keep them away? It won’t work. You’ll have to learn how to share, like a good boy.” 

With a deep grunt of frustration from the boy in front of me, my back is suddenly pushed into a wooden pillar, not enough to hurt but still able to pull a gasp from deep within my chest.

“They’re MINE!” Michael seethed at the four. His large hands held on either side of my head taking in deep pants from my neck. Still behind Michael but now closer than they were before the rest of them seem to go a bit rigid. The tallest of them continues to walk further towards us, an unreadable expression plastered on his face that I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of, yet it seems to be glued on the looming figure above my own and in turn me.

“Dwayne” David stops him in his tracks just before he can reach out and touch. “Don’t worry, Michael won’t hurt them, at least not on purpose or on our watch. He’s freshly turned so even the bond between mates can’t overpower that insatiable need to hunt, to feed that we all have at the beginning if provoked far enough that is. Which is why it’d be in your best interest to stick with us Michael. You’ll need to learn how to control your urges, with a little time and a healthy diet you’ll be just like us.” He clarified, more so for Michaels and my own benefit rather than any of theirs it seems.

I glanced their way, still wanting any information they’d be willing to provide. I’m only able to stutter out “M-Mates?” I see varying degrees of smirks and giddy smiles from them at my sudden curiosity. 

Dwayne speaks up first as his attention turns solely onto me with a much softer look than before. “Vampires have mates, they're like soulmates. People destined to be together, mind, body, and soul. They fully complete each other.” Almost cooing the new information my way. 

“Alright cheeseball, way to lay it on thick.” Paul piped up with a laugh towards the boy as he walked over to sling his arm around his shoulders. Tacking on “but it’s true” throwing a wink and a few eyebrow waggles suggestively. 

“Michael is your mate.” David affirmed before Marko readily finished “and you're ours.” Gloved thumb shoved between his teeth covering a sly smirk on that contrasting angelic face he adorns. 

Fluttering my gaze back to the boy in front of me, I see his features have gone back to normal. No more teeth or glowing eyes from him. Sharing a confused look I realize he’s also been left in the dark on all of this as well. 

Michael turns around to face the group for the first time since the initial intrusion. Chest puffed up and eyes blazing into David, “No.” is all that falls flatly from him.

David lifts a single brow in retort. “You can’t argue with fate Michael. You may not like it but there’s nothing you can do about it and now that we’ve all had the pleasure of meeting we aren’t letting them go.” 

“You aren’t letting me go?” my voice dripping with sarcasm and incredulity while mimicking his previous words back to him. 

Regaining all the confidence I had from earlier I feel annoyance and anger start to bubble up inside. I still have no idea who these guys really are, besides their names and the fact that they’re actual, literal, real-life vampires! They have no right to make demands of Michael or I. No ground to stand on in my book - no matter the ‘supernatural claim’ they apparently have over me. Fuck this, fuck all of this. 

“Does anybody care what I think?” the words tumble from my mouth with a scoff of disbelief. I step out from behind Michaels protective guard towards his left side so I can see them all clearly. Not hiding the disdain I feel towards the situation - towards them. Unwavering defiance on full display while crossing my arms over my chest. “Since you’re talking about me like I’m not even here and don’t have a say in what happens, I thought I’d ask.” Glancing around for their reactions. Dwayne sort of cringing as the words resonate with him. Realizing how this all must sound from my perspective. Paul shooting looks at the others like he’s silently asking any one of them to ‘speak the fuck up - I got nothing’. David, still as calm as he has been the entire time, doesn't let on to what he’s thinking, just a small held tilt while holding my gaze like he’s studying me.

“Course we care sweetheart.” Marko says honestly, though not seeming all that apologetic. “Though let’s be real, we can keep up the back and forth all night long, but at the end of the day the outcome’s still the same. You belong to us, all of us…including Michael.” Emphasizing his name with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” protested through gritted teeth. 

“Sorry to burst your bubble but you do.” He counters back. His fingerless gloved hands starting to get a little twitchy.

“I’m with Michael by choice, not because he claimed me as some prize or declared some weird, forced...vampy ownership over me.” Finding myself getting twitchy as we both refused to give in.

Marko's eyes quickly flash that same vibrant yellow as Michaels. But they’re gone just as suddenly. He clearly isn’t used to not getting what he wants.

Michael sticks his arm out in front of me as a barrier between the curly haired blonde and I. David fixes him with a look I can only assume is a warning to stand down.

David resumes the reigns by steering the conversation himself. “I would have worded it differently, but Marko is essentially right. We don’t want to force you into anything, so give us a chance to prove ourselves.”

Michael answers before I can with a quick “prove yourselves? what’s that supposed to mean?” My thoughts exactly. I take hold of the arm he’s outstretched and intertwine our fingers, with a small squeeze for comfort.

Ever the quick thinker, so I’m learning, I can briefly see the gears turning in Davids mind on how to ease the atmosphere and remedy the small tiff Marko brought on, before he’s already producing a solution like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Let us take you on a…date. Get to know us without all the hearsay.”

For what seems like the thousandth time this evening Michael and I are shocked by the response. And then my brain starts jumping from one idea to the next at a million miles an hour. Thinking, analyzing, cursing over all that’s happened since I initially stepped foot on the boardwalk and up until this very moment.

I’ve never been the type of person to back down when it comes to the one’s I care about most. I would do whatever it takes, throw caution to the wind and deal with the repercussions later if it meant I could alleviate how devastating the world can make us feel sometimes.

Without fully contemplating the gravity of the situation and, regretfully, without the chance to discuss it first with Michael, I can’t seem to bite my tongue before the answer comes seemingly out of nowhere.

“Okay…I’ll do it.”

🖤 Taglist 🖤

@britany1997 @faefairi3 @princessmads1820 @1nternetvampire @itsyoboysparkel @nataliewalker93 @thelostone91 @misslavenderlady @ursatanicbunny @warrior-616 @charlizekkelly @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @the-faceless-bride @wickedsandwich08

[sfehvn]

new religion part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! This has been sitting in my drafts half-done for a looong time. Hope you enjoy! Xx

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI)

CW: Pregnancy

Word count: 2,347

Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The agony that coursed through cold veins was not unfounded. Astarion watched on with helpless eyes as you lay in bed, your condition only worsening through the days that had passed. Skin that had previously whispered the touch of light seemed much paler than it had before this sickness befell you. Hadn’t it? Yes, he was certain of it. Deep bags kissed under your eyes like bruises of a cruel fate, hair once silken to the touch had become brittle and flat. An emaciated picture of what you had been just days prior lay curled on the bed. If Astarion hadn’t known better, he would assume you hadn’t moved at all from your position since climbing into that bed after returning from the boutique. He had been the one to force you to bathe and stroll through the garden; of course you’d moved. The pain hung deep in his stomach but he refused to let it take him prey. What you were experiencing was far worse than any discomfort he may be feeling.

Three days.

It had only been three days, yet it felt like an eternity. It felt as if he had borne witness to your undoing in such a mercilessly short amount of time. A sadistic reminder of how fragile mortals were. Of how fragile his flower was. How barbarous the outcome; Astarion finally felt so deeply for a being other than himself, only to have it ripped away from tightly grasped hands. He had restrained the urge to maim and destroy you, allowed his love for you to flourish in its haste, yet had still proved to be your inevitable downfall. The wretched thing dwelled in your womb. The disgust ebbed and flowed deep in his gut. All the while he knew the culprit of your condition; he wouldn’t dare utter a word until it had been confirmed. An unspoken battle; should he be forthright with the circumstance? No doubt you would wish to brave the godsforsaken gestation, your longing for motherhood had been made abundantly clear. Stubbornness had been one of the many traits that had made Astarion’s unbeating heart grow fonder of you; in this plight, it very well may be your undoing.

From Astarion’s peripheral, a chambermaid enters the room, awaiting permission to address him. He nods silently in approval, eyes never leaving your debilitated form. “Master, he is here. Shall I see him here?”

His eyes falter from you to glance at the thrall. “You may. Clear the halls on your way out. I expect not a single interruption from anyone while he works. I trust you’ll let the others know of the agonizing centuries to follow if my request is disobeyed.” Though his voice was firm, there was a hint of fear masked beneath the threats. Fear of what fate awaits his lover, fear of what has yet to come, fear of the unknown.

“Yes, master.” She agreed before swiftly seeing her way out. There were no games when it came to Astarion and she did not wish to be in his line of fire if the matter at hand didn’t resolve to his liking.

Astarion steps up to the bed, stroking disheveled pieces of hair from your sunken face. “He is here, my treasure.” Soft words were met with a weak nod, eyes shut in an attempt to stop the spinning you felt in your head. An unwelcome thought made its way into his mind, which he hastily pushed down as far as he could. A corpse you began to resemble.

A tall lanky man makes his entrance. Dressed in a robe that looked centuries too old, wiry hair wisped from the sides of a misshapen ignoble hat, and shoes that seemed to be worn through the soles. He looked every bit a beggar who Astarion would pay no mind to under typical circumstances. Magic radiated in powerful lulls from the stranger, an aura of importance despite his unseemly appearance. “Sir Ancunin, a pleasure.” The man regards him nasally, though his eyes are fixed on you. They seemed to scatter over your frail body in assessment. “May I?”

Edvund Luoguarde. Every piece of unbiased literature regarding dhampirs Astarion had managed to scrounge up had been written by the man in front of him. Not a stone was left unturned in search of the scholar; all the while he had been holed up in a makeshift home on the edge of Rivington. The notoriety Edvund possessed had not affected his simple way of life. It was something Astarion might have found humor in if he had come across the strange man under different conditions. The man slinks towards the bed once Astarion approves, lips pursed as he looms over your unmoving figure.

“Poor child, barely hanging by a thread.” Edvund muses out loud. While there is empathy in his words, the firmness spoke to the weight they held. Astarion eyes his hand cautiously as it comes to hover over your midsection. “I will need her on her back.” He states. “Are you able to move, dear?”

Your eyes open barely a sliver in response. You open your mouth to respond but your voice is lost to the dry ache in your throat and on your tongue. Looking to Astarion in a silent bid for help, he obliges by carefully moving your body into position.

“This will do nicely. You’re doing wonderful, dear.” Edvund reassures. He places his hand on your clothed stomach, a pale blue light illuminating from his palm. His eyes bear the same blue light as he stares distantly at the wall. “Very interesting.” He murmurs after a few minutes pass, but does not remove his hand. It shifts purposefully from your sacrum up towards your ribcage. It was a brief moment of relief, as if whatever magic he yielded offered numbing to the visceral blows you had been experiencing.

Edvund removes his hand and the light in his eyes flickers in tandem. “You would be wise to rest while you can.” He pats the hand that lay lifelessly at your side. Unsure if it was a trance or from the fleeting comfort you finally had after three days of torture, you drifted away. The man turns his attention to Astarion once he’s sure you’re asleep. “A dhampir of not one, but two.” He riddles. “To be born of fruitful womb and abject seed. To shed light as great as thee.”

“What in the hells are you saying?” Astarion’s brow creased. It seemed more likely that Edvund was reciting poetry rather than providing a diagnosis.

“A dhampire of not one but two; to be born of fruitful womb, abject seed. To shed light as great as thee. Cast darkness into light, and light into lead. A union thick as thieves.” His hands move in an unfounded performance, fingers coming to lock in front of his chin once he is finished. “A prophecy greater in age than you or I.” He clarified, bringing his hands to rest on the edge of the bed. “It was foretold a pair of dhampirs would be born to a pure soul and a heinous….” He trails, eyeing Astarion before continuing. “They will materialize to our plane of existence. The gods have willed it so and so it will be.”

“Are you suggesting there are two?” Astarion’s jaw clenched as he eyes Edvund. “Remove them.”

“I cannot.” Edvund was unphased by Astarion’s aggressive demand, instead he stared him down with the same determined look in response.

“You will. This will kill her. Are you mad?”

“She will recover.” Edvund muses, looking back down at your sleeping form; no doubt the most divine rest you’ve had in your life with the help of his own magic.

Astarion steps around the foot of the bed, making his way toward the man with a fire blazing in his red eyes. Edvund glances at him, whispering a quiet incantation that seemingly relaxed every nerve in Astarion’s body. In a daze, he sits limply in the chaise at the end of the bed. He felt powerless. For the first time in his many years, he was indeed. Completely, utterly, entirely not in control.

Edvund steps in front of him, crouching until he is eye-to-eye with him. “You’ve felt this is destiny, yes? You and the girl?”

Astarion feels that blaze return, but it is quickly simmered once more. Edvund effortlessly defies his rage, pouring his own magic into keeping Astarion sedated. “Get out of my head.” Astarion murmurs, gritting his teeth uncomfortably.

Edvund proceeds; he already knew the answer to his question. “You do not want to anger the gods, Sir Ancunin. This has been foretold. Of course, nothing is stopping you from finding someone else to get the job done; I for one will have no part of it. I’d rather not deal with the wrath of any all powerful deity, let alone all of them. I suggest you heed this warning. It will not be pretty if you interfere.” He purses his lips tightly, furrowing his fluffy brows together as he speaks.

Astarion’s mind felt convoluted as the reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was bigger than you or him, but he refused to stand by and watch you crumble.

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of destiny as Astarion grappled with the revelation. Edvund's cryptic warnings and the ominous prophecy left Astarion torn between the fate dictated by higher powers and the desperate need to protect you. The clash of emotions within him mirrored the conflict that unfolded in the dimly lit chamber.

Astarion's eyes, once ablaze with defiance, now flickered with uncertainty as he considered the implications. The revelation of a dual heritage, the prophecy, and the insistence on non-interference pressed upon him. Yet, the fierce love he felt for you surged as a counterforce, compelling him to challenge the preordained path.

The room bore witness to a silent struggle—one man navigating the treacherous waters of divine prophecy, the other tethered to the mortal realm by love's unyielding grip. As Edvund continued his mystical work, Astarion's internal turmoil mirrored the external tension, a tempest brewing in the shadow of fate.

In the midst of this cosmic chess game, your frail form lay suspended, caught between realms. A pawn in a game played by unseen hands, her fate intricately woven into the fabric of prophecy. The dichotomy of despair and determination etched across Astarion's face painted a poignant picture of a soul at war with itself.

The room, once a sanctuary for quiet moments and stolen glances, now bore witness to a profound struggle that transcended the mortal and the divine. It was a clash of wills, a dance of destiny, and a tableau of emotions that would shape the course of lives entwined in a tapestry woven by forces beyond mortal comprehension.

“The gods have orchestrated this all, Astarion.” Edvund loosened the invisible grip he had on Astarion, allowing a sliver of distance between them as he stood. “I��d heard of you, you know. The ruthless vampire lord.” Edvund quirks his head. He didn’t need to say it aloud as it was unspoken; love had made Astarion soft in a lot of ways. Specifically for you, but for the way you lived life as well. The way you simply loved.

For a brief moment, Astarion wondered if you would have been anything more than a meal and quick fuck without the interference of higher powers. He couldn’t dwell on the thought, though. It made him sick to think about.

Edvund's words cut through the tangled web of Astarion's conflicted thoughts. The acknowledgment of his reputation as a ruthless vampire lord served as a stark reminder of the life he led before you entered it. The juxtaposition of his past and the vulnerability that love had brought forth in him loomed over the room.

As Astarion grappled with the unsettling realization, Edvund's gaze lingered on him, a silent understanding passing between them. The enigmatic scholar seemed to grasp the intricacies of Astarion's transformation, not just as a vampire but as a being touched by the profound force of love.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m not really in the mood for chit chat.” Astarion replied back coldly, his eyes stone as he looked at Edvund. Edvund held his hands up in a show of understanding.

“I’d better get going. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but see to it that she rests adequately. There will be days where she feels like she can conquer the world, but she mustn’t overexert herself.” Edvund states as he walks towards the door. He leaves with a parting reassurance. “She will live. The gods are not as cruel as you would believe them to be right now.”

With that, Astarion sat alone. The air hung thick with magic and tension.

Astarion's gaze remained fixed on your slumbering form, the delicate rise and fall of your chest a comfort amidst the tumult within him. The cold, stoic exterior he had worn for centuries cracked, revealing the vulnerability that love had etched into his undead heart.

As he sat in the quiet chamber, a myriad of emotions churned within Astarion—fear, love, defiance, and an unsettling acceptance of the cosmic forces at play. The room, once a witness to stolen moments of intimacy, now bore witness to a solitary figure grappling with the intricacies of mortality and the influence of gods.

Time seemed suspended in that moment, the force of the future pressing down on Astarion. The journey ahead, fraught with uncertainties and divine machinations, loomed large. Yet, in the hushed solitude of the room, Astarion found a quiet resolve to face the impending challenges.

The vampire lord, once driven solely by self-preservation, now stood on the precipice of a destiny entwined with love and sacrifice. As the shadows deepened and the room embraced its newfound solitude, Astarion remained a sentinel, guarding not only the frail form on the bed but also the fragile threads of a fate spun by gods themselves.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Silent Heir, Hidden Dangers - 2

Character: Lawyer!Bucky x Female Character

Summary: She suddenly inherits a fortune from an unknown father, navigating dark secrets with lawyer Bucky Barnes in a suspenseful journey of deception.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , -

Main Masterlist

Y/N couldn't shake the unease settling in her stomach as she looked at Bucky, her eyes reflecting the uncertainty bubbling within her. "Where are we headed?" she finally ventured to ask.

Bucky's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead as he replied, "To a safe house."

The word "safe" didn't offer the comfort Y/N desperately craved. Her mind raced with unanswered questions, and the shadows outside the car seemed to morph into menacing shapes. Bucky, sensing her fear, turned to her, a faint glimmer of sympathy in his eyes.

"I guess you haven't read the whole will?" Bucky remarked, his tone measured.

Perplexed, Y/N took another glance at the document. As she skimmed through the legal jargon, Bucky began to recite, "After you received the letter, the day has counted. The notary will give you all the access from your father next Thursday."

"5 more days?" Y/N echoed, a mix of anxiety and anticipation clouding her voice.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "I'll try my best to help you stay alive for 5 days.”

The car sped through the night, each passing moment thick with suspense. Y/N's mind raced with the implications of the countdown, and the realization that her life hung in the balance heightened the tension in the confined space.

As they arrived at the designated location, Y/N expected a typical safe house, but the reality surpassed her expectations. The so-called "safe house" revealed itself as a luxurious penthouse, perched high above the city lights.

Y/N couldn't hide her surprise. "This is a safe house?" she asked incredulously.

Bucky, with a faint smirk, began to shed his suit, revealing a concealed gun holster underneath. The transformation was both subtle and startling, hinting at a side of Bucky that transcended the image of a simple lawyer.

Y/N's eyes widened with realization. "You're not just a lawyer, are you?"

Bucky, now more casually attired, met her gaze with a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Let's just say I wear different hats depending on the situation.”

As Bucky sensed Y/N's unease, he assured her, "You can rest." Observing her discomfort, he then casually mentioned, "I'll be on the second floor."

Y/N's shoulders visibly relaxed at the prospect of having the space to herself. Grateful, she entered the empty room, its pristine condition suggesting it hadn't seen much use.

She threw herself onto the inviting bed, finding it far more comfortable than what she was accustomed to. The softness embraced her, and she closed her eyes, yearning for a few hours of respite from the tumultuous events of the night.

As Y/N grappled with the chaos unfolding in the penthouse, a distant memory surfaced—a recollection of her mother's hardened expression. 

She vividly remembered her mother's face, the lines etched with regret as she squeezed Y/N's shoulder and uttered, "Your father is a bad man. I regret every second that I've spent with him."

Y/N, burdened by the weight of her mother's words, had refrained from probing further into the mystery of her father. Yet, in the quiet moments, she harbored a silent wish that this elusive man would someday step in to ease her mother's hardships.

Her mother, a single parent juggling three jobs, had toiled relentlessly to put food on the table. Life was a constant struggle, and Y/N witnessed her mother's unwavering determination to provide despite the challenges.

Now, faced with a sudden windfall of wealth from the father she never knew, Y/N grappled with a dilemma. 

Did she deserve this money after a lifetime of neglect?

The unanswered questions about her father lingered, and the allure of the fortune conflicted with the years of hardship she and her mother had endured.

Should she accept the inheritance, a seemingly deserved respite, or reject it as a tainted gift from a man who had been absent throughout her entire life, even in death?

Whispering to the quiet room, Y/N admitted, "It's exhausting." 

****

On the second floor, Bucky found solace in the embrace of a cigarette, the city sprawled out before him like a glittering canvas. With each exhale, tendrils of smoke dissipated into the night, carrying away the echoes of the day's adrenaline-fueled events.

As a mafia lawyer, Bucky was no stranger to danger. Guarding Y/N is risky, but Bucky isn't doing it for nothing. There's something in it for him too.

Y/N's father is Max Wolfe, a hidden powerhouse in the mafia realm—an esteemed figure and a silent executioner. Bucky's association with him traces back to a grim alley where Max rescued him from the desperation of begging for food. Max, a father figure to Bucky, became the anchor in the tumult of his life.

As Max's health deteriorated, he lay on his deathbed, revealing a deeper connection between them. "My daughter, my first-born, Y/N, protect her," Max pleaded with a tremble in his voice. 

Bucky, holding Max's fragile hands, vowed, "I promise."

In his final moments, Max made a chilling revelation. "If you could save my daughter, you could have some of my fortune." He added with a knowing smirk, "I knew you love money.”

Bucky smirked; Max was spot-on. Money was Bucky's love, his anchor in a world without it. Life felt worthless. He knew that feeling well—being unseen, dehumanized—before Max took him in.

As Bucky contemplated the promise he made on Max's deathbed, the amount of money he'd receive remained a mystery. 

Now, as he faced the unknown bounty tied to protecting Y/N, Bucky couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast his life had taken.

The prospect of wealth was a double-edged sword, promising a way out of the shadows but also veiled in the uncertainty of how much he would gain. 

******

The quiet night shattered as the sound of a helicopter sliced through the air, jolting Bucky from his thoughts. "That's weird," he muttered to himself.

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed from downstairs, shattering the uneasy calm. "Aarghh!"

Bucky's instincts kicked in. He grabbed his gun and raced downstairs, his mind racing to comprehend the unfolding chaos.

As Bucky stormed into Y/N's room, a gust of chilling wind greeted him. The shattered glass window revealed the audacious point of entry for the uninvited guests who now held Y/N captive.

Two figures in black suits held her captive, each connected by a belt that dangled from a rope. 

Bucky couldn't help but be impressed by the audacity of these kidnappers, daring to descend from the towering building with a helicopter as their escape route. 

"Impressive," he mused under his breath.

Y/N's eyes widened with both fear and accusation as she screamed at Bucky, "You said this place is safe!"

Bucky, unfazed, retorted, "I did."

The tension escalated when one of the kidnappers pointed a gun at Y/N's head, issuing a grim warning. "Know your place. Don't accept the money.”

Defiance burned in Y/N's eyes as she shot back, "I didn't even know I had a father until today!!!"

"SHUT UP!!!"

Bucky, assessing the situation, tsked. "Is that how you talk to your eldest sister, Mark?"

The man who had threatened Y/N fell silent, a tension hanging in the air.

Y/N, bewildered, exclaimed, "Huh?"

Bucky, with a wry smile, revealed the chilling truth. "Y/N, let me introduce you to Mark Wolfe. Your 3rd brother."

Y/N's incredulous response cut through the chaos, "This is the wrong time and the wrong place for family introductions!”

She can't fathom that her savior is a madman!

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , -

Author Note :

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