#they got a sudden sense of unease

[adventurer-gearld]

Uh oh

[gtgbabie0]

-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{The war has brought many casualties, those that you’ve already seen begin to unfold before you}

I’ve received many requests for another part so here it is, sorry for the long wait. Enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

//!CW!// spoilers for Rhaenyra’s death//

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The sound of men and clanging metal intermingled throughout the camp, overwhelming your senses. It was a sound Cregan promised would soon become a distant noise. He was wrong.

You sit on the bed, palms pressing against your ears with a deep frown. You hated it here, hated the cold and the men and the noise and the way they all looked at you with a strange look in their eyes as if you were some kind of creature from beyond the wall that their nursemaids used to scare them with.

You missed Winterfell, the warm castle and the glass garden that you spent hours in, admiring the winter roses. It had quickly become your home and you were sick with the desire to go back, but Cregan wanted you here he needed you here.

You just wanted to escape from your mind, the murmurs and whispers. The way it screams at you to make the blasted noise all stop.

“Apologies, there was some trouble with the-” his words fall short as he spots you, wrapped up in furs, hunched over and covering your ears as if you were in pain. The sight was an immediate punch to the gut.

He felt awful in truth, he should’ve left you home in warmth where you could be comfortable, but the daunting thought of you going through another episode whilst he was gone, far away from you… it was enough to make his stomach turn with unease.

“Y/n?…” he calls your name softly, sitting down beside you with a small frown. His index finger and thumb cup your chin to tilt your head, making you look up at him.

“I want to go back home.” You tell him, your voice trembling with sadness and from the cold air that was clearly getting to you.

He nods in understanding, working his fingers around your wrists to bring your hands away from your ears and down into his lap. Gods, you weren’t making him feel any better.

“I know my girl, just hang in there.” He whispers the same thing he has told before. His voice was hoarse with exhaustion but loving all the same. His thumb caresses over your knuckles, trying to soothe away your troubles and bring you warmth.

However, his gentleness does very little to quell the sudden pang of frustration that hits your chest.

“It’s cold and noisy and I’m sick of being looked at like some sort of monster!… you’ve dragged me out here for your own sake without a single care about me!” The words come out too quick and too harsh. Regret immediately fills your heart.

He stops for a moment, looking a little taken aback by your sudden anger. his expression softens as he squeezes your hand. “You know that’s not true.” He tells you firmly, his hands still holding your own tightly. He was worried for you, deeply, it showed in smaller ways but it was still fiercely there. “You’re here for your own good… I’m sorry.”

He can tell you are miserable, the way your lips purse together in a pout and how your eyes seem to droop. such an expression didn’t suit you. Silence settles between the pair of you, his thumb rubbing across your soft palm.

“Forgive me for shouting, I do not mean to.” The words leave your lips in a soft whisper, defeat weighing heavily against your shoulders as you slouch.

“Don’t be silly, I’ve dealt with unruly men with tempers far worse than yours for weeks now” He sighs, giving you a small smirk which you return weakly.

“I could be worse if you’d like.” You tease lightly, trying to make light of the situation you are currently stuck in.

“No, you’re alright.” He deadpans, trying to fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. “You’ve already got the dragon's temper.” His words are muffled against the back of your hand and for a moment you feel the warmth that you craved.

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The following days were slow, not much happened and the Ravens seemed to be few and far between. You were nowhere near Kings Landing, the snow on the floor could attest to that.

You found peace within your tent- away from prying eyes who judged you without even knowing you- curled up in the furs enjoying how the air carried a twinge of the warmth dragged from the bonfire that was in the centre of the camp. Soon enough sleep would capture you, allowing you a small moment of respite.

Cregan had left you not too long ago, whispering a promise of returning as soon as possible whilst pressing gentle kisses against your forehead in an attempt to coax you to sleep. The sun had set since then, and the camp was now much calmer than it had been as of late, it seems as though the men were getting restless.

Sleep had always been a false sense of security for you, ever since you could remember. Rhaenyra, your mother, had tried every remedy known to the Maester on Dragonstone, she had even resorted to sending ravens to the Citadel but to no avail.

With the history books telling her little to nothing and the Maesters all at a loss she felt as if she had failed you, but then again most dreamers in your lineage were failed. Doomed from the moment they first drew breath.

You were clearly no exception, and your dreamless sleep soon turned violent. The cries, hot dragon fire, a woman burning, the smell of charred flesh. you had seen this one before but not like this, not so real as if you were witnessing it first hand.

It plays on repeat and you can’t seem to wake or move for that matter, paralysed to do nothing but watch. Then you see her, your mother, her purple eyes meet your own as she stands before a golden Dragon. She does not flinch or cry out for the Gods but merely braces herself for the inevitable.

The sight of her burning body sends a searing heat through your spine almost as if you had taken her place. Suddenly you’re jolting upright, screaming until your lungs feel like they might just collapse and kicking the furs off of your body.

“No! no… no, no.” You mumble to yourself, standing up on unsteady feet as you stumble out of the tent and into the freezing cold air. The chill gives you relief then everything goes numb, and the world around you doesn’t feel stable enough like some kind of weary dream.

Smoke was the only thing you could smell, so strong that it chokes you up as you continue to rush through the camp. Muttering about fire and dragons to yourself, completely crazed in the eyes of the men around you.

“Lady Stark?!” The sound of worried voices filters through the ringing in your ears. It’s too much.

Cregan had long abandoned the meeting in one of the tents as soon as your scream echoed through the camp, shouting demands to the men around him whilst rushing to try and get you in a desperate attempt.

Strong hands grasping your elbows causes you to stop in your tracks, it was Cregan, you were safe. You stare up at him all teary-eyed and shallow breaths. Your own hands tremble as you hold his forearms tightly.

“She’s burning… breathing dragon, burning flesh, she's burning.” You tell him frantically, your fingers digging into the leather on his arms. “She’s burning.” The words all come out in harsh gasps.

“Seven hells… you’re going to freeze.” He rasps, taking off his fur cloak to drape it over your shoulders, pulling it around your body to protect you from the chill in the air.

You continue to hold onto him for dear life, muttering a series of “No… no… please no.” Against his chest as he holds you close to him tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“Go on, off with you all!… you’ve got better things to be doing.” He shouts, watching the men disappear back into their own tents, busying themselves with a few odd tasks.

He guides your tense body back over to the warmth of your shared tent, sitting you down on the bed as you continue to murmur incoherent words of protest. Cregan brushes his fingers through your hair, trying to pull you out of his dazed state.

“She’s going to die… she's dying, I don’t want her to die.” You panic, hands grasping his own with a worried look, brows pulled together.

“Who, who will die?” He asks softly, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubs over your knuckles, soothing the tremble in your hands.

“My mother… it was so clear, please, we have to warn her.” The words are a struggle to get out, trying to fight the way your throat closes up.

He watches the helplessness in your eyes intensify, how your fingers tighten around his hands in desperation. There was little either of you could do so far away, your dragon had died a whelp and the ravens would never make it to Kings Landing in time. All he can do is pull you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, my sweet, I’m sorry…” he murmurs against your hairline, holding you as you cry against his shoulder.

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You never lost hope, for the following days. You waited on bated breath for further news, constantly looking up at the sky for any Ravens… Dragons… anything that would be a sign she was still alive. Nothing had come until the early hours of the next morning.

Two scrolls with the wax seal of House Targaryen. Two deaths that would officially end the ongoing conflict.

“Y/n?…” Cregan calls your name softly, watching you intently as the letters fall from between your fingers and onto the floor.

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes fixed on the ground beneath you. You did not cry, you couldn’t and it destroyed Cregan. He’d rather your tears than this distant look of despair that glazes across your eyes. His hand rests against your own, fingers caressing your palm gently.

“The stranger looms behind me, whispering the fates of my loved ones into my ears and all I can do is stand by and watch… I am useless.” Your whisper, voice so hushed and broken.

Cregan doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss and he fears any words that dare leave his lips will just end up coming out as a sob. Instead, he pulls on your hand until you’re collapsing against him, head tucked under his chin.

“Don’t blame yourself… she wouldn’t want that.” He whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as your arms wrap around him, clinging to him like he was your lifeline.

He spoke the truth, he’d already heard plenty about your mother from both you and Jacaerys enough to know that her love for you was beyond what words could ever describe.

Maybe it was the exhaustion… the cold… or the grief that broke the dam in your eyes, making you cry out in choked sobs against his chest as his fingers brush through your hair soothingly.

“I want to go home Cregan…” you beg him through tears, going limp against his sturdy form.

“I’ll get you home sweet girl… I will.” He promises, not daring to let you go just in case you completely crumble before him. He would keep his oath he made to your mother, to protect you even from your own mind. Cregan would soon take you home but not before you witness your youngest brothers crowning.

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[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif by: @richardgrimes

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??

wc: 7.3k

notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´•︵•`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.

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By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.

The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.

As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.

"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.

The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.

"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.

Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.

Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.

Right?

By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.

You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.

As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.

Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.

After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.

"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.

He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.

"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.

"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.

Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.

"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"

The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.

Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.

"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"

"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."

Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.

Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."

Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.

The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.

Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.

The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.

"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."

With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.

Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.

The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.

"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.

Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.

"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down… and eat," he commands.

There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.

Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.

"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"

Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.

As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.

"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.

Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."

Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.

Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.

"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."

Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.

"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.

He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.

"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"

Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."

The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.

Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.

Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.

Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.

The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerous—just the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.

"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.

The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.

"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"

Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."

A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.

His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.

"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.

He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.

"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."

Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.

He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.

"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.

You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.

Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.

"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"

He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.

Only then does Joel snap out of it.

He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.

"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.

Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.

With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.

You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.

"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.

Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.

"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."

His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.

When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.

"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"

Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.

"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.

Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.

His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.

The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...

Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.

Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.

Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.

Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.

When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.

When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.

Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.

You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.

"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.

His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.

Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @heyhihello-4771 @blueberrypancakesworld @codenamekitten @natalieispunk @koshkaj-blog @giowritess @beardropascal @pascaltesfaye @callmeafra @nexy00 @josephquinnswhore @baronessvonglitter @peelieblue @paanchusblog @b3bybunny @sugadolly @ktluvsmen @elliesr1fle @taeslarityy @yourgirljasmin444 @laloestoyvivo @aquanatalie @vickie5446 @cowboybootjoel @olicity-boo @ashleyfilm @withakindheartx @puduvallee @psychoenergy @chuutzuyu

[soldiersareyourprotectors]

Jake had been lifting weights alone in the gym late at night, savoring the quiet and solitude. The clang of metal and the rhythmic grunts of his exertion filled the space.

Each rep pushed his muscles to their limits, his veins bulging under his skin. The sweat dripped from his brow, soaking his tank top.

The gym was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the rhythmic clink of weights and Jake's steady breathing. The fluorescent lights flickered occasionally, casting shadows that danced across the room. As Jake finished his last set, he exhaled deeply, feeling a satisfying burn in his muscles. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and made his way to the locker room.

Inside, the locker room was dimly lit, and the silence was almost oppressive. Jake opened his locker, pulled out a fresh towel, and began to strip off his drenched workout clothes. Just as he reached for his clean shirt, a voice pierced the quiet.

"Incredible physique you've got there."

Jake jumped, his heart pounding as he turned to see the lanky figure of the gym's janitor standing uncomfortably close. The janitor was a wiry, pallid man with sunken eyes that seemed to bore into Jake. He wore a faded uniform and clutched a mop in his skeletal hands.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," the janitor said, a creepy smile spreading across his face. "I've been observing you for months now. Your dedication is... admirable."

Jake's skin prickled with unease. He forced a smile and nodded. "Thanks, man. Just trying to stay in shape."

The janitor took a step closer, his eyes never leaving Jake's. "You do more than that.

You become perfection."

Before Jake could respond, he felt a sudden, sharp prick in his neck. His vision blurred, and he staggered, his body betraying him as he collapsed to the cold tile floor. The world around him faded to black.

When Jake awoke, he couldn't move. He could only watch in horror as the janitor loomed over him, stripping off his uniform to reveal a sickly, frail frame. The janitor's grin widened as he lifted Jake's skin, now hollow and limp like a discarded costume.

"You see," the janitor whispered, "I've always wanted to be perfect."

With a sense of grim determination, the janitor lifted Jake's skin from the ground.

It hung limply, like a grotesque costume. The janitor's eyes gleamed with a sick excitement as he stepped into Jake's legs, one at a time, pulling the skin up over his own.

As the janitor slipped his bony feet into Jake's muscular legs, the transformation began. The janitor's scrawny calves and thighs filled out, muscles rippling and expanding to match Jake's powerful build. The janitor adjusted the skin, pulling it up over his own narrow hips and emaciated torso. With each tug, the janitor's frail body reshaped itself, bones cracking and shifting to fit the new form.

Next, the janitor slid his arms into Jake's muscular ones, feeling the strength and power coursing through them. He flexed his new fingers, marveling at the size and definition of the biceps and triceps. The janitor then pulled the skin up over his chest and shoulders, his once narrow frame now broad and imposing.

Finally, the janitor reached for Jake's head, lifting it like a hood. He slipped his own head inside, feeling the skin stretch and mold to his features. As the janitor adjusted the face, his own gaunt visage disappeared, replaced by Jake's chiseled jawline and handsome features.

Standing before the mirror, the janitor-now-Jake marveled at his reflection. The transformation was complete. He was no longer the creepy janitor. He was Jake, the epitome of physical perfection. He flexed, watching the muscles ripple beneath the skin, and a dark, satisfied chuckle escaped his lips.

The janitor inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of Jake's sweat that clung to the discarded clothes on the floor. He dressed himself in Jake's sweaty tank top and shorts, feeling the fabric cling to his new body. He laced up Jake's sneakers, relishing the fit and the power he now felt.

With one last look in the mirror, the janitor-now-Jake smiled, confident in his new identity.

[7ndipity]

When He Thinks You’re Gone

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: When You and Jk have a fight before he has to leave for promotions, he wants to assume that you can fix things when he returns. But what if your things are gone when he gets back?

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of reader being sick(nothing detailed tho)

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Well if that’s how you feel, then maybe you should just stay at your own place!”

The final words he’d spoken to you last night kept rolling around in his head as he stared out the plane window, waiting for take off, guilt blooming heavily in his gut.

Fighting with you before having to leave for a week was not how he’d wanted your last night to go at all. He couldn’t even understand how things had escalated so suddenly; one minute you were telling him about your frustrations about him being gone so much recently, the next both of you were yelling and saying things you didn’t mean and he was storming off to the bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t have lost his temper the way he had, he was just stressed with the comeback and frustrated, feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, and your words had been the badly timed final straw.

By the time he’d returned to the bedroom, you were already asleep, or at least pretending to be, he didn’t check, laying down facing away from you and falling asleep without a word.

The next morning, he’d left early before you’d even woke up, choosing not to risk pushing things further on the way out.

Shaking his head at himself, he fished his phone out of his pocket, sending you a short text.

“I’m sorry about last night, we’ll talk when I get back. See you next week, I love you.”

Sighing, he sat back in his seat, not feeling any better.

Over the next few days, his sense of unease over the incident continued to grow, his only contact from you coming in the form of flat, often single worded texts. He knew you were still

upset with him, and he couldn’t blame you, but he knew the two of you could sort everything out when he got home. Just a few more hours to go…

It was quiet as he entered the apartment, most of the lights off other than a few lamps.

“Y/n?” He called gently as he sat his things down, Bam appearing from down the hall and bounding over happily to greet him

“Heya, buddy.” He said softly, kneeling to give the dog a few pats and scratches, still glancing around for any sign of you. “Where’s your other parent, huh?”

When he straightened back up, he headed for your shared bedroom, thinking that since it was kinda late, maybe you were already in bed. As he pushed the door open though, he felt his stomach drop as he scanned the space, finding no sign of you and realizing that your things were also no longer there.

Your charger on the nightstand, your clothes, even the fluffy throw blanket that you kept on your side of the bed were all missing.

“Well if that’s how you feel, then maybe you should just stay at your own place!”

The words echoed mockingly in his head as he stared around the suddenly sparse looking room. You wouldn’t have actually taken his stupid suggestion, would you? Without saying a word?

“Y/n?!” He called again, voice shaking.

“What?” His head whipped around at the muffled reply from the guest room across the hall.

Bolting across the landing, he pushed open the door to reveal a very tired looking you, curled into a ball in the bed, blinking back at the sudden light.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, I was so scared!” He moved forward, but you quickly raised a hand up to stop him.

“Stay away!”

“What?!” He froze, staring at you in confusion.

“I’m sick, the flu or something, and I don't want you to catch it, so please just stay away.” You croaked, pulling your shirt over the lower half of your face as a makeshift mask.

“I don’t care about the stupid flu!” He said, trying step closer, but you backed further across the bed. “Hold on.”

He ducked out of the room, coming back in less than a minute with a mask now covering his own face. “See? Now can I come closer?”

Reluctantly, you shrugged, which he took as an okay, coming over and carefully sitting down next you as he took in your appearance. You were pale, your eyes tired and heavy with dark circles under them, you looked like you hadn’t been eating well either.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked softly, feeling your forehead to check your temperature.

“You were busy.” You said stuffily, avoiding his eyes.

He frowned, not missing the lingering meaning behind your words, before getting up to make you some tea.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he noticed that the rest of the apartment seemed to be well looked after, despite your slightly fragile state, including Bam who was curled up next to you on the bed when Jungkook returned.

“Have you been the one taking him out for walks?” He asked, not able to imagine you keeping the massive dog reigned in in your current state.

You shook your head. “I called your usual service.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He said suddenly.

“For what?”

“Everything. For saying what I said last week, for not being here when you needed me. Just, everything.”

You dropped your gaze. “I should be the one apologizing, I was being stubborn.”

“I still shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He said.

You held your pinkie out. “Truce?”

He chuckled, having almost forgotten your old solution to arguments when you’d first started dating.

“Truce.” He hooked his finger with yours, holding it for a moment before tugging you forward into a hug.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your hair.

“I love you too.”

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, until he insisted on moving your things back to his room so he could look after you, helping you get a shower before ordering you both some food.

The whole evening, his eyes never left you for more than a minute, seeming thoughtful but not saying what about until you were tucked back into the bed next to him, on the verge of sleep.

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes flew open as you looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious, I hate the whole back and forth from your place to mine.” His eyes never left yours, fingers traced patterns over your arm as he spoke. “Coming home and not being able to find you was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt, I don’t wanna experience that ever again.

"So, please, move in with me?” He asked, pressing a small kiss to your hand.

“Okay.” You whispered, swallowing back tears at his sweet words.

“Thank you.” He smiled, pulling you close again, both of you quickly falling asleep in each others embrace.

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 中毒‧₊˚ ADDICTED TO YOU, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ touch starved for 150 years. wc, 1.31K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i got this idea from a comic strip i saw on twitter by one of my fav chosoyuki ship artists. the second i saw it i knew i had to get on here and type something up. (also i finally figured out how to change the font colors by myself). hope ya enjoyyyyy. reblog to support meeee

␥ tags. modern AU [still a curse], female anatomy, fluff, no smut, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

it's been three years since you and choso started dating, but you still can't get enough of the way he reacts to your touch. whenever your soft hands brush against his body, you notice him tensing up involuntarily—almost as if it's a reflex. these small, shy gestures from him make you feel incredibly special as you know that it means he trusts you and is comfortable around you. you adore the fact that he still gets flustered around you, even after all this time.

upon your first encounter with choso, you couldn't help but notice his quiet demeanor. it became quite evident that he wasn't much of a talker, and as a result, he often found himself feeling isolated in public areas. except for his conversations with his brother, itadori, there were only one or two other individuals with whom choso conversed. this lack of social interaction left him quite lonely, and it was evident that he struggled to form connections with others.

it was quite apparent that you showed a genuine interest in him from the very beginning. despite being attractive, he always seemed to blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed. it was as if his presence never made any significant impact on anyone.

however, your keen eye picked up on his unique qualities and personality, which made him stand out amongst the rest. he was grateful for your attention, and it was evident that he appreciated it deeply. your interest in him not only boosted his confidence but also gave him a sense of purpose and belonging.

as you approached choso, he flinched and tensed up, clearly caught off guard by your sudden proximity. it was evident that he was not used to being touched outside of battle. however, as you placed your hands on his body, he visibly blushed, his cheeks redder than ever before. he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. for the first time in 150 years, someone had dared to touch him outside of battle, and he was clearly taken aback by the unexpected physical contact.

choso found the entire incident quite peculiar and perplexing. it has been quite some time since that day, yet he can still vividly recall the exact spot where you placed your hand—right on his shoulder. the sensation lingers, almost as if the touch had left a mark deep within him. despite his best efforts, he is unable to shake off the feeling of unease that has settled within him ever since.

your touch is something that he would never forget, and if he said he didn't enjoy it, he'd be lying. you had an undeniable ability to leave a lasting impression on him.

you were working on an important project and stayed up until the early hours of the morning. as the clock struck four, you found yourself lying on the floor next to choso's futon. he was sleeping peacefully, his hair fanned out over the pillow beneath him.

your sleep was restless, and you moved around a lot, which could be quite annoying to others. though, choso didn't seem to mind too much, at least not tonight. suddenly, you accidentally hit the back of his head with your elbow, causing him to wake up abruptly. he looked at you with a stern expression, his lips pursed tightly together as he tried to regain his composure.

choso observed you as you slept and wondered why you hadn't been working on your project that was due soon. his eyelids narrowed into slits, and he rolled his eyes in frustration. he couldn't understand how someone could waste valuable time like this when there was important work to be done.

"hey," choso called your name. "wake-"

before choso could reprimand you for falling asleep, he could feel your arms slide underneath his and wrap around his torso, just beneath his chest. your warm breath against his neck was oddly comforting. choso lay on his futon, flustered and surprised as your grip grew tighter around his body.

the sensation that he was experiencing was completely new to him. it reminded him of the first time you had touched him gently on the shoulder. he let out a deep sigh and turned over, his face sinking slowly into the softness of his pillow. the feeling lingered, and he couldn't help but wonder what it meant. he wasn't sure if it was a sign of something new and exciting, or if it was something to be worried about. the uncertainty weighed heavily on his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

sunlight beamed brightly through the bedroom as morning approached. an alarm from your phone could be heard before instantly shutting it off. while you were sprawled out over the futon, choso was pressed up against you, his arms loosely wrapped around your body and his head buried into the crook of your neck.

as the sunlight filtered through the windows, both of you groaned in unison, your eyes squinting to shield themselves from the bright light in the bedroom. you exchanged a brief glance before you shot up from the bed, stretching your arms and letting out a loud yawn. the warmth of the sun's rays seemed to be beckoning you to start the day.

you found yourself rousing from a sudden nap, feeling disoriented and a bit groggy. you rubbed the tiredness from your eyes, trying to regain your bearings, when you noticed choso sitting beside you, his head propped up with his elbow against the pillow. it seemed that you had blacked out without realizing it.

"damn, i wasn't planning on falling asleep. i didn't even realize i went to sleep until now." you yawn again, holding your hand over your mouth to suppress how loud it is. "how come you didn't wake me up?"

as you locked eyes with him for the second time that morning, he couldn't help but feel a sudden rush of memories from the previous night flooding his mind. his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he relived those moments in his head, but those feelings quickly dissipated when he forcefully broke contact with you. he rolled his eyes, perhaps trying to shake off that awkwardness and bring himself back to the present moment.

"i was asleep, how could i wake you up?" choso replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "and how did you end up next to my futon?"

as you sat beside the futon next to choso, you couldn't help but notice his attempts to seem annoyed with your behavior. though, as the night wore on, it became clear that he was struggling to stay awake. eventually, he succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep, his bare torso exposed to the cool air of the room. seeing him shiver, you gently pulled the sheets over him, tucking him in with care. he had been hugging his own body to keep warm.

"don't know...i was so bored that i didn't know what to do with myself," you replied as you finally stood up, giving yourself another good stretch and kissing choso on his head, gently tugging his jet black locks as you did.

the experience of being hugged after a prolonged period of 150 years was a truly transformative one for him. the male had initially feigned irritation at you succumbing to your sleepiness and falling asleep, but in truth, he was struggling to contain his desire to prolong the embrace.

it wasn't because he was trying to be helpful or responsible in any way, but rather because he simply wanted to bask in the warmth and comfort of the embrace for just a little bit longer. the sensation of having his body hugged after such a long time had shifted his perspective on many things, leaving him feeling a sense of awe and wonder at the power of human connection.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[callsigns-haze]

tyler owens one shot idea: he’s your ex and now your forced to see him again while working with storm parr. and then one drunken night you guys end up hooking up.

Not so past

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/N reunite in a heated, emotional encounter, reigniting their past passion and unresolved feelings during a late-night moment by his truck.

Chapter Warning: Contains explicit sexual content, strong language, and themes of intense emotional conflict.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty road as Tyler Owens’ team bustled around their truck, preparing for the day ahead. The sky above was a mix of blue and grey, the calm before the inevitable storm—a fitting backdrop for the storm chasers. Dani was securing the last of the equipment, while Dexter double-checked the weather data on his tablet. Javi and Kate, the newest members of the team, exchanged excited glances as they packed away supplies with Lilly and Boone.

As the sound of laughter and banter filled the air, a distant roar of an engine grew louder, capturing everyone’s attention. A sleek motorcycle, its chrome glinting in the sun, pulled up beside the truck. The rider was dressed in a black leather jacket, the emblem of Storm Par emblazoned on the back—a rival storm chasing group.

The team watched as Scott, a burly member of Storm Par, stepped off his own bike and approached the rider. He helped her remove her helmet, revealing a woman with windswept hair and a determined expression. Her eyes scanned the area, seemingly indifferent to the curious stares she was receiving from Tyler's squad.

Tyler, who had been tightening a strap on the truck, froze as he recognized the woman. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Memories flooded back—late nights, shared laughter, heated arguments, and the bitter end that had left them both scarred.

“Y/N...” Tyler muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Boone, noticing Tyler's reaction, stepped closer to Javi and Kate, who were both watching the scene unfold with puzzled expressions.

"What's going on?" Kate whispered, glancing at Boone for answers.

Boone sighed, crossing his arms as he kept his eyes on Y/N. "That’s Tyler's ex," he explained quietly, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. "They broke up two years ago, and it wasn’t pretty. They’ve got a lot of rough history between them."

Javi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No kidding? That explains the tension.”

“Yeah,” Boone continued, his tone sombre. “They were together for a while, practically inseparable at one point. But the work... chasing storms, it’s not exactly easy on relationships. Things went south, and they both went their separate ways. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since.”

Tyler, still staring at Y/N, took a deep breath and forced himself to look away. He needed a moment, a chance to gather his thoughts. “Excuse me,” he muttered to the group, his voice strained. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away from the truck, disappearing behind a nearby trailer.

Dani shot Boone a questioning look, but Boone just shook his head, silently signalling that now wasn’t the time to press for details. The mood among the team shifted, the earlier excitement dampened by the sudden tension.

Y/N handed her helmet to Scott and exchanged a few words with him before turning her attention back to the truck. Her gaze swept over the squad, and she could sense the curiosity and unease. But her eyes didn’t linger on them for long. She knew who she was looking for.

Tyler’s absence didn’t go unnoticed. A flicker of something—regret, sadness, maybe even a touch of anger—crossed her face before she schooled her features into a neutral expression. She had a job to do, just like him. Whatever happened between them was in the past. At least, that’s what she told herself as she turned back to Scott and continued their conversation.

Back at the truck, Boone exchanged a glance with Dani, both of them silently acknowledging the unspoken tension that had settled over the team. "Well," Boone said quietly, “looks like things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

Kate nodded, her curiosity piqued despite the awkwardness. “What do we do now?”

Boone shrugged, his expression grim. “We keep working. Storm’s coming whether we’re ready or not.”

Javi looked at Kate, who gave him a small nod. The two of them resumed their tasks, though the atmosphere was noticeably heavier now. As they worked, they couldn’t help but glance occasionally in the direction Tyler had gone, wondering what this unexpected reunion would mean for the team—and for Tyler himself.

The energy around the truck had shifted from excitement to a more subdued, contemplative mood after Tyler’s unexpected encounter with Y/N.

Javi and Kate were sitting by the cooler, their conversation hushed but animated. The air was filled with the scent of gasoline and the distant rumble of thunder as a storm began to brew. Boone had just finished up some last-minute checks on the equipment, and Dani had gone off to finalize a few details with the weather service.

Kate glanced over at Boone, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her. “Hey Boone,” she said, leaning in slightly, “we were just wondering... What’s the story with Tyler and Y/N?”

Javi nodded in agreement, his gaze focused intently on Boone. “Yeah, what’s the deal? They seem like they’ve got a pretty complicated history. We saw how Tyler reacted when he saw her, and it seemed pretty intense.”

Boone, who had been busy organizing some gear, stopped and let out a long sigh. He wiped his hands on a rag and looked at the two younger team members. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke, the weight of the past evident in his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll fill you in,” Boone said quietly, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “But it’s a long story. Tyler and Y/N were together for a few years. Two storm chasers who were on the same wavelength, both professionally and personally.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “So, what went wrong? They seem like they were a perfect match.”

Boone nodded, a hint of a smile crossing his lips at the memory. “They were a great team. But chasing storms isn’t exactly a regular 9-to-5 job. The long hours, the travel, the constant danger—it puts a lot of strain on relationships. And that’s what happened with them. The job took its toll.”

Javi leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Was it just the job that caused the problems, or was there more to it?”

Boone’s expression grew more serious. “It wasn’t just the job. There were personal differences, too. They had different priorities, different visions for their futures. And, of course, there were other issues—trust, jealousy, the usual complications when you’re working and living together.”

Kate nodded thoughtfully. “So, they broke up, and now she’s with Storm Par. That must have been a tough transition for Tyler.”

“Yeah, it was rough,” Boone agreed. “They broke up about two years ago. It wasn’t pretty—lots of arguments, a lot of hurt feelings. Tyler took it pretty hard. And then, she just... moved on. Got involved with Storm Par, who are our rivals in a sense. It’s like a double whammy for him.”

Javi frowned, trying to piece everything together. “So, Tyler seeing her with Storm Par... that must have hit him pretty hard. It’s like a reminder of everything he lost and the fact that she’s now on the other side.”

Boone nodded, his expression softening. “Exactly. It’s not just seeing her again after all this time—it’s seeing her in a place where she’s almost a symbol of everything he’s been struggling to move past. It’s a blow to his pride and his heart.”

Kate sighed, her gaze shifting towards where Tyler had retreated earlier. “I feel for him. That kind of history, it doesn’t just disappear. It lingers.”

Boone’s eyes softened with understanding. “Yeah, it does. And Tyler’s a tough guy, but he’s still human. This is something he’s going to have to work through. It’s not just about dealing with Y/N being with a rival team; it’s about confronting a lot of unresolved feelings and past regrets.”

Javi nodded, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. “I guess we’ll just have to give him space and be there if he needs us.”

Boone’s gaze flicked back to the truck, where Tyler had reappeared, his demeanour more composed but still carrying an air of subdued tension. “That’s the best we can do. Just be supportive and give him time. He’s a strong guy, but even the strongest need a hand sometimes.”

---

The temperature had begun to climb as the afternoon wore on, and Tyler knew they’d need more ice to keep their supplies cold. After taking a moment to gather himself, he walked towards the cooler beside the truck. The familiar crunch of gravel under his boots brought him some solace, but his mind was still reeling from seeing Y/N after all this time.

As he approached the cooler, Tyler spotted someone already there, bent over and digging through the ice with a small scoop. The sight of her familiar figure, the way she held herself—confident, yet focused—sent a jolt through him. For a moment, he considered turning around and leaving, but it was too late. Y/N had already sensed his presence.

She straightened up, holding a bag of ice in one hand, and turned to face him. The air between them seemed to thicken as their eyes met. Tyler froze, the usual easy confidence he carried evaporating in an instant.

“Tyler,” Y/N acknowledged him, her voice neutral, but there was an undercurrent of tension that he didn’t miss.

He swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn’t come. This close, he could see the subtle changes in her—new lines of stress that hadn’t been there before, a more guarded expression in her eyes. But she was still Y/N, the woman who had once known him better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Tyler finally managed, his voice tight. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Especially... with them.” His eyes flicked to the Storm Par logo on her jacket.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “Yeah, well, life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?”

Tyler clenched his jaw, the words “full of surprises” echoing in his mind. He wasn’t sure which stung more—the fact that she was here, or that she was working with Storm Par, the competition, the so-called enemy. He could still remember their arguments about rival teams, the fiery debates they’d had about who was in it for the science and who was in it for the glory.

“Storm Par, though?” he asked, his tone carrying a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “You always said they were in it for the wrong reasons. What happened to that?”

Y/N’s expression hardened, the brief moment of softness in her eyes vanishing. “People change, Tyler. Circumstances change. Sometimes you have to take what you can get.”

He didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, nor the hint of something deeper—resentment, maybe? Regret? It was hard to tell. But it cut him nonetheless.

“Is that what this is? Just... taking what you can get?” Tyler asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

Y/N sighed, shifting the bag of ice in her hand. She glanced away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When she looked back at him, her gaze was steady, though the fire that had once been there was now a cold, smoldering ember.

“It’s a job, Tyler. It’s what I’m good at,” she said flatly. “Just like you. I’m doing what I have to do. If that means working with Storm Par, then so be it.”

Tyler felt a pang of something deep in his chest—anger, sadness, maybe even guilt. They had been a team once, a damn good one. But those days were gone, and it was clear she had moved on in ways he hadn’t expected. Or maybe in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to think about.

He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said quietly. “After everything that happened...”

Y/N flinched, just slightly, but she quickly masked it. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an expression that was hard to read. “You’re right, Tyler. You shouldn’t be surprised. We both made choices. We’re living with them now.”

The weight of her words hung between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the crunching of ice as she tightened her grip on the bag.

Tyler opened his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe, or a plea to just talk things out—but the words caught in his throat. The history between them was too complicated, too painful to unpack in a casual conversation by a cooler.

Instead, he nodded stiffly, his expression guarded. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Y/N held his gaze for a moment longer, then broke it, turning back to the cooler to grab another bag of ice. She handed it to him without a word, her touch brief, almost impersonal. Tyler took the bag, the cold seeping through his gloves, grounding him in the present.

“Take care, Tyler,” Y/N said quietly, her voice carrying a finality that made his heart sink.

He nodded, unable to find the right response. “You too, Y/N.”

---

The storm had finally passed, leaving behind a sky streaked with the deep purples and pinks of twilight. The day had been intense, with the team pushing their limits to capture every bit of data they could. As the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion crept in, the weight of the day settling heavily on Tyler's shoulders.

The team was packing up, their voices quieter now, the earlier excitement replaced by a tired, satisfied calm. Tyler finished securing the last piece of equipment to the truck, his mind replaying the events of the day—especially his brief, tense encounters with Y/N. He could still feel the sting of their words, the unresolved tension gnawing at him like a dull ache.

He needed to clear his head, and a hot shower sounded like the perfect remedy.

Tyler grabbed a fresh change of clothes from his bag and made his way to the small, makeshift shower area they had set up nearby. The water pressure was weak, but it didn’t matter. As soon as the lukewarm water hit his skin, he felt the tension begin to melt away, the dirt and grime of the day washing down the drain along with some of the stress.

He stood under the stream, letting the water run over his face, his mind drifting. The cold splash of reality was as sharp as the water was warm—he was going to have to face Y/N again, probably sooner rather than later. The thought of her working with Storm Par still gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of how much things had changed between them.

Tyler leaned forward, bracing his hands against the wall of the shower stall, and closed his eyes. The heat of the water pounded against his back, loosening the knots in his muscles. He needed to let it go, at least for tonight. The last thing he wanted was to drag the team down with his personal issues, especially after they had all worked so hard today.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on the present—on the here and now. There was nothing he could do about the past, but he could control how he handled the future, even if that meant swallowing his pride and finding a way to coexist with Y/N. For the sake of the job, and for his own sanity.

After what felt like an eternity, Tyler finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. The cool evening air hit his damp skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth he had just felt. He quickly towelled off and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt, the familiar scent of his soap helping to ground him.

As he finished getting ready, Tyler caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror. His hair was still slightly damp, and his eyes held a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. But there was also determination there, a resolve to push forward despite the lingering shadows of his past.

He grabbed his jacket and headed out, the sounds of laughter and conversation guiding him toward the rest of the team. They had set up a small gathering spot near the truck, a cooler filled with drinks and a few fold-out chairs arranged in a loose circle. The mood was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension of the day, and Tyler could hear Boone’s deep, rumbling laugh as he told a story to Javi and Kate.

“Hey, you finally made it,” Dani called out as she spotted Tyler approaching. She raised her drink in a mock salute, a grin spreading across her face. “We were starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head as he took a seat in one of the chairs. “Nah, just needed to cool off for a bit.”

Lilly tossed him a cold beer from the cooler, which he caught with ease. He cracked it open, the first sip a welcome relief after the long day. The cold liquid slid down his throat, soothing and refreshing.

“Hell of a chase today,” Boone said, raising his own drink in agreement. “We got some damn good footage.”

“Damn right we did,” Tyler replied, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. The thrill of the chase had always been a constant in his life, something that never failed to ignite his passion, no matter what else was going on.

Javi leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement. “I still can’t believe we were that close. The footage is going to be amazing.”

“It will be,” Tyler agreed, his tone more relaxed now. He took another sip of his beer, letting himself enjoy the camaraderie. “It was a good day, all things considered.”

Kate, who had been quietly listening, glanced at Tyler with a small, thoughtful smile. “Glad to have you with us, Tyler. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tyler nodded, appreciating the sentiment. The team had his back, and he had theirs—that was something he could always count on. “Same goes for all of you. We make a damn good team.”

The night had grown quiet as the teams gradually retreated to their tents and vehicles, exhausted from the day’s intense storm chase. The hum of conversation and the clinking of bottles had faded, leaving behind only the occasional rustle of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. The stars were beginning to peek through the clouds, casting a dim, silvery light over the makeshift camp.

Tyler sat alone by the dying embers of the fire, nursing the last of his beer. The warmth of the earlier camaraderie lingered, but now it was just him and the night, the solitude giving him time to reflect. His thoughts, however, were far from peaceful—still tangled up in the events of the day, and more specifically, the reappearance of Y/N.

He stared into the darkness, his mind replaying their earlier encounters. Despite his best efforts to shake it off, the memories of their past and the unresolved tension between them gnawed at him. The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel broke his reverie. He looked up, his body tensing instinctively as he recognized the familiar figure approaching from the direction of the Storm Par camp.

Y/N was stumbling slightly, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from her hand. Her usual composed demeanour was gone, replaced by the loose, carefree gait of someone who had had a few too many drinks. Her hair was slightly tousled, and there was a flush to her cheeks that could have been from the alcohol or the lingering effects of the day’s adrenaline.

“Tyler,” she called out, her voice carrying a slurred edge as she made her way toward him. There was a smile on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which were glassy and unfocused.

Tyler felt a mix of emotions—concern, annoyance, and a pang of something deeper, more painful. He stood up as she neared, his brow furrowing as he took in her unsteady state. “Y/N,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “What are you doing out here?”

She waved the beer bottle in the air, nearly losing her balance in the process. “Celebrating,” she replied with a laugh that didn’t quite sound genuine. “Big day, right? We caught a hell of a storm.”

Tyler couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in her tone, the way she was trying to mask whatever was really going on behind a façade of drunken cheerfulness. He took a step closer, ready to catch her if she stumbled again. “Yeah, it was a big day,” he agreed, his voice cautious. “But it’s late. You should head back.”

Y/N ignored his suggestion, instead taking a long swig from the bottle before looking up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why’re you always so serious, Tyler? You were always like that... Always the responsible one.” She punctuated the last words with a playful poke to his chest, but there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her actions.

Tyler’s jaw tightened as he looked down at her, his concern deepening. “Someone had to be,” he said softly, his voice tinged with both frustration and care. “And right now, you need to get some rest.”

Y/N took a step back, swaying slightly as she studied him, her expression shifting to something more sombre. “You’re always trying to fix things, Tyler. But not everything can be fixed, you know?” She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping as the bravado started to fade. “Not everything’s your responsibility.”

Tyler felt a pang of guilt at her words. There was truth in what she said—he had always tried to shoulder the burden, to keep everything in order, even when things were falling apart between them. “I know,” he replied quietly, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “But I can’t just stand by when I see someone I care about struggling.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find something in his words. The tension between them shifted, becoming something more electric, more charged. She took a step closer, her breath brushing against his neck as she looked up at him, her gaze lingering on his lips.

Without thinking, Tyler reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. The moment felt suspended in time, the air around them thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Then, as if pulled by a force neither of them could resist, their lips crashed together in a heated, desperate kiss.

Y/N responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. Tyler’s hands roamed down her back, pulling her closer, feeling the familiar heat between them reignite. It was like no time had passed at all—their bodies remembering the connection they once had, the intensity that had always simmered just beneath the surface.

He broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his voice husky as he whispered against her lips, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Without hesitation, Y/N did as he asked, her legs encircling his waist as he lifted her effortlessly. Tyler's hands gripped her thighs, his lips finding hers again as he carried her toward his truck. They moved together in perfect sync, not breaking the kiss as he maneuverer through the darkness, the urgency of their need driving them forward.

When they reached the truck, Tyler pressed her back against the cool metal, the contrast of the cold against the heat of their bodies sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. He deepened the kiss, his hands gripping her hips tightly, as if afraid to let her go again. She responded with equal fervour, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him as close as possible.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment, in the passion that had been buried for so long. The unresolved tension, the pain, the love—they all collided in that kiss, in the way their bodies moved together, as if trying to reclaim something they had lost.

Finally, Tyler pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a flicker of something deeper—an emotion that went beyond the physical, something that had been lying dormant for years.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She looked up at him, her expression mirroring his own, a mix of longing, regret, and something more profound. “Tyler,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

The night air felt cooler against their heated skin as they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s arms beside Tyler's truck. The world outside the small bubble they’d created was forgotten, leaving only the two of them, bound together by years of unresolved passion and lingering tension.

Tyler's hands slid from Y/N's waist to the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin as he began to lift it. His eyes never left hers, watching the way her breath hitched in anticipation. He pulled the fabric over her head and tossed it aside, his gaze roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of desire and affection.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands traced the curves of her body, fingers grazing over the sensitive spots he knew so well.

Y/N shivered under his touch, her breath quickening as she felt the familiar heat spreading through her. But before she could respond, Tyler leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Still so vocal, aren’t you?”

The words sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped her lips. Tyler chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, vibrating through her as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. His hands slipped to the clasp of her bra, fingers working with practiced ease as he unhooked it and let it fall away.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to take her in, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of her bare chest. “You always did like to make noise,” he teased, his tone playful but laced with a deeper intensity. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing another gasp from her.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold back the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape, but Tyler wasn’t having any of it. He lowered his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, trailing down to her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her whimper.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I want to hear you.”

His words broke through her resolve, and she let out a breathy moan, her hands gripping his shoulders as she arched into him. Tyler grinned against her skin, his lips trailing down to her breast, where he took one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving a gentle tug with his teeth.

Y/N cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged him closer, the sensation overwhelming. “Tyler,” she gasped, her voice thick with need.

He pulled back, just enough to look up at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at how easily he could unravel her. “That’s more like it,” he said, his tone full of teasing triumph. “You always did love it when I made you scream.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and arousal, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. There was something about the way Tyler touched her, the way he knew exactly what buttons to push, that always left her breathless and wanting more.

Tyler’s hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, fingers slipping beneath the fabric as he began to work them down her hips. He took his time, enjoying the way her breath hitched with every inch of skin he exposed. When he finally got them off, he stepped back just a bit, his gaze raking over her with unabashed desire.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and longing.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sincerity in his words, but before she could respond, Tyler was on her again, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over her now nearly naked body, his touch both possessive and tender.

As the kiss deepened, Tyler's fingers found the edge of her panties, teasingly sliding them down her legs as his lips trailed back to her ear. “I’ve missed hearing those little noises you make,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “And I’m going to make sure I hear a lot more of them tonight.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her mind clouded with need as Tyler’s hands explored every inch of her, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He was relentless in his teasing, drawing out every gasp, every moan, until she was trembling with anticipation.

Finally, when she was completely undressed and laid bare before him, Tyler stepped back just enough to admire his work, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of genuine admiration.

Y/N’s heart raced, her body aching for him to close the distance between them again. “Tyler, please,” she whispered, the need in her voice unmistakable.

Tyler grinned, loving the way she was already begging for him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered, “Oh, I’m not done with you yet. I want to hear you lose control.”

And with that, he claimed her mouth again, his hands roaming over her body with renewed fervor, each touch designed to drive her wild, to push her closer to the edge. Y/N responded with equal intensity, her own hands moving to undress him, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Tyler’s breath was heavy as he felt Y/N’s hands on him, their fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. She was desperate to feel his skin against hers, to close the distance that had been too wide for too long. As she finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders, revealing the toned muscles beneath, she ran her hands over his chest, savouring the warmth and solidity of him.

Tyler groaned at her touch, his own hands sliding down her back to pull her closer. Their mouths met again, a clash of hunger and need as they devoured each other. Every kiss, every touch, was laced with the urgency of all the time they’d lost, the years of separation making this reunion even more intense.

As her hands moved down to unbuckle his belt, Tyler couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him. He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as he whispered, “You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s response was a breathless moan as she finally managed to undo his belt, her hands working quickly to free him from his jeans. “I can’t wait any longer,” she murmured, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Tyler chuckled softly, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Good,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Because neither can I.”

With a quick, deft motion, Tyler helped her push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off to the side. The cool night air hit his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from the woman in his arms. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, and they both gasped at the sensation of their bare skin touching, the connection between them electric and undeniable.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt him, hard and ready against her. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but Tyler seemed to delight in drawing it out, taking his time as he ran his hands over her body, memorizing every curve, every shiver.

“Tyler,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she clung to him, her need for him overwhelming.

He smiled against her lips, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

Without hesitation, Y/N obeyed, wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling his strong arms supporting her. The feeling of being held by him, of being completely at his mercy, sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped her lips.

Tyler grinned, loving the sound of her surrender. “There’s that voice I love,” he teased, his tone playful even as his desire for her surged. He shifted her slightly in his arms, positioning her perfectly against him as he pressed her back against the side of the truck. The cold metal was a stark contrast to the heat between them, and Y/N gasped at the sensation.

“Tyler,” she breathed, her hands gripping his shoulders as she looked into his eyes, her own dark with need.

He held her gaze, his expression intense as he slowly, deliberately, pressed his hips forward, teasing her with just the tip. The sensation was almost too much, and Y/N let out a cry, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to pull him closer, but he held back, his control infuriatingly steady.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough with the effort of holding himself back. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the need to feel him completely. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Please, Tyler, I need you.”

Tyler’s control wavered at the sound of her begging, and with a low growl, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting into her in one smooth motion. The sensation of him filling her completely tore a loud, wanton moan from her lips, and she clung to him as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

“That’s it,” Tyler groaned, his voice strained as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, driving her wild with the intensity. “I knew you’d sound just like this.”

Y/N was lost in the sensation, her head thrown back as he set a rhythm that had her gasping for breath, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. The combination of his teasing words and the way he moved inside her was driving her mad, and she could do nothing but hold on to him, her legs tightening around his waist as he drove her higher and higher.

“Tyler,” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation and desire. “I can’t... I can’t...”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hot and ragged as he increased the pace, pushing them both closer to the brink. “Yes, you can,” he whispered, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “I want to hear you come for me.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her, and Y/N could feel the tension inside her coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. She was so close, her body trembling with the effort to hold on, but Tyler wasn’t done with her yet.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dark and velvety as he pressed deep inside her, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between them. The combination of his relentless thrusts and the pressure on her clit was too much, and with a strangled cry, Y/N’s body exploded in pleasure, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her breathless.

Tyler watched her come apart in his arms, the sight of her in ecstasy driving him to the edge. With a few more powerful thrusts, he followed her over the brink, his release crashing over him with a raw intensity that left him trembling.

For a moment, they stayed like that, clinging to each other as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. The night was silent around them, the only sound the heavy, ragged breathing as they slowly came back to themselves.

Finally, Tyler gently lowered her legs, letting her feet touch the ground as he held her close, their foreheads still pressed together. His hands ran soothingly up and down her back, grounding them both in the aftermath of their passion.

“Damn,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty. “Tyler...”

But before she could say anything more, Tyler kissed her again, this time with a tenderness that hadn’t been there before. It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken feelings between them, the things they hadn’t been able to say.

When they finally pulled back, Tyler rested his forehead against hers, his hands still holding her close. “We need to talk,” he said softly, his voice full of the weight of everything that had just happened.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding as she looked into his eyes, knowing that this was just the beginning of a much-needed conversation. “Yeah,” she agreed, her voice just as soft. “We do.”

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

[awkward-walking-potato]

A Heart of Adamantium

Valentine’s Day spent with Logan

Like always my requests are open!

Valentine’s Day had always been just another day for Logan. He’d seen and lived through more than most people could imagine, and sentimentality wasn’t exactly his thing. But this year, something was different. You were different. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make him reconsider.

The day started like any other. Logan was up at dawn, the weight of his usual routine grounding him in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate. But as he walked through the halls of Xavier’s School, he noticed the little things—the heart-shaped decorations, the laughter of the students, the smell of chocolate and roses wafting through the air. It was all too sweet, too innocent for someone like him.

Then he saw you.

You were standing in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepared breakfast. The sight of you, so peaceful and content, did something to him that he couldn’t quite explain. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to do something for you—something that might bring a smile to your face.

“Morning,” you said with a smile as you noticed him leaning in the doorway. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Logan grumbled, a little awkward, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t used to this—these feelings, this softness that crept up on him whenever you were around.

You tilted your head, sensing his unease. “You got any plans today?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Never been much for holidays.”

You smiled, something playful and warm in your expression. “Well, then maybe we can do something together?”

Logan hesitated, the idea of celebrating Valentine’s Day so foreign to him. But the thought of spending time with you—it was something he couldn’t pass up.

“Alright,” he finally said, a small, almost shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’d you have in mind?”

Later that day, you led him out of the mansion and into the nearby woods, where the two of you found a quiet spot to relax. It was simple, just a blanket spread out under the bare winter trees, a thermos of hot coffee, and the peaceful sounds of nature around you.

“Here,” you said, handing him a small, wrapped box.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at you with genuine surprise.

“Just a little something,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Logan carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a handcrafted leather bracelet. It was simple, yet rugged—something that perfectly suited him. You had added a small charm in the shape of a wolf, a subtle nod to his animalistic nature.

“I made it myself,” you said softly, watching his reaction.

For a moment, Logan was speechless. He wasn’t used to receiving gifts, especially something so personal. His thumb brushed over the leather, and he looked at you, his usually hardened expression softened by emotion.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

You smiled, reaching out to gently clasp the bracelet around his wrist. “I’m glad you like it.”

Logan stared at the bracelet for a long moment, feeling something he hadn’t felt in years—gratitude, warmth, and maybe even a hint of happiness. He wasn’t sure how to express it, but he knew he wanted to do something for you in return.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered box. He handed it to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’s this?” you asked, surprised.

“Open it,” he said simply.

Inside was a small, silver locket. It was old, something he’d carried with him for longer than he could remember. But today, he wanted you to have it.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, touched by the gesture.

“Belonged to someone important a long time ago,” Logan said quietly. “But I figure it’s time it belonged to someone else.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, the significance of the gift. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fastened the locket around your neck, feeling its cool weight against your skin.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded, leaning back on the blanket, his arm casually draping around your shoulders. For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the connection between you deepening in the quiet moments of shared solitude.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the woods, Logan turned to you, his voice low and rough.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my life,” he said, “but I never thought I’d be here, doing this… feeling like this.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Neither did I,” you whispered, “but I’m glad we are.”

Logan’s hand found yours, his grip strong but gentle. “Me too.”

And for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to just be—no battles to fight, no demons to face. Just a man sitting in the woods with someone he cared about on a day that had always seemed meaningless until now.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

In the heart of the military training ground, you, a seasoned Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, stand poised amidst a group of nervous soldiers. Among them is Private Jameson, a newcomer with trembling hands and apprehensive eyes. With unwavering composure, you take charge, your voice steady as you address the group.

"Today, we're covering the basics of bomb disposal," you begin, your tone reassuring yet firm. Turning to Private Jameson, you offer a patient smile.

"You, Private. What's your name?" Despite his nervousness, Private Jameson responds, and you guide him with a calming presence, instilling confidence as you impart your expertise.

"Jameson, take a deep breath," you instruct softly but firmly. "Remember, focus is key. You've got this." Private Jameson nods, his eyes locked on your reassuring gaze.

As he examines the device, you watch attentively, offering guidance with each movement. When he finishes, you nod approvingly. "Well done, Private. Now, let's move on."

As Private Jameson continues under your guidance, the other soldiers watch with admiration. They've seen you in action before, witnessed your dedication to the mission and your willingness to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.

"Ma'am, what if the situation calls for immediate action?" Private Reynolds interjects, reflecting the group's curiosity.

You acknowledge the gravity of the question. "In a real-world scenario, there may not be time for thorough examination," you explain calmly. "Trust your instincts and make split-second decisions."

Private Jameson glances at you, newfound respect shining in his eyes. "But you always seem so calm under pressure, ma'am," he remarks admiringly.

You smile humbly, reflecting on the countless moments of uncertainty you've faced. "It's not about being fearless, Private," you reply earnestly. "It's about pushing through fear for those counting on you."

Your words hang in the air, a silent reminder of the sacrifices made by soldiers like you every day. With renewed determination, Private Jameson nods, his resolve strengthened by your example.

As the door of the training facility echoed with a sharp knock, you exchanged a puzzled glance with your comrades. The abrupt interruption stirred a sense of unease within you, a foreboding whisper of uncertainty.

"A lawyer wants to see you," the soldier at the door announced, his voice tinged with urgency.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Me?" you repeated, your mind racing to grasp the sudden turn of events. "Hmm, he sounds British," you mused aloud, your instincts sharpened by years of training.

With measured steps, you followed your comrade through the maze of corridors until you reached the visitor's area. There, standing before you, was a figure from your past, a familiar face veiled in the somber cloak of time.

"Miss," the lawyer greeted you with a solemn nod, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him, the memories flooding back like an unstoppable tide. It had been fifteen years since you last saw him, a lifetime of distance and estrangement separating you.

"I assumed something bad happened?" you ventured cautiously, your tone laced with concern and apprehension.

The lawyer, Cedric, nodded gravely, his expression betraying the gravity of the news he bore.

You and Cedric found a quiet place to talk. "Something's wrong?" you inquired, noting the somber expression on Cedric's face as he adjusted his glasses.

Cedric remained silent momentarily, his gaze fixed on the ground before meeting your eyes. "Duke Rupert died two days ago," he finally uttered, his voice laden with gravity.

Your heart clenched at the news. Duke Rupert was your stepfather, and the thought of his passing filled you with a mix of sorrow and apprehension.

Cedric continued, his words weighed down by the weight of the news. "On his will, he wrote that he wants all the family to gather. I came here as soon as I could. And you could attend the funeral too. He probably wants it too."

You nodded, absorbing the information with a heavy heart. The sudden loss of Duke Rupert had thrown your world into disarray, and the prospect of gathering with the family only added to the uncertainty swirling within you.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, determined to face whatever lay ahead with strength

You nodded in response to Cedric's words, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I'll gather my things," you said quietly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

As you packed your belongings into your bag, Private Jameson approached you, his curiosity evident in his voice. "So, it turns out you're a noble," he remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head in response. "I'm not. It was my step-dad. There's no noble blood in me," you explained, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice.

Jameson furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "We've been working together for years, but you never mentioned anything about this," he observed, his tone filled with genuine interest.

You zipped up your bag, pausing momentarily before meeting Jameson's gaze. "It's just family stuff. Nothing interesting," you replied cryptically, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes before you turned away, ready to face the uncertain future that lay ahead.

After a grueling 12-hour flight, you finally arrived back in the UK. As the car pulled up to Evergreen Abbey, your childhood home, a rush of nostalgia washed over you. The manor stood proudly, its historical façade unchanged by the passing years.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sight before you. The memories of your upbringing flooded back, filling you with a sense of belonging despite the years of absence.

As you entered the manor, you were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a classic black dress adorned with a string of pearls. Her youthful aura belied the years that had passed since you last saw her. It was your mother, Susan.

"You're back," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide to envelop you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume brought tears to your eyes as you returned her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and homecoming wash over you.

You nodded as Susan spoke, absorbing the news of Duke Rupert's accident with a heavy heart. The realization that your stepfather had passed away hit you like a wave, stirring emotions you had long buried.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to grasp Susan's hand for support.

Susan sighed her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That silly old man's, I told him not to ride a horse, but he insisted and he fell," she explained, her tone tinged with regret. "Rupert always well-prepared, but I don't know why he really insisted on riding a horse that day."

Before you could respond, the sound of another voice broke through the somber atmosphere. "Thank God you're here," the voice exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned to see your stepbrother, Charles, standing before you.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw him wearing priestly attire. "Charles?" you uttered in disbelief, your eyes widening in surprise.

Charles opened his arms and enveloped you in a warm hug, his presence comforting despite the unexpected change in his appearance. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his handshake firm and sincere as he greeted you.

You were speechless, your mind struggling to process the transformation before you. There was a warmth in Charles's eyes, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from within him. He was different from the last time you saw him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him in his new role.

"Are you wearing a cassock?" you finally managed to ask, your voice filled with curiosity as you glanced at Charles's attire.

Susan gently pinched your arm, her expression amused yet reproachful. "Silly girl, this is why you should reply to my letters, phone calls, and emails," she chided gently. "Charles has become a priest."

"I know you will find it hard to believe. But I went through a miracle that made me fully believed in God." As Charles spoke of his newfound faith, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the memory of Charlie, who once hurled harsh words at you.

Then you heard a familiar voice, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're here."

It was Charlotte, Charles's twin sister. Her gaze bore into you with the same disdain it always had, unchanged after all these years.

Charlotte was never one to hide her feelings about you. From the moment your mother brought you into their lives, she had seen you as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

Your mother's marriage to the Duke had brought you into a world of privilege and resentment. While your stepfather had become a father figure you'd never had, it came at the cost of your relationship with your own mother. Susan was desperate to fit into her new role as Duchess, and you were often left feeling like an outsider in your own home.

The Duke's children, Charles and Charlotte, had quickly formed a bond with your mother, leaving you feeling like an intruder in your own family. They resented you for stealing their father's attention, and the tension between you had only grown over the years.

Living at Evergreen Abbey had always felt like walking on eggshells. That's why, as soon as you came of age, you left for the United States and joined the army, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor.

Charlotte's cold gaze was a painful reminder of the resentment that had always simmered beneath the surface. "Let's get this over with, please," she said, her words dripping with disdain.

"What does it mean?" you asked, scanning the room for answers but finding only silence and the weight of years of unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

You couldn't believe your eyes as Charles stood before you, now a priest leading your stepfather's funeral. Rupert's passing seemed surreal, and as they closed the casket, you had a chance to see his face one last time.

His face looked different, smiling unnaturally due to the glue used to preserve it. It starkly contrasted the smile you remembered, and you regretted not seeing Rupert one last time before this moment. Placing a red rose near his casket, you whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

During the burial, your gaze wandered, and you noticed a little boy standing near your mother.

But someone standing alone amidst the gathering of family and guests caught your attention. Who is he?

After the burial concluded, the house filled with guests offering condolences. The strange man also disappeared. Susan and Charles gracefully accepted their sympathies, while Charlotte's whereabouts only God knows.

Amidst the crowd, you heard a gentle voice call your name. "Y/N?"

Turning around, you saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie? How are you?" You greeted him with a side hug, grateful for the familiarity in the midst of the somber occasion.

Eddie hugged you back, offering his condolences as you shared a moment of solace amid the chaos of the gathering.

Eddie's inquiry about your military service brought back memories, including a long-kept secret: you used to have a crush on him. It was partly why you joined the army, sharing a dream of serving alongside him. "Yeah," you answered, still groggy from the day's emotions.

"What about you? Did you join the army too?"

Eddie chuckled. "I did, but I left to pursue a business."

You nodded, finding it fitting for him. "You're looking more like a duke these days."

Taking a sip of water, Eddie revealed a surprising truth. "I am. I became a duke after my father passed."

Your shock was evident. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie's chuckle held a hint of understanding. "Yeah, after you left, you sort of cut contacts with everyone."

You hesitated, recalling the mention of a will by Cedric. "What about your family tradition? Isn't your older brother supposed to be the duke?"

Eddie's expression shifted slightly. "It changed after my father's will."

Your unease grew as thoughts of Rupert's will resurfaced. Eddie noticed your worry and reached out, touching your hand. "Hey, if you need me, just call me."

Grateful for his support, you managed a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

########

As everyone sat waiting for the lawyer, a new presence entered the room. A little boy, perhaps around 10 years old, joined the gathering, taking a seat beside Charlotte. He stole occasional glances in your direction, his curiosity evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Unable to contain your surprise, you turned to Charlotte and asked, "You have a child?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response, her annoyance palpable, while Charles chuckled softly at the exchange.

Feeling a familiar pinch on your arm, you turned to see Susan giving you a reproachful look. "This is why you should've answered my calls. He's your brother," she scolded gently.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?!" you exclaimed, your mind struggling to comprehend the revelation as you glanced back at the little boy sitting beside Charlotte, a newfound sense of connection dawning within you. Now his face and future look similar to yours.

You found yourself at a loss for words, grappling with the sudden revelation of a long-lost sibling. The realization that you had cut off all contact when you joined the army weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you with a profound sense of regret for the years of missed connections and lost opportunities.

Running a hand through your face, you let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past 15 years bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Will there be another surprise?" you wondered aloud, the question hanging in the air as you braced yourself for whatever other unexpected twists fate had in store for you.

A few minutes later, Cedric, the lawyer, strode into the room with purpose, placing his briefcase on the table before retrieving the file. With a solemn expression, he began to read aloud the contents of Duke Rupert's will.

"Everyone will get a share of his insurance and investments," Cedric announced, his voice measured and professional. "Except Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resignation at the news, having expected as much given the strained dynamics within the family. Glancing around the room, you noted the acceptance in your mother's and the twins' expressions, as if they had anticipated this outcome.

But then, Cedric's next words shattered the calm facade that had settled over the room. "For the Evergreen Abbey Manor and the title, I hereby give it to Y/N L/N," he continued, his voice resolute.

Your shock was palpable, the expletive escaping your lips before you could stop it.

'HUH?!'

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events as the weight of Duke Rupert's decision settled heavily upon you.

As Charles let out a disbelieving "Hoo," and Charlotte expressed her relief with a curt "Great, not my problem anymore," the tension in the room seemed to escalate.

'Wait. The twins aren't angry?'

Your mother reached out, gently squeezing your hand and offering a reassuring look, her silent support a comforting anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around you.

"Why do I feel like I'm carrying a bomb in my hand?" you muttered, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Cedric adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he spoke. "When you became the Lady of this house... Your grace, pardon me that I have to tell you this," he began carefully. "The former Duke had debts, and he was involved in what we might call 'creative' work."

"You mean drugs, gambling, and the like?" you interjected, your voice laced with disbelief.

Susan shot you a warning glance, her lips forming a silent reprimand. "You shouldn't say that word in front of your brother," she whispered, her tone urgent.

Turning to her younger son, she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not drugs, but weed," she clarified softly.

"Oh, wow. Now I feel relieved," you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you as you struggled to come to terms with the unexpected revelations about Duke Rupert's illicit activities.

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "How much is the debt?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"8 million pounds," Cedricbreplied solemnly, his tone grave.

Charles made the sign of the cross a gesture of disbelief. "Oh Lord," he murmured under his breath.

"And he wants me to repay the debt when I never took a single cent?" you exclaimed, incredulity coloring your words as you struggled to comprehend the injustice of it all.

"Was he high when he wrote the will? Why me?!!"

Sighing heavily, you turned your gaze towards the imposing manor, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of Duke Rupert's debts. "Can I just sell this manor?" you wondered aloud, desperation creeping into your voice.

"It will take months or years, Your Grace. And the debt has to be paid by the end of this month," Cedric explained, punctuated by a sense of urgency.

But before you could act on your impulse, Susan's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with urgency and apprehension. "You can't sell the manor," she interjected, her gaze pleading with you to reconsider.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbling up inside you. "Why not?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Susan's response was swift, her words carrying the weight of years of pent-up frustration and resentment. "If you sell the manor, I would lose my title as a duchess," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up memories of the strained relationship that had defined your interactions with Susan over the years. Her obsession with upholding the image of a perfect duchess had driven a wedge between you, leaving your relationship fraught with tension and resentment.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of Duke Rupert's debts and the expectations thrust upon you by your title, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness creeping in.

You let out another sigh, resigned to the reality of the situation. "I need a drink," you muttered, the thought of seeking solace in the most potent alcohol near the lake seeming like the only reprieve from the turmoil raging inside you.

As you sat by the lake's tranquil waters, the weight of the situation bearing down on you, regret began to seep into your thoughts like a creeping mist.

Coming back here had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of Duke Rupert's debts and the burden they placed upon you, you couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you allowed the warmth of the liquid to wash over you, momentarily easing the turmoil in your mind. But even the soothing embrace of alcohol couldn't dispel the unease gnawing at your insides.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled when a small figure approached, breaking the silence that had settled over the lakeside. You glanced up to see your little stepbrother, Hugo, standing before you with a tentative expression on his face.

"Uh, hi. Hello. I'm your older sister," you greeted awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Hugo returned your greeting with a shy smile. "Hi, step-bro. Hugo. Ten years old," he introduced himself, his voice soft and uncertain.

An awkward silence hung between you, the gap between your worlds feeling vast and insurmountable. Sensing the tension, you made an effort to bridge the divide.

"You want to walk?" you offered, gesturing towards the path that wound its way around the edge of the lake.

Hugo hesitated for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Hmm...," he murmured, his eyes brightening with a hint of curiosity as he took a tentative step forward, ready to embark on this uncertain journey with you.

As you and Hugo began to playfully throw stones into the lake, the tension between you gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from the simple joy of shared activity.

"So, Hugo, do you know what's happening at the household?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You had learned in the military that children often possessed an innate honesty that could shed light on complex situations.

Hugo paused in his stone-throwing, considering your question for a moment before responding. "Walls have ears, and the workers always gossip," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with wisdom beyond his years.

Impressed by his insight, you couldn't help but smile. "Wow," you remarked, genuinely impressed by Hugo's observation. "Do you want to share?" you prompted, curious to hear his perspective on the goings-on within the household.

As Hugo shared his insights, you listened intently, surprised by the depth of understanding hidden behind his youthful facade.

"Charlie doesn't want to take the house because of the debt, and he wants to become a pope," Hugo explained matter-of-factly, his words carrying a weight of resignation.

You responded with a puzzled "Huh?"

"And Charlotte doesn't care since she's going to marry a prince. She doesn't want anything related to Dad's 'creative work.' It will ruin her image."

"Her image? She's marrying a prince?" you interjected, your incredulity evident in your tone.

Hugo regarded you with a knowing look. "You're really ignorant, huh?" he remarked bluntly, his words stinging with a hint of playful teasing.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at being corrected by a child, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Hey..." you started, but Hugo continued without missing a beat.

"Sis Charlotte has quite millions of followers on social media," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "If her name is connected to weed and family debt—"

"It will ruin her image, and she'll have to pay the penalty," you finished, the implications sinking in as you processed Hugo's words. "Wait, how old are you again?" you asked, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement at the maturity of his observations.

Hugo raised both hands, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ten," he replied, the innocence of his youth juxtaposed against the weight of the knowledge he carried.

You chuckled softly, taking another sip of your whiskey as you observed Hugo with newfound respect. Children were indeed frighteningly perceptive these days, and you made a mental note to tread carefully around him in the future.

You looked at the lake and sighed again. No wonder Charlie felt relieved upon seeing you. He wouldn't have to worry about these things. If his past caught up with him while pursuing his path to becoming a pope, it would ruin everything for him.

As for Charlotte, nothing ever seems to be enough for her. If her future in-laws from the royal family were to find out about this business, they would likely cancel her marriage.

So it's obvious they were relieved when Rupert chose you as the heir.

As both of you made your way back home, your senses went on high alert as you spotted a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. The sight of the familiar car sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

He's the man who watched Rupert's funeral from afar.

"Hugo, go inside," you instructed quietly, your voice tinged with urgency as you gestured for him to retreat to the safety of the house.

The man who emerged from the car was none other than the same individual you had seen at the funeral. James Barnes, or "Bucky" as he preferred to be called, approached you with a confident stride, his demeanor exuding an air of authority.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon walk," Bucky began, his voice smooth and polite. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm James Barnes, but you could call me Bucky."

You nodded in acknowledgment, your guard instinctively rising as you braced yourself for whatever news he had come to deliver. "How can I help you, Mr. Barnes?" you inquired, your tone guarded yet polite.

"It's difficult for me to say while you're still grieving," Bucky admitted, his expression sympathetic. "But the former duke owed money to us."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You see, Mr. Barnes, I just got here two days ago after 15 years," you explained wearily, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your revelation, his interest piqued. "Yeah, Rupert mentioned it a couple of times," he remarked casually.

"Did he?" you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of annoyance at Duke Rupert's apparent penchant for gossip.

"Let's continue this at the office," you suggested tersely, eager to put some distance between yourself and the unsettling presence of James Barnes.

As you stepped into Rupert's office for the first time, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the lingering scent of his cigar and the familiar musk that seemed to permeate the room. It was a scent you had grown accustomed to over the years, a reminder of the man who had once occupied this space.

Pouring another whiskey for yourself and a glass for Bucky, you couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy as you reflected on the memories associated with this room. Duke Rupert's presence seemed to linger in every corner, his larger-than-life persona casting a shadow over the space.

Bucky took a moment to savor the whiskey, his expression one of appreciation. "Your step-dad always did have a good collection of alcohol," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words as he raised his glass in a silent toast.

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. Despite the complexities of his character, Duke Rupert had always taken pride in his impressive selection of drinks, a testament to his refined taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Taking a sip of your drink, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Do you have business with my step-dad?" you asked, your tone cautious as you eyed Bucky across the desk.

Bucky's admission hung heavy in the air as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of responsibility and obligation.

"I lent him my money and I protected him," he explained, his tone tinged with a sense of duty.

"Why? His weed business didn't work out?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the revelation.

Bucky shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It was successful. But he had a change of heart and wanted out. And his boss didn't like it. That's where I came in," he elaborated, his expression grave.

"Eight million pounds. Is all because of you?" you queried, the enormity of the debt now beginning to make sense.

Bucky tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours with a solemn intensity. "The price of the damage I got for protecting your step-dad. I gained more enemies," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Setting down your whiskey glass, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Despite the tangled web of intrigue and deceit surrounding Duke Rupert, at least his involvement in the weed business was not the cause of his debts.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Options seemed limited, and each path forward appeared fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Glancing at the bank statements and stock reports spread out on the desk before you, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Duke Rupert's financial situation was far from ideal, and the prospect of producing eight million pounds seemed increasingly daunting.

Your mother's reluctance to sell the manor only added to the complexity of the situation. Despite the financial burden it represented, the estate held sentimental value for her, serving as a tangible connection to Duke Rupert and the life they had built together.

The twins' indifference to the predicament only further highlighted the sense of isolation you felt in confronting this dilemma alone. But then your thoughts turned to Hugo, the youngest member of the family, and the realization dawned on you that the manor held a special significance for him as well.

Selling off the artwork and alcohol collection was a possibility, but the process would take time, and the prospect of navigating the complexities of the open market and taxation only added to the uncertainty.

With few options left to consider, you knew that your best course of action was to confront the man himself. Despite your reservations, you couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky held the key to unraveling the mystery of Duke Rupert's debts.

As the desire to return to the U.S. gnawed at you, a sense of urgency washed over you, driving you to seek resolution as quickly as possible. But with time ticking away and the weight of responsibility bearing on your shoulders, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling upon your shoulders. "What options do I have?

Bucky's smile was almost too slick, his finger pointing at you like a loaded gun. "I really like your attitude, Your Grace. Straight to the point," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk.

As he unbuttoned his suit and slid his hands into his pocket pants, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. "I'm also intrigued by your career as an expert in bombs," he continued, his words sending a chill down your spine.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come. "Go on," you replied tersely, the tension crackling in the air between you.

With a calculated gesture, Bucky brought his hands together, the glint of gold rings catching the light and adding an air of menace to his demeanor. "I will make the debt of 8 million pounds disappear. If you help me," he declared, his tone dripping with promise.

Your heart skipped a beat at the audacity of his offer, the implications of his words sinking in like a lead weight. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he finally spoke. "I've got more competition after I helped Rupert. Thinking about it gives me headaches. That's where you come in," he explained cryptically, his words laden with hidden meaning.

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, until Bucky finally broke it with a chilling revelation. "I want you to create an explosion. To get rid of them," he stated bluntly, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Fuck!"

Cursing under your breath, you cast a wary glance at the painting of Rupert hanging on the wall. His eyes seemed to bore into you, judging your every move. As an army EOD technician, the thought of making a bomb for a criminal to pay off a debt filled you with a sense of dread.

Regret gnawed at you like a festering wound as you grappled with the weight of the decision before you. Coming back home had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn't help but wish you had never returned.

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[raainberry]

I’m so glad you got lost

Jihyo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - helping a damsel in distress like in the old times still works like a charm (you’re a security guard at a music festival and Jihyo appreciates both your help and looks)

worcount - 2.9K

T/W - none i think, but like cute summer vibes, first meeting, sweet moments, you’re whipped for her, the usual stuff

A/N - lowkey struggled, tried to get a bit out of my comfort zone by adding a little more desc but not mad at how it turned out

The outdoor festival Jihyo and her friends chose to spend their weekend at was a success. The atmosphere was vibrant, fun and exciting, the music was good, the food was even better, but perfection is just never possible.

Something had to go wrong or else it wouldn’t fun.

Losing a few people in a friend group as large as hers is understandable and not uncommon. It’s expected, maybe even fate, but only losing one? Now it just felt like luck was involved and there wasn’t any on her side as Jihyo found herself to be that one lost friend.

She tried to scan the elated faces surrounding her for signs of more familiar ones in vain. She could feel a sense of mild unease creeping over her as the crowd seemed to grow denser, making it all the more difficult to locate anything familiar by the minute.

She was slowly feeling herself losing grip over the situation when a gentle hand found its way to her shoulder.

The sudden contact startled her though, and she turned to see who it belonged to. Last thing she expected to face was a warm, comforting smile.

"Hi! You look like you’re on a mission,” you chuckled. “Need a little help?" you offered over the loud music.

Jihyo’s eyes quickly noticed your attire, and if the black and bulky clothes you wore didn’t make it evident enough, the “security” arm band did enough on its own. She’s never been more thankful for assistance in her life, and a flicker of relief crossed her features as she nodded.

"I'm looking for my friends, there’s no service and it's getting a bit overwhelming.” she explained, her voice barely audible.

You nodded understandingly, and gestured for her to follow you. With practiced ease, you navigated through the crowd while Jihyo trailed close.

Your familiarity with the festival grounds seemed to guide you effortlessly, and maybe it was the distress she was in, mixed with the fact that you jumped in to save her when no one seemed to care—maybe the uniform had its hand in as well, but… You looked pretty cute.

The soft and warm smile, the gentle and protective gaze as you looked back at her every once in a while, making sure she followed suit—and the hand… The way your hand brushed against her exposed skin as you guided her; never daring to rest it on her arm, her back…

The subtle spark your touch ignited didn’t go unnoticed on your end either.

In fact it was very much felt. Though you were focused on getting your job done, part of your attention was monopolised by her appearance.

Jihyo, a name you had yet to learn, was certainly one of the prettiest sights this weekend outdoors offered. The make up she wore was flattering, highlighting features you found to be among your favorite in people. They looked even better on her.

You crossed eyes with her brown ones a few times on your way over to the security post. The hints of worry as she looked around tugged at your heart, feeling a sudden need to protect her beyond the way your duty called for.

“Let's see if we can spot them from here." You said, holding on to the bit of professionalism left in you before helping her up the ladder to reach the small elevated shed.

It was a sort of temporary lifguard tower imitation. Your colleagues referred to it as a base to make it sound fancier—which you mocked them for multiple times—but part of you hesitated to use the word in case it would impress the damsel you’d brought over.

You judged against it though, something your future self would be thankful for, and instead guided the woman up to the railing surrounding it.

The vantage point offered a broad view over the better half of the festival, and her eyes wasted no time in scanning the animated sea of festival-goers.

You joined the search only a second later, snapping yourself out of the micro-trance her sculpted arm sent you in when she brought her hand up to shield her eyes.

You don’t know how long it took, if the silence as your gaze flitted from one cluster of people to another was awkward or not; but she ended reuniting with her friends.

Their shouts for her as they noticed her up the tower from the ground taught you her name, and you had a hard time tellibg whether your smile was because of how funny their desperate waving looked from up there, or because of the way her name fit every idea of her your mind had managed to come up with.

A wave of relief washed over Jihyo, and you were sure to never forget that grateful smile she sent you before rushing to friends.

Who knows how they got separated. The thought was very much far out of line, but you were glad she got lost.

—

As the day melted into the night, the festival began to wind down, and the crowd started to thin out.

Jihyo and her friends made their way towards the exit, with the day's excitement still clinging to their spirits. A bunch of memories were made that day, all ranking in their own degree of wholesomeness.

The smile on Jihyo’s lips was subtle, her mind lost in the remnants of her emotions as she walked surrounded by the people she cared so much about.

Their intensity was exhausting, and little did she know this festival had just one more thing to make her feel, and her friends were very much happy to help with that.

As the group approached the exit, they spotted you there, your attentive gaze scanning the departing crowd. A quiet presence amidst the festival's crescendo.

Jeongyeon, her most daring friend couldn't resist her own playful nature as she hurried to tease Jihyo, "Look, your savior’s still on duty.” Her elbow nudged into her best friend’s back a couple times as her messing around soon received back up.

“Why don't we go and say thank you for helping you?" Sana giggled, not bothering to wait for an answer from anyone, much less Jihyo as she made her way over to you.

The sight of a bubbly woman darting towards you was enough to get you on alert. Sana was oblivious to the walls you’d put up, and the ease with which she knocked them down was alarming.

You guessed her charm had a lot to do with it, but recognizing her as one of Jihyo’s friends from earlier did most of the job. As soon as you did, your gaze was quick to find the rest of the group approaching you.

Among them stood Jihyo, who stayed silent as they expressed their appreciation for your assistance earlier in the day.

Half their words didn’t make it to your brain, which was crazy considering there wasn’t many. In the moment, you found Jihyo’s silence to be much more interesting and important than anything else.

Teasing words and drunk people needing guidance could wait, you had an opportunity to take.

Your eyes met, and the sparks you caught in them were undoubtedly fueled by each other’s lingering effects ghosting over your skin. It seemed you could communicate without uttering a word, but you still needed her friends to make anything of this miracle.

The two of you exchanged numbers amidst the playful teasing of her friends, their laughter and banter serving as a backdrop to this tentative yet promising connection.

As she struggled to type in the right numbers in the correct order in your phone, Jihyo could only thank the moon for hiding the blush burning into her cheeks at the thought of everything this could lead to…

—

Well, back to square one apparently. Although the year it took to get there brought some wonderful changes.

“I can’t believe I’m back here again…” You sighed in disbelief over the situation.

You knew history repeats itself or whatever, and sure the romance you’ve built with Jihyo was one for the books, but damn… Losing your friends twice at the same festival is just too much.

While the situation kind of annoyed you, Jihyo seemed amused by it, laughing as she turned to you after a quick scan of the area. “Y/n, stop whining, it’s like a full circle moment, isn’t that fun?”

“Okay, but how do you lose eight people at once, I don’t understand.” You whined even more, frustrated, but the feeling was weak compared to the smile that cracked through your façade when you met your girlfriend’s pretty eyes.

They had a mischievous twinkle in them as she suggested, “Okay, let’s use your useless height. Let me climb on your shoulders,” she tapped on them and you lowered yourself down. “I’ll see if they’re anywhere near.”

“If that’s what you wanted all along you could have just said so.” You mumbled. “Didn’t have to lose everyone…”

A playful grin tugged at the corner of her lips as you caught her shameless one. You couldn’t resist her infectious joy. It only took you a few seconds to secure Jihyo onto your shoulders, and you went on to navigate through the scattered sea of people, laughter blending with the distant music.

"See them yet?" You asked after a while of weaving through the crowd. Jihyo shook her head, her hair swaying with the motion. "No," she frowned, gaze sweeping over the people’s head in search of the same familiar faces.

Apparently you took that as a sign to let her down, and she found out when you suddenly stopped in your tracks, crouching down to make her step down safely. Key word was sudden; Jihyo was not ready for the drop and ended up reaching for your hair out of survival instinct, accidentally tugging on it.

That hurt, naturally, so you let out a half genuine whine and brought a soothing hand to the top of your head as she tried to do some damage control. She’d made it down unharmed, but at what cost.

“Oh, baby I’m sorry—” She laughed through her apology, and although you didn’t doubt her concern, her laughter did make the mocking come out on top.

Her hands tried to convince you otherwise, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You felt a rush of warmth as Jihyo's fingers brushed against your skin, her touch sending that same old shiver down your spine.

Despite her obvious amusement, there was an undeniable tenderness in her actions as she cupped your chin, her gaze scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, appreciating how close she was.

“You should have warned me, did it actually hurt?” She asked and you pouted your lips in hopes to get a healing kiss from her own.

“Kind of.” You said, but she only gave you a few mocking giggles, making you sulk even more.

“I’m really sorry.” Jihyo's laughter was infectious, filling the air with joy as she peppered kisses all over you. You could feel the pain fading with each one of them. Each touch of her lips against your head, your forehead, spilling over your temples…

Placebo effect or the healing power of love, whichever it was, it worked.

It was in moments like these, where you stood together, lost in your own little world, that you realized how grateful you were for her and the love and warmth she’d brought into your life.

“Well, there you are!” A familiar voice you recognized as Nayeon’s pulled your eyes off each other, finding the rest of the group trailing behind her. “We’ve been looking everywhere, stop wandering off!”

“Yeah, or just get a room. No one wants to see this.” Jeongyeon gestured to the two of you, waving her hand around in a way that pulled a laugh out of everyone.

You only shared an amused look with Jihyo, a silent understanding prompting the two of you to playfully stick your tongues out in response, brushing off the harmless teasing.

—

Jihyo is competitive.

You knew that by now and learned the hard way. The only reason you don’t cry when she renders you bankrupt in Monopoly is because you’re cut from the same cloth.

She’d found her match in more ways than one, and her friends were oh so delighted, taking any opportunity to turn games into a true and free show by putting the two of you on opposite teams.

“You don’t stand a chance.” You told Jihyo, grabbing the cornbags from the friendly festival-goers who’d put up the game and turned it into a side attraction.

Trashtalk isn’t the most loving kind of talk, but the two of you kept it playful and harmless, taking it as a form of bonding.

“I love you.” Jihyo answered, ignoring your words, and her knowing look startling you into a horrifying realisation.

How could you forget about the pre-game vows…

“Right, I love you too.” You smiled, quickly going over to her side in order to lay a shy kiss on her cheek. The gesture pulled a few aw’s and laughs from the small crowd around, but you could very well distinguish your friend’s teasing as you went back to your side.

The game started shortly after with Jihyo opening it. She never went easy on you, and neither did you, to everyone’s pleasure.

The way you bickered, trying to destabilize and distract each other in each round was a highlight of a lot of people’s night.

While you tried to stay civil, only sticking to playful taunts and harmless cheating claims, your girlfriend went as far as stealing one of your bags.

Honestly you weren’t mad she did it, you were only mad you didn’t do it first because the point she made with it was counted by the appointed referee, along with the crowd’s approval.

It was everything but fairplay, but it was a good time. A memory you’d cherish for a long time.

“Congratulations, Hyo.” You shook her hand and she chuckled at you formal greeting. “I hope you know I let you win.”

Her laugh resonated amidst people’s cheers and playful protests from the ones who’d been cheering for you.

The smile on your face stuck around even when she landed a playful swat on your shoulder. If it weren’t her you’d be sulking like never before. She was the only one you’d be glad to lose against.

—

The chaotic search earlier didn’t teach you anything. That same evening you wandered off again, although this time you did at least agree on a place to meet back at.

As the night slowly settled in the sky, moon and stars rising to offer a gentle lighting support to the ones the festival offered, the two of you embarked on a stroll around the grounds you were still familiar with somehow.

Hands clinging to the other, fingers intertwined and shared giggles marked the way you’d remember the moment.

After a while, you walked into a quieter, more secluded area where nature seemed to hush the lively music still blasting from the stages afar.

The playful twinkle in your eye was hard to miss and stay indifferent to for Jihyo as you sat down, arms wide open and inviting.

You recognized the grin she sent you before ignoring the arms she was actually dying to feel around her. She went to sit next to you instead, prompting your shoulders to sink down with your arms.

“Why are you so mean to me today…” You sighed, wonder dramatically evident on tour face.

Jihyo chuckled, a soothing sound that brought more comfort to the bubble you were immersing yourselves in. “I’m not mean, you just made it really easy for me to tease you,” she shrugged, eyes wiping her nonchalant words with the affection they held for you.

Your smile returned when she carried herself into your lap shortly after, shifting herself to comfortably rest her back against your chest.

A quiet conversation eased itself between the two of you, soft and shy words reminiscent of the path you’d shared together so far as you mindlessly cuddled her; your gentle swaying a soothing rhythm.

“Do you remember when we met here?” Your voice sounded a little more nostalgic than you meant as you spoke.

Jihyo’s gaze softened on the flowers standing in the grass she was picking at. “Of course I do. It was only a year ago.”

“Feels longer, though, no?” You asked, wondering if she felt the same for a few seconds. The bond you’d developed was so strong, sometimes you forgot it was only your 8th month together coming up.

Everything was still so fresh, yet intense in the most perfect way. You could only hope she was on the same page.

“It does.” She admitted quietly. “It’s a little scary to think about sometimes.”

You recognized the nerves in the small laugh she let out, and you focused on softening the patterns your fingers caressed over her upper arm as she continued. “I mean… I was hopeful when I gave you my number, but I really didn’t think it’d amount to anything close to what we have.”

A small smile tugged at your lips upon hearing her words. It was enough reassurance for your heart. “You know, I never told you this, but… I thought this then and I think it now; I’m so glad you got lost that day.”

Her giggles sounded amazing breaking the peace and quiet you were getting used to, and she suddenly sat up to look at you in an amused kind of disbelief.

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, but you looked so pretty, and your smile almost made me faint; what else was I supposed to think?”

“Really?” She said slyly, poking at your chest. “What else happened?”

“Well, there’s not much. We barely spoke and acknowledged each other for like ten minutes tops.” You reminded, and the truth only made her roll her eyes before bringing you in for a kiss.

Her sudden impulse led you to share a quick, tender kiss, something you almost considered a moment of weakness when you pulled away on instinct, expecting the girls’ banter and teasing.

You could only laugh at each other when you realized you were alone. Happiness bubbled between the two of you, pushing Jihyo to draw you back into a sweet, deeper kiss.

It didn’t last long though, as your embrace soon got interrupted by the sudden burst of fireworks further away.

Right, that’s what you’d wandered off for this time.

[gfmima]

c. 文豪ストレイドッグス BEAST | bsd BEAST + f!reader t. how he deals with you when you’re jealous

akutagawa leans back in his armchair, the room immersed in a soft, amber hue from the floor lamp; thin fingers trace over the spine of the novel in his hand, absentmindedly feeling the embossed letters under his touch. the normally stern expression on his face bore a hint of frustration as he sent a covert glance in your direction.

the tension in the air was unmistakable — plain to see, hard to dismiss — an unspoken rift between the two of you. what did he do? he asked for tea, a roundabout way of extending an olive branch.

alas, what he got was your wordless indifference, a pointed silence that stretched like an invisible barrier.

he can’t help but recall the catalyst for your weird behavior. honestly, he can’t fathom what you wanted him to do? what you wanted from him? in his mind, you were acting without reason.

at the end of the day, he was in a relationship with you. why must he assuage your concerns about higuchi’s foolish infatuation with him when it had been set in stone he loves you, not her? he can admit he could’ve handled it better for your sake, however, what had been said was said and there was no changing it.

now, as he sat there, he can’t deny that it did matter, even a teensy-weeny bit, and he had a gnawing feeling that he had underestimated the depth of your emotions.

these four walls closed in on him, slowly it compelled him to do something — hell, say anything! he let his stoicism to get the best of him, failing his duty as your boyfriend to be sensitive about the hurt he caused. a sigh escapes his lips…

“i said, can you brew me some tea?” akutagawa tried to ask once more, as he turns a page in his novel. though his gaze remains on the first line of dialogue, he didn’t digest a word; his mind wanders elsewhere.

“why don’t you ask your other girlfriend instead? she always looks very happy to help you.” and continue to work on your laptop screen.

your response, though expected, stung nonetheless. a slick retort delivered without even a glimpse towards him.

the air felt increasingly stifling as the silence persisted, only disturbed by the sound of your fingers on the keyboard. a growing sense of unease casts a shadow over him, he didn’t foresee this level of confrontation, especially from you of all people.

“exactly how long do you intend to behave this way?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” your reply catches him off guard, “how else do you expect me to behave? how would you feel if there was another man interested in me? and i do nothing to prevent it?”

the atmosphere grew colder and colder by the second as he contemplates. he struggles to articulate his feelings to you, his quietude serving as an admission of sorts.

“do you see why i’m upset, ryūnosuke?” your parting words landed on him like a sudden hit to the chest.

he grumbles, “you’re so annoying…”

akutagawa hooks his foot around your ankle, a tiny gesture for reconciliation, albeit a reluctant one. with arms crossed, he averts his gaze, the environment overwrought with unresolved emotions.

“wow, so i’m annoying, huh? you’re the one who can’t even acknowledge my feelings!” your tone drips with irritation as you finally look up to meet his eyes, and for a moment, you could see a hint of exasperation in his irises.

“use your brain — it’s not as if i asked her to like me!”

“but you could make it clear where your heart lies!”

the air fell into an uncomfortable silence yet again, neither one willing to yield. it was frustrating to be caught in a standoff with the man you love, but your jealousy had taken over and you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

your boyfriend utters what you can assume to be a string of obscenities under his breath, as his shoulders collapse. “fine.” he concedes, “i’ll speak to her and make it clear that we’re very much together.”

you raise a brow.

you genuinely didn’t expect him to make the first move and relent. normally, you’d have to be the bigger person and let him have the last say, which often resulted in very late night talks with your friends.

“really? you will?”

he nods. “if that’s what it takes to end your childish worries, then so be it. i’ll tell her.”

the playful roll of your eyes couldn’t hide the way your heart swelled with affection for him. despite his gruff exterior, he cares about your feelings! you uncross your arms, reaching out to place your hand gently on his cheek.

“thank you, ryūnosuke.”

“HA, YOU’RE JEALOUS!” ranpo points a rather accusatory finger, reveling in the satisfaction of unraveling the mystery behind your peculiar behavior in recent days.

you struggle to find a response; your eyes narrow under the subdued lighting of the interrogation room where he cornered you. with every blink, the scene in front of you begins to develop: your dear boyfriend casually seated, his arms behind his head, and a triumphant smirk adorned his lips.

he meets your gaze with unmistakable pride.

“you’re delusional,” you scoff, your own arms crossed, and push yourself away to create a bit of distance between you two.

his eyes lock onto yours, a knowing familiarity etched into his dark irises; it was as if he was unraveling your expression layer by layer. you would’ve found it endearing if you weren’t carried from your desk in the midst of typing a report for kunikida out of the blue, just to be questioned like a homicide suspect.

“deflection is a common sign of jealousy~! t’s best to save yourself the time and embarrassment, and admit it: you’re jealous,” he dares say, as if it were a noteworthy detail that merits documentation.

“hmph!”

your eye twitches.

though seemingly at ease, ranpo was shaken. he knew you had a tendency to go silent whenever you were upset with him. he needs to tread carefully, he cannot undergo another hour of the silent treatment — neither can the agency! god forbid you take a break after seeing him get circled by “fans of his work.”

it was maddening to see a man who boasts as the “world’s greatest detective” stay oblivious while women shamelessly throw themselves at him.

the tilt of his head gives him an air of immaturity. “don’t get upset, i was only teasing!”

“…”

these four walls, adorned with its stale furniture and draped in shadows, became a backdrop for the unfolding drama. the only sounds heard were the whines of his chair as he adjusts his position, plus the light rustle of your coat as you shift uncomfortably to refrain making eye contact with him.

leaning forward, he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, arm prop on the table as he sighs rather dramatically. you were persistent, lips sealed tightly, refusing to say a word.

this was his (actual) last resort.

“do you want me to grovel? is that it?” his patience wears thin. “fine.” standing abruptly, you frown, expecting him to leave the room... however, to your shock, he kneels before you.

“huh, ranpo?!” you shriek, “what are you doing?! the floor is dirty! d’you even know when was the last time they cleaned this room? if they even clean it at all!”

he dismisses your concern. “do you forgive me? for being, uh… dense? i didn’t mean it, i swear!” his voice, a playful tune in the otherwise strained moment, holds a sincerity that surprises you.

“fine.” without hesitation, you gave him a firm nod, urging him to stand and to prevent further grime on his slacks.

ranpo wore a dumb grin on his face, stupid-looking yet very charming, effortlessly drawing a smile from you, the tension in your shoulders giving way. “what?”

fingers entwined with yours, he tugs you forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “it’s nothing, you’re cute when you get jealous.”

[anonymous-dentist]

A Very Long qRoier Theory

Okay so here's what I actually think, and TRUST THE PROCESS OKAY:

I think that Roier really was kidnapped by the Federation, but I don't think that he was taken because he was looking for Cellbit strictly because the Feds themselves are actually more or less actively searching for the missing islanders and hoping for their return so they can continue the murder investigation. Despite the terrible things going on, the Feds legitimately want all their islanders/lab rats back on the island so they can continue with whatever experiment they're holding. Every time Cucurucho has held a meeting recently, it's asked about the status of the missing islanders, so it really wouldn't make sense for it or the Feds as a whole to punish their one single lead in the case when every actual Federation agent assigned to the case has either come up with nothing or disappeared entirely.

Nah, I think Roier was taken because he was vulnerable and because the Feds figured nobody would've missed him. They know that he isn't really super close with anybody on the island but Cellbit, and they know that he's been actively pushing people away for a while now- basically since Bobby's death, and moreso since his return from Purgatory.

Looking at the QSMP channel's streams, particularly Elena's, we know that the Feds seem to be a pharmaceutical company. They, simply speaking, make drugs. Look at the "happy pills" that Elena helped create, this is what the Feds do.

Roier mentioned that he was drugged. He never said that they stopped drugging him. I think he's still being drugged and that he isn't a rat- not a literal one, anyway.

I think that Roier is still under the effects of the drugs he's being given because he is currently a test subject. He's a lab rat.... at the moment, anyway.

More on that later.

Do I have any evidence for this? Not really, but also some things just didn't add up cinematically. Like, okay, go back and watch everything from after when Roier 'wakes up' in the dungeon:

Everything's got this weird otherworldly fuzziness and glow to it. It's almost dreamlike in a way. Only the focus of the world is, well, in focus. The rest is blurred like a bad 3D movie:

There are all these weird cuts and jumps, too, like 11:16 when we suddenly cut to black for a few moments as Roier goes down the hallway, or 12:13 when we smash cut to the rat and 12:16 when we cut to Cucurucho. It's super sudden and jarring and it sets up a real nice feeling of unease (shoutout to ccRoier, this is SPECTACULAR)

And the music, okay, the background music is exactly the kind of shit you'd hear in a 'Dreamcore Music Video' on YouTube. It's super Backrooms, super weird esoteric vibes, and that's very on purpose.

None of this is real, and "Doied" is the final proof because like. He isn't real lol, if he's real then so is Roger, and the only times either of them front are when Roier's goofing around or when he's extremely homicidal (we saw Roger pretty recently, actually, back in October when he said that Cellbit killing everyone might be a good thing, actually.) Doied isn't like Abueloier or Melissa, he's one of Roier's 'alters', and he's a bit of a freak lol

I think about everyone can agree that this whole 'Ratoier' thing is a hallucination, but then we have to think, huh, what the hell does any of this mean?

First, we gotta follow the whole 'Roier is Currently Super Drugged' thing, because he is. He literally is. If he's not, well, laugh at me when the next tape comes out.

Roier is drugged by the Feds right now probably to test a new drug, possibly a drug meant to- just like the Happy Pills- make people happy again. In this case, however, I think that the pills may actually have something to do with memories, particularly the same memory retrieval stuff the Resistance did to Bagi. Because, well.

I want to go back to the rat, and I want to go back to Doied, because this stream actually implied a LOT about qRoier's character.

The thing about Doied is that he's the manifestation of Roier's "Um, actually!" Nerd Emoji self. He's a nerd. He's a loser with glasses and a nasty attitude.

Doied, in the dream, is a scientist. Doied, in the dream, performed horrible, inhumane experiments for the Federation. He put Roier's brain into a rat's, a lab rat's.

Once a long, long time ago in August, Roier quietly came to the realization that maybe he has a past history with the Federation and that's why Osito Bimbo has always been so weird about him- it basically had a crush on him for the first week or so of the island, and it still seems to, and he is still the only one outside of Foolish the Federation Employee to be addressed directly by his train ticket number: 0037. He brought up the possibility of being a Federation worker in the past to Cellbit, who brushed it off and said that he wouldn't care because he's a worker, too, technically, but what if it isn't a possibility?

We've always wondered how Federation workers end up the way they do. Why are they all the exact same type of bear? Why does only Cucurucho get to have a face and a voice? Why do they all have human minds and emotions? Why are they all dedicated to the Federation?

Easy. Because maybe they were people before, just like how Bagi and several other islanders think they are. But maybe someone put their brains inside of an animal's body- or, at least, inside of a worker's body, God only knows if they were actual polar bears at some point. Somebody had to help come up with that technology, and maybe it's the guy who managed to build an entire computer and radio-satellite setup over the span of about a week in his goddamn backyard without anybody knowing about it.

Roier has always had some weird connection with the Federation. He's the only civilian islander to ever be addressed by his ticket number, and later we find out that Foolish's ticket number- 0039- is his Federation Employee ID Number- W0039. He was Osito Bimbo's favorite for the first week on the island to the point of Osito just giving him whatever he wanted. He and Jaiden were paired up for the Egg Event (something that was intentional, btw, admin confirmed), and it's later revealed that Jaiden has a past with the Federation regarding the SMILE Units (aka Osito Bimbo and Cucurucho and the new guys.) The "Gods" (aka the admins) will happily follow him around and revive him when he's alone and strike him with lightning when asked and give him dirt and whatever. He managed to get someone onto the island from off of the island, Abueloier, and Abueloier was saved from the brink of death by the Federation in the Federation's hospital. His literal pet dog is a Federation employee. He got to name Jorgito the IV Drip.

Doied put someone's brain into the body of a rat, and Doied is Roier's nerd self.

I think that Roier may, in fact, have a past history with the Federation, and that it isn't because his grandfather worked/works for them. Maybe Roier did, just like he suspected months ago, and maybe he did some really bad things. But they were excused at the time because the people being converted into workers were bad people who made mistakes. Roier made the mistake of breaking the rules trying to connect with Cellbit, and so he got turned into a rat. There's been a functional prison on the island for long enough for it to be partially abandoned (see: Tazercraft Prison Stream.) Walter Bob was held there, possibly because he was part of the Resistance, or possibly because he wasn't done cooking yet.

Roier has always been a man of justice. When people do bad things, they get punished, and then things can go back to normal. He ruined Quackity's life. He wanted Slime to be properly punished for killing Tilin and he threatened to murder him when he tried threatening the kids. He built an entire torture dungeon in his basement for the explicit purpose of torturing Spreen to the point of death repeatedly and possibly for the rest of Spreen's miserable life. Cucurucho took Bobby away, and Roier said that the Federation would regret putting and keeping him on the island. Pozolito the Capybara blew Cellbit up, and Roier has literally tried killing every Capybara he's seen since. The Federation screwed with his family and with himself, and Roier is more than happy to join Cellbit in massacring the entire Federation.

He's a man of justice, but not of morals. He's a ruthless killer when it comes down to it, and he only shows regret when it comes to his husband's deaths during Purgatory. He doesn't fight unless he has to, but he's been thinking about killing everyone on the island since the first week of the server when he was betrayed. But, when it comes down to it, he doesn't actually want to hurt anyone he cares about. It's why Purgatory fucked him up so much.

His moral alignment actually matches up pretty well with several other Federation workers'- particularly workers like Elena and Fred who are nice but are willing to do terrible things in the name of their cause. The difference here is that Roier has had the same privilege that workers like Walter Bob and Ron got: he got a chance to socialize.

He doesn't have memories from before the island, but he remembers enough about his childhood to be a little suspicious.

But what if these drug-induced hallucinations are actually hints to Roier's backstory? What if it wasn't Doied running all these terrible experiments for the Federation, but it was Roier? Just a guy acting under the belief that he was making the world a better place, punishing criminals (aka rule breakers) while helping the Federation's cause: finding true happiness and spreading it to the world.

The Eye said that everybody in Purgatory was a sinner, and maybe Roier's sin was some mad scientist bullshit.

The dream today, Tape 1, had Roier being punished. Maybe it's because that's what he did as a scientist to new employees, or maybe it's because of his own guilt over everything he's done; remember, the reason he stopped smiling in Purgatory wasn't because he was killing his friends (because he's thought about killing his friends for a VERY long time), but it was because he killed Cellbit, and then it was because he left Cellbit behind to die. That's why the dream specified Cellbit's lost signal and not, say, Jaiden's, and it's why all the cool cinematic landscape shots focused on either Roier himself or Cellbit.

If my prediction is correct, Tape 2 would have Roger instead of Doied. So we'll see what happens then, I guess. Roger, who represents Roier's anger and his various homicidal tendencies.

Fit said that everybody was on the island for a reason, and Roier has been cooking for a long time now. Maybe qRoier is just like qJaiden: a former Federation associate.

TLDR; qRoier is currently hallucinating due to him being a Federation lab rat. His drug-induced dreams may be implying that Roier has a past within the Federation as a scientist completing the same experiments that "Doied" did in the dream to Roier.

But that's just a theory, a Game Theory. Thank you for reading.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hello! Are your requests open??? If so, I loved your Alastor fics so much that I just had to pop in your inbox!! 😭 Can I request a Husband!Alastor and Wife!reader with a little girl? Like 2, 3, 4? Just really young. The child is like very unexpected but loved otherwise, and she is staying at the Hazbin Hotel with her parents. OKAY, what about angst? The people of the hotel are so used to seeing the little girl run around that they got confused when they don't. They assumed that she was with her parents but reader and Alastor assumed that she was with them 😭😭 Summarized, she gets kidnapped. What would happen?

A/N: I love this concept so much, I don’t believe I really write Husband Alastor, it’s more Wife reader usually, but I really love this!! Thank you so much for your request!!! I decided to make the child a girl, since I feel like Alastor would be a good girl dad, so expect some of that too!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Little one

The Hazbin Hotel was usually a whirlwind of chaos, a place where demonic beings and lost souls roamed freely. Yet amidst the clamor and confusion, a beacon of innocence shone brightly: a young girl, no older than three, who had unexpectedly entered the lives of Alastor and Y/N.

The little girl, with her wide eyes and boundless energy, had become a cherished presence in the hotel. She brought an unusual warmth to the cold halls and a sense of hope that had not been felt in the hotel before. Alastor, the ever-controversial Radio Demon, and Y/N, his loving and fiercely protective spouse, found solace in their role as parents. Their daughter was their most precious treasure, a gift they had learned to cherish despite the unpredictable nature of their surroundings.

On a particularly busy day, as the Hazbin Hotel bustled with its usual activity, the little girl’s absence went unnoticed. She had been a constant sight in the corridors, her laughter ringing out amid the chaos. But today, she was missing.

Alastor was in his office, engaged in some arcane task. Y/N was handling various hotel matters when a sudden unease gripped them. Y/N’s eyes darted around the hotel, searching for the familiar sight of their daughter.

“Alastor,” Y/N called out, their voice laced with concern. “Have you seen our little one? I haven’t seen her all day.”

Alastor glanced up from his work, his usual calm demeanor momentarily shifting to confusion. “No, I haven’t. I assumed she was with you or the staff.”

A sinking feeling settled in Y/N’s stomach. “I thought she was with you. This isn’t like her.”

The realization that their daughter was missing hit them both like a thunderclap. Panic set in as they started a frantic search. Alastor’s normally composed exterior cracked as he began shouting orders.

“Where is she?” Alastor roared, his voice echoing through the hotel. “Everyone, check every corner, every room. She can’t be far!”

Y/N, their heart racing, joined the search with equal urgency. They shouted their daughter’s name as they moved through the hotel’s labyrinthine corridors, but the response was only silence.

Hours passed, and the tension in the hotel grew palpable. The staff and residents, now fully aware of the gravity of the situation, joined the search, their faces marked by anxiety.

“Have you found anything?” Y/N asked one of the staff, their voice trembling.

“No, nothing yet,” the staff member replied, their own worry evident. “We’re checking every possible place.”

As time dragged on, it became clear that their daughter had been taken. Alastor’s usually sharp features were etched with a mix of fear and guilt. Y/N’s eyes were red from worry, and they struggled to hold back tears.

“This is our fault,” Y/N said, their voice breaking. “We should have been more careful.”

Alastor placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder, his own emotions barely contained. “We’ll find her. We must. We can’t let this go.”

Desperation drove them to follow every lead, questioning anyone and everyone who might have seen something. Their efforts led them to a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of the hotel’s territory. Alastor and Y/N, accompanied by a small group of hotel staff, stormed the warehouse with a mix of determination and trepidation.

The confrontation with the kidnapper was fierce and chaotic. Amid the struggle, Y/N spotted their daughter, tied up but unharmed. Relief flooded over them as they quickly untied the child.

“Mommy! Daddy!” the little girl cried, clinging to Y/N. “I was so scared!”

Y/N held her tightly, tears streaming down their face. “We’re here, sweetie. We’re so sorry.”

Alastor, though visibly shaken, maintained his composure as he dealt with the kidnapper. “You will pay for this,” he said, his voice cold and threatening.

After the confrontation, the family returned to the hotel, the little girl safely in their arms. The relief was overwhelming, but the emotional toll was evident. The once lively and cheerful atmosphere of the hotel was now subdued, filled with a quiet solemnity.

Later that night, after the excitement had died down, Y/N and Alastor sat in their room, their daughter sleeping soundly in a crib nearby. The weight of the day hung heavily over them.

Y/N sighed, their voice hoarse from the earlier shouting and crying. “I still can’t believe we let this happen. I thought we were being so careful.”

Alastor, his usual confident demeanor softened by the ordeal, looked at Y/N with a mixture of guilt and determination. “We both thought she was safe. We made a mistake, but she’s back now, and she’s safe. That’s what matters.”

Y/N looked over at their daughter, who was peacefully sleeping. “I’m just so relieved she’s okay. I can’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened to her.”

Alastor reached out, gently taking Y/N’s hand. “Neither can I. But we need to focus on what we can do now. We’ll be more vigilant. We’ll make sure she’s always protected.”

Y/N nodded, their eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you for being strong today. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

Alastor squeezed Y/N’s hand reassuringly. “We’re in this together. We always will be.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts. The chaos of the day had left its mark, but amidst the turmoil, there was a renewed sense of resolve. They knew that they had each other, and that was what would help them move forward.

As they looked over at their sleeping daughter, they both silently vowed to cherish every moment and to protect their family with everything they had. The Hazbin Hotel had been a place of chaos and fear, but it was also a place where love and resilience would always prevail.

[sinisteryanderescribe]

Hello hello I've been wondering what would Nurse Reader reaction if she saw Fool's gold?

Like face to face not a hallucination

A Broken Man

…………………………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………………………….

When you encounter Norton in his darker form, your reaction would likely be one of shock, fear, confusion and possibly unease. Norton's transformation would present a stark contrast to his previous appearance, causing you to feel unsettled and apprehensive. You might experience a sense of betrayal or confusion, as you would struggle to reconcile the familiar character of Norton with his newfound monstrous nature. Depending on what he does and says, your emotional response could range from sadness & sympathy for Norton's plight to a heightened sense of tension and anticipation, as you would wonder how in the world he got in this situation or who hurt him. Moreover your actions would be to relax your panicked feelings and try to approach to comfort him and bring him back to his senses.

In the fading light of dusk, you find yourself running through a dense, burned out forest after patching up Orpheus, he was heavily injured almost as if someone dug pickaxe in his shoulder, the air thick with an otherworldly stillness. As you navigate the winding paths, a sense of melancholy weighs heavy on your heart, you haven’t seen Norton since yesterday…

Lost in thought, you stumble upon a secluded clearing adorned with a wide firepit. As you approach to get some warmth, heavy thudding caught your attention. your eyes widen in disbelief at the sight before you. Emerging from behind a wall was the hunter…who looked strangely familiar…

It couldn’t be right?

Caught off guard, a rush of emotions floods through you, Your heart aches at the sight of the creature who resembles the stubborn man under your care…Norton's plight, the anguish in his eyes mirroring the turmoil within your own soul. Despite the fear and unease that threaten to overtake you, the depth of your feelings for Norton refuses to waver.

Gathering your resolve, you step forward, your every movement fueled by a potent mix of angst and unwavering affection. As you draw near, you reach out to him, offering a reassuring touch, though he did not move…he seemed to be confused and….angry…

As you reach out to Norton, your heart racing with a mix of trepidation, you are met with a moment of hesitation in his haunted eyes. A flicker of surprise dances across his distorted features, and for a fleeting instant, the anguish etched into his countenance softens as he registers your unwavering presence.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Norton's monstrous form begins to relax, his towering figure slumping almost imperceptibly as the weight of your touch and the depth of your emotions wash over him. In that fragile moment, a hint of vulnerability pierces through him, and you sense the fear; confusion in his eye

“ Norton…”

He doesn’t reply but only continues to watch you.

As your hand makes contact with his, a tremor passes through Norton, his monstrous facade flickering in response to the warmth of your touch. The anguish in his eyes softens, and a fragile sense of calm settles over the clearing. It’s much bigger than yours and very hard but soft at the same time.

With each passing moment, you offer quiet words of solace, your whispers carrying the weight of your emotions, weaving a fragile tapestry of comfort and understanding. Your steadfast presence becomes a tether for Norton, grounding him amidst the tempest of his affliction.

Norton slowly lowers down and Sits on the ground, grabbing you by the waist causing you to gasp slightly at the sudden touch, and held you in place infront of him, probably trying to process the situation. You seem familiar…and your smell is quite soft and comforting.

…too comforting

You let him do as he pleased. No wonder what might happen if you anger him.

you find a wellspring of courage and continue your fingertips along Norton's stiff form, your touch soft and deliberate, Starting from his arms, you run your hands along the rocky skin, your touch a gentle caress that seeks to soothe the rages within him. As your hands trail upward, you feel the weight of his affliction, yet your resolve remains unshaken,

Slowly, your touch finds its way to his shoulders where his flesh was slightly warm, rubbing and massaging the tension in his body. Norton would slip out a quiet sigh here and there. Seems like he’s enjoying it.

Gently, your hands find their way to his chest, which made him grunt slightly, yet never made a move to stop you from caressing his dull skin.

Finally, your touch finds its way to his neck running your fingers along his pulse; reaching his ears giving them a little attending before going to his face, your fingers tracing the haunting contours with a delicate reverence. Cubbing his cheek, grazing your thumb in small shapes. You couldn’t help but pinch them. Giggling slightly as you do so.

Norton however tugged your waist, which made you yelp, cutting off your cooing. His grip tightening a little too hard for your liking. A growl warning you to not get too carried away.

You shiver slightly taking in his form again, your gaze meets his; he remains still, eyes locked with yours. Trying to lighten up the mood you reach up to play with his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks. As your fingers weave through his hair, a subtle shift in the air catches your attention, and you feel Norton draw closer, his presence a tangible weight against your skin. A nervous flutter stirs within you as he leans in, his breath warm against your neck as he takes in the unfamiliar scent that surrounds you.

Dragging his cold nose across the skin of your neck…Norton growls.

There’s a sent of another man.

A familiar one

And he doesn’t like that one…

[mommageto]

Domestic Hashira: Part 3 (Himejima x Reader)

Title: Domestic Hashira Chapter 3 (Himejima x Reader)

Word Count: 1716  words

Description: (Y/n) and Gyomei navigating the unfamiliar territory of an arranged marriage. 

Part 2

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The whole day, you and Himejima did not speak a word to each other.  You shared lunch together and both of you spent the rest of the afternoon with your usual duties and Himejima training hard as ever. It only felt like a day, but you did not want to be with Himejima like this. It was awkward, peculiar, and uncomfortable. You missed your husband.

After your bath, you stepped outside the bathroom to the changing area to change into your sleepwear. you were startled by a large, familiar form in the corner. Himejima was changing there, his movements muffled by the fabric. To your surprise, this caused you to jump and let out a small scream. Gyomei was taken aback. "I apologize, (y/n). I didn't realize you were coming in," he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. 

You instinctively covered yourself, but then realized the absurdity of your action. After all, Himejima was blind and already partially clothed. The giant man quickly left the room with his robe in his arms. You couldn’t help, but wonder how much he has to avoid you. This did not help with how you feel, but only tested your insecurities. 

It wasn’t long until you had to be in a position of discomfort because of your current situation. Spending the night sleeping beside Gyomei while a tense atmosphere lingered between you. This made you feel uneasy, so you decided to pack up your futons and sleep in the other room. It feels heavy to be sleeping beside him, with everything that’s going on. 

Gyomei entered the room to sense you packing your futons. Though Himejima was blind, he could figuratively read the room as he could hear you putting away your beddings. Even so, he didn’t assume. Instead he asks you, “(Y/n), what are you doing?”

You remained silent for a moment, not answering him immediately. The feeling of speaking feels weird. It’s like there is a lump in your throat trying to hold you back from speaking with him. “(Y/n),” he called out again.

“I'm sleeping in the other room,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. The towering man beside you froze.

“Can we please talk about what happened?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “Gyomei, do you still want me to be your wife?” you countered, your question a direct challenge. He was taken aback by your sudden inquiry. 

“Yes, I do want you to be my wife, (y/n),” he responded, his voice firm.

You felt perplexed even if you heard Himejima's voice to admit that he still feels that way for you. An itch you couldn’t scratch is why he would go to certain extent to avoid you at those hours. It was your first argument as a married couple, but you didn’t understand Gyomei’s actions recently. That night made you feel unloved by him and your insecurities got the best of you. It wasn’t about the action of him refusing you, but thinking about how he could show you that much love then quickly get tired of you. “Then, I don't understand,” you said, your tone growing more agitated. “What is it that's wrong with me?”

“No, nothing is wrong with you–”

“Then why? I feel so unloved, Gyomei. You make me feel like I’m not your wife.” Your voice broked as you confessed your feelings to him. Gyomei with all his heightened senses tried his best to gauge how you felt emotionally. However, you felt hurt so much that you walked out with haste. 

As you stepped outside, a chilling breeze swept through the air. You shivered, not just from the cold, but from the sense of unease that had taken hold of you. You ran away without thinking of anything, but just to get away from everything until you hear the sound of the waterfall where you saw Gyomei train. You stopped to catch your breath. Suddenly, a dark figure emerged from the shadows, its eyes glowing with an eerie light.

Panic surged through you as the demon lunged towards you. You screamed, your heart pounding in your chest. Trembling with fear that was quite familiar–the night you lost your parents. With your memories flashing from that event, it did not exactly help you, but added torment with your fear. You slowly try to walk away as the demon was observing how it could feast on you. It was hopeless as you have no defense against him. Just as it seemed you were about to be devoured, Himejima burst out of the forest, his weapon drawn.

With a fierce cry, he engaged the demon in battle. The clash of steel echoed through the night as they fought. You watched in horror, your fear turning to relief as Himejima managed to strike a fatal blow. The demon disappeared from your sight. Exhausted and relieved, Himejima turned to you. He could sense how afraid you were, he wiped the smear of blood that splashed on your face and put away the strands of your hair that were covering your face. You clung to him, your body trembling and eyes are tired from the whole incident that happened throughout the night. Himejima carried your body, bridal style. 

On the way home, your hand was gripping on Gyomei’s clothing, the fear of the horror you witnessed still lingered on your mind. As that reminded you of the night your parents were taken away from you. That night with your parents was the last time you ever encountered an attack and did not expect to see more of it.

It was not long until both of you returned to your house safely. Your eyes were barely open, you could feel Himejima placing you gently on a soft futon. “Gyomei,” you whispered his name. Thus, with the comfort the futon gave you, your eyes gave up, and you slept.

You were awakened by the warm feeling from a huge boulder-like form. There is a slight pain in your head that didn’t help much with your sight. A hot breath can be felt on top of your head. You try to collect yourself to understand the situation around you. As your eyes open, you can clearly see the situation you were in. The room was lit up with the sun’s morning rays. Himejima’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as his body faces you. You noticed that he did not have that rumbling voice as usual whenever he sleeps. You moved your head up to take a closer look at him and observe his face. He was sleeping peacefully. Your hand cupped his face and your thumb rubbed his cheek.

You cannot help, but wonder how precious your husband was. The memories of the night were still fresh, though you felt differently. Last night, you were attacked by a demon and that made you recollect the memories of your late parents. The fear of last night was not mainly from the demon attack, but you realized that much of your fear comes from the thought of losing someone you love–Gyomei. You are aware that your situation with your husband has not yet been resolved, but that’s barely an enigma for you to face compared to losing your beloved husband at all. 

Himejima was slowly waking himself up from his slumber. He moved slightly and pulled you into a tight embrace which caused you to let out a small utter cry of pain, “Ow.” With the sound of your voice, Himejima noticed that you were awake. 

“(Y/n),” he called your name and tried to pull his arms away from you. “I apologize, I hope I didn’t cause you any harm.”

“A little, but not at all,” you told him and let out a chuckle.

Himejima did not speak a word after that as he was afraid that he might say the wrong words or do more damage from everything. Your eyes stared at him and you could see the nervousness on his face. So, you started the conversation with him to clear the air up. 

“Gyomei–”

Before you could utter a word or so, you were cut off by Himejima. “(Y/n), I apologize for the way I made you feel. I didn’t mean to push you away like that.” Your eyes lit up at his words, you were silent for a while but you still wanted to understand him even more.

“It was hard for me to understand everything that night with the two of us. I thought you did not want any part of me anymore,” you confessed.

The guilt was plain on the gentle giant's face as you spoke. He seemed worried about your well-being. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. If anything, it was my mistake to push you away. I want to be with you, (y/n). I was just not accustomed to things like that and I was afraid that if we ever reached that point, I would be able to hurt you in that.” 

As you listened to his words, a wave of relief washed over you. His vulnerability and honesty were something you hadn't expected. You realized that his fear of hurting you was rooted in his own insecurities and past experiences.

“Gyomei, I understand you. I want to be with you too. I want to experience everything with you in sickness and in health, in every pain, in every happiness, in every feeling there is. I hope you understand how I feel about you.“ A curve from the Stone Hashira’s face has formed and you can tell by his expression that it is genuine.  

“Thank you. I’m glad that we talked about this,” he said as he reached out to hold your hand. You felt a deep connection forming between you. It was clear that your relationship was taking a significant step forward. Gyomei planted a kiss on your forehead and you tickled the side of his torso which caused him to jerk a little and laugh.

This was another step forward for your relationship with Gyomei, a cathartic release of shared pain that forged a deeper bond between you as husband and wife. As you opened up to each other, a newfound understanding and empathy bloomed, strengthening the fabric of your relationship.

This story will have a Part 4

[planet-marz1]

The Less I Know The Better

Summary: Joel returns home with a heartbreaking confession Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Word Count: ~1.7k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, angst no happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly

A/N: After an eternity, I've finally finished my first little fic. A huge thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for always being my biggest cheerleader & supporter when it comes to writing 💜 and to @kajashe & @hyzer34 for beta reading this for me!

| part ii | series masterlist | main masterlist | follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

The dim light from a single lamp flickered in the living room of your modest home in Jackson, Wyoming, casting long shadows on the walls. The walls seemed to embrace you as you lay on the couch, wrapped in a worn quilt. The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the passing time. You stirred on the couch, blinking away sleep, your eyes searching for any sign of Joel’s return.

The door creaked open, the sound echoing through the silent house, announcing Joel's late arrival. You shifted on the couch, your eyes squinting against the sudden intrusion of light.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, “Joel?” you called out, your voice laced with a mix of concern and fatigue.

There’s no response. You pushed yourself up, the quilt slipping off your shoulders, and a chill crept down your spine. “Joel,” you call out again softly, your voice tinged with concern and exhaustion.

Joel steps in, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the moon outside. His shoulders slumped, a weariness etched into his face that you hadn't seen before. The air in the room seemed charged with an unspoken tension as he kicked off his boots, the heavy thud echoing in the quiet space.

His gaze met yours, and something in his eyes seemed distant, a flicker of guilt that you couldn't quite place. There was a hesitance in his movements, a weight that hung in the air. “Hey,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he shuffled toward the kitchen.

You studied him, noticing the subtle changes in his demeanor. The air in the room felt thick with unspoken words, a tension that had never been there before. “Where were you?” you asked, your words gentle but laced with a hint of worry.

Joel hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Just out,” he replied vaguely, avoiding the specifics.

A knot tightened in your stomach. The suspicion that had been gnawing at the edges of your consciousness intensified. “Joel, you've been different lately,” you admitted, your voice catching. “Is everything okay?”

He sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry more than just weariness. “I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all,” he muttered, his eyes still avoiding yours.

He looked away, guilt etched on his features. The room seemed to close in on you, the air heavy with unspoken words. Your heart pounded in your chest, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Something had changed, and you couldn't shake the feeling that the Joel standing before you was not the same man you had known.

The silence lingered, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the settlement at rest. You took a step closer, a sense of unease deepening in the core of your stomach. “Joel, we've always talked about everything. What's going on?”

He finally met your gaze, but his eyes held a distance you hadn't seen before. “Look, it's been a tough time for me. I just… I need some space, okay?”

The words hung in the air, leaving a heavy silence between you. Something in his tone felt off, and a chill ran down your spine. You couldn't put your finger on it, but a sense of unease settled over the room, casting a shadow over the once-familiar space.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing as you grappled with the unsettling atmosphere. “Joel, we've faced tough times before, and we've always faced them together,” you said, your voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

He looked away again, a pained expression flickering across his face. “It's not that simple this time,” he muttered.

The silence stretched between you, thickening with each passing moment. Joel's evasion of your questions left a bitter taste in the air, and you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. You took a step closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm, an attempt to bridge the growing distance.

“Joel, please,” you implored, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can feel that something's not right. Talk to me.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping even more. “It's not about us. It's about me.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. The room, once a sanctuary, felt like a trap closing in on you. “Joel, you can't just leave me in the dark like this. Whatever it is, we can face it together,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

His gaze finally met yours, and there was a haunted look in his eyes. “I messed up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dread settled in your chest as you processed his confession.“Messed up how?”

He hesitated, and for a moment, the air hung heavy with unspoken truths. “I… I shouldn't have, but I… I was weak,” he stammered, his eyes avoiding yours once more.

Dread settled in your stomach as the pieces began to fall into place. “Joel, did you…” The words caught in your throat, the possibility too painful to voice.

He nodded, the admission hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. The room seemed to spin, and a profound ache settled in the pit of your stomach. You held onto a nearby chair, the weight of the revelation pressing down on you.

He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” he mumbled, a shadow of shame crossing his features.

A mix of emotions surged within you—betrayal, anger, and an overwhelming sadness. The room felt colder, the once-familiar walls now witness to a fracture in the foundation of your relationship. The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside, oblivious to the unraveling of your world within.

Joel's admission hung in the air, a heavy cloud of betrayal and sorrow. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like an unfamiliar battleground where emotions clashed with the harsh reality. You struggled to process the revelation, the weight of the truth settling on your shoulders like a burden too heavy to bear.

A chilling silence enveloped the room, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You looked at Joel, searching his face for some sign that this was a terrible misunderstanding, a nightmare from which you would soon wake.

“How could you?” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion.

Joel reached out as if to comfort you, but you recoiled. “I don't know,” he admitted, his voice raw with regret. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You held up a hand, a feeble attempt to create some distance between you. “Why, Joel? We've been through so much together. Why now?”

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don't know, alright? It's like I lost myself for a moment. Everything's been so damn difficult, and I… I made a mistake.”

Anger bubbled within you, mixing with the hurt and confusion. “A mistake? Joel, this is more than a mistake. This is a betrayal.”

He winced at your words, the weight of his actions sinking in. “I know. And I hate myself for it.”

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension. You stood, pacing away from him, needing the space to process the whirlwind of emotions. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Anger mingled with heartache, creating a storm of emotions within you. “How long?” you finally managed to choke out, your voice strained.

Joel hesitated before answering, each moment of silence amplifying the pain.”It's been a few weeks, maybe more.”

A few weeks.

The revelation struck you like a blow, and you felt the sting of tears welling up. 

A sense of betrayal and disbelief surged through you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. The cozy house, once a haven, now felt like a prison of shattered dreams. 

“Why?” you asked, your voice a desperate plea for an explanation, your eyes searching for any sign of remorse. “Why didn't you say something? Why let it continue?”

His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of regret and shame. “I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared of losing you.”

Joel struggled to find the right words, his expression tortured. “I don't have an excuse. It's just… I lost myself for a while, and I thought I could fix things on my own,” he admitted, his admission doing little to ease the pain.

The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of trust. The room seemed to close in on you, and you struggled to find the right words to express the pain pulsing through your veins.

The room echoed with the weight of unspoken accusations and unshed tears. You stepped back, creating a physical distance, as if trying to escape the emotional turmoil. “I trusted you,” you whispered, the words heavy with disappointment.

He reached out again, this time not to comfort, but to grasp at the last strands of connection. “I messed up, but I want to make things right,” he pleaded, his eyes desperate.

The hurt and anger within you were too raw to process. “Make things right?” you scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You can't just fix this, Joel. You've broken something that can't be repaired.”

The truth of those words hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the irreparable damage. The home the two of you shared, once filled with laughter and love, felt like a haunting reminder of what was lost. As Joel stood before you, the chasm between you widened, and the realization settled that the life you had known had crumbled into ruins.

A moment of silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. The reality of the situation sunk in, and you felt the weight of a decision hanging over you like a guillotine. “I need time,” you whisper. “I need to process this.”

Joel nodded, a mixture of remorse and regret etched on his face. “I understand,” he murmured.

As he left the room, the door creaking softly behind him, you sank back onto the couch. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a cold glow on the space that had once felt warm and secure. The echoes of Joel's confession lingered in the air, and you were left alone with the shattered remnants of a relationship that had been your anchor in this harsh universe.

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