#also i love me some good silences and lingering shots and all that and the acting for those was AMAZING just WOW but. bit too much this time

[frusciantesque]

didn't want the word on the street to be true but yeah the bear s3 didn't hit did it :/

[xcherryerim]

Attraction is out of our control

Porn Actor!Billy x Gn!Reader | wc: 3.8k

“I can see by the way that you switch and walk. I can tell by the way that you treat your man, but I could love you, baby, it's a cryin' shame.” — I Just Want To Make Love To You by Foghat

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18

WARMING: Sexual tension | corruption kink | light mentions of religious and social guilt | Voyeurism (Reader sees Billy having sex with someone) | Smoking | Choking | oral sex to reader | penetration | Spanking | reader is supposed to be a bit inexperienced | Reader cheating on their partner | “Sweetheart, honey” are used here. | Porn with plot | Not proofread

Notes: Inspired by the movie X. Added a part of the movie script as well. (also sorry it took so long, i just don’t feel like writing anymore but i still wanted to give you guys this <3) Sorry for any reasons here!

Backstory: You and your partner have spent years working on various short films, with them handling camera work and you focusing on audio production. Recently, however, an enticing offer has come your way, forcing both of you to take on recording an adult film. While filming, a captivating actor has caught your eye, and his presence has stirred up feelings you never knew existed.

As you browse the aisles of the gas station, weighing your options for a snack or drink, your attention is caught by the sight of the jean-jacketed man stealthily slipping an item into his pocket without paying for it. His hand was quick and deft, leaving no trace of his illicit actions for anyone who wasn't observing.

Your heart began to race as he finally looked up, his eerie, honey-like eyes piercing through you. With a devilish smirk, he brought his index finger to his lips, silently demanding you to remain discreet.

Palms began to sweat as you felt the weight of the situation settle upon your shoulders. You quickly darted across the store, making your way over to your partner, who seemed oblivious about the whole thing.

"You didn't tell me we were going to film an actual adult movie," You whispered to your partner, your fingers digging into their arm in panic as you spoke.

They rolled their eyes, exasperation evident on their face. "It's just some quick money, babe. We've got to start somewhere." Their tone held a hint of bitterness and judgment as if they were disappointed in your hesitation.

“Since when are you such a prude?”

"I'm not... it's just weird, that's all. Besides, I don't trust them," you countered, your gaze shifting towards the actors, landing particularly on Billy. There was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that he was up to no good.

Your partner sighed, squeezing your hand reassuringly before attempting to calm your nerves. “We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of filming and you take care of the audio, like always.”

…

The journey to the guest house, rented from an elderly couple who ran a quaint farm, was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Each member of the crew focused intently on the scripts handed to them, trying to memorize their lines and prepare for the scenes ahead.

You couldn't help but notice that Billy's eyes were lingering on you, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that made it difficult to decipher his emotions.

Desperate to escape the oppressive atmosphere, you gazed out the window, trying to find solace in the passing scenery. Time seemed to stretch on and on, and all you wanted was for this ordeal to be over.

The idea of being involved in such a forbidden industry weighed heavily on your conscience, and the lingering guilt from your old religious upbringing only compounded the discomfort.

A desperate groan escaped your lips, and then you glanced at the blonde actress in the van, diligently working through her copy of "Farmer's Daughter," the title visible in the small booklet she held.

You let out a small chuckle at the stupid title, and then the van finally came to a halt, signaling your arrival at the old couple's farmhouse. The nerves that had been simmering beneath the surface began to bubble to the top, and your anxiety grew as you and your partner started setting up everything needed for the shoot.

The gravity of what was about to happen pressed down on you like a heavyweight, its immorality and taboo nature overwhelming. You couldn't understand how your partner could be so uncaring about it all, but you knew you had to push forward.

Billy interrupted your sea of thoughts, his voice shaking you from your reverie as he beckoned you with a nod towards his hair. "Hey, can I get some help?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the script in his hand.

Reluctantly, you nodded and reached for the comb, your fingers trembling slightly as you approached him.

As you meticulously styled Billy's hair, you couldn't help but notice the details that made him stand out – his mesmerizing brown eyes, chiseled jawline, toned arms, and the way his jeans marked his thick thighs. It was hard not to admire the raw beauty of his form, even if it was on someone who wasn't your partner.

You tried to remind yourself that it was just an appreciation of human nature, not anything more, but the line between admiration and attraction felt dangerously thin.

While your mind wrestled with these conflicting emotions, Billy continued to peruse his script, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil within you. You wondered what went through his mind during this entire process, whether he felt any guilt or remorse for participating in such a provocative industry.

Billy abruptly rose from his chair, sauntering towards the blonde actress with a cocky manner. In a move that took you by surprise, he slapped her playfully on the ass and then pulled her into a passionate kiss that was both intimate and uncomfortably public. Your stomach dropped as you tried to decipher the meaning behind their gestures, questioning whether they were dating or merely preparing for their scene.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, reaching for the pencil mic with a trembling hand. Its weight seemed to grow heavier with each passing second, a physical manifestation of the emotional disturbance you were experiencing.

Positioning yourself strategically between the camera and the actors, you prepared yourself to capture every moment of the scene.

As your partner began filming, you watched as the flirtatious banter intensified. Torn between your guilt and the undeniable excitement building within you as the actors began to disrobe, revealing their bodies in a slow, seductive dance.

Your gaze lingered on Billy, his toned, lightly sweaty form glistening under the sunlight that filtered through the farmhouse windows. The guilt that had been gnawing at your conscience began to disappear and was now replaced by a strange sense of fascination and anticipation.

Billy's strong, rough hands moved effortlessly over the actress's hips, his kisses tracing a heated path along her body. The possessiveness in his touch was clear, a raw display of desire that was both unexpected and exhilarating.

As he continued to explore her form, you found your focus drawn lower and lower, his face disappearing between her thighs. Witnessing a level of intimacy that was both shocking and intoxicating, you couldn't help but wish you were in her place, experiencing the intensity of those passionate moments firsthand, rather than being a mere observer.

Your lips bit down in a nervous gesture, your skin prickling with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. The realization that you were feeling lustful thoughts toward a stranger weighed heavily on your conscience, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you.

There was something undeniably addictive about it, especially as the sunlight casted a golden glow on Billy's toned, veiny arms, highlighting his strength as he held the actress tightly.

As Billy approached his climax, his moans grew louder and more intense, intertwining with the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other. The air was thick with the weight of raw passion, and you couldn't help but blush profusely under the heat of the moment.

Suddenly, you felt your heart drop as you swore you caught a glimpse of Billy stealing a glance in your direction, perhaps sensing your unabashed stare. The thought of being discovered in your lustful desires made your cheeks flush even redder, and you wondered if you had been too obvious in your fascination.

His mouth was slightly opened as he let out incoherent moans, his gaze soft as he looked over at you once again, making it seem like he was giving you an open invitation to be his next plaything.

Forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, you moved closer to capture the final moments of the scene. Your hands shook as you adjusted the equipment, attempting to steady yourself amidst the lingering discomfort and the pulse of adrenaline that coursed through your veins.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the scene reached its conclusion, and the actors slipped back into character, their faces flushed and breathless.

With trembling hands, you managed to place the microphone securely out of the way before hastily retreating from the room, desperate for a moment of solitude and distance from the scene you had just witnessed.

Your legs carried you across the property until you stumbled upon a serene pond, surrounded by lush grass. Without a second thought, you collapsed onto the soft green carpet, your mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions.

You tried to rationalize the events that had just transpired, reminding yourself that it was all fiction, not borne of genuine love or connection. But the image of Billy's strong body moving with such raw intensity haunted your thoughts, his facial expressions, growls, and whimpers made ripples of desire through you despite the immorality of the situation. It was a confusing paradox, your mind oscillating between the thrill of the forbidden and the guilt that followed.

As you sat there, staring at the undulating surface of the water, you couldn't help but wonder about the motivations of those involved in the adult film industry.

Why would someone engage in such acts, knowing the potential consequences and societal stigma? And yet, you couldn't shake the memory of Billy's powerful gestures.

You reluctantly shifted your gaze from the tranquil waters to see Billy approaching you, a pack of cigarettes clutched in his hand. His presence was immediate and commanding, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness at his nearness.

"Oh, you're here," he remarked casually, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he offered you one of the cigarettes. You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head and inching further away, seeking some semblance of personal space.

Billy chuckled huskily, his lips curving into a smirk as he lit one of the cigarettes, the smoke weaving through the air like an ethereal veil. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he teased, casting a sidelong glance at your flustered appearance. "You're really are a prude, huh?"

Your cheeks burned in response, but you found the courage to address his lighthearted teasing. "I'm not," you retorted, defending yourself.

"I'm just... confused, that's all. I mean, what about love?"

“What about love?” He asked back. The question hung in the air between you, a poignant reminder of the dichotomy you were struggling to reconcile – the raw passion you had just witnessed mere minutes ago.

His eyes locked onto yours, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily in the breeze as he considered your query.

‘Well, don't you all believe in it?" You asked, finally finding the courage to meet his gaze. Your eyes traced the lines of his body, towering above your own shaky, seated form. The contrast in your demeanors only serves to heighten your discomfort.

Billy's answer was nonchalant, his eyes lingering on your face as he spoke. "Of course, we believe in love," he said, his voice betraying a hint of bemusement.

"But how can you love someone and still be with other people?" You pressed on, your curiosity getting the better of you. The question was tinged with innocence and confusion.

“You think we don't have no morals or somethin', is that it?” Billy retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation at your accusation.

He momentarily removed the cigarette from his lips, allowing the smoke to dissipate between his fingers. His gaze remained fixed on your earnest expression, assessing your intentions.

You stammered in response, unable to find the right words to defend your position. "No, no, I just..." Your voice trailed off, and before you could continue, Billy cut in, his tone softening as he sat down beside you.

"Take it from me, letting outdated traditions control how you live your life will get you nowhere." The change in his demeanor was subtle, but significant, as if he were imparting some wisdom from his own experiences.

"And besides," Billy continued, his voice growing softer still, "it's just sex. You can decide who you want to love, but not who you want to screw. Attraction is out of our control. It ain't healthy keeping those feelings locked away inside."

The logic in his words resonated with you, casting a new light on your internal struggle. As you pondered his words, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for your lingering thoughts.

Despite your best efforts, your gaze drifted back to Billy, and you found yourself once again drawn to the memory of his naked form. The proximity of his body now only exacerbated the situation, and you began to feel a sense of discomfort that was both exhilarating and unsettling.

"So, are you going to keep those feelings locked inside you?"

You let out a startled gasp, feeling caught off guard by the directness of his question. The implications weighed heavily on your conscience, and you struggled to find a response that wouldn't betray your true feelings.

"Come on, saint," Billy said with a smirk, his eyes never leaving your figure. "I've seen the way you've looked at me the whole day."

With a bold gesture, he placed the cigarette between your lips, the warmth of his hand brushing against the rim of your mouth, then, he settled it on your thigh. The weight of his touch sent a shiver down your spine as he drew lazy circles with his thumb.

Was this his way of testing you, or was he simply playing with you? Whatever the reason might be, it was difficult not to give in. His words hung in the air, a challenge to confront your desires and the societal norms that had held sway over your thoughts for so long.

"Well," Billy said, plucking the cigarette from your lips, prompting a brief cough. He then stood up. "If you're up for some fun..."

His eyes flicked towards the nearby van, and without another word, he dangled the keys in front of you. "I'll be in the van, waiting for ya."

His absence left you alone, facing your turmoil. Your thoughts fought with each other, the line between what's appropriate and what you truly want becoming increasingly blurred with every passing moment.

Without hesitation, you found yourself sprinting after him, desperation driving you forward. "Wait, wait!" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet surroundings.

As you caught up to him, you grasped his arm, your words tumbling out in a hurry. "Can we keep this a secret?"

Billy's smirk never faltered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he met your gaze.

"Well, you kept a secret for me earlier, remember?" He countered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. The implication hung between you like a silent dare, his proximity now unavoidable.

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours in a searing kiss. It was anything but gentle, a fierce collision of hunger and desire.

His hands wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer as if to emphasize the intensity of the moment.

You could feel his body vibrate with adrenaline, a testament to the raw emotion that had driven him to act. The tension between you reached a breaking point, and in that moment, it felt as though everything else faded away – the world, your doubts, and your fears – everything but the two of you.

In the aftermath of the kiss, you stood there, breathless. The air around you was electric, charged with the anticipation of what was to come. You knew that you had crossed a line, and there was no going back – the consequences, whatever they might be, would have to wait.

Billy led you to the van, guiding you inside as he pulled away from the farmhouse. The distance was enough to feel removed from reality, a small buffer between the life you knew and the one you were about to explore.

As he maneuvered the vehicle to a stop, he wasted no time in setting the scene, his hand beckoning you to follow him as he settled onto a nearby seat. You found yourself nestled against him, your body laid on top of him.

Billy’s hands wandered, his fingers digging into your hips, urging you to grind against him, your arousal growing in tandem with his. His lips trailed along your jawline, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he whispered his appreciation for your body.

His hand crept under your shirt, cold fingers caressing your skin, his touch feather-light before growing rougher, leaving dark red marks. Billy’s breath came in harsh gasps, his hunger for you growing with each passing moment.

Without a warning, he picked you up with ease, the movement making his jean jacket mark his biceps. He proceeded to position you on the seat, spreading your legs so he could kneel between them. Hands desperately trying to remove your pants, eventually tossing them on the seat where your partner was seated mere hours ago. The guilt settles in your stomach.

How could you do this to them? Why are you listening to strangers' advice in the first place?

This was wrong, but the way he took one of your legs and rested it on his shoulder just to gain better access to you was arousing.

Billy took one last look at you, his pupils dilating at the sight of you above him before leaning in, his face disappearing between your thighs.

His skilled tongue teased the throbbing between your legs, taking his time, flickering, licking, and sucking before diving deeper, tasting you fully.

You gasped as Billy's tongue danced over your most intimate of places, waves of ecstasy surging through your being. Your mind was hazy with lust, and the guilt you'd felt just moments before began to dissipate. This felt right, and you couldn't deny the pleasure that came with it, with Billy.

Your fingers dug into the seat, gripping the fabric tightly as Billy's mouth worked its magic. The combination of pleasure and the knowledge of knowing this was wrong made your heart race, that unfamiliar sensation of forbidden desire taking hold.

You arched your back, your breathing growing more erratic, shaking as you cried out his name.

“Never been giving head like this before, sweetheart?” Billy teased, his voice breathy and deep.

"Never quite like this, no," you panted, holding onto the seat for dear life.

With a satisfied smirk, Billy looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with the same hunger that had fueled his actions. He stood, adjusting himself and unzipping his jeans, freeing his erection, thick and hard.

Your breath hitched as you watched his movements, the sudden urgency clear in his actions. His fingers trailed down your body, his touch firm and demanding as he positioned you for him.

"Ride me," Billy urged, guiding you onto his shaft, his calloused hands spreading your legs precisely to take him.

You clung to Billy, nails digging into his arms as you tried to adjust to his intrusion, your back arching until you melted yourself onto him, feeling him fill you.

“You needed some good dick didn’t you?” He flashed a cocky smirk, letting you get used to his size, before thrusting at a gradual pace.

Every time he filled you up, you felt a hint of uneasiness gnawed at you, but eventually, you settled into it, taking anything he gave you.

Letting out a breathless laugh as your mind became a fog of pleasure you responded, "Seems like it," you admitted, continuing to rock against him.

Billy's smirk grew wider, his rhythm picking up pace, his thrusts now desperate and hungry. The van rocked with the force of each movement, the grunts and moans of pleasure filling the space.

His gradual pace started to build, each thrust a little faster, a little deeper, each one pushing you further into the hazy world of ecstasy he'd drawn you into.

His hands gripped you tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment.

You hissed at his hold's impact, and when your eyes met his, you noticed how his eyes lingered on the new marks, a twisted pride and satisfaction apparent in his gaze.

You started to move, your hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm, the sound of your flesh slapping against his filling the confined space. Each impact echoed in the small enclosure, a testament to the intensity of your passion.

Billy's hand left your hip, landing a sharp smack on your ass before he started to spank you, his hand a relentless rhythm, his eyes never leaving the sight of his hand connecting with your skin. The sting only served to fuel your arousal.

"Oh, just look at that. You were just made to take it all," he praised, the possessive tone in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but blush at his words, the realization of the control he held over you now sinking in.

The spanking continued, the pain and pleasure mingling until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Billy's gaze seemed to eat you alive, the way he watched you only served to fuel the fire within you.

The frenzied rhythm of his thrusts intensified, the slick sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the air. Your breaths grew more ragged, your hands gripping the seat as you rode him, the pleasure building within you, coiling and twisting, ready to explode.

Billy's hand finally left your ass, replacing it with one that wrapped around your throat. The sudden, firm grip sent a jolt of electricity through your body, his thumb pressing against your windpipe as he pulled you closer, his lips crashing into yours in a desperate kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, the sensation of being choked only serving to push you closer to the edge.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, the question was unnecessary, the answer clear in the way you clenched around him, the impending release evident in every quiver of your body.

"Yes," you gasped, the word barely audible, your throat constricted by his firm grip. The sensations overwhelmed you.

His name seemed to spill from your lips in a breathy cry, the release crashing over. After a few minutes, Billy followed suit, his body tensing as he filled you, the hot release dripping over your inner thighs.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, Billy released his grip on your throat, his hand falling away as the intensity of the moment faded. You remained atop him, your breathing heavy, the weight of what had just transpired settling between you.

"See, it wasn't so bad," he said with a husky chuckle.

You looked into his eyes, the intensity of the moment still lingering in your head.

"Might have taught you a lesson or two about how attraction works." he continued, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded, your breath still catching in your throat, the reality of what had just happened slowly seeping into your consciousness.

"I guess so," Your hand gently traced a stray strand of hair from his forehead, the simple gesture eliciting a spark in his eyes that had been absent before. At that moment, you could feel the rapid beat of his heart, and how his breath went rapid once again.

Maybe this was more than just attraction after all.

As always, Thanks for reading <3

taglist: @freak-accident419 @valreanakuroo @jhutch-bf @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y

[sturnsdc]

Cake

pair: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

synopsis: a secret relationship can be hard to maintain, especially if it’s kept secret out of fear of someone. 

Daryl finds himself in a dangerous situation when the truth is uncovered, and he must make a decision that will change everything.

did he make the right choice?

warnings: ANGST, typical TWD scenes, fools, violence, mentions of death, fight, abusive father is mentioned, slight fluff, somewhat obsessive behavior, happy ending, depressive thoughts (due to a breakup).

era: prison

words: 9,3k

A/N: i said i was inspired by “Cake,” but then i was also listening to the album “Silence Between Songs” by Madison Beer, and i got inspired by the songs “At Your Worst,” “Dangerous,” and “Spinnin”... so, yeah.

btw, i don’t know why, but i always end up writing some scene with Daryl’s father, and it’s always violent. I’m sorry.

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

if both of them had to describe last night, they would say it was magnificent, even perfect. After being together for some time, they finally decided to take the next step, calmly and lovingly. Daryl felt loved in a completely different way, in a way he had never experienced before. He gave a significant part of his soul to Yn that night, and he knew she did the same.

however, when he woke up, Daryl’s thoughts shifted after a few minutes, and soon his mind started racing, filling him with doubts about his partner.

‘what if she regrets it?’  

‘what if it wasn’t as good for her?’

his eyes wandered over his now-exposed scars, and he could feel his entire body tense up.

‘what if this is weird for her?’  

‘what if she expected something else?’

his mind didn’t seem to want to give him peace, and Daryl began to grow more anxious with each passing second. He even felt tempted to get out of bed and get dressed, to at least avoid the embarrassment of being seen once again in one of his most vulnerable, and in his view, "disgusting" states. However, before he could act, a few kisses on his neck pulled him out of his thoughts, and as he looked down, he was met with a smile on his girlfriend’s face. That made him breathe a sigh of relief, although the doubts still lingered.

“hey, sleepyhead, how long have ya´ been awake?” the girl asked, snuggling into her boyfriend’s arms.

“jus´ a while. Ya wanna keep sleepin´?” he asked, trying to hide the trembling in his voice, caused by nervousness.

“no, but i wouldn’t mind stayin´ in bed with ya all day tho,” she confessed, still smiling, watching as her boyfriend blushed at her comment.

“gotta go home at some point,” he replied with reluctance, sighing afterward, and she nodded, feeling defeated.

“it was worth a shot,” she said, leaning in to kiss Daryl’s chest.

they stayed in bed for a few more minutes, in complete silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Yn could sense that something was wrong, the atmosphere felt a bit tense, and she swore she could hear Daryl’s thoughts forming, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Dar,” she called out, catching his attention. He looked at her curiously. “´s everythin´ okay?”

the boy remained silent for a few seconds, considering his options, but the questions seemed louder and were all he could think about, so he decided to take a risk. He had to know the truth, even if it hurt him.

“we okay?” Yn didn’t expect that question, and she coughed, surprised and confused. “sorry, didn’t mean to—”

“we’re okay, Dar,” she replied firmly. “´s this about what happened last night?”

Daryl’s silence seemed to be the answer, and then she understood, so a small smile formed on her face. She tried to make her words sound as sweet and firm as possible, so they would reach him.

“i really loved what happened last night. Ya made me feel safe, loved, and wanted. I enjoyed every second with ya, and i would love to experience it again,” she confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed by how excited she sounded. Her face flushed at her own words.

“ya don’ regret it?” he murmured, and she quickly shook her head.

“never, i loved it,” her hand gently caressed his chest, sharing her body heat with him, relaxing him. “how did ya feel last night?”

“safe,” he answered. “ya always make me feel tha´ way, but it was different, don’ know,” he shrugged, and though his response was brief, she understood that he had enjoyed it too.

she observed him for a few moments, and out of embarrassment, he avoided her gaze.

“ya want breakfast?”

and so they ended up in the kitchen, both fully dressed now, more relaxed and finishing the breakfast they had prepared together.

“so now yer goin´ back home, right?” the girl asked, and he nodded in response. “see ya later at the lake?”

“sure, what time?” he asked, placing his now empty plate aside.

“around 3?” He nodded again, then got up to leave the dishes in the sink. “i’ll wash it, don’ worry.”

“ya sure? can help.”

“nah, i got it,” she said, so he shrugged.

she wrapped her arms around Daryl’s neck, their faces much closer now. He quickly placed his arms around her waist, and then she felt completely at peace, knowing this was where she belonged — in his arms.

they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, not even needing to speak. It was something they both loved, the ability to understand each other in silence, sharing the calm and love they felt for one another.

but they wanted more, so soon their lips met in a kiss full of emotions; confessions; a secret love they wanted to keep for the rest of their lives; a shared dream.

they wanted to stay like that forever, but they had to pull apart, both now with small smiles on their faces.

“see ya at 3,” Daryl said, though inside, he knew he didn’t want to leave, that he’d rather stay there, in that same position, kissing his girlfriend again.

“sure babe,” she replied, but neither made any move to leave until Daryl finally did, letting go of her and walking to the door. “bye,” she said, still smiling as she watched him walk toward the door, opening it and holding it for him.

he stepped out, but turned to look at her one last time. She leaned against the door, and they exchanged one final glance, almost unable to believe how perfect life felt with each other. He then approached her again, giving her one last kiss before leaving.

what they didn’t know was that they were being watched by someone who shouldn’t have been returning home yet but had decided to, and now felt their blood boiling at what they had just seen.

by the time Daryl was nearing his house, he began to feel that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen, and suddenly, a wave of dread hit him when he stood at the front door. However, he went inside anyway, and the first thing he received after closing the door was his father’s fist crashing into his cheek, sending him reeling in shock.

Daryl growled, tasting the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth, but he knew this was just the beginning.

“wha´ have i taught ya yer whole life? huh? how many times have i told ya to stay away from whores?” Daryl froze on the floor upon hearing those words, and his father took advantage of that to start kicking him with all his might, over and over. “how many times have i told ya they’re all the same?” the boy couldn’t even defend himself, as the man didn’t even let him catch his breath. “ya know how they are, and yet ya chose to be with tha´ bitch! fer what!? to hook up with ´er and be like yer brother?” he stopped kicking him after the question, but his breathing was erratic, and he was ready to hit him again.

“she’s not like tha´…” Daryl responded with difficulty, coughing up blood from his mouth, staining the floor of the house. “she’s not…”

“liar!” then the man threw himself onto his son’s body, slamming his fists into his face again and again. “yer a fucking liar! ya’ become a pussy ´cause her!” his voice was filled with disappointment and anger. “yer gonna leave that bitch.” Daryl wanted to interrupt, wanted to defend himself and yell at him. He shook his head while blood poured from his mouth and his face grew numb. “yes, yer gonna. Yer gonna leave her, or ya know i’ll kill her. Ya know i can do it.” he stopped hitting him, bringing his face close to his son’s as he spoke in a threatening tone. “yer gonna leave that whore, ya can come up with whatever excuse ya wan´, i don’t give a damn, but yer gonna leave her, and if i ever see her again…” he paused, catching his breath. “if i ever see ´er again, her head will be hangin´ on yer damn door, do-you-understand?”

Daryl remained silent, feeling powerless, afraid, sad, and in pain. So much pain.

“do you understand!?” he flinched at the shout, but then nodded, making the man finally release him, leaving him lying on the floor, bleeding and with horrible marks on his body that would take time to fade.

his father then went to grab a beer from the fridge, placing it for a moment on his bloody knuckles before opening it, all without looking at his son again, who remained on the floor.

Daryl thought about his options, though he felt dizzy, and his body was growing colder and heavier.

he knew his father was a dangerous man; he had lived under the same roof his whole life, but he didn’t remember him threatening Merle in the same way, though he knew he was capable of carrying it out.

‘she shouldn’t suffer’ was all he could think, and the fear that something might happen to her consumed him. He couldn’t let her suffer, not because of his stupid father. However, Daryl knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t let him go easily, especially if she saw the state his father had left him in, so he had to think of a way to convince her to stay away, had to do something to make her not want to come near him again.

anyway... he would probably think about it later, as his body started to feel too heavy, and his eyes closed without him being able to stop it.

the last image in his mind before losing consciousness was of his girlfriend. The only person who had respected, accepted, and loved him despite all the bad things that came with him. The only one who wanted to see the good in him, even when he couldn’t.

she had always been there, and she knew the things his father did, which was why their relationship had remained a secret all this time. Now he would have to convince her to stay away, even though their last interaction had been an immense display of love, after having shared the best night of their lives.

that day, Daryl didn’t show up at the lake as they had agreed, which worried Yn. Her first instinct was to be concerned, immediately thinking that something could have gone wrong at his house. However, Daryl had made her promise not to come near that place, no matter what, so she decided to give him some space. ‘Maybe he’ll come to my house later,’ she tried to convince herself.

that day, she didn’t see him again, and the worry kept her from sleeping all night, even though she had to go back to school the next day.

it was hard to get up for school, considering how heavy her body felt from exhaustion. However, the desire to see Daryl and make sure he was okay was much stronger, so she forced herself to get up, taking a record-breaking shower and putting on the shirt her boyfriend had left a few weeks ago, which still had his scent, giving her comfort.

when she arrived at school, she started walking through the hallways looking for her boyfriend, but there was no trace of him anywhere. The same thing happened in the classes they were supposed to have together that day.

‘where is he?’ she asked herself over and over, checking the doors and windows of every classroom and hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the most unexpected places.

but he was nowhere to be found.

after school, she retraced their usual spots again and again, and the idea of going to his house became more and more tempting.

‘what if something happened to him?’ ‘what if his father did something?’ ‘or Merle?’ her mind wouldn’t let her rest, and the worry planted a painful weight in her chest. ‘what if he’s regretting it?’ her thoughts started to turn against her, and the anxiety began to overwhelm her even more than before.

this became her routine for a few more days, until she finally got tired of keeping that promise and decided to follow her gut. Before she could even consider it a few more times, her feet had already taken her to the entrance of the Dixon house, and she knocked on the door as calmly as she could.

she realized she wasn’t prepared when the door opened, revealing her boyfriend’s bruised face, who looked just as surprised to see her.

“wha´…?” but he didn’t finish the question, instead clearing his throat, his expression hardening instantly.

“i was worried. You hadn’t shown up, and i didn’t know if… ya were okay. Dar, what happened to ya?” she tried to approach him, her face filled with concern, but it soon turned to confusion when Daryl dodged her touch. “are you mad at me?”

“i told ya not to come here. Why couldn’t ya jus´ listen?” his tone was angry, and his gaze was cold, which caught her off guard.

“i was worried, i thought somethin´ really bad had happened, and the anxiety was killing me, ’m sorry.” she still tried to remain calm.

“ya couldn’t wait a little longer, could ya? always so damn clingy and anxious.” his venomous words struck a different kind of pain in her chest, wounding her.

“Dar, what do you mean?” she let out a nervous laugh, not understanding what was happening so suddenly.

“we had sex already, the hell ya want now?” he raised his voice, startling Yn.

“you think ’m here to have sex again?” now she sounded offended. “You disappeared fer days, Daryl! i thought somethin´ bad had happened to ya, and i held back fer days, and when i finally come to check on ya, i see yer bruised face, and i get this shitty attitude from ya. What the hell?” she waited for a response, but he stayed silent. “gonna tell me what this is all about?”

“ya shouldn’t have come,” he replied.

“cut that shit. What did i do to ya?” his evasive responses only fueled her anger and confusion.

“’m sick of this! yer so annoying. I just wanted some time fer myself, and ya weren’t supposed to come here!” he took a step forward, and she stepped back. “jus´ leave me the hell alone. Don’t wanna see yer stupid little face ´round here. ’m done with this.”

“what?” her eyes widened, and she felt frozen in place, unable to believe what she had just heard. “can i at least know what changed?” this time, her voice came out low and weak, her eyes fixed on his.

“just can’t do this anymore. I tried, but yer… too much.” before she could respond, he slammed the door in her face, leaving her standing there.

she could feel her heart breaking, and she even started to feel sick. She took a weak step forward, considering knocking again, but quickly dismissed the idea. She couldn’t bear another humiliation. Her heart couldn’t take it.

when she got home, still in shock from the recent events, it was time for dinner, but she couldn’t eat. Her stomach had completely shut down, so she decided the best thing to do was change her clothes and lie down in her bed. When she did, she didn’t even have the strength to pull the blanket over herself. Instead, she curled up in a fetal position, breathing shakily until everything hit her.

tears began to flow from her eyes, her body started to shake, and she realized how tense she was only when she tried to move her fingers, feeling the intense pain from clenching her fists tightly as she cried.

she had never felt like this before.

Daryl was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She adored the way his fangs showed every time he smiled, or the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever he looked at her. He was usually rough, but when he touched her, it felt like he did so with the utmost care, trying not to hurt her, even when he was just hugging her.

she couldn’t forget the afternoons when he watched her study for her exams, even kissing her when he got tired of congratulating her for answering correctly.

she couldn’t forget their dates at the lake, or the hunting practice in the woods.

she couldn’t forget the nights spent listening to music in his room, or the first time they both smoked.

she couldn’t forget the mornings spent watching TV while eating breakfast.

she couldn’t forget the first time he gave her flowers, telling her about their history and meaning, making it a tradition for both of them every month since that moment.

she couldn’t forget the first time she had her period, and Daryl had to learn every possible way to help her because he had promised not to let her suffer for anything.

she couldn’t forget the first time their bodies came together, sharing the most special night where she gave something she could never get back.

he had taken everything with him, including that night.

when Daryl walked back into his house that day, he ran into his father, who looked at him with the same contempt as always before sitting on the couch with another beer in hand and the TV on.

Daryl took a deep breath, trembling, and quickly locked himself in his room. That day, he felt something die inside him. He had always promised to keep her safe, that she wouldn't suffer again if he could prevent it. But he never expected that, in order to save her, he would have to hurt her himself.

the image of Yn’s face turning into an expression of pain and despair would haunt him for the rest of his days, but there was no turning back now, not anymore.

days passed, and when Yn returned to school, she looked destroyed, which caught the attention of everyone who knew her.

she was described as a kind soul, a gentle and selfless person, someone full of light despite all the crap she had been through. That’s why many were surprised when they saw her so close to the younger Dixon, someone who seemed to be the complete opposite of her. They couldn’t understand how someone like her ended up falling in love with someone like him, and many of her “friends” decided to turn their backs on her when she "didn’t understand" their warnings.

“he’s going to break your heart,” they told her over and over, but she would just frown and defend him to the end.

‘they were wrong, he wasn’t the problem,’ she thought day after day, even when her best friend tried to make her see that it wasn’t true.

setting foot on school grounds brought back a wave of sadness she had tried to avoid that morning, and soon she felt her eyes burning, eager to release the tears still stained with Daryl’s name. However, before she could turn and run home, her friend’s face appeared in her field of vision, clearly worried but ready to help.

for a while, every day was like that, and it only got worse when their eyes met in a hallway or when they had to share a class. Both had to muster the strength not to run into each other's arms and beg for forgiveness, and with every second apart, they felt a part of them breaking, unable to heal without the other’s presence.

months filled with pain, tears, and immense suffering that sometimes kept them prisoners in their beds, unable to get up and face reality. At least in their long, unhealthy hours of sleep, they could be together again.

it took Yn a year to go through the worst of it, even though she had already finished school. She couldn't even enjoy her graduation and fled the place shortly after receiving her diploma. Neither attended dances, celebrations, or events they might have at least considered if they had been together.

then it took her another year to try to piece together her heart, though the new parts weren't enough to make her feel whole, they made her feel stronger and more protected from her emotions.

during all that time, she was only able to talk to one person—Mel, her lifelong best friend—who offered her a new chance when they both applied to a university in Boston.

it was far, an opportunity to start fresh, without him.

‘sounds good, right?’ that’s what she tried to think, and that’s what led her to accept the offer and take the scholarship.

she was going to forget him completely.

well, at least that’s what she thought would happen, but every passing day, she realized how much it still affected her. At first, it was anger, and when she arrived and settled into her new home for the next five years, she was so excited about the idea of starting over that her mind decided that to maintain that peace, it would make Daryl Dixon her number one enemy. And for a few months, it worked—she regained her self-esteem and started to feel more confident in herself. But then, the first guy tried to get close to her, and that’s when everything started to fall apart.

she tried, she wanted to give each guy who seemed genuinely interested in her a chance, but she couldn’t even breathe near them without her mind searching for something in them that reminded her of what she felt with Dixon.

she grew frustrated every time she realized she didn’t feel safe with them, didn’t feel even half as loved and respected as she did with Dixon, and whenever she looked into their eyes, all she could see was either a purity she didn’t want and couldn’t accept, or a lust that made her feel disgusted and vulnerable.

they weren’t him, and that was something that made her angry.

during the three years she had spent in Boston, she never had an official relationship, and she never neglected her studies. She only made time for taking care of Madison, Mel’s daughter, who she cared for even more than her best friend did.

unfortunately, Mel gave in to the temptations of university life and let herself be swept away by momentary pleasures, having to deal with the next nine months of her second year of school while pregnant with a little girl whose father remained unknown. And when the baby was born, Mel continued her old ways, leaving Yn to raise her.

Yn tried again and again to make her see reason, especially when the baby began to speak and called her "mom" instead of her real mother. But Mel didn’t change, and even though their friendship became more distant, Yn could never leave the little girl uncared for.

however, despite everything that had happened over the last three years, when Mel suggested a weekend trip back home, she accepted almost without thinking, feeling her heartbeat quicken and something inside her light up like a flame.

so, the three of them made the trip back. But just when it seemed like they would finally make it home, things took an unexpected turn. The sick began to appear everywhere, ending the lives of many people... or not?

Yn didn’t understand anything; before her eyes, she could see death rising and walking, seeking new victims as if everything they once were vanished in seconds.

‘what the hell is happening?’

YN'S POV

Dear Diary,

a year and a half has passed, or at least i think so.

things have really changed since the last time i talked to you, about a year ago, right?

Mel 's dead.  

those walkers killed her, took her from the camp we had built, and almost took Madison the same way.

now we don’t have a place to live, and we go around together, trying to survive this disaster.

i still don’t know anything about Daryl. The last time i wrote to you, I think i mentioned that i looked for him from day one. I don’t even know why. I’m still mad at him, and i don’t think i could bear to see him, but something inside me wants to know he’s alive.

damn, he hurt me, and i still care about him—it's pathetic.

but i know he was made for this world, for this. I think even if everything got worse, he’d be the last man standing on earth.

still, i haven’t tried to look for him recently. I just focus on keeping Madison safe, fed, and teaching her as much as i can.

a while ago, she started calling me “mom” permanently. I’ve tried to correct her, but she won’t stop, she keeps calling me that.

would she be happy to know i’m taking care of her? i remember how she screamed while they killed her, begging me to save her because she didn’t deserve to die—especially not Madison.

i love that little girl. I’d give anything to keep her safe.

well, there’s not much ink left in this pen, so i guess it’s time to leave you. It was a good chat. Now we’re going to check out a store we found. Hopefully, when i open this thing again, i’ll have more to say than this.

bye, i guess.

i closed the notebook gently, placing it back in my backpack, which i slung over my shoulder as i stood up from the log i’d been sitting on. Beside me, Madison looked up at me, copying my actions as she got up from her own log. I extended my hand to her, which she quickly took, following me toward the store i had seen a few hours ago. I had kept an eye on it, making sure nothing was going in or out, and nothing was moving inside.

i put her behind me. She keeps watch—she’s very smart and observant, noticing things with impressive ease since what happened with Mel. Meanwhile, i took my gun, feeling the weight of my knives, ready to be used if anything went wrong.

we searched the place, and i stuffed as much as i could into my backpack, trying to make as little noise as possible and moving as quickly as my body allowed. Then Madi gently tugged on my shirt, catching my attention. When i looked at her, she pointed to the store’s entrance, where an unknown woman, armed and looking in all directions, had just walked in.

i considered my options, but she was blocking the exit, and another woman with a sword strapped to her back was following her.

i looked back at Madi, trying to explain in sign language that she needed to hide and that i would handle it. Mel and I had learned this form of communication in college, and now it’s what keeps us safe. Madi only understands the basics, but that’s enough.

Madi took the backpack and hid, and i tried to approach the women discreetly, but eventually one of them saw me and pointed her gun at me.

“what are you doing here?” she asked rudely, narrowing her eyes as she looked me up and down. I raised both hands, still holding my gun. “Drop it,” she ordered. I raised an eyebrow but complied, tossing it to the ground and kicking it toward them. The woman with the sword picked up the weapon, and then the other one spoke again, “i asked you what you’re doing here. We’ve been watching this place for a while.”

“apparently, not long enough,” i responded. “just came for supplies. We all need to survive these days, don’t ya think?” i said in a tone bordering on sarcasm, and neither of them spoke. They just exchanged glances. Then i heard the gun’s safety click off, and the other woman made a move to draw her sword.

“are you alone?” asked the one with the sword, to which i swallowed, feeling the familiar tension in my body, along with cold sweat and shortness of breath. “are you alone!?” she asked again, more harshly.

“mama!” Madison shouted, scared by what she was seeing, then ran to me, hugging my legs. “please, no!” i closed my eyes, sighing in defeat, realizing i could no longer hide her.

that’s when i heard the gun's safety click back on, and i opened my eyes to see both women lowering their weapons and looking at us with pity.

“what’s her name?” asked the woman holding the gun, looking at Madi attentively.

“Madison,” i croaked, still afraid.

“and you?” asked the one with the sword.

“’m YN,” i answered warily. But then both women crouched to Madison’s level, smiling at her.

“i’m Maggie, and this is Michonne,” said the woman with the gun in a much sweeter tone. “we’re not gonna hurt your mom.”

“ya won’t?” Madison blinked, and i could feel her relax a bit. I looked down at her, and she raised her head to look at me, as if asking whether we could trust them.

“will ya let us go?” i asked before Maggie could answer Madi’s question.

“are you alone?” she asked, this time looking at me, but unlike before, her gaze was honest, much softer. “Do you have a group?”

“nah,” i swallowed, feeling distrust flood through me. ‘What if they’re just pretending? They could easily catch us off guard and attack, or try to take Madi.’

“we have a group. We’re staying in a prison not far from here. Let us take you both there,” Maggie said as they both stood up. “we have a doctor, food, clothes for children, and we all sleep in the cells.”

“if it’s so perfect, why ´you here?” i asked, narrowing my eyes.

“cause we wanna give those people the best. The group is getting bigger, and we need to make sure everyone is okay,” Michonne replied.

“we have a council. They’ll decide if you can stay, but i’m sure they will. They wouldn’t let you go back to this. I give you my word,” Maggie said.

“and we can leave whenever we want?”

“yes, you can go if you choose to.”

“we just need you to answer three questions,” Maggie said, and Michonne nodded.

‘I hope I won’t regret this. I just want Madison to be safe.’

we've been in this place for a couple of hours, and i’ve already lost count of the people who have tried to talk to me or meet Madi. It's overwhelming. In all this time, i had forgotten what crowds feel like, the people enchanted by children, and the panic of losing sight of a child among everyone.

an old man made sure we were fine, and the committee accepted us much faster than i expected, especially when they asked about Madi and i told them our story.

people talk about themselves very easily, and that’s how i learned who is part of the original group and who arrived later. Most of them seem to come from an enemy group.

after settling into a cell, two women came in after asking me, and they were the most interested in talking to me. One is named Carol, she’s very pleasant and knows how to interact with Madi without making her uncomfortable. The other is Olivia, and she’s spent the last few minutes non-stop telling me that one of her heroes should be back soon, and that i’ll surely love him as soon as i see him.

she hasn’t even told me his name, she just keeps talking about how much this man has done for all of them, bringing food and being “a great protector.”

Carol hasn’t said a word about him, she just smiles and tries to change the subject, asking me questions to get to know me better, but without being... overwhelming.

then the sound of a motorcycle made several people move toward the entrance, including Olivia, who murmured something about that man.

‘Is he really that incredible?’ i wondered for a moment, but soon decided to ignore it, chatting with Carol about everything and nothing at the same time as i braided Madison's hair, who was sitting with her back to me.

“Carol is in that cell, sir,” i heard someone say in the distance, so i figured my conversation with the kind woman would soon end.

“woman, hell ya doin´..." a man entered the cell, and it was then that i felt like i was the teenager from a few years ago again.

he’s standing there, right in front of us, his wide blue eyes full of surprise.

i can feel myself stop breathing, and without realizing it, i let go of Madison’s hair, who turned to look at me in confusion.

“mom?” i heard her ask me, but her voice sounds... so distant, i can’t even focus much on it.

he’s right here, alive.

he looks older, and he’s growing his hair out. I remember when he used to complain about how tired he was of cutting his hair so often and how one day he’d stop obeying his father and let it grow, like some of the band members he used to like.

he’s more tanned, probably from all the hours outside. I used to make him wear sunscreen, and he pretended not to care, but i know he listened when i talked about its importance and what could happen to his skin.

he has a beard now; it barely grew when we were last together, but he shaved because he didn’t want to irritate my skin, even though i told him it was okay.

his eyes are unmistakable, i could recognize him by them alone. I know because i could spend hours just looking into his eyes, until he blushed and turned his face away.

his body is bigger now. He used to have muscles, but nothing like he does now. He looks even better, stronger.

then my mind starts to play tricks on me. I can remember the nights he’d knock on my window, hoping to sleep beside me because only then could he have a peaceful night. I can remember the dates, our first kiss, the first song we listened to together, the first time we shared a cigarette, the first time i heard him say my name, the first time he looked at me, the first time we went shopping together, the first time he cooked for me, the first time he taught me to hunt or use his crossbow. I can remember the words of love, the times he defended me, the times he gently pulled my arm to make it clear we’d do some class project together, and the times he’d pull me by the waist so i wouldn’t leave. I remember our first time, and the love i felt when he undressed in front of me, letting me see not just the nakedness of his body but also his soul.

“mom” before returning to reality at Madison’s call, i remembered the day of the breakup. The day my world crumbled because he looked at me like i was some kind of dessert he could consume before leaving, making me feel guilty and broken for the next few years. I remembered my pain, the times i couldn’t get out of bed, the times i wished it were all just a nightmare. “Mom!” And then the image cleared.

he’s here, the same Daryl Dixon who made my life a living hell from that day on.

“we're leaving,” i whispered, almost breathless, trying to think clearly but failing as i couldn’t string words together in my head.

‘I have to get out of here.’

DARYL’S POV

since that day, nothing has been the same. I had to stop myself from running to her every time i saw her at school, and the pain was so that i even considered dropping out, getting away, and disappearing from her life.

i could see the damage. Damn, i can still hear what they used to whisper about her every day, and i remember having to punch every idiot who thought they had the right to say something bad. She doesn’t know that, of course.

every day i remember how her eyes lost their light, like i had ripped her soul out with my words.

until the last day i saw her... she could never be the same. What my old man made me do killed both of us at the same time.

i found out she moved in with Mel, and i felt happy knowing she was achieving one of her goals. Besides… her best friend was going to take care of her. She did it for two years by keeping us apart.

i had to start working, at least to get a place to sleep, though it was really a shitty home, but it was what i could afford.

there were nights i cried thinking about her. Too many to give just one example. Sometimes i didn’t even have to wait until night. She was the only good thing in my life, and he ruined it, i ruined it by not being strong enough, by not being able to protect her like i promised i would.

i still see her in my dreams. She’s older, and we live together like we always should have. We talk about starting a family, moving, getting a dog, and living in peace. The worst part is waking up.

when all this shit started, i tried to find her, but with Merle, it was too complicated, and we had to join a group.

now i try to find her in every place we go, but there are no signs.

i wanna believe she’s still alive. She’s always been strong, much stronger than she thinks. That’s one thing we’ve always been different in. She wasn’t made for this, but she’s so smart she knows how to adapt, how to make plans and stay safe. She never needed me, but she doubted herself so much that she felt safer with me.

hell, if she only knew it was me who felt safe.

most of the group doesn’t know about her, only Rick and Carol, because those bastards know how to get information out of me. But even they don’t know what she looks like because they’ve never seen the only picture i keep of us, from when everything was okay.

that’s why i felt like i was going to faint when i opened the curtain of an empty cell and found Carol, a little girl… and her inside.

i could see the expression of surprise on her face, how she went through so many emotions in seconds while the little one tried to get her attention.

“mom,” i heard the girl call her over and over again.

‘Did she have a daughter?’ ‘When?’ so many questions started flooding my head, but i tried to come back to reality when the little one raised her voice, finally pulling YN out of her thoughts, though now she had an expression of pure pain.

“we’re leaving,” i heard her say, and then panic overwhelmed me.

“no,” i quickly responded, making all three of them turn to look at me. The little girl and Carol in confusion, but her… her gaze was unreadable, like she wanted to tear my head off and cry for the rest of the day at the same time. “i mean…”

“Madison, come with me for a moment? I want to introduce you to Judith,” Carol said to the girl, who looked at YN. She just nodded, now staring at the ground and not saying a word. Carol took the little one’s hand, and they both got up and walked out of the cell. The woman gave me a supportive look before leaving. 

NORMAL POV

both are trying to keep their composure, but the truth is they´re failing miserably. Still, can anyone blame them? they never believed this moment would finally come. All the situations they imagined, all the possible responses they once thought of, everything vanished the moment Daryl walked into that cell.

she couldn’t look at him, almost as if she was afraid to, and he... he couldn’t stop looking at her, fearing that if he stopped, she might disappear in front of him.

“we’re gonna leave, don’ worry,” she said in a low, trembling voice, loaded with the emotions she was trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress.

“ya don’ have to,” he replied softly. However, he received no response, so he tried again. “ya’ll be safe here, Yn…”

“shut up,” she quickly said, finally looking at him, her eyes wide and red. Hearing him say her name after so many years ignited a different flame inside her.

all the anger she had built up towards him, towards the things he said and made her feel, everything was coming back.

“we’ll be fine, we’ve always been,” she said, her voice filled with anger and frustration.

Daryl could feel the deep pain in his chest intensifying. It was as if all the worst scenarios he had imagined were coming true.

“listen, i really…”

“no,” she interrupted him, stepping back when he unconsciously took a step forward. “jus´ forget it, we’ll leave, and it’ll be easier that way.”

“don’ risk the kid over this.”

there were a few seconds of silence, and Yn’s eyes slowly filled with tears from all the overwhelming emotions.

“can’t be near ya, Daryl, i really can’t do it,” she confessed, almost whispering. “can’t be in the same place as the person who destroyed my entire world in a matter of minutes like nothin´ else mattered. You treated me like scraps of food you no longer wanted, like a piece of cake for… for your discard… and then you walked away. You know what it took to recover even a little of what you took? what it was fer to understand that ’m not just a piece of cake or somethin´ insignificant? damn it, Daryl! i can’t get back my last year of school, my graduation, the moments that should have been happy and memorable but instead were depressing, horrible, ´cause the pain was so intense i could barely stop crying. How ´you expect me to be near you when all i remember is the suffering you caused? how!?” she didn’t even realize when she started crying, but when she finished speaking, she felt her cheeks burning from the hot tears, her throat aching, her eyelashes wet, and her eyes irritated. Still, after releasing what she had been holding inside, she took a moment to think, using the silence of the man to do so.

she thought of Madison, the little girl who had been by her side just minutes ago in that place, settling into what could be a definitive, safe place full of more children of various ages, with animals and people interested in getting to know her. Then she sighed heavily, wiping away her tears and regaining her composure.

“i’ll think about staying, fer her, but please don’ come near either of us.”

Daryl couldn’t even speak; he felt he would break down in tears if he dared open his mouth. So he simply nodded slowly before turning around and leaving the cell as quickly as he could, allowing them both to catch their breath.

it definitely hadn’t gone as he had dreamed.

however, there was one detail that didn't leave Daryl's mind.

she was wearing his shirt, the one he had left at her house a couple of years ago.

weeks had passed, maybe months, and Daryl had honored her request to stay away from them, though that didn’t stop him from watching over them as best as he could. He always asked, always showed his concern, and that was something everyone in the group had noticed. But they also noticed the sadness in his eyes, different from what they had known before. Even his appearance seemed more unkempt than usual, and at times his attitude was more hostile.

Yn wasn’t much better, and her obvious avoidance of being near the archer only confirmed the group’s theories, though no one said anything. They feared losing the trust of either one.

she tried, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She would glance at him out of the corner of her eye, listen in on the conversations of the women who were in love just to learn a little more about him. Even the romantic dreams had returned, and she could tell they were affecting her when she woke up with her heart racing, as if they were still together, as if nothing had happened, only to come back to reality and feel all the frustration return, leaving her in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

now, in the current situation, we have a more dramatic scene unfolding.

Yn had gone on a supply run with Glenn, Rick, and Maggie. At first, everything was quite normal. Everyone followed Yn’s plan, as she was now in charge of planning most of the missions, sometimes joining them like today. However, there was something no one had considered this time: the structure was much older and more unstable than expected, and there were some intruders inside that weren’t visible from where they were investigating.

that’s when two walkers managed to corner the young woman. In a desperate attempt to draw one of her knives, she tripped, and one of them lunged at her, pinning her down and preventing her from using the hand with the weapon, while she desperately tried to keep its face away from her body with the other.

“help! help!” she screamed desperately, kicking and struggling to get the walker off her. But it seemed impossible. It was enormous.

her trapped arm began to go numb, and her body thrashed violently in an attempt to free herself, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

then she felt the walker stop moving, and some blood splattered on her face. Soon someone pulled the walker off her, and she saw Rick, panting. When she looked at the floor, she noticed the second walker was also down, apparently was unable to reach her because part of its clothing had gotten caught on a protruding nail in the doorframe.

“thank you,” she said, panting and still on the ground. But when she looked at Rick’s face, she noticed how it paled as he stared at her, more specifically at her abdomen. So she decided to look down too, and that’s when she noticed the new problem she was facing.

the side that had gone numb must have hit something as she fell to the ground, tearing her shirt and her skin, causing a worrying amount of blood to spill out, made worse by all the movement she had made to shake off the walker. Now she had a severe open wound, gushing blood, staining her side, leg, and the floor. It was a mess, and seeing it made the young woman start to panic. 

“no, no, Rick, i can’t die, not here, not like this. I need to see Madi, i have to get to Madi, to Daryl, i…” she began to say quickly, snapping Rick out of his shock. He shouted for the others and bent down to lift her. But the abrupt movement made her whimper, feeling how the wound seemed to stretch. “Stop, stop,” she sobbed, terrified and clutching the man’s clothes, now equally stained with blood.

when the others arrived, they had similar reactions, and soon they had to head toward the car they had come in. This time, Glenn was behind the wheel, Maggie next to him, and Rick and Yn in the back seat, trying to control the bleeding.

saying that many were horrified would be an understatement. Carol felt as if her soul had left her body and quickly covered Madison’s eyes, leading her away from the entrance where the girl had been excitedly waiting for the woman’s return.

however, nothing, nothing could have prepared them for how Daryl reacted upon seeing his best friend enter with Yn, bleeding in his arms. The man turned pale and ran to find Hershel, shouting his name desperately and helping him prepare the bed where they needed to lay her down.

the woman had arrived almost unconscious but finally passed out when her back touched the sheets. That’s when the old man took over treating the wound, and Daryl, without hesitation, offered to donate whatever blood was needed to save her. This is what brought us to the current situation, just a while after Hershel left the cell to inform the others. Daryl was looking at the photo he cherished so much, until he heard small footsteps approaching, and then a small figure appeared. Her face was tear-streaked, red, and she was pouting.

Madison.

the man swallowed hard, trying to think of how to handle the situation, but nothing came to mind.

“she dead?” the little girl asked, almost whispering. She took a few steps to stand next to the man, who was sitting in a chair by the bed.

“nah, she’ll be fine,” he nodded, though it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of that too.

then the girl did something unexpected: she threw herself into the man’s arms, crying uncontrollably again. Daryl felt his heart break at the sound of her sobs, but even so, it was hard for him to return the hug. It took him a few seconds to decide, but he finally let his hand stroke the little girl’s back, trying to comfort her.

when Hershel returned, the girl had to leave for a moment, but by the time the process was finished, and Yn was resting and out of danger, no one could get Daryl or the girl to move from the side of the bed.

it wasn’t until midday the next day that Daryl managed to get the girl to go outside for some fresh air and eat a decent lunch with Carol, but he had to promise her that he would stay to watch over Yn.

it’s not like he planned to leave anyway.

however, when Yn opened her eyes, she didn’t expect to be in an unfamiliar cell, much less in a bed, with Daryl Dixon sitting right beside her, looking at her in surprise.

“i thought i told ya to stay away,” the girl said, her voice hoarse but without a hint of anger.

“’m sorry, i got scared when they brought ya and…” he stopped talking, looking at her now-bandaged side and swallowing hard.

Yn looked as well, and then all the memories started flooding back, making her sigh deeply.

“that was close,” she said, fidgeting with her hands, avoiding his gaze.

“i thought ya were goin´ to die. I felt like i was goin´ to lose my mind.”

“why?” she frowned and turned to look at him.

“´cause no matter how many years pass, Yn, i’ll keep worryin´ like the first day, even if ya don’ wan´ me around,” he confessed with a bravery he didn’t even know he had.

he saw her eyes widen for a moment before returning to normal as she cleared her throat.

“you have no right to worry about me, not after…”

“i know what i did to ya, i know what i caused, and i can’t even forgive myself fer it, but please, listen to me now,” he pleaded, making her fall silent. He was tired of this situation and was going to speak once and for all. “that day, when i came home… he had seen it, he had seen our goodbye and how we treated each other.” He swallowed but kept looking at her. “he gave me a beating that knocked the shit out of me, ´n said he was goin´ to kill ya. He said so many things… and i promised to protect ya, Yn, i swore i´d do whatever it took to keep ya safe. And i had no way of doin´ it, but then ya came to my house, and don’ know, i took the chance to push ya away, even if ya had to hate me in the process,” he confessed, feeling a weight lift off him. “i never wanted to do what i did to ya, but i’d rather protect ya, and i can’t regret that.”

“Daryl, why didn’t you talk to me? we had been seeing each other in secret for a while, we could have hidden it more, we could have pretended…”

“nah, he would have killed ya. Tha´ day he was listenin´, and he made sure we didn’t get back together. He followed ya durin´ the first year and made sure i knew… i didn’t want him to hurt ya, but to do that, i had to hurt ya myself.”

they were both silent for a few minutes, but then she couldn't take it anymore.

ignoring the protests of her body, the girl stretched out and hugged the man beside her, surprising him. However, this time he responded quickly, inhaling her scent and merging into her warmth.

they were both home.

“i can’t forgive you so easily, ´cause i can’t forget the last years of my life, but i believe in your story… and i can try,” she whispered.

“thank you.”

“mom!?” both heard the little one, who joyfully threw herself at them, earning small laughs from the adults.

“hey, little one, be careful,” Yn said, pulling away from Daryl and letting the child lie down next to her, between the two adults, as the man remained seated by the bed. “have you met Daryl, Madi?”

“we talked a bit while ya were restin´,” the man said.

“well, Daryl, this is Madison, Mel’s daughter,” Yn said, unknowingly answering a question that had been on Dixon’s mind for a while. “Madi, this is Daryl, an old friend of mine,” she said this time, not taking her eyes off the man, who was looking at her as well.

it would take time for her to forgive him and move past what she had lived through. He needed to regain her trust and show her that he was worth the risk of trying.

and he is ready for that and more. He won’t let her go again.

YN's POV

Dear Diary,

it’s been a while since i last talked to you, huh?  

i think you’ll be glad to know that i kept my word, and this time i can say that things are better. Maybe better than ever.

we found a group; they’re good people with the same goal. I guess this is what it feels like to have a family.

he’s here too.  

he’s alive.

for a while, i didn’t want to know anything about him, i even thought about leaving with Madi.  

but i suppose it was inevitable.

he explained what really happened that day.  

i can’t help but think that maybe things would have been easier if he had just told me… but i can understand why he did what he did.

still, i was upset for a while, knowing that we could’ve found a solution that would have spared us so much suffering...

anyway, now we’re in the same place, and since Madi met him, she can hardly stay away from his side. She follows him everywhere, except when he goes on supply runs. She loves him, and i understand why.

he tries every day to earn my forgiveness; he works so hard, even though i’ve already told him the truth.

i’ve already forgiven him.

still, i’m scared of how much Madison cares for Daryl. I’m scared she’ll get too attached and start calling him… you know what, or that something will happen, and i’ll have to watch her suffer.

but i guess those fears won’t go away anytime soon.  

for now, i can tell you that we’re okay, safe with these people. Safe with him.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

[zapreportsblog]

❝the witch hybrid and her companion 2❞

✭ pairing : father Carlisle Cullen x reader x imprint Seth Clearwater

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a young witch who Carlisle had saved from the Salem witch trials, she had been been on the verge of being fully brunt to death when he had grabbed and rescued her, she was fifteen when he had turnt her thus making her the first hybrid of both witch and vampire species.

✭ authors note : this is part 2 to this request and I’m resuming from where I left off at

✭ twilight masterlist

In the days following the revelation of Seth's imprint on (Y/N), Carlisle's overprotectiveness had reached new heights. He wanted to know her whereabouts at all times, even when he was at work. While his intentions were rooted in concern, (Y/N) found his constant vigilance suffocating.

One afternoon, feeling frustrated and in need of some space, (Y/N) decided to return to the Quileute pack's house. She was aware that her presence might not be welcomed by everyone, but she couldn't bear the overbearing atmosphere at home any longer.

As she arrived at the pack's house, Paul's abrasive greeting didn't surprise her. "Oh great, the freak's back."

Seth, sitting nearby, growled in response, his protective instincts kicking in. He shot Paul a warning glare before getting up and rushing to (Y/N)'s side. His face lit up with a lovesick smile as he hugged her tightly. "I've missed you," he murmured.

(Y/N) blushed and fidgeted under Seth's warm embrace, feeling a mixture of flattery and embarrassment.

Sam, observing the scene, approached with a curious expression. "Why are you here, (Y/N)?"

Unable to meet Sam's gaze, (Y/N) buried her head in Seth's chest and mumbled, "Just wanted to talk with Seth for a bit."

Seth tightened his hold on her, as if silently claiming her presence. He responded with a determined nod, his expression reflecting his unwavering affection for her.

Sam exchanged a knowing glance with the other pack members, recognizing the depth of Seth's imprint bond with (Y/N). While some tensions still lingered, they understood that this connection was beyond their control and something that needed to be respected.

(Y/N) and Seth, in that moment, found solace in each other's presence, away from the complexities and expectations of their respective worlds.

“Here follow me, I know where we can hang out at.”

Seth gently led (Y/N) toward the beach, their footsteps leaving imprints in the soft sand. The sound of the crashing waves filled the air, and the moon cast a shimmering silver glow over the ocean. It was a tranquil scene, the perfect backdrop for their conversation.

They found a quiet spot on the shore, sitting side by side, their toes sinking into the cool sand. They watched the waves roll in and out, the rhythm of the ocean providing a sense of calm.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Seth turned to (Y/N), his eyes searching her face. "Something's been bothering you, hasn't it?"

(Y/N) sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it's my father, Carlisle. He's been so overprotective lately, and it's suffocating."

Seth chuckled softly, understanding her frustration. "I get it. My big sister, Leah, can be the same way. They care deeply for us, (Y/N). They don't want to see us hurt."

(Y/N) nodded, appreciating Seth's perspective. "I know, and I love him for it, but I also need some space, you know? I want to have my own experiences and make my own decisions."

Seth grinned, his expression warm and supportive. "You're strong, (Y/N), and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You can handle it. Just be patient with him. He's learning too."

They turned their attention back to the waves, their conversation bringing a sense of understanding and reassurance. In that moment, (Y/N) felt grateful for the bond she shared with Seth, one that allowed them to share their concerns and find solace in each other's company.

As they watched the moonlight dance on the water, they knew that the challenges of their supernatural existence were vast, but with each other's support, they could navigate the complexities of their worlds and the relationships they held dear.

Seth's curiosity lingered in the tranquil night air as he turned to (Y/N) and asked, "If it isn't too much trouble to ask, what was it like back then for you?"

(Y/N) contemplated the question for a moment, the memories of those dark times resurfacing. "During the Salem witch trials?"

Seth nodded, his eyes reflecting genuine interest.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her gaze distant as she began to recount her past. "My mother and I lived in fear, but there was a strange kind of harmony to it. We were both witches, you see. We learned magic from the grand witch, the first to be burnt alive in those trials."

Seth listened intently, captivated by her story.

(Y/N) continued, "The grand witch had been an outcast, feared and shunned by the townsfolk. But she wasn't wicked; she was just misunderstood. My mother and I were the only ones kind to her, and in return, she taught us her magic."

Seth's eyes widened with understanding. "So, you and your mother were accused because of your magic?"

(Y/N) nodded sadly. "Yes. They found my mother using her magic to make the crops grow during a particularly harsh season. The townsfolk believed it was witchcraft, so they killed her. A few months later, they came for me, fearing I was a witch like her."

Seth's expression turned sympathetic as he listened to the harrowing tale. He couldn't imagine the pain and fear (Y/N) must have endured during those dark times.

(Y/N) sighed, her gaze returning to the moonlit waves. "It was a time of persecution and ignorance, Seth. I'm just grateful that I found a family who accepts me for who I am now."

Seth reached out and gently squeezed (Y/N)'s hand, offering silent comfort and understanding. He had glimpsed a piece of her past, and it only deepened his admiration for her strength and resilience.

Seth's curiosity continued to drive his questions as he turned to (Y/N) once more. "Can you tell me what it was like when you were turned into a vampire?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her memories of the transformation still vivid and painful. "It was... excruciating. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. The venom burned like a thousand fires, coursing through my veins."

She shivered as she recalled the sensation, her voice quivering with the memories. "It was like reliving the flames from the stake all over again. But there was something else, something deeper. My own blood fought against the venom, resisting the change."

Seth's expression turned sympathetic as he listened to her describe the agonizing process. "That sounds awful. How did you make it through?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, finding strength in the presence of her friend. "I had Carlisle with me. He saved me from the pain of the stake, and he was there to help me through the transformation as well. He's been my savior in more ways than one."

Seth nodded, his respect for Carlisle growing even stronger. He couldn't imagine the strength and resilience it took for (Y/N) to endure such a traumatic experience and emerge from it as the person she was today.

As they continued their conversation under the moonlit sky, (Y/N) and Seth found solace in sharing their pasts and the challenges they had faced.

As (Y/N) and Seth continued to share their stories and experiences, it became clear that their bond was growing stronger with each passing moment. (Y/N) had learned about Seth's curiosity, and now it was her turn to ask about his life.

"I'd like to hear more about your life, Seth," she said, her eyes filled with genuine interest. "Tell me about your family."

Seth smiled, appreciating her curiosity. "Sure, (Y/N). Well, it's just my mom and my sister, Leah, now. Our dad, Harry, passed away when I was pretty young."

(Y/N) nodded in understanding, a sympathetic expression on her face.

Seth continued, "After Dad's death, it was just the three of us. Leah took on a lot of responsibility, helping our mom, Sue, raise me. She's always been strong and protective."

(Y/N) listened intently, gaining a deeper understanding of Seth's family dynamics.

Seth's smile grew as he recounted more of their story. "Leah shifted first, a few weeks before I did. It was a tough time for us, but she managed to navigate the challenges of being a wolf. When I eventually shifted too, it was a relief to have her by my side, guiding me through it."

(Y/N) was struck by the strength and resilience of the Clearwater family, especially Leah and Seth, who had faced significant challenges at a young age. Their bond as siblings had undoubtedly played a crucial role in helping them weather the storms of their supernatural existence.

As the conversation with Seth stretched into the late hours of the night, the moon hanging high in the sky, he eventually noticed the time. With a concerned expression, he spoke up, "It's getting pretty late. I could ask my mom if you can stay over if you want."

(Y/N) smiled warmly at his offer, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "That's really sweet, Seth, but I should head back home. My family's been worried about me enough as it is, especially my dad."

Seth nodded in understanding, realizing the importance of (Y/N)'s family. "I get it. Family comes first."

As they began to make their way back to the pack's house, Seth walked alongside (Y/N), the night air filled with a sense of companionship and understanding. When they finally reached their destination, Seth turned to (Y/N) with a soft smile.

"Well, (Y/N), thanks for coming to visit and sharing all those stories with me."

(Y/N) returned his smile, feeling a sense of connection she hadn't expected when she first ventured out to the pack's house. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Seth's cheek. "Thank you for being such a good friend, Seth. I'll see you soon."

Seth's cheeks flushed bright red at the unexpected kiss. He stammered a grateful but slightly flustered reply, "Yeah, definitely. See you soon, (Y/N)."

As (Y/N) turned to head back home, she couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in her heart. The supernatural world was filled with complexities and challenges, but it was also where unexpected friendships and connections could bloom, leaving a lasting impact on those who dared to embrace them.

As (Y/N) returned home, the familiar embrace of her family awaited her. Carlisle, who had been anxiously waiting for her, enveloped her in a tight hug the moment she stepped through the door.

"I'm so sorry for my behavior, (Y/N)," Carlisle whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I just worry about you, and I love you deeply."

(Y/N) returned the hug, her heart warmed by her father's concern. "I love you too, Carlisle. I'm grateful to have you as my father, even if I'm adopted."

Carlisle smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. "You will always be my daughter, no matter what."

Feeling reassured, (Y/N) couldn't help but yawn. The long evening and heartfelt conversations with Seth had taken their toll on her.

Seeing her exhaustion, Carlisle gently said, "It's getting late, (Y/N). You should go to bed."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before making a request. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep? Sing me the lullaby you used to sing when I was younger?"

Carlisle nodded, his heart swelling with love for his daughter. He followed her to her room, and as she settled into bed, he sat beside her. He began to softly sing the familiar lullaby that had always brought her comfort.

"The monsters gone, and it's on the run,

And your daddy's here.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl."

As the soothing words filled the room, (Y/N) felt her eyelids grow heavy. She closed her eyes, listening to the familiar melody, and soon, the embrace of sleep overcame her.

Carlisle watched over her for a while longer, a wistful smile on his face. His little girl was growing up, and with each passing day, she was embracing her own unique journey in the supernatural world. He knew that their family's bond would remain unbreakable, no matter how much she changed and grew.

With a final loving glance at (Y/N), he left her room, closing the door gently behind him. The night settled over the Cullens' home, and Carlisle couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and connections that bound their family together, even in the face of the challenges that their extraordinary existence presented.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

hiii!!!! so, I have a request. Harry and reader are from the school's marching band and they're kind of besties and they like each other but are too afraid to say it. (you can change it if you want but I imagined them as trumpet player!H and clarinet player!reader). You can also write about an upcoming competition but only if you want, this part is just another suggestion. (I've been so excited about this because I play the clarinet and I'm always making scenarios in my mind of what it would be like if this was real.) Im sorry if it got a little confusing, I tend to mix things up a bit when I'm writing.

Hold on to me

i felt so many things while writing this. thank you for requesting this, it was so beautiful. hope you like this 😭

Words: 2k

Warnings: Kissing, LOADS of fluff~!!!

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

The sun dipped low on the school football field, leaving you and Harry as the last echoes of music lingered in the air. The rest of the marching band had headed home, leaving behind the fatigue from hours of practice for the upcoming competition.

"Ugh, my lips are so sore from playing all day," you groaned, setting down your clarinet and massaging your mouth.

Harry stretched his hands, replying, "I know, right? My fingers feel like they've gone numb from all the trumpet playing."

Both of you flopped onto the field, gazing up at the darkening sky. Staying back after practice had become a ritual for you two, a time to talk and unwind. Over the years, your shared love for music had forged a deep friendship.

"So, what do you think our chances are at the competition next week?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I think we've got a pretty good shot. Our band's been putting in the work," Harry replied with confidence.

"Yeah, but you know how competitive the other schools can be," you added, a hint of worry in your voice.

"Don't worry, we've got this. And even if we don't win, I still have the best duet partner," Harry said, and you smiled.

Your connection had always carried a playful tone, but neither of you had taken it beyond that. The fear of jeopardizing your friendship held you back. What you had was precious.

"Speaking of duets, have you started practicing the piece for the competition?" you asked, steering the conversation away, so you don't think about how perfect his hair looks.

"I have, but I think it would sound better if we practiced together," Harry suggested.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Fine, but only if you promise to stop playing random notes and messing me up."

"I can't make any promises," Harry laughed, picking up his trumpet and getting into position.

You followed suit, and soon the field resonated with the harmony of your instruments. As the notes flowed, a sense of calm and joy enveloped you both. In perfect sync, each note blended seamlessly.

"Wow, we sound amazing together," you said, taking a break to catch your breath.

"That's because we make a great team," Harry replied, grinning at you.

You couldn't help but smile back, warmth spreading through your chest. Playing with Harry was always a joy, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the setting sun casting a golden light, or maybe it was the adoration in Harry's eyes.

. . .

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your marching band uniform for the umpteenth time. The crisp white and black fabric hugs your body perfectly, making you feel confident and ready for the upcoming competition. Your instrument, a sleek clarinet, rests against your shoulder, its familiar weight bringing a sense of comfort.

As you make your way to the band room, you can feel the excitement and nervous energy buzzing around you. The sound of instruments being tuned and chatter fills the air, and you can't help but smile. This is where you feel most at home - with your marching band family.

And then you see him. Harry. He's standing with his trumpet in hand, a small smile on his face as he talks to some of the other brass players. You feel your heart flutter at the sight of him, and you can't help but wonder if he feels the same way about you.

Maybe. Maybe not.

You join the rest of the band for warm-ups and steal glances at Harry whenever you can. He catches your eye and winks at you, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to race. You can't help but smile back, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity with him.

Your band walks out soon, getting on the field and taking proper positions. The instructor perfects it, and he guides you as you begin playing.

As the competition begins, the whole team plays their hearts out, perfectly in sync with each others. The music fills you, and you can't help but feel grateful for this moment. You know that this is your last competition together, as both of you will be heading off to different colleges next year.

But you push those thoughts to the back of your mind, focusing on the present. And as the final notes of your performance ring out, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Everyone smiles as it ends, and after everyone is back backstage, you meet him. You both share a high five, both of you grinning from ear to ear.

"I think we outdid ourselves" You say, and he nods, taking a couple bottles from the table and giving one to you.

As the awards ceremony begins, everyone anxiously waits for the results. You have your fingers crossed, praying to god that you win.

And when your band is announced as the first-place winner, everyone jumps up in excitement, hugging each other tightly. This was it - the moment you had all been working towards. Months of grueling practices, early morning rehearsals, and late-night performances had finally paid off. Harry hugs you, and the hug lasts long, and you think it's definitely because it's one of the last times you're doing that.

He pulls back, and there's a huge grin on his face. You rarely see him smile so big.

And then, something happens.

Maybe it was the way your lips were so close, or it was the way you were glowing with happiness.

Harry kisses you.

And it's everything you could've asked for.

It's short, but definitely longer than a peck. He pulls back quickly, realizing what he has done.

The look on his face is apologetic-he's so sad and guilty as he realizes what he has done. But he doesn't have to be.

You wanted it too.

"Shit. I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't-"

You place a finger on his lips, silencing him. His eyes widen, and you lean closer, your lips to his ear as you whisper-"I liked it"

And you turn around, walking away. Leaving him confused.

. . .

After the competition, the band gathers for some celebratory drinks. You're all 18, but the bar takes an embarrassing amount of time to check your IDs, and Harry thinks he's going to go mad. He wants to see you, pull you to a secluded place, and explain himself to you.

Finally, they let everyone in, and after ordering one or two rounds, everyone's loosening up. Harry finds you quickly, pulling you by your wrist and taking you to the alleyway outside. He pushes you against the wall, the drink sloshing in around the glass as you look at him.

"Harry-what-"

"What did you mean you liked it?"

He asks, and he looks so worried. You smile, pushing a strand of hair off his forehead, and easing the nerve popping up.

"Easy, curly. I meant that okay-" you sigh, looking up at him and then pushing your gaze downwards. You've liked him for so long, and now you have the chance to admit it, and why is it so hard?

"I-I like you, Harry. Since the last year," you admit, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize how close he really is, so close you could just get on your toes and-

"You like me?"

"Yeah. I like you. And when you kissed me, I-It was like a dream come true"

His face softens, and he eases down. His lips curled into a soft smile, the same dimples on show that you adored.

"I thought I crossed a line and that you would be mad at me" he admitted. You slid your hands to his cheeks, replying, "You didn't"

He sighs and takes a step back. You wish he would kiss you again. You look up at him expectantly, and he looks down at you, your eyes full of adoration for him.

"What?" he asks.

"Kiss me again? Please?" you ask, giving him puppy eyes.

And who could say no to that?

He doesn't need to be asked twice, and his hand comes to rest on the wall beside you. You grin as he kisses you for a second time, and it's even better. His lips move softly against yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he pushes closer.

It's perfect-the warmth his body is radiating makes you feel at ease. When you're both breathless, he pulls back, his cheeks flushed red, and lips swollen.

"God, I can't stop kissing you" he admits.

"Me too" you confess.

"Take a walk?" he asks, holding his hand out. For you to hold.

"Yes," you reply happily.

You're walking down a road, and you have to idea where you both are. It's 6 pm, so you could figure that out later.

"You know, I got in"

You turn, face full of surprise and happiness.

"No way!" you exclaim, and he nods, "I did, yeah. And I'm getting a music scholarship too. It's perfect"

"Harry, that's wonderful." you stop, holding his hands in yours, "I'm so happy for you"

"Thanks, hehe" he smiles, "And did you get in?"

"I didn't get the reply yet. Two are due tomorrow, and the rest after that"

"I'm sure you'll get in"

"I hope so"

It's silent after that, and the thought of going to different colleges makes you sad.

"We're not going to the same colleges" you admit after a while, a hint of sadness in your voice.

"I know, it sucks"

You make your way to a bus stop, and stand there, waiting for a bus so you could get someplace you know the routes of.

You're both lost in thought. It's some of the last times you're spending together. The last talks, walks, the last of everything.

"You know, we could make a pact"

Your eyes perk up, and he leads you to a bench nearby. You both sit down, facing each other.

"What-what do you mean?"

"That we would find our way back to each other"

You're still looking at him confused.

"Look, we have no idea where life's going to take us. After college, it's all a blur, but if we promise that we will find each other after we've graduated-" his voice lowers, "-I'll have something to hold on to"

You want to cry. There's tears on the back of your eyes, threatening to spill. He's so sincere-it hurts to see him like this.

"Harry-" you pull him in for a hug, your face resting on his shoulder. You breathe in, taking in the way he smells. You want to burn it to the back of your head so that you never forget it. At least till you meet again.

"I promise-" you pull back, taking his hands in yours, "-I promise, Harry. We'll call and talk and text each other, and we'll definitely find our way back."

He smiles, and a tear escapes his left eye. You smile too, and soon, it's the sound of the bus that makes you pull him off the bench. You run as fast as you can and finally manage to climb the bus, walking hand in hand as you sit next to each other.

You glance at Harry sitting beside you, and his presence brings you comfort. You intertwine your fingers with his, silently vowing to hold onto this moment, this feeling, for as long as you can.

You lean your head on his shoulder, finding solace in the warmth of his presence and the shared understanding that distance can't diminish what you mean to each other. It never will, and you will see him again.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[juminies]

leave the light on

a not-quite-impromptu reunion of old friends

♡ — post-jumin good end, mostly just jumin and jihyun being jumin and jihyun—some tension and some love.

read on AO3

☀︎

“Did you forget something, dear?” Jumin calls just out of eye shot of the door.

The man currently in the doorway clears his throat. The situation doesn’t quite call for a joke about being mistakenly called dear. “It’s me.”

Jumin walks into the room and his eyes grow noticeably wider as he registers who the ‘me’ standing in front of him is. He scans them cautiously from head to toe, as though he expects to find something catastrophic awaiting him there. “Jihyun?”

“Hello. Security recognised me and let me in. Sorry it’s been a while.”

“V.” A correction, maybe. Jumin pushes at the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. “It’s good to see you. What happens to be the occasion? We’ve barely heard from you since the wedding.”

“Ah. Yes. Sorry about that,” V says. He nervously taps against the neck of the bottle in his left hand, a red wine the pair used to indulge in often before inside-outside forces dragged them apart.

“I thought you were away,” Jumin tells him.

“I was. I had some free time though, so I thought it would be nice to come back and visit.”

Jumin raises an eyebrow. “Did you see my wife on your way in?” he asks.

“I can’t say I did.”

“I see. She just left for a few hours, coincidentally.”

There is already tension lingering, far too much of it, easily strung up by the silence in the penthouse. The last time they had stood together in this room was the day before the last party, on less than ideal terms. The last time they drank together alone was close to two years ago, as what could prove to be entirely different people. Neither man steps closer, as if some ragged fusion of time and carefully omitted truth and lacking urgency holds the other out of arm’s reach.

“I brought wine,” V says, holding up the bottle. His hand appears to shake ever so subtly as he does; it would have gone unnoticed by anyone less detail-oriented than Jumin. “I assume you still enjoy this one?”

“Of course,” Jumin tells him. “It reminds me of you, after all. Let me fetch some glasses.”

The space remains between them as Jumin heads to the kitchen and decreases only physically as V sits down in the armchair and Jumin takes his usual place on the sofa.

Conversation does not open as naturally as V had hoped. He has a tendency to forget Jumin’s gravitation to small talk when it comes to people he hasn’t seen for some time—a taught behaviour that has only grown to fall naturally upon him when thrust into what, admittedly, is a somewhat uncomfortable situation. V also has a tendency to avoid sharing details of the goings on in his life as a measure to prevent anyone other than himself coming into harm’s way, and these things in tandem do not piece together too well. As a consequence he mostly lets Jumin answer his own questions, listening keenly to him talk about the latest developments at C&R, about his honeymoon, about his wife.

Then comes a topic that cannot be deflected: “How are your eyes?”

V digs a fingernail into the arm of the plush chair he’s sat in, leaving a small mark in the cushion. He leans to pick up his glass from the coffee table to stall as he turns over the question in his mind; performs a swift but careful examination of it as though it's the brush strokes of an oil painting. “The circumstances aren’t ideal, but they haven’t deteriorated any more since we last spoke.”

Jumin hums noncommittally as if he expects more, and if he sees through the lie his expression does not give him away.

“I have very little sight at all in my right eye and no peripheral vision in my left. I’m just grateful I can still take pictures for now,” V adds. He punctuates his admission with a solemn half-laugh as he gently smooths a finger over the mark in the chair he made with his nail.

“I would still think it best that you make a legitimate inquiry about having surgery to heal them,” Jumin says. “It would be a shame were you to lose your vision entirely. Our wedding photographs were beautiful thanks to you. Retrospectively I find it difficult to believe that I could have so much as considered trusting someone else with the duty.”

V smiles softly and crosses his arms over his chest sheepishly. “If nothing else I’m glad I could be of service in that regard. You both deserved beautiful photographs.”

“You are doing me a service merely by being a friend. I can only hope that you consider it—the surgery, that is.” A bulb in the lamp across the room flickers and Jumin glances over to it. His face remains wholly unreadable. “For a friend, if not for yourself.”

V nods, tight lipped, and raises his glass to his chin. “I will consider it.”

He is rewarded with a sincere (and relieved) thank you.

The conversation gets easier after that, as though it had served as a reminder of the profound trust the pair have for one another. A bottle of wine is drained quickly and the gap between them closes in tandem; any bitterness brewing subsides. Though there had often been one thing or another to mull over—it’s in their nature to undershare—no feelings between Jumin and Jihyun had ever so much as begun to bleed through into resentment, and now is no different. Instead apprehension turns to laughter and agitation to playfulness. Between the two of them they hold enough admiration for the other to fill oceans.

“You know, V,” Jumin starts after some time, gently swirling his wine—the first glass from a second bottle that he claimed he had been saving for a special occasion. “I thought it very odd that my wife should opt to go out alone on the evening of my day off.”

V’s vision renders him oblivious to the mischievous glint in Jumin’s eyes. “Yes. Strange, I suppose.”

“And you brought wine to a supposed impromptu visit?”

“I bought it nearby,” V says. Then, with a touch of sarcasm, adds, “Would you prefer that I show up empty handed next time?”

“Not that I doubt your credibility, but…” Jumin leans forward and turns the now empty bottle that V had brought along so that he can see the label, then presses his finger against the name of a French town printed in grey cursive. “No local stores sell this variety,” he finishes, amused. “She put you up to this, did she not?”

The shift of V’s expression is enough of a confirmation in the eyes of a man who’s known him for twenty years, but Jumin doesn’t say as much. He leans back again, crossing one leg over the other, and Jihyun can’t help but break into a grin. “Put me up to this?” he echoes.

“Yes. Visiting me today,” Jumin says.

The mint-haired man takes a longer than necessary sip of wine.

“She did,” Jumin says, volunteering an answer to his own question.

V sighs and shakes his head, his smile unfading. “She did.”

“I knew it.”

“You knew the whole time?”

“The timing was too convenient.” Jumin chuckles. “And I assume she figured that my lack of opportunity to prepare would render me somewhat less formal about the whole thing.”

“She called me as soon as she found out I was back in the city and insisted I visit. She didn’t give me much choice, actually. She’s a very persuasive woman.”

“She is indeed.” Jumin smiles warmly. “Then it seems I will have to thank her later.”

“Me too,” V hums. The quiet unnaturally lingers for a beat too long before he adds, “Know that I did– I do miss you often, and I’m sorry for not getting in touch more. It can be quite difficult to approach when… Ah.” His free hand nervously opens and closes tight again in his lap—a visual to accompany the way he fiddles with the idea of honesty then pushes it far enough from the realm of possibility that he can plausibly deny it was ever there. “Things get in the way.”

“Call,” Jumin says, and does not press the vagueness of things or how they get in the way. His unbreakable loyalty sits unbelonging but welcomed with the utmost gratitude behind Jihyun’s rib cage. “Whenever you are available to do so. That’s all I ask.”

“The service really is bad out there most of the time.”

“A broken phone call is better than no phone call.”

“Noted.”

They fall into a real, comfortable silence, then. Through it something feels like they’re back, though they never really left. Like children who look to each other for love they lack elsewhere. Like teenagers willingly dependent on one another for companionship and a semblance of normality. Like fresh adults learning to navigate the world with one’s arm tenderly thrown over the other’s shoulder.

“Do you remember,” Jumin starts, “Between our sixteenth birthdays, when you stole a bottle of wine from your father for us to share?”

“Actually, I do. I think that was the first time,” V muses, “That I’d done anything I considered genuinely rebellious.”

Jumin laughs loudly in surprise and leans in closer, elbows resting on his knees as if he’s about to share a lifelong secret. “Are we not counting the time you snuck out of your house in the middle of the night to tell me about the dream you had where we ran away together and lived in a tent on Jeju island?”

“Oh, God. I had forgotten about that.”

“You got grounded for a week. I recall your father rather distastefully using my almost being kidnapped as an excuse to keep you indoors,” Jumin says.

V smiles, light and sweet, then leans back in his chair. He actually hadn’t told Jumin the extent of the way his father would compare them, he doesn’t think. Maybe for the best. “I think you’re drunk,” he says.

“Untrue.” A smile tugs at the corners of Jumin’s lips again in return. He reaches to lightly nudge Jihyun's knee. “You shouldn’t lie, nor so wildly doubt my alcohol tolerance.”

“You’re getting nostalgic. That’s the first sign.”

“Hmph.” An indistinct, quiet chatter drifts from outside of the penthouse and Jumin leans back in turn, stretching as he does so. “My dearest must be back,” he comments.

And time is a funny thing—passing always, steadily, yet hours can feel so short in the right company. Just as years can feel so long in the absence of it.

“Your hearing is exceptional even in your old age,” V quips.

“I’m just twenty-eight. And you are practically a month older than I am.”

The door opens through another bout of Jihyun’s laughter.

“Oh, V! I didn’t expect to see you here,” the woman says as she takes off her jacket in the doorway.

“Unexpected indeed,” Jumin replies. She looks at him and he hides his smile with the final swig of his wine.

“He figured it out relatively fast,” V says with a chuckle. “And then had me admit it.”

“My beloved wife and closest friend, scheming behind my back. Who would have thought?” Jumin teases, faux-offended.

“He can be very convincing,” V says.

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, exasperated. “Let me grab a glass and join you. I assume you’ll be staying longer, V?”

Jihyun nods and looks back to Jumin with a soft fondness in his expression; the kind reserved only for old friends. The kind that holds a deep-seated thankfulness—I am so glad you’re in my life. I can only hope that we’ll find each other in the next one.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 16

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 15 🟣 Part 17

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting, angst. SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering, p-in-v sex, feral Mikey, vampire!Mikey's semi-nursing kink. I think that's all necessary warnings, but as always; tell me if I missed something, please!

Word count: 2999 (..... Not sure if satisfying or no.)

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Life got in the way. And I mean really in the way. It's probably going to be like that for a while. Anyway. Enjoy Mikey and vampire shenanigans.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld

He opened the door hesitantly. “Eh, Sweetcheeks?” The trembling of his voice made you freeze up under the blankets. “It’s, eh… It’s okay. I’m gonna take a shower and I could really use a hug. Hi, August. Sorry to interrupt your moment.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike,” August answered to your surprise, and even with a light chuckle to his voice. “I get why you were keeping her to yourself now,” he added, “she’s incredible.”

His words made you blush, especially when Mike grinned and doubled down on the praise. “Yeah, she is! And those little noises she makes are so cute.”

You didn’t quite know how to react. Normally you’d have berated him for sharing those intimate details with others but, put bluntly, the ‘others’ in question had just fucked you to the moon and back.

Too.

Also.

Before you could gather your thoughts enough to give Mike an answer, he turned back. “Anyway, see you in a bit, yeah?”

“You hurried because you knew he was coming home?” you asked August when you heard Mike turn the water on.

“I could tell he wasn’t feeling so great, and I figured he’d need some comfort,” August said, omitting a direct ‘yes’. “Go join him.”

You searched his face for any sign of disapproval or disappointment at leaving him now, but you found nothing but a gentle smile and a strange, lingering sense of appreciation radiating from the way he looked at you.

It should have felt weird to climb out of August’s bed and wander towards the bathroom, not even bothering to put on any clothes, but it didn’t — although it proved to be a relatively poor decision when you ran into Marshall in the hallway, who didn’t quite know where to look.

“Wow, she’s fit.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you asked your question — and so did his.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said with a shrug. A brief pause followed, filled with the single most awkward silence you’d experienced in your entire life.

“No… You were thinking it…”

“God, first time this happens and that’s what she catches?”

“Yes, Marshall. That’s what I caught,” you said with a grin before walking towards him. Without thinking, you put a hand on the side of his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn.”

One second your hand was on his cheek, the next he had it pinned to the wall, over your head. Marshall held both of your hands there with one of his, with insufferable ease.

“I can smell him on you.” It was a growl — and a particularly gritty one at that — and an accusation. “Why should I wait any longer?” Your heart pounded in your chest as he lowered his head to nip at your neck. “I’m not going to watch from the sidelines forever, love. I want what’s mine.”

“And you’ll have me,” you said, shocking yourself with your newfound confidence, “but Mikey needs me, and I made him a promise. So be a good boy and let go of me. Oh, and work on this temper.” You stared into his eyes, almost losing your nerve, but you managed to last until Marshall slowly relaxed his grip on your arms until they dropped to your sides. What he didn’t do, was move away.

“Don’t start something now that you won’t be able to finish later,” he snarled before disappearing into his room.

You weren’t trembling when you resumed your way to the bathroom, which was strange, because you felt like you should have been doing just that. There had never been any tension with Marshall before — except maybe for that incident when he’d ripped your arm to shreds by accident. Other than that, everything had been especially easy with him.

Until now.

What had changed? Was he upset with you because he thought he was last, in some way? Technically, he wasn’t. You’d never slept with Sherlock — which was something that irked you in its own right, but those feelings were hardly relevant at this point in time.

Well, what did he expect you to do? Show up at his door wearing nothing but a pair of heels and beg him to take you? No. You couldn’t quite imagine that he felt legitimately entitled to you in some way, despite his words from before. Besides, you didn’t feel much for that scenario, or any other scenario where you boldly offered yourself up on a silver platter for him to enjoy.

Maybe — just maybe — Marshall had to take a second to get over himself.

You shook your head, as if to cleanse it of your thoughts about Marshall — which, you only realized now, he had indubitably heard — and focused on the blurry shape of Mike behind the fogged-up shower wall.

“Hmm, did I just hear you put the big bad wolf in his place?” Mike asked, no doubt with a huge grin on his face, but it was impossible to see.

“I could hear his thoughts,” you half-chuckled in complete disbelief. Marshall had mentioned the projection of gifts could persist beyond feedings, and you weren’t surprised he was the first with whom it happened, but… you were just a little floored it had happened at all.

“Look at you becoming a force to be reckoned with,” Mike said as you slid the door open and joined him in the shower. He was definitely grinning. Mike wasted no time to pull you in, wrapping you in a massive hug. “Alright, so… I’m toast for the semester.  Only one of my professors will allow me to do a make up assignment for the labs I missed… The other two I’ll have to retake next year.” He hid his face in your neck, pulling you even closer.

“Mikey, I need to breathe,” you managed when Mike continued to crush you, but as soon as the words left your mouth, he relaxed his grip.

“Sorry, Sweetcheeks, just… rough day. I really fucked up by leaving, and… I know it’s fair that it’s coming back to bite me in the ass, but it also hurts.” There were tears in his eyes, he sounded tired and he felt cold, despite…

“You didn’t get enough yesterday, did you?” you laughed. Mike shrugged and smiled apologetically.

“I’ve never felt that level of thirst before… it was excruciating. Yesterday I took everything I could without getting sick. If you’re up for it, I could definitely use a little more, later.”

“Of course, baby, I’m all yours!” You kissed the tip of his nose and rested your hands on his lower back. It was just impossible to keep them from gently stroking the dimples in it, the soft curve of his ass — tight and round and so perfect you were the one who would love to get a bite for a change…

“How was August?” Mike asked, nothing but mischief in his eyes. Were you imagining things, or did he really want an honest answer? Alright then…

“Fantastic,” you muttered, heat creeping up to your cheeks as you spoke. “Are you sure you want to hear about it?”

Without warning, he turned you around and shoved you into the dark-tiled wall. “I’m sure I want you back…” The way he inhaled deeply through his nose held something primal, something almost violent, as he took in your scent, and no doubt August’s as well. “I want to… compete with whatever of him is left on your skin.” Over your shoulder, you noticed that he flashed fang on his next smile, making you bite your lip in anticipation. “You’re in for it now, Sweetcheeks.”

You thought the hand that closed around your throat did so in the shower, but when you opened your eyes you were on your knees on Mikey’s bed — still wet from the shower, your hair dripping everywhere. He didn’t care. His breathing was fast, ragged, with little snarls escaping him on almost every exhale — and every last one of those sounds sent shivers down your spine.

His free hand traveled down your side, following the curve of your hip before moving over your thigh and slowly trailing back up. With his leg, he effortlessly pushed yours apart, giving his hand space to gently explore your pussy. Not that there was much exploring left for him. By now, he knew that particular area of your body about as well as he was ever going to.

He lightly circled your clit with a single finger, making you whine as he played you like a fiddle — then whine again, louder this time, when he abandoned his pursuit to slip his fingers into your wetness. As he did, a growl escaped him — a sound that was followed by a gentle nip at your earlobe.

He was impatient, which — of course — wasn’t unusual for him, but today it was definitely worse than ever before. His fingers moved almost erratically, and abandoned you after only a short time. It didn’t matter much; August had taken good care of you over and over and over again… You could do without an orgasm on this one. Nevertheless, you moved your hips in search of more friction, smiling coyly when you felt his hard cock grind into your ass from behind, and soon, your movements were about teasing Mike rather than chasing your own pleasure.

He didn’t like that much.

“You know, you managed to tell Marshall off today, but when he just decides you’re his, what are you going to do?” With a single move, he pushed his cock into you, making you swear under your breath as he stretched you out.

“Mike, are you wearing…”

“A little trust, Sweetcheeks. I’m horny, not an idiot. Okay, I am an idiot, but not... you know what I mean.” When you both laughed, his grip around your throat slacked. “Sorry about that,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses against your shoulder while he gently rocked his hips against your ass.

“No, I think I like feral Mikey,” you chuckled, running a hand through his still soaking wet curls. He laughed and nuzzled your neck — it was adorable.

“It’s weird…” No, what was weird was having a whole ass conversation while getting railed from behind, but go off. “I’m not jealous. It feels like I should be, but I shouldn’t be, and I’m not. I just want you too.”

“So, take me.” Excuse the fuck out of you? Where did that come from?

Mike seemed to think the same thing, because he paused, and a curious little whimper escaped him. “What?”

“Mike,” you said, your tone serious, “I want you to fuck me hard.”

“Oh.” He nipped at your earlobe. “I can do that.”

And then, playtime was over. You grabbed his hair and threw your hips back to meet his thrust, his arms snaking around you, holding you in a vice-like grip with nowhere to go. It was raw and passionate, and undeniably hot, until…

“Mike, don’t lick me!”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Fuck. You hadn’t thought about that. Vice-like grip. Nowhere to go. And he wasn’t going to let go of you.

“I can think of something,” you growled. A lie. There was nothing you could think of to do to him that wasn’t either really cruel or he wouldn’t enjoy. Unless… “No boobies for you,” you said sternly, making it — hopefully — very clear what you meant.

He picked up on the hint. “You’re not supposed to deny us feeding over petty squabbles,” he helpfully reminded you. As if you’d forgotten that rule.

“No. But I can tell you it’s wrist or bust, Mike.” Shit. Not quite the right moment for that particular expression.

“And I pick ‘bust’,” he laughed, licking your neck. It sent shivers through your entire body. Sometimes, the licking wasn’t really so bad at all…

“Mike!” you warned.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, clearly very displeased — and very adorable. From then on, he stuck to squeezing your boobs and nibbling on your neck and shoulder while he kept pounding into you.

“Good boy,” you said in a half-mocking tone — which made it all the more surprising when Mike’s hips stuttered, and he came as if on command.

“Shit,” he muttered barely loud enough for you to catch it. Next, he disappeared. For a moment you were scared he wouldn’t come back, but he appeared next to you on the edge of the bed as if he’d never left the room.

“So,” you said, putting a hand around his shoulders, “I take it you liked that?”

“Babe, please don’t tease me,” he said, something wobbly and confused in his voice. He seemed a little lost.

“Get me a towel, clean this wet mess up, and meet me in my room, okay?” The look in his eyes was a sincere expression of gratitude.

Of course it took him all of two minutes to get the room cleaned up — and, as a rather frustrated Marshall apparently pointed out, half of the hallway. You hadn’t even finished drying your hair when he showed up behind you, wrapping you up in another massive hug.

“Hi,” he sighed before kissing your neck. “Can we cuddle?” Whatever had been keeping him going before had now faded, and he was the regular, puppy-eyed boyfriend radiating the golden retriever energy you were used to. Without saying a word, you wormed your way out of his embrace and scrambled to get under the covers.

“Wanna watch a movie, baby?” you asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Before he even answered you, Mike disappeared for a moment, and returned seconds later with a bunch more pillows in his arms, and your favorite blanket from the living room. You’d always joked with your friends how you stayed with Mike specifically for his nest-building abilities, and although it was an exaggeration that you were with him just for that, it was certainly a factor in keeping you as happy as you were with him. Plus, he was fast. Definite bonus.

“Lock the door,” you said with a wink, “I don’t think we’re going to leave this room any time soon, and I really want you to myself for a bit.” Mike chuckled when you raised your voice on that last bit, making sure everyone in the house had heard you.

“Then we’ll need snacks,” Mike concluded, and without waiting for your reply — which would have been affirmative, because (let’s face it) watching a movie without snacks was just… significantly less awesome than watching a movie with snacks — he disappeared again.

“You and these jellybeans,” you laughed when he returned with a bag of your favorite popcorn, tortilla chips and cheese dip, and a large bag of jellybeans. He definitely wasn’t eating as much as he had been, but you couldn’t exactly say he’d really been kicking the habit. “Door,” you reminded him when he tried to get in bed with you.

“Already locked,” he chuckled, but he walked over to it — slowly, even — nonetheless to show you it was really locked.

“Alright, now get over here!” Never tell a vampire that; the way he slammed into you when he did what you said immediately actually hurt.

He couldn’t sit still; the whole time, Mike was squirming against you anxiously, holding you tighter, his grip slacking again, wriggling, wrapping his legs around you. Not watching the movie for a single second. It was odd. Normally, Mike’s hands would have been exploring whatever bit of skin of yours he could reach — and absolutely some places he couldn’t reach without removing an obstacle like clothing first. This time… None of that.

“Mike you can’t crawl into me, what’s wrong with you today?” you laughed quietly as you stroked your silly boyfriend’s messy dark curls.

“Missed you,” he muttered, pulling you closer again. “I left and then you were angry and now you’re not angry, but you didn’t sleep next to me and I missed you.”

“I’m here now,” you whispered, still stroking his hair, “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Babe,” he whispered after a while — he’d been trying really hard to sit still and watch the movie, but was ultimately very unsuccessful, “I’m really fucking hungry.” There was a tremble to his voice, and it took an encouraging nudge from you for him to move down until his face was level with your boobs. He hesitated.

“It’s okay, I know you want to,” you said. And it was true; you knew he wanted to. You really knew that he really wanted to bite you — and not just for food, but for comfort too. That’s what he was hesitant about. You chuckled softly. “I can feel it, Mike, there’s no need to hide. You’re home, you’re safe… and you’re loved.”

When you smiled down at him, you saw the tears in his eyes as he gently bit down on your boob. He fed slowly, drawing it out as much as he could. Of course you didn’t mind; you felt as amazing as you always did when someone fed on you. And then there was the added bonus of feeling Mike slowly settling down next to you, becoming calmer with every passing second. Some time after you’d watched him close his eyes, you felt his fangs retreat, but his mouth did not leave its post, and you chuckled as you let your own eyes fall shut and quietly enjoyed the sensation.

“I’m—”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence. “Mike, don’t apologize. I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I wasn’t okay with it. It was quite nice, actually.” He quietly smiled up at you before snuggling into your side again, and you felt his desire to be close to you flare up as he did. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could manage and turned your attention back to the movie.

You were lucky to have him — and for the first time you were truly certain you’d never lose him again.

[2dmenenthusiast]

Last Night on Earth Final Part

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

yo yo yoooo I have nothing to say other than this was a painful chapter to write hahahaha :) But thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged this fic, it means the world to me, and I can't wait to write the next installment!

ALSO the title of this fic was based on this song

Warnings/other info: none I can think of!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Final

The hospital was so clean it almost made you uncomfortable. All you’ve known the past few years was the swamp and mold everywhere, so being somewhere this neat and tidy was… something you weren’t quite used to. You were used to you being this clean. When you first arrived, a couple lovely nurses took you away and scrubbed you raw, and then threw away your clothes. Not that it was much of a loss. They had been torn beyond repair, and were most likely covered in more contaminants than you could count. But, you were given a BSAA logo hoodie and some comfy sweatpants, so it was really a win in your book.

After they ran some EKG’s and a few other tests you couldn’t remember the name of, you were deemed healthy. Now, you were just waiting for the labs to come back with an explanation for your high regeneration. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared of what the results might be. You knew you weren’t infected anymore, but the idea of the virus still lingering inside you, it wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. Especially when you knew so little of what it actually was.

Your leg bounced impatiently on the edge of the hospital bed, fingers fidgeting and a sigh leaving you for the umpteenth time. The doctors wouldn’t let you leave your room for whatever reason, and you were getting increasingly impatient. You had received no word about Zoe or Ethan, your only knowledge being that they were stable, and that was it. A voice in your head was telling you to just say ‘fuck it’ and go looking for them, anyway. But, you felt like you were on thin enough ice as it was.

When the door opened, you shot up off the bed and held your breath, hoping to see one of the two people you desperately wanted to see. But when Chris’s large frame came through the door, you sighed and collapsed back onto the bed.

He chuckled. “What? Not happy to see me?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “It’s not that. I’ve been waiting in this room for hours and they still won't let me leave.”

“Well, when the labs come back, I’m sure they’ll let you see your sister.”

You perked up at the mention of her. “Is she alright?”

He sat in the chair next to the bed and pulled it up so he was closer to you. “Yeah. Vitals are stable, she was given the vaccine and the virus seems to have cleared out of her system.”

You sighed in relief. “Good. Hopefully we can put this all behind us soon.”

Silence blanketed the room for a moment as you tried to find the courage to bring up what you wanted to ask next, but you found yourself swallowing down the lump in your throat and just coming out with it.

“Um… How’s Ethan? And Mia?”

Chris tensed, and while it was a small gesture, you still noticed it.

“Mia’s good. Same as your sister, she’s been given the vaccine and the infection cleared out. As for Ethan, he’s… okay. He’s healthy and awake, responding correctly. But, there’s a few things the doctors and I are concerned about.”

You moved to the edge of the bed. “What is it? He’s gonna be okay, right?”

“For the most part, yes. But I can’t tell you the rest. It’s classified.”

Your eyes narrowed. “‘Classified?’ You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m serious. Only the doctors, Mia, and I know—”

“Oh, Mia gets to know. The woman who was working for a terrorist organization. That Mia? Yeah, makes perfect sense.”

“She’s his wife. It’s a matter of safety.”

“Safety?! So- So, what you're telling me is that you, her, and a whole bunch of other people get to know, but the man whose safety you’re concerned about doesn’t?!”

“You don’t understand. And it’s none of your concern, either.”

“Bullshit! Ethan and I fought like hell together to get out of that hellhole, I have a right to know what’s going on with him.”

“You’re lucky I even told you we had concerns in the first place! Do you know how much shit I could get for disclosing any amount of information to you?”

“Oh, right. Wouldn’t want me getting you in trouble or anything with fucking Umbrella. Christ.”

The door squeaked open, and a blonde nurse popped her head in.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but if the noise continues, I’m going to have to ask you to step out, sir. You’re causing stress for the patient.”

You waved her off just as Chris went to speak.

“It’s okay. It won’t happen again, sorry.”

She gave you a tight-lipped smile and closed the door, and you sighed once she left, body deflating.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight with you. All I’ve done is fight for the past however fucking long and I’m tired of fighting.”

Chris almost looked guilty, not quite hanging his head, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes for a moment.

“I know. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“S’not your fault. Fuckin’ red tape bullshit.”

He hummed in agreement, and the silence that followed made your mind spin in circles. What could possibly be wrong with Ethan? You knew it had something to do with the virus, but what exactly? Was it incurable? Was he too far along that any dose of the vaccine would kill him? You could feel your chest tighten with each anxiety ridden thought, and you were grateful when Chris suddenly cleared his throat to get your attention.

“I um, I have something for you.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a photo frame, the back of it facing you.

When you took it from him and flipped it over, your breath stuttered in your chest and your heart stirred. It was an older photo, your parents sitting on the couch while you and Lucas sat in between them and Zoe rested on your father’s lap. This was only a few months after they adopted you. Your mother insisted on getting an updated photo of the family, considering its newest addition. You had never experienced more love and compassion in your life than when you grew up with them, and the memory made your chest warm.

You finally realized you were crying when a tear hit the glass, and you quickly sniffled and wiped at your eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I…” Looking up at Chris, you smiled. “Thank you for this.”

"It's the least I could do."

He stood from his seat, making for his departure from your room, when you stood up as well and grabbed his arm.

"Hey." He turned towards you. "Thank you for what you did for me, letting me go after Lucas. I won't forget it."

Chris scoffed, the sound bordering on a chuckle. "Not like you gave me much of a choice."

You huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I didn't."

Before he could leave, one of the Doctors stepped into the room, adjusting the glasses atop his bumped nose.

"Up on your feet, I see. You feeling better?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I've been up on my feet and ready to get out of this place hours ago. You guys sure took your time."

"Lots of tests to run. I'm sure you can understand."

With a shrug of your shoulders, you sat down on the bed again. "So? What's the diagnosis?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, flipping through your chart. "Your vitals are functioning normally, but we did find something interesting, of course."

"Regarding my, like, ridiculously fast healing?"

“Yes. Let's put it this way." He set the chart on the bed. “Your infection was more advanced than we originally thought. When you died, it sent the virus into overdrive and started your heart back up, as well as healed any previous injuries you had. You were about to reach the final stages of infection when you got the vaccine, which is why it didn’t kill you, but it didn’t get rid of all of the mold infected cells in your body. “

“So… I’m not gonna end up like my parents, right?”

“No. The vaccine and the antibodies are preventing that. And while you still have residual traces of the E-Series inside of you, you won’t have to worry about being controlled like your family either.”

You slowly let the information sink in, and you found that even with a medical explanation for all this nonsense, it still didn’t make sense.

“What about Zoe? She was as exposed to the mold as I was.”

“It’s completely out of her system. We believe that your death caused an excess of mold infected cells to form to revive you. You were lucky to get the vaccine when you did, or else you would’ve been completely infected.”

You forgot Chris was in the room until he suddenly spoke up.

“So they’re okay? No risk of suddenly growing an extra limb or something, right?”

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. “Not likely, no. Just make sure to get your annual vaccination and you should be fine. But, please remember that you’re not invincible. A shot to the head will still kill you, super soldier.”

You gave a mock salute with your two fingers. “You got it, Doc.”

He was halfway out the door when he turned his head back towards you. “Oh, and you’re free to visit your sister and friend if you would like.”

Your eyes lit up, practically jumping off the bed. When you looked back at Chris to make sure it was okay, he just gave you a nod with a small smile. With a wide grin, you practically burst out of the room and almost knocked down a nurse or two whilst you were rushing to your sister’s room. It took less than a minute to find her room, and while you had been waiting hours to see her, you couldn’t help but stand there, clenching your fists anxiously as you swayed back and forth on your feet. But it only lasted for a moment, and soon you were opening the door and locking eyes with Zoe.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

You smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”

She laughed and stood from the bed, and you met her open arms with a tight hug. Your eyes squeezed shut, holding her like you haven’t seen her in years. It certainly felt that way. Just hours ago, you thought she was going to die from Evie’s weird, mind power bullshit, and now she was here, standing and talking and smiling. She was okay.

 When your eyes started to sting, you pulled away before you could start crying like a baby in front of your little sister. When you got a good look at her, your eyes widened.

“Oh wow, your hair!”

She looked away with a shy grin.

“Yeah, a little parting gift from Evie,” she said, running her hand through her short, white hair.

You stepped back and crossed your arms over your chest, lips pursing as you examined her.

“I don’t know. I think it suits you.”

She scoffed. “Oh. shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

Your laughter bounced off of each other’s, and fuck, it felt so good to feel this again. To just be vulnerable and laugh and not have to worry about how you’re going to survive the next day. If only your parents were there to experience this with you.

You gestured to the bed, and you both sat down.

“So,” you began,“where do we go after this?”

She sighed, as if the weight of the question physically affected her. “I don’t even know how to begin to think about that. Been so focussed on survivin’ all this shit, I…” She grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “As long as we stick together, I don’t care where we go. Hell, we can move to fuckin’ California if you wanted to.”

You grimaced. “Eugh. I’ll pass, thanks.”

She pinched your arm and you punched her leg, falling into a fit of giggles when the door opened. You groaned, irritated that your time with your sister was being interrupted, and turned to whatever sorry soul that walked in.

“Can’t you hear we’re busy—”

The words died in your throat when your eyes locked on a pair of brown ones staring right back at you, and the air in your lungs vanished with a shuddered breath.

“Ethan.”

He let out a heavy breath, shifting on his feet as he took you in.

“Hey.”

Standing from the bed, you approached Ethan with slow, calm steps, despite everything in your body screaming at you to barrel into his arms and cling to him like he was a buoy in a vast ocean. You barely recognized him without the dirt and grime on his face. He looked good, slight stubble on his face and a scar on his nose.

You always dug guys with scars.

Raising your fist, you connected it with Ethan’s shoulder.

“‘Hey?’ I’ve been worried sick about you and all you have to say to me is ‘Hey’?”

Ethan chuckled and rubbed his shoulder. “You want me to ask you how your day’s going?”

You muttered for him to shut up before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you, wrapping him in a tight hug that he immediately reciprocated. He squeezed you against his front, hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, and you closed your eyes as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you. As far as you were concerned, you never wanted to forget what this felt like. How his arms perfectly fit around you, how his front felt pressed up against yours.

Too bad it couldn’t last longer.

Zoe cleared her throat behind you. “I hope I’m not interrupting your quality time in my room.”

You chuckled and pulled away from him, but the warm hand Ethan kept on your back sent tingles shooting down your spine.

“Zoe. You’re looking well,” he said.

Your sister shrugged. “All thanks to you both.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t do anything. You had to endure our brother’s annoying ramblings when he kidnapped you and Mia.”

She let out a dry laugh, idly playing with a frayed corner of the blanket and suddenly avoiding your gaze.

“Lucas… is he…?”

“Dead. For good this time. I’ll save you all the gory details.”

You could almost feel the relief coming off of Ethan when you confirmed your brother’s death, his lungs releasing a deep sigh. Zoe almost looked disappointed, and if you were honest, you empathize with her. Lucas was barely pleasant even before Eveline came alone, but he was still your brother. Still your family. Even if he was a fucking psychopath.

Ethan cleared his throat, catching yours and Zoe’s attention.

“Uh, do you mind if I steal you for a second?”

You looked to Zoe, and she nodded, giving you the okay. When you relayed the same gesture to Ethan, he gave your sister a quick smile and led you out of her room, softly closing the door behind him. The quiet of the hallway suddenly felt overwhelming, because now you were left with every little thought and feeling you had about Ethan and his stupid, handsome face and every damn emotion felt like it was ready to come spilling out of you at any second.

Ethan Winters, you bastard.

You leaned against the wall opposite your sister’s room, sunlight spilling in through the window behind you. As soon as you looked at the man in front of you, your heart jumped into your throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Fuck this. You hate this. 

“So—”

You held up your hand. “Don’t—! I… Just give me a second because if you start talking, everything you say is gonna go through one ear and right out the other because the only thing on my mind right now is certainly not appropriate for our current setting.”

His eyes widened, surprised by your boldness, but then the asshole smirked and you immediately wanted to slap it off of his face.

“Uh-huh… Interesting.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the white walls of the facility, and you hated how much you liked it.

“Ethan, I swear to christ—”

You watched as he closed the distance in just a few strides, fingers tracing over your jaw before cupping your face and fitting his lips against yours. You sighed through your nose and brought your hands to his chest, sliding them up until they rested at the base of his neck. It wasn’t a deep or intense kiss, but it was more than enough to have you weak in the knees and craving something more.

He pulled away much too soon for your liking and placed his hand on top of one of your own, giving it a squeeze. His gentle smile sent your heart aflutter, and you almost felt embarrassed of how smitten you probably looked. Like some dumb, lovesick teenager.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know. Going after your brother like that. I knew you would be okay, because somehow you always are, but…”

You gently pushed against his chest to create some distance between you and gestured to yourself. “Hey, look at me. I’m right as rain.”

If the rain had some weird mutation.

Ethan’s lips formed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could still see some leftover doubt in his expression.

“Hey.” You took his hand again. “You just snogged me in the hallway of a hospital. I’m more okay than I’ve ever been.”

He laughed and pulled you forward, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll make sure to kiss you in hospitals more often if that’s what you’re into.”

Eyes widening, you quickly pulled away and searched his face. You knew it was just a silly joke, but the way he said it made it sound like there was a future between you two. Like he would be around to kiss you and hold you whenever you wanted. But you knew that couldn’t happen. Because you barely had the rest of your life figured out and he had a fucking wife. A wife he went through absolute hell to find, and one you garnered zero sympathy for. Would he really waste all that effort he went through to be with you?

No. That’s next level delusional, and you were nothing if not a realist.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t spoken for a moment, and cleared your throat as you shook your head. “Nothing. Um… how’s Mia?” Her name tasted bitter on your tongue, but you swallowed down your disdain and tried not to show it on your face.

“Oh, uh, she’s good. Doctors checked her out and she’s ready to go home.”

The smile on your face was forced, and it made your cheeks hurt. “That’s good! I’m glad she’s okay.”

Nothing was said between you for a moment, and you crossed your arms uncomfortably over your chest, suddenly felt dirty thinking about the kiss you shared with Ethan only moments ago. No, you didn’t like Mia. But even still, a part of you felt awful for even thinking about him like that, let alone acting on those feelings.

No shit. It’s her husband, for fuck’s sake.

You sighed. “Ethan, I—”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Your head turned in the direction of the voice, smiling when you saw your Uncle Joe coming down the hallway towards you. All stressful thoughts were momentarily abandoned as you met him in the middle and leaned into his open arms, his tight hug practically crushing your ribs whilst he lifted you onto your tippy toes.

“Jesus, kid, how long’s it been?”

It gradually became harder to breathe in his embrace, and you took in a deep breath when he finally let you go. Joe’s always been tough, but somewhere in the years you haven’t seen him, you must’ve forgotten just how tough.

“Too long. I’m really glad you’re here.” Turning black to Ethan, you grabbed his hand and brought him forward to stand next to you. “This is Ethan. He helped us.”

He held out his hand, and Joe clapped his own palm against his before giving it a firm shake. You watched Ethan’s face as he winced, and couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle.

“Thank you, son. I really appreciate what you did for my family.”

Ethan gestured his head towards you. “If anything, they helped me. I would’ve been screwed if I hadn’t run into them.”

“Yeah. Tough sonuvabitch, ain’t they?” Joe chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes, but chose to accept the compliment anyway. After everything, you deserved a little praise. But then your mind returned to the previous conversation you were having with Ethan, and your lips turned downwards. 

“Hey, Unc, um… Could you give Ethan and I just a minute?”

Joe looked between you for a moment, lips disappearing under his beard as he gave you a small grin.

“Sure thing, kid. I’ll go visit with your sister.”

You said your thanks as he walked away and then sighed. Ethan’s expression was one of concern when he turned back to you, and you wished he wouldn’t look at you like that. You didn’t want to have this conversation, but this might be the last time you see him. The thought made your heart crumble.

But, the truth was… well, it was certainly a bitter pill to swallow. Something between you two couldn’t happen. As much as you wanted it to. He had obligations, a wife, a life far away from you that never had you in it to begin with. It was by dumb, stupid fucking chance that Ethan ended up in your life at all, and maybe under different circumstances, things could’ve worked out. But not now. Not like this.

“Everything okay?”

Ethan’s voice brought you back to earth, and you gave him a tight lipped smile.

“As okay as I can be.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, and when he took a step towards you, you took one back.

Fuck, this hurts.

“Hey—”

“Ethan, I—” you sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I’ve never met anyone in my life like you, you know. I probably never will. So… When you go back to whatever life you had before you were roped into this fucked up mess, I want you to remember me. ‘Cus I will certainly remember you.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… fuck.”

When he moved towards you again, you didn’t try to escape him, keeping your arms tightly wrapped around yourself. He muttered your name, and the sound of it softly tumbling from his lips was almost your breaking point. You swallow thickly, struggling to meet his eyes.

“I have lost so many people that I cared about. And I’ve learned to deal with it and move on because that’s what I have to do. But then… then you just fucking crash into my life and make me care about you. And I have to go through the same shit all over again.”

It hurt, pouring yourself out at his feet like this. But you had to get it out, because if you didn’t, it was just going to build and build and build until you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. But, you wondered if suppressing it would’ve hurt less than just spewing out all your feelings.

He shook his head. “What? You’re not losing me.”

“What do you think this is, Ethan? That you’re gonna leave your wife, never go back to California, and run away with me while I try to figure my life out? That you’re gonna be patient with me through the nightmares and the pain?”

“We haven’t even talked about this! You’re acting like everything is gonna go a certain way when you don’t know that.”

“It can’t be any other way!”

Your voice echoed down the hallway, and you cleared your throat to try and regain some sense of control over your emotions.

“You have obligations, and I’m not gonna be the one holding you back from them.”

Turning to walk away felt more painful than when your brother smashed your head open, and you clenched your jaw tightly as you willed yourself not to cry. But, the telltale burning of your eyes proved you to be unsuccessful.

“What if it was my choice?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning your head.

“What?”

He started walking. “What if it’s my choice? To leave. To be with you. What if that’s what I want?”

Every word that came out of his mouth was like shrapnel to your heart. You wanted that life. You wanted it so fucking bad it hurt.

So why couldn’t you have it?

Because this was reality. A fucked up, shitty reality. And you couldn’t have everything you wanted.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He gripped your arm, turning you to face him. “I’m serious. I’m serious about you, about how I feel. I know you feel the same.”

God you did. More than he knew. You think you liked him too much if you were being honest. Which is why it hurt all the more when you swallowed down every confession you wanted to throw at him, and said something completely different instead.

“Go to Mia. She needs you.”

“Do you still love your wife?”

That seemed to stop him in his tracks, because he was suddenly speechless as he opened his mouth and tried to search for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t hurt you. His silence did enough of a job of it, though.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart beneath it.

The words were painful to say, and you wished you could take them back. Because god, the look on Ethan’s face when you said them might’ve been one of the most painful things you’ve ever seen. 

When you went to pull your hand away, Ethan captured it faster than you could blink and yanked you into his chest, crashing his mouth down onto yours. You inhaled sharply, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that contrasted with the roughness of his lips. His thumbs on your cheeks caught your rogue tears. It felt like he was breathing you in, committing you to memory with each bruising kiss that sent your brain spiraling and your heart into overdrive. 

You clutched his shirt tightly in your hands, and when he finally pulled away with a gasp, you didn’t want to let go. Because this was it. This was probably going to be the last time you’d ever see him again, and the fact was absolutely crushing. Like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and smashed on the ground.

“Hey.” You gazed up at him, watching as he searched his pockets before grabbing a pen that he probably nabbed from a doctor.

“Turning to a life of crime already?” you joked.

He smiled, and damn if it didn’t make your heart stutter. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, clicking the pen before dragging the ball point across the back of your hand. His number.

“Ethan—”

“You said to remember you. I don’t want my only memories of you to be of us fighting for our lives. We’ll keep in touch, I promise.”

With a sad smile, you nodded, despite the doubt you felt in the pit of your stomach. It was better than nothing, and it was all you could ask for. With one last hug, you willed your feet to begin moving in the opposite direction, and it took everything in you not to turn around and give him one last glance. Because if you did, you’d run right back into his arms again, and you couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t do that to you.

Shit. You didn’t think it would hurt this much. Thank god you were turned away from him, because you couldn’t stop the tears from rushing down your face. Your footsteps sped up into a light jog until you made it back to your room, shutting the door behind you as calmly as you could before the facade broke. Your back pressed against the door, and you choked on a sob whilst you slid down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest.

For the longest time, you thought growing close to anyone would be impossible. After the constant abuse you suffered in foster homes, and the loss of your friends in the field, you closed yourself off, only letting your family see a little behind the stone walls you took so long to build. And you were comfortable that way. Despite it being a lonely life, you never gave anyone the opportunity to hurt you ever again.

And then Ethan Winters came and smashed your walls down with a fucking wrecking ball.

You couldn’t describe it, but there was something about him that was just so inviting. Captivating. Maybe it was his kind eyes, or the way he spoke to you with assuredness and respect. Maybe it was something entirely different.

You wouldn’t call it love. You’ve known him for all of two days. But… it was certainly longing. A deep ache to fill the lonely void you’ve lived with for so long. Maybe it wasn’t even real. Maybe you’re just so desperate for companionship that you latched onto Ethan like a last resort.

But if that was the case, then why did it hurt so fucking much?

You gasped when there was suddenly a knock on the door, scrambling to your feet and furiously wiping at your eyes. It didn’t matter, the red rings around your eyes were a dead giveaway.

“Just a second.”

You cursed yourself in your head for how your voice trembled, clenching your fists so hard you formed small crescent shapes in your palms.

“Everything okay?”

Chris. It was just Chris.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you hesitantly put your hand on the doorknob and slowly opened the door. He smiled when he saw you, but it immediately dropped when he got a good look at your face.

Like you said, a dead giveaway.

“What’s wrong? Something happen with your sister?”

You shook your head, opening the door wider so he could enter the room. “No, nothing like that. Just some other stuff. I… don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Chris nodded, respecting your boundaries, which you were more than grateful for.

“Alright. I wanted to discuss some things with you, if that’s okay.” He gestured to the bed, and you sat down, him taking his place next to you. “I finished up my report on the mission and the BSAA just got back to me. They were impressed with your performance.”

You smiled, trying to mask the aching of your heart as you pointed both thumbs towards yourself.

“Super soldier, remember?”

He chuckled, and the sound comforted you in a small way.

“What would you think about joining up?”

Your brows shot up. “I’m sorry, you wanna recruit me?”

“You’re good on the field, can handle yourself in a fight. You’re a decent sniper too, right? You were a bit reckless on the mission, but your fast healing made up for it. If you were to join, though, you’d have to make sure not to pull stunts like that again.”

“You say that like I’m considering it.”

“Are you?”

You paused, looking down at your feet that dangled a few inches from the floor. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about joining the fight again. It was all you knew, and you were damn good at it. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Of course, what other options were there? Live a boring, normal life, working a nine to five? It sounded like hell. But, you had to think about Zoe first. Because wherever she went, you went, too. Ultimately, you were leaving the decision up to her.

“Let me talk to Zoe first?”

“You should do it.”

You practically jumped off the bed at the sound of her voice, snapping your head in her direction to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

“When the hell did you get here?”

She shrugged. “Few minutes ago. I heard enough of your conversation, though.”

She came forward, sitting on the other side of you and effectively sandwiching you between her and Chris.

“You should join. I know it’s what you want. And I can take care of myself while you’re off killin’ god knows what.”

You faced your body towards her. “You’re not worried?”

She scoffed. “Please. You took shrapnel to your leg, fought like hell the past three years to get us out, and you’re still here. Alive. If anything, I’m worried about the sorry bastards that are unlucky enough to come toe to toe with you.”

You smiled at your sister’s praise, glad she believed in you more than you believe in yourself.

“It won’t just be people I’ll be fightin’, Zo. The BSAA deals with bioweapons. As in the shit we were facing those said three years.”

She shrugged. “So? Means you got experience, then. Like I said, unlucky, sorry bastards.”

Shaking your head, you wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into your side. “Alright, shithead.” You pinched her arm, and she pulled away to smack your leg.

With a chuckle, you turned back to Chris, and noticed him watching you with expecting eyes. You sighed, and like that, your decision was made.

“Where do I sign?”

The pack on your shoulder weighed heavy, causing you to slump on one side as you lightly kicked the suitcase at your feet. You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the airport on time, and after a warm shower and the excessively long cab drive, you were still an hour early.

3 weeks later

Where the fuck is he?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you quickly fished it out to see a text from your sister.

You quickly typed up a response, fingers flying over the keyboard.

-6:15 Zoe:

Get there safe?

You smiled at that, glad she was feeling at home. You both had bought a small, two bedroom apartment somewhere just outside of New Orleans, and it was nice enough. Of course, when you brought up the idea of leaving Louisiana, Zoe shut that idea down with a firm “Hell no,” which was exactly what you were expecting. After all that’s happened, this place was still home to you, and you weren’t planning on leaving.

-6:15 You:

Yeah. Way too early for this shit.

-6:16 Zoe:

You’ll live. Apartment is looking nice.

After the shitshow ended, the BSAA and other government officials grilled you and your sister for information, and you told them everything you could remember. No, you weren’t happy with so many persons of authority sticking their noses up your ass, but you didn’t have any other choice. Afterwards, they made you sign some documents swearing on your life and liberty that you wouldn’t reveal any information about Eveline or anything else that happened to you, and you did so with mild irritation.

-6:17 You:

I expect it to be fully furnished and painted when I get back.

-6:18 Zoe:

You gonna send me the money?

-6:18 You:

Government pays well for you to keep your mouth shut.

At least you were safe. That’s all that mattered now.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Chris.

You rolled your eyes.

-6:20 Sir Punch-a-lot:

ETA 5 minutes.

With a laugh, you pocketed your phone and idly rocked on your heels as you waited for Chris to shop up. Seconds had barely passed before you grew fidgety and pulled out your phone again, mindlessly scrolling through apps. It had been years since you had a phone, and you barely knew how to function. You found yourself using it a lot these days. It was a good distraction from all the racing thoughts in your head.

-6:20 You:

You’re texting me, not the president. Stop being so formal.

-6:21 Sir Punch-a-lot:

It’s convenient. Less words to type.

-6:21 You:

Maybe you should try using a gif next time. Even faster.

-6:21 Sir Punch-a-lot:

Gif?

-6:22 You:

Oh dear god.

You didn’t know why, but your thumb mindlessly pressed on the contacts icon, and you read the three names you had in there.

Zoe

Chris

…

Ethan.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you pressed on his name and the options to call or text came up. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and despite him saying that you’d keep in touch, you haven't tried to call him once since then. There’d been many times when you considered it, holding your phone close to your face late at night, the UV light burning your eyes as you read his name and number over and over again. But, you always talked yourself out of it.

What if he moved on? What if he didn’t really want to hear from you, and he said all those things just to be nice? What if… What if Mia was making him happier than you could’ve ever hoped to make him?

You breathed out a sigh, clutching your phone tightly in your hand. You were about to travel to the headquarters of the American branch of the BSAA so you could be briefed, and you had no idea when you’d have another free moment to call him. Now was a better time than ever.

Anxiety crawled down your throat as you pressed the call button next to Ethan’s number, and with a shaky hand, you held the phone to your ear.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring—

"We're sorry The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Goodbye.”

[beachswiftie99]

Gift exchange

Hope you enjoy this story, @aroeddiediaz !

Prologue

Saturday, March 30th at Venice Beach, California

“Can I ask you something, Eddie?” Buck said to Eddie as they walked their family dog, Milo. Milo is a 4-year-old golden retriever who loves the beach, especially long walks on the beach with his family. Eddie rescued Milo from the Best Friends Animal Society in January. He realized the family needs a pet, and Christopher has always wanted a dog.

“Of course, Buck. What’s up?” Eddie picked up a seashell and put it in his beach bag.

“Am I a good father? I don’t want to be like my parents. I want to be a good dad for Christopher, but I don’t feel like I am enough. I never feel like I am enough.” Buck looked at the ground and stopped walking.

Eddie took a deep breath and stopped walking. “Buck, I am sorry you are feeling this way. But Christopher loves you and says you are an amazing father to him. I know your heart, Buck. That’s why I chose you to be Christopher’s guardian when I got shot two years ago, and one of the many reasons I married you. You are not like your parents. You are always present and support Christopher through the good days and bad days. None of us are perfect parents, but you are there for Christopher and truly care for him.”

“Thanks, love. But I still have these lingering feelings that I am not enough.” Buck wiped his eyes and squatted down to pet Milo.

“Have you talked to Maddie and Dr. Smith about these feelings?" Eddie squatted down to pet Milo. Dr. Smith is Buck’s therapist that he has been going to for the past few months. Eddie suggested therapy for Buck to work through his trauma.

“Yes. Maddie told me the same thing that you told me, and Dr. Smith gave me strategies for dealing with intrusive thoughts. I identify the thought as intrusive, and I don’t fight it. I also work on not judging myself for having these thoughts. Dr. Smith told me that there is nothing wrong with me for having intrusive thoughts. I also journal my thoughts.” Buck looked at Eddie and continued to pet Milo.

“That’s good. I am glad you are getting the help you need. Life is hard, Buck. It is always hard. But you have come so far from when I first met you about seven years ago. You are not like your parents. You are kind, hardworking, friendly, and a great husband and father.” Eddie touched Buck’s shoulder and stood up. Buck stood up and started to walk to the shoreline.

“Thanks, Eddie. This means a lot to me. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Buck.” Both continued to walk in silence. Venice Beach was busy today with tourists taking pictures of the ocean, children flying kites, people building sandcastles and playing volleyball. Off the shoreline, people were bodyboarding and surfboarding. It was a peaceful sight to see. Buck realized this: he needed a vacation.

Buck stopped and grabbed some green sea glass. “Eddie! I have an idea. It’s crazy, but it’s a good idea.”

Eddie stopped walking and turned to Buck. “I am all ears. Your idea isn’t a prank war or a threesome right?”

“Eddie, no! Unless you want a threesome.” Buck winked at Eddie.

“Buck, no. I want you all to myself.” Eddie rolled his eyes and winked at Buck. “What’s your crazy idea? I want to hear it.”

“Let’s go on a vacation! And use our personal time off!” Buck exclaimed with a gleam in his eye.

“Buck, that’s not a crazy idea! We both need a vacation! Where do you want to go?” Eddie pet Milo.

“Don’t you want to go to Vienna, Virginia? Or is it Vienna, Austria?” Buck suggested.

“Austria! I really want to go there. I love German food and the Sound of Music. What a great idea!” Eddie smiled with a gleam in his brown eyes. “I will start planning it over lunch.”

“Dr. Smith recommends I take a vacation, so I am SO doing it.” Buck laughed. “Let’s start planning.”

Chapter 1: Preparation

13 hours until the 8 am flight to Boston

It was a busy night in the Buckley-Diaz household. Eddie, Buck, and Christopher all had their suitcases and carryon bags in the living room. The family dog, Milo, ran around the house and was licking Christopher’s face. Eddie read off his packing list with all the essentials they needed for the trip overseas.  

Buck, Eddie, and Christopher are heading to Vienna, Austria for a family vacation. Eddie has always wanted to travel to Austria and Buck proposed this idea after he fully recovered from his freak accident. After two full months of physical therapy, several psychiatry therapy sessions that he still attends to this day (thanks, Eddie!), and a month off from work to recover, Buck felt like himself again, physically, and emotionally. He realized that life is fleeting, and he wants to spend time with his husband, Eddie, and their son, Christopher. But the trip is finally happening! They are all flying out of the airport tomorrow into Logan International Airport. Buck wanted to spend three days in Boston before flying out to Vienna, and Eddie wanted to see some sights in Boston. After a long week of helping others, Buck needed this vacation. Time to just relax and dance the waltz in Vienna with his one true love, Eddie.

“Okay! We are on the last few items. Does everyone have their passport? Christopher, I have yours right here with me.”

“Check.” Buck said as he pulled out his passport.

“Government-issued ID or License?”

“Check.”

“I have it, dad.” Christopher says.

“Toothpaste, toothbrush, and toiletries? Do I even have my travel toothbrush? Or is it lost? Oh, Dios Mio, if I forget or lose my toothbrush, I will be so-“ Eddie exclaims, and looks for his suitcase and toiletry bag.

“Eddie, you have everything. You have been packing for like three weeks. Don’t worry, you planned this trip a month before we even got the plane tickets.” Buck says to Eddie and touches his shoulder. “Besides, I brought two spare toothbrushes in my carryon bag if one of us forgets our toothbrush.” Buck smiles and pulls out his spare toothbrushes from his backpack. “Chris, I learned from the best.”

Christopher agreed, “Buck, you truly did! I’m proud of you; remember when you were SO disorganized. Even more disorganized than me” He smiled at Buck.

Buck rolled his eyes and messed up Christopher’s hair. “Chris, you are one of the most organized kids I know. You and Eddie made me more organized. How about let’s all make some ice cream sundaes and popcorn as we watch the Sound of Music?”

“I love Sound of Music!” Christopher exclaimed.

“The hills are alive with the sound of music!!!” Buck belted.

“I’ll prepare some popcorn and ice cream! Come on and help me, Chris!” Eddie said.

“Coming, dad!” Christopher left the living room and walked to the kitchen.

“Buck, what do you want on your ice cream sundae?” Eddie said from the kitchen.

“Coming, Eddie! I am gonna make the best concoction.” Buck put his toothbrush in his carryon bag and went to the kitchen.

“Chris, what are you adding to your sundae? You don’t need all that sugar!” Eddie took the sprinkles away from Christopher.

“Okay, then I will add more peanut butter.” Christopher opened the peanut butter and scooped two spoonfuls on his vanilla ice cream. Eddie took the peanut butter and added it to his chocolate chip ice cream.

“Save some chocolate sauce and peanut butter for me! I am popping the popcorn!” Buck ran to the kitchen.

Eddie poured the popcorn into a large bowl and set up the Blu-Ray so that they could all watch Sound of Music. It was a relaxing night in the Buckley-Diaz house. No worries, no stress.

I deserve this love and peace. Eddie thought and smiled at his son and his husband who were eating popcorn and ice cream while singing along to the opening song in the movie.

Chapter 2: Travel Day

5:00 am-in Hen’s bright red Subaru

“Thanks for driving us, Hen. I really owe you one.” Eddie said from the back seat.

“You’re welcome, Eddie! You all deserve this vacation; you have been through a lot and Vienna is gorgeous.” Hen made a right turn to enter the departure gate of Los Angeles International Airport.

“Wait, you’ve been to Austria?” Buck turned to Hen.

“Oh, yes! With Chimney! We took a trip after our first year with the 911. It was beautiful. The people were so pleasant, and the food was spectacular. You all will love it!” Hen parked her car at the departure gate and put her hazard lights on. All four of them got out of the car.

“I love you all and have the best trip! You can text me anytime with updates and I would love to see pictures! I’ll hold down the 911 department while you all are gone.”

“Hen, thank you so much! We love you and we will send pictures!” Buck leaned in for a hug.

“And Eddie? I have a secret to tell you. Come here.”

Eddie looked anxious. “Hen, is everything okay?”

“Come on, it isn’t bad. At all.” Hen smiled at him.

Eddie walked over to her.

Hen leaned into his left side and spoke into his ear “You did amazing with planning this trip. The family will love it. If you have any panic attacks or anxious moments, you can always reach out to me.” She leaned away from his ear and faced him with a relaxed smile.

Eddie felt relaxed and the tension from his shoulders was released. “Hen, I appreciate that. I will let you know if I ever need to talk.” He then gave her a hug.

“And Christopher!”

“Yes, Aunt Hen?”

“Keep an eye out for these two crazy men! You are the leader, and I’ll miss you the most.” She winked at Christopher.

“Oh yes, I will! Love you!!” They both hugged.

“Have the best time everyone! Love you all!” Hen helped them get their bags out of her trunk and got into her car. She waved goodbye and drove off.

“Well, we got here in plenty of time, Buck.” Eddie said as he grabbed his bags.

“See, I told you!” Buck kissed Eddie on the lips. He tasted like vanilla and coconut.

“Now let’s check in and go through security.” Eddie said, smiling.

Chapter 3: En route

Security was fast, and the family found their gate and had some breakfast. Three hours have passed, and now Buck, Eddie, and Christopher were seated in their reclining seats in first class. They are finally boarded and ready to start their vacation.

“Time for the 5-hour flight.” Eddie said and put his headphones on his ear. “So happy I booked first-class tickets so we can sleep well.” He reclines his chair back and looks at Buck with a smile.  

“Oh yes, and soon to Vienna.” Buck turned to Eddie and smiled.

“Chris, you good?” Eddie turned to his son who was sitting in the window seat.

“Oh yes! So excited!” Christopher put on his headphones.

Time to go to Boston!

Chapter 4: Time to Dance

Three days later: Harborside Hotel in Boston, Massachusetts

“FINALLY, time to relax after a long day of sightseeing!!” Buck jumped back on his bed.

“Buck, language!” Chris said.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Buck exclaimed.

“I love Boston. The New England Aquarium, the Freedom Trail, everything. I can’t believe I never visited here.” Eddie said with a smile.

“I loved it dad! Let’s go back!” Christopher put his phone down and sat up on his bed.

“We will definitely be back, pal!” Buck said.

“Oh, I agree. Now who’s ready for Vienna?” Eddie exclaimed.

“I am ready to waltz with you. Let’s practice.” Buck stood up and beckoned Eddie to stand up.

“Well, we do need practice.” Eddie agreed.

“I’ll lead. Put your arms on my waist. Chris, can you help teach us?”

“Of course! I can dance better than you two!” Christopher smiled and got out of his bed.

“I have two left feet, Buck.”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” Buck then whispered to Eddie. “After Christopher goes to bed, we will go to the bathroom, and I’ll let you suck my cock. How would you like that, big boy?”

“Buck, you are so hot. Yes, I want you and your cock.” Eddie whispered. “Let’s waltz.”

Chapter 5: Buck and Eddie try to waltz

Buck and Eddie walked to the front of their king beds. Christopher was sitting on the bed with his phone in his hand along with a portable speaker.

“I gotta turn on some waltzing music. Hold up, dads.” Christopher went on Spotify and found a Mozart playlist. “Okay, I found a song.” Violins and piano filled the air.

“Okay, I am going to demonstrate the dance for you.” Christopher set his phone and speaker on the nightstand and hopped off the bed. “Buck, put your hands on Eddie’s shoulder.” Buck did as Christopher instructed.

“Then, step like this. 1,2,3 to the left, and 1,2,3 to the right. I will show you.” Christopher demonstrated the steps. Buck and Eddie followed, but not as seamlessly.

“Eddie! My left, not your left!” Buck exclaimed.

“Buck, I don’t dance often!”

“Well, now you do! You need beginner classes with the four-year olds at this rate. So uncoordinated.”

“Well, you aren’t much better, twinkletoes.”

“Stop stepping on my toes, Eddie!”

“Stop complaining, Buck! Dios Mio.”

After many attempts (and cursing) they finally got the steps down.

“Okay, now we have to practice moving around the room like this.” Christopher demonstrated the rotation motion to his dads.  

“Oh, this should be fun with Mr. Twinkletoes.” Eddie said jokingly with his hands on his waist and looked sideways at Buck.

“Shut up, Eddie.” Buck rolled his eyes and laughed.

But the rotating around the room was easier than they both thought. Miraculously, they both got the steps down and flowed to the tempo of the music. Christopher watched over his dads with a huge grin on his face. Buck and Eddie were in another dimension; a dimension with no fear or anxiety, just dancing and peace. They were truly entranced by the music and each other’s presence. With Buck, I can do anything. He is my rock. Eddie thought.

I love Eddie with all my heart. If I have Eddie and Christopher, I am never alone. Buck thought and smiled to himself.

Buck and Eddie danced to the music for about ten minutes. Time flew by, but there was no care in the world. Christipher even joined in the waltz. Three people was harder than two, but it didn’t matter. They were a family. A unit. They stood as one, enjoying the music and each other.

This is my family. I am not like my parents. I will be there for Eddie and Christopher always and forever. Buck thought. No fucking thing will come between us. Nothing. 

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 5

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's Note: It's time for your lunch date with Loki!. Beta by @zaria-04 <3

Chapter 5: Lunch Date

For once, you knock on the door of the suite instead of going right in. It's more polite today, since you just want to pick up Loki. For the occasion, you've thrown on an elegant dress and chosen shoes that are both comfortable and daringly high. You may have used a little magic for this combination. Since it's cloudy and a bit chilly outside, you've thrown on a thin summer coat.

It's not long before Loki steps out the door.

You were curious regarding what he would wear, because until now you only knew him in Asgardian clothing. Today he looks like he's stepped straight out of a commercial for Armani: he's wearing a perfectly fitted black suit and a dark shirt to go with it, the top two buttons undone. A tasteful combination of sharp and casual. You can see green cufflinks flashing at his sleeves.

The difference between him today and Thor yesterday is like night and day, you notice with amusement. Even though they're both incredibly handsome in their own ways.

"Glad you followed my instructions," you greet him. As if Loki has ever shown poor taste in his choice of clothing.

His eyes scrutinize you, traveling down and up your body once before nodding, as if your appearance has received his approval. However, his gaze lingers on your high neckline. "You, on the other hand, could have made more of an effort," he retorts.

You merely roll your eyes at that without being offended. You get into the elevator and go straight to the underground parking garage. Tony made a joke by installing stereotypical elevator music in all of them. It jingles softly while you take the way down in silence. Loki is standing close to you, you feel him in your personal space. You don't let it show, though, nor do you move aside.

A dark car with a driver is already waiting for you in the garage. It's a fancy limousine, you realize. Presumably Tony doesn't own a single inconspicuous car.

Loki is faster than you and opens the car door for you. He gets a small smile in return but nothing more. You don't want him to think this impresses you.

He takes the seat next to you. "Where are we going?" he asks as you leave the garage.

"It’s a surprise."

Loki chuckles. "You’re making me curious, Witchling."

You notice the new nickname. "Oh, have I been promoted?" you ask amused.

A wide grin spreads across Loki's face. "Don't you worry. You're still my pet."

You leave it at that without a comment.

The drive doesn't take long; the restaurant is only a few blocks away. The car pulls up in front of it and you get out. The restaurant is on the second floor of the building. You climb the stairs and are greeted by the receptionist.

The staff has been briefed in advance and they all behave totally professional. You can't tell if they recognize Loki. Probably the name Tony Stark and the promise of a more than generous tip helps overseeing his past if so.

Maybe it's also because Loki acts like a courteous gentleman. He helps you take off your coat, exhaling sharply as he sees the low back neckline of your dress. You smile knowingly. That was absolutely intentional.

You are led to your table, Loki letting you go ahead. You feel his piercing gaze at your back.

At the table, he passes you and pulls out your chair. You sit down as if it's the most normal thing in the world for him to do. Just because he shows some manners for once doesn't mean you forget his other acts or let them lapse. But it's a nice change from your other interactions and you actually enjoy it. And it's a good show for the staff to see this side of Loki.

He takes a seat across from you and you both get poured champagne.

You two are the only guests at the restaurant. Stark rented the whole place just in case there was trouble. It was apparently not a necessary precaution, but this way the meal has a more private atmosphere.

You raise your glass. "To what are we toasting?"

"Fine food and lovely company."

"Can't argue with that."

The appetizer is served and Loki is in his element. Maybe it's the luxurious surroundings. It's probably a nice change for the prince to be pampered again. Despite the luxury of his suite, he's otherwise on his own in the tower, and aside from Thor, no one else is friendly to him. You wonder if he misses his home. Difficult family circumstances or not. It was certainly a difficult adjustment for him when he arrived back on earth.

"Is this how it is now?" Loki asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. "I wish for something and you make it happen?"

"I thought we'd already established that this isn't the case," you reply.

"Then why the lunch now?" He seems genuinely interested.

"I thought it would be a nice change," you admit, "and you asked nicely. Besides, it's a good opportunity to talk."

You definitely plan to take advantage of the fact that he can't just run away. Tony and Thor are just waiting for a call and would be right here. Loki seems to sense that.

"About what?" the Asgardian asks amused. "My inclusion into the team of these heroes?" He pronounces the word with every ounce of sarcasm.

"I'd love to hear from you about what the attack in New York was like for you."

Loki is taken aback by this change of topic and for a split second his face falls. Then he has a neutral mask back on, but the lightness of a moment ago is gone. "I have nothing to say about this. I'm sure you've already been told about it in detail." He turns his head away, looking seemingly interested at the paintings displayed on the opposite wall. But you're not intimidated by his dismissive manner.

"Some things hurt. But they don't get better unless we talk about them. I imagine it must have been hard to go through all that, to have a captured mind and then to be punished for it later." It's your honest opinion about it. You have had your own experiences with mind control magic and you know that the more complex and stronger the mind is, the more painful the procedure is for the victim. At least if it is done involuntarily. But who would like to be a voluntary victim?

"Then you can guess my opinion about my stay here on Midgard."

"I wouldn't like it either," you admit, "but I'd make the best of it."

"I do."

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow. "Because to me it looks like you just sit in your room and sulk most of the time."

The corners of Loki's mouth twitch up. "I'm sitting here with you, aren't I?"

You nod. "That's right. Thanks, by the way, for calling my company the best."

This makes Loki laugh and his spirits seem to rise again. You've already noticed that his mood is as fickle as the weather on a spring day in April. "I’m planning on calling you other things, too," he promises you with a suggestive look.

"I'm not sure if you earned that yet."

Something in Loki's eyes flashes. It's a challenge you didn't intend, but one he accepts. Fortunately, at that moment, the next course is brought, together with a red wine.

"Can you read the future from entrails, Witchling?", Loki asks you, looking at his beef tartare.

"The only thing I'm reading out of this is that we're going to have a delicious meal." You try your beef and it’s really good. Tony really has the best recommendations for restaurants. However, you don't want to know how expensive this lunch is. In that respect, it's really convenient to have a rich employer.

"When I was younger, I learned the art of palm reading," Loki tells you, drawing your attention. "It's been a while, but I dare to say I’m still good at it.”

"Really?"

Amused, you catch his gaze. He holds his hand out to you. "May I?"

You put down your knife and lie your right hand into his. He turns your palm upward and studies it, tracing the lines. He takes his time, as if he were looking at and analyzing a work of art. His fingers are firm but their touch is gentle.

"Well?" you ask after a while of silence.

Loki looks up at you. "It seems you are quite blessed," is his professional opinion.

"Am I?"

Without averting his eyes, he brings his lips to your hand and kisses your wrist, right where the pulse is. A pleasant shiver comes over you. "You are now." His voice is low as if he were casting a spell on you.

You blink and a moment passes before you remember to react.

"Silvertongue." You chuckle and draw your hand back. But you register that you should be more careful. It’s not wise to be lulled in by his charms. Loki seems to notice his effect on you as well and he winks at you before he turns his attention back to his food.

For dessert, a platter of various small sweets is placed on the table. Loki tries everything and you notice that he seems to have a sweet tooth. You let it go unremarked, but make a mental note of it for future reference.

"So, why are you doing this?" the Asgardian suddenly asks you.

Somewhat puzzled, you look up. "What do you mean?"

"I know it's a great honor to be in my presence, but I'm still wondering why you are here."

You now he doesn’t mean here in the restaurant, but with him in general. "That's quite simple actually: a friend asked me and I was curious," you explain.

"A friend?" Loki asks. "Stark?"

"No, the Sorcerer Supreme."

Loki grins. "Look at you, Witchling, casually throwing in the fact that you are friends with the Sorcerer Supreme."

"Let's just say he's a friend from work. Why? Do you know him?"

Loki swirls the red liquid in his glass. "I've met various Sorcerer Supremes in the past. Can't say I’m fond of the current one."

That makes you curious. "Why not?"

"Let's not talk about that second rated wizard," Loki says firmly, putting his glass back on the table. "This evening is too lovely to ruin it with that."

You drop the subject, but you'll definitely ask Stephen what happened between the two of them. There has to be a story behind it and you are determined to find it out.

Eventually, you finish the meal and stand up. The bill is sent directly to Tony, so you have nothing to do but collect your jackets. On the way to the reception, Loki stays by your side and puts a hand on your back to guide you. Your back tingles at the skin contact and it's not because his hand is surprisingly cool.

You feel the loss of his touch as he pulls back his arm and helps you into your coat.

You leave the restaurant and wait for the car to pull up. The streets are filled with traffic and people whose lunch break has just ended and who are on their way back to their offices. There is a lot of honking, you hear the siren of an ambulance and a child is crying somewhere. You would never think of driving yourself in these narrow streets and you silently thank Tony for offering a chauffeur. New York is really a big city, you haven't gotten used to it yet and you're glad you can spend most of your time at the Avenger Tower. There are a lot of people working there too, but the hustle and bustle isn't as noticeable.

It may be the nature of your being that you're not a fan of large crowds. A large crowd always has its own essence, its own mind. And in your experience, nothing good ever comes out of it. You remember only too well how people used to gather to watch someone similar to you undergo a test. The rules were always simple: if the person died, they were not a witch. If they did not die, they were a witch and had to be killed. The end result was always the same. Fortunately, your mother was always careful to teach her children how to stay under the radar. When it was better to get to safety and move to a new place. The cards helped you do that. It's always quite good to have a little glimpse into the future. Unfortunately, not all of your siblings had the same luck. The modern era got off to an impetuous start. You yourself only barely escaped once. But by now, things had really improved for witches. People were no longer focused on eradicating the occult or simply what they didn't understand. Or at least you stick to those countries where it's like that.

You see your car arriving and turn to Loki - only to find he's no longer standing next to you.

Oh Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your heart hits your stomach. You've been so preoccupied that you haven't paid attention to him. Searchingly, you turn around, but you don’t spot him anywhere. His tall figure should be visible above the heads of the others. Silently you curse that you have been so careless. The friendly conversation at dinner has put you in a false sense of security. You reach for your cell phone in your pocket to inform Tony or Thor, while walking down the sidewalk a bit. They wouldn't be thrilled at all that you lost the younger prince. Tony had specifically warned you about this.

Suddenly, you hear his voice and as you round a few passersby, you see the Asgardian god kneeling by a child in front of a store window. It is a dark-haired girl with a backpack in the shape of a rabbit, who has red puffy eyes, as if she had been crying bitterly until just now. Slowly you approach the two, your cell phone still in your hand, but not dialing a number yet.

"Loki?" you ask cautiously.

The dark-haired man looks up at you. "There you are. Little Lady Sofía here is lost and can't find her way back home."

Once again, big tears well up in the eyes of the girl who may just be in elementary school, if at all. Loki reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a handkerchief, which he hands to her.

You, meanwhile, decide that you can scold Loki later for just disappearing like that. Instead, you hunker down next to Loki to the girl, who backs away a bit, though.

"It's okay," he reassures her. "She's a friend of mine and she's helping us."

There are so many things you wonder about. Loki's reassuring way of talking to the child. How he even managed to get her to trust him so quickly. That he called you a friend. But for now your focus is on the girl.

"Where do you live?" you ask her.

"In a tall house," she answers, sniffling loudly. Unfortunately, that applies to pretty much every building in New York, so it doesn't help you.

"There you are," you suddenly hear a voice behind you. As you turn around, you see a short, broad man approaching you, his gaze on the girl. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

You rise. "Are you her father?"

The man shakes his head. "The uncle. I was supposed to pick her up from school, but I got held up at work. By the time I got there, she was gone." He turns to the girl and leans down a bit toward her. "I'll take you home now," he promises her, holding out his hand.

That's when Loki pushes his way into his path, arms crossed. "Don’t get any closer," he growls at the man, who looks at him in surprise at his sudden aggressiveness.

"It’s none of your business," the man says, but uncertainty resonates in his voice.

That's when Loki grabs him at the shoulder and pushes him back. "If you touch her, I'll kill you." If his eyes were daggers, they would have killed the stranger immediately.

You put your hand on Loki's arm. "Loki, what are you doing?" you ask him calmly but firmly.

"He's lying," the Asgardian growls. "I can smell the falsehood in his words."

This makes you frown. You have no reason to doubt the man. However, you have no reason to doubt Loki's words either. Therefore, you lean down again to the girl, who has been watching the whole scene with wide eyes. "Do you know this man?" you ask her, but she only plays sheepishly with the handkerchief she got from Loki. She is too intimidated by the attention of all these strange adults and doesn't answer.

"Let go of me!" the man demands meanwhile, trying to free himself from Loki's iron grip. Some passers-by become aware of the scene and stare at you curiously. You don’t like that, because it's not good when Loki's face is in the public eye in a story like this.

"Let him go," you therefore say to him. "We will report him to the police, but first we need the girl to get home safely."

Loki turns his head toward you and your eyes meet. You nod at him in what you hope is a confident and reassuring manner. This must not escalate or you both will be in trouble. He seems to realize that, because he reluctantly lets the man go, pushing him back a bit while he does. "Lucky for you, the voice of reason is present.”

"You'll hear from me!" the man scolds. But it is half-hearted and he quickly disappears between the passer-by.

Loki clenches his hands into fists and closes his eyes for a moment to take a breath and resist the urge to hurt the man after all. He looks in the direction he disappeared and with a small gesture he sends a spell after him anyway. You don't know what it is and you don't ask. Then the Asgardian turns back to you.

Meanwhile, you've spotted a police officer among the people, who is grabbing something at a food truck. He's probably on his lunch break, but you don't care right now. With what just happened, you'd better get an official party involved. "I'll be right back," you say to Loki and walk over to the officer.

"Excuse me, officer."

"Yes, Miss?" he turns to you questioningly.

"My friend and I found a child who got lost. I'm afraid she can't tell us where she lives," you explain and he looks in the direction you point. Between the passersby, Loki and Sofía are only vaguely visible.

"A child you say? A little girl?"

"Yes, about this tall." You point at hip level.

The cop hands the food truck owner some money for his food, then reaches for his walkie talkie. "Officer Decker, this is Daniel. Are you still with the woman who lost her daughter?" he asks into the device. "What's the girl's name again?"

After a brief pause, the device crackles. "Yes, she's still here. The daughter's name is Sofía, seven years old."

Daniel gives you a questioning look and you nod. "Come over to 34th Street and Lexington Avenue. I think I found her here."

He follows you to Loki, who looks towards you. "He might know where the mother is," you explain to him as the cop leans down to the girl. But Sofía doesn't seem to be in the mood for further acquaintance and hides a bit behind Loki's leg. Daniel looks questioningly at him, but the Asgardian merely shrugs. You all decide to wait.

A few minutes pass by, when the girl suddenly shrieks. "Mommy!" You follow her gaze and see a petite woman step around the corner alongside another police officer. When she hears the call, her worried face turns to relief. Then she spots her daughter.

"Sofía!"

The child runs toward her and the two embrace.

The policemen follow the women a little slower, taking care of the details. Loki and you stay around briefly to make a statement, especially because Loki insists on reporting the strange man from earlier.

It turns out that mother and daughter were shopping when Sofía left a store while strolling. She wandered around a bit and then couldn't find her way back. Apparently she got two blocks far. The mother, who only let the little one out of her sight for a short time, had all the employees search the entire store.

She's very glad to have her girl back.

Loki and you take your leave quietly and get into your car, which is still waiting for you nearby.

Relieved, you exhale. What an afternoon. You hadn't planned something like this to happen when you organized lunch at the restaurant. But with an Asgardian god, you never know exactly what's going to happen next.

Loki looks out his window, seemingly bored, but turns his head to you when you put your hand on his arm.

"You did great," you tell him with an honest smile.

He looks at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes move down to where you are touching him and he withdraws his arm. Then he looks wordlessly at the window again. You get no response. But you don't care, because you know Loki did the right thing when it mattered.

What you don't know is that he is so surprised by your unexpected praise that he doesn't know what to say. He's not used to it and it actually makes him a little embarrassed.

_________________________________

Surprise! Loki didn't run off at the first chance he got. He behaves decently when he is treated decently. Shocking news I know! Kids trusting Loki will be a recurring trope in this story. He deserves all the love and trust. Also, you finally got your nickname: Witchling. Yay

Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu @purplekitten30 @elisadmaggiore @nothing2113 @baebeepeach @ceo-of-stfu @moonlightreader649 @ronipiamka @fluffybunnyu

Tell me if you wanna be added/removed

[affectionatelyrs]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thank you to @anincompletelist @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @littlemisskittentoes @rockyroadkylers @songliili and @xthelastknownsurvivorx for the tags

*Taps mic* is this thing on? Yeah? Great. Allow me to be somewhat sappy for a moment then.

I started writing in August of this year. As in, I haven't written fic/majorly creatively ever before this, and it's something that I never thought I would do. Until I did. And my goodness... I'm so insanely grateful that I decided to start. Writing has given me so much purpose - It's something I genuinely adore; it makes me incredibly happy that I get to share my words with all of y'all, and the people I've met have been so incredibly lovely. So, without further ado, here's what I've written in 2023! :)

January through July

Nothing, I was just an avid reader

August

Far too Enamored to be Content Now | M | 2k | One Shot

"You've been rather quiet all evening, H," Alex muses, trailing one long finger up the expanse of Henry's neck, higher, higher, high, until it lingers over his bottom lip. Taps it with the pad a few times. "Why don't you use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you want then, hmm?" Alex is expecting Henry's lips to pucker, their typical automatic response to this action. What he is not expecting, however, is the way Henry's lips slightly part before taking his finger slowly into his mouth and sucking, never once breaking eye-contact. - Henry is bloody starving.

You Came Out of Nowhere (And You Cut through All the Noise) | E | 10.9k | One Shot (with a bonus chapter)

Alex starts to feel worse about how he reacted to the man earlier — he’s usually all bark and no bite, but how is the bartender supposed to know that? Alex can be snarky, but he’s never cruel. Allowing his lips to quirk up into a small smile, he replies “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, really.” “Well,” he says with a smirk, “in the event that you are lying to me simply to placate our earlier interaction, my shift ends in 15 minutes. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stick around to chat with a perfect stranger?” Alex’s brain stutters for a moment at his facade being so transparent that it's all he can do to stutter out a “Yeah—um, yeah. Okay, sure.” Maybe he also gets stuck on the words perfect stranger, and the immediate thought of mmmm, perfect indeed that pops up in his brain as a result. He chooses to ignore that as well. - Or, Alex is feeling insecure after a bad date - Henry shows him that he doesn't have to be

September

All of This Silence and Patience (Pining and Anticipation) | T | 5.1k | One Shot

“I didn’t know that you were—” he cuts himself off, sliding a hand over his face. “I, um. Shit, sorry. I just meant, uh… Christ—” Alex saves Henry some breath by cutting him off. “Bi? Sure am.” “Since when?” Is Henry’s only response. Apparently, being in dangerously close proximity to pretty boys makes him a bit dim. Whatever. He’ll have time to reflect on this and feel utterly mortified later. Alex does the following in slow succession: smirks, cocks an eyebrow, looks Henry up and down once, and shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno. Suppose that’s a bit hard to pin down, sweetheart.” - Or, Alex (flirty) and Henry (flustered) are both hiding in a closet at a party for different reasons

Baby, You're Gonna Lose Your Own Game | E | 4k | One Shot

Alex thinks he understands why people get stupid, impulsive tattoos like their ex’s name now if the sudden urge to etch the word darling onto his hip in permanent ink is anything to go by. So, yeah, Alex supposes. Henry may still be maddening, but his mouth? His voice? Maybe it was always hot, actually, and the irritation he previously felt was just thinly veiled complete and utter attraction. That would check out. Hate has always been a multifaceted word, after all. - Or, Alex decides that he wants to fuck the British out of Henry while watching him speak at a gala

October

King of My Heart | E | 8.5k | One Shot

Alex, as always, is utterly captivating. He accepts his crown with grace and a crooked grin; it’s a duality that only he can pull off. Alex’s megawatt smile is brighter than the hundreds of multicolored shards of light reflecting off the mirrorball in the center of the room. Henry knows that Alex looks good on stage, he knows that Alex knows that he looks good on stage, and apparently, everyone else knows it as well. Henry thinks he sees a girl faint at the sight out of the corner of his eye. And yet, no one knows about Alex and him. Everyone in the crowd wants Alex, but it’s a losing battle — Henry already won that fight a couple of weeks ago. - Or, When Alex wins Prom King, Henry sneaks him away for a moment alone and realizes that his feelings may run deeper than their clandestine hookups suggest

Help Me Hold On to You | T | 3.2k | One Shot

“I can’t do this all the time, Alex,” Henry huffs out, arms crossed from the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve been more than happy to help, and I’ve been doing so as much as I can, but we need to talk about it. It’s been…a lot for me.” Too much. Henry doesn’t say it directly, but it’s the undercurrent of his words. Two words that Alex has heard many times in his life, over and over again until they became permanently pressed into his eyelids like a brand, reminding him of his state of being every time he so much as blinks. - Or, Henry isn't always able to give Alex the help he needs, which sends Alex into a spiral, but they'll always find a way to work things out together

November

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess | E | 8.6k | One Shot

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

December

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What’s on My Mind) | E | 11.3k | Two Shot

Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?” But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except— Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with. Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand. - Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

Coming Soon

Double shot - my first ever multichap! :) Featuring sexting, falling in love in a coffee shop, and learning a lot about oneself - I'm incredibly excited for this one

Walk and Talk - a long one shot - College AU, irl epistolary, the literal act of walking and talking out of class and getting to know someone - this has been in the works for months

Henry is a painting (untitled) - Magical realism - Alex has a painting of a prince in his bedroom and one day it talks - a series of their conversations at night time in Alex's room, introspection, discussions of mental health, and falling in love

A secret birthday fic for @happiness-of-the-pursuit

A valentines day fic - Magical realism, Henry can see other people's future love lives and sets up shop on campus - Alex visits one day and Henry see's something he's never been able to see in his visions... himself

Coming... Eventually

Soulmate AU, beach at night, 5+1 love confession through non-verbal cues, companion fic to AOTSAP, and more

THANK U SO MUCH TO EVERYONE AGAIN. I genuinely couldn't do this without you. Fic and RWRB and all of y'all mean so fucking much to me. Thank you for an amazing year, and I'm so excited for what's to come

Tagging other ppl and literally anyone whose fics have ever inspired me bc y'all are so important - @kiwiana-writes @inexplicablymine @read-and-write- @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks @smc-27 @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @tintagel-or-cockleshells @iboatedhere @indomitable-love @orchidscript @onward--upward @sparklepocalypse @dumbpeachjuice @dustratcentral @dustratcentral @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy @cultofsappho @cricketnationrise @nocoastposts @myheartalivewrites @matherines and @rmd-writes

[mykneeshurt]

Haunted pt5

Gonna be MIA next week, I’m getting married 28/11 so I’m gonna be a bit busy. If I find time to do another chapter I will.

I don’t know how to do a taglist lmao let me j ow if that’s something y’all want

Have some angst hehe

Applying the last of your concealer on your now golden bruise, which adorned the bridge of your nose, you let out a sigh. ‘Alright lass?’ Turning round you saw Soap leaning against the door frame. ‘Yeah. I think so. Just nervous.’ Offering you a reassuring smile he walked over to you and placed a firm hold on your shoulder. ‘You be alright lass. Keegan’s doin all the listening, you’re there just to look good’ he winked. Laughing you shoved him off you ‘fuck off Soap.’

Walking downstairs to the dining room your stomach was doing somersaults. The thought of seeing Keegan again after all this time made you feel physically sick. Taking a deep breath you rounded the corner to the dining room, all the men sat waiting for you. Keegan stood in the corner, his ice blue eyes slammed into yours within an instant. Fuck. ‘Long time no see kid’ he greeted in the silence of the room. Putting on your brave face you smiled back ‘Hey! Yeah it’s … been a while.’ Christ why were you so awkward? He still looked incredible, firm body, tall, imposing and those eyes. You almost forgot you’re meant to breathe.

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you quickly found your seat and sat down. Next to Ghost of course. He was able to see you were feeling tense so he placed his knee next to yours under the table. A subtle sign to let you know he was there. Brushing your arm briefly along his thigh as a thank you, you settled into the briefing.

‘Now’ Price began ‘just wanna say thank you Keegan for takin time to come and help us with this intel operation. Ghost, like I said the other day you’re look out. You’ll be on the roof opposite the cafe, keepin an eye. Soap and Gaz you’ll be outside to start. One by one go in and keep eye on Doc and Keegan. Keegan knows what he needs to listen for, Doc you’re there to make it more convincing. Get the intel and get out. Piece of piss.’ All nodding in unison you stood to get ready to depart. Everyone had left the room all bar you and Ghost. Looking up at him he could sense your wavering nerves. Planting a firm kiss on your forehead he held your hands in his ‘you got this love.’ That’s all the reassurance you needed.

Once outside the town you secured your switch blade to your thigh and another smaller knife in the neck of your boot. Pulling your flowy skirt down you noticed Keegans eyes on you. ‘Just like old times eh. Flashing me a thigh to get my attention’ he smirked. ‘In your fuckin dreams Keegan.’

‘You always are kid.’ Snapping your head to him you shot him a firm gaze ‘don’t start this please. I don’t have the mental energy to deal with you today. Come on, before I lose my nerve.’

Taking his hand in yours you began walking down the street to the cafe. Your earpiece crackled to life underneath your hair. ‘Got you in my sights. They’re not here yet, linger for 5.’ There he was, your guardian angel in the skies. Soap was sat by a fountain reading a newspaper and Gaz was lingering on the corner looking at his phone. Keegan wrapped his hand around your waist pulling you in tightly to him. Ghost looked on, an ache deep within his chest. You looked so natural on his arm, so comfortable and care free. Ghost began to wonder if that’s how you felt with him, that carefree and comfortable. He felt an ache of jealously creeping up into his chest.

‘They’re coming up on your 6, get ready.’ Taking a deep breath you tried to calm your nerves, Ghost reading your body longed to hold you, to calm you. Instead Keegan had other ideas, he also knew how to read you. Pulling you in he placed his lips on yours, knowing you were unable to pull away you could only allow him to kiss you. Extremely aware the only man you wanted was forced to watch, helpless at the situation before him. Keegan pulled away ‘you taste just as good as I remember.’ Ghosts grip on his sniper rifle grew tighter by the minute, his knuckles white hot with rage. The jealousy kicking up a notch.

You smiled back at Keegan, knowing you couldn’t do anything else. But your eyes were dead. You glared back at him, wanting nothing more than to slap him. ‘Let’s go in’ you urged, feeling the burn of Ghosts gaze. Walking into the dull cafe you saw your targets sat in a booth, luckily for you another booth was empty next to them. Sitting down in the booth you were sat back to back, in optimum position to hear everything. The waitress brought over coffee and you both relaxed into the shabby dark green leather.

Keegan was taking this couple business far too seriously. He nuzzled against your neck, finger tips grazed your thigh and planted a kiss on your cheek any time he could. ‘Careful’ you chided ‘could be giving the impression you’re not entirely over me.’

Taking a sip of his coffee he looked over towards Soap who had now entered the cafe. ‘Not entirely kid. Would much prefer to be under you.’ You snorted into your cup, placing his hand on the knife concealed on your thigh. ‘What I wouldn’t give to bury this into your fucking face’ you said with a sickly sweet smile. ‘God I’ve fuckin missed you’ he retorted.

With the Russians conversation finally switching to what you were here for, Keegan leant back against the booth. Intently listening. Locking eyes with Soap you gave a subtle nod to inform him it was go time. Soap diverted his attention back to his newspaper, ears clearly on stand by. You had no idea what what Keegan needed to listen out for. Your mind wandered back to your relationship with him. The arguments, the fights, the make up sex … the amazing make up sex. God. The thought made you blush, pushing the memories back down you tried to stay alert and focused on the mission.

With a firm slap to your thigh Keegan smiled ‘got what we need, let’s go.’ Not needing to tell you twice you jumped up from the booth and made your way outside hand in hand with Keegan. Once outside and clear from Makarovs men you radioed to Ghost, ‘all clear. Got what we needed.’ Silence. Odd.

Making your way back to the jeeps, Keegan again tried to get handsy with you. Pushing him off you, you looked at him in disbelief. ‘I haven’t seen you in years and you think we can pick up where we left off?! You’re fucking deluded. You HURT me Keegan. Really fucking bad. I would have done anything for you. And you hurt me.’ Tears pricked your eyes as the seriousness of your tone finally got through to him. He backed off finally getting the message.

Soap and Gaz rounded the corner to find you both mid argument. Ghost was the last to turn up, his eyes expressionless. The journey back was tense. You sat in the middle of Ghost and Keegan, Ghost back to being tense around you. Not even looking in your direction. Feeling how tense it was Soap turned on the radio and flashed Gaz a grimace.

Once back at the safe house Keegan filled in Price on what he needed to hear. Soap and Gaz took to the living room to relax. You however went to find Ghost. Finding him in his room you knocked, he didn’t even look at you. You felt uneasy. ‘Hey? What’s wrong?’

Nothing. ‘Simon, please talk to me?’ Nothing. He just stared at the floor. Your heart rate increasing, you were starting to feel incredibly anxious. In reality he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t express how he felt inside, seeing how natural you looked with Keegan played on his mind massively. His mind reverted to constant negative self-talk, why would any one love him? Why would any one want to show affection to him? You were just using him because you were bored. So he did what he does best with relationships. Self-sabotage.

Standing up he towered over you ‘you gonna fuck him?’ If your eyes could have widened further they would have. What the fuck did he mean by that?! ‘Simon what are you on about?’

‘I saw how cosy you were with him. Looked like more than just actin to me.’ His eyes were cold, void of emotion but his tone of voice made up for that. ‘I told you we had history Simon …’

Without letting you finish he carried on quoting him ‘you taste just as good as I remember?’ His fists were clenched tight ‘bet you fuckin loved kissin him.’ Knowing exactly what he was doing you called him out on it. ‘Just because you cant handle your emotions Simon does not mean you get to take it out on me. You’re not the only one here with a past so you don’t get to pull this self-sabotage bullshit with me.’ Tears were welling under your eyes, a mixture of frustration, sadness and pure rage. ‘And what the fuck would you know?’ He spat.

‘You wanna know?!’ You seethed, squaring up to him ‘you’re not the only one who’s been fucking abused Simon. You’re not the only one daddy didnt fucking love. You know my father and brother would often beat me? Make me watch as they beat my mother? I was tortured in Afghanistan for 2 weeks’ you spat as you lifted your jumper to show multiple scars across your abdomen. ‘They burnt me, the cut me, water boarded me cause they thought I was someone else. When clearly I’m just a pathetic medic who doesn’t know shit, and loves fuckin everyone I see.’ Lowering your jumper your face twisted with the our emotions you were feeling.

Turning to leave he grabbed your arm, the tears were so close to falling. ‘I know you think you’re not worthy of love Simon. I’ve been where you are. But picking fights because you think you’re worthless isn’t the way to do this. And I don’t think we can carry on until you really look at yourself. You have complex PTSD, that isn’t going to go away. That’s not your fault. But how you treat other people is.’ Shaking loose of his grip you left him in his room.

Making your way to the bathroom you splashed your face with cold water. Your eyes red and bloodshot from holding in the tears. The ache in your chest was indescribable. You felt like a fool. You were finally letting yourself feel something for him. Which has now been robbed courtesy of his jealousy and emotional issues. Scurrying back to your room you curled up into your bed and sobbed, muffling it with your pillow. You allowed yourself to cry the heaviest tears, the anguish punched through your chest. Feeling as though you were losing control you noticed your breath becoming faster, your chest becoming tighter. Your hands shaking, your thoughts becoming muddled and blurry. Feeling unable to breathe or catch your breathe complete panic took over your body.

Upon hearing the sounds of complete distress coming from your room, Ghost barged in. He ran to your side and scooped you up into his arms and held you. Melting into him you tried to regulate your breathing. ‘Shhhh love, I’m here, I’m here. Breathe with me’ he cooed. You felt hot and sweaty, hair wrapped around your face as thick tears fell from your swollen eyes. He cupped your face and placed a firm kiss on your lips. ‘I’ve got you, breathe. In and out. That’s it.’ Slowly the panic started to drift away as your breaths started to regulate themselves. 10 years without a panic attack and now you’ve had a huge one in front of him.

Feeling embarrassed you apologised. He grasped your face to look at him. ‘Nothin to be sorry for love. I’m sorry. You’re right. You were completely right.’ He used his thumb to wipe away fresh tears as he kissed your forehead. ‘Come here’ he whispered, lying you down in his arms. You clutched onto his jumper, his presence the only thing making you feel safe. You slowly drifted off to sleep, the warmth of his chest against your face as his soothed your back with his touch. That was the first night that Simon had ever slept all the way through.

[becauseimanicequeen]

Pride Month Watch: The Blue Hour

I'm currently going through my Pride Month Watch List.

This is a film with Gun ATP (one of my favorite Thai actors), which I've been putting off for far too long. I'm going into it without knowing very much, which is just how I like it. I have a feeling it might be a bit dark (based on the title), and I don't mind that at all. So, let's dive in!

Gun's character looks like he's been physically abused. I wonder why...

I love how silent the film has been since it started. I've basically just seen Gun's character, for several minutes, doing stuff in silence and it's still managed to pull me in.

Tam (Gun's character) met up with another boy Phum at an abandoned building, and things got physical.

So, Gun's character was beaten because of money.

The actress playing Tam's mom was Akk's mom in The Eclipse, and she was one of the workers in I Feel You Linger In the Air as well.

It took me some time, but I finally realized where I'd seen the actor playing Phum before. He was Jai in I Promised You the Moon (the sequel to I Told Sunset About You).

The whole "I'm gay so I have to prove myself by being a high-achiever and successful and a good person on top of that" mirrors the reality I know quite well.

Oh, shit, did Tam just kill that man?

Tam and Phum are making out while hiding amongst the trash. They've clearly got their priorities straight, lol. I approve.

It seems like Tam is the scapegoat of the family.

Shit, Tam just disappeared in the pool. This is why you should never be in water (whether in a pool or lake or the ocean or whatever) when you're alone.

So, Phum was there too, or at least arrived in time to save Tam.

Oh, shit, the dead body in the abandoned building is Tam's brother.

This film is more thriller-like than I thought it would be. And I like it. It's got a vibe similar to Red Wine in the Dark Night, which I also enjoyed.

The movie's title plays its part, especially here towards the end from the moment they realize Tam's brother's body is gone to Phum disappearing and Tam waking up from his dream next to Phum. The blue hour is the time between day and night and it can usually be seen as the transition between dream and reality as well. Spot on.

This is one of those films that needs at least a second viewing to understand it better, and I love films like that.

Overall, I liked it. It was interesting and different. I loved the silence, Gun and Oab's performances, that a lot of it was shot in the dark (to illustrate the blue hour), and more.

Will I watch it a second time? Absolutely.

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

Slumber Party Talk

Collab. drabble with @ro-valerius and @sorrel-haven ! [credit to @sorrel-haven for gpose shot]

Characters:

Tofu (ro-valerius)

Kore (sorrel-haven)

Miyu

Kore and Miyu decide to share about their previous conversation... and then some.

 The walk back home was quiet. And while Miyu often found the silence to be comforting, the lack of conversation between them and Tofu felt somewhat… unnerving. The distance was especially troubling after Tofu’s very clear uncertainty following their prior conversation at the cafe. 

Miyu had considered keeping quiet, and not pressing to make matters worse. And they had been so good at keeping their nose out of it until they stopped Tofu from opening the front door, hand clasping over his just a second before he had grabbed the handle. 

“Tofu, talk to me. Did I say something wrong?” Miyu abruptly blurted. 

Tofu started, looking over at Miyu with surprise. “O-oh, uh. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. S-sorry. We can head in…?”

Miyu lifted his hand, walking under the arch of their arms as they moved to stand in between Tofu and the door. 

“But I did something. You mumbled something after I spoke to you… and then you got all far away again.” They stared up at him with a pleading expression. “Please… talk to me.”

Tofu sighed lightly. “It’s…nothing. I let myself get talked into believing in a situation that it doesn’t seem is actually likely, that’s all. Like I said before, I should have known better. It’s fine,” he said, though he didn’t quite want to admit what he meant; he wasn’t even sure why it made him act the way he was. 

Miyu gave a long stare. Alright. They were going to have to do this the hard way. They took in a deep breath, then pursed their lips tight as they held their breath. 

“What…what are you doing?” he asked with a tilt of the head.

Miyu pointed at their mouth, giving a little shake of their head. They then pointed at Tofu’s mouth, as if to attempt to wordlessly indicate they won't be breathing until he talks. Unfortunately, they probably should’ve said that before they began to stubbornly hold their breath. Either way, they were being ridiculous. 

“What do you want me to say? You are going to have to elaborate a little, here.” His tone was level, probably more neutral than most people would be in the situation.

This wasn’t going to work. Also, Miyu was getting lightheaded. They relented with a loud huff. 

“You see–” they began, pausing to take in another deep breath. “The idea was to hold my breath until you talked about what it is you tricked yourself into believing. But… I… uh… should have been more specific, I guess.”

Miyu crossed their arms over their chest, their expression soft, but a lingering concern in their gaze. 

“What is it you don’t believe, dear?”

Tofu looked away from their gaze, feeling a bit sheepish in the face of what he was about to say. “I-it’s stupid… that I let myself get talked into… believing that I was worth…” The last of the statement came as barely a whisper. “-being loved.”

Miyu gave an incredulous raise of their brow. 

“Tofu. What do you think you mean to me?” 

“I-I…don’t know.” He still refused to meet their eyes. 

Miyu gave a bittersweet smile. They felt some degree of guilt for not being as clear about their feelings, as well as heartbroken by Tofu’s perception of himself. They reached out, taking both of his hands. 

“I don’t just give people my rings, or a bouquet of flowers. And I don’t often wait for people to return my affections,” Miyu began, a faint sigh sounding from their nose. “You are worthy of being loved. I know this because I’m in love with you.”

Tofu’s brow furrowed in confusion. He wasn’t sure what to think, even if they said it outright like that. Not because he doubted their words, but he didn’t understand why, nor could he make sense of their actions that night. 

“But…you seemed…and Kore…” He could not articulate himself at all.

This was going to be settled tonight. Forget the initial plan to wait until they kick some pirate ass. Miyu said nothing, promptly dragging Tofu inside and marching straight to Kore’s room. 

Miyu gave a few knocks to the door. The moment they heard Kore coming to answer, they let themselves inside with Tofu.

“Kore. Let's tell him.”

“Wait what? I thought we-” She looked between the two trying to get a read on the situation.

“I told him I’m in love with him. And he seemed confused about our behavior together. I just… I want to clear it up now. Everything.” 

Kore looked at Tofu as he looked between the two. She could read the confusion written on his face. Miyu was right, it wasn’t fair to leave him in the dark any longer. She gently took Tofu and Miyu’s hands and led them over to the window seat. She sat down and guided Tofu to sit between her and Miyu.

“Tofu… we have… made a few discoveries recently. Miyu and I are aware of how we both feel about you. And…” She looked at Miyu.

“This is us trying to court you. Both of us,” Miyu blurted, quite frankly. “So… believe it. Can’t say you’re not worth being loved when you’ve got two people in love with you.” 

Tofu stared in surprised silence at both of them. Panic bubbled in his chest. He leaned forward on the window seat and buried his face in both hands as it came to a head. His breathing quickened as everything swirled in his head. Kore took Tofu’s hands, and guided him to face her. 

She squeezed his hands to ground him as she looked him in the eye. She took in a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. She settled into a rhythmic pattern, hoping he took the cue to copy her. He met her eyes and allowed her to guide his breathing. After a moment, he felt himself calm, giving her a sheepish smile in thanks.

“S-sorry…I am not…good at processing these things, thank you for helping me calm down...” he murmured gently.

Kore smiled, “It helps me too… I get… lost in my own head a lot of the time.”

Miyu kept quiet, waiting as Kore helped calm Tofu down. Once his breathing steadied, they gently rubbed his shoulder in reassurance. 

“I know it's a lot. And if it's too much… I understand. You don’t have to give an answer now, but we just… had to clarify all of this now.”

Miyu lowered their gaze, leaning in to hide their face away behind Tofu’s shoulder. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s…fine. I…” He couldn’t put his thoughts into words, but he was somehow relieved. He reached over his shoulder to pat Miyu’s head gently, then moved to brush a knuckle against Kore’s cheek. He felt drained, but tried not to show it. “I’ll…have to think on this, I think. I don’t think anything constructive is going on inside of my own head right this moment.” 

“We don’t want to rush you. In fact, there is no rush. No pressure…” Kore trailed off.

Miyu gave a sigh of relief. 

“You’re worth waiting for,” they mumbled, lips brushing against his shoulder. 

Miyu cleared their throat. “Hey… how’s bedtime sound? I think my head is going to explode after holding my breath for so long.” 

“That was your own fault-”

“Wait what?”

[deadendsave]

Mitchell Nguyen’s Journal (1)

1: Mom and I went our usual route to hunt rabbits. It got dark a lot faster than we anticipated. We had cleared the area just a few days ago, so we decided we’d just hunt quickly. How stupid of us. The gunshots alerted the sick, it was like they came out of nowhere. I shot as many as I could, mom blasted through them too. We thought we had gotten rid of them all, so we started to head back home. That’s when a stray come up behind her. I took it out, but I wasn’t quick enough.

2: It bit her on the neck. Not enough for her to bleed out, but it didn’t matter. We both knew that was her death sentence. The look on her face, man. Fuck. All those years of us surviving together, being so cautious, just for one wrong decision to end it all. I told her we needed to go home. She tried to stay in the woods but I wouldn’t let her. More of them would just smell her blood and kill her before she could even turn.

3: We got back to the cabin and sat down on the couch. Neither one of us knew what to say. We didn’t know how long we had left together. It could be an hour, it could be a day. The sounds of her hysterically crying broke the n silence. All I could do was hold and try to comfort her. “Shhh, Mom. I love you. It’s okay. I love you.”

4: Eventually, I managed to get her to calm down by handing her a photo album she had somehow kept all those years. She wiped her tears and smiled as she looked through it. “So many good memories. This was me when I was your age, I was in Vietnam. Your grandfather always taught me how important it was to learn about our culture and keep our traditions. I wanted to go, so he took me to visit family. It was beautiful. You would have loved it.”

5: “Look Mitch! That’s us the day I brought you home from the hospital. I was so young. I worried so much about if I’d be a good enough mother. I didn’t sleep that entire night, I stayed up to make sure you were breathing. You were such a beautiful baby.”

6: I reassured her that she was the best mom in the world. She reminisced about life before the outbreak and told me about how difficult it was to raise me as a single mother while running a bakery with my grandfather full-time. She said all the customers loved me. She also spoke about how hard it had been for her when LHV was first announced, being alone with 4-year-old me. She always kept me safe and fought so hard to protect me.

7: As much as I tried to appreciate the final moments I had with my mom, the feeling of dread still lingered. She could turn at any moment. Her symptoms would show up soon, i tried to prepare myself. We were both exhausted; it had to have been at least midnight by now.

8: She hummed a song she used to sing to me as a kid and brushed my hair with her fingers. “Son, you can’t let me turn into one of them. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have to do it. You have to shoot me before I turn. I don’t want to become one of them, and I don’t want to end up hurting you.” She got up and walked into her bedroom.

9: I sat in shock for a minute, how was I supposed to kill my own mom? I understood why she asked me to, but I didn’t know if I could actually do it. I had only killed one other person before, a man who snuck into our cabin and tried to attack her. He was a fucking pervert and he deserved it. My mom was a good person, and I didn’t know if I could take her life. I just sat there, contemplating what I would do when she turned. None of my options felt right.

10: She came back into the living room and I could tell she felt like shit. She tried to act like she was fine, but I could tell she was in pain. She looked pale, the arm where she was bitten was twitching. When I felt her forehead she was burning up. I told her to lay down on the couch. I got a rag, dipped it in some of the river water we had collected that morning, and laid it on her forehead. She thanked me in the most gentle, broken voice.

11: She started twitching more and sweating so bad her clothes were drenched. The virus was taking over. She coughed up a lot of blood, I got her a bucket and placed it beside her. She started groaning in pain. I just had to sit there, watching her suffer. I was still weighing my options. It was hard to see her like that. I didn’t want her to be in pain. But I also didn’t want her to die. “It’s time, son.” She could barely get the words out.

12: “Please Mitch. Please.” / “Mom I can’t do it. I can-, I can’t do-.” / “You have to. I can’t control it any longer.” / I picked up the pistol off the side table. My hands were shaking so bad I dropped it. I knew I had to do it, her pleas were so desperate. I kissed her on the forehead and thanked her for everything she had done for us. She tried to say something, but all her throat could let out was a quiet rattle. I picked the pistol back up, told her I loved her, and ended her pain.

13: After that, I went numb. I couldn’t cry, no matter how hard I tried. Numbness was how I handled things now. I walked into her bedroom and took the sheets off her bed. She had left me a note, but I wasn’t ready to read it yet, so I put it in my pocket. I walked back to the living room and covered her body with the sheets before heading to my own bedroom so I could try to sleep, even though I didn’t really want to. I knew I had to rest though, because I was alone now. Surviving would be a lot harder.

14: The next morning I woke up and paced around the cabin. I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore, not with everything that had just happened. I gathered all the supplies we had. Before leaving, I placed my mom’s photo album on top of her and said my final goodbye. After one last look around the place, I headed out, not knowing where to go from there.

15: Week 2: I’ve been keeping track of the days by counting the sunrise each morning. The first week was tough; I ran into a lot of the sick. The anger and adrenaline helped me survive the encounters. I figured out that if I set up camp near the river, the sick will be less likely to attack me in my sleep because they don’t like water. I still have the note from my mom; I’m not ready to read it yet.

16: Week 5: I’m losing my grip. The isolation is making me crazy. I’m surrounded by nothingness, just trees and the constant threat of the sick or looters sneaking up on me. I’m starting to wonder if any of this is worth living for. Mom’s gone, I’m completely alone. I might never find anyone, anyone that’s still a decent person at least. It would be so easy for me to let go. There’s nobody left to miss me.

17: Even if somehow, somewhere, there’s a person capable of creating a cure, it’s a hopeless cause. There are more sick than survivors. A vaccine wouldn’t work on the sick; they’re too far gone. If the vaccine prevented us humans from getting infected, there’s still the fact that we could get mauled by them at any moment. It all seems so pointless now.

18: This wasteland of an earth is just a playground for the sick to feed and for the evil people that have no ounce of humanity left in them to do whatever they want to the innocent people that are just trying to survive. Kidnapping, torturing, murdering, just because those sick fucks enjoy it. They know they don’t have to face any consequences. The government and military are nearly gone; they were just as bad. This isn’t a world where good people get to win.

note from mom: Mitchell, being your mother has been my greatest achievement. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming. You’re strong, but you’ve got a gentle heart. Don’t let what happened to me change that. It was not your fault. Keep fighting, do it for me. Find other survivors, find happiness, find love. That’s what I want for you. A good life. I wish we had more time together, but we were lucky for the moments we got. I cherished them all. I love you son. Remember you are not alone, because I am with you always. - Ma

19: I finally read my mom’s note. She wants me to not blame myself for what happened, but I could’ve saved her if I had just shot one second quicker. She wants me to be happy, find other survivors. I don’t even know if that’s possible now. I’m gonna keep going, for her. But I don’t think I’ll get to be happy again. I’m gonna keep following the river until I find other survivors; that might get me killed though. I don’t care; it’s not like I have anything to lose.

20: Week 8: I found a town. All I’ve seen so far are a bunch of empty, rundown homes. I kept following the river like I had planned. I’m gonna stay in one of these houses for a few days, then I’ll keep going.

21: Week 9: I found other survivors. Well, they found me, and they tried to kill me. Two looters, both looked about 30. One had a rifle. He shot me by the eye. I managed to take both of them out. I don’t know how I survived that or how I’m not blind in my left eye. I guess I’m just lucky. I ran off in case they had friends nearby. I ended up in the middle of town and noticed some buildings that still had power.

22: I decided to test my luck even more by approaching the building. That’s when I was greeted by a shotgun pointed towards me. I thought that was it for me, but the man asked me who I was and why I was there. I told him I was alone and that I needed help. He didn’t trust me, I don’t blame him because I didn’t trust him either. But my face was pouring blood, and I was desperate.

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (6)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC word count | 6.3k words summary | all I'm gonna say is blood and cheese. tags | death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, blood (lots and lots of blood), trauma? aemond and reader can't keep their hands off each other, reader don't play when it comes to helaena, canon divergence note | i still haven't gotten over blood and cheese and phia saban's phenomenal acting in that episode. why is there so many oc fics in the aemond x reader tag (no hate). also contemplating writing for loki and oswald cobblepot (penguin in gotham)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“I am happy that my mother has let you become my lady-in-waiting,” Helaena murmured, her voice lilting like a gentle breeze.

“As am I, Princess-” you paused before correcting yourself, “My Queen—the presence of the children brings me much comfort.”

“They eagerly anticipate your visits each day,” Helaena replied with a softness in her gaze that seemed to light the room.

Seated beside the young prince Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, whose precocious spirit was beginning to shine, you cast a fond glance at Jaehaerys, who was determinedly practicing his High Valyrian. Leaning closer, you offered him an encouraging smile, “What does this mean, Jaehaerys?”

It had taken some time for your bond with the young prince to flourish. Unlike his sister, who was as lively and eager as a summer’s day, Jaehaerys was quieter, more contemplative. Yet, you noticed that now whenever you attended to your duties for Helaena, while Jaehaera would chatter your ear off cheerfully, her twin would subtly gravitate toward you, seeking comfort as you played delicately with his soft, silver hair.

“Per—perzis ano...anogor?” he stammered, his timid voice breaking the air with a hint of uncertainty.

You couldn’t help but inwardly smile at his effort; the correct pronunciation was “Perzys Anogar.” After five years spent in the sun-kissed lands of Essos, you had perfected the various dialects of High Valyrian to perfection. Yet, your encouragement for the young prince remained unwavering. At just four years old, his intelligence astounded you. “Very good, my sweet prince. And what does it mean?”

“Fire and blood!” Jaehaera exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, hastening to answer before her brother could. Her eyes sparkled with delight, clearly eager to capture your full attention. Jaehaerys shot her a sidelong glance, his lips pressed together in a playful pout, while you directed your gaze to Jaehaera with admiration. “Well done, dear princess.”

"My Queen," came a maid's voice, cutting through the tranquil atmosphere of Helaena's solar. Both you and Helaena shifted your gaze, "Prince Jaehaerys is summoned for his lesson with the Maester."

Helaena, who sat gracefully upon a pile of richly embroidered cushions, her needlework perched delicately in her lap, regarded her son with a tender smile, her serene demeanor offering him encouragement. "Off you go, Jaehaerys," she urged softly.

The small prince nodded earnestly. Before following the maid through the heavy wooden doors he turned to offer you a shy wave, a glimpse of the warmth that sparked beneath his young exterior. As the sound of his footsteps faded into silence, you turned your focus back to Princess Jaehaera, who was nestled in a nearby chair, fixated on the pages of a book filled with tales of dragons and valor, Jaehaerys had been reading. After awhile, your attention shifted as the sound of eager footsteps resonated through Helaena’s solar. You turned to see Aegon striding purposefully toward you and Jaehaera.

"Lady Mikaelson," he acknowledged with a courteous nod, his gaze lingering upon you for an unsettling moment, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine before he redirected his focus to Jaehaera.

“Where is Jaehaerys?” Aegon inquired, a frown settling deeply between his brows, betraying his impatience.

Helaena’s voice was soft as a whisper, yet it held a steady resolve. “Attending his lessons.”

“And those are where?” Aegon pressed, a hint of mockery threading through his tone, forcing back the urge to scoff at his impatience.

Helaena sighed, a delicate sound that barely pierced the air. “What do you need of him?”

Aegon’s lips thinned, “Taking him to the small council,” he announced, straightening his back with lots of fervor, “He'll be king one day, he must begin his instruction.”

With an eye roll barely concealed, you turned to braid Jaehaera's sweet, silver locks, weaving strands as your thoughts tangled around Aegon’s words. Helaena’s brow furrowed slightly, and you caught the hesitation in her voice. “What if he does not wish to be king?”

Aegon’s huff echoed in the chamber, annoyed, as he leaned closer, palms pressing against his knees. “Where is he?”

“In the library,” Helaena replied, her tone tinged with reluctance. “But you must not disturb his custom.”

Aegon, ever dismissive, shrugged off her words and stepped toward the door. Yet he halted when Helaena's voice pierced the silence once more, "I am afraid."

He pivoted on his heel, regarding her with feigned nonchalance. "Don't be. They'd be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city."

"Not the dragons," Helaena murmured, her gaze dropping to the cold stone floor. "The rats."

Aegon, along with the attendants, followed her gaze, their eyes scanning for any signs of the vermin that might lurk in the shadows.

"The queen is an enduring mystery," Aegon declared, casting a mocking glance at Helaena. "Is she not?"

With that, he departed, leaving a chill in the air. As soon as he crossed the threshold, you rose from your seat and moved to Helaena’s side, offering her a warm smile. "You need not fear the rats; the castle is filled with rat catchers."

Helaena’s frown deepened, her troubled lilac eyes meeting yours as she whispered with conviction, "That is what terrifies me."

Words escaped you, for you understood that Helaena possessed knowledge beyond the grasp of ordinary folk—truths unacknowledged and often dismissed. Instead of voicing your confusion and uncertainty, you simply clasped her hand in yours, offering the silent comfort.

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps as they echoed through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, your heart raced, a rhythmic thudding that quickened with warmth flooding your cheeks and fluttering butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, an unmistakable presence that demanded attention.

It was true what you'd confided to him: you were still a maiden. A maiden, after five centuries of vampiric existence, because how could you interact with any man when Nikaus, Elijah, and Kol perpetually cast watchful shadows over your every move. You recalled a particular moment in 1001 AD, when a reckless infatuation with Tristan de Martel had nearly led you to surrender your maidenhood, only to be halted by Finn’s stern intervention—a chastisement you still felt the sting of.

But Aemond was different. His presence was a siren's call, compelling and irresistible. You had lost yourself in the depths of his gaze, willingly surrendering to the passion that enveloped you, and you never wished to escape the intoxicating spell he wove around you. The ecstasy of your lovemaking had been a revelation, a visceral experience you had never dreamed possible. Despite your initial attempts to keep a distance, Aemond's determination had eroded every barrier you'd erected, and then, as you laid in the warm afterglow of those stolen moments, regret was a distant memory.

In that act, surrounded by pleasure, Aemond had awakened a sense of aliveness within you that you had not felt since you had died. His touch and words made you feel cherished, loved—deep down, you had longed for this connection. Mere days had passed since you had shared that intimate bond, yet every time your eyes met his, unbidden warmth flushed your cheeks anew.

He lingered his gaze on you for what felt like an eternity, an unspoken connection hanging heavily in the air, before directing his attention to Helaena. "Sister," he began, his tone both respectful and confident, "might I steal a moment of Lady Mikaelson's time?"

Helaena glanced between you and Aemond, a subtle spark of understanding dancing in her eyes as she nodded, a gentle smile touching her lips. "Of course, brother."

Rising slowly from your seat, you were acutely aware of the curious gazes from the other ladies in the room. Yet, before you could fully separate yourself from Helaena's side, her hand shot out, delicately grasping your wrist. "Will you come to bid Jaehaerys goodnight before you retire?" Helaena's voice slipped through the air like a delicate melody, inviting yet tinged with uncertainty.

You offered a reassuring nod, your voice soft and warm. "Of course, My Queen."

With that, you turned to Aemond, his patience evident as he awaited your move. As you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of his footsteps fell steadily in rhythm with yours. Once you had retreated far enough from the safety of Helaena's chambers, you paused and turned to him, your voice laced with curiosity, “What did you wish to—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond's hands cradled your face, pulling you into an unexpected kiss. Surprise rippled through you, manifesting in a soft gasp, but you quickly surrendered to the moment, your lips responding to his with eager warmth. An exhilarating pulse of intimacy washed over you as you opened your mouth, inviting the dance of his tongue with yours, a sweet entanglement that momentarily erased the world around you.

When at last Aemond broke the kiss, his breath came heavy and laden with unspoken emotions, and he pressed his forehead against yours, that mischievous violet eye glinting with resolve. "I plan to go to the small council to announce our betrothal."

Your breath caught in surprise as you took a small step back, trying to comprehend his words. “Betrothal?” The weight of his intentions settled heavily on your heart.

A marriage with him would be folly; he was a prince, destined for heirs and an aging legacy, while you—a vampire—would remain eternally youthfully beautiful, bound to a dead womb. Yet his audacity ignited a spark of indignation in you, prompting a petulant response, “Aemond, you didn’t even ask me.”

A small, infuriating smirk played upon his lips, a faint acknowledgment of your protest. “Will you marry me then?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “How very romantic of you.” The gravity of the moment drew your expression into something more serious as you continued, “Aemond, we are bracing ourselves for war—planning a wedding now would be utterly misplaced.”

“It will be a beacon of hope for the smallfolk,” he argued earnestly, the conviction in his voice palpable.

"At the cost of the kingdom’s coin," you countered sharply, your voice laden with reality.

He dismissed your worries with a wave of his hand, as though to sweep away the logic. “Then we’ll have something modest—”

“Aemond,” you chided softly, lifting your hands to cradle his chiseled face. At your delicate touch, he fell silent, his fierce demeanor momentarily quelled. Deep down, you were acutely aware that his determination to wed you would remain unyielding. In a bid to find common ground you decided to offer an empty concession, “Let us marry after the war.”

His solitary violet eye bore into yours, piercing deeper as if seeking to unravel the very essence of your soul. "You swear it," he demanded, his voice a low thrum of intensity.

Inside, a tumult stirred; 'No,' your thoughts whispered, for you could not predict the war's course. The Iron Throne rightfully belonged to Rhaenyra, and the Blacks appeared poised to triumph. Yet, your heart was tethered to the Greens, bound by an affection that defied reason. The weight of it all threatened to crush you, leading you to contemplate escape back to your world, to your family—a choice that would certainly bring Niklaus's wrath upon you.

But with a deep breath, you embraced the moment, nodding serenely as you wove your words into a gentle lie. "I swear it."

Aemond's gaze lingered in your eyes, a moment stretched between you like the fragile threads of fate. As he nodded, a wave of relief washed over you, warm and undeniable. Yet, as if sealing your pact, his lips found yours once more, igniting a tempest within your heart. The weight of your deception pressed heavily upon you, yet you surrendered to the solace of his kiss, seeking refuge in its intoxication.

The kiss deepened, evolving into something more fervent, as Aemond gently ushered you backward until your back met the cold stone wall. His tongue danced with yours, a fierce desire eclipsing the trepidation that lingered in your mind, as if he sought to claim not merely your lips but your very essence.

A sudden noise pricked at your senses, the swift approach of footsteps echoing through the hallway. In a flurry of instinct, you pushed Aemond away just as a servant passed by. The servant’s gaze flicked towards you, then promptly fell to the ground, yet you could almost feel the unspoken thoughts swirling in their mind. A shiver of apprehension ran through you; you knew whispers would soon scatter among the servants like leaves in the wind.

As the footsteps faded into the distance, Aemond clasped your hands, his grip a mix of desperation and longing. "I yearn to be with you again," he mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within your core.

"I feel the same," you replied softly, bringing his hands to your lips in a tender gesture, savoring the skin you coveted.

Alas, the moment was fleeting, as the sound of hurried footfalls approached again prompting the two of you to separate once more. Aemond exhaled, a hint of irritation lacing his tone. "And yet, in this castle, we are forever denied our privacy."

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you propose?"

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze, before his lips parted to reveal his audacious suggestion. "The Street of Silk."

"Aemond—" you interjected, surprise and concern overtaking your thoughts.

"Calm yourself," he urged, his hands finding their way to your waist, drawing you closer, the warmth of his body burning away your reservations. "We would seek only a room, nothing more. A night enveloped in our own secret, away from prying eyes."

A hesitant sigh escaped your lips, your heart fluttering at the prospect yet tethered by caution. "Aemond."

In a tender gesture, he kissed your forehead, followed by soft pecks on your cheeks, then lingered with his lips brushing against yours. It was pathetic how quickly you melted under his affection, yearning for the contact that ignited a fire within you. His voice, barely above a whisper, danced against your lips, "Tonight?"

With a surrender that surprised even yourself, you acquiesced. "Alright." His eye sparkled with triumph as he finally pressed his lips against yours, granting you the sweetness you craved.

Yet, he broke away, his breath mingling with yours. "I shall meet you at your chambers—"

"No," you countered softly, concern lacing your words. "It would be dangerous for us to be seen leaving the castle together."

He regarded you with a stern expression, a protective glimmer in his eye as he shook his head. "Fleabottom is no place for a lady to wander alone."

You smiled gently at his earnestness, reassured him with conviction, "I’ll be fine, Aemond. I promise."

With a resigned sigh from you, he leaned in to steal another kiss, the taste of his resolve lingering. "Then it is settled. Meet me at the Blue Pearl tonight."

“I will,” you vowed, your mind clouded by the intoxicating pull of his presence, rational thought slipping away like sand through fingers.

The Keep lay shrouded in an eerie silence as you stepped into the dimly lit corridor from your chambers. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, as if the very walls held their breath, rendering the castle a hollow shell. With purpose, you made your way toward the Queen’s chambers, determined to fulfill your promise to Helaena and bid the twins a gentle goodnight.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around your shoulders, bracing against the biting winds that swept through the stone hallways. A sense of foreboding clawed at your thoughts, quickening your steps as you approached Helaena's solar.

As you neared her chambers, the quiet was shattered by a pained whimper—a sound that sent a chill racing down your spine. Without hesitation, you pushed through the door, only to freeze in shock at the scene before you. A filthy man loomed over Helaena, his grip merciless as he held a knife to her delicate throat. The metallic scent of her blood hung heavy in the air, as you noticed a small nick on her neck.

Your instincts flared to life, propelling you forward to confront the intruder. But before you could move, strong arms encircled you, halting your advance. "Who the fuck is she?" the brute growled, his gaze locked onto the man who held Helaena captive.

“She’s the queen she is,” the crazed man replied, a sickly laugh escaping his lips, his gaze dancing between you and Helaena, relishing the chaos.

“A son for a son, he said,” came the rough retort of the man holding you, his grip tightening like a vice. “Does she look like a fucking son to you?”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—revenge. These madmen had been sent by the Blacks, likely by Daemon himself, to claim a son in return for Lucerys Valaryon.

Pointing with a blood-stained finger, the deranged man holding Helaena, gestured to the cribs across the room, where Jaehaerys and Jaehaera lay asleep, vulnerable to the whims of fate. “Over there,” he sneered, a glint of madness flashing across his eyes.

A chilling wave of nausea washed over you as dread seeped into your heart, realizing the intent behind his actions. Yet, even with the unfathomable power you possessed, you hesitated. You could kill these men in mere moments, reduce them to shredded pieces, but the fear in Helaena’s wide eyes anchored you. You could not afford to frighten her further.

“Release her,” you commanded, your tone a blend of authority and menace, ever mindful of the trembling figure of the queen. “You do not know the darkness you invite with your intentions”

The grip of the man holding you tightened, his fingers like iron shackles, deaf to your words. Instead, the madman holding Helaena chortled, an unsettling sound that grated against your nerves. "We need to get our head and get out."

A simmering rage ignited within you at his vile insinuation, your voice turning low and menacing as you retorted, "If you dare imply what I think, know that your life shall end before you can ever look upon the prince."

The large brute, his bulk a grotesque parody of strength, pressed his clammy hand against your throat, constricting it as he growled, "Shut your fucking mouth, woman."

In that chilling moment, Helaena found her voice, her eyes wide with terror as they darted between you and the man’s tightening grasp. "I have a necklace," she stammered, her heart echoing her fear, "It's of great value."

The man holding you scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "That’s not a son."

His grip tightened further, but to you, it was nothing more than the grasp of a mere mortal, a fleeting nuisance. With an air of fatalistic calm, you shrugged, “I’ve warned you, and now you shall reap the consequences.”

As the darkness of your true nature surged, crimson flames ignited in your gaze. Veins suffused with blood snaked under your skin and the sharp glint of fangs elongated in exquisite hunger. The man holding Helaena faltered, the smile that once adorned his lips vanished, replaced by a primal terror as he regarded you. “What’s—what’s happening to your face?!”

Confusion roiled in the eyes of the man who had once held your throat captive. Before he could fully comprehend the depths of his error, you moved with the swiftness of a striking snake, your head whipping around as you buried your fangs deep into his pallid flesh. His scream reverberated like a death knell against the stone.

With one fierce tug, you tore into him—a vicious rip that sent a warm spray of blood cascading over your face, painting your features in hues of crimson. The brute’s body slackened, his grip fading as life bled from him like the night fleeing before dawn. He crumpled to the ground dead.

Your attention shifted, a predatory glare now focused on the other man, who quivered holding Helaena securely but fearfully at knifepoint. His confidence wavered as your fury ignited the air around you, and he stepped back, terror threading his voice, “If you come any closer, I swear I’ll kill her—”

In a heartbeat, you were before him. Your eyes cooled to an earthly hue, compelling yet cold, as your voice held the weight of your compulsion. “Step away from the queen."

The resolve in his eyes shattered, obedience taking root as he released Helaena, fear transforming into a savage obedience. But that was not enough; oh no, they would pay dearly for their actions. You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a whisper laced with venom. “Now… stick your knife in your throat.”

Tears cascaded down his cheeks, streaming with unspoken horror as he felt the weight of your will. Whimpering like a child at the mercy of a storm, he struggled against the compulsion, but your magic throbbed through the air, binding him tighter within your grasp. The dagger trembled in his hand before the metal found flesh, cutting deeply as crimson blessing spilled forth. He gasped, choking as despair overwhelmed him, stabbing again and again until his last breath escaped into the silence of the room, and dropped to the ground.

In the wake of such violence, as blood pooled and splattered across the cold floor, your features softened, the fierce gleam fading from your visage. Your fangs retracted, and your eyes reverted to their natural colour, the monstrous visage slipping away like a shadow at dawn.

A tumult of emotions swirled within you—fear, regret—until your gaze flicked to Helaena, ready to face the disgust you expected. Yet, as her eyes met yours, confusion twisted within you; there was no horror, no disgust in her gaze—only a profound relief.

You took a hesitant step back, bewildered by her calm demeanor. "Are you not afraid of me?" you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her brow furrowed in genuine confusion as she softly said, “You saved us."

You realized she might be still grappling with the shock, as she drifted across the room, her movements fluid and deliberate. She bypassed the gruesome scene left in your wake, retrieving a handkerchief with an unsettling nonchalance. Approaching you with a tender resolve, she reached forth, seeking to wipe the blood from your face. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the brutality that had just unfolded.

Yet, as the fabric of her care swept across your skin, your brow furrowed at the sight of tears beginning to brim in Helaena's eyes. “Helaena—what's wrong?” you implored, clasping her trembling hands firmly within yours. “You need not fear; all is well now, you are safe.”

Her tears continued to spill softly, tracing delicate paths down her pale cheeks, as she whispered in a voice that seemed to drift like a dream, “I thought I was lost in one of my dreams. I did not realize it was the truth laid bare before me.”

“It was,” you replied gently, your voice a quiet promise. “But it is over now.”

“If you had not been here, Jaehaerys would be—” she faltered, her composure cracking as a choked sob escaped her lips.

You could only watch her, sorrow etched upon your face, as she turned away from you and hurried to the crib where Jaehaerys slept, oblivious to the tempest that had transpired around him and his sister. Slowly, she lifted the sleeping boy into her arms, his silver hair catching the light like stars against the night sky. She cradled him tightly, swaying gently as if to soothe not just him, but the remnants of her own grief.

“They almost took my boy,” Helaena murmured, her voice a soft lament, entwined within the strands of Jaehaerys’ hair, as if she sought comfort in his very existence.

Aemond exhaled sharply as he finally approached the entrance of the Blue Pearl, its facade gleaming with a deceptive allure. He paused for a moment, memories swirling like smoke from the incense within—each recollection a weight pressing down upon him, reminding him of the last time he had stepped through these doors.

As he crossed the threshold into the brothel, the atmosphere assaulted his senses: the heady scent of incense mingled with the intoxicating sounds of fervent moans and whispered promises that echoed through the dimly lit chambers. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a collision of desire and desperation.

Maintaining a cold and stoic demeanor, Aemond navigated the labyrinth of shadowy corners and silken drapes, his singular focus on securing a room where you both could retreat from the burdens of the outside world, if only for a fleeting night. Under the enveloping darkness of his hooded cloak, he radiated an aura of menace; others instinctively parted before him, quaking under the weight of his dangerous glare.

However, his composure faltered for just a moment when he felt a delicate hand brush against his arm. A surge of indignation coursed through him, instincts honed to ready his strike against anyone who dared encroach upon his space—anyone, that is, who was not you.

Yet, upon turning, he found himself face to face with the last person he wished to encounter. Madam Sylvi, the proprietor of this establishment, stood before him, her presence a haunting reminder of a past he had sought to forget. She was the first woman to lay claim to him, a forced initiation into a world of shadows that had snatched away his boyhood, all at the insidious urging of his brother. Aemond's heart raced, caught between the clutches of anger and the bitter taste of old wounds that threatened to resurface.

"My Prince," she began, her lips curving into what she believed to be a beguiling smile. To Aemond, however, it appeared more akin to a grimace painted upon her features. "What an unexpected pleasure it is to see you once again in these halls."

Feeling a tide of shame wash over him, he averted his gaze, staring intently at the carved wooden floor beneath his feet. “All I seek is a room,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"And which girl shall I send to warm your bed?" she teased, her tone dripping with seduction. Then, with a coy pause, she added, "Or perhaps you are in need of a woman instead?"

He clenched his jaw, his frustration rising. “Just a room,” he insisted, his voice firm, yet faltering.

She let out a soft, lilting hum, feigning disappointment. “A shame,” she purred, her fingers trailing along his arm—a gesture that made his skin crawl. “But know that my arms are always open, especially for you.”

The urge to retaliate surged within him; he imagined the swift, savage justice he could enact. Yet, he found himself rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the memory of their past encounters—memories that danced like shadows in his mind, haunting him still.

Clearing his throat, he risked a glance in her direction, his resolve strengthening. “A Lady will come through your doors. Instruct her where to find me.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding away before she could utter another word.

Not long after, five figures had made their way into Helaena's solar, their presence a stark contrast to the brutality that had enveloped the chamber moments before. A maid, having spotted one of the trespassers who had slipped into the shadows, acted on her apprehension and sought out a guard.

This led to Lord Otto Hightower being summoned, and he, it seemed, was the sole soul present who maintained the decorum expected of his station. He had seized Aegon with the kind of authoritative grip one might use on a mischievous pup caught reveling in intoxication on the Iron Throne, before promptly calling for Lord Larys.

In due course, Queen Alicent and Ser Criston appeared, ostensibly by chance, though you with your keen senses could detect the unmistakable scent of their shared intimacy lingering upon them, a confirmation of their clandestine liaison.

You sat beside Helaena, who cradled Jaehaerys to her chest as if to shield him from the undercurrents of chaos swirling around them. In your arms, you held Jaehaera, both twins blissfully unaware, lost in the serenity of slumber.

“Who dared to do this? I demand to know! Who is responsible?” Aegon's voice erupted, slicing through the stillness with an edge of fury. News of the attempted assassination against his son had ignited the embers of his inebriated stupor into a roaring blaze of rage. You cast him a disapproving glare, a silent rebuke for his outburst, mindful of the slumbering children.

“The man uttered, ‘a son for a son, he said,’ I suspect he was referring to Prince Daemon, Your Grace,” you interjected softly, your voice a steady balm amidst the tumult.

Alicent, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, approached Helaena, settling beside her. She reached out tenderly, her fingers brushing against the peaceful features of sleeping Jaehaerys, you could see how guilt was feasting upon her soul.

"These villains, these traitors," Aegon spat, his words laced with venom. The anguish of nearly losing his heir carved lines of distress into his face, revealing that beneath the hardened exterior, perhaps Aegon did possess a heart capable of love. "My son is my legacy. My son is heir to the iron throne!”

His gaze then turned, sharp and accusatory, to Ser Criston, whose presence loomed in the doorway. "And where were you, Ser Criston? The Lord Commander of my King's Guard slumbers while my blood is threatened?"

You noted how Alicent’s expression tightened with concern as she cast a furtive glance toward Criston, who stared resolutely at the stone floor, his shame palpable. "I was abed, Your Grace, having dispatched orders to the Night's Watch," he replied.

"Abed?" Aegon echoed, incredulity lacing his words. "While your post was to safeguard the sanctity of my family?"

The Hand let out a weary sigh from his position at the periphery of the room. "Calm yourself, Aegon. The prince still lives," he interjected, attempting to quell the rising tide of tension.

"Yes," Aegon yelled, his attention shifting to you, "only because of Lady Mikaelson. A woman! All of you should hang your heads in shame."

You inhaled sharply at Aegon's jab, which he unknowingly let out. Lord Larys, his gaze insidious and lingering, leaned forward with a slithering curiosity. "What I truly wish to understand is how you managed to subdue two fully grown men, my lady."

The weight of every gaze in the room now turned to you, even Aegon momentarily relinquished his tirade to await your reply. You spoke with steady conviction, "I grew up among five brothers, My Lord. The dance of a blade is not foreign to me." Your voice joined the whispers of the past, your eyes glancing at the first man you had killed. "The first was a brute, slow in his approach. The second, however, was a madman, blinded by insanity."

"It matters not how she accomplished it," Aegon interjected, his impatience barely concealed, "The only thing that matters is she saved Jaehaerys' life."

A wave of relief washed over you as the next figure entered Helaena's solar, a dim light spilling in from the hallway. Aemond's gaze instantly locked onto the grim scene before him, his single eye widening as it fell upon the two lifeless bodies, bloodied and sprawled across the elegant stone floor. “What has happened here?” he demanded.

Aegon's temper flared like wildfire at the sight, stepping forward to confront Aemond, but the latter remained unruffled, his expression a picture of cool composure amidst the turmoil. “And where were you, while my son lay nearly murdered in his own bed?”

“On patrol, brother,” Aemond replied, his tone smooth and casual, though the lie dripped with an unsettling ease. His eyes then landed on you, his brow furrowing as concern flickered across his striking features. Ignoring Aegon entirely, he approached you, noting the streaks of crimson marring your skin. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice softening.

As his hand reached towards your face, you instinctively recoiled, acutely aware of the watchful eyes surrounding you both. “It is not my blood, Your Highness,” you assured him.

Aegon's voice roared again, filling the solar like a tempest. “What course shall we take now? How do we retaliate?” His frustration echoed off the walls.

You could hear Otto Hightower’s resigned sigh. “This is not a moment for rash vengeance, Aegon. Perhaps there is some good may yet come of this.”

“I will not be seen as weak,” Aegon ground out, determination hardening his features.

“You’re already seen as weak, Aegon,” Otto replied with cold clarity, counting off each grim incident, “A hasty coronation, a dragon escaping the pit. The people see an omen. They whisper in the streets. They say, perhaps Rhaenyra should be queen.”

"Let us thus feign that the deed is done, that her assassination was successful." He paused, his keen gaze settling upon the slumbering form of little Jaehaerys. “You would name her: monster. Slayer of infants. I would do more than that—a funeral procession. We shall construct a small casket for Jaehaerys and let the realm gaze upon the handiwork of this pretender who seeks the crown.”

“Your grand design has a singular flaw, Grandsire,” Aegon spat, stepping protectively in front of Helaena and the sleeping child, his posture defiant. “Jaehaerys lives. His existence cannot be kept hidden within these stone walls; word of his survival will soon seep through the cracks.”

“Not if we send him away—this very night,” Otto replied, his voice resolute, a calculated glint igniting his gaze.

“No,” Helaena murmured, instinctively tightening her embrace around Jaehaerys, as if her warmth alone could shield him from danger.

“No!” Aegon echoed, his tone thunderous compared to Helaena’s whisper. “It is far too dangerous for him beyond these castle walls.”

“And yet,” Lord Hightower replied, his tone sharp as a dagger, “he came dangerously close to death even within them.”

“Then where shall he go?” Alicent broke her silence, her voice carrying the weight of desperation.

The Lord Hand fell silent, his brow furrowed in contemplation, before his keen gaze shifted toward you. “Lady Mikaelson,” he began, a shrewd glint of ambition glimmering in his eyes, “your family resides in the Reach, do they not?”

"Indeed, Lord Hand," you replied smoothly, a lie slipping from your lips with practiced ease. You anticipated his intentions even before he continued. "We lie just beyond Golden Grove."

“Ah, that lies near Highgarden,” Otto mused, his mind racing with possibilities before breaking the stillness of the room, “The Tyrells have pledged neutrality, rendering it one of the scant havens in all of Westeros. Thus, it is decided: Jaehaerys shall journey there with Lady Mikaelson tonight. She has protected Jaehaerys once and now she will do so again.”

Aegon, his fingers brushing through Jaehaerys's soft curls as he rested, sighed in reluctant agreement. "Very well, but I demand that half of the White Cloaks accompany them."

Otto scoffed derisively, shaking his head. "No, such a show of force would raise too many suspicions. We can spare only two, perhaps four at the most."

"It would be swifter and safer by dragonback," Aemond interjected, his voice threading through the tension in the room. You turned to meet his gaze, which seemed to be focused only on you, "I can take Lady Mikaelson and Jaehaerys upon Vhagar."

Otto Hightower’s brow furrowed in disapproval. "That would be far too conspicuous."

“Then I shall accompany them,” Aemond asserted, his determination hardening like steel.

"No," Aegon countered firmly, his tone brooking no dissent. "We need you here."

Before Aemond could mount another argument, you rose from your seat, gently moving the sleeping Jaehaera into Alicent's waiting arms. Your voice rang out, steady and resolute amidst the rising tempests of conflict. “It is alright," you spoke clearly, “I will go.”

If Aemond ever met the Mikaelsons...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

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