#and they go to live in a cabin in the woods with their own garden

[polaris-stuff]

The old just came back and I don’t know how to feel about it :/ Besides serious note- I thought of a SolarMoon( yes I like the ship ) scenario. Old moon comes back and doesn’t remember anything before and was told that his new self was in a relationship with solar. OG moon is completely flabbergasted that he actually had a relationship with someone but at the same time doesn’t care. When solar comes back, he’ll just pretend to love him even though he’s deeply uncomfortable that he has to act all lovey dovey, he doesn’t want to solar to find out that he’s not the new moon and hurt his feelings.

Eventually solar finds out and is devastated that the new moon is off the Deep end and is upset that know one helped him out of his insanity.

OK I JUST SAW THIS (I'm looking at the asks I have before the fanchildren) AND GOD THIS WOULD BE SO A AMAZING AU

Now that so much has happened on the show since Solar came back, I can imagine this and god. Imagine how BROKEN and distrustful Solar is going to be of the entire family if EVERYONE lied to him to make him believe that Old Moon was New Moon. If NO ONE ever told him what happened until somehow he discovered it himself.

The whole family swore to him that it was for a good elder, that Nexus would never return or that if he did, it wouldn't be like Solar expected and that it was better to just get on with life and be happy. But Solar is SO angry and hurt. Not because Nexus is gone, but because EVERYONE lied to him, played with his feelings as if Solar was a fool and worse, angry with himself because he BELIEVED it for a while.

Fool, fool, Solar. How did he not notice before?! Now that he knows that this is not New Moon, he sees all the signs that indicated it and he just pretended not to see them. Thinking that it was only New Moon having a bad day or something. He's so angry and hurt and he's desperate to know what happened to New Moon, where is he, is he alive? He NEEDS to know.

And maybe Solar ends up somehow crossing paths with Nexus at some point, and Nexus doesn't look or even speak similarly to New Moon but something inside Solar screams "That's him!" and it's right. Nexus can't believe it, he refuses to believe that the Solar in front of him is the Solar he loved, the Solar he lost, but it is! His mind isn't playing another game with him, is it? It's not a hallucination, right? The two end up hugging each other, Nexus basically carrying Solar in his arms due to the new height difference.

In the end Solar decides to go with Nexus to wherever Nexus is living. It's not worth staying with people who deceived him and played with him for months. And as soon as Nexus finds out what the family did to Solar, all hell will break loose.

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

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this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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[eudikot]

I'm realizing that I have a really bad habit of making something that's only funny to me and then looking at it for the next 15 hours and bursting out laughing as it gets funnier each time I see it

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part Two

Featuring : (future) Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Amarantha is dead and you finally get to go home. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of ruined wings and skin scarring, canon level violence, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You felt your magic return to you the day Amarantha died. It was such an ordinary day.

You were in your cabin, that Eris had found for you the moment your wings were burned. You couldn't return to the Night Court without putting yourself in danger of Amarantha finding you, so you stayed in Autumn.

You were cooking when it washed over you, feeling as if you could finally breath again. You tested your abilities, seeing how much you could do. You were able to engulf the entire room in darkness when you were satisfied it returned.

You lost hope 10 years prior, when one of the local villagers said that all of Amarantha's court was bound to Under the Mountain. That meant you wouldn't be getting anymore visits from Eris, and even in the 40 years before that, those were few and far between. You were lucky Autumn Court was on her "good" side, because she never looked too deep into the woods. From what Eris told you, Rhys had taken her to bed.

You knew Rhys, and you could guess that he did it to keep her eyes from turning towards the Night Court. Towards you. Or Velaris.

So, you lived your simple life. The cabin Eris gave you came with a horse, that you would take to and from the local village. You were able to maintain a garden. And the best thing about living in Autumn was you never had to brace a bad winter or a sweltering summer. You missed the seasons dearly, you missed Solstices and Starfalls. Most of all, you missed your family.

It still haunted you that Rhys was taking on the burden of the Night Court by himself. You wished you could be there with him.

And, the rest of your family was running Velaris. Without you. You had to wonder if Azriel and Mor ended up together, being trapped in the beautiful, romantic city all these years. You wouldn't if Azriel regretted leaving you that night. Or if he was happy you were gone.

One thing you couldn't get over, even after all these years, was that he left you. Sure, you could handle yourself, but he left you. His best friend. Even when you were young, you always wanted to be around Azriel. Once Cassian and Rhys stopped tormenting him, you were allowed to be around him. He was always the first one to show you techniques with his sword, or new flying maneuvers. But then Mor came alone, slept with Cassian, and that was it. Azriel had been pining after her since then. You weren't resentful of it until he left you the night everything went to shit. When you lost your magic and your ability to fly.

Even know, when the wind was raging in the forest, you teared up. You wish there was some way to be able to fly again. But you grew up in the Illyrian war camp with your mother and brother. You knew what destroyed tendons looked like. There was no hope. Even after Eris and his healers did everything they could to heal them as best as they could. The membrane was in tact, albeit thinner than normal, and you had full function of stretching them in and out. But, the proper strength to fly would never be resorted.

At least you had your magic back. And you waited for Eris to come find you, to placate his father enough that he had time to tell you what happened. You assumed, knowing the depletion of magic was tied to Amarantha, that she died. You really hoped that was the case. You could go home. You could see your brother. You could ignore Azriel for the rest of your life. It never even occurred to you that you could probably winnow back home. You hadn't been able to do it for a long time.

Instead of Eris bursting through the door that afternoon, it was shadows, followed by a heaving Azriel trying to catch his breath.

"(Y/N)!" Azriel exclaimed, bounding over to you. Before you had a chance to step away, he wrapped you in an embrace. One you couldn't help but melt into. You might be mad at him, but after 50 years of being apart, you were happy to see him.

You pulled away, seeing tears in Azriel's eyes as he looked you over. His eyes landed on your wings. "What did they do to you?" He asked, searching your eyes.

"After you left me that night, three of Beron's sentinels burned my wings." You said, taking a deep breath.

"I need to write a note, and then you can take me home. Is Rhys there yet?" You asked.

"I don't know, I've spent all day having my shadows look for you. I was hoping you made it to Winter... I didn't think you would still be here." He said, pausing as you started to write.

You wrote to Eris, letting him know that you would be going back to the Night Court. You also told him that you would support him if he ever needed anything. You tucked the note into an envelop and left it on the counter.

"Okay... can you winnow us?" You asked, holding out your hand.

He gazed over you again, unsaid words clear in his eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). For everything. For leaving you. For not coming to get you-"

"Azriel.. please.. take me home. And then we can talk about it." You said.

He nodded, staring at you for a few moments before he took you hand and darkness enveloped you both.

Rhys was pissed.

He may have been happy to see his family, and to tell Mor and you about how he found his mate (even if she was with Tamlin), but the instant he saw your wings, he knew something was wrong. Before even asking the rest of his family what happened, he pulled you into a room alone.

After recapping what happened Under the Mountain, and more tearful hellos, he asked you to sit down. "Tell me what happened." He said.

You looked down, taking a deep breath. "That night that Amarantha took your magic, and you closed the borders to Velaris, I got stuck in Autumn. Azriel had left to go help Mor with something. I couldn't even winnow to the Night Court borders." You told him what happened with the sentinels, how Eris found you, and then watched as Rhys settled into the quiet deathly rage.

"He did this to you?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

"No," you quickly corrected. "Eris helped me." There were tears in your eyes now. "He- Let me just tell you how it started..."

Eris brought you to a cabin on the outskirts of the Autumn borders, close to a village but far enough that no one would look for you here. He had his best healers come to help heal you, but with their lack ox experience repairing wings, they couldn't completely heal them. You back even still had scarring on it from how hot the sentinels burned through them.

When Eris couldn't stay because Amarantha sent for all High Lords and their heirs, he had a healer stay with you. Until you were back to your normal health. And then, he offered to help you get to the Night Court. Said he would personally take you to the Moonstone Palace. But he warned you how cruel Amarantha already was, and how she was taking more and more people prisoner (to be part of her "court") Under the Mountain. You chose to stay in the cabin. If you couldn't go back to Velaris, you didn't want to go to the Night Court. Not when your brother was actively trying to get Amarantha to avoid it. The return of the Lady of the Night Court would surely set her eyes towards you. And Rhys would pay the price.

Eris would visit you as often as he could. Since Autumn was on Amarantha's good side, she let Eris and his brothers out more. When he was able to step away from the Forest House, he would visit you. Bring you more supplied, new clothes, sometimes even new furniture or paint to refresh the cabin. All the while, he kept you up to date on what was happened. One day, you asked why he was helping you.

"Because I can... and it was my family's sentinels that harmed you. You had no one else around. If you were to die out here, what would I tell you brother? It would have caused an even worse relationship between us. And I'm hoping to have his support when I overthrow my father. If we can tackle Amarantha first... and.. I'm hoping one day you can counsel your brother to help me as well." He explained.

"So you're helping me for your own gain?" You asked.

"I'm helping you because it's the right thing to do... and I've grown fond of this little escape." He answered.

That's how it was until three courts tried to rebel, and Amarantha barred anyone from leaving Under the Mountain. Even Eris. You wondered why he hadn't shown up when you went into the village to grab some more food, when you overheard the rumors.

"He truly helped you? He never hurt you?" Rhys asked.

You shook your head. "No, he never hurt me. He never tried anything. He... was kind. And caring. And I owe him my life." You said, looking up at Rhys.

He nodded, thinking for a moment. He paused his pacing and looking at you dead in the eyes. "Azriel left you?" He asked, seeming to recall what you first told him.

"...Yes." You said after hesitating.

"I'm going to kill him." He growled.

Your heart skipped a beat, knowing Rhys might just well kill Azriel for putting you in harms way.

"Wait- no. Please.. go easy on him." You said.

He paused, taking a deep breath. Darkness was pooling around his ankles. You could tell he was trying to reel it in. "I'm going to beat him to a pulp."

Better than killing him, you thought. You relaxed for a moment before Rhys rushed out from the door. You chased after him to see the first blow to Azriel's face. Then to his gut. Then to his legs to knock him on the floor. All while Rhys growled out in between each punch,"You. Left. My. Sister. In. Autumn?!"

Azriel didn't even fight back.

Part Three

A/N: Another tough one... I think this will have 1 or 2 more parts... which I probably won't get to writing until Sunday or Monday night (I know, i'm sorry!) Thank you all so much for your support!

Tagging: @feiwelinchen @circe143 @sidthedollface2 @crazylokonugget @i-am-infinite @thestartitaness @buttermilktea11 @tele86 @yearninglustfully @bunnyredgirl

Main Masterlist

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 16

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: Mature (some explicit mentions, tense situations, mentions of child starvation)

A/N: this chapter wouldn’t exist without @the-scandalorian and @bageldaddy , period. Literally walking me through it line by line, I could say a lot of really gushy things about them but I’ll refrain…just know, you two, that I could kiss you directly on the mouth. And will, when we meet someday. ❤️

—

A blanket hung to keep her in the shade, the sound of June’s babbling lifts into the air to join the soft give of roots snapping beneath the soil as you pull carrots from the garden. The distant splintering of dried out boards giving way occasionally cracks through the background, Joel grabbing another piece of rotted wood at the base of the shed and tearing it clean off, tossing it over with the rest he’s collected.

Brushing a drip of sweat away from your temple with your dirt-dried hand, you make a face at the gritty path you’ve left behind. 

“You wanna go for a swim?” you coo over at June, her cheeks plumping into a corresponding wet grin when you smile at her. 

Her bottom teeth coming in, drool pools around the carrot she’s gumming and slides down over her chubby grip, the edge of it glistening in her mouth. 

You make faces at her, her dark eyes fixed on your face in bright delight until her attention catches something behind you, and you turn when she starts to crawl towards it. 

“How are my girls doing?”

His shirt ringed with sweat and molded to his body, Joel blocks out the sun when you look up at him. His hand rakes through his dark curls, pushing the wet strands away from his forehead as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, the pulse in his throat thrumming fast under his flushed skin. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he lifts it to swipe it over his face and your eyes flash down, where even his torso looks wet: the dark hair that collects in a swirl around his belly button to lead down matted and damp. 

He watches with amusement as June crawls over to his boot with unsteady movements, her face set with determination. 

“Hey, baby girl.” His tiredness transforms into something softer when he greets her, his eyes crinkling deeply around the edges. A dimple catching under his beard, he bends to scoop her up from the ground, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think I got enough over there to do somethin’ with. Definitely enough to board up that broken window in her room this afternoon.”

The glass broke while you were cleaning it: old age and the elements and a warped frame all contributing, and with the mosquitos being thick at night, she’d been sleeping in your room for the time being. 

“I can fix that shelf in the pantry with one of ‘em,” he continues, “and if anything else, save the rest for burnin’ in the winter.”

A rotted shelf in the pantry breaking in half, the chair in the living room finally losing a leg, an area of the deck now off limits: exposed to the elements and after withstanding years of neglect, the cabin was having trouble standing up to the constant wear of its new inhabitants. Joel had been fixing things as they happened, but with a limited supply of resources, the plan to stay infinitely that you both made months ago was starting to fray. 

The garden was going better than you could have expected, but the rest…the rest worried you. Running out of material to cut up and make do with, June’s clothing situation was beyond scarce. With the repetitive washing that everything had to stand up against, it was always fast to fall apart. Lucky that it was summer and so hot that she didn’t really need much, you had started to piece together things for the winter but there was only so much thread you could pull out of things, only so much you could fix and repurpose. 

Joel felt the pinch too, in his own way. Voicing his frustration, he’d tell you how he would repair things if only he had the right materials, recounting to you the actual issue and the thought process behind fixing it. Even reminiscing about the hardware store days of past, he’d mentioned more than once the one right by his house that he liked to visit, the one with free popcorn for Sarah while he browsed. 

With every item that broke and with every growth milestone that June reached, you could feel the encroaching pressure to make a choice: leave this place for the dangerous unknown, or stay and attempt to survive the dangers of isolation. 

Either was a gamble, and so undecided, you kept fixing what you could, with what you had. 

You eye the shed, your eyebrow lifting as you study the now sizable hole in the side. 

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about how we don’t really need the shed for anything, so if we need more wood, we can just chop the whole thing down. Right?”

You stand and he nods, using his forearm to swipe at more sweat that’s gathered along his hairline. Streaks of dirt and dust are smeared along the bare skin, and when June reaches out to grab at his face, he catches her hand and gives it a kiss. 

You admire them for a moment: the taut muscle in his forearm underneath her bottom, the collection of gray hairs gathered at the edge of his jaw that she grabs at, his wayward curls that match her own. They smile at each other, her face diving into his chest just above the collar of his shirt, and he laughs, gently tickling her back. 

When he catches you watching him, you think you’d see a faint blush creep over his cheeks if they weren’t flushed from the heat already. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, turning to lead them down to the water. 

You’re still smiling as he lays her out on the bank to get her undressed, watching his thick fingers brush against her cheeks just to chuckle at the way she chases them with an open mouth. Standing up with a soft groan, he strips down to his underwear.

Bare chested and tanned in front of you, his body is formidable without his clothing. Marred with the scars of survival and so familiar to you by now, he appears even bigger in comparison when he lifts June up. His large hand completely covers her dimpled bottom as they prepare to wade in, and his back facing you, your eyes run appreciatively down the broad slope. 

Feeling your gaze, he smirks, and a glimmer of the confident, teasing Joel that’s been coaxed out of hiding peeks from beneath the surface. “See somethin’ you like?”

“There is something about when you hold her,” you admit. “You look so…big and strong.”

Rising on your tiptoes, you tuck your face into his neck to hide from the slight embarrassment you feel. Finding his sweat salt skin with your mouth, you give him a kiss and he hums in appreciation, the vibration of it felt against your lips when you give him another one. 

“You really like it, huh.” More a smug statement than a question, his expression matches his tone when you pull back to look at him. 

“I do,” you murmur, nosing along the edge of his jaw. “It makes me wanna have all your babies.”

Drunk on the heat of the afternoon sun and on your affection for him, you smile lazily up at him and he grins right back, winding his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

“S’that right,” he murmurs, low and gravely. His voice slips through you and your pulse picks up, his humid breath ghosting across your lips. “All of ‘em, huh?”

You nod, and with hooded eyes, he grins. 

“Don’t jinx us now, honey. Can’t be sayin’ that kinda stuff.”

His dark eyes make a slow, heated circuit down to your collarbones and back up, and arousal hooks behind your belly button fast and sharp. 

Dragging his gaze from you, he turns his attention to June. “Besides, I think this squirrely girl is all we can handle right now, anyway.”

His shoulders swathed in sunlight, Joel wades in as you strip to join them. The water is crisp and cool against your skin when you slip in, and you submerge yourself for a moment before resurfacing closer to them. 

Joel holds June around her back as he lets her float on the surface, water from her kicking legs flying up to cover his bare chest.

“You gonna be a swimmer? You gonna be a fish, baby?”

It’s easy to forget that the outside world exists when there is nothing but bird song and cicadas and the rippling water around you. No infection, no death, no fight for survival. Just Joel carefully scooping water to pour over June’s head, his soothing voice telling her to hold her breath as he ducks them under the surface, his practiced movements carefully transferring her into a one armed hold when you swim closer.

Tilting your chin up, you offer your wet mouth to him for a kiss. 

His body is firm and warm against yours, your hand reaching to cup the curve of his jaw to deepen the press of your mouths together and the kiss pulls you in just like the current that wraps and molds your body close to his. Slipping your arms around his neck, you savor his taste until June lets out a soft cry. 

Her wet fist rubbing at her eye, you reach to take her in for her afternoon nap.  Emerging from the water, you feel the awakened heat in his gaze trained on your body all the way up to the cabin. 

June is fast asleep in your room when he lays you out on the bed in the room next door, squeezing your bodies together on the twin-sized narrowness. His broad shoulders flex and shift under your knees, his river damp curls sliding through your hold as he licks you open, and when you arch into the wet heat of his mouth with a silent cry, he swallows everything you give him with a rumbled groan. 

His skin is dry and smooth against yours when he fits his solid body between your legs, reaching down to guide himself into a place reserved just for him with slick, filling stretch and he murmurs his secret wants directly into your skin, a push inside you for each one.  

“Wish you could have all my babies. Make you the prettiest momma.” 

He breathes against the valley of your breasts, into the hollow under your ear, and against your mouth, just before he captures it with a kiss. His words dripping with reverence, you keen underneath him, arching your back to force him deeper. 

“I wish I could too,” you softly moan. “I want it.” 

Blatant hunger slips into his movements, harsh, filling punches of his hips bringing you up and over the edge, and your mouths stay together in a humid press until you feel him come, his need spilling thick along the inside of your thigh.

Afterwards, his sated body relaxes on top of yours.

Your fingers collect his curls in a rhythmic, soothing motion, following the timing of your chest rising and falling beneath his cheek. His breath puffs across your skin, and your eyes flutter shut, the heat of the afternoon lulling you to sleep. 

Twitching lightly in his sleep, his hold on you tightens and the corner of your mouth lifts. His weighted body covering yours like a shield, a gentle breeze stirs the stagnant air around you, and a tendril of a thought slips through your sleepy mind.

Heaven. 

–

Your fingers dance along the produce in the pantry, your lips moving silently as you keep count in your head. More food than you could have ever dreamed of when you first broached the plan, the produce now crowds out the canned goods, and shifting in your crouch, you let the sun into the small space, narrowing your eyes in focus.

The back door to the cabin bangs open, startling you, and June launches into a responding cry seconds later, just as Joel rounds the doorway. Before you can stand, he hooks his hand around your elbow, tugging you up. 

“Go to the bedroom. Now.”

“What –”

“Someone’s comin’. I heard 'em’ in the woods. A couple of ‘em at least.”

Stomach bottoming out in immediate panic, you scramble up and head to your bedroom, scooping up June along the way. Bouncing her lightly in your arms to quell her cries, a cold sweat breaks out along your back, and crossing the hallway, you head for the predetermined snug spot in the corner next to the dresser, grabbing your gun from the top drawer. 

“You stay until I tell you it’s safe, okay? Don’t move from this spot. You got your gun? It loaded?”

The serious, frantic edge to his words has you answering him immediately, your back pressing against the wall as you slide down into place. Giving you both one last look to ensure you’re where you need to be, he rounds the corner and disappears from sight, and you have to fight the lurch your body involuntarily makes in an effort to follow him. 

You’ve practiced for this exact scenario multiple times, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. During practice, there is no cold terror at what could happen. During practice, it was easy to go through every movement with calm motions. 

Now,  you try to inhale deep, steady breaths in an attempt to slow down the pounding of your heart, knowing June will sense your unease.

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay. I know, I know. It’s okay.” Your voice comes out low and smooth, your shaking hand betraying your nerves as it rubs circles over her back. 

Straining to hear over her hiccuping whimpers, you try to listen outside the bedroom. 

Nothing, for what seems like ages, and then:

“STOP.” 

Flinching when Joel’s voice breaks through, you shut your eyes tight, reflexively tightening your hold on June’s small body. 

–

“Put your hands up.”

A lone woman emerging from the tree line halts mid step, reluctantly pulling her hand away from the pistol at her hip. 

Weathered and weary looking, she looks almost frail in her slight build and Joel scans her for any more visible weapons. His own gun gripped tight with the butt of it against his shoulder, he slowly advances, his finger resting alongside the trigger.

“What do you want?”

“I was just passing by and I saw your cabin,” she calls out. “Thought I might see if anyone was home.”

“Bullshit. You can’t see this place from the road.”

A beat of weighted silence fills the grassy space between them, and the woman changes her story. 

“Fine. We –”

“We? How many?”

Her eyebrow lifts, along with the corner of her mouth. Avoiding the question, she continues. “We saw your garden. Thought maybe we would help ourselves. Especially now, since it’s just you out here.” Direct and laced with the barest taunt, her tone implies the easy confidence of someone who has the upperhand. 

Reluctantly shifting his gaze from her, he scans the trees, searching. A branch cracks somewhere within the woods, something shifting in the distance, and when he steps in the direction of it, she brings his attention back to her. 

“It looked like you have enough to share.”

“We don’t.”

An instinctual reaction tied to his days as a raider, Joel’s mind digs deep for the old lines he used to say. Lie about your numbers. Lie. 

“Don’t think about tryin’ anything’ either,” he asserts. “Heard you the second you walked onto this land. We got eyes on you from all sides.”

She lets her head fall to the side, frowning in skepticism. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

She takes a step forward, and Joel’s heart pounds in his chest, his face outwardly calm as his finger shifts to rest over the trigger. 

“You got enough ammo to kill us all?” She tests the waters, taking another small step forward, but when Joel trains the barrel of his gun on her and presses forward, she stops. 

“Listen.” Her face steels, hardening. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.  You can let us take what we need and we’ll leave after that, or we can kill you and then take what we need. Your choice.”

His jaw ticks, anger rising in his chest. “You’re not takin’ a goddamn thing. Get the fuck out of here before –”

A faint cry pierces the air, and he freezes, the woman doing the same. Joel’s body goes rigid at the sound of June’s cry, the woman’s eyes widening, and she peers over his shoulder at the cabin. 

June’s cries stutter for a moment before picking up in volume, and he pictures the exact face he knows she’s making. He knows that cry: an upset one that won’t settle any time soon. His heart lurches, an instinctual pull flooding through him to leave and soothe her. 

He pulls up straight instead, adjusting his aim square at the woman’s face.

Her hands quickly raise higher, this time facing outwards in supplication. “Look, I didn’t know.” Gesturing towards the woods, her tone softens. “We have kids too. The food is for them.”

Before Joel can move, a horse emerges from between the trees. And then another, then another. Trying to keep them all in his sight, the group collects in the area in front of him; June’s cries growing louder in their pitch from inside the cabin.

“Please,” one of the riders says. A woman, with a small child seated in front of her in the saddle. “If you have anything –”

“I already said we don’t.”

The coldness in his statement dies as his eyes focus on the kid’s face. While the rest of the group has their eyes on Joel, the child isn’t paying attention to him and his gun. Their eyes are solely fixed around the back of the cabin and have been since they emerged from the woods. On the garden, just beyond. 

“Please,” the rider begs one more time, quieter this time. “Please. We’ll take anything.”

Joel’s eyes linger on the kid’s slight frame, on the sunken rings underneath their eyes. Their face looks haunted, as if resigned to their hunger, and scolding himself for even wavering this long, he’s still thinking when the group's collective gaze shifts to something behind him. 

A door opening, then closing. 

Hearing the crunch of footsteps behind him, he sighs deeply, frustration evident in his disappointed tone.

“Go back inside.”

–

June quieted and left in the cabin, he burns next to you when you come to join him. 

“I heard everything through the window,” you explain. “I figured if you haven’t shot by now, it would be safe to come out.” 

A tension thrumming between your bodies in the air, you ignore the heat of his scolding stare. 

“Kids, Joel.” The word is spoken to him like a plea, and his jaw ticks before you take a look at the group for yourself. 

The first people you’ve seen in over a year. 

Worse for the wear with the sallow features of the starved, they look less…intimidating than you expected them to be. None of them have that shifty, hardened edge that you’d come to recognize in the QZ, nor the menacing, cruel stare of the people you’d met on the road before. They don’t look like how you imagine the other intruder looked either, the one you still see in your nightmares sometimes. 

Instead, they just look…tired. Hungry. The children seem dirty, but cared for. The mothers protect them in their slouched hold, the men remaining frozen under Joel’s command to stay still, his gun trained on the woman closest to him.

You picture the garden you heard them ask for: the basket of carrots still sitting in the sun, the squash vines spilling over the fence. You know they could kill you right here on the spot - but they don’t. They could have come in with guns drawn because you know they have them, but Instead they wait, trying to protect their kids. 

“I’m not gonna say it again, honey,” Joel seethes, measured and low. “Go back inside.”

“We’ll trade you.” 

A voice comes from a woman, clearly the leader of the group with the way they all keep glancing her way in silent deference, waiting. For someone staring down the barrel of a gun, she appears calm, her expression a practiced blank slate. Her age hard to determine due to the dust covering her skin, her voice is clear and measured, like she’s used to negotiating. 

“You don’t look like you have anythin’ to trade,” Joel replies coolly.

Thinking of your dwindling supplies outside of food, you rest your hand on his arm. “What’ve you got?” 

“What do you need?” she replies. 

Joel’s head tilts in warning, his feet shifting to further solidify his stance. “Answer her question.”

Her eyes run down the length of you, taking in your measure for a moment. “Got some liquor if you want it.” She gestures towards a saddle bag with a tilt of her chin, but Joel is already shaking his head. 

“Already got some.”

She quirks her eyebrow up. “Fine. Some medicine?”

“What kind?” you ask. 

“Painkillers. Ibuprofen. Tylenol. Might help with –”

“Already got some of that too,” he cuts her off. 

Sighing, the woman appears to think. Glancing at a man to the left of her, they have a silent conversation for a moment before she looks over at the garden. Staring at it for a moment, she brings her eyes back to you. 

“What about a horse?”

Joel’s jaw tightens in distrust. “Like you’re just gonna give us a horse. How much food do you think you’re gonna get from us?”

She shrugs, ignoring his anger to focus directly on you. “It’s yours, if you give us enough food for all of us. Not just the kids. Respectfully, it looks like you have plenty. Certainly enough for two people and a baby.”

The assumption in her tone and the challenge in mentioning your true numbers makes Joel bristle, but the woman doesn’t back down. If anything, she straightens taller, rising to his unspoken challenge. 

Tough and firm, she waits. 

Leaning towards him, you lower your voice so only he can hear it. “I can give them some of the –” 

He cuts you off with an immediate glare. “We need that food. You know it.”

“Yea, but we don’t need all of it. We have some to spare.”

He stares at you in stern, silent disagreement, and you continue. “I was just in the pantry. We can’t eat it all, Joel. I know what’s in there. Trust me. Those kids need to eat. They can have those carrots that I just picked, and –”

His eyes flit quickly back and forth between the group and your face, not wanting to keep his attention from them for too long. 

“It’s a horse, Joel. A horse.”

He narrows his eyes at you, a war within them. You know he knows the value of what they are offering. Eventually, he relents.

“We ain’t givin’ up our fresh stuff. If we have anything – anything - it’s gonna be the old stuff.”

Thinking of the sallow child in the saddle, you silently challenge him, but he stays resolute in his expression. 

“Fine,” you back down. “The old stuff.”

“Some of the old stuff. Not all of it.”

In agreement, you face the group again. 

“Don’t move,” Joel instructs. Flicking his head in the direction of the cabin, he motions to you. “She can get you some things, and then you need to be on your way.”

“What about the horse?” the woman asks. “One of us has to move if you want it. Where should we tie it up?”

He thinks for a moment, keeping his gun trained on her. Picking a spot a ways away from the cabin, he jerks his chin towards it. 

“Leave ‘em over there.”

–

Two faded floral pillowcases in your grip filled with what you could spare, you approach the group with careful and cautious steps, Joel taking a couple of slow strides to the left to keep you in his sights. 

“Are you okay?” the woman murmurs quietly when you reach her, glancing at Joel. 

Looking at her up close, there is a softness to her that you couldn’t see from far away. Her skin is weathered but still youthful, her long brown hair tied in a loose knot at the nape of her neck and you recognize concern held in her gaze.

You frown, not understanding. 

“That man there,” she tilts her chin at Joel. “He seems like a hard one. Is he keeping you here?”

Right when you’re about to defend him, June cries again, making her displeasure at being left alone again known. 

Leveling you with a look, the woman repeats herself, this time more direct. “I mean it. Are you okay? Do you need us to help you?” 

The implication is all over her face: a hard, threatening man all alone in the woods with a young woman. Holding her captive, forcing himself on her. A grim reality you’d seen plenty of times before, you understand her concern. Still, your response is a cool one, protective in your own right. “I’m fine. He’s just protecting us, like you’re doing with your own people.”

She studies your face for the truth. “He hasn’t hurt you or the baby, has he?”

“Of course not.” You understand her questioning, you do. Softening the edge to your response, you add, “He’s - he’s mine. We’re together. That’s our daughter crying.”

Her body language seems to relax along with her frown and she nods. Taking the sacks from you, she turns to pack them into the saddle bag of the horse next to her. 

“Must have been scary, giving birth out here all alone.”

You huff, a small smile at the edge of your lips to disguise the way the memory makes you swallow hard. “Yea, it wasn’t ideal. We were lucky.”

“I helped her do the same a couple months ago.” The woman tilts her chin at another woman in the back of the group, and for the first time, you notice a small bundle wrapped tight to her chest. Hidden, protected from the elements. “You heal okay?”

“It was…rough, but I’m good now.”

Seeming satisfied in her questioning, she digs around in the pouch for a moment. Fishing out a jar, she hands it to you. 

“I’m not sure how old your daughter is, but…here. Just in case you need it.”

A bottle of infant Tylenol being pressed into your hand, you look up to ask if she’s sure, but she cuts you off. 

“Listen. We’re headed West. Towards Ja –”

“Jackson?” you interrupt, and her eyebrows raise. Joel’s impatience radiating from his position behind you, you ignore it. “Someone came by a couple of months ago and tried to take what we had. Joel took care of it. We found the map in his pocket.”

She smirks. “So he’s real protective of you then.”

“Is it real? Jackson?”

Unsure if you should be prolonging this conversation or even informing them you know the way they’re going, you can’t help the question spilling from your mouth. Curiosity pulled at you for months after you found that map, the destination now even more intriguing after seeing children in the saddle. 

“Far as we know,” she replies, stuffing the bags away. “We heard from someone that it's safe. Safer than a QZ, though that doesn’t say much. They’re trying to keep it quiet, so they aren’t overrun with people, but…” her eyes flick towards the cabin. “It’s supposed to be off the grid. A place for families.”

Joel grits out your name behind you, and keeping the children in the forefront of your mind, you rush to say goodbye, giving her a warning.  

“You can’t stay in the area or he will shoot you. I promise you, he will.” Clear and direct with your words, you think you see something of understanding laced with respect cross her features. Before you can stop yourself, you add in haste, “There is another cabin about two miles from here though. We’ve been in it, and it’s clean and safe for you all to stay the night. You can eat, get some rest.”

Her shrewd gaze takes you in for a moment, and you squeeze the medicine held in your grip, praying you won’t come to regret what you just said. 

The edge of her mouth lifts in a small smile, and you let out a breath just as Joel says your name again, this time in a stern clip.

“Tess,” she says. Acknowledging the way Joel just told her your name, she offers her own. “My name is Tess. And thank you.”

The two of you coming to a silent understanding, you take a step back as she swings up onto the horse next to her, joining a rider already in the saddle. Motioning to the group with her hand, they all start to move. 

“Thanks,” she says to Joel as she passes, but he stays silent.

Leveling her with a frown, he keeps his gun trained on her until they disappear into the trees. 

–

Backing into the cabin to ensure it stays clear,  Joel only lowers his weapon after the door is closed. You follow him cautiously into the bedroom, waiting for him to erupt. 

You can tell he wants to, a tight bundle of anger set between his shoulder blades. His body is stiff as he picks June up to make sure she’s okay, and all the while, he keeps his back to you, as if trying to stay calm in her presence. 

Her safety confirmed, he hands her to you before stalking back out to head straight for the traps and even after checking those, he stays on the front porch with his rifle, waiting. 

Busying yourself with calming June down and eventually feeding her dinner, his anger with you weighs heavily in the space. Peeking every so often at his stern profile through the window, you put June to bed for the night, avoiding him as long as possible. 

Afraid of the disappointment you’ll see on his face, you linger by June’s cradle long after she falls asleep, questioning your decisions over and over again in your mind. 

In the end, you keep coming back to her milk cheeked profile as she sleeps. 

The clothes you piece together for her. The lack of medicine should she get sick. The even worse situation she’d be in if either of you did. The people that came by today, the conflict that was avoided because they were reasonable. 

You were right to give those children food. You know you were. If that had been June in the saddle, you would have done anything to get her food — including making a promise not to come back, especially knowing another child was depending on that source for their survival. 

It required belief in people instead of immediate distrust, and though you couldn’t explain how you knew, you just knew they could be trusted. 

Leaving her to join him on the porch, you’re expecting a calmer discussion with the hours that have passed, but he is still angry. Angrier than you’ve seen him in a long time. 

Part nervous, part sorry, and part wanting to defend yourself, you tuck your arms around your torso and step outside to where his profile greets you. 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just let them go, Joel. I couldn’t not give them anything. They were starving.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes resolutely on the woods in front of him. 

“Please come inside. They aren’t coming back.”

He faces you, his voice cutting. “And how do you know that, huh?” 

You swallow hard, bracing yourself. “I told them about the other cabins. I told them they could stay the night there and get some rest if they needed – “

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His eyes flash in the darkness, his expression twisted with frustration. “We don’ want them to stay close. They need to move on, so we know they aren’t comin’ back for what we have.”

“They aren’t.”

“You think just because they said so, they won’t? You can’t just trust what people tell you. I know it’s been awhile, but I thought you woulda remembered that.”

Hurt cuts through you at his dismissive tone. This version of Joel is one you haven’t seen in a long time, a shadow of the man he was before he met you and it hurts, to be back where you were. To have him look at you the way he is. Blinking back tears, regret starts to seep into your mind, but you fight against it. 

You know he’s just protecting his own, and you are one of those people. His. 

“The woman said they are headed to Jackson.” 

At the mention of the town, he looks back at you. 

“Did you see the kids with them? One of the riders had a baby, around the same size as June. That woman – Tess? She helped deliver it.”

Chastened, he looks down at the ground at your mention of that time. 

“They wouldn’t start trouble with that many kids around. I know it.”

“They gotta feed them kids, don’t they?” He delivers his statement bluntly, looking up to hold eye contact with you. Weariness rings his eyes, his tone no less scolding for it. “You know just as much as I do that you would do anything for June. Anything. Including lyin’ to someone just to turn around and steal what they have.”

The truth in his words hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, and you press on. 

“I gave them ample food. They have no reason to come back. I even put some meat in there –”

At this, he stands, outraged. His jaw ticks as he glares at you for a long moment, eventually letting out a huff of disbelief. 

“Hell, why not some ammo too?”

Shaking his head, he glances away. 

Disappointment pours off his body, his back to you and a tear slips down over your cheek. All the words you practiced saying to him die on your tongue, every good point turning to ash under the heat of his anger. You understand his worry because it’s also your own worry, but…the way the woman looked at you, the way those women held their children, the hope held in the woman’s eyes as she talked about Jackson? 

They weren’t coming back. You knew they weren’t. 

You’d thought he’d at least be happy about the horse, but the thought of another mouth to feed keeps your own closed. 

Sitting back down, he flexes his hold on his rifle, resting it across his lap. His eyes won’t meet yours. 

“I’m gonna stay up and keep watch. Just in case they do decide to come back. You should just…go to bed.”

All of the fight sucked out of you, you nod at his dismissal and turn, going back inside. 

–

His disappointment in you eats at him.

Flares bright as he sits up all night, waiting for their shadowy figures to reappear. Simmers as he hears you soothe June back to sleep after feeding her. Lingers with a fade in his chest as the sun lightens the horizon, inky black turning into pinkish dawn. 

He knows you saw those children and gave without hesitation, thinking of June. He knows that. But he’s also thinking of June. Always. Equal parts impressed and frustrated by the hope that still exists inside you even after you’ve seen what the outside world is still capable of, he doesn’t know how you can still trust. You still give; you’re still kind. 

He appreciates those qualities in you, but to give away your rations and to take a gamble on them not coming back is more than letting your hope win. It’s dangerous, and he wishes you could see that. 

He knows now that this will happen again. Clearly a route marked on that map, it’ll be used in the coming months by other people. The fact that they could see your garden was bad enough, but the fact that it was a group of people was even worse. 

He can defend you against one man, but a group? There are limits to his skills; he knows more than anyone. 

You can’t stay here anymore. 

He fights against the knowledge, the memory of Sarah now woven in with the surroundings. So much more than a place for the three of you to stay hidden from the world, he sees it as a place where the four of you thrived: the ghost of Sarah visiting him freely here, as a welcomed presence. Finally not something he pushed to the darkest, safest corners of his mind as a means to keep her memory away from what the world turned into. 

Even in death, he protected her. 

He knows she’ll follow him wherever he goes, but that doesn’t solve the problem of wanting to be the father he’s got the chance to be with June as he is here — not as who he’d have to be, if you left. 

His palm running along the smooth barrel of the gun, he stares into the dark woods and keeps watch, his weary eyes ringed with the need for sleep. 

Jackson. 

Responsible for your safety and well being, does he take the gamble and bring you there? Does he find another spot hidden deeper in the woods, hoping that one won’t be discovered? One requires faith in the words of other people, the other requires faith only in his own skills. After everything he’s seen and done, he knows which way he wants to lean…but still, he thinks. 

Acknowledging the strength in numbers that you’ve been missing this whole time, a group encountering this place was a liability, but to be part of a group - that was a strength. Resources to help if June should get sick, other people around to take care of her if either of you should. Clothes, shoes, a shelter that isn’t slowing falling apart. 

Those were just the basics of human necessity, but other things worm their way into his mind. The things not needed to live, but needed to thrive. Socialization, a community. An image of  Sarah on the soccer field projects against the dark field in front of him; all grin and bright eyes at sleepovers, running around the park he used to bring her to when she wanted to play with her friends. 

Any QZ that he’s been in was never the suburb full of children that he raised Sarah in, but at least there were other kids. Other people. A means to provide more than what you could, here. And with Jackson being a place being off the grid…there was a possibility it was better than a QZ. The world-worn cynic in him knew it was a long shot, but still.

He pictures your shadowed face in the darkness, as you argued with him. The earnestness in your eyes, the words you used to try to make him understand your reasoning behind trusting them. He was too mad then to listen, but now…he understands why. 

Not only your belief in those people, but your belief in general. Understands that you’ve always needed to believe in something, in order for any of this to work. 

“No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.” 

He said that to you in bed one night, speaking of you and June, and he thinks about how you’ve always believed it in the same thing your own way: your something to fight for was a future still possible. 

One that you’ve shown him to be true.

Rising stiff limbed from his position on the porch, it’s almost light when he wanders back into the silent cabin. 

He tries to be quiet in the kitchen as he digs through the drawer for the map, and finding it, places it on the counter. 

Making his way to the bedroom, he crawls into the space behind your curved spine and tucks himself around it, holding you close. 

In your sleep, you reach for him and grasping your hand in his, he fits the bridge of his nose into the soft nape of your neck and closes his eyes. 

[yandere-sins]

So, uh, this is actually the Sintember story I did... last year :’D It’s a year and four days old, but I had it rotting for so long. Not gonna tag it because the poor mod on Sintember doesn’t need to see something so long off, but I hope you guys enjoy it nevertheless!

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Implied Abuse, Implied Murder), Stalking, Obsessiveness, Posessiveness

Prompt: @/sintember Not again - You thought it was done, it was over. You survived, you moved on. And yet the horror continues. [Part 1]

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

It took the last of your strength to push the door back into its lock, your whole body leaning into the wood to fight off the raging winds outside.

Heaving a deep breath, you leaned against your only defense against the blizzard, chuckling and shaking your head at your own thoughts. Turning around, you faced the firepit in the middle of your cabin, red and orange flames crackling and dancing, the heat licking at your exposed cheeks, the only skin visible beneath the wool and fur keeping you warm outside.

It felt welcoming and inviting, and you sighed. Putting down the firewood you gathered from outside, you hoped it would dry before the flames died. It was a pain to rekindle a lost fire, but you'd manage. You had always managed; neither a blizzard nor an unlit fireplace would bring you down after everything you've been through. In fact, you much preferred it to the challenges of the past. You'd take the raging blizzard and being snowed in all the time over what you experienced at the hands of the madman you had fallen victim to.

Your memories had kept you awake for most of your life, but they saved you more often than you had thought them capable of. They had always kept you alert and careful, gentle but wary. It was sad that none of them could bring a smile to your face, and you envied innocent children and happy villagers alike for their countless, precious memories. But you had none. If they existed, they were horrifying reminders to be cautious. Maybe that was just how your life would always be.

Peeling off the layers of clothing, you sighed at the relief of warmth driving into your shakey bones and icy skin. It had been worth it, in the end, going through all the pain, the misery. Even though the snow reminded you of the cold winter nights spent in prison with your enemy, huddled together out of necessity, you were thankful for the blizzard as it kept you hidden. The feeling of his hands on your body would probably never wash off, but at least now you were alone. Alone and free.

The next village was so far down the mountain that they couldn't even see your little hut. You'd walk two days to reach it, and two to get back, so you kept your visits sparse, the conversations even shorter. The fewer people knew about the ominous person living on the mountain, the better, and you didn't really need them, only occasionally venturing down for a new sewing kit or fruit you've been craving.

Spring and summer were easy to handle, with a stream nearby for water, birds to shoot, and the occasional goat passing by to milk. Since you were all by yourself, you didn't need much, your garden keeping you fed most of the year. But winter was different. In autumn, foraging and harvesting was still easy. However, you'd never get used to the harsh winters alone, praying every day you wouldn't hurt yourself or you'd run out of luck up here.

But regardless, it was safe. That was your main priority. Some may call traversing through three countries before deciding to settle on a lonesome mountain over the top, but you knew better. You knew that if there was even the slightest bit of chance that your enemy could find out where you were, he would. So, you took the challenges of survival every day in return for your freedom. At least, it had worked. You'd been rid of him for years now, and you doubted that would change any time soon.

Poking the fire, the sparks flying through the air elated you.

You had found solace in the little things, like a burning fire, a hearty stew, plucking the first carrots you grew in your garden and eating the masses of pickled vegetables you cultivated. While you were busy, you didn't think of the past, didn't agitate the wounds it left. Perhaps it was too optimistic to say you were healing from the trauma and the misery, but at least you weren't confronted by it every day. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss.

And you deserved peace, until the last second.

After stretching your arms over your head, you leaned down to place the firewood near the pit, hoping it would be dry by the time you'd wake up to stoke the flames again. You looked forward to sleeping in your bundle of blankets, most of them knitted by you and warm as an oven when you slipped beneath them. Maybe tomorrow, the blizzard would have lifted, and you could see if there was any damage to your cabin that needed your attention as long as the good weather lasted before returning to the warmth and safety inside. Every day you got to plan it all by yourself for yourself, but you wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

That's why you jumped at the loud bang against the wood, halting in your tracks, wondering if you misheard. Maybe the blizzard had thrown a branch against your door? It couldn't be possible for anyone to come to visit in this weather, and wanderers would have to get far off the main trail across the mountain to reach your hut as well.

Bang, bang, bang!

This time, you were sure what you heard wasn't a coincidence. No branch or storm would make three consequent drums, with noticeable space in between. You felt your breath hitch as you stood there, motionlessly. Part of you wanted to inquire who it might be, but a bigger part just wanted to stand in silence, hoping they'd leave. There were many dangers when living alone, even if only a single one truly scared you.

"H-Hello?" someone called out from outside. The voice was shivering but youthful, and you felt a knot tie in your stomach at the thought it might be a lost child caught in the blizzard. You took a few cautious steps forward, listening, hoping for a sign that it was safe to open the door.

"Hello? I- I am lost... is there a place to rest tonight? Please, it's so very cold!"

Gnawing on your lip, you made a decision. Anyone daring to thread on a mountain in a snowstorm was foolish and weary of life. Still, they didn't deserve the freezing cold misery that would be dying in the blizzard. You unlocked the door, mourning the loss of warmth you'd experience any second now as you invited the cold and the stranger in, but you couldn't be responsible for their death either.

To your surprise, when you swung the door open, it wasn't the frame of a young teenager or that of a child that awaited you. The figure was lanky but hulking, covered in more clothes than even you had worn. The fur covered all of their body, face hiding behind a mask and under a hat, and the darkness made it hard to see their eyes. They didn't wait for you to invite them in, their body shaking as they took a deep, cold breath before they stomped their snow-covered boots into your wooden cabin.

You let them pass you, too surprised by their appearance to react. You honestly had expected someone younger, more fragile. Not someone seemingly in good health and strong. And thus the stranger stood, thickly veiled in fur and clothes that should have kept them warm but were now dripping as the snow clinging to them melted in the middle of your home, positioned like a statue.

"I-I'll get you a towel and a blanket," you mumbled, shaking out of the confusion and surprise. They still needed help, and though they appeared fine, you knew how tricky snow-related illnesses could be unless you prevented them at the earliest possibility.

Walking to your closet to grab what you needed, you listened to the shuffle of clothes behind you, not minding the stranger stripping out of their snow gear now that they were in the warm safety of your home. You were looking through your options, the presence of another person in your lonely life feeling strange, yet you were too focused on providing help to them to notice the floorboards behind you creaking.

"Found you~"

You yelped as ice-cold hands wrapped over your eyes, letting go of the blanket over your arm as you clawed at the stranger. Suddenly, the voice was much clearer and less youthful, and you were pulled back into a body that felt oddly familiar against yours.

"What are you--" you hissed angrily, prying the hands off your face and falling forward into your closet, hitting your temple against the wooden shelving inside. However, your body knew better, from years of experience, than to falter under the sharp pain, and you twisted around, looking into a scarily familiar face.

"Long time no see, my darling."

Your mouth felt like it had been filled with sand. You couldn't even gulp as you stared wide-eyed at your enemy, the very same one you ran from years ago. The exact same one you never wanted to see again.

"It was kind of cruel to leave me hanging, back at the prison, you know? It was so cold and so lonely without you, so I came looking for you the moment I was free. Ehh~? Did I make you speechless? Are you that happy to see me?"

"No..." you muttered, shaking your head. That couldn't be happening. No. No, no, no.

"You shouldn't be here... you can't be here! I left you... I left you there to rot! I traveled so far, how... How is this possible?!"

Even as your voice bordered on hysteric screeching, you felt the tears of frustration and defeat burn in your eyes. Your whole world shattered as you watched your enemy heave a sigh, his expression turning gentle, empathetic. Reaching out his hands he brushed them along your arm, your cheek, the cold prickling where your skin met. You flinched, jerking back, and he followed, always one step behind you. He was a liar, a complete and absolute liar, and you knew it from the moment he placed his thumb on your cheekbone, wiping away the tears. There was no bone in him that pitied you; his body and mind were filled with glee as he watched your misery bloom.

"Oh, dear."

Closing in, he trapped you between him and the closet, his cold hands cupping your face gently, but his nails dug into the back of your neck possessively. He won, and you both knew it.

"I told you I'll always find you. Took me a while this time, but you can't run from me. You're mine, remember?"

Oh, you remembered. You remembered too well the days lived in fear and the nights spent huddled together on the prison ground, forced into his arms out of need of warmth. The day the guards released you was the one where you swore you'd change your life around. That you'd no longer live in the perpetual horror this man installed.

But here you were as if nothing had changed at all. As if the years running had lost all their meaning.

"I'm so cold, darling," he whispered, even his breath was icy as he leaned in for a kiss. You knew exactly what he longed for, even if you didn't want to give it to him. He wanted the same submission, the same relenting as you had given him in prison, where you allowed him his freedom to assault you with his love. Where you couldn't have fought him even if you wanted to. And now that he had found you, you realized he hadn't changed at all. All he ever wanted was to change your life into the life he always envisioned for you two, where you were his slave, and he had free reign over you, finally getting what he had always wanted.

Your eyes darted to your bedside table.

"It's warmer under the covers," you mumbled against his lips, and he chuckled, rubbing his chapped skin against yours playfully.

"I didn't think you'd be this direct. I like it. Come, darling."

You allowed your enemy to lead you to the bed before climbing on his lap and gripping his hair to force his head back. "Where's this coming from?" he chuckled, and you felt sick just hearing his licentious voice. "No worries, I'll let you hold the reigns if it's what you want. At least for a while."

You'd hear no more words from his filthy mouth or stare any longer into the darkness swirling in his eyes. This had to come to an end, one way or another, but true to his word, he allowed you to guide him to lay down in your bed, hands falling to your thighs and grabbing at your ass. You felt the excitement tenting his pants beneath you, and you knew that in his delusion, he truly thought this was the moment you were caving to his desires, his demands of love that never existed between you two.

But instead, you slipped your hand into the drawer of your bedside table, feeling the cold steel of the knife you kept there for protection. Your past self had been so afraid of him showing up that you couldn't sleep without feeling it. Finally, your anxiety paid off.

You had learned your lesson; the fear would never stop as long as either of you were alive. You'd never be far enough away, never safe, never heal, and never truly be free unless one of you was dead. No one would find his corpse hidden on this mountain; no one would come looking for him, you were sure. And neither would they for you.

You thought you had done a great job getting away; had started to move on and get over what happened to you. But you hadn't. You couldn't do it again. Couldn't endure the horror to continue all your life and couldn't run away far enough to escape it.

You couldn't do it. Not again.

Never again.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship at a hardware store, from someone who works at a hardware store:

sam: is in the nursery!! goes straight to the discount/dying plants and piles his cart full of wilted and sad plants. likes to rescue the houseplants first, has a soft spot for perennials and citrus trees. is a nightmare to check out but is very sweet about it. dirt and leaves everywhere. like, everywhere. they have to sweep after he’s gone. surprisingly strong and hauls big bags of dirt.

frodo: enjoys home improvement!! likes to wander carpeting and organization, hunts for good deals and keeps tabs on the sales weekends. he likes to peruse the shower curtains and closet accessories. likes to refurbish old furniture he finds off the side of the road- currently fixing up an antique dresser to put in the master bedroom.

merry: doorknobs, handles, dresser nobs. he likes to pick out the interesting and antique ones and customize his home with them. he really likes the oddly shaped ones, he has one starfish and one pickle on his nightstand table. likes to joke about touching all the knobs and fiddling with the knockers.

pippin: is lost in the lighting department. he’s staring up at all the pretty lights and hypnotizing fans. likes the remote controlled lights, enjoys messing with the demos. also likes collecting paint chips. (pippins also the kind of person to get really high and shit in the display toilets.) does not buy anything, maybe some beef jerky and skittles at the check outs.

boromir: this man has like 80 projects going on and is remarkably proficient in every conceivable area featured in the store. he’s here so much people think he works here. he kinda does. he’s happy to advise you, lead you to products, and lifts heavy things for little old ladies and swooning maidens. he’s happy to grab the things on the highest shelf as well as carry those bigs bags of dirt out to your care. he is just a naturally pure and helpful soul. <3

aragorn: has lost himself in scrap wood. straight to the lumber yard, straight to the pile of damaged and recycled wood. once a month, he comes and loads up as much as it will fit in a pickup truck. no one knows what he does with it but he keeps coming back. there are several theories around the store. either he’s building a bunker, has a side hustle by reselling it, makes massive fires or he does wood work. alternatively, he’s a homeless man building his own cabin in the woods so he can live away from society. that’s one’s probably the closest.

gandalf: mixes his own paint. he doesn’t work there but somehow he keeps getting back there and making his own custom colors. was known to pull a miracle and turn gray paint back into white. no one knows how he did this. likes to camp out in the seasonal section. enjoys lounging on couches and swings for long periods of time.

gimli: is so excited to walk into the tools section. wants all the toys. likes power tools in a way that’s both funny and scary. really likes chainsaws and leaf blowers, possibly because they pose the biggest threat to legolas. often gets flagged out the door because no one person needs that many tools and he must be up to something. he always beeps out the door because inevitably someone forgot to take off one of the sensors of his many, many tools. he used to be nicer about this but lately has lost patience with always being stopped out the door, and often will make a show of waving his receipt before leaving.

legolas: spends a good amount of time in the garden. i imagine he gets enamored with the fountains and ponds rather quickly, also likes the statues and fun pots. also, wanders through the garden and samples the plants. by samples i mean eat small bites of it, and if he finds the quality satisfactory he will purchase it. this is rarely the case and he often just goes around eating small bites of houseplants.

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 3

Summary: You are taken care of and things take a turn for the sinister.

Word Count: 3.1k

CW: Kidnapping, dub-con

You struggled and struggled but Simon, no not Simon, Ghost held your back to his chest in a vice grip. His hand over your mouth muffled your desperate screams, the strength of him so at odds with the syrupy words he was cooing into your ear.

“There baby, I know it’s hard but you’re going to be ok. We’re going to make you ok.”

The high whine of a trapped animal left you, the tendrils of it that could escape his hand barely above audible. You could feel that he was hard at your back, hear the groans coming from him when you struggled against him and gave him friction.

“Fuck sweetheart, need you to stay still.”

Your muscles strained to be free of him as he started rutting against your ass, chasing his own pleasure without realising. It was dark in this closet. You could hear the cops laughing away with the rest of the 141 downstairs, oblivious to the very alive girl being held captive above them. This morning you had found the man behind you sweet, had maybe even felt some sort of giddy crush bubbling away for him. They had seemed so kind and warm and they had all treated you so well these firefighters, right up until you had figured it out.

Ignorance really was bliss.

–

The cabin was breathtaking and the floor was unexpectedly warm beneath your feet when Price finally set you down. It hadn’t been far from the watch tower at all, maybe 10 minutes, but the trees did a good job of making it seem invisible until you were close. It was clear that this was a labour of love with its cute hand burned wooden sign marking it with the numbers 141, the swing seat and rocking chairs out on the porch and the little disorganised but thriving vegetable garden by the side.

The inside was homey if a little rugged, not a lot of touches of femininity to be found but plenty of heart and charm. You spied bits of kit lying around in ways that spoke to the personalities of their owners. One jacket neatly hung on its peg, another haphazardly thrown onto the counter. It felt strangely like a sibling of your own little fairytale cottage you had made, the more wild version. It made you mourn the loss all over again until you heard a long suffering meow and the tears weren’t coming from grief anymore.

“Hi Dosia girl” you cried through an overjoyed smile, crouching so she could come butt her head against your hand.

You were a little embarrassed at your very ugly crying as you scooped her up and cuddled her. She smelled of smoke and ash and you put that thought to the back of your mind. Dosia did not like baths one little bit, so that was certainly going to be a battle and you were going to come out of it with war wounds. Ah, you would need to find a B&B that would be ok with a pet, or maybe you could crash with your aunt for a while. The trip to where she lived would be hours but not like you had many options.

Your reunion was cut short by the fact that you were far more invested in this cuddling than Dosia was. She allowed it for perhaps 15 seconds and then squirmed to be put down, batting at your cheek when you tried to resist.

“Ok, ok!” you laughed, letting her jump down.

It was a bit of a surprise to see her rub against Simon before padding off to curl up by the fireplace. Oh my goodness they had a fireplace. It wasn’t lit which was sensible since they had been out, but you could imagine it made the whole place incredibly cosy. Your thoughts strayed briefly seeing the chopped wood in a basket, imagining the sight of these large men with axes, sweating as they made their firewood.

Grief, relief and horniness were not good bedfellows and you brought your bottom lip forward to blow a puff of air up towards your head. Your mother used to have you do it when you were little to blow the bad thoughts away when you had nightmares and while it didn’t work quite as well with the frankly filthy images it was good enough.

“Come on little bird, shower is this way. I’ll get some clothes for you while you are in there” Price said, his hand on the small of your back to direct you.

He had such an old fashioned way about him that it almost made you feel like you were in another time. His touch against you so firm and gentlemanly that you wanted to swoon a little, but you only smiled and gave a meek thank you before allowing yourself to be led. Price was already imagining the ceremony. He’d have to marry you of course, wouldn’t be proper to fuck a child into you without marrying you first.

He had to give Kyle a stern look over your head as you went into the room. The boy was seconds away from arguing that he also needed to shower and wouldn’t it make sense to save water? He had been the first to taste your lips, it would be unfair if he were also the first to see you naked and trembling beneath the water. Maybe Price was feeling a little mean about it too, a little possessive. Kyle’s clothes would fit you best, but he was more inclined to give you his. You’d look right drowning in his t-shirt. He could imagine the way it would slip off your shoulder, give him access to pepper kisses there and get you all warm and honey sweet for him.

“I really appreciate it” you said, still sniffling a little but trying to convey how thankful you were of their kindness.

You thought as you closed the door and slowly stripped out of your soot covered clothes that maybe it might be nice to ask one of them out for a drink once you had sorted out the Insurance and maybe rented out a little flat until you could plan a rebuild. You had just been very cosy with Kyle, so you knew that he at least found you attractive if nothing else. But then each of them captivated you in a different way, even the masked man who hadn’t spoken one word to you this entire time was giving the temptation of a mystery to be solved.

The water pressure was amazing here and you found yourself relaxing as steam pillowed around you. It’d be nice to keep in touch with these firefighters even if you didn’t ever work up the courage to ask any out on a date. They had saved you after all and if you rebuilt where you had been you could probably visit them pretty easily if you were allowed to be in the watchtower outside of nearly burning to a crisp. You weren’t really sure how it worked, was it open to the public? You could find out after everything was sorted.

You laughed seeing the awful 3 in 1 shampoo, conditioner and soap. It was scented ginger and orange and it was strong as hell. You wondered if they all used it, you hadn’t really smelled it on any of them and given how just opening the bottle made the whole room heady with the scent you would think you would have been able to. Another of life's little mysteries. Maybe this bathroom was so clean and tidy because it was a spare?

You felt bone tired once you were clean, just standing under the warm water and letting your muscles relax.The door opening made you tense up all over again, Price walking in to place a little bundle of clothes on the counter and smiling over at you like you were not currently naked. He wasn’t acting like it was a big deal and you were trying to emulate that while turning yourself to try and cover up as much as you could.

“They’ll be a bit big, but don’t have much in the way of clothing for a lady. I’ll see if we can’t get your clothes clean,” he said, going to take the little bundle of your ashy clothing.

“Oh that’s ok, you really don’t have to-”

“Hush little bird, just you let us take care of everything.”

He left after that and you thought you might die on the spot. Your underwear had been in that pile and it was mortifying to think of them laundering it. It wasn’t like it needed saving, you’d get new things. You weren’t even sure you wanted any of the clothing that such a disaster had happened in. Getting out of the shower, dried and dressed was a hurried affair. Price may not have cared about nudity but you did and you didn’t fancy getting caught again.

The clothes were definitely way too big but you didn’t mind that just now, it felt comforting. He had left sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie. No underwear, but then of course there wouldn’t be. It would be weird to wear theirs. You had a quick look around for a hair brush but found none, instead just trying to comb your towel dried hair as best you could with your fingers. No easy feat considering the product you had just used on it.

Coming out of the little room was a nerve wracking affair. You felt your wits were very much back about you now, your brain reminding you that you were in the woods alone with 4 men, one of which you had been all over a few hours ago. Only the masked man was in the room as you came out. You saw him in the little kitchenette, giving a short gasp when he turned and set a steaming mug of definitely hot chocolate on the counter. You could really use a hot chocolate.

“Come on sweetheart, sit and drink. You need something warm after the day you’ve had.”

It was for you? Oh this mystery of a man was more appealing by the second and you immediately followed instructions, sitting down on one of the stools by the counter and taking a deep inhale of the steam in appreciation.

“Hot chocolate is my absolute favourite, thank you,” you said, happily sipping.

Ghost knew it was your favourite. He had learned so much about you when he had gone into your little cottage while you slept. He knew it would come in handy, knew deep down it was destiny that you’d be here one day. You were already his from the moment he had laid eyes on you from the watchtower, he was just biding his time until you knew that too. And his patience was wearing thin now that you were so close.

“I was wondering who Soap was, is it another firefighter?” you asked, honestly just wanting to make conversation so you could hear his voice again as you ran a finger over the name patch on the jacket over the counter.

“S’Johnny’s call sign. Kyle has Gaz on his jacket, John has Price.”

“Oh, what’s yours?”

You were fascinated by the way his eyes just held yours intensely. They were the only part of his face you could see, the only thing that could give away how he was feeling. While there was something of a smile there, some animal instinct wanted you to run. Some animal instinct saw a predator in his eyes as he answered you.

“Ghost.”

“On account of him being a big spooky bitch” Johnny’s voice floated from the stairs.

You turned to see him and Price coming down, the former looking dishevelled. Johnny had scratches all down his forearms, some looking deep and bleeding. His hair was a mess, clothes damp and sudsy. Price meanwhile looked no worse for wear, holding a purring Dosia wrapped in a fluffy towel. You couldn’t help but laugh, Johnny’s dramatic sigh when you did making you laugh harder.

“Did she kill Kyle?”

“Naw, bastard got out of bath time to go shower like a coward.”

“You’ll have to forgive MacTavish, he’s always been shit with women regardless of if they’re human or not.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid.”

“English Johnny.”

“Let me translate. Go fuck yerself.”

“Offt, thought it was against the firefighter code to burn things,” you joked, causing Johnny and Price to grin at you.

Price sat himself on one of the armchairs with Dosia still purring away, docile in his arms. Johnny cheekily took your mug to take a sip for himself which you were frankly outraged about, following him to sit on the sofa. Simon spirited himself away to somewhere else in the cabin before coming back shortly with a hairbrush in hand.

You twisted around thinking he would give it to you, but Johnny only smooshed your cheeks and brought your head back around to face front so that Simon could start gently brushing your hair. It was such a sweet gesture that you luxuriated for the moment in the attention. It was probably ok to indulge a little after the day you had, and you closed your eyes and relaxed. You were alive and well and so was Dosia. You could rebuild a cottage.

At some point you dozed off, only waking when Kyle was gently coaxing you to eat some soup. He was sat on the little coffee table feeding you, looking devastatingly handsome all clean and in plaid pyjama bottoms and a hoodie. It felt intimate, way too intimate, but you were happily sleepy and soon happily fed so you let the little alarm bell in the back of your mind be overridden.

–

When you woke up it was morning and you were in a bed. You were in a bed and you were not alone. There was a large body curled around your back, one arm pillowing your head and the other lazily slung over your waist. You tensed and the man noticed, a rumbling coming from his chest that you swore you could feel vibrate against your back.

“S’ok baby, dinnae need to git up yet.”

Johnny, it was Johnny behind you. You squeaked like a damn mouse when you felt his lips press to the back of your neck. Christ he was like a furnace behind you, the heat of him bleeding into you. You knew you were lying to yourself if you said that was the only reason you were suddenly overheating. Maybe he thought you were someone else? You moved a bit, seeing if you couldn’t get out of his hold and wake him up.

He definitely did not think you were someone else, not when he groaned and pulled you back in to squeeze you in a tight hug, your name on his lips.

“Please let me hold ye for a wee bit longer bonnie, nearly lost ye yesterday.”

Your emotions were tangled. Part of you felt that your heart might beat out of your chest from how loving he sounded, that little undercurrent of genuine fear of losing you. The other part had your heart beating out of fear because you had met this man yesterday and he was acting like you were long term partners. The latter won out and you struggled against his hold, relieved when he let you go with a sigh.

You rolled out of bed and looked at him in alarm. Oh he was adorable like this, all sleepy and soft. He didn’t seem so dangerous like this.

“I…” you started, not really knowing where to go from there.

You decided that where to go from there was out of this room, scrambling for the door and spilling out into the hallway without another word. You could see the stairs. Someone must have carried you up last night. You went down them in a rush, not sure what your plan was now. You were flustered, annoyed at yourself for how tempting it had been to stay.

“Good morning luv! Sleep well?”

Christ, Gaz and Price were in the little kitchen area drinking tea. Both were shirtless, Gaz only in PJ bottoms and Price only in his underwear. Fuck these people were models, this could not be a real situation you had actually found yourself in.

“I- uh, yes? Thank you. I need to go.”

Both of them looked concerned, Price walking over to you and blocking your way to the door.

“Do you need me to talk to Soap? I’ve already told the boys they’re not to do anything you don’t want unless it’s for your own good little bird, do I need to remind him?”

He seemed so sincere, so warm and protective and safe. Only now you panicked at it, trying to figure out what on earth constituted something you didn’t want but was for your own good where these strangers were concerned.

“No, we didn’t… thank you for everything, but I need to go now. Need to get paperwork sorted and get some clothes and a place to stay and everything” you babbled, trying to aim for casual. Trying to aim for ‘I am not shit scared or anything, just going to go about my day don’t mind me’. You loved your cat more than anything, but right now you would leave without her and come back for her, that was how on edge this situation was making you.

Kyle was moving now as well, casually leaning against the front door. It wouldn’t matter how subtle he was, you saw it for what it was. They were stopping you from leaving.

“Handled the paperwork yesterday. You can stay here and we’ll get you some clothes, although I think you look beautiful in mine,” Price said, smiling indulgently down at you.

You were going to need to fight. Something was very, very wrong here and you were going to need to fight. There was a knock at the front door, making Kyle jump and whirl around. There was a moment of stillness, Kyle and Price both looking at you and you looking at them, everyone aware things were about to become very bad very quickly.

The scream was a second too late, a hand already clamped around your mouth as you were dragged bodily backwards and up the stairs. You fought like hell, but the body behind you was huge. Simon. It must have been. He had appeared from thin air and the callsign Ghost made sense now.

Johnny passed you being dragged in the hallway, winking and ruffling your hair before heading down the stairs.

It was only once you were dragged into the closet and the door closed that you heard the voices downstairs. It was the police you thought. They were talking about remains from a fire. Oh God, they were talking about your remains.

[mvjerbs]

Beyond the wall au

CW: some depictions of gore and murder and blood

Present events of the story:

Years have passed since Ambrosius, and his search party have disappeared. (planned it to be 15 but still unsure)

With Gloreth's descendant gone, people have been anxious of the fate of the kingdom. And everyone pretty much blamed Todd since he and his group were the reason why Ambrosius went out in the first place.

He lost everything to say the least, and he was getting tired of it.

With the director's permission (he's not going to make the same mistake again), he left the wall with a group of 6 knights to search for Ambrosius and regain his old life back.

Which is easier said than done because all evidence or traces left behind by Ambrosius are gone since it's been years.

They searched and eventually stumbled upon the village, but due to the villagers being sacrificed and imprisoned, the village was abandoned.

Thinking that Ambrosius might have camped there once, they split up and searched the place to look for possible clues to where he might be.

Two of the knights went missing not long after they parted ways as they were caught by Nimona. The lucky ones ended up finding Ambrosius, not too far from where the village was. He was chopping up some wood from the tree that he had just cut down.

They almost didn't recognize him because of his long hair, but they all soon felt relief and joy when they found him.

Meanwhile, Todd searched on his own because his partner abandoned him because of annoyance. In his search, he stumbled upon a small cabin with a garden in the front.

Todd was surprised that Ambrosius (he assumed) lived and survive outside the wall that was infamous for being dangerous. He approached the cabin when someone suddenly emerged out of the house, and his eyes went wide,

Ballister was the said person who emerged out of the cabin, holding a small basket in his arm. He could faintly hear him hum happily as he headed to the small garden, this of course stopped when he saw Todd.

Todd froze when Ballister greeted him with a smile, asking how the kingdom and he has been. It was a warm smile, and it could have been a warm smile if it wasn't for the situation he was in. It was eerie and sinister.

Todd tried to hide his fear and went back to his old and arrogant self. Trying to taunt and insult Ballister saying that he's so lonely and all because the realm hated him. Todd expected him to snarl or glare at him

What he got almost made him shit his pants.

Ballister laughed at him, it started out as contained laughter then turning into giggles and eventually a full blown laughter. Laughter that made Todd shiver in fear.

"Oh silly idiotic Todd, I'm not living alone, I have a family! And besides, even if I was, I'm never alone out here."

The way Ballister looked at him and how he said it gave Todd the urge to run away. but before he could do anything, Ambrosius arrived along with the other guards.

Feeling relieved from the sights of the others, Todd regained his confidence he ordered the knights to capture and kill Ballister. Even taunting him that he'll just cut off the other arm for him.

Todd raised his sword along with the other knights who moved towards Ballister, but before he could bring down is sword and slash Ballister, an axe flew and lodged itself deep into Todd's arm.

Todd screamed as he dropped his sword and gripped his wounded arm. Everyone was surprised to say the least, and they all turned to the person who threw the axe.

There they saw a very enraged Ambrosius, breath raged from the immense anger that is seeping out of him. His eyes that are filled with rage were focused on Todd who was staring at him in horror.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. My husband"

The threat and the anger really surprised the knights, not that they haven't seen Ambrosius angry, but seeing him harming a fellow knight out of anger really surprised them.

With everyone distracted, Ballister took the chance and ripped the axe off Todd making him scream. The things that happened next was like a blur to Todd, the bloodshed, the clashing of weapons, and eventually a monstrous scream.

It was the scream that snapped Todd back to reality, and when he looked at the direction of the scream, he saw Nimona.

Todd abandoned the others and ran away to escape, though it was hard with his dangling bleeding hand. He eventually reached another cabin, and he immediately went in, ignoring the fact that the door was a bit heavy.

Turns out it wasn't a cabin but a walk-in freezer that Ballister made from scraps that they got when they went hunting in the kingdom. Upon realizing this, Todd turned to leave only to find the door locked. Panicking, he started to pound on the door.

Meanwhile on the outside of the freezer, Ballister, Ambrosius and Nimona(who was currently snacking on a knight) watched as they listened to the desperate screams and banging of Todd. Mocking and talking about how Todd was a fool and an idiot for trying to run away while leaving a trail of blood.

Nimona, who had just finished her meal, moved towards the freezer only to be stopped by Ballister.

"Nimona, I know you want to, but I won't let you eat him. There are others back there you can eat sweetheart."

"Listen to your dad on this one Nimona, we don't want you to eat trash."

The family left and abandoned Todd in the freezer.

The next morning, they cleaned around the cabin before heading to the freezer to check. Sure, enough they saw Todd lying on the floor, frozen, pale, and surrounded by his own frozen blood.

The couple smiled, satisfied as they watched Todd's frozen and lifeless body.

Nimona came in a few moments later in her (disproportionate) child form, immediately walking towards Todd before she was stopped by Ambrosius who grabbed her and carried her in his arms.

The kingdom was once again in a state of panic as Todd's search party never returned and the killings continue.

That's the last part :) I might add something soon if I have time in college. hopefully.

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Chapter Ten

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 2.5k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER NINE | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER ELEVEN

79 days since the world ended

            It’s been roughly a month since you & the others left the lake house behind in wake of Rafe’s invasion. The gas inn Sayyed’s tank got the four of you nearly two hours north before it became low. There was still a can of gas left in the trailer, but it would be necessary to go out & scavenge more to keep his wrangler working. Fortunately, when Sayyed pulled off the main highway, easily maneuvering around abandoned cars, he happened to pull off near a cabin. It could be seen from the road, but only if one was looking hard to see it through the trees. It would be your new home if those even existed anymore.

            The group dynamic between the four of you changed drastically. Though you didn’t feel the need to prove yourself, your warning about Rafe’s plans gave the group enough time to get away, far away. And so Nuha & Sayyed were as warm towards you as Bear had been. You were wary of their change in attitude early on but soon enough thought nothing of it as the four of you lived with one another for the next month.

            On this day, it was especially warm. Sayyed guessed it was mid-July or so, which meant that the summer heat of the south had yet to peak. The days would only get hotter.

            You were down by a pond that was a five minute walk away from the cabin. Bear was out scavenging & you were waiting by the pond for him to return. The sun was just above the trees so he would be back any minute. Unlike the lakehouse, scavenging took longer here. Your cabin was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, despite direct access to a major road. Most scavenging days required a stay overnight in the woods. But scavenging was more essential than ever.

            Food & water was low, dangerously so. What you guys managed to take from the lakehouse only lasted so long, & the garden at the cabin hadn’t yet begun to produce anything. Everyone was on edge, & looking it. Nuha & Sayyed, who were already slim, were skinnier. You could see it in Sayyed’s face: his sunken cheeks, the clothes he wore hanging more loosely off him. And Nuha, you hadn’t realized how bad she had gotten until you two washed together the other week. When she took her top off you could see her ribcage, & her collarbone was especially more prominent than before. You had been losing weight too, but you still looked healthy as could be. You hoped Bear found something significant.

            “_____.” You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of your name. It was Sayyed.

            “It’s Nuha. I’m getting worried about her.” You swallowed nervously at his words. Of course he would notice her state, too.

            “Whatever Bear brings back we’ll give her.” You told him, “She needs it more than us.”

            Sayyed sat beside you, staring into the pond water, “What if it isn’t enough?”

            You knew where his thoughts & concerns were heading. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Can’t think like that Sayyed. She’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

            “I hope you’re right.” Sayyed replied softly.

            The two of you sat there in silence for some time until you hear the nearby brush moving. A few seconds later, Bear appeared. By looks of it, he was carrying something heavy, but there was a relieved smile on his face. You shot up & took off for him, Sayyed was hot on your heels.

            “Finally brought something good.” Bear shared as Sayyed took the heavy duty bag from him. Sayyed placed it on the ground & unzipped it. Inside was a health-nut’s pantry. Liquid IV’s, sport drinks, multivitamins. The three of you shared wide grins.

            “This is amazing, Bear!” You rejoiced, hugging him.

            Sayyed gathered two bottles of the sport drinks, a handful of the liquid IV’s, & a bottle of multivitamins, “Thanks, Bear. I gotta get these to Nuha.”

            Sayyed took off back towards the cabin, & you helped Bear carry the rest of the stuff back inside.

            “We really needed this, Bear.”

            “Better yet.” He started as you handed him items to place into a cupboard, “There’s more where this came from. Whoever lived there was stocked on nutritional shit. I can go back, but it’d be easier if you came with, ya know, a second pair of hands & all.”

            You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, we’ll go the day after tomorrow.”

            With Bear’s lucky find, your future at the cabin looked hopeful.

            But hope was a silly thing to cling to.

            Nuha plummeted overnight. You woke in a panic when Bear shook you awake. You followed him to the second floor. Inside one of the bedrooms, Sayyed was at Nuha’s bedside, helping her to drink some more water.

            “What’s wrong?” You rushed out as you looked at Nuha. Your heart fell. She looked bad. Her normally shiny skin had turned ashen & was beginning to gray. Her hair was a matted mess on her head & there were beads of sweat dotting her hairline. Her lips were chapped & peeling.

            “Bear…” You glanced at him warily, “Does she…”

            “She doesn’t.” Sayyed cut you off, “It’s not any of those symptoms. She’s dehydrated and malnourished. And this fucking heat isn’t helping.”

            You bit your lip, not wanting to point out to Sayyed how deathly she looked. Her eyes were closed & her breathing was shallow. You were unsure if she was sleeping, or even aware of the conversation happening around her.

            “What else can we do?” Bear questioned, “Everything I got today is gonna help, it just might take some time.”

            “She doesn’t have time.” Sayyed forced out, his voice strained as he placed a damp cloth on her forehead. “I can keep forcing her drink the liquid IV’s & to take the vitamins but…”

            It was too late…

            But was it?

            You glanced from Sayyed to Bear, gesturing to the hallway. Bear frowned at you but followed you out. He closed the door quietly behind him.

            “What is it?”

            “There’s another option.” Your voice shook as you even dared to think about it, “It’d take longer but it’s our best chance. Nuha’s best chance.”

            Bear said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

            You licked your lips, fearful of his reaction to your suggestion, “Adrianna. When we left base, Tobias loaded us up on basic medical care shit. Real IV’s. With hook-ups & everything. Adrianna has all of it.”

            “_____...” Bear lowered his head, knowing exactly where you were heading.

            “Just hear me out.” You stopped him before he could deter you, “We leave tonight. You go back to the health nut’s house, I’ll backtrack. Find them.”

            “Find Rafe?” Bear shook his head, “No, no. That’s a shitty idea.”

            “Not Rafe, Adrianna. We need her. Nuha needs her.”

            “It’d take you days to get back there, _____. Not hours, days.”

            “I know.” You nodded, “But I won’t stop. Not even for a brief water break. I’ll just keep running until I get there.”

            “Look, under other circumstances, I’d support it. But Rafe is unhinged. It’s been a month since we saw them, they could be long gone by now. It’d be a wasted effort.”

            “No.” You shook your head. Rafe wouldn’t leave the lakehouse with all that it had. Everything you guys needed would be there, & he wouldn’t pack everything up just to move again. You felt strongly on the fact that they would still be there. “They’ll be there.”

            “And how do you know that?”

            Because he said I could find him. But you didn’t say anything, “I just know him. And, if it’s me who goes, he may let me take Adrianna.”

            Bear shook his head, leaning against the wall to contemplate your words, “And if he doesn’t? Then we lose you & Nuha.”

            “Just trust me, Bear.”

            “I do. What I’m saying is I don’t trust him.” Bear frowned, “He’s a liar, _____. A murderer. Who knows how far gone he is now.”

            “We have to try.” Your voice cracked as you tried to keep it low, “We have to.”

            Bear stared hard at you, his lips pursed. Then he shook his head, “Okay. We’ll go. You head for them, I’ll go back to the house, see what else I can find.”

            “Thank you, Bear!” You hugged him & he returned it half-heartedly.

            “But we don’t tell Sayyed.”

            What?

            “You & I both know he won’t let you leave if he knows you’re going to Rafe. It’s best we just tell him you’re coming with me to the health nut house.”

            You didn’t want to lie to Sayyed, but Bear was right. Sayyed would never take a risk that involved Rafe.

            “Go get packed. I’ll let him know what we’re doing.”

            Taking Bear’s advice, you leaped down the stairs to head to your bedroom. You quickly changed out of your loose fitting pj’s & into an outfit that would be fit for the couple day hike back tracking. Once you were all changed, you went into the kitchen to stock up on a few water bottles, the little snack foods you all had, & a couple items from a med kit.

            Bear joined you in the kitchen shortly after in a change of clothes & his own gear.

            “Got everything you’re gonna need?”

            “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

            As you too finished gathering your things together, Bear led the way out. You two walked alongside one another towards the pond where you two would split off.

            “What’d Sayyed say?”

            Bear shrugged, “Not much. He’s scared. But he didn’t argue. Just said to be fast.”

            You nodded, “And what are you going to tell him when you return tomorrow night without me?”

            Bear gave a half-hearted laugh, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead but don’t worry about it. Just get Adrianna back here, without Rafe.” 

            You winced internally. You knew better than to think you could bring Adrianna back & only Adrianna. But Rafe did have a soft spot for you. Hopefully he’d let you two go. Alone.

            “Be safe, Bear.” You turned to him. Bear ruffled the hair at the top of your head, “You, too. And if you’re not back by the time you should be…”

            “Don’t come looking for me.” You told him.

            Bear said nothing but you saw it in his eyes. He wouldn’t. He too wouldn’t risk bringing Rafe to where you all escaped to.

            “We’ll see you soon.”

            “Yeah.”

            Hugging once more, you split off. Bear heading west, & you south.

            A full moon hung over the woods as you stared into the dark depths of them. There was no going back, you reminded yourself. Nuha needed Adrianna. And you wouldn’t stop until you got to her. Rafe be damned.

            Your body was aching, desperate to take a break, but you pushed forward. Time you had little of & there was a lot of backtracking to do. You were glad you have kept track of your movements with a map, sure that you were heading towards the lakehouse. The escape from it by car had been roughly two hours, but on foot, it’d take you over a day. The only time you would stop would be to sleep for a couple hours, then you’d be taking off again.

            But ultimately, the trek was easy, if not tiring & stressful. You didn’t have time to think of a real plan to get Adrianna back. After all, Bear was right. It’d been another month since you had seen everyone & Rafe along with the others could’ve likely grown worse. His soft spot towards you may have hardened indefinitely. And if you appeared, there would be no guarantee to how he would react or treat you. You were taking a major risk. But you told yourself that if you felt deep in your gut that you couldn’t trust him, or them, then you would not be leading them back to where the rest of you were hidden out at. Even if it meant never returning again yourself. But you had to try, for Nuha.

            Your couple hour nap in the woods had been restless, sleep never fully coming for you. But once it began to get just a little brighter out, you decided to finish the rest of the trip as quickly as possible to prevent yourself from overheating in the summer sun. If you were reading the map right, you were within ten miles of the lakehouse. You’d be there by midday. So, you hiked your backpack further up your shoulder & moved quickly.

            When you reached the lake, you took to the woods. Not wanting to approach from the access road. You wanted to get a view of the lakehouse before moving closer, to even see if anyone was still there. As you stayed hidden along the trees by the shore, you slowly came near to the lakehouse. You crouched, peering through the bush to observe. At first, it looked totally abandoned. There was no movement from inside or outside the house. But as you crawled closer, you did spot a truck. Rafe’s truck.

            You swallowed. They had to be here. Rafe wouldn’t leave his truck behind.

            You weren’t one for religious practices, but you took just a moment to pray to a god, any god, to please make sure you’d be okay, that you’d succeed in recruiting Adrianna, & that you would make it back to Nuha in time.

            Just as you were standing up, preparing to step out & make yourself known to anyone who may be nearby, you heard a twig snap directly behind you, making you freeze.

            “Who the fuck are you?”

            You cautiously raised your hands, showing that you were not a danger. But you didn’t dare look behind you.

            The person behind you stepped closer, & you didn’t mistake the feel of the muzzle of a gun getting pressed against your shoulder blade.

            “I said ‘who the fuck are you’?” You didn’t recognize the voice though. This was bad.

            You fluttered your eyes closed, licking your lips, “I’m here to see Adrianna.”

            “Adrianna?” The voice sounded suspicious, “How the fuck do you know Anna?”

            This person was calling her Anna, too?

            “We’re friends.” You replied softly, “At least I hope we are.”

            Slowly, the person behind you circled to your front, & you finally faced with the man who was holding a gun to you.

            You briefly recognized him as one of the men who was with Micah down by the shoreline that one day over a month ago. This was not a friend, not someone you could trust.

            The man was rugged, the bags under his eyes prominent. He looked you from head to toe, clearly untrusting of you. When he finally met your eyes again, he smirked haughtily, “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

            You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the butt of his gun came flying towards you. And the next thing you knew, you were swallowed by darkness.

i apologize in advance for the late update. there has been a lot on my plate in my personal life that i'm still currently dealing with, but i wanted to at least get this filler chapter in. it's a small one & pretty rushed tbh because my head wasn't fully in it, but i hope it is adequate.

as always, please share your thoughts w me via comments, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. they help more than you know.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

Requests are currently CLOSED.

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[sitp-recs]

hey liv!! my gf moves back home and away from me soon its been an emotional time in our household do you have any drarry recs that involve them long distancing/waiting for the other to come back to them ❤️‍🩹 thanks for all your work appreciate you !

I’m so sorry to hear that anon, sending hugs your way. It’s tough to navigate long-distance relationships but I know you guys will find your way back to each other soon enough ❤️‍🩹 I hope these recs can offer you some comfort:

Relic Radiation by @tackytigerfic (M, 1k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

On Your Way by @lqtraintracks (M, 2k)

Draco waits for Harry to return from an Auror mission.

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3k) - AU

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Litany by thistle_verse (M, 7k)

With the wizarding world on lockdown due to a magic-draining pandemic, Harry is stuck in Grimmauld Place, bored and alone—until the ghost of Draco Malfoy shows up to haunt him.

Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8k)

Draco is: a werewolf, living in a cabin in the woods, minding his own business, and never going to buy plaid because he's not that much of a fucking cliche (yet). He's also counting down the days until he sees Harry again.

i wake up falling, orphaned (M, 9k)

Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

‘Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

Sunseeker by @shiftylinguini (E, 15k)

Harry is a struggling writer. Namely, he is struggling with: writing his next book, dealing with his agent, finding a decent tea strainer, fielding his friend's concern over the aforementioned book, and figuring out who the cat loitering in his garden belongs to. He also has a slight liking-Malfoy problem. Okay, he has a massive liking-Malfoy problem.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Just Give Me a Reason by sassy_cissa (E, 24k)

It's easy to misunderstand a situation when you're in the same country – when your new boyfriend is thousands of miles away, it's nearly impossible. Toss in an unexpected pregnancy, an ex-boyfriend and The Prophet with its exaggerations and it's no wonder Draco is confused.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Tapestry by @kbrick (E, 91k)

This is a love story that isn't perfect, about two people whose timing is never quite right, and all the moments that come together to make something extraordinarily beautiful anyway.

[lexi-the-demon-69]

Tell us more about dad-bod Dark Choco, please! I gotta know how our boy is healing now that the COD have been divorced from his life.

I'd love to! He's from my first ever CRK AU "A New Life" which was made around when episode 14 was released. It's basically a continuation of Dark Choco's story and how he heals from his trauma.

So, after Dark Choco leaves his sword and old life behind, he decides to live in the woods for the rest of his days. He soon settles down right by a little creek with a waterfall and builds himself a nice, cozy cabin. His little cabin is far away from the Dark Cacao Kingdom and is settled near the Cookie Kingdom for convenience if he ever decides to go into town, which is quite rare.

Thanks to the Strawberry Jam Sword, Dark Choco has vowed to never pick up a sword ever again for the sake of his own safety, and now uses only a spear, along with a bow and arrow for hunting. He is still very skilled in hand-to-hand combat, though he is a little rusty with his archery skills. (Haha bad eyesight go brr.)

During his time in solitude, Dark Choco starts picking up some hobbies and habits that he never knew he had or never tried. Such as gardening, sewing, and napping... a lot. He's a big napper, since, well, that's what you get when you stay up for days on end. Not to mention nutrition. Choco was either starved or never given a proper diet so he was never able to eat the kind of stuff he liked/needed. Now that he's away from his old kingdom and COD, he can now eat whatever and whenever he wants! However... doesn't really help his pants line, does it? Yeah, the poor guy has packed on some extra dough and his dad can and will tease him about it.

Speaking of which, after his son left his homeland again, Dark Cacao has been desperately searching for him. Not to punish him for his crimes... but to apologize to him, properly. As Dark Cacao reflected on the past, he soon realized that he was not a great father... at all, and the apology he gave to Dark Choco was not one he truly deserved. So, he searches for his son day and night whenever he gets the chance, just to tell him he's sorry.

Long story short, Dark Cacao finds Dark Choco's cabin after months of searching and apologizes to him. Dark Choco simply says that he doesn't need to apologize and he already forgives him, after he showed him how much time he put into finding him. Dark Cacao asks if he would like to come home and they could start over, fresh, but Dark Choco declines. Stating that he isn't ready to come home... just, not yet. He still needs some time to heal properly before he can face the kingdom again. Dark Cacao accepts this and now, once a month, he visits his son to repair their relationship and to catch up after being apart for so long.

Later, Dark Choco finds and rescues Parfait Cookie after she is attacked by cake monsters. Parfait is initially scared of him until he reassures her that he means no harm. (he saves her before he gets the dad bod UwU) After this, Parfait goes out of her way to see Choco, soon becoming his friend and now girlfriend after Dark Cacao reads Parfait's love letter out loud in front of them during a visit on Valentine's Day. (Dark Choco also liked her too long before this happened-)

-----

That's about it, really. I had a lot of fun making this AU and to think that this AU actually predicted the future.- I must be a psychic-

(Also, if you guys wanna see more dad bod Choco, please let me know!)

[blueiscoool]

Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures

Tom Askjem is a time traveler. Every May to November, he disappears into the bowels of the earth, descends to depths of 13’-plus, and returns to the surface with treasure—bottles and glassware from farming’s past.

After 1,800 pits and hundreds of thousands of relics, Askjem is equal parts archeologist, thrill seeker, and mole. Muscle on dirt, the North Dakota farm boy has turned an addiction into a career, multiple books, and a captivating YouTube channel with millions of views. However, Askjem seeks more than glass.

“I’m digging for adventure, history, and love,” he says. The past is in these holes and there are countless numbers of them across farmland.”

Time to hunt with a master.

The Infection

On the flats of extreme eastern North Dakota’s Traill County, Askjem, 32, prepares for a dig trip. “No mountains and no hills in the Red River Valley,” he describes. “You can see your dog run away for days. The land is mostly featureless, other than a few big cottonwoods and shelter belts where farms used to be.”

A mop of blonde hair sits atop a 6’-tall, lanky frame as Askjem saddles his pony—a Honda Civic. At the current mileage rate, the Civic will be junkyard fodder before it has a scratch: 60,000 backroad miles added to the odometer in the past six months.

Askjem piles layers of gear into the trunk, including three of each tool for insurance: shovels, pronged garden forks, trampoline pads, probe rods, buckets, plastic scoopers, trowels, tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, air mattresses, clothes, and waterproof, Redwing leather work boots.

“It never gets old,” he says, wearing a wide grin. “I caught the infection when I was a kid.”

Digging Bodies

Pushed from the Grand Forks area by the historic Red River flood of 1997, Askjem moved to a farm outside Buxton at six years young. The main property was an 1878 homestead—a progression from sod house to log cabin to the present standing 1898 farmhouse decked in Victorian-era woodwork and hardware.

Surrounded by history, including the skeletons of old wagons and rusting machinery, Askjem explored a 5-acre patch of woods on the property, and chanced on a garbage dump: pop bottles and trash.

Askjem dug.

“I went deep and found stuff going back to 1898. When you’re a kid living in the country, there’s no going down the street and there’s no hanging with friends to play video games—you make your own adventure. I started hitting up all the farmers I could find for leads.”

Behind the wheel of a rattling go-cart, Askjem sought Buxton old-timers and collected tips on abandoned houses. “They all helped me,” he says. “Nobody cared where I hunted because I was just a little kid exploring for all the right reasons.”

“I’ve still got an elementary school journal with an assignment describing my weekend,” he adds. “I wrote, ‘Me and Mom dug up old bodies.’ The teacher marked my paper out of concern,” Askjem describes, with an easy, deep chuckle. “I meant to spell bottles, not bodies. But it shows I was truly hooked.”

Indeed. Wonderfully hooked.

Soft Landing

Why are bottles buried under farmland and old house sites?

Prior to plastic and synthetics, glassware held everything: medicine, hygiene products, alcohol, soda, and beyond. Glass was it.

Additionally, prior to waste disposal services, homeowners discarded trash on-site—in back yard outhouses, trash depressions, burn pits, and wells or cisterns. In short time, the various ground receptacle spots were filled and forgotten.

“Let’s say, for example, a family moved in around 1880,” Askjem explains. “That site likely has two or three outhouse locations prior to World War l. The outhouse spots filled up at a rate according to family size. I dug one farmhouse site that had six outhouses in a 10-year span. Folks went into the outhouses and threw away bottles: medicine, opiates, beer, whiskey. It was convenient and private, and had a soft landing, and got covered quickly. Even now, the bottles often are still preserved.”

“Generally, these houses also had a burn pit and/or dump pit. In the early days, they burned all trash in the stove for heat. Also, homestead bucket wells were filled up with trash and bottles once they were replaced by pump wells. Cisterns also were eventually filled up, but most of those are associated with houses in town.”

And the sites remain, he emphasizes, hiding intact relics beyond the reach of farm machinery or tillage equipment.

X Marks the Spot

Location. Location. Location. Other than a tip or invitation, how does Askjem find dig sites?

X marks the spot, at least in the county courthouse or public library. He spends winters poring over early property transaction documents. “I look at lot sales. If several lots sold for $100 each in 1880, but one sold for $1,000 in 1885, the price climb tells the story and likely represents a building location.”

“I also read old newspaper archives, looking for hotel or business advertisements,” Askjem continues. “Then I can look up the proprietor’s name and keep tightening the scope, narrowing down the exact building location.”

“Every single house is different, but generally, in the countryside, outhouses were 30 paces out the back door. In the city, where most lots were 140’ long, outhouses could be as close as 5-10 paces.”

Confident of a site’s potential, Askjem first asks for permission to dig from the landowner. “Property owners are always so kind to me and I don’t hide anything I find. They’re curious about what is in the ground, just like anybody else.”

Second, he grids out the site. “I put down markers 2 paces apart, maybe 20 paces long. I push probe rods into ground and feel for compaction differences. Depending on the location, I’ll call in and have utility lines marked out for power and gas.”

Decked in Levi’s and a tank-top, it’s time to tunnel.

Claustrophobic Comfort

Shovel in hand, Askjem descends into a layer cake of dirt: black topsoil to brown-colored clay to telltale ash to a use layer containing treasure.

“Generally, I go deep to find old items in quantity. The earliest bottles were used to the last drop by farmers and thrown out empty. Therefore, when they froze in brutal Dakota winters, the glass didn’t break from liquid expansion.”

As Askjem extracts glass vessels from the dirt and grime, his encyclopedic knowledge registers with each find. He recognizes the type, manufacturer, and age. Ink bottles, hygiene bottles, medicine bottles, beer bottles, soda bottles—and far more spill from the holes.

“I find patented medicine bottles across the country, but my favorite are soda bottles because they are unique to their locale and have character. The old soda bottles are usually marked with the bottler and town name because they were returnable.”

The outhouse pits are typically 6’-deep at home sites, with an average size of 6’-by-4’-by-3’. “I’ve dug ghost towns, dug saloons, train depots, and pool halls that were 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 8’ deep. I remember a hotel pit that was 20’-by-20’ and 8’ deep. There was a military fort with pits behind the barracks that was 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 13.5’ deep: That was a week’s worth of digging.”

Askjem’s subterranean realm provides no comfort to the claustrophobic. At 8’-9’, he braces the holes with woodwork. “I’m in a solid clay base that doesn’t cave, but I have a healthy respect for the ground’s limitation. Sometimes, it looks like I’m digging a rabbit hole.”

Preserved in nature’s freezer, the artifacts unearthed by Askjem often are in phenomenal condition.

“Pieces of newspaper can still be read; bottle labels are legible; white lime used in decomposition is visible; and undigested seeds are everywhere. Even 120-year-old human waste sometimes is perfectly preserved and still smells like hell. I wear a hydrogen sulfide respirator in those cases.”

“It’s all there; almost like it was dropped yesterday.”

Ghosts in the Ground

In 2022, Askjem began chronicling his digs via a YouTube channel, Below the Plains, and soon captured millions of views. At two posts per week, he gins footage at a steady rate to feed the algorithm, a tough task considering the ground in his geography is frozen from mid-November to mid-May.

Additionally, Askjem has written two in-depth books (Nebraska Soda Bottles 1865-1930 and A History of North Dakota Bottling Operations 1879-1930) and has more on the way. “I put the bottle prices in the books because they can sell for a whole lot and I always tell the landowners. Listing prices draw criticism, but that’s important to me because it helps preserve the item, and preservation of history is what drives me.”

Covered in dust or mud at the end of each day in digging season, Askjem is highly respectful of what he finds—almost reverent after 1,800 digs. “I appreciate everything I uncover because it represents a part of someone’s daily life and existence. There’s nothing wrong with coveting bottles, but I’m really in those holes for the moment of discovery.”

Even when not digging, Askjem is on the move, surfing on the coasts or river diving for lost cargo. In the decades to come, will he continue burrowing into the past? “Twenty years from now, I hope I’m still digging and there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now.”

“There’s not an infinite amount of lost bottle sites, but there’s certainly an incredibly high number,” he continues. “There were 300,000 homestead farms in North Dakota with a minimum of one well, one outhouse, and one trash dump. And that doesn’t include towns where most of the population lived. There are millions of these sites in North Dakota and far more in other states.”

Respect to a freewheeling hunter like no other. Bottles draw the eye, but ghosts draw the heart: “The moment never gets old when you uncover a bottle and find that history,” Askjem adds. “Never.”

By CHRIS BENNETT.

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 8

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, grief

Series Masterlist

a/n: Thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @write-and-buried for their advice and reassurance on this one. ❤

--

The first time it happened, it was by accident. 

Loath to leave your warmth; one hand fisted in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other one curled around your hip to guide your movements in your straddle on his lap. The afternoon sun spilled in through the windows, dust motes floating through the shafts of light as you rode him and when you came, you tipped your head back with a strained, breathless moan. 

His eyes fixated on the image of your angelically erotic pose, he emptied himself inside you, filling you up until there was nothing left to give. 

The next time was an accident too. 

Finally ready to harvest some of the vegetables you’d been nurturing for months, you grasped the first stalk and pulled, brushing off the dirt delicately when it came free from the ground. You handed it to him, unadulterated pride shown clear on his face and his smile beamed so big you caught a glimpse of his rarely seen dimple. 

Tears had already begun to water your vision, slipping free when you saw his smile and he stood to pull you up so he could wrap his arms around you in a tight, unrelenting hug. His thumbs and his mouth brushed away the hot trails on your cheeks and you feasted that night, both on your new found riches and each other.

Bellies full of fresh produce and celebrating your hard earned success, he fucked you on the living room floor, with your mouth open and pleading for him as your tailbone rubbed against the carpet with every thrust. His need more intense than usual, his groan was hoarse when he came faster than he could pull out; his eyesight fading black around the edges with a spill as endless as the praise he panted into your ear. 

When he was done he stayed put, a comforting, solid weight on top of you and his lips peppered kisses along your hairline, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your mouth - everywhere he could reach. 

The third time however, wasn’t.

The days too hot to do anything but swim, you hung onto his shoulders and pressed your soft lips against his own until he all but dragged you up to the bank of the river, covering you with his chilled, damp body. You begged him for it then, begged him to fill you up as you sobbed with fullness, your knees hitched high along his ribs. Your hands grasped the swell of his ass to push him in deeper, his own knees streaked in dirt after he gave you what you wanted and his spend was slick and hot where it leaked out, smearing on his stomach when you wound your legs around him to pull him down for a kiss. 

You each knew the consequences of what you were doing. Neither of you acknowledged it though - you kept going because it felt good and right and with so little in the world that felt like that, you took what you could. 

Summer months slipped by as you slowly explored the woods around you, checking the other cabins one by one. Untouched for years, they held caches of canned food and clothes, outdated sunscreen and furniture thick with dust. Moth bitten beach towels, an indoor herb garden turned greenhouse that had consumed half a kitchen. Rotted curtains, limp baseball hats, forgotten gardening gloves. A deflated inner tube that you brought back and filled up manually just to spend the day floating on the water. 

One held a stash of wine that was so vast it took three trips to haul all of the bottles back to your own cabin, and though you knew absolutely nothing about wine, you couldn’t stop the excited yelp that escaped from your mouth when you found it. 

Scavengers, you ignored the pictures on the walls as you raided room by room, taking whatever you liked. Making it through seven cabins in total, you covered miles of woods; your book collection doubled, every shed picked apart for useful tools and supplies. 

Careful not to uncover the cabins more than you needed lest the structures be seen by anyone else, so far, you hadn’t had to worry about that. Joel still kept the traps up and running, still checked them every single day and locked up every night, but the immediate threat of another human being was starting to feel like a distant memory. As if time had paused when you found this cabin, the outside world disappearing when you first stepped off the path. 

The weeks went by quickly in a hot, humid daze and every night ended the same: with you curled up next to him, your bodies sweating on top of the sheets. 

–

You’d kill for a fan. 

Not even asking for air conditioning because to be honest, you were never really a fan of artificially cooled air (too cold), you want a fan desperately. Just something to move the stagnant air around, to relieve the thick, damp press of humidity that coats your skin. It envelopes you, your shirt stuck to the small of your back and you pick at it, giving it a quick shake in an attempt to dry it out. 

Joel is just as sweaty – his cotton shirt clinging to his back, dark with sweat along his spine and under his arms and you watch as the fabric molds and shifts over his muscles as he strong-arms the cabin door open. Stepping through into the shadows, his hand is bathed in light as it reaches back for you and pulls you into the dark depths, your flashlight ready. 

“At least it’s a little less hot in here, I guess.” You kick a stack of faded, dust coated magazines on the floor and he sighs, setting his pack down. 

“Yea,” he agrees, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. “I’m gonna live in the water when we get back. Sleep outside, half submerged.”

“Ooh, can I join you?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows and he huffs a quiet laugh behind you as you make your way into the kitchen. 

The first place you check in every cabin, you pick apart the cabinets looking for food while he combs through the bathroom looking for first aid supplies and medicine. All finds to be stacked on the floor in the living room, the two of you make quick work of it, too hot to linger. 

Rummaging through the dresser in the main bedroom, you check the sizes of socks and underwear – something you’re always in short supply of – and when you find a silky scrap of fabric buried beneath them, you pause. A more delicate piece of clothing than you’ve seen in a long time, your roughened hands caress the slippery negligee when you lift it from the drawer. The fabric catches on the pads of your fingers, the sensation making you frown and hesitating just for a moment while looking in the direction of the door, you fold it gently and put it directly in your bag, tucking it away.

He calls out to you when he’s done, and after dividing up the pile, your packs are substantially heavier when you start your walk back. 

Leaning forward slightly under the weight, you feel sweat glide down the line of your neck and you wipe it away, grimacing. 

“Do you ever think about what people would find if they raided your house?” you ask. 

Every single time you enter a cabin, you think about it. You can’t remember what state you even left your place in: not your original one, nor your apartment in the QZ. You assume they have given the latter away to another person who needs it; the thought not bothering you at all. 

He huffs, shaking his head. “A messy house, I guess.” 

“Same,” you reply. 

The moss below your feet muffling your steps, you each sit in your own head for a moment before you continue. 

“Have you ever thought about going back? You know, to like, get stuff? Or to just…see it?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, it would be nice to have some pictures I guess, but other than that…I don’t think I would want to.”

“So you’ve never tried it?” you ask, looking over at him.

“No,” he replies, his eyebrows raising. “Have you?”

You shake your head. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t really have anything there.” Your thumbs hook in the straps of your backpack, your eyes staying down. “I feel like it would be too sad, you know? Like, in my mind, I feel like I would want to stay, thinking of it as my home and a place I would be safe, but I know that’s not true anymore. It would be…depressing.”

He nods, understanding. 

“Besides, I used to want to go back a lot more, but now I kinda…think of this as my new home. Everything I want is here.”

The confession slips out, the heat of the late afternoon muddling your thoughts and making you too tired to stop the words before you say them and as soon as you realize, you try to hide the vulnerability showing clear on your face by gesturing to the woods. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and you sneak a look over at him to find him looking back at you. Sunlight plays across his features, catching on the ends of his dark curls lifted in the humidity and the corner of his mouth tilts up.

“Yea,” he agrees. “Me too.”

Reaching for your hand to squeeze it, your palm sticks to his, tacky with sweat, but he still holds tight when you lace your fingers together. 

–

“Do you ever think about what people would find if they raided your house?”

His answer sounded indifferent at the time, but the thought bothered him more than he let on. It’s not so much the idea of his stuff being taken or rifled through because to be honest, he can’t even really remember what all was there. 

It’s the space being invaded by a stranger. Sarah’s room, in particular.

Someone rifling through her drawers, or sitting down on her bed. Someone taking the things he gave her - the idea of it constricts his chest, and he frowns, methodically checking the traps one at a time, wanting to get it over with before going for a swim. 

His dark curls stick to his forehead, his fingers pushing wearily through them with a scratch as he walks the perimeter of the cabin and her bedroom floats into his mind: the purple bedspread, the butterflies on the walls. The faded image is hazy around the edges and he’s not even sure he has it right, but the ache he feels is reminiscent of the one he felt briefly when you walked into the cabin the other day excited to show him something you pulled from the garden. 

Your smile and enthusiasm reminds him so much of her sometimes it hurts. 

The longer he stays here with you, the more it eats at him that he hasn’t told you about her yet. Never anything he wanted to share with anyone, he finds there is little that he doesn’t want to share with you now – save for this. 

Of this, he hasn’t spoken about in ten years. 

Of this, he still feels the weight of failure etched into his very bones. 

Of this, it still threatens to drown him some days in grief, if not for the way he’s buried it all down deep. 

Allowing himself to feel with you and slowly uncovering the pieces of himself that he had long since given up on, the burden of her memory weighs heavier on him every day that he’s here. It feels wrong that he hasn’t told you about her, as both a betrayal of her memory, but also of your trust. 

He tugs on a trap, making sure the ropes are snug in place and still thinking about you, his long buried grief and anger at someone rifling through Sarah’s room transfers to you and your things. The bookshelf next to your bed crammed with dog eared books, the plants along the windowsill in the kitchen, the stack of ten year old gossip magazines that you keep next to the couch for when you want to laugh at the trivial matters people used to care so much about. 

Your worn, cotton bedsheets decorated with delicate rosebuds. 

He wonders if your home looked anything like the spaces you’ve set up in the cabin. A cozy warmth radiating from your scattered belongings, some people might be bothered by them but he likes it. Similar to his own house once upon a time, it makes the space feel lived in; warm, inviting. 

The idea of someone finding this place and entering it, going through your things to take what they want – he knows it’s hypocritical to be upset about it, but a wave of rage pierces through his thoughts and he kneels, ignoring the call of the water to double check the trap in front of him. 

He clenches his jaw; Sarah’s bedspread and your plants lingering in his mind. 

–

“You okay?” you ask later that night, after glancing at his far away expression for the hundredth time. He’s been quiet since he got back, near silent during dinner and you can see the churning waters of his mind under the surface of his eyes. 

“Yea, I’m fine.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and leaves it at that. 

He still seems distracted when he comes to bed, grabbing his book from the nightstand to sit propped against the headboard to read, and when you put your own book down and roll onto your side to close your eyes, he reaches to turn out the light and follows suit. He’s still for a while and then scoots closer, the warmth of his body felt from behind you as the bed dips slightly. His touch trails along the curve of your shoulder, following the length of your arm. There is no intention to it, nothing he’s initiating. A soothing, yet restless drag of his fingers along your skin and he’s wide awake, you can tell from the thrum of energy between your bodies in the dark. 

You open your eyes, rolling to face him and reaching to touch the curve of his cheek. 

“You okay?”

He takes in your face for a moment, his dark eyes drifting over your features. “I’ve been thinking about what you asked me earlier. About going back to see my old place.”

You shift, bending your arm to tuck it under your pillow. “You change your mind? You want to?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to go back because…” he stalls, letting out a breath. His jaw shifts subtly, and you wait, watching his face. 

“I had a daughter.”

The statement hangs suspended between the two of you, and not wanting to speak until you know for sure that he’s done, you stay silent.

“Her name was Sarah.” He frowns slightly when he says it out loud, like he’s in pain and his hand slips off your arm and down to rest in front of him on the bed. You follow it, placing your hand over his. “That’s who I would want a picture of.” 

“You don’t have any?”

He shakes his head slowly, his gaze unfocused. He smiles ruefully in the dark. “There was this one she kept in her room - I can still see it. The two of us, my hand over her eyes just jokin’ around and the smile on her face is –' His voice falters for a moment, and he stops, clearing his throat. The sheen of his wet eyes glimmers in the darkness. “She had a killer smile. You would’ve loved it.”

“I bet I would have,” you reply softly. 

His expression darkens, and your thumb sweeps across his skin. “I don’t think I could handle seeing her room, ya know?” 

His eyes meet yours, open and honest. “That thing you were saying earlier, about people going through your house? I know they’ve probably done it to mine and I don’t – I don’t think I could take seeing her stuff like that. Scattered, or destroyed. Rotted.”

A tear slips free, sliding through the creases lining the outside of his eye. “I wanna preserve the memory of her in that room. Sitting on her bed, listening to music or doing her homework…I don’t wanna see it empty.”

The sight of him crying makes your own vision blur, and you squeeze your hand in reassurance. 

“Of course,” you whisper. “God, of course you wouldn’t want to see that. I am so sorry I brought that up, Joel. I had no idea.”

“I don’t talk about her, so you wouldn’t know.” 

His words are quiet, yet definitive and ridden with guilt and he clears his throat, letting out a deep, shaky breath. You stroke his temple with your thumb, and he lets his eyes close, focusing on your touch. 

���How old was she, when she…” you don’t say the word, and he takes another breath, answering you.

“Fourteen.”

“How —,” you start, and then you stop yourself, giving him time to answer if he wants. He seems like he wants to, seems still agitated like there is something held inside that needs to come out and you wait, giving him time. 

“She died…the day of the outbreak. I tried to get her from the house when everything went to shit and she — she got hurt. I was carryin’ her, because she couldn’t walk and then…the soldiers that were going around in all the cities? I begged ‘em not to do it, but they shot anyway and I couldn’t –”

Another tear slips free, darkening his pillow case and he closes his eyes for a moment with a frown before opening them again. “I couldn’t do anything. Nothin’ but hold her and beg my brother to help me.” 

Realization hits you, your chest flooding with sorrow. “That’s the dream, isn’t it? When you call for Tommy.”

He nods, and you immediately reach for him, gathering him in your arms. 

He comes willingly, seeking out your embrace and the collar of your sleep shirt dampens against your skin as you stroke the crown of his hair. He’s a near silent crier, deep breaths taken in the crook of your neck as his wet eyelashes brush over your skin and he lets everything run out; his hands clutching you tightly. His arms tightening around you, you lay there and soothe him, saying nothing while your mind processes what he told you. 

You can’t imagine that type of pain. 

Not only to not only lose a child, but in that way. No wonder he was so closed off. 

The thing he loved the most - a kind of love you can’t even comprehend - violently taken from him the day the world ended and the path of the Joel Miller that came after sharpens, growing clearer in your mind. A brutal shell of a person, hardened by everything that’s happened. 

You’re still thinking about it when he lifts his head, apologizing for getting your shirt wet. 

“Hey,” you softly reprimand him, “don’t. You don’t — “ you start, and then his own words come to you. “You don’t gotta be tough here with me. I got you.”

He lifts the corner of his mouth at your impersonation of him, and you give him your own matching, small smile. 

“I mean it.” Your face slips into something more solemn, and you cup his whiskered cheek in your hand. He chases the warmth of it, leaning into your touch. “Listen to me. You didn’t do nothing, okay?”

He meets your gaze with an intensity of his own, and you keep going. 

“You said you didn’t do anything, and that’s not true, Joel. It’s not true.” He waits, and you continue in a hush. “You held her.”

His face softens, and another tear glides down his cheek. 

“You carried her and held her and even though you were scared — I can’t imagine how scared you were — you tried to protect her and then you held her. You couldn’t stop what happened and it’s not your fault, Joel. You did the best you could do.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

Your own tears well up and slide free, your hand making sure his attention is on you. 

“It was, baby. It was.”

The endearment slips from your lips and he doesn’t question it, instead just looking at you for a moment before pushing forward to seek out your mouth with his own. You help him, pulling him in for a kiss as his plush, soft lips fit with yours, his mouth damp from his tears yet hungry for your taste and comfort.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tilting your mouth to deepen the kiss. “Tell me how to help.” Another kiss, another. “You want this? Want me?”

He nods, his nose brushing against yours and kisses you again, shifting to lay the weight of his body on top of yours. You make room for him between your thighs, your hands running down his back and the smooth, strong lines of it flex under your touch, a groan rumbling through his chest when you drag your nails lightly over his skin. 

“You’re so sweet. You taste so good,” he breathes into you between kisses, his hand reaching down to tug at the waist of your sleep shorts and you help him, pushing them down and off. Reaching between your bodies and slipping your hand under the band of his briefs, you find the hardening, warm heft of him and give him a firm couple of strokes. His hips chase your fist as he thickens in your palm and he rocks himself against you a couple times before lifting his own hips to shove them down. 

Unburdened, he gets hungrier, his hands helping yours as you tug at his shirt and then your own, the threadbare material of both tossed onto the floor. You want to feel every inch of him, pulling him down to you until he’s fit himself to your body, his skin feverishly flush against yours. His stiff cock fits along your slick seam, sliding through your folds when he rolls his hips against yours again, and again. 

“I want you,” you tell him, guiding his mouth to your own. “Let me make you feel good. I want to make you feel better.”

“You do, honey. You do.” Moving his lips to the edge of your mouth and then over the curve of your jaw, he licks along the hollow just under your ear before pressing a kiss there. “You always make me feel good. You make everything feel good.”

Your touch becomes almost frantic at his admission, the need to carve out a space for him inside your chest or merge your bodies into one or take his face into your hands and tell him until he understands just how much you would do anything for him. How much he means to you, how much you owe him. How much you want to protect him just as much as he protects you. 

He meets your urgency, his hands bracing themselves on the bed around your shoulders before he reaches down to line himself up, and you whine into his mouth when he notches himself against the dip of your entrance and slides in, filling you full. 

He breaks the kiss, his hips already starting a weighted rock. “Fuck, honey. Fuck.”

“Oh my God.” He usually gives you more time than this to get ready for him, usually uses his fingers and his tongue, and a tight fit, your jaw clenches as he makes room for himself, burying deep. “Joel.”

His mouth covers yours with a groan, drinking down the whimpers you let out with every push of his hips forward and you swallow every one of his, every grunt, every push of hot, humid air onto your tongue. His bicep strains under your knee when he hooks his arm under your leg to pull it up, first one and then the other, and he’s got you spread so wide underneath him between his deep thrusts and his solid body that you cry out for him, digging your nails into his hips for purchase. 

“You’re gonna make me come quick, honey. So quick –” he pants, his hips pounding into the cradle of your thighs. “And I don’t even care because you feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

“Do it,” you encourage him, the words sliding into a moan. “I want it. I want you to come inside.”

“Yea?” he asks, his hand wrapping around your calve to tug your leg higher, resting it over his thick shoulder. Turning his head to the side, he presses a lingering kiss there, his breath washing over your skin and your mouth drops open at how deep he is. “You want it inside?”

“Please. Please,” you chant, helping him guide your other leg to rest on his shoulder and when he lets the weight of his body push you deeper into the mattress, you’re near bent in half, taking everything he needs to give. It’s a lot – too much, you’re going to feel it tomorrow – but you don’t care. 

“I’m gonna – I gotta do it harder, honey, because I’m –” he spits out the words, groaning midway through when he feels you start to clamp down around him. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. So tight for me.”

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you whine, the heat building between your hips flooding through your limbs and up through your breasts, where they press against his chest. Sweat glides between your bodies, and he moans louder at your admission, almost a growl of victory. “Make me come, I’m so close.”

The two of you move with single minded intensity; one of his hands fitting between your tailbone and the mattress to hit the angle just right, and your hips pushing up to meet his every punishing, weighted stroke down. 

He’s so thick, and filling, and heavy, your cunt so slick as he pushes in again, and again, and again, his mouth open in a pant above you with your knees almost at your shoulders and when you come with a sob, he buries himself deeper than he ever has with a weighted grind and does the same. 

The soft give of his belly jumps against yours, his throat stretched taut as he works in every last drop and when he finally relaxes over you, he’s gentle in his movements. His hands help your legs down – first one, then the other - and his mouth finds yours, giving you a kiss. Your legs find a home in a wind around his waist, your hold guiding him to lay on your chest and even though you could have killed for a fan earlier and still could, you keep him there. 

You nose along his sweat damp hairline, pressing a kiss on his slick temple and content, the two of you lay in silence; the only sound your shared, heavy breathing. 

His body melts on top of you, all taut agitation in his limbs gone as he pushes his arms underneath your back to hold you tight and you know he’s slipping into sleep by the way his breathing evens and slows under your palms. 

He’s still snug inside you, but you make no effort to move him. 

“Thank you for telling me about her,” you whisper to him, your fingers carding through his dark, unruly curls shot through with gray but you’re met with silence. 

Unburdened, he’s already fast asleep.

[holylottie]

Aching bones, aching teeth [03]

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — In 1996, they looked to you for answers that you pretended to know. In 2021, they looked to you for answers you didn't have.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Jackie brainrot, I miss the snow baby.

2021

Some nights, you used to stare at your dollhouse.

It was very big, with a garden, beds more comfortable than your own and even an attic (where no doll was allowed to go, but it mattered that it was there).

There was a doll with brown hair in the bed, she was always there, always warm and inside the place (you were not allowed to move her, not even if you truly wanted to).

Some nights, you would wake up and watch the dolls move on their own. A little Shauna walking around the kitchen, a tiny Van hopping the stairs. 

But little Jackie never moved, she always stayed where you let her: on the bed, on the blanket. You used to cry about it, now you enjoyed the sight: she was safe, she was warm and, most importantly of it all, she was out of your grip.

Staring at your ceiling, you wonder if this was on God’s plan. 

You remember the cold lonely nights, the sins and blessings. How Lottie would hug you closely or how Jackie would dry your tears with shaking hands. How everyone was so happy dancing, how Misty called you nice and hugged you so dearly.

Or how, on the first nights, you didn't even eat, only to leave more for Lottie, in case she felt hungry.

God treats everyone as sons. Wasn’t he the one to make the cross?

When you woke up from your memory, your fingers were stained with blood. Your belly was bloody too, with a few drops getting onto the bed below you. In your skin it was marked, again, the symbol of the trees.

1996

You walked over in Jackie's direction, seeing her alone in the cabin. You smile at her, seeing her trying to do the same, but not succeeding very well. You keep quiet, just doing your chores of cleaning berries and leaves by her side, hoping your presence would be enough.

— This is all so fucking weird — she said, a sour taste on her mouth as she looked at you doing your tasks — I wish I could just live like you all do, but it's all disgusting and too hot.

You giggle lowly, and she stares at you a bit mad, but then you both laugh. 

— I just pretend, actually — you confess — I pretend I'm in a vintage dollhouse and I need to leave like a barbie doll… except like the house is in the middle of nowhere, with only two ken’s and there's not even plastic food… 

At that, Jackie laughs loudly, shaking her head at your words.

— You truly know how to live in a fantasy world, tiq.

She called you the nickname she had given you when you entered the team, tiq because of the tic tac of a clock, since you would make the sound every time you were nervous —that and your crippling anxiety over routine and times, you always wanted everyone in the field at least fifteen minutes before the game started. 

— We need this, you know… there's no way of this working if we don't stay positive — you say, pressing your lips together as you put the good berries on a different cup, the bad ones on another so you could make jam or something like that — I put on ribbons and pretty dresses, and pretend I'm just going to a party on the woods… pretend I'm just… just the same.

Jackie walks over at you, sitting by your side and hugging you. She kisses your forehead, taking a deep breath. 

— You know… you could put some ribbons on my hair… 

Your eyes lighted up and you quickly put the cups on the bed, running to your bag and getting up a set of white ribbons, giggling as you sat behind Jackie, ready to doll her up. 

The first nights were okay, the other ones were bearable, but these? Oh, these were horrifying… Charlotte could not even grasp when or where it all changed, but what seemed to be a fun trip to the woods, where they forgot all of their resources, turned into a fulltime nightmare, where not even sleeping she was free… Perhaps, she just had finally stopped being able to fool herself. 

What made it possible for her to not lose herself to madness was the lake. A place where she was reborn —and washed away from her sins.

No, not all her sins, she was still alive after all.

Where to go when you are lost on yourself?

That’s right, you stay stuck —and thats what she felt, floating on the cold water of the river, wishing for things to change. Just wishing and wishing with nothing happening.

Charlotte always tried her best to help people out, to make the tragedies that she felt turn into something useful, but to no avail, no one ever listened to what she had to warn.

“Why do you insist on saving the sacrificial lamb, Charlotte?”

Well, don't all living things deserve a chance to live? 

Half of Lottie wanted to take the lamb upon her arms and watch it grow into a pretty sheep. The other half was ready to lick its bones.

Lottie loved the gray skies way more than people seemed to love those orange-pink sunsets. She pictured the Gods watching over humans with a filter lens —because yes, she thought that there was more than only one God, no, she prayed for it; Maybe in a trial, she would have more chances of forgiveness.

— What are your thoughts on loneliness, Laura? 

She looked over at Laura Lee, expectantly, always imagining the girl had all of the answers.

— I don’t know, it’s hard to talk about loneliness when I don’t feel it.

— You never feel alone? — Charlotte asks, frowning. It felt impossible to her.

— I’m never really alone, I walk along with God and anywhere I go, I follow.

The answer left Charlotte quiet for a few moments, trying to look at the skies with hooded eyes.

— I’m afraid I’ve been sent to this earth to only feel hurt.

— That’s not true, Lottie.

— How can you know?

— no one uses the sheep as the purification offer. It is the reparation one. It only comes after the sin is already made. 

— Perhaps the sheep is the sin itself, that’s why it burns.

— If you are used to the fire, why would you scream while being burned? 

— You scream of fear, not out of pain.

— Are you a shepherd or a farmer, Lottie? 

— What? — she stared at her friend, confused.

— You can stay and be anxious about your lands or you can go and only worry about the sheeps. 

— I feel like there’s only one correct answer to that question — and she also felt like the one she was going to give, wasn’t it.

— Well, we all deserve the opportunity to do something… and also to choose to do nothing at all — Laura replied, a faint, but genuine, smile on her lips.— Life is just what happens after you do one of the two.

Some nights, you went to the lake.

You liked the idea of having so much water around you. You float around, taking deep breaths, you are lost in thoughts, your mind going to your half written poem —one you only had the end of.

“And her teeth bite into my flesh.

And he complains that I can't talk about loving without talking about devouring.

I have myself on my tongue, I bite until I feel red: I leave bite marks on everything I desire.

My mind tries to convince me:

it's okay to get out, there's no point in eating if you're already full; 

And a part of my mind speaks out loud:

emptiness is not filled with food;

I have love on my table, and all I can see is the guests eating.

I smile with the satisfaction of being a great hostess —at the same time as I hope I've seasoned it with poison.”

Your attention was lost when you saw a shining thing on the depth of the lake. Shine enough to be seen only with the moon light. Your fingertips moved to get close to it, but the more you swam, the more far it seemed to be.

You reached it, and when you felt the pang on your finger it was too late. You looked at the bloody point of it, staring at the little Victorian looking pin on your palm. A little lamb with some shining pearls on it. 

Some nights, Charlotte sleepwalked. She said weird stuff and looked at you in a different way. She was here today, the sudden presence scaring you, but you instantly relaxed when you saw Lottie. You could never be afraid of her.

Charlotte looked at you, tilting her head as you opened your mouth to ask. She was quicker.

— and what is nature for you?

You got scared by her voice, a hoarse voice, deep and steady, like a knife cutting meat. Her eyes were scanning you. 

— I love the wind.

— No. — she said, her words so convicted that even you doubted your own — what's in you?

What could she possibly mean by it? natural behavior? You didn’t know if you actually believed that, on things coming within us when we are born. You wished your nature was to be light and fond and kind, but deep down, really deep, within the catacombs of your stomach, you knew your nature was to have a tight grip around your heart —always wishing for that deep breath of release.

— hunger. 

2021

When you opened the door of your house, the last thing you expected to see was a trio of women with angry faces shooting you inside your house.

— I'm almost sure this is a property invasion.

— The last thing you'll need to worry about is a property invasion once I put my hands on your fucking neck! — Natalie said, but she didn't move, only walked close behind you as you went to your colorful living room, in a huge contrast to the clothes of the other women. 

You sit on the couch, taking your cup of tea and sipping it, trying to gain some time. You looked at them, waiting for them to speak. 

— I might know why you all came here, but I must say, it's nice to see you all again! — you smiled genuinely, although truly nervous behind your faucet. 

— oh, cut the shit off, y/n! What is up with that? — Taissa asked, throwing the newspaper with a big picture of you on it.

“Former Yellowjackets member might reveal the truth at an art show?”

You stared at the piece of paper. It was a nice pic of you, not your favorite, but a nice one. 

— It's a newspaper… I don't really read it, with internet and all, I kind of-

— What the fuck are you thinking?! “reveal the truth”? Have you lost your mind? 

You frowned, sighing.

— I never said I was gonna reveal anything! They just assumed that!

— And you didn't deny it! 

You shake your head, getting up from the couch and going to the bookshelf on the corner of the room. Your necklace holds the key to one of the secret places, and you open it, taking the postcard out of it.

— I'm not the one threatening to reveal the truth! 

You accuse them, not sure which one you look at.

Shauna frowns, sharing looks with Taissa and Natalie. You used to love them. You now wish to have them out of your skin, of your mannerisms and past. You wish to bleed all your blood so you could take away your shared sins. 

— You received one too.

— a couple of days ago, yes, — you answer, putting it on the table — it was at my backstage with flowers with it.

Natalie took it, analyzing the image.

— Why is yours different? 

She stares at you, wishing for answers. Answers you did not have. 

— What do you mean? Different from what? 

— From ours. Yours have a lamb at the corner and these numbers, what does that mean? 

You take the card out of her hands, looking at it carefully again. A lamb with the numbers 119:50. What could that mean? 

— I… I have no idea… 

[zippidi-dooda]

1 - Chance Encounter

It was quiet for now.

Your son was still fast asleep in your bedroom leaving you a chance to relax. He was adorable but such a handful despite being one boy. Always running off without warning.

"What am I going to do with you?" You smiled. Leaning against the door frame, you watched the dark haired boy sleep for a moment. 

He looked so peaceful right now; his e/c eyes finally shut, drool dripping from his mouth, his chest falling and rising steadily. It calmed you. 

You did all you could to keep him out of trouble and so far he was still safe.

But there was a few close calls. 

You decided it'd be easier for you to raise him and protect him by living far from the kingdom. Away from the place he lived.

Which is why you lived here.

Deep in the woods in a formerly abandoned cabin.

It had only been about a week since you'd arrived here and you had been able to spruce up the place. The once dingy, cobwebbed house was thoroughly cleaned and dusted, the leaky ceiling mostly repaired, the doors all replaced, and the wild critters kicked out.

You had yet to repair the furniture but it has, so far, given you no problem using so you'd be fine continuing to use it until you got around to the task.

It had taken you a long time, and a lot of bribing, to get this far out, unannounced, with your son. Your son, Lucas, didn't enjoy the traveling at all and made it very clear. But it was worth every second.

You doubted anyone else would get this close to the Valley of Thorns.

You certainly wouldn't if you weren't in your situation.

But you were, so you did. And you had yet to meet any beastly beings since getting here. Perhaps all the awful stories you heard about the place were wrong.

Then again, you weren't actually in the Valley so maybe that was why you were undisturbed.

Whatever the case, you and your son were finally free.

You walked towards the kitchen, the floor creaking as you went (you'd need to fix that soon) and got started on dinner.

You had few rations left now and had already begun growing a garden outside, but it'd take a while for anything to grow. Meaning you'd need to scavenge for food soon.

Or trek into the Valley of Thorns and hope no one would be hostile towards an outsider like you and sell you something.

You didn't know if your money had value here, so going there may not be beneficial.

You shook your head. It'd be best to worry about it when the time came.

So you pulled up your sleeves, tied your hair back, started up the fireplace, and began preping something from the cured meats and vegetables you had.

It wasn't long before you heard a low, mellow voice call from behind you.

"Who are you?"

You flinched, spinning around quickly to face a strange man standing by the front door. 

The first thing you noticed was the pair of dark horns sitting atop his head.

Your heart began to race. "You're . . ."

You knew exactly who he was.

He was tall, his horned head almost hitting the roof of the house. His skin was pale as porcelain, eyes lime green and almost glowing. Pointed ears peeked out from his long pitch black hair which faded to a deep blue at the tips.

He wore black clothes which covered his body entirely, no amount of skin other than his face and neck showing. 

He was . . . "Gorgeous."

His thin brows raised in shock and he continued to stare at you for a moment. Then he let out a laugh. It was deep and alluring. Fitting for an heir to the throne.

"I must say I dont hear that very often. How unexpected. Although you still haven't answered my question, Child of Man."

Your eyes flitted towards the bedroom for a second before you focused your attention back on the man.

"It's quite rude to ask a lady her name before stating your own."

His eyes narrowed but he continued to smile. "Quite so. But seeing as you've come here unannounced I say different manners come to play here."

"I'm unannounced?" You turned towards the counter, reached for the knife, and began to cut the meat. Again. "You're the one who walked in without even knocking first."

The man hummed. "I apologize. But I've never came here with a need to do so. As far as I know, this place has been abandoned."

"Not anymore." You were racking your brain for a plan to protect your son in case this man decided to do something.

He was very, very powerful, if he tried something you'd have no real way of winning against him. 

So the most you could do was hope he'd just go away.

"Really?" 

You froze feeling his breath lightly against your ear. He stood right next to you now. And not a sound was made as he moved. 

That shouldn't have been possible.

"And what exactly brings you here? Most would prefer to live in a place close to others. If something were to happen to you out here, no one would ever know."

You gulped and began chopping again.

Lucas, please dont wake up. Stay in that room.

"W-well," You cleared your throat. "Shouldn't a prince like you be in their palace learing to rule a kingdom?"

The man leaned away from you. "So you know who I am? Most would run in fear at the sight of me. Fascinating . . . ."

He lifted a finger at you causing the knife in your hands to slip from your grasp and float onto the counter. 

"You'll have nothing to eat if you continue cutting it so finely."

"Yes. But maybe I like it that way."

He hummed. "You're a strange one. What is your name, Child of Man?"

Was it safe to answer? 

Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak a different voice spoke.

"Mom, can I play outside?"

You bit your tongue and quickly walked over to your son who was walking over to you.

"Not now, sweetie. Dinner is almost ready, just go wait in the room."

You tried ushering Lucas back to the room, out of sight of the fae standing in the kitchen. 

But his eyes grew wide as he spotted the man and he wasted no time bounding over to him. It was as if he hadn't just woke up moments ago. You began to sweat, praying that the man wouldn't do anything to your boy.

Lucas smiled from ear to ear and jumped carelessly on the man who thankfully or unthankfully (you weren't sure yet) caught him in his arms.

"Daddy!"

Both the fae's and your eyes widened in shock at the boy's statement. 

"'Daddy?'"

"No, sweetie. That's not-"

"Dad, why didn't you come visit me? I missed you."

Lucas frowned angrily and punched the man's chest. 

"You were supposed to come for my birthdays but you didn't! You're mean."

You and the man stared at the boy incredulously.

You quickly rushed over to the pair and tried to take Lucas. "I am so sorry. Lucas, that is not your dad. Say sorry right now."

The boy held on tightly to the man, refusing to go to you, and said, "Yes he is. Look, we have the same hair and he's making dinner for us. He's my dad."

Oh to have the logic of a child once again.

Though you suppose this misunderstanding was your fault. You still hadn't told him the truth about his actual father. He was still under the impression that his dad was just traveling the world and wouldn't be back for a long time.

"Please forgive him. He's just a child."

The man simply began to laugh again, not seeming to take offense. That was good. You hoped.

"How amusing. I never imagined I'd be called that before. What an interesting pair you two are."

He set Lucas down on the ground

"I am not your father though, child. And I must be going now. Farewell, you two." 

Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished leaving behind a few green fireflies where he once stood.

"Woww!" 

Lucas looked on in awe and reached towards the light bugs.

"Dad's so cool!"

You frowned. 

At least the fae was gone. And hopefully didn't come back.

"Lucas, he isn't your Dad. That's Malleus Draconia."

Masterlist

2 - A little Trip