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stylesispunk · 6 months ago

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"You're the loss of my life" | part 2.

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

part one here

summary: you and Joel went from one kiss to getting married to becoming strangers. In the aftermath, some scars hadn't healed. w.c: 12,9k (longest piece of writing I've ever written) warning: some fluff, angst HEAVY angst, mentions of dead, mentions of blood. Some events of the game will be mentioned here but they are not the same. Please forgive any grammar mistakes, since this one is so long I didn't check on everything. Paragraphs in cursive contain flashbacks. a/n: Thank you so much for the amount of love you gave to part 1, I Swear I can't put into words how wonderful was to read all your comments and thoughts. This part ended up being totally different from what I started writing but is already here, please feel free to comment or share your thoughts with me, I'm really excited to read what you think! Happy reading p.s, there is a a/n at the end :)

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You hadn’t counted the hours, nor the seconds after it happened. The pictures of blood and yelp were the only things ringing in your ears as a solemn sound taunting your worst nightmares, which became real.

Your face was dry from the salty tears dripping from your eyes

“It’s done.” Tommy said, tone somber as they look on his eyes.

Neither you or Joel spoke. He was still, 5 ft away from you, his arms red from the blood drying on his skin.

Sarah’s blood.

Your painful sob broke the stillness that was suffocating you three in a moment where words were not enough to describe the pain. The feeling of being ripped out by life itself.

You tried to stand up, walking towards the tree where Tommy had buried her, but your legs shivered, making you fall on your knees on the grass. Tommy wrapped your arms around you

Your painful sob broke the stillness that suffocated the three of you, in a moment where words were not enough to describe the pain. The feeling of being ripped apart by life itself.

You tried to stand up, walking towards the tree where Tommy had buried her, but your legs shivered, making you fall to your knees on the grass. Tommy wrapped his arms around you, trying to offer some semblance of comfort in a world that had suddenly become so cruel and unforgiving.

Joel remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the ground, his mind seemingly a million miles away. The weight of his grief was a palpable thing, a dark cloud that hung over him, suffocating and relentless.

As Tommy held you, you looked over at Joel, searching for some sign that he was still there, that he was still the man you had loved and married. But all you saw was a broken shell, a man consumed by his own despair.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We need to be strong. For Sarah. For each other.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze never leaving the ground. The silence stretched on, a heavy, oppressive thing that threatened to crush you both.

Tommy tightened his grip around you, his own grief evident in the lines of his face. “We’ll get through this,” he said softly, though his voice lacked conviction. “We have to.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure you believed him. The world had become a dark and terrifying place, and you didn’t know how to find the light again.

But as you looked at Joel, you knew that you couldn’t give up. You couldn’t let Sarah’s death be the end of everything. You had to find a way to keep going, to find a reason to keep fighting.

For her. For Joel. For yourself.

And so, as you knelt there in the grass, your heart heavy with grief, you made a silent vow. You would survive. You would find a way to live in this new, terrifying world.

Because you had to. Because there was no other choice.

Another night had enveloped the sky, the darkness a heavy blanket that seemed to press down on you from all sides. You had fallen asleep—or at least that’s what Joel and Tommy thought—as you lay curled up under a thin blanket near the dying embers of the campfire. The exhaustion from the day’s events had left you physically drained, but your mind remained restless, haunted by the images of Sarah and the relentless march of time.

The quiet murmur of Joel and Tommy’s conversation floated over to you, their voices low and filled with an unspoken tension. You kept your eyes closed, not wanting to intrude, but unable to help listening in.

“I just don’t know how to move on,” Joel’s voice was a strained whisper, thick with pain. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. I hear her voice.”

Tommy’s response was equally quiet, a comforting murmur in the darkness. “We’ll get through this, Joel. It’s hard, I know, but we’ll find a way.”

Joel’s voice cracked as he spoke again, the words tearing at your heart. “I should have saved her, Tommy. I should have done something.”

“You did everything you could,” Tommy insisted, his voice firm. “There was nothing more you could have done.”

Joel’s reply was almost inaudible, a broken confession that sent a chill down your spine. “If she hadn’t been there...if I hadn’t had to worry about her...maybe I could have saved Sarah.”

He was talking about you.

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Joel’s words hanging heavily in the air. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as you lay there, paralyzed by the enormity of what you had just heard.

Tommy’s voice was gentle, but there was an edge to it, a protective anger that surprised you. “You don’t mean that, Joel. You can’t blame her for what happened. It’s not fair.”

Joel’s sigh was a long, drawn-out sound, filled with resignation and regret. “I know it’s not fair. But I can’t help it, Tommy. I look at her, and all I see is what I lost. All I feel is this...anger. And I hate myself for it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. The pain of Joel’s words was a sharp, physical ache, a knife twisting in your gut. The man you loved, the man you had always relied on, felt you were a burden, a reason for his greatest loss.

Tommy’s voice softened, a gentle plea. “You need to talk to her, Joel. You both need each other now more than ever. Don’t let this tear you apart.”

There was a long pause, and then Joel spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can, Tommy. I don’t know if I have anything left to give.”

The tears finally escaped, silent trails down your cheeks as you lay there, feeling more alone than you ever had. The love you had once shared with Joel felt like a distant memory, a fragile thing that had shattered under the weight of your loss.

The next morning dawned bleak and gray, the sky a canvas of muted clouds. You woke early, the remnants of Joel and Tommy's conversation from the night before echoing in your mind. The pain and betrayal still stung, a constant reminder of how much had changed in such a short time. You quietly gathered your things, making sure not to wake them as you slipped away from the camp.

You needed time alone, a chance to clear your head and process the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. The forest surrounding the camp was thick and dark, a labyrinth of trees and shadows that offered a temporary escape from the crushing reality of your grief.

Hours passed as you wandered aimlessly, the solitude a bitter comfort. You tried to make sense of Joel's words, to understand the depth of his pain and the burden of his guilt. But the hurt was too fresh, too raw, and all you could feel was the aching void where your heart used to be.

When you finally returned to the camp, Joel was waiting for you, his expression a storm of worry and anger. "Where the hell have you been?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "You can't just walk off like that!"

You stared at him, your own emotions swirling beneath the surface. But the words wouldn't come. You felt too empty, too drained to respond. The memory of his confession hung between you like a dark cloud, a silent reminder of the chasm that had opened up between you.

Joel's anger faltered as he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for some sign of understanding. He stepped closer, his voice softening. "Please, don't do that again. I can't... I can't lose you too."

Still, you remained silent, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him how much his words had hurt, how deeply they had cut you. But the pain was too great, the wound too fresh.

Seeing your silence, Joel's face crumpled, the anger giving way to a deep, abiding sorrow. He reached out, wrapping his arms around you in a desperate embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

You stood there, enveloped in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. But the sadness was a heavy weight in your chest, a barrier that kept you from fully returning his embrace. The words he had spoken the night before replayed in your mind, a constant reminder of the distance that now lay between you.

For the sake of your marriage, for the fragile hope that someday things might be different, you decided to pretend. To bury the hurt and the anger deep inside, to put on a brave face and move forward as best you could.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Joel with tear-filled eyes. "Let's just... let's just try to get through this," you said softly, your voice trembling. "One day at a time."

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of relief and regret. "One day at a time," he echoed, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go.

Four months had gone by in mere seconds. The story you and Joel carefully built waltzed into flames, and you didn’t look back after that house was set on fire. You had made your point clear, and you kept an oath in your words. You avoided Joel and forced yourself to pretend he didn’t exist. He became just a stranger you once shared your bare soul and body with.

It was not easy. Not for you, not for him. Your feelings were far from being buried, but in the midst of chaos, you couldn’t allow yourself to die from his words. A man falling out of love with you wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to you.

During the time your garden dried of thirst, a new arrival to Jackson caught your attention. A man. Dr. Matt Carter was a soft-spoken, kind-hearted man with a gentle demeanor and a wealth of medical knowledge. His arrival brought fresh air to the whole community. With his skills and charm, you found yourself drawn to his quiet compassion for others, as if this reeked world hadn’t corrupted him into becoming just a gosht of what he once was.

And you found yourself looking for that.

You and Matt had spent time together, sharing stories, sharing time, and the scars that had wounded both of your hearts. He lost his family during the first days of the outbreak, and you had lost yours somehow. His presence brought warmth to your soul; there was a tentative connection born from respect and understanding, hitting you like a wave.

And as if you were falling for another man, Joel watched from afar; his expression remained unreadable every time he had a glimpse of you in town. The sight of you smiling, genuinely smiling after everything he had put you through, stirred something within him—a mix of longing and regret that he had taken you for granted.

He had taken you for granted. He realized that now was far too late. His actions and choices had driven a wedge between you, and now he was paying the price. You had moved on; you had found someone who could offer you the warmth and kindness he had failed to provide. And he was left with the ashes of a life he had burned down with his own hands.

Ellie had become distant, her eyes reflecting a hurt and disappointment that cut Joel to the core. She no longer sought his guidance or comfort, retreating into her world, leaving him more isolated than ever. And Sophie... Oh god, Joel couldn't even bear to stomach her. The guilt and shame were too overwhelming, a constant reminder of his betrayal, but as he followed the figment of his worst intentions inside his head, he ended up in the same bed with her almost every night.

Every night, the guilt clawed at him as he sought solace in Sophie's arms, trying to escape the suffocating regret that consumed him. He hated himself for it, for betraying you even further, but he was trapped in a cycle of self-destruction that he couldn't seem to break free from.

One night, after another argument with Ellie that ended with her storming off, Joel found himself once again in Sophie's bed. The familiarity of her touch did nothing to ease the ache in his heart. Instead, it only deepened the chasm of regret and self-loathing that threatened to swallow him whole.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his choices pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep hurting you, hurting himself, and destroying everything that had once been good in his life.

He slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Sophie, and dressed quickly. He needed to clear his head to find some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of his emotions. He wandered the dark streets of Jackson, the cold night air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it.

His thoughts were a tangled mess of regret and longing, and he found himself standing outside your house, the warm glow of the lights inside casting a soft halo around the doorway. He could see you through the window, laughing with Matt, and the sight of your happiness was like a knife to his heart.

He turned away, unable to bear it, and walked aimlessly until he found himself at the edge of the community, where the world beyond Jackson's walls loomed dark and foreboding. He sat down on a bench, his head in his hands, and let the tears fall.

"Hey."

Joel looked up to see Tommy approaching, his expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "What are you doing out here, Joel?" Tommy asked, sitting down beside him.

Joel shook his head, unable to find the words to explain the turmoil inside him. "I can't keep doing this, Tommy," he finally said, his voice raw with emotion. "I can't keep hurting everyone."

Tommy placed a hand on Joel's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "You gotta find a way to make things right, Joel. For yourself and for them."

Joel nodded, but the path to redemption felt impossible to navigate. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted.

"Start by being honest," Tommy said gently. "With yourself and with them. It's the only way you're going to find any kind of peace."

Joel sighed, knowing Tommy was right, but the thought of facing you, of admitting everything, filled him with a deep sense of dread. Still, he knew he couldn't keep running from his mistakes. He had to face them head-on, no matter how painful it might be.

The morning air was crisp and cool as Joel and Tommy walked toward the communal dining hall. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow over the town of Jackson. Joel's mind was heavy with the conversation from the night before, but he knew Tommy was right. He had to start making things right, even if it felt impossible.

As they entered the dining hall, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a cooked breakfast greeted them. The room was filled with the chatter of early risers, everyone eager to start their day. Joel's eyes scanned the room, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw you.

You were standing by the serving area, helping with the morning tasks. Your smile was warm as you handed a plate to one of the residents, your laughter ringing out softly. It was a sound Joel hadn't heard in a long time, and it struck him with a bittersweet pang of nostalgia.

Tommy nudged Joel gently. "She's been helping out in the mornings," he explained quietly. "Trying to stay busy, I think."

Joel nodded, his gaze fixed on you. He hadn't seen you like this in months—so alive and vibrant—and it filled him with a mix of longing and regret. He wanted to go over to you to talk, but the weight of his mistakes held him back.

"Come on," Tommy said, leading him to an empty table. They sat down, and Tommy grabbed two mugs of coffee from a passing tray, handing one to Joel. "You should talk to her," he urged, his voice low and earnest. "It's not going to get any easier."

Joel watched as you handed out another plate, your smile lighting up the room. Just as he mustered the courage to stand up and walk over to you, Matt appeared at your side. The doctor wrapped his arm around you and kissed your temple, a gesture so intimate and familiar that it made Joel's heart ache.

He froze, his intentions crumbling. The warmth and ease between you and Matt were unmistakable, a stark contrast to the cold distance that had grown between you and Joel. Tommy, noticing the change in Joel's demeanor, followed his gaze and sighed.

Joel didn’t know, but your heart felt heavy at the sight of him, weighed down by a complicated mix of emotions. Seeing him standing there, so vulnerable and sincere, had stirred something inside you that you had tried to bury for months.

You tried to focus back on Matt, his kind eyes filled with spark. "Is everything okay?" he asked softly, his hand gently touching your arm.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah.”

Matt gave you a reassuring smile. "Take your time," he said. "I'm here if you need to talk."

You appreciated his support, but your thoughts were consumed by Joel. Despite everything that had happened, the sight of him standing there, so lost and full of regret, tugged at your heartstrings. You remembered the man he used to be man you had fallen in love with.

As you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, your gaze kept drifting back to Joel. He was sitting with Tommy, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast. The sight of him like that broke your heart all over again. You could see the pain etched into his features, the remorse and longing that mirrored your own feelings.

The memories of your life together flooded back—moments of joy, field dreams, and quiet nights. It was hard to reconcile those memories with the man who had hurt you so deeply. Yet, despite everything, a part of you still cared for him and still wanted to believe that there was a chance for redemption.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Four more months passed; that meant you and Joel hadn’t spoken to each other in eight months, and that was everything you could think about. The silence between you had become a constant, oppressive presence in your life. Despite your best efforts to move on, Joel's absence was a gaping wound that refused to heal. During this time, your relationship with Matt has grown closer. He had become a steady presence in your life, offering you kindness and understanding in a world that often felt devoid of both.

So, as these months went by, doubts began to creep into your mind. Every time you were with Matt, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The shadow of your past with Joel loomed large, casting a pall over your attempts to forge a new chance.

Winter was fast approaching, and Jackson was bustling with preparations for the colder months. That night, the town had organized a party. The community gathered in the large hall, the warmth of the fire and the sound of music creating a temporary respite from the harsh reality outside.

You were with Matt, trying to enjoy the festivities, but the weight of your unresolved feelings made it difficult to fully immerse yourself in the celebration. You found yourself glancing around, half-expecting to see Joel in the crowd, even though you knew it was unlikely.

Matt noticed your distraction and leaned in closer, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but tinged with worry.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'm just thinking about everything that's happened."

Matt's expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "I know it's been tough, but we're here now. Together."

"I appreciate you spending time with me," Matt said, his eyes warm and sincere. "It's been easy adjusting to everything here, but your company has made it even easier."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad we met, Matt. You've been a great help to all of us, and it's nice to have someone to talk to."

You squeezed his hand, appreciating his support, but the doubt still lingered. As the night wore on, you tried to push your feelings aside and focus on the present, but it was a losing battle.

Later in the evening, you and Matt found a quieter corner of the hall. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. "I've been meaning to talk to you," he began, his voice serious.

You nodded, bracing yourself for the conversation you knew was coming.

"I care about you a lot," Matt continued, "and I want to take this relationship to the next level. But I need to know if you're truly ready for that."

Your heart clenched at his words. You wanted to be ready to move forward and leave the past behind, but doubt gnawed at you. "Matt, I don't know if I can," you admitted, your voice trembling. "There's so much I haven't dealt with, and I don't want to hurt you."

Matt's expression hardened, and he pulled his hand away. "I can't keep waiting forever," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I've been patient, but it feels like you're still holding onto something—or someone."

The truth of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had been holding onto Joel, to the memories and the pain. You couldn't deny it any longer. "I'm sorry," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't ignore my feelings."

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand, but I can't keep doing this. I need someone who is all in, not someone who's still tied to their past, nor someone who wants to sleep with me."

Before you could respond, he stood up and walked away, leaving you alone in the corner of the hall. The weight of your unresolved feelings and the consequences of your indecision pressed down on you, and you felt more lost than ever.

You stood up, needing some fresh air, and walked out of the hall. The cold night air bit at your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself and took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts.

The night was clear, the stars twinkling above you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. You knew you couldn't keep running from the past, but facing it felt like an insurmountable task.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder where Joel was and if he was struggling with the same unresolved feelings that haunted you.

Because you thought he deserved it.

The dim light from the streetlamp outside your window casts long shadows across the room, its faint glow barely illuminating the small apartment. You had fallen into a restless sleep, your dreams plagued by memories of the past and fears of the future. The mattress beneath you was thin and uncomfortable, and the scratchy blanket offered little warmth against the cold reality of the world outside.

The sensation of an arm wrapping around your waist jolted you awake. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you were disoriented, caught between the remnants of a dream and the harshness of reality. You tensed, ready to defend yourself if necessary, but then you recognized the familiar touch and the scent that belonged to Joel.

"It's just me," he whispered, his voice rough and weary. The tension in your body eased slightly, but the unease remained.

"Where were you?" You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, the worry evident in your tone. "It's past 2 AM."

Joel sighed, his breath warm against the back of his neck. "Out scavenging," he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We needed more supplies, and I couldn't sleep."

You turned to face him, your eyes searching for his in the dim light. The lines of worry and fatigue etched into his face were more pronounced, a testament to the weight he carried on his shoulders. "You can't keep doing this, Joel," you said softly, your hand resting on his cheek. "You need to rest too."

"I know," he admitted, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. "I just... I can't stop thinking about everything. About Sarah, about you, about how we're going to survive."

Your heart ached at his words. The pain of loss and the burden of survival were constant companions in your lives. "We'll get through this," you said, your voice filled with a determination that belied your own fears. "Together."

Joel's eyes opened, and he looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "I don't deserve you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But I'm so damn grateful you're here."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "We're in this together," you repeated, your voice firm. "No matter what."

You had never told him you had heard the words.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperate intensity, as if he feared losing you too. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest; the shared rhythm was a reminder that, despite everything, you were still alive and still fighting.

As you lay there in the darkness, holding each other close, the world outside the tiny apartment seemed to fade away.

You stood there, staring up at the night sky, lost in your thoughts. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you welcomed the sharpness. It kept you grounded and reminded you that you were still here, still feeling, even if every emotion seemed to tear at you from the inside.

A voice broke through your reverie, soft but unmistakable. "It's a clear night, right?"

Startled, you turned to see Joel standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. The lines on his face seemed deeper in the moonlight, and his eyes held a mixture of emotions that mirrored your own.

After eight months, you were there face-to-face.

"Joel," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged slightly, the motion almost imperceptible. "I needed some air. I saw you out here. I thought maybe you could use some company."

You looked back up at the sky, trying to steady your breathing. "I'm not sure I can handle this conversation right now."

Joel took a step closer, his presence both comforting and suffocating at the same time. "I don't want to push you," he said softly. "I just felt like you might need someone to talk to."

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet night. "Talk? What is there to say, Joel? Everything's so messed up."

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I know. I never wanted things to end up like this. I messed up more than I can ever make right."

You shook your head, feeling the sting of tears again. “You ruin everything.”

No more words came out of his mouth, and you closed your eyes, hoping he would leave you alone.

"How long?" Joel asked finally, his voice breaking the silence. "How long have you been with the doctor?”

You looked at him, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. "We're just friends, Joel. He helps me cope with everything. But it's not what you think."

Joel's shoulders slumped, relief mingling with the guilt in his eyes. "I don't know what I think anymore," he admitted. "I just know that I can't keep pretending like this doesn't hurt. Seeing you with him reminds me of what I lost. What I threw away."

+++

The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the small window. You and Joel had finally found a place to rest in Jackson, a sanctuary after months of navigating through the states with Ellie. It felt surreal to be in a bed again, to have a roof over your heads and a semblance of normalcy.

You lay beside Joel, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The warmth of his body next to yours was a comfort you had almost forgotten. As you turned to face him, you saw his eyes were open, gazing at you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"I can't believe we're here," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the night.

Joel reached out, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Me neither," he replied softly. "Feels like a dream."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "A good dream."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know it's been hard," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything we've been through... but we're here now. And I want you to know that I love you. Always have, always will."

The words took your breath away. It had been so long since you had heard them, since you had felt the certainty of his love. Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out, cupping his face in your hands.

"I love you too, Joel," you whispered, your voice breaking. "More than anything."

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. You buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside might have been falling apart, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was enough.

Joel’s words cut through the night air like a blade. “Sophie is pregnant.”

You felt your breath catch, the weight of his revelation sinking in. Anger, hurt, and confusion are all mixed together in a tumultuous storm inside you. “What do you want me to do? To kill him?” you retorted, your voice sharp with sarcasm and pain.

Joel shook his head, his expression somber. “It isn’t mine.”

“Good,” you snapped. “I can't say what kind of mother Sophie will be, but that child doesn't deserve a father like you.”

Joel flinched at your words, the sting of them evident in his eyes.

“How do you know it’s not yours?” you asked.

“Because she is two months old,” Joel said, his voice steady but filled with a weary resignation. “And do you think I would have the strength to be with her after what happened?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. The weight of the past, the betrayal, and the lingering feelings between you made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like you care about someone’s feelings,” you spat, your voice trembling with emotion.

“Come on,” Joel pleaded, his eyes filled with desperate earnestness. “You should stop being this unfair.”

“Unfair?” You echoed, your voice rising. “You think I’m being unfair? After everything you’ve done?”

Joel took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I’ve hurt you. But I never wanted things to turn out like this. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Then why?” you demanded, tears streaming down your face. “Why did you do it? Why did you throw everything away?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret etched into his features. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I was lost. I was hurting. And I made a terrible mistake. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

He never stopped loving you; he said those words.

You shook your head, and the pain in your chest was almost unbearable. “Loving me wasn’t enough, Joel. It wasn’t enough to keep you from hurting me. And now... now I don’t know if I can ever forgive you.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words crushing him. “I understand,” he said quietly. “But I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. To earn your trust back. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You looked at him, the man you had once loved with all your heart, and felt a flicker of the old connection between you. The weight of unspoken words and lingering pain hung in the air between you, and you took a deep breath, needing to finally voice what had been haunting you for so long.

"After Sarah died..." you began, your voice trembling. "I know you spent weeks wishing it would have been me instead of her. Don’t try to deny it. I heard you the night after. You and Tommy were talking, and he was telling you not to push me away, and you said, "

"She was our daughter," Joel interrupted, his eyes glistening with tears as he realized how horrible he had been to you. "You know what it felt like to lose her."

"I know," you replied, your voice soft but steady. "It would make you feel better to know I did it too, but that's the difference between us. I would never wish that because you mean everything to me, and without Sarah, I needed you to keep going."

Joel's expression crumbled, the weight of your words breaking through the walls he had built around his heart. He took a step closer, his hands trembling as he reached out to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I was so lost in my grief that I couldn't see how much you were hurting too. I pushed you away when I should have held you closer."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability and regret there. It was a glimpse of the man you had once loved—the man you had hoped he could be again.

"I needed you, Joel," you said, your voice breaking. "I needed you to be there for me, but you shut me out. And then... then you betrayed me in the worst possible way."

Joel nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I know. And I can't change what I've done. But I want to make things right, if you'll let me. I want to be the man you deserve—the man who can be there for you like I should have been. All over man”

You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling over you.

Joel's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours with a mix of sorrow and understanding. "I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of reopening old wounds, scared of facing my own guilt and grief, I thought if I buried it deep enough, it would eventually fade away. But I was wrong."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, the pain of years of unspoken grief rising to the surface. "I was scared too," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Scared of losing you, scared of facing the reality of what we had lost together."

As Joel's words hung heavy in the air, you felt a surge of anger and betrayal rising within you. "You're going to talk about her now?" You spat, your voice tinged with bitterness. "You never mentioned her because you felt it was better to pretend, she didn't exist?"

Joel recoiled at the accusation, his eyes filled with pain. "You don't get to tell me how I should feel," he protested, his voice shaking with emotion. "I loved her too, you know. Losing her was... it was the hardest thing I've ever been through. Because when I saved you, she died,"

"So, letting my baby die was your revenge?"

"It was my baby too," Joel insisted, his voice pleading. "I would have given anything to save him; you know that."

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. "You're..." you started, unable to find the words to express the depth of your pain and anger. "I fucking despise you, Joel," you finally spat, the words heavy with the weight of your broken heart. "Fuck you, fuck Sophie, fuck everything that..."

But before you could finish, Joel's voice cut through the chaos, soft and filled with longing. "I miss you," he whispered, his words echoing in the space between you.

"You have to," you replied bitterly, your heart aching with the rawness of your emotions. "When did you stop loving me?"

"I love you," Joel said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You sighed, the weight of his words crashing over you like a tidal wave. "When did you fall out of love with me?" you asked quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"I never did," Joel confessed, his eyes locking with yours. "You're the love of my life. I would marry you in all the universes."

"But?" you pressed, your heart clenching with the fear of his answer.

"But every time I look at you, I see my baby girl in your eyes,” Joel faltered, his voice trailing off.

"You could have told me,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I don't forgive you, Joel. I loved the old you, I was in love with that man. I had a beautiful girl with him, and they both died that night."

"Stop talking like I don't exist anymore," Joel pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

"You don't," you replied, your voice hollow with grief. "The Joel Miller I loved would never do what you did."

As the truth of your words settled over you both, you felt the weight of your shared grief and regret pressing down on your shoulders. But somewhere deep inside, you knew that the man you had loved still lived, intertwined with the veins of your soul, forever a part of you.

You walked away from him.

As the days passed by, the encounter with Joel lingered in your mind, stirring emotions you had tried to bury. The pain, anger, and lingering love for the man he once was weighed heavily on you, despite your attempts to move forward. You found yourself distracted, your thoughts often drifting back to that night and the raw honesty of his words.

Joel, too, was affected by the confrontation. He became more withdrawn, his guilt and regret casting a shadow over his every action. You could see the torment in his eyes whenever your paths crossed in Jackson, a silent acknowledgment of the wounds that had yet to heal.

One cold winter morning, you were busy with your usual tasks, trying to keep your mind occupied. The biting wind swept through the town, and you pulled your coat tighter around you as you made your way through the streets. As you approached the central square, you noticed a commotion near the gates.

Ellie had arrived, her face flushed with anger. She stormed through the gates, her eyes blazing with fury. Concerned, you approached her, hoping to understand what had happened.

"Ellie, what's wrong?" you asked gently, trying to catch her attention.

She glared at you; her anger palpable. "Fuck you," she snapped, her voice filled with a bitterness that cut through you.

Taken aback by her hostility, you stepped back, watching as she continued her march towards the center of Jackson. You followed her with your eyes, your concern growing. It was then that you saw Joel arriving from the opposite direction, his expression tense and troubled.

Joel's eyes found yours across the space, and in that moment, you realized that something she had found out the truth. The weight of his gaze and the anger in Ellie's demeanor pointed to a revelation that had shaken them both to the core.

The air felt fresh against the skin of your face, but for a reason you couldn’t kept going, you paralyzed as you saw Ellie’s back from behind as she kept making her way towards Jackson in complete silence.

You and Joel had sworn everything he had said was true. You had made a choice for her and th guilt began to creep within you.

Joel noticed your distress, and walk backwards until he was in front of you “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I can’t keep this secret” you told him.

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping as he looked into your eyes. "I need you to be strong," he said softly. "For her. For us. We'll protect her from this, together. We can't ever tell her the truth," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "She can't know what really happened with the Fireflies."

You stood beside him, the enormity of his words settling over you. "I know," you replied, your voice heavy with resignation. "But it's going to be hard to keep it from her, Joel. She deserves to know the truth."

Joel turned to face you; his eyes filled with a desperate plea. "Please," he said, his voice breaking. "I need you to promise me. For her sake. For all our sakes."

You met his gaze, seeing the anguish and fear in his eyes. You understood the stakes, the delicate balance that needed to be maintained to protect Ellie. With a heavy heart, you nodded.

"I promise," you said softly. "We'll keep the secret."

Joel exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you," he murmured. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you, but I couldn't bear to lose her. Not after everything."

You reached out and placed a hand on his arm, offering what comfort you could. "We'll protect her, Joel. Together."

Joel's expression softened. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

Ellie’s words stung, but your concern for her outweighed the hurt. Determined to understand what had set her off, you followed her through the bustling streets of Jackson. The winter air was crisp, and your breath was visible as you quickened your pace to keep up with her.

“Ellie, please,” you called after her, but she didn’t slow down. Her steps were fueled by anger and pain, and you knew something significant must have happened.

She finally stopped near the edge of the settlement, in a secluded spot away from prying eyes. You approached her cautiously, giving her space but making it clear you weren’t going anywhere.

“What happened?” You asked, your voice gentle but firm.

Ellie spun around to face you, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and betrayal. “You and Joel think you can just lie to me? About everything?”

Your heart sank. The truth had come out. “Ellie, I—”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, her voice trembling. “Don’t try to explain it away. I know what happened. I know what he did and what you both did.”

The weight of her accusation hung in the air, and you felt the full force of your guilt crashing down on you. “We were trying to protect you,” you said quietly. “We thought it was the only way.”

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears, but her anger didn’t waver. “You had no right to make that choice for me,” she spat. “I deserved to know the truth. I deserved to make my own decisions.”

You took a step closer, your own eyes misting with tears. “I’m sorry, Ellie. We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”

Ellie shook her head, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “You know, you both deserve each other,” she said, her voice breaking. “That baby you lost didn’t deserve a liar mother.”

Ellie’s words cut deeper than any blade. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the pain of her accusation mingling with the agony of your loss. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to find the words to respond.

“Ellie, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t say that.”

Before you could respond, you heard footsteps behind you. Joel had followed, his face etched with worry and regret. “Ellie,” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Save it, Joel,” she said, her voice cold. “I don’t want to hear any more lies.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, his eyes pleading as he looked at her. “Ellie, please. We did what we thought was best. We were trying to protect you.”

Ellie’s anger flared again, and she took a step back, as if physically recoiling from his words. “Protect me? By lying to me? By taking away my choice.”

Joel’s expression crumbled, and he glanced at you, his eyes filled with desperation. “We were wrong,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “We were wrong to keep the truth from you. But we did it out of love. Out of fear of losing you.”

Ellie’s gaze flickered between you and Joel, her emotions a storm of betrayal and hurt. “I need time,” she said finally, her voice cracking. “I need to think.”

You couldn’t bear to look at Joel. The guilt and regret in his eyes were too much to bear. You took a step back, then another, putting distance between you and the man who had once been your anchor. The man who had become a stranger through a web of lies and broken promises.

“Wait!” Joel called out, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t go.”

But you couldn’t stay. Not now. Not with everything crashing down around you. You turned away, your heart heavy with grief and sorrow, and walked away from Joel, leaving him standing alone in the snow.

As you made your way through the town, the cold wind stinging your cheeks, you couldn’t help but replay the events in your mind. The pain in Ellie’s eyes, the desperation in Joel’s voice, and the unbearable weight of your own guilt. You had thought you were protecting her, but in doing so, you had shattered the trust that had once held you all together.

The night was cold, a sharp wind slicing through the darkness as the three of you huddled around the crackling fire. The journey to the hospital had been long and arduous, each day blurring into the next as you traversed through abandoned towns and treacherous terrain. But tonight, there was a strange sense of peace among you.

You rested your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, a welcome contrast to the biting cold. Ellie sat across from you, poking at the fire with a stick, her face illuminated by the dancing flames.

"Ugh, you two are disgusting," Ellie joked, a playful smirk on her lips as she watched the two of you. "Get a room, seriously."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. Joel's arm tightened around you, a subtle yet comforting gesture. "Jealous much?" you teased back, meeting Ellie's eyes with a grin.

"Yeah, right," Ellie snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. "As if I'd want to cuddle up to Joel."

"Hey now," Joel interjected, his voice carrying a mock tone of hurt. "I'm plenty cuddly."

Ellie laughed, the sound infectious and genuine, filling the night with a rare sense of normalcy. It was moments like these that made the hardships of your journey bearable, the little pockets of happiness that you all clung to.

As the laughter died down, a comfortable silence settled over the three of you. You closed your eyes, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Joel's chest beneath your head, the steady beat of his heart a soothing lullaby.

"We're becoming a little family, aren't we?" you mused on Joel’s chest just for him to listen.

"Joel."

He turned back at the sound of your voice, the familiar timbre soothing his demons as only you could tame them. How could he have messed up all he had with you?

You hadn't wanted to talk to him in so long that he felt he could cry just from hearing his name slip from your lips.

"Hey," he stuttered.

"I-" you started, struggling to find the words to begin a conversation with the man you had once shared your bare soul and body with. Carefully, you stepped onto the porch of the house you had once shared, your legs trembling. "I....- knew... well. Ellie found out the truth," you said, standing next to him, barely touching his shoulder with yours.

"She hates me," Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"She doesn't," you declared firmly. "She's mad at me too, but she doesn't really hate you or me."

"You don't have to feel sorry for me," he said, his voice tinged with hurt.

"I don't," you declared, your tone steady. "I don't feel anything for you, but I won't blame you for what you did."

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he turned to face you fully, his eyes searching yours for any sign of the connection you once shared. "I don't know how to make things right," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“You can’t.” You declared, “At least, not for now. You need to let her alone for a while.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mixture of resignation and longing. "I know," he said softly. "I just... I want to fix things, but I don't know where to start."

You met his gaze, seeing the turmoil in his eyes mirrored in your own. "Sometimes, the best thing we can do is give each other space," you said, your voice gentle yet firm. "Let Ellie process everything in her own time. And in the meantime, we need to figure out how to move forward."

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't even know if she'll ever forgive me," he admitted, his voice heavy with doubt.

"You can't control how she feels," you reminded him, your words laced with empathy. "All you can do is show her that you're truly sorry and that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Joel's gaze softened, a hint of gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly, the weight of his words carrying the weight of his remorse. "For not giving up on me."

You gave him a small, sad smile.

Joel swore he could die just to repair what he had done to you, just for having you this close to him. If one thing had been different, what would it be like now?

The innocence of a first kiss doesn't compare to the stolen glances between two people who once knew everything about each other. And when you said so, you meant him.

He knew you; he drew a constellation in your arms, but he didn't allow you to catch a glimpse of himself in you.

You were a thing—a disposable one.

But he was everything, caring while being careless.

He was human; he loved you, but he was a man.

One who didn't know how to love after humanity had taken everything from him.

"Ellie." You said, looking at her sitting outside your house.

"Why the hell were you talking to him?" she asked, bitterness on her tongue.

"Because I knew you talked" you replied

"Yes, but I don't want you to talk to him"

"I was just checking on him" you defended yourself from her accusations.

"Why? Why do you care about him?

"Ellie-“

"No! He makes you cry every time he is near you, I don't want that.'

"I was part of the lie too and I'm sorry but if you would be here now, I wouldn’t be alive

"I don't hate you. I'm sad you did it, but you didn't make that choice for me. Joel did, he is the one to blame.

"Don't even defend him," Ellie snapped, her frustration boiling over. "I swear, I'll get mad at you for that."

You fell silent, the weight of Ellie's words settling over you like a heavy shroud. In that moment, you realized just how much pain and anger Joel's actions had caused, not just for Ellie, but for you too. And as you looked at her sitting outside your house, you knew that navigating this tangled web of emotions was going to be harder than you ever imagined.

As winter settled over Jackson, the town transformed into a snow-covered wonderland, blanketed in pristine white. The days grew shorter, the air colder, and the residents bundled up in layers of warm clothing as they went about their daily routines.

In the weeks that followed Ellie's revelation, tensions remained high among the residents. The fallout from the truth about the Fireflies cast a long shadow over the community, leaving everyone grappling with their own feelings of guilt and betrayal.

For you, the days passed in a blur of routine tasks and quiet contemplation. You found solace in the routine of daily life, throwing yourself into your work and trying to push aside the weight of your own guilt and regret.

As New Year's Eve approached, the town began to buzz with anticipation. Despite the somber mood that hung over Jackson, there was still a sense of hope and renewal in the air. The residents came together to celebrate the passing of another year, eager to leave the pain and heartache of the past behind them.

The streets were decorated with twinkling lights and festive decorations, and the sound of laughter and music filled the air.

The New Year's party was in full swing, with laughter and music filling the air. The community of Jackson was determined to celebrate and to find moments of joy despite the darkness that surrounded them. You were there, mingling and trying to put on a brave face, when suddenly you heard Ellie's voice rise above the din.

The room fell silent after that, all eyes turning towards the confrontation. Joel stood there, looking wounded and weary, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Ellie's words. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

You felt a pang of sympathy for Joel, despite everything that had happened between you. After a moment's hesitation, you followed him outside, needing to see if he was okay.

You found him on the porch of what was once the house you both shared, sitting on the steps with his guitar in his lap. His fingers plucked at the strings absently, creating a soft, melancholic tune. He looked up, startled, as you approached, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

"I didn't expect to come out here," you admitted, taking a seat beside him. "But I heard what happened inside. Are you okay?"

Joel let out a heavy sigh, his fingers stilling on the guitar strings. "Just another fight with Ellie," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "It seems like all we do lately is fight."

You nodded, understanding all too well the strain that grief and guilt could place on relationships. "It's hard," you said softly. "On all of us."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Any of you."

"I know," you said, your voice just as quiet. "But that doesn't change what happened."

Joel nodded; his expression hurt. "I don't know how to fix this," he admitted. "I don't know how to make things right."

For a moment, neither of you spoke; the only sound was the soft strumming of Joel's guitar. The tension between you was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the love and pain that still lingered between you.

"Maybe some things can't be fixed," you said finally, your voice trembling. "Maybe we just have to find a way to live with the pieces."

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with deep, abiding sorrow. "I'm willing to try," he said softly. "If you'll let me."

"I never thought I would see you with a guitar again," you said, ignoring his words and the way your heart constricted against your ribs at the reminiscence of the man you loved, back when Joel was full of life and hope.

Joel glanced down at the guitar in his lap, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess some habits die hard," he murmured, his fingers resuming their gentle strumming. The soft melody hung in the air, a haunting reminder of a time when things were simpler, when love and music filled your lives instead of pain and regret.

You watched him for a moment, the familiar chords stirring memories that you had tried so hard to bury. "Do you remember the first song you played for me?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel nodded, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory. "Of course I do. 'Can't Help Falling in Love.' You said it was your favorite."

"It still is," you admitted, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Even now."

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound being the soft strumming of Joel's guitar. The tension between you eased slightly, replaced by a shared sense of nostalgia and longing.

Joel finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I miss those days," he said quietly.

"So do I," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "But we can't go back, Joel. We can only move forward."

"I know," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But I wish I could make things right between us."

You looked away, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your mind. "Some things can't be fixed, Joel," you said softly. "Some wounds are too deep."

Joel's fingers stilled on the guitar strings, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "For everything."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "I know you are," you said finally. "But sorry isn't enough to change what happened. It isn't enough to heal the hurt."

"I know," he said again, his voice filled with sorrow.

You smiled softly, a memory from the past momentarily lifting the weight on your heart. "Do you remember when I told you I was pregnant with Sarah back then?"

Joel's eyes softened, and he returned your smile, the sadness in his gaze briefly replaced by warmth. "How could I forget? You were glowing. It was the happiest I'd ever seen you."

You chuckled at the bittersweet sound. "You were so stunned, you just sat there for a minute, speechless. I thought you were upset."

Joel shook his head, his fingers stilling on the guitar strings. "I wasn't upset. I was overwhelmed. It was like everything I'd ever wanted was finally coming true."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the shared memory bridging the chasm that had grown between you. The night air was cool, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves nearby.

"I miss those days too," you admitted softly. "When life was simple, and our biggest worries were about making ends meet, not surviving day to day,"

Joel nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We can't go back to those days, but maybe... maybe we can find a way to move forward."

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes touching a chord within you. "It's going to take time, Joel. And a lot of effort."

"I know," he replied, his voice steady. "But I'm willing to try. For us, and for Ellie."

The mention of Ellie brought a fresh wave of emotion. "She's been through so much," you said, your voice thick with concern. "We need to be strong for her."

Joel's fingers resumed their gentle strumming, the soft melody filling the night air once more. "We will be.”

Your heart began to beat faster—a heavy, suffocating rhythm that filled your chest. For a moment, it felt as if the man you once knew, the man you had loved with all your heart, was sitting right there beside you. In that instant, there was no cheating, no dead baby, and no outbreak. Just you and Joel, the way it used to be.

He looked at you with those soft brown eyes of his, eyes that once held nothing but love and hope. The same eyes that had crinkled at the corners when he smiled had looked at you with such adoration and warmth.

Joel's fingers, calloused yet gentle, reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was so light and tender that you almost didn't feel it. But the gesture—the simple, familiar intimacy of it—made your breath catch in your throat.

"Do you ever think about what could have been?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment.

Joel's eyes held yours, and for a moment, you saw the depth of his sorrow and regret. "Every day," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I think about it every day."

The weight of his words settled over you, mingling with your own grief and longing. You wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had grown between you, but the wounds were still too raw, too fresh.

"I'm sorry for everything," he continued, his voice breaking. "For all the pain I've caused you."

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. "Stop saying that," you whispered. "I know you are."

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if the past had dissolved, leaving only the two of you, bound by the love you had once shared. The guitar's soft melody wrapped around you, a bittersweet echo of the happiness you had known.

But reality, harsh and unrelenting, lingered at the edges of your consciousness, reminding you of the chasm that still separated you. The pain, the betrayal, the loss—they were all still there, lurking in the shadows.

Joel's hand lingered on your cheek, his touch a gentle reminder of what you had once had, and what you had lost. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, even as your heart ached with the knowledge that it could never truly be the same.

Joel leaned in; his intentions clear in the way his eyes searched yours. But as his lips neared yours, you instinctively moved your head, redirecting his kiss to your cheek. His lips lingered there for a few seconds, warm and soft against your skin, a hesitant caress that spoke of longing and regret.

The unexpected intimacy of the moment sent a shiver down your spine, and for those few lingering seconds, you let yourself feel the connection, the love that still lingered between you despite everything that had happened.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

You looked at him, your own emotions a tangled mess. "I don't want to lose you either," you admitted, your voice trembling.

"Hey," Ellie said, her voice breaking the fragile silence. "Am I interrupting something?"

Joel pulled back slightly, his expression shifting from the raw vulnerability he'd shown to a more guarded demeanor. "No, Ellie," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. "We were just talking."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Talking, huh? It looked like more than just talking."

You stood up, brushing away the remnants of tears from your cheeks. "It's okay, Ellie," you said, trying to sound reassuring. "We were just... sorting things out."

Ellie crossed her arms, her gaze still flicking between the two of you. "Well, whatever. I just came out to get some fresh air. That party is too loud."

Joel gave her a small, understanding nod. "Yeah, I get that," he said. "Sometimes you need a break from all the noise."

Ellie looked at you, her expression softening slightly. "Are you okay?" she asked, her concern evident.

You managed a small smile, though it felt strained. "I'm getting there," you replied. "One step at a time."

Ellie nodded, seeming to accept your answer. “Can I talk to Joel?” she asked, looking for an answer

As you walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The tension between Ellie and Joel was palpable, and you couldn't help but worry about what their conversation might entail.

The knock on your door startled you awake, pulling you from the restless sleep that had plagued you for hours. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stumbled to the door, heart pounding with uncertainty.

When you opened it, Joel stood on the other side, his expression hesitant yet hopeful. His presence filled the doorway, casting a shadow over the threshold.

"Joel," you said, your voice a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

"Hey," he murmured, his gaze searching yours. "I... I couldn't sleep. Can we talk?"

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to face him again after everything that had happened. But the sincerity in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself nodding, stepping aside to let him in.

Joel's words trailed off as he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, stirring emotions you had tried to bury deep within.

Before you could protest or pull away, his lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a kiss filled with longing and regret, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

For a moment, you were lost in the sensation of his lips against yours, the familiarity of his touch washing over you like a wave. Memories of happier times flooded your mind, threatening to overwhelm you with their intensity.

But as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving you breathless and confused. You pulled away, staring at Joel in shock, searching for answers in the depths of his eyes.

"Joel, what are you doing?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of emotions.

Joel's expression was pained as he stepped back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know what came over me."

You shook your head, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "We can't do this, Joel," you said firmly, though your heart ached at the words.

"I know," he replied, his voice heavy with regret. "I just... I needed to see you. To talk to you. To try to make things right."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It's too late for that," you said softly, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you.

Joel nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I just had this feeling and I couldn’t sleep." Joel met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and resignation. "I just don't know if I can do this without you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice stirring something deep within you. But you knew that giving in to him now would only lead to more heartache in the long run.

"I need space, Joel," you said, your voice firm but gentle. “Go to sleep, please”

Joel nodded, his shoulders slumping further in defeat. “Have a good night, and happy new year” he said, smiling.

“Happy new year.”

As the next day progressed,

you went about your tasks, trying to focus on the bustling activity in Jackson. The town seemed livelier than usual, with people coming and going, laughter filling the air. But something felt off, a nagging sense of unease that lingered at the edges of your consciousness.

Hours passed, and you realized you hadn't seen Joel, Tommy, or Ellie all day. At first, you brushed it off, thinking they might be busy with their own tasks or simply taking some time for themselves. But as the day wore on and the sun began to dip below the horizon, that nagging feeling grew stronger.

You tried to push aside your growing unease, focusing on your tasks with renewed determination. But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

Finally, unable to ignore your instincts any longer, you set out to find out what had happened to Joel, Tommy, and Ellie. You searched the town, asking anyone you came across if they had seen them, but no one had any answers.

As the evening wore on and darkness descended upon Jackson, your anxiety reached a fever pitch. The streets grew quiet, the bustling activity of earlier replaced by an eerie stillness. And still, there was no sign of Joel, Tommy, or Ellie.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

As you approached Ellie, Dina, Tommy, and the rest of the group, the gravity of the situation became painfully clear. Ellie was hurt, her face twisted with grief and anguish, while Dina followed closely behind, offering what comfort she could. Tommy and the others looked devastated, but it was Tommy's expression that caught your attention. When his eyes met yours, he broke down, the weight of his grief too much to bear.

"Ellie? What's wrong?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"He's..." Ellie began, her voice choked with emotion.

"Tommy?" you turned to him, hoping for some clarity.

"Joel died," Tommy finally managed to say, his voice breaking with the weight of his words.

Your heart stopped, the world around you fading into a blur as the reality of his words sank in. Joel, the man you had loved and lost so many times over, was gone. The ghost of your Joel had died, and now you had lost him physically as well.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to process the enormity of the loss. Joel, who had been a constant presence in your life, was gone, leaving behind a void that could never be filled.

You reached out to Ellie, offering whatever comfort you could, but inside, you felt as though a part of you had died along with Joel.

Joel was gone, and with him, a piece of your heart had died too.

You stood in Joel's house, surrounded by the remnants of his life. Every corner held a memory, every object a reminder of the man he had been. It was both comforting and agonizing, a bittersweet symphony of grief and love.

With trembling hands, you began to search through his belongings, desperate to find something that would make you feel less worse, if only for a moment. You opened drawers and cabinets, sifted through papers and trinkets, but nothing seemed to ease the ache in your heart.

when you stepped inside his bedroom, his presence hit you like a wave, so inoffensive yet so violent, strong, with the force to make you fall on your bum and being trapped by its force.

You felt a lump, the air in your lungs hot stuck and you couldn't help but gasp. You sat on the unmade bed, looking around, caressing the sheets as if him would step for his door and say sorry for what he did.

The room smelled like him, a wooed incandescent essence you would never forget.

When you lifted your eyes to the bed table, there were two frames. A picture of him and Sarah, and your heart stopped for a moment, thinking they were together now. The second held a photo of the two of you, taken on your wedding day, your smiles bright and hopeful.

Tears filled your eyes as you gazed at the images, the pain of loss washing over you anew.

You turned to see Tommy standing in the doorway, his expression mirroring your own somber sadness.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. "I thought I'd find you here."

You nodded, unable to speak as the weight of grief pressed down on you.

Tommy stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the space with a mixture of reverence and sorrow. "It's hard to believe he's gone," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, trying to keep his composure.

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you struggled to find the words to express the depth of your loss. "Yeah," you managed, your voice hoarse with emotion. "It doesn't feel real."

Tommy wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer as you wept. His shoulder was a sturdy anchor, absorbing the weight of your sorrow.

"I know it feels like that," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded heart.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to come to terms with the truth. "I just... I can't shake this feeling that I could have done something differently," you admitted, your voice choked with emotion.

Tommy gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You did everything you could," he said firmly. "Don't blame yourself for his mistakes."

You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his words. In that moment, you knew that no matter how much you mourned Joel's loss, you would always have Tommy by your side, a beacon of light in the darkness of your grief.

"you're the only one left I have from that life"

"You're mine." He smiled as his eyes glistened "you're my sister and the best one Joel brought home'

You chuckled, trying not to break down into pieces in front of him. "I-he was the love of my life'

Tommy's expression softened, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "I know," he said gently, his voice carrying the weight of shared loss.

All the memories you once braid alongside with Joel, engulfed in fire.

With Tommy's comforting presence beside you, you found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavily on your heart.

"It takes a lot of strength to do this, but... I forgive you," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, as your gaze to the photograph of Joel, his image frozen in time, a reminder of the man you had loved and lost. The ache in your chest persisted, but alongside it was a sense of release, a small flicker of peace amidst the storm of emotions.

The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the bustling suburban neighborhood. Children playing in the streets, and the sound of cars and laughing filled the air.

As you walk down the sidewalk, you see a house that you recognize instantly. The house you and Joel shared, the place where so many memories were made. Your heart aches with a longing so intense it nearly takes your breath away.

Pushing open the front door, you step inside and are greeted by the comforting vanilla smell of home. You hear voices coming from the kitchen and follow the sound, your steps quickened with anticipation.

When you reached the kitchen, you saw Joel standing at the stove, cooking breakfast with a smile on his face. He looked younger, his hair missed the grey you got used to, and Sarah was sitting at the table, her eyes sparkling with joy as she was talking with Joel. The sight of them together, so alive and happy, brought tears to your eyes.

Joel looked up and saw you standing in the doorway. "Hey, sweetheart," he says, his voice filled with warmth and love. "You're just in time for breakfast."

Sarah turns in her chair and grins at you. "Morning, Mom! Dad's making our favorite pancakes!"

The flood of emotions was overwhelming you couldn’t even breath. You took a step forward, tears streaming down your face as you struggle to find your voice. "Joel, Sarah," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Joel's smile faded the minute he saw the tears in your eyes. He stepped away from the stove and came to you, concern etched across his features. "What's wrong, honey?" he asks, his hands gently cupping your face. "Why are you crying?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You reached out and pull both Joel and Sarah into a tight embrace, holding them as if they might disappear at any moment. "I missed you so much," you sob, your heart breaking with the realization that this moment, as perfect as it is, can't last.

Joel looked at you, his brow furrowed with worry. "Missed us? What are you talking about? We're right here."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, trying to memorize every detail of his face. "I know," you whispered.

Sarah wrapped her arms around your waist, her voice soft and soothing. "It's okay, Mom. We're here now."

+++

a/n: I know that you possibly waited for another ending, but my mind ended up in different places. So, just to clarify I could never forgive the words or actions Joel did in this story but since the story was tragic, I tried to portray what it was like for them to navigate a world that went into pieces after the outbreak and how they lost themselves in it, how the reader despise what he did but still had that love for him in her because sometimes, evern when we get hurt by someone we may have a bad habit to reach out that person, and finally, I thought the dream was a tragic way to end the story, with the reader having her moment with the Joel and Sarah since she knew that she and the Joel she was in love with died that night too. However, he would end up dead from beginning so, sorry. I also added the new year eve party because you know how the spirits are during those days, like the hope and renewal that joel was waiting for but the reader no. I don't know if I did a good job, but still, bye, thanks for coming here 💌

I tagged everyone who asked for part ii and some who read part one, sorry if I forgot someone, or if you want to be removed, you can tell me.

tags: @immyowndefender @persephone-girl @elliaze @ninasully @whirlwindrider29 @missladym1981 @negansbestie @hobiebrowns-wife @zpandaqueen @ilovetaquitosmmmm @midnightbabylon @southernbe @joeldjarin @hiroikegawa @nothingbutaspeckofdust

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mysticwinterkit · 1 year ago

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Etho's Phase 6 in Rusty visits:

"Rusty, I got this new card called Swagger. It's pretty swag."

****

"RUSTY! I got you your med kit, but Willie he didn't want you to have it. He really tried to put a stop to it. Here you go, buddy. I'll make sure your missus get's some coins here too, while your locked up."

****

"There you go, Rusty. I'm hurting a little bit, I could use any help I can get here. I appreciate it."

****

"Hey Rusty! The dungeon's been rough, man. Very close runs though, every time, but I don't know... I just gotta be a little more careful or something, a little quicker..."

****

on level 2

"I'm going to kind of just poke around here, see if I can get to Rusty... We gotta go. I made a mistake. I think I'm going back. I'm too scared... I've been failing too many runs. I'm sorry Rusty! I'm sorry."

****

"Rusty! Oh, I'm so happy to see you, man. I've been a nervous wreck in the dungeon these last few days. Scaredy cat! But seeing you, gives me strength. I appreciate you, Rusty. Thank you."

****

"My buddy! Biggest ember run yet! I am excited about this, and you're going to take it over the top, man. I want you to be a part of this run. Me and you, all the way to the end, my friend."

#hermitcraft #decked out 2 #ethoslab #who the hell is mrs. rusty???#etho loves rusty

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hellodarling1357 · 10 months ago

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Flames and Embers: Part 2 - Cassian x Vanserra!Reader (slow burn)

Thank you for all of the love on part one of Flames and Embers, it honestly means the world!

The next few parts will still have a bit of character set up, but I'm going off of this for everyone's (approx) ages because there will probably be a few different time line jumps throughout the chapters, at least until it's all caught up.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or if you've got any questions about this fic (or any of my others)!

I'm hoping to get a new chapter out every week. I've got a mass word doc already with so so so many ideas and little snippets that I'm so excited to properly write!

As always, requests are open!!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 2.6k

~ 528 years earlier ~

“But Father, I don’t want to go.” You were seven years old and had just been escorted to the entrance hall after being stuffed into a gown, hair done up in twirls with a small tiara placed atop your head.

Beron fixed you with a cold look as he assessed your appearance, causing you to shift on the spot as your brothers snickered behind his back.

“What did you say?”

“I just said that I didn’t want to go…” You trailed off, too late in realising your mistake.

Rule one, don’t question your High Lord.

Rule two, don’t talk back.

It made no difference that he was your father, your loyalty and obedience to his throne always came first, and within the span of just a few seconds, you had already broken the rules that had been outlined for you since before you could talk.

“If I say you are going, then you are going,” The lack of emotion in his voice sent chills over you, making you stare down at your feet to escape his pressing glare. “The only good that comes from having you as a daughter, is the chance of marrying you off and receiving a handsome dowery– “

“But Father, surely she is too young–“ The slap to the face that Eris received had the room coming to a standstill, even the snickering of your other brothers was silenced at the impact.

“Obviously she’s not getting married tonight, stupid boy. No, we need to start making her presence known, so that when the time comes it will be an easy enough transaction.”

You quietly sniffled, trying to hold back your tears. All you wanted to do was to run back upstairs and hide in your room. Your father turned back to the fae males who had silently watched the scene with smug smirks, resuming their previous conversation as you waited to depart for the Spring Court Ball.

With wide, watery eyes, you turned to face Eris. He had tried to help you and had gotten hurt in the process, but now he was back to his cold, distant self. This happened a lot, you had begun to realise. He would be warm and loving towards you, would try to protect you, but as soon as the others were around or it became too noticeable, he would act as though you didn’t exist.

You didn’t know what you had done wrong to have the others treat you like this, but you didn’t want to disappoint your father or your brother’s any further, so you wiped away your tears and raised your chin, silently waiting for the order to leave; slipping into the role of the perfect, silent female as you pushed away you worries surrounding the night ahead.

*****

The fae male your father worked with sneered down at you when he was ordered to winnow you to the Spring Court, still, you wouldn’t mention it to your father in case it was further reason for him to be angry with you, in case the male’s reaction was because of something you had done – not realising it was purely because you were a female who existed within the Autumn Court.

You timidly trailed in behind your brothers, who were pushing each other around as they followed your father into the glowing ballroom. Your family was announced upon entrance, and they all quickly dispersed into the crowd, leaving you lingering in the doorway with no idea what you should be doing; whether you should stay out of sight or if you should be following their lead. It was too late now; you had already lost sight of them so resorted to making your way around the edge of the room where you tried to copy what the other fae females were doing. It was too bad that none of them were anywhere near your age or bothered to acknowledge you in anyway. With a sigh you retreated to one of the shadowed corners and slumped into the seat as you observed the ballroom with disdain.

“Who are you?” The sudden appearance of the boy made you jump out of your chair, edging around it to create some distance between the two of you.

“Who are you?”

“I asked you first,” You warily glared at him, taking in his dark hair and violet eyes; he had to have been around the same age as you. There was a beat of silence before he continued, “I’m Rhys. Or Rhysand. But only my father calls me that. I much prefer Rhys. Did you know that I’m going to be a High Lord one day?”

You stayed silent, glancing around the room for any sight of your own father or brothers. Regardless of who this boy said he was, or who he was going to be, you knew your father wouldn’t approve of you talking to him and that it would most likely result in a lecture about maintaining appearances and, depending on his mood after tonight, a potential beating at your disobedience.

Oblivious to your discomfort, the boy, Rhys, continued talking, “Are you from Autumn?”

Your eyes shot towards him, before quickly looking around “Why? Why do you say that?”

That was another of your father’s rules broken if Rhy had already figured out who you were.

“Your hair,” You gave him a look of confusion, “It’s red?” He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, it is. By why does that mean I’m from Autmn?” Maybe you could try to throw him off, after all, your father had always said not to trust anyone from the other courts.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t.” His face was a mixture of deep contemplation and intrigue. “But it’s a good guess. Look, that’s all the High Lord’s sons over there, and they all have red hair.”

You head whipped around so fast, fear widening your eyes but, thankfully, they weren’t paying any attention to you.

“Can I tell you a secret? But you have to promise not to tell anyone.” It seemed the future High Lord had already jumped onto his next trail of thought, no longer curious about which court you hailed from.

“I heard, and I wasn’t supposed to hear, but I did. I heard my father, he’s the Night Court High Lord, saying to the males he works with that the Autumn High Lord is,” He looked around, giving you a conspiratorial smile as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice to quote his father, “a real piece of work.”

Rhys looked at you, gauging your reaction to the scandalous piece of news. You froze, not sure how to respond, but then a giggle left you, followed by another and another. You tried to hide your smile behind your hand but the pleased look on Rhys’ face and his laugh that followed made you giggle even harder.

“Rhysand.” A stern voice bit through the air, halting you both mid laugh. “Come over here. Now.” You had frozen at the tone of the male’s voice, used to associating the coldness of it with some form of punishment. Rhys, however, didn’t seem too concerned as he merrily said, “See you later, Autumn.” and made his way over to where his father and a female, who you could only assume was his mother, stood.

*****

You shook your head as if to clear the memories that had begun to resurface after your encounter with Rhysand in the dungeon. A part of you yearned for the simplicity of your youth, however, you now knew that simplicity didn’t necessarily mean happiness. And that, in reality, the simplicity you had experienced was purely your own youthful ignorance to the world around you.

Weeks had passed since the bargain had been made and Rhysand was yet to properly utilise your side of the deal. Not that you were complaining. The only times he had even deigned to acknowledge you since that night always seemed to coincide with your visits to Feyre. You could now guarantee that within the hour of you return from the dungeons, his voice would infiltrate your mind; only ever asking how “Feyre Darling” seemed to be faring.

The night before Feyre’s final task had arrived all too quickly. The party was in full swing – the fae around you drank and lounged and danced, others stood around laughing and singing as though they had no care in the world.

You stood with Lucien against a wall, both of you had a drink in hand but that was as festive as you would allow yourself to appear, especially when considering what Feyre would be facing tomorrow.

Neither of you talked much in public, leaving the decades worth of missed conversations for when you managed to find some quiet in the privacy of your own rooms. Instead, you observed the partygoers together and kept an eye out for the rest of your brothers and your father. Your mother was a rare sight at events such as these, over the years she had become more and more reserved, now, however, you couldn’t blame her one bit. Especially when considering the sight you were forced to witness as two young fae females sat draped across the arms of the seat your father occupied; you turned away in disgust, a scoff from Lucien was the only acknowledgement that he had also noticed.

Lucien pulled you from your thoughts with an elbow nudged into your side, inclining his head towards where Tamlin had silently moved to stand next to Feyre. You smiled at the sight, knowing how much she had missed him. At the sight of Tamlin sauntering off and Feyre trying to casually follow after him, you and Lucien shared a knowing smirk. All too suddenly, that small flicker of joy was extinguished with a scrape across your mental shield.

“Eyes and ears. Y/N, dearest”.

He offered no further instruction, but you knew what, who, he was referring to. With a disgruntled sigh, you pushed off the wall, murmuring to your youngest brother that you would see him later, before making your way through the crowd and out the door that Feyre and Tamlin had disappeared through.

The scene before you in the long stretch of corridor had you hesitating as you quietly shut the door behind you. They were clearly too caught up in, well, one another to even realise they were no longer alone. Also, seemingly oblivious to the fact that anyone could have walked in on them; you didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if they had been caught by someone else.

“Is this what you were wanting?” You shot back at Rhys, showing him the sight before you.

“I appreciate your efficiency. Best to make yourself scarce.” He purred back. You were too tired to think about what his words meant.

Not wanting to head back to the party that was becoming more and more unruly as the night went on, you made your way up the stairs and headed to your room, careful not to disturb Feyre and Tamlin as you passed by, hoping to allow them even just a moment of peace. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping, not with the thought of what was to come tomorrow, but at least you would have a bit of quiet before everything changed, whether that be for the worse or the better.

*****

“Well, you certainly maintained your knack for having perfect timing over the years.”

The drawl of Rhys’ voice and his sudden appearance by the small window in your room had you jumping back, heart beating furiously in your chest.

“What do you want?” You voice was a low snarl as you glared at the High Lord, too tired and too fed up with the situation at hand to feign even an ounce of respect.

“I’m hurt, I thought you were beginning to warm up to me, what with your recent little trips down memory lane,” He tapped a finger to the side of his head, making a snarl appear on your face at the implication. “Seems as though you’ve been thinking about a lot of people from our past lately.” This was the most either of you had ever acknowledged the friendship you had once shared; of the other life you were so close to having before it was so cruelly snatched out of your hands.

“Stay out of my head.” He simply chuckled in response as he leant against the wall, silently observing you as he absentmindedly picked at his dark dress shirt.

“Why did you have me do that? You couldn’t allow Feyre a moment of happiness before whatever she has planned for her tomorrow?” You quickly changed the subject before he decided to delve even deeper into those memories of the past, your voice spitting out the word in reference to Amarantha.

You were surprised at the scoff Rhys let out, a scowl of his own appearing on his face at the thought of what he had walked in on, what you had shown him.

“Utter fools,” he seemed to say to himself as he crossed the room and sat in one of the old armchairs. “You're honestly telling me you don't see what was wrong with that whole…situation?”

Honestly? No, you didn’t. But you weren’t going to offer up an ounce of conversation as he begun making himself at home.

“He had a chance. A chance to get Feyre out. But instead, he wastes the opportunity on a quick fuck,” Your eyebrows narrowed at his words. That was not what you were expecting him to say, but now that you thought about it… Rhys hurriedly continued, voice laced with irritation, “If you were even just a minute later with showing me what was happening, it would’ve been too late for me to intervene, and then Amarantha would have seen everything.”

“I don’t understand…”

“That bitch would have killed Feyre on the spot if she had seen the two of them together. And if Feyre is dead… well, then the rest of us are well and truly fucked because there will be no other chances of getting out of this mess.”

His candour had your head spinning in cartwheels, still trying to catch up on the implication of his words, his actions.

“So…,” You started, still piecing it all together, “you were trying to protect her? After everything you’ve done, you, what? Suddenly grow a conscience?”

He just gives you an incredulous look before standing up with a disappointed sounding sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.” The dark shadows start to gather around him but something in your stomach felt unsettled at his sudden departure.

“Wait, Rhys? What’s your end game here? What are you planning?” The shadows disappeared the moment the words were out, a smug grin appearing on his face.

“So, it’s back to being Rhys again, is it? Here I was thinking you preferred to call me Rhysand nowadays.”

Letting out a scoff you rolled your eyes. For a fleeing moment he had seemed so much like the male you had once known. Now, however, the new asshole version of him stood before you again; the epitome of arrogance and entitlement.

“Honestly, I would prefer to call you a prick, but it doesn’t seem overly appropriate, High Lord.” You offered a mocking curtsey.

A deep laugh escaped him as the darkness gathered around his shoulders again, leaving you with a final, “goodnight, Y/N.” then you were once again alone in your room, the dread of what tomorrow would bring curling itself around you.

*****

Thanks for reading 🥰

Tag List: @dr4g0ngirl @esposadomd @judig92 @hnyclover @sarawritestories @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @macimads @gorlillaglue25

#cassian x reader #vanserra!reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 3 months ago

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🥀 Unwary 🥀

After working on and off for MONTHS and staring at it a long time, here’s the Théodwyn story many of you have heard me agonizing over. I can’t look at it anymore, so we’re just hitting “post”!

It’s called Unwary, which is one of the few words Tolkien gives us to describe Théodwyn’s husband Éomund. He was a “hater of orcs” who often rode against them “in hot anger, unwarily and with few men.” That got him killed and, shortly thereafter, Théodwyn herself died of an illness. This story is my attempt to tie all that together.

Note that Théodwyn’s 3 (canonical but nameless) sisters are here; they came to help after Éomund’s death. You’ll see I gave 2 of them Gondorian names; more explanation of that at the bottom if you’re interested.

There is a fire inside Théodwyn that will not be doused.

It has smoldered for years, just waiting for the breath of air that would coax its glowing embers to life and send a wave of flame racing through her as though she were made not of bone and blood but of kindling and fuel. Now lit by Éomund’s inevitable death, the fire burns bigger and hotter each new day that dawns without him, and it laps at her heart, singeing and charring until there is nothing left but heat. Gone is anything soft and pliant, anything tender or understanding, replaced instead by blistering fury.

She stalks the plains outside of Aldburg in the dark, crunching heavily over glittering, frost encrusted grass. She is trying to outrun that fury, though a fortnight of this new nightly ritual has achieved no such thing so far. But if she cannot leave her anger behind, maybe she can still exhaust it, tire it enough that it can be wrestled into submission and leave her in peace. Deep down, she suspects the effort is in vain, but she has no better plan. She is bereft of ideas, just as she is now bereft of laughter and sympathy and hope. Her husband is just one of many things suddenly missing from her life, and he is not the one she most wants back.

Sweat soaks into both her dress and cloak, and large red blooms form on her cheeks. Each gale of frigid wind catches the dampness at the small of her back or along her hairline beneath her hood, and sends a wave of wracking chills across her heated skin. But her pace never falters despite the passing of long hours and long miles. Over the sound of her boots grinding delicate ice into so many shattered crystals, she mutters her mantra again and again, hissing out the words in time with the rhythm of her steps.

I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen.

The night is her time to let this anger out, far away from Éomer and Éowyn, both much too young to be burdened with the knowledge that their dead father was a reckless fool. Someone who couldn’t control his own impetuous need to act and, worse, refused to accept a cautioning hand even from one he professed to honor and cherish. She had begged him not to go, to delay for even a single hour until more men could be gathered to join his small party of riders. But he had been blind, as ever, to anything but his own rash impulses and instincts. He had scoffed at her fears, swept aside her concerns, given bold assurances that weren’t in his power to make. And now he was being hailed as a fallen hero while she was left alone with the consequences of his folly, to manage a tragic loss that she knew to be entirely of his own making.

She hadn’t always felt this way about him. There was a time when she found his passion and spontaneity exciting. Stirring. Romantic. To be the object of his attentions, to be the desire that he would overturn the world to sate, was a special brand of intoxicant, and she drank it in willingly. His quickness to action and his unfailing courage set him apart from other men, and he gained much by risking more than others could stomach. She felt his every gain as her own, and they ran heedless together through the world, two free souls as yet unchecked by the realities of life.

But what felt brave and thrilling and decisive when they were twenty had begun to look much different on the doorstep of forty, when he had already gained more than most men could dream of and only stood now to lose what had been so daringly won. Slowly, creepingly, she began to see his whims as childish, his zealotry as self indulgent. It surprised her every bit as much as him, but somewhere along the way, with age and responsibility and perspective, she became the person who would check him as life never had. The person to ask questions, to say no, to thwart his boldest ambitions and disappoint his most absurd hopes.

Whenever she did, he would look at her as though he looked upon a stranger, an unrecognizable drudge that had stolen the body of his daring and passionate wife. He would look at her as though she had broken faith with him, betraying their bond by choosing to accept that they lived in a world of constraints and limitations. And then she would hate herself, and him, too.

A dull, thudding pain hammers away in the space right behind her eyes, and her muscles and joints ache with every wearied step, calling out for rest. To sit or lay quietly for a while might ease the strain that has increasingly weighed on her body these last few days, the strain of too little sleep, too little food, too little protection from the harsh bite of winter. But she no longer cares for physical ease or comfort. She can endure without them; it has always been the way of the Rohirrim to bear such things without complaint. What she cannot bear is the seething in her mind during moments of stillness, those times of lonely silence while others sleep and she can only gnaw on the bones of her grievances and look with contempt at her memories now tainted by abandonment. And so she stomps through the cold desolation instead, the frozen cloud of her breath drifting along in the wake of a body indulging in the only escape available.

She knows she should be at home in case her children need her, and she knows that her sisters disapprove of how she has been acting. You’ll catch your death out there, says Edlenniel each night as she walks out the door. You need to start taking better care of yourself, clucks Théopryte, a critical eye cast over her increasingly bony figure, her unkempt hair. And this, too, makes her angry, the insistence of her elder sisters on treating her as though she is still a child even now. Nothing she does is ever good enough in their eyes – her home is too untidy, her language too profane, her daughter too much at liberty to run wild rather than learning the ways of respectable girlhood. And now she cannot even grieve correctly.

In truth, she had not expected to mourn this way. The day Éomund rode off, she had imagined her own reaction to the eventual return of his meager company without him. Sorrow, longing, despair, regret – these had been anticipated despite her frustrations. But when Éothain knocked at her door with the news, watery eyes rimmed with red and a battered horse-tailed helmet in hand, she felt none of those things. They vanished in an instant, disappeared from her heart and mind, perhaps never to return. Instead, she became like the cicadas that come to Rohan every dozen years and litter the ground with their delicate molted shells, perfectly formed images of themselves that have been deserted, no longer fit for use and liable to shatter under the slightest of pressures.

Now every interaction, every well-meaning friend or suffering relative, is at risk of being the next target of the dull blade of her anger, always at the ready to hack and slice ineffectually at those who draw her attention and, thus, her scorn. The neighbors who look at her pityingly as they pass by. The men of Éomund’s company who expect her to join them in their grief. Even her sweet son, all knobby knees and gangly elbows, works an inflamed nerve as he swings a sword much too big for him, vowing to protect their house now in his father’s absence. It’s a mother’s job to protect her child, not the other way around, she says to the thin frame and slight shoulders that are not yet grown enough to bear his own charge. You have years left just to be a boy, safe under my care. But it is said through gritted teeth, her tone emotionless, and he doesn’t believe her.

She has enough awareness still to see what she’s become, and though she cannot change it, she knows to try to hide it. She labors each day to be the mother her children need, sitting with them as they cry and holding her tongue when they paint Éomund in their remembrances as a valiant hero, a man to rival all the greatest legends of song. But they know that something isn’t right within her; some voice inside their childlike minds warns them of peril in the one place where they were trained never to expect it. Éomer has stopped asking why she doesn’t cry, and Éowyn now clearly prefers to seek her comfort from Tadiel, whose soft arms, doughy middle and doting indulgence provide what Théodwyn’s sharp, angular body and brittle bearing simply can’t or won’t.

As it inches toward sunrise, she reluctantly turns toward home again, where soon the rest of the household will begin to stir and her absence will be noted, frowned about and tsked over. The judgment of her sisters is no real concern, but she doesn’t want to add to the worries of her children. For them, she will fight to maintain even the barest pretense of normalcy. For her children, she will sit in that house among the remains of Éomund’s life – his belongings, his clothes, his scent – and she will struggle to breathe through the poisonous resentment that is trapped in her throat because she cannot allow it to pass her lips. For her children, she will choke.

The gate comes into view and, beyond it, the garden that she once loved and nurtured into glory, now gone dormant for the winter. She stumbles on the rise to the path, and a knee drives into the frozen ground. She rights herself with difficulty, grunting in the effort, and she curses at this clumsiness. Weakness of body has never been a challenge of hers, and she cannot understand the heavy, dragging feeling that follows her to the door. For the first time, she considers whether everything – the throbbing head, the sweating skin, the screaming joints – is not just a product of exertion but something more serious. Something brought on by the refusal to rest, to eat, to stay warm, to accept comfort and support. It is an unsettling thought, and she tries to push it from her mind as she slips quietly inside.

The frozen sting in her fingertips and toes is a strange counterpoint to the burning heat of her forehead and cheeks, and she collapses into a chair by the fire, waiting out the gradual thaw of her frost-dulled limbs and the eventual return of her body to how it is supposed to feel. But though her fingers slowly lose their bluish tinge and sensation tentatively returns to her feet, the heat in her face and the exhaustion in her muscles only grow. Time ticks by, innumerable minutes that seem like hours, and she can feel it all continue to worsen. What little energy she had now spills from her body like the blood of the stags that Éomund used to hunt, their carcasses sliced open and left to drain. A shiver runs through her, once and then again and again and again, every time stronger until the shivers are full-body spasms that clack her teeth together, threatening to catch her tongue in each jolt. A low, groaning noise fills the room, and she discovers with surprise that it is coming from her own throat.

Good gods, Théodwyn. What have you done to yourself? Edlenniel is in the doorway, and the horrified alarm in her voice is enough to smother the instinct to snap in response. What has she done? She tries to stand, but her legs don’t respond. A strange distance has crept in and inserted itself between the intentions of her mind and the obedience of her body. She wills herself up again and lurches forward with great effort. Is she standing now? She cannot be, not with the cool, smooth stone of the floor somehow pressed to her flushed cheek. She would lift her head to check, but the exhaustion is so heavy that it pins her down, the turning of a screw that secures her, motionless, to wherever she has landed.

Her mind becomes slow and hazy, her sight flickering in and out as though she is passing quickly between rooms that are brightly lit and others that are in total darkness. Théopryte is there and then not. Calls for help are relayed down the hall, and more people rush in. Tadiel pulls Éomer from the doorway, a hand over his eyes as though the sight of his mother is too frightful for him even to look upon. Clamoring, urgent voices echo around inside Théodwyn’s head until they are no longer intelligible to her, just a whirling churn of volumes and tones. She floats, alone and disconnected, in a sea of others’ panic.

A man’s face appears in her field of vision, lifting her up and carrying her to a nearby couch. Théodred? It comes out as a hoarse whisper, and the face shakes its head. No, of course not. Her beloved nephew doesn’t live in Aldburg and never has. A neighbor, then? Or servant? She loses interest before she can unravel the mystery, distracted by a painful new sensation that prickles across the surface of her skin like a thousand small needles. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to exhale the pain with her every labored breath.

Uncounted hours pass, and she is now in her own bed, though she cannot recall being brought there. It takes all her effort just to keep her eyes open, and each time she blinks, it feels like scraping her eyelids over sand. She drifts in and out of lucidity, bobbing in a current of confused thought like a small boat tied up at the edge of a running river. When she’s lost, she is certain she can see Éomund in the corner, watching her in grave silence. When she’s present, she hears bits and snatches of hushed conversation, all in the voices of her sisters. The healer says there is nothing more to be done, says one. Such an awful waste, sniffles another. I knew this would happen, sighs the third. But who could stop her from running herself into the ground this way? She’s always done just what she wanted, no matter how rash or irresponsible.

Amidst all her pains, these words hit her like a blow, and an immediate, convulsive heaving in her stomach has others running for the healer again to manage this fresh symptom of her malady. But she knows it for what it really is: the retching out of unwelcome truth, her body’s rejection of this simple distillation of her fate. Recovery is not coming. She will die here in this bed, and her death will be needless. Pointless. And all the more shameful because she should have known better. She could have heeded the cautions and warnings of others.

Edlenniel leans her over a bowl as she empties herself of what little she’s eaten in the last day, and the bitter taste in her mouth lingers even after she has swirled and spat out many mouthfuls of water. It lingers as she collapses back into the sweat-soaked sheets that cling to every inch of exposed skin. It lingers as her addled mind struggles to reckon with the weight and cost of her mistake, this tragedy of her own making. It will always linger, for all the minutes she has left in the world and for the eternity that stretches out into the boundless, unknown future beyond it.

Her head lolls weakly to one side, and she can see Éomund in the corner still watching, silent and attentive. His face is not impassive, but calm. He accepts what has happened, is happening, will happen, and she must accept it, too. He dissolves into a vague blur as hot tears begin to spill down her cheeks, and whether they are tears for him or for herself, she isn’t sure. When she blinks her eyes clear again, he has moved closer to the bedside. He smiles softly, the wistful look of one who knows what it is to carry the burden of self-blame past any hope of remedy, and he reaches toward her with an open hand. A hand of consolation and invitation.

She will take it, but not yet.

Bring the children, she rasps out.

There is a moment’s debate in the room, furious whispers that drift to her ears. Not something a child should witness, she hears. There may not be time to wait, is the response. She repeats her request, louder this time, and the debate intensifies, rising in pitch and strength. But before the argument can resolve itself, Éomer has pushed in from the hallway, towing little Éowyn by the hand. Her words have reached them on their own.

She struggles to bring her son and daughter into focus, just as they struggle to see the outlines of their strong, capable mother in this frail, spiritless form. She craves nothing more than rest, but she knows she cannot; if she rests now, she will not wake again. She takes each one by the hand, their skin cold and dry against her own clammy fingers and palms, and presses those hands to her lips.

Be good for your uncle, she tells them. Your cousin will love you as a brother.

Éomer, quicker to understand, begins to cry, and his tears trigger Éowyn’s. Soon all three are crying together, for both the first and last time.

You deserve better than this, she should say. I have failed you, she wants to say. But would it give them any comfort to know that she belatedly understands her own mistakes? That left to do it all again, she would guarantee that they would never be without their mother? What can she tell them now that will help and not hurt, that will be a gift and not a hindrance? She swallows hard, and it is like swallowing gravel. Your father and I did the best we could, she whispers. The two of you will do better, and we will be proud.

She drops back to the pillow, exhausted beyond measure, and someone bundles the children back out into the hall again. Éomund smiles at her, and she nods. Her eyes drift closed as his hand wraps around hers, and the burning in her heart and skin slowly fades, the fire extinguished at last.

A note on the sisters of Théoden: Their father, Thengel, ran away to Gondor as a young man and lived there for a huge chunk of his life. He married Morwen, a Gondorian woman, and Tolkien tells us he only went back to Rohan “unwillingly” to take up the throne after his own father died. 2 of his daughters and his son were born in Gondor before that happened, and my HC is that all 3 of them had Gondorian names because, at the time, Thengel never had any intention of ever going back. So that gives us Edlenniel (“daughter of the exile,” since that’s how he saw himself) and Tadiel (“second daughter,” so overshadowed by her siblings that Thengel couldn’t be bothered to even give her an interesting name).

Théoden himself had a Gondorian name as well (Arnhereg, “royal blood”) but he changed it to something Rohirric (Théoden means “leader of the people”) when the family went back to Rohan both because he wanted to fit in better and because it seemed only appropriate that the future king of Rohan have a Rohirric name. Then when the other two sisters were born in Rohan, they were given Rohirric names as well (Théopryte, “pride of the people,” who was extremely beautiful; and Théodwyn, “joy of the people,” who was full of spirit).

3 of the 4 sisters were dead by the time of the War of the Ring (Edlenniel from old age, Théopryte from an accident, and Théodwyn as described here), and Tadiel had gone back to Gondor. Edlenniel never had any children and Tadiel and Théopryte had only daughters, which is why we don’t hear anything about other cousins that might have competed with Éomer for the throne after Théodred’s death. I’ve made a backstory for each of the sisters, but no use putting that all here since I’ve already gone on too long!

(Dividers by the wonderful @quillofspirit !)

#cw canonical deaths; despair; illness #théodwyn #éomund #éomer #éowyn #it’ll be nice to be done thinking about this one!#obscure canonical characters #rohirrim #lotr

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leaf-in-a-flower-garden · 5 months ago

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I haven't really had a chance to hyper analyse the Two Embers trailer from the steam launch so I'm doing that

(Cutting cause it's a bit long lolol)

1. The Children

All of the children are wearing shades of brown and yellow, except the main child who wears a bright blue cloak.

We can assume from here on that this child is The One/Alef.

The One's mask is indented and is spiked at the sides and the top, I assume this is a nod towards The One's concept mask, a usually four spoked star with power stone (?) in the middle.

The One is wearing a gold broach with a deep blue gem in it, it's clear this child was seen as an important person/a person of interest. This could also be gotten from how the child is sitting closest to the Ancestor in charge, but this may be a stretch.

The general 'vibes' of this scene may imply that this is a kind of school trip scenario, they are going to see the Elder of the Isle or just the Temple. I could see this being a coming of age ceremony, except there seems to be multiple age groups on the boat, excluding that theory.

(Edit to add) The One/Dawn Ember is referred to as an orphan, so it's possible that the boat is filled with fellow orphans that are going to the Isle Elder's Temple to learn things/ be taken care of. This is backed up by some concept/OG lore we have on the Isle Elder, in which they teach basic skills to kids, helping them find their potential, and are comparable to a kindergarten teacher. (Credit to Vivsky for this theory, wanted to add it cause it was interesting)

2. The Authority Figures

The clothing is very distinct with these characters, pure white cloak with a head covering, adorned with a dark pink shoulder scarf. It isn't clear on the other two Ancestors, but the one in charge of keeping the children in line has a broach with a symbol on it keeping their scarf in place.

Only the Strict Ancestor has a Crowned Mask, whereas the others do not, this explains why the Chatting Ancestors are not taking control of the children or doing any work, compared to the Strict Ancestor.

Less important, but the use of clanging sticks together to keep the children inline when they got excited was something, it could be a universal form of discipline in all the realms, or it could be specific to the region.

The use of stone tablets and simple cloth bags tells us about what kind of technology they had access to at the time of the Young One.

Despite their 'limited' technology, they are capable of having massive boats in the air, using multiple stone 'wings', and possibly magic, to get in the sky. It's also something to note that there is a kind of guide directing the boat with a stick, the guide being very clearly skinny, it could imply the skies being different to ours, or the Guide Ancestor was using Cyan Magic, aka wind magic that the Valley Elders use.

3. The Manta

This part is very short, but this image alone shows how the Greater/Elder Manta we are used to are nowhere as colossal as the Manta from the Old World. Look at the tiny ants compared to it, absolutely wild.

The heads of the Manta differ from grey to gold, depending on the evolved set of wings the Manta has -> Feathered Wings have grey heads, Smooth Wings have gold heads.

4. The Temple and Surrounding Structures

We can see lots of boats heading into the upper island, aka the Temple. Not all boats are directly heading towards it however, it seems as though the Temple is a kind of waypoint for travellers, similar to a lighthouse, guiding people on their way to new land (strengthened by the light coming through the Bell at the top of the temple).

The Temple is much brighter and has dark blue painted patterns that are a contrast to the lighter stone. The doorway is a bright red, probably a cloth covering the doorway to create a sense of privacy, it is a sacred (?) Temple after all.

The area around the Temple is a lot less bustling and full of life then the main Isle, maybe people don't have a reason to be there or the Elder doesn't like people loitering in sacred land (as far as I remember, Isle Elder was described as spiritual or 'traditional' so this could very well be possible imo)

There is a lot of land that has been covered up by clouds, now visible, it's almost anticlimactic that it is simply a glade, but somehow extremely fitting for the Isle of Dawn.

Once again, the proportions are different than in-game, the Temple looks massive compared to the boat.

There are triangular banners (forgot the name lol) coming from the spokes of the Temple, this is shared by the Prairie Temple, and could have some prevalence. I like to think it's just to make the Temple more welcoming to guests however.

There are two other structures in these shots, a small building, one story probably, off to the side of the Temple, and a tall bell tower.

Going off the previous point, the small building could have multiple purposes. It could be a communal area for travellers, similarly it could be a kind of station for merchants or others to manage resources when traveling in the Isle Region. In a different direction, it could be a place of religion, a prayer building of sorts? We know that there was prominent religious belief before the Power/Technological Era so I wouldn't think it would be too far of a stretch to assume it's something of the sort. The building, assuming the Temple's interior is consistent with the in-game design, could also be where the Isle Elder resides, as there aren't many other visible places in the Temple, unless they're a bat or something.

There isn't much to think about around the Bell Tower. It's definitely interesting that it exists at all considering there is a bell at the top of the Isle Temple but it could have significance that just isn't shown in the trailer. It could also serve as a Lighthouse as the Temple does, there is a bit of distance between the two so it's likely that the Bell Tower is for those travelling into the Isle. It could also serve as a watchtower, keeping a lookout for wandering manta or storms.

Anyways, that's pretty much all I have to say and I've already said a lot so I'll shut my yap for now lolol. In all seriousness, I can't wait for Two Embers to come out and finally learn about the Old World and its people, apparently it's supposed to be coming out in 2024? I read somewhere that it was supposed to but idk if it actually will. Garghhhh I'm so autistic for this silly friendship game.

#sky cotl #skyblr #sky children of the light #sky: cotl #text post #that sky game #sky the children of light #sky cotl screenshots #sky theory #uhhh i still dunno how to tag lolol #two embers

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stargirlfeyre · 5 months ago

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My thoughts on the theory that the Nesta book is about Nesta (this is kinda long).

*Though I’m not a Nesta fan this isn’t coming from a place of hatred towards her but just what’s logical for me*

I’ve been seeing people say that the next book is going to be another Nesta + Cassian Pov but that doesn’t make sense if we take into account how the original trilogy worked, the current plot of the books, and Sjm’s own words.

Firstly, when Feyre was getting multiple books it was made pretty clear throughout the series. Until Acowar none of her books had a finale like ending. Acotar ended after she’d just been through months of torture and was entering arguably the lowest point in her life, Acomaf ended a damn mess to say the least, and finally Acowar signified the end of the original trilogy. Feyre wasn’t fully healed by healing and at peace. She was on the right path and surrounded by her loved ones

Feyre’s Acowar ending heavily mirrors Nesta’s Acosf ending. Nesta’s happy. She has a found family, has her mate, and is healing her relationship with her sisters. There’s not really an open ending like how Acotar and Acomaf was for Feyre. Don’t you think that if Sjm planned on giving Nesta multiple books she would have shown it in Acotar? I don’t take the few chapters that she’s in in Hofas as foreshadowing that she’ll get more books because why would you use another series to foreshadow a character getting more books in a separate series?

If Nesta was getting more books in the Acotar series then that would have been foreshadowed in the Acotar series. No, Ember telling Nesta that she’ll find her way is not enough evidence for me I’m sorry.

Secondly, things just won’t be balanced out. There are two more full books in the Acotar series. If Nesta gets the other one that would be that Elain gets the last one. Feyre gets 3 books, Nesta gets 2, and Elain’s gets…1? What sense does that make? Let’s just say that each sister is getting a duo-logy, that would mean that there’s 3 more books in this series plus a novella or two. Not only does that directly go against Sjm’s own words that each sister is only getting one book, but there’s just not enough plot for that to happen. We can already tell that this series is dragging and Sjm is trying to create new conflicts and that’s heavily impacting the quality of her writing, there’s not enough material for this series to drag on for over 3 books and still make sense.

I saw someone say that Nesta is getting a trilogy like Feyre and Elain will also get one and there will be a novella in between. But again that just makes no sense. Sjm signed a deal for 7 more books. If what y’all are saying is true then that means all seven books are for the Acotar series. All of them. Now we know this isn’t true because she has said herself that the Crescent City series will have more books and she’s also visiting a new world that she’s excited to write for.

Elain is getting that next book. We all just need to accept this and move on. Feyre got a trilogy for a reason and her sisters are getting one book spin-offs for a reason. Now does this mean that Nesta will never have a pov or play a major role in the Acotar books again? Absolutely not. Nessian will probably still get a bonus chapter in the next book like Feysand got in Acosf, Nesta will likely still use the troves, and she’ll likely still wield Ataraxia and be a warrior like she’s training to be.

What’s she’s not going to do is leave Cassian for Eris. What’s she’s not going to do is leave the Night Court which she’s already called her home. What she’s not going to do is revive a court that already belongs to Rhys and become High Lady or High Queen. Nesta’s path is already set in stone. She’s still walking that path sure but we know where her story is going. I’m going to touch your hand when I say this…Sjm did not write an 800 page books of Nesta gaining friends, family, and love in the Night Court and breaking out of the mindset that her mother and grandmother beat into her just for her to leave the Night Court and follow the path that here abusive family laid for her.

It’s just not going to happen.

#nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron #archeron sisters #pro feyre #pro elain #house of flame and shadow #cc3 spoilers #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of war and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #elriel #elain x azriel #pro elriel

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captain-mj · 1 year ago

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Dragon 2/3

There is going to be a third part

Ghost felt so heavy. His limbs were weighed down by the heavy chains. They chose to use iron and it burned his skin. It didn’t feel like his flames. The flames he loved. More like chemical burns. They wrapped around his wrists, ankles and his wings. He didn’t raise his head when someone came in. He stayed as a deadweight as he was dragged forward.

Roba stepped in front of him, his shoes in his line of sight. “A young King just turned 25. How exciting, yes?”

Ghost stared at him. Silent. Annoying.

“I apologize, dear friend. I searched everywhere, but it seems you’re alone. No more dragons anywhere.”

Ghost stared at him. Impassive. Horrid.

“Which means you’re going to be my gift to him. I’ve heard he doesn’t find comfort in women, so I can’t give him that. Giving him a few men would be seen as shameful, understand? It’s best to give him you. A dragon. They consider you religious. Do you think yourself divine?”

Ghost did not. He felt painfully solid. His wings were thin from disuse, though his body still had plenty of muscle.

Roba dug his heel into a weak point of his wing and Ghost bit his tongue. “Words, Ghost.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Get him cleaned up.”

They used cold water. It tingled. So cold against his already cold body. Dragons were not supposed to be this cold. But the burning feeling in Ghost’s chest had faded to an ember. Only kept up by a stubborn need to live even when Ghost was accepting he’d much rather die.

Alone. The word rattled in his brain. No one else? No others? How unfortunate. How sad. Ghost certainly felt alone here. But that was not a new feeling.

They scrubbed his skin, blood dripping from wounds they opened with how careless they were. It felt good. In a weird way. Finally being clean was a huge plus too. They took his chains off carefully. Always keeping just enough on that he couldn’t escape. As if he would.

One of the servants kissed his cheek. Gently. A mockery of love. “Good luck.”

How would they deliver him? Whole? In pieces? Maybe they were cleaning him so they could dismember him and deliver him on a platter?

Ghost wouldn’t mind. Dying. He only hoped when the King was done, he’d get rid of his body. Burn it. Most likely, he’d be hung up like a trophy. At least, his wings would.

Ghost fell asleep in the carriage. They had been keeping him awake lately and now he knew why. No matter how hard he tried, he just passed right out.

Until his head was being dunked in ice water. How Roba even managed that was beyond him. He had been dressed while asleep. Simple loose pants. His chest was bare. More iron around his wrists and along his throat.

“Don’t embarrass me. You understand. You’re a gift. Act like it.”

Ghost nodded absentmindedly. His eyes already glazing over. He had gotten used to the patterns in Roba’s cruelty. How would this new king be?

“His name is Soap. It’s his coronation and 25th birthday. They did a joint celebration.”

Soap.

Soap….

What a weird name.

Ghost had his hair cut slightly, just enough to make it look nice again. It curled and kinked up and the person trying to make it stay down was getting upset. He ignored them and they gave up eventually.

When Roba had taken him from the farm house, he had yelled for Johnny. No one had known who that was. He had screamed until his voice went hoarse. They said no prince in the area had the name Johnny. Did the human lie to him? Why? Being royalty meant nothing to Ghost. Him being a prince meant nothing.

“Put your wings up. Need him to know you’re a dragon.” One of them hit him lightly and made him hold his wings up.

They were heavy. They had never been heavy before. But right now, they just ached something fierce. Ghost felt them start to drag and one of them quickly corrected them.

“Either hold them up or we cut parts of them off.”

Ghost found the least uncomfortable way to hold up his wings. He tried not to let his eyelids droop. Exhaustion was getting to him.

Then, he was marched into a room. Full of people. All of who looked at… at him.

Why were they looking at him?

“King MacTavish! I hope I’m not late.” Roba walked forward and Ghost trailed behind him, feeling like he was being set on fire and not in a good way. “I brought you something?”

Ghost felt like the room was spinning. Was it spinning?

A thick accent. One he swore he heard before. It was talking but the room was spinning too had. His wings were drooping. They hurt. He was heavy.

Someone was screaming. It was loud. High pitched. Maybe it was him.

Roba’s voice. Full of pride.

“The Last Dragon.”

Ghost knew he wasn’t the one screaming. He was on the floor. A blade. There was a blade.

More screaming. It was so loud.

Ghost fell asleep.

He missed Soap’s hate filled berating of Roba. The way he pulled out a weapon and threatened to cut him from throat to belly button. If he saw it, he’d be proud.

Ghost only knew that when he woke up, there was not a single chain on him. That the ground beneath him felt soft. A blanket draped over his body. And he had been scrubbed clean in his sleep. He could tell because his skin tingled and smelled floral.

Soap, his King, paced at the foot of the bed. Angry, violent footsteps.

Ghost had displeased him. Most likely by passing out.

He didn’t move an inch. Simply waited. Maybe he’d calm down.

Soap stopped moving. The deafening silence followed.

Ghost bit his tongue as he felt him approach. Felt soft fingertips along his back. Along the bulk of his wings.

“Simon.”

Ghost felt him saying that name like a stab wound. “Ghost.”

“Ghost.”

Hands through his hair. Gentle. A mockery of love.

“Oh, Ghost. What did they do to you?” Soap asked him softly.

Ghost’s eyes fluttered. “Johnny?”

“Hi.”

Oh. He was a Prince.

Ghost didn’t want to move. He felt tight. Like he’d break open if he moved too fast.

Soap gently brushed his hair out of his face. “Look at you. Still so bonnie.”

His accent had gotten thicker. Ghost still flinched when he came too close to his face.

He moved to instead stroke Ghost’s hair. He scratched his scalp gently and it felt so nice Ghost almost moaned. Instead, he went slack, letting Soap manipulate him how he wanted.

Incredibly careful hands touched his body. Inspecting the cuts. The bruises. The now harsh scars that would never leave.

Then came the kisses. A simple press of the lips over every one. Until Ghost felt so wound up, he was afraid he’d break apart. Shatter into a thousand tiny little pieces. A sob passed his lips and Soap pressed into him.

“You’re okay. You’re alright.”

It was too much.

“Please.”

Soap pressed closer. His skin impossibly too hot and too cold. “What do you need? How can I help?”

“Stop touching me.” It was a risky move.

Soap yanked back. “O-of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.”

Ghost pressed his face into the pillows. “If you want something from me, just take it and go.”

“No. I’ll do nothing of the sort.” Soap said quickly. Ghost shuddered, wondering what he was planning.

Was he still mad Ghost left all those years ago? Yes, it wasn’t on purpose, but that meant nothing to human. Or maybe he wanted to finish what he started all those years ago.

The idea of Soap, or Johnny he supposed, pinning him down. Taking advantage of his weakness to fulfill his human desires.

Wouldn’t be the first time. Soap was softer though. Weaker than your average human. Maybe he’d at least take it slow. That would drag it out though.

“Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep a long time.”

Ghost tried to piece together how long exactly he had been asleep. He was hungry. So fucking hungry.

“I’ll take that as a yes you are.” Soap rang a bell and someone brought them food. He started to situate the pillows, making them into a weird pile.

Ghost watched him pat the pile multiple times before realizing he was supposed to sit there. He slowly moved and sat in front of him. Soap pushed him into it and… it was comfy. Really comfy.

Ghost slowly melted into it, head tilting back. Soft underbelly exposed.

Stab him. Cut him open. Bleed him dry.

Soap did no such thing. He took the plate from them and knelt in front of him on the bed. “Just eat, yes?” There wasn’t much room for arguing. His hand was cupping Ghost’s jaw with the other holding bread, making it impossible to escape.

Ghost opened his mouth slowly and he could see Soap counting his teeth. Some had been filed or broken, but his body would just make more. He’d have to remove some of them before he could replace them, but it would be fine. Ghost ate from his hand slowly, feeling intense shame from the act but an understanding that he wouldn’t be fed otherwise. It wasn’t the most degrading thing he had to do for food.

Soap kept stroking his face. His chin, his cheeks, under his eyes.

“Beautiful.”

Ghost was confused what he found attractive about his scar riddled body, but if he had his fetishes, he had them. He finished eating, starting to feel sick despite only getting a few mouthfuls down.

Soap cupped his face fully, taking him in.

“I missed you.”

Ghost didn’t look at him.

“That’s okay. I’m so glad you’re alive. That I can see you again.”

Ghost closed his eyes slowly.

Soap was feral. A bit like a puppy. He kept touching Ghost. His fingertips running over his wings. Presence all around him. He smelled so strongly of different things. Nice things, don’t get him wrong. Just overwhelming.

Ghost opened his mouth but before he could even get words out, Soap was jumping up and down.

“Need a drink? You must be thirsty.” Soap fixed him a glass of tea and brought it to him. He still had his crown on. And his coronation outfit. It was funny, seeing someone that looked so royal care for him.

Soap’s red coat hit the ground, gorgeous against his white shirt. Ghost could see the intricate gold coloring and it took him a minute, but he realized it emulated his own gold scarring. The designs on the coat jumbled on the back, giving the appearance of wings.

Did Johnny miss him that much?

Ghost hated himself for leaving.

Soap hesitated. There were mere inches between them. It felt like nothing to Ghost and too far to Soap. Ghost felt smothered. Unused to such affections.

Soap wanted to swallow him whole.

#johnny soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii

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spockiguess · 6 months ago

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The Evangelical Counsels || Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader || Chapter 2 - Another Meeting

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune / Chapter 1

Summary: The reader returns to Kreizler's Institute, but the meeting does not go as planned.

Warnings: Descriptions of Abuse, Mentions of Poverty, Homelessness, and Starvation Regarding Minors, Criticisms of Organized Religion, Mentions of Religious Grooming, Arguments, Romance Involving Nuns, Age Gap (~20s/~40s), Eventual Smut

Pairing: Fem!Nun!Reader x Laszlo Kreizler

A/N: Laszlo is depicted as an asshole in this because, well, he is one! I love him a lot, but he needs to work on some things...

The days that followed after your confounding encounter with the blunt Dr. Kreizler were slow and uneventful, which you came to realize over the years was a small blessing in your line of duty. Excitement in an orphanage wasn’t always positive, and it was better for the children if they were able to predict–and follow–a safe routine. It provided much-needed structure in their lives.

Nevertheless, you found your mind wandering in the few moments of solace throughout the day. Cleaning dishes was paired with meditations on the complex interactions you and the Good Doctor had shared, whereas changing sheets brought on vivid memories of his piercing eyes and scathing words. The wires within you became more fraught with each passing second you spent in your cramped bed. In those twilight hours, you would focus on one of the candles that dotted your equally diminutive room, absently watching the ember flame dance in the breeze that flowed from your open window. The fire provided the serenity your head needed to think about how the time you spent with Dr. Kreizler had forced you to question everything you knew while inspiring a searing heat to spark in the depths of your core.

This warmth that spread deeper and farther than any hearth might cause was wholly new to you. Not once had you experienced something like this, but due to the newfound sensitivity between your legs, you knew that it was something to vehemently detest. Mother Superior Ida had been encouraged on many occasions by St. Vincent’s Abess to violently discipline your peers if need be, with you only escaping by mere hairs. Watching the older nuns of the convent be flogged for “inappropriate behavior” around the men of the Church who happened to visit from time to time kept you dutiful on your path of pureness. You never touched yourself, let your thoughts stray, or even looked at your most private areas unless absolutely necessary. After that day, though, your discipline waned.

Dr. Kreizler was challenging, utterly unafraid of your position, and according to the stories you heard, cold towards most. The man countered your faith at every turn, intent on proving you wrong. He wasn’t the type of man you thought you would find yourself attracted to, if you could even act on those desires. No, Dr. Kreizler was difficult. He had a tendency to provoke people, much like he did to you that day, and ignore one’s feelings. And yet, Kreizler regarded children with a familiarity that was uncommon for men of his status. In the few hours you spent at his Institute, the alienist’s care for the wellbeing of his patients was made plain. Dr. Kreizler, at his heart, was a gentle man, and that is perhaps what drew you to him so much in the first place–his defiance of your expectations.

This all culminated in a flurry of emotion that pushed you to leave St. Vincent’s Orphanage on one of your off-days and make the trek to the Kreizler Institute once again. Without the fear that urged you to take this path originally, you were able to mull over your actions, causing you to stumble into strangers on the sidewalk and nearly pass the Institute altogether. Once you righted yourself faced the creme-colored steps of his facility, a wave of hot shame flooded your senses: what were you doing? To allow any sort of attraction in the first place was already an ample mistake, but to seek the object of your attraction out like this was deplorable. You were already wed to Him, any other being should pale in comparison. Despite this, you still had questions that needed to be answered.

Just as you began to make your way up the steps, one of the enormous wooden doors to the Institute swung open, a tiny woman appearing just behind it.

“Oh! You must be Nunny!” she proclaimed in a mousy English accent.

Pausing, your brows knit together in a tight line as you stammered, “I’m sorry, you’re one of the staff here, correct?”

The woman was wearing the garb you found common amongst the staff who worked behind those doors, and she swung her head down to look at the uniform, too, “Yes. I apologize, Sister. Dr. Kreizler said that’s a nickname the children often refer to you as.”

Another type of embarrassment painted your features, and you huffed indignantly as you drew your scapular up again, “It’s alright, the children find it easier to remember.” You weren’t sure if Kreizler using the name to describe you was supposed to be demeaning, or if he genuinely didn’t remember your name, but it stung, nonetheless.

The woman who stood behind the entrance pushed the heavy door further, waving a hand to welcome you in, “Would you prefer I call you something else?”

Now indifferent to the title, you relented, “No, Nunny is fine,” and continued into the building.

Unlike the previous time, there weren’t any children to be found playing inside, nor did you see any staff surveying the space. It felt oddly empty, and you shuddered at the silence.

“Where are the children?” you asked hesitantly.

The woman who was currently leading you down one of the main paths to Dr. Kreizler’s office pointed down a branching hall you passed, “Everyone’s gone outside to play, Sister. They’re happily enjoying their weekend activities.” You sighed a breath of relief before resuming your route.

Eventually, you were met with Dr. Kreizler’s office door, the opulent gold plaque freshly lacquered since your last visit. The woman knocked twice before twisting the similarly gold handle, leaving you to confer with the alienist who waited inside.

Kreizler sat at his desk, furiously scribbling in one of the many notebooks that cluttered the surface, “Is something the matter, Lottie?”

Unsure of how to respond, you waited until Dr. Kreizler glanced upwards, taking pause at your unexpected presence.

“Have you just arrived?” Dr. Kreizler queried.

Nervously running one hand over the other, you explained, “Yes. I was already at the entrance when one of your staff greeted me.”

The man squinted his eyes, something you now figured a tic, “How convenient. I had just sent Lottie to retrieve you.”

You swallowed, stepping back a pace, “I’m assuming Mona requested a visit?”

“Indeed. She’s in the courtyard with the rest of her peers,” Dr. Kreizler waited a breath, “You came here for a different reason?” The air in the room began to still, and part of you wished to leave in that very instance.

“I apologize. I know you’ve only allowed my presence for visits with Mona, or if I need help with another child,” you paused as well, this time for different reasons, “I’m not here to preach gospel, Doctor.”

This only further intrigued Kreizler, his diligent fingers pensively stroking his beard as he pressed for more information, “Then I must ask the same question as I did before: what is the purpose of your visit?”

You were cornered, literally and figuratively. The lining of your throat dried uncomfortably while you struggled to form a coherent response, “I’m not sure how to classify this visit, Dr. Kreizler.”

Kreizler beckoned you to sit with a single hand, “Indulge me, Sister.”

That single sentence reignited the flame you had been feeling ever since you left the Institute before, and without much thought, your feet carried you to one of the velvet chairs opposite his desk.

Carefully sitting down, you adjusted your tunic to retain as much modesty as possible, despite the vulnerability you felt in this moment. All the while, Dr. Kreizler raptly studied you like one of his patients, the very act feeling immodest itself.

“So, why did you seek me out, if not for Mona?” The question came from him easily, as if there wasn’t a double meaning to his words.

You didn’t dare meet his gaze, instead picking at the skin that surrounded your nails, “I do not know where else to go,” Dr. Kreizler waited as you collected your thoughts, “You have inspired questions that I do not know how to answer, which has only brought about more questions.”

Kreizler’s voice was an octave lower as he leaned back in his chair, resting a hand on one of the armrests, “You can’t consult your superiors?”

“They would punish me, Doctor,” you admitted shamefully.

A deep hum resonated from Dr. Kreisler's chest, “That must be the reason behind your change in demeanor today. I remember a quite brazen young woman from our last visit.”

A tense silence permeated the room, suffocating you under its weight. Dr. Kreizler was right, which added to the immense guilt you burdened yourself with. You've come all this way from St. Vincent’s to satisfy a foolish infatuation and seek guidance over something he despised with his entire being. How could a self-proclaimed atheist possibly help you reconfigure your relationship with God?

“I should have waited for Lottie,” you said to yourself, voice trembling.

Kreizler clicked his tongue in annoyance and stood without warning, quickly making way to the door behind you, signaling for you to leave, “Then you are wasting my time, Sister. If you have nothing of note to share with me, please wait with one of the staff for Ms. Walker.”

You were confused, how could he turn from addressing you with some modicum of kindness to treating you like a disturbance. Overwhelmed, salty teardrops began to fall into the open palms of your hands. Feeling lost again and in desperate need of understanding, you looked up and out of the shimmering window that sat behind the doctor’s desk as you questioned, “Did I really choose this life for myself?”

Another pregnant silence followed before you heard the door abruptly close. Soon, Dr. Kreizler was behind his desk and waiting for your next confession like the men of the cloth you had run to previously. Perhaps Kreizler’s unique disposition might be what you need in this moment, rather than the absolution the men on the other side of the confessional booth urged you to seek.

“You were right. I had never questioned His teachings. I hadn't thought that possible. But when you exposed such a blindspot in my beliefs, it led me to doing that very thing,” you avoided Dr. Kreizler’s stare, too raw to face it now.

“Now, I am unsure if my choice to take the vows was entirely my own, or just a symptom of being raised by the very women I have become.” A weight lifted from your shoulders and the bind suffocating your heart eased with the admittance. Even voicing your doubts to someone who wouldn't punish you for doing so was relieving.

Ever serious, Dr. Kreizler spoke evenly, “You must not have had many choices, Sister.”

The title of Sister was blistering now, and you recoiled at the sound, “When I began my teachings, it was with the motivation that once I was of age, my health and safety would be guaranteed. I had no other skills to depend on.” The rosary that laid beneath your tunic began to burn your skin, the cloth which covered you only intensified the feeling.

“You acted out of survival, then? Not out of an innate devotion to God?” Kreizler asked.

Tears blinded your vision, “I think so.”

“What would you have done if your needs were satisfied?”

You stayed silent, only speaking when you were certain enough you wouldn't burst into pathetic sobs, “I would have liked to work in an orphanage, just as I am now. I've always loved children.”

Dr. Kreizler tilted his head slightly, his eyes regarding you with the utmost pity, “And to think your life wouldn't have been so different had you picked a different path.”

Swallowing a hard lump, you blinked the remaining tears away and swiped the evidence of your pain from your hands, “Perhaps, but there is nothing I can do about it now. As much as anyone else, I am still burdened with the duties of my service, and it would be selfish of me to abandon them.”

The alienist leaned forward, almost conspiratorially, “Would you leave your convent, had you the opportunity?”

Color drained from your face and you clenched at your stomach, praying for the visceral sickness that boiled there to go away. You would be shunned by your Sisters, the only family you’ve ever known. You wouldn’t be able to continue your work at St. Vincent’s, where so many children are in desperate need of your help. The Lord would rebuke you as His wife and cast you to Hell once your life creeped towards the inevitable.

Startled, you fought back, a distinct sadness plaguing your voice, “I can’t do that.”

Kreizler, a man not ashamed of his ability to inflame, pestered, “”You can’t, or you won’t?”

“My Lord would abandon me, just as I would do to him if I entertained that prospect. I’d be a disgrace to the people I serve,” you argued, clinging to what you’ve been taught over the years.

“The only thing that restricts you from living the life you want is shame? You criticized others for using religion to justify their own despicable behavior, now you are doing the same!” Kreizler’s voice began to rise, the conversation flipping on a dime as his own frustration became evident.

“How am I the same, Doctor?” You asked indignantly, offended at the accusation.

Dr. Kreizler stood up, perching a hand on his desk to loom over you, “You are living a life of shame for a God you don’t even love–that is pathetic! You are no different from a starved animal clawing to survive.” His words dripped with bitter venom, and it stung against your flesh.

“I did what I had to do! I help people, Doctor! That is my freedom!” You stood, too, stepping closer to the edge of Kreizler’s finely carved desk.

“And what freedom is that, Sister? I help people, as well, do I not?” Kreizler’s accent thickened with menace.

You snarled, closing the gap between you and the Good Doctor even more, “You have always had the means to do such a thing! No matter what, you have been afforded protections that people like me are forced to live without–how we choose to live our lives is none of your business!”

Kreizler ignored your rebuttal, “These are fickle excuses and you are smart enough to know it, Sister. Do you want to live this life?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you said in an instant.

“I will ask again, do you want to live this life?”

“Of course not!” You yelled, inches away from Kreizler’s face.

An eerie silence followed before you found the confidence to speak again, voice broken, “I have given up so much, Doctor. I have lost the future I always dreamed about–and while I would help people in any lifetime–I want a family. That is the life I want to live.”

Kreizler, still maintaining the short distance between you, spoke gently, “Then why not go after it?”

Backing away somewhat, you issued a deep sigh, “I do not know how I would do that, and I am too much of a coward to face the wrath of my superiors, should I make a mistake.”

“So you will do nothing?” His words were foreboding, like thunderclouds reigning above crashing waves, eager to swallow you whole.

You didn’t allow yourself to speak on the subject anymore, having already said far too much, “I’m going to wait for Mona, Doctor. Thank you for your time.” In a second, you were out of the office and retracing your steps to the hall Lottie pointed down earlier, your smile bittersweet once the courtyard came into sight.

Soon, you were reunited with Mona, who was thrilled to see you. Already, she looked livelier than before, the hollows of her cheeks beginning to round out. The two of you spent most of your visit playing all of Mona’s newly-favorite games, most of which included some theming around horses, and you couldn’t have been luckier. Keeping your attention on the girl brought you back to your usual, joyful self, and you were able to momentarily ignore the humiliating spat you shared with the Institute’s resident alienist.

Eventually, Mona led you back to the dormitory she now inhabited, her bed occupied by a certain furry friend while her chest brimmed with clothes and toys. She urged you to sit on the edge of the mattress while she went through each toy she’s received, finally making way to the plush rabbit that rested against her pillow.

“And this is Nunny. She’s my favorite one,” Mona said through a big grin, holding the rabbit out to you.

Your heart clenched and you took the stuffed animal in your hands, brushing its floppy ears from its face, “You named it after me?”

Mona bobbed her head, holding her hands behind her back in the cutest way possible, “She’s a bunny, and bunny rhymes with Nunny.”

Gobsmacked, you sat the bunny to the side and brought the girl up to place on your bouncing leg, “It rhymes? You must have learned a lot since being here, sweet girl.”

Mona giggled, “Uh huh, he’s been teaching me himself!” In the farthest reaches of your hearing, you picked up on the sound of a doorknob twisting ever so delicately, followed by a soft creak. You reckoned it was a door just outside of the room, ignoring it for now.

With a knowing hum, you questioned the girl, “Dr. Kreizler?” Mona nodded again, situating herself closer to lay on your chest.

“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s a very caring individual–I knew he would look after you,” you didn’t entirely know why you were speaking the man’s praises, but you couldn’t help it, even with what transgressed earlier today.

Dr. Kreizler might be hard on you and most others, but he had a painfully obvious soft-spot for children, no matter the guise he might put on.

“He even plays with me. A lot of my friends say he doesn’t do that often,” Mona’s voice began to get quieter, and sneaking a glance downwards, you could see her eyelids become droopy, no doubt a warning your visit was coming to an end.

“Well, you’ll have to thank him for me, Mona. I’m extremely lucky to have gone to him when I had the chance.” Mona didn’t respond, and you could only guess she had fallen fast asleep.

Leaving her there for a moment, you glanced around the room, intently studying the crude drawings that lined the walls. When your gaze fell on the door, you noticed it was left ajar, and you faintly wondered if you had forgotten to close it before you came in.

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #female reader #daniel brühl

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olenvasynyt · 2 months ago

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Writing tag by @bonecarversbestie !

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing?

I usually have a very simple concept to start with but I can pick it up pretty quickly and go from there. I start writing a chapter by doing a very quick blurb that summarizes what will happen: “Lucien is walking back to the forest house after a Winter trip.” Where is he walking? What are his emotions? I can write a pretty long summary and then write the actual chapter when I get inspired. I’ll end up separating the summary into sections and eventually I’ll have a draft! My issue is editing haha I despise editing because I overthink. But I have gotten better. This is fanfic, so usually I will finish up my draft and glue parts together, go over some words I think I repeated too much, and then I say fuck it and go!

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

DEFINITELY a plotter. I got a huge huge spreadsheet of my plot for A Court of Embers and Sunlight which includes keeping track of my words, having a little summary, who’s POV, what I need to add etc to each chapter.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

I got a playlist for my Court of Embers and Sunlight fic, but I mainly listen to this classical playlist.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

I often write at my local coffee shop and I either get a honey comb latte (honey, cinnamon, vanilla with oat milk) or a cafe mocha. When I’m at home, I usually just have water.

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

A Court of Embers and Sunlight will always have my heart! It’s a 2 year project with over 140,000 words! About Lucien’s life in the Autumn court with Jesminda and how they tragically ended. I also have LoA plots, and Eris plots! I’m proud of my worldbuilding and the emotional stories that I tell. It’s taking me forever to get out though 😭 I have SO MANY chapters and plots I want everyone to read!!

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

The Tree Have Eyes! 3 chapter fic of Eris and little 8 year old Lucien going on a hunting trip!! It’s sweet and emo and fun and full of cool nature.

Do you have any advice for new writers?

I would say don’t think too much about other’s work. This is coming from someone who thinks A LOT, but a lot of people worry that their writer isn’t as good as someone else’s, or they aren’t getting a lot of kudos so it must be bad, etc. Don’t beat yourself up! It’s hard to stop comparing but this writing is for you, and there will ALWAYS be someone who loves to read your stuff. Also make friends with other writers! You get like minded people who can support you and help you out. I’m often a loner but I get so excited when I get friends sharing their work or talking about their work, talking about my work etc! It is very motivating.

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

Oh god, dialogue…this is me thinking too much but I never feel very confident in when writing dialogue. So many people write it so naturally and it’s always the first thing they start when drafting! I can start with dialogue but I always enjoy prose and descriptions more.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Rhysand! He jumped on me when I was first drafting ACOEAS and he was very very fun. Difficult sometimes (because I am not as hot or clever as Rhys lmao) but still very fun.

Thank you for tagging me @yaralulu @sad-scarred-sassy and thank you for starting this @bonecarversbestie ! I feel like most of my writing friends already did this haha.

But no pressure tags: @sadiegirl2021 @ennawrite @jules-writes-stories @clockwork-ashes @highlordofkrypton

#tagging game #fanfic writing

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gina103 · 4 months ago

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Christmas Break Part 1!

Ember and Jamie are back, and it's Christmas in July! it's been such a long time since I posted anything with them. I'll try to get part 2 out this next week or so. Enjoy!

word count: 2809

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Ember felt absolutely sick to her stomach.

Winter break had finally begun, and the excitement in the air was tangible. Now that finals were over, which had been a grueling experience for both Jamie and Ember, Jamie doing the studying and exam taking, and Ember being the tutor/study buddy, they were now on the way to Jamie’s family home for the break.

Whether it was the carsickness or the fact that she was going to be spending the entire break with Jamie, Ember’s stomach was flipping like an Olympic gymnast. She was excited, of course. This was her first time being so far from home, and she was going to experience Christmas with someone else for the first time since the death of her family. She imagined Jamie’s house, all decorated with lights just like in the movies, with a beautiful Christmas tree, lavished in ornaments and twinkling lights. There would be presents, music, laughter, and most importantly, there would be Jamie.

It would be an amazing opportunity to see where Jamie grew up, and to overall, get to know him more on a deeper level. Because one thing that Ember had realized was that she cared for Jamie in a way unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. In spending more time with him, hopefully, she could figure out what her strange new feelings meant.

Slowly, she snuck a glance at Jamie in the driver’s seat. Ember was situated in the passenger seat, wrapped up in a bundled-up scarf. Jamie was obviously driving, one hand was gripping the steering wheel, the other in his lap tapping to the beat of the music playing. His eyes were fixed on the road, but Ember could tell he was excited, she could see the smile worming in and out of his facial expression, he loved his family so much. He had told her about his little sister and how he couldn’t wait to see how much she’d grown in his absence. Her name was Sarah, she was seven years old and according to Jamie, the cutest little girl you’d ever see.

Ember knew it wouldn’t be wise to reveal herself to any of his family members, so they mutually agreed to keep her a secret from them. He didn’t have any pets so there wasn’t anything to worry about on that front, thank God.

“You ok?” Jamie asked her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Just a little nervous,” Ember replied.

“About what exactly?”

“Well, everything,” Ember gazed up at the car’s ceiling, “I don’t know how everything’s going to go, and this whole idea is just so completely out of my comfort zone…”

She trailed off, feeling Jamie’s glances at her.

“It’ll all be fine. Don’t worry, it’s totally normal to be nervous. You’re actually doing better than I thought you would,” he said comfortingly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I thought you would’ve thrown up by now.”

“Gross!”

They both laughed for a moment before Jamie continued.

“But seriously though, you might be nervous right now but when we get there, it’ll all melt away. I mean, when I first moved into college, I felt exactly the same as you.”

Ember briefly remembered move-in day, it all felt so long ago. That was before everything, before she’d ever met Jamie. Life felt so different than it did now. Before Jamie, life used to pass by in a blurry haze, with nothing to remember it by and nothing to live for with nothing to do but survive. Oh, how far away that was now.

“Did you? I didn’t think humans really got nervous about things like that,” Ember observed.

“What did you think we got nervous about?”

Ember thought for a moment. She didn’t really imagine humans being nervous at all, they were so big and seemed so impenetrable that she couldn’t really conceptualize what they would have to be nervous about.

“I don’t know, maybe your little gadgets not working?” she finally said.

Jamie let out a laugh, “Well, you aren’t wrong on that front.”

They continued to pass the time with their small conversations, each one working to melt away Ember’s nerves a little bit at a time. The scenery outside the window flashed by too quickly for her to comprehend. Fields dotted with cows, trees still clinging to the last of their leaves, an overcast sky, it all had it’s own beauty in a way. Jamie mentioned that he would make a ‘hot chocolate’ drink for her to try once they reached their destination, and Ember was very much looking forward to it, but the thought of reaching their destination also made her palms sweaty. She was glad her hands were too small for Jamie to notice.

At last, Jamie pulled up into the driveway of a pleasant looking suburban home.

He looked down at her after he put his car in park. “You ready? It’s gonna be a little bit crazy until I can get to my room.”

Ember took a deep breath, puffing up her chest a pit to emphasize whatever slimmer of confidence she had. “I’m ready.”

“Alright.”

Jamie laid out his hand for her to climb on. Once she was settled, he moved her to a pocket on the inside of his jacket, closest to his body.

“I wore this jacket specifically for this,” He joked, “no chance anyone will notice a lump.”

“How clever.” Ember agreed playfully. She slipped into the pocket, immediately noticing how warm it was, Jamie’s heartbeat thumped loudly, she could hear and feel his lungs expanding and contracting. A blush spread on her face, why did this feel so intimate?

The last thing she could clearly see was the cloud-covered sky as Jamie got out of his car.

“Mom!”

He saw his mother almost running towards him, his father following close behind.

“Jamie!” His mother called, getting ready to wrap him in one of her bone-crushing hugs.

Jamie’s eyes widened. This could spell disaster for his little passenger. He stuck his hands out frantically.

“Wait, Mom don’t!”

His mom stopped abruptly in confusion.

“Y-you remember how I told you my allergies were really bad right now? Well, my chest hurts pretty badly so it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to hug me.” Expertly handled.

“Oh, your chest hurts?” Motherly concern bloomed across her face instantly, “do you need to go to the doctor?”

“Honey! He’s fine, he’ll tell you if he needs the doctor,” his father interrupted, “Mom has been nonstop worrying about your drive.”

Jamie gave a lighthearted laugh. His mother was notoriously worried about everything.

“Well, I saw there was an accident on the highway, and I didn’t know whether you got stuck in traffic or anything,” she responded.

“The drive went fine, we- I didn’t run into any bad traffic,” Jamie said. His father was busy grabbing his suitcases out of the trunk.

“That’s good. Sarah is so excited to see you.”

“Speaking of Sarah, where is she?” His father asked closing the trunk.

Jamie was wondering the same until he saw the front door fly open once again, and a head of wispy blond hair belonging to his little sister darted towards him.

“Jamie!” Her high-pitched voice echoed. She almost slammed into him. Evidently, she inherited bone-crushing hugs from their mother. Thankfully, she didn’t quite reach his chest height-wise, therefore posing no consequences for his little passenger.

“Oh wow! You’ve gotten so big!” Jamie said enthusiastically.

“No, I haven’t!” She replied, “I’m still shorter than a lot of my friends!”

“Your friends must be giants then!”

His parents watched on fondly until his father coughed. “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here.”

“It’s only 45, honey.”

“You’re from the Midwest, of course you would say that.”

Jamie walked into his childhood home and was delighted to see it decked out for the holidays already. The 7-foot-tall Christmas tree stood in the living room, ornaments covered it from head to toe, some hand-made from his and Sarah’s kindergarten days, some gifted to them by friends and family. Their four stockings hung down from the mantle, and a fire was already roaring. The movie Home Alone played on the TV, and Jamie felt his body decompress, the house felt so cozy, he had missed home dearly. He wished Ember could see everything he saw at the moment. He had scarcely felt any movement from his pocket since he got out of the car.

“I can take your jacket from you, your dad’s turned the house into a space heater,” his mother said holding her hands out for his jacket.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I’ll take it off in a little bit. I’ve got to start unpacking anyway.”

“Well ok, dinner should be ready in a little bit, I’ll call you when we’re ready to eat.”

Jamie nodded, grabbed his suitcases, and started upstairs to his bedroom. Ember had to be getting uncomfortable at this point, he couldn’t imagine being trapped in a pocket for this long, it had to be claustrophobic. He opened the door to his room and sighed in contentment, it had barely changed at all.

His bed was made, that was different, and the carpeted floors were freshly vacuumed, his mother’s doing no doubt. He set his suitcases down on the floor and closed the door, locking it in case Sarah barged in unexpectedly, she’d always had a habit of doing that.

He sat down on the bed. It was so much softer than his dorm bed. He felt a rush of excitement at the thought of going to sleep in it tonight. Slowly, he peeked into his inside jacket pocket, he hadn’t heard a peep from Ember yet since they’d been alone, and he found out why.

She was curled up inside his pocket sound asleep.

His heart warmed at the sight of her, how was she able to sleep with all the racket surrounding them? Jamie had no idea, but she looked absolutely adorable like that.

“Jamie! Dinner!” He heard his mother call.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he reached down into his pocket as gently as possible, slowly gathering Ember into his grasp and lifting her out of his pocket. He delicately placed her on one of his pillows. Somehow, that movement didn’t wake her up. He grabbed one of his blankets and arranged it so she was covered up to her head. Staring down at her tiny form, he felt a surge of fondness in his chest, he really wished he could give her a kiss too, but that would wake her up for sure. Instead, he rose from the bed, took off his jacket, and left the room as quietly as possible, taking one last look at her miniscule form on his pillow before heading downstairs to eat.

Ember slowly opened her eyes.

Taking in her surroundings, she realized she was in Jamie’s bedroom by herself. Listening quietly, she heard faint voices coming from downstairs and the sound of plates clattering.

They must be having dinner.

She sat up, she must have nodded off to sleep in Jamie’s pocket somehow. Her borrowing instincts must have decayed severely, she’d always been a light sleeper. Well, she’d barely slept the night before the road-trip. That may have caught up to her, also the fact that Jamie’s pocket had to have been the most comfortable place she’d ever slept in. It was just so warm, and the sound of his heartbeat was so close, she’d felt sleep clawing to take over her body as soon as she’d gotten settled. She couldn’t blame herself for giving in.

Now that she was in Jamie’s room, she felt her curiosity take over. This was his bedroom in the house he grew up in. She stood up on the cushy and uneven surface of the pillow. making her way across the bed towards his nightstand, she could see a desk across the room, cluttered with books, cups full of pens and pencils, and small picture frames containing photos that were too far away to make out the people in them. Besides his desk, there was a good-sized window right above it where Ember could see the sky had darkened quite a bit, it must’ve been late in the evening by now. The walls were a soft beige color with framed pictures and posters of various kinds littering them, a small TV was mounted in the corner, the floor was clean with vacuum marks, no clothes in sight, quite opposite from his dorm room. His navy blue and plaid duvet was cleanly arranged as well. The last thing Ember noticed was a certain picture frame directly to her right on the nightstand. Taking a closer look, she felt a smile spread across her face. It was a picture of Jamie. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old in the photo. He was holding up some kind of fish, with a huge proud smile on his face. An older man stood beside him, with one hand on Jamie’s shoulder and the other pointing at the fish. This must be his dad.

Ember felt her heart swell ten times. Little Jamie was just so darn cute.

At that moment, Ember heard human footsteps getting closer and closer to the door. Her borrowing instincts kicked in heavily, sending Ember scrambling back across the bed and diving underneath the blanket fully. She heard the door open and close softly.

“Ember?” Jamie’s voice whispered.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ember poked her head out to see Jamie standing there with a plate in hand. He smiled upon seeing her right where he left her and sat on the bed.

“I brought you some dinner, I figured you’d be hungry.”

He put the plate down on the bed next to the pillow.

“It’s grilled chicken and some vegetables. I grabbed the smallest plate I could find.”

“Thank you so much, I'm actually starving,” Ember said gratefully. She made her way off the pillow and began eating the tiny portion he had gotten for her. She made a soft ‘mmm’ noise upon taking a bite, the meat was so juicy and flavorful.

“This is delicious!” She stuffed another bite into her already full mouth.

“My mom’s cooking will do that to you,” Jamie replied. He watched her amusedly.

They were quiet for a moment while Ember continued eating, and Jamie began opening his suitcases to unpack.

“So, how was your little nap?” He asked, putting clothes into his dresser.

Ember blushed in embarrassment. “Oh, it was alright I guess.”

“Just alright? It seemed more than alright to me.”

“I barely got any sleep last night. I was bound to fall asleep sooner or later.”

“Sureee.”

Ember's blush intensified, “stop smirking at me! I was sleep deprived!”

“I’m not smirking.”

“Yes, you were!”

“No, I wasn’t! Maybe you’re still sleep deprived, do you need to go back in my pocket?”

“Jamie!”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Jamie laughed.

Ember was sufficiently flustered now, and it didn’t help that Jamie definitely seemed to enjoy winding her up.

A soft knock was heard at the door, sending Ember’s heart to a screeching halt. She looked at Jamie who was frantically motioning for her to hide. She rushed to dive under the blanket once again just as the door opened a crack.

“Hey, do you want to come down? We’re putting a movie on downstairs,” Ember heard a woman’s voice say. Jamie’s mom.

It was pitch black underneath the blanket. “You guys can watch without me, I’m really tired from driving today,” she heard Jamie respond.

“Oh, okay…” She could tell his mother was disappointed, “Get some rest then, honey. Hopefully your chest will feel better tomorrow.”

“I will, Mom.”

The door closed softly.

“She’s gone,” Jamie whispered.

Ember crawled out from under the blanket. “Your chest is hurting?”

“No, I only said that to keep her from hugging me earlier,” Jamie looked at her suddenly, “you were asleep the whole time I was trying to keep you from being crushed.”

Ember laughed. “That means you did a really good job protecting me then.”

“Go me, I guess.”

It went quiet for a moment before Ember spoke again. “You don’t have to stay with me the entire time. You should go spend time with your family.”

“And leave my honored guest by herself? No way. I spent plenty of time with them at dinner.”

“But your mom said- “

“I want to hang out with you, Em. I didn’t bring you home out of obligation. I did it because I want to spend time with you, ok?”

Ember blushed. “O-ok…”

He smiled down at her, in that fond way that he always did nowadays. He reached out and took her hand in between his two fingers, warmly caressing it in a reassuring way.

“So, how about that hot chocolate?”

#g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #sfw g/t #g/t fluff #giant/tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #oc: jamie #oc: ember

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jaehyunsprincesspeach2 · 1 year ago

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Messed With the Wrong Girl… (part one)

Pairing: bf!Tsukasa x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, slight violence, mild language, happy ending

Wc: 1.4k

AN: The High and Low series simply does not have enough content, so I decided I would write some myself. Here is part 1!! Part 2 will be coming out soon!! I’m excited for this one, and if you haven’t watched the High and Low series, I highly recommend it :)

Much love ~ ember

I’m in deep this time…

The first thought in your mind, as you are being taken away. You can hear the group of boys who had just kidnapped you laughing, and high-fiving, saying that Oya High is going to regret messing with them.

Senomon Technical High School. Even after their brawl with Oya high, they still linger around like roaches in an old motel. They had successfully taken Tsukasa the first time, and now you. How did you end up in this situation? You were simply waiting for your boyfriend to meet up with you after school. It was rare for Tsukasa to be late, so you waited out front of Oya high, hoping that he would be there soon, knowing that even the entrance of the school is not the safest place to be. It’s not that you can’t take care of yourself, you grew up in a family of fighters and gangs, they taught you everything they knew. However, when it's one against five, the odds are shifted quite a bit…

Since you transferred to Oya high, your life has been eventful, to say the least. You were sent there because of your habit of fighting at your previous schools, and options were running low. Despite what others think, you are rather patient, and level headed, until someone starts talking bad about someone you care about, after that, its game over. Once you started at Oya, it was like you indirectly owned the place. Being one of the few females that attended the school, you always had someone around to protect you if a fight broke out, as it does everyday. The guys wouldn’t let you fight, but they were well aware that you could, if needed. Conveniently, you have the luck of almost always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Inside the school walls, Tsukasa has always been the one to protect you. It’s one of the things that drew you to him. However, outside of the school, if Tsukasa wasn’t around, you were out of luck. Thankfully, most of your time outside of school was spent with Tsukasa, and Fujio.

However, this time, your luck ran out. One minute you are in front of Oya high, the next, there is a nylon bag over your head, and you are being carried away. You knew it was Senomon Tech, seeing the group of boys walking towards your general direction, though you were hoping they would keep walking past. Naive thoughts like that are how people end up in your situation, in this town.

Tsukasa POV

I am so late, and I couldn't let y/n know considering I was in the middle of a fight… I'm sure she’s waiting out front, it’ll be okay Tsukasa…

My thoughts running through my head faster than my feet are carrying me. The fight that broke out was unexpected, I didn't even have time to get my things gathered before it happened. Being late drives me crazy, and especially in a town like this, I gotta make sure y/n is okay

“Hey babe, sorry for not texting you sooner, a fight broke out right as I was leaving. Where are you?”

There, y/n is always good about messaging back.

*30 minutes later*

“Y/n, where are you? It’s been 30 minutes, it never takes you this long to answer? Are you okay?”

*one hour later*

“Fujio, something’s wrong, y/n isn’t answering my messages…”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Tsukasa. She’s pretty tough.”

“No, she always answers right away, something is wrong. We have to go find her.”

Buzz buzz

“Y/n? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I figured you would be worried about her. She’s okay, for now.”

That voice… I know that voice too well. “Where is she, let me talk to her”

Y/n POV

“She’s okay, for now”

So he’s the one who took Tsukasa? And he thinks I’m gonna listen to anything he says? This guy must be an idiot

Simple thoughts rolling through your head, though they’re constant. Beating yourself up for getting into this situation, you avoid looking at anyone, as you are tied to the railing, unable to get out.

“I think I’ll keep her here for a while, it’s nice having a pretty face around. I told you Senomon would come back for you, and I know she’s the crown jewel of Oya high, don't go thinking this time will be anything like the last.” He said before hanging up the phone.

“How sweet that you have such a caring boyfriend, y/n.” The man said with a smug look on his face. “I wonder how long it’ll take him to call back asking about a negotiation…” he continues.

You dont let out any words, but your face says everything you want to, and there was no way that anyone could miss the message. Though you were saying nothing, your face read, you’re an idiot, and you’re gonna get your ass kicked.

Picking up on the message, the man stood up, calmly walking towards you.

“I’m Amagai Kohei. I run this school. And I’m not afraid to set you straight if I have to. Be obedient, and we won't have any issues. Disobey me, and it’ll be another story.” He said now looking at you straight in the eyes, much closer than you would like.

“Such a pretty face, I'll keep you around for a while.” He says, grabbing your chin, turning your head to look at him, though you refuse.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you.” He says in a stern tone that you ignore.

Pushing you aside, he stands up again and walks back to his original spot. The silence fills the room, as you refuse to say anything to anyone, and everyone is waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“I guess things may have to be done the hard way. Suzaki. She looks a little too comfortable. Tighten her wrists more.” He says calmly, though you can hear the intent behind each word. He wants to break you. He wants to make you his. He wants you to be in pain till you have no choice other than to listen, because only then will he allow you to be comfortable. But you know your strength. You know that he wouldn’t be foolish enough to do anything too terrible to you. So, being the stubborn person that you are, you stand your ground.

As Suzaki walks over to tighten the rope that is around your wrist, you wait till he is close enough, and without any suspicion, his feet are kicked out from underneath him. Pure shock filled the room, and stretched across everyone’s faces, even Suzaki.

Kohei, with his short temper, immediately stood up and stormed to you. Grabbing your shirt by the collar, he took a hold of you. *Smack!!*

The sound echoed throughout the room, and shock filled everyone that was present. You didn't move. You let the stinging pain settle in, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt you. You bit back the yelp, and the tears, that threatened to be released.

Everyone in the room was staring, waiting to see what was going to happen next, and again, without a word and without suspicion, Kohei’s feet were kicked from underneath him. Anger taking over him, he grabbed you again, and let his fist fly, landing just below your eye.

Before he could do anything worse, Suzaki pushed Kohei back.

“Ko-Chan, we don't hit girls! How can you sink that low?” Suzaki says in a thunderous voice.

Without another word, Kohei leaves the room, storming off. Before Suzaki left, he apologized for Kohei’s actions. He would have offered to bring you an ice pack, but shortly after Kohei stormed off, he yelled for Suzaki to follow him, leaving you alone.

That night was the loneliest you had been in a long time. Usually you would be with Tsukasa, watching movies, cuddling, eating your favorite take-out food, but instead you were tied down, left alone in a room, in a place that you are not familiar with. The throbbing sensation on your cheek kept you awake, thinking about what Tsukasa is doing. Thinking about how mad he is going to be when he sees your black eye, and rope burns around your wrists. Hoping he doesnt get mad at you for getting into a situation like this.

#high and low #high and low the worst #tsukasa x reader #tsukasa x yn #high and low fluff #high and low fanfiction #takajo tsukasa #takajo tsukasa fluff #tsukasa fanfic #the worst x #h&l #oya high #Oya high fluff #high and low imagines #high and low scenarios

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honeeslust · 11 months ago

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You don’t know me but you will | Part. 2

🖤 Vampire Satoru x vampire Suguru x human you

🖤 WC 1k+

🖤 part one is updated. I made a few changes 😊

You've already met Satoru. He gestures over his shoulder, revealing another. He was long and lean with, muscled torso almost glowing in the warm light of you bedroom. His arms flexed and the veins lining those perfect arms bulged and twitched as he crawled into your bed beside the other. Your eyes trailed his body until meeting his gaze hidden behind the scream mask he wire. Their presence awakens something within you. Something unexplainable.

As for me... well, you don't know me, but you will.

What? Eyes wide and your mouth open. You're sitting there on you bed, alone and anxious and poised for their taking. The nervous falter in your voice and your pancked beating heart fell upon their pleasured ears. you couldn't fathom why the danger you sensed only made you want them more.

Your innocent eyes darted between the two of them, and your breath halted in your chest.

You mustered what little demurity you could and pulled your legs closer to your body as you ignited under their gaze. And who are you?, Im Suguru, He grins. Well, I don't open my legs to just anybody.

An impish grin comes across his cherry colored lips as he feigns for the taste of yours. You know I'm not just anyone. You know exactly what you've felt too, you can't hide it as good as you think you do. You've seenwhat I wanna do to you. What we wanna do to you. Said the opposite whose eyes eyes dug into the dark corners of your soul from behind the mask… reminding you of the brief moment of knowing the feeling of those those pretty lips on your neck. you knew they weren't lying. you knew without a doubt what you felt only moments ago in the shower, and though you couldn't actually see the others face, there was a certain familiarity to his enigmatic presence.

no matter what your head was telling you, you couldn’t deny the way your body was screaming for his touch. He was like a predator the way he observed you and it excited you to be his prey. The look in his eye had the promise of an insatiable hunger lingering in them. Though Suguru was only introducing himself, the other grew impatient. He's the one who saw you first after all.

The one between your legs was occupying too much of your attention. But Satoru was up for the challenge. His movement was quicker than the eye and there was a chill that rolled up your spine as he appeared at your side. A whisper fell upon your shoulder, his cool lips ghosting your skin and turning you to mush. Well? What'll it be little Fox?

Satoru removes his mask. His lips were so pretty spread out over his teeth, again you were weak and your stomach caved at the sight of that little gleaming fang.

he cocks his head to the side, his boyish locks dusting over his forehead as his heavenly eyes eluded to the sinfully dark thoughts he was having of you. Lets play a little, a little?? he smiles as if he could hear the question in your mind and you stirred, fingers helplessly releasing from the grip you had at your sides.

Dropping your hands from your chest, you become a bundle of nerves before them. If these two were responsible for what you'd been feeling then you were eager to tempt your fate. And that you did.

Okay. Ill play.

Suguru glares at you, a darker air about him now that he was trailing his fingertips up your bare thighs, as he made his way over you, his lips now hovering close you yours, his dark rimmed eyes burning like embers of a forbidden fire. You were the sweetest little thing, whimpering pathetically from the way he teased you. You were driving him crazy for you and your trembling body that was just so receptive to his each and every touch.

Suguru pulls away, well then, now that we're all acquainted, I've been meaning to help you with something.

Suguru straddles your legs leaving you unable to move them, the others hand encloses around your neck, the other pair wrapping around your wrists as he positioned himself behind you. Help me?

Mmmmhmm. He his mouth burned over your skin as he crawled his way down the length of your body, icy undead fingertips tickling and caressing you.

Sugurus hands inch their way closer to the place between your legs that trembled so fearfully. We meant to let you continue, but Satoru here was getting impatient.

Hell, I couldn't help it, she’s always so desperate for more. This revelation had you crumbling inside. Always?? You gasped. Cupping your face, he leans in, Always. How would you know that?..

Because we've been watching you. His thumb caresses your soft plush lips , you're not afraid are you?? you shake your head but your heart skips a beat. He grins, his teeth grazing overhis lip, You sure?? your attempt to appear unfazed was admirable, but Suguru knew better than that. He read your body from head to toe. Even now as the other kept your arms at your sides you were delving deeper into their grasp, just a needy little thing desperate for their posession. —Your body so hopped up on adrenaline and anticipation that you couldn't stop writhing between them.

He buries his face in your stomach, kissing and sucking, your muscles jumping at every touch if his hot tongue to your flesh. Soooo fucking sensitive he groans, his voice rumbling through your body before settling right in your core.

You don't know how special your are do you, little fox?… his mouth comes down on your neck, your racing pulse has your carotid jumping under his tongue, exciting him to the point that he salivates while sucking harshly on your flesh. It took every bit of his will not to tear into your pretty neck, at least not just yet.

he arose, lips rosy, fangs bared, blood red irises now replacing his amber ones. He presses your thighs to the mattress, lowering his head between your legs. He focuses on the twitching he senses between your legs. his tongue seeks out the trembling nerve, gently circling the bit, around and around making your body arch in pleasure.

The other rubs his hands all over you, as you twisted against him, unable to take the pleasure head on as Suguru started to slurp your clit and tongue your tight clenching hole. the grip on you tightens. And suddenly, it all became too much.

Satorus lips tickled the edge of your shoulder. His fingers pinching and rolling your nipples while he watched you.. Sugurus tongue was playful, flicking and teasing, his fingers pulling to expose that sensitive little pearl. Your cries rang out among the walls and your legs fought to close but Satorus grip was too strong. He kept your thighs exactly where he wanted them. You moaned incoherent pleas to them, tears glittering your cheeks, you’re inexperienced body not knowing what was happening to you, I cant I cant, you beg him to slow down, it was coming too fast.

Your nails dug into Satorus thighs, marking him as you chased that intoxicating feeling. Sugurus satisfied groans melted right into your sopping hole making you come heavy and hard on his tongue. The angel haired one watched on, his bulge pressing into your back as he felt your release breaking your body when he whispers sssss, that's a good girl. .

Barely coming off the first wave, Suguru doesn't leave even a second to breath, he pushes a finger inside, glaring at you from between your legs as he began to fuck it into you. You feel so fuckin good, keep gripping my fingers, juuuust like that. His tongue pulses over your clit, faster than seems possible. Stuck in a daze your eyes shut tight, Sugurus voice is in your head. Don't do that. Look at me. Right now or I'll stop. He pushes deeper, curling his finger right along that hot and spongey center, let me taste more of you little fox, give it to me. Come for me. His tongue flicks faster and you shatter like glass, cursing as you bared down on that drunkening feeling. Satorus laughter rattles along your back, mmm fuck me you panted. Fck little slut, sounds like you like that. Mmmmhmm, you twitch, bucking your hips, making him bury his face deep in that pussy. Let him hear you say it. He's greedy like that. C'mon n say it fer me Fox. His in your head again, taunting you as he slurps and fucks your pussy, sucking away at everything you released to him. Hmmm, yes fucking yes. please more. More more. He adds another finger earning your thankful Meeks as she absorbs yet another release.

It didn't matter that you were ready to pass out, because they had only just begun. Satoru was elated. Suguru had tasted you first. So that meant that he would be the first to actually taste you. Slipping from behind you, he guides you back to the pillow, hooking his grip around your jaw he kisses away the drool spilling from your lips and whispers..come back little Fox, ss-my turn now.

@saiyarasworld @littlemochabunni @biscuitsngravie @blkkizzat @bakubunny @i-literally-cant-with-this @thecookiebratz @ryomens-vixen @arlerts-angel

#smut oneshot #smutxanime honeeslust #blackgirlswhowriteanimesmut #jjk season 2 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #vampiresmutshop #vampire satoru #vampire suguru

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delyth88 · 1 year ago

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First thoughts on Loki S2 Ep 2

*Spoilers ahead*

Well, that was not quite as exciting as episode 1, but it was still a solid episode. And my biggest fear (that Loki’s characterisation would revert to his Season 1 version) didn’t happen. So I consider this a win! 😊

The scenes before the opening credits were the most fun. And Loki was powerful, menacing, and intelligent, and used his magic, and all was excellent! I particularly liked the shot where he’s walking down the alley towards the camera after blowing Brad off his feet. (It’s kinda creepy how much it feels like this whole sequence was targeted at people like me lol! Like someone took Season 1!Loki and purposely tweaked a few things here and there to address my main concerns.)

I like that we got to see more of OB and also Casey. Though I wasn’t quite sure if it was intended as a gag or not that they kept finding reasons to reference or show OB. I know it’s just the fact that this is a separate show that was developed after S1, but it did make me giggle how much they suddenly need OB when they never needed him for anything in the first season. 😊 But I like him, so that’s all good.

I thought it was adorable that Casey is a TVA geek and is fanboying over meeting OB.

I hadn’t really been looking forward to Sylvie and Loki meeting again (beyond curiosity at how it would go down), but it wasn’t too bad. I prefer them at each other’s throats than down each other’s throats. *shrug* I was surprised though at just how unhappy Sylvie was to see Loki. I guess I’d assumed she’d fought him at the end of time because she believed she was right and her cause was too important, but that she would have preferred not to have had to hurt Loki to achieve it. So would have been perhaps feeling more guilty than angry, but clearly not! I have to assume Loki disagreeing with her felt like much more of a betrayal, and she’s kept those embers warm for however long she’s been in 1982. Or was it that Loki shows up working for the TVA again after everything they went through?

The first scene with Brad in the cell where he was getting under everyone’s skin was weird. I felt like Loki has had time to come to terms with the events on the sacred timeline and what happens to Frigga etc, and certainly the audience has been encouraged to move quickly past that, so it felt strange that we were expected to believe that a few taunts would get under Loki’s skin so badly. I’m still not sure if we were supposed to assume he was acting, or if his reaction was real.

And then the fake out scene in the cell with Brad was interesting. I don’t think I as the audience was in the right place for this to work well. I feel like at this point the audience is not going to be likely to believe that Loki is going to so quickly murder someone. Or is that more likely to work well for a casual audience? That I really can’t tell. Lol! So if it’s being played with the understanding the audience is in on the plan (to some degree, but maybe not 100% certain) then what were we supposed to make of it? I feel like it needed more build up to be believable – perhaps over several episodes. I’m trying to think of a time when Loki has been shown hurting someone in a calm and methodical manner, and I’m coming up short. All the things we’ve seen have been in the heat of battle or in extreme emotional distress or manipulation. I would have preferred a battle of wits, or Loki somehow using words and intelligence to outsmart his opponent. This just didn’t sit quite so well with me (although I’ll take this over bumbling idiot any day). I guess it would have taken a lot of backstory to develop a situation where Loki would outsmart Brad and they didn’t have the time for that. I’d hardly call it mischief though.

I didn’t like the way the reference to the events of Avengers in the little heart to heart over suspicious pie. I would have preferred that to have been touched on more obliquely, rather than in such a straight up light-hearted way. And I think I was still just a little weirded out about the previous scene and both Loki and Mobius’ reactions to Brad.

The wider plot about trying to stop the destruction of the branched timelines seemed to come and go so quickly that I didn’t have the time to take in the gravity of the situation before the audience was asked to feel with so strongly as B15, Sylvie and everyone else at the TVA. There were long lingering shots of people being sad that I wasn’t feeling the matching emotion for right then. But perhaps I shouldn’t have watched this so late at night. :p I’ll have to give this another watch later on and see how it lands.

So it seems that the adventure in Episode 1 did manage to fix Loki’s time slipping problem. So now I’m confused, because I’m sure there were shots in the trailer of this that we didn’t see in Ep 1. Can anyone confirm?

So all in all, I still liked the episode, but it wasn’t as strong as the first one. And now that we've found Sylvie I curious to see where this is going to go.

Tagging a few folk: @sparklegemstone @scintillatingshortgirl19 @iamanartichoke, @pinkpondofasgard, @projectprotectloki @ladyofthestayingpower

#loki #loki series #loki s2 #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #spoilers #loki review

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countlessrealities · 7 months ago

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@voxmedia-billsans45 sent:

[[The following picture presentation is brought to you by the VoxMedia Broadcast Network! (powered by VoxTek!) TRUST US with your entertainment!]]

It was around a few days after the recent extermination attempt by the leader of the angelic army, the entire Hotel has been rebuilt into a larger, more stunning tower-like structure! Demons and overlords are still in disarray. Word has it that the Vees are steadily expanding their large entertainment empire, taking full advantage of the chaos and disarray behind the scenes! Though in a place like the underworld, was chaos NOT to be expected?? One could argue that the "chaotic" nature of this city has sort of..."escalated" since the events of a few days ago, and at present?...Hell's number one multi-media entrepreneur is now broadcasting via his assortment of various Television systems! Vox always enjoys jumping into the spotlight at the most opportune moment.

[["Greetings! WELCOME and TOP OF THE HOUR my fair-yet-maliciously driven malcontents! and welcome back to yet another ENTHRALLING feature presentation! or as WE on the VoxMedia Broadcast Network-(brought to you by VoxTek)-like to call our show--!"]]

[[--"VOX-2-NIIIIITE~!"]] The TV headed mastermind behind VoxTek and the Vees SKIDS across the show-stage! holding his lapel in his fingers with a look of cheery excitement across his on-screen face display! He seemed...a lot more cheery than usual, if one had been mistaken...one could swear he was in FAR great a mood...what in all the seven rings of hell could possibly be the occasion for such pep and energy??

[["But before we begin the show I know your all just DYING to see! our TOP STORY TONIGHT! Alastor the RADIO DEMON! missing in action??...or RAN with his tail stricken between his two twigged tinglers?? STICK AROUND my subservient viewers because this is a story that'll be SURE to know your BOOTS into embers!!~"]]

An awkward silence falls over the duo as Vaggie comes to an abrupt stop, almost causing Alastor to bump into her, as her attention is stolen by the broadcast played on the TVs of a tech store. Normally, she doesn't care much for what the Vees do, unless it affects the Hotel and his residents, but it's hard not to get distracted by something so loud and colourful.

The former Exorcist shoots the Radio Demon a look as Vox mocks him from the screens, and she's ready to swear that she has seen his eye and ears twitch in annoyance.

"Geez, what a douchebag," Vaggie huffs out, rolling her eye. "I don't get why people waste their time with his shit. I mean, the stuff he makes is good, but the guy? Can't stand him."

She and Alastor don't always get along, but he has risked his life for them during the battle. The least she can do is standing up for him.

"And I can't fucking believe that he's acting all smug after you kicked his sorry screen in front of the whole city. Seriously, does he have a death wish or something?"

Alastor cocks an eyebrow in the angel's direction, even if it's hard to say whether or not he is surprised by her open support. It's certainly new, he can admit that much, but he can see where it comes from. Before her banishment, Vaggie's whole world used to revolve around the kinship among comrades-in-arms. The two of them have become that, in a way, during the past year, so it makes sense that she would look at him as such.

"That's one of the many reasons why I don't waste my time with these foolish picture boxes, my dear," he claims, hooking his arm around hers to more easily stir her away from the shop window. "While I find your distaste very relatable, it's best to pay no mind to any of that. After all, the most effective way to deal with attention seekers is to ignore them."

Of course, he's very well aware that he won't go unnoticed. Whenever he's closed to any of Vox's visual devices, he distorts their feed, alerting the other Overlord of his presence. He could avoid it, if he truly wanted to, but deep down he enjoys how he can unsettle his self-appointed rival with his mere presence.

"Come along now. We have actually relevant affairs to take care of. Let them waste their time with this nonsense."

#[ ic :: Vaggie ]#[ ic :: Alastor ]#&& Vox || voxmediabillsans45 #voxmediabillsans45 #[[ so many visuals omg xD ]]#[[ gotta say I did love them ]]#[[ especially your edits !! ]]#;; queue

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iddybiddywitch · 1 year ago

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Dungeons and Humans - CH. 2

Chapter 2 to my fantasy G/T story! Hope its just as good as the first! As always, let me know what you think!

Summary:

Allynna investigates her tiny human discovery, only to find it injured! She enlists the help of the cleric Irala to heal the poor thing.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 6214

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” Ashero’s voice was groggy, he seemed to swallow his words as he yawned.

The campfire flickered faintly against the dark of the night as the embers dwindled. The smell of the freshly cooked meal still lingered in the night air. The snores of the tired campers echoed across the dense forest. As was standard with all guild parties, one member was required to keep watch while the others slept. It was one of the many arbitrary rules that were considered common sense, but still written within the laws simply for the sake of being codified.

Allynna tapped her fingers with impatience. Her bright, wide open eyes lit up the night. Truthfully, she had only faked sleeping whilst she waited for her turn to take the watch. When her turn came, she practically jumped out of her bedroll as she moved to relieve Ashero.

“Just excited to be back in proper living quarters, that’s all.” Allynna lied through her teeth. In part, she did wish to return to the comforts and luxuries of the guild’s provided lodging, but she had another thing in mind that kept her awake. One small, fragile, curious particular thing tucked away safely in her pouch. “Me, too. Can’t say I’m going to miss sleeping on the cold hard ground” Ashero groaned as he unfurled his bedroll next to the makeshift fire pit.

“At least we have the moonlight now. No more dark, dank cave.”

“Ugh, maybe. That bright full moon is gonna make it hard to sleep.”

Ashero stretched, then crawled into his neatly laid out bedroll. He was careful to avoid placing weight on his injured leg. It was a sight to see, the proud elf carefully tucking his limb into the bedroll like a mother with a newborn.

“Regardless, I'm going to get as much sleep as possible now. I doubt the guild will let us rest, more than likely we’ll be out again as soon as we get settled.” With a final yawn, Ashero clambered the rest of the way into his bedroll, turned away from the fire pit, and closed his eyes.

Though she made sure to be aware of her surroundings, Allynna could not help but stare at Ashero as he slept. She had to be certain he was sound asleep before she indulged her curiosity. She couldn't truly explain why she felt the need to be secretive, but she had a gut feeling that the human would be more cooperative with her in a more private setting, rather than face the gawking stares of her and all of her companions.

Allynna’s pointed ears perked up once she heard the unmistakable sound of Ashero’s snores. She waited patiently for a few more moments, to ensure he had truly fallen asleep. When the snores continued, she had to cover her mouth to silence her giddy squeaks of excitement. Without making a sound, she sat down on a nearby tree stump, then reached her hand down onto the pouch on her thigh. She tapped lightly against the bulge protruding from the inside, and her eyes lit up as the bulge wiggled in response. It was still awake, and still conscious! Carefully, she undid the buttons holding her pouch closed, then reached inside and felt around for the small curiosity. She could feel it move around inside, making great efforts to avoid her grasp. This went on for a short while, but there is only so much room in her pouch. Eventually, the human trapped itself in the corner, allowing Allynna to take a gentle hold of it and bring it out into the moonlight for her to observe.

~~~~~

Lana’s panic increased as she was lifted out of the tiefling’s bag. At least within the dark confines of the leather pouch she was able to hide and not have to come face to face with the giant that had captured her. She closed her eyes as she was moved up towards the face of the titan. She had expected to be forcefully and quickly moved, but to her surprise the giant had been rather slow and easy with her. She brushed aside this observation, focusing more on her squirming, hoping to worm her way out of the grasp around her, but it was to no avail.

A faint, warm wind rushed over her. The tiefling spoke with a hushed whisper. Its voice was tender and gentle, like the murmur of a slight breeze before a raging storm. Lana stopped squirming for a moment, deciphering what seemed like concern in its voice. Mustering her courage, she dared to catch a glimpse at her captor. The genuine beauty of the titan surprised her. The first thing Lana noticed was the shining blueish-purple of its skin, matched by the deeper purple of its horns. Its horns curved almost into a spiral at her temple, much like a ram’s. They were large enough to be noticed from a good distance away, but just small enough that they did not seem to be in the way of its major facial features. its wavy dark hair complemented these horns nicely, allowing the lighter tones to contrast the shades of black. Lana’s eyes wandered back down to the maw of the titan, where its lips were parted into an honest smile - one that did not quite mask the two ever present protruding fangs resting on its bottom lip. Lana shivered at the sight and quickly shifted her attention back upwards, passing the nose and staring into the deep golden eyes of the giant, which in turn fixated directly onto her. The intense stare brought on mixed feelings within her. On one hand, this monster could easily crush her without so much as a thought, but on the other, the stare from this giant seemed to be filled not with malice and ill-intent, but with wonder and curiosity.

It was at this moment that Lana realized the tiefling had been studying her features as much as she had been studying it. The golden eyes of the giant devil moved up and down her body, tracing her slender figure. It ran a finger along her back, up to her neck, and finally came to rest on her head. It appeared to laugh, baring her fangs once more, before stroking her head. Lana found the motion soothing, but had a sudden realization.

Was it… petting her? Lana wriggled hard in the titan’s grasp, causing it to cease stroking her, and tighten its grip on her. She furiously shook, desperately trying to struggle her way out of the giant’s possession. Back and forth she moved, just trying to free a single limb. The giant’s expression changed from curiosity to a frown. It repositioned itself to hold Lana at a more comfortable angle, before returning to gently stroking the top of her head. It whispered something in the giant’s tongue. Lana could only assume it was meant to be something pacifying, like how one would attempt to calm a wild animal. The giant’s voice was soft, softer than it had been when it stole her from her home in the caverns.

Lana ceased her struggling for a moment and let her mind wander back to her temporary home. When her village was forcibly dispersed by a different party of giants, she had run as far as her legs could carry her, until she collapsed at the mouth of the caverns. Its humid entrance wasn't the most inviting, but some shelter was better than no shelter. She rested at the entrance for a moment, before making her way into the depths.

The inside was about what you would expect for an ancient cave. Dark, humid, and full of traps clearly made by colossal hands. Lana never paid them mind, as most of them were far too big to ever be set off by her tiny footsteps. Deeper inside, shattered pots, archaic writings, and the occasional gold piece or gem lay scattered about. Whatever the giants had originally intended this place for, it had been long abandoned. That was just fine with Lana. The less of the titanic races around, the better. She made quick work of the caverns, carefully carving out tunnels in the cracks and crevices, mapping out the different sections, and even disarming a few of the traps that did have a chance of snapping her up. Overall, not a bad job for just one single human. It wasn’t much, but it was her home. Undisturbed and undiscovered for months, it served as her shelter after hours of scavenging and scouring the forest. Or at least, It had, until they showed up. Truthfully, she had never intended to help the giants. She only wanted them out of her cavern as soon as possible! She planned for the titans to do what they always did: Show up, destroy everything, take what they deemed “valuable”, and leave. What she hadn’t counted on was being spotted and subsequently kidnapped by the purple behemoth that currently held her hostage.

An abrupt pat against her head brought Lana out of her thoughts. She had been so preoccupied by her thoughts she had not realized the tiefling had loosened its grip on her. Perhaps it mistook her reminiscing as a type of surender to its whims. For a moment, Lana considered returning to her previous struggle, but a better idea came into her mind. If the tiefling believed she had given up, it might just let its guard down and loosen its grip just a little more to allow her to kick free! It was a long shot, but it was the only idea she had.

She allowed the giant to stroke her head. It cooed as best it could in its bizarre language. Lana couldn’t begin to wrap her head around how the titanic beings could understand each other. Each one had a distinctly different sound associated with their race and maw. Not that she ever stuck around long enough to actually listen to them. She was a bit preoccupied by running and hiding from their wanton destruction and murder of her home and colleagues. That's all any human could get in this world. Build a community, hide away, and pray to whatever god would listen that you die of old age or disease before the behemoths came and ruined everything. Drifting from her thoughts again, Lana found she was able to move just a tiny bit more in the tiefling’s grasp. Finally, after what felt like hours of gawking, coddling, and cooing, the giant had loosened its grip just enough for Lana to enact her plan. She just needed to wait for just the right moment and… kick!

Okay. Maybe that one was just a fluke. Just needed one more moment and… …Her leg wouldn't move. Why wasn’t her leg moving?! She tried again to move it again. No luck. All she could sense was a numb, tingling sensation. The next time the tiefling loosened her grip a little bit more, she tried to grab at it with her hands, only to be met with excruciating, tear inducing pain. When The tiefling’s fingers parted just enough for her to see her lower body, she looked downward at her leg, and screamed.

~~~~~ No, no, no!

It had all been going so well! Allynna had been soothing the little human and it seemed to be working until it suddenly started screaming! The poor thing’s little shouts sounded like a helpless rodent in distress. While not alarming, it was certainly just loud enough to risk waking the other members of her party.

Lana bit her lip, her fangs digging into her. She had to think fast. What could have upset the poor thing so badly? Had she frightened it by accident? Did she stroke it too hard? Or maybe she was gripping it too tight! Yeah, that had to be it.

Slowly, Allynna opened her palm in order to- oh. Human legs were definitely not supposed to look like that. The limb was clearly deformed. While the knee and majority of the leg were straight, the left foot was pointed inwards toward the other leg at a ninety degree angle. The tattered clothing it wore provided small glimpses into the state of the injury. The skin was discolored to a dark blue with splotches of purple and yellow that was at its deepest hue and swollen as it entered into the human’s footwear. The discolored marks crawled all the way up to the middle of its calf. Allynna mentally kicked herself for not checking the human for injuries earlier. When did it even become injured? It couldn't have been the cave in, she surely would have been able to hear it shout! Unless… Unless the shouts were muffled by her bag. Allynna’s thoughts went back to her less than graceful landing at the cavern’s exit. She physically cringed at the thought of her crushing the little creature’s fragile bones. Sure, she was leaner than most of her kind, the job of a rogue required her to be thin and silent after all, but that mattered little to a brittle human body with miniscule size and frail bones. She might as well have dropped a mountain’s weight of boulders on the poor thing!

Now aware the human couldn't run off even if it tried, Allyna carefully opened her hand and laid her palm flat. It attempted to sit up at first, but she quickly got it to lay back down by gently pressing on its chest with her index finger. She was careful not to apply more than a gentle prod, the last thing the poor creature needed was more broken bones from her carelessness. Though cautious, she found it rather fascinating just how easily she could hold it down. She always knew humans were small, but she didn’t grasp the scale until she was holding one in her hand. It was barely taller than her palm, if its position were reversed its head would barely reach the second knuckle of her middle finger! It couldn’t have been more than 5 inches tall at most.

Allynna couldn't help herself but to whisper soothing words as it tried with all its might to stay upright and push her finger off of its chest. Eventually, the human ran out of steam and laid flat on her palm with its arms extended outward. She could feel it trying to catch its breath as its chest rose and fell underneath her finger. Allyna sighed in relief. She was tempted to admire its adorable exhausted form, but there were more pressing matters to attend to first. With the human satisfactorily subdued, she pulled out a small dagger she kept on her person and searched for a place where she could cut along the worn seams of its ragged legwear and boots. Almost immediately, the human’s fighting spirit returned. Its eyes grew wide and watery, the anxiety and fear written clearly on its face. It partially hid its face behind its outstretched arms, its head turned away from the blade. The poor human barely let out tired shrieks and trills in between its painful sobs and gasps for air. The warbled sounds barely qualified as a “language”, but it conveyed its sheer terror nonetheless.

“No, nononono, it's okay! I just wanna see, okay? I have to know how bad it is!” Allyna tried to hide the panic in her voice. Another careless mistake. Of course the little cutie would freak out! What sane living being wouldn't when a stranger, let alone one several times your size, approached you with a blade longer than you are tall! Allyna sheathed her dagger, then closed her eyes and laid her cheek in her free palm. Letting out a sigh, she had to admit: she had no idea what the hells she was doing. Even if she could get the human to be calm and cooperative, she knew next to nothing about healing and medicine!

….But she knew someone who did.

Allynna bit her lip as she considered her decision, then shook her head to clear up any doubts. Right. She’s made up her mind. The nearest city was still half a day’s journey away, and the human, her human, was injured and needed immediate medical attention. This was the only way it was going to get the attention it needed. “Sorry, little one, but I need you to be quiet for a bit…”

Allynna gently covered the human’s mouth with her littlest finger. She was careful not to apply any pressure, and to make sure her claw was as far away from its skin as possible. She held her finger there for a few moments, before slowly removing it again. She looked into its pitiful, puffy eyes, now red from its tears, and hoped it understood what she was asking of it. Though, even if it did not get the message, it seemed far too weak now to so much as whisper, much less shout. The human’s previous terror had given way to exhaustion. Its skin was now sickly pallor instead of its previous rosy pink. Its breathing increased in speed and depth, as evident by the rapid rise and fall of its chest. She curled her fingers around it to prevent it from falling out of her palm and to provide some semblance of comfort. With a deep breath, she tiptoed over to Irala’s bedroll, careful not to awaken the other members of her party or jerk her palm.

Irala lay on her side, resting peacefully in her artisan-crafted bedroll. Her signature staff sat in the grass beside her, the symbol of her patron goddess decorating its tip. As a cleric, it was important for her to keep her spellcasting focus nearby, just as it was important for Allynna to keep a dagger on her person at all times. She kneeled next to the staff, gently lowering herself down, and moved to shake her sleeping companion awake, only to be startled when Irala turned over, wide awake, and grasped her arm. It took much control for Allynna not to shout, just managing to hold in a yelp as she peered into Irala’s sky blue eyes. They stared intently at her, before softening as they accompanied a smirk.

“Good evening, Miss Redthorne. Do you require my assistance with your ‘little’ problem?” The elder moon-elf giggled at her own pun. She clambered out of her sleep sack, brushed herself off, and picked up her staff, the various charms dangling from it chimed against each other, making a pleasant ringing sound.

“How-did…How did you know?!” Alynna stuttered out. She was certain she had been careful and quiet! She hoped she hadn’t awakened the elder adventurer with her struggles with the human. That surely wouldn’t look good on a guild evaluation, especially for a rogue who’s whole job for the party is stealth.

“We are under the light of Sehanine’s full moon, during the twilight hours in which I am at my strongest, my dear. Truthfully, I need not sleep on nights such as this, though I do find my dreams to be quite pleasant when I get the chance.” Irala seemed proud of her last statement, holding the tone in a lax manner, implying sleep and dreams were a luxury rarely afforded to her. Allynna sighed a breath of relief, at least she hadn’t interrupted her slumber. Even so, she still felt slightly guilty for disturbing her before her time at watch, but the situation was dire and Irala was right, she needed the help of an experienced healer.

“Now then,” Irala gently took hold of Allynna’s hand that clutched the poor human to her chest, and spread her fingers. “Let's take a look at the poor thing, shall we?”

Irala’s smile turned to a look of worry upon seeing the state of the human. It barely moved as she studied everything about it, occasionally placing her fingers along its form, gently poking at its chest and arms, and overall taking in its basic vital signs before settling her attention on its deformed leg. She pulled apart the fabric on its legs with ease, like tearing away wet parchment. Without its flimsy leggings, the injury came into full view. The swelling had been much worse than either of them had thought. Its knee too, now began to turn red and bulge, likely made worse by its previous thrashing about. Even Irala, an experienced healer who had seen her fair share of injuries, cringed at its gruesome state. She shook her head, frowned, and prepared herself to cast her healing spells.

“Hold it steady and hand me your smallest, weakest blade. I have my suspicions, but I need to get this footwear off to confirm it.” Irala’s voice lacked the mildness it normally came with. Instead, she remained serious and focused on her task, giving commands with a monotone pitch. Allynna handed her the dagger she used in her previous attempt to remove the human’s clothing. She wasted no time cutting into the worn leather of the footwear, quickly but carefully dragging the blade along its seams. It gave away before the human could even realize what was happening, barely moving as Irala carefully pulled the boot off and disposed of it.

Underneath, the human’s foot was just as bad as its leg, if not worse. Allynna could see that it at least followed the shape of its lower leg, but its ankle appeared twisted and bulged outward. The human, too tired to fight anymore, just lay in her palm, letting the cleric work on it without so much as even a hint of the desperate fire it had earlier. It was adorable, the way it nuzzled its head into her palm to hide away. She appreciated it was at least beginning to understand that her palm was a place of comfort and safety, she just wished it came from a genuine place instead of a reaction to the unbearable pain and terror it must be in.

An exasperated groan from Irala redirected her attention from the human to her. Irala had ceased her examination on the wounds, instead standing idly by, drumming her fingers against her thigh, deep in thought. An annoyed glare flashed across her face before she exhaled, allowing herself to relax.

“Allynna,” She stated with a hint of displeasure, “Did you attempt a healing spell before you asked for my assistance?”

“No? I can’t even use those kinds of spells.”

“Hm. I see.”

“Is… something wrong?”

“The injuries it sustained were partially healed, but done so incorrectly. The bones were not set before the healing spell was cast. If I had to guess, another party must have found it before we did, made a poor attempt at first aid, then left it to fend for itself.” Irala furrowed her brows. She made no attempt to hide her irritation. Her frustration was understandable. Leaving a hapless creature with severe trauma after a botched healing spell was not only cruel, but just downright selfish. It would be merciful to simply end its suffering, rather than letting it go all the while pretending to have done a good deed.

At the very least Allynna was relieved it had not been her clumsiness that injured the sweet little thing. Though, she dared not think what may have occurred had she never found the human. It was already at death's door just from meekly struggling against her grasp, it wouldn't last a day out in the wild in this state! Not that it ever would have to. Once this was over with, she’d make sure it was taken care of. She’d register it with the guild as hers, train it to assist her with her rogue jobs (Humans were known to be great at hiding!), and bring it along with her on the party’s adventures! That was certainly a better existence than what it had before, living day-to-day scrounging for cave scraps whilst avoiding towering beasts all on its own. It had been abandoned before, but she would ensure it would never be alone again. She stared at the human with stars in her eyes as she daydreamed of its future with her. As if to agree, it buried its head into her palm once more.

“Though that does leave me with quite a puzzle,” Irala continued her train of thought regardless of whether Allynna was actually listening. She snapped her attention back to the elder elf, hoping she hadn’t been caught daydreaming again.

“It's the only logical explanation for the state of its leg, but if that were the case it should be in far worse condition! It would show symptoms of weeks to days worth of deformities and sepsis by now. We were the only ones in those ruins. No one else could have slipped by us, especially if they used magic. Unless, of course, this little human is an inexperienced mage itself and attempted to heal its leg on its own”

“You think so?!”

Irala shook her head. “Oh, my dear. I was merely joking. Humans are incapable of magic, afterall.”

“Oh…” Allynna did feel slight disappointment that the human wouldn’t be able to replicate her arcane talents. It was certainly special, but perhaps not that special. In hindsight, it was quite ridiculous to imagine the tiny being in a miniature version of a caster’s robes attempting to control the wild arcane.

“Apologies, Miss Redthorne, I did not mean to get your hopes up. My joke was an attempt to lighten the mood, as neither of us are going to enjoy this next part. We must act fast to prevent further damage. The pain has been numbed for now due to my efforts and whatever previous healing spell was used, but if not treated quickly, it will grow into a greater issue. I can fix what was poorly done, as well as guarantee a full recovery, but we must rebreak its bones first.”

“We have to do what?!”

~~~~~

Gods would they just fucking get it over with already! Lana rubbed her head into the ground again, or rather, the massive palm that acted as the ground. It was about the only thing she could move anymore. The absolute throbbing pain that now coursed through her entire body was unbearable. She previously was able to shout and squirm to drive it off, but now her throat was hoarse, her body ached, and everything from the neck down had a tingling sensation to it. As embarrassing as it was, even just burying her head into something was enough to temporarily take her mind off her dire circumstances. To top everything off, not only had her escape plan failed miserably, it seemed to provoke the first titan into drafting the assistance of another. It had been bad enough when there was only one of the massive creatures examining her body, now there was a second one that seemed hells bent on touching every part of her, regardless of her protests, or the abhorrent pain it put her in.

Lana could see the two debating something with each other. Her blurred vision from her dry, tear stained eyes barely let her catch the detail of the two’s lips moving as they spoke in their eldritch tongues. Their tones were harsh, much sharper than when they were communicating earlier, and certainly louder than when they “spoke” with her. Most likely they were discussing the best way to dispose of her after they had their fun. A part of her wished she had just accepted the purple one’s earlier strokes without resisting, perhaps then she could have earned herself a quick death, but there would be no such mercy for her now.

The sounds of the creatures’ conversation ended with a near-holler from the taller, darker one. The purple pillars that were the giant’s fingers slightly curled around her in response. She glanced upward to see what caused the commotion, only to be met with those golden yellow eyes staring directly down at her. It was hard to tell, but Lana could discern what appeared to be a pitiful frown sprawled across its face. That couldn't be a good sign. Shortly after, the taller one brought its palm down close to her chest, hovering just above her..

Oh gods. This was actually it. They were going to crush her like an insect. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. No matter how much she tried, her body would not move. She wasted all her energy in her earlier escape “attempts”, now her body lay limp as a ragdoll, leaving her no options but to watch as her demise approached. Even if she could manage to move her body, it was not likely she would get far on a broken leg. What's more, at full height the titans stood hundreds of units high. A fall from this elevation would surely kill her, or leave her even more mangled. There was truly nothing she could do but pray her death would be swift.

Lana grimaced as she braced herself for the inevitable, but it never came. There was no crushing of her body, no displacement of bones, no innards leaking onto the palms of the two monsters, no-

A sharp pain in her ankle cut off her spiraling presumptions. She felt a sudden tug on it, the bones making an unpleasant grinding noise as they moved. Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit! They weren’t going to crush her, they were going to pull her apart piece by piece! She begged, pleaded for anything save for that! Fighting back the waterworks in her eyes, she gave the most pitiful look she could muster up at the purple behemoth, all to no avail. It shrank away from her gaze, turning its head away from her, then placed a finger on her mouth, silencing any further pleas whilst dashing any hope Lana had left. She tried to scream, but no words would come out. She was a prisoner in her own body, her limbs acting as her chains, the giants’ palms her cell. She prayed for the tingling numbness that was present earlier, anything was better than feeling her body be pulled apart like fresh fruit off a vine. They were going to rip her apart, pin her up and display her as a trophy of their exploits. She could see it now, Displayed here is the common human, weak, expendable, and excellent entertainment. Make a wish for every limb you pull!

Another tight pinch on her ankle reminded her that the suffering had only begun. She braced herself for the tearing of flesh from bone, limb from body, until she felt not a tear, but a krrrrack! She didn't care if her mouth was blocked, she needed to release the pain. Her sore throat and hoarse voice be damned, she shrieked with all of her remaining strength, the shouts drowning out the ringing in her ears. She bellowed until all the air in her lungs left her, and yet still she tried, gasping for air so she may continue to vent against the embarrassment, the fear, and the intolerable pain.

Then, as soon as it came, the pain went away. Replaced by a benumbed calm. There was no more suffering, just a pleasant warmth. She was certain she was dying, if not already dead. She lay her head back, and for the first time all night, she didn't fight the tears that poured down her face.

~~~~~

Allynna could feel the wetness from the human’s tears, and the vibrations from its attempts to scream as Irala quickly snapped its bones back into their proper positions. Gods, she felt horrible watching it suffer, but if this was the only way to save it, it was worth it. Irala tightly pinched its legs to hold the bones together, before casting the healing spell. A soft, silver glow encompassed the human, the signature color of Irala’s healing magics. Allynna could hear the gut-churning cracks of the bones as they shifted and melded back into their proper places. Slowly, the swelling went down, shrinking back down to the same size as the human’s unharmed leg. The reds, purples, blues, and yellows all disappeared from its skin, allowing it to return to its normal pale-pink. The color on its face, too, returned to the rosy pink it had been before.

It did not take long for the human to realize that it had been partially healed, for just as soon as it regained the mobility in its limb, it began to squirm and kick to escape from Allynna’s hand just as it had before. This time though, she left her palm open with the other hand still covering its mouth while Irala restrained it by placing her hand over its entire body.

“Easy now, little one, we’re almost done” Irala’s tone shifted once more from her stern, monotone back to her gentle sing-song voice. The silver glow from Irala’s spell began to fade, blending in with the pale moonlight glow, until it disappeared completely, leaving the human looking completely recovered.

“There. That should be enough for tonight. It’ll need at least one more session before it regains full mobility of that leg. I’ll be sure to recast the spell tomorrow night, once we are comfortable within our lodgings. As for now, I believe it is time we all get a little rest, yes?” Irala placed a finger on the human’s chest. Another silver glow encompassed it, but this time instead of healing the human ceased its fighting. It sat still, with a look of calm neutrality on its face until its eyes drooped, eventually closing completely. It curled around itself, and her heart fluttered when it nestled into the warmth of its fleshy “bed”. She looked at Irala with an exhausted smile on her face, truly thankful the little one was at least finally relaxed, if only for a short while. Irala smiled back at her, then rested a hand on her shoulder.

“You need rest, my dear, and so does your little pet. I assume you will be keeping it, yes? Would be a shame for us to have gone through all this work just to release it.”

Irala’s smirk was hard to resist. Though her watch had only just begun, Allynna couldn't help but feel the overbearing drowsiness begin to take her. Her eyes felt heavy, and she wobbled a bit on her feet. She did her best to fight it, but found herself only falling more into the deep sleep. She collapsed onto Irala, bracing her human against her chest as she fell.

~~~~~~

Irala smiled brightly at the two as they slept. She had only intended for her sleep spell to affect Allynna’s human, she never considered Allynna might fall victim to its whims. The poor dear must have been much more tired than she let on. Oh well. It was at least a nice night for her to take the remainder of the watch.

She looked over to her personal bedroll, where she placed the youngest Redthorne. The youthful tiefling embraced the human’s tiny form, to which the human subconsciously huddled itself into the warmth. They were adorable together! Their embrace reminded her of a child cuddling its favorite stuffed toy! She stifled a giggle as she sat down, allowing herself to focus on her meditation. The soft murmurs and snores from her traveling party proved to be too much of a distraction, however. She opened her eyes to see the moonlight gleaming down into the camp. It seemed random at first, just shimmering through the trees, but at closer inspection the moonlight appeared to shift and slide until it was concentrated solely on one point: Allynna and her human.

Irala had been around long enough to recognize a sign from her divine when she saw it. She immediately stood up and walked over to the two. They still lay comfortably with one another, Allynna protecting the little dear by draping her hand over it, and the human responding in turn by relaxing just a little bit more into the embrace. The moonlight reflected off their faces, its silver glow highlighting their peaceful expressions.

Irala tapped her chin and pursed her lips. Whatever her goddess was trying to tell her, one thing was clear. These two were important in some manner, and they needed her guidance. Once the moonlight faded and the campground returned to darkness, she paced back to her spot across from the campsite. She lay her staff beside her, then sat cross legged, allowing her mind to wander. In her meditation, she pondered her role. Though she was meant only to evaluate the newcomers to the guild, these two proved far too interesting to leave so soon. She would join their adventuring party, not as an evaluator or a chaperone, but as a fellow member, and keep an eye on them.

She grinned as her goddess shifted the moonlight’s glow once more, landing on her make-shift meditation circle. A sign of approval. Yes, these two oddballs would prove most interesting indeed! She was excited to see what fate and the gods had in store for them.

#g/t writing #g/t #g/t angst #giant/tiny #my writing #g/t whump #giant tiny #gianttiny #Dungeons and Humans #Fantasy writing

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