#excited for 2 embers though!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kithtaehyung · 6 months ago

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minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far?

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy?

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand.

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs.

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table.

This man, though...

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams?

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.”

Fuck.

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question,

“Do you remember yours?”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea.

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone.

He still remembers it, too.

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room.

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not?

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.”

Your eyes blink thrice.

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know?

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.”

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair.

“So tell me.”

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.”

“You can.”

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—”

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?”

Damn it.

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales.

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch.

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.”

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice?

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..”

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question.

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over.

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.”

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.”

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this.

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave—

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.”

Oh, shit.

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?”

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space.

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm.

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?”

It takes you a second to process.

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior.

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close?

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were.

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?”

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal.

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying,

“You really wanna know?”

Looking up, you nod.

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.”

“His.. What?”

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this?

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.”

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to…

How naive.

“His plan could’ve been solid.”

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone.

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.”

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself.

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter.

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.”

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?”

“Someone he royally pissed off.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not gonna punish him?”

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.”

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore.

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Great.

So much for being… Safe up… here…

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again.

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave?

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.”

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed.

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders,

“Can’t believe you used me.”

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.”

Fucking hell, he’s right.

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.”

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.”

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared.

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall.

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.”

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not.

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back.

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe.

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time.

“Tell me more. About grey zones.”

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react.

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets.

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh.

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely—

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth.

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs,

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.”

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.”

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.”

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly.

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing.

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans.

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze.

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy.

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.”

“Why only in certain ones?”

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.”

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.”

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain.

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.”

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.”

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.”

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place.

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you.

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along.

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things.

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle.

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis.

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment.

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.”

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.”

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.”

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer.

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him,

“But it’s helping.”

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold.

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.”

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I might.”

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.”

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?”

Yoongi turns to look at your lips.

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say.

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this.

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.”

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.”

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.”

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing.

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?”

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance.

“You tell me.”

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating.

You’ve never felt quite like this.

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be.

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before.

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying.

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over.

And yet.

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch.

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum.

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him.

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.”

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.”

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness.

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second?

“Since you what.”

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip.

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.”

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was.

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes.

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over.

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute.

There was something you never circled back to.

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered,

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?”

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.”

“Prove it.”

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire.

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets.

But because the motherfucker was right on the money.

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know?

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want.

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning?

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.”

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?”

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself.

And it’s perfect.

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.”

“Keep it.”

What?

“It’s yours.”

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence.

Who even is this man?

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.”

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.”

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?”

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.”

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.”

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.”

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.”

“But I want to.”

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.”

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod.

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds.

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started.

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over.

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city.

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?”

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.”

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.”

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.”

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.”

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else.

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.”

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.”

“You never bothered me.”

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.”

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?”

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.”

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.”

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor.

“Yoongi?”

He turns.

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer.

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest.

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown.

“Not much to tell.”

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in.

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises.

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips.

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours.

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops.

Sounds muffle.

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side.

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door.

It’s a phone ringing.

A fucking. Telephone.

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him.

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved.

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room.

Shit.

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up.

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off.

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim.

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt.

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse?

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.”

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.”

“Nothing.”

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade.

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.”

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger?

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up.

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns.

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause.

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid.

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole.

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat.

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.”

“Yoongi—”

“Say it and it’s yours.”

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.”

“How.”

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…”

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking.

Tell him. Four words.

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter.

“So sensitive..”

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return.

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?”

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing?

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss.

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease.

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”

“But what if someone—”

“They won’t.”

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side.

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick.

Your very, very wet slick.

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices.

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.”

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth.

Sucking.

Licking.

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars.

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles.

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want.

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two.

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point.

“You good?”

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.”

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?”

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.”

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.”

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by.

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now.

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real?

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?”

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!”

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover.

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck!

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other.

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.”

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like.

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him.

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name.

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze.

“Move your fucking hand.”

Your eyes fling wide.

“I wanna hear you.”

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest.

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes.

“You’re gonna scream for me.”

“Or else what.”

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder.

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.”

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes.

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed.

Like a normal person.

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms.

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half.

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent.

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper,

“I wanna see you.”

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor.

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid.

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent.

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.”

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.”

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.”

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.”

…Huh?

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.”

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense.

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.”

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course.

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.”

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling.

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else.

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint.

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you.

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin.

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward.

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip.

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.”

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts.

Fucking hell, this feels good.

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off.

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right.

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.”

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next.

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.”

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning.

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare.

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton.

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.”

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat.

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall.

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.”

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out.

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?”

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.”

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with.

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.”

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.”

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied.

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.”

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.”

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?”

“Yes.”

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.”

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.”

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses.

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.”

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.”

“Good girl.”

Wait, did he say again?

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move.

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs.

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.”

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank.

Your laugh only spurns him on.

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes.

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go.

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed.

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.”

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged.

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.”

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat.

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward.

“Just felt like calling you that.”

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.”

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it.

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.”

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.”

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!”

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest.

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He can’t say stuff like that.

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest.

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling.

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock.

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck.

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.”

“Show me more then.”

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours.

“Just like that. There you go.”

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you?

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad.

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.”

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home.

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise.

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears.

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.”

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell.

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives.

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good?

Both of you may feel the same.

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you.

It’s done.

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller.

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom.

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever.

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder.

Was it all worth it?

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have?

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for.

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp.

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum.

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.”

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.”

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself?

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion.

“What?”

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.”

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?”

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.”

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt.

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily.

And both of you groan so full.

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.”

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry.

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again?

Holy fuck, again?

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside.

Was it all worth it?

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case.

But it’s okay.

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for.

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling.

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away.

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper,

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.”

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer,

“S’ok.”

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin.

“Just stay on your side.”

Ah.

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night.

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals.

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows.

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference.

Don’t think too much about it. Do not.

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...”

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts.

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact.

“You’ll always hate me.”

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in.

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs.

Did last night really happen?

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so.

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is.

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one.

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home?

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean.

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over.

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes.

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..”

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants.

Yoongi isn’t here.

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts.

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door?

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths.

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds?

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder.

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do.

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture.

What the hell is going on?

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall.

And his hair is strikingly…

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!”

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question,

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?”

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?”

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#FINALLY FINALLY #5000 words in two days just wanted to say i love y'all #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #ryenwrites #minted #minted3 #*ryenfictalk #*latest

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stylesispunk · 1 year ago

Text

"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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effetsecndaires · 7 days ago

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࿐ 𝙘𝙖𝙢! — 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚; 𝙜𝙮𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙤 𝙨. ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

cw: modern setting, human gyutaro, camgirl reader, sex work, mention of sex, masturbation, hygiene neglect, misogyny, toxic masculinity, inaccurate description of onlyfans bc I have no idea how it works lmao | wc; 2,4k

an: im so sorry this chapter took so long to come out. I needed a break from this fic because I honestly have no idea where it's going and it’s started to feel like I’m just writing a whole bunch of nothing. I have never been good at writing multiple parts fics and idk why I thought this time would be different LMAO. I’m aiming to wrap it up in 2 or 3 more chapters, but I can’t promise anything :( Read on AO3

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

Scan. Total. Change. Repeat.

Every beep of the scanner feels like a tiny jab at Gyutaro’s sanity. Groceries slide across the counter in a boring parade of the usual—cereal boxes, milk cartons, bags of apples.

His eyes glaze over as he watches the belt crawl forward, the monotony broken only by the occasional odd item: a rubber chicken, some miniature plastic hands or a single box of condoms.

But even these quirks barely stir his interest anymore.

It’s hard to keep up when the minutes drag like hours, when his back aches from standing too long, when his feet beg for a break but the clock refuses to cooperate. The endless line of customers blends into a blur of faces, each one as disengaged as he feels. A forced tight smile, a quick "Have a nice day," and then it’s back to the loop.

Scan. Total. Change. Repeat.

Even his shifts at the bar don't give him so much headache. It’s busy, it’s loud, he often has to break up fights, but it’s never dull. There’s always something new happening, and it’s a lot more exciting than the same old groceries sliding across the counter every day.

Right now, though? What he really wants is a moment of peace.

Normally, he’d be counting down the last twenty minutes until clocking out, but not tonight. He's asked to stay longer— another hour, maybe two. As much as his body screams for rest, rent won’t pay itself and the thought of an empty fridge waiting for him at home is enough to keep him going.

So he pushes through, works his ass off until 10pm and finally clocks out when the sun starts going down. He smokes one last cigarette outside the store, flicks the butt onto the ground then stomps on it, extinguishing the embers under his shoe before he heads toward his bike.

The ride home is quiet, just the hum of the engine as he weaves through the nearly empty roads. It’s a little over a 30-minute drive, but it feels longer when he’s this drained. The cold air helps keep him alert, but by the time he pulls into the lot outside his apartment, all he can think about is crashing into bed.

Inside, the place is quiet. Too quiet.

Ume’s not here. He barely registers the note she left on the counter—something about another girl’s night out, don’t wait up. He tosses it aside and heads straight for the fridge, already expecting the worst.

And sure enough, it’s almost empty. A half-empty carton of milk, a few eggs, some questionable leftovers he doesn’t trust enough to reheat. Not much else.

For that reason, he’s thankful for Ume's friends. They’re the type of people who insist on paying for everyone’s dinner without a second thought, perks of having rich friends. It’s a small comfort, knowing she’s cared for in ways he can’t always manage. At least she’s eating better than he is.

With a sigh, Gyutaro grabs a pack of ham from the deli drawer and pulls some (thankfully not moldy) bread from the cabinet. It’s not much, but it’ll do. He throws together a simple sandwich, not even bothering to toast the bread, and eats it standing by the counter. No plate, no effort. Just something to fill the emptiness in his stomach.

He checks his phone then— just a few system notifications staring back at him as usual. A reminder from the weather app about incoming rain, an alert from some forgotten fitness tracker urging him to move, and a low storage warning. Nothing new. Twitter and Instagram are both dry as hell, if not for Tengen’s neverending story that keeps him somewhat entertained for maybe thirty seconds, just long enough to remind him that his life seriously fucking sucks compared to other people’s.

Gyutaro sets the phone face-down on the counter with a dull thunk and rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling a heavy sigh. It’s probably the hundredth one today. The realization almost makes him snort.

He figures he doesn't really have a reason to stay up any longer. Might as well brush his teeth, maybe rinse his face, try to stop the creeping headache from taking over completely and get some well deserved sleep.

He makes a beeline for his room, plugs in his phone with barely a glance before pushing open the bathroom door — only to freeze at the sight waiting for him.

Makeup brushes scattered across the sink. A curling iron still plugged in, its cord snaking dangerously close to a puddle of water. Towels—two of them—crumpled in a soggy heap by the bathtub.

“Fucking hell, Ume.” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How hard is it to clean up after yourself?” he grumbles.

He steps over the chaos, carefully avoiding the puddles, and starts picking up the mess. It’s not his responsibility to pick up after his sister, but he knows that if he leaves it, it’ll be there for at least a couple days.

Once the counter's cleared and the clutter shoved back into place, Gyutaro straightens up slowly. His gaze catches on the mirror and he hesitates, his expression a little more critical than usual. He frowns, grabbing his messy, greasy hair with a slight look of disgust.

He opens the faucet and lets the water run until it's warm, then bends awkwardly over the sink, letting the water soak through his hair. He doesn't use proper shampoo, just a bit of hand soap and scrubs roughly at his scalp, trying to rinse away the worst of it.

It’s a poor substitute for a real shower, he’s well aware of it, but he doesn’t have the energy for anything else. Without Ume around to nag him, to wrinkle her nose dramatically and shove clean clothes at him, it can wait until morning.

So yeah. That'll have to do.

He cleans his hair roughly, brushes his teeth, strips out of his shirt, kicks off his jeans, and leaves them in a heap on the floor. Then he flicks off the bathroom light and trudges to bed, the sheets cool against his skin as he slides under them.

He reaches for his phone again without thinking, the screen lighting up his face in pale blue.

His thumb moves before his brain fully catches up. OnlyFans.

He wastes no time, immediately pulling up your account and sure enough, the brand new ‘erotic audios’ are right here— shoved in his face.

Surprisingly, he doesn't do anything with them at first. Doesn't press play. Doesn't touch himself. He just scrolls through your more modest free content (if lace panties and sheer bras count as modest), mindlessly zooming in on your tits and reading through the comments like it's the local newspaper. There’s a whole thread under one of your mirror selfies debating whether your tits are natural like it’s a scholarly fucking discussion.

Then, Gyutaro pauses, thumb hovering above the screen as a different thought creeps in.

Have you spent his money yet?

He doesn’t know why it matters. It’s not like he can get it back, and getting pissed over you spending the money he handed over would be pathetic. Stupid, even.

It's no longer his money. But the bitter feeling clings to him anyway, wedged somewhere in the back of his mind, like this whole ordeal is somehow your fault.

You're a relatively new content creator after all. He figures the money probably hit your account and vanished just as fast. Rent, maybe. Groceries. Some twisted part of him hopes you spent it on something necessary instead of treating yourself.

The idea of you walking into some store with that cash in your pocket, picking out new lingerie for your streams, or makeup, or even something stupid like fancy clothes—it makes him boil. Gets under his skin badly.

So much that his frustration nearly makes him do the responsible thing. His thumb hovers near the lock button for a fleeting moment, ready to toss the phone aside and pretend he might actually sleep.

It's totally short-lived though, as he almost instantly finds himself sinking further into the mattress, gaze sharpening as he reaches for his earbuds and slips them in easily. Then he starts scrolling again; more deliberately this time, until he finds them.

Four audios, lined up in a neat little row.

“Family gathering."

"Late-Night Confessions"

"Your Little Secret”

"After Hours"

Like you said, the first one’s free. But it's not like it matters to him. He’s already subscribed, already paying for full access like a fucking regular.

Part of him tells him to forget it. He’s tired—bone-deep, the kind that sinks into his limbs and makes even breathing feel like an effort. He doubts he'll even be able to fully get it up tonight. He’s not sure he even wants to touch himself.

But curiosity wins out in the end.

He swallows down the shame and presses play on the first audio. He adjusts his earbuds, the sound of door opening then closing setting the scene.

“Shh, we have to be quiet…”

Your soft giggles fill his ears. Then, kissing sounds.

“What? I can be quiet. If anyone's going to draw attention to us and get us caught, it's you. Don't act like it hasn't happened before.”

There’s another soft, teasing giggle. “I can’t believe you pulled me in here.” You pause, and then, a sound—more kissing, this time hurried, frantic. “Mmm… everyone’s right outside.”

Gyutaro listens carefully. The audio starts mild, with mostly kissing sounds and teasing words. That alone is enough to contradict his earlier thoughts and make his cock harden. He swears under his breath and slips his hand into his boxers, shutting his eyes as he listens.

“We’re gonna get in so much trouble… what if my dad hears?” You sound giddy, almost like you’re smiling against his lips. He begins to stroke his cock slowly, imagining the way you’d look — flushed, your eyes lit up with that mischievous spark.

Another kiss, deeper this time, followed by a muffled moan. “They’re all gonna wonder where we went… but you couldn’t wait, could you?” The sound of your breathing fills the silence, hot and heavy. Then, the distinctive sound of a buckle being undone. Gyutaro's hand continues to work his shaft, his palm gliding over the birthmarks nice and steady, coaxing it to full hardness as he listens intently.

“You’re so bad… sneaking me away like this.” Another wet kiss. “I love it, though. The way you can’t keep your hands off me.” There’s a rustle, like clothes shifting, bodies pressed closer. “Mhh, fuck, You're so big,”.

Then, you let out a small yelp. There's a bit of shuffling, followed by soft laughter. “What are you doing?” The kissing sounds continue as you speak, and Gyutaro has a pretty good idea of what's going to happen next. “You really don't have to, baby.”

A quiet moan slips through the audio, making his cock twitch.

He hears everything—every whimper, every echo of your voice in the cramped space, even the faint, slick sounds that perfectly mirror what he imagines to be his own actions. It sounds real, so real that he can't help but wonder if you're actually getting eaten out, or if you're just that good at making sound effects.

Your moans are breathless and shaky, and you can't seem to form a coherent sentence even if you try. The only words that seem to leave your mouth are a series of shaky gasps, whimpers, and muffled moans of "babe", “right there” and “just like that” over and over again.

Behind his eyelids, Gyutaro pictures himself in a random bathroom with you. Down on his knees, his head between your spread legs while you sit pretty on the counter and his mouth devours your pussy.

His breathing is quickening, shallow and uneven as he picks up the pace, his chest rising and falling with every pump of his hand.

“Fuck.” he grunts to himself as his head presses back into his pillow. His cock is slick with precum, his thumb swiping across the tip, a slow, shaky pass that nearly undoes him—but he holds back. He wants to know what happens next. He wants to cum when you do.

“Mmh yes. You make me feel so good, baby.”

“I'm your good girl. I’m yours.”

“Please—”

His body jerks, hips thrusting upward as he imagines your pleading eyes looking down at him.

“Don’t stop—”

Then it hits him. His vision blurs, everything going white as his orgasm hits, his release spilling over his hand and stomach in thick spurts. His jaw clenches, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he rides the aftershocks. His toes curl, his legs twitch, and for a fleeting moment everything else fades away—no worries, no guilt, just pure, blinding ecstasy.

Afterwards, he just lies there breathless, the silence in his room overwhelming, broken only by the faint rush of blood pulsing in his ears and the relentless tick of the clock above his door. Slowly, the fog in his mind clears, and reality settles back in.

He wipes his hand on his boxers, the satisfaction fading much quicker than he’d like, giving way to that stupid post-orgasm clarity which always leaves him feeling gross.

His hand trembles slightly as it reaches for the lighter and cigarettes on the nightstand, fingers grazing over the clutter—empty beer cans, crumpled tissues, the usual mess he never bothers to clean. He pulls one out and flicks the wheel once, twice, three times before the lighter finally ignites. The flame catches the edge of the cigarette and he pulls the smoke deep into his lungs, letting it drift from his lips with a slow, tired exhale.

Gyutaro isn't sure how long he lies there, eyes unfocused as the minutes drag by in silence. Eventually though, something tugs at the edge of his awareness and his gaze starts to shift— slowly, almost reluctantly— back to the laptop that's still open on his desk, the screen dimmed but not dark.

He stares for a moment before letting out another long exhale of smoke.

Fuck it.

To: VelvetVixen

Subject: 250$ tip

hi,

i’’m glad you enjoyed the tip… I’m not sure what to ask for though. I guess I’d be happy if you just acknowledged me in the chat and said my name

take care,

gyutaro

Sent: 00:27 AM

#reader insert #x reader #x fem reader #gyutaro #gyutaro x you #gyutaro smut #gyutaro shabana #gyuutarou x reader #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro shabana x reader

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mysticwinterkit · 2 years 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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emsromanoff · 28 days ago

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The fire in her eyes | part 2

She was Hydra’s secret weapon—firebound, nameless, and controlled. When the Avengers storm the last hidden base, Natasha Romanoff comes face to face with the girl behind the flame. A mission becomes a rescue. And maybe… something more

pairings: Natasha romanoff x female OC

Word count: 1,6 k

Chapter two | Ember

Wrapped in a thermal blanket, secured to a med-stretcher in the Quinjet, she looks deceptively peaceful. Her face, though young, bore the quiet weight of something ancient—like a storm long held back. Even unconscious, her skin radiate faint warmth, and her fingers twitch now and then, like sparks trying to reignite.

Natasha sat nearby with crossed arms, watching over her. There is something innocent about the girl in front of her, despite the dangerous fire that almost killed them a few minutes earlier.

“She is stable.” Bruce speaks up quietly, double checking her vital signs. “Vitals are strong. But her neural readings are…all over the place. Like someone scrambled her brain and hit repeat.”

“Hydras version of a lullaby.” tony murmured from across the cabin, face lit by the hologram in front of him. His eyebrows are tensed in focus. “Jarvis is still decrypting the files we pulled from the base. Her name is Amaliya Morozova. 25 years old. Victim of an Hydra experiment called project Hecate with the purpose to create a mutant with fire related powers.”

The team is quiet for a moment, processing the information. Natasha is still staring at the young woman. Amaliya Morozova. “She is russian.” she says softly. Something about her face and the name was familiar, not to Natasha personally, but in a cultural, almost painful way. A memory of home. A reminder of what has been stolen both of them.

The jet hummed steady in the sky. Outside the world turned slowly dark as they cut through the atmosphere of new York.

“Do you think she will remember anything when she wakes up?” Bruce ask the group.

Steve stood beside the cockpit, arms crossed. “I don’t know. She will need space and time. But when she wakes up, we need answers.”

“I will talk to her.” Natasha said firmly. “Alone.”

Tony shot her a glance. “You sure thats a good idea? The last time she was awake she lit up the room like a barbecue pit.”

“I am. Jarwis hacked the mind control. Its save.” Natasha answers.

Steve speaks up, not excited by the idea of Natasha talking to her alone once she is awake.

“Natasha we don’t know anything about her. Maybe she is a sleeper agent, and is ready to harm us even without hydras mind control.”

“I saw something in her eyes. She wasn’t gone, she is still in there. I’ll be careful.”

Tony didn’t argue anymore, neither did anyone else.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Medical wing

Hours later, Amaliya wokes up slowly. Her body aches - burns, really. Her head feels like someone had driven nails into her skull. She blinks a few times. She registers white lights, clean sheets and the faint sound of the beeping monitors. She sats up with a jolt, flames sparkling from her fingertips, but nothing caught fire. Her powers have weakened. There was a glass panel in the wall for observation. Then she heard a soft voice speaking up, the russian accent slightly noticeable.

“You are awake.”

She turned her head. The redheaded spy stands in the doorway, arms crossed and dressed in a black tactical gear. She looked calm, but guarded, like she was ready for everything.

“Where am I?”

Amaliya speaks up in a quiet voice.

“Safe.”

The firebender scoffs and her eyes narrow.

“That word means nothing to me. Where am I?”

“Avengers compound.” Natasha replied. “New York. Far away from Hydra. We shut down the control protocol. You are free now.”

Amaliya lays back again the pillow again, feeling too tired to sit up. She tries to keep her voice steady, not wanting to seem weak. She responds dry:*

“Free? Thats what you call hacking someone’s brain open?”

Natasha sits down carefully on the chair next to the bed. She says softly:

“We had to. You were killing people.”

These words make her silent for a few moments and her eyes dart away from the redhead next to her, the blurry memories of everything she did running through her mind. Natasha speaks up again:

“It wasn’t your fault. You were being mind controlled for months.”

Amaliya voice sounds bitter.

“So what - you expect me to sleep better knowing it wasn’t ‘me’? You think that erases what I did? They made me a weapons.”

“I know. I was one too.” Natasha said gently.

Her eyes snap up, suprised. Not mocking, but in a curious way. “And now?”

“Now.. I am something else. Took time. Took people who care about me. I know what its like to wake up and not recognize yourself. And I think you are still in there... Under all that fire.” The spy explains.

Amaliya swallowed hard. She wasn’t ready to believe it, not yet. But for the first time in years, she didn’t feel like burning the world down. After a moment of silence, Nat stands up from the chair.

“I am gonna let you rest now. You need to recover. We will check on you regularly. And by the way, my name is Natasha.”

With these words, she leaves the room silently, leaving her with alone with her own thoughts and surrounded by silence.

#natasharomanoff #blackwidow #natasha romanoff x f!oc #avengers #avengers series #fanfic

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hellodarling1357 · 1 year 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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itstheinktank · 6 months ago

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It's been a whole year, let's see how we did!

Kuro's been grinding through the Ben 10 Breakdowns, covering over two seasons of Omniverse!

We put together FIVE episodes of 5 Years Later: The Motion Comic.

This batch was insane! Paul Eiding Returns, the "Remember - Ember" Cover, the debut of Future Fenton, and one hell of a cliff hanger! This series will be a big part of our legacy.

Remember when we struggled to get just one out each year? This time, we did THREE! With quality that's miles above Season 1. Lots of fun guest stars, too! We're very excited to wrap up the Zs'Skayr Arc next year.

"But, Ash!" It was a great year for The Drawing Matrix, as well. Ash finished ALL of the Prime Continuity aliens, with the final episode of Ultimates Overhauled dropping next week based on the 2016 Reboot!

Looking for laughs? Fro's new series gave us a fresh new take on what's possible with our content.

We had a few odds and ends kicking around, too. We made FOURTEEN videos on various topics, each done with unique love and care.

Kuro returned to regular streaming. You can catch him Tuesdays @ 2:00pm EST and commission him through the doc linked in the description of each stream!

Kellen & Kuro held TWO special streams jam-packed with phenomenal guests. It was a pleasure getting everyone together!

Ash has been blessing us with Shorts here and there, all edited by himself. Add that to his skillset!

We're blessed with hundreds of supporters on both Patreon & YouTube Membership, the latter which only launched this year for the first time. Your support goes a long way!

It's easy to forget we have a second channel, The Rust Bucket, though we try to mention it as much as we can. We still made time to throw some goodies on there!

We spread our wings across many videos - we did so many collabs, it's hard to count them all! You may see up pop up just about everywhere, and will continuity to play our part in keeping our community strong.

Happy Holidays!

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p-artsypants · 4 months ago

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Flight of the Valkyrie (2) A Different Perspective

Because of Hiccup's constant screw ups and inability to defend himself, Stoick arranges a marriage for him to the archipelago's greatest warrior. Astrid Hofferson has become famous for her battle prowess and great stature for a 16 year old girl. Who better to protect Hiccup from dragons, hostile vikings, and Hiccup himself?

I really hope this holds up to the excitement everyone had for the first part.

Ao3

---

The axe sunk into the wooden target with a very satisfying ‘thunk’.

Astrid was certain that sound was the perfect balm for a broken heart.

Boys were stupid.

Another satisfying thunk, and the rage in Astrid’s chest was stoked like bellows on embers. A calm, controlled, but intense heat. Just the way she liked it.

The next boy that said anything to her was going to get the curved end of her axe to his face.

“Astrid!” Her mother’s voice called. “Your father would like a word with you, darling!”

Astrid sighed deeply. Well, the next boy to talk to her was her father and chief, and hitting him with an axe wouldn’t be conducive. She left her axe in the target and obediently returned home.

Her father was sitting at his table, quill in hand as he wrote on a large scroll.

“Father,” she greeted, pleasantly.

“Astrid, my dear, have a seat.” He said, warmth in his tone, though he didn’t look up from this writing.

She sat across from him, while her mother sat at the end of the table, working on her mending.

Finally, Chief Axel looked up to her, a warm smile hiding in his blond beard. “As you know, I’ve been in communication with Chief Stoick of Berk to make an alliance and trade agreement.”

Astrid blinked hard, hiding her eye roll. Chiefly matters like this, while ever so slightly interesting, had nothing to do with her. She had no say, no opinions. Why was he bothering?

“The village plagued by dragons? So you told us,” she replied.

“Well, we’ve finally made an agreement. You see, they need aid. Desperately. We’re going to give them supplies to help them last the winter against their raids. In exchange, we’re receiving gold, and a very handsome alliance.”

“That’s nice,” she shrugged.

“And,” Axel paused to gauge her reaction. “We’ll be joining our tribes in marriage.”

“Oh…so Sigurd? Ingrid?”

“You, Astrid. Chief Stoick asked for you.”

“Me? But-but I’m the youngest! Surely he’d want an older girl!”

“No,” Axel said sternly, “he asked for you specifically, citing your prowess in battle as his reason. That was what you were going for, wasn’t it?”

Astrid closed her eyes, hunching her shoulders as disgust overcame her. She whispered, “I had hoped it would have gotten me out of a marriage to an older man.”

Axel laughed. “Oh darling! The marriage isn’t to Stoick, it’s to his son!”

She sagged, a bit of relief leaking through. “How old is he?”

“Your age.”

She fully relaxed at that. Since she was old enough to understand, it had been drilled into her head by her parents that she’d have an arranged marriage. And from that moment, her older sisters had been sure to clarify that her husband would be an old widower. Maybe a drunkard, maybe invalid from battle that needed constant care. Either way, he’d be wealthy but unable to get a wife on his own.

Now that the age gap was substantially reduced, she was able to digest the rest of the request.

“He asked for me…because I’m a good fighter?”

“The best fighter,” her mom added, pride thick in her voice.

“Yes,” Axel said, echoing her mother’s pride. “Apparently his son…” he paused to glance at a previous letter. “Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, is a bit on the scrawny side, and Stoick fears for his safety during raids. Not only from dragons, but their enemies as well.”

“Oh!” Astrid sat up. “So, I’d be his protector? I’d be honored!” To be recognized for her skill and hired to protect the (future) chief, there wasn’t a higher honor for a warrior.

“Yes, and his wife,” Axel reminded. “It would be the most convenient, so you can be with him at all times.”

“I guess that makes sense…” if she had been a boy, she would probably just be his house steward. But a woman living with an unmarried man was improper.

“So you agree to the marriage?”

“I get a choice?”

“No,” Axel grinned. “But I want to let Stoick know if you’re going to behave or go in kicking and screaming.”

Astrid couldn’t help but smirk. “No kicking and screaming. I’ll marry—did you say his name was Hiccup?”

“Aye,” Axel nodded as he wrote on his document. She could see now that it was a reply to Stoick, confirming their betrothal. “In Berk’s tradition, the runt of the litter is named Hiccup. Stoick’s son was born very early, and was very small. They named him Hiccup, not even knowing if he would survive the winter. But he did, and he’s just as small as ever.”

“Have you met him? What’s he like?”

“I met him when he was a boy, several years ago. I suppose he still is a boy…but I didn’t talk to him. He was shy. I saw him at meals, and the meetings, but he was quick to disappear when not required to be there.”

“Okay, a mystery. I can work with that…when’s the wedding?”

“I suppose that’s up to you. We can wait until the fall harvest, but not much longer than that.”

No, Astrid wasn’t the kind to sit and wait, especially in light of a certain situation. “How about as soon as possible?”

“Astrid…” her mother chastized. “Don’t let this situation with Thuggory make you rush into something so permanent.”

“Situation with Thuggory? The Meathead? What happened?” Axel asked, furrowing his brow.

“I’m over that,” Astrid lied, but with a stern look at her mother, asking her to drop it. “Nothing happened. But wouldn’t it be better for Hiccup if it was as soon as possible? With the dragon raids, he needs my protection now, right?”

Axel smiled proudly at her. “Exactly, my warrior! So, I will tell Stoick we will be there the day after this letter arrives. You’ll be wed by Friggsday!”

Astrid felt a little weak in the knees. Sure, she said as soon as possible, but a week?

Oh well.

All the better to get off this hunk of rock.

“Is that fair to Berk? That’s awfully short notice for them!”

“We’ll bring plenty of food to share. Along with ale and mead! That’s what every Viking needs!”

“Guess I’ll get packed?” Astrid smiled weakly.

“Get started, I’ll send your sisters to help you.”

Astrid bit back, “just Ingrid please. Sigurd can find something else to do.”

—

The next few days were nerve wracking. Berk was three days by boat, and that was plenty of time for Astrid to pace and worry about her future.

She was getting married, sooner than she hoped, but that was fine. She was certain as long as he was somewhat decent, she’d grow to be friends with him.

Maybe even love him. How nice would that be?

But the dragons caused concern. The Shivering Shores occasionally were visited by the beasts, but supposedly not as frequently as Berk was. She’d been training to fight men, not fire breathing, two ton scaled harbingers of death.

Hopefully Berk had classes she could take.

“Something wrong?” Her sister, Sigurd, asked.

Astrid glanced at her, shooting a glare, before going back to pacing. And just like that, all of her thoughts were back on the Shivering Shores, where she had hoped to leave them. “Just preparing to meet my husband is all.”

Sigurd sighed. “No no, I get that. I just…did I do something? You’ve been really cold to me since we left for Berk. Once you get married, we won’t see each other very often. What did I do to make you so angry at me?”

Astrid shook her head, “nothing, absolutely nothing. You never do anything wrong. You’re perfect.”

“…is this about the marriage? Because they asked for you, Astrid. You know I’m not anywhere near as skilled as you are in fighting.”

“No it’s not—“ Astrid sighed again, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? You’re right. I should be spending time with you.”

But as Astrid stared at her sister’s face, jealousy and anger coiled in her gut and she turned away sharply.

“Stupid.” She muttered.

“What did you call me?” Sigurd asked, offended.

“Not talking about you. Talking about me, and what I’m worried about.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Come on, Astrid. You talk to me about everything! What’s different now?!”

Astrid shook her head again, huffing. She hemmed and hawed, clearly seeing Sigurd wasn’t going to leave her alone. “It’s home stuff. But I’m leaving home, and never going back, so I should be able to just forget about it and move on, but I can’t. There, happy?”

“Oh Astrid, I know what this is about. But you were never going to be able to be with Thuggory. Dad always had an arranged marriage plan for you.”

“I didn’t—it’s not—!” Astrid growled in frustration. Taking a moment to collect herself, she stated firmly, “it’s not about being with Thuggory. I knew that. We had an unpleasant conversation when I last saw him and he said something awful to me and I’m having a hard time getting over it.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

“I don’t want to repeat it. It doesn’t matter. But there. Now you know what’s on my mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to worrying about what’s ahead of me instead of what’s behind me.”

Astrid’s oldest sister, Ingrid, approached partway through the conversation, and listened patiently. Once Astrid was done, she offered, “you’re so mature, Astrid. That’s really admirable.”

“Thank you. But I just don’t think it’s worth wasting time fretting over the words of some boy I’ll never see again. And good riddance to him, by the way.”

“You know,” Ingrid began, tactfully. “I came over to let you know that Berk’s on the horizon.”

Astrid bristled. Now it was real. Her new home was within sight. She turned to where Ingrid was pointing.

The island was still a ways out, but the tall point in the center of it gave it away.

“Oh gods,” Astrid’s knees quaked and she made a beeline below deck.

Her sisters followed, ever loving, ever ready to help.

Astrid sat on her cot, nausea and anxiety churning through her like a roiling sea. “What am I doing?”

“What you’re destined to do,” Ingrid assured, proudly. “The best warrior in the archipelago, reporting for duty to protect someone who can’t protect themselves. That’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

“Yes but—“

“It’s the marriage part that scares you, huh?” Sigurd assumed, sitting beside her. “You don’t have to love him today, or even this year. Just try to be his friend.”

“Ugh,” Astrid rubbed her eyes a little too forcefully. “Feelings are stupid.”

“Yes, but they can also be wonderful.”

She shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

Ingrid went to her luggage. “Do you want to get dressed up? You’ve got this pretty blue dress, or the red one.”

Astrid sat up straighter. “No, no dresses. I’m going to put on my armor. I want to make a good impression, by showing that I’m serious.”

“Let me at least fix your hair,” Ingrid tutted.

The girls stayed in the cabin for a while, talking, comforting, and braiding each other’s hair.

When the boat lurched to a stop, Astrid’s stomach lurched too.

“Oh gods,” she breathed. “This is it.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sigurd petted her hair. “I bet he’s just as nervous as you are.”

“If not more, given your reputation,” Ingrid joked.

“Right,” Astrid breathed. “Why don’t you two go on ahead? I’ll be up in a second, I just…need to psych myself up.”

“You’re not going into battle,” Ingrid giggled.

“Not conventionally, but battle nonetheless.”

As her sisters left to go on deck, Astrid rose to her feet and started stretching. She jogged in place and jumped around, getting her blood flowing.

“It’s going to be fine,” she told herself. “He’s not a gross old man, and he’s not going to trap you in the house. He wants you. He wants you.”

With that, she hurried up the steps and went to join her family. When she saw no one left on board, she panicked. It wouldn’t do to lag behind! Not even noticing the plank, Astrid leapt over the side of the ship and landed on the dock with a thud.

“What an entrance!” A new voice laughed.

She looked up at the man she had dropped in front of. And really, she had to look up. That was a rare experience for her!

Judging by the fur cape and pendants on his shoulders, this was Chief Stoick. Thankfully, he was grinning at her.

Adrenaline still coursing through her, she explained, “I panicked,” and then bowed respectfully. “Chief Stoick, it’s an honor. I’m Astrid Hofferson.”

“A pleasure, my dear!” He held out a hand.

She shook it, steeling her features into something pleasant and calm.

Then he was talking and gesturing to the child beside him, but she barely heard anything due to her heart hammering in her chest. Any minute now, she’d meet her husband.

She may have offered greetings to the boy, but didn’t pay him much attention. She just anxiously looked at Stoick.

Stoick nodded slowly and tried again, this time, she paid better attention. “This is my only son, Hiccup…your husband to be.”

She inhaled briefly at that, and let out a soft, “Oh.” She had messed up. Less than a minute into greeting these people, and she’d messed up!

She looked at the form of the boy, and felt immense guilt. Had she not been so keyed up, she would have noticed he had the face of a young man, and not a child. He was just scrawny and short, but that should have been expected with the way he was described in Stoick’s letter. She exhaled slowly, trying to figure out how to salvage this wreck. She whispered, “I see.”

Apparently, that didn’t help. Hiccup cast his gaze to the ground as he held his arm. He was so small and shy. He looked to be less than skin and bone, with hands that were smaller than hers.

But he had the face of a man, his nose and brow proud. His big green eyes were shadowed by lush lashes, eyebrows thick and furrowed in thought. He had a dusting of freckles on his pale skin and a wild mane of auburn hair.

How a creature could be so frail and delicate while being so devastatingly handsome, she had no idea.

“Is that how you would greet your betrothed?” her father asked.

There it was! The way to smooth this whole thing over!

She may have heard her mother try to cover for her, but Astrid she took a quick stride forward and reached out and took Hiccup’s hand. Then she leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“D-Duh?” Hiccup blurted, a blush added to the freckles.

She smiled at him, her own face flushing as she said, “Hello darling.” Hello darling!? That’s what she was going with!? Ugh, way to show you have no experience with romance, Astrid!

“H-h-hi,” he stuttered out. “I’m Hiccup.” His voice was deep, the voice of a man, but also nasally, the voice of a dork.

His nervous answer soothed her a bit. He was obviously just as frazzled as she was. She gave a nod. “Astrid.” Her throat felt dry.

He looked at her, stared at her with those heavenly green eyes. There was a ring of gold around the pupils that made them all the more enchanting.

He gnawed on his thin lips and hunched his shoulders, not hiding his embarrassment or vulnerability for a second.

Gods he was adorable. How’d she get this lucky?

“Son,” Stoick patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you show Astrid around the village?”

Hiccup broke away from his gaze. “What? Oh! Yes! Of course! The village! My village! Where I–where we live, where you will live also…ha!” He damn near shouted.

Astrid felt her smile grow. His flustered expression and rambling was endearing. No showboating, no chest puffing, just a refreshingly authentic boy. “Okay, lead the way.”

After some encouraging shooing, Hiccup took her hand and began to lead her into town. Her new home.

The battleground.

She asked questions when needed, but mostly let him talk and guide her through the town. It was quite a bit smaller than the Shivering Shores. The cliffs that almost surrounded the town proved to be a boon in defense. It was no wonder the Berkians chose to stay in spite of the dragons. The island was beautiful, picturesque, and poised to be extremely difficult for an enemy tribe to take.

But a flying enemy, that was something different entirely.

Hiccup had an interesting perspective on the island. He told her the proprietors of all the shops, when they opened, and what he recommended from there. He pointed out every person’s house as they passed, the names blurring together in her mind as he listed them off.

And boy, were those ever names. Of course, her first clue should have been her groom’s name being Hiccup, but the names just got weirder from there.

Even his cousin and other boy in the ring, ‘Snotlout’ and ‘Tuffnut’.

“And this is Griplout’s house, of course, the name is ironic now, because he doesn’t have any arms—“

“Why is everyone named like that?”

“Huh?”

“Hiccup, Fishgut, Dogface, Snotman—“

“Snotlout.”

“These names are…weird.”

“You guys don’t have scary names?”

“We have scary titles. Like I’ve been called Fearless Astrid Hofferson, and my dad is Axel the Arduous. But our names are just…names.”

“Well, tradition says that we name our children like that to scare off witches and trolls.”

“I’ve never heard such a thing.”

He shrugged. “Hooligan tradition, we’ve got a lot of strange ones.”

“…will…will we have to name our kids like that?”

“Uh…” he blushed. “Um, I don’t think it’s mandatory…let’s just worry about getting married first, and then we can uh…talk about that.”

She knew her duty to her husband, especially as a future chief, was to give him a child as heir. She would bravely do it, but in her own time, when she was ready.

And she was not naming her son ‘Fartbreath’ or ‘Poopface’.

Hiccup continued to blush as he rubbed the back of his head, no doubt her question was continuing to roll around in his head.

She smiled at him. Watching a boy trip over himself and being so hesitant about sex? That was so different from what she was told to expect.

Though, the more she thought about it, maybe he hadn’t been hesitant about it at first and then changed his mind when he saw how big she was.

Maybe he was scared of getting hurt. Or maybe just repulsed at being intimate with a woman so much bigger than him. She’d have to think of a plan to make sure he was comfortable during their consummation in a few days.

The tour was insightful. She would need to scope it out a few more times for certainty, but she had a good idea of where ambushes could be sprung and where a small husband could be tucked away for safety.

Yes, this was looking very promising.

Besides the layout of the town, she got plenty of information on her future husband.

‘Dirt’ some people might say.

Gobber, the double amputee blacksmith, seemed nice, friendly, and forthcoming. She kind of felt bad for Hiccup as Gobber spilled all these secrets about him.

Things started to make more sense then. After all, Hiccup was still young. Most of the kids her age were still growing. None of them quite as small as Hiccup, but there was definitely time for an imminent growth spurt.

But no, his size wasn’t the end of it. Apparently, Hiccup had grandiose dreams of being a warrior and a proclivity for attracting danger.

He was just asking for an early grave.

What wasn’t making sense was his story about shooting down a dragon. Not that she didn’t believe he did it, but what he said about letting it go.

If he had the chance to get close enough to cut the net, why didn’t the dragon kill him?

According to everything she knew, dragons always went for the kill.

Perhaps when they knew and trusted each other more, she could ask him about it again. That would be handy information to have.

He led her up the hill to a house, but didn’t go inside. “This is my house, er…my father’s house. I think o-our house will be around here somewhere…” he popped up to tiptoes to look further up the hill.

“I see some foundations,” she noted. There was a pile of logs by the cliffs and a cleared section of dirt.

“Oh!” He spotted where she was looking. “…all the way back there? Okay…so yeah! Sorry, it’s kinda far from town.”

“No worries. That’s actually better.” She started toward the plot. “This far back, we’re away from the major targets. Catapult fire would aim for big buildings, important buildings, or where a lot of buildings clumped up. Dragons would go for the food sources and whatever is firing at them. So, ergo, our house will never be touched.”

“I…guess you’re right. Odin, you’re really smart.”

“I have a battle mindset. It’s all I think about, really.”

“Are the Shivering Shores at war?” He asked, eyes wide.

“Not currently, we just found peace with Hopeless a few years ago. But you know how Viking alliances are.”

“Shaky at best?”

“Yep. Hopefully our marriage will form a strong bond for our tribes.”

“It will,” he assured. “Berk has no reason to fight anyone. We have our hands full.”

“I can see that.” She chuckled slightly. “Still…it’d be nice to be responsible for a strong, beneficial, long lasting alliance.”

He nodded. “I certainly don’t want to piss your dad off.”

She laughed. “You won’t.”

He didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm as he said, “you’d be surprised.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, that should be it. Was there anything you wanted to see more before dinner?”

“Is there a bath house? I’d like to wash up after that journey.”

“Oh, bath house? No. We have hot springs in the woods. I could show you later! Wash day is tomorrow, so you’d have them all to yourself tonight.”

“Hot springs? Sounds nice.” And it really did. The Shovering Shores had a bathhouse, which was close to a river. The water was never warm enough, and boys were often lingering outside the girls side, trying to get a peek.

Hot springs, all alone and isolated in nature, sounded really relaxing.

“Then if that’s after dinner, shall we go to the Great Hall and wait for your friends?” She asked, taking his hand again.

His face crumbled. He hunched his shoulders as he pulled a hard frown. After a moment of thought, his eyes closed hard and he confessed, “I don’t have any friends.”

A gasp ripped from her throat, sudden and without her permission. “None?”

He shook his head. “No. I used to, but…um, I’m sorry. Being attached to me is going to tank your reputation. I could introduce you to Ruffnut, the other girl our age, but…yeah, I’m not very popular.”

She decided to take it in stride. Instead of fretting over it, she said, “okay, well, let’s eat with my family then. I want you to meet them, and I should spend time with them before they leave.”

He blinked several times at her before slowly smiling. It wasn’t a very big smile, but showed gratitude all the same.

He squeezed her hand and pulled her along, back to the Great Hall.

They entered, and the smell of food was in the air. In the time they were gone, some dishes were finished and being placed on the main table.

Hiccup led her to the back corner, and sat across from her.

Awkwardness returned as he sat hunched, his hands rubbing on his legs under the table. Astrid simply rested her head in her hands, gazing at him thoughtfully.

“So,” she began. “We’re doing the handsal during dinner right? I think we’re technically engaged now because of the contracts our dads made, but I’m pretty sure my dad said we’re doing the official handsal tonight in front of everyone.”

“O-oh, that’s…that’s…good to know…” he muttered.

“When did you think we were going to do it?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. I just…I found out we were getting married just yesterday.”

“Yester—!?” She choked on the word. “Well, okay, so you found out it was me, but surely you knew your dad would be arranging a marriage at some point.”

He shook his head, still not looking at her. “Nope, uh, all a surprise. Dad doesn’t really um…talk to me. I’d heard at one point that an arranged marriage was a possibility, but…I never expected it.”

Her jaw dropped. Her whole life, she had been preparing for this. But he had since yesterday to prepare?

It kind of colored the way she saw Chief Stoick.

“Are you…okay?” The answer was fairly obvious, but she had to ask.

He shrugged. “I don’t know how to feel. You’re really nice and pretty, but is that enough for a marriage? I don’t know. I’ve never had a girlfriend, never been in love. I don’t even have a mom or a sister. I don’t know what it’s like to live with a woman. And in a few days, I will be permanently.” He bowed his head further and covered his face with his hands.

She shrugged slightly. “Well, it’s not like I’ve been married before. How about we take it one step at a time? Do marriage our way, whatever feels comfortable? Obviously there’s some things we have to do the traditional way, but don’t worry about it too much.”

“I’ll uh, I’ll take your lead on this then, since you’re the expert.”

“Expert,” she laughed. “Right, well, you have been preparing to become chief one day, right?”

“A little, but dad doesn’t really like me coming to meetings anymore.”

“Why?”

He flinched. “I got a big mouth, and I often stick my foot in it.”

“Oh. And that got you kicked out of council meetings?”

He traced a knot in the table with his finger, still avoiding eye contact. “Yep. We Vikings have a lot of pride, and when you question people…it leads to hurt egos.”

“Ah, now I get it. It’s the same thing on the battle ground, Hiccup. I’ve beaten all sorts of men in fights and they either laugh it off and congratulate me, or deny it happened and throw a tantrum. Those that have the bigger egos get really mad. I’ve gotten some notoriety after fighting in tournaments, but before that, a lot of losers tried to get me banned from the arenas.”

He looked up at her with his big green eyes, and nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, that’s it exactly.”

She smiled. “Well, as I was saying, you’ve probably got more experience in the chiefing realm. While my dad is chief, he never really talked to me about what all he has to do. It was assumed I wouldn’t marry a chief, so I wouldn’t be chieftess. So that part of this whole thing has me pretty nervous.”

His eyes blew wide. “That’s the part you’re nervous about?!”

Not really, but she didn’t want to talk about the other stuff. She chuckled. “Yeah, mom always said I had my priorities mixed up.” She leaned her elbows on the table more, relaxing in the cozy atmosphere of the mead hall. “Anything else I was worried about disappeared when I saw you.”

He turned bashful again, and a bit more subdued. “Because I’m not a threat in any way? I’m a total pushover?”

“Are you a pushover? Because Gobber made it sound like you’re just as hard headed and stubborn as the rest of us. I’ll probably have to man-handle you.”

“I…get picked up and thrown around a lot. I don’t really like it.”

Too bad. She thought. She was definitely going to pick him up and carry him. Mostly out of curiosity. It would be easy to lift him, right? Throw him over her shoulder like a sack of flour? Maybe even bench press him?

The options were endless, she thought, a little ashamed.

Then Ingrid was sitting next to her, and Sigurd next to Hiccup.

The unwarranted jealousy stirred in Astrid’s gut yet again at the proximity of her sister so close to her soon-to-be husband. But she stamped down the anger. It was pointless. Hiccup was to be married to her in a few days. Sigurd could try to seduce him like—

Well, she could try, but Hiccup was marrying her.

“There you are!” Said Ingrid, leaning affectionately on Astrid’s shoulder. “We got a little tour by this boy named Fishlegs. Fishlegs! I mean, can you believe it? Why would anyone name their child that?”

“Tradition dictates it scares off witches and trolls,” Astrid answered, defensively. Of course, she was questioning their tradition too, but she was marrying into the tribe. Who was Ingrid to question them?

“Oh,” Ingrid nodded. “I guess…that makes sense…”

“It doesn’t, and that’s okay,” Hiccup assured. “I’m uh, I’m Hiccup.” He held his hand out to her.

“Ingrid,” she shook warmly.

“Sigurd,” she offered her own handshake.

“My sisters,” Astrid explained. “Ingrid is four years older, and Sigurd is two. I have an older brother, Finn, who’s acting chief while dad’s gone. And I have another sister who’s married to a Gaul.”

“She and Svengard are coming to the wedding,” Ingrid assured. “At least, dad sent the message before we left, so she should have gotten it yesterday. Plenty of time to make it.”

Astrid shrugged. “Perhaps if I had waited until the fall, she would have had more time to prepare.”

“Wait,” said Hiccup. “You’re the one you planned for Friggsday?”

“Sort of. I said ‘as soon as possible’. I thought it would be smart for me to start…uh, protecting you immediately. I didn’t know dad was going to make it for Friggsday.”

“Well…you aren’t wrong. The raids have been getting bad lately…” he trailed off, something on his mind. “There was one a few days ago, so we should be safe until after…after the wedding.” He shook his head slightly and muttered, “still weird.”

“It’ll be weird for weeks,” Ingrid comforted. “I remember when Brynhild was preparing for her marriage. It was extremely fast, faster than this! She didn’t know she was getting married until she was walking down the aisle!”

Hiccup’s eyes bugged out of his head. “They would do that?”

“Apparently, Hamish of the Gauls told dad, ‘you give your eldest daughter to my son in marriage, or we invade in a fortnight. Ba-da-bing, you got yourself a blushing bride.”

Hiccup just continued to stare in horror as he glanced at the girls. “Are all Viking tribes like this? I thought we were the weird ones!”

Ingrid shrugged. “Maybe. You don’t have any sisters, do you?”

“I’m an only child.”

“Weird that a chief would have just one child,” Sigurd said, absently.

Astrid saw Hiccup’s face crumble, but he hid it just a moment later.

“So you wouldn’t be familiar with it,” Ingrid continued. “Our mother was in an arranged marriage to our father, which worked out well. But her five sisters were also arranged and some of them…were not so lucky.”

“Our brother Finn, though,” said Sigurd, “as heir, he got to pick his bride. He chose Helene, his crush since they were in diapers.”

“Very cute couple,” added Ingrid. “Still just betrothed, too. His wedding is in a few months, and they're planning a big shindig.”

Astrid just observed Hiccup as he digested this information. He squinted his eyes in thought, and shifted his jaw.

She reached over and took his hand, ceasing his anxious finger tapping. “Would you have rather us waited? I just thought…besides the whole protection aspect, I just…wanted to get it over with.”

“Y-yeah yeah, no yeah, I get it.” Hiccup bumbled. “Just like, rip the Nadder quill out, right?” He shrugged, his voice filled with an incredible amount of self loathing.

“That’s not—what I mean is—“

“Astrid’s not the patient type,” Sigurd explained, gently elbowing Hiccup. “At the sound of a challenge, she doesn’t wait, just charges into battle.”

“This is a battle?” Hiccup asked.

“Comes with the same anxiety, but not as fun as fighting, right Astrid?” Ingrid asked.

“Uh…yeah, something like that.”

The look on Hiccup’s face made her want to punch both of her sisters out. He looked utterly dejected and uncomfortable. He had since they sat down, and it only got worse.

She tried to find a way to lighten the mood, but was interrupted by a sharp whistle.

She and Hiccup had come a bit early, but as they talked, the rest of the tribe assembled for dinner. Now, the tables were full and everyone was looking eagerly at the feast laid out on the table in the center of the room.

Chief Stoick and her father stood at the head of the table, side by side, and Stoick was the one to call everyone to attention.

It was time.

“Friends, family, and fellow warriors, tonight we celebrate our new alliance with the Shivering Shores!”

There was a rowdy cheer.

“In the wake of the dragon raids, many of our former friends have left our good graces because we asked too much and couldn’t be useful to them. But the Shivering Shores always extended a hand of aid when we needed it. Their generosity has always been greatly appreciated, and weighed heavily in my mind as I thought of how to repay them. I don’t know if Berk will ever be able to fully repay what we owe, for now Chief Axel has given us another gift.” He turned to their table and beckoned them forward.

Astrid saw Hiccup gulp as he shakily got to his feet. He tottered over to stand next to his father, as she stood next to hers.

“We are honored to announce the betrothal of my son Hiccup, to Chief Axel’s daughter Astrid!”

She expected polite applause, as one would for a betrothal announcement.

She did not expect the laughter. Uproarious, gut busting laughter.

“Poor girl,” someone choked.

“Oh that’s rich.”

“That’s what he gets.”

“She’ll crush him!”

Astrid felt her cheeks flame as she picked out the sentiments of the tribe. Her new tribe.

Hiccup just had his face turned to the floor as he shuffled his feet.

Stoick’s hand landed on her shoulder and he squeezed gently. “Ignore them,” he said to both of them. Then he steered her gently to face Hiccup.

He spoke aloud to the room again, once the crowd had calmed. “We make our offering of the bride price for Astrid Hofferson’s hand. This, the agreed upon amount of 1 pound of gold, is to be paid to Chief Axel of the Shivering Shores.”

She expected polite applause again, and yet again, she was met with an unfavorable outcome. This time, there was outrage. People ‘boo’ed and jeered.

Stoick held up his hands. “This amount has been agreed upon!”

“You’re wasting all that gold on that pathetic runt of a son?!” Someone dared to shout across the room.

Hiccup flinched, and his face screwed up in pain.

It set Astrid’s blood on fire, and that careful, intense rage that she always kept at a controlled burn flared.

She let go of Hiccup’s hands and whirled on the crowd. “Who said that?! Who would dare say that?!” She roared.

An older man, with a scarred face, stood from a bench. “I, Spitelout Jorgenson, patriarch of the Jorgenson clan, one of the founding families of Berk, dare say it! And there’s not a single tribesman in this room that doesn’t agree with me!”

There were several men that chimed in with an assenting ‘Aye!’ But Astrid paid little attention to them. Her nostrils flared before she took off across the room, zeroing in on that treacherous man.

His eyes widened slightly as she closed in, and he had a split second to take on a defensive stance.

It mattered little. She knocked him off balance with her shoulder, grabbed his belt and collar and twisted, lifting him off the floor. She spun him once, twice, three times, gaining momentum, before releasing and throwing him into the wall.

He slammed hard against it and slid down to the floor, boneless.

Astrid flicked her braid over her shoulder with a huff, then strode casually back to the front. “Anyone else care to criticize the agreement between two chieftains? Anyone else want to question my honor?”

Silence. Except for maybe a groan from the man she assaulted.

“Good.” She turned back to her betrothed and took his hands once again.

Hiccup wasn’t smiling, but by the widening and twinkling of his eyes, she guessed he was secretly delighted.

She smiled herself, unable to deny the pleasure of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She cleared her throat. “We declare ourselves witnesses that thou, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, bondest me in lawful betrothal, and with taking hold of hands thou promisest me the mundr and engagest to fulfill and observe the whole of the compact between us, which has been notified in the hearing of witnesses without duplicity or cunning, as a real and authorized contract.”

Her father chuckled. “That was Hiccup’s line, dear.”

Astrid huffed.

Hiccup popped his lips nervously and said, “w-well, she did such a good job, such conviction! A-and I didn’t really study or memorize—“

“We will accept your oath,” Stoick interrupted. Then he called out, “I need six witnesses to agree to the contract that was made here today.”

“Aye!” Called Gobber.

“Seconded!” Called a short man.

“Thirded!” Called a man with a bucket on his head.

“Fourthed!” Called a man holding a sheep.

An old woman silently raised a staff.

“Sixthed…” called the man on the floor.

The two chiefs clasped hands firmly, with a solid shake.

“Then I declare the engagement between my son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III to Astrid Hofferson of the Shivering Shores complete. The ceremony will take place this Friggsday at noon.”

Astrid sighed in relief. The hansal was completed, and her engagement was on. Everything was official, and there was no backing out now.

Hiccup continued to stare with big, soulful eyes, kind of like a puppy.

Doubt and dissent still murmured through the crowd around her, though no one was as vocal as Spitelout had been.

Astrid decided to show everyone where her loyalties laid, and leaned in and pressed a rather loud kiss to Hiccup’s forehead.

She was asked to protect him, and she would do her utmost best to fulfill that duty; whether from dragons, enemies, or the tribesmen of Berk themselves.

On her honor as the greatest warrior in the archipelago, no one would hurt her husband.

No one.

#fanfiction #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #buffstrid #twigcup #flight of the valkyrie

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leaf-in-a-flower-garden · 11 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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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 9 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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flowery-mess · 5 months ago

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WINGS AND EMBERS

chapter 2

series masterlist

Summary: You and Bradley met for the first time when accident happened on the base. Bob and Nat had emergency landing, because their plane was on fire. At the scene yours and Bradleys paths crossed for the first time and since then your relationship was full of embers, and planes.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / unprotected sex / oral sex / flying / english is not my first language / let me know if I need to tag anything else

Pairing: firefighter!Y/N x Bradley Bradshaw

Word count: 6,7k

Author's note: let me know your thoughts on this story, please! I have ideas for one or maybe two more chapters, so your ideas are welcomed if you'd like to read more! Hopefully the next chapter won't take me months to write again, sorry!💗

Two days later, but still no text from Bradley. You started to think that either he’s planning the biggest date ever or that he lost interest in you. You tried to be fine with the second option, but it wasn’t easy. After long time you found interest in someone. Not just someone, he is handsome, smart, mature and seemed to have similar visions for future.

“Has he texted yet?” Travis peeked his head into your opened office doors.

“Do you realize that every time you ask me that question it’s like you slap me in the face over and over again?” you exaggerated a bit, but you felt the need to make your point clear, after Travis had asked you if Bradley already texted you like a million times.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He entered the office with mug full of coffee and two cookies.

“Well, that could do as an apology.” As you were about to bite into that delicious cookie, your phone beeped.

You took a sip of coffee and then reached for your phone. Reading that text made your mood instantly better. “Speaking of the devil…” Travis reached for your phone over the table, looking more excited than you.

“Hi, it’s Bradley. I’m sorry for not texting earlier, but some shit happened at work and I got caught up. Are you free this Friday? Oh my god tell me you are free this Friday Y/N.” Travis yelled excitedly in your direction.

“Give me my phone back.” You took it out of his hand and read the text again. “The question is, should I be free the second he texts or should I give him some torture back, huh?”

“No no no, we’re not like that. Text him you are free this Friday and that it’s okay he didn’t text you the second you left the cab.” He said with irony in his voice.

“Okay.” You said with a pout that made you look like a kid that didn’t get what they wanted.

And with that you added “Bradley” in your calendar on Friday 5 PM.

----

“How do I look?” you made a twirl in front of Travis and Matt, who were having a boys night.

Bradley didn’t tell you what you’re going to do, but told you to dress comfortable. But also said to not wear skirt or dress even though he liked your choice of clothes last time.

So you went with black loose pants and black short sleeved t shirt that you tucked into the pants. Small brown bag and basic white converse, along with half up hair and make up very light, including your significant eye liner and red lipstick.

“Hot but casual.”

“Sexy but in a nice way.” Both men sitting on a couch with beer said at the same time.

“Why isn’t Liv here, she would’ve been better help. But thank you.” You sent them a kiss and went to grab your sunglasses before going outside to wait for the handsome man in his blue bronco.

---

“5 PM sharp.” You said when Bradley got out of his car to meet you at the passenger side of the car.

“Well, I’m in the Navy, right?” he chuckled.

“Man on time, I like that.” He took your face in his hands, lowering his head to yours.

“Hi.” Bradley whispered.

“Hi.” You whispered back and waited if he’s going to kiss you here, in the open space of the street you live at. You also felt four burning holes in your back, as you were sure Matt and Travis were watching the two of you.

And he did kiss you. Bradley put his lips on yours, kissing you gently. Then he gave you two small pecks and disconnected your face from his.

“You look very nice, as always.”

“Thank you, you look good too.” With that Bradley opened the passenger’s door and you jumped in. You scanned him when he jogged to the driver’s side and slid in.

“So can you tell me what’s the plan for tonight already?” you smiled at Bradley, because you couldn’t stop smiling since the minute he landed his lips at yours.

“Surprise baby, surprise.” With a smirk on his face he started the bronco and you were on your way.

“How do you like San Diego so far?” Bradley started the casual conversation when you left the street you live at.

“It’s nice. I haven’t seen much of it yet. I’ve been busy with work and getting to know everyone at the station, so I haven’t seen much of the actual city.” Your answer was the truth. Between trying to fit in the new group of fire fighters and moving all your stuff here, you haven’t had the time or energy to explore the new city.

“What a shame.” Bradley said, shaking his head in a way that told you he has something planned, you felt irony in his voice. “And how’s the new station for you?”

“It’s good so far. It always takes me a while to open up to new group of people, but it’s important for the job to get along with others. Travis was a big help in the beginning, but now I feel like a part of the family. But I don’t think I’ll change stations any time soon, that shit is tiring.” you looked out of the window and saw that you were driving away from the city centre, meaning you’re probably not going to some fancy restaurant for a dinner.

“Yeah changing places sucks. Deployment is hard, even though I always knew someone on the mission, the whole group is made of new people. And just like you said, it’s important to get along with people you work with.”

“Oh I’m such an idiot. Talking about how changing stations sucks, when you change bases on regular. Sorry.” and you really felt like an idiot, he’s in the Navy for fucks sake, of course he knows these things sucks.

“You’re not, it’s hard for everyone, no matter how many times you’ve been through it.” Bradley assured you, gently putting his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

The conversation went well for the whole drive, that continued in the direction out of the city. After another 15 minutes you started noticing the layout, you were going to the base.

“Are you taking me on tour at your job?” you laughed at that idea, turning to look at Bradley who had a smirk on his face. You took a minute to look at him properly, his sunglasses making it hard for you to see his hazel eyes. His mustache and hair were styled, he had basic black t-shirt with jean shorts and he looked so good. The setting sun making him even prettier with its golden rays shining at his face.

“I told you it’s a surprise, you have to wait baby.” Baby, he called you baby again.

You drove through big security gate until you reached Bradley’s parking spot. He made sure to be quick to open your door and help you out of the bronco.

He held his hand out for you, so you took it an let him lead the way.

“Hey Rooster!” the guy at the front desk waved to Bradley, “and hi to your company.” he said in your direction with a genuine smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” you introduced yourself and shook hands with the man who introduced himself as Craig.

“Craig is gonna need your ID to give you a visitor card, is it okay?”

“Of course.” so you took your ID from your purse, handed it to Craig, who gave it back with a visitor card that Bradley pinned to your t-shirt for you.

“Have fun!” you heard Craig when Bradley started to walk you down the hall.

“What does that mean, Bradley?” you were starting to get nervous, you were obviously the only one that didn’t know what’s going to happen and Bradley seemed to enjoy teasing you.

“I’m not going to spoil the surprise just minutes before it happens, why would I do that.” The smirk didn’t leave his face, and the confusion probably didn’t leave yours either.

You two walked through halls full of doors with words on them that you didn’t understand, until Bradley stopped in front of door that said “locker room 3” and opened them for you.

“So, you wait here and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” you heard Bradley say when you looked around the room and through the window that was facing the side where the runways were.

You turned around and Bradley saw the confusion on your face, because surprises are fun and exciting, but being in unknown place and still not knowing what’s going to happen worried you a little.

“Okay.” You said with touch of worry in your voice.

“Don’t be scared, you’ll love it. I promise.” He made few steps, so he stood close to you and leaned down to kiss your forehead. You smelled his cologne, felt heat radiating from his body and felt his lips gently laying on your forehead.

“You better go and do what you need to do, or I’ll lose my mind.” You said with playful tone, feeling calmer now.

Bradley left the locker room and went into his squads locker room, where he changed into his khaki overall and then run down the hall to check with Nat that everything he asked her to prepare is ready.

She was standing next to Bradley’s aircraft and showing him her thumbs up, meaning everything was covered.

He then grabbed his and one spare helmet for you and made his way back to pick you up.

“I’m here.” You turned to face the door when Bradley started talking and you were sure he caught how your eyes scanned his tall and broad body in that overall. He looked good, really good.

Then you noticed the two helmets in his hands and suddenly you knew what your date is going to be.

“If you think I’m putting that on my head and going in the air with you, you’ll be very disappointed.” You said with a serious face. Not that you would be scared of flying, but big airplane compared to the one Bradley is flying with? Not a chance.

“Oh come on. I’ll be the pilot, you’ll just watch the sun set and the city you haven’t had the chance to explore.” Bradley started walking towards you, he put the helmet on bench next to you and put the spare khaki jacket over your shoulders. “Let’s put this on you, so you’re not cold.” He continued putting that jacket on you.

You took that as a chance to observe his face that was close to yours. His brows were furrowed as he was focused on putting that damn jacket on you. You lowered your gaze on his cheeks where you saw little scars and you almost didn’t stop yourself from touching them with your fingers. You moved your eyes to his pink lips that were slightly open. You really wanted to kiss him again.

“All done, let’s go.” He didn’t wait for your answer and just took both helmets in one of his hands and your hand in his other one.

He led you through another hallway until you reached the hangar, no one in sight, just you two and few aircrafts.

“This is my aircraft. It’s safe, we had weekly check up this morning.” Bradley wanted to make sure you’re not really scared, he wanted you to enjoy it. “You’re gonna sit in the back and won’t have to do anything, okay?” he looked for confirmation in your eyes, making sure you’re listening to what’s going to happen.

“I’ll do the job, you’ll just look at the sunset and the city. Our helmets are connected, we can talk over the mic, so if anything’s wrong or you don’t feel okay, just let me know. Ready?”

“Yeah, ready.” you let Bradley put the helmet on your head and help you inside the aircraft. When he was putting your seatbelts on, you tried not to focus on his hands touching your body over the thin fabric, remembering how they felt on your bare skin just a few days ago.

Once you were both seated, you heard Bradley asking for permission for take off and then you were on your way to the highway.

“Ready?” he asked you through the helmet mic.

“Ready.”

That was enough Bradley needed to put the aircraft in speed and take off from the ground. He heard few “shits” and “oh my gods” from you, but it made him laugh. It was everyday feeling for him, but not for you.

“We’re steady now. You doing okay back there?” he slightly turned to see if you were okay over his shoulder. He got only “mhm” as an answer, because you were busy looking down at the town. You suddenly didn’t feel scared of the height, because the view was breathtaking. You could see your station, the beach or the busy traffic.

“That’s really amazing Bradley.” You couldn’t stop staring at everything that was under you. You felt like up here nothing could hurt you. It was just you and Bradley, and the busy traffic didn’t matter, or that you had work next day didn’t matter.

“Worth the wait?”

“Absolutely.” You continued to fly over the city in comfortable silence, you took some pictures and enjoyed the perfect sunset.

But it wouldn’t be Bradley if he didn’t show you what this aircraft can do, right?

He showed you some maneuvers that got you holding on your seatbelts for your life and finished it with putting the plane in the highest speed.

“I’m gonna throw up if you do that again.” Bradley laughed at your comment.

“And we don’t want that. How about we land and move to our second part of the date?”

“There’s a second part? I’m sorry Bradley I don’t think anything can be better than this.”

“Good thing I’m not competing with myself.”

“Will you tell me what’s the second part or I’ll have to wait again.”

“Do you want me to tell you or do you want it to be surprise?”

“I’d like to know.”

“Dinner at the beach, is that okay with you?”

“More than okay.” You couldn’t help the smile forming on your face. He really is a gentleman and thought this date through.

He landed the plane very smoothly and helped you out of it. After you put the helmet and jacket back in its places, you made your way out to the parking lot.

Craig asked you how you liked the flight, confirming your theory that he knew about Bradley’s plan when you came in.

He laughed when you told him the speed made you sick, telling you you’d get used to it.

Back at the parking lot Bradley opened your door for you again, and after he got in his seat you made your way to the beach.

“It was really amazing Bradley, thank you.” You felt the urge to express your excitement to him, with that you touched his thigh gently with your hand.

“You’re very welcome, hope you’ll allow me to take you in the air again.” He took your hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissing the palm of your hand oh so gently. “How does Chinese take out sound for you?”

“Good, I’m starving.”

So you went to pick the food and drinks. And while you two waited for your order, Bradley told you he has fruit and snacks in his car. You were actually impressed about what he planned for tonight. You thought he’s gonna take you to some restaurant to get through the date as quick as possible so he could take you to his place and have his way with you, but this made you think he probably really was interested in you.

When you arrived at the beach, you were surprised what amount of fruit and snacks he had in his trunk.

“I didn’t know what you like, so I got more options.” He told you like it was obvious.

He also had blankets and pillows that he made into comfortable place to sit on.

“Why didn’t you wear one of your Hawaiian shirts?” you teased Bradley with your question.

“Hey, you have a problem with my Hawaiian shirts?” he acted like it would offend him if you had a problem with them.

“I don’t, I just never met someone who would like them as much as you.”

“Give it a few more dates and you’ll love them as much as I do.”

“Few more dates huh?” you noticed that Bradley liked saying things like this and it got you all flustered.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t think it was just a one time thing.” You didn’t know what you thought, you still don’t know Bradley that well to know if he’s serious about you or not.

“I don’t know, you can change your mind after tonight.”

“Can’t think of anything that would make me change my mind about you. I like you and I like spending time with you, I think few more dates will only get me to like you more.

You two finished your dinners and then laid down on the blanket you were sitting on and Bradley put another one over you. You had pillows, but somehow you ended with your head laying on Bradley’s chest.

“Did you became an aviator just because your dad was?” you asked Bradley, not sure if the mention of his dad was appropriate.

“Probably. I wanted to be just like my dad since I was a kid, I thought he was cool, so I wanted to be cool too. And when he died I felt it’s a way to still feel connected to him. It’s fun and it pays well.” He gave an honest answer. “Why did you choose firefighting?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t know what to choose for college and crisis management seemed easy so I picked that and then found a job in that field. It doesn’t pay very well, but it’s fun.”

“It’s dangerous.” Bradley added.

“Says a guy who flights fighting jets for a living.”

“Fair enough.” He laughed at your comment and then comfortable silence took over both of you. You could feel his heartbeat while laying on his chest, while he played with your hair.

The sun was already set, you were laying under the stars, both of you lost in your minds. You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, but you knew you’ll have a chance later, when he takes you out for a few more dates.

“Are you okay? Do you want another blanket or anything?” Bradley asked when he felt the wind around you.

“No, I’m fine.” You told him, his body giving you enough heat to not feel cold. You raised your head a little and looked at him.

He had his eyes closed and peaceful look on his face. He must’ve felt your stare, because he opened his eyes to look back at you.

“What?” he said in a whisper.

“Nothing, I’m just looking at you.” He didn’t know how to answer that, so he just smiled.

You leaned your head closer to his, just enough to feel his hot breath on your cheeks.

You dragged your hand over his chest into his hair, curling your fingers around his curls. Then, you reached to his cheeks, stroking your thumb gently across the scars like you wanted to do earlier. And he let you. He let you explore his face with your hand as he explored every inch of yours with his eyes. You felt something shift between the two of you and suddenly it felt more intimate than seconds before.

You lowered your hand to his lips, your thumb stroking over his lower lip now. He couldn’t stop himself from taking your hand in his and giving your palm a kiss. Then his hand reached for your neck and he pulled you close enough your lips touched.

You shared few innocent kisses, testing each other who will give in first. And he did. His kisses became more needy and his hands reached down to your waist to pull you over so were straddling his lap. He was careful enough to make sure the blanket was over your shoulder while he continued kissing you.

His hands rested on your hips, giving you gentle squeeze once in a while. You pulled away to take some breaths and saw his smirk and chest rising up and down, your make out session having the same effect on both of you.

“I don’t think this position is a good idea.” You whispered into his neck, very much aware that once you or him move, you won’t be able to stop yourself from repeating what happened in Bradley’s car.

He just chuckled and without any warning he turned you over, so you were laying under him.

You first whined at the loss of touch, but seeing him above you like this made for it quickly.

“Better?” he didn’t give you a chance to answer before he connected your lips again.

You felt his hand on your neck, giving you a gentle squeeze to test if you’re okay with it. Your reaction was biting his lip and letting out a small whine only he could hear.

“You like that huh?” he teased you, with his hand still around your neck.

“Shut up.” You kissed him this time. His hand travelled down from your neck to your breasts, where he just gently ran his palm over your shirt, teasing you. He felt your breath stuck in your throat when he did that.

“You’re so responsive baby.” He murmured with his lips still connected with yours.

He slid his hand down your side and you were scared what’s going to be your next reaction if he’s gonna go even lower, but then you felt something wet on your forehead.

It seemed like Bradley felt it too, because he pulled away from you to look around, when another raindrop fell on your forehead.

“It’s raining.” You said.

“Oh god.” Bradley said with disappointment in his voice and dropped his head on your chest.

You didn’t have a time to laugh at his reaction, because second later the rain started pouring down like crazy.

“Oh my god.” Bradley repeated himself and was quick to stand up, his hand already out for you to help you up.

“Pack the food, I’ll get the blankets.” He told you and you both started packing and taking anything you could in your hands to save it from getting wet.

You both run to the parking lot where Bradley’s bronco was parked and when you finally reached the vehicle, both of you very soaked through.

Your hair was all over your face, rain making it stick to your face, but you couldn’t help the smile on your face, it was kind of a funny situation.

Bradley took everything from your hands and threw it in the back of your car, then he opened the passenger door for you and helped you inside. His hands and his touch were hot against your cold skin which sent shivers through your body.

“Fucking weather.” Bradley murmured under his breath when he entered the car and slid behind the wheel. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh Bradley why are you apologizing? You can’t control the weather.” You reassured him you were okay, while he turned the heater on.

“I know, but I didn’t plan on our date ending like this.” He frowned a bit, which made you reach out to touch his forearm.

“It’s okay really, I had fun today.” You rubbed your fingers along his skin and comfortable silence fell over you. You looked out of the window to see the storm still going on strong, the only noises you could hear were the heater and rain falling quickly on windows.

“How do we always end up in my car, hm?” you turned to face Bradley once again after his comment, searching for a hidden meaning behind it.

You saw his smirk, obviously he was referring to what happened in his car the last time. That made your cheeks turn light shade of red, feeling ashamed once again.

“You don’t have to hide baby, I told you it was hot.” Bradley said to you after your head was once again facing the window, still feeling like you made yourself look like a horny teenager when you got off by dry humping his lap.

Bradley gently took your chin in his hand and turned your head to face him and gently stroke his thumb along your jaw.

Your heads were suddenly much closer than just a second ago and Bradley continued exploring your face with his thumb, dragging it from your jaw to your lips. First, he dragged it across your lower lip, before adding a bit of pressure to see if you’re gonna open your mouth for him, and you did.

He looked at your pretty and flustered face, before he leaned in to connect your and his lips.

You quickly gave in, returning kisses to his soft lips. His hand sneaked down from your jaw to your neck where he found comfortable place to hold you. Meanwhile one of your hand made its way to his forearm that was holding your neck, to ground yourself a little.

Bradley’s lips were fighting for dominance, which you gladly gave up. You wanted to see Bradley’s dominant side, so you tried to tease him with a gentle bite to his lower lip. His face turned into a smirk, one that mirrored yours, when he pulled just a tiny bit away to look at your face.

He didn’t feel like he needed to say something, he wanted to speak with his actions. His grip on your neck tightened when he pulled you in again, the kiss a bit harsher now. When he noticed you didn’t mind he added just a bit more pressure to your neck to see your reaction to that.

You liked that, a lot. His tight grip around your neck made your lips open and your breath quicken. He pulled away from you so he could see how you eyes closed and your face turned into something he found very sexy.

“You like that, huh?” he asked you, his voice harsh from not speaking for a while.

Your cheeks turned pink, suddenly feeling exposed. “Yeah.” you whispered back. “Take me to your place?” slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. It was a question, but also a request. You really wanted him to take you to his place and spend the night with him.

“If that’s what you want?” Bradley asked, looking for confirmation.

“Yeah, it is.” He gave you one quick kiss and then turned his attention to the driving wheel.

You took a moment to look at him, his cheeks flustered from the heat of the moment, his hair a mess, which you caused when you let your hand play with it when you kissed him just a minutes ago. Your gaze slid down his body, the bulge in his pants visible to you.

The sight of him had you squeezing your thighs together, hoping his place was a quick drive.

You stopped in front of small, but nice house. The rain finally calmed down, but didn’t stop fully, so when Bradley opened your door you two jogged to his entrance.

“You can take a shower and change into some of my dry clothes.” Bradley told you after he closed the door behind you.

He was facing you, his chest going up and down while drops of water ran down his face, his neck and then under the t-shirt he was wearing, that you really wanted to take off of him.

“Sure.” you replied and he took your hand to lead you upstairs where his bathroom was.

He opened the second door on the left and turned the light above his sink on.

“Here’s the bathroom, give me a minute and I’ll be back with the clothes for you.”

You didn’t have time to reply, so you stood there looking around. There wasn’t anything except one toothbrush, toothpaste and soap on the sink. Next to it were hangers for towels and opposite the sink was a big white laundry basket. The main thing of Bradley’s bathroom was the big shower stall separated with glass wall from the rest of the room. Simple, which made sense when there is one man living alone.

“Here you go. T-shirt, shorts and underwear for you.” There was Bradley standing with a pile of clothes in his hands.

“Thank you.” you went to grab the things from his hands and felt your fingers touch his while doing so. The lust in both of you was like an unspoken thing at that moment, but screaming so loud at the same time. Both of you wanted to jump in that shower together, but none of had a courage to say it loud.

You were staring at each other for a moment before Bradley took three steps towards you, kneeled down and opened one of the cabinets under the sink. He took out a white towel and stood up. While he did all of that, he never broke eye contact with you. You literally saw this man on his knees in front of you.

“And here.” he said just a bit louder that a whisper, still standing very very close to you.

“Thank you.” you said in return and went to grab the white fabric from Bradley’s hands. Your hands connected once again, but this time both of you left them in place, neither of you letting go of that towel. You scanned his face to see any sign of what’s going on in his head, but you only saw his eyes jump from your eyes to your lips.

And when Bradley saw your lips turn into a smirk, obviously noticing where his eyes were wandering, he leaned down and connected his lips with yours.

His kisses were different this time, more hungry.

“I need to take a shower.” you whispered against his lips.

“Mhm.” with a nod was Bradley’s answer before he took your t-shirt out of your black pants, “Let me help you.” he leaned back just a bit so he could pull the t-shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere behind you.

His hands were back your body, now touching nothing but your skin on your lower back. You were cold from the rain, but Bradley’s hands were hot, his touch warming you up even without trying.

You started tugging his t-shirt off too, watching with open mouth when he took it off and you saw his naked upper body. His chest was wide and muscular, and then there was his stomach that ended with sharp V line leading to his pants.

He didn’t give you much time to stare as he went to kiss your jaw while already stripping your pants off. You kicked them off and went for his belt, both of you eager to get to the shower.

“Can I?” Bradley’s hands traced the back of your bra.

“Yes.” and it was your turn to kiss his neck, while your nads wandered down his torso, teasing the line of his boxers.

He took your bra off and your right hand went to touch his hard dick through the fabric of his boxers. You heard his breath stop for a bit, smiling to yourself for the reaction you got from him.

He didn’t waist any time and went to grab both of your boobs, while you already started taking his underwear off.

When you were both naked, he walked you backwards into the big shower and started the water.

You had a minute to scan his naked body and had to clench your thighs together from the view. Water started dripping down his body, making him even more hot.

“What you’re thinking about?” Bradley asked you when he caught you staring.

“That I prefer sex in bed, but I’m starting to really like this.” you pointed your finger in his direction and then to his big shower.

“We don’t have to have sex here, we can just take a shower and then move to my bedroom.” he made sure to point out the ‘then’ and started moving towards you.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You enjoyed Bradley’s hands on your body in the shower, he made sure to wash every curve on your body, leaving kisses on your shoulders every once in a while. And then you really like to wash his body too, feeling his hard but also soft body under your hands. Bradley was true to his words, nothing but a few stolen kisses in the shower.

He took his time drying you with the towel he left on the sink and didn’t even bother to dry himself, before he took you in his hands and ma his way to his bedroom.

Bradley gently laid you on his bed and put himself on his elbows so he wouldn’t fully lay on you.

“If there’s something you don’t like or want me to do, just tell me. Okay?” he wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with him, enough to tell him that you don’t like what he does.

“Okay.” and with that he kissed your jaw and then for your neck. His free hand wandered down your body until he took one breast in his hand and started gently toying with it. Neck kisses and his fingers playing with your nipple were enough for you to slip out a little moan.

Bradley moved his lips to your other breast and started sucking on your skin, finding your other nipple in seconds.

When he felt you lift your hips in desperate try to get some fraction where you needed it the most, he moved his hand to push your hips back into the matters and slowly moved his mouth closer to where you wanted him.

He took his time with teasing you, giving you kisses on your thighs, gently biting you few times.

“Bradley, please.” and he didn’t need more. Hearing his name from your lips was enough for him to not let you wait for another minute.

He held your thighs open and licked you from your hole up to your clit.

“Fuck.” he heard you moan. His lips found your clit and he changed between sucking and licking on it. He paid attention to which of his movements made you hold your breath or moan his name so he could do them again and again.

Your hand slipped down into his hair and he couldn’t help but groan when you tugged on it. He liked it.

He kept going from licking your wet hole to sucking on your clit, but when he started fucking you with his tongue you felt the orgasm build in your lower belly.

“Yes Bradley, don’t stop.” and he didn’t, he kept his pace to get you to your high. When the orgasm hit you, you squeezed his head with your thigs, but that didn’t stop him from licking you few more times through your high.

He gently kissed your tummy and chest while making his way up to your face. Your eyes stayed closed, still coming down from your orgasm. He loved to see you flustered like this. When you opened your eyes and saw his smirk, you pulled him down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips.

You pushed him over so you could straddle his thighs. Bradley put both of his hands behind his head and enjoyed the view he had.

You made sure to watch his face when you touched his dick, stroking the tip with your fingers.

“Oh fuck!” Bradley groaned and closed his eyes. “I’m not gonna last long like this baby.”

But you wanted to taste him, so before he could turn you both over, you leaned down and took him in your mouth. Another groan left his lips and you started to move your hand up and down while your hand played with the base of his cock.

He let you suck him for a few minutes, but then he needed to be inside you. He gently pulled you away from his member by your hair until you were facing him.

Between kisses he managed to turn you over again and you felt him collect your wetness before he pushed into you.

“Fuck.” Bradley groaned and his head fell to the crook of your neck. You only managed to open your mouth and roll your eyes to the back of your head at the feeling of him inside you.

You felt full, full of Bradley. He started moving after a while, making your head spin.

When you got a hold of yourself, you put your hands on his shoulders, squeezing him to encourage him to keep moving.

“You feel so good.” Bradley told you and then put his lips on yours.

His pace was steady, trying to last as long as he could. Until he heard you say “Harder Bradley, please.”

His hips slapped into yours, the only thing you could hear was skin on skin. Your mouth both open at this point, moaning into each other’s mouths and grabbing at each other’s body.

“I’m gonna cum baby.” Bradley said and you felt your second orgasm build up too.

Bradley felt you squeeze your walls around him, knowing your gonna cum too.

“Open your mouth.” you did as he told you and he put his two fingers in your mouth to suck on them. Then he gently lowered his hand on your clit and started moving them in small circles.

“Oh god!” was what you said before orgasm took over your body and all you could hear were Bradley’s grunts into your ear. Then you felt his hot cum on your belly and then Bradley’s body next to you.

There was silence for a few minutes, both of you still coming off from your highs.

You went to sit up, but Bradley stopped you “I’m gonna get a towel to clean you up and bring you the clothes.” and before he went to the bathroom he kissed your forehead.

------------------------

“Do you want to stay the night or want me to drop you home?” Bradley asked you just when you slipped the spoon with ice cream into your mouth. After you got dressed he took you down for a sweet snack.

“Oh I don’t want to be a bother, you can drop me home or I can call Travis to pick me here.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re not a bother, you can stay if you want.”

“I don’t have my things for sleepover, but maybe next time?” you were surprised with yourself, being this bold and presuming there is going to be a next time.

“Sleepover and a second date? I’m in.”

----------------------

“Did you have sex with Mr. Sexy aviator?” Travis was in your face the second you closed your front door.

You and Bradley finished the ice cream and then he drove you to your place. It was 11PM and kind of hoped that Travis would be asleep so you could get away without this interrogation.

“Hi Travis. Yes the date was really nice, he took me to see and fly his plane and then we had romantic dinner at the beach. Thanks for asking.” you said with irony.

“You can give me those details later, did you have sex with that man?”

“Yes.”

“YES! Finally.”

“You’re acting like I haven’t touched a man in a decade.”

“Well, have you?” Travis said playfully.

“Shut up.” you pushed Travis out of your way and went to your room.

“I’m glad the date was nice!” you heard Travis yell after you, laughing at his reaction to the whole thing.

Later that night you caught yourself smiling while brushing your teeth. Because Travis was kinda right, this was your date after long time. A decent and very nice date.

You heard new notification on your phone, so you reached for it to see new message from Bradley.

“Thank you for tonight, hope I can take you out again. Good night xx.”

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Taglist: @emma8895eb @iamabeautifulperson18 @eternallyvenus @luckyladycreator2

#bradley bradshaw #bradley brashaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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hushravengoobertown · 5 months ago

Text

-------You Belong Here-------

1/?

The start of a lot of lore related to my Drifter. But also DrifterxAmir sooo enjoy <3 <3 <3

Here's what Kintsugi looks like btw, along with her Dedicated Warframe, Ember.

a new tag will organize these fics #Kintsugi-Genesis Fics

May 23rd, 1999: 09.00: Cycle 1

The Void, Duviri, a constant struggle for power and safety. Kintsugi coughed blood as dax soldiers surrounded her, pinned down unable to breathe. Tears stung her cheeks as she lay there, defeated. Words buzzed around her, barely hearing. Then a loud cracking and shattering noise followed. A cloaked, armored figure crashes down on the unsuspecting dax, gently stepping around the now crushed skulls of their corpses, gently gazing at her, he lifted her tenderly off the ground. A soft gruff voice whispered in her ears. Carrying her away. She loved him. He loved her. She knew it wouldn't last. Duviri rumbled as the chains loosened. Islands disappeared and she was swept up in a void storm. Her hand ripped from his. The storm crackling, falling in the abyss. He was gone and she was forced into an unfamiliar Warframe she never knew she had, Ember. Tears swelled as her love was now nothing more than a memory.

—

A cold sweat awoke her, eyes shot open. Tears are still streaming. Another damn nightmare, softly wiping her own face she turned to her side on her warm albeit slightly firm mattress, where a couch used to be, transformed, it was not worthy sleeping on otherwise. She sat up holding the Amir Floof she secretly acquired from Aoi not long ago. Tears damped on it, slightly stained from other nights where her mind would torture her.

A notification rang on her Kinepage, from Aoi,

“You haven't forgotten Amir’s Birthday, have you? (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)”

She quickly typed out

“Of course not!! Just woke up and I'm about to wish him a happy birthday now!”

Kintsugi smiled as she awaited Aoi’s response, another message popped.

“Don't forget our deal though!! You have to confess today!! Me and Quincy kept quiet for you so you better not mess this up! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠).”

In her heart, a warm feeling swelled. She promised herself she would never fall in love again. But she was shit at NOT falling for the dream of everlasting love. Maybe with this “Cycle” she now finds herself with the others. Maybe just maybe. This will all work out. She sat up, stretched and stepped for the POM-2 PC not forgetting to kiss her Kavats, Valentine, Jason and Kalymos who were all snuggled up with her. She began to type away.

“Hey Amir. Happy birthday. Hope you're having fun!”

Not even a second later he responded

“YES I AM TODAY IS BEAUTIFUL I HAVE BEEN UP SINCE 12.01 WE HAVE BEEN DRINKING ENERGY DRINKS AND PLAYING THE ARCADE AND AOI MADE ME A FLOOF ROOM AND I THREW UP IN THE FLOOF ROOM”

She wheezed harder then she'd ever had before, joyous tears streaming down her face.

“Oh my Sol Amir, never change.”

Quietly remarking, She got all the giggles out, calming down. She typed again.

“Hey when you recover a bit. I got something for you but I'll need to to trust me okay?”

Before she can even hear her own thoughts he responded.

“OHMYGOD I'M. SO. EXCITED!!! AAAAA YOU AND AOI ARE THE BEST!!!!! OKAY WHERE DO YOU WANNA MEET???”

She's chuckled again.

“Just come over and you'll see okay?”

“BE THERE IN 5”

She held a sigh of relief, she knew he meant 5 seconds. The next thing she knows, he's knocking on the loft's door frame. “Hey hey Heeeey Drifter! So what you got??” his excited puppy-like voice echoed, legs bouncing as the energy drinks are still flowing through his system. She got up and gestured at the POM Navigation. “I'll need you to close your eyes… I'll have to take you there myself.” Amir's eyes widened. “Ohhh??? It's a place!? Okay I trust you just- wherever you're taking me is safe right?” she nodded. “I promise I'm not taking you anywhere, where the Scaldra and Techrot can hurt us.”

Amir allowed her to transference, took a long moment to adjust to his energy levels but she managed. "You ready?" He nodded in mind, his brain completely wired up with excitement and caffeine. She carefully guided him towards the location of choice. It was safe because she called in a favor with Quincy. No bad guys for miles now. She feels his jittery excitement as she slows her pace, arriving at an old looking and surprisingly pristine comic and gaming store. All Countessa comics lined up in pristine unopened condition. “Open your eyes Amir!” She ghosted away from his Body as Amir opened his eyes. “w-w-h- HOWWWWW DID YOU FIND THIS PLACE!? I THOUGHT THESE PLACES CLOSED YEARS AGO!!” Amir brain short circuits as he zipped around admiring every single edition of Countessa among other comics, grabbing what he could display in the Arcade. “THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVERRRRR!!!! OH MY GOD!!! IM SO HAPPY!!! HOW DID YOU FIND THESE!???" She replied after a peaceful chuckle. “I know how important all this is to you. I understand why. Seeing such precious history preserved in this way? Not just any history but history that matters to you? I get it… I just… I know how it feels to not feel like you belong.” A tear almost swells up on her face. A sudden and excited squeal squeaked out of her as he abruptly lifted her up, faces smooshed together, twirling her around.

“THANK YOU SO SO MUCH SWEETHEART!!! AAAAGHH-” Amir suddenly blushed at what he said. Kintsugi blushed at what he said and he awkwardly lowered her before covering his face. “O-oh god I'm so sorry i-i just had to make it awkward-” she couldn't help herself but softly chuckle as she pulled his hand away, she caressed his cheek, a soft sweet gaze she bestowed on him. Hearts beating fast.

“Amir..?”

A whisper.

“Yeah, Sugi..?”

A shy response.

“I love you. Happy birthday…”

A tear swelling on both of their faces now, a warm light shining on them both.

“I- I love you too Sugi, god I do too... I.... I didn't know you felt the same-”

She quickly silenced him with a warm passionate kiss. Neither Amir or Kintsugi wanted to part. But unfortunately breathing is necessary, both pulled away for a moment before making out again, and again. Amir huffed before lifting Sugi up by the legs and shoulders. “You, Me, Fancy, Romantic, Wine. Schmooze, Yes!?” He beamed. “Heh. That sounds fantastic! Maybe we can also put some of that energy to better use hmmm?” She playfully cooed, nuzzled his nose as they left the store. "GOD, I am THE luckiest man ALIVE!!!" he'd lift her up again kissing her over and over all the way home.

—

“You said- you said you knew how it felt to not belong…” Amir held her hand as they got cozy in the loft bed. His gear littered the floor around the bed, he's as stripped as his warframe body could be. “I-its a long story, I… a hard one too. I promise to tell you it one day just… Can we cuddle?” She replied somberly, Amir knew not to pry further. “...Thank you, for giving me the best birthday I've had in… a long time.” He pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for loving me, for me. Every wrinkle in my brain feels loved, loved, loved.” He nuzzles into the crevasse of her shoulder “You're the first and last person I'll ever say that to.” whispering in her ear. Lifting her on his lap, her back pressed against his chest, giving her smooches all around her neck. “Amir~” her voice trembled as she felt his embrace clouding her body. She felt cold, steely hands lifting the seams of her shirt a little.

A shivery gasp, she leaned her head back a bit, melting in his embrace. Her mind in the clouds, she knew what he wanted but she supposed some assistance was needed. She sat up, pulling away from his warmth making sure to stretch seductively, slowly taking off her clothing revealing to him as his face glowed red. She chuckled lovingly. Crawling back on him, sitting right on his lap face to face. Nervously, sheepishly she asked a simple question. “a-am i… pretty?” Amir finally blinked and aggressively pulled her by the hips kissing her. She felt like that was a dumb question for she felt the force of his body pressed against her. He leaned down to ravish her body, marking it, licking her tits, groping her ass, he was on fire, she wanted to feel their souls meld together.

“F-fuck I want to… I want you so bad, but I don't think-” she shushed him, her hand groped his nether region, some kind of energy swelled around his and a light, wet pop was heard, revealing his cock.

“H-nnng, you never told me you could do thaaat~” his feral eyes pierced her mind, now pinning her down on the bed, she gasped feeling his tip against her entrance. “I'm going to breed you, and I’m not letting you gooo~” a horny huff, he aggressively bit into her neck, a sudden deep thrust sent both of them to pure bliss, his bites, his speed all she can do is take all of him on. It's been a long time since it's felt this good. Her tears pricked her face again, gasping, moaning, letting him take her away. She grasped the back of his head for support, kissing him. He growled, before backing up a bit. He pulled out, she whimpered “Why did y-you stop~” he growled as he flipped her over on her stomach pulling her ass up to him. Clenching her hips tightly “Shhhh~ I'm going to make you beg for me too stop~” he cooed. Slamming himself in her again, her loud screams of pleasure filled the room, just thankful no one else can hear them. He thrusted faster. Echoing whimpers from her encouraged his pace, his name sung, her eyes rolling in the back of her head, drooling, she was close, he got sloppy and leaned over her. Electricity crackled around and in her. “C-can’t s-stop, I'm gunna- Mmmngh!~~” a soft growl, a final forceful thrust as he unloaded inside her, she screamed his name releasing as well, feeling his warmth spread inside her, a ball of fire, snapped. Electricity crackled around them both. Euphoric relief remained, washing over them both.

He pulled out slowly, coiling his body around her, panting “S-sugi… y-you okay?” He sounded exhausted, she nodded softly, leaning into him more. “G-good, you're… hah… amazing.” A soft hum she hears, closing her eyes sweetly. “I love y-you, Amir...” her eyes closing, consciousness no longer able to keep her dreams at bay, this beautiful man loves her, she loves him. She doesn't remember the last time she's felt so safe, pleasured, happy. The last thing she feels is him wrapping themselves up in the blankets, hearing a soft “I love you too.” in return.

Amir watches his beloved fall asleep in arms. Barely able to stay awake himself, he wraps them both up. His eyes catch a glimpse of… a floof of him? But something didn't seem right, it was smeared with tears, he held her hand while caressing her head, staring down, he fell asleep soon after.

—

Amir jolted awake, the sky thick with a cold mist. Sounds of sobbing and cold damp grass beneath him. Where the hell was he? A dream? He sat up and saw… visions, a ton of visions, looking up he saw the void tearing someone away from Kintsugi, her tears rained from that vision. Another one popped near him. She was curled up, sobbing onto the floof he saw earlier, clenching it for dear life. Water starting to surround him. Another vision popped by him, a smaller person, guiding her out of some strange warzone. These aren't his dreams, these are hers! He felt so much pain, he felt an overwhelming pressure crushed his chest. He saw another vision, Albrecht shooting her, her gaze falling upon a dead version of himself leaning in a chair, heart bleeding, she was sobbing before slamming her fist on the ground. A sudden loud booming voice screamed in his ear, a phrase that sent shivers down his spine. “YŒÜ DØN’T BÉLÔNG HÊRÉ.” Amir felt himself drowning. He saw the surface of the dark ocean, so he swam, and swam, and swam up, he couldn't breathe but he needed to keep swimming. He gasped but no air would come. His vision dimmed and he awoke in a hot sweat.

Amir stared down at Kintsugi, seeing her tears falling he couldn't let that continue, he lifted her up closer to his face, kissing the tears away, it didn't matter what time it was, he just wanted her to feel better. She stirred. Opening her eyes, “A-Amir… I- thank you.” Amir tilted his head, pretending not to know what he saw. “I had a nightmare… you were drowning and I couldn't… I couldn't save you.” Amir shuddered, realizing they shared dream’s. Not wanting to worry her anymore then needed. He kissed her forehead. “Ah, I’m glad I could help then, Mon Cheri~” his silly tone lightened the dull atmosphere. It seemed to be early noon. Looks like it's time to help around now. “Hey sweets, I gotta do some mission stuff for Quincy today, I promise to bring home some pad thai though!” She softly smiled. “Just be careful out there okay? I'll clean up the place a bit. Help Aoi and Eleanor with getting their F&F characters in order.” Amir beamed with excitement. “See you later! Au Revoir, my love!” Amir checked his Kinepage and ran to start the day.

—

Kintsugi started her chores by cleaning around the arsenal and incubator, her own voice humming tunes from Duviri, if there's one thing about that place that could be considered good anymore, it was the music. She does miss the sopranos Luscinia used to sing. Tidying up the kitchen made her remember she's got a small pizza mess from the birthday party upstairs, she kisses her Kavats on their soft foreheads. Happily humming with a trash bag in hand, her mind soothed.

A horribly cold chill caresses her cheek, a sense of doom and sudden fatigue sets in, warm red liquid pours from her stomach, the Indifference taking the form of Albrecht behind her. A smoking Lex in hand. The demon spoke to her again.

“Yøû døn't bëlôñg hërē, tïmē's ūp, Drîftèr.” The indifference shuddered between 3 voices, Albrecht's, the Kid, Amirs... “I… Know…” a weak response, a sad pathetically weak response, “I knew it… wouldn't... last…” her body collapsed on the floor, the indifference disappeared, blood pooling around her, her vision inevitably fading.

—

Amir ran happily, destroying techrot as his thoughts raced, he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Quincy could help but noticed his basically little brothers giddiness. “Oh look at u Looooovebiiiirds, Drifter’s got u around er’ finger.” you could hear a pin drop in Amir's head, “H-Hey! She's does NOT! quit that!” His flustered face gives Quincy more of a reason to pry. “so did u an Marty get frisky las’ night? Hm?” Amir's face flushed harder. “Shut up asshole, let's complete this mission, yeah?” Quincy smiles slightly, chuckling at his adopted brother. “Tsk, tsk, you're no fun as me ma’” Quincy laughed. Amir just smiled while staring daggers at him. The mission completes. “Quincy! Head back on your own, gotta go grab some munchies for my hon!” Quincy nodded his head and mischievously remarked, “Le’ me grab the cam next time if your go’na bang Mcflea eh?” Amir gagged. “Not a god damned chance, Quincy!” he ran off flushed. A loud wheezing howl echoing from Quincy as Amir silenced the distance between him and food.

—

Amir speeds on back home, boxes in hand, he texts Kintsugi, no response. “Hm she's just busy helping Aoi and Eleanor!” he quietly remarked to himself, not thinking much of it. He approached Aoi, “Heeey how's your character going along! Did Sugi give you the guide?” Aoi looks at him confused. “I haven't seen her today so I don't have the guide.” Amir's heart shuddered a bit “Oh! Well she's probably helping Eleanor then! I'll give you the guide in a bit!” Aoi smiles “Thank you Amir!” He ran off them to check in with Eleanor, she wasn't on the couch though, oh! She was talking with Arthur! He mentally facepalms. He ran up to Arthur and Eleanor giddly interrupting any conversation they were having. “Hey Eleanor! Did Sugi help you out with your Character today??” Eleanor shot a confused look. “I'm afraid not, I haven't seen her today.” Her mind spoke to him. His heart starting to panic a bit. “Arthur? Have you seen Sugi today??” Arthur shook his head. “No. I haven't, I'm afraid, been wondering where she was though.” Amir's heart is racing now. “Oh okay maybe she's sick? I'm going to check the Backroom then...” He rushes to the Backroom, Kalymos yawns, Letting him enter. He plops the boxes on the table. “Honeyyy! I'm home!” No response again. A terrible scent catches his nose. Blood. He rushes up the stairs, the loft, everything was in slow motion, he sees her, lifeless on the floor. He couldn't breathe, a pool of blood, pale skin, panic, panicked, panicking everything went dark around him. His body taking over any functioning thought he had in that moment. Frantically checking her pulse. It was slow. She was cold, “No. No no no no no NO!” he gasped, gently lifted her. Body is limp, barely breathing. He ran as fast as he could without harming her further. The mall was a blur.

“LETTIE!!! ARTHUR! GUYS! PLEASE, PLEASE HELP!!” his screams echoed through the mall. He held her limp body in front of Lettie, who without any kind of hesitation rushed up to him. “Qué Demonios Amir what happened!?” His lover in arms, dying, She was so full of life, fire. Now ice cold. “I…. Found… her… floor… bleeding…. Gun wound-” Lettie froze. The gun wound had void energy cascading from it. “Sol damnit, back away so I can help her!” Arthur, Aoi, Eleanor, Quincy, rushed up. A gasp from Aoi, a solemn stare from Arthur, Quincy's smile dropped, Eleanor went to assist Lettie, all were drinking in the sight. “She's dancing with La Flaca, I can only stabilize her for a bit…” a stressed tone, from Lettie, this was dire. “What in Sol's name- Amir…” Arthur spoke softly trying his damn best to hold back a quivering voice. Quincy went up to talk with Lettie, passing by Amir giving him a quick hug. “Whoeve’ did this will pay Amir, feel me?” Quincy continued on to assist. “She… she will be okay Arthur, p-please tell me she will…” Arthur hugged Amir. “I can't promise you that… she doesn't look too good…” Eleanor suddenly piped up in a gasp. “The Indifference, it took form, it shot her-” Amir slowly approached Sugi, her life still. Her mind quiet. He could feel she was slipping between life and death and the only thing he could do was tear up, caressing her cheek.

Those damned, cursed words Eleanor spoke echoed in mind. Over and over. ‘The Indifference shot her.’ “I… I'm so…” why did the indifference want her gone, why!? Amir's thoughts boiled, Electricity crackled around him, around his fist crashed against the wall, cracks formed and the wall crumbled . Everyone's stare pierced the back of his mind. “It just wanted to see her gone, destroyed, in pain…” Amir muttered, nothing was okay right now. Eleanor spoke up. “She's slipping Amir. I have an idea but…” Amir paused, nodded softly. “Do… what you… need to, Eleanor… I need… to save her.” Quincy and Arthur exchanged confused looks. Amir sat by Kintsugi, lifting her close to his chest, caressing her cheek. “Send me in.” Is all he muttered. Eleanor complied. His consciousness slipped as he rested his forehead on hers. Eleanor whispered, “Be careful, Amir.” he slipped further, and further down until there was darkness, opening his eyes, he returned, the cursed Ocean drowning him once again.

He swam up frantically, keeping his pace methodically, he couldn't breathe, his lungs burned, but his love grew, he swam up, saw her chained, thorns and vines, the demon holding her soul. His heart ached but his love grew stronger, he felt a presence, a thread, he beheld and casted it above, and it ascended. His love grew stronger. The thread decorated the dark murky ocean with golden hues, like a cracked pot, repaired with gold. He felt a snag on the line. He held on and was pulled He prayed to god that it was her.

—

“Why did I… think anything would change…” her body covered in void thorns, trapped, bleeding. Sugi sobbed, the Indifference laughed, “You wanted something you knew you couldn't have of course! Hahaha. Quite the role you played!~” The Indifference cooed. It mocked her, it knew how desperate she was. “I'm sorry Amir… I'm so, Sorry I never belonged here….” The indifference clawed her very soul, she felt her body bleeding, her very soul wept, forced to watch Amir drown, again and again. Yet something tugged at her, something that wasn't the Void, A quiet familiar voice, calling out to her. “...Sugi” a golden thread emerged below her, the indifference slapped her hand, “DONT TOUCH THAT-” The Void cried out. This was her moment, she reached for the thread, her body scraping and bleeding against the thorns, she saw a familiar figure reaching out for her. The Void slashed her soul but she refused to buckle. The thread grew brighter, the ocean below glowed gold, she felt him. His thunder, his love. Amir. “I'm here Amir!!! I'm right here!!” Golden lightning struck the Void it recoiled, she Rejoiced, he broke the oceans surface, a beautiful breach, grabbing her soul, the thread surrounding them. Ribbons of golden lightning blinded the world at that moment. And a beautiful embrace was held.

"Amir…” Kintsugi sobbed. He held her closer, and tightly, caressing the back of her head. “I'm here, I love you so, so much. You've come to mean so much to me.” She buried her face on his chest. “We would all be dead without you. You saved us. All of us. You even taught me that I had the Wacky Hacky 9000” She laughed softly and he followed suit. “You belong here…” The Golden lightning shuddered. The euphoria felt was unmatched. “I… guess we should wake up now… Amir… I'm sorry you had to see all of th-” he hushed her, and a sudden kiss covered her mouth. The light grew brighter. “I love you, Sugi. Don't be afraid to hold me now.” Her tears of joy unmatched anything she's felt before. They both squeezed each other tightly, Sugi burying herself further into him. Amir heard a voice, he directed his attention at the fading armored figure behind Sugi, “Take care of her for me… she is… precious…” the armored figure mouthed as it faded, like dust in the wind. The light grew brighter again, closing his eyes, holding her against his chest. Hearing a soft chuckle, “Waking up at last, I see.” Eleanor happily whispers.

—

Amir shot awake first. Witnessing the eyes of awe from the others. He stared down at Sugi to see the wound she had disappeared. Color returned to her a golden patch covering her once gaping wound, a golden thread connecting them both. she must have been exhausted, her soft breathing assured him she was alive. “Amir- what the bloody hell happened in there?” Arthur, in disbelief, asked. “She is okay now, she... she just needs rest.” Amir didn't know how to exactly explain what had happened. Perhaps that was for the best. Eleanor stood up to speak to the others, gesturing to Amir to take care of her. He lifted Kintsugi again, carrying her gently. Happily humming, returning to their room. A sleepy sigh from her coaxed a nuzzle from him laying her down gently, removing the bloody clothes off her. Damn she was beautiful, her body warm, he gently traced his fingers along her wound, up to her shoulders, caressing her face, looking down at her lovingly. He coiled behind her again, covering both himself and her with soft blankets, a floof placed near her and a kiss on her forehead. Another gentle nuzzle as he drifts to sleep once more. Dreaming, laughing, loving. The indifference won't get between them like that again.

#Kintsugi-Genesis Fics #drifter/amir #amir beckett #amirbeckett #amir warframe #warframe amir #warframe 1999 #warframe

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