#forbidden healing masterlist

[betweenstorms]

Part One of Where We Part (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Before he was Ghost, he was Simon Riley.

A quiet boy with eyes too old for his young face, always watching, always listening, always alone.

You had known him for as long as you could remember.

He was the lanky boy next door, the one with too much burden in his eyes, the one who never talked about the bruises or the shouting that came from his house at night. Even as kids, there was something about him that set him apart, something that made you want to protect him, even though he never let you. But you’d always notice the new bruises on his arms, the way his hazel eyes would darken whenever Tommy, his younger brother dragged him into trouble and the way he seemed to flinch at loud noises, at sudden movements.

Tommy Riley was loud, rude, and as wild as a storm untethered.

He was a real troublemaker, you never trusted his cruel grin and his rude words, never felt safe near the sharp edges of his temper. He thrived on chaos, a force of destruction that couldn’t be tamed, while Simon stood in his shadow, as if he existed solely as an apology—for his brother’s recklessness, for his family’s dysfunctionality and even for his own existence.

You were the neighbour’s only child, the one who never quite understood why Simon kept so much distance between you.

Something about him tugged at you—a quiet pull that made you want to reach into the cold and offer him the warmth of your world. You felt a strange protectiveness over him, as if it was your duty as someone older than him, some unspoken responsibility you carried without question. Through your school years, you kept watch over him, whether he knew it or not. When the students mocked him you were there, standing up for him, silencing the cruel whispers, even when it cost you friendships. The rumours about the Rileys circled like vultures, but you shut them down, defending a boy who never asked for it, who seemed more annoyed by your efforts than grateful.

You weren’t friends, after all, not really.

He never showed any sign that he wanted your help. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself. Something deep inside told you it was the right thing to do, even if Simon would never see it.

However, your parents, like most of the neighbourhood, kept their distance from the Rileys. It wasn’t something openly discussed, only whispered behind cupped hands at the local market, murmured in the pews of the church, or exchanged in knowing glances at school gates. Yet those looks exchanged between the adults made it clear—people didn’t want to get involved. The Rileys were trouble, everyone said, and it was best to leave them to their own devices.

You were forbidden from playing with Simon or Tommy, even though they were the only children near your age on the street.

It was an unspoken rule, one you didn’t quite understand as a kid but followed anyway, wishing things could be different. You were young then, far too young and innocent to grasp the weight of the shadows that lingered in the Riley household.

You didn’t know why Mr. Riley’s shouts echoed through the night, why Mrs. Riley wore bruises like secret confessions beneath her smile, why Simon’s silence felt heavy, like a wound too deep to heal. Their world felt so different from yours, a place of suffering you couldn’t quite touch. But as the years slipped by, as childhood faded into adolescence, the picture began to sharpen. With it, your protectiveness over Simon deepened, as the reality of what his father was doing became impossible to ignore. Understanding bloomed where innocence once was, and with it, the weight of knowing.

You couldn’t fathom how your parents, with their kind hearts and warm smiles, could do nothing.

How they could turn their backs on Mrs. Riley, her frail form draped in sorrow, and her two children, who so clearly needed help. You didn’t understand why they never returned Mrs. Riley’s weak greetings, why they closed themselves off from her suffering. It baffled you how they could step over Tommy, sprawled on their porch, drunk or worse, as if he were just another mess to be swept away.

But what haunted you most was their indifference to Simon—the boy your age, thin as a whisper, burdened with bruises no child should carry. How could they look at him and not see? How could they not feel the silent plea in his eyes? Where was their empathy for a child, for a boy who wore his misery like a second skin?

Oh, Simon.

His hazel eyes stayed with you, always, like shadows that linger long after the sun sets. There was something far too ancient in them, like he’d seen too much for someone who hadn’t yet grown into his own skin. They held a weariness that made you wonder what horrors had carved their marks so deeply into him. The whispers followed him everywhere, rumours circling like vultures over carrion. You didn’t know where they came from, Tommy’s careless tongue, or maybe the other nosy students who relished the cruelty of gossip, but they stained everything, leaving you wondering what was real.

You heard that Mr. Riley brought all kinds of dangerous animals into their home, taunting Simon with them, forcing him to kiss a snake, like it was some twisted game, some kind of sick power move. And then there were the stories of his father dragging him to those grim concerts, where violence blurred into spectacle.

They said he’d made Simon laugh at the overdose of a prostitute, made him witness things no child should ever see. You didn’t know if it was all true, but it didn’t matter. The shadow of those stories lingered over him, heavy and unshakable, and you could see it in the way the boy carried himself, in the haunted quiet of his presence.

There was a summer day, thick with heat and sorrow, that still clung to you like a forgotten song.

You had just turned nineteen that July, on the cusp of leaving behind the life you knew, ready to escape to the vastness of London and its promise of university, independence, and everything adulthood might hold. It was one of those warm, languid August evenings, where the sky blushed pink and gold, and the air was alive with the buzz of cicadas and the scent of overripe grass. You were out with your dear friends from high school, celebrating the end of an era. There was laughter, careless and sweet, the kind that only comes after a few too many drinks. A can of cheap beer was cradled in your hand as you leaned back in the passenger seat of your friend’s car, music pulsing around you like a heartbeat as you drove aimlessly through the familiar streets of your suburban neighbourhood.

The night felt like a farewell, a last taste of youth before everything shifted into the unknown. You giggled at something absurd, head dizzy and spinning, when suddenly, through the haze of the moment, you saw him.

Simon Riley.

There was something achingly bittersweet in seeing him there, swallowed by the dusk, his figure hunched as always.

Something inside you shifted, a strange ache that mingled with the buzz of the celebration—a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow that you couldn’t quite place. The guilt of childhoods lived on parallel tracks, always near, but never close enough.

Maybe it was the booze loosening your thoughts, making everything softer and hazier, or maybe it was the looming departure that made everything feel both fleeting and too permanent at once.

“Slow down,” you blurted out, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Your friend gave you a puzzled look, but complied, easing the car to a crawl. 

Simon walked on, dull eyes cast down like he had grown used to the world pretending not to see him.

“Riley,” you called out, your voice weak and unsure. “Fancy a ride?”

Your friends hissed, their voices sharp with confusion and disbelief. “What are you doin’?” one of them asked, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Girl, you’re mental!” another laughed, but their words were just background noise to you.

Your gaze stayed locked on Simon Riley, unwavering, even as embarrassment burned at the back of your neck.

For a moment, it felt as though time stretched impossibly thin, the space between you and him suspended in something fragile and delicate. And then, slowly, Simon stopped.

His hazel eyes caught yours beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

He furrowed his brows when he recognized you, the corners of his lips tightening in that way that told you he was already annoyed.

You flashed him a drunken smile, but it was crooked, empty, a weak imitation of your usual confidence. You leaned your chin on your palm, trying to ignore the sudden flood of emotions rising in your chest. You studied him, trying to find traces of the boy you once knew under the young man he’d become.

“So?” You asked, feeling exposed, a little too vulnerable under his gaze. Embarrassment and sadness twined together like vines around your ribs, squeezing tightly.

Simon’s response was cold, clipped, dismissive. “Don’t need a ride.”

His voice was deeper, rougher than you remembered, gruff with the weight of years that had passed since you last spoke. Had it really been that long? Long enough that you had forgotten what he even sounded like?

“Oh, you sure? We're headin’ that way anyway,” you hummed, trying to keep your tone light, though something in you was desperate, like this fleeting encounter needed to mean more than it did. But Simon just scoffed, a sound that cut through the night like a blade.

He turned away, resuming his walk down the pavement.

Your friends erupted into giggles, snickering at the awkwardness of the situation, their teasing only deepening the strange ache in your chest. But you tuned them out. With a sigh, you made up your mind. Fueled by guilt, nostalgia, and a bit of reckless drunkenness, you reached for the door handle.

“See y'all tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping out of the car before any of them could protest. One of your friends called, but you didn’t look back and didn't offer any explanation.

Without another thought, you hurried after Simon, your footsteps quickening as if you could somehow close the long years of distance in a single stride.

He didn’t stop for you.

He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you caught up, breathing rapidly, walking beside him. Meanwhile, the car pulled away, loud music fading into the distance, leaving you two in suffocating silence. His head was bent low, gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his feet, but you kept your eyes on him—on his broad shoulders that seemed too tense compared to yours.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke.

The night pressed down on you, the air too warm for comfort. Your face was flushed, whether from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the embarrassment of trailing after Simon, you couldn’t be sure. Each step felt heavier than the last, the awkwardness between you building with every inch you walked together, the distance between you palpable even though you two were side by side.

It was hard to keep your balance, the world around you tilting ever so slightly with each step. You stumbled once, your foot catching the edge of the pavement, and cursed under your breath as you regained your footing. You could have sworn you heard Simon sigh, a quiet, annoyed sound, barely more than a breath, but it stung nonetheless.

“So,” you chuckled awkwardly, desperate to fill the growing silence. Your voice sounded too loud, too false against the quiet of the neighbourhood. “Workin’ late, huh? Mum told me you got a job at the butcher’s. The one near the market, right?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed ahead. For a fleeting second, you thought that he might ignore you entirely. But then, in that low, gravelly tone, he muttered, “Yeah. S’what I do.”

His response was clipped, offering no room for conversation, but you pressed on, ignoring the tension tightening around you like a noose. “Must be rough, that. The long shifts, I mean. Can’t be easy workin’ with knives and saws all day.”

Simon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“It pays the bills,” he muttered, his voice flat. There was no hint of the boy you once knew, just a hardened young man who had learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

The conversation died again, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You swallowed hard, guilt rising again like a tide, mingling with the familiar ache of melancholy that always seemed to creep in when you thought of him.

Simon Riley had always been on the edge of your life, a shadow lingering just out of reach. You had never really known him, not truly. He was a figure cast in half-light, always present but never close enough to collide with. You had always watched him from afar, tried to stand up for him when the world became too cruel, but what had any of it meant? He never asked for your help, never even hinted that he needed it. So why bother now?

Simon hadn’t asked for your company—he never had.

And now, standing next to him, you felt that distance more acutely than ever. His silence was loud, louder than anything he could have said, and it left you feeling small, foolish.

The streetlights cast long shadows over the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the void. The warm summer night, which had felt so light and carefree only moments ago, now seemed oppressive, weighing down on your shoulders like an invisible burden. Before you could open your mouth to say something uncomfortable again, Simon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with irritation.

“You don’t need to do this.”

You blinked, the alcohol making your thoughts slow to catch up. “Do what?”

Simon glanced at you, his hazel eyes dark and distant, a flicker of something hard lingering just beneath the surface.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pity. Guilt. Or whatever it is that’s makin’ you follow me right now.”

Pity? Guilt? That wasn’t what this was—was it? No, of course not. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that you weren’t here out of some misguided sense of obligation. But the look on his face stopped you. It was a look of exhaustion, of someone who had heard this all before, someone who had learned not to trust the intentions of others.

“I’m not—” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off again.

“I know you’re leavin’,” Simon murmured, his tone dry, as if stating an obvious fact. “Heard your folks talkin’ about it. You’re off to London, right? So, whatever this is, don’t bother.”

The embarrassment burned hot and heavy in your chest, spreading to your cheeks and ears.

“Look, I’m not tryin’ to—” you began again, your voice softer, almost pleading.

Simon shook his head, his expression hardening. “Don’t. I don’t need your bloody charity, alright? I mean it. I don’t need your… whatever the fuck this is.”

The words struck you like a fist to the chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

You halted in your tracks, and to your surprise, he did the same. The space between you felt heavier now, like it carried the weight of all the years that had passed, thick with everything unsaid. You bit down on your lower lip, your gaze lifting slowly, hesitantly, to meet his.

He towered over you now, though once you’d been the taller one. Despite the age gap, the few years between you, despite the fact that you were older than him, Simon seemed like someone who had long since outgrown you, both physically and mentally.

Funny, how time had stretched and twisted between you both, long enough to turn everything unfamiliar. It had been so long, too long, hadn’t it? Since you’d last spoken to him properly. Long enough that you couldn’t quite place when the shift had happened, when Simon had become a stranger to you, a distant figure in your memory rather than the boy next door.

“I don’t wanna leave like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to your feet, your voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the warm night air. Your hands itched with nervous energy, and you scratched your elbow awkwardly, trying to anchor yourself. “I know we weren’t exactly friends, but that doesn’t mean I never cared. About you, I mean. And I—” you paused, the words tangling on your tongue, too clumsy, too inadequate for the heaviness in your chest. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter now.”

Simon sighed again.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes like he was too tired for this, too tired for you. The way he looked at you, it was like you were the one out of place, like he was the older one, the wiser one. There was something in his gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could, something that said he didn’t know what to do with you. Not now, not then, maybe not ever.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared, as if deciding whether it was even worth responding.

“The only advice I can give you,” he said, each word deliberate, like he was choosing them with care, “is to live your life. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. And if we’re lucky, we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.”

The deadpan delivery should’ve stung, should’ve hurt more than it did, instead, you found yourself chuckling softly, soft and bitter at the same time. The absurdity of it, of this whole encounter, made you want to cry and laugh in equal measure. Somehow, he’d managed to diffuse the tension in the most Simon way possible.

But still, it felt like it had always been there, hadn’t it? Unsaid words, missed chances, a history that never was.

You looked up at him, your lips twitching into a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?” you said, trying to make light of the ache that had settled deep in your bones.

Simon tilted his head slightly, watching you with those unreadable hazel eyes. “Not really my strong suit, is it?” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

“No, not at all.”

He looked at you, his eyes still guarded, as though he was searching for something in your expression that he couldn’t quite find. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. Didn’t return the smile either. Instead, he shrugged with a kind of finality that made your heart sink.

Simon nodded towards the road ahead.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

The offer was simple, but it carried an underlying meaning, like it was both a farewell and an acknowledgment that, despite everything, you had once meant something to him, even if only in passing.

There was something about his detachment, his unwillingness to engage with the past, that hurt more than you expected. Maybe you had wanted some closure, some understanding from him, a sign that what you felt wasn’t one-sided all these years. But Simon wasn’t offering that. He wasn’t offering anything at all.

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t even protest that you were fine on your own, that you didn’t need his protection. Instead, you forced a weak smile onto your face and started walking, hoping the darkness would hide the tears pricking at your eyes. The sound of your footsteps seemed louder now, echoing against the stillness of the night, as if you were both walking away from something you couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, not too long ago, I used to walk you home after church on Sundays. When your mum went to the market. Remember?”

Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but then he hummed, a low, almost noncommittal sound. He wasn’t the boy who needed walking home anymore, and you weren’t the one who could offer him safety.

The walk was silent. But what had you expected? That he’d thank you for some half-hearted attempt at connection after all these years? That he’d open up, that there would be a cathartic moment where you’d both acknowledge the traumatic childhood you shared with him and walk away with some semblance of peace?

Still, it was strange, walking side by side with someone who felt like a stranger, yet also someone you had known your entire life.

The short walk to your parents' house felt longer than it should have. As you approached the familiar gate, the scent of roses hit you, your mother’s prized bush blooming full and red next to the fence.

Simon stopped just outside your childhood home, as if some invisible boundary had been set between him and you. His eyes glanced at the rose bush, then back at you, his expression unreadable, that same distant mask he had worn for years.

“Thanks for walkin’ me home,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to lower it. It wasn’t likely that your parents would be waiting behind the curtains, watching this uncomfortable farewell.

They never cared much for Simon anyway.

His face was unreadable, shadowed by the dim light that illuminated the porch, but you could see his hazel eyes flicker as they scanned your features, taking you in like he was committing this moment to memory. And for a fleeting second, it was as if you weren’t standing on the cusp of goodbye, as if you were still those two awkward kids, stuck in a world neither of you could quite escape.

You did the same. Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, his sandy blonde hair, his broad shoulders, the faint stubble along his jawline that he hadn’t had when you last saw him. There was something fragile about this moment, a shared understanding that neither of you would speak of, but it was there all the same.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could let the fear of rejection stop you, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him. The contact was sudden, your body instinctively pulling him into a hug that neither of you expected.

It was an impulsive decision, a desperate, clumsy attempt to offer some comfort, to bridge the gap between the boy you once knew and the man standing before you. You pulled him into you, your blushed face pressing against his hard chest. For a heartbeat, he froze, stiff beneath your touch, and you immediately regretted it.

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lingering guilt, the sense that you had never done enough, never said enough. But as soon as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, the solidness of him, you realised your mistake. This wasn’t the kind of goodbye Simon wanted. You pulled away quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart racing.

“Take care, Si,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t dare look at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you turned on your heel, practically fleeing up the path to your front door, leaving him standing there beneath the roses—roses that were as red as your cheeks, blooming in the quiet of the night.

[ha-rinrin]

MASTERLIST JINX ARCANE

( -_•)▄︻テحكـ━一💥 ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE

➢Echos of Laughter

You and Jinx are just joking around, but then, an annoyed Isha appears, demanding some peace so that she can sleep.

➢ Holding On

Jinx thinks she too far gone, but you think exactly the opposite.

➢ Falling Ashes

Jinx made it, but at what cost?

➢ "Is there something wrong with my pants?"

Jinx's comes home after getting half of Zaun out of Stillwater with a doubt on her mind.

➢ Wired for War

You and your beautiful wife, Jinx, are preparing for war, and you decide to let your family step into the game.

➢ Family at Rest

it's bed time with Jinx and Isha!!

➢ Yours, Always

Jinx asks you an important question, with the stars as witness

➢ Home in the Madness

In the heart of a chaotic hideout, surrounded by machinery and unfinished projects, a makeshift family finds comfort in each other.

➢ The Metal Touch

What begins as intrigue and banter with Jinx quickly turns into something deeper—a mix of fire and vulnerability as her metal touch becomes both comfort and thrill.

➢ A Chance at Something Better

Jinx's brings a little girl to your home, hoping to give her something better than what she had.

➢ Hiding From The World

After a meeting with Silco, Jinx goes missing, leaving you to go find her.

➢ Amusement Park Date

Just you and your girlfriends Jinx on a date full of exiting rides.

➢ The Warmth of Halloween

You and Jinx decide to spend Halloween with toons of cuddles and love.

➢ Drunk confessions

Your best friend Jinx convinces you to accompany her to a frat party—what’s the worst that could happen?

➢ Mischief and Healing

Jinx injures herself, again, leaving you to heal her.

➢ Torn Between Fire and Ice

In a world divided between Piltover’s rules and Zaun’s chaos, a forbidden connection grows.

╰┈➤ sequel

➢ Cuddles Under the Stars

in the aftermath of chaos, two souls find solace on a rooftop.

➢ Fractured Chaos

In the shadowed corners of Jinx's hideout, silence lingers where chaos once thrived.

➢ Taming the Brat (smut)

In a chaotic dance of dominance and desire, you find yourself entangled with a bratty Jinx who knows how to push all the right buttons.

➢ Sweet Distraction

In the quiet of a lonely night, a familiar chaos slips through the window.

➢ Breaking Point

After a reckless mission, you confront Jinx about her dangerous choices. As tensions rise, emotions spill over, revealing deeper fears and desires that threaten to tear you apart.

╰┈➤ Happy ending

╰┈➤ Sequel

➢ Come to bed, Jinx

After days of sleepless nights and drowning herself in Silco's unfinished business, Jinx exhaustion is overwhelming.

➢ And what about me?

felt like writing something about Jinx with her new look of season two

➢ Reencounter

After days of not seeing her, you receive a message, she wants to see you again. Just that this time, she surprises you with her new look

➢ Reputation

just a cute cheesy moment between you and jinx ^^

➢ BIRDS OF A FEATHER

something i wrote at 2am

[harryslittlefreakk]

favourite crime masterlist

my main masterlist can be found here 🫶🏼

thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying 🤍 i love you

* indicates smut | ^ indicates angst

part one *

a chance meeting between y/n and her professor leads to a dare… which leads to a forbidden affair neither of them will forget

part two *^

harry whisks y/n away for a romantic weekend, but when feelings and questions turn into actions, their relationship only gets more complicated

part three ^

harry disappears and leaves y/n in the dark. when he finally resurfaces, they struggle to heal hurt and broken hearts

[ghostlyferrettarot]

✨️🧚‍♀️Asteroid Hekate in the signs🧚‍♀️✨️

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

✨️If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!✨️

🧚‍♀️Masterlist🧚‍♀️

✨️Hekate is the 100th asteroid, she is the place we go to in our astrological charts to find out what we need to do to discern our direction in life✨️

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Aries: Your drive for change is direct and bold. This position can manifest as a need to make quick and determined decisions. You have a strong sense of independence and are drawn to exploring the unknown or the forbidden. You are a pioneer on your own path, willing to break barriers and challenge the established. However, your challenge is not to rush too much and learn to listen to the warning signs of the universe, to avoid impulsive decisions. Hekate's magic here asks for patience to channel your energy towards more conscious and strategic decisions.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Taurus: Transformation comes through the material, the sensual and the physical. Your relationship with worldly pleasures and emotional security can be a space where you face crossroads in life. You may face times when you need to let go of what gives you comfort in order to grow and evolve. You often seek stability, but Hekate challenges you to find a balance between your earthly desires and connection to the deepest part of your being. True abundance and growth come when you learn to let go of fears related to possessiveness or rigidity, allowing change to flow into your life.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Gemini: Here, Hekate connects you to the mystery of hidden knowledge and truths that are beyond the superficial. You have a gift for uncovering what others don't see, whether in words, ideas, or connections. The challenge, however, is not to spread yourself too thin, as this energy can lead you to jump from one thing to another without going deep enough. Your spiritual journey may be through the mind and communications, but you must learn to discern what is truly important.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Cancer: Manifests in your life through your deepest emotions and your connection to home, family, and the past. Crossroads may present themselves in your close relationships or domestic life, where you must learn to balance the need for protection with the need for release. You are capable of navigating the darkest emotional waters, but Hekate teaches you not to get stuck in the past, but to use those experiences to heal and renew yourself.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Leo: Your path of transformation is closely tied to your creative expression and your sense of personal power. You are a magnetic person, with a deep need to shine and leave a mark. However, Hekate's influence may bring moments where you are faced with dilemmas about your identity and what it really means to "be yourself." You may go through periods of doubt or identity crises, but these are moments of profound transformation where you can be reborn from your own ashes. Learn to integrate your shadows with your light, embracing every facet of your being without fear of vulnerability.

🧚‍♀️ Hekate in Virgo: Your journey of transformation is tied to the pursuit of perfection, organization, and health. You face crossroads in how you can improve and transform your life through service and constant improvement. Hekate challenges you to let go of the need for excessive control and self-criticism, showing you that true magic is in the acceptance of your imperfections and the power of routine and daily care. True transformation occurs when you learn to balance perfection with acceptance and self-care.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Libra: Relationships are the area of ​​your life where the biggest crossroads present themselves. Important decisions may arise around what you need in a partner or partnership, and how to balance your independence with the desire for togetherness. Hekate invites you to find the truth in what unites you to others and to release relationships that no longer serve you. Your moments of change may come through your closest connections. Balance in your relationships should be a reflection of your own inner harmony. Don't be afraid to cut ties that prevent you from evolving.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Scorpio: This is a powerful placement, as Scorpio is a sign that naturally connects with transformation, mystery, and shadows. Here, Hekate challenges you to face your deepest fears and walk through the fire of purification. The goddess guides you through the darkest moments of your life, showing you that only by facing your own demons can you be reborn stronger. This influence gives you a deep connection to hidden power, whether in yourself or in the world around you.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Sagittarius: Expanding your consciousness and accessing deeper truths are key. The future is presented as a constant quest for wisdom and exploration, and Hekate guides you toward philosophical and spiritual paths you may never have considered. You are drawn to the mystical and the unknown, and you may feel like destiny is taking you to faraway lands, whether literally or figuratively. But you must remember that not all knowledge is superficial - you are not alone. Some journeys must be internal.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Capricorn: Your path of transformation is closely tied to your career, your ambition, and your sense of purpose in the world. The crossroads you face are often related to how you balance your desires for success with the need to follow your own truth. Hekate challenges you not to get stuck in rigidity or routine, but to recognize that true power comes from a deep connection to your purpose. The magic is in the integration of discipline with the desire to evolve spiritually, without letting work disconnect you from what really matters.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Aquarius: Connects you with the future and the energies of social change. You are a visionary person, but your crossroads may arise when you try to balance your desire for independence with the needs of the collective. Hekate's influence invites you to fight for the common good, but always from a place of authenticity. Your transformative decisions can have a positive impact on your community, as long as you remain true to your vision. True freedom and social change come when you are able to maintain your authenticity without compromising your values ​​to fit into the conventional.

🧚‍♀️Hekate in Pisces: The connection with the mystical and the invisible is deep. This position gives you a gift for spiritual work, intuition, and healing. Your moments of transformation are often linked to connection with the universe, deep emotions, and spiritual insights. However, the challenge is not to get lost in illusion or fantasy. Hekate's magic here invites you to find a balance between the material and spiritual world, without falling into dispersion. The spiritual transformation you seek must be anchored in reality, using your intuition to guide you without letting the shadows confuse you.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: as time progressed, Joel notice something's wrong and then at one night, You stood at his door, looking disheveled and distressed, your face streaked with tears and your clothes rumpled. 

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 2

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter one

next | chapter three

Saturday arrived with a sense of dread you couldn’t shake. The dinner invitation at Tommy and Maria's hung over your head like a dark cloud. Joel had decided to come, partly due to Ellie and Tommy's insistence, and also because it was a chance to catch up with your family, the Gibsons.

The aftermath of last Sunday's beating from your father for abandoning your duty at church service had left you changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a quiet resilience. Your body was still sore, the bruises and scars not fully healed, making even the simplest movements painful.

You worried some of the wounds might be infected, as you had been running a high fever and coughing for days. Your mother was concerned but too scared to take you to the hospital. In this small town, everyone knew each other, and a trip to the doctor would raise questions. Your family's reputation, especially with your father being the town preacher, was paramount. So, your mother did her best to care for you at home, but it wasn't enough.

You still went to school, hiding your condition under oversized sweaters. You had no close friends, just a few acquaintances, but you were well-known as one of the prettiest girls and the preacher's daughter. Boys liked you, always trying to get close, but you kept your distance. One day at school, Ellie noticed you didn't look well and asked if you were sick. You lied, saying you were fine.

"You sure? You don't look so good," Ellie said, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Ellie, really. Just tired from studying for finals," you replied, forcing a smile.

Ellie frowned, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," you promised, though you weren't sure if it was a promise you could keep.

As one of the smartest students, your teachers noticed your decline and sent you to the school's psychologist. The psychologist observed your physical and mental changes, but you lied again, blaming sleepless nights spent preparing for graduation.

As your family prepared to go to the Millers, you told your mother you might not be able to go because your body was still sore. The scars hadn't healed, and you worried about infection. You'd had a high fever for days.

"Mama, I don't think I can go tonight. My body still hurts so much," you said, your voice weak.

Your mother, worried but too afraid to confront your father, insisted you come. "You know your father will be angry if you don't come. It's better if you come, even if you're not feeling well," she said, her voice trembling.

Reluctantly, you agreed. For the first time in a while, you applied makeup to cover the bruises on your skin, arms, and the corners of your eyes and cheeks. Your father reminded you to behave, to maintain decorum as a preacher's daughter, and not to embarrass him.

"Remember, you represent this family. Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble," your father said sternly.

"Yes, Father," you replied, obedient as always, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. The weight of his expectations bore down on you, threatening to crush the fragile strength you had left.

At Tommy and Maria's house, Joel and Ellie were already there. Your family arrived at their front door, your mother's grip on the pasta dish tightening as if it were a lifeline.

Maria opened the door with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of your family. "Oh, Evelyn! Father Gibson! It's so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Your mother returned the smile, albeit a bit strained. "Thank you, Maria. We brought some pasta for adding some to the dishes."

"Oh, Evelyn, this pasta looks amazing. Thank you so much," Maria said, taking the dish and placing a gentle hand on your mother's arm. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," your mother replied, her voice soft. "It's the least we could do."

Maria led you all inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food. You stepped in and immediately met Ellie.

"Hey, how are you? You didn't look so good at school the other day," she said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," you lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ellie asked again, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You really didn't look well. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying for finals."

Ellie wasn't convinced but nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? We can study together if that helps."

"Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate it," you said, grateful for her concern but knowing you had to keep your secrets hidden.

Maria, finishing her conversation with your mother, turned her attention to you. "Sweetheart, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?"

In front of your parents, you forced another smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," you said, your voice steady but hollow.

Your mother quickly added to the lie, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. "Oh, you know Maria. She's almost graduate and been working so hard on her studies. It's just stress, really, right honey?" You nodded to your mother.

Your father, ever the manipulator, chimed in with a practiced smile. "She's fine, just been studying hard for her finals. Nothing to worry about."

Maria looked unconvinced but didn't press further. It was just another sad reminder of the facade your family maintained, the preacher's household hiding its cracks beneath a veneer of perfection.

You moved further into the house, your father's charm offensive continuing as he greeted Tommy. "Tommy, good to see you! How's everything going?"

"Going well, Tony. Just keeping busy with the business and this little guy," Tommy said, gesturing to his newborn son, Luke.

"He's adorable," you said, managing a genuine smile as you looked at the baby. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lightened.

"Thank you," Tommy said proudly. "He's a handful, but we're loving every minute."

As you continued to mingle, you felt Joel's eyes on you. He was helping Tommy with the food, but his concern was palpable. He approached you, his expression serious.

You smiled at Joel, remembering the last time you interacted with him by the lake. That memory was a rare bright spot amidst the pain your father had caused after it.

"Hey, Joel. Good to see you here," you said, wondering why he decided to come. You tried to lighten the mood, despite the pain radiating through your body with every movement. The fabric of your clothes rubbed against your skin, irritating the unhealed scars, but you did your best to endure it.

"Ellie and Tommy wouldn't take no for an answer," Joel replied, his tone a mix of annoyance and warmth.

You chuckled softly, though the motion sent a sharp pain through your ribs. "They can be pretty persuasive."

Joel's eyes softened slightly, but his concern remained. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying. It's near my graduation, and I have to prepare for the finals."

Joel's eyes lingered on you, taking in the pallor of your skin and the dark circles under your eyes. "You look sick. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. Joel was a man of few words, often letting his actions speak for him. His gruff exterior hid a deeply protective nature, one that he rarely showed to anyone. "I'm okay, really. Just a bit run down," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel frowned, clearly not convinced, but he decided to lighten the mood. "So, how's school going? When are the big finals?"

You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, finals are coming up. Lots of studying and late nights."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "I remember those days. Ellie gives me a hard time about studying too. But she's a smart kid, just like you."

"Thanks, Joel," you said softly, appreciating his attempt to comfort you. You cracked a small joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I just hope I don't end up like a zombie by the end of it."

Joel chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. He noticed how you occasionally winced and shifted your weight, clearly in pain. "You sure everything's okay at home?" he asked gently.

"Everything's great," you lied, remembering your father's stern warning. "Just the usual stress of school and stuff."

Joel's concern deepened, but he didn't push further. But before Joel could probe further, your father suddenly joined the conversation, his presence commanding attention.

"Joel, good to see you," he said with a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What are you two talking about?"

Joel straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Just catching up, Reverend."

Your father chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Joel, we’re at dinner. Call me Tony. We’re friends, remember?"

"Sure, Tony," Joel said, though the familiarity felt forced.

"How's the construction business going, Joel?" your father asked, his tone amiable.

"Busy as always," Joel replied, his eyes drifting back to you occasionally. "But it's good. Keeps me occupied."

Your father nodded, pretending to be interested. "That's great to hear. We should get together sometime, reminisce about the old days."

Joel's gaze met yours briefly, and you felt a flutter of something in your chest. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm but polite nonetheless.

As they continued to talk, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, feeling a strange sense of longing. His concern was genuine, unlike the superficial care your father displayed. It made you yearn for something more, something real.

Joel's eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt like he could see everything you were hiding. His concern was like a warm blanket on a cold night, a small comfort in the midst of your storm. You smiled at him, a silent thank you for his kindness, and he returned the gesture with a slight nod.

"You remember the time we went fishing at the lake, Joel?" your father said, trying to sound nostalgic. "We caught that huge bass, and you almost fell in trying to reel it in."

Joel smiled, though it was a shadow of his usual warmth. "Yeah, I remember. Good times."

You watched the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. Joel's presence was a reminder of what you were missing – genuine care and concern, something your father could never provide.

As dinner progressed, everyone was making conversations and catching up. You remained silent, but to avoid suspicion, you occasionally joined in, talking to Ellie and responding when someone addressed you. Joel observed quietly, speaking only when necessary or when someone engaged him directly. His occasional glances toward you felt like anchors, ensuring you didn’t drift too far into the depths of your own discomfort.

When it was time to sit down for the meal, you ended up seated across from Joel. Your father, ever the sociable one, continued to dominate the conversation, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. You picked at your food, the pain in your body making it hard to eat.

Joel noticed your discomfort, his eyes filled with quiet concern. He whispered after you shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, "You sure you're okay?" this time in a whisper so your father wouldn’t hear.

You forced another smile. "I'm fine, Joel. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, respecting your space. His presence, though, was a constant reminder that someone cared, even if you couldn't fully accept it.

The conversation flowed around you, snippets of dialogue filling the air.

"So, Ellie," your mother said, smiling warmly, "how's school treating you?"

"It's good, Mrs. Gibson. A lot of work, but I'm managing," Ellie replied, glancing at you with a reassuring smile.

Your father, ever the charming host, turned to Tommy. "And how's the construction business? Keeping you busy, I hope?"

Tommy laughed. "Busy doesn't even begin to cover it. We're swamped, but that's a good problem to have."

Joel's eyes flicked back to you as you winced slightly, shifting in your seat. He could see the struggle in your movements, the way you tried to hide your pain. His gaze softened, but he remained silent, respecting your space.

Tommy, clearly enjoying the topic, continued with enthusiasm. "We’re working on this big project downtown. It’s a major redevelopment of an old warehouse into luxury apartments. It's been a challenge, but it’s rewarding. We’re talking high-end finishes, state-of-the-art amenities. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk between maintaining the budget and meeting the client’s vision."

Your father, clearly interested, responded with a knowing nod. "Sounds like a big undertaking. How’s the team handling the pressure?"

Tommy grinned. "We’ve got a solid crew, but it’s been intense. Lots of late nights and early mornings. Joel’s seen the stress firsthand. He’s been around to lend a hand whenever things get tight."

Tommy’s gaze turned to Joel, as if inviting him to elaborate. "Right, Joel? You’ve had your fair share of those late nights, haven’t you?"

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, late nights and long days. It’s all part of the job. We keep pushing through because, in the end, it’s worth it."

Your father leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "You’ve been in the business a long time, Joel. What’s been the biggest challenge for you lately?"

Joel paused for a moment, thinking. "The biggest challenge is always adapting to new demands. Clients want more, and sometimes it feels like we’re racing against the clock. But we get it done."

Tommy, sensing an opportunity to keep the conversation lively, added, "Joel’s been great about handling the unexpected. I remember one time we had a major issue with a contractor, and Joel stepped in and saved the day."

Joel’s expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for Tommy’s support. "Just doing what needs to be done," he said.

Your mother’s voice was bright and enthusiastic as she shifted the topic. "Tommy, Maria, how’s little Luke doing? I can't believe how quickly he's growing."

Maria’s face lit up with pride. "He’s amazing. It’s been an adjustment, but we’re loving every moment of it. He’s starting to smile more, and it's just the sweetest thing."

Your mother nodded approvingly, her smile wide. "Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s such a joy to watch them grow. We’ve always said that parenting is the most rewarding experience."

The words felt like a raw wound being picked at, each one a reminder of the dissonance between their image of perfect parenting and your own reality. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the sharp pangs of pain that only seemed to intensify with every sugary comment.

Your father, ever the performer, joined in with his own brand of parental wisdom. "Yes, it’s true. Parenting brings out the best in you. It's about guiding them, teaching them right from wrong, and showing them how to navigate the world."

Tommy, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation, added, "Absolutely. We’ve had our challenges, but it’s worth it to see Luke grow and thrive. Every milestone is a victory."

Your mother leaned in with an air of authority. "And don’t forget the importance of structure and discipline. It’s all about finding that balance and being consistent. We always said that’s key to raising well-rounded children."

As the conversation continued, your parents spoke in glowing terms about their parenting philosophy, each statement reinforcing the image of perfection they projected. The more they spoke, the more you felt the weight of their insincerity.

The pain you were trying to suppress seemed to magnify with every word. You gripped your fork tighter, the effort making your knuckles white. You wanted to scream at the facade, the false sense of superiority they exuded while completely ignoring the reality of your struggles.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you repeatedly, his concern growing more evident with each shift in your posture. He watched as you tried to mask your discomfort, his gaze softening as he saw the strain on your face.

Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your demeanor as well. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping off. "Just a bit tired, Maria. Nothing to worry about."

Maria didn’t press further but her gaze remained concerned. She glanced at Joel, who gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken question. Joel’s eyes continued to linger on you, the concern etched deeply into his expression.

As the conversation shifted to a more religious tone, your father, ever the preacher, began to elaborate on his views. His voice took on that familiar, reverent cadence. "Children are a gift from God," he said, his eyes sweeping over the table as if to bless it with his words. "They are entrusted to us to guide, nurture, and instill the values that will shape their futures. It's a sacred duty, one that brings us closer to our faith and to each other."

He continued, the fervor in his voice rising, "The Bible teaches us that we are stewards of these precious souls. Our responsibility is not just to provide for their physical needs, but to mold their character, teach them right from wrong, and guide them in the ways of the Lord."

The words, so full of sanctimonious zeal, felt like a punch to your gut. Each statement was a cruel reminder of the gap between his idealized view of parenting and the harsh reality of your own life. You could feel your discomfort intensify, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

Joel’s gaze shifted between your father’s preachy sermon and your growing distress. His brow furrowed, sensing the tension in the room. He saw you clutching your stomach, your face growing pale. Maria’s concern mirrored his as she glanced at you, her eyes filled with empathy.

Feeling trapped, you struggled to maintain composure, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The facade of your father's perfect parenting began to feel like a cruel joke, and the more he spoke, the harder it became to stay seated.

Finally, unable to endure any more, you excused yourself. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, standing up quickly. Your voice was strained, but you tried to keep it steady.

Your father’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made you shiver. "Sit down, dear. It’s not polite to excuse yourself while others are speaking. We’re all here to enjoy each other’s company." The reprimand felt like a vise tightening around you.

You glanced around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze. "I really need to go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to hold your ground.

Your father’s smile turned colder, and the sharpness in his tone cut through the tension. "If you must go," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if warning you not to embarrass him further. "But do you know where the bathroom is? Don't want to bother Tommy and Maria, they are still eating,"

Before you or Tommy an Maria could respond, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady. "I can show her where it is. I’m finished eating, so I can walk her there."

Your father’s eyes flicked to Joel, his expression softening slightly in a forced show of graciousness. "Thank you, Joel."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a small measure of relief as you met Joel’s concerned gaze. He stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. Maria was occupied with Evelyn, and Ellie was still eating, leaving Joel as the most suitable candidate to help you.

Joel approached you quietly, his demeanor gentle as he offered a reassuring smile. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

You nodded, standing up with a sense of cautious relief. As you walked toward the hallway with Joel, you could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging over you. Joel’s presence was a quiet comfort, his concern a stark contrast to the harshness of your father’s demeanor.

As you made your way down the hall, Joel glanced at you, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "You feeling okay, kid?"

You managed a small, appreciative smile. "I'm good, thanks, Joel."

He gave a reassuring nod as you approached the bathroom door. "I’ll be right here if you need anything. Just take your time."

As you stepped inside the bathroom, the coolness of the tile against your skin was a brief respite from the tension. You leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The solitude offered a momentary escape from the scrutiny and discomfort you’d felt at the table.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened your dress to check the scars, the ones that had been worsening over the past few days. The sight of them made your heart sink further. They were inflamed, bruised, and itching painfully. You traced the edges with your fingertips, and the pain was sharp and immediate. A stifled hiss escaped your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. The physical agony was overwhelming, but it was compounded by the emotional turmoil of the evening.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the pain made it difficult. Your fingers brushed the scars again, and a small, anguished cry escaped you. The pain was almost unbearable, and you felt the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

From outside the door, Joel’s voice cut through the quiet. "Kid, is everything alright in there?"

His voice, tinged with concern, snapped you back to reality. You quickly wiped your tears, trying to compose yourself. "I’m fine, Joel. Just... give me a minute."

There was a moment of silence before Joel spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here to help."

You hesitated, the pain and fear making it hard to respond. "I... it’s just—it's nothing serious. I’ll be out in a second."

After a few deep breaths and a final check, you composed yourself as best as you could. You pulled your dress back into place, the physical discomfort still sharp but slightly more manageable. You wiped away the remaining tears, trying to regain your composure.

Opening the bathroom door, you found Joel still standing there, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and patience. You offered him a shaky smile, hoping to convey that you were alright. "Thanks for waiting."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his concern deepening as he took in the faint tremble in your hands and the redness in your eyes. "You okay, kid?"

You nodded and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Joel didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You look...like you're in pain."

Your smile faltered, and you looked down, unable to maintain the facade under his steady gaze. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to deflect. “Just...school stress."

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided not to push further. "Alright, if you say so. Let’s get back to dinner.”

You both returned to the dining room, where the atmosphere had lightened considerably. The meal continued with lively conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warm glow of shared company.

After dinner, your mom joined Maria in the kitchen to help with the dishes, their laughter and chatter floating through the house. Outside, your father, Tommy, and Joel settled on the backyard porch, their conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of a beer bottle opening or the murmur of crickets.

You found yourself in the living room with Ellie, who was scrolling through her phone while little Luke slept peacefully on the couch. You took a seat next to her, and she looked up, smiling.

"Hey," you said, leaning back into the cushions. "How's school been for you?"

Ellie shrugged, putting her phone down. "It's alright, I guess. Same old stuff. How about you? Finals must be tough, huh?"

"Yeah, they are," you admitted. "But it's almost over. Just a few more months, and then we're done."

Ellie grinned. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here."

You laughed softly. "Yeah, it's definitely time for a change. How about you? Any plans after high school?"

"Maybe college, if I can figure out what I want to do," Ellie replied. "So...Tell me, are there any boys at school you've got your eye on?" She tease giving you a smirk.

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, not really."

Ellie rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're like the most popular girl in school. The boys are all over you."

You sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't say I'm like that and it's not quite like that. They're just...curious, I guess."

"Curious about what?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know, it seems like they're curious about me."

Ellie then brought up what she saw a week ago. "So...don't want to be nosy, but I saw you with Jamie the other day. Is he the one?" She gave you a smirk, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "No, he's just a friend."

"Come on, you can tell me," Ellie insisted, nudging you playfully.

You blushed and tried to deflect, but Ellie wasn't letting up. "Stop, Ellie. It was nothing."

Ellie grinned, leaning in closer. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Jamie's been trying to get close to me. It's been going on for two months now. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s kissed me, but it hasn’t gone beyond that."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, looking more serious. “And he’s asking for more, isn’t he?”

You nodded, feeling a knot of confusion and frustration in your chest. “Yeah. He keeps bringing up sex, but I’ve told him I’m not ready. He said he’d wait, but he keeps asking. I don’t know what to do.”

Ellie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Jamie’s the captain of the football team, right? Popular, blonde, not too smart?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed, sighing. “He’s nice, but this pressure... I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Ellie nodded understandingly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If Jamie really cares about you, he’ll respect your boundaries. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it.”

You sighed again, the weight of your father's teachings pressing down on you. "But... I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed if I don’t do what he wants. Jamie is nice and polite. His family has giving our church a lot...he also giving me a lot of nice stuff, like dress, necklace and all. My dad always said if someone’s nice to you, you should be nice back. And always obey men because they’re higher in status than women."

Ellie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "My father."

Ellie shook her head, her expression turning serious. "That’s...kinda messed up. Just because someone’s nice doesn’t mean you owe them anything, especially not your body. And men aren’t superior to women. We’re all equal."

You bit your lip, considering her words. "But that’s how my daddy raised me, Ellie. He always says women should obey men."

Ellie leaned forward, her eyes filled with conviction. "Well, according on how Joel raise me. He taught me to stand up for myself and that I’m just as important as any man. It’s about respect, not obedience. You don’t owe Jamie anything just because he’s nice. If he can’t respect your boundaries, he’s not worth your time."

You felt a flicker of hope at her words. "I... I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to go against everything I’ve been taught."

Ellie reached out and squeezed your hand. "I know it’s hard, but you deserve to be with someone who respects you and your choices. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less than you are."

When Ellie said that, it felt like a hit to the chest. "Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less..." Her words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that was both comforting and terrifying. You wished you could believe it, wished you had the strength to stand up to your father. But the reality of your life loomed large and unyielding. Defiance meant danger. Defiance meant pain.

As Ellie's words replayed in your head, you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. You imagined standing up to your father, telling him that you were more than his expectations, more than his strict rules and harsh punishments. The thought made your heart race with a blend of hope and fear.

You glanced at Ellie, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective light. She believed in you, saw your worth even when you couldn't. It was a beacon in the darkness of your doubt, a small but vital spark of hope.

Yet, the idea of challenging your father felt insurmountable. His shadow stretched long over your life, dictating your every move, every thought. You had been molded by his will, taught to obey without question, to live in the confines of his rigid beliefs.

You had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, maintaining the facade that your father was the saintly preacher everyone believed him to be. The weight of this pretense was suffocating, but it was the only way you knew to survive.

Outside, the conversation between Tommy and your father continued, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the evening. Joel, on the other hand, was mostly silent, nursing his beer as he leaned against the porch railing. His eyes flicked occasionally to the living room, where you and Ellie were talking.

Joel's expression was hard to read, but there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his grip on the beer bottle that hinted at his unease. He listened more to your conversation than to Tommy and your father's, though he tried to appear disinterested. Something about you drew him in, made him care more than he wanted to admit. He told himself it was none of his business, that he had no right to interfere in someone else’s family matters. But still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut, an instinct honed by years of protecting those he loved.

As Joel watched you, he saw the way your shoulders slumped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes darted nervously to the doorway whenever a noise came from the kitchen. You were like a skittish animal, always on alert, always ready to flee or freeze. It reminded him too much of the broken children he'd seen in the aftermath of tragedy, children who had learned too young that the world was a dangerous place.

He took another sip of his beer, trying to push the thoughts away. He didn't need more complications in his life. He had enough to deal with, enough to protect. But damn it, there was something about you, something that called out to the part of him that had once been a father, that still is a father to Ellie. It was a part of him that couldn't ignore the signs of distress, the silent cries for help.

In the living room, Ellie continued to speak softly, her words a balm to your troubled heart. "You know," she said, squeezing your hand, "no matter what, you've got me. If you ever need to get away, to take a break, my door's always open."

You looked at her, the warmth in her eyes contrasting sharply with the cold dread that usually filled your days. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice barely holding back the tears. "It means more than you know."

Joel caught that moment, saw the brief glimpse of vulnerability and the strength it took for you to accept Ellie’s offer of support. It stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.

He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation outside. Tommy was laughing at something your father said, their voices blending into the background noise of the night. But even as he tried to tune them out, his mind kept drifting back to you. He didn't know what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

As the evening wore on, Joel glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help, without overstepping the boundaries he was so careful to maintain.

***

The last few weeks had been a blur of routine and unspoken tension. Each day felt like a balancing act, with you trying to maintain the perfect image your father demanded while wrestling with your own growing doubts and fears. The only moments of relief came when you could steal a few minutes alone with Ellie, her unwavering support a lifeline in the storm.

One evening after school, you found yourself in your usual spot on the porch, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. You hugged your knees to your chest, staring out at the darkening sky, your thoughts a tangled mess. You were wearing a nice white mini dress, modest yet elegant, with your hair braided into two sides and adorned with white ribbons.

You had managed to keep up appearances at church, attending every service, helping with every event, but the pressure was becoming unbearable. The weight of your father's expectations pressed down on you like a vise, and each day it grew tighter.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar truck parked in your driveway. You watched as a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black hair stepped out. He had a ruggedly handsome look about him, and as he saw you, a charming smile spread across his face. He stood there for a moment, then walked towards you with an air of confidence.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “Is this Father Gibson’s house?”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing your dress. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well, aren’t you a polite one? I’m lookin’ for the Reverend. Is he around?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “He’s inside. I can get him for you.”

As you turned to go inside, he called after you, his voice teasing. “You know, you’ve got a real pretty smile. Brightens up the whole place.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, you found your father in his study, poring over his notes for Sunday’s sermon. “Dad, there’s someone here to see you.”

Your father looked up, frowning slightly. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s outside waiting,” you replied.

Your father nodded, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. You followed him, your curiosity piqued.

The man was waiting patiently on the porch, his hands in his pockets. As your father approached, he extended a hand with a broad smile. “Reverend Gibson, pleasure to meet you. I'm Naomi's cousin, I assume she already told you?"

Your father shook his hand, a wary look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I was hopin’ we could have a little chat. Got some things I’d like to discuss."

Your father glanced at you, then back at him. “Of course. Let’s step inside.”

As they moved inside, the man glanced back at you, giving you a wink. You watched them disappear into the house, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling inside you.

Not long after, you heard the rumble of Jamie's truck pulling up. Your heart lightened, and you smiled, walking towards the driveway with an eagerness that belied the tension you had been feeling all day. You hung by the fences, your fingers curling around the cool metal as Jamie got out of his truck.

"Hi, Jamie," you said, your voice bright with excitement.

Jamie grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey sweetpie, how are ya doing? looking beautiful as ever,"

Jamie’s compliment made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Jamie. I’m doing alright. How about you?”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Can’t complain. I was thinking maybe we could catch that new movie tonight. What do you say?”

The thought of escaping the confines of home and spending a carefree evening with Jamie was a welcome distraction. “That sounds great. But I need to ask my dad first.”

Jamie nodded, settling back into the truck as you approached the front door. The door swung open, and you saw your father still deep in conversation with the man you didn’t know, whose gaze was fixed intently on you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that his eyes were tracing every inch of you.

You spoke to your father, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Father, Jamie asked if I could go to the cinema with him tonight. Is it okay?”

Your father glanced at you briefly, then at the man, whose expression was inscrutable but decidedly interested. “Jamie Lee?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you replied.

Your father’s eyes flickered with annoyance at being interrupted but softened as he looked at you. “It’s not ideal to leave while we have a guest here, but alright, you can go. Be back by eight.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but as you did, you couldn’t help but notice how the man’s gaze lingered on you. His eyes, though polite, seemed to hold a predatory glint, scanning you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly.

You gave a nervous smile as you rejoined Jamie at the truck, who was looking at you with a hopeful expression. “Dad said it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he slid into the driver’s seat with an easy grin. As he started the engine, he turned on some country music, the tunes filling the truck and momentarily lifting your spirits. The drive was smooth, and you found yourself relaxing, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.

After the movie, Jamie suggested a detour. “How about we grab a drink? There’s a little bar outside of town where we can chill for a bit. What do you say?”

You hesitated, not entirely sure about the idea but wanting to enjoy the evening. “I don’t know… I’m not really into drinking.”

Jamie reassured you with a charming smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just one drink, I promise.”

When you arrived at the bar, a dimly lit place with a cozy, rustic feel, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Jamie led you inside, and you slid onto a barstool. Jamie ordered whiskey for himself and told you he’d get you something sweet.

The bartender handed you a glass, and you took a tentative sip, expecting a cherry cola. Instead, the liquid was warm and had a strong, unfamiliar bite. You grimaced, looking at Jamie with confusion. “This doesn’t taste like cherry cola. Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

Jamie leaned in, his voice low and soothing. “Nah, it’s whiskey, babe. I thought you might want to try something a bit more adventurous.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I can’t drink whiskey. I’ve never had it before, and my dad would be really angry if he found out.”

Jamie gave you a reassuring smile, placing a hand on your back. “Relax. It’s just a drink. No one’s gonna know. Besides, it’s just one drink. You’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Jamie’s insistence and easy demeanor made it hard to say no. You took another small sip, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Jamie’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you. “Just have a little more. You might actually like it. It’s good for loosening up, you know?”

Reluctantly, you took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through you. The whiskey tasted harsh and made you cough slightly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly, but with a genuine affection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax and have fun. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Despite the alcohol, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach, the drink making you feel lightheaded. Jamie encouraged you to drink more, and you found yourself gradually giving in, the whiskey dulling the edges of your anxiety.

As the evening wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol more clearly. Your thoughts became hazy, and the room seemed to spin slightly. Jamie’s presence became more comforting, and his laughter more infectious. He kept encouraging you to drink, telling you it was all in good fun.

The bar buzzed with life around you, but the world felt distant, the sounds muffled by the warmth and haze of whiskey. Jamie’s arm around your shoulders was a constant presence, a mix of comfort and tension that made your skin tingle.

As he helped you into the truck, his touch was firm, and you leaned against him, inhaling the potent blend of whiskey and his cologne. The city lights outside blurred, a streak of neon against the dark sky, but Jamie abruptly pulled over to a quiet, secluded road.

“Jamie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Jamie’s gaze was intense, a smoldering look that seemed to pierce through the fog of your mind. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred. His fingers traced your jawline, his touch both tender and possessive.

The air in the truck was thick with anticipation, charged with an electric tension that you couldn’t ignore. Jamie leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

A shiver cascaded down your spine at his words, a confusing mix of desire and trepidation swirling within you. The whiskey had softened your inhibitions, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

His words were like a seductive caress, stirring a deep, unsettling need. “Jamie, I can't,” you began to say, but his lips silenced you, capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were rough, demanding, and they moved with an intensity that set your senses alight. His hands roamed over your body, finding the buttons of your blouse with a hunger that made your heart race. he's messaging your boobs you slowly moan because it feels so good.

The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate urgency. His hands were warm but rough, the contrast of his touch creating a mix of discomfort and electric thrill.

You felt a rising heat as he tugged at your blouse, the fabric yielding under his insistent fingers. “Just this once,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged. “It’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, I promise.”

A part of you wanted to resist, but the intoxicating mix of his touch and your own growing desire blurred your judgment. You felt a strange, almost reckless surrender, your boundaries melting away in the intensity of the moment.

"Stop, I-I can't," you said

"I promise, it will feel good, baby," he said

Jamie’s fingers moved with a deliberate skill, teasing and exploring your most sensitive spots. You gasped as his touch sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your head swim with a mix of desire and confusion. The whiskey's lingering warmth mingled with the heat rising within you, clouding your ability to think clearly.

His other hand slid down your back, pulling you closer until you were almost on his lap. The friction between your bodies only intensified the sensations coursing through you. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a hard, undeniable reminder of his desire.

“Jamie,” you breathed, your voice a mix of protest and longing. “I shouldn’t—”

But your words were cut off as his fingers found their mark, pressing and circling with just the right pressure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escaped your lips, unbidden and undeniable.

“Just let go,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deepening as he continued to work you with his fingers. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending on fire. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming you.

With a deftness born of experience, he slipped your blouse off your shoulders, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Your skin tingled where he touched, each kiss sending a wave of heat through you.

His hands moved to your breasts, kneading and teasing, his mouth following close behind. The contrast of his rough fingers and the softness of his lips was intoxicating, making you arch into his touch. You could feel the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling, your body aching.

“Jamie,” you whispered, your voice a mix of wanting for more but you are scared, “Please, stop…”

His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in shedding his own clothes. The sight of him, bare and ready, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He reached for you, pulling you close until you were both lying back on the seat, your bodies entwined.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jamie, please,” you begged, a note of panic creeping into your voice as his grip tightened and his movements became rougher. The initial pleasure was swiftly giving way to pain, each thrust sending shockwaves of discomfort through your body.

“Stop, Jamie, it hurts,” you pleaded, trying to push him away. But he was too strong, his body a heavy weight pinning you down. His eyes, glazed over with alcohol and desire, didn’t seem to register your distress. Instead, his anger flared, his thrusts becoming more forceful and unrelenting.

Tears streamed down your face as you cried out in pain, your voice breaking with each sob. “Please, stop! Jamie, please stop!” you screamed, your hands frantically pushing against his chest, but it was no use. He was lost to his own needs, driven by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

You felt a deep, pervasive sense of violation, your body and spirit shattering with each brutal movement. Desperation clawed at your insides as you prayed for an end to the torment. “God, please make him stop,” you whispered through your tears, your voice a broken, helpless plea.

But Jamie didn’t stop. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. The pain was overwhelming, each thrust tearing through you, leaving you feeling dirty and used. Your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and the cruel rhythm of his assault.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every second an eternity of agony and despair. You felt yourself slipping into a numb, distant place, a coping mechanism to survive the relentless onslaught. Your body became a vessel of pain, your mind retreating to a place where the hurt couldn’t reach you.

Finally, with a shuddering groan, Jamie reached his climax, his body stilling as he released himself inside you. The moment he pulled out and rolled away, you curled into a ball, your body shaking with sobs. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional devastation, the sense of betrayal and violation that coursed through you.

Jamie lay beside you, panting and spent, seemingly oblivious to the trauma he had inflicted. His eyes slowly cleared as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, but the damage was already done. You felt hollow, your trust shattered, your sense of self irreparably damaged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled, his voice thick with regret as he reached out to touch you. You flinched violently, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

"Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice raw with pain and anger. You felt so dirty, so violated, your mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the world and escape the unbearable weight of your trauma.

Jamie pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and guilt. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk... I—" His words were a pathetic jumble of excuses, falling on deaf ears.

"Just shut up," you spat, your voice trembling with rage. "Just shut up and take me back to town. I can't be here with you. I can't even look at you."

He nodded mutely, too ashamed to argue. As he started the truck, you pulled your clothes back on with shaking hands, each movement a reminder of the violation you'd endured. The drive back was silent, the air thick with a tension that neither of you dared to break.

When the truck finally came to a stop near the outskirts of town, you didn't wait for it to fully halt before you opened the door and stumbled out. "I can walk from here," you said coldly, not looking back. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He simply nodded, the look of regret and sorrow etched on his face as you slammed the door shut and started walking away.

As you walked, each step felt like an eternity, your mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion. You couldn’t go home, not like this. The thought of facing your family in your current state was unbearable. Instead, you turned your steps towards Ellie’s house. She was the only one who would understand, the only one you could trust to hold you through this nightmare.

You stumbled up the porch steps, your vision blurred by tears, your makeup smeared and your hair a tangled mess. Your dress was wrinkled and torn, a stark reminder of what had happened. You knocked on the door, hugging yourself tightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, to feel safe.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ellie who stood there. It was Joel. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with tears, your breath hitching in your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in shock and concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?" he asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry. "What’s going on? Are you hurt?" Ellie wasn’t home; she was staying at a friend's house for the night.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears, and you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. You collapsed to the ground, your body shaking with the force of your cries. The world around you blurred into an indistinguishable mess of pain and despair.

Joel was beside you in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you. "You're safe now. I've got you."

As he held you, his heart raced, a sense of urgency fueling his every movement. He noticed the blood seeping through your legs, and panic gripped him. There was a raw, protective anger in his eyes, one that he usually kept buried deep beneath his calm exterior.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "Joel," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "He hurt me. He wouldn’t stop. I begged him, but he wouldn’t stop."

Joel’s body went rigid, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Jamie," you sobbed, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen."

The silence that followed your confession was thick with tension. Joel’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that made you feel a flicker of safety amidst your despair. He took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He led you into the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the room, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. Joel carefully sat you down on the couch. He needed to clean you up. The sight of your blood-soaked dress made his heart ache with a mix of sorrow and rage.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket and a cup of tea. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring, then handed you the tea.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’ll help."

You took the cup with trembling hands, the warmth seeping into your skin, offering a small measure of comfort. Joel sat beside you, his presence a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don’t have to talk about it right now," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready."

You looked at him, the tears still streaming down your face. "I feel so dirty," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't want this. I didn’t want any of it."

Joel's face softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fierce protectiveness. "You're not dirty," he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Baby, it's not your fault."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside you, and you sobbed harder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For the first time in a while, Joel opened his heart, letting his walls down to show you his unwavering support.

He held you for what felt like hours, his embrace a cocoon of safety and warmth. The tears seemed endless, each one carrying a fragment of your shattered soul. But Joel remained steadfast, his presence a constant reassurance that you were not alone in your suffering.

As he held you, Joel's thoughts churned with a mix of emotions. He was a man of few words, accustomed to keeping his feelings locked away, buried deep beneath a hardened exterior. But seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, stirred something dark and primal within him.

It reminded him of his own past, the pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. The memories of Sarah, his daughter, flashed through his mind – the way he had failed to protect her, the helplessness and rage that had consumed him. He had vowed never to let himself feel that kind of pain again, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

Yet here he was, holding you, feeling an overwhelming need to protect you, to shield you from the world’s cruelty. The thought of Jamie, the man who had done this to you, ignited a fierce, burning anger within him. Joel's grip tightened around you, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

He would make Jamie pay for what he had done. There was a darkness inside Joel, a ruthless side that he rarely let see the light of day. But for you, he would unleash it. He would ensure that Jamie never hurt you – or anyone else – again. The thought of revenge, of justice, gave him a grim sense of purpose, a way to channel the turmoil inside him.

Joel's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He was deeply troubled by the sight of you in such pain, and his protective instincts surged to the forefront. He knew he had to keep himself under control, to focus on helping you heal. But the thought of Jamie’s actions ignited a cold, calculated fury within him.

[idkyetxoxo]

Daeron Targaryen - Doomed

Summary - Star-crossed lovers, the only daughter of Rhaenyra and the youngest son of Alicent, destined to be together but doomed from the start, bound by love and fate to an end neither of them could escape.

Pairing - Daeron Targaryen x Velaryon reader

Warnings - Violence, injury

Word count - 3105

Based on this request (anon, I could kiss you! This is genuinely one of my favourite pieces I’ve ever written)

Masterlist for Daeron • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the youngest son of Alicent Hightower, bound by fate in the midst of a war that had already claimed too much. 

From the start, our love was doomed a tragedy waiting to unfold—a match as forbidden as it was inevitable.

But how could I help it? How could I stop the wildfire that had taken root in my heart for him? 

His kindness, his tenderness—it was such a contrast to the cruelty of his family, a cruelty that echoed in the halls of the Keep, a place I had once called home before it became a den of enemies.

"You will accept the betrothal, Daeron. We need the allies, and you will forget that girl," Alicent's voice was cold, sharper than the blade of any sword. 

It had only been a week since Daeron returned from Oldtown, but in his absence, war had erupted like wildfire. 

The blood of family stained the earth, and still, his heart was torn, tainted by his mother's venomous words.

"She is not just some girl," he murmured under his breath, his hand running through his silver hair. 

His mind was awash with memories—each one sharper than the last, each one a wound he would never let heal.

We were children when we first met. Innocent, naive, unaware of the storm that would one day swallow us whole. 

We vowed to be friends forever back then as if we could somehow bend the future to our will. But as the years passed, the lines of that friendship blurred.

It was his mother who saw it first, the way Daeron and I gravitated toward each other, our bond deepening into something dangerous, something she could not control. 

She sent him to Oldtown to snuff out whatever flame had sparked between us, but the distance only fanned the embers. 

Letters smuggled by ravens, secret meetings in the dead of night—no wall was high enough, no ocean wide enough to keep us apart.

Every stolen laugh, every whispered promise only bound us closer. We defied the world, knowing it would condemn us if it knew, but caring so little for what came next. 

For us, there was only now.

I stared out across the turbulent sea from the window of Dragonstone, my heart heavy with longing. The sound of footsteps behind me broke the silence. 

Jace's voice was bitter, edged with anger. "You're crying again," he said, his frustration palpable.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, wiping the tears from my face, though it did nothing to hide the evidence.

"You have to let him go," Jace pressed, his voice sharper now, filled with a pain that mirrored my own. "Don't forget that his brother killed Luke—our Luke. How could you forget that?"

"I haven't," I replied, though my throat was tight, and the words felt like shards of glass. "I can't."

Jace's stare bore into me, but I could no longer meet his gaze. I stood, pushing past him, needing the sky, the wind, and the open air. 

Needing him.

It was madness, and I knew it. He knew it too. But the pull was stronger than reason, stronger than blood and betrayal. 

I had to see him, had to make sense of the storm of emotions that threatened to tear me apart.

I mounted my dragon, her wings catching the wind as we soared into the clouds. My heart raced as I flew toward him, knowing he would be there, knowing he was coming to me too.

Above the clouds, Tessarion's cry pierced the air—a streak of blue and copper, flying in tandem with me. I landed sharply on a sandy beach, the world around us a blur of wind and sea as I watched him dismount. 

My legs moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was in his arms, sobbing into his chest.

"Daeron," I choked out, my words lost between my gasps and the crash of waves. 

His arms tightened around me, his hand stroking my hair, shushing me as though we weren't standing on the precipice of destruction.

"My love, I've missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His violet eyes, the same eyes that haunted my dreams, shimmered with unshed tears. 

He looked more beautiful than I remembered, the time apart having only sharpened the features I loved.

"And I, you," I breathed, tilting my head up toward him.

In that moment, all the wars, all the betrayals melted away. His lips found mine in a kiss that stole my breath, a kiss that silenced every doubt, every fear. 

It was deep, desperate, a hunger that could never be sated—a love that could only end in ruin.

But we didn't care. Not then. Not yet. 

The world could burn around us, and still, it wouldn't matter.

The salty air clung to us as we stood there on the beach, the crashing waves a distant echo to the storm raging inside our hearts. 

Daeron held me close, his hand stroking my hair gently as I tried to steady my breath. 

I looked up at him, his face still so familiar, so achingly beautiful despite the chaos that surrounded us. 

I wanted to stay like this, frozen in time, but the reality of the war pressed down on us like a weight too heavy to ignore.

"The war..." I began, my voice trembling, "It's only getting worse, isn't it?"

Daeron's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he nodded. 

"Yes," he whispered, "Aegon's grip is tightening, and my mother... she's more relentless than ever. She's pushing for more alliances, more battles. Rhaenyra..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought, but I knew what he meant. 

My mother, our queen, wasn't backing down either. Blood had already been spilt, and it wouldn't stop. Not until the realm was torn apart.

"I can't bear it," I said, tears welling up again. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Luke. I see his face..." My voice cracked, and I could barely breathe. 

"And I can't stop thinking—what if it's you next, Daeron? What if they take you from me too?"

His grip on me tightened, his violet eyes filled with sorrow and determination. 

"They won't," he said firmly, though I could hear the fear beneath his words. "I won't let that happen. I've already lost so much... I can't lose you."

I buried my face in his chest, trying to drown out the images of war, of death. 

For a moment, I felt his heartbeat under my cheek, strong and steady, and I let myself believe we could outrun it all. But I had to know. I had to hear him say it. 

"Daeron, what are we going to do?" I asked, my voice small. "We can't keep meeting like this... sneaking around, hiding in the shadows. We're on opposite sides of a war that will destroy us both."

He was silent for a moment, the weight of the truth hanging in the air between us. "I know," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. "I've been thinking... thinking about a way out."

I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. 

"What do you mean?" I asked, though part of me already knew. His gaze shifted as if he was afraid to say it out loud.

"We could run," he said quietly. "We could leave all of this behind—the war, the blood, the lies. We could go somewhere they'll never find us, live the life we should have had. Together."

My breath caught in my throat. The very idea seemed impossible, and yet, it was the only thing that made sense. The thought of running away, leaving behind the death and destruction, was like a lifeline in the storm.

"Run away?" I repeated, my voice shaking, not with fear, but with hope. "You really think we could?"

He nodded, his eyes lighting up with the spark of desperation, of a dream we had both silently shared but never dared speak. 

"Yes. There are places in Essos, far beyond the reach of the crown, where no one would know us. We could live quietly... peacefully. We wouldn't have to hide anymore."

For a moment, the image flickered in my mind—an open sky, a distant land, just the two of us, free from the chains of duty and war. No more dragons. No more crowns. Just Daeron and me, safe in each other's arms.

"But..." My voice wavered as the reality of the situation crept back in. 

"Would they ever stop looking for us? What if they find us? My mother—your mother they would never forgive us. They'd brand us traitors."

"I do not care," Daeron said fiercely, his eyes blazing. 

"Let them hate us. Let them curse our names. All I care about is you. If we stay, it will destroy us, one way or another. Either the war will tear us apart, or our families will. But if we leave now if we escape there's a chance we can build something new. Something they can't touch."

I stared at him, my heart torn between love and fear, between hope and duty. 

Could I really leave everything behind? Could I leave my family, my brothers, and the throne that my mother fought so hard to protect?

But then I thought of Jace's words, of the pain in his eyes when he spoke of Luke, of how this war had already taken so much from us. 

How much more would it steal before it was over? And for what? A crown? A seat of power that had cost us our innocence, our lives, our love?

The thought of abandoning my family felt like a knife in my gut. But the thought of losing Daeron again? It would shatter me in ways I couldn't even fathom.

"I want that too," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I want to leave, to be with you. But we need a plan, Daeron. We can't just fly away and hope they don't find us."

He nodded, his expression serious now. "I know. We'll need time to prepare. We'll need supplies and a place to go where no one will look for us. I will arrange everything on my end. I can slip away from court without raising suspicion."

"And I'll gather what I can from Dragonstone," I added. "But it has to be soon. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to escape."

"Agreed," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "We'll meet again in a week's time, here, at dawn. Once everything is in place, we'll leave Westeros behind... forever."

My heart swelled with both fear and hope, but as I looked into his eyes, I knew there was no turning back. I would leave everything behind for him. For us.

"Promise me," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the waves. "Promise me you'll come."

"I swear it," Daeron replied, his voice as steady as his gaze. "I'll be here. Nothing will keep me from you."

We stood there in silence for a long moment, the weight of our vow sinking into the air around us. I knew the path we had chosen was dangerous, reckless even, but I also knew it was the only way we could truly be free.

"I love you," I whispered, my fingers brushing his cheek.

"And I love you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Always."

With one last kiss, full of the promise of the future we would build together, we parted, both knowing it could be the last time we ever saw each other in this world. But we vowed to return. We vowed to run.

And no matter what it cost us, we would be free.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ─── 

A week passed, each day slower than the last, each hour filled with the weight of what was to come. The war continued to rage around us, but I had clung to the hope of our escape, holding onto the dream of a life far away from the bloodshed and betrayal. 

I counted down the days until we could be together—until we could leave Westeros behind forever.

The night before our planned escape, the sea outside Dragonstone roared with fury, as if it sensed the storm building within me. 

I couldn't sleep, my thoughts too wild, too tangled with fear and hope. 

I kept thinking of Daeron—wondering if he, too, was awake, wondering if he was preparing to leave behind everything he'd ever known. Wondering if we could really do it.

As dawn broke, I mounted my dragon and flew to the place we had promised to meet—the same sandy beach where we had whispered our vows just days ago. 

The wind bit at my face, and my heart pounded with anticipation and fear. 

My mind conjured images of the future—of us living free, far away from this war, from the weight of our families. It felt so close as if I could reach out and touch it.

But as I landed on the beach, something was wrong. Tessarion was there, Daeron's dragon, but she seemed agitated, her blue and copper scales shimmering uneasily in the morning light. 

And then I saw him.

Daeron was there, dismounted from his dragon, but he was slumped against her side, barely holding himself upright. My heart dropped into my stomach.

I rushed toward him, panic clawing at my chest. "Daeron!" I called my voice already breaking. 

As I got closer, I saw the blood—too much blood. His tunic was soaked in it, a deep crimson spreading across his side.

"No," I whispered as I reached him, dropping to my knees beside him. "No, no, no..."

His face was pale, his eyes half-lidded, but they fluttered open when I touched his cheek. He tried to smile, but it was weak, a shadow of the smile I had known.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice rasping like it took everything in him to speak.

"Daeron, what happened?" I gasped, my hands shaking as I pressed them to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, though I knew it was useless. 

His body was cold, far too cold, and the blood kept flowing no matter how much pressure I applied.

"Aegon..." he choked, his breath laboured. "He found out... He knew I was planning to leave... He couldn't let me go... not after... after everything. We fought... but I couldn't..."

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head, refusing to believe what was happening. "No. Don't. Don't say that. You're going to be fine, we're going to leave together. You're going to be fine, Daeron. I'll get help. Just—just stay with me. Please."

But his hand gripped mine weakly, and his violet eyes were already dimming. "It's too late," he said, his voice breaking. "I... I tried to make it, I had to see you one last time..."

"Stop it!" I cried, my voice hoarse. "Don't talk like that! We're supposed to leave together. You promised me, Daeron! You promised!"

His fingers brushed my cheek, his touch barely there. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. "I love you. I always have."

I sobbed as I clutched him to my chest, rocking back and forth as if I could somehow hold him together, keep him alive through sheer will. 

His breath rattled like the wind before a storm, each exhale quieter than the last. I held him tighter, willing his heartbeat to stay steady, but it was fading beneath my hands. 

The coppery smell of blood filled the air, and the sand beneath us turned dark, soaking up the last of him.

"Please, don't leave me," I begged, my words choking in my throat. "Don't leave me alone. I can't do this without you. I can't..."

His breath hitched, his body shuddering in my arms. He tried to speak again, but the words were lost, swallowed by the blood that spilt from his lips. 

And then, with one final, broken breath, he was still.

I stared down at him, my heart shattered into pieces so small I could never put them back together. The world around me disappeared, the sound of the waves, the screeching of the dragons—none of it mattered. 

All I could see was Daeron's lifeless face, the warmth leaving his body, the dream we had shared slipping away like sand through my fingers.

"Daeron..." I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of my grief. "You can't leave me. Please don't leave me."

But he was gone.

A sob tore from my throat, so raw it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I held him tighter, as if holding him could bring him back as if the gods would take pity on us, but they didn't. 

They never did.

I looked around, my vision blurred with tears, and I saw the dagger at his side, stained with the blood of his final battle. My heart screamed in agony, the world spinning around me, dark and empty. I couldn't see a life without him. 

I couldn't bear to face this war, this world, without the one person I had lived for.

I pulled the dagger from his belt, the cold steel biting into my hand as I held it. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared at the blade, the only escape from the pain that now consumed me. 

I had lost him—there was nothing left for me here. I had nothing without him.

"I can't," I whispered to the wind, my voice shaking. "I can't do this without you."

I pressed the dagger to my chest, right where my heart still ached for him, and closed my eyes. It felt cold against my chest, but nothing could match the chill that had already settled in my heart. 

In my mind, I saw the life we were supposed to have, the life we would never live. 

I saw us running through a field, laughing under the sun, free from the chains of duty and war. I saw his smile, felt his arms around me, and in that moment, I knew where I had to go.

"I'm coming," I whispered. "Wait for me."

And then, without another thought, I plunged the dagger deep into my heart.

The pain was brief, a sharp, searing agony that quickly faded, replaced by a strange sense of calm.

I collapsed beside him, my blood mixing with his in the sand, our bodies entwined as they always should have been. 

As the darkness crept in, my last thoughts were of him—of his smile, his laugh, his kiss. We had been doomed from the start, bound by love and fate to an end neither of us could escape. 

But now, in death, we would finally be free. Together. Forever.

And as my vision faded to black, the last breath leaving my body, I saw him—waiting for me, his hand outstretched, his smile warm, as if nothing had ever come between us at all.

A/n - This was so so fun to write!! I truly hope I did the req justice <3

[momolady]

Sirion the Vampire

-Patreon - Ko-Fi - Commissions - Masterlist - 3K words - Trans-Male Reader x Male Monster Forbidden Love - Elopement - Vampire Feeding - True Self

Taking hold of that hand, you held it close, unafraid of the dark and certainly not worried about the cold. You looked into the darkness of his eyes, assured of what he said. 

“Then let’s go.” Your breath came out in thick, curtaining billows. “Take me there, we can’t leave soon enough.”

A smile spread across his face and he leaned in to kiss you. You had vowed long ago you would go anywhere with him, do whatever it took to stand by his side. When he saw you, truly saw you, there was no turning back. Forever you two were locked together.

The night you ran, he made quite the grand spectacle of it. Of course Sirion had to let the whole world know, that was never a question in your mind. He took you from your home, glaring deep into the eyes of your family who had been holding you captive in your own home all this time. He stared at them, wishing them to burst into flames, but instead he let them live, peacefully as you had requested. Even as your father’s old gun rang through the streets, all you wanted was for them to be left alone

The carriage was an ornate one, one harkening back to the old days when the vampires had once ruled this land. There were no windows, so you could not see outside to where you were going. But there were jewels, or at least where jewels had once been. The empty settings seemed to plead for something to hold. The seats were luxurious, silk and down you assumed.

“It will take us a while to get there,” Sirion murmured. 

You looked up from your exploring, catching the somewhat grim look upon his face. He raised his hand, showing the blood on his palm from where you fathers’s bullet grazed him.

Jumping up from your seat, you rushed to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is nothing to worry about,” he growled as you sat beside him, peeling away his cloak to inspect the wound. “I will heal fast. After all, at the moment, I am still full of you.”

Placing your palm over the wound, you glared into his eyes.

Sirion laughed. “Don’t give me such a look.” He languidly placed his hands over his face, hiding but a slip of his eyes. “Not when we should be celebrating.”

You huffed. “You haven’t rested either.”

Placing his long, heavy arm around you, Sirion pulled you in close. “I was far too excited.” He relaxed his body as yours drew closer. “It will be just us now. No hiding, no secrets, no shadows.” His eyes gazed up to the roof of the carriage where a starry night scene was painted. “A place of moonlight,” he breathed.

You were exhausted as well, and resting your head upon his chest was the most sumptuous pillow you could find.

When you woke, the carriage had stopped. You raised from the seat, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around. Outside you heard voices, Sirion’s was among them. As you opened the door and peered out, you saw a dark, endless scene of pillars and dark. The air was musky and cold, and echoes of water were all around.

“There he is.” Sirion’s voice guided you to his visage, standing in the light of a torch. “Come,” he beckoned to you. “They will be taking care of you.”

“For what?” You frowned, looking at the tall, pale woman before you and her short, somewhat hairy companion.

Sirion held onto your shoulders and chuckled. “To prepare you for your new life, of course. To be my groom.”

Your heart pounded, taking another look at the couple before you.

“I’ll be fixing your hair,” the man said and spit to the side.

The woman smirked, amused by the man’s behavior. “And I have clothes for you, Sirion requested a lavish wardrobe for you, my lord.”

The pulse of your heart was likely noticed by everyone in your presence. “Really?” You looked up at Sirion in awe.

“Really,” he chuckled. He pushed against your back. “They will take care of you, and I will rest.”

You followed the man and woman, taken to a bunker-like building. Inside was lavish in a pauper type of way. Things that had once been grand mixed with others that looked stolen or upgraded. 

The man had you sit in a chair while he took out a glimmering silver razor and scissor set. In a rage, your father had lopped off your hair, leaving it uneven, in hanging chunks, and skin close patches. You were relieved to feel the hairy man’s scissors snip away and the cold of the razor against the back of your neck.

Meanwhile the woman pulled out a trunk, an extra package set aside upon the top which she opened. Inside was a dark red and black suit. The material looked familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it.

“There now,” the man turned you in the chair. “How does that look?”

The mirror was broken, but you still appeared in it just fine, unlike the man and woman. Your hair was masculine, swooped to the side and the flowing front tucked behind your ear and the sides shaved short due to your fathers assault. It was how you always wanted to look. You looked like the man you knew you were.

“That’s amazing,” you whispered, touching your face.

The woman then approached from behind. “And your new wardrobe is even better!” She said excitedly. “Come, come, you must get dressed.”

The man walked off, going to prepare something in the corner while the woman dressed you.  She took note of the bite mark on your thigh, giving you a wink and a smile. She dressed you in the fine suit, making sure the hems set right and everything fit. 

“Perfect! The measurements were precise.” She moved you to the mirror again, showing you yourself. The suit hugged what it needed and hid what you didn’t want. You looked like the vision you saw in your head, the one that never had appeared to you before. Tears came to your eyes.

“I knew it! I did it!” The woman clapped her hands together then turned to the man, taking from him a silver clutch. She opened it, showing you the needle inside. “Sirion will know the rest,” she whispered to you. “He always provides.”

Still in tears, you weren’t sure how to respond.

The man and woman finished your meeting by giving you food, which seemed a bit jumbled, but you were hungry so the meal didn’t matter.

Afterwards, you were presented to Sirion, whose grin could have matched yours. He ran up to you, scooping you up and tossing you about in the air.

“My dashing prince!” he announced loudly and proudly. “Look how you shine!” He hugged you to his chest, his long fingers grasped around your head. “I knew you were meant for the finery of the vampires.” He smoothed his palms down your collar. “I had her make this from the suit I was wearing when we first met.”

That’s where it seemed so familiar! You beamed from ear to ear, even larger than before. “I love it,” you breathed into his chest. “Thank you!”

He stroked your hair, feeling the closely shaved sides with a delicate touch. “From now on, you will be seen. I promise. Where we are going, you will only see your best self.” He then laughed. “We don’t use mirrors much, but I have one just for you.” He bent down, kissing you. His lips were cool, but you had grown to love that feeling.

Once in the carriage again, Sirion had you in his lap, his hand in your pants touching you, feeling your desire from him grow.

“Seeing you like this, it makes me feel alive again,” he chuckled into your ear. His voice was breathy, deep, full of longing. “I cannot wait for us to make love for the first time.”

You moaned, fidgeting a bit in his lap. His fingers curled, eliciting a deep moan from your lips. “But we have.”

“Not like this,” he growled. “Not in freedom.” His fingers were slick, making wetter sounds as he moved. “I doubt I can hold myself until we reach safety.”

“You don’t have to,” you gasped. “We can-” You kept losing your breath from his touch. “We can do it now.”

Sirion breathed something of his old language into your ear. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Enjoy the rest as a free member over on Patreon!

[changisworld]

Marking with felix

word count:2,440

18+, MDNI!! smut below

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

sixth part of my 8 part masterlist of the extension of this & this headcanon of the members!!;3

kinks & pleasures masterlist here main masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS: marking(hickies & scratches) so much kissing, PIV, oral sex (f rec), fingering, slight hair pulling, teasing, edging, pet names, soft sex, praise, a tinyyyy bit of dirty talk, creampie, literally 99% smut

Ever since you first became friends with benefits with Felix, eventually even turning into lovers, he's never hid the fact how much he loves suckling on your skin, giving you little purple blotches all over your skin, & he loves nothing more than you also giving them to him back.

He is obviously an idol however, so to both of your dismay, you can't give him hickies in the same place he gives them to you, so you've both found some ways around it.

You're both laying on the L shaped couch in his dorm room, seungmin not being in the building, choosing to go out with Chan to give you both time to see each other, which you both use to your advantage, especially since it's almost impossible to get alone, especially with his schedule.

You're laying on his chiselled abs, your fingers aimlessly fiddling with the drawstrings of his joggers as his play with your hair as you both watch the anime Felix has been telling you about for weeks that you've been waiting to watch with him, but it's getting harder & harder to concentrate as your eyes land on his half hard cock, the grey sweatpants not doing much to hide it.

"How are you hard when we haven't even done anything?" you ask, giggling as you pat his hard on in a joking manner. "I can't help it! I've got you laying on me & you expect me to not get hot n bothered?" he replies, his freckled cheeks getting a pink tinge to them as he covers your eyes with his hand when you look up & laugh even more at his speck of embarrassment.

"Well I mean, Seungmin isn't home for at least another couple of hours, so we have time." you purr as you shake his hand from your face as you cup his half mast cock & you feel it twitch beneath his clothes & he lets out a small groan.

Felix doesn't verbally reply but he is quick to reposition you both so you're laying in Felix's old position & you spread your legs enough to make space for him to lay between them & lay between them he does as he nestles himself there & he is fast to lock his plush, pretty lips with yours.

You grow too desperate far too quickly, it only intensifying as he starts caressing your inner thigh as you work your tongue into his mouth & he can feel you smile against his lips & his tongue works that extra tiny bit more than yours to control the pace.

Felix shuffles your shorts down your legs, your underwear coming off with them as he stops tasting your lips & starts kissing down your jawline, not before giving your cheek multiple kisses before doing so, before he makes his way to your sweet spot at your neck & he flattens his tongue against it, sending a shiver up your entire body.

"babe, touch me, don't tease" you murmur, your eyes shut as you bask in the feeling of his touches as his small fingers drag through your folds but completely avoiding your clit, painfully slowly & you try jerk your hips just so his fingertips can rub against the area you want him most, but he is quick to bite down on your neck more harsh as a non verbal way to tell you to stop.

Felix unlatches himself from your neck, his lips coated in spit & a slightly darkened colour & he smirks & lets out a small hum to himself as he sees the two brand new hickies on your neck, almost overlapping the almost completely healed ones from almost two weeks ago.

"You look even prettier somehow when you have those all over you" he says, more so to himself than to you before he helps move your hair.

"Wanna give them to you too Lixie" you whimper, pouting as you look down at him as he shuffles your loose shirt just above your tits as he sloppily splatters some kisses on your skin there too, before letting his teeth lightly clench around your nipple, just the way you like & your legs shut around his frame & he completely moves the hand that is teasing your cunt away from it & you huff.

“me n you both, not fair you can’t” he mumbles in his deep voice as he wriggles himself down into probably his favourite position of all time, between your legs.

he’s sitting on his legs & he grabs a cushion from beside you both & you raise your hips on instinct & he lays it beneath you so your hips are raised & he settles himself between your legs, a slightly uncomfortable position for him with the way he is sitting but he wouldn’t even dream of ever letting it bother him.

Felix kisses your lower tummy, not scared to let his teeth scrape on your skin too before sucking some even more pretty purple-reddish marks into you, him making sure to not let them overlap your old ones for the best possible effect & view.

Felix admires your pussy, already wet from just him sucking on your skin & a couple of kisses & he is never not surprised at how well you react to him & his touches, always getting butterflies in his tummy at how well your body responds.

Felix blows some cold air onto your pretty clit as he spreads your folds with his fingers & giggles to himself as he watches you clench around air & he just can't even bother to try tease himself or you anymore, & he flattens his tongue on your cunt before slowly licking from the top to bottom, groaning to himself.

"Shit Lixie, feel so good, touch my clit, pretty please" you plead in a soft voice as you hold your legs open for him to get better access, which you know he appreciates, & he decides to give you what you're asking for & after getting a deeper taste of you by licking & prodding at your hole, he latches his plump lips onto your clit, suckling in a pulse pattern & he can't stop himself from slowly humping into his own legs that he's sitting on, dying for any friction he can get, but he sets it aside to enjoy the taste.

You think you can hear Felix mumble about how good you taste, humming to himself as his tongue swirl around your bud & you can't help but rock against his face.

You feel Felix bring a finger to your entrance, teasing it with his fingertip as he drags it up & down your folds, his tongue & lips refusing to give your clit a break.

"Fefe, want them in" you whimper to him as you try wriggle your hips to catch his fingers on your hole & he just hums against you as he yet again listens to you.

"you're so wet, didn't even try push me out" he groans to you as he lets go of your throbbing clit as he crawls back up your frame, his face just above yours as he slides a second finger in almost as soon as he puts the first one in & he scissors them in & out at a good pace, your favourite place & he knows it makes you melt into mush & he can feel it too.

"You're so pretty, you know that? missed you." he says in such a sweet voice, flashing you his cheeky but adorable smirk as he is smashing his fingers against your gummy spot, the palm of his hand hitting against your clit, small squelches & quiet sounding slaps of your wet pussy & his now damp hand connecting with it.

"Missed you, g-gonna cum Lix" you whimper, lifting your head to close the small gap to kiss him but he quick to move his head away just enough so you can't reach & he pulls his fingers out before putting them in your mouth, chuckling to himself.

"I don't want to wear you out too quickly, wanna feel you." he basically giggles, his eyes locked on yours, yours filled with slight anger at him snatching your orgasm away with no care in the world.

Felix pulls his fingers out of your mouth after he feels you swallow around them, before licking your own spit off his fingers, making eye contact with you as he sits back & shuffles his joggers down just enough to let his cock spring free, hitting his skin, already shiny from the insane amount of precum his poor cock has been leaking.

Felix drags his cock up & down your folds, pressing the tiniest bit extra against your clit, making your hips jerk as he returns to the position he was just in & this time, actually lets you kiss him.

The kiss is a mixture of desperate but also soft, your lips & tongues moving at a perfect rhythm & just as you both stop for a second to catch your breath, the breath you didn't think or know you had left is knocked out of you as he finally pushes inside, slowly until he is balls deep & settles himself there, trying his hardest to not start fucking into you like a bunny with how good you feel, feeling even better when you're constantly clenching around him.

"You're always so tight f'me, too good." he huffs, his forehead shiny with sweat as his eyes struggle to stay open & he leans in to kiss you again, a bit more sloppy this time & you start rocking your hips against him as you wrap your legs around his small waist & he takes the hint.

Felix starts rocking his hips into you, honestly overstimulated from the amazing feeling of your warm walls around him & he is so thankful he is back inside you after so long he could cry.

"Can feel you throbbing in me" you giggle, basically swapping breath as you look into each others eyes, your hands resting on his shoulders as he starts picking up the pace & you try but automatically fail to try swallow your moans.

"I've not felt you in so long, can't help it, don-don't swallow your moans, nob-nobody's home" he whimpers as his head drops from above your face into your neck, his cute, raspy pants & deep groans filling your senses.

Felix dancer hips come in useful as he switches his speed & rhythm & the new position helps his leaky tip is now kissing & rubbing against your G-spot & your cervix, the tune of your whines completely changing.

"Fel-felix wanna cum, so-fuck, so deep" you cry as your nails dig into the skin at the top of his back accidentally, but his whines just get even deeper, so you don't pay much mind.

"Cum f'me n I'll fill you up mkay? w-want that?" he asks as he uses all the strength he has left to pick up his head to look at your face, your cheeks completely flushed as you're bottom lip is a different shade to your top one from how much you were biting down on it not long ago.

You nod your head at his words rapidly, both of you sharing moans as you can feel your orgasm creeping up on you for the second time tonight & he can feel it too, which is just fuelling his own release, quicker than he had hoped, but how can he control himself when he is feeling you fully for the first time in basically a million years in his mind!

You clench around his cock uncontrollably & you tense up beneath him as your eyes scrunch shut & your toes & fingers curl as you shake under him, your orgasm hitting you before you could even tell him.

Your nails drag down Felix's back as you are fully wrapped in ecstasy & small squeaks leave your lips & you think you hear Felix hiss but also chuckles at you, his hips not slowing. "Cumming for me n not e-even waiting f'me n not t-telling me? So im-impatient" he purrs, his voice shaky & you don't have the energy to respond, so instead, you use the strength & energy you do have to wrap your fingers in his fluffy but now slightly damp hair & you tug on it, just the way he likes & he squeals.

"Cumming, cumming, cumming y/nnie!" he chants almost like a prayer & not even a second later, you feel his warm cum spurting into you, which sends a shiver down your spine as you watch his face contort as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his body mostly staying up because of your grip on his waist, back & hair.

You're both panting as he pulls out & you both quickly realise he's not even soft, being the complete opposite. You chuckle to yourself as you realise this & you're suddenly full of energy again & you help Felix settle on the couch & you zoom onto the floor, settling yourself on the floor between his milky legs & you don't waste any time in grabbing his still hard cock & you let a glob of spit drip onto his oversensitive tip, making his hips jolt, but you get interrupted before you can fully get into it.

"Don't do it on the fucking couch! I thought you had stopped & I've been dying for a drink but I wanted to wait for you to both finish! I don't wanna be rude but Felix you have no idea how to shut up you're so loud, you've sucked y/ns skin completely off & she's clawed your skin off!" Seungmin cries, pouting at the two of you as he has a glass of water in his hand, his eyes covered as he then scurries back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

You & Felix look at him as he runs off before looking at one another, before laughing. "Let's go to my room, I'll try stay quiet." Felix says as he is already standing up & taking your hand for you to both run off to his room, giggling, none of you bothering to pick up the few bits of clothes that were left on the floor.

->A:N: I don't think I like this AT ALL but I've been so busy lately this is the best I can do for now</3

->Taglist is open!

->Anon list is open!

[gurugirl]

The Warning | bfd!harry

best friend's dad!harry x reader | forbidden relationship

Summary: You and Harry are trying to heal after coming clean to everyone and Mrs. Styles comes to you with a warning.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of cheating and divorce, age gap, an uncomfortable confrontation

Best Friend's Dad!Harry Masterlist

You missed the occasional texts from Fae. Goofy memes or links to TikTok videos she knew you’d like. Recipes for you two to try. Screenshots from conversations with guys on Tinder.

There was nothing but silence from her for weeks at that point. And being blocked by her on every social media site you two were both on was glaring. It hurt. But what could you do? You’d categorically fucked up. There was no coming back from what you’d done to her family.

Most of your mutual friends were on Fae’s side and had also blocked you. Which you deserved and expected to be honest.

Harry slowly moved his things in. It took a couple of weeks. Every time he went home he tried to go at a time he thought his wife, well, he was calling her his ex now, wasn’t going to be there.

But, that afternoon, when he came home after you’d just had the worst shift you’d ever had in your life he was clearly upset. On edge.

And even though you’d had a terrible day you wanted to make sure he was okay, “Hey, are you all right?” You hugged one of his arms to your body after he sat a box full of his things down.

He smiled at you and brushed his fingers up the back of your neck, “She was there. It was awful. She’s just so full of rage toward me. And I get it, but it took a lot out of me. Better now, though,” he dropped his face to yours to kiss your mouth.

His kisses and his touches always made you feel better too. It was like everything outside of your little apartment was crashing down around you both, but as long as you stayed inside together you’d be okay.

He told you how his day at work was and then you both sat down on the couch and cuddled together, “How was your day at work, baby? I haven’t asked how your day was yet.”

You placed your chin on the top part of his arm as you looked up at him, “Horrible. Caressa is really mean. I think she’s trying to make me quit.”

Harry’s brows pulled together as he wrapped his arms around you, “Really? What has she been doing?”

“Well, last night she put me at the back. I had too many tables and no one to help because the bussers and floaters don’t go into the back when the restaurant is busy. They usually have two people waiting at the back to cover things but I was by myself so it was really stressful and the people I served were getting impatient with me so my tips were awful. And today I only had 2 tables my entire shift so I barely made any tips at all. I asked her if she could give me at least one more when a group came in but she just stared at me and laughed like I was crazy for asking,” You frowned. “Oh, and she updated the schedule without telling me. She’s got me off for five days in a row where I was supposed to be working all those days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this last night?” He rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“I just didn’t feel like rehashing it last night. Didn’t want to think about work at all.”

Harry pulled you into his body until you were sitting in his lap with your legs on one side. You rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes. Everything was better when you were with Harry.

“Quit your job. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. And if she’s trying to sabotage you then it’s not going to be worth it to fight for it when you’re not making tips anyway.”

You sighed. It already looked like that’s where it was heading. Caressa had been cold to you since she learned it was in fact Harry that she’d seen that day. Of course, she sided with her friend and started treating you like the tramp you were.

You and Harry made dinner together and then cleaned up the kitchen after eating, “Have you heard anything from Fae?” You asked.

Harry shook his head, “Not yet.”

You frowned, “I hope she comes around.”

“I think she will. Eventually.”

You hoped he was right.

When you’d both finally climbed into bed together you snuggled into Harry like you always did. And even with the stress of everything going on outside you two always found a way to unwind together and being intimate (which usually included sex) seemed to help you both calm down and sleep well through the night.

Harry’s hand dragged up and down your back, as you nosed at his shoulder with your thigh hitched over his hip, “I love you, baby. Can I make you feel better?”

You smiled in the dark, “I think we both need to feel better.”

Harry’s chuckle vibrated from his chest as he dropped his hand to your bottom and pushed at the fabric of your panties until they were down around your thighs.

He kissed you gently and ran his hand over your breasts and then downward to your labia.

You pushed at Harry’s underwear and slid your hand under the band and smoothed your palm over his cock.

With mouths connected you both gently got one another worked up. Harry’s fingers soon became messy with your slick arousal, and Harry’s cock hardened with the stimulation from your hand rubbing over his shaft.

“You want to be fucked, little girl,” Harry teased as he spoke against your lips.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Styles. Please.”

Harry groaned. He enjoyed it when you called him Mr. Styles or Sir. Lately, it had just been Harry as things seemed so serious with everything going on.

“Mmm… love that,” he smiled into the kiss as he pushed you down to your back and quickly rid himself of his underwear as you kicked yours the rest of the way down your legs.

He ran his tip through your pussy lips and inhaled deeply as he pushed into you. You felt yourself stretch around him and moaned in relief.

“It’s so good with you, sir. I need you,” you cooed.

Harry’s languid strokes long and deep always had you weak. You felt his fingers wrap around the back of your neck as he brought his mouth against yours with a whimper.

It might have been the quietest sex you’d ever had together. Harry kept his unhurried pace, deep and searing while he kissed you. Your body was on fire. You’d come soon.

But then his next words against your lips changed the mood and had your head spinning and your heart pounding, “Wanna be my wife? Have my babies, Y/n? Want to show everyone you’re mine?”

His harsh rut into you had you inhaling a sharp breath as your eyes popped open and you arched your back into him., “Yes, Harry…”

“Yeah? Wanna be my Mrs. Styles? Have your pussy fucked and filled every day?”

“God… fuck yes, Harry…” you groaned loudly and somehow you felt yourself grow wetter at his words.

“M’gonna give you a big ring and keep you properly fucked, baby. Okay? Show everyone this is real.”

His words were thick and deep and with his lips against yours, you could almost taste them. It made your mouth water. That you’d be his wife and get his cock every night. Prove everyone wrong. Give him a few babies. It was just a fantasy at that point but it sounded exactly like what you wanted.

“Oh my god…” you gasped. Harry was fucking into you harder and your bed began to rock and your quiet sex turned wet and loud. He still had his hand at the back of your neck, almost cradling your head as he gently squeezed and kissed you, his cock spreading you apart as he thrust deeply hips pasted to yours. “This is real. You and me,” you moaned.

You felt Harry begin to quiver over your body as he gasped, “Want all of you, baby. Want every inch of you to be mine.”

You nodded as the tip of your orgasm started to wind its way through your system, “Every inch of me is yours. From the first time you fucked me, Harry.”

He lifted himself slightly and pulled himself out to his tip before driving back into you, repeatedly fucking himself into you in punishing strokes.

You grunted at each plunge and clung to his love handles as you unraveled loudly.

“There you go,” he groaned, “Sweetest girl. Gonna give this to you every day, baby,” he began to thrust erratically, his hips swaying and grinding into you.

Your ears rang as your orgasm wiped you out. You heard Harry loudly moan in time with his thrusts just as began to come inside of you. You felt the sharp punches of his cock against your cervix as he unloaded himself within your pulsing walls. Just like you loved. The final moment of your orgasm with his long dick reaching into your cervix making you ache and swell as he throbbed and pumped into you.

You’d happily be his wife and give him babies and rub it in everyone’s face with how wrong they all were about you and Harry. This man was the love of your life.

.           .           .

“I can’t believe you’re hooking up with Fae’s dad,” Paloma whispered to you as you sat at the little table in your favorite café. A café you and Fae often met up at.

“Well, we’re not just hooking up. But yeah. I feel really bad about everything but...” you trailed off as you shrugged and took a bite of your pastry.

She nodded at you excitedly. Paloma was a mutual friend of yours and Fae’s. She was always closer to you, though. But when she found out about your affair (thanks to Fae) she called you to get the tea directly from the source.

“I always thought her dad was so hot. It’s crazy that this is real. That he left his wife for you? You know that’s not typical, right? Usually, affairs don’t wind up with the man leaving his wife for his side piece.”

 You cringed. You hated that was the perception. But you let it slide. You figured she wouldn’t exactly understand everything but it felt good to talk to someone about it who wasn’t your mother.

“I know. That’s why when we started everything it was just going to be like… not serious you know. We’d end things before it got to be too much. Before anyone found out or got hurt. But we both fell in love. I don’t know how we could have stopped it.”

“Fae despises you and her dad. When she called me I was confused because she never reaches out to me but then I realized she wanted to make sure as many people knew as possible,” Paloma laughed, “I mean… I was shocked but I’m still your friend. I can’t judge you for what you’ve done.”

“So you don’t think I’m a bad person?”

She chuckled, “Well, I don’t agree with what you did but I could never think you’re a bad person. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

You drank your hot tea and tried to enjoy yourself with your friend but the longer you and Paloma chatted, the more you missed Fae. No one could replace Fae. She was your other half in so many ways.

“Can I ask you a really personal question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

You shrugged, “Okay. Sure.” You had an idea of what she was going to ask based on the fact that you’d gotten onto the topic of birth control.

“Is he good? Now that I’m thinking about him like that I can imagine he is.”

You breathed out laughed through your nose and smiled as you looked down into your tea, “He’s good. Yes.” You weren’t sure how deep into it you wanted to get but you’d entertain her for a bit.

“And I bet he’s got a big… dick.” She whispered the word dick quietly.

That’s where you drew the line. You sipped your warm tea and turned your gaze to the corner of the room where someone was just taking their seat.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she spoke, drawing your attention back to her.

“It’s okay. I’m not sure I want to talk about that anymore, though. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

It turned out that Paloma didn’t have much to say about herself. She gave you the tiniest bit of information, where she was working, that she’d dated someone a couple of months back and that it didn’t work out, and how she was planning a vacation to Cancun. But that’s it.

It felt strange to divulge such personal things to someone who gave you so little in return. And you should have known that’s what was going to happen. She wanted the dirty details about you and Harry. She wasn’t there to be a friend. Not really. She wasn’t rude but you saw that her motivation was to sate her curiosity.

Maybe you were better off just confiding in your mother. Though, she never asked you things about how sex was with Harry. She always only wanted you to be happy and doing your best.

And it would have been fun to discuss in detail how good you were getting it with Harry. And if Fae weren’t his daughter you’d do that with her. Tell her all about how insane his body is, how strong he is, how big his cock is, and how he eats you out almost every day. You’d totally brag about him with her if things were different. But instead, you were stuck with Paloma who you didn’t want to give too many details to. And besides, you and Harry were still healing. To talk about how he was in bed didn’t seem right. Especially when you didn’t know who she was going to tell.

You stopped at the grocery store on your way home to get some things you needed and you picked up one of those cheap grocery store flower bouquets. Harry had stopped having them sent when shit hit the fan and he moved in. You didn’t know if it was because they were so expensive or just because he hadn’t thought about it what with everything going on, but you figured a small bouquet might feel nice to have in the apartment.

But when you pulled into your building’s parking lot you saw, what looked like Mrs. Styles’ car parked at the front. Of course, perhaps it was someone else’s, you were a bit paranoid lately. You always had your eyes roaming around just in case you accidentally ran into her or Fae.

With one arm occupied by your grocery bag and your other hand holding the small bouquet, you slowly walked up the steps toward your door and thought, maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Styles. Perhaps it was actually just someone with a car like hers. Plus how silly for her to confront you. What good would that do anyone?

“Y/n. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You heard her voice before you saw her and then felt her pull your bag from your arm, “Let me help you. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

You felt your vision blur and shade in with red as your heart pummeled in your chest, “Oh. Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” It was difficult to hide the shock you felt. You were sure she saw it.

You put your key into your door to unlock it and did some quick math in your mind for when Harry would be coming home. You didn’t want to be with Mrs. Styles alone. In your apartment.

“Cute. Kind of small,” she commented as she walked into your home behind you. She’d never visited before. “I’ll set this in the kitchen here, then?” She pointed to what was very obviously your kitchen.

“Yes. Sure. Thank you.”

She sat the bag on the countertop and you laid the bouquet on your little round kitchen table. You didn’t know what she wanted. What her intentions were. You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

She leaned her hip to the counter and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at you, taking in your outfit. You felt like you should have dressed nicer. Maybe you would have put more thought into your outfit if you knew you’d be seeing Mrs. Styles. You were wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a hoodie.

You kept thinking of things to say to fill in the very uncomfortable silence. One was that Harry would be home soon, but that felt wrong to say to the woman who was still married to him. Another was to ask her how she’d been doing. Also, not a good question to ask.

“Uh, would you like some water?” You walked toward the cupboard to pull out a couple of glasses. Even if she didn’t want one you needed it.

“No, thank you.”

You nodded to yourself as you poured a glass with water and took a gulp to soothe your dry throat.

“Would you like to sit?” You carried your glass to the kitchen table and gestured at it as you looked back toward her.

Her eyes pierced through you coolly, “No, thank you.”

You leaned your bottom into the table and looked down at your linoleum floor. You hated this. You had no idea how to do this with her. Whatever this was.

“Did you,” you looked up at her eyes, “Want to talk? Or…?”

“I don’t know that you and I have much to discuss that won’t end with hurt feelings. I just came here to see you again and say my peace. It was hard for me to remember what you looked like in my mind. I always imagine you as a high school girl even though I know you’re an adult and I’ve seen you as an adult. Kind of like how I see Fae still. My little girl,” she smiled. “And so with you, you were still a high school girl in my mind’s eye. Quiet. Polite. Fae’s closest and dearest friend. A warm and bright girl that I loved like my own daughter,” her words were razor blades.

“But I couldn’t imagine what you looked like anymore now that you’ve done something so unlike the girl I used to know. I needed to see you for what you are now. The person who’s sleeping with my husband. Who threw away a relationship with my daughter, who is the most beautiful and loving young woman anyone could ever know. And now I see it. I never saw it before but it was always there wasn’t it?”

You shook your head, “I never wanted to hurt–“

“No one ever does, Y/n. No one with any amount of good in their heart ever wants to hurt anyone much less themselves. But you’ve done it haven’t you? You’ve hurt Fae. You’ve hurt me. You’ve hurt Harry. And worst of all is that you’ve hurt yourself.”

She wasn’t wrong about anything she said. You had caused a lot of pain. You hurt people that meant a lot to you. Mrs. Styles, at one time, had meant a lot to you. But now it felt like she was a stranger in your apartment. Someone you didn’t want there.

“I get it, now, though. Looking at you. I was so confused at first. I thought why would Harry even look at you in that way? So I just came here to see if I could make sense of that and you as you are now. And… yeah I see it. You’re lovely. Definitely his type. And you’re sweet too. God that makes it so hard to hate you. I really wanted to hate you too but instead, I just hate Harry now. Because this is really his fault in the end. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she laughed incredulously, “I don’t like you one bit anymore. But I can’t hate you.”

You couldn’t keep eye contact with her. It felt like you were being incinerated.

“Harry’s had a lot of women after him in the past. Even after we were married women would flirt and try to get close to me just so they could get closer to him. It was funny because I noticed all of that. I was aware of what they were doing. Even had to cut a good friend out after she drunkenly admitted she wanted to sleep with him. He’s such an attractive man. Believe me, I know. I always knew other women found him sexy. But with you? Never had a clue. Wouldn’t have ever imagined it.”

You felt numb. You had no idea how to respond or even if you should.

“Anyway,” she pushed herself away from the counter and clapped her hands together with a faux smile, “That’s all I wanted to say. I hope you’re prepared for him to break your heart. Because this won’t last, Y/n. I don’t want him anymore but I’m just giving you a warning. If he can throw away a 24-year marriage for a 24-year-old girl whom he has nothing in common with, then just expect him to do something that catches you off guard.”

She walked past you to your front door and you listened as she opened and closed it behind her. You couldn’t move from your spot. You tried to breathe to calm yourself and not overthink the words she said.

You knew that she was angry and some of what she said was an attempt to get under your skin. To make you feel bad. Which you already did feel bad, of course. But now it felt suffocating. Felt like there were cracks starting to gape and widen between you and Harry but you needed to not allow that, as hard as it was. Hard not to take heed of her advice and note how other women wanted him and how he strayed from his wife whom he was married to for 24 years.

When Harry finally came home you didn’t know how long you’d been standing there at your kitchen table. You hadn’t moved a muscle. Your groceries hadn’t been put away. The flowers were still lying on your table. You were caught in your mind and battling not to allow your doubts about Harry to overcome you. Because you knew he loved you, you reminded yourself.

“Baby,” He wrapped his arms around your front as he stood behind you and kissed your temple, “Got groceries and flowers?”

You nodded shallowly.

He kissed you again and then you felt his face next to yours, could see from your peripheral that he was looking at you. He pulled his arms away and stepped to face you, pulling your hands into his, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

You slowly brought your gaze to his and immediately you felt better. His eyes. His concern. His warmth. And you could see the way he loved you. He loved you. You stepped toward him and put your arms around his middle and smushed your ear into his chest as you finally let your tears pour.

Harry drew his arms tight around you, “Baby, what happened? Tell me what’s wrong?”

You choked out a sob and squeezed him even more.

Harry sat down in a chair, and kept you with him, pulling you into his lap as he cupped your face and tried to look at you, “Sweetheart, you’re worrying me. Did something happen?”

You nodded and pushed your face back into his chest. You wished you could stop your tears and just tell him but you could barely sputter a word out.

He rubbed your back and gently rocked you as you cried in his arms and wetted his nice button-shirt with your tears.

When you felt better and felt like you could speak, your first words came out sounding so tiny and pathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, shh, shhh…” he softly hushed you, “Don’t be sorry, baby. Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffed and looked up at him, “She… your wife. She came here.”

Harry’s face dropped, “What happened? What did she say?”

“She just wanted to see me and tell me what she thought about everything. I couldn’t even speak I was so nervous. She wasn’t here long.”

He nodded and used his thumbs to wipe your tears, “I will have a talk with her. She should not have come here. She has no business to do such a thing.”

You leaned into his touch as he wiped your tears.

“What did she say to make you so upset? Talk to me.”

“Just that you’ll hurt me eventually and you and I have nothing in common. She wasn’t mean, though. Everything she said was true about me. How I hurt everyone. And she said that other women want you too and…” you swallowed. You could hardly put your thoughts together coherently.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/n. And you know it’s not true that we have nothing in common. You and I get along perfectly. She’s just upset. You know that right?”

You nodded.

“And I don’t care how many women find me attractive, or even how many men find you attractive. None of that matters. You know that.”

“I know. She was just upset. It just scared me that I had to confront her alone. And I hate how she looks at me now. I’m the woman who took her husband.”

When your tears had finally dried, Harry helped you put the groceries away and put the flowers in a pretty vase to display.

“I need to have flowers delivered again. These are pretty but I like the ones Florero delivers.”

You wrapped your arms around Harry’s middle and looked up at him, “You’re so sweet but you don’t have to. I know those were expensive. I just thought any flowers would look nice so I picked them up on a whim.”

“You deserve flowers from Florero, baby,” he kissed your forehead. “I just forgot about it since everything that happened and moving here with you. But you still deserve nice things.”

You really didn’t feel like you needed nice things. Harry had never done all that much in the way of spending money on you. It was flowers, some jewelry, food, a toy. Things like that. But you were happy to just have him. You were happy that he was yours. And as awful as it was to feel the way you did, you were glad he chose you because you were always going to choose him.

Harry smushed you against his chest, “You know how much I love you, Y/n. I would choose you over and over again. No matter how hard it gets. Never let anyone’s words convince you otherwise.”

And there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t believe him.

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[anitalenia]

━━━ .°˖✧ romance tropes ⋆˙⊹

𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑠. 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒, 𝑜𝑟 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑐𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒.

╰₊✧ ﾟOTHER LINKS . ྀི ⊹ masterlist | taglist | my library

| prompt help | symbol packs | dividers

˖⁺ ⊹୨ forbidden romance ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character cannot openly be in a relationship with someone for some reason ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ enemies to lovers ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are enemies / in violent opposition to each other in the beginning but gradually end up in love ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ friends to lovers ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are friends first, but end up falling in love with each other ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ dark/taboo tropes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ romance between two people that is considered inappropriate or wrong/not acceptable in society ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ opposites attract ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are drastically different people/opposite personalities but still somehow love each other ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ unrequited love ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character loves someone who is unattainable for some reason. one sided love. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ fake relationship ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters feel no romantic feelings for one another but are forced to be together. in some cases, they eventually fall in love. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ fish out of water ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character is in an unfamiliar environment and has to adapt. think city girl on a farm. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ soul mates au ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are meant to be together from birth, destiny, or soul ties. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ oblivious to love ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character is clueless about their own romantic feelings towards someone else ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ reverse harem ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ consists of one female protagonist and three or more male love interests. although I have heard varying definitions. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ secret identity ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are in love but one is not being truthful with who they really are/they’re hiding something from their love interest (like spiderman) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ love triangle ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are in love, but a third party loves one of the characters as well. or, one character is confused between two people who they love (edward x bella x jacob, stefan x elena x damon) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

━━━ .°˖✧ 𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑵𝑶 𝑬𝑿𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 ⋆˙⊹ 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑗𝑓 𝑖 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑙𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .݁

˖⁺ ⊹୨ marriage ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character is forced to marry another for some reason (arranged marriage) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ dark past ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character has trauma or pain because of their past, and their love interest helps them heal. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ amnesia / memory loss ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character loses their memory and has to regain their love and memories for another. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ alpha hero ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a male character is overprotective, bossy, jealous, possessive, and have great sexual appeal. think bad boy, biker, ceo fanfics. This can also be military men, superhero’s, men in leadership. a vague category. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ one bed trope ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are forced to share a bed 👅 you should know this one ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ forced proximity ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when two characters are forced into small spaces together or forced to be together in the same room. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ beauty and the beast ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a typically male character is capable of great rage and destructive, sometimes a literal monster, but the fem character loves them beyond their looks and sees the good in them. doesn’t have to be a literal monster. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ in peril tropes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character is in some sort of crisis and has to be saved by love interest. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ job related tropes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character is attracted to someone because of their job, or their romance happens at work/ a specific location (corrupt priest, military man, construction worker). can be taboo. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ time travel ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ when a character travels back or forward in time and falls in love with someone from that time period. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

authors note: I am going to be making posts describing each trope individually as well as sub-genres and examples of that trope. I had something similar to this in my notes for my stories and decided to share. there are a lot of tropes out there, so feel free to comment other ones. remember you are loved and important <3

[deadlymistletoe]

Deadly's Tolkien Masterlist

Thranduil x Reader

Forbidden Cells

Years prior Thranduil had been torn away from you after your relationship had been discovered. Under the impression you had left Mirkwood he never expected to find you in one of Mirkwood’s cells when he became king.

Unrequited

Over the years you’d managed to fall in love with your childhood friend, and kept your feelings hidden, terrified of ruining your friendship, but now years of hiding your feelings are catching up to you, making you unwell.

All Grown Up

When you receive a letter stating your son’s intentions to join the Fellowship of the Ring, you’re understandably distressed, but Thranduil is always there to talk you through it, important meetings or not.

A Marriage Overridden

Keeping your relationship with Thranduil a secret backfires when your parents arrange a marriage for you. Thankfully, all arranged marriages have to go through the elvenking himself.

An Execution

When you’re forced to witness an execution performed by the man you love, Legolas shields you from the sight, but Thranduil still has to reassure you later.

Fears and Bandages

Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.

Legolas x Reader

A Token Of Love

Legolas has been acting suspicious, but you soon find out why when he presents you with a gift.

Mistletoe Kisses 🎄

During a Yule celebration at Minas Tirith you introduce Legolas to mistletoe.

Aragorn x Reader

Charming Stranger

When a charming stranger helps you regain control of your horse in the woods, you don’t expect to see him again. You definitely don't expect him to be the king of Gondor.

A Series Of Kisses

A series of kisses leading up to your wedding night. (drabble)

Thorin x Reader

Misty Mountains

Throin helps you get back to sleep when you wake up from a nightmare while he’s on watch.

Ranger At Heart

You and Thorin grew closer than anyone thought possible as he healed, but deep down your heart will always belong to the wild.

Fili x Reader

Concerning Hobbits

Fili enlists the help of Bilbo to learn about hobbit courting customs in order to ask you out in the best way possible.

Dwalin x Reader

Men and Flowers

Insecurities creep up on Dwalin when he sees you with a young, human man. How could you ever want a dwarf like him compared to that? Little does he know, there's only one person you want, and it’s not the human man.

If you wish to join my taglist to be notified when I post new fics, click here.

[theodorenmyth]

Hi! I'm Kai. I actually go by so many names but I'm most comfortable with Kai/Kawa. I am a Hufflepuff and I'm a virgo! I am non-binary and I go by all pronouns.

I am also in many fandoms. Ex ; Stranger Things, Harry Potter, Anime (demon slayer, haikyuu, yuri on ice, etc) Kpop, and MLBB fandom.

Likes, reblogs, comments and new followers are appreciated. My requests are open and I am a STRICTLY M, GN, NB, FTM reader account. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Please DNI You fit the basic DNI criteria (homophobic, racist, transphobic, etc). Glorifies SH for attention, disrespects peoples pronouns/boundries. You support Z!0N1ST'S.

I wear glasses and I have phobias (thalassophobia, arachnophobia, etc). I have other socials.

Tiktok ; theodorenmyth | Instagram ; theodorenmyth

STATUS : ACTIVE+TAKES REQUESTS

And I also play Mobile Legends Bang Bang (msg me if you wanna play, also Asia servers only >_<)

Check out my other account! ; @theorchives

⋅ᯓᡣ𐭩 THINGS I WILL DO

Platonic

C/N & Sibling!au

C/N & Son!au

Modern!au

Talk to you

Answer your questions

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Imagines

Fanfics (ofc)

Moodboards

⋅ᯓᡣ𐭩 THINGS I WILL NOT DO

incest

abusive relationship!au

R4p3

Those weird aus

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Important note ; PLEASE do not STEAL, COPY, OR CLAIM my writing as yours. Do not use my work unless I give permission to do so. And my masterlist is not up to date.

✶ ; smut 　　 ♡︎ ; fluff 𐙚 ; angst ᡣ𐭩 ; angst-fluff

✽ ; fluff-angst ✿ ; smut-fluff ❥ ; fluff-smut

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ BLAISE ZABINI

Unexpected love ♡︎ Jealousy ♡︎ whipped cream delight ✶ a canvas of colors ♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ THEODORE NOTT

sweater ♡︎ Peace ♡︎ forbidden love 𐙚 Protection ᡣ𐭩 Jealousy Unveiled ♡︎ Weight of the Wings ♡︎ The Secret Between Professors ♡︎ Behind Closed Doors ♡︎ Breaking the Tradition. (sequel to forbidden love) ♡︎ A Twinge of Green ♡︎ Envious Echoes ♡︎ hidden affections ♡︎ sun and moon ♡︎ healing hearts ᡣ𐭩 startled affections ♡︎ envious hearts ♡︎ marked by love ✶ parole sussurrate ♡︎ protective affections ♡︎ head kiss habit ♡︎ dad reflexes ♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ MATTHEO RIDDLE

patchup routine ♡︎ Possesive Whispers. ♡︎ quidditch loss♡︎ Unexpected Mishap♡︎ Enchanted Vision ♡︎ Bunnies and Bromance♡︎ tangled promises♡︎ dont make it obvious♡︎ unspoken feelings♡︎ lost and found ᡣ𐭩 unveiling strength♡︎ the protectors panic ᡣ𐭩 hunter eyes ♡︎ playful duels♡︎ distracting love♡︎ defenders fury ᡣ𐭩 entwined in his touch♡︎ whispering shadows ᡣ𐭩 feral to tender♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅LORENZO BERKSHIRE

a brothers concern ᡣ𐭩 regrets ᡣ𐭩 Whiskers and Secrets ♡︎ locked hearts♡︎ posessive glances♡︎ veil of possession ✿ quidditch meetups♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ TOM RIDDLE

shadows of light ᡣ𐭩 Intense Desires ✶ the gentle darkness♡︎ silent comfort♡︎ carried by pride♡︎ clumsy ♡︎

play with fire ♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ DRACO MALFOY

against the odds ᡣ𐭩 enemies to lovers ᡣ𐭩

POLY RELATIONSHIP. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

Winterbreak Comfort ♡︎ simp and protect ♡︎ The Snake Tamer's Privilege♡︎ the eyes of the serpent♡︎ blinded by love♡︎ echoes of silenceᡣ𐭩 misheard magic♡︎ slytherin spoils♡︎ short of sleeves♡︎ ties of friendship♡︎

dreams and reality ♡︎

protectors embrace ♡︎

Shared Words ♡︎

Nights of Frights ♡︎

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SLYTHERIN BOYS REACT

Slytherin boys react (yule ball)

Slytherin boys react (confession)

ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓ

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ RON WEASLEY

freckles and braids. ♡︎ warm embrace ♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ HARRY POTTER

Through Each Other's Eyes ♡︎ Ensnared by Green Eyes ♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ FRED WEASLEY

identical, yet distinct ♡︎

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ CEDRIC DIGGORY

Last memory of him 𐙚 quidditch prize ✶

[heliads]

hi!! Can I request Harry Potter x f!reader, where Harry and y/n are dating and during the battle reader gets severely injured almost dead by Voldemort and Harry doesn’t know until after he defeats him he goes looking for reader but can’t find her, getting scared he goes looking for her and finds her under a pile of rubble realizing she’s about to die he uses the resurrection stone or wand to bring her back to life/heal her. Sorry if it’s really I’ve never requested before!

just read manacled so i'm desperately craving to write some hp angst so this request was perfectly timed thx anon xoxo

'someone take me home ' - harry potter

masterlist

The air is dark, choked with the ash and smoke of Harry Potter’s only true home.

Although he is not the one setting fire to the turrets, sending trolls in to demolish the stone parapets, or hurling curses through glass windows, Harry still feels responsible for the destruction. He is the one who challenged Voldemort by trying to hunt down his Horcruxes. He is the one who has brought this needless death and destruction into the castle. When Voldemort made his pronouncement that all of this fighting could cease if they would only turn Harry over to the Death Eaters, Harry had felt the weight of that guilt settle onto his shoulders like a cloak. It is his doing, all of this. He is the one to blame.

The only way he can make up for it is to end this, once and for all. If he does not kill Voldemort tonight– if he cannot end this war quickly– every life lost, every shred of memory and pride lost in the broken castle’s rubble will have fallen because he could not get the job done. Harry is responsible for everything that happens here tonight. He has to be responsible for winning it, too.

Harry is close to the end. So close. He has already died once tonight. He does not want it to happen again. For a moment there, when he went into the woods alone to meet his soon-to-be killer, armed only with a wand, a wish, and a deeply seated terror that would not leave him, Harry had not thought that he would come back. Dumbledore had not had the chance to specify that in his memories, that Harry would survive the Avada Kedavra curse for the second time in his life.

Harry had not known at all. Through Snape’s memories, he had seen that he would have to die for Voldemort to be killed, but there was no guarantee that Harry would come back. When Harry came away from the Pensieve burdened with that terrible truth, he had assumed that the blinding flash of green light would be all. When he said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, he had left them thinking that he would never return. Walking away from them was horrible, the price of seven years’ worth of incredible friendship. The only thing worse than that was leaving Y/N.

Y/N L/N. Harry’s girlfriend. They started dating during their fifth year, coasting on the thrill of sneaking around behind Umbridge’s back to run the DA. He’d liked her for longer, of course, he swears half the boys his year had a crush on Y/N at least since their second winter at Hogwarts, but Harry was the one who got to keep her around. He never forgot how lucky that made him. And, leaving her behind in the ruins of Hogwarts Castle to end his life, Harry reminded himself of it then, too. Even if he was going to die, he had lived a properly good life before the moment the Killing Curse was spoken aloud. He should have no reason to mourn all of the moments he would never have when he already experienced and enjoyed so many.

To distract himself in those cold, empty woods, Harry had reached into his pocket for the small, dark stone left to him by Dumbledore in the shell of a Golden Snitch. It’s probably not wise to carry a Deathly Hallow through the Forbidden Forest in search of a Dark Lord, but Harry was, after all, headed towards his certain death, so he figured that a little bit of risk was acceptable under those circumstances. Turning the Resurrection Stone over in his pocket, Harry had let his eyes flicker closed as he thought of something– as he wished for it, more than anything, more even than he needed to be alive– and then his eyes had opened, and he had seen his parents.

His first thought was that they looked just like their photographs. They smiled at him, reaching out wispy hands to guide him onwards. Remus and Sirius had joined not soon after. It was easier to be brave when he wasn’t alone, and it must have just been his mind imagining it, because he swore that just before he emerged into the clearing containing Voldemort’s camp, Harry saw Y/N there too, smiling and calling out to him.

He just wanted to think of her one last time, that was all. It meant nothing. Y/N was alive with Ron and Hermione. The one-hour truce had probably ended by then, so they would all be fighting again, but his two best friends would keep the love of his life alive. Of course they would. He made them promise.

Harry had removed that worry from his mind, and then he had died and subsequently come back to life. When he was lying on the cold ground, when Narcissa Malfoy had bent over him and asked him as quietly as she dared if her son was still alive, Harry has to admit that he was not thinking about the good of the mission to kill Voldemort, nor how he could keep up that crusade if he stayed alive. No, he thought about seeing Y/N one more time, and so he told her that Draco was still living. Harry didn’t even know if it was a lie or not, it didn’t matter, it worked. It could be true. Harry had no way of telling if Draco had passed away. All he could do was survive, clawing inch by inch until he could make it back to the grounds of the castle and tell for certain who was dead and who was alive.

The ruse, however misguided, had worked, and then Voldemort had crowed with sickly joy and dragged Harry’s body back to the castle. Harry was forced to remain stock-still, terrified to move so much as a muscle lest he give himself away and incur a second Killing Curse.

Now he is back, back here, back in the present moment, back in the castle. Harry is alive and everybody knows it. Harry heard the cheers erupt when he flung himself away from Hagrid to stand opposite Voldemort again, but he dared not look back. One distracted glance gives Tom Riddle a chance to kill him, and Harry cannot– he will not– give himself away like that after everything. His friends need him. Y/N needs him. Harry must do this, he must win.

Harry is no stranger to dueling, both with friends and enemies. When Voldemort points the Elder Wand at Harry, the wand that technically is under Harry’s control, Harry feels the moment thrumming in his veins like a bloodlust even before his opponent casts the spell. His wand hand rises of his own volition, the spell rising to his lips by reflex alone.

Two incantations are chanted at the same time. Avada Kedavra, Voldemort shrieks across the dusty courtyard, his voice like a death rattle. Expelliarmus, Harry shouts back, his heart leaping into his chest. He has never meant a spell like this before, and he swears he never will.

For a moment, all is still, all is quiet. The Death Eaters and students alike watch with bated breath as the two spells arc across the courtyard, but then Voldemort’s bright spark of green rebounds the second it comes into contact with Harry’s, sending both tumbling towards the Dark Lord. The Killing Curse hits Voldemort, and just like that, with no pomp and circumstance, no drama befitting the one who has caused them all so much violence and grief, Tom Marvolo Riddle dies.

Harry doesn’t believe it. Truly, he doesn’t, until he forces his limbs to walk over to the body of Voldemort and stand, staring, at the corpse until he is certain it does not move again. Slowly, surely, the Death Eaters peel away, and the students and members of the Order of the Phoenix come back again, surging around him like an ocean wave, rejoicing in their victory.

Ron and Hermione reach him first, one at each side. They embrace him, half crying, half beaming. Hermione’s saying that he’s done it, he’s won, and Ron is grinning at him proudly, telling Harry that he knew he could do it. Harry waits for the fourth person to join their party, but for some reason, she never does.

Harry pulls back slightly from their embrace. “Guys,” he says uncertainly, “Where’s Y/N?”

Ron and Hermione exchange confused looks. “She was just here,” Ron says vacantly. “Wasn’t she, Hermione? I swear I saw her a minute ago. We were fighting together, then a bunch of Death Eaters split us up. I got back to Hermione as soon as I could, but–”

“But you didn’t see her?” Harry interrupts. His voice sounds harsher than he intends, but a sudden, icy panic is beginning to flood through his system, and he cannot think about anything– he will not think about anything– until he is certain that this fear is unfounded.

He looks desperately at Hermione, the reasonable one, the one who always comes up with answers in times of crisis like this one, but she shakes her head quietly. “None of us have seen her since the fighting started up again,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“No,” he says forcefully, “No, that’s not right. Y/N is alive. We just lost her in the crowd, that’s all.”

It must be true. Harry won’t look at either of them, won’t see the slow rush of guilt that’s creeping into both of their faces. Y/N has to be here. She wouldn’t just leave him like this.

Harry pushes past the two of them, fighting his way back through the crowds. He scans every face he sees, ignoring friends and professors the moment he’s sure they aren’t her. When he doesn’t see her immediately, Harry looks not at the crowds but the grounds, the walls, to see if she’s lying down somewhere. She could still be resting, or maybe she has a broken leg or something and can’t move. There is still a way that she could be alive. There is still a way that she could come back to him.

No sign of her. Harry is about to leave the courtyard and try searching somewhere else, and then he sees a hand crumpled near a pile of rubble. The hand, bloody and streaked with dust, is connected to an arm, an arm which lies limp from a shoulder, which leads to a chest which leads to a face, a face he knows, a face which is Y/N’s.

Harry is kneeling on the ground in a flash. The body of a fallen Death Eater is somewhere to the side, and Harry has the brief, proud thought that Y/N managed to kill one of them before she– He cuts himself off just in time.

Y/N seems perfectly fine by all accounts, were it not for the ash beginning to tint her face a lifeless shade. It gets everywhere, that stuff, but it won’t matter, they’ll have time to clean up later, once it is all over. It is all over, he realizes belatedly, but not quite yet. Not until she sits up again and smiles at him like she always does.

Harry waits for this to happen, for her chest to rise and fall, for any sign of movement. Nothing comes. It is only sitting here, waiting, watching for nothing, when he realizes at last that Y/N is dead. He missed his chance to save her. Y/N is dead because Harry couldn’t beat Voldemort fast enough.

The grief crashes over him in spasming attacks. He cannot lose her, not like this. It was easier to be the one dying when he knew she would go on to live a long, happy life, but this is wholly different and much worse. Y/N deserved far more than a death at seventeen. She deserved far more than Harry letting her down in this final way.

He can’t allow this to happen. Harry has killed the Dark Lord, he has freed the Wizarding World from death and destruction, he will save his girlfriend and it will be his last victory. Harry claws at his pocket for the Resurrection Stone– he almost lost it in the Forbidden Forest, but not quite, and now he has it still– and presses it with shaking hands against her heart. Harry closes his eyes and wishes with everything he has that she would come back.

He doesn’t want to open his eyelids. If it doesn’t work– he can’t look at her again, fallen and still. He stays in the darkness until someone tells him in a light voice, “You can look now, Harry. I’m alright.”

Harry opens his eyes and almost sobs again. There, sitting up, is Y/N. She smiles at him. “Don’t look so surprised. You know what the stone does, don’t you?”

“I do,” he croaks, “but– I was so afraid, Y/N. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t have to,” she whispers back. “We’ll always be together now.”

He wants this. Harry reaches forward and embraces her. He can hardly feel her hug him back, but she’s probably still injured from the fight. She’ll have to get up to the hospital wing as soon as possible, Madam Pomfrey can make her as good as new in a second’s flash.

Harry steps back so Y/N can stand up, and then he starts to lead her back through the courtyard. Ron and Hermione have caught up to him by now, and they stare at Y/N with undisguised shock.

“She’s back,” Harry says exultantly, as if they couldn’t tell that already.

Hermione nods faintly. “Harry…”

Her voice trails off. Ron lays a comforting hand on her arm, then turns to Harry. “You found her, then?” 

For some reason, he doesn’t seem nearly as happy as Harry thinks the situation deserves. He’s just found out one of his best friends is alive, after all, but instead he seems as if he’s just come from a funeral.

“I did,” Harry confirms. “I’m going to take Y/N to the hospital wing now, just in case.”

Y/N nods in agreement, which makes Ron and Hermione exchange knowing glances again.

“What?” Harry asks, somewhat cross.

“Nothing,” Hermione says a little too quickly. “It’s just– Oh, Harry, you have the Resurrection Stone, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Why do you ask?”

The look in her eyes is deeply sorrowful. “You have to let go, Harry.”

He shakes his head. “What are you talking about? I just got Y/N back, I have to make sure that she’s alright.”

He moves to brush past them, but Ron holds out an arm. “Here, I’ll take Y/N to the hospital wing. How about you stay and talk to Hermione for a little longer?”

Y/N looks unhappy about this, and although Harry doesn’t quite want to be parted from her yet, he can’t technically see any problems with this, so he agrees, and watches mournfully as Y/N trails away behind Ron. She’s moving slower than usual, but again, that must be due to injury.

Hermione takes him by the arm and steers him away from the quickly burgeoning crowds. “Harry,” she begins slowly, “Do you remember what Xenophilius Lovegood said about the Deathly Hallows, about the Stone in particular? How it drove the second brother mad because his bride came back from the dead, but she was never really the same?”

“I do,” Harry says vaguely, not entirely sure what this has to do with him, “But that’s not the case with Y/N, though, she’s fine. I reckon it’s because I have the Elder Wand too, you know?”

Hermione sighs. “Harry, that’s not the Y/N you lost. She’s different. I think she’s closer to a ghost than a person.”

“No,” Harry says unsteadily, “She’s just like I remember, honestly. I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s nothing like a ghost.”

Hermione takes a slow breath in and out. She’s obviously fighting tears. “That’s because she hasn’t been herself lately, even before she– even before she died, Harry. The war has been hard on all of us, but her especially. It’s taken quite the toll on her, so much so that you would see a ghost of the girl you knew and still think it was her.”

“That makes no sense,” Harry protests, but a persistent feeling of doubt is starting to shadow his mind.

“I can prove it,” Hermione insists, and reaches into her pocket to pull out a photograph.

Harry holds it in his hands and stares. He remembers the moment this photo was taken more than he recognizes the actual people inside of it. This was one of the last days they had to themselves before the war broke out in earnest and everything went to hell. It had been in the spring, all four of them in the Gryffindor Common Room. Colin Creevey had taken the photo while they were unawares and to punish him, they’d confiscated it. Harry had no idea Hermione had held onto it, but now he’s pressingly grateful that she had.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all look the same, albeit a little younger, a little less beaten down, but Y/N– the Y/N in this photograph is nothing like the girl he’d just seen. This Y/N is vibrant, laughing uproariously at a joke one of them has just told. The version of her in the photograph turns with a start when the photo is taken, but she’s still grinning up at him, still happy. Harry feels as if a saturation charm has been cast upon the photo, it’s the only thing that would explain why she looks so bright and alive here.

Alive, unlike how she looks right now, because she isn’t. Harry had tried to bring her back, but it hadn’t worked completely. Just like in Lovegood’s story. He thinks back to the past few months and he remembers how Y/N had been, how the light had slowly drained from her. The constant running had been hard on all of them, but it was worst of all on Y/N. She was the one forever thinking of new places to go, new things to try, wearing the locket for the longest, never putting up a fight. Slowly but surely, it had coaxed the life out of her, so much so that Harry couldn’t even tell when she was just a shade he had brought back from the dead.

Hermione nods slowly, seeing that Harry understands at last. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” he murmurs bleakly.

“Are you going to end the enchantment?” She asks him.

Harry feels like he’s drowning, engulfed in the ash and flame surrounding him. “I will. Just– let me say goodbye first.”

“Of course,” Hermione says. “We’ll be here when you need us.”

It’s more than he can ask of her right now, both to pull him out and to support him when he’s reeling from the shock of it all. They must be devastated too, Hermione and Ron, both of them have friends here who have died in this final battle and throughout the whole war, but they’re putting him first again. He’ll never be able to thank them enough for that, but he can try.

An idea occurs to him as he walks over to Y/N. He’s still got the Elder Wand in his pocket. He hadn’t needed it for the Resurrection Stone, he hadn’t even been touching it, but maybe– just maybe–

He casts a quick summoning charm to bring his invisibility cloak over, then pulls the Resurrection Stone out of his pocket. The Elder Wand in his other hand completes the triad. All three Deathly Hallows, all together at last. Dumbledore had wondered what having all of them together might do, how one might finally become a Master of Death. He had mused once that perhaps one had to accept the inevitability of one’s own death, to brush it off and greet Death as an old friend, as the third brother had done in the tale.

Harry has done this already. Died. He accepted it then. Facing Y/N, he accepts it now. He may die from doing this, but it would be alright. Y/N deserves to live. Harry embraces his fate, whatever it may be. He has the Hallows, but he would give them up for her, he would give up anything. Even himself. He has not meant a spell like this before, except once, and he swears he never will.

There’s a sudden rush of wind around him that forces Harry’s eyes shut, just for a moment. When he opens them, Y/N is still there, but she’s a shade no longer. This time, when she surges forward and hugs him, he feels the embrace completely. 

“It’s really me,” she laughs, shocked, “I don’t know how you did it, Harry, but I’m really back.”

“You promise?” Harry gasps, half choking on his own surprise.

“I promise,” she smiles.

Harry glances back over his shoulder to where Hermione and Ron are watching with dropped jaws. One look at his friends is all he needs to know at last that yes, this is real. He’s finally won. The Dark Lord is dead. His love is alive.

At last, at long last, the last of his burdens disappear into the faint light of morning. Harry Potter is free.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[dindjarindiaries]

Senator's Shadow - Chapter 1

summary: Hunter briefs the squad on their new mission, though he’s in for a surprise of his own upon meeting the senator they’ll be protecting.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: bodyguard romance, forbidden love, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut

word count: 3.932k

series masterlist ⟹ chapter 2

chapter 1 ⟹

“That’s it?” Echo was even less impressed than usual. His brow rose as he set a hand on his hip. “That’s the big news?”

Wrecker let out an exasperated groan of his own. “Sarge, we don’t need a break!”

Hunter’s eyebrow quirked up. “Tell that to Tech.” The sergeant gestured with his head to their squad member who was sitting just behind where he stood on the Marauder. “He still can’t walk right. I’m not throwing us into battle when we’re not all one-hundred percent.”

“Actually, I will have you know that the ligaments in my ankle have already gotten forty-two percent stronger.” Tech finally lifted his nose from his datapad and pushed his goggles up with his finger. “As you can see, I—...” Tech stood from the chair, but as soon as he placed too much pressure on his ankle, he winced. With a defeated exhale, he sunk back into the chair. “I am still healing.”

“Exactly.” Hunter crossed his arms over his chestplate. “This is still a mission, even if it’s not our usual pace.”

“As long as I have something to aim for, I’m fine with it.” Crosshair spoke without looking up from his rifle, which he was cleaning with his usual intensity.

“Well, if all goes well, you won’t.” Hunter’s prepared for the heat of Crosshair’s stern stare when it hits him. “It’s a protection job, for a senator.”

Crosshair’s response was even more snide than usual. “Isn’t that what the Coruscant Guard is for?”

“And the Jedi?” Echo added.

“On Coruscant, sure.” Hunter leaned his shoulder against the nearest interior hull and enjoyed the long moment of attentive silence he had from all four members of the squad. It was a rarity those days. “But this mission’s based elsewhere.”

Echo narrowed his eyes and spoke in a cautious tone. “Where?”

Hunter caught the gaze of all his men before answering. “Eirus.”

“Eirus is currently experiencing an intense inner crisis,” Tech somehow had the words ready for the rest of the squad straightaway, as if he knew what name was about to fall from Hunter’s tongue. “Nearly half the planet’s population is composed of fiercely loyal Separatists who have splintered into small factions. Some of these factions have become very violent in an attempt to force their senator to pledge her allegiance to their cause.”

Echo raised his brow and turned his calculated gaze from Tech back to Hunter. “This isn’t exactly an unusual thing to be happening during this war.”

“No, and that’s why most senators are staying on Coruscant longer than they used to.” Hunter’s hand slid down to his hip as he recalled the details of the short briefing. “Because of the crisis on Eirus, the senator is traveling on-world in an attempt to reach a compromise and bring an end to the violence.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Wrecker commented. He let out a hearty chuckle and shoved the shoulder of his nearest brother, who just so happened to be Crosshair. “I like this senator already!”

“She’s not the one who will have to fight if things go sideways, Wrecker,” Crosshair reminded him in his usual cool tone. The corner of his mouth began to rise as he went on. “That’s what we’ll be there for.”

“Right.” Hunter began to relax a bit as he watched the squad warm up more to the mission. “I told you it was a break because it’s a change in pace, but don’t worry boys.” Hunter pushed himself off the hull and nodded as his lips stretched in a satisfied smile. “I have a feeling we’ll still be seeing some action.”

“So, I will get to shoot something?” Crosshair cocked his rifle with a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

“And I’ll get to blow something up?” Wrecker set a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder again as he stepped forward. Crosshair shot him a disapproving look.

“That depends.” Hunter drew his blaster from his holster and flipped it a few times in his grasp, though the latter movement was subconscious. “We’re on a struck stun-only policy.”

“What?” Wrecker gasped with surprise. “Why? What if there’re droids?”

“Seeing as we are soldiers of the Republic, using live rounds on the people of Eirus would only escalate the issue the senator is trying to resolve,” Tech answered. “We would be giving the Separatist population another reason to justify their actions against the Republic.”

“And as far as our intel goes, no Separatist forces have made their way to Eirus,” Hunter added, holstering his blaster.

“Yet.” Echo spoke the word that hung in the air between the five of them.

“We’ll have a better idea of exactly what we’re up against when we get there.” Hunter shifted to face Tech. “For now, we have to head to Coruscant to meet the senator.”

Tech nodded, spinning around in the pilot’s chair to chart a course. The squad began to break off as the sergeant sat in the open co-pilot’s chair beside Tech’s. Crosshair was still adding the final touches on his rifle’s cleanliness in the seat behind Hunter’s, while Wrecker and Echo had disappeared further inside the hold.

After Tech finished inputting the coordinates, he turned to look at the sergeant. “Hunter, you know that we do not have to do this on my accord.” He looked down at his wrapped ankle. “With the bacta infusions I have been doing, my injury should be completely healed in about two rotations’ time.”

“I know, Tech.” Hunter let out a soft exhale and leaned back in his chair. He unsheathed his blade and began to twirl it around in another subconscious exercise. “We’ve just been running a lot of back-to-back missions, and obviously, it’s starting to catch up to us.”

Crosshair snorted, and Hunter’s senses didn’t need to amplify the sound to make it obvious. Hunter didn’t bother giving him a look as he focused on the movements of his knife.

“Plus, we were specifically requested for this mission.”

Tech’s brow shot up at that. “Someone selected us? For a protection job?”

“Not just ‘someone.’” Hunter gave Tech a quick glance to highlight the smirk that had begun to tug at his lips. “The senator herself.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, clearly unsure of what to do in his shock. “The senator? That’s highly unusual. Typically, it would be an individual on the senator’s personal guard who would do the necessary research to—.”

“I think Hunter knows how it works,” Crosshair huffed from his place behind them.

“You’re right though, Tech. It’s unusual.” Hunter caught the hilt of his knife and paused to fully face Tech. “It caught my curiosity. I want to know what she thinks is so special about us.”

Tech blinked at Hunter a few times. “I presume it would be our desirable genetic mutations that are, in case you were not aware, not a secret.”

“Yeah, and what does that usually cause?” Hunter sheathed his blade and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Caution and distrust. Not a personal invitation to what’s most likely the most important diplomatic mission of her political career.”

“You… have a point.” Tech lifted his datapad and began to tap around it. “I will do some more research on the senator.”

“Great.” Hunter stood and patted Tech on the shoulder before he moved out of the cockpit. 

Wrecker was already lounging in the chair by the systems console, while Echo lingered in the corner and fiddled with something on his arm. Hunter caught their attention as he stepped into their space, which made it all the more easier for him to address him.

“You boys should get some rest. We’re a long way out from Coruscant.” He nodded at Echo, who had raised his brow before he had a chance to ask his question. “I’m taking first watch.”

“Again?” Wrecker’s tone was coated in disbelief. His gaze betrayed that same emotion. “Are you actually gonna get some rest this time, Sarge?”

Hunter shrugged and offered a small smile. “Depends on how fast we get there.” He let out a sigh when Wrecker’s concern still didn’t let up. “Don’t worry about me, Wrecker. We’ll all be getting some more rest on this mission.”

That was enough for Wrecker, causing him to nod as he leaned back further in the chair and closed his eyes. His feet had already been kicked up on the console, and he was fortunate Tech hadn’t yet noticed. That wouldn’t last long.

As Hunter turned to re-enter the cockpit, he found Crosshair already standing and shouldering Tech. “We already heard you,” Crosshair assured him.

“I pulled up everything I could find on the senator,” Tech informed the sergeant, handing him the datapad with his free hand. “What I found most fascinating was the motivation behind her appointment.”

Hunter nodded at Tech in approval, and he knew better than to comment on the speed of his research. “Good work.” He looked between the two of them. “Now get some rest.”

Tech spoke to Hunter over his shoulder as Crosshair started to crutch him away. “You are aware that the brain and the body cannot properly operate on limited rest, especially with as little sleep as you have gotten in recent rotations?”

Hunter scoffed fondly to himself and called back to him. “Thanks, Tech.”

The sergeant held the datapad and made himself comfortable in the pilot’s chair. He leaned back and held up the datapad, clicking through Tech’s research. Taking his brother’s advice, Hunter first looked at the senator’s background, specifically the history of your appointment.

His eyes widened as he read the Aurebesh text in front of him. He had to agree with Tech; your ascension from rebellion leader to senator was nothing short of fascinating.

According to the history Tech had pulled up, you had been the one to organize a large group of Eirus’ population against an oppressive local regime, which had slowly taken over the planet’s government. They had covered up the assassination of Eirus’ senator, who was your relative, and withdrawn from the Republic Senate altogether. It wasn’t until your forces managed to topple their regime that you had become the planet’s senator and reestablished a relationship between Eirus and the Senate.

That only made Hunter’s curiosity ache even more. If you once had enough forces to overthrow a regime, then why did you need a Republic squadron as protection? It did, at least, speak somewhat to why their squad had been chosen. Clearly, as a soldier and tactician yourself, you had done the research to find the ideal squad for the job.

Even as his eyes began to burn from the aforementioned lack of rest his brothers had been getting on his case about, he couldn’t stop planning the ways he would pick your brain for the reason why they were the ones you needed so badly.

This kept Hunter busy for the commute. He remained on watch the entire time, only leaving his post when the Marauder was about to drop out of hyperspace. Hunter woke up the squad and instructed them to get ready, and it was no surprise that Tech was already prepared to take the helm. His ankle had healed considerably during his rest, just as he had predicted, and thus he was able to limp himself to the cockpit with a surprising amount of ease.

Hunter stayed in the co-pilot’s seat and gave Tech the information on the senator’s designated docking area. It had been a while since their last visit to Coruscant, but of course, Tech navigated the air traffic with ease. The Marauder soon began its descent onto the platform, and Hunter observed the space with a raise of his brow.

Rather than the typical red markings of the Republic, or even the white and gold accents many senators added for flair, your platform was filled with delicate swirls of green and purple. The color palette reminded him of the few lush planets he and the squad had been to on various missions, emulating the colorful overgrowth of forests and gardens. He let out an impressed huff. It seemed you were truly carving your own path in more ways than just one.

Hunter rose from his chair to collect his belongings. He secured his pack on his back and checked all his weapons before reaching for his helmet. As soon as the Marauder had fully landed, Tech did the same, and he was the last of the squad to get in formation by the hatch. After Hunter did a quick assessment of them all, he slid on his helmet and lowered the stairs.

As he led the way out, Hunter observed their surroundings more closely. They were being approached by the senator and her guards, with the man Hunter had spoken to leading in front and the others blocking the senator from view. The guards wore the same colors of green and purple as the platform, and their weapons were accented with silver.

“Sergeant,” the head guard greeted once he was in earshot. Hunter wondered if the man knew he still could have heard him at any distance. The guard stopped just a few paces away from the squad and bowed his head. “Thank you for arriving so promptly.”

Hunter removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm before repeating the man’s bow. “Captain.” He gestured with his head to his squad. “We’re just as eager to get going.”

The captain smiled. “We figured as much.”

Hunter’s eyebrow rose. “‘We?’”

The captain’s grin spread even more widely as he took a step back and gestured with his arm to the guards behind him. “Allow me to formally introduce you.” The captain announced your full name and title, and the guards standing in front of you parted to allow you to step through.

Hunter was no stranger to seeing and speaking with diplomats and leaders, from planetary royalty to the other senators of the Republic. Those types of positions always emphasized image, and thus Hunter was used to seeing some of the most conventionally attractive people in the galaxy—but this, seeing you, was the first time he ever had to audibly stifle a breath.

For once, the only heartbeat Hunter could sense was his own, the skip and then speed of it as it hammered against his armored chest.

Composure. It was a lesson he and the others all had to learn on Kamino, and it was one he had always excelled in. It was much of the reason why he had earned his rank as sergeant. This, however, was the first time he ever had to forcibly remind himself to find it.

Then he realized the strength of the skip in his heartbeat wasn’t just from his own, but also from yours. That made his mask slip for one second more before he pulled it together.

“Senator.” Hunter resisted the urge to clear his throat as he bowed his head, taking the quick moment of concealment to let the flush burn through his cheeks. It was hard to keep the sensation from persisting when he looked back up and observed that you wore the same colors as your guards.

“You must be Sergeant Hunter.” Your voice added a new layer of unfamiliar yet sweet warmth to Hunter’s chest as your lips spread in a radiant smile. You extended your hand towards him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

All thoughts and proper protocol dissipated from Hunter’s mind as he saw your outstretched hand in front of him. He took it without his gaze ever breaking from yours and raised it to his lips, gently kissing the soft skin on the back of your hand before offering it back to you. “The pleasure’s all ours, Senator.”

And there it was, another skip in your heartbeat. Hunter fought hard to hide his own smile as yours grew. Your gaze gave him a once-over, an action so quick Hunter would have second guessed it if he hadn’t felt its gentle burn. “I like your armor. It’s different from the other clones.”

“Yeah, well… so are we.” His words reminded him of the squad who still stood behind him, and Hunter stepped aside to make them all more visible. “Let me introduce you to the squad.” He began with Wrecker, who was closest to his side. “This is—.”

“—Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair.” You named each one of them with ease, your face beaming as you gave them all a respectful nod. “I apologize for cutting you off, Sergeant. I just… I love your squad’s work.”

Hunter blinked a few times in surprise at what he was hearing. It was rare enough for such diplomats, politicians, and royals to have even heard of his squad, much less admire what they did on the battlefield. “Well, uh… thank you, Senator.”

“That is certainly a surprising sentiment,” Tech couldn’t keep himself from adding. “Commonly, the adjectives associated with our battle strategies are… less than favorable.”

“Hah!” Wrecker elbowed Tech’s chestplate, making him wince and rub the spot with narrowed eyes. “My favorite was when that prime minister called us ‘destructive.’”

“You’re not being helpful, Wrecker,” Crosshair muttered.

“Oh, stow it, Crosshair,” Wrecker scoffed. “You’re just mad that I got the last of ‘em on that mission.”

“That’s enough.” Hunter resisted the urge to sigh at them as he turned to face you with an apologetic look.

You instead offered him a reassuring nod and a soft laugh. “I think it’s great you have some friendly competition in your squad.” You looked over them with fondness. “It breeds efficiency.”

“That’s right!” Wrecker cheered. He reached over to Crosshair to give his armored shoulder a light push. “I told you I would like her!”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one,” Echo mumbled, his words only loud enough for the squad to hear. 

Hunter tightened his jaw when he felt their gazes on him and heard Crosshair’s snickering. “If you’d like, Senator, we can lead the way in our ship.” He gestured with his free hand back to the Marauder. “Just in case there are any unwanted surprises awaiting your arrival.”

“Hopefully that’s not the case, but I’d appreciate that, Sergeant.” You smiled again and nodded. “Thank you. I look forward to working with you more closely on Eirus.” Your gaze lingered on Hunter before it looked around the squad.

“As do we.” Hunter bowed his head once more. “Tech will set up a secure comm channel for us to use once we’re on board.”

“Perfect.” Your smile was directed at Tech as you nodded at him. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You do not need to extend gratitude towards me for merely fulfilling my purpose, Senator.” Hunter couldn’t help the small eye roll he gave at Tech’s words. So much for Hunter being the one to slip up on propriety.

Hunter slid his helmet back on and began to lead the squad back to the Marauder. His face burned from both his memory of what had just happened and his anticipation of what he would be up against inside the ship. He flexed the hand that had held yours as it also burned at the memory of your touch.

Maybe Hunter was more right before than even he had known at the time. Maybe all those missions really had taken its toll on them, and maybe it was driving him down a delusional spiral. He really did need to get some rest.

As soon as the squad was on the Marauder with the hatch secured in place, Tech spoke up. “That was not the proper protocol for greeting a senator, Hunter.”

“I’m aware, Tech.” He lifted his helmet and gestured with his head to the cockpit. “Get those comms set up and chart our course.”

Tech nodded, though Hunter didn’t miss the faint smile on his lips as he limped to the cockpit. Hunter set his helmet down and ran his hand over his hair as he thought about what to do next. He had a plan before, surely; he had thought of it in hyperspace on the way to Coruscant. It had, of course, vanished for some reason.

“You seem distracted, Sarge,” Wrecker’s voice broke through Hunter’s thoughts as he grinned slyly at him.

“Come on, Wrecker,” Echo said next. His expression turned from serious to amused as his gaze found Hunter’s. “Clearly, he is distracted.”

“I’m thinking about our arrival on Eirus,” Hunter insisted.

“And your reunion with—,” Crosshair started.

“Our plan.” Hunter raised his brow, challenging them to continue. Crosshair raised his brow and fought a smile as he set a toothpick between his lips. “We don’t know what will be waiting for us when we get there.”

“You sound worried, Hunter.” Echo set a hand on his hip as he faced the sergeant. “I thought this mission was going to be a ‘break.’”

“Nah, he’s just getting protective already.” Wrecker set a hand on Echo’s shoulder and chuckled a few times.

Hunter circled his jaw and crossed his arms. “That’s the whole point of this mission. Protecting.” Hunter furrowed his brow at the men around him. “Don’t forget that.”

Echo’s brow rose as he looked over at Wrecker. “You’re right, Wrecker.” He snickered. “‘Protective.’”

Hunter rolled his eyes and turned around to walk into the cockpit. As he went, he heard Crosshair say one more thing to Echo and Wrecker. “He really does need to get some sleep. He’s gotten… cranky.”

Hunter didn’t bother throwing a glare over his shoulder as he approached Tech in the pilot’s chair. He set his hands upon the back of the chair to check on Tech’s progress. “How’s it going in here?”

“Presumably much better than it has for you out there.” Tech didn’t so much as crack a smile as he worked the controls, despite his joke that made Hunter huff with amusement. “The comm channel is fully functioning, and our course is charted. Seeing as Eirus is located in the Outer Rim, we will have another lengthy trip ahead of us.”

Hunter nodded. “Great. I’m going to get some long-awaited rest.”

“Good.” Tech looked up from the controls to give Hunter a pointed glance. “I believe it is the lack of rest that caused such a slip-up in your propriety today.”

Hunter smiled at that, and part of him wanted to believe it. “Right.” He patted Tech’s shoulder and stepped out of the cockpit. Echo brushed past him on his way to claim first watch, and Wrecker and Crosshair couldn’t keep their sly smiles contained as Hunter walked to his bunk.

As he settled in, the full weight of what had happened during your meeting began to sink in. Tech had a point, as it had to be the lack of rest that allowed him to get so carried away. There was no point in even entertaining the thought of giving in to the warmth he had felt before. Potential reciprocation wouldn’t change that.

He knew what Cut had sacrificed for Suu. As the leader of his squad, Hunter couldn’t do the same. He refused to.

And the fact he was even letting such thoughts go so far caused his face to burn with a different kind of embarrassment as he fell asleep to flashes of green and purple in his exhausted mind.

series masterlist ⟹ chapter 2

[askinkiskarma]

Cruel Summer | Chapter I: August

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: You and Neteyam have been friends since you were children, and you taught each other everything, from English and Na'vi, to movie references and hunting, to everything about your own and the other's bodies. It was the perfect friendship-with-benefits, on paper. But how long can it last in the face of all that stands to tear it apart?

A/N: I'm so excited to say my new Neteyam series is officially here, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter!! This was for some reason one of the easiest and at the same time, one of the hardest piece i've ever written, like some parts came to me almost instantly and others I STRUGGLED WITH, besties. I hope it's not super disjointed and that you're as excited as me to embark on this journey. Thank you for your patience and can't wait to hear your thoughts. As always, I deeply appreciate your replies, reblogs, likes and follows, they mean so much x ly besties xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to August here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it

Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinking I had you

There was so much about you and Neteyam’s relationship, if you can even call it that, that was wrong and unsightly, that was forbidden and hidden. But, as you stood in the forest, propped on your elbows, taking in the sun shining brightly through the leaves and his toned, azure back, on which patterns of the forest branches rippling in the breeze formed, you couldn’t care less if you tried. In these moments, fleeting and irreplaceable, life was everything you’ve ever wanted, more than you could have ever dreamt, and enough to keep you going. In these moments, there were no humans and Na’vi, no impending doom, no animosity over your presence in the village, no hatred emanating from Neytiri’s entire being whenever her intense and prying eyes spotted you or Spider in the crowd or amongst her kids, no woman that would soon be bearing Neteyam’s children, there was nothing else, but him and you and the promise of hushed confessions and wandering hands, of lingering stares and breakable heaven. 

You couldn’t help be drawn by the silent invitation of his body, so tempting and beautiful, so big and different to yours, but just similar enough to allow for… certain enjoyable, mind-blowing pastime activities that were sure to occupy the time and every ounce of free space in your mind, and your soul, and your entire being. Your hand trailed on his back, from the nape of his neck to the band of his loincloth, moving over the scratches that you left on him just a couple hours ago, over the healed scars he got from battles and hunts that you could name and describe each of by heart, and you drew your name on his back with your fingers and the air beneath them as ink, hoping this way you’d mark him, this way you could keep him forever. Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, you playfully tugged at the purple fabric covering him. He turned around on his side to face you, his defined abs and chest fully on display, and the way he eyed you, desperate and needy, full of hunger and desire, made your stomach churn and core throb. 

“What do you think you’re doing, ma Vol?” 

Your mouth curved in a mischievous grin, which turned into a full-blown laugh as he grabbed your much smaller hands in one of his large blue ones and with very little visible effort, stretched your arms above your head and manoeuvred you on your back on the mossy, comfortable grass. He hovered over you, his smile mirroring your own from just a few moments ago, and he tapped the mask currently providing the oxygen needed to keep you alive with his index finger, the sound ringing in your ears like bells in a church. 

“I would give anything to not have this in the way right now.” 

“Me too. Death by make-out with a hot blue 9 something foot tall alien? There are worse ways to go.” 

He shook his head at you and scoffed, but you could tell he was amused. The desire you felt for him instantly diminished as the thought of the fact he would be heading home soon enough, home to his family and his new mate, crept unwelcome in the back of your mind and slowly moved forward, until it was everything, until it was the only thing. 

“Do you have to go back soon?”

He sighed and let you go, plopping himself back on the grass next to you, chest up and looking at the sky and the clouds moving above you, and all the shapes they made as they passed you by. 

“You know I do.” 

You knew. You’ve known for years, ever since the first time you and Neteyam started this game of hide and seek with the rest of the village, with each other, and with yourselves, that this was temporary, that one day, he would belong to someone else, and all you would be able to do is watch.

Salt air, and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more

Whispers of "Are you sure?", "Never have I ever before"

Your and Neteyam’s lives could not be more different. You were human, a tiny, inconsequential human, left behind after the war, unable to be hooked to cryo, so you stayed with the scientists who were fortunate enough to be allowed safe haven on this planet that was now as much their home as it was the Omatikaya’s. You knew nothing of Earth, other than stories told to you by your surrogate family and from whatever form of art they had with them, that brought them the comfort of a home long forsaken, but never forgotten. In time, it brought you comfort, too, knowing what Earth used to be like, knowing that humans were not just monsters, but had it in them to be smart, and kind, and funny, to create beautiful music, and poetry, to combine words, words that everybody had access to and everyone could speak, combine them in such a way that it brought tears in your eyes or happiness in your heart, that made you think and ponder about the meaning of growth, the meaning of love and laughter and life and death. It was beautiful, they were beautiful, and - you hoped - so were you.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam shared many firsts throughout your 19 years of friendship. Despite your differences, despite your incompatibility and despite so many challenges facing you, despite both knowing it was most likely wrong and shouldn’t have happened, you always found solace in each other. You found yourselves in each other. You were each other’s first kiss, first sleep over, first flirtatious touch and first wandering hands, first make-out, first second base and first third base, first secret affair. Everything you knew about each other’s bodies, about your own bodies, you learned together. What makes each other tick, what makes each other tickle, what makes each other cum. In time, you knew everything about the other and you made sure you took advantage of that knowledge as often as you could. 

The first time you and Neteyam ever kissed was when you were both 12, both innocent children, both curious. At that time, he was not a lot bigger than you, as it turns out humans stopped growing in height a lot sooner than Na’vi did. Now, your full body reached his lower ribs, but at the time, he was only about a head taller than you. It was short and sweet, and so so innocent, and yet, it never left you. That kiss, which at the time was just fulfilling a curiosity more than anything else, started a complicated and convoluted journey that was full of potholes, full of tight swerves and icy roads, full of dangers and darkness, but a journey worth taking nonetheless, because in the short periods of clear skies and sun-kissed warmth, it had the most heavenly sights and luminous vistas, and it was everything. 

The first time you shared a bed, you were 15. Actually, a bed is a very loose term. In reality, it was just a mess of sheets in one of the recreation rooms that no other human or avatar really frequented, outside of you and Spider. It was large and tall, and had a huge screen where you usually watched movies whenever the Sullys came by to visit. Neteyam taught you Na’vi and he, being the dutiful son and soldier that he was, would come by to learn English at least once a week when he was young, knowing it would one day come in helpful against the humans. He didn’t say it, but you knew he also did it to be more like his dad, yet another way he emulated the Toruk Makto.

His favourite way to learn is with you, as you were also learning as you went along, and both of your favourite way to learn is by watching Earth videos, and movies and tv shows, and trying to figure out what the references meant, what the idioms meant, how to use slang that made no sense to your ears without the scientists explaining it to you. When you were alone, sometimes, you liked to make your own meaning for phrases, and laughed at your own little private jokes that no one else would ever be privy to. One of those evenings, that started with studying, and a marathon of Friends, ended with tangled limbs and soft snores, covered in blankets and the warmth of each other’s bodies. It was so innocent, and so childlike, and so was the second kiss you’ve ever shared, that happened in between giggles and The One Where Ross Finds Out, where the tension that erupted between Ross and Rachel and the kiss that resulted off it, prompted a philosophical discussion around physical displays of affection and what the big deal about it was. After trying it out for yourselves, you concluded it was overrated.

That didn’t last long, as your first make-out came soon after, a little less innocent and definitely less childlike. You discovered maybe there was some truth in those shows, and you discovered that you both enjoyed the tingling on your skin and the butterflies in your stomach that each other’s touch provided. That lasted for a few years, and eventually progressed into this, whatever this was. Initially, it was just curiosity. Then it became about how good release felt, how necessary it was, how much the pleasure helped both of you unwind and go about your day, forget about frustrations about the labs, and training, and parents and surrogate families, it could all be solved by each other’s bodies. It was purely self-indulgent, it was friends with benefits at its finest.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

But life never stopped around you, and the world didn’t stop around you, as much as it felt like it had when it was just the two of you. You both grew up, and while you were still the same human, still doing the same things and having the same limitations that would always plague you, Neteyam’s world was a constant whirlwind of which you were just a small breeze. In time, he took his Iknimaya and Uniltaron, he became a man, and a revered warrior, despite being only 19. Early last week, he even got a mate, and will soon consummate that mateship, and he will be bonded with her for life, and you will be just a part of the past, just a small reminder of his childhood, just a dull ache in a mass of growing pains. 

“What are you thinking about, ma Vol?” 

You smiled softly as his nickname pulled you out of your musings. Vol. He first called you that when you were kids, and he found out that on Earth, the eight month of the year, when you were born, was called August. The Na’vi had a name for August, and it was vospxìvol, and after the first time the word ever left his lips, so did any other name for you disappear from his mind. To everyone else, you were Y/N. To him, you were his Vol. His never-ending summer, your warmth surrounding him for all time, your day eclipsing his darkest nights. 

You wanted to be honest. To tell him what you thought about, what occupied your every other thought, what weighed on your heart so heavily it felt like it would overtake you, every day, all day, was him. It was how much, despite your unspoken agreement that this was purely physical, it got to mean more to you in time. It was how much you loved him, desperately and unconditionally, impermeably and forever. You wanted to tell him that you knew the rules, you knew that whatever this was couldn’t last, wouldn’t last, but there’s nothing more you wanted in this life than a way to make it last, to make him yours. That you curse your life every day that you will never be able to understand this world the way you were meant to, that you would never understand the bond the Na'vi have with it and with the beings in it, with each other, and that the thought of his queue, the most intimate part of him, a direct influx into his thoughts and feelings, connecting to someone else’s, made you sick to your stomach, made bile and acid gather in your mouth until it burned everything in its wake as you had to swallow you back down where it belonged. 

You felt stubborn tears pricking at your eyes and forced yourself to push them back away. Neteyam was your best friend, was the man that knew you more intimately than anyone else ever would and still, there were somethings better left unsaid, some cans of worms that would spoil even the most unfastidious of appetites. 

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Just thinking about how I’m going to be able to explain all of these marks on my body, you fiend. I think I’m running out of ideas, there are only so many rashes Norm won’t get worried about, and only so many clothes that will cover all traces of you on me. I don’t have the luxury of shopping for more clothes, you know?” 

Neteyam laughed and you knew you were out of the woods and that he wouldn’t pry anymore. It was time for you to go back, time for you to deal with the unfairness of the universe in your own room, under the cover of darkness and solitude, drowning your senses in music and mindless entertainment. 

“Take me home?” 

He turned his back to you and knelt, waiting. You smiled at his unspoken way of telling you to get on his back, and obliged, attaching to him like a backpack. In reality, this was easier for him than walking next to you, as you were slow and a far cry from his nimble and athletic capabilities. Plus, it meant he got to keep you close a while longer, got to feel his heart beating on his back and your chest moving as you inhaled, and your breath in the crook of his neck. It was much better than walking. It didn’t take long for Hell’s Gate to appear into view, the big, mostly decrepit ruin of a city left behind by the humans large enough that it could be spotted from miles away. It was Jake’s decision as Olo’eyktan to have the Omatikaya village close-by, an attempt at keeping close to the scientists and uniting the two worlds, both of which you had a foot in, but nothing more - enough to not be homeless, never enough to truly belong in either.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” 

The silence was very loud, and you sighed in a desperate attempt to fill it. 

“You know you can say you’re going to see her. I’m not under any illusion that you have no contact with the woman you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with when you’re not with me.” 

It was his turn to sigh, and you found yourself regretting ever asking. 

“I know, but still…” 

“Yes?” 

“You and me… it’s… I -…” 

You chuckled bitterly. Neteyam wasn’t a man of many words, but he was a man who always knew what those words would be when they did come out of his beautiful mouth. He never blabbered, or got flustered, he was the most poised and sure of himself person you’ve ever met. And yet here he was, mind blank and uncertain tone, and you felt relieved, at least to some extent, that he wasn’t completely unaffected by this whole situation, that you weren’t going through this completely by yourself. 

“I know.”

“I love you, you know?” 

That you did know. 

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was living for the hope of it all

Neteyam’s mind tortured him today more than most other days, as so many memories of your life together enveloped him, and the warmth they provided was quickly dispersed by thoughts of a face, a new face, a known and yet strange face, the face of the woman he’s been promised to. They wrestled with images of your face, beautiful and alien, so different from everything he knew and yet so familiar, of your body that he knew so intimately, that he knew better than his own, images of it trembling under him, of your parted lips and the moans that escape it, of your eyes he dreamt about each night shut tightly as each orgasm washed over you, of your hands that always found their way to his back or his ass, pushing him deeper in you, or in his hair, pulling on it or tugging it behind his ear.

It’s been almost two years since the first time he’s known you like this. The first time, it was awkward and strange, there was so much fumbling and so much that neither of you knew, and despite how many movies you watched, there was very little information on Na’vi and human… relationships, so it took a lot of trial and error to get to where you were at now, a point of no return, a point of unspeakable pleasures and feelings that ran so deep, they’d put most oceans to shame. Feelings that he hid, because speaking them out loud would lead to only heartbreak. What you two had worked. It’s worked for so long, neither of you knew anything else. You were best friends, you knew everything about each other. So why would he ever risk it? Why would he ever ruin it, since there was no future anyway?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Neteyam knew that what you did was wrong. It was wrong, but it never felt wrong. It felt so right. Despite all of your differences, despite all of the ways you could never be together, despite the fact that he could never form tsaheylu with you, nothing compared to the feeling of you falling asleep with your limbs all over his torso, with your head in the crook of his neck. Nothing compared to the connection he felt when he sank in you and you looked in each other’s eyes, and it felt like he could hear all of your thoughts, feel everything you were feeling, and he knew you did, too. In those moments, he thinks you both knew that what you had was far away from what it was always intended to be, and far away from how simple he thought it was when you first started it.

Because now there was someone else. Another woman, a woman that he’d have to bond with, have babies with, start a family with, a woman he had to love. A woman that wasn’t you. And while the thought of it made his skin crawl, so did the thought of disappointing his parents and his clan, who he would lead one day, by refusing, by not following through, by admitting he’s been engaging in these sort of relationships with a human, an alien. A demon. His mother could barely stomach you and Spider as her kids’ friends, Neteyam knew she’d have a heart attack is she were to hear about the activities you and her son got up to on a daily basis. 

Your chuckles ceased his train of thought, and he was glad. 

“You can put me down now, Teyam.” 

The gate to the big metal complex was so close to Neteyam he could feel the smell of metal inundating his nose and coating his tongue. He hated this smell, and he hated this place. You were the only good thing about it. 

“Sorry. Got lost in thoughts.” 

He heard the unmistakable sound of an oxygen mask being removed and his heart booming in his ears as panic took over him instantly, but he had no time to react to it as you turned his face towards you and placed your lips on his in a needy, desperate kiss that made him weak in the knees, that redirected his galloping heart from panic to desire, to ache… to love. Once you broke the kiss, Neteyam watched as you gasped for air and helped you tightened the mask over your face again, and then jumped from his back and onto the ground. 

“What was that for?” 

“Just saying thank you for a good day.” 

Just saying please don’t forget me once you reach her tent tonight. 

There was still a lot of commotion in the labs as you made your way through the corridors to reach your bedroom, and despite your body telling you it’s exhausted and needs sleep, you instead put on a lab coat and joined them, since you knew that going to bed meant unnecessary suffering and putting your mind through scenarios it didn’t need to think about just yet, not when they would all become reality soon and there was no point in living through it twice. You were surprised to find Spider in one of the cell culture labs, chatting animatedly with Norm. He smiled widely as he spotted you, and you tried your best to reciprocate and push aside all the ugly feelings plaguing you. 

“Hey, everyone.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” 

You knew Spider had a crush on you, and that he has had a crush on you for a while now. You weren’t sure if the crush was on your per se, or just on the only person who shared a similar age and species with him, but you didn’t have it in you to ever question him or turn him away. He was a good friend, and a good guy, and who knows? Maybe it was fate that you two were the only human children on Pandora, maybe it was fate that you were here together at the same time. Maybe despite your mind convulsing in pain just at the thought of him, thought of anyone else but Neteyam, he was who you would end up with, your only chance at lasting love, at a family. Maybe life was less about what you want, less about what makes you happy and more about the greater good, the greater purpose, the ability to make something out of nothing. Maybe. 

“What have you been up to today, kid?” 

“Not much, just training with Neteyam. Can’t you tell by my bulging muscles?” 

Norm removed his eyes from the microscope they were glued to, in order to eye you intently up and down. 

“All I can tell is that rash is not getting any better. You need to use the hydrocortisone cream I put in your room.” 

You prayed that neither men couldn’t see the blush that made your cheeks so hot from the inside out, you were struggling to keep your hands by your side and not fanning your face aggressively. 

“Will do, Norm. Need any help?” 

He thought about it for a while, then pointed to one of the incubators. 

“You can split the cells? I was going to ask Harry to do it, but since you’re here and want to help…” 

You smile at the chance to keep your mind occupied at least for a little while, at chance to not think about whatever it was that Neteyam was doing with another girl, with someone else that wasn’t you. 

The next few weeks passed in a blur, and so much has changed in your life, it was hard to keep track. The humans have officially returned to Pandora, and in their return, obliterated endless amounts of precious forest, of natural resources, of life that will never come back, that will always be mourned and missed. You were all forced to move camp, deep in the Hallelujah mountains, where the Flux Vortex was too powerful to allow for detection. It was painful and scary, and you felt numb as you had to say goodbye to the only home you’ve known for 19 years, to the forest and to the village. You couldn’t imagine how to villagers felt, how the Sullys felt… how Neteyam felt. There was only one thing that made this time bearable, and that was the fact that Neteyam’s mateship was postponed until things settled down. It was only temporary, and it meant very little in the grand scheme of things, but you were just happy you didn’t have yet another earth-shattering event clawing at your insides, ripping you to shreds. 

The relief didn’t last long, though, as Neteyam might not be sleeping with another girl, but he was also not sleeping with you anymore, either. The move and the new quarters meant a lot less privacy and a lot less space. You were fortunate enough to have your own room in the new labs, but the room was tiny and sharing a wall with Norm and Max. Neteyam was forced to move back into his parents’ tent, which meant the two of you never got a chance to be together at night anymore. He hasn’t come to visit you since the last time he took you back to Hell’s gate, and that was almost 2 weeks ago.

 

Today, you were hoping to change that. Today, you would ask him to take you to a different floating rock, or on an Ikran ride, or anywhere else but here, in this place that felt stifling and suffocating, this place that couldn’t, wouldn’t feel like home, no matter what. You missed him. You needed him. He had been the calm in all the chaos of your mind your whole life, and especially now, the spiralling felt particularly dizzying, the current particularly hard to navigate. 

As you were mindlessly pipetting some treatments of some cells, your mind wandered to the Sullys, all of whom were away today. The kids were in the forest, exploring woods that were no longer particularly safe to navigate. You knew they didn’t care, but still couldn’t help roll your eyes at the sheer irresponsibility. They asked you to come, but getting into any more trouble with Neytiri, or risking running into any humans didn’t particularly appeal to you. On the other hand, Neteyam and his parents were on a family hunt, a sweet tradition that has begun soon after Neteyam completed his Iknimaya and continued since, running of 6 years. 

Spending time with the Sullys was for sure one of your favourite ways to pass the time. The kids have always loved and welcomed you and Spider into their lives and their family, no matter how much Neytiri might have tried to influence them otherwise. Though Kiri found Spider her closest friend, you and her still loved hanging out together, loved being in each other’s companies, loved speaking for hours on end about everything and nothing. Kiri was drawn to humans, as Lo’ak was, and they took to your culture, your different ways of being, and thinking and existing, more so than any other Na’vi you knew. You assumed a lot of it had to do with their own differences to the clan, differences that while to you were insignificant, to them and to the Omatikaya, it meant the difference between a true Na’vi and a half-breed, an alien. Their slightly atypical appearance, which they shared with Jake, could be overlooked in him, as he was the Olo’eyktan, the Toruk Makto, the man that helped Eywa save their planet and their clan from certain death, but unfortunately for both his kids, that courtesy rarely extended to them.

Neteyam and Tuk looked all Na’vi, and could both pass as twins of their mother’s appearance at different stages of her life. Neteyam was the prince of the Omatikayan rule. He was tall and handsome, he was lean and muscular, and while his face was his mother’s, his body was definitely his father’s. Neteyam was a warrior. Through and through, he was forged in fire, with metal bones and razor-sharp teeth. He was forged to be unbreakable, to be the hope of the clan, the heir to the throne, the perfect son, the greatest soldier. Neteyam was one of the youngest Na’vi to go through his second birth after completing his Iknimaya and Uniltaron. He is the last man to get a bow made from the original Home Tree, that was burned to the ground almost 20 years ago. He was the epitome of the Omatikaya, and he wore all of these hats proudly, and he fought permanently to be worthy of them. Neteyam didn’t know what it was like to disappoint his parents, or his people. Unlike Lo’ak, he couldn’t afford to. Because of Lo’ak, he couldn’t afford to. He was willing to give anything… everything up in order to live up to the unrealistic expectations placed on him, because to him, that’s the only way to live. You admired him, admired his resolve and admired his will. You didn’t understand it, but you were human. You were selfish in nature, and you didn’t think that was a bad thing. You didn’t think being a little selfish sometimes was bad. In your mind,  you shouldn’t have to live only for others. You only had one life, a short life, and that life should be lived, and that life should be enjoyed. That was a cause of a great deal too many arguments between you and your best friend, and it is something you will never see eye to eye on. 

Norm’s aggressive entrance made you yelp out in surprise, and so did his face, contorted in pain and fear, so unlike the kind, calm and chipper one you’ve gotten to know throughout the years. 

“Get ready. Jake radioed me, the kids were attacked by the humans. They’re coming back now, so let’s make sure we have supplies prepared, so we can patch them up.” 

You felt a shudder overtake your body, and your hands, holding a pipette in one hand and a centrifuge tube in the other, felt limp and weak, felt like the weight was too much for your body to reasonably take. 

You got up from your chair almost robotically, feeling our mind blank as the information stewed and settled in it, until it reached a point it was the only thing ringing through your otherwise deafened ears. 

“Come on, honey.” 

“A-are…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, couldn’t even bring your mouth to speak the words that were haunting your soul, that were constricting your heart.You were out of your mind with worry, so much worry, it was permeating through every cell of your being and bringing out toxins you didn’t even know resided in you, poisoning your blood and and making you pant, making you want to scream in anguish at the possibility of your honorary siblings, of him, being in any way hurt, in any way touched by any of the humans. 

“I think they’re alright. A little banged up, and probably terrified, but I think they’re ok. Jake didn’t say much, so let’s be prepared for everything. Get suture kits, and gauze, get numbing cream, the works.” 

You were grateful for Norm, now and always, for how he’s been more of a father figure to you than you could have ever anticipated or even hoped for. He’s loved and cared for you and Spider like you were his own, and you will never be able to repay him for all the attention and affection, but you strived to make him proud, strived to be a good student, a good scientist, a good person, a good daughter. That’s one of the reasons why you spent a lot of your time in Hell’s gate in the adjacent forest, and less time in the village. One of the reasons. 

As you got out of the labs and were hit by the warm thin air of the Omatikaya stronghold, you gasped as your eyes landed on Neteyam, who had deep cuts that leaked blood, like your eyes were leaking tears, both dropping carelessly, his on the ground, yours gathering at the bottom of your mask. His face cleared up as it spotted you in the crowd, and a quick look of easement panned across his features, and for a second, just a second, it felt like there was no one else in this world but you two, like this planet was an empty void kept alive and spinning by the magnitude of your love, by the gravity of the feelings pulling you towards each other, electrifying the air around you.

Your feet carried you forward with a mind of their own, and before you knew it, you were running, dropping the bag of supplies on the floor and pushing people out of the way - or at least trying to, not very successful when you were as strong as a literal toddler. The relief you felt overtook all your other thoughts, all your discernment of your circumstances and you surroundings, all the self-awareness of the situation and the knowledge you had to keep your feelings under wraps. It all went out the window as you jumped in Neteyam’s arms and circled your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips and although he winced in pain, he immediately tightened his grip and you and pulled you in closer. 

You moved until you came face to face with him, and you eyed him attentively to make sure he was alright, that he was really here and safe. 

“Are you -?” 

“I’m fine, ma Vol.” he smiled at you, and you could tell he was trying to tell you something by the way his eyes moved from yours to behind you. You were scared to follow his gaze, terrified to look behind you and see Neytiri glowering at you, and the confused, maybe scandalised faces of the rest of the Na’vi. So you didn’t. You got down and moved in line to all the rest of your surrogate siblings, doing a similar ritual, so as to not stand out from Neteyam’s. Lo’ak was happy to kneel and open his arms wide for you, and you appreciated this boy you loved so much more in this moment than you could ever tell him. He always knew what to do, he understood you well, just like you understood him. 

You finished with Spider, who looked a little more hurt than all the rest of them, and you knew it’s because, unlike them, his bones weren’t made with naturally occurring carbon fibre, so his body suffered a lot more every time something didn’t go to plan. It pained you to see him like this, hurting and bruised, and it hurt you more to see the anguish and fear haunting his eyes. You touched his arm and smiled softly as heat spread out where your hands traced his injuries, and when he looked at you, he shook his head, signalling for you to not question him any further, at least not for now. You nodded silently.

As the only two humans who were born on this foreign planet, you and Spider had a special bond. You had to, you had to stick together, because no one else really understood what either of you were going through except the other. He would always be the only one who understands the pain of being stuck in this body that was weak and feeble, that only one who understood the loneliness, the deep-seeded and monstrous loneliness that plagued you, the only one who understood what it was like to want something you can never have, like a chance to be one of the people, the chance to have a family, the chance at being accepted, the chance at being loved fully and without restraint, without pushback, without secrets. Spider has loved Kiri his whole life. You knew that. You also knew how hard he was fighting against it, how hard he was trying to convince himself he liked you instead, the only person on this planet that was made for him, whose body was compatible with his. Forbidden love is one of the many similarities you two shared. 

A small scream woke you up from your musings and you all snapped your head towards the sound that you now saw came from a woman, about your age, one that you knew very well, one that, despite every rational thought telling you otherwise, you hated with every fibre of your being. The woman. The dreaded woman that would one day be the mother of Neteyam’s children, the woman he’d wake up next to every day of his life, the woman he’d touch, and hold, and fuck. The woman he’d love. The woman that wasn’t you. 

“Oh, Great Mother! Oh, Eywa!” Her steps were wide and rushed, and in no time at all she made her way through the crowd and stopped just in front of Neteyam’s body, and carefully traced her long, slender fingers on his body. She looked panicked and forlorn, desperate to make sure her mate-to-be was unharmed. She gasped as her gaze landed on his many bleeding scratch wounds, and took him by the hand as she pulled on his arm, willing him to go with her.

“Yawne, come on. I will prepare healing salves for you in my tent. Let’s go.” 

You tried to swallow the bitterness that gathered in your mouth to no avail, as the lump that seemed like it had settled in your throat, never to leave you again, prevented it. You felt the familiar sting of tears gathering in your eyes and demanding to be released down your face, and knew you had to pull it together. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time to think of how you’ve always been the one to heal Neteyam, it was always your hands trailing over his wounds, it was your hands that sutured his bleeding gashes, the one that made sure he wouldn’t ever scar, because the thought of anything marring his beautiful skin hurt you. 

“Uhm, we’re here, too, you know?” Lo’ak send a small snarky look in the girl’s direction, and Neytiri hissed at her son, threatening him to keep quiet. The girl didn’t acknowledge his words, opting to continue pulling Neteyam away forcefully. Lo’ak didn’t like her. You didn’t know why. Unlike you, he didn’t have an obvious reason. Maybe it’s how she acted like the rest of his family didn’t really exist, like they were somehow below her. Well, not the entire family. She liked Neytiri and Mo’at, and she liked Tuk. It was just Lo’ak and Kiri that she seemed to ignore. 

Your eyes remained fixed on Neteyam’s body, that was slowly getting farther away from you and closer to another woman’s tent, and you couldn’t help think how this was a fitting metaphor for your relationship and your future. He peered behind him and immediately found your face, and the look he gave you will haunt you forever. A look that told you that he loved you, that he was sorry, but he had no choice. A look that said “I wish things could be different, but they’re not”. A look that crushed your spirit and told you everything you never wanted to hear and nothing that could heal the pain currently poisoning your heart. 

Spider placed a hand on the small of your back, and with one last look at your best friend, the man you loved, you turned your back to him, to her, and to the love you felt in every cell in your body and focused on the people who needed you. You motioned for Spider and Lo’ak to follow you to the labs.

“Come. I’ll patch you up.” 

It was late at night when you finished everything you had planned on doing, and you dragged your feet tiredly to your room, eager to be alone, eager to be able to drop the facade you have had to maintain for the entire day and just release the anguish in your soul with a good crying session and some comfort show you have seen one too many times. You got into the shower and put the temperature as close to boiling as you possibly could, feeling the incessant need to burn a couple layers of skin, to remove the traces of Neteyam that will always be tattooed on you, the feeling of his lips on your body, that you could feel like he was here right now, the pressure of his hands as they tugged at your hips, as they wrapped around your throat, as they caressed your cheeks and pushed the hair out of your face. The tears that fell down your cheeks were removed as soon as they dropped, leaving only the memory of them, the images of what triggered them, of the anguished thoughts and deep pain that sank its teeth into you like a wild animal, tugging at and tearing apart everything they touched. 

As you got out of the shower, you heard the unmistakable sound of the door sliding open, and of something falling on the floor with a loud clank, and you knew exactly who it was. Your entire body was red and puffed from the shower, including your face, on which it was obvious that you have cried for the past 30 minutes. Fuck. 

With a loud sigh, that you hoped would lower your rapid heartbeat and shallow breaths, you opened the door and came face to face with Neteyam, who was knelt on the ground, trying to pick up what he dropped on the floor. 

“Sorry.” He says meekly. “I wish I could control my tail better, but it’s always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms.” 

You gave him a small smile that was not reflected in your eyes, and moved past him to sit on your bed. You fixed your eyes on the ground, noting how awkward and tense the atmosphere around you was. It’s never been like this. Ever. You and Neteyam have always been comfortable around each other. Always. No matter what ever happened in your lives or around you, no matter what depths your friendship reached, no matter how many boundaries you erased or walked past, it’s always felt natural. This didn’t. 

“Why are you here, Neteyam?” 

“What do you mean why I am here? I can’t be here?” 

You scoffed. 

“You can, you just never are anymore.” 

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.” 

“Vol…”

You knew you were being unfair. You knew it deep in your soul that he didn’t deserve any of this. You both agreed to this. You agreed to this a long time ago, and, if you were being honest with yourself, it was you that initiated it. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The first time you and Neteyam had sex, you were both drunk. It was your 18th birthday party, and Norm and Max organised a bash that would have apparently made even Earth bashes seem tame. There was food and music and dancing, and yelling and laughter and a lot… a lot of drinks. 

So many drinks, in fact, that in the early hours in the morning, you and Neteyam stumbled back to your room, barely being able to make out the shape of the bed before crashing unceremoniously on it, giggling like a school girl when you did and the world refused to settle around you like you did in it. 

“You’re so drunk.” Neteyam said, hiccuping slightly.

“No, you’re drunk. I’m fine.” 

It was a nice change of pace, seeing Neteyam so free, so uninhibited, so… happy. His life was always busy, always messy, always difficult, having to parent 3 kids he didn’t bring into this world, picking up their slack, making sure they were safe and free, while he lived shackled to his family and his clan’s expectations, to the promise of being chieftain one day and all the sacrifices that came along with it. 

“At least I can sit up.”

“Well, you’re about twice larger than me, so you know…” you were wiggling your fingers in the air, trying to make a point, although the point got lost in the abyss, much like the rest of your mind.

“Yes?” 

“Fuck knows, lost my train of thought.” 

“Goddamn, ma Vol, you are really drunk.” 

He came and lay in your bed next to you and you immediately fastened your limbs around his torso, like he was the flame and your soul was the moth that couldn't stay away. 

“So what? It’s my birthday. I’m an adult now! If I can’t get drunk on my birthday, when can I?” 

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Do you ever think about having sex?” 

Whatever thoughts Neteyam might have had evaporated quicker than water droplets in a fire, and he found himself speechless, not a totally uncommon occurrence in your presence.

“Cause I do. I think about it all the time. I mean, we watch so many movies, and series, and all humans seem to do is have sex. I heard Norm getting it on with one of the Omatikaya chicks in the village for a while now, and, all I can think of is when the hell is it going to be my turn? My turn to know what it feels like, to get to see what the big deal is, you know?”

“I know you think about it. I know you think about it with me. I can feel it, I can feel you, whenever we fall asleep together. I know you want me, Teyam. I mean, we’ve come this far, right? Might as well go all the way.” 

“I hope you want me. Because I want you. You’re my best friend, you know everything about me. I want it to be you.”

Neteyam was doing everything in his power to ignore his increasingly harder-to-ignore erection and the way he was twitching at every word that came out of your mouth. Of course he wanted you. You were hot, and you were his. His best friend, the person he’s shared so many intimate moments with, the person that taught him everything he knew about girls, about pleasure, about so many things. But this might be a step too far, a step you could never take back. Neteyam always hoped that one day, by some miracle of the universe, you would get an Avatar, and you would get a chance to be one of the people. There’s nothing he wanted more in this world then to get to keep you forever. But, as the years went past, the possibility of that seemed less and less probable, and Neteyam knew he would have to find a mate one day, and he would have to love her and keep her, forever. He would sleep with her, and mate with her, and she would have his kids, and doing these things with you… he didn’t know how he was supposed to move on with his life like your presence didn’t permeate through every fibre of his being. 

“I do want you, Vol. But I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.” 

“It’s a great idea, Teyam. Think about it.” You chuckled to yourself, eyes shut tightly and fingers rubbing your temples, as if trying to summon the words into your brain.

“What was I saying?”

He laughed at your disorientated predisposition, realising he wasn’t in a much better condition. 

“I forgot.” You kicked your feet up in the air as you remembered. 

“Oh, yeah!! It’s a g-great idea. Because we’ve made out before, right? Multiple times. Because we’ve s-slept in the same bed before, so we know that works. Because we know each other, and we won’t tell anyone else, right? It can just be our little secret, and we have p-plenty of those anyway. Because, because… Because this way, whenever you'll get yourself a mate, you know that you will know what to do and won’t fumble around. I’m doing you a favour, if you think about it. It’s the perfect plan honestly. Foolproof.”

It was hard for Neteyam to argue with your logic, but that may be because the part of his brain that processed logic was dead now. 

The first time you and Neteyam had sex, it was awkward and painful. Turns out there is a lot more fumbling and a lot more preparation and a lot more pain involved than what it is ever portrayed on the screen, and even more so since the man you were sleeping with was twice your size, and those proportions extended to… well, everything. It took a lot of lube and a lot of patience, but you knew you would have wanted no one else to have this experience with. There was no one else in the world that could have made this what it was, something that you would cherish for the rest of your life. He was kind and considerate, and he brushed the tears from your face with his thumbs when the initial pain got too much to bear, and he waited for you to adjust to his impressive length, that felt like it would tear you apart at the seams at times, and he kissed your forehead and whispered about how well you were doing, and how good you felt, and how there was no one else he would rather be doing this with, no one else in the world, not for the rest of time.

The first time promptly led to the second time, and although it took time for you to learn each other’s bodies, in a couple months, the pleasure you felt when he touched you was indescribable, the thrill you got whenever you saw him become putty under your touch boldened you, empowered you, made you want to do this every day, all day, for as long as you lived. In time, you learnt that you liked when he praised you and he loved the sounds he could coax out of you - the louder you were, the harder he got. You both enjoyed being in control once in a while, him most of the time, you - on special occasions. The dance you partook in was intricate and complicated, it was heaven and hell, it was pleasure and pain, it was everything you shouldn’t have and everything you couldn’t keep yourself from. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

As you looked at the man sitting on the ground across from you, eyes so cried out and tired they were seeing red, you knew you had no right to spit such words in his face, but the hurt and heartache, the anger at the unfairness of it all, it was clouding your judgement, making you want to hurt him like his present and upcoming absence from your life was hurting you.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.” He looked pained, and he refused to look at you. He looked… spent. Exhausted and sad. Way sadder than you imagined he would be, if this was just about today. Something wasn’t right.

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine.” You eyed the wounds on his body that were now clean, but still red, and still mostly open. “Those are going to scar, by the way.” 

He stood up suddenly. A step is all it took to reach you and his hand on your chest shot bouts of electricity all throughout your body, that you struggled to ignore. It took very little effort for him to push you back onto the bed until the warmth and softness of your blanket touched the skin that wasn’t wrapped in a towel. He followed suit, his body hovering on top of yours, and you felt his braids tickling your face and neck as his eyes bore intensely into yours. 

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.” 

You shook your head slightly, dreading how the tears were falling down the sides of your face and nestling in your ears. You didn’t know. Not anymore. 

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The first time you and Neteyam made love came after you were both spent from taking orgasm after orgasm out of each other. You were laying on his chest, tracing each twinkling freckle on it with your index finger, making patterns, making galaxies out of the stars proudly adorning his skin, the most beautiful stars to ever exist, to you. 

Almost as if thinking out loud, you spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

“You are so beautiful. It hurts me sometimes, the gaping differences between us. How dull and boring I am compared to you. How daft my skin, compared to your shiny, glowy one. How sullen my eyes look when I see them in the reflection of your bright ones, sparkling like the sun. I would give anything to look like you. Anything to be like you.” Sighing, dropping hot wet tears on his chest, you continued. “Everything would be so much easier if I looked like you.” 

Almost uncharacteristically, Neteyam’s hand cupped your cheek gently and tugged slightly until your eyes met.

“Stop. Please. You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. You always have been. Your eyes are like the planets my satellites orbit around. I see them everywhere I go, every moment of my day, every dream I dream at night, there’s nothing else besides your eyes, besides your face, and your lips. Besides the words that come out of them, that somehow guide my every thought, focus my world and let me go on. You are more than beautiful, more than any word invented in any language that we speak. You are everything, ok? Everything.” 

That did nothing to stop your tears, that fell even harder down your cheeks, forming a puddle on his chest. 

“You can’t say these things, Neteyam.”

“Why not?” 

“You know why not.”

“You can’t make me fall in love with you. And you can’t fall in love with me. What we’re doing is already complicated. Already beyond what either of us could explain to anyone we love. And that’s ok, because what we have works. But it won’t work if the feelings run deeper than what depth we’re comfortable swimming in. You’re going to leave me one day, and if you leave me and I’m in love with you, it will break me. So you can’t say things like that to me.”

He had a playful smile on his face, but his eyes were forceful and full of intensity as he got on top of you and looked down into yours. 

“I’m not going to fall in love with you, and you’re not going to fall in love with me. We got this, Vol. But I will never leave you. I could never leave you. You’re my best friend. You’re everything to me.” 

You let out a soft sob that was silenced by his lips pressing on yours and the sound was replaced by pleasured moans and whimpered sounds, of silent confessions that marked the end of comfort and the beginning of the end. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough, for me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call and say, "Meet me behind the mall"

He sighed as he got off from on top of you, his own tears falling on your face as he did so. He didn’t look at you as he spoke. 

“The engagement is broken.” 

The relief that flooded your mind didn’t have time to wash over you before he continued.

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.” 

You and Neteyam shared many firsts. Your first heartbreak, the one that would break your spirit and your soul and your bones and ground them into a fine dust to be blown away by the wind, would just be one of many others. 

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr

[omega-e123]

Hey! Welcome in.

Keep good vibes around here, yeah? If the content isn't your cup of tea, kindly walk towards the exit, please. There are other pockets of space that will be to your liking! Venturing further, you may come across NSFW.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with my NSFW or be inappropriate.

Feel free to talk to me in my inbox! Whether it be sending in headcanons, gushing about Shadow, or or even saying “hello”, I'm all ears. ⁂ Do note I'm not one to take "requests". (they will most likely be deleted) ⁂ Answered ask tags: #➺ inbox , #➺ anon , #➺ [user] , ➺ inbox imagines (Imagines from you guys!)

Unrelated posts tag: #• the void speaks

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

✧.* Reader is usually written as a Mobian in mind, but can be read as human. Gender neutral.

✨: New 🐾: Explicitly Mobian

Masterlist:

Updated: 11/30/2024

𓆩⟡𓆪 Fics

✦ ... And He Chaos Controlled Away Not the best way to reveal your affection. A Week Before || The Incident || Conclusion

✦ Just One More Craving a proper kiss from him

✦ Joyride How is he picking you up for your date?

✦ Hesitation !! NSFW !! Suggestive. You've never gone past kissing, why? Suggestive

✦ Kabedon Exactly as stated. He pins you.

✦ Head Over Heals CW: Blood Mention You injure yourself trying on air shoes.

✦ In a Rut !! NSFW !! Smut. Being part hedgehog has its.. complications. Annual complications. Odd Behavior || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration

✦ Comforting You had a rough day and he has the remedy to make it better

✦ Aftercare When it becomes to much, “Chaos” is the safe word

✦ Aboard the Ark You got sick and Shadow decides to bring you up to his previous home.

✦ One Too Many CW: Alcohol, Drunk You partied a little too hard and now it's time to go home.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Headcanons

✫ Physical Contact

✫ Jealousy

✫ Royal Forbidden Love Lancelot!Shadow

✫ When You’re Sick

✫ The Winter Season

✫ Vampire!Shadow w/ @aelondrias

✫ Allergies

✫ Chronic headaches

✫ Trypanophobia

✫ Shark Week

✫ Nightmare

✫ Birth Control During Rut ✨

✫ Perfect Present For You ✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Minis

𓇻 Play Wresting

𓇻 Protecting you

𓇻 Chew Toy

𓇻 Softness of Your Hands

𓇻 His Tail

𓇻 First Time Affection

𓇻 Losing you

𓇻 Blood Transfusion

𓇻 The Ultimate…

𓇻 From behind !! NSFW !! 🐾

𓇻 Grinding !! NSFW !!

𓇻 Anxiety Attack

𓇻 Blood test

𓇻 Love Sick

𓇻 Medicine Cabinet

𓇻 Grooming his Chest 🐾✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Misc.

⋆ Who is Shadow? Mini personality analysis ig

⋆ Scenario Submission Black Doom / Mephiles threatening Shadow they'll hurt you by @aelondrias

⋆ Reincarnation (Not ship) What if Shadow found Maria again?