#melancholy kaleidoscope

[jeonqkooks]

hi jen!! omg your wips sound amazing and the banners, woah i love them all 😍 can i ask about melancholy kaleidoscope and a case of you?

hi lilo! i talked about ‘a case of you’ here tho so i’ll share a bit about mk! 🥰

i started writing it in like march 2022 but i kept procrastinating it lolll. basically it’s just a convo between jk and oc - who are exes - on her wedding day and he still loves her and it’s just super bittersweet bc they wouldn’t have worked out anyway and uggggggh </3

[cxrrodedcoffin]

✟ 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ✟

Kinktober fic 2: Charlie Mayhew ✟ Blasphemy + Church Sex

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!charlie, priest!charlie (duh), aspiring nun!reader, tattooed!reader, religious themes (obvi), catholicism, extremely blasphemous activities, mentions of mental health facilities and sobriety, mild religious trauma mention, baptism, submersion in holy water, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex in water + in a church, fem + afab reader, breath play, hickeys, nipple play, cream pie, mentions of scars, use of “father” as an honorific in both a professional context and sexual context.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

When you first visited the church to inquire about taking your vows as a nun, you weren’t sure what to expect. It had been so long since the last time you’d set foot in a church, but the moment you crossed that holy threshold a childhood full of memories came rushing back to you.

The church was not a place you ever thought you’d consider your home again once you reached adolescence, but now, after a decade of poor decisions and enough casual sex to put an end to global inceldom if you so wished, you found yourself back in a house of worship for the first time since childhood.

A six month-long stint in an in-patient psychiatric treatment center had been the catalyst, your first extended period of time being both sober and celibate since your teen years forcing you to face some hard truths about the way you’d been living your life.

You decided to see if there was any ounce of the faith you blindly held as a child still left somewhere deep in your subconscious, seeking out the nearest convent you could only a few weeks after your discharge from the facility.

Each step you took down the arched corridor to the church administrator’s office brought back flashes of the past, both bitter and sweet, the kaleidoscope of colors fanning in from the stained glass windows drawing a familiar sense of melancholy you had half-expected to reappear.

One thing you certainly were not expecting out of this visit was to meet one Father Charlie Mayhew. The curve of his jaw was the first thing you caught a glimpse of as he stepped out of the administrator’s office, the striking momentary glimpse of his side profile nearly knocking the wind out of you.

You squeaked out a faint “Sorry!” as you took a step back, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks creased in a charming smile, the black fabric of his clerical shirt pulling taut over his muscular forearm as he held the office door open for you. Your mind finally registered the flash of his white tab collar at his neck, prompting you to straighten up as a sign of respect.

“Thank you, Father-”

“Mayhew.” He finished, giving you a gentle nod as you returned the smile and slipped past him through the door frame. It was a small encounter, mere seconds of interaction, and yet you couldn’t shake the image of his smile from your mind for the rest of the day.

That was six months ago, and in the time since, every interaction you’d had with him had only worsened your attraction to him. He was equal parts charismatic and enigmatic, sharing fascinating details of his hobbies and interests and how they brought him closer to God, yet remaining at an arm’s length, keeping parts of himself closed off from you as well as the rest of the clergy.

Today was the day you were to begin your official commitment to your religious journey, ready to begin the years-long journey to take your vows. There was one final requirement you had to complete, needing to amend the oversight your parents had made in never getting around to having you baptized as a child.

You’d spent the majority of the day working on your studies, doing everything you could to distract yourself from the nerves growing in your tummy over your baptism ceremony. You weren’t nervous about the ceremony itself, it was a private ritual to be held before only God, you, and the priest performing it at an hour late enough that most of the convent would be fast asleep. The only problem was that the priest performing your baptism was none other than the man you’d become desperate for, Father Mayhew.

You had completed your post-dinner stroll around the campus, the sun set well below the horizon as the moon rose high in the sky. It was almost time, and when you returned to your dormitory, you stripped from your robes and hopped into a cold shower the moment the door shut behind you. Cleanliness was next to Godliness afterall, and the heat in your cheeks caused by your wandering mind needed to be quelled before facing the man at the center of your wildest fantasies.

When you had finally calmed yourself to a manageable level you stepped out of the shower, quickly wicking the water droplets off of your skin before pulling the flowy cotton nightgown over your bare body. You didn’t bother with undergarments, knowing they’d be just another layer of soaking wet fabric you’d have to peel from your shivering body in likely less than an hour.

You made your way down the hallway of the dormitory, your simple black ballet flats clicking gently against the sleek tile floor. After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the connecting door of the chappel, pausing momentarily to gather your nerves one last time. The large wooden door creaked as you slowly pushed it open, moonlight shining through the tall stained glass portraits lining the walls of the hall. The flicker of candlelight pulled your eye to the baptismal font, flames dancing in the reflection of the pool.

Charlie stood tall, his hands folded behind his back as you slowly closed the space between you, stopping when there remained only a foot of space.

“Good evening, Father.” You greeted, barely above a whisper. He returned the greeting and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on your damp hair. You realized it was the first time he’d seen it completely uncovered since that first day you met six months ago, and you had to fight the urge to attempt to cover yourself. You were supposed to be in as natural of a state as possible in order to properly cover yourself in God’s protection, that was why you agreed to a full immersion baptism in the first place. There was no need to hide yourself from him tonight.

“Let’s begin.” He extended his hand to you, giving a reassuring smile as he guided you to the edge of the basin, taking each step into the lukewarm water. When you reached the center of the small pool, you observed the way the water level barely reached his knee but was fully up to your upper thigh, making your height difference glaringly obvious. You shivered, not only from the slight temperature of the holy water around you, but also the intimidation that his stature brought as he looked down at you.

“Cross your arms over your chest, please.” He instructed, taking a step closer to you so his torso was mere millimeters from being flush with yours, his right arm wrapping around your waist to cradle your lower back just above your tailbone.

“I’m going to do a short reading, then guide you to fall back into the water. You’ll only be under for a second, and I’ll pull you back out.” His voice was low, dulcet tones pairing beautifully with the atmosphere the dim lighting of the room created and you felt that familiar sin rising between your thighs, unable to remove your gaze from his immaculately sculpted facial features. You nodded in understanding, holding your arms across your heaving chest, hoping they disguised the evidence of your rapid heart rate and increasingly labored breaths.

“The Lord will cleanse the baptized from their impurities and idols, and give them a new heart and spirit. Through faith in Christ's death, God makes the baptized one with himself. May our sister lead a life worthy of her vocation, and preserve the unity of the Spirit.” He chanted, executing the sign of the cross before his free hand wrapped behind your shoulder to cradle you, exchanging a slight nod before you shut your eyes and allowed your body to fall back, holy water engulfing every inch of you for only a moment.

His strong arms lifted you out back out of the water, helping you find your footing on shaky knees, all the while your eyes remained shut. You hadn’t anticipated how sheer your shroud would become once it had taken on water, the lightweight linen clinging to every curve and contour of your body. Your whole frame shivered, painfully aware of the fact that your nipples were glaringly pert against the soaked fabric.

“You can open your eyes.” His hands remained around your waist, squeezing slightly with the lighthearted words as he waited for your response to finally being cleansed and fully protected.

Charlie couldn’t deny that his natural desires were running rampant at the sight of you, all wet and shivering on trembling legs like a fawn who’d slipped through the ice of a frozen lake, barely making it back to shore. Your nightgown was exceedingly translucent as it clung to your most intimate parts, the dark outline of your tattoos being what shocked him the most despite the allure of your breasts.

He hadn’t anticipated a girl with a face as angelic as yours could possibly be hiding markings such as these beneath the long sleeves he’d only ever seen you in. But then again, he doubted you’d ever anticipate the deep scars that adorned his back either. You weren’t the girl who had chosen to get those tattoos anymore, but he wondered if the girl you were now still had such a strong penchant for pain.

When you finally opened your eyes, ready to face the embarrassment of your exposed chest, you were surprised to find Father Mathew’s gaze not fixated on your breast, but rather your arms. You were so used to your tattoos, they barely even registered in your mind when you saw your reflection in the mirror each morning, so you had completely overlooked the fact that no one in the parish knew about them.

“I-I was a very different person when I got them.” You stumbled over your words, feeling a strong sense of insecurity about the way you’d dishonored your body in the eyes of the church.

“I find them to be an exquisite decoration of the temple that is your body, you know I don’t believe in the enforcement of many of the strict rules of the old church. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.” His right hand left your hip, finding your arm and lifting it to his mouth, plush lips placing firm kisses over the prominent vein at the base of your wrist before making his way further up, following the trail of your tattoos.

You mewled like a frightened kitten, so incredibly touch starved after a year of celibacy that you thought you might cum just from the heat of his mouth against your sensitive skin. As he pushed the sopping wet fabric of the bell sleeve further up your arm, your eyes fluttered shut, knees going weak again. You couldn’t believe he was touching you this way, even just chaste kisses along your limbs forcing the heat in your core to reach a boiling point. You couldn’t do this.

“Father, stop.” You tried to be as stern as possible but it came out as nothing more than a halfhearted sigh of defeat, your eyes pulled into a desperate plead. You wanted more, needed him so deep inside you that he might fill the God-shaped hole in your heart, but you were preparing to take a vow. That was the whole point of this, the very reason you were here with him in the first place.

“Now that you’ve been baptized, you are cleansed of your past sins and will be forgiven for those you commit going forward. We are and always will be sinners.” The look in his eyes was nothing but carnal, all reservations you held melting away with his insight.

“Fuck it.” You replied, a bit of the old you peeking through for a split second. Hearing that filthy word leave your cherubic lips set something off in him, causing him to drop your wrist and use his strong grip to pull you by your waist until you were completely flush with him, his mouth quickly finding yours in a kiss so forceful you wondered if your lip would bruise.

His hands were everywhere, squeezing and groping at your tender flesh through the fabric, almost fighting with the garment as it clung to your skin. You quickly grabbed for the hem still floating against your thighs in the water, peeling it as high up as you could before being forced to break away from him to pull it over your head. The sheer weight of the soaked gown was almost too much for you to lift, your arms shaking as you attempted to move it over your head.

Charlie took the bunched fabric from you, lifting it the rest of the way so you were finally free, completely nude in front of his still fully dressed state. You felt more vulnerable than ever before, so exposed in such a holy place, all the while he still held all of his modesty beneath his sleek black clerical shirt and slacks, barely saturated by the low water level.

“Good lord, you’re straight out of a renaissance painting.” He eyed you up and down, admiring every detail of your trembling body before his eyes settled on your breasts. His mouth began to water, the need to have his mouth on you again overwhelming his every thought. He closed the space between you once more, pushing you until your back hit the side of the pool.

“Up.” He mumbled against your neck, slender fingers gripping into the flesh of your hips as you jumped, his firm hold guiding your ass up onto the ledge, your feet dangling in the water. He pushed your thighs apart and pulled you to the very edge, just teetering on the slick tile. He took a step back, ripping the tab collar from his neck and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. You instinctively began to close your legs, his eyes boring into you like a beam of sunlight.

“Keep them open.” His tone was more stern, hand reaching out to push your knee to its previous position.

“You hold heaven’s gate between your thighs, angel. Give me a chance to take it all in.” His voice was like smoked honey, smooth and intoxicating simultaneously, his nimble fingers expertly undoing the last of the buttons on his shirt before peeling it off of his toned arms. He made quick work of undoing his slacks, pushing them along with his underwear down his thighs, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach before bobbing teasingly between his muscular thigh.

You had to fight your jaw from dropping at the sight, his cock just as mesmerizing as the rest of him, all flushed pink and dripping, his shaft taking a slight curve to the right, prominent vein running down the entire length of the left side, and the blushed tip glistening with precum. He nearly laughed at the look on your face, pushing the sound down in his throat to prevent any misinterpretation of his amusement.

He was enamored by you, this anomaly of a woman, equal parts innocent and sinful, all wrapped up in a package he couldn’t resist any longer. He sank to his knees, creating a wave in the water around him as he crawled those last few steps to you, still barely submerged up to his waist.

He placed an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, sucking hungrily on the plush skin in a trail leading straight to your pussy, blushed purple and red bruises blooming in his wake.

When he reached your cunt, he took a deep breath and exhaled a slow stream of air over your labia, observing the way your breath hitched and your stomach muscles tightened, reactive like a born again virgin.

He gave no warning, practically diving into your folds, tongue lapping hungrily at the nectar dripping from your entrance, like Samson drinking from the rock basin after nearly dying of thirst.

His large hands held your thighs apart with a determination you’d never felt, the pads of his manicured fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. Your hands moved to his perfectly quaffed hair, undoing the gelled style with the run of your dainty fingers through it, finding the tresses at the nape of his neck and pushing his face closer still to your cunt.

He was relentless, alternating in broad strokes and pointed flicks against your clit until your thighs shook, teetering dangerously close to both the edge of the pool and your first outsourced orgasm in over a year.

He replaced his right hand with his shoulder against your thigh to keep you spread wide open, his index and middle fingers broaching your entrance only to be quickly wrapped in your tight warmth, your neglected walls clinging to any stimulation they could get. One, two, three curls of his fingers against the velvety soft patch inside of you had you riding his face without inhibition, your cries of pleasure dulled only by your own hand clamped over your open mouth.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cum that quickly, his actions drawing an unceremoniously fast reaction from you and you almost felt betrayed by your own body, unable to control your own sober actions for the first time in God knows how long.

“Need to feel your perfect cunt around my cock.” He panted through labored breaths as he finally pulled away from your overly sensitive clit, the bottom half of his face glistening just the same as your cunt.

He rose to his feet, taking you by the hips again and helping you back into the water, a chill running up your spine at the change in temperature. Your feet had barely touched the tile at the bottom before he was hauling you to the steps, gently pushing down on your shoulder to sit on the middle step.

“I want to see your angelic face while I ruin you.” He took your ankles in his grip, forcing your legs up to your chest as he knelt on the step below yours, aligning the head of his shaft with your weeping entrance. He brought his right hand up to the side of your face, thumb brushing along your jawline before dipping lower, his fingers wrapping firmly around your throat as he entered you fully with a single thrust. You gasped, the corners of your mouth pulling into a devilish smile at the sudden show of control, reveling in the feeling of his thick cock stretching your tight walls.

The holy water around you splashed with every rock of your connected hips, surrounding the place you were intertwined most intimately. Charlie dipped his head down to your chest, taking advantage of the way your back arched away from the edge of the step to take your pert nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first until it devolved into hungry grazes of teeth and flicks of his expertly trained tongue. His grip on your throat tightened, his forearm pressing down on your other breast as he braced himself against the tile with his free hand.

You threw your head back, crying out in soft whimpers as he moaned against your breast, the upward angle of his thrusts causing the head of his cock to repeatedly hit the soft, sensitive spot deep inside of you, bringing you hurtling toward another orgasm.

“Come on, angel, show God how good this carnal sin feels.” He pulled away from your nipple just long enough to groan out the most blasphemous sentence you’d ever heard in your life, and you almost screamed from how hard he thrust up into you, swearing he had hit your cervix.

“Please, Father!” You moaned, pawing at his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars against your gentle fingertips. You made a mental note to inquire about them after, too lost in the feeling of him drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm to ask questions in the moment.

He rose back up from your chest, an animalistic open-mouth smirk on his face as he squeezed the sides of your neck tighter still, the lack of blood flow to your brain giving you a high you hadn’t quite experienced before. His eyes burned into yours, locked in a gaze you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to break as he gave a few more brutal thrusts into your aching cunt, finally reaching that euphoria you’d been craving from the moment you met him.

“Oh, God!” You cried out, watching the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as you clamped down around him, forcing him to slow his pace inside of you. His hips began to falter, your cunt milking him relentlessly until the coil snapped, spilling his warm load deep inside of you. Watching the way the vein in his temple strained as he groaned above you gave you the same sense of satisfaction, knowing you could bring him to such a vulnerable state before the God you both served.

When you’d both caught your breath he pulled out of you, milky white cum swirling into the water. You’d almost feel ashamed if it weren’t for the afterglow you resided in, head still spinning from the deliciously pleasurable acts you’d just participated in.

“I have to drain the pool and refill it for tomorrow’s morning Mass, and you need to be back in your dorm before Mother Superior wakes up.” He stated matter-of-factly as he took your hand and helped you out of the pool, still shivering in the cold night air.

“Can we do this again?” You questioned meekly, apprehension setting in as you felt him pulling away from you.

“I’ll come by the dorms tomorrow during your lunch hour.” He squeezed your hand, giving a final reassuring smile as he handed you your now partially dried gown, nodding toward the door before you exchanged goodnights. You spent the rest of your night laying in your bed, slipping in and out of sleep, too distracted by your anticipation for what was to come to ever slip into a proper slumber.

—

tagging my maywhores <3 (i just came up with that what do we think??): @xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore

please comment or message me if you’d like to be tagged in my charlie mayhew fics going forward!!

[spinningintheshadows]

Personally my favorite All Time Low song is Methamphetamine Teletubby

[ghsface]

WILDEST DREAMS... - spencer reid

Sumary: It was a one night thing

Warnings: smut 18+, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (Don't do it), and a little bit angst

Author's note: I was inspired a little by Wildest Dreams by Taylor Mother Swift bc in my head the song is written for Matthew Gray Gubler (I know it's not written for him but let me live in my fantasy). I also imagined Spencer in season 7 while I was writing this so keep that in mind, or just imagine it however you want, and I'm sorry if there are mistakes/misspelled words, my native language is not English.🩶

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚𖹭

The rain fell in curtains over the city, blurring the outlines of the buildings and silencing the usual bustle of the streets.

The lights of the cars reflected on the wet asphalt, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed straight out of a dream.

You were in the usual cafeteria, trying to concentrate on your book, but your mind wandered to Spencer Reid.

From the first time you saw him, there was something about him that attracted you in an inexplicable way.

His eyes, full of knowledge and a subtle melancholy, his messy hair and that unique way of speaking.

You had shared several moments on the team, but none like the one that was about to happen.

The doorbell rang, and you looked up to see him enter, soaked and a little disheveled, but with that irresistible aura of mystery and intelligence.

Spencer saw you and a slight smile appeared on his face. He approached your table and sat in front of you.

“Sorry I was late,” he said, shaking the water out of his hair.

“Don’t worry.” You smiled at him, feeling a slight tickle in your stomach. There was something about the atmosphere that night, something electric that you couldn’t ignore.

They spent the next hour talking, sharing stories and laughter. Every time their hands accidentally brushed against each other, an electric current ran through your body.

The conversation flowed naturally, as always, but this time there was a palpable tension in the air.

As the coffee shop was about to close, Spencer suggested they walk a little to clear their minds.

You nodded and the two of you went out into the rain, not caring that you got wet. The conversation continued as you walked through the empty streets, but your thoughts were elsewhere, on what could happen if you let yourself get carried away by the impulse of the moment.

Finally, they arrived at Spencer’s house and he looked at you with those deep eyes and you knew he felt the same way too.

Without saying a word, you both walked in and headed to the elevator. The silence between you was intense, heavy with anticipation.

As you reached the apartment, Spencer opened the door and ushered you in first. The room was lit by a dim light, creating an intimate atmosphere.

He closed the door behind him and, without saying anything, approached you. You could feel his ragged breathing, his nervousness mixed with desire.

He took your face in his hands and kissed you with a softness that contrasted with the urgency of his movements.

His lips moved over yours, exploring, discovering, while his hands slid down your body, sending waves of pleasure through your skin.

The kiss became more intense, more desperate, as if they both knew that this moment was fleeting, a wild dream that would fade with the dawn.

You let yourself be carried away by the passion, by the feeling of his hands on your skin, by the taste of his lips. Spencer led you to the bed, his movements sure but full of a tenderness that disarmed you.

His hands slowly moved down your back, unbuttoning your blouse and sliding it off your shoulders.

His lips followed the same path, leaving a trail of burning kisses. You shuddered as you felt his hands unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts for his lips and tongue to eagerly explore.

His touch was a contrast of softness and firmness, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

You helped him remove his shirt and slide his pants off, eager to feel his skin against yours.

His hands ran over your curves, memorizing every inch, as his breathing grew heavier.

You bit your lip as you felt his erection press against you, increasing the anticipation.

He laid you back on the bed and positioned himself over you, his eyes locked on yours as his hand slid across your belly, slowly moving down until he reached your crotch. His fingers found your wetness, exploring you skillfully, drawing moans of pleasure from you.

You arched against him, wanting more, needing more. “Spencer, ple-please…” you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

With a look of absolute desire, he leaned down to kiss you deeply, while his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm. He brought you to the edge of climax, again and again, until you couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, he withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between your legs, his eyes searching for your approval.

You nodded, and in a slow but determined movement, he sank into you. You both let out a moan of pure pleasure in unison.

The feeling of being completely filled by him, combined with the intensity of his gaze, had you lost in a whirlwind of sensations.

Spencer began to move, slowly at first, savoring every moment.

But urgency soon took over both of you, and his thrusts became faster, deeper, taking you to the edge again and again.

Every bump of his hips against yours, every brush of his skin against yours, brought you closer to the edge.

“You’re amazing…” Spencer murmured, his voice cracking with effort.

Your nails dug into his back, marking his skin as the pleasure intensified. You felt your climax approaching, an overwhelming wave of ecstasy that you couldn’t stop.

With a gasp, you let yourself go, your body shaking beneath him as you reached the peak of pleasure.

Spencer followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside you.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, leaving only the feeling of being together, of being one.

You stood there holding each other, breathing together, feeling the connection you had created. You knew this moment couldn’t last forever, that it was just a wild dream, but as long as you were in his arms, anything seemed possible.

Eventually, reality caught up with you, but the memory of that night was etched into your memory, like a wild dream you would always remember.

Spencer looked into your eyes and whispered, with a sad smile, “I’ll never forget this night.”

And you knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t either.

The next day, you found yourself in the office with Emily, JJ, and Penelope.

They were aware of your crush on Spencer and looked at you with curiosity and complicity in their eyes. “Well?” JJ asked, a playful smile on her face.

You blushed, remembering every detail of the night before. You took a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words.

“It was… amazing.” You finally said, your eyes shining with the excitement of the memory.

Emily arched an eyebrow, interested. “How amazing?”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t keep anything from them. “We kissed in the hotel room and… everything was so intense. His hands, his lips, everything. It was like time stood still.”

Penelope giggled and tapped you on the shoulder. “We knew Spencer had something special, but wow!” JJ leaned into you, his expression more serious. “And what happened next?”

You bit your lip, remembering the feeling of his body against yours, the way his thrusts brought you to the edge of ecstasy again and again.

“It was passionate, intense. I felt like every move of hers was bringing me closer to climax. I’d never experienced anything like that.”

Emily smiled, understanding. I’m glad it finally happened.

You nodded, feeling a mix of joy and nostalgia. “Yes, but I also know it was a fleeting moment. I don’t know what will happen now.”

Penelope gave you a comforting hug. “The important thing is that you lived that dream. Now, no matter what happens, you’ll always have that memory.”

The four of you were silent for a moment, sharing the intimacy of the moment. You felt grateful to have friends like them, who supported and understood you.

Finally, Emily broke the silence. “Well, whatever it is, you know we’re here for you.” JJ nodded, smiling. “Yes, and remember, Spencer is a complicated guy, but he’s also a good man. If this has a future, I’m sure you’ll figure it out together.”

You felt comforted by his words, knowing that no matter what happened, you wouldn't be alone. And as you remembered the intensity of the night before, you couldn't help but feel a spark of hope for what could happen now between Spencer and you.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚𖹭

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

[httpswritings]

if you were my little girl: the series part 2

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

Silent Guardian

The days blurred into a kaleidoscope of drills, sprints, and the comforting thud of the ball against your foot. But there was a new element to your routine – Alexia. True to her word, she started attending your training sessions, a silent guardian on the sidelines. Your heart would skip a beat every time you saw her, a jolt of encouragement coursing through you with each approving nod.

The facade held. Your parents, wary of an audience, behaved with a semblance of normalcy in public, so Alexia's suspicion of you being in danger faded.

Every goal you scored, every perfectly weighted pass, was a victory not just on the scoreboard, but over the darkness that lurked within your home. Alexia's cheers, a joyful eruption amidst the roar of the crowd, were a balm to your little but damaged self.

Alexia couldn't help but watch you closely. The way you reacted to the world, how certain things seemed to touch you more deeply than others, it tugged at her heart. It wasn't a weakness she saw, but a tenderness that made her want to stand between you and anything that might cause you pain.

Silence Breaks the Bond

The months blurred into a kaleidoscope of drills, sprints, and the comforting thud of the ball against your foot. But on the sidelines of your victories, a different reality waited. Your parents, physically present, were emotionally absent. Empty lunchboxes on the counter remained a daily reminder of their disinterest, a stark contrast to the cheers echoing from the training grounds.

They didn't care about your school life neither did they help you with your homework.

To be fair, they seemed like normal stressed parents worried about work and paying bills.

They were ghosts, navigating their own anxieties, leaving you to navigate yours alone.

You started doing bad at school.

Failed exams, no homework done, complains from teachers, etc.

At the tender age of seven, the world of learning seemed to have lost its allure, replaced by a growing sense of disillusionment.

The once-sparkling curiosity that had defined you was now dimmed, replaced by a veil of melancholy. The vibrant colors of your childhood were fading, replaced by a somber gray that mirrored the turmoil within you, grappling with a burden that seemed too heavy for your young shoulders to bear.

Alexia became a source of unexpected pressure. She'd noticed your withdrawal and failing grades, her playful questions morphing into a worried insistence you tell her what was wrong. You longed to confide in her, but the trauma remained a locked vault within you. Your silence, fueled by fear and confusion, was misinterpreted by Alexia as defiance. The frustration simmered in her eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew. The unspoken words hung heavy between you, a heartbreaking consequence of your unspoken pain.

Alexia's words hit you harder than any punishment your parents could dish out. Her disappointment, a word laced with hurt, echoed in the empty space where your secret pain resided. The fear you'd been holding back morphed into a suffocating dread. "Letting her down" felt like a betrayal, a confirmation that your silence had pushed away the one person you trusted. The weight of guilt settled on your shoulders. Maybe Alexia was right. Maybe you were just being a brat, making everything worse. But the truth, the darkness you couldn't speak of, felt like an insurmountable wall, isolating you further.

A Sanctuary Built for Two

The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the training field, mirroring the intensity of the practice session. Drills were brutal, pushing you to your physical and mental limits. But amidst the exhaustion, a memory, a dark tendril from the buried trauma, surfaced unexpectedly. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the image of the coach barking orders, his voice a distant echo.

The memory was vivid – your mother's hand, rough and unforgiving, twisting into your hair. You tasted salt, tears mixing with the remnants of uneaten food. Your whimpers, a desperate plea, were lost in the chaos of the moment. It was a recurring scene, one you'd desperately tried to compartmentalize, to bury deep within the recesses of your mind.

You stumbled, legs weak, vision obscured by a veil of tears. A hand, strong and steady, caught you before you could hit the ground. It was Alexia, her concern etched on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with urgency. But you couldn't speak. The words wouldn't come, trapped behind a lump in your throat that constricted your breathing.

Alexia didn't need words to understand. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, a silent haven in the midst of the chaos. She gently held your body on her arms and took you to the coolness of the locker room, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes on the field.

The locker room was a stark contrast to the sun-drenched field. Here, shadows clung to the corners, and the air hung heavy with the lingering scent of sweat and disinfectant. Alexia ushered you onto a bench, its worn leather cool against your burning skin.

For what felt like an eternity, you were unable to speak. Sobs wracked your small frame, your only sound a desperate struggle for air. But Alexia didn't push, didn't force you to talk. Instead, she sat beside you, a silent anchor in the storm.

"Breathe, little one, breathe," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "I'm here. I'm here." Her words, a gentle mantra, slowly coaxed you back from the precipice. Slowly, your sobs subsided, replaced by ragged gasps for breath.

Tears continued to stream down your face, but they were different now, cleansed of the initial terror.

Alexia didn't insult you for crying. Alexia didn't hit you.

Alexia was different.

Building a Safe Haven

Alexia, staring at your failing grades and withdrawn demeanor, felt a pang of something deeper than disappointment. It was a dawning realization – a fear that maybe everyone, including her, had been failing you. Here you were, at the tender age of seven, already burdened by a weight no child should carry.

The love she held for you, a love stronger than she ever anticipated, twisted with a fierce protectiveness. She saw the spark in your eyes dimming, replaced by a dull ache of something unspoken. Maybe, she thought, the answer wasn't pushing you harder, but stepping back. Allowing you the space to simply be a child, to rediscover the joy of scraped knees and silly jokes, just like she had done when she was younger.

It was a humbling thought, an admission that her initial approach, fueled by worry, had missed the mark entirely. Perhaps, the greatest act of love wouldn't be pushing you towards some perceived potential, but creating a safe haven where you could just be you.

The smell of betrayal

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of another grueling practice. Relief battled with exhaustion as you slumped against the fence. Alexia appeared with her her usual bright smile, joined by Mapi and Ingrid.

She reached out for her almost daily hug, the one you always cherished. But this time, the familiar warmth was tainted by a sickeningly sweet, fermented odor. It hit you like a physical blow. You pulled back abruptly, your nose scrunched in disgust.

"You smell weird," you blurted out, the words laced with a coldness you didn't recognize in yourself.

Alexia faltered, her smile collapsing. "Oh," she chuckled nervously, "it's just... well, the season's over, and I, uh, had a celebratory sip of beer with the team."

Mapi said something to you but you weren't able to hear it.

It wasn't the beer itself. You didn't know the taste, even if you had witnessed countless nights where your parents drowned their sorrows in amber liquid. But the smell – that was the monster. It was the reeking ghost of countless nights spent huddled in fear, the acrid air clinging to furniture and clothes, a constant reminder of a childhood that was being stolen by addiction.

The love you held for Alexia battled with the rising tide of anger and despair. "Well, you can go so you can keep celebrating," you muttered, your voice flat.

"No! But I...I wanted to introduce you to Mapi and Ingrid! They couldn't wait anymore to meet you!" Her voice trailed off, lost in the chasm that had suddenly opened between you.

You stared at her, the playful glint in your eyes replaced by a steely glint of hurt. Your usual tenderness, the very quality that drew you to Alexia, had vanished, replaced by a wall you didn't even know you could build. The damage was done. The smell of beer had become a cruel reminder that you couldn't escape that substance, because you'll find it in every adult.

The silence stretched on, heavy and awkward. You poked a hole in the dirt with your shoe, the playful glint in your eyes replaced by a frown. Alexia's happy face seemed to wilt under your scrutiny. You didn't want to hurt her feelings, but the yucky beer smell clung to her like a bad memory.

"Maybe," you mumbled, kicking another clump of dirt, "grown-ups aren't supposed to smell like yucky beer. Maybe they're supposed to smell like, like..." you scrunched your nose, searching for the right words, "...like cookies!"

Alexia's cheeks flushed red. You weren't sure if it was from the beer or because you'd caught her in something you considered bad. It made you feel even grumpier. Cookies! That's how grown-ups should smell, not like something that makes your tummy feel poorly, thinking how you always witnessed your parents throwing up.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your head. You puffed out your chest, trying to look as grown-up as possible. "Maybe," you declared, sticking your chin out, "I don't need hugs anymore. Maybe I don't need anyone who smells like yucky beer!"

A big, fat tear rolled down your cheek. You hated crying, but the words just tumbled out before you could stop them. Alexia knelt down slowly, her eyes filled with a sadness that made you feel a tiny bit bad. Alexia realized something must had to happened to you to be so disgusted by beer.

"Hey," she said softly, wiping away your tear with her thumb. "It's okay to be mad. But remember," she held out a finger with a sparkly ring on it, "I'll always be here for you, even if I mess up. Pinky promise?"

You hesitated, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. But all you wanted right now was to go inside, hug your stuffed bear, and pretend the bad smells and confusing grown-up things didn't exist.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Alexia. "Maybe," you whispered, barely audible, "maybe you could smell like cookies tomorrow?"

Alexia's smile was small, but it reached her eyes. It wasn't the usual bright smile, but it had a spark of understanding. "Cookies sounds delicious," she said, ruffling your hair gently.

The Most Important Match Of All

The car door slammed shut, the harsh sound echoing in the otherwise quiet street. Alexia watched the taillights of your parents' car disappear around the corner, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. You had left, a small figure dwarfed by the backseat, your face a mask of conflicting emotions.

She turned to Mapi and Ingrid, their faces etched with concern mirroring her own. "I wasn't expecting her to be so upset," Alexia confessed, her voice a low murmur.

Mapi, ever the pragmatist, offered a tentative smile. "Maybe she's just shy, Ale. Kids can be like that sometimes, especially around new people."

But Alexia shook her head, a flicker of doubt clouding Mapi's optimistic facade. “No, this feels different. She was so excited about the idea of meeting you. Then, the second she noticed the smell of alcohol...“ Her voice trailed off, the memory of your sudden withdrawal a fresh wound.

A pang of guilt shot through Alexia. She had been so focused on nurturing your talent on the field, on pushing you towards your potential, on making you her heir to La Reina title, that she might have missed something crucial. Had she been too blindsided by her own ambition, neglecting to see the emotional landscape of your life?

Ingrid, the quiet observer of the group, stepped forward. Her eyes, usually so calm, held a steely glint. "There's something more going on, Alexia. I can feel it in my gut. Her parents seem...well, normal from the outside. Polite, hardworking. But that doesn't mean things are sunshine and rainbows behind closed doors."

Shame washed over her. She had prided herself on being your mentor, your confidante, yet she had failed to see the silent cries for help. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow. Here she was, a celebrated athlete, yet she had fumbled the most important match of all.

"Maybe you're right," Alexia admitted, the words hollow in her mouth. The past few months flickered past her inner eye – your dwindling appetite, the exhaustion clinging to you like a shadow, the plummeting grades that you brushed off as a temporary dip. Signs she had chosen to ignore, attributing them solely to the pressure of training.

Taking a deep breath, Alexia pushed the self-pity aside. You were home with your parents, and that was where you had to be for now. But a fierce determination ignited within her. Things were about to change. She would find a way to bridge the gap, to create a safe space where the mask could finally fall away. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time, Alexia wasn't just looking at you as a prodigy with boundless potential. She saw you for who you truly were – a vulnerable child in need of support, a child she wouldn't fail again

The price of cookies

The warmth of freshly baked cookies, a pact between Alexia and you, still lingered in the air whenever she was around. Yet, a subtle transformation had taken root. The once jovial mentor had morphed into a vigilant sentinel. Her gaze, once playful, now held an undercurrent of suspicion, scanning your surroundings like a hawk. Every interaction, every word exchanged with someone new, was dissected with a silent intensity.

The incident from the other day had shattered the illusion of a seemingly perfect world. The realization that normalcy, like a facade, could conceal a hidden darkness gnawed at Alexia. It felt like a betrayal, not just of her trust, but of the haven she'd meticulously built for you – a world where football was a source of joy, not a potential escape route. Memories of scraped knees and goofy jokes now felt like faded photographs tucked away in a forgotten album. In their place, Alexia had constructed an invisible shield around you, a desperate attempt to ward off the world's harsh realities.

What words can't describe

Alexia gnawed on her lip, her stomach a tightly wound knot. Building trust with your parents felt like navigating a minefield. It was essential, she knew, but the thought of putting on a facade left a bitter taste in her mouth. Yet, when your parents invited her over for dinner, a forced smile flickered on her lips as she accepted.

Stepping into your apartment, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over her. It was normal. Two bedrooms, a comfortable living room bathed in warm light, and even a small balcony overlooking a quiet street. Relief battled with the nagging suspicion that had taken root in her mind. Everything was clean and tidy, a picture of domestic normalcy that clashed with the unease she couldn't quite shake.

The sight of you, however, brought a genuine smile to her face. Your eyes held a spark of joy that had been missing for weeks, and a wave of protectiveness washed over her. She followed you to your room, the air thick with the sweet scent of childhood. This was your sanctuary, your safe space. Pink and white walls were adorned with a mishmash of treasures: a menagerie of stuffed animals, a rainbow of storybooks, and a collection of dolls in various states of wear and tear.

One doll, however, stood out. A Nancy doll, the limited edition modeled after the Spanish National Team, held a prominent place on your shelf. Alexia felt a tug at her heartstrings.

"That's you," you said shyly, your cheeks dusted with a rosy blush.

Alexia's heart melted.

She didn't know how she got to the point where she felt an overwhelming love for you.

Glancing at the opposite wall, her gaze softened even more. There, proudly displayed on a corkboard, were your artistic creations. Football pitches in vibrant greens and blues, colorful caricatures of your friends, a self-portrait with a gap-toothed grin, and a collection of drawings that featured a prominent figure – Alexia herself, rendered in all her glory (or at least, your interpretation of it).

"That's also you," you said, pointing at a drawing of her mid-dribble, a determined expression etched on her face.

A warm chuckle escaped Alexia's lips. "I'm starting to feel like a permanent resident here!" she joked, the sweetness of your gesture a balm to her worry.

"I could make you a real one," you offered, tilting your head with a hopeful smile. "A drawing, I mean."

The offer felt like a lifeline tossed in a stormy sea. "I'd love that.”

[slutforsjy]

“Can I be Layla’s Mom?”

Synopsis: You made Jake mad (?) and uncomfortable with your banner, so he invited you backstage to talk about it 😇

Genre: SMUT!

Pairing: Idol!Jake X Engene Fem!Reader

Warnings: Making out, blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, spit kink, grinding, almost sex, pervert jake, nasty jake, dom jake, PURE FILTH!

Word Count: 3k +

a/n this is my first time writing pls bare with me 😭 also eng is not my first language so….rb and comment if you enjoy it 🥰

You and your friend, swept up in the pulsating energy of the crowd, singing along with your favorite group, etching memories that will forever linger in your mind. The venue is a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, with flashing lights illuminating the stage and electrifying the atmosphere.

Attending a concert had always been a dream, lured by the promise of electrifying vibes, enchanting ambiance, and the palpable connection with the performers, especially your favorite, Jake.

There were so many banners and signs around for enhypen to read and yours were the one that caught the attention of the members.

It says….

“JAKE! CAN I BE LAYLA’S MOM?” with a picture of him and Layla that he posted on twitter.

For the rest of the members they thought it was funny, but for Jake, it sparked a different reaction. The moment he saw you waving that banner, it was at first funny to him at least, until his gaze traveled from your face down to your tight ass dress pushing your breast out a little bit, his reaction shifted.

You tried to catch his attention more as you started jumping, shouting, singing, and dancing not knowing how your boobs wiggle in front of him. His jaw clenched at the sight and you didn’t miss the way he licked his lips. Of course, your fans around you went crazy duh 🙄 but for you? you can’t seem to read what was that expression.

As the concert drew to a close, with each member delivering their heartfelt messages to the crowd, your eyes remained fixated on Jake. When he finished speaking, you seized the opportunity to capture his attention once more, by showing him your banner. However, instead of amusement, you sensed a flicker of irritation in his demeanor. You saw him cock his head looking annoyed by your actions as he diverted his gaze over to the other side of the stage and started waving at the fans instead.

You got worried, fearing that your playful gesture may have crossed a line and maybe it’s not an inappropriate banner for you to show him in the first place. But you just shrugged it off as you put your banner inside your bag and just enjoy the rest of the concert.

Everything inside the venue happens so quickly, and clearly, you don’t want to go home especially that your bias is mad at you. During their encore, you never miss a time when jake steals a look from you. He would look at you with a sharp eyes and then look at somewhere else when you catch him looking directly at you.

At this point you are so worried maybe because you truly made him uncomfortable with that stupid banner.

You’re so stupid!

Consumed by guilt and disappointment, you didn’t enjoy the rest of the concert. You really feel like crying, wanting to apologize to Jake which makes it worse as the thought of never meeting him again hits you and you’re never gonna have a chance to tell him that you’re sorry.

Once they bid their final goodbye, a wave of melancholy washed over you watching how the stage slowly closes hiding the seven most precious human beings for you.

“Bitch what was going on with you and jake?” you were jolted by your friend’s sudden question

See? Your friend noticed it too!

“Right? I really don’t know what I did wrong” you screamed, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon you.

“Dude he stares at you like he’s going to kill you” she says jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Damn! maybe i made him uncomfortable with my banner” your friend nodded noting how you didn’t use your banner at the latter part of the concert.

For the record, it wasn’t your intention to make anyone uncomfortable especially Jake, you made it for fun! even you friends and the other members find it funny. How is it not funny for Jake too!

As the crowd dispersed, your friends lingered for a final photo, offering a brief distraction from your swirling thoughts. Lost in the digital snapshots of the evening, you were startled by an unexpected interruption.

“Excuse me” he says tapping your shoulder.

You thought it was another engene asking you to take a photo of them but to your surprise you saw what is written in his shirt.

‘STAFF’

“Uhm sorry we’re actually done taking photo, we’ll head out quickly after this” you smiled at him.

You are about the go out of the venue when he calls you again.

“Uhm actually someone wants to see you…… at the backstage” You are so shocked and confused.

“W-what? Why?” your asked nervously

“Just go there, he just wants to talk to you” he then walked away shooting you a smile afterwards

“He?” both of you exclaimed

“Girl what the fuck is goin~?!” you cut your friend off and went immediately to follow the staff

You left your friend there and just shouted to her to just meet you at the hotel.

You’re so nervous walking towards the staff in front of you as he pointed at the door telling you to go inside.

Stopping in front of the door, heart racing, thinking if you should go inside or not.

Just by looking at the door, you think it is a storage room or whatever. You spent few minutes guessing what or WHO could be inside this room.

Once you got the courage to open the door, you were so shocked from what you see.

There you saw Jake,

manspreading, both arms on the head rest of the couch, staring at you with a smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down while licking his lips.

Wearing his soundcheck outfit earlier!

Your knees started trembling, seeing those gaze he gave you earlier at the stage as you nervously averted your gaze to look around the small room.

But this isn’t the time to be nervous, and so you brushed off your own thoughts and say hi and tell him how he did well.

“Hi Jake, i really enjoyed the concert, i can’t believe you called me i~” you were cutted as you heard him speak by his deep voice with thick accent

“come here” he commands while tapping his thigh

You blinked for a while as you look at him confused

“i said come here” his tone is very commanding and scary

You slowly walk towards him and he immediately grabbed your wrist and draw circles on it using his thumb

“so…” he paused looking at you directly in the eye

“you wanna be layla’s mom” that devilish smirk perked up on his beautiful lips once again

You gulp nervously at the question you knew that this was about the banner

“look Jake im sorry i didn’t mean to make you~” he shush you

“you know how hard it was for me to hide a fucking boner?” he raised his eyebrows at you

“what?” you ask sincerely looking at his bulge

He took your hand once again and guided it to palm his hard cock through his pants.

“JAKE!!” you shouted his name and step back a little bit taken aback from what he did.

GOD IT’S HUGE 😭

He smirked again from your reaction as he let go of your hands and quickly removed his glasses and leather jacket leaving him only with tank top perfectly flexing his biceps and showing his toned chest through the tight material.

You tried not to look at his body but failed anyways

“So” he licked his lips and started placing both of his hands at the back of his head, spreading his legs even more to pull you closer to him.

Youur mouth waters from the sight alone and jake noticed it and smirked again for the hundredth time.

“To be layla’s mom, first you should know how to suck my dick” he looked up to you waiting for your response

Your eyes widened from what you heard.

“WHAT?!!” you’re so confused right now

“can you make me feel good” palming his hard cock through his pants, once again biting his lips, and winking at you. “I want someone who can take care of my cock too, you think you can do that?”

This is guy is so perv but you love it. It’s not all the time that you could suck a dick like jake’s 🤷‍♀️

You don’t know what’s going on with your mind as you nodded to him slowly kneeling down and you put both of your hands on either side of his thighs

“that’s a good girl” he said patting your head as he tucked your hair behind your ears

You can’t really talk right now. All you can think of is HIS cock and the taste of his cum.

Without any hesitation you immediately reached for his pants unzipping it in no time. He lifted his lower body so you could pull down his pants together with his boxers.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, it’s average in length but what shocked you the most is its thickness, it’s fat FAT!

You tried to scan his fat cock a little bit more as you also noticed how veiny it is. Well this isn’t so shocking for you because you see how veiny his hands are.

You can’t help but to lick your lips as you can’t really wait to savour his cock. You’re basically drooling over his cock. “you like what you see baby? why don’t you show me how you like it hmm?”

You wasted no time putting your pretty lips around the tip of his cock

You hummed as you try to please him with only the head

He leaned against the couch and put his hands at the back of his head

HE IS SO HOT! you were so turned on at the sight of him looking down at you with smile, biting his lips and his armpit on full display.

You try to taste every inch of his fat cock starting from the head, you started sucking it like your life depends on it. He guided your hands into his balls implying you to massage it.

He can’t help but buck his hips wanting to hit your throat immediately.

After a few minutes of sucking and licking just the tip you gave it a few more peck while looking at him still looking down at you with a smirk as he caress your cheeks

You tilt your head and work on the base of his cock this time. You gave it a long lick from his balls to the top of its head. You could literally feel in your tongue the bumps of his veins running through his cock. HE TASTES SO GOOD!

“baby i want more, please suck it more” he whined getting boring with your way of pleasuring him.

You got sad cuz you want to take your time, to WORSHIP his cock. But this isn’t about you, so upon hearing his words you’re eager to please him more, to SATISFY him.

You started by spitting on top of his cock as you locked eye contact with him. You saw him nodding at you flashing his eyebrows encouraging you to do more.

You worked your mouth down on his pretty cock reaching the back of your throat in one go earning a few cuss from his him.

“fuck that’s it, so fucking tight and warm ahh..” he grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down a little bit more.

He guided you as you bobbed your head up and down aggressively until you choked out loud, causing you to immediately pull his hands off of your head and let go of his cock for a second.

You looked at him with teary eyes, catching your breath, signaling for a pause.

“im sorry baby did i go too hard?” he asked while tracing your lips with the head of his cock STILL smirking.

“just a few more, i know you can take it” he leaned down to lick the corner of your lips where your saliva is dripping and asked “right baby?”

damn he’s so hot and nasty 😵‍💫 but you like it. You like how he’s being rough with you

“please” he says with puppy eyes

and who are you to ignore his cock?

“stick your tongue out for me please”

As the cock slut you are you stuck your tongue out as he placed his heavy cock on top of your tongue rubbing it slowly.

You both stayed like this for a while feeling the heaviness of his cock while he says a few reminders.

“when i cum down this mouth i want you to swallow all of it, understood?” you badly want to make this the best blowjob he will ever get, so you immediately lick the tip of his cock as a response while nodding

“fuck” he hissed at your actions and pulled you out of his cock by your hair and held your chin up

“you can’t wait huh? you really want my cum?” he says slapping his cock against your cheeks

All you can do is to nod at him, your eyes watching how he hits your face with his cock tapping it all over your face harder and harder spreading his pre-cum

He teases you like this for a few seconds as you go after his dick sniffing it and catching it with your mouth

He chuckles while looking at you so desperate looking like a dog going after its toy “Slut!” he slapped it one last time against your cheeks and started patting your head

“good girl, now open up i’ll go hard okay?” he stands up, forcefully gripping your jaw using his one hand and spat on your mouth which you gladly took and swallow like it’s yours.

“god you’re making me crazy” without a warning he shoved his cock all the way in to your throat. You looked at him with teary eyes while he harshly fuck your throat like there’s no tomorrow.

He pulls out for a second to give you a break as he pats your head and caress your cheeks “so good for me, taking me so well”

“please fuck my mouth jakey” you beg

“oh baby i will” you try your best not to choke as he picked up his pace this time. You gripped around his legs as a support as he uses your mouth like a flesh light with every hard thrust letting a sinful moans and grunts from him.

You keep sucking, using your tongue to rub the underside of his dick that's filling up your mouth. He pulls your hair again causing you to moan around his dick and you close your eyes, only to feel a slap on your cheek.

You open your eyes and look up at him to see him looking down at you with a frown, hand still on your jaw. " You're gonna keep looking at me got it?" He said, his thrusts never faltering. You hummed in agreement and his smirk returns.

“ughh fuck this mouth so good for me” he thrusts slowly but deeper this time angling his hips.

“you like this huh? such a good girl for me yeah?” he asked mouth wide open and eyes squinting as pleasure takes over his body.

You stay like that for a few more minutes, unmoving as Jake uses your mouth for his pleasure, swallowing saliva and precum, until you feel his grip in your hair get tighter and his thrusts gets deeper.

“Im close baby, remember what i told you?” he says as his speed increases, the sounds of you choking and gagging bringing his climax ever closer.

You felt him grabbed your head with both of his hands as his thrusts started to get sloppy and shallow indicating for him to reach his climax.

Hearing his sexy moans and gasps made your pussy clench around nothing. So you tried to reach for your pants and work your own orgasm.

Jake is too lost on his mind to even notice how youre trying to pleasure yourself. With that he just continues to punish your pretty little mouth mercilessly.

“ah fuck! fuck! fuck! im cumming, ah” he cried so loud enough for people outside the room to hear

With few more thrust he buried your head against his cock, the tip of your nose hitting his pelvis as he shoot his load to the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks even more getting all the cum out of his cock.

You looked at him head thrown back, furrowed eyebrows, mouth wide open moaning out loud, body twitching, and gasping for air. His face says it all.

You felt his dick twitch one last time as he shots his 6th cumshot in to your throat, some spilling down your mouth.

He thrusts one last time to make sure all of his cum goes down your throat.

“fuck” he fell down the couch sweat all over his face looking at you proudly as you showed him how you eat and swallow all of his load~draining him.

“fuck i came a lot, didn’t I?” he moves closer to your face as he brought his thumb to wipe off the remaining of his cum on your chin and shove it back inside your mouth.

You hummed sucking his thumb while looking at him, your pussy is now forgotten as you came just from tasting his seeds.

“good girl” you’ve lost count on how many times did Jake called you that. It boosts your ego.

You started getting up on your knees, and grabbed your things, and the reality just hits you now. You can’t process what just happened “jake i have to go, thank y~”

You were cut off once again

“wait” you glanced over him as you see him get something from his bag

He walk over you still with his cock hanging between his legs and hand you a piece of paper~with his contact number written on it.

You find him cute on how he just stood there, smiling at you like a puppy as if he didn’t just choked your life out earlier.

He leaned closer to your ear as he grabbed the back of your neck and whispered something to you

“i still don’t know your name, pretty” he said in a flirty and sexy tone making you wet once again.

You were about to say your name when you felt him bit your ears.

“Jake uhmm wait” you tried to stop him as his mouth went its way down to your neck sucking it desperately.

“mhmm jake please” you cried tilting your head to give him more access to your neck

It took a while before jake got his senses back as he stared at the mark on your neck proudly with a smirk.

“so…how do you want me to call you baby” he looked at your eyes

“y/n” you said voice shaking

“what a sexy name” he says with a raspy voice squeezing your ass up pressing your clothed pussy on his once again hard cock

“feel that y/n?” you moaned as you feel his cock against you with your pants the only boundary. At this point, both of you are so hungry and desperate for each other. You follow the rhythm of his body, grinding against him.

He grabed you by your head and started lapping, eating, devouring, the entirety of your mouth almost licking all parts of your face. Making you gasp and open your lips for him. But he doesn’t gave you time to catch your breath as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth feeling him suck on your tongue harshly. You placed both of your hands on his shoulder as you try to kiss him back with the same intensity. You continued for a few more minutes exchanging salivas while still grinding against each other until you heard a knock from the door calling for Jake.

You pulled back from the kiss and saliva dripped down your lips but Jake is too quick to catch it with his own tongue. Licking your chin all the way up to the tip of your nose. He groaned, disappointment evident from his face.

“Damn baby you’re so hot, but i need to go” he said while putting his Calvin Klein underwear back on together with his pants.

“call me by the number i gave you…” he thrusts in to you one last time…

“Im going to MAKE you a mom” he whispers pecking your lips one last time

Leaving you dumb and speechless

Leaving your pussy dripping from your second orgasm

Leaving you wanting for more

Leaving you curious about his last words~

THE END

HI! OMG thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy 🥹

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE

Ahem...

How bout a fic where we share, maybe teach Fierce how to dance?

I am living for these fics

I love this idea!! One dance scene coming up, and I'll throw in some /drama/ to sweeten the deal ;)

Smooth

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): some possessive thoughts, but nothing crazy

Masterlist

It was a preposterous idea, in the Fierce Deity's opinion; far too poignant to be introduced at the breakfast table, much less to the likes of him.

"I've picked up the waltz," the Link called 'Warrior' preened, leaning forward to fix you with a gaze the deity couldn't help but loathe. Of course, you were your own person and free to do as you pleased, though that sentiment did nothing to stem the flow of... he dare say it was jealously, through his veins. "I'd be happy to show you, if you'd like."

But sweet, unassuming you only grinned at him from across the table. "I know that one too! Anyone heard of the square dance?"

"I have, but 'm no good," Twilight chimed in, fork piled high with the eggs you and Wild made.

"I can dance on any ship mast!" Wind proclaimed, looking pointedly at everyone before his gaze settled on you. "If we ever end up in my world I'll teach you!"

"I can't wait," there it was, the soft smile that never failed to frame your face when you were truly happy. Fierce hoped you never lost it. Picking at the last of your food, you turned to the deity beside you. "How about you, big guy? You can't tell me you haven't danced at least once."

The Fierce Deity felt a sort of melancholy at your words, mostly because he had not, in fact, danced at least once and partly because impressing you was typically the highlight of his day. "I," he could feel Time's working eye on him, as cerulean as the Termina sky and twice as calculating. "am not familiar with the dances of this world."

That seemed the safest response, and the deity was relieved he could think as quickly on his buttocks as he could on his feet. When understanding settled in your gaze, he knew he made the right choice. "Well, allow me to impart some moves on you in case someone asks for your hand on the floor."

Aside from the fact that he had heard none of those words in the same sentence together, and that he would likely never accept the hand of anyone but you, the Fierce Deity could only helplessly nod, no more ensnared than a fish in a net. At night, your sway over him would be so baffling that he could hardly close his eyes, too caught up in the great mysteries of the heart he didn't know he possessed. "I would like that."

And so it was decided. The conversation devolved to you detailing all the errands the day required, and there was no shortage of help when it came to your needs–you had given them a home, food, and good company, so how could Time and Twilight refuse tending to the petunias, or Wild and Sky the cooking? Hyrule looked as though he would sooner restart his hero's journey than gather ingredients for the stew you had planned for dinner, while Legend's expression indicated that he would rather fight the beast Volga a thousand times over than not assist with laundry, never mind the amount of soiled clothes eleven people undoubtedly generated a week. Four's eyes resembled a mismatched kaleidoscope (he had been quite disturbed when you let him use yours, but the Fierce Deity wasn't one to shy easily) when you asked if he wanted some scrap metal from the neighbor's garage sale, and Wind was downright ecstatic when you invited him to the grocery store. Warriors gaze practically held heart-eyes when you informed him that the sewing materials to fix his ripped scarf would be arriving in the afternoon, only souring when you delegated the last task to the Fierce Deity himself: dance lessons at 4.

It was a laughable thought that his only responsibility was to prepare for lessons on dance, but the Fierce Deity was not one to complain at the newfound freedom, as if you had never offered it before. The tasks you laid out were simply requests, and it was clear that they could back out at any time, not that any of them would, of course. The Fierce Deity knew your behavior would have never passed in his world, and it was one of the things he admired about you, a mere mortal who could convince them of anything. He saw it in Time's eyes, in Twilight's and Wind's and Wild's. Devoted was too soft a word to describe it, but there was no better one.

And as you began to gather plates, chirping happily about the great weather, he began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was.

You found the Fierce Deity in the living room, sat beside Time and Warriors, their eyes practically glued to the episode of Family Feud playing on the TV. You found it funny how much they enjoyed the show, though you supposed it was a bid to learn more about your culture without having to ask you about every little thing. Wind had even begun to use slang, and while you were proud, his use of 'bro' was simply out of control at times, though nothing could top the time Twilight tried to use 'rad' in a sentence.

Leaning against the wall, you fake-coughed, tapping your watch when they turned to look at you. "Hey, Fierce, you ready to get some moves?"

Despite the obvious differences in word choice between the two of you, Fierce nodded solemnly and followed you to the backyard. A large 'patio' extended nearly to the middle of the yard, and his boots clomped obnoxiously on the slate-colored stone. It had been one of the only articles you allowed him to wear everywhere, as the people of your world tended not to be fond of men in armor that carried swords bigger than they were, which led to several heated discussions from you about proper dress. The Fierce Deity tugged on the sleeves of his grey 'shirt', a gift from you when you realized he was a bit large to shop at regular stores.

"We should be good here," you stated, hands poised on your hips. "I still can't believe you've never danced at all."

"It is not uncommon," responded the Fierce Deity. "Song and dance are for people of mirth."

You raised an eyebrow. "You don't consider yourself a 'person of mirth'?"

"I am the god of war," for a moment, the bitterness in his gaze was almost palpable. "There is no happiness in battle."

"Not even victory?" You were curious of the Fierce Deity, of what the lens of divinity really entailed. Had it truly made him cold, or was it merely a front?

"Especially not victory," he intoned, and you were nearly consumed with the urge to hug him. You'd never denied the vast differences your lives held, but it still stung to hear him speak so... despondently.

"Well," you patted his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. You had. "We haven't had a world war in, like, years, so don't worry your pretty little head about it!"

The Fierce Deity raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on your choice of words, much to your relief. Clapping your hands together, you changed the subject. "You have a very waltz-y style, so we'll start with that."

You offered him your hands, which he took with no hesitation. Contrary to your assumption, his porcelain skin was warm to the touch, and just as smooth. You couldn't help but wonder if all deity's were like this, or if it was merely another thing that set him apart from the gods. Carefully, you brought your right arm up, encouraging his to follow suit, then placed the palm of his right hand on your side, sliding your left hand up to rest on the curve of his bicep. "You're going to want to hold your arm up like this–and keep your hand under my arm like so."

"Then you step back with your right foot," you said as you stepped forward with your right. "Aaand take another step so both feet are parallel."

It was a testate to the Fierce Deity's character that he followed your movements with nary a grunt. Stark eyes burned holes into your own. The Fierce Deity was a man of few words, so you supposed it was fate that you had more than enough to share. "Now you're going to take a step with your left," your shoes clicked on the stone as you stepped back carefully. "Then another so your feet are parallel, and now move them together."

The Fierce Deity did just that, brows set in concentration. His dedication was flattering in a soft way, as was the thought that a god thought you were important enough to dance with. You had no doubt that he wouldn't have agreed if he didn't want to, though you could still hardly comprehend his interest in you, a mere mortal. Surely there were more compelling souls he could associate with, or were you simply a distraction from the shock of living in a new world? You tried not to think too hard, shooting the deity a practiced grin. "And that's all there is to it!"

Instead of pulling away, Fierce began anew, until you were dancing in the middle of the patio like no one's business. If dancing with a deity wasn't on your bucket list before, it sure was now.

"You are a good teacher," were the Fierce Deity's first words in however long you'd been outside. He was close enough that you could feel the steady puffs of his breaths, and you doubted you would ever feel quite as protected as you were now. "I shall treasure this experience."

Well, if that wasn't the sweetest thing you had heard today. "I'm glad, you're doing great!"

Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, it did. "Are you familiar with more dances?"

"A few," you shrugged. "Square dancing, the waltz... and the tango, but don't quote me."

The question in his pupil-less eyes was clear: when did you have the time? Time was a fickle concept, and it didn't surprise you that the Fierce Deity wouldn't have any left for song and dance. Yet here you stood, locked in a creative embrace that he should have scorned. What about you could have intrigued the deity so, or at least enough for him to request dance lessons?

Not that you minded, you would never mind.

"Do you want to learn those too?"

The Fierce Deity's head jerked up and down, ruffling his unusually impeccable bangs. You had no idea what sorcery he employed to achieve such an effortless look, but you wanted in. "Has your hair always been this long?"

His grip on your waist tightened a fraction, gaze practically burning a hole into your skull. "Yes."

Hair held memories, so what mysteries did his carry? Stories within strands, just begging to be discovered. Most importantly, would he allow you to read them, or were you simply grossly overestimating your relationship?

"I had it cut," the deity spoke, effectively coloring you surprised. "once."

"Only once?"

"It was during my service," it was back--the tone he used when he was only humoring you. You swayed across the cobblestone, ears perked for his next words. "I did not like it."

You... you could tell. "You don't say..."

"Do you cut your hair?"

"I do," you had no idea why admitting that felt embarrassing. "Not often, but enough that it doesn't get split ends."

"Split... ends?" By the way he said it, you would have assumed it was a curse. That and the fact that he apparently was oblivious to haircare other than what you assumed to be sorcery.

"...You don't know what those are?" His blank expression said all, so you coughed and stood a bit straighter. "It's when your hair grows to long and the ends just... split. Getting regular hair cuts and using good products helps."

"I... see," just when you thought that was the end of it, the madness continued. "And these products you speak of?"

Was he... did he really want to learn about human haircare? You supposed your hands were tied on the matter, so you heaved a sigh. "It's an umbrella term; there's hair masks, shampoo and conditioner, oils, butters–"

"You apply butter to your hair?" came a new, incredulous voice. Warriors and Wild strode out from the patio door, the former's scarf looped around his nose and mouth in a manner that made you wonder if you should be nervous. You attempted to release Fierce, but he refused, hold only tightening. "Dude– what's up, Wars, Wild?"

"Where's the... Hylia, I can't remember the name for the life of me," Wars scratched his head and groaned. "The red cylinder–"

"You mean the fire extinguisher?" You asked incredulously, trying and failing to hide your mounting terror.

Warriors grinned and snapped his fingers. "That's it! So...?"

"It's under the sink," you deadpanned. "Please tell me the kitchen isn't on fire."

"Okay, we won't," said Wild, already jogging backwards. You sighed as they retreated back into the house, the acid scent of smoke fingering in through the cracked windows.

"God give me strength–"

"You may utter that once more," said the deity with an exhausted expression.

Other than his horrible euphemism for 'you can say that again', you completely agreed with that statement. "I'd love to stay, but I really don't have the money to get a new microwave," you said a tad sheepishly, weaseling from his slackened grip. "You've got the talent, and don't you forget it!"

It was only until you disappeared inside the house that the Fierce Deity released the sigh he had been holding... and the arm that had raised in a half-hearted attempt to draw you back. 'Pitiful' was the first word to come to his mind when he thought of you; he was a god, and yet he was practically helpless to the whims of a mortal. He wondered how the goddesses saw him now, tamer than a sparrow in a golden cage and more obedient than a hound on a leash. Perhaps it was wonder that drew him closer, emboldened by the terrifying presence of love in his barren heart. There were so many different types of love, and the Fierce Deity liked to think he felt at least one of them toward you. It would certainly explain the uncomfortable feeling in his chest when one of the others had your attention. But, rational as he was, the deity knew attempting to control you would be like trying to stem a raging river. Not that he wanted to, he simply desired your eyes on him, your hands in his own, warm and soft with gentle promises of comfort. He wondered if you would make good on your word, because, really, the concept of dance lessons was a preposterous idea–the Fierce Deity didn't dance at the whims of mortals–and he would be eternally grateful to the goddesses for granting him that pleasure.

This ask is insanely on time because I JUST learned how to square dance yesterday at college. Also this is an unofficial part of Knightmare in Toronto <3

[yandere-wishes]

𐙚 𝕬 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝕷𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖔 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖆 𐙚

Wednesday February 14th xxxx

Dear Dracula:

I find myself pondering if, deep down, in the heart you deny possessing. There still exists a chasmic rhyme and reason for all which you do. They call you monster, fiend, abomination. Yet aren't they the ones that maim and slaughter for reasons as thin as thread? Thus why should we possess the burden of such an accursed name?

Valentine's is upon us. Maybe such sacrilegious festivities can be blamed for my intrepidity. We've yet to consort outside our nocturnal affairs, outside our world of half-spun truths and forgotten anecdotes. I pray you forgive my effrontery. I pray you comprehend my need for making such inquiries.

But my dear precious Dracula, I have to ask. Do you still remember your mother, your home, your heritage? Many deny that one as egregious as you could possess such mortal things. And yet aren't those the fundamental pillars of who we turn out to be? Isn't one man's evil another man's crusade?

So I, a mortal who believes she may have fallen for you in all your atrocious glory, ask do you remember being a son, a child? Being innocent and naive enough to believe every lie and fable? Do you still yarn for your mother in the dead of day? Recalling her scent and the bouncy curls of her hair, tasting nostalgia on your blood-soaked tongue.

What was it like in the sand, in the snow, in the green valleys and rocky outskirts? Did the coarseness of sand and the roughness of rocks and the tickle of flowers leave phantom pains across your body? Did you play with the snakes and climb fig trees? Did you laugh with others of your kind?

Do you recall your ancestrial home? The bronze walls of your mother's temple. Her fingers wafting through your hair as her smile radiates brighter than the moon. I zealously trust the visions that flash before my eyes on moonless nights. Images of a frail batling wrapped in kaleidoscopic blankets tucked under his mother's arm. Your mother mingled with owls, I wonder why she constructed you in the likeness of bats, of wolves, of snakes? Did she wish for you to serve as a cacophony to the detested, to those we so quickly forget? Did she wish for you something she could never have herself?

They seldom recall you are one of the sons of flames and stardust. Do they forget we share a legacy? One I believe you fought for. Both descendants of the divinely blessed. Both lost children arid for blood and retribution.

I too know of the darkly sweet tang of rich blood upon the tongue.

I too know the fragile elation of scraping blood from under one's fingernails three days later.

I too know the sensation of being a monster in everything but intentions.

I cherish the two lone bites you've left upon my neck. I cherish the cuts your claws have left upon my hips. You never say a word when you fall. When melancholy and memories obfuscate your judgment. I know you refuse to act human, to pretend and be something you are not. Thus I won't ask for sweet nothings from you.

Yet still I long to hear you call me "love".

When did you realize you were equal parts hellfire and shamshir?

When did you realize that humanity deserves to suffer for its every injustice?

My sweet, sweet Dracula, I regret to inform you that as of late my bones feel faulty and brittle, as do my thoughts. Can we still call ourselves holy? Do we still have that right? Can we still repent for our sins? Who decides what a sin is anyway? Will we ever be innocent to someone?

Are you torn too? Broken in all the wrong places? Do you feel the open wounds and amputations, when you stare up at the stars? I wonder if I owe you an apology. I wonder if you owe me one too…

Dearest Dracula, would you ever understand if I told you that I am tired of being a monster, a villain, an abomination? Would you understand if I told you I need to rest inside a glass coffin, to be rejuvenated and reborn into the world as something useful?

Would you believe me if I say I believe in you? That I lay the burden of my aspirations upon your unwavering shoulders. Should there exist any mere slivers of hope, I shall bestow them upon you in trim vials of gold.

Where did our obligations go? Where are they buried so that I may pay my tardy regards?

Dear Dracula,

I hope you understand every star I've spilled to you.

I hope you comprehend the love I harbor within my defective heart.

I hope you adore the blood I've penned this letter with.

I just hope you understand…

In your absence, thorn bushes grow across my cadaver. suffocating and desolate. Without you, voids grow inside me, where hope once flourished. Dracula what I've been trying to say this whole time is…

I think we're both monsters.

I think I could love you.

Sincerely me…

P.S

Think of me as you feast upon your latest victim. And I shall think of you as I fall asleep to the city's empty tunes.

I need an origin story for Dracula.

sorry for the cryptic love letter.

But hopefully this way everyone can identify with it in some way.

[therealmintedmango]

Cerberus - Part Four

Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual Romance/ Smut

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit

Words: 8,746

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Dark themes; Yandere Vibes; Blood; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Dark Dreams; Non-consensual touching/being touched without consent; Men who pray on women when they are vulnerable

Tag List: (Please notify me if you wish to be added/ no longer want to be apart of the tag list!) @openup-yourmind, @deeepvibes, @xxsunny-side-upxx, @heoniebaby @applelovesposts, (Sorry I've I've missed anyone! It's been awhile!)

Cerberus Playlist — Apple Music (Let me know if you have a good song to add to the playlist and I’ll chuck it in there!)

A frightened yell ripped through the large estate, shattering the peaceful, quiet evening like fragile glass thrown against a wall. The blood-curdling scream stopped all the brothers in their mundane tracks for the evening while they all were sitting in the parlor.

Taehyung flicked his paintbrush down on his wooden easel, flecks of green splattering across his canvas, a deep growl of confusion emitting from his throat. Hoseok snapped the book he was reading about hunting large game animals closed, eyes narrowing at the harrowing sound. An awful sour tone rang out, Yoongi’s long fingers slammed on the ivory keys of the piano as he stood abruptly.

A beat of silence ticked, stretching between the princes’, as realization set in.

“Little bird!” Seokjin yelped as he leapt from the news docket and the glass of brandy he was nursing all evening.

They take off into the house like dogs deep in the thick of the hunt. Their legs pushing into the carpet and marble of the home, scrambling for purchase against the ground. Snarls, whimpers, and growls echoed in the mansion as the brothers seemingly moved as one, thundering through their halls. The wolf-boys arms pushing them faster as their nails rake across wooden walls, shredding banisters in their wake. They feel like time is slowing, the clock is the enemy, pushing them back from the only thing they’ve cared about in what feels like ages.

In reality, they move like a flurry of hungry, wild beasts. The wolf brothers fly through their home with quick, superhuman strength. Worry and fright heighten their senses, a kaleidoscope of emotions changing every few milliseconds. 

They needed to get to her. They needed to race her. They yipped and groaned, pushing, clawing their way to her room. Their wolf blood pulsing and flowing with fear scorching through their human forms. 

Nails grew from deep within their human skin. Lips lifted, exposing their gleaming canines and bright pink gums as her room came into view. The prince’s wolf bodies rippled against the soft flesh of their mortal forms. The feral, wild hounds that they really are were threatening to escape as snarls and low growls toppled from their throats. 

Malice, violence, something benevolent they all think as they enter her room unannounced. They wanted to choke, maim, take pleasure in killing something that would hurt her…Make her scream like that.

Seokjin enters first, throwing the wooden doors open. Normally he would knock but he hasn’t a clear thought, wanting to know what or who could have made their little bird react the way she did. 

It’s eerie and quiet inside the guest living quarters. 

The younger princes’ enter next. They pant, shake and sputter, drinking in the smell of sharp terror that hangs heavy in the air of her lavish room. The fire in the hearth is out, moonlight pools through her windows creating a dim glow to cascade across the room…Their mate is passed out in a cold sweat in her bed…

And their youngest brother was in the corner of their room looking utterly ashamed.

A gust of melancholy October wind hit the house, the fallen leaves rustling on the ground and in the trees outside. The windows rattled, the panes shuttered against the cold breeze howling against the walls of the mansion. Silence coated the room, hanging in the still air was the chill of fear from their mate and the scent of shame wafting from Jungkook.

It took the wolf-boys a beat longer until it finally clicked. 

“What is wrong with you, Jungkook?” Seokjin remarks, lips peeling back, white teeth bared at the youngest brother. Rage flashing across his amber eyes. “Revealing your wolf form to her?”

“She was having a bad dream, hyung.” Jungkook sheepishly responded, shaking his head back and forth. “I wanted to be there for her when she woke up.” He bit his lip as he grabbed his cloak, covering his naked form. “She was terrified, hyung. I could smell it through the walls.” 

“Poor thing.” Hoseok cooed as he placed a cool hand across her blazing forehead. His amber eyes roamed over her still face, drinking in every inch of her flushed flesh.  Her hair pooled around her head on her pillow, wrapping herself in a halo of strands and tresses. Hoseok’s nostrils flared as his eyes reached her slightly parted mouth; her split lip she arrived with was almost completely healed. 

How badly did Hoseok wish to press his lips into hers... 

“What if she died on the spot, Jungkook?” Taehyung asked, standing next to Hoseok, watching her attentively. His voice shook with concern, his thick brows furrowed as he studied her like a beautiful painting. “She looks like she has seen a spirit!”

“I-I used my magic on her to make her forget seeing me and go back to sleep.” Jungkook then admitted in a soft, small voice. 

Seokjin gasped softly. 

Another egregious sin they were not supposed to use upon the poor mortal kind. Using their werewolf powers on a regular human was quite shameful. That was something that the creatures beyond the veil would do, nay, not the brothers that rule Bangtan. 

“Magic?” Seokjin snapped and Hoseok yelped at the same time, sharing a look of anger and dismay, respectfully. 

Yoongi heaved a heavy sigh, collapsing into a purple velvet armchair by the hearth of her fireplace. The second eldest licked the edges of his mouth, running his long fingers through his white hair in a defeated manner. “Jungkook, we cannot shift in the mansion. You know how we all feel about this.”

Jungkook couldn’t meet his older brother's amber glare. “I know, hyung. I just—“

Without even looking at him, Taehyung and Yoongi both emitted low, warning growls, their voices deep and huskiest of the brothers. It was quite a scary duo to witness. Jungkook froze, his amber eyes sliding to the ground in obedience.  

Pack order, as well as family dynamic, was something that was established, but changed from time to time. In this room right now, the order was Yoongi, Seokjin, Hoseok, Taehyung, then Jungkook. When all the princes were together, the order was usually eldest to youngest, though that was challenged by Taehyung and Namjoon often. However, Seokjin never failed to be at the top of the pecking order normally due to his birthright. 

“No ‘hyung’ this or that.” Yoongi snarled, head hanging as he rested his elbows on the tops of his thighs, speaking directly to the cold ground beneath his feet. “You shifted…then got scared when she screamed at the sight of your wolf form, so you made her pass back out with your magic!” He got up then, pounded over to the youngest brother and single handedly picked Jungkook up off the floor by his robes. “Why were you in her room in the first place, huh?” The second eldest’s eyes were ablaze, fury seeping out of his pores as he searched the youngest’s own fearful orbs. 

Yoongi had already reprimanded Namjoon today. Tensions were on high alert today because of that. He was so fond of all his kin, he hated being the villain, the bad part about their day. Seokjin and himself very much had to play parent because theirs have since passed. 

“I’m going utterly insane, hyung…” Was all Jungkook could muster before Yoongi let out another deep sigh, his free hand rifling through his white locks. 

“I know.” Yoongi admitted, releasing him gently. Yoongi agreed, solemnly nodding, the fire extinguishing from his words and his sunset colored eyes.  His gaze traveled to the lovely young lady in their guest room who they worshipped the ground she walked on.  His nostrils flared, “We all are, Jungkook…we all are.” 

———-

Soft, featherlight touches upon my cheek roused me from my slumber.  Though I remember fainting, I cannot recall why that occurred. Blinking slowly, I opened my eyes only to see rich amber-coloured orbs peering down at me in the flickering candlelight. Pushing the sheets away, I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my weary eyes. I wasn’t fully awake nor was I registering who was in my room with me in this present moment. The air around me was thick, laced with anticipation and it smelt of fresh linen and morning dew. I stopped moving at once and drank in the human sitting opposite of myself. 

Prince Jungkook.

My mind started to race with questions. Why was he here?  In my room? What time was it? His eyes widened as I stared at him. “Little bird-“

“Prince Jungkook.” I clutch the sheets to cover my chest, my cheeks flushing a bright red hue. Jungkook looked completely sheepish as an innocent gleam flashing across his amber eyes. “W-What are you doing here?” 

“I beg your pardon, my lady.” He sheepishly looked down and away from me. “One of the hunting dogs became loose in the castle, found its way into your room and gave you quite a scare.… I think.”  The youngest prince runs a hand through his curly, richly-colored locks, sliding his palm down to stroke the side of his neck. “I do not wish to frighten you or have you think ill of me, as I know a young lady should never be unattended without a chaperone…”  Jungkook turns the complete opposite direction of me, looking toward the foot of the bed. “It was my turn to put the hounds away and I utterly failed.” Jungkook solemnly looks out the window, his tone grim. “I’m deeply sorry, Y/N.” 

My heart cracks into little pieces.

Prince Jungkook reminds me of my brother Chan at this moment. So sweet and earnest, never truly meaning to harm anyone, a wash of teasing in his tone. He was all but sass and silliness, but he would never bite--lest not bite me.

My stomach lurches at the memory of my brother.  

I lightly touch Jungkook’s shoulder to steady my spiraling thoughts of my family I left not long ago. I lean into the young prince and whisper, “Do not feel ashamed, Prince Jungkook.” He whips his head back around to look at me with his bright, amber eyes. His lips part while his eyes appear glassy in the soft glow from the morning light flickering through the sheer curtains.   

Prince Jungkook opens and closes his mouth several times, reminiscent of a fish gasping for air once plucked from water. His amber eyes flit from my own eyes to my extended hand on his shoulder. Jungkook suddenly clears his throat and gets up off my bed in a fluid movement. He bows deeply and silently exits my room in the blink of an eye. 

And like the breathing out of a candle, he is gone in an instant. 

I look to the end of the bed, a small shudder skates down my spine, a chill of ice flows through my veins, my teeth chatter. That hound from last night was utterly frightening. Its glowing eyes, its huge body, curled up by my feet…I can still feel its eyes upon me, raking over my flesh as if it was cognizant, searching my features as if it was a real person…

“That’s impossible…” I whisper to myself, pulling the covers up over myself, turning to the other side of the plush bed. “A hound cannot possibly be a person!” A chuckle leaves my lips as I nod into my pillow, rationalizing that magic isn’t real and I should probably see a doctor before someone claims I am mad. “What utter nonsense.” 

-

“You' been having bad dreams, Miss?” Sophia asks me, worry clouding her features as she helps me get ready for the day. Lacy, Sophia’s sister, braids the other side of my hair, twisting and folding my locks to look perfect. This is the trend for young girls my age right now--or so they tell me. 

“A few,” I sheepishly admit, shrugging my shoulders. “Can you tell?”

“Jus’ look like you’ seen a ghost, tis’ all.” Lacy worries her brow as she works on the other side of my locks, preparing me for the day. “Tis’ the time of year for goblins and demons and other creatures from the realm below to run amuck on Earth.” 

A small snort leaves my nostrils. “You two don’t believe that,” I say as I study them in the mirror behind me, “...Do you?” They share a look behind me, adding the finishing touches to my hair with their long, hard working hands. My heart sinks into the pit of my empty stomach. I know that sibling look. 

They know something I do not. 

“You’ feel it right, Miss?” Lacy whispers, stepping back, gathering her skirts as she turns and walks out the door. “This time of the year especially.” 

“There are strange things that happen ere’ every day, Miss.” Sophia nods, doing the same as her sister. “But this time of year…” She trails off, looking at the portrait of the prince’s with amber eyes, “is dangerous…even for people they consider family.” She whips around suddenly, throwing me a cautious, soft smile.“Best keep a watchful gaze in front as well as behind you during this time of year, Miss.”

The door announces it is shut with a small click and I am all alone in this big, wide room. 

I look at the painting she was giving the oddest glance at. Sophia was wistful, yet apprehensive in her stare which was odd for her. Lacy and Sophia were usually very warm(and a little neurotic), but maybe they heard me scream last night and I spooked them with some local superstition or something? I get up from the vanity to study the painting a little closer, moving to stand in front of the hearth, looking at the enormous canvas stretched almost the eternity of the wall. The prince’s golden eyes shine and sparkle under the warm morning glow that hits the painting perfectly. They all look so regal, so handsome and yet, so mysterious at the same time, hanging over the hearth just so. 

Something catches my eye. My gaze narrows, squinting as I see the tiny, orange and black butterfly in the corner of the painting.

I slowly realize as a thought fills my mind, my eyes widening. “...Just like the one I saw in the garden-”

A knock sounds at my door. “Little Bird?” Prince Hoseok’s voice filters through the wood, startling me from my thoughts. 

“Y-Yes?” I stammer, collecting my dress in my fists to move to the door quicker. “Yes, Prince Hoseok?” I ask, opening the wooden frame with a small smile on my lips.

“Good morning, Little Bird.” The cheery, red-headed prince, bowing slightly. He was already dressed to the nines in his gray wool day suit. The princes’ all dressed handsomely, but I do have a thought that Hoseok and Taehyung sport the most trendy and interesting colors and pieces out of all the princes. “I hope I am not disturbing you, but Jungkook informed us of the-” he pauses, looking for the correct word, his amber eyes roaming my face as he does so. “-incident that occurred last evening.” His eyes seem to flash with acute anger for a split second. “We have all come to the conclusion that we would not want you to be unaccompanied today, if that is quite alright with you?”

His hand extends to mine and I take it almost right away, leaving the comfort of my room. 

“Good girl,” Hoseok purrs softly so only I can hear as he loops my arm to intertwine with his. A jolt of lighting rushes to my nether region and I know my eyes expand at the feeling. That has never happened to me before. It excited me,  however, it also made me feel a small speck of terror stewing in my guts. “Right-o! Shall we?” He happily carried on as if I wasn't going through an internal crisis at this very moment. 

“Ye-yes.” I squeak. 

Hoseok began to walk me down to the dinning hall, the smells of breakfast wafting through the mansion. The prince quipped to me about how he wanted to dance with me right away at the ball as it was one of his favorite activities after hunting. 

Once Prince Hoseok and I stepped down onto the main floor from the grand staircase, the large house seemingly exploded with a flurry of hurry and mild panic. Maids and butlers ran to and fro, the service staff were almost fully complete with their ritual of turning the lavish home into one of pure royalty and splendor. One day more and the Harvest Moon Ball shall be hosted in the Bangtan Castle. Everyone has been in such a state of hustle and bustle, it was making me a little dizzy watching them shuffle around the marbled floor! 

The staff look like worker bees, buzzing about the hive, making it the most spectacular ball I have ever laid my eyes upon. Which might not be saying much as my father never threw such parties and gatherings. He hated that sort of frivolity. 

I thought of my beautiful dress Prince Seokjin had carefully crafted for me and sighed. “I am very delighted I can take part in the ball tomorrow.” I said as beautiful flowers from Jimin’s garden came through in huge golden vases by the tens of hundreds. The fragrant, colorful plumages needed two or more gentlemen of the Bangtan kingdom staff to carry them as the ornate containers appeared rather cumbersome to tout around.   

A wolfish grin spread across Hoseok’s face and he watched her with hungry, ravenous eyes while she took in the wealth and glamor that they have worked tirelessly to transform their den into. “We are too, Little Bird…We are too.” 

Breakfast was simple: sweet fruit, perfectly cooked porridge, crispy bacon, and fluffy eggs. The options were less plentiful then when I first arrived, but I imagine the staff very obviously had their hands full and they were busy attending and preparing other facets of the mansion. And rightfully so. A ball seems like it takes weeks, if not months, to prepare for. 

And now I am an extra burden for the brothers to shoulder. 

I must give them my thanks tomorrow. I did not have a lot to give them nor do I believe they are hurting or could ever want anything more. They live a comfortable life, or so it seems. I ponder as I chew my food all the ways that I could thank them as only Hoseok and Seokjin eat beside me. All the other brothers had their hands full with the impending ball happening tomorrow eve. 

I scanned the table as I watched the two princes nourish themselves for the day. Seokjin ate slowly as he read the news docket, his amber eyes roaming row by row, drinking in what he was reading. Hoseok scooped porridge into his mouth quickly and snatched more bacon off his plate, wolfing down his meal as it would be his last. He didn’t eat like a child or like a brute, he just consumed his meal with haste and less tack than his oldest brother. 

It was peaceful. Even with so much movement happening throughout the castle, the dining hall was calm, the demeanor of the room was quite content. I am happy I think to myself, basking in the glow of autumn sun pouring in from the windows. I inhale deeply as I set my teacup down which earns me glances from both princes. 

“Everything alright, Little Bird?” Seokjin simpered, amber eyes gazing at me over the black and white folded paper. 

“Oh, yes, indeed!” I exclaim as the dining staff start clearing away the fine china in front of me. “I was just thinking about how content and happy I am.” I smile at him and Hoseok at the head of the table. “It is the first time I have felt like this in a long while.”

They both smile with warmth and adoration. The prince's grins are genuine, which made my own smile spread across my lips. A thought from this morning crossed my mind and I uttered the question without thinking. “I have a question, if you both don’t mind?” 

They nod in tandem, Hoseok finishing the food on his plate finally. Seokjin folded the docket and set it down on the table beside his teacup. 

“Well, uh-” Nervousness flooded through me, their bright eyes watching me with anticipation made my heart skip a beat. “I was studying the lovely portrait of you all in my room. And I couldn’t help but notice a small butterfly in the corner like a signature an artist gives…” Their faces fell as I continued. “And I saw a monarch butterfly in the garden and wanted to know, I suppose, if your family has a connection to butterflies in some manner?”

“You what?” Hoseok choked, panicked in his query as he coughed and beat his chest with vigor. 

“Are you sure you saw a butterfly?” Seokjin asked me in alarm as he stood from his seat. “An orange and black butterfly?” 

I became puzzled. “Ye-Yes?” I questioned, glancing between the two brothers as they stare at me with shock, worry coloring their handsome features. 

“We do not have butterflies in Bangtan.” Seokjin spoke in a grave manner, approaching me with slow steps. His golden, amber eyes were the size of dinner saucers, looking down at me. I have never seen him behave in such a way. I fear I have said the wrong thing at the wrong time, shattering the peaceful and tranquil morning in the dining hall with my stupid question. 

I spoil everything. 

“They are a bad omen here,” Hoseok stood, walking over to join Seokjin, staring grimly into my orbs. I have rarely seen Hoseok not smile and it was a sight I wished not to see again. His smile was one of my favorite things about him. “Butterflies are the harbingers of death and destruction.” 

An eerie feeling like I was being watched spread across my body, just like in the garden, causing a shiver to climb its way down my spine. I fret I truly made a mistake bringing this up to the princes. My raw questioning and curiosity has gotten the better of me once more. I felt like this was a rabbit hole I did not want to dig around in, lest I fall in.  

BAM!

“Seokjin-hyung! Hobi-hyung!” Jimin cried, flying through the dining hall door, worry and terror clouding his pale face as he puffed, out of breath, “He is here early!”

I whip around behind me to the cause of the noise and see the silver-locked prince shaking. He appeared disheveled in his haste to get to the dining hall as quick as a crack of lightning. Jimin’s always perfect hair was out of place, his breathing labored, and his legs wobbled as he scrambled for purchase, for support on the wooden door. 

A low rumble leaves Hoseok’s throat now as he stands behind me. “How?” He hisses out through gritted teeth, his hot breath tickling the top of my braided locks. 

“Are you certain?” Seokjin asks, all niceties gone from his tone. 

“P-Positive, hyung.” Jimin clamored, knees buckling as he fell to the ground in a heap. Prince Jimin was as still as a statue then. No movement came from his lump of a body on the floor.

I lurch forward, my arms extending in concern toward the silver -haired prince on the ground. I was still, not daring to move as two strong, mighty hands held me back, gripping both shoulders so I could not move. 

“Who is here?” I question in a whisper, not daring to move. The situation was dire it seemed. Jimin needed assistance, a mysterious guest had appeared and butterflies were quite a sore subject in the kingdom of Bangtan. 

My peaceful morning was no more. 

My ears perked at a hearty laugh that suddenly echoed through the halls. All the commotion happening in the halls seemed to die out, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. Time was slowing, melting around me as if I was trapped in molasses. A cold shiver radiated through my body making me rigid. My back burned but I still dare not move a muscle, still in the confines of the two prince’s grasp. 

A black-gloved hand pushed through the frame of the door Jimin was slumped in front of. The two men behind me inhaled, holding their breath as the easement produced a man in orange and black riding leathers standing before us. The air was tense as this mysterious stranger floated through the door as if he owned the wind he strode through.

“Is this how you treat an esteemed guest?” His voice had an accent to it, definitely not from your kingdom or the one you’ve stumbled into. “And right before the ball too?” He grinned a devilish gleam as he made his way over to the three of you, which you all were as still as statues. 

He flicked a strand of curly, dark brown hair back away from his face, his warm, chocolate gaze was locked onto the men behind you. This man was handsome. The type of man that would make women swoon and make men jealous. He was neither too large nor too short. He was neither too feminine nor too masculine looking. This stranger was a nearly perfect man, seemingly sculpted, handmade from the gods. 

Though, you couldn’t help but think the princes’ would be the ideal personalities you’d like to be courted by...as if that would ever happen to someone like you…but, maybe one day.   

Prince Seokjin and Hoseok were utterly quiet as this man fluidly strode toward the three of you.

“Thank you so much for the snack after the long journey.” The stranger continued, surveying the beautifully ornate dining hall. “Next time could you provide me with a virgin, you know how much I prefer them over--”

“Chris.” Seokjin practically snarled, disdain rolling off his tongue. “Why are you here?”

The man shrugged, his riding leathers crinkling, cracking the tense air around the lot of you. “You didn’t get my RSVP?” This Chris fellow tilted his head, smiling as he did so. “My creature said it found someone in the garden.”

“You. Are. Early.” Prince Seokjin said, ice dripping with every syllable he uttered. The Prince gripping my shoulder tightly glazed over Chris’s question. “Today is not a good day.” 

“And you are uninvited until tomorrow.” Prince Hoseok growled over my other shoulder. 

“Gentlemen, please.” Chris chuckled, plucking a strawberry from the tray of colorful fruit, examining it in his long fingers. “My brothers and I came to spend an evening with you, for old times sake.” His brown orbs glow red in the sunlight hitting his face in the dining hall windows. 

“We do not have time to entertain guests until tomorrow, good sir. I suggest you leave.” I blurt out. I jump with the sound of my voice, startling myself. 

I blush, flushing a crimson color I am sure, and look to the floor immediately. “We” I said...I do not truly live here. I am nothing more than a visitor here. What gives me the right, the gall, to say any of this at all?

“Is this your ward I’ve been hearing about?” Chris said, bending so our eyes could meet. “My, you are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” His nostrils expanded as he leaned down to stare into my orbs. At this angle they look ravenous, mad with desire or hunger…I cannot tell the difference nor do I wish to dwell upon the thought any longer. “Now, this is the type of snack, nay, meal I’ve been hunting for.” 

My brows furrow as Chris’s devilishly playful grin deepens. 

“Christopher Bangchan.” Prince Namjoon’s deep timbre cuts through the tense air. He helps pull prince Jimin to his feet as he comes-to. The silver-haired prince grabs his face in his hands, groaning like he just woke up from a long, restful slumber. “Let us talk in the parlor or library, perhaps. That way we do not disturb our ward any further.” Namjoon grins, dimples popping out of his cheeks and I swear I think swoon every time he so much as smirks at me. “Now, shall we? We have much to catch up on.” He steadies his younger brother like nothing even happened, righting him upright to his feet with a few pats on the back. 

Jimin stands on his own two feet, however they wobble like a newborn calf. The prince finds the nearest chair and slumps over in it, giving a slight moan of pain as he does so. 

I find Prince Namjoon’s amber-colored orbs and hope he can feel my many words of thanks and cunning praise I am sending him with my gaze. He gives a small wink in my direction, turning his back to the group of us and exits the dining hall. Christopher retreats with a salacious grin upon his face, gliding to follow behind silently.

A chill runs up my spine as his orbs flash red for a split second before he fully vanishes from view. 

Another wash of awkward silence ticks, time seems to come back into focus for me. Birds chirp and chatter outside the windows, the staff chatter amongst themselves as they are hard at work preparing for the ball tomorrow. The world begins to spin again and I feel like I am coming out of a year-long slumber. 

What an odd fellow. I think as I exhale a deep breath I never even realized I was holding. I shall try and stay clear of him tomorrow.

“Y/N…” Hoseok says, spinning me around. A large smile sat upon his face, gazing at me with so much adoration. “You can be quite the powder keg, can’t cha’?”

“My little bird.” Prince Seokjin strokes the side of my cheek with the back of his long, comforting hands. He looks at me with his kind, rich eyes. “Well done.” 

I smile wide, grinning from ear to ear. I don’t know that talking rudely out of turn was deserving of so much praise, but nonetheless, I am happy once more. I am content with these brothers I have come to live with. 

“But, please Little Bird…” Prince Seokjin furrows his brow, his smile slightly falling. “Please do not go anywhere unaccompanied without one of us from now on.” I’m sure I give him quite the puzzled expression as he continues. “The Harvest Moon Ball, while magnificent and splendid as it is, also brings with it some…unsavory characters to the castle. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Good.” He claps his hands. “Wonderful, wonderful, yes.” Prince Seokjin nods back to me. “Now, let us go fetch some things I need in town. I believe they should all be finished.” 

“What about Prince Jimin?” I ponder, giving his brother a worrying glance. “Is he quite alright?” 

“I have got him.” Hoseok exclaimed, walking over to the silver-haired prince and ruffled his hair about. “You two make sure the ball will be fantastic for tomorrow. I’ll manage things here.” 

“Marvelous!” Seokjin took my hand in his and led me to the door as footmen rushed and worked to dress the oldest prince in his outside attire. “We have much to do in town, Y/N. Much to do, yes.”

There must have been an accident in the kitchen or maybe with a decoration? Several staff members were mopping and cleaning a giant spot of dark-colored liquid near the door. They always work so hard, I hope the princes give them enough time off. And especially after the Harvest Moon Ball. The substance was both liquid and gooey at the same moment; chunks of possible beef or pork were being scooped up with haste, the castle staff meticulously restoring the ground of the threshold of the grand entrance way. Did one of the staff drop a stew of beef on accident?

 “Shall we wait for Paisley?” Another query finds my lips as we walk outside to the gleaming black carriage that was getting ready to go into town for the day. Two beautiful tawny work horses snorted, stamping their feet onto the ground, their hooves large and heavy in the mid-morning light. I noticed Jongbak was nowhere to be seen on this morning either, which was rather odd. He would do everything in his power to be in the presence of Paisley. 

Seokjin paused, stilling his movements as a footman opened the door for both the prince and I. He was a few steps in front of me and I felt his aura darken with my question. My heart was beating wildly, trapped behind my sternum. I haven’t seen Paisley this morning…or come to think of it, last night Sophia and Lacy have been attending to me. They often rotated in their care of me, but it was not normal to go this long without seeing my friend. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t inform you earlier,” Prince Seokjin walked to the carriage door, spinning on his heel, holding out his hand to assist me into the  carriage. “Paisley is no longer with us.”

A small gasp climbs from my throat, my eyes widening with surprise. “You mean she left? She no longer works in the castle?” I find his gloved hand in mine as I step closer to the carriage door. He helps me climb into the wheeled device, seating on the other side of me as Sophia silently follows, sitting next to me with a grim expression on her face.

Seokjin shakes his head, a sheepish smile springing up upon his pillowy lips. “I’m afraid not, Little Bird…I’m afraid not.” 

“Do you know where she went off to?” I query further. “I will miss her so!” Growing up with brothers was fantastic and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but in recent weeks I have grown close to Paisley, considering her akin to a sister to me. I felt utterly shameful. I didn't know she was planning to leave Bangtan Castle. I would have done everything in my power to make her stay. 

Prince Seokjin shakes his head, his rich locks swaying with him as the carriage begins to move. “She didn’t say anything except I know she went somewhere far, far away.” 

-

Riding into town, it was exceedingly calm and quiet today, which is out of the norm. Usually the village is swimming with life. Everyone outside, the shops full, restaurants buzzing with customers, the park always packed with lovely couples and families playing. The weather was not a deterrent as it was indeed chilly, but altogether sunny. I’d be remiss not to say that it was a beautiful autumn day!

Seokjin visited the butcher, which he told me was no place for a lady, so the Prince had me wait in the coach. Footmen carried crates full of items in glass, storing them above and below the carriage. I wished to know more about what was in the containers, but I held my tongue. 

I had enough outbursts and speaking out of turn for the day, I thought. 

Next, the carriage strode to an apothecary where Prince Seokjin let me pick a delightful, sweet yet mild tea. He said he was very fond of my choice. We received bundles of dried herbs, containers of what looked to be sludge, and colorful powders in vials. The prince paid the apothecary a hefty sum, a sack of coins exchanged for these small items seemed like the shopkeeper was ripping Seokjin off, but, no haggling was made, so I said not a word. 

We stopped for tea and sandwiches in a restaurant which was inside of an enormous green house located in the heart of the town. Fragrant flowers, leafy green vines, and tall tropical plants inhabited the glass dome. The air was warm and the atmosphere was relaxing as we made polite conversation. There were only a small handful of other patrons in the dining hall, making it feel as if I was shouting to the prince sitting across the table from me. 

“Y/N.” Seokjin addressing me by my name made my cheeks flush. I do hope he doesn’t notice, I shall just play it off if he does! The warm air in the greenhouse must be affecting me so! “Are you most excited for tomorrow's event?” Seokjin queried, finishing his meaty sandwich. 

I nod, wiping my mouth with the edge of my napkin. “Indeed.” I smile at him. “I am most looking forward to wearing my sparkling, glittering gown Madam Hwasa has created for me in little-to-no time. My mind wanders away from itself as it thinks of the dressmaker pointing to the middle of my back, to the small, bird wings-like birthmark I’ve carried with me since I came into this world. 

“I do hope you save me a dance, Little Bird.” Prince Seokjin purs, looking at me with a glimmer of desire in his eyes. I am sure my cheeks have only grown more pink by the minute. My fleshy center in between my legs jolts with electricity and I blink rapidly, trying to think about morphing away from my ever changing thoughts. “...Possibly two dances?” 

I melt at his velvety, swoon-worthy words. “Y-Yes, of course.” I stammer. 

“Good.” A wolfish grin spreads across the prince’s face. His amber eyes glint as he lightly touches the top of my hand. “Very good.

-

“Why the fuck are you here early, Chris?” Hoseok thunders, throwing the wooden library doors open. His amber orbs flash red, anger seething out of every pore. “Who invited you in?” 

“The cute little maid with the freckles.” Chris stated, a coy smile on his lips. “She was quite the snack.” Chris smuggly looks over his glass of brandy. The outsider was sitting on the red velvet couch in the library, looking comfortable in his orange and black riding leathers.

“Monster.” Yoongi’s deep timbre growled, baring his pearly canine teeth.  The brothers, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook, all stood facing the man adjacent to them, scowls on their faces, brows knit in frustration. 

“Come now,” Chris chidded as Hoseok strode across the room, standing in the menacing line with his wolf brethren. “We cannot help what we are. You all should understand better than mortals, no?” 

“There is a contract in place. You cannot harm one of our staff during the ball.” Namjoon frankly states. 

“But, it is not quite time for the ball, now--is it?” Chris snickers.

“You never sent a calling card, which is something you are supposed to do as well.” Jungkook folds his arms across his chest, a loathsome attitude souring the merriment of today. 

Chris gives a fake gasp, putting his free hand across his smirking mouth. “I did,” he said, feigning innocence, “my butterfly said someone saw it who lives in the castle.” He shrugs. “I thought you boys knew.” 

“Y/N saw it, but she didn’t know it was one of your…creatures.” Hoseok sneered down at the man sitting down, sipping his brandy casually. 

Yoongi slams his hands on the coffee table, splintering the wood on the cherry-wood table, sending pieces flying. Spittle flies from Yoongi’s peeled back lips, snarls erupting from his throat. “You are not welcome here this evening.” Prince Yoongi decides, the collection of wolf-men nod their heads in agreement. 

“Tell me about your ward.” Chris chuckles, his accent coming out in full force now that he is becoming more comfortable, ignoring the question. “She is awfully pretty.” The wolf-brothers snarl, feral noises emitting from their lips. “Keeping her all to yourselves, huh?”

“Don’t. You. Dare. Think. About. It.” Jungkook riles, enunciating his words with dark, animalistic noises. His wolf form rippling under his human skin, threatening to burst free. 

“Once you finish your drink, you need to leave.” Hoseok snaps. A darkened look glazing across his usually happy-go-lucky features.  

A small snort leaves the stranger’s nostrils. “You haven’t marked your territory very well, boys.” Chris takes a small sip of his brown colored alcohol. “Anyone, or anything, could gobble her right up.”

“I’m going to get my hunting rifle.” Hoseok angrily says as he spins on his heel to retreat out of the library.

“I’ll go with you.” Namjoon agrees, his lip lifted in disgust. 

“Alright, alright.” Chris stands, draining the last drops of the strong drink from his glass. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He stretches, smiling as his fangs poking out from his top lip, smiling at the angry group of wolf-men. He makes his way to the window, climbing through the frame, and disappearing into the daylight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His words echo in the library. 

Hoseok lets out a wild howl, informing the pack what just happened here and who they need to watch out for. 

-

The next day, I was told I should keep to the guest room as the princely brothers were very busy preparing for the ball happening this evening. 

I was rather confused as to why. Did they not wish me at their side all the morrow? Do the princes not deem me fit to be in my company? Do the princes of Bangtan wish me not good enough company? Do they loathe me now for speaking out of turn yesterday?

In these moments, I deeply missed my brothers. I fear I would never be a solitary creature, preferring the company of many over being alone. I craved their smiling faces, their boisterous laughs, the way they teased me so. 

I wondered about why I was in solitary confinement all morning while I ate breakfast of buttered toast, sausage, and eggs. My mind raced as I read through the latest news docket, my eyes scanning other the black and white text, never actually reading anything. I pondered as I was scrubbed from head to toe, being rubbed raw as if I was poultry, going to be prepared to be eaten as the ball later. Thoughts of confusion were all that hovered in my brain all morning and afternoon. 

I couldn’t concentrate on anything. My mind is springing back and forth like a ball on a wire. And to top it  off, my two attendants were no help to my restless mood. 

Sophia and Lacy flit and flounce about the guest room, rushing in and out all day. They brought me breakfast, the news docket, and all other petty gossip that was brought up from downstairs. The women are usually on edge, but I have never seen the sisters in such an anxious state. 

This just added to the tense air of the guest room, making me feel desperate to leave. I felt like a trapped, caged animal in this wide room the princes have provided for me. I felt both ungrateful and agitated with the same thought. I am grateful I have a place to live, a home that has welcomed me even though I am a complete stranger. However, I am rather displeased because they are telling me I need to be shut up in my room all day, never getting to help or see what the ball will look like. I felt as if I was in my role of little sister once more, being told what I can and couldn’t do. I feel like  these thoughts were unfair, but true at the same time.

The only moments I was allowed some respite from my whirling thoughts and oppression room was when I needed to relieve myself. 

Staring at myself in the mirror of a cold, private bathroom on the second floor where the guest room I stay in resides, I wonder why the princes have shut me out this morning. My brow wrinkles and I raise an arm to the ceiling, turning my head to my armpit. No, I don’t suppose I smell, but perhaps one's own smell doesn’t affect themselves?

I look rather odd, I think, clothed in a very casual and modest dress of thin, light blue colored silk. It was chilly this morning and I had chosen to skip wearing socks on my journey to the lavatory. I feel like I have rings under my eyes, sleep torturous from the nightmares of large wolves and dogs that meet me when I shut my eyes.  I shall give my face a good wash before Sohpia and Lacy apply makeup the princes have purchased and wished  for me to wear. It was almost time time for me to step into my beautiful-

Run.

I still, sucking in a breath. I was mid-rinse of my face with cold water, feeling a shiver run down my spine. A dreadful feeling was crawling down my back, making every hair on my body stand at attention. My body is crying out that I am in danger. My heart was beating quickly. I need to flee! 

Water drips down my chin, as I hang over the marbled wash basin. I am too afraid to look up as I hear a shuffling sound behind me. I had not heard anyone come through the door and I was worried that the man from yesterday would be making another unexpected appearance. I gulp. I am alone. Sophia and Lacy are at the opposite end of the hall…Would they hear me if I screamed?

Would I even be able to scream?

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A smooth, buttery voice wafts from behind me. I jolt, though, still not brave enough to look up at the reflection in the mirror. A man’s voice. This was not the same accent the man, Chris, had from yesterday. This voice was new, more playful, more devious--if that was even possible. “Such a pretty ward.”

I should run. I plead with myself. I think about a few weeks ago, a scowl forming on my moist face. I am not helpless. I remember the red spray from my fathers wrinkly throat. I will not run anymore.

“This room is occupied” I say, not glancing up, my tone cold and not friendly. “Do you have no manners that you do not knock when a door is closed?” 

“Oh-ho!” The man behind chuckles, his fingers lightly brushing across my exposed shoulder blades. I shudder. It felt like this man reached into my body and caressed my soul with a simple stroke of his warm fingertips. “You are a feisty one, aren’t you?” 

“Who are you?” I clench my fist, whipping my head up, my fears dissipating with his jeer.

My eyes blew wide as I stare into the reflection, wildly looking behind me in the mirror. There was no one in this dimly lit, cold room. No, that’s not right. It can’t be. His fingertips trail down my clothed spine, the silk making it easy for him to trail down lower and lower. I have never been touched like this and I have never been touched without permission which makes me feel queasy. 

“What, pet?” The man with the rich baritone was still behind me, taunting me. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Enough of this nonsense! I turn suddenly, punching the man square in the face. He stumbles backward, a loud crack emitting from the middle of his face. “Unhand me, you heathen!” I shout, bellowing as loud as one possibly could, hoping someone would come and assist me with this ruffian in the lavatory. 

“Fuck.” Shiny, bright red rubies drip from his broken nose, falling on the beautiful white marble floor. His eyes flash red with anger as he cradles his bloody face, staring daggers at me. My tight fist throbs, hurting from the force I just used on this stranger. “I’m going to kill you, you filthy human.”

Human? I don’t dwell on his weird descriptor of me. “Try it.” I sneer, adrenaline flowing through me, making me speak before I think clearly. 

This evil man lunges at me, giving a loud shout as I glower at him, my fists coming up defensively to my chest, ready to hit him again. I’ll show you who has killed a man.

“Y/N!”

It happened so fast, I feared if I was blinking too fast, I would miss it. 

In a flash of black and white, Jungkook, who is dressed rather smartly in a posh tuxedo, races into the room, kicking this man in the face. This sends the stranger flying, hitting the hard, marbled walls. A loud thump He lands with an, “oof” sound, his head lulling to his chest. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook’s amber eyes search mine, sparkling in the dim light. He lightly grips my shoulders, looking me over to see if I’m alright. 

I quake, my body shaking with pent up fear coursing through my veins, adrenaline dying down. But I nod. “Y-Yes.” I manage. “I am fine.” I look at the man slumped over, knocked unconscious. “My fist hurts a little…I suspect I broke his nose.” 

He blinks slowly, jaw dropping down, my words sinking into his skull as he processes what I uttered. “You what?” His sunset-colored orbs expand. The youngest prince stares at me with a mix of admiration and awe. “You what?” He repeats. 

I can’t help but give a small laugh at that, my frown flipping into a small smile. “He touched me inappropriately,” I sighed, “…So, I punched him.” 

Jungkook snaps his jaw back in place, hastily removing his hands from my shoulders. I notice how cold it was without his warmth there. “I was coming up to tell your attendants that the ball was kicking off soon and I heard you yell.” 

“Thank you.” I shiver, looking back at the man as Jungkook guides me out of the room. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“I know today must have been agonizing for you.” The youngest prince ushers me into the hall, closing the large lavatory door behind us. It groaned on the hinges, making a loud thud as it clasped shut. “I am sorry we had you stay in your room all day.” Jungkook nodded to the door, "We didn't want riff-raff like that to find its way to you.”

A thought crossed my mind now that I was more rational, more-level headed. “Prince Jungkook, I didn’t hear him enter.” He blinks at me as I continue. “I had the door shut and locked.” I shake my head, brow furrowing. “He had no reflection in the mirror…” Jungkook continued to blink slowly at me as I finished. “And…he called me a…human? Isn’t that all…rather odd?”

A beat of silence and I feared I was going to be burned at the stake, accused of witchcraft or something akin to that for saying a ridiculous thing. A person with no reflection! What a queer thing to suggest! Maybe I was losing my mind, maybe I was seeing things and needed to be locked away, living away from others until the end of time. 

“Indeed, rather odd.” Jungkook nodded, leaning down to place the back of his hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling poorly, Y/N? I know that man gave you quite the fright. Are you sure you would like to attend the ball this evening?”

A wave of calm fluttered over my body at his touch. I reveled in the feeling of this soft, light sensation traveling through my body. It was a tingling feeling like butter melting on a hot stove or chocolate in one's mouth. I felt my worries float away on a fluffy cloud with his touch. “I feel fine.” I respond, feeling like I’ve been rejuvenated. 

“Wonderful.” He grins, gently guiding me back to my room to be placed in the eager hands of Sophia and Lacy. “One of us will be here to escort you to the ballroom when you have finished getting ready.” He says as he shuts the door softly in my face. 

The youngest prince gives a low snarl, Hoseok and Taehyung stalking upstairs in tandem, scowls painting their handsome faces. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, his wolf form rippling under his human skin as he marches to the lavatory. The brothers growled, throwing open the door as the strange man moaned in pain on the ground. Jungkook snickered as he hoisted the man up by his lapels. “We have vampire trash to take out.”

-

Author's Notes: Wow, has it really been two years since I worked on this story? That's crazy to me! Thank you for sticking around if you have been waiting for this story to continue! I have a portion of the ball written out, so hopefully it won't take me years to complete and upload the next bit! Haha. Anyway, a comment, like, or reblog is always appreciated but not necessary. Love you all and thank you again for reading. 💕

-

Part Three l Part Five

[lanasblood]

SKYRACER | neteyam x reader 

pairing: neteyam x f!reader

summary: you love your life, and you love your two best friends, lo’ak and kiri, missing them deeply when they leave for the tulkun season at the eastern sea once a year, leaving you all alone with the rest of the sully’s, including neteyam. as you prepare for another farewell, everything takes an unexpected turn on a fateful night, altering the course of your lives forever.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: mention of blood, (no sweat), and tears, best friend lo’ak (platonic soulmates), lovely supporting friend kiri, tension between neteyam and you, protective neteyam, caring neteyam, angry neteyam, mention of heartbreak from previous relationship, alcohol use and parties, basically the beginning of a love story through melancholy and hardships . 

note: takes place five years after the events of atwow. this is a repost. series masterlist

* gif‘s not mine.

in the depths of my mind, I kept you hidden,  a treasure too priceless to be revealed,  for your soul is pure, your beauty unbidden,  a rose in the fields, unconquered, unconcealed. 

On the night when it all began, the sky stretched above, clear and serene, while a gentle breeze rustled through the air. The moon, a slender crescent, cast its ethereal glow upon the dense forests of Pandora, drawing intricate shadows upon the tents nestled amidst the towering trees. Its radiance danced upon the still surface of the deserted lake, while the forest itself seemed adorned with a tapestry of fallen leaves and meandering vines.

Your body felt weak, your heartbeat faltered, its rhythm growing feeble, and your pulse felt strangely sluggish. With a heavy sigh escaping your lips, you sank down onto the ground, your trembling hands finding their way to the tangles of your hair. The wind, mischievous in its playful dance, toyed with the fabric of your loincloth and the flowers and feathers that adorned your form, teasing and loosening a single strand from the intricately braided locks that Kiri had graced with delicately handcrafted beads that evening.

With a desperate gesture, you pressed the balls of your hands firmly against your closed eyes, seeking respite from the world. Colors of light and dark swirled in a dizzying dance behind your lids, creating a kaleidoscope of sensations. The sharp pain that had taken residence above your temples intensified, causing another low, pained sigh to escape from your chapped lips as if carrying the weight of your weariness.

You heard your name before you felt his hand on your arm, his knee touched yours and for a brief moment, your heart almost completely stopped. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him yet; your eyes were strangely veiled as if they were watering. "What's going on?"

There was an uncomfortable metallic taste in your mouth, and you carefully put your hand to your lips, only to discover the crimson evidence of blood trickling on your lips from your nose. Images of that night were difficult to push aside anyway, but in connection with the headache, it was almost impossible to suppress the onslaught of memories. 

You cursed under your breath, your voice cracked and feeble, as you looked up at Lo'ak with an awkward expression.

"Bro—" Lo'ak's voice trailed off as his eyebrows shot up, his gaze shifting to the blood on your hand and then on your face. Swiftly, he retrieved a cloth that was secured to his side near his hunting knife. "Take this, it's clean. I only used it to polish my knife."

Gratefully, you accepted the cloth and pressed it against your nose to stem the bleeding.

"You need to see Tsahìk," he said softly, his eyes fixed on your profile.

"That's—" you began to protest, but the pain cut through your words. It hit you suddenly and with greater intensity than before, almost violently, leaving you gasping for breath. You attempted to stand, but your knees gave way, and you slumped down. Lo'ak struggled to keep you upright, his arms straining to support you.

"You have to see Tsahìk," he repeated, and you could only weakly shake your head. Blood trickled down your chin in thin lines, dripping onto the edge of your upper piece, leaving dark-red stains on the feathers. "You've been feeling unwell all evening. I'm worried about you."

That's how he was, Lo'ak Sully. Caring and considerate, not towards everyone, actually towards no one, but towards a selected few, including you. Instead of enjoying the celebration held in his honor, he had barely left your side throughout the evening. Even now, he preferred sitting with you rather than accepting another drinking challenge. In two days, he would embark on another journey to the Eastern Sea as the Tulkun Season was about to begin, and you wouldn't be able to see him for a long, long time. Actually, you should be grateful; missing him would only be temporary, and you would have something to look forward to. Five years ago, when you thought you would never see the Sully's again, it looked quite different. Back then, external circumstances had forced them to leave your clan and seek shelter far away in the East, leaving you with a void deep inside you. Fortunately, those external circumstances had been resolved by now, and Lo'ak, he was both Omatikaya and Metkayina now, being the bridge between the two clans, with the tattoo on his side below his cummerbund serving as proof. You were very proud of him and loved listening to his stories about his other friends and adventures. However, the farewell was close, meaning until his return in six moons, you would miss him, so much. 

"You're drunk," you managed to say with difficulty. Speaking was incredibly hard for you, and the words felt fragile on your lips. "The village is over an hour away. And I won't let you fly; I'd rather die a wretched death out here."

"As charming as ever," Lo'ak muttered but secretly agreed. "Y/n, I... Can you stand up?" Of course, you couldn't. He presumably realized that in the next moment. "I'm going to quickly run back to the party, and you'll wait for me to return, okay? I'll hurry, I promise. Do you understand me?"

Your nod came seconds too late; he had already headed back toward the direction of loud music and youthful laughter. The vibrations reached the ground, shaking the earth beneath you. You could faintly hear Kiri's laughter as someone played the blue flute in the background. The spots danced before your eyes without you having to close them, and while the pain in your temples had eased, every sudden movement felt like your skull was about to explode.

A small group of young Na'vi passed by on the other side, maybe ten meters away from you, laughing and drinking while heading straight into the forest, but without noticing you; two couples, maybe a year or two older than you, with their hands clasped and bottles sharing.

The following thought brought a crooked smile to your lips and, inexplicably, tears to your eyes. But it was true. Pathetic as it may seem at first glance, all you wanted was to be truly loved, to have your mate by your side; a man with a strong heart who would love you like Jake loved Neytiri, who would call you beautiful even in the mornings when you woke up with messy hair and a puffy face; who would create a safe haven in his arms, where you could be vulnerable and share your deepest secrets; who would make you laugh with his infectious sense of humor, turning ordinary moments into extraordinary memories; who would hold your heart in his hands and cherished it as if it were his own, loving you unconditionally, flaws and all, reminding you that you are enough. Sometimes, more than anything, you wished for that to happen. And on those days, even Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan seemed somewhat attractive with his fleeting, almost coy smile directed towards yet another girl.

Another girl, yes. By now you were convinced that not just the girls but your whole clan had developed a crush, no matter how tiny or big, on the golden boy, and he liked that, of course, he did, he loved the attention and praise from almost anyone; almost, leaving you to possibly be the only person in the whole village who he wouldn't willingly exchange a word with. Not that you minded, on the contrary, you'd never gotten along with Neteyam since you were kids and you knew that it was mutual. 

It wasn't that you had never been in love before, experiencing the euphoria and joy of a promising and fulfilling future ahead. But once your heart had been shattered, it became challenging for you to trust in someone else's words, no matter how beautifully spoken. This is why stepping out of your comfort zone felt incredibly difficult for you.

"We're back," Lo'ak's voice interrupted your thoughts, and as he helped you up, you realized who we referred to. Indeed, Neteyam Sully stood before you, holding the saddle for his ikran, and looked down at you, almost with a hint of pity.

"Why him of all people?" you grumbled, giving Lo'ak a weary glance. You felt like tears were ready to spill at any moment. "What about Kiri?"

"I didn't want to interrupt Kiri in her debate on equality versus equity against that flute guy. Plus, Neteyam is probably the only one around here who isn't too drunk to fly."

"No one?" you exclaimed, unable to hide your disbelief. However, before you could receive a proper answer, Neteyam himself lifted you onto his ikran, who rested a few meters away beneath the canopy of flower trees, alongside the other majestic creatures. With a swift motion that would typically have prompted an eye roll of annoyance — your current state sadly left no room for such sentiments — he positioned himself right behind you, his presence uncomfortably close, your thighs almost touching. He gently patted his ikran on the head to greet her, before he encircled your waist with his arms in a way that made your back lean onto his torso. And then, with a profound connection, he established a swaheylu bond with his ikran.

"Hold on tight," he whispered to you and nodded toward a slightly lost-looking Lo'ak behind your shoulder. His voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he continued. "I may not be fond of you, but I really don't want to bear the responsibility for your death. Got it?"

That night was the moment when you first grasped the gravity of the situation, realizing that it was indeed something serious.

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

When Neteyam, as carefully and gently as he could, lifted you off his ikran right in front of a village that seemed unfamiliar to you and carried you with quick, firm steps into one of the tents in his arms, the night air suddenly seemed terribly cold and biting, and you realized you weren't home. All the words on your lips vanished into the darkness, and you seemed even too weak to cry.

He whispered reassuring words to you, told you he had to bring you to the nearest village he could find, looked at you with so much concern in his eyes that you were sure you were hallucinating, asked you to try and stay awake as long as you could, but as soon as you had entered the tent, everything seemed to flow into a single moment. After Neteyam formally introduced himself, an elderly woman with red feathers in her hair told him to carry you right after her, anything else would have been a waste of time. She asked him a lot; your name, your age, what had happened that evening, whether anything like that had happened before.

You were almost surprised at how collected he was and how many of the questions he was able to answer so quickly, but actually it was only logical – he also spent as much time with Lo'ak as you did, so you, too, couldn't help but learn a lot about the oh-so-legendary Neteyam Sully. As if that mattered.

Inside the tent, there was an unusual calmness, contrary to your expectations. In your own clan, Tsahìk's tent was always bustling with activity, filled with people seeking healing or simply enjoying each other's company. But in this clan, it felt different. It was quieter, almost serene, yet it carried an air of solitude. You couldn't help but notice a middle-aged man seated on one of the mats, his head buried in his hands as if he were anxiously awaiting something. Or someone. Next to him, a little girl lay with a peaceful face, seemingly asleep.

You really had no clue why this man of all people was stuck in your mind so clearly – this inconspicuous man, the only steadfast memory of that night. 

The night when it all began.

The last thing you felt was Neteyam's hand on yours. Then everything went black and the only thing that remained was the picture of golden eyes and the man in the healing tent.

Vawm na txon. As dark as the night.

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

When you felt his fingertips on your wrist, you involuntarily winced and looked up. "Hey, Lo'ak," you muttered, and he immediately pulled you into a gentle hug and kissed your hairline. His voice sounded hoarse and rough and the bittersweet smell of sweet yovo fruit mixed with a bit of salt hung on his skin; and heaven, you would have loved to never let go of him again. 

For a moment he just looked at you in silence and frowned before he sat across from you on the grass. Lo'ak started to say something, but his voice failed and a low sigh caught in the air around you. 

"You look tired." You almost laughed, and it didn't even feel wrong. You look tired. Tuk had said the same thing earlier that morning while sitting in front of her herbal tea and half of Neytiri's infamous sari seed bread. She had preferred eating her morning meal in her grandmother's tent, because you were there too, not for relaxation, but to drink the disgusting mixture Mo'at prepared for you every single morning for the last three moons. Uttering those words, Tuk had even cast the same concerned look at you, with the same worried expression on her freckled, delicate face, just like her older brother was doing now, and it had almost broken your heart.

"I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

When he said your name, admonishing with a sigh, his voice quivered, teetering on the edge of concern, before he hesitantly continued, "Are you… okay?" 

His unspoken words hung heavy in the air, etched upon his countenance. You could see the unvoiced questions etching lines of worry upon his face, 'In the past few moons you haven't gotten back to me or anyone else, nor did you answer a single radio call, I tried to reach out to you several times, but you ignored me, you never asked to speak to me, and when my family sent you my greetings you just smiled and made promises that you never intended to keep, nothing.' yet they remained trapped within the confines of his sealed lips. The restrained inquiry and underlying disappointment were palpable, like a suppressed ache that threatened to consume him; and deep down, you knew his effort to withhold his concerns only magnified your own pain, intensifying the weight of his unspoken concerns.

"You're my best friend," he finally just said and ran his hand through his already chaotic braids. 

At the same moment, out of pure impulse, you brushed a tangled strand of hair from your face. You had already heard last week that Lo'ak and Kiri would return early to transport some rations from here to Awa'atlu, thanks to Max and Norm who had decided to expand their labs to the Eastern Sea. At the same time, you didn't want to get too excited because they would only stay for a maximum of one week before being away for three more moons. Nevertheless, you had missed him. Every day since that party and their department two days later, you had thought of the moment he and Kiri left for the Eastern Sea, how he had briefly refused to leave until you were feeling better, how hard it was for you and his parents to convince him that everything was alright; how Lo'ak had promised to check in on you over the radio every evening just before the eclipse, how he had kept his promise, but you hadn't, and how you were contemplating telling him what had happened in those three months since he was gone, too anxious of his reaction; even more than the one time you had to make an important decision almost ten cycles ago:

"Why is he so mean? His radio code name is Pathfinder, and he has the audacity to criticize mine? He called me Plain Grandma, can you believe that!?"

"He also called you Slow Vipertail which is far worse in my eyes," Lo'ak had commented dryly.

"Shut up, Eagle Eye!" you had crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting, "What is so bad about Stargirl?"

"No offense but it couldn't be any girlier." 

"Well, I am a girl."

"But do you want the enemy to know that?" 

"I thought our frequency was secure?"

"You never know with them." When you had continued to pout, Lo'ak had nudged you encouragingly with his elbow, "Come on, you can be Silent Thunder if you like."

"Isn't that what you call your farts?" Kiri, who had remained completely silent during your discussion, was the one who had made that comment. You had made a disgusted face in response.

"Okaaay," Lo'ak had groaned, "Then be anything but Stargirl, Eywa, just choose something or I'll do it for you. Remember, your code name sticks with you forever."

In the end, the discussion had dragged on for so long that during the evening meal, the two of you had managed to irritate every clan member within a two-meter radius. Jake had taken it upon himself to bring it to a close and gave you your personal radio code name, which you cherished to this day. Not because it had come from your former Olo'eyktan, but from a person you loved and respected like your own father; it was more than an honor to you.

You looked at him now, at Jake's identical copy, a bittersweet smile forming at the corners of your mouth, tinged with nostalgia. His eyes were like the early sun rays that morning at Tsahìk's tent; two orbs of amber with irregular, whitish spots of cream – strange that this, of all things, crossed your mind at that second. 

"Eagle Eye to Skyracer," he playfully nudged your knee in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Come on, tell me why you avoid me."

And then, then you said it out loud; a single little sentence of four syllables, and his once sunlight-radiating eyes were covered by lids streaked with fine, pale blue veins, holding a glimmer of melancholy, like a fading sunset.

"Please, no," he whispered, his voice filled with sadness, as you sought comfort in the embrace of his arms, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Salty tears mingled with your lips as you clung to each other, his fingers interlacing with yours, a desperate grip that turned his knuckles almost white, the weight of the impending fate pressed upon you both.

As the realization settled within him, Lo'ak let go of you and collapsed onto the grass, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs and trembling with the intensity of his emotions. You immediately wrapped your arms around him again, wanting to share his emotions, knowing that this pain was as much his as it was yours, while the air around you seemed heavy with helplessness as the two of you sat there, engulfed in the depths of your shared pain. 

"No!" he cried out all of a sudden, his voice choked on his tears. Saliva glistened on his quivering lips, his breath was ragged and uneven; and his eyes, bloodshot and filled with more unshed tears, refused to accept the harsh reality you just told him.

"Why? Why you?" Lo'ak's voice cracked as the words escaped through clenched teeth. His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into the ground beneath you, as if trying to anchor himself to the pain, refusing to accept the meaning behind your words. His tears mingled with yours as you still held him close, feeling his agony reverberate through your own heart.

Lo'ak's voice was laced with raw fury. "This can't be happening! It's not fair!"

The wind whispered through the grass, carrying the echoes of his anguish across the desolate landscape, but leaving his voice hanging in the air. The setting sun, a silent witness to the unraveling of two intertwined souls, cast its pale light upon the scene, casting long shadows around you.

Lo'ak's emotions gave way to desperate pleas, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, there must be a way. I'll talk to my dad, he… he can…" he choked on his tears once more, "Anything. I'll give anything."

You stroked his trembling cheek, tears flowing freely down your own face. "I know you would. But sometimes, there are forces beyond our control, Lo'ak, I need you to understand that."

Lo'ak's resistance crumbled, his body sinking into a heap of devastation. His nose ran, mingling with the tears streaming down his face. He clung to you, a lifeline in the midst of a tempestuous sea, refusing to let go even as the waves crashed around him.

The evening wore on, its grey hue mirroring the somberness of your hearts. There were no words that could ease the ache or undo the cruel fate, so, you remained there, seeking comfort in the silence, finding comfort in each other's arms for you drew strength from one another, offering support amidst the overwhelming feelings that engulfed you. 

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

The next day, as the sun bathed the forest in a golden glow, you were sitting near the quiet stream by yourself, keeping yourself distracted and enjoying the gentle tickle of water, when you heard footsteps growing louder as someone approached you. You turned around, a calm expression masking the inner storm within you, just to see Neteyam, his expression hardened with determination

Your eyes met his, and you could see anger, confusion, and concern in his gaze all at once, catching you completely off-guard; it was strange that he sought you out in the first place, and then seeing him so… emotional, that was a first. 

He stood tall before you, the sun at his back, giving him an angelic glow that he surely didn't deserve, and it was ironic, too, given his angry pout that you were sure Lo'ak would've made fun of if he was here. 

Neteyam's voice was laced with a tinge of bitterness when he spoke, "You've broken my brother's heart. What did you do to him?"

"You already have your answer, apparently I've broken his heart," you said sarcastically to which he scoffed. You remained composed, refusing to allow his words to rattle you, and your voice carried a hint of indifference as you added, "Trust me, I haven't done and wouldn't ever do anything to intentionally hurt Lo'ak."

Neteyam's nostrils flared as frustration mingled with his anger. The man, normally composed, couldn't be further away from that in that very moment, when he took a deliberate step closer, his gaze locking with yours. "Don't play innocent with me. You must've betrayed him in some way."

"Betrayal requires intent, Neteyam," You held his gaze, unyielding in the face of his accusations, "Whatever you think I've done, it wasn't with the purpose of hurting Lo'ak."

Neteyam's anger wavered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Then why? Why is he crying and suffering if it wasn't your doing? What could have caused this?"

A bittersweet smile graced your lips as you shook your head gently. 

"It's true, isn't it? What Ivät said at training this mor—"

"Don't say his name," you warned, your voice carrying a deep, growling tone from the back of your throat.

Neteyam's anger softened, replaced by curiosity and even a sense of empathy. Though skepticism still lingered in his voice, genuine concern emerged, "But why? Why would you go back to him? He should be exiled but here you are, running back to him after everything he's done to you."

"Tell me again why any of this matters to you?" you questioned.

"Lo'ak cares for you, deeply. I care for him, deeply. That means everything you do eventually affects me," Neteyam explained, attempting to convey the weight of his words. "Understand that your actions have consequences for everyone around you."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now," you declared sighing, walking past him with determined steps.

"Just tell your parents you don't want to," he shouted after you, "I can… My family could support you, you know. You don't have to do anything against your will."

"Well," you turned around, snapping at him, "you can't fight against fate, can you?"

There was a brief pause as Neteyam absorbed your words, realization slowly dawning on him that there might be more to the situation than he initially believed. His eyes darkened, and his nails dug into his palms as he struggled to control his emotions, "You can try."

You let out an ironic huff, shaking your head slightly and biting your inner cheek to prevent a sarcastic comment from slipping out.

"I am not your enemy," he continued in a softer tone, seeking your eyes, "I'm only here trying to help you, yet you—"

"That, Neteyam, is not my concern," you interrupted him harshly. You met his gaze finally, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air between you. "I never asked for your help, nor do I need it. If you truly care about your brother, perhaps you should be there for him and ask him directly how you can help him instead of mingling with my private life and assuming the worst of me."

With that, you turned back around and kept walking away with determined steps, leaving Neteyam standing by the stream alone with his swirling thoughts, but you couldn't deny the flicker of vulnerability within you as a twinge of guilt tugged at your conscience for the way you had treated the only person who had recently saved your life, accompanied by a sense of regret for your harsh words, realizing that you had never even thanked him.

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

A few hours later, you were sitting on the wooden floor in your family’s tent; leaning your head against the slightly dirty rolled-up rug near the entry and pulling your knees so close to your body that the hem of your loincloth slipped a long way down your thigh. The evening had long since settled over the landscapes, and it was now dark outside. In your hands, you were holding a handcrafted mug with still steaming herbal tea that Kiri had brought you a few minutes earlier, and you clutched it so tight that your knuckles were clearly visible on your skin. 

Kiri was now sitting at the opposite side of you next to your hammock as she thoughtfully twisted the hem of her loincloth between her fingers, like she always did when she didn't know what to say, before deciding to leave the fabric alone. 

"Now tell me, what's going on?" You sighed softly and something in your friend's gaze brought tears to your eyes, but you didn't want to cry, not again. You liked Kiri a lot, she was the girl you were closest friends with, in the entire clan, but you hated to refer to her as 'best friend', although, strictly speaking, she was. You liked Kiri actually so much that you couldn't do it to her. Not after seeing what it had done to Lo'ak. You couldn't bear to see two broken souls within a day. But your previous encounter with Neteyam had taught you something: you had to be the one whom they heard the news of, not someone else, let alone a stranger. It had to be you. That much you owed them at least. And yet, it was so difficult.

"Everything's fine. Really." A weak smile crept on your face involuntarily, while you took a sip of your tea. "Come on, Kiri. Don't be stupid, you're missing out on the evening meal."

"You as well."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're always hungry." You sat up straight and leaned one leg over the other so you could look directly at Kiri. There was something in her gaze between concern and helplessness, but you could only vaguely make it out. She bit her lower lip lightly before continuing. "I met Lo'ak earlier, he looked... he really didn't look good, and he seemed kind of absent."

"He's probably missing Tsireya already."

"He said I'd better talk to you about it."

You kept quiet at that, unsure how to respond.

"You know, Neteyam said that you-know-who goes around saying… that he has approached your parents, seeking their approval to court you once again? Is that true?"

"Yes," you answered without any emotion in your voice.

"But there is something else that saddens you."

You lifted your shoulders slightly, just a tiny bit, and you already felt the tears threaten to fall down your eyelashes. You ran the back of your hand over your face, exhaled shakily, and pressed your lips together, but the first sob stumbled over your lips before you could have done anything about it. 

You muttered a curse word, and it took you a moment to pull yourself together. "I'm sorry, Kiri. I am so incredibly sorry." The tears ran down your cheeks unsteadily, and dripped onto the feathers on your chest, leaving behind light stains that faded a heartbeat later. "So far only my parents know, and probably yours, too, along with Tsahìk, of course. And Lo'ak, he knows, too. The others will find out when it can no longer be avoided, and… and this moment, it will come, but… you really cannot tell anyone, Kiri."

Kiri stared at you blankly, a single hair strand had come off her bun and fell over her shoulder in a slight wave. She was afraid. You were too. You sniffed softly and looked down, just a brief moment before you pulled yourself together and looked up at her.

"I am dying, Kiri, and there is no cure."

so basically, my first upload kinda flopped and I’m trying to find out the reason why, whether it’s my writing, the topic of the story (which I can understand since it’s not everyone’s cup of tea), or if it’s the algorithm. if you like this piece of writing, please let me know through your interaction 💕

[heartbreakprincewille]

Just wanted to gush about how much I love S2 Wille. S1 Wille is a wonderful inception of his layered characterisation throughout the story, but S2 Wille is just so beautifully expanded that it is truly a delight to watch his journey as the Main Character. His grief is not downplayed in order to expand the narrative, but it is also not used as an excuse to push him further down an almost-addicting downward spiral of messier decisions. He learns from his mistakes and tries to be a better version of himself because of his overbearing grief. His love for Simon goes through tumultuous stages in a short span of time, but he never loses sight of the spark that he felt for Simon since the beginning, so real and so telling of his young heart. His relationship with his position goes from a very one-sided burden to something that he willingly chooses to carry on his own terms. His rage and anger towards August in S1 was given a chance to seethe, to burn August with its vitriol but not to the extent that Wille gets burned in the fire as well. He messes up with Felice, he messes up with Simon, but he also tries to be accountable for his actions without being too self-aware or too ignorant. S1 had it all in him, but he was just a boy trying to keep himself afloat after everything earth-shattering happened to him. S1 Wille is a beautiful kaleidoscope of grief and melancholy, but S2 Wille is a hopeful continuation with all its messy highs and lows, and how you just have to treat your protagonist with utmost grace and explore all their potential in order to make them and the story have substance and longevity. Ugh I just love this boy so much.

[rise-my-angel]

Perilous Companions

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 24.7k

Warnings: Depictions of violence, mention of suicide, non graphic torture, hostage situations, heavy angst, angst/hurt comfort, trama related flashbacks, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, canon divergence

Notes: This ones a big boy with some big things happening. Not everything will make sense yet as its part of a bigger unfolding narrative, and certain moments are intentionally skipped over for the same reason. Knowledge of the 2nd game not needed as its not canon. A lot of nerves went into making and posting this one, so I hope it doesn't disappoint you. Sequel to Melancholy Interlude, part of the Confused Warmth series.

It was a cruel joke that you were this ill. If you had to trace it back, you think you may have been bitten by a mosquito at some point. Of all the things you could catch, you were falling apart from something as small as a bug bite. You were always scared of being bitten by any sort of insect as a kid after your neighbour had come home from school talking about how you could get sick and die from one bite.

Your only saving grace being that a cordyceps infection didn’t incubate for this long, and as far as you were aware, didn’t result in how bloodshot and feverish you were nor did it result in vomiting a liquid disgustingly close to black. You had guessed for a while that in the old world the man in front of you had either was a scientist or worked somewhere in that field. 

Whatever research your current companion had done though clearly didn’t encompass all illnesses, but at least you finally were sick long enough he wasn’t constantly terrified you’d turn. Neither you or the rambling man pacing above you had any clue what to do about it, but he somehow seemed more worried then you. Looking at the map in his hands as he ran his mouth non stop. 

You had insisted you were fine until about ten minutes ago when you felt dizzy and would have completely collapsed onto the ground if Seth wasn’t there to fail to catch you in time, at least before you hit your head. Travelling with someone wasn’t what you wanted, you had been alone for months but you felt awful when a bumbling, older, tearful man came across you asking for help getting to his wife near Salem. Only to have him confess when you got sick that he was just lonely and wanted company. 

Now you were just too exhausted to get angry. Letting him travel with you as he desperately tried to make you like him despite your very purposeful choice to stay away from any people. Briefly you had wondered if he was a plant, tricking you to walk you into a trap right back to the place you were running from. Part of you still wondered that, but now you were too sick to do anything about it. 

“We’d have to go to every clinic just to see whose there, but that’s way too big to check.” Seth’s messy hair was flopping around with every spin in place he did, the rhythmic movement distracting your already fuzzy brain. “You said no to everything else I suggested, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” 

Your head smacking back against the tree you were currently sat up against shook your spinning vision even more. Squeezing your eyes shut you let out a shaky breathe that burned your esophagus as it flowed upwards.  There was an extremely expired pack of gum a few kilometres back when you were sifting through an old abandoned store front. The bile still coating your mouth had you hating yourself for passing that up now. 

“You sure we can’t go to Boston?” One eye blinked open, a kaleidoscope of orbs floating in your vision as Seth’s figure stood right in the suns path. He was standing with the map crinkling in his hold as he looked hopeful at you. “They have doctors, it’s an actual city they’ll have medicine won’t they? We can get you a bed and everything. We’re practically right there, you can see the walls from the top of one of those hills for god sakes.”

Your fingertips tapped against the grass beneath you as your jaw clenched. Forcing yourself up, the tree worked as a main support for your legs that trembled from the exertion. The man seemingly perked up at your slowly approaching self. He stared at you, your name coming out as a question when you got within a few feet. “Is that a-” 

Jumping back, Seth gasped as you ripped the map out of his hands. Your face flat as your eyes shifted to the side to stop yourself from glaring. “A no...I’m guessing it’s still a no.” 

Your legs wobbled as your vision spun trying to read it. Kneeling down you rested it over a bent knee as your finger followed a path you already were dabbling in planning out. “You ever been in a QZ before?” 

Looking up at him, Seth had a shifting and sheepish face akin to something like guilt. “I spent some time in one for a while, a little bit in Boston.” Your heart skipped a beat, forcing your gaze down to the destination you had in mind willing away the swirling anxiety. “That’s why we need to go though. I have friends there, they can help you- wait where are you going?” 

The beating of your heart pounded erratically. You wanted to be alone for this very reason, you had no idea what kind of friends were waiting for him, or you, in Boston of all places. There was no one you knew anywhere near such an area, so you walked away. In the opposite direction of his suggestion. 

Seth called you again, “I thought you needed to rest.” 

Pace picking up you pulled the other strap of your bag on both your shoulders properly. “I’m going west.” Pairing up with this man was foolish, heading in the complete opposite direction of where you were headed was even more foolish. 

His voice was getting more and more grating. “We just came that way, didn’t we go to Massachusetts for a reason?” 

Heading down a slight hill full of ragged dirt clumps and drop offs only bang around the blurring migraine in your head more. It wasn’t killing you yet, so you just didn’t bother stopping for it. “No, you wanted to go to Salem, I wanted to be alone.” 

Sputtering, Seth wailed his arms as he slipped and tripped over his feet down the hill with a grace that only assured you that he’s likely spent his entire life in and out of some halfway sizable apartment Fedra probably threw his way. “I was just trying to help.” 

Your mind was already made up. You’ve been trying to get out of this state for months and everything kept pulling you back in. But their unwillingness to let you go spoke a different story, the people you’ve encountered since that have tried to trick or lead back to that room you ran from. 

Seth was saying something, but you tried to tune it out until he was too loud. The sun was setting in a gold that shined off of the decay around you. Travelling the outskirts was longer, a much longer path but if you were being honest with yourself? Just because you were more scared of what other people were capable of, doesn’t mean the shrieks didn’t haunt you every time they echoed through the emptiness. 

It didn’t take long for Seth to overtake your strides. Longer legs and too much energy compared to your muscles begging to sit once more. You so desperately wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that maybe just once since that day you could meet one person who you didn’t have to leave your guard up for. But you couldn’t. 

You were the only of your kind they ever seen, and it didn’t matter who told them what. He had his sights set on you and so did everyone else. Were they hoping to pull you back because they were too stubborn to give up? Or were they truly so delusional that they just didn’t care. The arguments you spied on seemed to tell you something divided them greatly but at this point you didn’t have anything to go off of. 

You had enough scuffles with them to know they were willing to be violent to get you. You knew why they wanted you and it was a fate that terrified you. You saw the remnants of what they had before you, and now? It was a fate you knew would be worse. Their willingness to beat the air out of your lungs had you supposing that having you in one piece wasn’t required.

It was only months ago when a few men came across you as you realized that it wasn’t just a small group that were involved. Somewhere along the lines, three men in the fireflies approached you and when you refused to even hear them out? That’s when they left you with a fair few more scratches then you gifted to them. 

Bruised and covered in mud from being kicked down a steep forest hill, you could hear the small group of men on a radio, but their words overpowered in your head from noise. The only words made out from what you could hear past the ringing the fall had smashed into your head. “....I don’t care, just tell say it’s Owen...” 

More static noise blasting out as you sunk your nails into the muddy hillside pulling you upwards onto your knees at least. Biting your lip so forcefully it had cracked and drawn blood by the next morning, you held the cries of pain back as your muscles strained to drag your body behind a tree. 

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you cradled your side now dripping blood from the ripped open fabric once covering you. The other occupied with gripping your shoulder tight as each twitch of your body shot a current of pain through what might be a strain.

Finally a response over their radio rung out, your jaw tensed as you breathed deeply in and out your nose. “..can make it in a few days...yes ma’am....Gran-” Was it the distance cutting his voice off, or was it your own heavy breathing invading your senses? You didn’t know. It was hard to focus. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to go back for real answers, or if a part of you still clung to seeing the man who had his hired thugs strap you to a chair as soon as they got their hands on you. He barley even looked at you like his own, and neither did his partner look at you anything but a specimen. 

You being this sick wasn’t the plan, and you knew making it wherever they were headed in one piece wouldn’t be easy. Not even sure if any of them would be there anymore by the time you got there. They had working cars afterall, and you only had two feet. Already your head was dizzy, but it felt wrong to turn away, leave it alone. You could just run from them, head far North until you reach the border and forget all of this. 

But you couldn't. They should have gotten what they wanted, so why wasn’t it enough? 

Now though, in the early hours of the morning, it was impossible ignore what you had heard the next few subsequent nights. Listening to this man ramble on what was no doubt some kind of radio. Foolish enough to think that you’d feel comfortable sleeping anywhere near him now he assumed he wouldn’t be heard or caught. Sprinkling hints of a deception that became harder to push away. Someone far more collected and confident then the bumbling coward presented to you. It chewed and gnawed in your mind throughout that night. 

He didn’t see you coming, knelt down faced away before having his body grabbed by the back of his shirt and tossed a few feet to the ground. Flipping onto his back, he stood up slowly to see you feet away from him. Exhausted and pushed to an edge. He tried placating it but only got as far as your name before you cut him off. 

“Why do you want me to go to Boston so badly?” You pulled from something attached to your belt, a thick yellow rope long and flopped down to the side. 

Seth’s face slowly melting off it’s aloof bravado. Something deeper inside brewing that you only felt your body tense at. “I don’t know what-” 

The voice waver made you a lot less brave but the force which you shoved it out masked it. “You led me there even after I told you no. What’s in Boston you’re so eager to get to?” 

There was an entirely new man in front of you, someone more poised with sunken eyes. As if whatever this facade was became too useless to keep up. This wasn’t a stumbling fool, but someone hiding too much. “We don’t need to do things this way-” 

You weren’t buying it though. Wrapping both ends of the rope around your hands, but kept low enough to give him hope to talk first. “Don’t make me ask you again, Seth.” 

His voice grew softer, as if to entice the part of you that wanted to grant sympathy. “It’s about you.” His gaze on your covered arm, and your heart beat harder. “I knew your Jerry and your father from the old days. They discovered a problem during testing, but you already had gotten out before he could look into it for himself.” 

You didn’t even need to ask about ‘they’. He knew them, and apparently your guess of some kind of scientist was correct. Both of them treated you like cattle once they had found you. The ghosts hovering over your life. “What problem?” 

“He never told me, and when your father died I didn’t think it mattered anymore. Left Jerry to pick up the pieces without his expertise. He’s replicated the work as much as he can, but the only thing your father told him only made him that much more desperate to find you. He’s a doctor not a scientist.” 

Maybe you should have been angry, upset. Dropping that on you as if you should already have known, but on the other hand it might be for the better. Jerry was cold, and uncaring. Your father was entirely too emotional, perhaps closer to disturbed than anything. “I gave them everything they wanted, what’s he desperate for?” 

The lack of blinking put you on edge even further. A look as if trying to figure out the very thing he was describing. “That I don’t know. Research has been kept under very tight watch, especially now.”

“And my father, what did he say?”

Seth’s eyes glazed with a troubled conflict, and a sorrow in his voice that told you he knew far more then he was telling you. Flashes in his eyes that spoke of a truth that sat unsettled within him. 

“He said this is the end. He said that we are all finished, and he took his own life.” 

The trickery, the trouble in his eyes, how this all kept relating back to that day. Your father taking his own life though? Something inside of you shifted unsettlingly, and not quite a loss for family. If you had even a modicum of faith in your father, you had none in his partner. “What I still don’t get is what you were planning to do with me. I mean what use would someone like me be to a lying con like you?” 

A debate flourished in his head, saying no words as he almost looked through you. The now calmness in the air, quiet and dulcet tones between you echoed eerily in your voice. You needed him to speak, you needed to know. “What do you think your last breath will feel like, Seth?” 

Eyes shutting for the briefest of moments, he let something echo in his veins. Words slipping from him in a level of defeat. “There’s a woman. A firefly-” 

“I’m already running from the fireflies-” Nothing but a bunch of make shift mercenaries playing at a war they’ve never even started to win. 

Seth shook his head, “Not this one. She’s a leader, has real goals she wants We can trust her, she can help.” You instinctively gnawed at your bottom lip, unwilling to believe in him. “Now if you come with me to Boston, I can get you to her.” 

Shaking your head, you bled distrust from every pore. “What’s her name?” 

His shoulders sagged as he sighed. “Please don’t make me tell you that,” the tightening of the rope between your hands squeezed as his eyes flickered from you to it and back again. “Marlene. Her name’s Marlene. She’s a good woman, your father trusted her.”

More then a few seconds passed. The wind flowing through the luscious trees nearby, and the grass grazing along the empty land. The peace nowhere near the small bubble you stood. “Why wouldn’t they have just told you what the problem was. If you worked with them, I mean. Bit odd.” 

Seth’s head tilted, a softness pleading with you as your name murmured from his mouth, “I’m on your side. I’m one of the-” 

Something snapped inside of you. Almost a scream inside your heart shouting at your survival and it consumed your vision within seconds. He wasn’t a fighter, you wrapped the rope around his neck with little defence. 

Within a second you kicked him to the ground, a struggle tumbling in the quiet grass as you flipped onto your back. The pull burning your wrists and your own legs trying to keep him down. His struggles and groans eating away at your hearing. 

You could only look down at your hold for seconds, nothing close to a fight back from a man who didn’t know how seek out for a real fight. Your breathe was forcibly rhythmic, in and out deeply as your head tilted back as you pulled. Breathing the sounds of struggle away as your eyes fell upon the nature.  

The leaves blowing on a tree, large and flourishing in the emptiness that ravaged around it standing tall and bright. The wind flowing like a calm around it like it was wishing to entrance you. Your breathing desperate to keep a deep even as your mind pushed away the burning pull on your wrists. The sight of the trees colours striking against the rest of the field hiding the groans below. 

You took your mind elsewhere, you weren’t strong enough to keep yourself in the moment. A life on the outside didn’t make you capable. It just made the struggling figures on an open ground dragging the life out of a man who knew more then you’d ever know, feel like a kind of memory you couldn’t live with if the trees didn’t exist.

Nothing like that existed here and now though. The barrel sights down to a man who helped play his part in many fights that these people didn’t deserve to be a part of. 

Once someone too sure of his own bravado, now faced you wide eyed and swallowing panic. His hands at first positioned in front of his torso as Joel approached you both, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was pulling and twisting the coarse rope in his hands. You wanted to see the trees in that rope but you only saw the purple imprints on your wrists that had stayed with you for days. 

But it wasn’t someone tricking you to your death at the other end. It was people you wrapped a new life around, and the only ones who cared about you in return. Owen pleaded. “Come on, please. I’m not going to do anything, do you really need all this?” 

Your hands hesitated, grip on the shotgun so harsh for so long it your arms had started to shake. “I’ll behave, let’s all be reasonable here.” Barrel only lowering enough that it’s aim left the eye line of Owens head. Low enough that he had the gall to leap towards you as if having any chance. Before you could even register how startled you jumped, Joel had grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him face first into the bar counter beside you. 

Owen’s head up enough to growl in anger, “Fuck you-” only to be slammed down into the wood with a crack of a bone splintering in the air. 

Yanking his arms behind his back, Joel tightened the mans own ropes around his wrists, leaving him just enough room before his circulation, or lacktherof, would turn his hands blue. The mans head yanked back with blood dripping from his nose and smeared down his face and painted the dark surface. Your fingers twitching on the shotgun aimed uselessly to the ground as your shaking breathe vibrated into your very chest as Joel hissed into his ear. “You try anything like that again, I’ll break a lot more then your nose.” 

Owen groaned but said no more. Shoving him towards Tommy, Joel only looked a his bloody face for a second longer before taking four strides over and all but shoving the chair out the mans reach. Stumbling onto his knees, grumbling unintelligible swearing as Joel burned a deep anger into his face and slinking it up to Tommy in unspoken words. 

Tommy himself seemed more hesitant. Taken back by something he had no way of seeing coming. You didn’t know how much of the other week Joel had even told him about. He at the least didn’t particularly care enough for the strangers well being to let him sit anywhere but the cold floor. He was more on the edge of confused, Joel saw you trying and failing to mask the shaking feeling of silent fear and that look washing over your eyes only had his blood run hot. 

Tilting his face to the side, Joel caught your gaze the hard set steel of his expression still peeking a deep concern for you behind it. His brown eyes gestured downwards to the shotgun in your grip, covering one of your hands with his own, the way it overtook your small ones with such warmth had you wanted to flip your palm to hold onto it, but you just let him slide the gun into his own possession. Holding it upright around the short cut barrel. 

Ever the vocal one, Ellie spoke up first. “Who are you?” She was stood still, arms crossed over her chest with a stare that could sear a hole in the floor. Her body now against the table, blocking any view of the towns layout from the strangers prying eyes. Tommy stood to his side, back to the wall and eyes to the door while Joel stepped away from your side. 

Watching him crouch down in front of the man, you yearned for the grace of someone more worthy. A gun to a mans surprised back peering right through whatever facade he would spit out were you not there. You had felt brave until he turned to face you. Owen’s face painted with fearful shock but yours only seethed with undiscovered ire. Whatever in your body that didn’t shake, a tingling flooded where ever nerves were attached. 

Owen’s stare towards Ellie was suspicious. Dots connecting in his head, he raised an eyebrow as he returned her stare. “How about you go first, then I have my turn?” 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice rumbled out tight and controlled, just like his unwavering posture. “You look at me, not her. Got it?” Owen didn’t answer quick enough, meaning not instantly, which only got him grabbed by the jaw, Joel’s fingers squishing parts of his cheeks in like a blooded up fish. “I said got it?” 

Owens brows furrowed in a grumble but he nodded. “Good. Now answer the question.” His kept his promise, he didn’t look back at Ellie. Just you. Empty eyes with a smile that had been smeared onto his skin like a goo. 

“Or you could just tell them, you already know my name afterall.” 

Your nails dug into the skin of your palms, scratching and clawing to keep them from shaking. In a world where you knew how to stand your ground, maybe the words would come up out of your mouth. Only they didn’t and you weren’t standing your ground, you weren’t sure your heart would calm enough to give that chance. 

Joel yanked his head back over to face him, face even sterner then before. “I asked you.” 

No one was impressed with the eye roll. A childish act for a tied up man, “Owen. Like she said.” When Joel didn’t let go of him, only gripped tighter did he remember to act like a grown up. “We used to know each other, had a couple run ins didn’t we?” 

You couldn’t see Joels eyes flit back as if he could see you behind him, but that yearning never left his heart. You were supposed to be at his side, not trapped in place by whatever memory this man dragged into town with him. “This is not-”

“He’s a firefly, or was.” Part of you was happy Owen hadn’t seen you in over a year, missing the slight waver in your voice as you forced it to come out in one go. All three of them had completely different reactions. 

Ellie was confused. A group in her life held a complicated relationship with her, one that she suspected wasn’t wholey truthful with her, but never had the chance to put her finger on it. Tommy was braced for either side of things. His eyes never straying from the sight in front of him but one foot of his stood out towards Ellie, as if to intervene. 

You didn’t need to see Joel’s face to know what he was feeling. Crouched down, his shoulders and back were set and so tense you could see it through his jacket. His hand dropped to his thigh with a thud curled into a fist. Those brown eyes washing over to a black as his nostrils flared as he kept a wild within him. 

No doubt lost in what you have found yourself in many times, flashes of light passing your eyes as images that keep you up at night taunt you. You found yourself pacing towards him, hand reaching out to him, but hovering in place at the prospect of sneaking up on him. But just like you felt with him, Joel didn’t need to hear or see to know you were near him. 

He just felt you already, taking a deep breathe as his back stretched back, giving your hand the chance to simply push forward and grasp onto the back of his collar like he knew you would. “What’s a firefly doing in our town, sneaking up on my own.” Joel was seconds away from bearing his teeth, if he remained just a strange intruder that was one thing. But none of you had any delusions about what having someone like this here could mean. 

“Just looking for a friend is all. Big state you know? Gotta check all the corners.” Joels fist curled in more as you curled your fingers into his collar. The two men eyed one another before Joel made to stand back upright. Letting go to give him space, it was only snatched back by Joel’s empty hand. Keeping it tucked to his chest, to turned so both your sides leaned against the bar. His warm breathe heating the skin of you face still doused from the cold outside. 

Eyebrows raised, you could read the question unsaid. Nodding yes, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Don.” Your eyes on his chest, Joel turned his body partway to gesture Ellie to take the shotgun from him. Sometime later, Joel would feel pride of how confidently she took it into her hold and held it to Owen. Perfect form like he taught her. But now that wasn’t anywhere near his mind. 

His now free grasp held onto your hip and pulled you at an angle, hiding your gazes from the man flickering his eyes around the room. Fingers stretching from under his, you wrapped them into the top of his shirt peeking through. Unable to decide if you could handle being the subject of this kind of intensity from Joel. “Don mentioned travelling with them for a while, I didn’t know he stayed with them after..” 

Joel cupped the side of your cheek, turning you up to his face. He meant to say something, meant to comfort or suggest but your own genuine unease pressed against the heart under his chest. A vulnerability that he spent weeks trying to coax from you from the quiet safety of your room together, but now on display for someone that Joel felt the growing urge to slam face first into a wall, leaving a mark he wouldn’t come back from. 

For only a moment you let yourself feel it. Shutting you eyes, Joels hand warm and soothing in your heart as you let the uncertainty flow over. Letting it drip from you head to your toes, melting off as it reaches the floor. Finally you flickered your eyes up to Joels. “I’ll talk to her.” Joels head whipped around, eyes blazing at the mans suggestion. “I’m not gonna kneel here and spill my guts to all you bozos-” 

The other two pairs of feet in the room both shifted a foot forward. A “Watch yourself” sounding from Tommy at the same time as Ellie’s far less decorum of “Shut the fuck up.” 

Shuffling in place, you could tell Joel was grappling with the idea. A deep protective instinct that threatened to overtake him should anything happen to you. “I’m not leaving you alone in a room with one of them.” 

Your cheek pinched between your teeth just a tad to sharp, your mind salvaging for any hint you have a plan in mind. But you don’t, and Joel knows you don’t. Because he doesn’t have one either. Your eyes drifted to Owens tied up frame, gesturing your chin over in debate, Joel doubled down.

“They’re better talkers then they are fighters out here. I’m not worried what he’s going to do, I’ll chain him to the wall if I have to. It’s what comes out of his mouth I don’t trust.” Something within you sensed something coming. Like the polarizing fear sweeping through you when Don had walked into town was a child’s bad dream compared to what your anxiety begun to brace for. But you agreed. 

That part of you which could no longer pretend as if you felt anything but racing nerves in your veins wouldn’t admit it, but you were eternally relieved to have Joel. You faced people like Owen, the fireflies always them versus you. Always running, stealing and sabotaging behind their backs it would weigh less on your chest to have someone in your corner, helping you up onto equal landing. 

Jaw clenching, Joel’s eyes pleaded a different story. One of a man dreaming of finding a small life with you and Ellie, and having to shove down the urge to burn everything to the ground just to keep you three in that harmony. But the fireflies played a different game. One that burned into Joel’s core, and one that froze yours over. 

Sending a shiver down the length of your spine as his thumb gently rubbed over your bottom lip, he was holding himself back from kissing you. Brown eyes flickering to your lips as his fingertips flexed where they sat on your body as if resisting pulling you into him. 

Sarah echoed in his head. Holding you in his arms on the porch as you told him unequivocally that she would be proud of who he is, but he didn’t feel proud now. Joel felt like control was slipping away from him and the last time that happened it ended in a bloodbath. 

You didn’t like this look on Joel. His handsome features warped by a painful conflict behind, firm and set as if nothing he was preparing to let nothing to get past the stone walls. You wanted him relaxed, soft. The kind of look he gave you that very morning. A smile that you’re not sure you’d ever seen yet. A soft one, a sleepy glaze in his eye and that very thumb rubbing over your bottom lip only then he moved it to help pull you out of sleep with his own lips. 

Anxiety shocking your limbs, jolting them like electricity while Joel was reliving the nightmares the people just like Owen brought on him. That quiet bubble of lips and skin against each other under the sheets Joel wanted you to call your own? That morning seems to not exist anymore. 

One of your hands drifted around, trailing on the inside of his jacket along the thin layer of his shirt, nails tracing towards his stomach as both of your eyes begged for even one kiss. Something to keep you both here and grounded. You weren’t going to give the satisfaction to Owen though. 

So you let yourself out of Joel’s hold. His hand sliding from your waist only until you were to far to stretch out to. Owen’s eyes were far less confident as you approached him. His laboured breathing the only thing in the air as you crouched in front of him. 

“You talk to both of us. Or no deal.” If you were someone else, you would have sounded firm. Sure of your conviction and unafraid of the coward in front of you. Not the weaker almost out of breathe hesitancy it came off as. 

Owen narrowed his eyes at you. “And if I say no?” 

Joel was what you tried to sound like. Deep and threatening, no room for doubt or barter as he came up behind you. “I dump you outside of town face first, hog tied in the snow.” 

Warm large hands pulled you up with one of them now refusing to leave your side. Owen conceded just as Tommy called Joel. Gesturing over to the sight of people beginning to mill about like nothing ever occurred inside the building. The man wasting no time as he hauled Owen up uncaring of the stumble he felt from the aggressive jostle. 

Owen stood crookedly against the bar, as Tommy circled his finger for him to turn around. “Ellie.” Joel beckoned her, a hand out for her to hand the shotgun over. Glancing between it and you, her face fell flat as she rolled her eyes giving it to a tiny smirking Joel at her petulance. 

No sense of personal space as he dove right into the small bag at your side for the ammo he assumed was in there. Loading it for you, he draped the strap over your shoulder. “Me and Tommy’ll handle getting him out of here. You two head back to the house, it’ll take us a while to move him.” 

Owen’s wrists rubbing together at the redness already scratching into them, Tommy added “I got a feeling he’s not against making a scene if we walk him through the middle of the street.” 

Neither you or Ellie were keen on leaving the two of them to handle it on their own, but you gently pushed her forward to grab her jacket. Joel turning you to face him as he cupped your cheek once more. There was something at the tip of his tongue, but it wouldn’t let itself out. A disruption you both felt in your bones just when he was finally putting a life together. 

Gently grasping his wrist, you turned his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm and watching him stiffen and breathe force itself from his lungs harder. A rage inside him that you knew he didn’t want to relive, or even expose you too. You couldn’t form the words, you knew what you felt but your tongue wouldn’t take them in. You just wanted him to know that it was alright.

The disgusting turmoil you brought upon his family hadn’t made him turn you away. His own would never do the same to you. There wasn’t anything Joel could do that would destroy what you were trying to pretend wasn’t a stem of blossoms flourishing into unconstrained winding petals.

But now? Watching Joel share muted words with an agitated Ellie, both struggling to let the other walk away? Wondering if it was mere coincidence that it was Owen who was here, or if you dragged them to your doorstep. 

Your mind far off, preoccupied in the possibilities going unconfessed. If this was your fault, if you brought this on them, then Joel should hate you. You deserved it. No reason could form in your head as to why he should support you, he’d done enough. 

You didn’t know what to bring to this relationship, and now all you have started bringing is burden upon burdens. Nothing to go on, all you could assume was that love wasn’t supposed to be sharing the brunt of the others problems. 

You were selfish for letting him bring you home that day, and he was stupid for going after you in the first place. The gruesome mark on your side should have stayed there. Ripped open and bleed out until you wouldn’t get back up from that blood soaked room anymore. 

Fed up, Ellie grabbed your arm with a shout of your name. Turning you towards her, eyes narrowed in exasperation. “Where are we going? Joel said-” 

Mouth opening then closing, your peeked at the people around you some glancing at the Ellie’s sudden outburst. It didn’t even dawn on you until now how far into town the pair of you had gotten. You couldn’t do this here, not in front of all these people. You couldn’t breathe around a crowd closing in on you. Swallowing the swarming cloud threatening to engulf you. “I need to get something, okay?” You grabbed her hand on your arm, squeezing it for a moment. “It’s important.” 

She didn’t say much as you both walked into the now mostly empty house. You wasted no time, making a bee line to your bedroom as Ellie paced around. Taking in the lack of any feeling home. You had brought hardly anything over. A bag or two at most. Neither she or Joel had much when they arrived, but they finally had started to feel like a home, like a place in the world once long forgotten. You arrived with nothing, and you still had next to nothing. 

Ellie couldn’t help but wonder. Is that what life on the outside was like for you? To truly have nothing to find joy in? The clang of wood caught her attention, dragging her over to your old bedroom. Your body knelt on the ground tearing out part of the floor only to reach in and rag out a small box. “So what are we doing back here?” 

Hands pausing mid movement what would you even say? What Joel was keeping from here was nowhere near the kind of lie you were keeping from both of them. The lie you tried to throw away the day you set foot in this town. Fingers slowly wrapping around loose drawings scattered at the bottom, you shuffled them together, throat tight as you tired to find careful words. 

“Something he might be after.” Head lifting up you saw the question form on her tongue. “It’s complicated. I’m not- I don’t know how to explain it.” Right now at least. 

“You could try. I mean I’m complicated.” Your head dropped again but in a breathy laugh, Ellie always managing to let that bemused attitude slip through no matter what. 

Tilting your head to the side a smirk played on your lips. “Yeah, we seem to be a house full of that.” Slipping the drawings into part of the journal, you sucked in a breathe with your eyes blinking shut for as long as you exhaled. Chucking the box back into the hole you lazily threw the wood down. Nothing left in there to hide under hammer and nails. 

Ellie’s face was stuck in hesitation when you stood back up. Her eyes looking to the journal you pressed tight to your chest then back to your own face trying to appear neutral. “Is that what he wants?” 

Lungs constricted and coiled more in your chest. Best case scenario likely being this was all he travelled here for. “Stay in your room, when we get back.” Your head shaking just once as your face tightened and scrunched up. “I’m not asking Ellie. You’re not going anywhere near him.” 

Her arms waved in the air, voice raising just like outside. “I’m not just gonna hide in my room like a-” 

“You don’t think Joel’s going to tell you the exact same thing?” Inside hoping you weren’t coming across as harsh. But you didn’t know what Owen was going to say, or what was going to happen to get him to say it. Ellie deserved a normal life, and none of this was apart of that. 

The house was silent when you both got back. Not a creak or muffle as Ellie charged in first. An annoyed attitude to match such a flat expression unwilling to even keep the door mostly open. Your grip on the journal adjusting and reajusuting multiple times as if letting for a fleeting moment would sweep it out of your possession. 

Opening the door the rest of the way, you were silent as you watched Ellie stand in the middle of the room. Her body turned towards the only closed door, eyes wider and sunken in with a deeper hesitation then before. You could see Joel leaning back against the counter, arms crossed with eyes harsh and narrow at the same direction. 

“He’s in there?” Half her torso twisting to watch Joel nod once. “Is he-” 

“Still tied up. He’s not going anywhere.” An edge cut through his voice, restraining an emotional you knew was a battle to bury back down. “As long as he’s here you’re going to-” 

Head dropping as did her eyes. “Stay in my room. I know.” She didn’t bother taking her jacket off out here, just step by step towards the hallway there wasn’t even a blink. Suddenly the prospect of staying as far away from him as possible didn’t sound like a punishment. Stopping in front of the door, she looked back to Joel with her teeth gritting in an anxiousness. “What are we going to do with him?” 

There was no response. Joel’s shoulders squared as he exhaled through his nose harshly. Brown eyes just glued between her and the door as his head brewed with thoughts you couldn’t possibly imagine. 

Neither of them said anymore. Ellie turned to open her door before taking one last peek at the shut one not far from her own. Keeping her in the dark wouldn’t last, but right now wasn’t time. Not for Joel, not for you. 

The quiet air didn’t dissipate with her departure. An uncertainty floating between you and Joel, his eyes now following the way yours stared at the door. Unlike Ellie though, your own blazed with a knowing fear. Murmuring your name, Joel gestured for you to come over to him. 

You didn’t reach out for him the way his hand did for your waist. Pulling you closer, Joel stood up straight with a deep breathe. Eyes flickering to the door and back, brows narrowed still. “The hell does he want with you that he tracked you all the way here for?” 

It felt like a blame, even if it wasn’t one. What did you to do drag something else into his life? Your grip on the journal in your hand didn’t go amiss. Nor did your casual shrug fool him. “If he’s still a firefly he either only wants me..” 

“Or that?” Joel raised an eyebrow towards your hands as his own pulled your retreating body back into him. “Hey. I’m not prying, but if you’re in danger I need to know about it. Now.” The sternness in Joel’s voice carved something deep inside you as did the fierceness in his bright eyes.

Your jaw clenched as the defeat just piled up. His eyes followed as your hands dropped to your sides before you tossed the journal aggressively onto the counter behind him, but your arms returned to cross your chest protectively. “They know about me. Like-” 

His large hand squeezing just above where the mark sat on your side. His eyes squinted in confusion at what was in your hands. “What does a book have to do with it?” Heart lurching in your chest, you pried yourself from his hand but found yourself unable to move entirely from his warmth. One palm pressing into your forehead as the other sat on your hip. 

“It belongs to them.” Your chin cutting over to it. Jackson was supposed to heal over those memories, but that wasn’t the plan of whoever watched your life over. “I stole it from them, Owen took it back from me, I stole it from him so on.” Head raising into the air to push the sting in your eyes down even when your shaky breathe gave it away just as much. “Either they only got their hands on the book, or lucky enough to try and drag me to Boston because Marlene just can’t give anything up.” 

“Marlene?” Joel leaned into you, pulling your face to look at him by your chin. Your own lost ones stark against his heating fire as he said your name. “She was the one looking for you?” 

You stammered, watching Joel run a hand over his face. Dots connecting in your mind, your mouth fell open slightly as a tangle of disjointed words tumbled out. “Yeah she wanted me.... and you were in Boston. With Ellie.” A story you knew the details to but didn’t stop to wonder how deeply intertwined it’s words were.

This time it was Joel who fidgeted his body back and forth, jaw so clenched it might snap as both his hands found his hips. “Ellie grew up in there, and that’s where I lived when Marlene got me to take her, or forced my hand was more like it. She was adamant someone needed to get her to one of their stations out west when she couldn’t.”

Joel’s head snapped to you as you started putting it together. “I’m assuming she didn’t specify west meant a hospital in Salt Lake?” 

Running his hand down his face again, Joel finally leaned back against the counter. “I didn’t know the extend of where I was taking her until Ellie mentioned a cure. By the time I got her there, it was almost to late when I found out what the fuck they were about to do.” 

Blood racing in your veins you hated where this was going more and more. “Because she knew you’d never do otherwise. She seem desperate?” 

All you needed was his nod of yes. You felt incredibly stupid. The details Joel had already shared, what Don told you, what had happened what was in the journal itself. That’s why they left you alone after all that time. She found Ellie, and dumped her off with people who couldn’t possibly know what Marlene was handing her off for. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been silent, but Joel cupped the side of your neck urging you to come back to him. You were quicker on the draw then he was. “We need to find out what he’s doing here. Now.” 

Soothing you, his breathe grazed your face as he leaned his forehead onto yours. “I can do this alone, you don’t need to see this.” 

Sliding your fingers up to hold his wrist gently, your eyes as soft as your touch felt opposite of how much Joel’s nerves sat in his fingertips. “You said we’re in this together. So we do this, together.” He took one last moment to hold you against him still with a hand at the back of your head. 

Pulling back he grabbed something you couldn’t quite see from behind him, sliding it into pocket inside his jacket before you could make it out. His hand stayed in the middle of your lower back as you both approached the door. The journal left alone on the counter the reasons to keep it in the shadows leaving you moment by moment. 

It should have satisfied you to see fresh blood now on his face. Two distinct cuts clotting over on his cheek, drifting down to see his frame tied to a chair looped with more then one restraint. Hands bound to the arms of the seat, a redness that too was blood on his fists. You wanted to feel smug at how rough he looked, but it did nothing to soothe the racing of your heart. 

Owen barley looked your way when he saw Joel follow in. The harsh shut of the door behind him making the bound man jump. A rag drenched in droplets of blood and sweat tied around his mouth explained the no noise as you walked in. A sprinkle of suspicion that his newfound red paint was a result of putting far more of a struggle up then he could handle the consequences too. 

The air around the three was charged with such a heavy weight you felt as if it could crush you flat. Your vision as it turning white flashed, the slamming pain skyrocketing from your body to your head as it rattled against the cliff side. The blood on your face felt as if it had never been washed off as you looked at the still red stained ones on Owen. 

Yours weren’t bound to the arms of the chair. No yours were wrapped behind you, phantom sensations of the metal digging into your skin as it gave way to a snapping bone. Memories you’ve never spoken of,  ones you wanted to bury deep. 

Joel had spoken, and you didn’t even catch it. Muffled voices quiet and rumbling as your brain forced itself into the present. You had barley moved from just feet inside the room. Joel stood tall over him with the rag now dragged down from his mouth spitting as the words came out. “What? I can’t just pop by to visit a friend? See an old pal? Isn’t that right? Good ole Don?” 

Snatching his jaw, Owens cheeks smushed together as Joel forced it to lurch forward to his knelt over figure. “Hey, you’re not talking to her. Just me.” His voice was even, but unseen to your place behind him, Joel’s features stood sharp, a dark in his eyes that worked it’s way into his bones from weeks of torment on the people he loves. “Start with what Don was here for.” 

Joel’s hand dropped as he stayed at his eye level Keeping the mans only view of him. The condescension in Owen’s voice circulating Joel’s bloodstream in an angering trail. “Small town living.” 

He gave him no response. A stone walled stare leaving the pure nothingness in the air force someone to fill it, only neither you or Joel would do so. 

“He’s an idiot, who knows what he was doing here. I just haven’t heard from him is all, a guy can’t worry for his friend apparently.” You knew Owen wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. Part of you wondered if he just didn’t realize why Don was nowhere to be found, or if he was dumb at playing dumb. 

Joel’s hand flexed as he turned his head. Barley enough to even look beside him until moving back trying to not shift focus to you. Keeping Owens focus or Joels focus away he wasn’t quite sure of. “This can end right now. But if you keep bullshitting me, I promise you’ll wish it did.” 

Owen opened his mouth and closed it more than once. He was a footman. Strong, not pragmatic. A fear not unlike one you’ve felt countless times in your own eyes doubting himself as Joel stared at him. Only letting a few more seconds pass before Joel’s face twisted in anger. Bracing his palms on his thighs Joel pushed back upright. 

Stepping uncomfortably close into his space, Joel tugged the gag back over his mouth, but was nowhere near done. You couldn’t tell what Joel had pulled from his jacket until rusting pliers braced themselves onto the nail of Owens index finger. 

Tilting his head with an eyebrow raised, Joel was giving him a warning that Owen didn’t take. Just shaking his head with a muffled string of what sounded like petulant swearing. Joel held it to him, breathing heavy as whatever conflict in his head won out, forcing himself to act on that conclusion before a softer part of his subconscious wanted to talk him out of. 

A few years into the outbreak you had watched a number of members from your group screaming not dissimilar to the muffled ones before you. You had been pressed inside the back of a desk. Your only sight the dilapitating square of wall in front of you, but the wood surrounding you felt as it it made it echo. Warped, distorted screams as it was followed by a cracking. One by one the cracks followed screams that rasped into sobs. 

It was a sound and sight that for a while, was the scariest thing you’d ever seen. A body unconscious from either shock or blood loss as scattered puddles of blood and teeth lay strung about. You didn’t dare look how many were left. There were enough teeth on the ground to know not enough to matter. 

You had thought to yourself, never again did you want to be anywhere near something like this. But that was before you were tormented with screams, screeches and searing rips into your skin and clicks that stabbed into your brain until you felt numb to the fear. 

Owen didn’t sound quite like any of it. More like a strained groan trying to push down the agony. Your nails digging into your palm with each silence between Joel’s growling voice. Blood asking to drip down from the nails you still had, unlike the man who took his only chance to speak with his gag off, to try and spit at Joel. Much more swearing came from that rip then whatever your nails scratched into your palm. 

The red made it look worse then it did. Comparing to what the world outside proved it was capable of, Owen would live. Live without having to change who he was entirely. Your side told you not to feel bad and it was a hard voice to ignore. Your forearm throbbing in rhythm. Neither of those were a fate anyone should feel, but you had. And so did she. Those were far worse.

Owen wasn’t just connected to Don, it didn’t just trace back to you, and Joel had enough of keeping that thought out of it. “Look at me. Hey-” He yelled more this time, nostrils flared as he grabbed Owen by the throat to force him to look. 

Owen looked dazed, swallowing hard as his eyes fluttered in and out of pain. “You this embarrassed someone got the jump on you in front of your girl?” 

A roaring current zapped through Joels nerves, his hand tightening his hold on the mans throat. “Fine, you’re in my position. Someone breaking into your home? Rope in his hands, sneaking up on you and your daughter behind your backs?” His voice snarling at the edge of breaking into something Joel could lose control over. 

But you didn’t give either of them a chance. Your footsteps banged into the floor, heart pounding but unwilling to break eyes with Owens attention, now on you as he heaved in pain. Joel didn’t move, forcing his snarling heaves back down.

Hand curling into a fist around the pliers. It didn’t matter what Owen’s plan was. Joel covered all of Ellie’s sides, and so you would cover his back. You didn’t bend down to their place near the ground. You wanted Owen to strain up in the pain to look at you. “You read the journal, right?” 

Joel’s heart tempered down, but didn’t have the willingness to look anywhere but the man bleeding in front of him. Nothing had happened, but the threat was enough. Men like this, people like them? Joel would make sure they had no right to even look at Ellie. They get to keep their lives, their families and there was no comprehension in Joel’s mind to ever appease that they tried to tear apart his for their own gain. Tear his family back to shreds, keep their own when they had no heart or soul as they tried to do it to his. 

Unlike him, you didn’t bother with the intimidation, it was never a word given to you anyways. Letting it your hand brush the wrist attached to where Joel’s was, brushing your thumb over the vein you could reach, Joel finally let the mans airway free. Desperate to keep himself here, it only switched places. You felt his hand, large and close to bruising as he held part of your calf. 

Owen heaved and you let him. He wasn’t a solider, he had no obligation to withstand this, and both you and Joel knew that. You let Joel push Owen to the edge as long as you held him back from the cliff when Joel himself got to close to falling alongside. Broken at the bottom, splayed on jagged rocks you spoke softly to him. 

“Owen. I asked you a question.” He glanced from Joel to you, but finally kept it mostly on you when Joel didn’t move a muscle. “How much of the journal did you read?”

And there it was, his bloodshot eyes jumping to your forearm. In another world, maybe you’d smile, smirk, enjoy the torment. But neither you or Joel did. This was his family, and he was protecting it regardless of the cost. 

Nodding, you didn’t really even register doing, but your eyes sat wide. “It didn’t say anything about this,  I imagine.” One hand slip the side of your shirt up. 

Forearms heal better then the sides of a torso, and yours still looked like a horror. The colour, the scarring still healing with skin bitten and torn into and no disillusion as to what it was from. “Do you think you’re bite will look like this? Or rot to something else entirely.”

Would you do it? No. Humans deserved the fate of other humans. No one deserved what you and Ellie had barley survived. It was more then teeth, it was a blood curling terror like a radiation poured into your body along with it. But Owen didn’t know that, all he knew is someone in the fireflies inflated your reputation to dangerous. And that certainly wasn’t the image of hope Marlene tried to frame it in, no only one other person would have given Owen that idea. 

You wanted to crouch to look him properly in the eye, but you dared not interrupt the iron grip Joel had on your calf. So your fingers curled into the side of his jacket collar, one the front of his shirts were familiar with on quiet, peaceful nights. “Don could have told you if his own bite didn’t tear into his neck. Bring you to him if you don’t believe me.” 

“No, n-no,” There was the crack Joel had broken in. 

“Then tell us the truth. If you’re here for the journal, we can talk about that. But of you’re here for me then that’s a new problem.” 

You could feel Joel’s hand slid up your calf, less desperate and tight but now more all encompassing. A need to feel you there without risking his attention elsewhere. But that didn’t matter. The attention wasn’t about you at all. Owen looked defeated at you before sliding his eyes to the thing you feared putting at risk the most.   

“We weren’t looking for you. We were sent to look for him.” Your fingers curled into his jacket more as your heart beat so fast you felt it in your throat. A penetrating cold shivering from your heart and outward. “Fuck, no one even knew where you were until now I guess. A few of us have been scouting different nowhere towns looking for a Joel Miller. Just a wild fucking coincidence I guess.” 

Joel’s voice was controlled, forcing words out slowly and clearly. Low almost like a whisper. His eyes the opposite as they fell dark and falling down a hole of realization. “Whose us?” 

Owen gnawed at his lip before relenting. “Anderson,” Joel tilted his head needing him to elaborate, but you knew. You knew it was a divine force that kept you from falling back. “You know the doctor, the fucking hospital? We’re not with the fucking fireflies anymore, just got a few of us together when she finally learned your name. You killed her dad, so? Fair’s fair.” 

Joel stood up, the room silent as your head spun it’s contents. Turning to you, his face was lost in an overwhelming blast of emotions. Yours was flushed, a shiver running your entire body as you looked at him.  This wasn’t even about you, and that scared you even more. You couldn’t just walk away to get rid of this for them.

Joel grabbed your wrist on his jacket, holding to keep you close. He seemed to grapple with something before turning to shove the gag back in Owens protesting mouth and dragging you out of the room. 

He pulled you closer to the main room cupping the sides of your face urgently, pulling you into his space as you tried to rationalize it. “She can’t, you..I won’t let her.” 

Joel muttering your name almost commandingly as he almost smoothed over your skin to quell the panic. “Hey, hey- it’s okay eyes on me.” Your nails almost dug into his chest as you shook in his hold with a skin prickling combination of distraught and a back blowing whoosh of determinating protectiveness. “Nothing is going to happen. Nothing’s going to happen to me, not me, not any of us.” 

Your soul felt like screaming on the inside. “I’m not going to lose you, not for this. I won’t leave anyone to-” 

Joel pulled your lips into his, a harsh and rough collision that took not just your breathe out of your lungs but his. His own brushing against yours aggressively, pulling back only enough to have you hear him.

“Together. Anything we do, we’re doing it together. You don’t want to leave me? Good ‘cus I’m certainly not leaving you or her. I didn’t do what I did, only to get ripped away from her as soon as we finally started becoming something.” 

Joel kissed you another time, telling you to stay out here. Just for a minute before turning on the spot and slamming the door back behind him. A sharp anger on his face that you decided wasn’t worth holding him back from. 

Your back pressed against the wall, palms shoving pressure onto your forehead as you realized just who was looking for Joel. If it was her, then she’d come looking for Owen. If Joel didn’t hesitate to go find you the day you took off, then she would come looking for Owen the second it was too late for him to reasonably not come back. 

At some point you had slid onto the floor right next to Ellie’s door. This was it. She needed to know about that day. But it wasn’t what Joel did that was the lie going to hurt, it was the truth you had to come to terms with too. The truth all Joel did, was save her from and the pain he thought he was keeping from her was nothing. 

You could see the journal still sat on the counter at the other end of the room. He’d tell her, then you’d tell them. Somewhere in the back of your head you registered a thud, but it was too faint to drag you back into the light. 

The quiet creak of Ellie’s door however, was just that. She had heard enough to know what was happening in that room, but none of you were disturbed by it. Ellie had been through more then what Joel had done in those last ten minutes with Joel himself. Her eyes were tensely trained on the door when she almost jumped at the sight of you. 

“Fuck, make a sound or something next time.” Laugh, smile give her something but you couldn’t. Everything was about to be laid out on the table, and your nerves were crippled with the nightmare of losing Joel, losing her, for it all. “What happened?” 

Both of your heads shot up as Joel finally came back out. A redness on his hands that you knew were smears of the mans already dripping blood inside, it didn’t look bruised so at least it wasn’t that. You could only see inside the room enough to see the chair awkwardly moved over with Owen muttering to himself along with it as the door shut. 

All three of you looked at one another before Joel looked at Ellie with a seeping guilt in his eyes, “We need to talk.” Ellie’s eyebrows raised in worry but nodded. 

“Not just you. I mean, she needs to know.” Ellie’s face darting between you both now confused, “But you both need to know something else. You talk to her first though.” 

Ellie looked lost and anxious, “What the fuck is going on?” 

Joel’s hand smoothed over the side of Ellie’s head, his heart melting at how instinctively now she leaned into his embrace without realizing. Any of you losing this would be catastrophic. “Give us a minute,” his head gesturing to you. “Then we’ll talk.” Looking between you both, she finally conceded. Joel unable to take his eyes off of her until the door shut completely once more. 

Holding his hand out, he pulled you up onto your feet and gestured to the main room before either of you said a word. Wavering looks swimming in both of your eyes and hearts beating just as loudly as the other. “She-” Joel cut himself off with a sigh, handing his head with his hands on his hips. “I wanted to find the right words first. Not spring it on her like it doesn’t matter how I say it.” A strain in his voice you wanted to honey over.

Though you weren’t sure he was really telling you, not past your nerves. Running a hand down the length of his face as his eyes stayed shut. You were in the same boat, how were you supposed to tell the only family you had how much of a lie they were both sold on. How would they feel knowing you were a sliver of that story? 

Maybe you shouldn’t have unpacked that bag, your old empty house feeling more and more like the isolation you belonged in, but Joel didn’t deserve this feeling. He’d been through enough, he’s done enough. Softly muttering his name, he dropped his hand back to his hip but still was trapped behind his eyes.

This time whispering his name, hands very gently reaching out to cup the side of his face, thumb tracing against the coarse facial hair. His larger hand circled your wrist. “Give me your worst case scenario.” His eyes darting up in narrowing, an incredulous look but you kept your hand softly on him. “What would be the worst reaction she could have?” 

It was clear he’d thought too much of just that, because his answer was instantaneous. “She hates me. I lied to her about all of it, and she resents me for what I did, and for lying to her.” A part of your heart cried at hints of agony his eyes looked at you. “I don’t know if I could handle that. Not now.” 

Joel deserved to hear one thing, but right now you think he needed something else more. It was surprisingly easy to pull such a tall giant man to lean down into you. His hands both squeezing you waist as his forehead rested on your shoulder. Winding one arm past his neck you kept him there as you raked your hands through his hair as the other ran your palm shallowly against his torso down closer to his stomach. His deep breaths the only thing in your ear as you let him feel the worry for just a moment. 

Let him process what’s being forced onto him so suddenly. You didn’t let go of him as you softly spoke into his ear minutes later as his breathing steadied against your skin. “Do you know why that will never happen?” Hands gripped you tighter, you were starting to speak his silence. “That kid loves you. You’re her whole goddamn world even if you can’t see it. She was sold on a lie that got sold onto you. You were the only person who did the right thing, probably one of the only people who ever put her well being before someone else.” 

Joel found enough of a calm to lift his head, steady movements in his chest as he rested his head against yours. Face still twisted and tearing apart with nerves. “I still lied to her.” 

When you first met him, you’d never have said anything close to what came out of your mouth in the firm meaning you spoke. “You lied to yourself, Joel.” His eyes widening, a hurt treading on them that needed to be satiated fast. “When you think about that day, do you see what you did or why you did it- no don’t try to tell me otherwise. Because that’s exactly what I see.” 

Your hands sliding down to his own waist, “There’s not a single time I’ve heard Ellie talk about everything that happened that doesn’t end in her finding a way to tie it back to something you did for her. Marlene wanted to dump her life off on lies, and you kept her from it because you love her. What lie do you think’s going to hurt more? The one you couldn’t even admit to yourself, or the one people like them just for a chance to get her into a slaughterhouse.”  

Pulling your arms away from him, you gave Joel the chance to stand on two feet. The thoughts clearly mixing and repelling against one another as he followed your lead. Giving his body a chance to breathe on his own, his eyes on nothing while the mind behind brewed and boiled. Slowly you stepped away, the time it took getting to where the journal had been tossed feeling like a lifetime. 

Your hand paused as you slid it towards you. Eyes flying over the well used pages stuffed with fresher notes in your own once manic scratchings. Heart felt beating in your chest, you had to do it, but it wasn’t your place to say it. You had to let them be together. They could call you whatever they wanted, but you were still just on your own. Joel was her father now, and that’s the love she’s going to desperately need the most. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you quickly moved things. Putting your own notes in one pile and storing it right at the front. It had to be done before regret slipped in. Snatching it off the table you didn’t hide it on your person this time. It hung in the hand at your side, as you looked at his face once more. 

No lies between you. Even if it sacrificed the adoration he watched you with. Both of you moved slowly as you handed it over to him, grateful he didn’t open it right away. “There’s nothing I could say that isn’t already in there.” 

Joel’s head tilted as he looked at you with doubt. “Neither of us is trying to exclude you.” 

Nerves burning on fire, you shrugged. “It’s still your life before me. Don’t open it until after. She needs you first, not this.” Watching his eyes bounce between the journal and you, the defeat crawling over sitting heavy in Joel���s stomach. “I think I pretty much summed it up, my notes in the front.” You pointed to the obvious white sheets contrasted against the stained darker ones. “But it’s still all in there.” 

Neither you nor Joel said the words. The grief of losing it before becoming real a fear you needed to steel yourself with once more against as Joel stood before you. Himself holding it back from spilling out of his mouth, especially with that dissonant look in your eyes. 

Selfishly, you have yourself what could be a final indulgence of his warmth. Your hands pressing flat onto his chest wishing those warm brown colour of his eyes would stay with you forever. “You’re not a bad person, Joel. Ellie knows that, so stop thinking that she will.” 

His eyes skipped down to your lips, choosing to pull you in with his fingers under your chin. Small and chaste with the taste of restraint from losing yourself in the other. Pulling back only enough to give you air, “Didn’t realize this is what it would take to get this much out of you.” 

Your heart leaping into a breathy laugh as he too lightly laughed into another kiss. Everyone always had something to say the second you ran your mouth for more than a few minutes didn’t they? 

Control slipping, you had to gently push him back before he let go of it entirely. You didn’t watch as he walked away, didn’t watch as he went into her room. The click of the door was a trigger. The air in the room heavy and constricting, as the walls surrounded you. You couldn’t be in here, you couldn’t listen to whatever would happen it was suffocating you. You didn’t deserve to be anywhere near them, not now, not for this. 

Not sure if either of them heard the front door shut, you walked out into the now significantly darker sky. Lungs filling with air you could stand as if the house was drowning in water. You didn’t get too far, just far enough to throw your back against a brick wall, sliding down as you lifted your head into the late winter sky.

It was a strange thought that passed through you, wondering what she’s heard about you since. If she was still with the fireflies then she knows all to well the man power wasted at trying to get you back.

Like the faces that followed you with every stabbing pain, she no doubt remembers your face perfectly. One of the hands now resting on your knees twitching as it relived a pain. 

The blood dripping down your bottom lip from how hard you bit into it, holding back your voice as the bones in your hand snapped, slipping from the metal handcuffs forcing your arms behind the chair. The chain clanging together as you retched them in front of you, barley making it off the chair as your upper body leaned in on itself, shaking as you snapped the bone back barley staving off a cry.

The darker the sky grew the further down the dilapidated, dripping hall your memory travelled. You had caught her coming around the corner, nearly jumping as she turned to see you. It was easy to see the blood on you was your own, but it was even easier to see what sat on the forearm with the fractured hand. Red skin and stiff hanging at your torso, you had it unknowingly tilted where the ripples of an infection she couldn’t possibly guess was long past it’s prime. 

You didn’t know if all of them here knew, a pathetic excuse of a firefly mid stop with too much empty space for them to even think of how to use it. Hell, at the time, you didn’t know a single of them were fireflies. You just knew him, your father, and now her. Judging by her face, wide eyes stepping back as an urgency fell over her face, she didn’t know the person here was you. The familiarity between you didn’t mean anything close to it’s beginning.

It all took no more than a few seconds. One of her hands reached behind her for what you had seen from the side was a gun as she begun to shout out someone’s name that you didn’t give her a chance to spell out. You had done it before you even heard it, arm stretched as the sound of the shot hit your ears after it already casted blood into her stomach. Something inside you wanted to stay, by the time someone else reached her it could already be too late. 

But that would’ve been your fate if you didn’t leave. You fell into their laps by accident, but wasted no time in trying to find a use for you that didn’t involve keeping you around. It was the first time you stole the only resources they had, you. And the first time having you get away, ate at Marlene’s desperation to force you back from that day onward. You didn’t even know Marlene’s name until that day in the field, but you new who she was all too well now.

Front door slowly shutting was followed by the slight thud of boots against the wood of the porch. Head snapping up you saw Joel looking out with a squint, his shoulders looking less risen and tense then he had all day. You however, shot up so quickly your feet almost stumbled you back over if not for your hand braced against the brick beside you. 

It was too far to see his expression, but it wasn’t always the best way to determine what was going on inside Joel’s head. Let him come to you, you told yourself. Constantly going to him, invading his life, disturbing their privacy was all you provided. 

He had on a different shirt then before, this one looking much warmer then what was on you. Part of you wondered just how long you had been out here alone. If the sky had anything to say about it, it might have been far longer then you knew. 

Now though, being out in the snow? A lack of anything substantial for winter weather having Joel’s eyes look at you, not knowing if in simple concern or judgment. Standing a foot or two away from you, Joel answered the question he saw you open your mouth to ask. 

“You were right.” Your back sagged against the brick, this time though your legs finding the strength to hold you up. “Turns out having your whole life upended hurts a whole lot more then being lied to about getting her out of it.” His voice was shoved out in a gruff kind of pain, his eyes fared no better.  Bright but not in a shine you yearned for, a pain, an upset that sat heavy in his heart. Just because it didn’t devastate their relationship, doesn’t mean it wasn’t devastating in every other sense. 

You swallowed harshly as you nodded. Nothing even in your throat to say, scared to look to long at him, missing the needing stare he gave you that shined in the growing moonlight. Your voice just weak and cracked, “And you?” 

The sigh he let out was loud. Arms crossing his chest he paced to put rest his back against a close by tree. The increased distance between you growing larger, you didn’t know how intentional it was. “I said something when she first told me what Marlene wanted with her. They’ve talked about cures all the time and none of them worked. Everyone wanted me to believe in it, in her so badly.” 

Clenching his jaw you could see the frustration build and build. Making you feel like you understood without any idea of how to comfort it in a meaningful way. “But she’s a kid, not an answer.” 

You yearned to reach out to him, his eyes glazing somewhat as he looked from the night sky, to the ground and back to you as a darker tone resurfaced in his voice. “She didn’t deserve to be treated like some miracle. She needed someone, anyone, to give a shit enough to protect her. Even from them.” 

For once you stood still like a stature while Joel kept shifting his stance or his shoulders. “I don’t know if I even believed it when I went back for her. All I knew is it didn’t matter what they wanted, she didn’t deserve that and I couldn’t live with it.”

Your fingernails chipped away at the brick behind you, “Sometimes desperation makes you dumb. Doing bad things because they deluded themselves into thinking as long as they accomplish something then they can keep feeling as if they’re winning.” Sighing out raspily you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “Couldn’t get me anymore, so the second she found a new one? Getting her on that table was all they a cared about.”

“Even though they knew it wouldn’t work.” Joel pushed up from the tree, letting his hands fall to his belt loops trying to close the distance. “Didn’t matter what the truth was, everyone wanted her to be the one to set all of this right. All I could see was a girl who wanted to have a life. Didn’t matter to me what anyone else wanted, I’m not sure it ever did when it came to Ellie.” 

Silence fell between you, that feeling in your throat coming back up like it wasn’t able to stop. Your heart falling over at the pain filling his features. “I’m sorry.” 

Joel scrunched his face at you. “You’re sorry? For what?” 

Throwing your hands out, you for once found yourself starting any kind of argument. “What do you mean what? How about everything I do somehow keeps coming back to fuck you and Ellie’s lives up.” 

Joel’s own voice started to match in a frustration level. “Wait- you haven’t done anything.” 

Rolling your eyes to the side you struggled to understand what he was even trying to do. “Right, because you’re lives have been so much more peaceful since I showed up and for some reason you just let me hang around no matter what I’ve done.” 

Joel tried to come towards you but you just pushed off the wall and circled around to stay away. “I-”

At least it was growing dark enough that Joel couldn’t see the redness in your eyes. “He came looking for Don, Joel. Don never checked in because I killed him, he never even mentioned them. If he was here looking for you, he stopped giving a shit about you the second he saw me. Maybe if I just let him-” 

Joel’s anger wasn’t at you but it sat visibly steaming on his face as he tried stepping towards you, but you just stepped away again. “No. I’m not even going to fucking entertain that idea-” 

Your head pounded, every modicum of sound screaming as it flowed into your ears. “Well I am, so maybe you should for once, Joel.”

Running a hand over his mouth, you knew he was either going to yell or going to try and come closer, but at the moment you couldn’t tell which one you wanted less. “What do you want from me? Blame you for everything that ever goes wrong? Pretend I don’t want you in my life?” 

If he was growing angry, you deflated it by turning to face him. Not quite yelling, but certainly not quiet either. “No, you’re just supposed to not want me in general.”

His volume grew with yours, as did the sharp features on his face grew twisted and stiff. “Well I’m sorry, sweetheart. You don’t get to just stand there and tell me I’m not allowed to love you just because that’s what you expect out of me.” 

He didn’t realize what he had just said. And neither did you. The only ones who realized what Joel had just said, were the half awake birds on the treetops and the single pair of ears quietly listening from a far off window. 

You pressed your palm to your forehead, trying to will the headache away with the pressure. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Joel. I just-” 

Joel tried to come closer. His heart was turned up tonight, and between earlier, sitting on a way too low to the ground bed for his frame, running his hand soothingly over his what loose strands of hair splayed out from their ponytail as his little girl finally let that insufferably stubborn wall of hers fall down for once and cried into his lap. That everything that had finally brought them together was all based on a horrific lie that duped them both. Neither he nor her having any idea what to feel about it. 

It was too much for him, but nothing compared to the endless turmoil spinning behind Ellie’s eyes as they were laid out what this all truly was. Ellie had been through a lot, too much with him, but for once she let herself react the way she needed. She didn’t do anything, she shouldn’t be brave about it. 

Now he’s standing out in his front yard, watching you float around too many emotions for you to figure out what you even felt. Your voice wavering and how you kept stepping away if he came forward. To Joel, it was his own actions that brought this down on them, yet here you stood trying to force him to put every blame on you for just existing. 

“Can you just listen to me?” 

You wanted everything to stop, your lungs yelling at you and your vision feeling like it wanted to start spinning. “No, Joel-” 

His hands gestured uselessly in the air, “Why not?” hoping he didn’t sound angry, but sometimes he wasn’t quite aware enough to know how he was coming off to people. Especially if airing on the side of losing his temper. 

You told yourself not to cry, feeling a vile embarrassment if you cried in front of him right now. But your throat felt choked up, and barley managed to spit it out. “Because I don’t get it, Joel.” Everything in his face paused, taken back by what was about to spill out of your heart. 

“I don’t understand why you care. I’ve never understood it. I’ve done nothing but get in the way, and you keep just bringing me back when we both know your life would be a hell of a lot easier without me in it. I don’t understand why you keep me around or why you even like me. I just...I don’t get you.” 

Pressure build behind your eyes while the rest of you burned with humiliation. Being with Joel exposed parts of your soul that you never even thought to share with another, but the undeniable shake in your voice as you trailed off was twister of panic and tears that you tried to push down. Pretending it was anger. 

In anyone else, Joel would have taken it in a worse light. But the silence in him as he grappled with just how little you could see how he felt didn’t sit right inside him. He knew part of this between you both was somewhat new to you. What he didn’t know, is that in fact all of it was new to you. 

He was new in every way and now it all swirled on terrifying, your eyes staring at each other until you turned to go back in the house. In your frazzled mind, you hoped maybe Joel wouldn’t yell at you if you were inside. It felt different once you got there though. Countless houses you’ve walked into, abandoned, dilapidated, some in surprisingly good condition. Even your own small one in this very town. But something about being in Joel’s house felt different. Like a warmth spreading through your bones as you walked into the front door. 

Your palms sat flat against the back of the couch, trying to count how long your inhales were and focusing on the exhales. Slowly your heart tapered down, the walls around you stopped shrinking in as you hoped when your eyes opened once more the world would stop feeling like it was tumbling around you. 

Just seconds ago you felt like if Joel came anywhere close to you, that the weight of your emotions would implode on you. Yet as you heard Joel quietly following you into the house, you couldn’t help but follow where he was by the sounds he made as he walked in. 

It all just hit you too fast. Giving yourself no time to process so you chose the worst possible way to react. Too much of your lives were converging together and it kept brewing a storm that you once only had to deal with alone. Now there were actual people in your life who leaving would tear parts of you across the distances between them. The only life that had been in danger since you arrived was your own. Having the forces from yours come down to Joel wasn’t fair. He had no stake in this fight. 

He only did the one thing none of those people had the heart or the guts to do for another. And people like her had no right seeking out revenge for someone who wasn’t anywhere near close to what was toted around. Truly thinking about it, there was another person in this house who you know has his back too. 

Eyes opening you looked over to her closed door, this time at least knowing she asleep. Only time would heal what you finally had to expose her too. 

It was hypocritical of you, how the second two strong arms caged you in against the back of the couch, you leaned back into what you knew was Joel’s warm torso. He stepped in to press you closer to the couch so he could cover your hands with his, fingers linked as much as he could manage in this position. 

His chin rests on your shoulder as you both stand with the other against you, a quiet that is far more familiar and soothing then any kind of arguing. Joel must have been watching you, because as soon as you opened your eyes to speak, he leaned his mouth closer to your ear. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry again.” 

Letting you go, Joel pressed himself more into your back as his hands decide to rest more comfortably on your hips. His nose pressed to your hair you nod in agreement. “Guess I’ve scared you enough, only a matter of time until it was my turn to get it.” 

Your fingers dug into the couch more, but you still leaned into his touch head tilting back at his every move, even though he always found his way back. “I’m not going to bother telling you not to be. We both know listening to me isn’t exactly your forte.” Joel smirking against the side of your head at your face instantly falling in a playful offence. “I need you to listen to me this time, though.” 

One arm slid across your stomach, almost as if he knew your hands were itching to hold onto him in some way. His hold pressing you against him further at the feeling of your nails scratching along his arm slightly. Your nod not enough for him, “Out loud.” 

His heartbeat was so much calmer then yours, clearly having taken his jacket off while your back was turned the single thin layers between you meant you could feel him with every breathe. “I’m listening.” 

Joel’s own eyes were off in the distance, staring at the table he could see through the door frame. The kind of nerves he saw on you felt like an echo of that night. So wrapped up in how sure he felt, that he forgot how unused to all this you were. Not used to the feelings that came with finding yourself so close to someone you didn’t expect too. 

He knew all to well what that was like. The girl he felt in his heart like a father to, laying everything out on the line for. Ellie could look back on that day and joke about it. Trying to make a scene over how mistreated she was anytime he made her do a chore she’d turn back with a hand over her head lambasting the time he so callously threw her entire body into a wall. “Like a piece of meat,” she’d go on like.

Being told she’s nothing but cargo to him, not knowing the pure terror the day he could have truly lost her in more vile ways then he wanted to ever imagine. How it wasn’t the only day either.  A small name he only ever felt pain even thinking about slipping from his lips as he looked at Ellie, unable to deny what they had become and just how deeply both of them wanted to hold onto the other.

It was different for you, but he knew whatever family you had wasn’t even present enough for you to care to share. Spending a lifetime outside any kind of walls or city with any form of order, not until you walked into town that day. You were still getting used to him, just as he had to do with Ellie. 

“Maybe in another life, this might go down differently. Ellie decides she doesn’t trust me, I get caught off guard, or by some miracle that doctor even had a fucking clue what he was doing.” Both his arm around you and hand on your hip squeezed tighter. “But that’s not going to happen. We have each other, sweetheart. All three of us. You don’t deserve to be dragged back into this shit. And I’m sure as hell not leaving this world for that son of a bitch thinking he had any right to cut her open for some cure that doesn’t fucking exist. Who didn’t give a second thought about murdering the one other kid in my life who has ever felt like a daughter to me.” 

You could feel the tensity in his muscles, wanting to turn around you tried to twist but Joel kept you in place. Pressing his lips to the back of your head. “He deserved exactly what you gave him, Joel.” Pausing your minds were both torn between two growing factions, one of which had to be dealt with before the other. “She’ll try to get the jump on us. Think I accidentally taught her the advantage of actually sneaking up on people.” 

Joel’s voice was such a deep and bassy rumble in your ear that you couldn’t help your eyes flutter at the sensation. “Then she tries sneaking up on us. You with me?” Nodding in his hold, he muttered “Good girl.” 

Oh he did that on purpose. As soon as your thighs tensed, Joel smirked into your hair. “Joel, we’re supposed to be making a plan- this isn’t fair.” 

His chuckle was closer to your neck as he traced his nose down your cheek and jaw. “You saying I can’t do both?” The hand around your stomach started tracing over you, the way you’d run your hands through his air he traced over your front. When you didn’t respond right away, Joel’s lips pressed one more kiss right under your ear before nudging you with his nose. “We don’t have to do anything, sweetheart. It’s hasn’t been an easy day. I just want to pull you out of that head of yours.” 

This time as you went to turn in his grip he let you. Your hands finding a home on his waist as he kept his back on your hips. His hair somehow just as light and fluffy now as it was when you woke up that morning. Coaxing you awake with his kiss as your hands found his still messy sleeping hair. 

It was just as lovely now, the yellow tinged lights making the greys highlight the rest of the colour that suited him so beautifully. His eyes treading on a darker lust, but instead of a greedy tinge there sat almost a need. Something softer that not even a year ago he thought he’d never even consider wanting anymore. “What is it you want, Joel?” 

Just like he didn’t expect this to be something he ever would want, he almost would never have guessed how easily you got him to open up to you. He’s not sure he’s ever been like this with a woman, even in his old life. 

But you held nothing but an innocent generosity in your eyes, and Joel wasn’t about to part ways with that either. “Call me needy,” leaning to your face his nose trailed along yours as your eyes slid shut. “But what I want, is to feel how warm and tight you are for a little while.” 

Joel read your body like a book, could feel in the smallest actions, the certain pitch of a tiny gasp or the way your body seemed to tense up and shiver at the same time. You always struggled to tell him what you wanted, but he was working you through that. Joel was perfectly happy to take care of you, typically because what he needed matched what you needed perfectly. 

And talking wasn’t always the easiest way to get either of you out of your heads. Joel trying to lull you into his touch when you still hadn’t let go yet. “But if she-” 

One hand tilting you up to his eyes again,”How many does she have with her, if you were to guess?”

If this was about Ellie, there was no way she’d be involved. She wasn’t apart of the group, and there weren’t many people who would follow her on a revenge quest for the father instead of towards the girl they thought they finally had in their possession. “Maybe one or two others, besides him.” Your head nodded in the general direction. “Probably looked at a few different areas. Couple other smaller communities in the state that they would have looked at first. Likely didn’t realize anything was wrong until Owen didn’t check back in. Maybe a day away from here or so.” 

Joel looked through you as he went over something in his head, you guess you still weren’t that good at reading him. Not knowing what plan he was going over. His eyes met yours finally, dipping down to your lips before slowly dragging them back up. “We’re bigger, means she’s got to be more careful. In other words, you can afford to let me have you for a couple hours. Dead man’s final request and all.” 

Your face fell flat along with a weight settling back down in your stomach. “That’s not funny.” 

He shrugged one shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Is it?” The unamused look on your face still tinged in anxiety had Joel switch gears again. He didn’t find anything funny in joking about you or Ellie that way, so maybe it was fair you didn’t find jokes about him funny either. “Hey, I already told you. I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.” 

Biting the inside of your cheek you shifted your eyes off to the side before nodding. Feeling Joel press another kiss to the side of your head as he shoved you towards the hall. “Go, I’ll be right there.” 

In his room and in the hall you both lingered on something. Your fingertips trailing over the almost insignificant things on his dresser. Tiny pieces of Joel that if he were gone, wouldn’t really belong there anymore. A thought making you sick to your stomach. You’d rather she come for you, at least they could go back to their regular lives. 

Joels own fingers flipping through the pages. Knelt down he quietly had pulled the journal from where it sat close on Ellie’s bed. He let her discover it, he already knew what it would say, just in details that actually mattered. 

She went through most of the reactions she could, denial, anger, lashing out before she exhausted herself leaving tears the only energy she had left in her. It tore his chest right open exposing his heart to the cold air. They were the monsters and not only did they want to kill him all for a man who tried to take his own girl’s life but now the delusional lies they told themselves left her feeling betrayed and used. 

But it wasn’t just her was it? By some miracle some higher power gave Joel not one, but two things in this nightmare to hold onto. Sometimes it was frustrating, watching you unable to believe what he wanted to give you, but then again he wasn’t much different with Ellie was he? 

Ellie pulled him out of a darkness, and Joel had no intention of not doing the same to you. And he knew damn well Ellie felt the same. 

Standing in his room, it occurred to you that maybe you should try to be sexy, allure Joel to you or anything like that. You felt stupid though even thinking about where to start or if he would just roll his eyes at you for trying.

The door closing knocked a sense into you, realizing maybe he wanted you to be ready by now you almost flinched back before starting to pull your shirt up. Two large hands however covered yours as he pressed himself behind you. “Doing my job for me.” 

Your arms went willingly Joel stopped to pull your bra up over you along with the shirt, dropping it down into a messy pile. He wasted no time in filling his hands up with your breasts, almost kneading the plush skin as your back arched into his chest with a breathless gasp. He didn’t want you like this though, he wanted all of you. 

Using his thumb and index finger he tugged slightly at both your nipples letting you choke a moan back as he moved onto the rest of you. His taller figure leaned over you, the once presumed glare narrowing his features now rung in your head as an introspective train of thought, determined in whatever task even with his arms wrapped around your front skillfully undoing the button on your pants. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth bent to press a feather light kiss to your neck so he could reach lower, dragging the zipper down and grasp the waistline. Your shivering from the winters cold air still floating through the room, you felt your limbs tingle as he mumbled into your neck, “Be good for me.” 

Slowly starting to pull both your pants and underwear down, Joel couldn’t help his greed, pausing to squeeze fistfuls of your ass almost too roughly before continuing to pull them off of you. Before he could do anything else, once you stood bare in front of him, you turned in his hold quickly. 

Sudden movement catching him by surprise, it gave you enough time to already start undoing his belt and zipper. Joel’s own plans caught in his mouth at just how easily you made him so unbearably hard just at your small careful hands trying to pull out his cock before he even has properly touched you yet. 

He didn’t let you get as far as the faint beginning of you moving your fingers to grasp at his own pants before snatching your hands. Your eyes wide as he held them in the air, his eyes dark with a mocking disapproval. “Now what did I say about being good for me?” 

That tingle in your limbs spreading through your heart out into your veins as you bit slightly at your bottom lip at his tone. Your hands fell loose in his grip causing him to switch to approval. Maneuvering you so he now was the one with his back to the bed, he held you at your hips walking you over to the bed. 

“Now, are you going to let me do something for you? Something new?” Your eyebrows raised in question, unsure to what he meant. You thought at this point you had done mostly everything or at least knew everything. 

Living outside of the walls didn’t exactly foster an environment eager to share or teach the fun side of sex, or you know, it in general in your case. “I-yeah.” Boy, how enthusiastic of you. 

Joel only smiled softly though, pulling your chin in to press a soft kiss before pulling you onto the bed with him. Joel the one laying with his back on the sheets, he guided you so your core sat pressed right against the bumpiness that blocked his cock under the open belt. Large warm hands running over and squeezing the plush skin he could grab at watching you slip your fingers to smooth over his stomach under his shirt. 

“Come up here, sweetheart.” 

You both had two different intentions. One being you assuming he means for a kiss, the other using his strong arms to pull your hips off his clothed cock and up his body. Suddenly your soft touch against his skin turned into a much more urgent press against his chest, “Wait, wait-” Joel kept you in place, but his eyes narrowed in concern at your tone. Your question confusing him somewhat. “What are you doing?” 

His tone slow and clear as he worry turned to a bit of confusion. “I’m just trying to taste you, sweetheart. Just like always,” 

Your fingers pressed into him more, causing him to sit up slightly as you looked hesitant and even somewhat embarrassed. “But why would I-” Your eyes casted down at anywhere but his face as you put the not so complicated clues together. “Why would you want it that way? Instead of you know, like we usually...” Christ you couldn’t possibly feel less attractive currently.

Joel raised an eyebrow, letting your hips back down without moving you away, his hands now smoothing over your thighs. “Because I really want my mouth on this pussy, sweetheart.” 

Your body tensed which he didn’t like at all. “Why would you, I mean wouldn’t you find that...” You hesitated on saying gross, having a feeling that wouldn’t be a word to go over well. “...uncomfortable?”

Joel’s hands squeezed your thighs as his head flopped back down onto the pillow. Unable to stop wondering what kind of encounters you had out there. You genuinely just didn’t know what he was trying to do, looking at him in the most confused innocent way he’s ever seen on you. “Jesus fucking christ, you’re going to kill me.” Barely mumbling under his breathe. Sitting up properly, he maneuvered you into his lap. “We don’t have to do it, but I really fucking want to.” 

Your hands tapping at his shoulders, you seemed to drop some of the embarrassment leaving just an uncertainty. “I just don’t get why you’d want to..can’t I just suck your cock?” 

Joel’s head dropping down onto your shoulder as he mumbled even more. Sliding his hand between your bodies, he felt a trace of your wetness, using what he could touch to slide up and rub into your clit. “We can do that if you want. Or we can do both at the same time.” 

This time you smiled, pulling back with a laugh as he joined keeping you from going too far off in his hold. “Okay that sounds even worse for you.” 

He let you get away with it this time. Joel pulled you into his lips, sighing as you let his tongue tease and slide into your mouth as he kissed you. The push and pull of his tongue against yours sending shock waves between your legs adding to what you already knew was making a mess. His kiss and his tongue always making you so lightheaded. 

Taking advantage of how lost you got in his kiss, Joel suddenly lurched forward, sending your back to fall against the rest of the bed as he crawled over top of you. Your hands finding their way to rake through his hair as he kissed you more. 

Joels hands unable to choose a spot to touch you, from your hips to thighs and back to to teasing your nipples, he tucked his head into your neck once more as he kissed the skin there. 

One hand of your leaving his hair, trailing down his broad back to his narrower lower side before sliding under to gently take his cock into your hand. His hands gripping his preexisting hold on your nipples tighter as he groaned. Joel covering your body so much made the angle not easy, but you ran your thumb over hips tip already leaking onto your hand. 

In a move that actually caused Joel’s body to jump, you suddenly smoothed your palm all over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum over it before sliding it down the length you could reach. Enough precum on you to fill the air with the slick sounds of his skin with each stroke. Joel moaned into your neck before trying to smother it with biting a mark into it. He was too long and too thick to cover enough even half of his cock, but your grip was tight and strokes fast but steady. 

Yanking your head to angle for his mouth, you gripped him tighter in pleasure at how his hold on your hair was so commanding.  Biting against your lips this time until you whined in need of a breathe. The feeling of his lips sliding across your cheek to right against your ear. “I want this pussy, not your hand.” 

Sliding own he pushed your thighs out to spread enough for his size. Giving you no warning for how quickly he moved his mouth over your clit. His hands never letting go of your spread legs with a bruising strength, his was shameless in how sloppy he was. Licking at your clit only to almost kiss it as he would your actual lips. The same soaked licks moving down to tease at your entrance, to your clit and back. 

One hand roughly shoved its way to your mound, pressing the heel of his calm into your clit soaked with you and his own saliva and rubbed short quick strokes. As one knee bent with your gasp, Joel used his free hand to greedily hold the soft skin of your waist before licking into you feverishly. 

Your back arched off the bed as a shock stabbed through you, sending a fiery pleasure into every stretch of your nerves. He licked into you with no cohesive pattern or approach, just drinking from you like a man starved for only one need. His rubbing into your clit lost in your wetness form how little he moved away from it, but deep in Joel he knew the slight burn of drier friction on your clit yanked cries from you. 

Your orgasm suddenly hit you with a force, “Oh fuck, Joel-” A white hot train flowing from your clit and soaked right into Joel who only added to the feeling as he moaned into your pussy. His grip already so tight he’d be able to see bruises once he was done with you. 

He never let up, “Fuck, baby.” Mumbling to himself as he licked more inside of you, letting his hand slide down to gather more from your core he realized just how unbelievably soaked you were. His tongue grazing up against a sensitive wall inside of you, he gave you zero time to calm down. 

The wet rubs of two fingers against your clit, harsh pushing and tight strokes the wet sounds filling the air alongside how relentless he tasted you. Your hands tightly grasping the sheets just above your head as your whole lower half arched closer to his mouth. 

Your heart beat widely out of your chest as the pleasure coiled inside of you without ever letting you recover from the sudden burst of your first orgasm. Your legs shook as he kept them bent by the knee, feet flat on the sheets as they were spread as far as he could manage. 

You didn’t even realize when one hand left your hip, his grip so tight it held a phantom sting in its departure. Joel’s own hips lifting up enough to start shoving his jeans down as far as he could manage without leaving your cunt. 

The groan vibrating through your body as he finally was free down to his knees and pressed his cock into the sheets adding to whatever mess he was pulling from you. You didn’t have words this time, just high pitched gasps and desperate attempts at his name that were interrupted by sharp jolts of pleasure almost bordering on pain. 

The flying burn of your orgasm this time felt like a flood passing the bloodstream. A needing warmth engulfing you as the white noise in your ears turned out whatever was passing by Joel’s lips. You missed it the first time, and now the second time. 

Joel didn’t realize it either. He knew exactly the feeling and why it made him take you with such a lack of control but neither of you were in the state of mind that night to hear it. 

You had just barley felt the final shocks of pleasure as Joel pulled from you. His face twisted close to a snarl as he impatiently pulled his jeans off the rest of the way. Grabbing the back of his shirts collar and throwing it beyond sight. 

His chest leading to such a soft stomach made his thick cock stand out between his legs. You touched the skin over his chest near his heart, but Joel couldn’t handle such a soft touch. Not right now. He couldn’t lay there and let himself feel your gentleness without something in his heart snapping. Instead, Joel yanked up your hips and sunk his cock into your folds. 

Your name moaned from his mouth, “Fuck, don’t- oh fuck.” You hadn’t come down yet, aftershocks of your orgasm overwhelmed your system as you felt his thick cock sliding into you. Clenching around him without trying to tease, you were still soaking his cock from your orgasms. 

Joel buried his face into your neck. One hand fisted into the sheets beside your head as he closed his eyes. Your arms wrapped around his neck, you paused mid motion as your rang your hands through the ends of his hair as one arm wrapped around your waist to keep himself tucked inside you but strong enough to keep you from moving. 

It actually took a bit before Joel tempered whatever aggression was overwhelming him. He wanted to do this for you, but now your touch, your cunt, your soft lips always speaking and pressing so sweetly against his? It tugged at his heart just as much as he took over all of your senses. 

The grip on your hair tempered down to cupping the back of your head. Joel moving to consume you in a less rough kiss, but the damage was already done to your swollen bitten lips. The plumpness just like his own without the greedy teeth markings. 

Your heart slowing down, but somehow still hard enough to feel in your chest at his touch. Joel pulled away, tracing his nose along yours. “Turn around for me, sweet girl.” 

Joel gently shushing comfortingly at you at your whine when he pulled out. But you complied. Joel’s mouth was open, panting as his hands clenched beside him watching you go willingly move to your hands and knees. But that’s not the closeness either of you truly needed. 

You sighed at how much more gentle his touch was, moving you up to kneel your back against his chest just like earlier. His cock slid between your thighs, already soaked as it teased between your folds. “Just like that, I’ve got you.” 

One of your arms reaching behind to find a tender home in his now messy hair, while the other laid flat against the arm wrapping around your stomach. “Please,” You leaned your head against his shoulder as Joel rubbed your stomach and hip with his free hand. His brown eyes bright and so much less of a dark lust, replaced with a soft almost desperateness. “I want to feel you. Please? I can still take it, I just want you inside of me.” 

You felt so one note in your brain, but Joel dealt the killing blow when he pressed his lips to yours. Not rough, or commanding, just soft kisses that he struggled to part from. Finally moving to grip his cock, he pulled away and turned your head to look down. 

Joel slid his cock inside of you, not spending a moment to stop and let you adjust to his size. Just one smooth stroke that didn’t thrust into you too fast until you were sat totally full of his cock. “Always slide so well into you,” 

Your eyes squeezing shut at the sight, his cock was so thick watching it slide deep inside you was too much to handle. Your head leaned back against him, lungs stuttering at how drastic he was handling you now compared to mere minutes ago. 

Joel held you tightly against him, burying his face into your neck and shoulder as he started to finally slide his cock almost out of you. Your whimper at the prospect of him leaving you empty poking at something distressing in your mind. 

You weren’t sure he ever kept up a pace this slow. Your pussy so tight and wet around his cock, making the sounds of him pulling and pushing his cock in and out so much louder. How much you’ve already cum so much more obvious as he moaned into your shoulder. 

You couldn’t tell anyone how long you were there. Knelt back against his chest as his cock fucked into you, not even hard enough to call it thrusting. Your chest felt so constricted yet filed with a warmth that would be cozy if his cock wasn’t sliding right up against such a sensitive wall inside of you. 

Inside of you this time the coil was just a slow and calm. But the addition of how tight he already pushed your orgasm too had this build up flutter around you. It just slipped from your lips, the brave face you tried to fake in front of him, in front of everyone crumbled with his squeezing hands and slow slide of his cock inside of you. Something deep in your heart plead. “Stay with me, please. God, Joel- stay with me.” 

Your eyes were shut and Joels arms held you tighter. His jaw clenching, teeth gritted as his breaths came out in rasping pants. He pressed his lips into your neck and whatever part of your jaw he couch reach. “Always, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. “

Even as his cock throbbed inside of you as your walls clenched around him, as the burning orgasm threatened to overtake you once more, it all mixed together as you just whispered his name. The drag of his cock along the sensitive walls of your cunt pushed tears from your eyes. 

Gasps and breathless pleas let go of the stinging tears behind your eyes and cried down your cheeks as one final loud and wet push of his cock inside of you had whatever hold you had on him dig your nails into his skin. 

Your orgasm pulling a gasping sob from you. Just one, but loud enough in Joel’s ears to cover your mouth as your pleasure sung into his hand. Joel couldn’t take it any longer. His cock so desperate to burst, he moaned into your neck and finally came.

Your pussy fluttering around him, as his cum spilled inside of you. Thick and to both of you, never ending. He came inside of you more then he could remember, filling you with warm cum that didn’t stop the tears of your need. 

By the time you both came down, you had dropped more then Joel had thought. Your eyes barley open, as your struggled to catch your breathe. Weak nods to his questions, asking if you were with him, what you needed, weak thank yous to him just saying how perfect you fit him. 

He shushed in your ear when he pulled out, never letting both hands off of you and his lips somewhere close to yours. You both laid in bed for a while, both your bare, sweat covered bodies, your lower half a little more wet with cum then what he didn’t bother cleaning from his cock. He held you with his nose pressed into your hair waiting for you to come down before he even thought of getting up to clean you off. 

Your mind was fuzzy and your face felt the aftermath of tears but none of it had any regret. Your eyes were closed, fine with coming down in his arms as you faced one another. Slowly ready to peel your eyes open, you noticed he wasn’t at your eye level, his face in your hair. His breathing enough confirmation he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

You burned between your legs, the mix of rough and soft kept the memory of his thick throbbing cock inside of you. You knew you were covered in cum between your thighs but you didn’t have any reason to want to get rid of it anytime soon. 

You did however ask to do something Joel ignored. Smirking, you suddenly left his gentle pressed arms, down his body. He flipped onto his back reflexively to see what you were doing, before hissing out. 

Licking the tip of his cock before sinking down around the rest. His cock now soft but it still was coated in your orgasm and his cum. Joels moans were stuttering and needy as he cupped the back of your head, still bobbing up and down his length sucking him until his chest was ready to explode. He called your name in warning along with more strings of swearing through hissed teeth, “Jesus fucking christ, baby”, but you already were slowing down the second it bordered too overwhelming for him. 

Your mouth sliding down to press your nose into the coarse dark hair around his cock, before very slowly sliding back, making sure his cock didn’t leave you until you had sucked him clean. Only fair he gets even the slightest idea of how overstimulated he so greedily made you.

Sliding him gently out of your mouth you went to come back up to his level. Your hand cupped his soft length now resting between his legs before your palm moving to his stomach. Chest, and the cupping the side of his face as you rubbed your thumb along his facial hair.

Joel chuckled deeply in his chest, pulling your face to his with fingers pulling your chin as he kissed you. Pushing you back into the sheets with half his body over you as you shared a gentle kiss. “You are such a goddamn brat.” 

You smiled back, letting his tongue tease yours as you tried to find breathes into between the kiss. “Maybe. Just for you though.” 

He nuzzled his nose against yours then pressed a kiss to it. He didn’t say it, he so badly wanted to say it but so much of his emotions came out in times like this. He wanted to tell you in quiet peace, make sure you understand your heart belongs to him for the rest of his life. Telling you now, he didn’t want to risk you thinking it was just to keep you calm or not upset. 

Neither of you realizing he’s already said it twice this very evening. 

Only one of those times did it reach someones brain, but to their dismay, it was neither of you who even heard what came out of his own mouth. 

You spoke quietly into the night. Joel on his back as he kept his arms around you to rest on his chest. Sometimes you sat up enough to look at him properly, ensuring you both understood the plans, backup plans, and what might be the safest option. At least for in his home, in a town of innocent people. 

You needed Joel, but Joel needed you like he never even wanted from anyone else before. The concept of a deep need in his heart to keep a woman like you close in his arms like a lifeline would have been foreign not long ago. But then again, meeting Ellie changed a lot about what was going on in Joel’s head and heart. 

You took your time joining the two of them that morning. Still balancing intruding on what was no doubt an emotional time between those two, and wondering exactly what Ellie would even see you as. 

Joel for his part was as normal as possible, with an underlying closeness both he and Ellie stuck to each other with with a different kind of silent intensity. You did tell him your news would be the actually hurtful one. Ellie stopped moving her fork the second you turned the corner, a stare that almost felt judging but the slightest softening as she sniffed and forced her face impassive. 

Sensing Joel watching her carefully, Ellie glanced up at his flat expression with one eyebrow raised. Her own face falling just as flat. “What? I already used my crying quota for the week. And I’m not getting it all over my eggs either.” 

It wasn’t enough to jostle her, but Joel nudging the side of her head lightly before sharing a more serious glance with you. His eyes nodded over to a drawer in the counter, watching you for as long as he could follow. Neither of you wanting to make a scene about it in front of Ellie. 

Watching the their backs as you silently wrapped the your knife sheath around your waist, quickly covering it purposely with one of Joel’s jackets that sat just blow it on your thigh. He had taken it upon himself to sharpen your usual knife for you, not before stopping of course to comment on how shit it looked. Words of praise towards your equipment he was full of. 

You had found yourself alone with Owen when Joel was distracted. Ellie prompted out of the house from a Maria that gave Joel a knowing look. He had stopped by earlier to talk to them, and she agreed to keep Ellie out with her, purposely around a decent amount of people. 

A spark of need inside your heart telling you that he at least deserved water. He didn’t say much, but his eyes spoke for him. A surprise at being given any hospitality. 

Almost ending up giving him an entire bottle, you watched him with one hand hovering somewhat near his face. Looking between the water and his face, you tilted your head as you considered if you were willing to ignore the part of you that people like him tried to deprive you of. “If I take that off of you,” using your free hand to gesture to his gag, “Are you going to stay quiet?” 

Owen seemed exhausted, nodding his head almost lazily as your chest raised in a deep breathe. “You make any noise, this time I’m just going to stuff it right into your mouth.” There wasn’t much in the way of conviction in your voice, but as you slowly untied the gag he made no sound aside from catching his breath. 

Flipping the bottle against the cloth, you let it soak for a while on the cleanest side where it sat at the back of his head. 

Silence, Joel was used too. He lived in it, too much of it for a long time even. Even through the turmoil in his head, the quiet still helped him stay clear. Listening to any hint of a sound and knowing how to react to it. 

Probably why he didn’t search for you when he found himself seemingly alone in the house. If he had one distraction it was you, and an unshakable need to make sure he could hear or see your every step. The past few weeks had really set that tendency in motion. But he needed silence. And he heard it break. 

Getting the jump on him outside in the world was one thing, but this was his territory. Somewhere he could sense the slightest thing out of place. Joel just raised two hands slightly in the air. He knew it could be a variety of possibilities behind him, so he played ball. For now. “You really think I can’t tell when someone’s in my own home?”  

“Just turn around. Slowly.” 

Joel expected something not quite what he saw. Dark eyes and angry, willing to do anything for that ravaging vengeance inside. But no. The woman behind him wasn’t quite that. As if it was what she wanted to put on but there was an uncertainty in her eyes that made him narrow his. Her face was tense, looking over him with her arm outstretched as much as she could. Either keeping the gun as close to him as possible, or wanting to keep as much distance from him. 

“You live here?” 

Joel’s eyes darkened more at the woman. “You sure don’t.” 

“Just answer the question, you live here right? With a girl? Fucking, what’s her name, Ellie?” 

Sometimes anger worked in favour of the advantage, but not against him. Joel mastered the art of anger as motivation and there wasn’t a single second ever again did he want any of her kind of people saying that girls name. His face steeled at her, hands up almost just for show at this point. “Keep her name out of this. I think we both know who you’re looking for.” 

A realization dawned on her, and it only pissed her off that much more that he was having no reaction of fear. “You’re him right?” Joel cocked an eyebrow but nothing more. “The hospital, that was you right? You’ve got the girl, after everything you’ve done I can’t imagine you’d dump her off somewhere. People usually don’t ditch people they’ve murdered innocent people for.” 

Her own teeth started to grit as she spat her words out with eyes no doubt growing red. “You in the habit of cutting open a fucking child and calling yourself a good person for it?” 

Shaking her head, Joel could hear how hard she was trying to keep her breathing under control, her fingers on the gun twitching slightly and not from any kind of trigger fingers. “No right, you had no fucking right he was a goddamn person-” 

Joel’s hands started to lower, and yet it didn’t make her any more confident. The twitch turned into what looked like her hand shaking. “And she’s my daughter.” 

She shook her head, eyes falling in darkness to something much more complicated. “So what you get your daughter and I have to loose my own father for it? Fucking..people like you...” 

No doubt this was a plan much more confident in theory, because Joel risked a step forward as his face twisted more into something of anger she took a step back. Readjusting her aim with an unsteady arm. 

“Put your hands back up,” 

They remained just barley by his sides, “You think I’m gonna reach for something? ‘Cus trust me you even think about pulling that trigger and I’ll make sure you regret it.” 

Whatever laugh she let out was weak, but the tense look one could mistaken for crazed told a thousand different emotions. “I’m not stupid, I know you don’t have a fucking weapon on you.” 

The one he thought was in the room wasn’t. Getting caught off guard by her after getting caught off guard by it’s lack of presence. Ellie didn’t always put things in the right place after she tries to sneak them away. His voice was low, even, and absolute that it made her hair stand on end. “You really think I need a gun to kill you?” 

You don’t remember Grady being particularly smart. Loyal, good at following orders but missing the basic function of checking a corner. Crouching as he snuck into the room, he could see Owen knelt on the floor, blood on his face, chest, hands and a swollen eye as even his gag was blood soaked. What he didn’t see was you. 

One arm suddenly wrapped around his face, the fabric of it’s jacket shoved to muffle his voice as the other hand pressed a cold metal to the bottom of his head right at his chin. Unlike the shaky arm holding a similar gun at Joel, you had the advantage of having yours at least pressed right against the mans head. Grady didn’t feel the shake in your bones behind the straining muscle. 

Moving him closer to the open door, your heart pounded so harshly that you could throw up from the shaking pressure it put on you. You could hear her yelling, and a dangerously low cadence from Joel, but she was getting louder and angrier. 

And while you had this one and a knife strapped to your side, Joel’s gun sat tucked behind your back only realizing whoever touched it last, didn’t put it where Joel had clearly expected to grab it before being snuck up on. 

He was bigger, stronger then her. But if she shot first then it didn’t matter how much Joel could overpower her. She was yelling more, and so did your limbs shake. You were supposed to help have this under control, but she was looking for blood and Joel’s own gun wasn’t in his hand. 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you dead right now you fucking bastard-” Joel must have said something in response, “Her dad for my dad it’s only fair,” 

You couldn’t stand there, you couldn’t let him deal with her on his own. You push an already aggressive dog to the edge, then she’s just going to go for the throat because she can. Plan B it was. Despite not knowing what that entailed. 

A hallway door was kicked open, and following right out was a man Joel didn’t recognize but by the confused anger on her face, she did. Deep down Joel wished the voice was Tommy. There was no hesitation the man could handle himself, and didn’t make Joel feel cold and petrified at having to involve you in this more. 

But you rang a warning shot at a higher part of the wall that had the woman jump in startle. What followed though, was a reaction that in a way reminded him of you. Likely an ironic association, because all that it took was you yell out who you were. Her eyes widened as the hand pointed right at Joel trembled. A washing devastation that surpassed mere surprise, something she didn’t expect and neither had Owen.

The man on the floor pressed himself up against the wall in fear as did a new unsettling emotion come over the woman in front of Joel. But you piled onto something that just dug deeper, 

Your voice almost a shout that shook in what Joel felt in his heart a terrified urgency. “You know who I am Abby, and what I’ll do to Owen and Grady if you don’t bring Joel to me.”

Whatever intimidation she felt from a man she considered a monster, Abby’s entire being shook. Her gun was on Joel but she could barley keep her eyes on him or on Grady just looking at her desperately for help. This wasn’t a normal fear, almost one that was like seeing a ghost she could only hear.

Her yell back was a rasping screech as she morphed her features into too much to keep up with. “You do anything, and I swear to god-” She’d what? Shoot the man in front of her and set you lose on her? 

You needed to scare her. Swallow the dizzying sickness in your head and the bile from eating at your chest. You couldn’t take the chance of her first instinct to act at Joel before you did hers. 

You shook as you pointed the gun at Grady, but you were hidden behind the wall from her sight, and the sting in your eyes couldn’t be used against you. Blood splattered all over the wall behind Grady's head, the booming shot and painted red had Abby flinch back. 

Joel didn’t move. A deep seeded anger at who his life was at the expense of burned his soul, but he didn’t dare risk letting it happen. If Abby was going to shoot, it sure as hell wouldn’t be at him or his own.

In barley a second, you holstered the gun so quick it could have missed and dropped to the floor. The knife at your side flew into your hand, gripping tight as you hauled Owen over in front of you, your knife pressed so much to his throat he made the most inaudible squawks of protest at the sharpness. 

Hauling him up partially on his feet, you pressed with better leverage. “Your boys next Abby- give him to me,” Your voice yelled, so loud it scratched your throat at the strain. It was violent and angry, and you only wished it made you feel it too. Instead you stood, braced against the wall with a knife keeping Owens battered self in your threat as your soul kept shaking and holding back the sting in your eyes. 

Abby’s jaw clenched as she swore, her yell echoing down the halls. “Fuck- okay.” 

It was the only choice for you and her. She wanted Owen back, and you needed Joel. A conflict in her eyes as she looked between the man now slumped over in the hall, and the darkness in a pair of eyes she never truly prepared herself to face properly. 

Abby’s eyes peeled off the sightless body to the open air between it and the door. “We make a trade. I bring him to you, I get Owen back and we leave. Got it?”

You looked to the side, knowing nothing was out the view you could see out the door anyways. “You touch him in anyway and I slit this throat. Got it?” 

One request was shouted back. “Toss the gun.” 

It wasn’t even a second later the gun banged far out on the wooden floor. You it turned out, weren’t the only one with a shaking fear of losing their companion. There wasn’t a soul in that house didn’t radiate that very perilous fear. Joel looked at Abby with his features sharp and penetrating. Her other hand having to rise up and join her hold on the gun just to keep it aimed at him. “This isn’t over you understand me?” 

Abby didn’t appear to know what scared her more. The threat of death you held at Owens throat, or just how terrifyingly cold Joel’s unblinking expression didn’t move from. This was supposed to be easy, kill some guy who shot her father for no reason. But standing here, motioning for him to walk slowly towards the hall? It was made clear that you and Joel weren’t regular people, and this was exposing itself to be something she didn’t remotely prepare for.

It felt like agony standing there, each creak of the floorboard screaming in the terse silence the only indication of life. Owen’s blood was seeping into your clothes and staining your skin at this point and there was next to nothing holding back the pressure behind your eyes. 

You wanted to be someone else. Someone brave, a person others would look at and say is some kind of fighter, someone a kid like Ellie would amusingly call a bad ass. But you stood holding a man at knife point trading his life for the man you love didn’t make you feel brave. Just scared. Scared beyond whatever danger you had been alone in the past, and sick to your stomach that it took up until now for you to feel brave enough to even think that word. 

They were outside the door, but you shook. Grip on the knife so tight you might have started hurting your own palm with the tight grip as you were hurting Owen’s neck with the blade. The bravery wasn’t even in your voice. “Joel first.” 

“Show me him. Let me see him.” 

You were done paying any kind of hero or savior. Instead just tearing the knife away and shoving Owen enough that he stumbled onto the ground. Hands behind his back still too bound to steady him. 

Joel was handed over first. Whatever passed between them unknown to you until a tidal wave hit your heart as you both reached for the other the second he came in view. Joel’s own expression harsh, nostrils flared as his rage was barley contained in his bones. His warm hands gripping your forearms as he looked at a watering overflow of something grander then fear pass your face as you looked him over for anything hurt. 

He cupped one of your cheeks as you took a deep breathe. Joel’s eyes narrowed in question, and you nodded. Hoping the shaking breathe you let you was only audible to one. His hand keeping your touch as it wasn’t leaving one of your wrists, almost keeping your mind back at his side as you turned the corner. 

Neither of you looked like the visage of bravery your actions spoke. Neither of you even tried. Abby’s eyes widened with a taken back sort of shock as she looked at you. A name she kept hearing and denying, but your face that of what she long remembered as a memory. A bite sharp on your arm before watching your gun raise as she fell back to the ground. 

She lived, and kept trying to deny that you could have either. But you both looked at each other, as she held her own gun to you. Resting one side against the door frame just to keep it steady, while your own hand kept the knife painfully tight. 

Joel stood behind you, and you felt him pull up your jacket slightly, resting the fabric to expose what you had hidden away behind you. Abby was staring at you and you back, she didn’t even see Joel’s hands moving near your back. 

Her words slurred together, teeth bordering on gritting from the force. “Give him to me.” 

Joel squeezed your arm holding the knife. Don’t move was his touch. Abby’s gaze continued to plaster all over you, and yours taking her person in, in a capacity she couldn’t possibly even guess now. Blood ringing in your ears hearing the shuffling behind you. Abby kept it on you now, a woman much more a fighter unable to tear her attention away from how entangled your lives became. 

Your own eyes stung. Unable to move or blink, looking at the very thing that confused you. Was her being here what scared you, or how very real losing the one thing that brought you to a purpose was becoming? 

As soon as Joel slightly pushed Owen, Abby snatched him with one arm and yanked him to her side, Owen barley keeping himself up despite his hands now free. Joel having undone them bringing him over. But as soon as he was out of his hand, he reached for your back once more. His arm smoothly pulling the gun, and now aiming it at Abby. She didn’t just try to kill him, now she had her gun pointing at you and it was pushing Joel to an edge he was close to forcing you to let him fall off. 

His instincts were quicker then hers, and he dared her to end it the smarter way, as opposed to joining the mess on the walls behind her. 

Her eyes flickered between the two of you, mind racing with questions not even she could understand at that moment. You weren’t supposed to be here, this wasn’t even about you. Blind to what kind of people she walked in on, she just looked at you and Joel unable to land on what to do. 

You could feel something vile rising in your throat, just as unable to grasp what was unfolding in front of you. Abby had no right to make this about Joel. Either she knew the truth and lost herself beyond the capacity of her own humanity, or she was left in the dark and didn’t care to turn the lights on herself. A fact you couldn’t feel okay with. Your voice was mostly just a whisper once you found the strength to push something forward. “This is really just about your father?” 

You didn’t need to hear the answer to that. You already knew by a confused pain in her eyes. Not understanding what else this could possibly be over. To her it was almost a taunt, her failure she was able to see through, but to you? A memory that no longer felt pushed away. A truth that was fighting tooth and crawl to attack you at your door. 

Owen leaned against her exhausted and bloody. Lowering her gun she glanced down to your arm, it was covered and there was nothing to see though. Remaining you a ghost. 

Her gaze flicked to Joel’s own aim, no shake or tremble to be found. Don described nothing more then some guy had done it, but the inflamed emotions boiling behind Joel’s eyes wasn’t the story she had been sold on. So they ran. Slamming open a back door you not to long ago ran out of just as harshly, also running from these very people but for drastically different reasons. 

 You didn’t register Tommy or Maria coming in, you only had the capacity to feel Joel pull you into his chest. One arm wrapped tightly around your stomach as you finally leaned back into him. Your eyes squeezing shut, you felt Joel gently take your knife from your fingers and put it back in it’s sheath as he spoke to Tommy. 

You grabbed the wrist that wasn’t around you, holding it just as he did when he first came back to you still needing him to ground you to the floor. These weren’t two worlds ever meant to mix. This was supposed to be a solace for him and a breather for you, but you combined your lives and now stood a mess painted with the looming of blood.

Was this your fault? And if not why couldn’t you have done something to actually end this? 

You thought back to the night you and Joel opened up to each other. How the worst emotion you felt was finding out how Tommy blabbed about your feelings for him by the very man you had the such a humiliating crush on. How letting him in was so scary to you back then. 

Would all of this have happened anyways? Or was letting him kiss you that night, pull you into his arms and he yours forever entangling your hearts in ways new to both of you the catalyst? 

If this was all your fault, would Joel end up despising you for not fixing this? 

[kayyeshhaa]

— "Will it be a bad ending for us two, gone astray?"

In the twilight of a dying world, where shadows clung to fractured skies, two souls intertwined in a dance of love and despair. Echoes of melancholy whispered through desolate landscapes as they embarked on a journey, hand in hand, chasing fleeting moments of solace.

Amidst the ruins, where concrete skeletons stood as silent witnesses, their love unfolded like verses in a forgotten poem. The moon cast its silver glow on the remnants of what once thrived, and their footsteps echoed in the haunting emptiness of an apocalyptic ballet.

Through fields of wilted roses, they ran, hearts pounding to the rhythm of an impending demise. He, a painter of dreams, brushed strokes of hope on the canvas of her weary soul. She, a poetess of the forsaken, wove verses of passion and rebellion against the encroaching darkness.

As the crimson sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that reached for their entwined silhouettes, they found refuge in the embrace of dilapidated cathedrals and forgotten libraries. Love blossomed like ivy reclaiming the walls, defiant against the crumbling reality.

"Far away in the universe, my love, Will you join me, like stars above?"

To a place unseen, where dreams take flight, "With you, my dear, in the eternal night."

In the final crescendo of chaos, as the symphony of destruction played its relentless tune, they faced the inevitable hand in hand. Their eyes, windows to a shared eternity, reflected the kaleidoscope of memories forged in the crucible of chaos.

And so, under the indigo canopy of a fading sky, they surrendered to the inevitable, embracing the cataclysmic finale. In the echo of their last breaths, a poetic silence enveloped them, and their love transcended the boundaries of a world spiraling into oblivion.

"Go to the end with me, my lover"

"Crush me in your arms. Give me a lovelier kiss, lover."

Together, in a final embrace, they whispered vows into the abyss, becoming cosmic dust entwined for all eternity. In the symphony of an apocalyptic swan song, their love story etched itself into the annals of a forgotten universe, a tale of passion that defied the very fabric of extinction.

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin | Chapter Twelve

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Twelve: The Eyrie

Word Count: 5,540

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daella finds a brief moment of serenity, reflecting on her place amidst the complexities of her family, only for Daemon to abruptly interrupt with news that they must leave. Daemon's decision to depart is met with resistance and leads to a tense confrontation, highlighting lingering mistrust and unspoken grievances. Despite her uncertainty and fear of leaving behind the growing sense of belonging she had just begun to feel, Daella ultimately chooses to follow her father. Together, they leave the familiar behind, with Daella seeking comfort in her father's strength as they venture into an uncertain future, bound by their mutual trust and the unspoken promise of protection.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

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The Godswood was serene, a secluded haven amidst the bustling Red Keep. The weirwood tree stood proudly in the centre, its blood-red leaves casting dappled shadows across the lush grass below. Daella wandered through the garden, savouring the rare tranquillity. She could hear the soft rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of birds above her. As she rounded a corner, her steps slowed as she saw a figure beneath the weirwood. Rhaenyra Targaryen sat beneath its ancient branches, her eyes fixed on a book resting on her lap, her white hair glowing like moonlight in the dappled sun.

Daella approached cautiously, hesitant to disturb the princess who looked so at peace under the shelter of the weirwood. The leaves swayed gently above them, the sun filtering through in a kaleidoscope of red and gold.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Daella spoke, her voice quiet but carrying in the stillness of the Godswood. Rhaenyra looked up at the sound of her name, her lilac eyes softening with warmth.

“You don’t have to call me Princess, Daella,” she said, her lips curving into a gentle smile as she closed her book. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Daella gave a small smile in return and knelt down beside her, brushing her fingers through the soft grass. She looked up at Rhaenyra, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Exploring,” Daella responded. “Ser Harold came to fetch my father while we were breaking our fast.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in her eyes. “Your father is not going to be pleased to find you wandering off alone,” she teased gently. “Especially after all that transpired during the feast.”

Daella gave a small shrug, a smile tugging at her lips. “He worries too much,” she muttered, her gaze darting around as if she half-expected Daemon to materialize from the shadows of the Godswood. She hesitated, then looked at Rhaenyra with sincerity. “I’m sorry about the feast. I’m sorry it was ruined.”

For a fleeting moment, a shadow crossed Rhaenyra’s features, her serene expression faltering as old frustrations resurfaced. She regained her composure quickly, her smile gentler this time. “The feast was only one night,” she said, her voice touched with resignation. “What matters is that I am married now, as was expected.”

Rhaenyra paused, her eyes drifting to the leaves above. There was a longing in her gaze, a wistfulness that even Daella could see. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to live a life without these expectations,” she admitted softly. “No titles, no duty, just… freedom.”

Daella tilted her head, watching her cousin closely. “Wouldn’t you miss everyone here?” she asked.

Rhaenyra smiled, but it was tinged with a hint of melancholy. “Of course. But it doesn’t change the desire to escape sometimes, to fly away like a bird. Perhaps for just a while, until I could remember why I chose to stay.”

Daella nodded, though her attention drifted to a white-clad knight stationed at the edge of the Godswood, standing tall and solemn beneath the sunlight. “Why do you always have a knight following you?” she asked, her curiosity genuine. “He looks so serious.”

A soft chuckle escaped Rhaenyra’s lips. “That is Ser Erryk Cargyll,” she explained, her gaze drifting to the knight. “One of the Kingsguard. My father insists on it after… well, after I was caught sneaking out one too many times.” A glimmer of mischief danced in her eyes before fading. “It used to be Ser Criston who watched over me. But things have changed.”

Her gaze grew distant, her voice losing some of its lightness. “I’ve thought about asking Ser Harwin to be my protector, but that’s a matter for the King to decide.”

Daella’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Ser Harwin would be perfect!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with confidence. “He’s always looked after me. He’s brave and kind. He would look after you well too!” She paused, then frowned. “But would he have to wear that white armour? I don’t think it would suit him. And it looks so hard to keep clean.”

Rhaenyra laughed, her expression softening. “No, Ser Harwin wouldn’t wear the white unless he took the vows of the Kingsguard. The white represents purity of purpose—loyalty, honour, courage. It symbolises forsaking all else: lands, marriage, children. They are meant to be knights in their truest form, untainted by ambitions and desires.”

Daella’s brows furrowed as she turned her gaze back to Ser Erryk. “Ser Criston doesn’t seem like that,” she said, her young voice blunt in its frankness. “He’s mean. He doesn’t respect Father, and he always looks at Ser Harwin and me like we’re beneath him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, her expression shifting to something more guarded, darker. She looked at Daella, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “There’s history there, Daella, and history shapes people in unexpected ways.” She paused, as though deciding how much to share. “Not too long ago, Ser Criston and Ser Harwin faced each other in a tourney. Criston broke Harwin’s collarbone.” She hesitated before continuing. “And once, he unhorsed your father, even disarmed him of Dark Sister.”

Daella’s eyes widened, surprise etched on her young features. “He was better than Father?” she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Rhaenyra nodded, though there was a bitter edge to her smile. “Yes, at that moment, he was. It hurt your father’s pride deeply, and Ser Criston has always liked to prove his worth—often in ways that remind others of his victories. Pride can be dangerous, Daella. It drives people to act foolishly, even cruelly.”

For a moment, Daella was silent, her fingers tracing the intricate veins of a fallen leaf. “So… he’s just angry?” she asked, her voice soft, uncertain.

Rhaenyra leaned closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Daella’s ear. “It’s more than anger. Men like Ser Criston measure their worth through victories and strength as well as their oaths. When that image is threatened, it festers, turning into something ugly.” Her eyes held Daella’s, her voice gentle but firm. “Pride can lead even the best men astray.”

Daella nodded, though she didn’t fully grasp the weight of Rhaenyra’s words. Before she could ask anything more, movement at the edge of the Godswood caught her eye. She turned to see Princess Helaena running through the clearing, her eyes fixed intently on something fluttering ahead of her. Her maids trailed after her, looking harried.

“Princess Helaena! You mustn’t chase insects like that!” one of the maids called, her tone filled with disapproval.

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed slightly as she addressed the maid, her voice firm but not unkind. “If the princess wants to chase butterflies, she shall.” The maid’s face flushed, and her protest died on her lips.

Helaena approached them, her hands cupped around something delicate. “Look,” she whispered, her face glowing as she opened her palms to reveal a butterfly, its wings a beautiful iridescent blue and gold, shimmering in the dappled sunlight.

Rhaenyra smiled at the sight. “It’s beautiful, Helaena,” she said, her voice soft with admiration. Daella nodded, her smile mirroring Helaena’s as they both watched the butterfly. Helaena carefully released it, her gaze following as it fluttered up into the weirwood’s branches.

With the butterfly gone, Helaena sank down beside them, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it absentmindedly. The three of them sat in a companionable silence, a rare peace settling over them beneath the ancient weirwood’s branches.

Rhaenyra leaned back against the tree, her gaze lifting to the sky visible through the canopy. Her voice was quiet, wistful. “Sometimes I wish I could be like that butterfly—free to fly away, leaving all this behind.”

Daella looked at her with wide eyes, a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Would you really leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhaenyra hesitated, her gaze distant, lost in the past and future she could never have. “Maybe for a time,” she admitted. “Just to feel free, without all the burdens that come with who I am.”

Helaena, still fixated on her blade of grass, spoke suddenly, her voice airy and distant, as if she were half in a dream. “Butterflies don’t fly away forever. They always return… to where they began.” Her words hung in the air, enigmatic, an echo of something beyond their understanding.

Before Rhaenyra could respond, the soft peace of the Godswood shattered with the sound of hurried footsteps, a heavy presence disturbing the tranquility. Daella turned, her heart leaping as she saw him striding toward them. His face was a storm of fury, his black armour gleaming darkly under the dappled light, a large bag slung over his shoulder.

“Get up,” he ordered as he neared, his voice hard and unyielding. “We’re leaving. Go pack your things.”

Daella blinked up at him, confusion and reluctance written across her face. Leaving? The word echoed in her mind, striking a chord of uncertainty that made her chest tighten. “Leaving? Why?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and fear. “What did we do?”

She could feel the weight of Daemon’s command pressing down on her small frame, demanding obedience, but her heart resisted, tangled with fear. Fear of what leaving might mean. Fear of losing the place she had just begun to feel she belonged to. Did we do something wrong? she wondered, her mind racing. She looked at Daemon, searching his hardened features for answers, but all she could see was the storm brewing beneath his calm facade.

Daemon clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering with a mixture of frustration and something else—something deeper, rawer. He hesitated, then looked away, his eyes narrowing as he stared off into the distance. His silence stretched on for a moment, and Daella’s heart ached. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to lose the comfort she’d finally started to find in the Red Keep, the first flickers of security she had known in her life.

Rhaenyra rose gracefully, her hands gliding over the heavy fabric of her skirt, smoothing its folds. She extended her hand toward Helaena, her voice gentle but firm as she spoke. “Come, Helaena, this conversation is not meant for us.” Her words carried a sense of understanding and quiet command. Helaena took her hand, and together they turned away, their figures slipping out from beneath the blood-red canopy of the Godswood, leaving Daella and her father alone amidst the rustling crimson leaves.

“You did nothing, zaldrītsos,” he began, his voice soft as he brushed a lock of dark silver hair out of Daella’s face. She closed her eyes at his touch, torn between the reassurance in his gentle gesture and the fear swirling in his words. “The King,” he continued, his voice low and bitter, the softness that was there a moment ago now a whisper on the wind, “The King believes that it would be best if I leave King’s Landing and that you remain.”

Leave her here? The thought struck her like a blow. A cold fear crawled up her spine, leaving her feeling hollow. She knew how unsafe King’s Landing could be, the memories of its dark streets and threats still fresh in her mind. Without Daemon, without the sense of strength he offered, she would be lost again, just a child in a sea of faces that either ignored or despised her.

She watched as Daemon’s eyes flicked towards Rhaenyra as she moved, his expression growing darker, more closed-off. He spoke again, his words sounding like they were being dragged from somewhere deep and painful. “He thinks me reckless, without the capacity for restraint, and that I would bring discourse to his carefully crafted sense of control.”

Daella’s eyes widened, confusion clouding her gaze. “But… why would he think that?” she asked, though a gnawing feeling in her gut told her she already knew. It had to be about Rhaenyra—the tension she’d seen between them, the stares exchanged when they thought no one was watching. Viserys must have seen it, must have drawn his own conclusions, and now, here they were.

Daemon knelt down then, his eyes locking with hers, fierce and unwavering. Daella felt her throat tighten at the intensity of his gaze. He had always been strong, always seemed unbreakable. But now, she saw something behind his fierce exterior—something that almost looked like pain. “Because he will always see me as nothing but a plague who seeks his ruin and the ruin of our house,” he said, his voice a growl, tinged with a vulnerability that made her stomach twist. It was as though she was seeing a part of him that even he couldn’t bear to acknowledge.

“Because Viserys doesn’t understand,” he continued, the growl shifting into something quieter, a whisper of hurt. “He never has.”

The look in his eyes sent a pang through Daella’s chest. She understood that feeling—the fear of not being seen for who you were, of being misunderstood. She had felt like that too sometimes. But her father had made her feel like she mattered, even if she was just a bastard. Now, the thought of leaving everything behind, of him being forced to go, felt like the rug was being pulled out from beneath her feet. The Red Keep might be filled with dangers and strange people, but it had begun to feel like a home she had never known before.

He stood abruptly, his eyes hardening once more, and Daella could see the walls going back up, his vulnerability masked again. “So we’re leaving, Daella. We will get as far away from this pit of vipers as we can.”

A small part of her wanted to resist, to beg him to let them stay, but another part, the part of her that had learned to obey, that feared the consequences of disobedience, kept her silent. She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, but the fear didn’t go away. She didn’t want to be left behind, but leaving with Daemon felt like losing the security she’d finally started to find.

Daemon took a deep breath, his voice softening, though it still held a rough edge. “I’m sorry, zaldrītsos, but this is for the best.”

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She didn’t want him to see her as weak. If they were leaving, then she needed to be strong. She needed to be like him. But she was scared—scared of the unknown, scared of the world outside these walls. She wanted to trust him, to believe that he knew what was best for her, but the uncertainty clawed at her insides. With every word he spoke, Daella’s heart ached, torn between the fear of staying and the fear of losing him, her father, her anchor.

As she looked up at him, her vision blurred by unshed tears, she nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I… I understand.”

But deep down, a part of her didn’t, her heart ached at the thought of leaving the Red Keep, of leaving Rhaenyra, Helaena, Aemond, and Aegon behind.

As they moved away from the Godswood, a voice echoed from the shadows, sharp and laced with scorn. “Running away again, uncle?” the words dripped with mockery, their sting unmistakable. “Is that the extent of your grand plan?”

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her eyes glinting with challenge as she looked upon Daemon, daring him to rise to the bait. He paused, his jaw clenching, the muscles working under his skin as he visibly wrestled with the urge to respond. His eyes narrowed, his lips parting as if to retort, but he stopped himself. Instead, he simply turned away, his focus entirely on Daella.

“Come,” he said, his voice softer now, but still edged with tension. “We’ve no time to waste.”

With a heavy heart, Daella turned to follow him, her steps slow and reluctant. She cast one last look at Rhaenyra who watched her with expressions of sympathy, frustration and anger.

Back in her chambers, Daella gathered her belongings, her hands trembling slightly as she packed. The small pile grew—the journal that had belonged to Queen Visenya, the book of insects Helaena had given her, the stories Aegon had shared to make her smile. Each item felt like a piece of the life she had only just begun to build, and now, it was all slipping away. She added her clothes, her trinkets, her heart growing heavier with every item she placed in her bag.

Daemon stood by the door, his stance tense, his eyes dark with unspoken thoughts. He was restless, his gaze flickering to her every few moments as he paced. When he noticed her struggling with her bag, his expression softened, and he moved closer.

“Take only what you need,” he urged, though his voice carried more gentleness than impatience. He knew what he was asking of her, knew the life he was taking her away from.

Daella took a deep breath, her gaze lingering on the room for a moment longer. It was strange how quickly it had come to feel like hers, like a place she belonged. And now, she had to leave it all behind.

She looked up at her father, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do we really have to go?”

Daemon’s gaze softened, and he knelt in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, little one,” he said, his voice rough with regret. “I cannot trust anyone here. And the King… he does not trust me.”

Daella swallowed, her mind a tumult of emotions. Part of her wanted to protest, to argue that this was her home now, that she had friends and family here. But looking into Daemon’s eyes, seeing the storm behind his gaze, she understood. He was doing what he thought was best for her, protecting her in the only way he knew how.

“Alright,” she said quietly, determination settling in her chest. “I’m ready.”

Daemon gave her a small nod, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, then took her hand, leading her out of the room.

As they walked through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, Daella tried to imprint every detail in her mind—the faded tapestries, the rough stone walls, the distant echoes of courtly chatter. She didn’t know if she would ever return, and the thought made her chest tighten with sadness. She held tighter to her father’s hand, drawing strength from his presence beside her.

In the courtyard, Ser Harwin stood by the gates, his expression dark and wary. His eyes narrowed as Daemon approached with Daella, stepping forward, his voice low and urgent. “My Prince, is this truly wise? The King—”

“The King has made his decision,” Daemon cut in sharply, his tone cold. “And I have made mine. We leave for the Vale.”

Harwin’s gaze shifted to Daella, worry written plainly across his face. She could see the conflict in his eyes—his loyalty to the King and his concern for her. “If this is what you think is best,” he said finally, his voice heavy.

Daemon’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “It is,” he said. “Keep watch here, Strong. Let me know if anything changes.”

Harwin nodded, but his eyes remained on Daella. He knelt in front of her, his large hands resting gently on her shoulders. “Be strong, little flame,” he whispered, his voice warm. “And remember who you are.”

Daella swallowed hard, her throat tight as she met his gaze. “I’ll remember,” she promised, her voice a mere whisper. Harwin smiled at her, a sad, gentle smile before he stepped back.

Daemon lifted Daella onto the black horse waiting nearby, settling behind her once he had secured her belongings. He gave Harwin one final nod before urging the horse forward, toward the Dragonpit. The bustling sounds of King’s Landing gradually faded as they wound through the quieter back streets, the cobblestones clicking under the horse’s hooves.

Daella’s heart clenched as they neared the Dragonpit. Caraxes waited, his long neck arched, his blood-red eyes gleaming in the dim light. He growled low, the sound reverberating through her chest—part warning, part welcome as he sensed his rider’s mood.

Daemon lifted her onto the saddle, settling her in front of him. She gripped the saddle’s edge, casting a final look back at the Red Keep. The high walls and towers rose against the sky, the Targaryen banners fluttering in the breeze—a symbol of the home she was leaving behind.

Her gaze moved to her father, his eyes fixed ahead, his jaw set, his expression like a brewing storm. She realised then that she was the flame that followed in his wake—small, flickering, yet determined.

Caraxes unfurled his wings, and with a powerful thrust, they were airborne. The wind roared in Daella’s ears, the city below shrinking rapidly, becoming nothing more than a patchwork of roofs and streets. The sensation was overwhelming—terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. Her heart raced, her body tensed against the wind’s force, but Daemon’s arm around her was strong, anchoring her, his presence a steady reassurance.

She closed her eyes, letting the rush of the wind wash over her—the fear, the freedom, the sheer exhilaration of flight. For a moment, it felt like all her worries had been left far below. Up here, there was only the sky, the wind, and the beat of Caraxes’ wings.

Yet even in the sky, she couldn’t shake the sense of loss. She thought of Rhaenyra’s soft smile, Helaena’s gentle curiosity, Aegon’s laughter. And Aemond, she would miss him most of all. She had never left King’s Landing before, and the thought of leaving it all behind filled her with a hollow ache.

“Father?” Daella’s voice was nearly lost in the howl of the wind.

“Yes, zaldrītsos?” Daemon’s voice rumbled behind her, his tone softer now that they were alone, carried away from the demands and scrutiny of the court.

“Do you think we’ll ever come back?” she asked, her voice filled with longing. She could hear the wistfulness in her own words, a desire she wasn’t ready to let go.

Daemon paused for a moment before answering. His gaze turned to the horizon, his jaw tightening. “One day,” he said, and she could hear the promise in his voice. “One day, perhaps.”

His words brought a measure of comfort, even though they were not the guarantee she hoped for. She pressed herself back against him, feeling the weight of her father’s protective embrace. For now, it was enough.

The winds above the Vale were unforgiving, cutting through Daella’s cloak as she clung tightly to the saddle, her small fingers digging into the soft leather. Each beat of Caraxes’ wings reverberated through her, and the sharp mountain air clawed at her face, but she held on, refusing to let fear sway her. She felt the weight of what this flight meant—being on Caraxes meant something more than just soaring through the skies. It was a symbol of power, of her bloodline, of the legacy she was beginning to understand.

Caraxes descended toward the Eyrie, his powerful wings beating rhythmically against the brisk mountain air. The towering peaks of the Giant’s Lance loomed like ancient sentinels, their snow-capped summits gleaming beneath a steel-grey sky. Below, the jagged ridges of the Mountains of the Moon seemed to stretch endlessly, an unforgiving terrain that promised peril to any who dared cross without a dragon’s wings.

Daella peeked over Caraxes’ serpentine neck, her eyes widening as she beheld the Eyrie—a castle suspended in the heavens, perched atop a peak so sheer it seemed impossible for any but the gods to reach it. Her stomach twisted with a mixture of fear and awe. Her father had told her tales of Visenya and Vhagar landing here during the Conquest, bending the Vale to the rule of House Targaryen. Now, she was here, following in the footsteps of her ancestor—a small girl on a great red dragon. Her heart swelled with an emotion she couldn’t quite name, a heady mixture of pride, fear, and the daunting awareness of her lineage.

“Hold tight, zaldrītsos,” Daemon called over the howling wind, his voice commanding yet reassuring. Daella nodded, pressing herself closer to his chest to stave off the biting chill. She felt the deep rumble of Caraxes beneath them as the dragon let out a low growl, his long, sinuous neck snaking towards the castle walls, surveying the place that had once stood tall against the threat of Targaryen fire and fury.

“I’m ready, kepa,” she whispered, though the wind took her words away. But it didn’t matter; her father would know. She clung on, squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment, feeling the pull of gravity as Caraxes adjusted his descent.

The courtyard of the Eyrie seemed too small for Caraxes, who landed with a heavy thud, the great stones trembling under his weight. His wings folded with an audible snap, the crimson membranes catching the faint mountain light. Guards scattered, their faces pale beneath their helms, their hands tight on their weapons. Daella, still perched on the saddle, saw the way their eyes darted between Caraxes and her father—the dragon and his rider, forces of nature come to rest at their doorstep.

Daemon dismounted first, moving with a casual grace that belied the danger in his presence. His armour glinted with each stride, his eyes flicking briefly to the guards, who dared not meet his gaze. He turned back to Caraxes, who obediently lowered himself closer to the ground, allowing Daella an easier descent. Daemon extended a hand to her, and she took it, feeling his strength steady her as her small boots touched the ground. The world seemed to tilt for a moment, the ground feeling strangely solid after their time in the air.

She looked around in awe. The Eyrie was unlike anything she had ever seen—its white stone towers seemed to pierce the very heavens, and every inch was carved with meticulous precision. It felt remote, detached from the rest of the world, a place where the winds carried whispers of ancient battles and forgotten gods.

Her father had told her of the Eyrie, of how proud and stubborn the Arryns could be. Seeing it now, she began to understand. It was beautiful, but it was also cold. Daella shivered, not just from the temperature but from something deeper, something that felt like the weight of a history she did not yet fully understand.

A woman approached, flanked by her advisors. She was striking—her chestnut hair pulled back in a practical braid, her gown of deep blue adorned with silver falcons in flight. Her eyes, the colour of storm clouds over the sea, met Daemon’s without flinching, a gaze that spoke of authority and the weight of ruling in a place set high above the rest of the world.

“Prince Daemon,” Lady Jeyne’s voice cut across the courtyard, each word ringing with a practised authority that left no room for misunderstanding. There was no warmth in her tone, but neither was there open hostility—just the cool neutrality of a ruler who understood diplomacy and strength. Her gaze swept to Daella, softening only slightly as she acknowledged the young girl beside Daemon. “The Vale welcomes you.”

Daemon dipped into a low, fluid bow, his lips curling into a faint but deliberate smile. “Lady Jeyne, your hospitality is as renowned as your beauty,” he replied, his words dripping with charm that held an undercurrent of calculation. His hand rested on Daella’s small shoulder, an anchor amidst the uncertain energy of the courtyard. “Allow me to formally introduce my daughter, Daella.”

Daella inhaled deeply, feeling the full weight of Lady Jeyne’s assessing gaze. There was something unspoken in the way the Lady’s eyes lingered, a test that she knew extended beyond herself—this was a scrutiny of her father’s claims, and by extension, a trial she too had to pass. She wasn’t just a child standing there; she was Daemon Targaryen’s daughter, and her presence here was an unspoken declaration of heritage, rights, and old grudges.

“Welcome, child,” Lady Jeyne finally said, her words carrying a politeness that stopped short of true warmth.

“Thank you, my lady,” Daella replied, her voice soft, doing her best to sound brave. She nodded, offering a shy smile, her gaze flickering up to meet Lady Jeyne’s before dropping again. There was a strange pressure that settled in her chest, making it hard to steady her hands. These ancient stones, this formidable place—it wasn’t just another castle. It was where Vhagar’s wings had cast shadows upon these grounds, spreading fear and awe. And now she stood here, not as a conqueror, not as a stranger, but somewhere in between. It was an uneasy balance, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever truly belong within its history-steeped walls.

“Come,” Lady Jeyne said, gesturing for them to follow. “We will speak inside.”

The interior of the Eyrie was vast and austere, the High Hall adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes from the history of House Arryn—falcons in majestic flight over the craggy Mountains of the Moon, gallant knights charging into battle, ancient heroes carved into legend through their deeds. Daella’s eyes moved from one image to the next, the tales woven into fabric both captivating and intimidating. The weight of history bore down upon her—she could feel it in every flicker of torchlight, in every echo that drifted across the hall.

There was a chill in the Eyrie that seemed embedded in its very stones, an unrelenting coldness that reminded Daella of something Rosalie had once said about cold places and cold people. It wasn’t the temperature that made her shiver, but an instinctual feeling—an awareness that this castle was not welcoming to strangers. It had been forged for its own people, by its own history, and she, an outsider, could feel its silent judgment. Daella edged a little closer to her father’s side, seeking his familiar warmth amidst the aloof grandeur.

Daemon and Daella were led to a long table, its polished surface gleaming dully in the pale light filtering through towering windows. Lady Jeyne took her seat at the head, her gaze unwavering on Daemon. Daemon pulled out a chair for Daella, a gesture that earned a few surprised looks from those gathered around the hall.

Daella climbed into the chair, feeling a wave of warmth spread through her. Even here, in the heart of tension and cold glances, her father had thought of her comfort. She let her legs dangle above the floor, her wide eyes taking in the formidable figures around them—all strangers, each face a mask of indifference or suspicion. She realized in these moments how small she was, how little they thought of her beyond being her father’s extension. It made her chest tighten, a reminder of how much she still had to prove.

“You have come regarding Runestone, have you not?” Lady Jeyne spoke, her voice direct and her gaze unwavering, fixing on Daemon with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny.

Daemon inclined his head, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Indeed, my lady. The Lady Rhea was my wife by the laws of gods and men. With her passing, I, as her husband, should inherit her lands, titles, and holdings.” His tone was silky smooth, each word chosen with precision.

A murmur rippled through the hall, hushed voices like wind through the mountain pines. Daella watched her father, her small fingers tightening around the edge of her chair. There was a steeliness in Lady Jeyne’s eyes, something that made Daella’s stomach twist with unease. It reminded her of the silent heaviness that hung in the air just before a storm—a charged, breathless tension.

“Rhea Royce was a daughter of the Vale,” Lady Jeyne said, her voice measured, her words carrying a weight that made the room still. “And her kin remain. House Royce has as much right to Runestone as you, Prince Daemon—more, I should think, given the circumstances of her death.”

Before Daemon could respond, a new voice echoed through the hall, sharp and laden with contempt. “We all know what you want, Prince.”

Ser Gerold Royce stepped forward, broad-shouldered in rune-carved bronze armour, his eyes blazing with barely contained disdain. The sigil of House Royce gleamed upon his chest, and his hand rested on the pommel of his sword—a gesture that was as much a statement as it was a threat.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the smile slipping from his face, replaced by something harder, more dangerous. “Ah, Ser Gerold. Still clinging to your old relics, I see,” he said, his gaze flickering dismissively over the bronze armour. “It must weigh heavily on you, carrying the past so fervently.”

Daella swallowed hard, her eyes darting between the two men. The air in the hall thickened, as if even the stones were holding their breath. She saw the change in her father’s eyes—the way they sharpened, his expression turning almost cruel. He was ready for this confrontation, perhaps even relished it. But Daella wasn’t sure she wanted to see it unfold. She felt the pressure in her chest grow, like being trapped between two raging dragons.

“Kostilus, Kepa,” she whispered, barely audible, but her fingers tightened around the edge of her seat and her father did not hear her plea.

Please, father.

“Rhea was my kin. You treated her with disdain and neglect, and now you come to claim her lands?” Ser Gerold’s voice was steady, but the fury beneath it simmered hot. “Runestone will not bow to you.”

Daemon rose from his chair, the scraping sound echoing through the hall as he stepped toward Ser Gerold with the measured grace of a predator. “Careful, Royce. I am here under a banner of peace. It would be unwise to provoke me.”

“Peace?” Gerold’s lip curled, the single word dripping with contempt. “You arrive on the back of a dragon, demanding what was never yours in spirit, and you dare speak of peace? We see through your pretense, Targaryen.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “You think I need threats, Royce, to claim what is mine by right? Rhea’s lands, her titles—all of it belongs to me, as her lawful husband. The bonds of marriage, the laws of inheritance—surely these are not foreign to you?”

“Laws?” Gerold spat, his disdain unmasked. “You speak of laws, Daemon Targaryen, yet you had no care for them when Rhea was alive. You abandoned her, left her alone in the cold halls of Runestone. You had no love for her, no respect. How dare you now speak of rights and claim her legacy?”

Daemon took another step closer, their tension strung taut as a bowstring. “Runestone was mine the moment I wed your Lady Rhea. The lands, the castles, all the holdings—they were hers, and thus, by law, they are now mine. Your scorn matters not, Royce. The laws of inheritance are not dictated by your emotions.”

Gerold’s eyes darkened, his knuckles whitening around his sword’s pommel. “You think yourself fit to rule Runestone? You, who left Rhea to die alone?”

Lady Jeyne rose abruptly, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade. “Enough! Both of you!” Authority radiated from her as she glared at the two men, her patience visibly fraying. “You are acting like petulant children, while the only child here,” her gaze softened as it fell on Daella, “has shown more grace than either of you.”

Daemon blinked, his gaze shifting to his daughter. Daella sat silently, her wide eyes fixed on him, her small hands resting in her lap, her expression tense with worry. She wasn’t sure what to feel—pride, fear, perhaps both. But she did know one thing: she hated seeing her father like this, hated the way they looked at him, like he was something less.

Lady Jeyne drew in a deep breath, frustration etched in every line of her face. “Prince Daemon, you come here seeking a claim to Runestone, but you speak as if it is merely a prize. The people of Runestone are not yours to command. They deserve leadership, someone who cares for them, not a conqueror seeking spoils.”

Daemon met her gaze, his expression cold, his voice a deadly calm. “You speak of leadership, my lady, yet you forget that I am of the blood of Old Valyria. My blood has conquered; my ancestors have ruled. Runestone deserves that legacy—not to be held by weak men clinging to outdated relics.”

“Legacy?” Gerold scoffed, his eyes flaring with indignation. “Your legacy is one of selfishness and ruin. You think your blood entitles you to anything you desire, but all you bring is destruction. Rhea was more than a means to an end, and her people deserve better than a dragon rider who abandoned her.”

Daemon stepped closer, his face mere inches from Gerold’s, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I abandoned nothing. I gave her freedom—from me. Don’t mistake my courtesy for weakness, Royce. If I desired it, I could take Runestone with fire and blood, as my ancestors did.”

Gerold’s grip tightened on his sword, his voice rising with defiance. “Then try it, Targaryen. Runestone will not bow willingly. You’ll have to take it from us by force.”

Lady Jeyne stepped between them, her patience at its limit. “Enough!” she commanded, her voice carrying across the hall, silencing the gathering. “If you wish to continue this feud, do so elsewhere, and not before a child.” Her gaze shifted to Daella, who sat wide-eyed, absorbing the exchange, her small frame trembling slightly in the overwhelming tension of the room.

A silence fell, and Daella watched her father with a mix of awe and fear. His face was taut, his eyes burning with restrained anger. She hesitated for only a moment before reaching out, her small fingers brushing against his hand. “Kepa,” she whispered, her voice soft, uncertain.

Daemon looked down at her, the single word striking through the tension like a sharp blade. For a heartbeat, his expression was unreadable—a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossed his face, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see. His eyes, which had moments ago burned with fury, softened, the fire within them dimming into something gentler. He blinked, almost as if the word had surprised him, his hardened exterior cracking as he looked at his daughter.

There was a beat of silence, and his lips parted, though no words came immediately. He drew in a deep breath, the fury he had carried moments before dissipating, replaced with a tenderness that seemed out of place in the cold, tension-filled hall. He knelt down in front of Daella, his hand enveloping her smaller one.

“Zaldrītsos,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, the edge of anger completely gone, replaced by something softer—something almost fragile. He studied her face, the wide, uncertain eyes that looked back at him. His thumb brushed against her knuckles in a gesture so gentle that it contrasted starkly with the deadly tension of only moments before.

“Zūgagon daor, ñuha zaldrītsos” he added, his voice just above a whisper, so that only she could hear. The words were a promise—an assurance not just of protection, but of his presence, his devotion. It was as if, in that single word, Daella had reminded him of who he truly was—not just a prince, not a rogue, not just a dragon rider, but her father.

Do not be afraid, my little dragon.

He covered her hand with his own, standing slowly, his fingers still holding hers, drawing another deep breath to steady himself. When he spoke again, his voice was controlled, though still edged with ice. “Very well. Keep your stones, Royce, and all the ghosts that haunt them. I have no need for Runestone if it comes with such bitter company.”

Without another word, he turned, his cloak sweeping around him as he strode towards the entrance, his grip on Daella’s hand firm and reassuring. Daella hurried to match his pace, her heart pounding, the weight of the lords’ stares heavy upon her as they left the hall. She could feel something different in his hold—not just the strength she had always known but an unspoken promise, a gentleness that had emerged, however briefly, at her quiet plea.

Outside, the wind was fierce, biting against her skin, the mountains rising like sentinels around them. Daemon moved with determination, his stride long and purposeful as they made their way to Caraxes. The dragon rumbled, sensing his rider’s agitation, his glowing eyes watching closely.

Daemon helped Daella into the saddle, his movements precise, his touch gentler than usual. As he climbed up behind her, he paused, his eyes briefly meeting hers. There was something unspoken between them, a look that held both the fierce determination of the Rogue Prince and the vulnerability of a father who had just been reminded of what truly mattered.

“You did well, zaldrītsos,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of pride. It was a small acknowledgement, but it carried weight—a rare softness, just for her.

As Caraxes spread his wings, the courtyard fell away, the cold earth vanishing beneath them as they soared into the sky. The wind whipped around them, carrying away the tension, the harsh words, the icy disdain.

“Where are we going?” Daella called over the roar of the wind, her voice small and uncertain.

Daemon’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, his voice steely. “To see an old friend,” he said, his words filled with resolve.

Daella nodded, leaning back against him, her eyes closing briefly. She felt his arms tighten around her, a silent promise of safety. Whatever lay ahead—whatever enemies or challenges waited for them—she would face them by his side.

Caraxes surged forward, leaving behind the Vale’s cold heights, and with it, the bitterness of what had been denied.

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[dalsofile]

“I can’t stop loving you."

the aftermath of a breakup

tags :: nostalgia, heartbreak, melancholy | pairing: jihyo x gender neutral reader | not proofread!!

wc :: 500

cast :: y/n, jihyo

song :: Kaleidoscope - Chappell Roan

Every night, the thought of Jihyo's touch ravaged you. It had been more than five months since your breakup, yet the pain in your hearts seemed as raw as the day you parted. You could still feel the warmth of her hand, and how her fingers would delicately trace patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of comfort and affection. Your nights were now chilly and empty, filled with a desire that you knew would never be realized. You often find yourself reaching out in the darkness, hoping to find her there beside you. But all you grasp is emptiness, a cruel reminder that she is no longer yours. The scent of her perfume still lingers in the air, a ghost of the past that refuses to fade. You close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fragments of your time together, but the memories slip through your fingers like sand, leaving you with nothing but the hollow echo of her absence.

The hardest part is knowing that you can never go back. Your love is a memory, locked away in a time that you can't revisit. You see her smile in your dreams, hear her laughter in the quiet moments, but when you wake, reality crashes down, and the pain is unbearable. You miss her touch, her presence, her everything. But most of all, you miss the way she made you feel whole. Now, you are just a shadow of who you used to be, longing for a love that is forever out of reach. You wander through your days in a daze, every corner of your life a reminder of what you have lost. The coffee shop where you used to meet, the park bench where you shared countless conversations, even the songs on the radio that once played in the background of your happiest moments—all of it is a constant reminder of Jihyo. Each memory is a dagger to your heart, twisting deeper with each recollection.

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, the pain does not lessen. Instead, it becomes a part of you, a constant companion that you learn to live with. You know that Jihyo has moved on, probably found happiness elsewhere, and while you wish her nothing but the best, it doesn't stop the tears from falling when you are alone. The nights are the hardest, filled with dreams of what could have been and the stark reality of what is. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you will ever feel whole again.

In the end, you know that some wounds never truly heal. The love you had for Jihyo is one of those wounds, a scar that will remain with you forever. You will carry her memory with you, a bittersweet reminder of a time when you were truly happy. And though the pain is unbearable, you wouldn't trade those memories for anything, for they are all that remain of the love you once shared.

[hrizantemy]

THE DANCER AND THE MOON

The air was alive with the vibrant melodies that resonated from every corner, drawing in a kaleidoscope of dancers. Yet, amidst the throng of moving bodies, her attention remained steadfastly anchored to the lone dancer who seemed to transcend the chaos around her.

The woman moved with an effortless grace, her body fluid and sinuous as if each movement was an extension of her very being. Her limbs traced delicate arcs through the air, weaving a tale of passion and emotion that captured Nesta's undivided attention. There was a raw beauty in the way she moved, a magnetism that held Nesta captive, unable to tear her gaze away.

As the music swelled and ebbed, the dancer's expression shifted, reflecting the myriad emotions coursing through her. There was joy in the curve of her smile, longing in the arch of her back, and a hint of melancholy in the depths of her eyes. Each movement seemed to tell a story, a silent narrative that spoke volumes to those who cared to listen.

Nesta found herself drawn into the dancer's world, swept away by the tide of emotions that pulsed through the air. For a fleeting moment, she felt a connection, a thread of understanding that bound them together across the expanse of the crowded street. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the dance unfolding before her.

How had she even ended up here? She had been walking, lost in the turmoil of her own thoughts, consumed by the familiar ache of anger that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface whenever her sister's name crossed her mind. Yet, as if drawn by some unseen force, she found herself drawn to the heart of the festivities, the music pulling at her like a siren's call.

And now, here she stood, a silent observer in a sea of swirling colors and laughter, her eyes trained on the lone dancer who seemed to dance for no one but herself.

Feyre had extended an invitation with forced cheerfulness to Nesta, an attempt to bridge the ever-widening chasm between them. And so, begrudgingly, Nesta had accepted, though the prospect of spending an evening in their company filled her with dread. As she stepped into the warmth of the familiar interior, she was met with a deafening silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

Feyre's attempt at a greeting fell flat, her words lost in the heavy air of tension that hung between them. Elain's gaze was distant, her eyes betraying nothing as she stared into the distance with an unreadable expression. Nesta took a seat at the table, feeling like an intruder in her own sister's home.

The atmosphere was stifling, suffocating, as she watched the others engage in idle conversation and laughter. Cassian and Morrigan shared a private moment, their affection evident as he ran his fingers along her feet, eliciting a smile from her lips as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Feyre and Rhysand seemed lost in their own world, their minds elsewhere as they whispered quietly to each other, oblivious to the outsider in their midst. Nesta felt like a ghost, a mere spectator in the lives of those she once called family. As the evening wore on, Nesta sat in silence, her thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of bitterness and resentment. She longed to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of their expectations and judgments.

But instead, she remained rooted to her seat, a silent observer in a world that had long since moved on without her. Until she couldn’t anymore.

With a heavy heart and a sense of suffocation tightening her chest, Nesta quietly slipped away from her sister's home, craving the solace of the open air. The streets greeted her with a cacophony of sounds—laughter, music, and the rhythmic beat of dancing feet. It was as if the world outside existed in a separate realm, untouched by the silent turmoil that had gripped her within the confines of her sister's house.

As she wandered aimlessly through the vibrant streets, Nesta felt the weight of her burdens begin to lift, replaced by a sense of liberation she hadn't known in ages. Everywhere she looked, people danced with abandon, their laughter filling the night air with an infectious energy that was impossible to resist.

And then, amidst the throng of revelers, she saw her—the dancer whose movements had captivated her from the moment she laid eyes on her. There was something magnetic about the way she moved, a raw passion that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the physical world.

Nesta found herself drawn to the dancer like a moth to a flame, her steps quickening as she closed the distance between them. For a moment, she forgot the troubles that plagued her, the weight of her past mistakes and regrets falling away.

As Nesta lost herself in the swirling melodies and rhythmic movements, she felt a pair of eyes on her, a sensation that sent a shiver down her spine. Turning her head, she met the gaze of the dancer, expecting to find judgment or indifference mirrored in her expression. Instead, she was met with something unexpected—a soft smile playing at the corners of the woman's lips, a warmth in her eyes.

Nesta's breath caught in her throat as the dancer beckoned her closer, a silent invitation that stirred something deep within her. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty warring with the desire pulsing through her veins. But then, as if compelled by some unseen force, she found herself stepping forward, her movements tentative yet determined.

As she drew nearer to the dancer, Nesta felt a sense of anticipation building within her, a feeling she couldn't quite name but one that filled her with a strange sense of hope. And then, as their hands met and their bodies began to move in harmony, she felt something shift inside her—a loosening of the tight coil of tension that had gripped her for so long, replaced by a sense of connection that transcended words.

Rhythm that seemed to quicken the beat of their hearts as they moved in perfect synchrony. Nesta's movements were fluid yet controlled, her body swaying with a grace she hadn't known she possessed. Each step was a testament to the raw emotion coursing through her veins, a release of the pent-up energy that had threatened to consume her.

Beside her, the dancer moved with an effortless agility, her movements a whirlwind of motion and grace. Together, they wove a tapestry of movement, their bodies moving as one to the frenetic tempo of the music. Their steps were quick and precise, a blur of motion as they spun and twirled across the crowded street.

As they danced, Nesta felt a sense of liberation wash over her, a feeling of weightlessness that lifted her higher and higher with each passing moment. The music surged through her veins, driving her onward with an intensity she had never known before. And as she lost herself in the rhythm of the dance, she felt a sense of freedom unlike anything she had ever experienced.

In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the pulsating energy of the music and the warmth of the dancer's embrace, Nesta felt truly alive.

As the music reached a crescendo, the dancer took Nesta's hand in hers, her touch gentle yet firm, as if guiding her through a dance they had both known in another lifetime. Without a word, she twirled Nesta with a deftness that spoke of years of practice and passion, their movements perfectly synchronized as they spun together in a whirlwind of motion.

At first, Nesta's instinct was to pull away, to retreat into the safety of her own solitude. But something within her urged her to stay, to trust in the moment unfolding before her. And so, she surrendered to the dancer's lead, allowing herself to be swept away by the intoxicating rhythm of the music.

As they twirled and spun across the crowded street, Nesta felt a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins, a feeling of freedom she hadn't known in years. In the dancer's arms, she felt weightless, untethered from the burdens that had weighed her down for so long.

As they danced, Nesta lost all sense of time and place. The world around her faded into obscurity, replaced by the pulsating rhythm of the music and the exhilarating sensation of movement. She couldn't say how long they had been dancing or where they had moved to, only that they hadn't stopped.

Their steps became a blur of motion, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as if guided by some unseen force. With each spin and twirl, Nesta felt herself being carried away on a tide of euphoria, her cares and worries melting away with each passing moment.

In the embrace of the dancer's arms, she found a sense of peace she hadn't known in years, a fleeting respite from the chaos of her own mind. And as they continued to dance, their movements growing more frenetic with each passing beat, Nesta knew that she never wanted this moment to end.