#trembling soil (oc)

[time-was-over]

rusted cogs makes a public broadcast to the local group and he just says ‘trembling soil situation is crazy’ and sends a video file of her staring at the camera and talking about soil’s malware scheme with three orange lizards playing checkers in the background

[minnarr]

I commissioned @sadfishkid for art of my OC, Yun Shuying, and I am just so pleased. Look at her!! (Shuying, if you're unfamiliar, is Chengling's love interest/later wife in the future/AU fic trembling on the branch, unfurl your petals and grow and is currently protagonist of a sequel, drifter on the wind, the soil waits below). It's so neat to see her brought to life, I can't stop looking at it. <3

[cinnamongorll]

Wildflower - chapter 4

read on ao3 🤍 previous chapter 🤍 masterlist 🤍

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries.  When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person pov, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel. Chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence. Word count: 4.2k

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Chapter 4:

In the dark, damp apartment, I stand in the corner with my back against the wall. Beads of sweat slide down my spine, plastering my t-shirt to my skin.

A strangled yell fills the small room.

Joel’s fist is a flash of tanned skin as it meets the chin of the man brutally tied to a wooden chair. His head ricochets off the back and a deep groan spills through the gaps in his rotted teeth. The strong purple bruise forming under his skin is masked by the trails of blood that already leak from his broken nose.

Joel steps backwards, carefully massaging his knuckles, preparing his hand for another blow. 

I clench my fists to stop my body reacting to the harsh display of pain, but I can’t stop my face from cringing as my eyes flash to the door. Any second now, someone could start rattling at the handle, demanding to know what was going on in here. Or worse, enforcers could come and kick the door down, without a word of warning.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans as my eyes find Joel’s back. Muscles ripple under his shirt as he staggers forward with two brutal steps and grips the collar of the bleeding man. 

He grunts as Joel pulls him upwards. I watch as his eyes spark with fear and my own pulse quickens with the threat of Joel’s next move. 

“Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time,” Joel explains in a slow, sinister tone. “Did you sell us out?”

“Joel, I swear -”

The hit happens so quickly, I don’t even see Joel pull back his arm before another spout of blood is pouring from the man’s face. 

My hands are trembling as they cover my mouth. But I can’t look away. 

As a man of his word, Joel doesn’t ask again. Instead, he tightens his fist around the man’s collar and uses his free hand to capture the gun from his back pocket. 

His name forms in my mouth, desperate to release. But I choke. 

It’s too late, anyways. The barrel of Joel’s gun is pressed against the man’s head. 

“Shit, Joel. Fine! Fine!” he shouts, then coughs and a mixture of blood and spit slides down his chin. “I was in the city. They ambushed me, they knew your names. I just told them that you were in the QZ, nothing else. I swear I didn’t know -” 

I jump when Joel clicks the safety off. My fingers curl against my lips. 

“Didn’t think to warn us?” Joel asks in a low growl as he pushes the gun harder into the man’s bloodied temple. 

The apartment is silent apart from the heavy, ragged breathing of the man caught between death and Joel’s mercy. I press my back harder into the wall behind me, praying that the fading wallpaper will swallow me up. 

“How was I supposed to know that they’d - they’d -” 

“Kill Ivan?”

The shock of hearing my dad’s name buckles my knees and my hand seeks refuge on the wall to hold myself up. 

Boots lifted from the ground, a thick rope and a bent neck splatter across my mind like the blood still attached to my skin, reminding me just how soiled this day has made me. 

The silence stretches towards its breaking point. 

I glance back over at the man who forms another puzzle piece in the mystery of my dad’s death. He coughs again, a deep throaty cough that makes me flinch. 

“Joel, come on,” he croaks. “Think of everything I’ve done for you.” 

Joel answers in a menacing laugh under his breath.

“Everything you’ve done for me?” he echos, his voice lower. 

The gun is still against the man’s head. I shift my feet, my eyes flash between his face and Joel’s arm. 

The man meets my eyes. I freeze. A cold, frightened blue sends shivers across my skin. My hands palm the wall. 

Before I can release the pankicked breath housed in my dry mouth, the man is struck across the face by Joel’s gun.

“Don’t look at her,” Joel barks. “She ain’t gonna help you.” 

My heartbeat stutters. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out the groans from across the room. I squeeze my eyes shut. Blackness absorbs my vision. 

“Please,” the man coughs out, with another splatter of blood on the floor. “What do you want?” 

My eyes open slowly, carefully. I’m wondering this too. 

Joel’s hand roughly grabs the man’s chin, digging his fingers into the stubbled flesh. My teeth bite down on my lower lip. 

“I want a way out,” he demands, his accent thick as he lowers his voice. 

“You already know the way out -”

The man’s words are cut off by Joel’s release of his face, which sends his head flying backwards and smacking off the wood of the chair with a sick cracking noise.

“They were waitin’ for us in the fuckin’ tunnel. There’s no gettin’ out of there now,” Joel growls. “But there is another way out. Where is it?” 

The man groans, blinking rapidly. “There’s no other way,” he murmurs, then swallows roughly. 

My spine straightens as I wait for Joel’s next blow, but it doesn’t come. 

Joel is silent for a long moment, and I know that there must be some element of truth glimmering in the man’s eyes.

The weight of the time we’re wasting is starting to press down on my shoulders, weakening my stance and accelerating my heartbeat. I never thought I’d ever be so desperate to get out of the QZ, but so far the threat here is stronger than outside. 

Joel turns to the side, towards the window, and I catch a glimpse of his clenched jaw and startled eyes. 

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” he says under his breath before turning back to the man. “How’d you do it?”

Without missing a beat, the man replies: “The trucks.”

The trucks?

“Two leave in the morning, first thing. They travel into the city, patrolling to try and catch people like us or to keep track of the infected. But they always return before dark,” the man explains slowly, wincing in pain. “If you can get into the trucks before they leave, they’ll get you out of the QZ.”

There’s a brief pause before a deep sigh rolls out of Joel’s mouth. 

“That’s the most idiotic fuckin’ plan I’ve ever heard.”

“It works, okay? I’ve done it before,” the man huffs out. 

“And how do I know you’re not leadin’ us into another trap?” Joel demands, purposefully shifting his gun in his hand. 

The man narrows his eyes, his lip twitching as he thinks through his response. He’s one wrong move away from a bullet in the head, and he knows it. 

“From the looks of it,” he begins, flashing his eyes to me in the corner. “You don’t really have any other option but to believe me.” 

He’s right. The city is on lockdown. We’re hours if not minutes away from getting caught… by the enforcers or whatever group is hunting us. We don’t have another option. 

Joel’s back is tense. The seconds tick by. I’m swallowing down the lump in my throat. 

“Joel,” I croak. 

“Joel” I try again, finally catching his attention when his head reluctantly turns towards me. “We should do it,” I say, trying to inject some confidence in my voice. 

His eyes darken, turning black as he works his jaw. My lips part and my spine straightens, fearful of what lurks in that sinister glare. 

“You should listen to her, it’s the only way,” the man interrupts, snapping the tension with the sharp reminder of reality. 

I stop breathing when Joel rolls his shoulders. The air is leached from the room.

One second is all it takes. Joel’s knuckles strike his face with a strength he had clearly been holding back before. 

I don’t cry out this time, I’m expecting it. Over the years, I’ve picked up a variety of Joel’s tells, although I’d never let him know how much time I’ve spent analysing the intricacies of his facial expressions and body language. 

With the force of the blow, the chair tips over, sending the man crashing to the floor with a thud that has my head whipping towards the door. My heartbeat starts to drown out the groans coming from the man’s bleeding lips. 

I turn back towards Joel to find him crouched over the man. His gun is on the ground beside him. With a pace that could be described as leisurely, Joel reaches behind him to pull the knife from his back pocket.

His fingers dig into the man’s hair, pulling his head upwards. He is barely conscious, just drooling blood and moaning in one long, continuous, chilling sound. 

Without thinking, I start walking forward. Slowly, like I’m approaching a wild beast in an attempt to tame it. 

“What are you doing?” I question, my voice a choked whisper. 

Joel turns to stone. His fist is clenched around the knife.

“Don’t - He gave us the information. Just let him go,” I stutter, desperately scrambling for any words that will keep me from witnessing another death today. 

My hands rub against my jeans, using the feeling of the rough material on my skin to ground me. There’s a voice in my head that begs me to give up on everything. Walk over to the wall and slide down it until I hit the floor, curl up in a ball and wait for someone to find me. Or better yet, kill me. 

But if I could save this one person from Joel’s wrath, from the death that has stained this day, then maybe I would be strong enough to keep going.

Joel is silent. I don’t know how to translate what’s going on in his mind. 

I take another step towards him. Joel’s hand twitches. I stop. 

“Come on. We know a way out now. Let’s just go,” I plead. I’m standing so close to him now, my hand aches to reach out and touch his shoulder, remind him of his humanity. 

Another groan rumbles from the man’s mouth. 

“Alex,” Joel warns roughly. “Turn around and face the wall. Cover your ears.”

I choke on my breath. 

“Joel - ”

“Now.”

His voice is a clipped bark and I start moving immediately, obeying his grimm orders.

My vision grows blurry as I take quick, careful steps over to the wall. I wipe my trembling hands on the same rough fabric that brought me comfort only moments ago. 

“Cover your ears,” Joel commands from across the room. 

My hands slap over my ears, pressing harder and harder until all I hear is static and my own erratic breathing. I squeeze my eyes shut and see, all at once, my dad’s broken neck, the bullet wound in Theo’s head, the enforcers’ dead bodies, and the knife that Joel is currently driving into the man’s temple. 

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, trailing down my blood stained skin. But my sorrow can’t wash away the horrors I've witnessed. 

A hand plants down on my shoulder and I cry out, whipping my body around and raising my hands to defend myself. 

Joel glares at me as he captures my wrists in his large, dangerous hands. 

My eyes are wide as they scan his face, searching for a hint of remorse. I find none, only cold stoicism. 

His palms tense around my skin but he doesn’t let go. My heart is pounding out of my chest. 

“Why did you kill him?” I ask in a single, rushed breath. 

Joel’s eyes narrow before looking down at my wrists caged in his scarred hands. A strange look appears in his black gaze but it disappears instantly and he drops my arms. 

A cold chill attacks my wrists without the heat of his touch. 

I blink up at him. Joel looks away. The tension returns to his jaw.

“He sold us out once, he’ll do it again. You can’t trust anyone,” he states, in a matter of fact tone. Joel’s eyes meet mine again and I see a hint of irritation, as though he’s explaining something very simple to a child. 

“But I should trust you?” I ask in a voice just above a whisper.

Joel grinds his teeth, digesting my words. 

I prepare myself for the lash of his usual anger. The growled words, the threats of abandonment. But they don’t come.

Instead, Joel scans my face with those black, inscrutable eyes, roaming over the dried blood, my furrowed eyebrows, my parted lips.

“Yes,” he murmurs in a low, gravelly voice. 

But you’re a killer! I want to scream at him but I swallow it down.

My head drops in a nod. Joel releases a breath and steps away from me quickly, as though he hadn’t realised how close he was. 

I pretend not to notice that he’s blocking my exact eyeline of the body at the back of the room. He’s probably just doing it to keep me from breaking down and delaying his plans. 

Joel looks towards the window and runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. 

“We’ll wait till dark then head to the trucks. Gotta be careful bout this,” he instructs. 

Panic wraps itself around my throat. 

“What if we get caught? They’ll kill us,” I protest, crossing my arms over my chest and squeezing hard. 

Joel scratches his head and rolls his shoulders.

“We won’t get caught,” he insists, then his eyes flash to mine. “Trust me.”

………………..

It’s after midnight by the time we leave the dead man’s apartment. 

The streets are infested with enforcers. They roam each corner with their guns and spotlights, reducing the shadows we’re able to hide in. 

I try not to think about the pile of bodies we left in that dim stairwell. 

Joel’s hand is wrapped around my wrist again, pinning me to his side as he expertly finds us shelter in building hallways and shaded porches. 

I’m doing what he’s asked of me; I’m trusting him to get us out of here alive. 

Most doors we pass have busted locks or cracks lining the wood; scars from enforcer raids earlier that day. Guilt rises in my throat. 

I wonder if my dad was scared his first time leaving the QZ. Did he fear getting caught? Did he put his trust in Joel too? Is that what eventually killed him?

I shake these thoughts from my head and focus only on calming my breaths and keeping up with Joel’s quick, purposeful steps. 

After a few near misses with the enforcers spotlights, we finally make it to the QZ gates. 

Joel has me pressed up against the darkened wall of a nearby building, one hand wrapped around my waist, the other flat against the mossy brick. 

His breaths rattle through me with the imprint of his chest on mine, and I struggle to calm my pounding heart. 

Joel scares me. He frightens me now more than he ever has before. 

Before all of this, he was my dad’s friend, his smuggling partner. I knew he was a bad man but I didn't know just how rotten he truly was. Now, what makes him frightful is the only thing keeping me alive. 

At any moment, I wonder when he’s going to weigh up the vow to my dad and the effort of saving me and decide that it’s not worth it. 

But I can’t think about that just now. 

“Most enforcers are on the streets so it should be quiet by the trucks,” Joel murmurs into my ear. 

Shivers crawl down the back of my neck. I press harder into the wall behind me. 

Joel gives my waist a light squeeze to capture my attention. “You hear me?” he breathes against the shell of my ear. 

“Mmhm,” I reply, unable to form words with the strange intoxication of Joel’s proximity. 

I can feel him roll his eyes. 

“There’s canvas over the trucks’ cargo beds,” Joel continues, his fingers twitching against my waist. “We’re gonna climb into one and wait till mornin’.”

My mouth opens but I swallow down my original response. My eyelids shutter closed.

We’re going to die.

We’re going to get caught and strung up like my dad. This is pointless, I can’t -

“Hey,” Joel cuts off my inner turmoil, his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

I open my eyes to find that he’s pulled back and is scanning every inch of my face. 

“Don’t do that,” he commands. “If you lose focus, it’s over. Forget bout all of it til we get outta here.” 

I swallow rough and try to shift out of his hold, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze. Joel just tightens his grip on my waist and uses his other hand to lightly tap my cheek, keeping my focus on him. 

When I meet his eyes, I see my own grief reflected in them. His guard is down and, in the dark abyss around his pupils, my pain is his pain. 

I blink and it’s gone. 

“Got it?” Joel demands, his harsh, uncaring tone has returned. I flinch at the sound of it.

He notices. 

Joel detaches himself from me once the spotlight has cleared the building we’re sheltered against. He’s avoiding eye contact, every window is boarded shut. 

I gasp when he grabs my wrist and pulls us into the open. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness. 

The trucks are parked at the gate. Joel was right, there’s nobody here. 

There’s minimal light by the gate, sending a dull, yellow illumination over the vehicles. Joel pulls me over to the first truck, not easing the grip on my wrist until we stand at the cargo bed. 

“Grab that side, get ready to pull it up,” Joel orders in quiet, clipped words, nodding towards the canvas. 

My heart is in my throat as I scramble to grip the edge with my trembling fingers. I can feel the weight of the darkness around me, and the silence that seems impossible. Everything today has been a narrow miss, this shouldn’t be so easy.

“Stop!” a voice roars from the building beside us. 

I freeze. My fingers hover over the canvas material. A wave of dizziness pours over me. 

This is it. 

I release a shuddering breath as the guard marches over. 

“Don’t say a word,” Joel commands under his breath. From the corner of my eye I can see that his arms are raised above his head, submitting entirely to the threat of the enforcer. I do the same, lifting my arms and biting down on my bottom lip hard enough to hurt.

The enforcer’s boots are heavy as he approaches, shining his torch over the truck bed, illuminating our crime. 

“What’re you doing out here?” he barks. 

I know the barrel of his gun is pointed towards me, I can feel the awareness of my inevitable bullet wound spark across my back. 

I bite down harder on my lip, tasting blood. My breaths are rushing out at an erratic pace as I tear through my thoughts to find some memory to end this life with. 

A sharp ringing noise invades my ears, turning the enforcer’s words into a dull murmur as I close my eyes, squeezing hard, waiting for the bullet to find me. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

I’m still alive. 

Why am I still alive?

I open my eyes, blinking a few times to clear my blurry vision. My whole face trembles as I look towards Joel. 

He’s gone. 

I whip my head around. Air whooshes in my ears. 

Joel stands behind me with his arm wrapped around the enforcer’s neck. His gun is on the ground and his flashlight has rolled towards the truck tire, painting everything around us in a grimm shadow. 

I don’t have time to cry out. I don’t have time to cover my eyes. I see that flash of hunger in Joel’s dark gaze and hear the sick crunch of the guard’s neck. 

Is that what my dad’s neck sounded like? 

Nausea attacks my stomach and I sway on my feet. 

“Alex,” Joel says, his voice breathless. “Alex, look at me.”

It takes everything in me to swing my focus back to Joel’s face. He’s holding onto the guard’s dead body, pulling him up as his feet start to drag on the ground. 

“I need you to open the truck bed, quickly,” Joel orders. 

My eyebrows furrow and I blink slowly, unsure I’ve heard him right. 

“What?” I ask, barely hearing my own voice above the ringing in my ears. 

The look in Joel’s eyes hits me like frigid water. 

“Open the truck, now.”

I turn and scramble with the canvas, using every bit of strength in my body to pull it back. 

“What are you doing?” I demand, finally finding my voice as I step away from the truck. 

Joel starts dragging the guard over to the truck bed. “Grab his legs,” he commands. 

Without thinking, I reach out and put my hands under his legs, pulling them into the air. Joel takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and rolls the guard into the truck bed, his arms shaking with the weight. 

When the guard is on the truck, I stumble backwards, desperate to be as far away from the body as possible. My mind is swimming with the anticipation of the next gun that’ll be trained on me. 

“They’ve found us, we - we’re dead,” I stutter out as my fingers find my temples.

“Listen,” Joel says and pauses to let me hear the silence that surrounds us. “No one else is comin’. We gotta get in the truck.” 

“But the -” 

“We’re not leavin’ a dead body for the guards to find. It’s comin’ with us” Joel explains as he bends down to collect the man’s gun and torch, tossing them into the truck. 

I start shaking my head. “No, no, no, no.” 

Joel lets out a sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl and strides towards me, placing his hands around my head, stilling my movements and focusing my attention on him. 

“I made a fuckin’ promise to your dad. You’re gettin’ on that truck and I'm gettin’ you outta here,” Joel declares, curling his fingers into my hair. 

“I can’t,” I sniff, feeling weaker than I ever have before. 

Joel’s eyes fly upwards and a muscle jumps in his jaw. But he doesn’t shout, he doesn’t rage. “Alex, you gotta do this sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

My eyes flash open at the sound of the nickname he’s always teased me with. For the first time, the word actually sounds genuine as it leaves his lips. 

I think of my dad. I think of what he’d want for me: death by hanging or a chance at escape. 

“Okay,” I breathe. 

Something resembling relief flashes in Joel’s eyes. 

His hand is on my wrist again, pulling me towards the truck. Joel bends, locks his palms together and places them for me to step on. I don’t think about what is waiting for me in the truck bed, I grab hold of the edge of the truck and step into Joel’s hand. In one strong movement, I’m boosted onto the truck… and onto the dead body. 

My mouth opens in a silent scream, the horror is locked in my throat, restrained by my fear of getting caught. 

I crawl off him, scrambling under the canvas hood to the corner of the truck bed. 

Joel gets in after me, narrowly missing the body, before expertly turning and placing the canvas back over his head and pinning it to the edge of the truck bed, as if we were never here. 

With the canvas hood closed, we descend into complete darkness. 

Despite being unable to see the body, I know it’s here, inches away, reminding me of every other death I’ve been a part of today. 

In the dark, the body could be my dad’s, Theo’s… 

The cry that I’d strangled comes rushing forward and I slam my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound. 

“Shh,” Joel whispers from beside me. 

I jump, hitting my head off the canvas. 

“Relax,” he orders, shifting to lie down beside me, pushing me into the edge of the truck bed, away from the body. 

It’s too late, my sorrow has been unleashed, I can’t rein it back in. 

My whole body is shaking. My teeth begin to chatter.

“Shit,” Joel drawls. His voice inches away from my ear. 

In the darkness of the truck bed, there’s nothing to dispel the ghosts that surround me. They’re piling onto me, crushing me down into the metal surface, suffocating me with their agony. 

A hand slides around the curve of my waist, anchoring me reality, dragging me away from the gravesite in my mind. 

“Breath in,” Joel murmurs against the shell of my ear, his lips touching my skin. 

Shocked by his command, I inhale a shaky breath. 

“Hold it,” he orders. 

I listen to the sound of his heartbeat against my back. 

“Release,” Joel says, his voice a breathy whisper as the air slowly leaves my lungs. 

My pulse begins to slow.

“Good girl,” he praises as my breaths even out and my panic subsides. 

Joel’s approval feels strange, unnatural even. But I can’t deny the warmth that spreads through my body when the words leave his lips. 

Eventually, my eyelids close and I stop listening for sounds outside the truck. 

Joel’s heartbeat echoes through my body, each beat reminding me that I’m alive, that I’m not another dead body in this truck.

____________________

[ilys00ga]

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

PROLOGUE → (FIRST CHAPTER) → FIRST CHAPTER

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you're in the wind, I'm in the water.. somebody's son, somebody's daughter..

OR: Sirens and humans were made to be at war with one another. To sear their deadly bond, not with love, not with wealth, not with rules and restrictions... but with flowing blood and torn flesh. That's what history says. That's what's bound to be.

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc.

: ̗̀➛ tags: mute human!yoongi, farmer!yoongi, yoongi has long hair (dday era length, or longer, u do u), half siren half human!reader, reader is obsessed (almost yandere-ish (we'll see as the story progresses)), she's lost and unhappy as well, got her issues (totally not projecting here), forbidden love and relationships, middle ages/old times era theme, supernatural, slow burn (I tried), strangers to lovers (?), fluff, angst, bloody or dark themes. more tags could be added eventually.

: ̗̀➛ A/N: first chappie woop woop! thank u!!! for the lovely comments I got on the prologue. honestly? I'm kinda nervous about how yall will take this fic starting from now, but! as I said before, please give it a try, I'll do my best.. 🥹 this is my first time making a fic like this one. be patient with me loves. there we go now. enjoy <333 don't forget to leave ur feedback, whatever it is, I'll take it all!!!

★ MOODBOARD.

★ MASTERLIST.

I could feel it all.

The heavy downpour that fell over my head, my shoulders and everything else around me. Felt it as it soaked through my entirely drenched being and bled into my cold flesh, as if trying to reach my pounding heart and sooth it down.

Keep going.

I could feel my legs trembling like they were not attached to the human body that was carrying me. The sand that clung to my feet as soon as I slipped out of the ocean waves, mournful at my departure, minutes before that, turned into wet, cold soil and stuck to my feet, creeping up between my toes and underneath my nails.

Don't stop. Keep running.

I could feel the ground shaking underneath me with each booming crack of thunder. A flash of lightning struck the angry sky above every few minutes passing by. I was able to get a clear glimpse of the path of trees, grass and rocks in front of me for brief, spasmodic seconds, before everything fell completely dark again.

They'll get you. Don't stop.

With frail legs and rapid breaths of air, I sped up my pace and ran as fast as my human legs could go, while my heart felt as though it could jump right up my throat and run ahead of me to my aimed destination.

Run, don't stop.

I didn’t stop even when I could spot the brick house I was in dire need of seeing, of setting foot into.

Run, don't stop.

I didn’t stop until I made it to the rag that laid on its naked concrete front step.

I tried to quickly open the door, but it didn’t budge. Tried thumping my fists against its wet, cold wooden surface, the name of the woman I yearned to reunite with slipping out of my mouth naturally, nothing happened.

Stop. Think.

Everything was too dark and too still to think properly. The pitter patter of the rain drops against the muddy ground was overwhelmingly loud in my ears.

All I could think about was locking myself in that small house and never stepping out of it ever again.

The creaking of the door cut my string of thoughts short as it was pulled open in front of me. I couldn't make her features out in the dark, but relief washed over me once I could smell that familiar scent and hear that dear voice to my heart asking who was banging on her door at god knows what hour in the night.

Stop. We're safe. Breathe.

Several minutes after that, the scent of fresh herbal tea tickled my nostrils as I made my way down the stairs, clad in dry, warm sleep clothing.

Warm, safe.

The wooden steps squeaked everytime I put my weight on them, which almost made me giggle like a child getting lifted and thrown in the air, then caught in a warm embrace again. But the heaviness of my body, the way it felt wobbly and unsteady as I dragged it across the first floor, and the reality of my life as it fell down on my being over and over again, it all snatched the will to giggle out of me.

We can't go back.

Deeba was stirring tea on the cast iron stove. A simple act that evoked images from the past to my mind, all the times she made me different types of herbal tea and we went to drink them at the beach, or by some lake. Before everything changed and I never stepped foot on land again.

In shorter, simpler terms, Deeba was my father's blood sister, my aunt.

In longer, more in depth terms, Deeba was my only family ashore. The only one left of—or more accurately, the only one I was ever aware of—my human bloodline and the person who took my hand and guided me through the convolution of my human self. Despite and despite and despite.

She was a woman of young features despite being in her late fifties. With her jet black hair that had some of its stubborn front strands clinging onto paleness she liked to cover with head scarves, and her usual long dresses, she always had that tidied up look of hers.

Due to the nature of her profession, some people of the humble village referred to her as a mystical witch—which is, for the most part, something she often laughed at and enjoyed entertaining by decorating the house with things like crystals, brooms, a big cauldron used for cooking purposes, along with a number of other “witch items".

She was that kind of woman, one that held galaxies in her hands and a heart bigger than a blue whale, but is seen as the mistress of the devil himself.

But at the end of the day, people, no matter what color their hearts were, they always crawl back to the devil and seek him out. One way or another, by all means necessary.

But Deeba was no such thing. She was the sweetest person with the kindest heart, even with that stern glare of hers that never left her face, and that gruff voice of hers that showed no trace of playfulness. A healer who loved transmuting plants and different kinds of goods into powerful, healing remedies in that little village. Who has an almost deific amount of knowledge and wisdom, not bothering to care about the whispers and the what ifs of the villagers around her.

“Come sit.” She said, once I made it to the dining room, her voice still as deep and unwavering as I could remember. There was one lit candle on the large wooden table. It served to lend me some sense of company while she was occupied there.

As I plopped down on a chair, she put a cup in front of me, before moving to sit on the other side of the table with her own one in hand. I cupped mine in my hold, its warmth kissed my skin as I took a moment to watch the steam rise from the rim.

When I was a child, I always wanted to dive into a good, hot cup of tea. Something about the way it looked was very inviting to my young brain, back then.

“Nothing changed here. You didn’t change at all..” I dared to break the silence with these hushed words. “I missed you.”

Deeba’s reply came a little later, her voice more gentle than before, but still holding onto its nonchalant air: “I thought she'd never allow you a foot ashore again. What happened?”

I stayed silent for a little more, thinking over my words. “Nothing in particular.. Why? You don’t want me here anymore?”

“Don’t get all ridiculous now.” She gave a light huff. “You’re still as lippy as ever.”

A faint smile made its way up my mouth, my shoulders raising in a quick shrug. “You always secretly found it entertaining, I know of that.”

She continued to eye me up in silence, like she was trying to fish something out of my skin as I continued to avoid that inevitable question.

Her gaze gave up on studying me as it shifted to my wrist, where my skin wore the royal siren symbol. The very tattoo that put me and my family in a different category than the rest of the sirens across all oceans. She then reached out to hold my arm in a gentle grasp and observed it thoroughly.

“Alright. I've been searching for an assistant lately, but none of the ones I have found were fit for my liking.” Her finger traced the lines of the dark shape as she continued speaking steadily. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to help me around until I figure out what to do.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“What do you mean ‘then what’?” Her voice sounded too fixed and firm for my question. “This is your house.”

Deeba withdrew her hands and stood up from her chair. Having spent enough precious years of my life with her, I knew she had so much to say and so much to ask, but didn't push any further. How could she, after all that happened, starting from the moment I was born up to the moment I sat there before her, anyway?

Nonetheless, a wave of relief washed over me entirely as she brushed off my unspoken worries.

“I have something to show you. Finish your tea, it’ll soothe you.” With those words, she walked out of the door before I could even give a reaction.

I found myself all alone in that warm kitchen. I hated silence. The silence deep in the ocean, the silence of the world around me when I'm no longer living a symphony with it…

Silence wasn't gentle with me at all. I sat there with the rim of the cup between my lips, waiting for Deeba to come back down again. The sound of raindrops hitting the roof over my head battled with the loudness of the wild thoughts flooding my skull once again and nibbling at my brain.

The walls kept staring at me in a deafening, dead air, until the door of the house flung violently open, pulling me out of my head as it collided with the wall in a thud. Several footsteps followed that as they rushed into the house.

I lifted my head and froze in my place at the sight.

There, only a few steps away from where I stood, I saw the moon again.

We found him.

Something inside of me switched in an instant. Days went on and I’ve been thinking about him. The memory of him on that boat, so close yet so, so far away from me, played in my head like a piercing cry. But then there he was, standing at the entrance of the dining room.

However, instead of being the moon of the daytime, calm and serene, he looked frantic. Like a school of sardines running for its life when a whale is looking for its lunch.

He was drenched from head to toe. His long hair stuck to his skin and dark eyes searched around the place as if he was looking for something particular. A chill slipped its way down my spine when our gazes locked together.

Say something. Do something.

He scurried over towards me, eating up the distance between us. We stood face to face. He started moving his hands in precise, hurried movements. I stared with my mouth slightly open, perplexed and speechless as ever.

It seemed like he was repeating the same movements over and over again, frowning and huffing at my lack of response.

Say something.

He moved to tap on the table beside us repeatedly. I still couldn't break free from the intensity of his eyes yet.

"I- Sorry-?" was all I managed to utter, and I wanted to scream, both from the intensity of the moment and the way he was looking at me.

If I could describe it, I’d say it was dark, enraged and agitated. It held an incredible amount of despair and urgency in it, a contradiction that spoke to my very soul and begged for something I wasn’t even sure what it was.

The moon is upset.

"I don't understand…" I tried again, once I managed to find my voice.

The tension in my body dwindled to a faint clench in my stomach once I heard Deeba coming back down the stairs. To think that the mere presence of a person could bring quiet to chaos in an instance..

"Goodness, Yoongi. What brings you here at this hour?" Despite its unwavering nonchalance, her voice was layered with concern, cutting the string of my thoughts short.

It was obvious that her presence wasn't a safety ring to me alone, because the man– Yoongi?– heaved a sigh that seemed so incredibly relieved as soon as he saw her too.

He faced her and started moving his hands again. I could recognize some movements from a few seconds ago, and I stood there watching the rest of the scene unfold before me, feeling like a complete outsider.

Deeba seemed to understand whatever was happening immediately. She, ever so calmly, said: "Alright, calm down. I'm coming with you at this instant."

With confident, swift steps, she moved to grab a dark pouch bag that was sitting on one of the chairs, tossed in some bottles that'd been neatly lined up on a wooden shelf on the wall, then turned to instruct me in a clear tone, "I have to go see a patient. It's too late, don't wait for me and go to sleep."

I couldn't even protest, she was already gone, alongside the man. I watched him step out of the house with a spring in his legs. Something inside of me wished he stayed a bit longer instead.

I let out a sigh and put the cup of tea in the sink, just like Deeba taught me growing up.

My body felt so heavy. My legs, still feeling like they didn't belong to me, carried me to the attic upstairs. The room in which I spent most of the time as a child everytime I visited the land.

Standing in the middle of the small room, nothing changed in it. Nothing was special about it, to begin with, but it was always my special place. The place in which my younger brain felt as though it could conquer the seven oceans and the massive lands one of those days.

There, between those four walls and the small window that overlooked my vast, blue home in the distance, nothing ever mattered. Not who I was, who I was supposed to be, nor what was expected of me to be. None of that mattered in there. It was just me and my bed. My book shelves and my father's picture, framed and placed on the small bedside table.

I, of course, didn't forget to talk to the moon that night. As I gazed up at the sky through the window, I also thanked the bright stars for bringing him to my path again. For not rendering my prayers mere whispers into the air.

- [to be continued...]

[jjzzhyunie]

UNDER HIS GAZE | HAECHAN #1

pairing: haechan x fem!oc

title: chapter #1 ‘me and the devil’

prologue: “Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly.”

summary: Parents murdered by vampires, Yoo-jin Seo seeks revenge on Donghyuck by hunting him down.

genre: thriller drama, vampires, modern au, vampire hunter x vampire, plot twists, enemies to lovers trope.

note: this is a series.

©️ everything belongs to @jjzzhyunie 2024

In the tapestry of time, death spins a web of tales, each moment woven with care into memories to recall. Yet Yoojin eyes afire, holds fate in trembling palms, against the hourglass' constant sand.

As Yoojin walks through the forest woods, the memories of her parents' funeral seep in, wearing a tradional korean attire in all black comes back to her. The solemn procession, the sounds of wailing, and the sight of her parents' pictures being lowered down with the coffin to the ground.

This all flickers like a tape in her mind, Yoojin pushes onwards despite all of this. Determination was a weak word for what she is feeling. The pain on that day was a fresh wound, still bleeding.

'I'll catch him.' Yoojin tells herself, like a mantra that strengthens her doubts. She will catch him.

She contiues down her search in the unknown secluded area, parts of the forest were barely lit by the sun and Yoojin can't help feeling a sense of uneasiness. The trees seem to loom over her, their shadows dancing eerily in the dim moonlight. Every rustle of leaves makes her jump, every snapped twig sounding like a potential threat. But Yoojin pushes through the fear.

Looking for any signs of life but her own, Yoojin was unsuccusful at it. Though her body was nothing but left weak. Hunger, a constant companion on the journey with her, it's presence felt in every pang of emptiness. But grief and anger, stronger than any hunger that consumes her, leaves no room for respite.

A relentless restlessness grips at her soul, as the darkness of mourning and rage take take their tol. Each step, each breath, a struggle against the troubling tide of pain, fueling her ceaseless pursuit.

Going up somewhere the soil sinks under her boots, four men start to spot Yoojin and their presence immediately setting off warn signals in her body, even before her mind had fully registered the danger. The two men behind let out a whistle of some kind, which made Yoojin's arms stand up with hair.

Their smirks were a big gateaway that they cannot be trusted, with their rifles in their hands casually held. "You look lost," was the smooth reply from one man. He looks to be older, mid forties and the leader of his three friends behind him.

Yoojin was ready to reply to them instantly. "I'm heading somewhere," she said cooly.

They looked at each other, their expressions sly as they exhanged looks. "Well, we wouldn't want a beautiful young miss like you getting lost all alone in the forest. Especially with vampires lurking around lately." One of them said.

"Maybe we can help you out?" The man in front of Yoojin said, his tone drippng with insincerity.

She grits her teeth together, her body tensing as she prepeared to defend herself in neccessary when the men took few steps forward to where Yoojin stands. She keeps her vague answers sharp.

"I appreciate the offer, but i can manage on my own." Yoojin replies with her gaze sweeping over the group, sizing them up nearly.

Yoojin quickly went past them around and starts to walk the front path to leave them, but one spoke behind Yoojin and the men hurdle to follow Yoojin anyways, despite her protest from earlier.

"Now now, lets not be hasty. We're just trying to protect you from the vampires that can be around." The sinister tone was a camouflage by the fake-pretend chivalry.

Yoojin could see right past it with her uncomfortable intuition.

Before she could react, the two leap to the front and block the path, their large bodies looming in the narrow pathway. In blink of an eye, she was suddenly pressed up against them, her rifle falling to the ground with a loud thud. And soon enough, before she knew it Yoojin felt a rough hand grab her arm and push her down. Face hitting the rough ground betwen soil and auburn dry leaves. Pinned up behind four men.

Men's laughter rang out, a cruel sound that sent chills down her spine. Yoojin struggles to get out, any sort of movement was impossible under the weight of four men. It became tiring, a tug of war rather to escape this clinch.

Yoojin grows numb real quick, despair clawing at her as the men overshadow behind. The sounds of clothes become a scary alert to her. Yoojin's eyes widen and she panics once more.

"Now isn't the time to be screaming," He laughs. "No one can hear you anyways. We're deep in the forest."

The three men that watched everything unfold suddenly turn towards the sound of a twig snapping. The three rifles turned towards the trees and steep flooring. The man pinning her down looks up too.

"Go check it out you three," their leader said nonchalantly but fimrly too. They can only glance back at him, the tension was papable in their hesition to walk up to where the sound came.

Then without a humanly possible warning, a flashing scene through the trees from above landing on one of the men with a deadly precision. There was a brief moment of shock.

"It's a vampire!"

Chaos erupts when the two remaining men saw how their friend was dismembered and killed with a single slash, the sounds of rifles being fired sets Yoojin's adrenaline on fire.

But it was too late, the figure had moved way before the human eye could counter.

The vampire dispatched the two men next, his movements like lightning came to life. Only one remaining was the leader and it wasnt long until the man moved off Yoojin to grab his rifle to deal with the vampire. He raised it up to fire at the shadow-figure only to be met with a deserved fate.

Yoojin took the advantagr to crawl closer the familar weight of her own rifle in arms. With a determined cry she rose to her two own feet, spinning around and firing both the man and unknown vampire.

He fell to the ground and mortally wounded, but the vampire was merely scratched and its eyes ablazed by the challenge.

In quick movements it lungs to Yoojin. She leapts back, her own rifle clutched title to her hands. Yoojin knew she had to run away, she did not stand a chance against this vampire.

She ran for it. Yoojin darted through the forest, her feet pounding against the ground as she ducked under low hanging branches and leapt over a fallen logs. It was as if the trees themselves were closing in on her, their trunks forming a disoreinting maze that all looked the same.

Each step forward felt like a step eeper into a nightmare, as if she was trapped in a cycle of endless chase.

Yoojin stumps her foot over a rock, tripping on the ground front face. As Yoojin stumbles and fell, her eyes catching sight of the abandoned hospital in the area. Its crumbling walls cast long shadows across the floor. Before she could even process the situation, the vampire leaned down his hand grasping her arms.

But just as he moved closer, a voice cut through the stillness breaking the tension. As Yoojin looked up, she saw Donghyuck standing there. His eyes fixed on the other vampire, his stance was tense and intimdating.

The guy looks so familar, then it all clogged Yoojin's mind. That was him. The night of her parents death, he was the last one Yoojin saw before disappering in the night.

The tone in his voice was like a challenge between sarcasm and unbothered. "What are you doing in my territory?" he echoed, his gaze narrowing studying the other vampire. He looks newly turned and batshit-crazy to Donghyuck.

His words were met with defiance, the other vampire refused to answer or move out of the area which Donghyuck has claimed since last night.

Yoojin watched in silence, her gaze flickering between the two vampires with uncertain fear and fasincation. She had never seen such an interaction, and she wasnt sure what is going to happen. What will this mean for her?

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as Donghyuck's rolled up his sleeves, his body language was a clear gateway to how threatening he became. Before Yoojin could even react, he took a decisive step forward, his gaze locking onto the other vampire. In the moment, the vampire's face shifted to Donghyuck, dropping Yoo-jin carelessly to the ground.

"I am going to count to three, and you better run off."

For a brief moment, the vampire hesitated, as if hoping for some sort of reprieve. But Donghyuck's tone was clear, his expression firm. Before the vampire could fully proces the situation, Donghyuck's voice rang out.

"One."

Suddenly the latter ran off, he took the cue and left for Donghyuck's final number. Yoojin’s body became tense, a sense of familiar danger alerts her to run for it. She grabbed her rifle and took off running. As if her life depends on it.

Donghyuck’s eyes on her as Yoojin fled suddenly. But she didn’t dare to pause to look back at the killer of her parents.

Unfortunately, her escape was cut short when she trips up over a patch of loose soil on the edge of a steep slope.

She stumbles, losing her balance and then she starts to roll down the hill, tumbling recklessly down like a sack of potatoes.

As Yoojin lands front face to the bottom, at the base of the hill. She groans, her body aching from the rough fall and landing. She felta wave of embarssment wash over her.

Suddenly, Donghyuck's voice rang out above, and she looked up to see him standing at the top of the hill. "What an idiot," he muttered, his tone laced with annoyance, as he begins to go down the slope to get to her.

She could feel her cheeks burn with anger and shame. The humilation was enough to sent her to her early grave. Her legs felt like jelly amongst the many bruises from the fall.

Donghyuck approached her, his expression unreadable. Under his gaze was this human girl, who strangely looks at him as if she's already known him. Hated him.

But he can't seem to remember her.

Yoojin found herself in a situation sooner than she expected. She takes a small peak and saw that Donghyuck is armed with a knife, not only that, but his foot on top of her rifle when she reached for it. She was once again, weaponless.

"It's you." Yoojin said with an itch to now seek her revenge.

Donghyuck tilts his head slightly at the sound of how hateful she sounds to him, as if she already knows him. He turns to look down at the girl properly with his eyes.

"Do i know you?" He asks smoothly with an undertone sarcasm in it.

"No but i know you." Her reply begins. "You killed my parents!" Yoojin starts while turning her lips to a thin unwelcoming line. Fists clenched together.

Donghyuck's mouth twitchs slightly at the accusation. He narrows his eyes at the human girl, Yoojin was slowly getting up from the ground. Dusting off any bits of dirt remaining to the clothes.

"Killed your parents? I don't ever remember laying a finger on them, darling." Donghyuck casually said, uncared for the situation of the loss. It's more like he's certain that the accusation is wrong.

Yoojin never expected such belief that seems so real, but she saw Donghyuck that night. She remembers a face like his anywhere. "Liar, i saw you that night and i'm going to kill you."

Yoojin's hand reached out a knife to slash forward to the vampire's shoulder blade. It never crossed Yoojin's mind there would be a power difference, even though thats the most basic knowledge out there. Vampires are much superior in terms of hunting. But she didn't care for her safety. She was driven by grief and revenge more than the fear of dying.

Donghyuck was amused more than surprised by the attack. An attempt, he would call it rather. He easily pushed back Yoojin and twists her around until a single push to her back makes her fall over a large tree to the front. Completely he parried a knife, not even using his vampire genetics. More just his heightened survival.

"Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly." He said with his head tilted with arms crossed over his chest.

Was he seriously just correcting Yoojin on how to land a slash on him? She felt insulted. Belitted.

Which only caused her grief and anger to mix together, close to exploding like an erupted volcano. Yoojin turned back and lung her hand forward, the knife creating this whoosh sound in the air. Donghyuck takes simple steps back to avoid being slashed by a basic knife, a kitchen knife it looks to be.

She then ends up being tripped up, again, for what felt like a hundreth time falling over on the ground. Donghyuck saw how she was so easily tripped by his feet. Yoojin's defence was down, she's not rationally thinking. Donghyuck made sure to put a stop to her mindless swinging with a knife.

It looked like child-play to him.

Yoojin lets out a small eugh when she lands on the ground with her head slightly bumped. The rifle was somewhere on the ground between the auburn leaves, and her knife laid next to her face. Her blurry vision grew to normal, Yoojin saw Donghyuck standing above her in front.

She flashed him a glare, her hair completely roughed up with leaves in them from the fall. "What do you want?" Yoojin throws because Donghyuck was just staring at her, not impressed.

An eyebrow was raised on his face when he saw that glare on her face. He sighs tiredly.

"Get up," Donghyuck says simply looking around the area, his voice smooth yet demanding. He doesn't make any move to remove his foot from the ground, he just waits for her to get up from the pathetic ground.

Looming over her, he did see a few things in the dim light outside on her face. Donghyuck saw the minor cuts and scratches on her face, indicating it from the falls. Maybe even struggle against the troublesome people earlier.

She grunts when leisurely going up on her feet, Yoojin blows some of her messy hair away in a huff, like a small child does. Yoojin made sure there was a good enough distance between the vampire and her eyes ocasionally observe the surroudings.

"What do you want?" She asked again. "Going to kill me like you killed my parents, huh?" Yoojin slowly brought up with an intent to provoke malicous to him.

Yoojin saw Donghyuck let out an exasperted sigh, the patience starting to wear thin. He rolls his eyes slightly and crosses his arms. "I already told you, i didn't kill them." He repeats sounding frustrated.

But when he saw her eyes constantly looking down towards the rifle, he simply reached for the weapon and shown it to her. He held the rifle with his two hands. "Looking for this?" he mocks, tapping the rifle on the ground.

Yoojin tried to hold the urge to just, try and stab him again. But she failed because the next thing that happened was Donghyuck quickly dodging a knife in the air that Yoojin reached for nearby before. He gave a disappoited eye roll.

The next thing she knew, she was held in a tight grip. Wrist held by a very strong hand forcing her to drop the knife and Donghyuck wasn't being so, tolerant anymore.

His grip was pretty tight but not enough to snap a bone yet. It is strong enough to keep the girl from not atacking him every five seconds like a maniac.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at her widen eyes full of fear, his dark eyes piercing into them. The amusement from earlier is gone and now he was simply serious on the matter.

"I'm going to let go of your wrist now, and if you try anything i'm going to break it. Got it?" Donghyuck threatens sternly. But he saw Yoojin's non verbal reply as a sign that she understood it.

Yoojin was tempted but she didn't act on it this time. In fact she stood still and slowly takes back her wrist released from his hand. Donghyuck trails off next.

"See? I'm trying to be Mr nice guy, i don't usually do that." He points out sarcastically at the sudden quiet girl, but all he got was a glare. And as if she wants to just run away. Far away from him.

He sighs again. "Look, you're hurt and you must be lost. I have enough space for you to camp in my home."

"How do i know you won't kill me?" She shot at Donghyuck, defensively holding suspicion.

He gave her a look, as if thats the most obvious thing in the world. Donghyuck matter of factly points out. "Because if i wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."

She scoffs but Donghyuck already started to make his way back up, he assumed the girl will follow. She has nowhere else to go and her chances being safe from other vampires are high with him.

"Didn't realise vampires have sense of hospitality." She sarcastically shouts but eventually Yoojin weighs the pros and cons. Ultimately she starts to slowly tag behind Donghyuck.

Maybe she can always get back at him. But not right now.

[levi-ackermvn]

happy friday !! i hope y’all are crying with me ( and sloane ) ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ anyways, i will NEVER, EVER get over this beautiful, yet heart wrenching commission by the incredible koldangreyart on twitter (*^Д^*)ゞ thank you so much for constantly exceeding my expectations with every comm. it’s always a pleasure working with you <3

[ DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, OR TRACE!!! this artwork was commissioned for my fic so please do not steal it ]

[ this is an oc x canon post. if you do not like it, please kindly leave. any negative, hateful, or weird comments that has nothing to do with my post or fic will be deleted ]

unpublished excerpt below <3

Her gaze drifted aimlessly over the wreckage, each fragment a shapeless blur as she struggled to grasp the remnants of reality. A relentless throb pulsed in her head. A dense fog muddled her thoughts, pierced only by the persistent ringing in her right ear. Rain battered her face, mingling with the soaked grass beneath her. The cold droplets seeped into her skin.

The acrid scent of smoke invaded her lungs. Every inhale was a jagged knife, searing through her chest. Then, a more familiar odor pierced through the haze—something unmistakable and metallic, something she couldn’t escape all those years as a scout.

Blood.

Too much blood. 

Dread curled around her heart, its terrible grip tightening with each passing moment. Was this sickening stench coming from her? Was she the source of all the blood that tainted the air? Am I... dying? No. 

She had felt Death’s shadow before, beneath the Reiss family’s church. These current wounds she had, whatever they were, couldn’t produce such an overpowering smell.

If it wasn’t from her… where did it come from?

Her eyes searched the wreckage anew. A sense of urgency driving her as the throbbing in her head grew louder, desperate to uncover the source of the ghastly smell. Gradually, the shapes around her grew clearer, revealing a figure sprawled face down beside the riverbank, disturbingly still. Sloane blinked hard, willing her vision to sharpen. A green cloak, emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom insignia, crystallized into agonizing clarity. 

No.

A raw, anguished sound tore from her throat, shattering the very air—a wail she hadn't known she was capable of. Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, lost in the unrelenting rain as if the heavens themselves wept with her. Instinctively, she dragged herself toward him, each movement a searing torment as she sought to bridge the vast distance between them. The ache in her body faded into insignificance, now overwhelmed by an unspeakable fear. 

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. 

The thought surged within her like a fervent incantation, imploring to whichever unseen force might grant her this one mercy.

Please.

Please don’t take him from me too.

Sloane had weathered the storm of loss time and time again, each one carving a deep, invisible scar. With each passage of sorrow, she was able to piece herself back together, little by little, until the raw pain softened into a distant memory. But… if he were to die, if he were to slip away from this cruel world they vowed to save together, leaving her to endure this unbearable fate alone, it would shatter her beyond repair.

She clawed her way through the mud. Her fingers dug into the sodden ground, feeling the soil beneath her nails. Once, this same earth had been a source of innocent delight, evoking the carefree days of her youth, where every inch of her had been joyfully smeared in the spirit of adventure.

Now, the sensation only made her skin crawl. 

Her cries grew frantic as she summoned all the strength she could possibly muster to bridge the distance between them. Each excruciating inch she covered felt like a thousand lifetimes, her limbs trembling with the effort.

Some part of her clung to the fragile hope that this was but a horrific nightmare. A cruel illusion from which she would awaken in the sanctuary of his arms, discovering him whole and well, just as he had always been.

Please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up.

But that hope dwindled away when she at last reached his side. With trembling hands, she carefully turned him over. The sight that met her eyes unraveled her completely.

Levi’s face, his beautiful face—a canvas she adored with every fiber of her being—was now barely recognizable. She could not see the arch of his brow, the creases of his forehead, or the slant of his mouth beneath the sea of red. The blood, a relentless tide, coated his pale skin, defying even the rain’s mournful efforts to cleanse him free of the stain.

She peered into his eyes, yearning to glimpse even a whisper of life within the familiar steel blue. One eye was ravaged and awash in crimson, yet both stared back with a haunting emptiness. 

The knife inside her heart twisted further.

Her sobs clamored in her ears, loud enough to deafen the rain’s ceaseless patter and the faintest of breaths that may still rattle in his chest.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RUNAWAY FROM ME - EXCERPT

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x oc

Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.

Warnings - Dark content, noncon, dubcon, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.

Word Count - 1.6k

Notes - The little teaser for the Tommy story I wanna write. Please let me know what you think, it would be highly appreciated.

The band came to a sudden stop, the audience’s heads turned towards the three men that strode through the dining. All three of them wore peaked caps with large overcoats as they walked tall. They approached the stage and Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel her heart thud harder in her chest as this suspicious tingle crawled over her skin with her light brown eyes glued onto the men that felt too familiar. Deirdre’s heart froze when the man in front came to clear sight as he took off his cap, revealing his harsh undercut styled brunette hair.  

Thomas Shelby. 

Her face went numb when his pale hands wrapped around the microphone, ears clogged as his words fell deaf yet she remembered the sound of his deep, captivating voice perfectly. The two other men, which she quickly recognised to be his brothers, Arthur and John, stood with their chests puffed out, arms locked across shoulders and stern expressions. 

Deirdre’s heart pounded in her chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. Even though her head was frozen in line to his speech, her eyes were darting around, already planning her escape. The room was full, surely his blue eyes would not be able to point her out in the depths of the occupied round tables. Let alone recognise her after all of these years. 

How could she have been so foolish? The massive city of London had never felt smaller than tonight. She had heard his name many times and every time it felt like a stab in the heart. He had made a name for himself, built an empire in that fire and brimstone city. Just like he always said he would. Her father and dear husband already hated him, gypsy bastard. Every day she prayed for their obliviousness to her heavy past with him.

It felt like her soul was pulled out of her body when his blue eyes landed on her. His mouth fell ajar open as his long lashes batted, head gently tilting to the left as he acknowledged her, remembering her thoroughly. The brothers noticed his pause and looked towards her as well, she couldn’t help but to cower slightly. The rest of the room was oblivious to the stare off between him and her. 

“And now, shall we dance?” He suggested it in a slow and challenging manner. One hand snapped to que towards the band and the other gestured towards his brothers.  

The sounds of jazz roared against the walls as everyone abruptly stood up. A deer caught in headlights, that’s how Deirdre felt at first. As she watched him walk down the stage, his eyes still on her. The brothers were already out of her sight. 

She snapped back to reality when Jack’s fingers traced over her bare shoulder. Deidre gulped hard as she quickly stood up, nervously brushing through her dark loose brunette hair. 

“Sorry, I, I suddenly don't feel too well” Deirdre admitted, which was actually a lie, but the implication went in the opposite direction. 

“Nonsense! I haven’t even gotten a single dance with you yet” Jack acclaimed with a charming smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

Her eyes shot towards the stage, he’s gone. 

“I’m so sorry, I really must go” Deidre quickly spoke, her voice trembling as she yanked herself out of his grasp. 

She heard him rebut, however she was already heading straight towards the large doors as she zigzagged through the crowd. Unfortunately, her poorly planned escape route had quickly soiled, she spotted Arthur and John standing on opposite sides of the exit. They were always loyal pawns in his game. There was a pause in her movements as her eyes shot around, her body covered in pins and needles. 

She’d escape through the workers quarters. But as she turned in a hasty measure, her small body smacked into another. The arms that she had felt years before wrapped around her possessively as he steadied her stance. There was no doubt who it was, no hope for it to be another. 

“My dearest Deirdre, my eyes will never fail to spot your beauty no matter how you age. May I have this dance?” Tommy asked with a stern expression but soft voice, head tilted down towards her as she kept her eyes on the floor. 

The coat he wore was gone, and she could easily feel his muscular frame hidden underneath the button up shirt, not to mention the pistol in his holster. His cold hand lifted her chin and their eyes locked. As she blinked slowly, her eyes glistering, she bit on her tongue. Tommy waited patiently for her next move. 

Show no fear. 

“If I knew that the Eden Club was in your possession I would have steered clear. We can pretend that you never saw me” Deidre negotiated confidently but her front failed when her body shook against his. 

Tommy laughed loudly as his arm around her waist tightened in a proprietorial manner. 

“Unfortunately we have unfinished business, you and I” Tommy replied coldly. 

“Please, surely you haven't held onto those emotions for all of these years” Deirdre chuckled presumptuously as she tried to push their bodies apart without gaining attention.   

Tommy grunted at her words and dragged her to the dance floor, his fingers dug into her upper arms. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene here. But then she’s heard many tales of him, the beast that he had become when he returned from the war.

“You’re in a considerable debt with me, my love. One that you thought would fade if you merely ran” Tommy growled. 

“I can get you your money” she winced at the sharp pain, not like it would even mean anything to him with how much his businesses bring in these days. When they passed through the crowded floor, she realized that he was leading her out of the lounge. 

“If you think your debt is based around money, are you still that naive girl from all of those years ago, eh?” Tommy smirked as he kicked open the double doors which led them into the kitchen. 

It was now or never. Deirdre shoved him away with full force and scrambled through the busy kitchen as she nearly fell over in her heels as she broke free. All eyes were on them but no one dared to move a finger in the wrong direction. As she roughly pushed past everyone, she tried to remain calm. 

Tommy grinned at the girl who loved to run. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed for the both of them, her heart was pounding immensely as she panted in her heels. The first door she took led her to a hallway, the open exit to the streets on her right was blocked by two working men. Cigarettes in their lips as they watched her intimately, she bolted to the left. 

The next door she took, she didn’t consider analyzing, she locked herself in the small dark room which appeared to be an office. The moonlight shined through the sash window which she yanked up and looked down to the small drop, survivable but not without two broken heels. As Deidre laid her hands on the windowsill, her head snapped back as she heard the door unlock from the other side. There was no other option besides hiding. Deirdre found herself hidden underneath the wooden Lombardo desk. It was human instinct to cower, pray that she’d be able to run from her past demons.

The weighty door creaked open, and she heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet. Tommy pulled out a cigarette, the end of the stick brushed in between his lips as he lit it. “Oh Deirdre, my dearest” Tommy spoke loudly, his tone dripping of sarcasm, which made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Why do you run? Why do you hide? From me of all people? You seemed to have forgotten the vows you swore your life on. The promises which are still owed to me. You ignorantly believed that fate would keep us apart? Oh but haven’t you heard the tales of the Peaky Blinder Devil?” Tommy spoke, his footsteps slowly approached her. 

The thuds in her chest were painful, her throat felt like the cold air around her was strangling her. He could hear her heavy breathing and chuckled silently. The Colt M1911 is pulled from his holster and he ensured that she heard the safety click off. 

“Once upon a time there was a boy. Who foolishly fell for a girl with a secretive past. They created a life as one. He protected her from the pure evils in this cruel world and how did she repay him? She robbed him blind. She ran from the boy that she loved and turned his soul black. She created the Devil of Birmingham. And tonight, the runaway has tripped over her bad deeds” Tommy teased as he leisurely approached her. 

With a turn of the corner of the desk, Tommy raised his pistol and pointed it at her forehead. Deirdre looked up to him with doe eyes and gulped down her nerves. “And now, you will repay your debts” Tommy ordered with a gentle nod. 

“I will do no such thing” she refused, her words sizzling in anger. 

Tommy knelt down to her level, his pistol pressed against her temple. Deirdre breathed out but didn’t fear, she’s been pushed and shoved too many times before to know when there was an actual threat on her life. 

“Yes you will. Because you’re still my property, my dear wife” Tommy smirked.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by the wonderful and talented @carlosoliveiraa (thank you, hun).

Since I'm working on multiple WIPs at a time, I'll share a few. Below are snippets from The Highest Cost (The Lost Boys), Sweet Revenge (Beetlejuice), Love Me Bitterly (Hazbin Hotel), Future On Hold (Final Fantasy XVI), Where the Tainted Kiss (Far Cry 3), and Rapture (Resident Evil). Please enjoy.

The Highest Cost (David x OC)

“I just want to figure out why my dreams are linked to this town. There is something here, and they're trying to show me what.” 

Cadence scoffed. “If we stay here, we might die. Don't you think that's what they mean?”

Even after telling her at the hospital about David’s statement about her dreams being linked to her, she could not understand why Cadence wanted to leave. Did she not want to help her? What if the visions went away. She could be free of them. Yes, she was right about the danger, but Mia did not care. She was so close to the truth. 

David would understand. 

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she immediately felt selfish. Was it her future she wanted to know more about? Or David. 

Sweet Revenge (Betelgeuse x OC)

The persistent honk-honk of a beat-up Accord speeding up the washed-out driveway woke Lilah from a dreamless nap. It was a strange belief that the dead could fall asleep, one that came as a shock four months ago when she first did it. But what really shook her was when she woke to find herself floating 24 inches off the floor. 

Love Me Bitterly (Adam x OC)

“Did you see who claimed the VIP seats?” Lita asked. 

Marcella clasped the necklace and then hummed. 

“No. I was just focused on getting here.”

Tossing her soft lavender hair over her shoulder, Lita motioned for her to follow and led her to the mouth of the tent. Seated in the VIP section, at the front of the stage, were a ‘Seraphim’, and two ‘Archangels’. Marcella widened her eyes in shock. One in particular made her heart race. 

“Azrael is here.” She could not believe it. 

Future On Hold (Cidolfus 'Cid' Telamon x OC)

“I don't want to sound pessimistic, but there is a reason the Deadlands are inhabitable.”

“For all we know,” Cid retorted. “No damn fool has ever tried to settle in it.” 

Eirene frowned. 

“Is the cause of the Blight not more important?”

“What do you reckon caused the Blight?” Cid asked. He sat the book down beside him and untied a pouch from his side, searching for a water crystal. 

Eirene had her theories, but she was not sure. 

“The Mothercrystals, I assume.”

Realizing that Cid might take offense, she tried to apologize. Quite a few Valistheans did not share her opinion, but luckily, the Lord Commander seemed to have an open mind. He merely snorted. 

“It makes the most sense, but until it's proven, making use of the Deadlands is the next best option.”

“And if we can not?” Eirene asked.

She was genuinely curious.

“Then we are doomed,” Cid answered grimly.

He believed that it was far too late, but he could not give up. With an initiated sigh, he poured the contents of the pouch onto the ground. The water crystal was missing.

“Fuck.”

Eirene sighed. She understood a little, but it was a fool’s errand. At least someone was doing something. She sighed and brought her hand out over the turned earth, materializing a sphere of water. Gently small drops wet the soil. 

A scolding grunt from Cid made her grin.

“Someone has to do it.” 

“Brat,” Cid retorted. 

Where the Tainted Kiss (Vaas Montenegro x OC)

“You want my fucking attention, huh?” Vaas asked. Even with a gun pointed at him, his eyes showed no fear. It was like he did not believe she would do it. “Come on. Show me how much of a badass you've become. ¡Muéstrame! ¡Vamos! (Show me! Come on)!”

Liv tightened her jaw. She was not afraid of him, but her hands trembled. Angry tears poured down her heated cheeks. She had him right where she wanted him. He was at her mercy, and yet she was hesitant. But why? He pushed her to this. He made her into a monster.

Rapture (Vampre Albert Wesker x OC)

Tossing aside the dust jacket, she took the ledger back to Dylan and squatted beside him, showing him the pages.

“What is this?”

“Fuck you,” Dylan rasped. 

His voice was coming back. The extract was slowing his regenerative abilities, but he still was not able to move much, aside from his head. 

Aria sighed in annoyance.

“Even in death, you lot are stubborn. Look…I know you're not scared of me. But you are scared of someone. This shitshow is going tits up as soon as I make the call, and you know who is not going to be happy. What I'm doing to you is gonna seem like a tickle compared to what he's gonna do.”

“I don't know who you are talking about,” Dylan retorted. 

Something in his voice seemed genuine. Perhaps he didn't know who he was dealing with.

“I feel sorry for you, I do. You'll find out soon enough.”

Tagging: @quinloki , @mishwanders , @the-resident-vampire , @bonez-drabblez , @lo1k-diamonds , @icy-spicy , @swamplinglvr , @savage-rhi , @nagumoan, @kazenomegaminowanpisu , and anyone who wants to play.

[hiddlesdeni]

The guy from Hellfire Shop

Hi guys, here I am with this idea I had on my mind for a while. This fic is originally in italian, so if you see some mistakes, I pleeeeease ask you to letting me know, so I will correct them. When 2 years ago a tried to post this nobody read it, so I post the prologue for now and if you'll like it, I'll go on. Let me know what do you think about it. Should I post the first chapter?

AU sci-fi - distopic - Eddie x oc

Prologue - Chapter 1

Summary

2024: The planet is controlled by ruthless, sentient androids, creating an unlivable environment for humans. However, Hawkins is one of the few towns that have managed to escape their control, where the residents are forced to hide to avoid being discovered by the "sentinels" patrolling the area. Eddie Munson is an eccentric young man considered a misfit, the owner of the Hellfire Shop on the outskirts of Hawkins, a place located in an old, abandoned gas station surrounded by nothingness. It is there that Paige ends up after a rebellion against the androids forces her to flee from her city.

Prologue

When Paige fell to her knees, it was almost like feeling them break. She was so exhausted that she found herself on all fours on the cold asphalt. Her hand scraped as soon as it hit the ground. She lifted it to inspect the damage: there was no blood, but the red mark stung. Yet, it seemed insignificant compared to the rest of her condition.

Her feet throbbed, and she could feel them swollen inside her sneakers. Those laces were now tight compared to when she had started to walk, to the point that she felt the need to take off her shoes and leave them somewhere to continue barefoot. But how would she endure the feeling of the asphalt scratching her skin?

She cried without even realizing when she had started, yet she found herself wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

No, she had to get up, she had to keep walking, and she had to make it, despite the darkness of the night, despite the fatigue. She took one, two, three deep breaths, then gathered her strength and stood up with an effort she herself thought was inhuman. An effort so overwhelming and intense that at the first step, she found herself back on all fours on the asphalt.

A desperate sob escaped her, which she immediately stifled behind the palm of her hand. She couldn't make any noise and had to find a way to pull herself together and keep walking. But she was so tired that she would have preferred to lie down there in the middle of that deserted road and be found, no matter what would happen to her; she just wanted to close her eyes and rest, regain the strength she had lost.

With trembling hands, she retrieved the small backpack she had been carrying on her shoulder and emptied it completely onto the asphalt, turning it upside down and shaking it. Out fell some batteries, an analog wristwatch, a slightly faded and crumpled map, a wallet with a few coins inside and nothing else, some bandages dirty with soil, a sealed letter envelope, an old leather-covered diary, some empty paper bags, and wrappers of snacks that were long gone. Finally, the water bottle clattered loudly as it hit the ground. Paige grabbed it and unscrewed the cap. She went to take a sip but realized that nothing came out of it.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, tears still streaking her face as she reluctantly screwed the cap back on.

She couldn't even remember the last time she had eaten or drunk anything. She felt dehydrated, hungry, and on the verge of fainting at any moment. If she hadn't died from what happened at home, she would die like this, running away from a situation that she already knew would eventually kill her.

Another long sigh, and she hurriedly put everything back into the backpack, then slung it over her shoulder and lifted her gaze in front of her: there was a light in the distance, the only one that didn’t come from the flashlight hanging on her belt. In other circumstances, she would have considered it a good thing, a chance to ask for help, but now that only meant danger. It was surely a sentinel, and she couldn’t let herself be seen for any reason in the world. She needed to move from there, get off the road, even though she could barely move. She looked around and realized that the woods framing the road might be the solution she was looking for.

With the last bit of willpower and survival instinct she had left, the only thing she managed to do was literally crawl toward the ground on her left. She went in further among the trees, dragging herself with her arms as if she were dead weight, then hid behind the trunk of a tree and leaned her exhausted back against it. She had never thought that something so simple as leaning against something could bring her relief, yet it did. After all, she hadn’t stopped even once to rest.

Now she just had to stay quiet and wait for the sentinel to complete its patrol. She heard it pass by on the road, its wheels creaking on the asphalt, and its blue light illuminating everything in front of it like a beacon. Nothing would escape that light, so she was glad to be behind that trunk; otherwise, that damned android would have detected her, and her escape would have lost all meaning.

She remained motionless until the sentinel became just a blue dot in the distance, then she told herself she had to keep walking in the opposite direction. But her legs didn’t respond to the commands from her brain, and she had to accept the idea of resting… just a little, just a couple of minutes. Paige fell asleep with the fear that she might never wake up again, overcome by exhaustion, hunger, or thirst.

Not even her survival instinct had helped her in that moment.

When she woke up, she did so with a start; she had a terrible nightmare that she couldn’t even remember, yet it helped her because her heart was racing in her chest, making her realize she was still alive and hadn’t died in her sleep.

She looked up at the sky, and it was still pitch dark. She couldn’t tell if she had slept for an entire day and the sun had set again, or if she had only slept for a few hours.

She tried to move and almost screamed from the sharp pains in her back caused by the position she had slept in. Her legs and feet were still throbbing with pain, and that sleep had only given her a terrible headache. Paige, however, didn’t want to die. She used the trunk she had leaned against the whole time to stand up and get back on her feet. She cursed under her breath, then looked at the road: the sentinel was gone, and the surroundings had returned to complete darkness. She grabbed the flashlight hanging from her belt and turned it on to inspect her surroundings while desperately holding onto the trunk of that tree. She saw nothing but more road, more woods, and nothing else except a sign welcoming her to "Hawkins." She had never heard of that place before.

She looked again as far as her eyes could see and came to her own conclusions: Hawkins had to be a ghost town. She couldn’t spot any androids or signs of life. Her own town, where she came from, was a good example. She had never left it, but she remembered seeing lights and sensing the presence of androids and life forms even from a reasonable distance. And then, the sentinel that had patrolled the road didn’t seem to have detected anyone. But that could be a good thing: maybe the inhabitants who were no longer there had left some food, some water. She could get back on her feet.

It was this thought that managed to get her walking again.

She kept the flashlight pointed ahead the whole time as she limped toward what appeared to be an old shop at a gas station. The gas pumps were obviously old and out of use for years, and climbing plants and moss covered the exterior walls of the place. It was the only building around, and it seemed strange to her to see the windows boarded up with nailed wooden planks. The sign was almost unreadable, and it took her a moment to make out "Hellfire Shop" through the vines that covered it.

She approached, and when she placed her free hand on the wooden surface of the door, she realized just how tired she really was. Her forehead leaned against the rotten wood, and she managed to glimpse a faint, flickering candlelight through the cracks.

There was someone inside. How could there be someone there?

She didn’t think it could be dangerous because she noticed light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, indicating there was electricity, but someone had chosen not to use it. So, someone there was hiding and trying not to be detected by anyone.

She started banging on the door with her hands and used the faint thread of voice she had left to call for help. Could it be a trap? She didn’t know, but it was worth the risk. If she stayed out there, she would die of starvation anyway.

She pounded her fists on the rotten wood for a while, but no one came to open the door, and Paige found herself sobbing desperately, resigned to the idea that she would turn to ashes on those steps, that she would disappoint her parents, that she would disappoint her brother because she hadn’t managed to save herself. But then she heard slow footsteps getting closer and closer. Paige pressed her ear against the wooden door and realized she wasn’t imagining it, because now the footsteps were clearer.

“Please, open the door, please…” she said desperately, her sobs making it hard for her to speak. There was a moment of silence, then the door suddenly swung open, almost causing her to fall forward onto the steps. In front of her stood a strange guy with long dark brown hair, pointing a spear made from makeshift tools at her, and what seemed like the tin lid of a trash can, studded with sharp, rusty nails.

“Who the fuck are you?” he said, his tone a mix of defensive and threatening, though the first adjective seemed to suit him better at that moment. He wasn’t a threat; now she understood that. “I asked you, who the fuck are you!” Paige didn’t respond, but only because she realized she no longer had the strength. This was evident when, shortly after, she collapsed right there at the entrance and fainted.

The guy who had opened the door stood still for a moment, confused. He extended a foot and tried to nudge the girl to see if she was dead, unconscious, or just messing with him… but she didn’t move. He lowered the spear and his tin shield, observing her uncertainly until he noticed that Paige was visibly at her limit: deep, dark circles surrounded her eyes, her skin was covered in bruises and scratches, her lips were dry and cracked, and her hair was frizzy and partly covered in dirt. He even noticed her knees were bleeding because her jeans were stained.

This girl wasn’t a threat; she was in danger. He tossed the spear and shield aside, making a racket he paid no attention to, then quickly crouched to check if she was still alive. Her pulse was still there, and she was breathing, but he didn’t have time to do anything else before a beam of blue light appeared in the distance.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, and he was forced to drag her inside the shop, pulling her by the arms. “Shit, shit, shit,” he continued just before shutting the door the moment Paige was completely inside the room. Right after, he made sure to lift her and lay her on the couch, then rushed to blow out the candles, leaving only the one in the back of the room lit, as it was harder to spot. He quickly clambered over the clutter scattered throughout the shop, then returned to grab the spear and shield and slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor.

The sentinel’s wheels sped by on the asphalt, but Eddie Munson didn’t let his guard down even when he was sure it was gone.

He peeked through the cracks in the door, letting out a sigh of relief, then turned to look at the girl unconscious on his couch and rolled his eyes.

“Just what I needed,” he said, resigned.

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Cold Call

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: m, suggestive content.

Word count: 600

Summary: A drunk ex calls in the middle of the night. Jason handles it.

Masterlist

The phone buzzed on the bedside table. In the dark she grabbed it and slapped it against her ear. From the depths of half-sleep she expected Jason’s voice. 

“Hmm?” she said. 

“Andrea,” Kieran said. “I missed your voice.”

Her eyes snapped open. Jason lay face down on the pillow next to her. 

“I’ve been so lonely since you left me.” Kieran sounded so soft and sad, whispering in her ear. A little part of her she’d thought long dead still warmed at the affection in his voice. “You took my heart with you, you know.”

“...Wh-what?”

“You’re so cruel. I’m here dreaming of you, and that’s all you can say? ‘What’? Say my name, Andrea.”

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest. She felt paralysed. Like she was back there, stuck. With him. 

“Are you drunk?” she forced the words out. 

“Are you alone?” He moaned. “Fuck, I miss your mouth.”

She wanted to tear her own skin off.

Jason dragged himself closer, and then half on top of her. He gently took the phone from her hands. She breathed out in relief, grounded by his weight and warmth. 

“What’d you say about my girl’s mouth?” He said into the phone. His voice was low and rough, a deep rumble that made her feel infinitely safe, and made criminals all across Gotham soil their pants.

She curled her hands up around his chest and his nape. He tucked his head into the crook of her neck, and pressed a kiss beneath her ear. 

“It opens real easy,” Kieran spat after a stunned pause, in a mean little voice that made her bare her teeth. “Just like her legs.”

“You still live at 674 Jackson street? Ever get that back window fixed?”

“...How do you–”

“Talk to her again and I’ll break every bone in your body,” the Red Hood promised. Then Jason hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bedside table. 

“You okay, baby?” 

She burrowed into his warmth. “Yeah.”

He made a soft noise and gathered her up in his arms. She kissed his stubbly jaw. He caught her lips. She moaned into his mouth. Her hands were still trembling.

“Baby?”

“Not so okay,” she admitted.

“What can I do?”

She clutched him tight, suddenly afraid he would pull away. 

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He smoothed his hands down over her figure and then up against her back beneath her shirt. His touch was warm and sure, and more comforting than she could say. 

“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” he rumbled.  

She closed her eyes, breathed in his musk, and pressed her body against him. He kissed down her neck. Her legs spread wider to accommodate him. Her heart still beat too fast and a part of her was ashamed, as though Kieran was looking over her shoulder somehow. Like he mattered. Like he had any right to her. 

“You know I meant it, right?” Jason said against her collarbone. “What I said?”

“Hm?”

“He looks at you again and he’s dead.” 

Her eyes fluttered open. Jason’s hand caressed down her front, sliding beneath her waistband, and found her wet. He braced one arm over her head to hold himself above her, his eyes burning into her. His presence looming over her was the most comforting thing in the world. 

“Jay,” she sighed. It was thanks, it was a plea, it was a promise. 

“That pathetic dog is never gonna touch you, ever again,” he whispered into her ear. “He can dream all he likes.”

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Fourteen

Present Day

The airship touched down on the soil of Paradis with a heavy thud, and the tension on board was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Scouts remained silent as they disembarked, their minds still reeling from everything that had happened in Liberio—everything Eren had done. And yet, it was not just the destruction he wrought that weighed on their hearts.

It was the woman at his side. Aurora.

The scouts stood clustered, whispering among themselves, their eyes flickering between Eren and the delicate woman clinging to his arm. Mikasa was off to the side, her heart fractured, though she hid it behind a mask of stoicism. But those who knew her well—Armin, Jean, Sasha—could see the pain written in her dark eyes. She kept glancing at Aurora, then at Eren, as though searching for an explanation, for some sliver of hope that this wasn’t real.

But it was. Eren had a wife. A wife he held protectively in his arms, a wife he had risked everything for.

As the ramp lowered, several Military Police officers approached the group, their uniforms crisp and stern, expressions hard. One of them stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he addressed Eren.

“Eren Jaeger, you are under arrest,” the officer announced coldly. “For acting on your own, endangering the lives of your comrades, and forcing the Scouts into a mission without authorization.”

Aurora’s grip on Eren’s arm tightened in fear. “E-Eren…” she whispered, her voice trembling, her blue eyes wide with worry.

Eren’s face remained calm, stoic. He had expected this. He knew the Military Police would arrest him the moment they returned. But none of it mattered. Not the accusations, not the handcuffs, not the glares from the officers. The only thing that mattered was Aurora.

He turned to her, his intense green eyes locking onto hers. “Don’t be scared,” Eren whispered, his voice low but steady, meant only for her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”

Aurora nodded slowly, though her fear was evident. She knew Eren had done terrible things, things she wasn’t proud of, but she trusted him with every fiber of her being. He was the only one who had ever cared for her, protected her.

Two Military Police officers stepped forward, grabbing Eren by the arms. As they began to cuff his wrists, Eren leaned toward the officer in charge and spoke with unwavering authority. “I need to see Queen Historia. Now.”

The officer scoffed. “You’re in no position to make demands, Jaeger.”

Eren’s eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering in them. “Tell Historia that Eren Jaeger is back,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “She’ll want to see me.”

The officer hesitated, clearly torn between protocol and the fear that Eren’s words stirred in him. Everyone knew the power Eren now wielded—power that made him both a savior and a threat.

Aurora’s heart raced as the officers began to drag Eren away, panic bubbling inside her. She hated the thought of being separated from him. What would happen to him now? What would happen to her?

Sensing her distress, Eren glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes softening for the briefest moment. “It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her. “Just stay with them.” His gaze flicked toward Armin, who stood nearby, hesitant but ready to help.

Armin caught the look and gave a small, determined nod. “Don’t worry, Aurora,” he said gently. “We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The officers pulled Eren toward the edge of the landing zone, but his mind wasn’t on his arrest. His thoughts were already racing ahead, focused on Historia and what needed to be done to protect Aurora. Learning that she had royal blood had changed everything, but Eren knew better than to tell anyone—not even Aurora. Not yet.

If the Military Police or the government discovered that Aurora was of royal lineage, they would try to use her just as they had planned to use Historia. They would turn her into a pawn, a tool for their schemes, and Eren refused to let that happen. He wouldn’t let anyone touch her. He had seen what they did to those with royal blood, and he wouldn’t let Aurora become another casualty in their games.

That was why he needed Historia. He had told her everything before he left for Marley—the truth about the Rumbling, the plan to destroy the world outside Paradis, and the grim necessity of his actions. Historia was the only one who had truly understood. She had promised to support him before he left for Marley with the scouts.

If there was anyone who could help protect Aurora, it was her.

Aurora’s heart pounded as she stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as the soldiers led Eren away. The cold iron cuffs clinking against his wrists felt like chains around her own heart. Every step Eren took away from her left a growing void in her chest, her worst fears clawing at the edges of her mind. She knew Eren told her to trust him, but the sight of him being taken away made her feel so small and powerless.

She gripped the straps of her bag tightly to steady her trembling hands. It’s only for a little while… just a little while, she told herself, trying to believe it. Eren had promised he’d come back for her. He always kept his promises. She just had to hold on.

Before Eren was completely out of sight, he turned his head and gave her one last reassuring glance—one that said I’ll be back. His green eyes held a flicker of warmth amidst the storm brewing in him, and Aurora clung to that look like a lifeline.

Floch stood nearby, his eyes cool and observant. He gave her a small nod, one that communicated that he understood his orders. Eren had told Floch to watch over Aurora in his absence, and though Floch wasn’t the warmest of people, Aurora trusted him to carry out Eren’s instructions.

Hange, always trying to maintain a semblance of optimism, approached Aurora with a gentle smile. "Hey, Aurora, right?" she said, her voice soft but still carrying an undertone of curiosity. "Don’t worry, we’ll get all this sorted out. Eren... well, Eren tends to do things his own way, but we’ll make sure everything’s okay."

Aurora nodded, though she couldn’t bring herself to speak yet. The lump in her throat made it hard to breathe, let alone talk.

Armin, standing a step behind Hange, offered Aurora a sympathetic smile. "I know this must be overwhelming," he said gently. "But you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together."

Aurora appreciated their kindness, but the weight of the situation still pressed heavily on her. She gave a small, shaky nod, not trusting herself to say anything that wouldn’t reveal how scared she truly was.

Jean stood a little ways off, his arms crossed, a skeptical frown etched across his face. "I still don’t get it," he muttered, mostly to himself but loud enough for the others to hear. "What the hell were you two even doing for seven months? Eren runs off, disappears without a trace, and now he suddenly has a wife? And we’re just supposed to be okay with that?"

Connie and Sasha stood nearby, quietly observing. Connie gave a sidelong glance to Sasha, who whispered, “She doesn’t look like a spy or anything…”

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving,” Connie muttered back.

Aurora tried not to meet their stares, shifting uneasily under their scrutiny. She knew the scouts didn’t trust her—and she couldn’t blame them. She was an outsider in their eyes, someone who had been with Eren during a time when they had no idea what he was planning. Of course, they would have questions. They had every right to.

But the one whose gaze weighed on her the most was Levi.

Levi stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his cold, calculating eyes locked onto her. He wasn’t like Hange or Armin—there was no sympathy in his expression, no warmth in his posture. His gaze was sharp, cutting straight through her, as if he could see every secret she was hiding.

He stepped forward, and the subtle shift in his body language made it clear that this was not going to be a casual conversation. "You," Levi said bluntly, his tone low and direct. "We need to talk. Now."

Aurora’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face as neutral as possible, hiding the panic rising inside her. She knew this was coming. Levi wasn’t the type to let things slide, especially not when it came to someone like Eren.

Levi led Aurora to a quieter corner of the airship’s landing area, away from the others but still within sight. His sharp gaze pinned her down, making it clear that there was no room for lies—or so he thought.

"What were you and Eren doing for seven months?" Levi asked, his voice calm but with an edge that told her he wouldn’t tolerate any evasive answers. "And what exactly do you know about his plans?"

Aurora took a slow breath, steadying herself. She knew she couldn’t tell Levi the truth—not about the Rumbling, not about Eren’s ultimate plan. If the military knew, they would use that knowledge against Eren and, she refused to let that happen. She had to tread carefully, mixing truth with just enough lies to make her story believable.

"We... we were hiding," Aurora began, her voice quiet but steady. "Eren didn’t tell me everything, I swear. He just said that he had to disappear, that it was the only way to protect Paradis. We stayed in a cabin, far from the cities, so no one would find us."

Levi’s expression didn’t change, but Aurora could tell he was analyzing every word, every pause.

"And what about his plans?" Levi pressed. "What does he intend to do next?"

Aurora hesitated, just for a moment, enough to make it seem like she was struggling with the question. "He said... he said he needed to get the War Hammer Titan," she continued carefully. "He told me that if he could take its power, Paradis would have a fighting chance. That’s all I know, I swear."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Eren had told her that the War Hammer Titan was part of his plan. But she deliberately left out the most crucial part—the Rumbling.

Levi’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing that there were pieces missing from her story, but nothing about her words raised immediate alarm.

"And you expect us to believe that’s all he told you?" Levi asked, his voice dangerously low.

Aurora met his gaze head-on, forcing herself to appear calm and sincere. "I’m telling you the truth," she said softly. "Eren didn’t tell me everything. He said it was safer that way—for both of us."

Levi studied her in silence for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her like a vice. Aurora held her breath, waiting to see if he would push further.

Finally, Levi gave a slight nod, though his expression remained unreadable. "We’ll see," he said simply. "For now, stay close to the others. We’re not done here."

Aurora exhaled softly as Levi turned and walked away, the tension in her chest easing just slightly. She had made it through the interrogation—for now. But she knew Levi wasn’t the type to let things go. He would keep watching her, waiting for her to slip up.

She just had to hold on until Eren came back. But she felt another heavy gaze on her that sent a chill down her spine.

Aurora could feel the weight of Mikasa’s gaze even before she turned her head. It was a familiar feeling—heavy, suffocating, like a storm waiting to break. When she looked up, she saw Mikasa standing a few paces away, her expression unreadable at first. But in those stormy grey eyes, Aurora saw something deeper—a devastation so raw it made her heart ache.

Mikasa’s hands were clenched into fists at her sides, and the tension in her body was palpable, like she was holding herself together through sheer force of will. She looked at Aurora as though she were staring into the source of her deepest heartbreak, her silent question hanging in the air between them.

The others—Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Floch, Hange, and Levi—stood nearby, their attention focused on the two women. Mikasa's pain was obvious to them, and though they didn’t intervene, they watched with quiet intensity, waiting to see how the conversation would unfold.

Mikasa took a step forward, her voice low and trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “How?” she asked, her tone barely above a whisper. “How did you... meet him? How did you... how did you capture his heart?”

Aurora swallowed hard, feeling the sting of guilt in her chest. She hadn’t asked to take Eren’s heart. It had happened naturally, through shared pain, love, and survival. But how could she explain that to Mikasa? How could she convey something so complex and delicate in a way that wouldn’t cause more pain?

“I…” Aurora’s voice faltered, and she glanced down at her hands. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, expectant and waiting. She knew the scouts had questions—they had every right to. But this wasn’t just curiosity for Mikasa. This was personal.

Taking a breath, Aurora looked back up at Mikasa, her ice blue eyes filled with empathy. “Eren and I…” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. “We knew each other... from a long time ago. Before the fall of Wall Maria. We were neighbors in Shiganshina.”

Mikasa’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat. The others exchanged looks of surprise—none of them had expected this. Armin, who had known Eren since childhood, furrowed his brow in confusion.

“You knew him… back then?” Armin asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Aurora nodded slowly, her gaze flickering between Armin and Mikasa. “Yes. Our mothers were friends. Eren was... my first friend.” She smiled softly at the memory, though it was tinged with sadness. “We used to play together every day.”

Connie let out a low whistle, folding his arms over his chest. “You mean to tell us Eren has known you all this time, and he never mentioned it once?”

Aurora shook her head. “I think... it was too painful for him. After my family disappeared, we didn’t see each other for years. He thought I was gone forever.”

“Disappeared?” Jean repeated, his brows knitting in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Aurora’s expression darkened as memories of her abduction flooded her mind. “The Tybur family found us,” she whispered. “They... took me and my mother. My father…” Her voice trailed off, thick with emotion. She couldn’t bring herself to speak the rest.

Armin’s eyes widened with understanding, and a heavy silence fell over the group. They all knew the horrors Marley had inflicted on their kind, but hearing it from Aurora—someone who had lived through it—made it all the more real.

Mikasa stood frozen, her lips pressed tightly together, as if struggling to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She looked like she had been punched in the gut, the weight of the revelation sinking in slowly.

“You were his first friend…” Mikasa whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She looked down, her fists clenching tighter. “All this time... and he never told me.”

The pain in her voice was sharp and cutting, and it pierced Aurora’s heart. She could see the heartbreak written all over Mikasa’s face—the realization that Eren had shared a part of himself with Aurora that he had never shared with her.

Mikasa looked up again, her expression filled with desperation. “Why?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he tell me?”

Aurora hesitated, feeling the weight of Mikasa’s sorrow pressing down on her. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Maybe... it was too painful for him to talk about.”

Jean crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in frustration. “So, let me get this straight,” he said, his tone skeptical. “Eren disappears for seven months, and when we finally find him, he has a wife we never knew existed. And now, you’re telling us he’s been carrying around this secret since he was a kid?”

“It’s not a secret,” Aurora said softly. “It’s a memory. A painful one.”

Hange tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying Aurora closely. “And what exactly happened between you two during those seven months?” she asked, her voice curious but gentle. “You said you were hiding together, but surely there’s more to it than that.”

Aurora glanced down at her hands again, her heart racing. She knew she had to tread carefully. The truth about the Rumbling was something she couldn’t reveal—not yet. Not to the scouts. Not even to Mikasa.

“Like I told Captain Levi, we stayed in a cabin,” Aurora said, choosing her words carefully. “We lived quietly, away from the cities. Eren didn’t tell me much about his plans. He said... it was safer that way.”

“And you really expect us to believe that?” Levi’s voice cut through the air like a blade. His sharp eyes were fixed on Aurora, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny. “You’re telling me that Eren, of all people, spent seven months with you and didn’t share a damn thing about what he was planning?”

Aurora met Levi’s gaze, forcing herself to remain calm. “He told me about the War Hammer Titan,” she said evenly. “He said he needed its power to protect Paradis. That’s all he told me.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press further. He was good at reading people, and Aurora knew he was trying to determine if she was lying.

Mikasa, meanwhile, looked like she was on the verge of tears. She turned away from Aurora, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why her? Why not me?”

The words hung in the air, heavy with sorrow and regret.

Aurora felt a pang of guilt deep in her chest, but she didn’t know how to respond. She hadn’t asked for Eren’s love—it had happened naturally, through years of shared experiences and mutual trust. But explaining that to Mikasa felt impossible.

All Aurora could do was stand there, waiting for Eren to come back—hoping that, somehow, everything would be okay.

…

A few hours later, the quiet hum of the room where Aurora rested was a stark contrast to the buzzing tension in the adjacent chamber where the scouts had gathered. Aurora lay curled up on the cot, her mind heavy with thoughts of Eren and the uncertainty that clouded their future. She desperately wished she could talk to him, but she knew that for now, all she could do was wait and hope.

Meanwhile, in the common room, the scouts were engaged in a heated discussion. The weight of everything that had happened in Liberio—Eren’s assault, the death of Willy Tybur, the sudden appearance of Eren’s mysterious wife—pressed heavily on their minds. No one was quite sure what to make of the situation.

Levi sat at the head of the room, his arms crossed, eyes sharp as blades as he listened to the others debate. His gaze flickered to each speaker, but his mind was already working through his own conclusions.

“She seems… nice,” Sasha offered cautiously, glancing around at the others as if she wasn’t entirely sure it was the right thing to say.

“Yeah, real nice,” Jean muttered sarcastically, slouched back in his chair with his arms folded. “You’d have to be real nice to marry someone like Eren after everything he’s done.”

Armin shot Jean a disapproving look. “She was in Marley,” Armin said quietly. “We don’t know what she went through there. She might not even fully understand what Eren’s doing.”

Connie leaned forward, his brow furrowed in confusion. “But still… married? Eren’s never even mentioned her before. How do we go from not knowing anything to suddenly finding out he has a wife?”

Jean shook his head, scoffing. “I mean, come on—Eren? Married? This is Eren we’re talking about. When did he even have the time to fall in love?”

“He was gone for seven months,” Sasha pointed out gently. “A lot can happen in seven months.”

Armin sighed, rubbing his temples. “What I don’t understand is why Eren didn’t tell us. We’re supposed to be his friends. We’re supposed to trust each other.”

Hange, who had been sitting quietly on the edge of the room, finally spoke up. “I don’t think it’s that simple, Armin,” she said thoughtfully. “Eren’s always been the type to carry things alone. Maybe he didn’t think we’d understand.”

Jean let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, I definitely don’t understand.”

Levi shifted slightly in his seat, his expression unreadable, but his sharp eyes glinted with suspicion. “I don’t trust her,” he said bluntly, cutting through the conversation like a knife. The room fell into a heavy silence at his words, everyone turning to look at him.

Connie tilted his head, frowning. “You mean Aurora?”

“Yes,” Levi said flatly. “She’s not telling us everything.”

Armin frowned. “What do you mean?”

Levi’s gaze was cold and calculating, the same gaze that had unnerved countless enemies on the battlefield. “Think about it,” he said. “Eren vanishes for months, shows up out of nowhere in Liberio, and suddenly he’s married to someone we’ve never heard of. Someone who knew him from childhood and conveniently reappeared right when Eren needs to carry out a major assault?”

Jean’s brow furrowed. “You think she’s hiding something?”

Levi gave a curt nod. “She knows more than she’s letting on. And to be married to someone like Eren…” He trailed off, his gaze darkening. “You’d have to be a certain type of person.”

Sasha glanced nervously between Levi and Armin. “But she seems harmless. I mean, she’s quiet and gentle. She’s not exactly a threat.”

“People who seem harmless are often the most dangerous,” Levi muttered. “I’ve seen enough to know that much.”

Armin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You think she’s dangerous?”

“I think she’s unpredictable,” Levi corrected. “And unpredictable is dangerous. We don’t know what kind of hold she has over Eren. We don’t know if she’s working with someone, or if she’s manipulating him.”

Connie leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “But Eren’s not the type to be manipulated, right?”

“People change,” Levi said, his voice flat. “Especially after everything Eren’s been through. If she’s the only person he’s confided in all this time, then she’s got influence over him. And that makes her dangerous.”

Hange raised an eyebrow. “You really think Aurora has that much sway over Eren?”

Levi’s gaze didn’t waver. “I think we need to keep an eye on her.”

Armin’s jaw tightened. “Eren truly loves her,” he said quietly. “We saw the way he looked at her—how he reacted to Jean on the airship. It’s not manipulation, Captain. He cares about her.”

Levi’s expression didn’t soften. “That doesn’t change the fact that she’s hiding something.”

Jean ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “This whole thing is insane. Eren’s barely been himself lately, and now we’ve got a wife thrown into the mix? What the hell is he thinking?”

Sasha shrugged helplessly. “Maybe… maybe she makes him happy?”

Jean scoffed. “Yeah, well, happiness doesn’t seem to be high on Eren’s priority list these days.”

Hange rested her chin on her hand, a thoughtful glint in her eye. “Still… it’s curious, isn’t it? Eren’s been planning this for a long time, and Aurora’s been with him through it all. I can’t help but wonder what she really knows.”

Armin looked troubled, his mind racing with questions. “Do you really think she’s hiding Eren’s plans from us?”

Levi gave a slight nod. “Yes. And we need to find out what she’s not telling us.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as everyone processed Levi’s words. The reality of the situation was sinking in—Eren had changed, and Aurora was now a part of his life in a way none of them had expected. Whether she was a friend or a threat was still unclear.

Jean let out a tired sigh. “Great. Just what we needed—another mystery.”

Connie glanced toward the door, his brow furrowed in thought. “What do we do now?”

Levi’s gaze was cold and unwavering. “We keep watching. And we don’t trust her until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

The weight of Levi’s words lingered in the air, filling the room with unease. The scouts exchanged uneasy glances, each of them grappling with the uncertainty of the situation.

Aurora might have been Eren’s wife, but to them, she was still a stranger. And in a world as dangerous as theirs, strangers could not be trusted.

~

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[idiotwithanipad]

Era Swap AU: Strange One

Part 1: Era Swap Au: New home

(Note: Altered timeline; Mary is Humphrey's age in this, meaning they were both in their forties in the 1570's)

(TW: Mentions and descriptions of self inflicted injuries and fragile mental health)

Ft @shebeafancyflapjack's Era swapped OC, Silver

The maid ushered Mary and Silver back down through the house and took them back outside, Mary had to hold back her growing excitement as her trembling fingers still clutched to Silver's hand. A small cottage strewn in ivy sat a little ways from the estate, big enough for the two of them.

"And this be your quarters. T'was reserved for groundskeepers but there hasn't been one for quite some time now. So this be all yours now" The maid, Trudy, smiled at the threshold. Mary shuddered.

"Thank yous. Bless you, m'lady, bless you"

The maid bowed her head to both woman and made her farewells, returning to the estate. Once the maid was gone, Mary clapped and rose her hands to the heavens.

"Praise be! We hath founds our salvations!"

Silver smiled and bounced on her toes.

"We's be safe now, Mummy? We's found a new home?"

Mary cupped Silver's face in her palms.

"Yes, darling girl. We's found employments and shelter. T'is enough for us"

Silver's happy brow dropped.

"But, what about our crafts, Mummy? We's forced to cease our praises and arts?"

Mary shook her head.

"We shall find a way to continue our beloved crafts, sweet'art. Somewhere secret where no ones else can sees. We must treads the soil carefully for these opportunities do nots comes oftens"

At least they'd find a way in due time. Silver had grown up with their beautiful earth praising crafts, it was as much a part of her as walking and breathing the air. Her life would be quite dull without it. But the girl took solace that it wasn't over.

Mary pressed a kiss to Silver's rosey cheeks and to her brow, a giddy and tender smile beaming on her face.

--

The week went by slowly, but undeniably smoothly. Mary and daughter got used to the tools given to them with astounding ease, even the stuffy lady of the house seemed to feel at ease, confident that the two new groundskeepers knew what they were doing.

A pleasant surprise.

Even more of a shock to both women, the Lord of the house did invite the pair into the estate for meals, two meals. TWO! Mary and Silver had even been gifted some different gowns so that they wouldn't muck up their personal clothing. Generous. Mary's new canvas apron now sported little pockets and sleeves for storing seeds and small trowels. Very well crafted garments.

A few other maids were seated at the table alongside Mary and Silver, they seemed far more relaxed than Mary knew some maids to be in the environment of their Lords and Ladies. They were like a large extended family. It was nice. Welcoming.

The table passed around bread and cuts of meat to each other, making idle chit chat, although the Lady of the house kept her eyes to her plate, she seemed deep in thought.

Trudy, the familiar maid, entered the room with two metal jugs.

"Oh thank you, Trudy" The Lord beamed as she began pouring ale into everyone's cups. For Silver, however, she poured milk.

"From t' cattle, young miss" She smiled.

Silver gave a bow of her head and a grin, politely reaching for her cup. She took notice of an empty chair near the end of the table between the Lord and the Lady. Although a small amount of food did lie untouched on the plate, there was no occupant to eat it. Hath they miscounted?

The chatter continued for longer and Silver softly ripped a chuck on dread for herself, she turned her eyes to the doorway and spotted someone entering slowly. The girl from last week. The dark haired one with the large eyes. Her lips thin and pressed shut tightly. Her fists gripped and released her dress skirts repeatedly like a kneading cat as she approached the table.

As the girl walked up to the table, the candlelight exposed her features. Her pale face looked almost in mild shock, as though she had seen a murder. Light freckles speckled the bridge of her nose and spread over the apples of her cheeks. She looked almost ghostly as she took a seat beside the Lord and Lady, her hands rested tightly in her lap.

"Oh, evening, Poppet, you're late again" The Lord smiled, leaning over and planting a kiss to the stiff girl's temple.

The girl didn't seem to react, she remained motionless and stared down at the bread on her plate. There was something wrong with this girl's energy. It was heavy and deeply troubled, but by what, Silver couldn't figure out. She resisted the urge to stare at the girl in the black and white French hood.

"Get up to anything interesting today?" The Lord asked. No response. Instead, the girl seemed fixated on the reflection of the candlelight catching against her tin plate. The Lady beside her gave a swift and hidden slap to the girl's wrist to snap her out of her wide eyed trance. The girl's eyes snapped up to meet her mother's.

"Réponds à ton père!..." The Lady muttered strictly, shooting an intense glare at the girl. The girl held her wide eyed contact with her mother briefly before turning her head stiffly to face the man, looking mildly uncomfortable at his wife's 'methods'.

"... I didn't play today..." The girl's voice seemed hoarse as though battered from hours of shouting and she lowered her eyes down to her plate again. The Lord gave a discontented yet mildly relieved sigh.

"Oh, well. Maybe another time? Did you take your lessons?"

The girl nodded, raising her hand over a small candle at her side, her fingers wafting through the little flame.

Be she sick? A hidden ailment of her mind? Hexed? Cursed? Forgetting herself for a moment, Silver leaned slowly past her mother's shoulder and stared with focus at the other girl. Did she not feel the heat of the candle?

The strange girl's eyes slowly rose from the candle to Silver who sat back slowly, bowing her head with a hint of embarrassment and shame. Upon a brief second glance at her, Silver took head that the girl's eyes remained fixed on her. Unbreaking and wide. Silver felt like she couldn't look away.

The girl leaned over the table slowly, with something of a disjointed and strange grin. The supple corners of her lips stretched slowly upward like any normal smile, but her eyes neither curved nor lit up.

"Would you play with me?..."

Silver didn't quite know how to answer. But the Lord's hand came to land on the girl's shoulder softly and guided her to sit back in her chair.

"Maybe not tonight, Poppet. Come on, have your dinner, you missed last night's, at least try to take this one"

With a tiny giggle and a twitch in her lip, the strange girl plucked the piece of bread from the plate and brought it up to her mouth with both hands and began gnawing at it like a mouse.

--

"I knows not what be wrongs with M'lord's and Lady's little'en, but she chills my bones" Mary shuddered, closing the door of the tiny cottage behind her.

Silver couldn't deny the sense of unease she felt whilst holding the girl's empty stare and her unnerving grin. Yet she could sense a great sadness in that girl. Something unknown and deeply buried. A similar sort of melancholy feeling she would get when watching the old women in the parish limp through the fields to gather potatoes, unaided by their husbands who had since passed. But why?

"She doth seem awash in- sadness, Mummy..."

"Why sadness, dear girl? Young mistress does come from Nobel birth, should she nots be skipping underfoot and singings?" Mary questioned, removing her apron.

Silver wasn't sure if her mother had even seen the girl more that once since arriving. But Silver had. She saw her tuck behind a tree whilst handing her mother some seeds. She had seen her sitting before the fire, grinning and shuddering as she passed the window. She had seen her from the grounds peering through the upstairs windows and smiling that empty smile. She had even seen the girl in a night time shift without any footwear, wandering over the grounds, her arms limp at her side, cackling.

And sadly, Silver had also seen the girl harm herself, in a multitude of ways. Pins, needles, fire, blades, arrows, sometimes even her own nails and teeth. She watched carefully as the Lord and Lady stumbled upon the girl mid self-lashing. The stoic and stern Lady reduced to panicked cries and shouts, the Lord running to find a clean rag to bind the girl's arm before infection could catch her.

Silver shook her head.

"Me's not quite sure. But- she looks to be ver' lonely, Mummy"

Mary hushed an amused chuckle.

"Per'aps her Ladyship did get kicked by a horse at time of birthings?.."

Silver gave a false appalled grin and batted at her Mother's forearm. Mary chuckles softly and rose her arms in fake defense. Silver rose from her chair and stepped over to the tiny hearth alit with flames. It was dwindling.

"Mummy we's in need of a couple logs. I'll's go bring some" Silver called, skipping to the door of the little cabin and stepping out into the cobbles. A small stack of chopped logs sat stacked against the cabin beneath a wooden awning. Silver bent her knees to gather an armful of the little logs and rose carefully, trying not to drop any and risk waking up the cattle.

As she rose, she noticed a dark figure just outside the awning. Silver gasped and very nearly let the wood topple from her arms.

"Oh! Bells! Young Mistress, you did gives me the frights, you did!"

Expecting for a brief moment, the girl to laugh with her or crack a smile, she merely rose her thick brows as if to say, 'oh, did I? '.

The silence was uncomfortable, even the crickets didn't sings. Silver shuffled uncomfortably, securing the wood in one arm and using her free one to clutch her skirt to curtsy and bid the young girl goodnight. But the girl had already made a move.

She slowly rose her arm out. In her finger, she held a needle, gestureing for Silver to take it. Just a needle. Her face slowly cracked into that demented smile. Silver plucked the needle from the girl's hand and inspected it quickly, until realising that the girl never lowered her arm back to her side. Instead, she presented her palm, free of it's bandages and red from multiple little prick wounds.

"Play with me"

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 20

read on ao3 (111K words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter 20: 'No Sound But The Wind'

Joel’s POV: 

“Get her on the table, now.” 

Joel staggered towards the metal surface elevated in the middle of the room; his steps were quick, brutal, and unrelenting. He cradled Juliet against his chest with a gentleness that warred with the fury etched in every fine line on his face.

When he reached the table he stopped, towering over it, reluctant to let go of the woman in his arms. Joel couldn’t get the smell of burning flesh out of his nose. It lingered in the air, choking him with every breath. He heard Ethan shout another command, urging him to lay Juliet’s broken body on the medic’s table. But Joel was getting sick of Ethan’s orders, and he had vowed to keep Juliet safe. He couldn’t let go of her. He couldn’t lose the reassurance of her shallow breaths against his chest.

“Joel! Put her down, we’re running out of time,” begged Ethan.

Joel’s eyes cut to Ethan standing over the metal table with gloves and a stack of gauze. He was right, they didn’t have long. Any minute now someone was going to find the three bodies they left at the armoury or stumble across the mess left at Juliet’s house. But how could he let her go? He would protect her, he would keep her from any more suffering. 

Joel knew that he was being selfish, allowing his caveman instincts to control him, but he was still high on adrenaline and that burning rush through his bloodstream told him to hold tight to Juliet and kill anyone who dared take her from him. 

Finally, Joel's gaze pointed downwards and he flinched.

He caught sight of the dried blood crusted around her ear and the bruises blossoming on her jaw. Then his eyes dropped lower and he was reminded of the blood that drowned her entire torso, soaking her flannel. Joel tightened his grip, pulling Juliet a bit closer to his chest.

Then his eyes moved to his own hands. Blood coated them so brutally that there was no hint of the tanned skin beneath. Joel flexed his fingers and felt the strain of his fractured knuckles. They were the hands that killed Juliet’s father, they were the hands that protected Juliet; saved her. But they were also the hands that brought her here, that fought infected and raiders across the country to bring her to her own personal hell. 

Joel finally released the choked breath caught in his throat and allowed Ethan’s voice to tune back into his mind. He leaned down and rested Juliet on the cold metal surface of the examination table, but he didn’t step back. Joel rested a hand on her shoulder as Ethan rushed around him. 

His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She hadn’t woken yet and terror surrounded Joel’s heart at the thought of never again seeing the warmth of her brown eyes. His hand on her shoulder began to tremble and Joel dipped his gaze to her chest as he concentrated on counting her slow breaths. 

Joel watched as Ethan cut open her soiled shirt. Each slice of the knife revealed more of the horror that etched Juliet’s skin. Joel felt his other hand curl against the metal table, demonstrating his excruciating rage. His breaths were fast and heavy. 

He wished he had taken longer with Elijah, dragged out his torture, relished in it more. Joel’s rage was a vicious thing. It was always there, lingering under his skin, building until it eventually found its release. And Joel’s fury had burned for a long, long time before his fist finally met Elijah’s face. Joel poured months of frustration, months of fear, months of pure blazing rage into each punch. 

With every hit, the image of Juliet’s motionless body flashed white across his vision, fueling his assault. All Joel could focus on was killing, ending the life that had ended Juliet’s. But when he saw the brand on her stomach, Joel wished he had taken his time with Elijah. 

Joel’s mind returned to the present when Ethan poured some liquid over Juliet’s wound and he was forced to watch as her skin hissed and blistered. Joel’s head shot up, his eyes wild as he found Ethan’s returning gaze. 

“I’m cleaning it,” Ethan reassured. 

Joel had no words to vocalise the threats that crawled up his throat and coated his tongue. His mind was entirely consumed by the woman lying on the table. If Joel were to speak right now, he was sure he would start yelling. Joel didn’t think he’d be able to stop. 

Instead, Joel threatened Ethan with his murderous stare, following his every movement as he cleaned and dressed Juliet’s wound. Ethan’s hands started to tremble under the weight of Joel’s savage attention. 

Minutes crawled by. Joel’s hand didn’t leave Juliet’s shoulder. Without realising, his bloodstained thumb had started to rub across a bare patch of skin near her neck. It moved in soothing circles as Joel unconsciously savoured the feeling of her warm skin, reminding him that she was still alive, that she was still with him. 

Just as Ethan was pressing the bandage against her wound, the office door swung open, revealing the bartender from only hours ago. Joel twisted around, shielding Juliet’s unconscious body with his own. 

The bartender was out of breath, bending forward to rest his hands on his thighs as he gasped. Joel caught Ethan’s eyes before his gaze returned to the bartender. The man was standing straight again, running his hand through his sweat soaked hair. 

“What did you do?” he demanded through deep breaths, staring at Joel. 

Joel shifted to cover more of Juliet’s body but the bartender caught his movement. He shot Joel a shocked look then stepped closer. Joel instantly reached for the shotgun still hanging from his shoulder, a clear warning to stay away from the woman behind him.

The bartender raised his hands and Joel eased his grip, allowing the gun to fall from his shoulder again. 

“I saved her,” Joel ground out, the first words he’d uttered since the basement. His voice was low and flat, entirely devoid of feeling. Joel felt no guilt over his actions, only a deep, brutal fear for Juliet. 

The bartender’s gaze found Ethan, standing behind the table, his hand hovered over the fresh bandage which now covered almost the entirety of Juliet’s stomach. Ethan nodded to the bartender, his chin dipping solemnly. “Elijah’s dead,” he announced in a quiet voice. 

The bartender's whole body flinched as his eyes cut to Joel again. He didn’t look angry, just shocked. But that shock transformed into horror when he finally noticed Juliet’s wounds. The man’s eyes filled with tears as he took slow, shaky steps towards them. Joel allowed it this time, having assessed that the bartender held no hostility towards them. 

“Juliet,” the bartender gasped out with a cry. 

“She’s alive,” Ethan responded quickly. 

“Barely,” Joel cut in, his hand moving to his gun.  “We need to get her outta here.”

The bartender swallowed before meeting Joel’s dark eyes. “They found the bodies in the armoury,” he stated. “A group was headed towards Elijah’s house when I left, if they don’t know he’s dead already, they will soon.” 

Joel nodded, having expected this. “Anyone still at the armoury?” he asked, curling his fingers around his gun, ignoring the pain blazing across his knuckles. 

“No,” the bartender replied, shaking his head. “A few of them took the bodies and the rest left to go find Elijah.”

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. Then he turned, checking for another rise and fall of Juliet’s chest before he caught Ethan’s questioning stare.

“Can you run?” Joel asked as he moved to slide a hand under Juliet’s neck.

“What? We can’t just leave like this,” Ethan protested, rounding the table.

Joel pinned him with a lethal stare before reaching his other hand under Juliet’s knees and lifting her to his chest. For a split second, with the feel of Juliet’s body against his own, Joel released a breath of relief.

“Stop” Ethan demanded, his gaze cut between Joel and the bartender. “She’s not fit to travel, I’ve only bandaged the burn. We have no idea what other injuries she might have.”

Joel physically flinched at his words, then the anger started to build beneath his skin again. “That’s why I’m gettin’ her out this fuckin' town,” Joel growled, pushing past Ethan and the bartender as he stalked towards open door with Juliet pressed against his chest. 

Out in the night air, Joel’s pace started to quicken, heading in the direction of the armoury. There were more guns, more ammo, and most importantly, there was a truck to get them out of the town. Fear and anger fueled his stride as he tucked Juliet closer to his chest. He didn’t look back, not to see if Ethan had stayed in the medic’s office or if he had started to follow them. 

Joel would leave Ethan in a heartbeat. Joel had Juliet; she was all he needed to be able to leave. Ethan was the reason Juliet was forced back to this mess.

Joel’s own guilt always lessened when he placed the blame on someone else. 

But Joel knew that Juliet cared for Ethan, enough to sacrifice her life and freedom for him. So, when Joel began to hear footsteps running to catch up with him, he didn’t let his anger win. He just allowed Ethan to follow as they raced across the grass towards their ticket out. 

……………………………………………………………..

Juliet’s POV:

Juliet could hear voices.

They were definitely male voices but it sounded like they were underwater. Everything sounded distorted. There was a ringing that echoed in her ears and a rumbling that shook her body. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids wouldn’t move, not even to twitch in response to her brain’s firm instructions. 

Before Juliet could begin to panic, another wave of unconsciousness washed over her.

………………………………………………….

“Take the next left,” a voice said.

Juliet heard the words this time, they still sounded strange but they were legible. There was something familiar about the voice but Juliet couldn’t place it. It made her feel younger, safe, comfortable. She could hear the crinkle of paper moving, Juliet assumed it was a map.

She must be in a car. 

“Yeah? If you wanna get us killed. I’m goin’ straight,” another voice argued back. This one was older, deeper, darker. Juliet recognised it too, except this voice sent a pulse of warmth through her. This voice was angry and almost frightening but it made Juliet desperate to wake up and find the man who sent the chill down her spine. 

She didn’t get a chance because, soon after, the voices faded and the darkness returned. 

…………………………………………………………

When Juliet awoke again, the car had stopped. 

Her eyes blinked open but the darkness remained. Had she lost her vision? Was it night? The multitude of questions started to seep into Juliet’s, still fuzzy, mind. 

The voices were gone, there was no sound but the wind striking against the vehicle. 

Juliet started to blink rapidly as her heart rate picked up. Where was she? Why was it so dark? Why was her stomach starting to burn?

A fierce pain began to consume her torso, extending down to her ankles, across to her wrists and then up to the entire left side of her face. Soon, Juliet’s entire body was engulfed in an inferno of agony. 

Her breaths came quicker as the panic set in. She couldn’t remember what had happened, why she was in so much pain or why she was alone in a vehicle. There was no space in her mind to begin untangling those thoughts. Her pain consumed everything. Every breath was agony, her stomach contracted as a vicious blaze continued to burn across her skin.

Juliet started to moan, quietly at first, then, as the pain grew, her cries got louder. Tears started to leak from the corner of her eyes, dripping down onto the seats she lay across. A sob choked out of her and Juliet gasped out a quiet cry for help. 

As the plea left her mouth, the car door behind her head flew open. Juliet blinked through tears, attempting to see who now stood above her. From the position she lay in, the figure was upside down, holding a torch. Juliet realised it was a man, but she couldn’t see his face. 

Juliet began to thrash and cry louder, begging her weak muscles to move. She had to do something, get out of her vulnerable position. Fear consumed the pain in her body.

Then, the man’s voice cut through her terror and Juliet instantly stilled.

“Shh. It’s alright, you’re with me,” he soothed. 

The man brought the torch forward and his face was illuminated in a warm yellow glow. Juliet gasped and another sob released through her clenched jaw.

“Joel?” she cried. Juliet’s body sagged in relief as the hot tears continued to pour from her eyes. For a second, she forgot about the pain and focused entirely on Joel’s dark eyes. He stared down at her with his permanent scowl, his jaw was rock hard and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. But his eyes were soft and glossy, watching her with a mixture of shock and a look she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s me. You’re with me,” Joel repeated, his voice rough. 

Juliet nodded through sobs but the tilt of her head caused a wave of dizziness to attack her and she stilled all movements, breathing heavy. 

“Don’t move,” Joel ordered and shot a look behind him. 

“What happened?” Juliet whispered. Her memories still escaped her, she couldn’t remember anything beyond Joel.

Through the torchlight, Juliet watched a muscle jump in Joel’s jaw as his gaze returned to her. “Don’t think just now,” he commanded, his voice like steel. 

Juliet’s mouth began to dry. Something was very wrong. That underwater feeling started to return but she didn’t feel like she would pass out again, instead Juliet felt her mind drift away. Without intending to, she disobeyed Joel’s order as flashes of her memories began to return. 

Juliet remembered, with a flinch, returning home to her father.

She remembered, with a sickening churn of her stomach, the chair in the basement. 

She remembered that her father had taken Ethan from her, turned him against her.

She remembered the slap of the bible against her face.

Then… she remembered the hot poker. 

And the smell of burning flesh.

Her burning flesh.

Nausea washed over her and Juliet felt herself shift, struggling to sit up. The consumption of her memories had dulled the pain a little. Her body felt so far away. Juliet was still trapped in her past. 

Strong hands captured her struggling limbs, lifting her to a seated position. A rough hand caught her head before it rolled to the side. A calloused thumb brushed over her cheek. 

Juliet opened her eyes into Joel’s. He looked at her with unrestrained terror, his stare wide and intense. But his touch was gentle and his body, now seated beside her, was warm.

“It hurts, Joel,” Juliet whispered as her teeth caught her trembling bottom lip in an attempt to stop another sob from escaping. She wasn’t sure herself if she meant the pain in her body or the agony in her mind. 

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows deepened and his eyes dropped to her bloodied lips.

“I know, baby,” he murmured in a low voice as his thumb moved to brush over her mouth, gently releasing her bottom lip from the grip of her teeth. 

For a long moment, they stared at each other and everything else fell away. Juliet forgot about the pain, she forgot about her past, she forgot about her questions. All she could focus on was the look in Joel’s eyes and the creases on his forehead she was so desperate to soothe. His eyes were wide and open, his expression was defenceless. Juliet could see every ripple of terror, hope and anger glide across his face.  

Juliet opened her mouth, words waited on her tongue. Joel followed the movement with his thumb, refusing to leave her lips without his touch. 

But before Juliet could speak, the door to her right opened and the shutters fell on Joel’s face once more. Juliet turned her head, fear gripping her, and her gaze instantly met green eyes she knew all too well. Green eyes which had once been her symbol of hope. Green eyes she thought she would never see again.

Ethan. 

Juliet screamed.  

“No, no, no,” she began to cry as she frantically pressed herself against Joel. No, this couldn’t be happening. Her father had taken Ethan from her. Her father had turned him against her. He was here to take her back to him.

That underwater feeling began to consume her again. Juliet’s memory was hazy and her mind was still ravaged by pain and confusion. But she remembered what her father had said, she remembered what he had done to Ethan, the loyal follower he had turned him into.

Elijah had threatened her with Ethan and she had learned never to take her father’s threats lightly.

In the murky waters of her mind, Juliet was terrified of Ethan. 

“Juliet?” Ethan asked frantically, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

Before Ethan could lean in any closer towards her, a figure suddenly slammed him against the side of the car, shaking the entire vehicle.

Juliet realised, with a shocked gasp, that the figure was Joel. She hadn’t even noticed he had left her side. Juliet’s thoughts were so scattered, her mind was floating away from her, all she could remember was the soul crushing sadness etched with despair when she had heard of Ethan’s fate. But she wouldn’t let Ethan bring her back to her father, she wouldn’t go through that again. 

As her mind started to focus again, she began to hear Joel and Ethan. Joel had him pinned to the car, an arm against his throat. 

“What did you do to her?” Joel growled.

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” Ethan croaked out, struggling against Joel’s grip.

Their voices grew quieter and Juliet couldn’t hear them anymore, but she watched Joel loosen his grip on Ethan and dart his eyes towards her.

After a moment, she listened closer and Juliet was able to make out their harsh words.

“Elijah must have said something to her, tried to convince her I was on his side,” Ethan ground out, practically spitting at Joel. “I told you he tried to turn me against her, get me to join his cause but his brainwashing didn’t work, I swear it.”

Joel took a step back but his eyes didn’t leave Ethan’s face, the wind swirled around them, blowing through Joel’s hair. He looked conflicted, his lips pursed and his jaw clenched with indecision. 

Juliet didn’t know what to make of what she heard. Everything was still so fuzzy, she couldn’t remember everything that had happened in the basement. There were only flashes of horror that blinded her as they attacked her mind. She needed answers, she had to know what was going on.

Juliet squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, attempting to clear her head enough to make sense of Joel and Ethan’s conversation. Her fear of Ethan had begun to ease. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe her father had lied to her. Maybe Ethan hadn’t changed. 

She blinked and felt tears settle on her eyelashes. Juliet was so tired, and everything hurt. She just wanted to return to that black nothingness, but she fought against it, desperate to hear more.

“Why’d he tell her that? What was his goal?” Joel demanded as he ran a hand over his jaw.

“Fear, submission, intimidation. I don’t fucking know. All I know is that Elijah loved to play games with Juliet. He had her so messed up in the head,” Ethan explained, his voice desperate.

Ethan began to turn towards her but stopped himself, sighing quietly, then he dropped his voice lower.

“The man is dead and he’s still playing his fucked up mind games with her,” he murmured, his voice thick with sympathy. 

Juliet choked out a strangled gasp. If she had enough power in her arms, she would have covered her face, dug the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw stars. 

Her father… dead?

She was thankful for the cushioned seat that caught her head when the darkness consumed her once more.

________________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

[timeforelfnonsense]

Read Sunshine & Starlight on Ao3 Read the previous chapter on Tumblr Pairing: Dafni (F!Tav) x Astarion Rating: M (Later Chapters will contain explicit content) TWs: depiction of mild anxiety Tags: Cubby elf oc, Cleric!Tav, fluff Elvish Translations: N'Tel'Que'Tethira - City Elves

Dafni sat cross-legged beside the fire, elbow-deep in her heavy canvas pack, plucking out anything of use she could find amidst the collection of random objects that had taken up a semi-permanent residence there over the years. Her mother had always said that her organizational skills left much to be desired. She could picture her golden brown eyes as they rolled in response to Dafni's insistence that she was simply well prepared. 

 Dafni yelped, her finger finding the sharp edge of a knife. She pulled her hand free of her pack, examining the tiny laceration. A bit of blood had welled up at the tip of her finger. She popped the finger in her mouth, gently sucking on the wound. Her face scrunched in displeasure as the smell of iron stung her nose. Frustrated, Dafni grabbed her pack, dumping its contents into a heap atop her bedroll. 

She immediately pulled out her father's compass, her crinkled map of the Sword Coast, and the offending knife, sorting them into the 'useful' pile along with a few other adventuring essentials she'd found mixed in with her clutter.

She separated her clothing next. One by one, Dafni tossed each article to the side save for a single length of translucent azure cloth. She pressed the peplos to her nose, drawing in the sweetness of elven laurel and fertile soil. It had been over a year since she last returned to her village, but the smell of home still clung to her vestments. 

Her chest ached at the thought of home. If she had just been able to content herself living among the wood elves— If she had never left the Feywild in the first place, Dafni might have avoided the dire situation she'd found herself in altogether. 

She signed, kicking out her crossed legs and flogging to her back. 

There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs.  A part of her would always belong to Gwynneth and the kaleidoscopic splendor of the Feywild. Still, the world was wide, and Dafni had been born with a voracious sense of curiosity that would never have allowed her to content herself with living the neat, simple life her mother had planned for her. 

True, Bauldr's Gate had taken some getting used to at first, but life in the city was already shaping up to be an excellent adventure. Twin Songs was a colorful hodgepodge of architectural influences. Temples and shrines to more gods than she could have imagined lined each street. Some people might have called the mishmash of aesthetics as garish, but to Dafni, there was strange loveliness in so many dissimilar things coming together to make something entirely unique.  

She'd found a townhouse there, just beyond Wyrm's Crossing. A white brick building with dark wooden archways. It was covered in crawling vines and star-shaped blossoms. The front garden was overgrown, but she could still identify a few familiar herbs among the chaos. A bergamot tree grew near the edge of the waist-high lattice fence, its branches bowing with the weight of unplucked fruit. When she spotted the crooked 'for rent' sign in the window, Dafni knew she'd found her new home. 

The townhouse belonged to a family of elvish nobles from the Upper City who had long since left for their country estate. However, their retainer had assured her they wouldn't have an issue with her using the lower floor of the property as a clinic so long as she could afford the rent. 

Business had been slow initially, but she'd gained a measure of favor among the city's elven refugees. Dafni's mouth tipped downward, her thoughts drifting to the trembling woman who'd come to her door in the wee hours of the morning. 

There had been an outbreak of fever spreading amongst the elven refugees of Rivington. Dafni had held her shaking hands as she described the illness: fever, chills, a flushed appearance, excessive perspiration. The Sylvan Sweats, she was sure of it. 

A nasty disease is left to run its course but treatable with the right combination of herbs and magic. She kept her shelves well stocked, but she'd need something more challenging to come by than the willow bark and elderflower she'd sent the woman home with to ease her people's symptoms.

Naralis Blessing. That had been her purpose in setting out for the Cloak Wood. The flowers were rare in the material plane, only growing in places where the veil between it and the Feywild was particularly thin. Even if she hadn't found them growing naturally, the conditions of the forest were perfect for her to conjure some up herself.

Dafni's fingertips brushed against the delicate skin just below her eye. Yesterday, she'd been on a mission to help her people, and now she was the one in desperate need of a healer.  

Gale had spared no detail when explaining the gory details of ceremorphosis. Disorientation, hallucination, headaches, bleeding orifices. They should have been hip-deep in misery by now. 

Yet, she and her new friends remained miraculously untentacled. 

He and Shadowheart were suspicious of the lack of skull-splitting horror, but Dafni was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gods willing, their luck would continue and she'd have a cure and be on her way back to the Rivington elves before they even had time to wonder what was keeping her. 

Dafni's eyes fluttered shut, and thoughtful reflection began to bleed into half-formed reverie. She might have drifted off completely had she not heard the sound of Astarion's voice. 

"Pardon me ah— Daffodil, was it?"

"Dafni," she corrected with a snort.  

"Right. My Apologies. I'm not usually one to forget the name of a beautiful woman. A side effect of our little hitchhikers, perhaps."

She waved her hands before herself, a flush forming across her cheeks. "No harm done. Was there something you needed?" 

Astarion pushed aside the pile of clothes Dafni had left out on her bedroll before sitting beside her. Her flush grew impossibly hotter as his pale hand brushed against a pair of her candy colored panties. 

He glanced up at her, wearing a close-lipped smile. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how you were faring before we turn in for the evening. I'm happy to take the first watch if you'd like. I'll be awake for a while anyway. This is all new to me. Trudging around the wilderness all day and curling up in the dirt to rest is a little… novel," his expression soured for a moment before shifting back to indifference, "but I doubt I'll be getting much rest until we can procure some more comfortable accommodations." 

Dafni brought her palm to her mouth to stifle her giggle. It was terribly impolite to laugh at the discomfort of others, but the idea of an elf turning their nose up at nature was, as Astarion had put it, a little novel to her.

"I'm sorry!" she said as she bit back another peel of laughter, "I hope I haven't offered you it's just where I come from, N'Tel'Que'Tethira are particularly unheard of. Hearing an elf so dissatisfied with a night beneath the stars was a bit of a shock." 

"Oh, no offense taken." Astarion offered her a dismissive wave of his hand. "I take it you aren't baldurian then?" 

"Actually, I am! Only recently, though. I'm from the Moonshaes, originally." 

Astarion gave a thoughtful hum. "What brought you to the city then?" 

"Wanderlust, mostly," Dafni explained, "I lived with a clan of wood elves before coming to the city. We traveled all over the Isle of Gwynneth. I loved it but I was just… ready for a change." 

"Wood elves? How charming." he flashed her a dazzling grin, adding, "Although, I hardly think it was fair of them to keep such a lovely creature all to themselves in the wilderness." 

Dafni was beginning to wonder if Astarion took some sort of sadistic pleasure in making her blush. Gods, all it took was a few honeyed words and Dafni had found herself reduced to jelly. In her fluster, she had forgotten to mind her glamour, allowing a cluster of pale yellow and peachy pink flowers to blossom among her loose curls.  

 "Was there anything I could do to help you feel more comfortable?" Dafni blurted out, desperate to shift his attention away from the garden spring to life in her hair, "I—I could brew you an herbal tea to help you relax, maybe? Or, umm, I could share my bedroll. Not like that, of course! Not that I don't think you are handsome. You are very handsome. I mean, obviously. I just mean I could let you use it so you'll be more…comfortable."

Dafni groaned, burying her face in her palms. She jumped at the feeling of an icy hand wrapping around her wrist. Astarion tugged her hands away from her face. When Dafni finally mustered the courage to face him, she was met with the first genuine smile she'd seen grace his perfect lips all day.

"Oh no, darling, tea isn't really my drink. As for the bedroll, well, maybe another time." 

Dafni yanked her wrist free of Astarion's loose grip, "You are a ruthless tease! Has anyone told you that before?" 

"Alright, no more teasing for tonight; you have my word," Astarion said with a low chuckle; his fingertips brushed against her temple as he plucked a yellow flower from behind her pointed ear. He rolled the stem between his index and forefinger, glancing at her through his dark lashes. He brought the blossom to his nose, drawing in a deep breath. "You know, I think I might like you, Daffodil . The two of us are going to have a lot of fun together."

[spider-bren]

Black And Blue, Bloody Red | Clement Mansell x Male OC

Pairing: Clement Mansell x Male OC

Tags: Public Humiliation, Vibrating toys, Teasing in public, Manipulation, Toxic relationship, Clement Mansell is his own warning

Summary: Clement takes his boyfriend, Ryan, out for lunch

⚠️ spoilers for Justified City Primeval Episode 4 ⚠️

"Ryan will have the salad with chicken. A tall glass of water with ice. No lemon. I'll have a cola soda. The Southern Comfort Steak. Black and blue. With chips on the side. Got it?" Clement told the waitress who quickly wrote down the order. 

"Coming right up, sir." 

Clement turned back to his partner who was squirming in his seat. A mean smile broke out on his face, his eyes intense. He raked his eyes over Ryan's form. Sweat faintly glossing his skin. His neck and cheeks lightly flushed. His hands gripped the table, his knuckles white.  Clement leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. 

"How does it feel, babyboy?" He asked, voice smug. 

Ryan swallowed. "Good." 

"Just good?" Clement clicked his tongue. "I think we can do better than that." He reached inside his pants pocket and fiddled with a tiny remote. He turned up the setting making Ryan whimper softly. "How's that?" 

Ryan pressed his lips together and adjusted in his seat. "Better." 

"I bet you're soaking in your pants. How hard are you?" Clement drawled, his voice deeper. 

"You could check?" Ryan replied. He hoped Clement would relieve some of the pressure. 

"Nah. Save it for afterwards. Want to get you nice and worked up first." 

Not long later, their meals arrived. Ryan shakily picked up his fork and tried not to focus on the pleasure that was currently wracking his body. Clement cut into his steak and took a bite. Ryan watched as Clement sighed. That sigh. It wasn't a good sign. Clement unfolded the napkin and spat out the contents in his mouth. He called the waitress over and Ryan wanted to die from embarrassment. 

"You know what cut this steak is?" 

"Uh. Southern Comfort steak." 

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Ready for Double Jeopardy! Now, I ordered the steak black and blue. Do you know what black and blue means?" 

"It means rare?" the waitress said unsteadily. 

"Oh no, ma'am. It does not mean rare. It means goddamn bloody red."

"Babe?" Ryan interjected. 

"Not now, boy. Daddy is busy trying to teach a lesson." He turned back to the waitress. "So, here's what I want you to do. Take this. I want you to throw it in the trash. Then I want you to get your chef, have another steak, smack that on the fire, sing two verses of 'Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground', flip that sucker, sing the third verse, yank it off, plate it, and bring it back here. Then I'm gonna cut into this big-ass hunk of black and blue meat, and if I don't hear it moo in pain…" He clicked his tongue, still holding the hand of the waitress which he had grabbed when he called her over. "We're just gonna start this all over again." 

Ryan forced himself not to make a comment as the waitress scurried off. Clement faced his boyfriend again. 

"Now where were we?" 

Ryan trembled from the effects of the vibration deep inside him, but kept his voice steady. 

"You didn't have to talk to her like that," he said. 

Clement raised his brow. "I pay for my meal and I don't pay to eat shit. I want to get what I want. Isn't that correct? If I order something, I expect to get what I ordered." 

"But it was how you said it…" 

Clement flipped the switch again on a higher setting and Ryan jolted up out of his seat. Clement leaned in to whisper.

"I can make you cum right here in your pants. You're soil yourself and I'll make you walk out of here in front of me. You'll be moaning like a whore amidst all these nice people. I can be very nice to you. You know that. Or I can be very mean. I will make a spectacle out of you and show you who's boss. You'll be demeaned and shamed right here in front of God and everybody else. Don't upset me, Ryan." 

Clement set it back on its lowest setting. "Now eat your salad." 

To be continued . . .

[thewayhavenchronicle]

was going thru my likes and realized i got tagged by @not-sewell foREVER ago to do this meiker and this uquiz for my ocs jfdkls

Ruth Bihari

Lily Of The Valley

This is the poison of giving too much. You feel yourself emptying out, dizzying, discoloring-- until you fear you will fade entirely and wither away. You have always had to give. You never had a choice before. They pluck your flowers for their beauty, they trample your leaves carelessly, they pull out your roots by the fistful and berate you for daring to grow. And now that you have a grove to spread out in, your rhizomes tangle and curl in on themselves. When cruelty is all you've ever known, thriving seems impossible. But the answer is not to make yourself small and offer every lovely thing you are to the world in the hopes it will have mercy on you. The answer is to let yourself dare to thrive for thriving's sake, to grow in the wild ways you wish to-- and to do that for yourself for once.

Saoirse Cathair

Belladonna

This is the poison of falling in love. You taste it and your heart beats fast. Your eyes dilate, you fall into deep delirium. You may be a bit dramatic and impulsive, and it gets you into trouble sometimes, but you just can't help yourself. It's in your blood. You love because it is the truest beauty you've found in this harsh world. Even when it's hurt you before, when it's poisoned you, you still find a way. They may call you naive for still believing in it, or vain for making yourself and your surroundings so meticulously lovely. But to love like this is brave and noble, and I hope you find the beauty you seek. Chances are, it's within and all around you already, if you know where to look.

Noriko "Nori" Hakimi

Hemlock

This is the poison of intense fear. Your body trembles, your flesh burns. Your limbs won't respond to you. You convulse. You can't seem to control the fear. It seems that it has always lived within you. You hesitate, you agonize, and that breeds regret. Sometimes it threatens to overwhelm you, and that frightens you more than anything. But panic is survival mode in overdrive, and something within you knows you must live. Creation seems to be the only balm for you. Perhaps you survive so stubbornly because you have stories that must be told, songs that must be sung. Soothe your stage fright. The path from surviving to thriving is having a good garden to grow in. And you can't do that completely alone.

Penelope "Nell" Delgado

Oleander

This is the poison of stagnation. You grow drowsy. Your heart rate slows, and when you do move you can't seem to stop shaking. It may seem to others that you're lazy, or reticent. Like you avoid hard work on purpose, like you always take the easy way out. But you know deep down that it wouldn't be like this if you weren't so tired, so deeply tired. If you weren't crushed under the weight of sorrow like a mile of water over your head. Nothing brings you peace, except rest and-- though you can hardly dare to ask-- having someone tend to you gently and sweetly. A good gardener speaks to their plants, sings to them, waters them, fertilizes their soil, prunes the dead parts, nurtures the new growth. You yearn to be cared for like that, even though you feel you don't deserve it. The secret is that you do. You always have. And someday, you'll learn that, and receive that care, and the exhaustion won't keep you from growing strong and lovely anymore. You were never the problem. These are simply poor growing conditions for you.

thank you for tagging me!! these are always so fun. also the meiker i used for Nell is here