#i love when stories mix feelings of pure sadness

[ellisbian]

looking at this before-the-party moment makes me feel so in peace with all the lights and snow it’s so magical, maybe it’s also because ellie herself wants to take a peaceful moment trying to not think for a while about her and joel’s fight they had after she discovered the truth

it’s also magical how it matches with ellie at the party surrounded by the lights again, and when we see her face it’s also enlightened with a small smile seeing dina, that girl who asked her to go to the party and that now it’s making her feeling anxiety too

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 4. the others

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Winter begins to wrap its arms around Jackson, filling the town with snow and a nasty flu. Joel takes you to meet Ben and Lisa, and you finally discover more about your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, amnesia, sad!joel, pining, sexual tension, slow burn, jealousy

WC: 9K

Series Masterlist

You looked happy.

Ever since you began working at the infirmary, you seemed happier. Like you were grateful to have a purpose. A way to contribute. To give back to the community that supported you.

You smiled more and you didn't shy away from him as much as you used to and it gave Joel hope. Every time you saw him and greeted him with a smile or said goodbye with a squeeze of his shoulder, it made his heart flutter. It's been weeks. Months, technically. But he was making some progress.

It was the first snowfall of the season and it put you in an even better mood than usual. Your face was pressed up against the window as he tended to the fire behind you, and you watched as the big, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating Jackson in a perfect blanket of pure white.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from," you told him over your shoulder. He knew that already, but he humored you.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. When I was a kid, though, we got hit with this freak storm. No one knew what to do. No one owned shovels or snow blowers or any of that, so we were all stuck inside our houses until the storm ended and everything melted," you said, turning away from the window so you could curl up on the couch, then pausing for a moment before tilting your head to the side. "Did I tell you this already?"

Yes, he thought, but he shook his head, eager for you to continue. He just loved hearing you talk, no matter what you said. Besides, if you were expected to rebuild your relationship, sharing your past would naturally be part of that, so he encouraged you to tell stories, even if he's heard them before.

"So, what happened?" he asked, putting the poker back in the stand and getting up with a groan, his knees cracking a bit before he settled in on the other end of the couch.

"Well, the power went out," you said, and he could hear the excitement in your voice, delighted to be telling him something you thought he didn't already know, and it made his heart swell. "So we didn't have any heat or any way to cook our food. We set up camping tents in the middle of our living room and slept in there with, like, five blankets each. And we lived off pop-tarts and granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches for two days til the power came back on."

"Two days?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"Yeah, but it was fun. As a kid, you know? I'm sure my parents were freaking out but me and Matty were excited. We played board games and ate by candlelight and told ghost stories," you said wistfully, your eyes looking miles away. "We talked about that for years," you finished softly, and Joel smiled.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from, either," he told you, and your eyes met his again.

"Texas, right?" and he nodded. "Did you live there your whole life?"

Something deep inside him sparked with a mix of nerves and excitement. It felt like you were meeting all over again, and while it was under less than ideal circumstances, he couldn't help but feel those butterflies you feel when you first meet someone new.

"Yep, my whole life. Tommy, too, except for when he was in the army."

"Were you in the army?" you asked, but he quickly shook his head.

"Nah. Wasn't my scene. Besides, I had Sarah."

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for asking. You dropped your attention to your hands, which were twisted in your lap, as you thought about your next question.

"How old was she?" you asked quietly, still looking down and avoiding his gaze, but you heard him take a deep breath.

"She was twelve when she died," he told you, his words hanging heavy in the air and he could see the conflict in your face as you tried to figure out a way to learn more about him without reopening old wounds. "It's okay, I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"Did we used to talk about her?" you asked him curiously, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But not at first. Still hurt too much back then, y'know?"

"Yeah," you breathed, your mind now drifting to thoughts of your own family. Were you together when they died? Did you see it? If so, was it some sort of sick twist of luck that you now couldn't remember?

"What was your favorite thing to do together?" you asked, watching as his eyes found a fixed point on the wall while he considered your question.

"My favorite thing was hiking. Hers was goin' to the movies or the mall, most likely," he said with a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind, though. I was just happy she still wanted to be seen with her old man at that age. Makes me wonder if she felt bad for me or somethin'."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Why would she feel bad for you?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't date much. Had a few poker buddies but I mostly spent my time with Tommy. Just worked so hard back then that I was too tired to do much else."

"And you were a contractor?" you asked, trying to remember the small pieces of information you picked up over the last two months. He nodded.

"Yeah, me and Tommy had our own business. That was a lifetime ago. Can't imagine doin' that kind of work now, not with my back," he said with a smile.

Joel's eyes flicked to the window over your shoulder, watching as the snow continued to come down, the window panes growing foggy in the corners. "Looks like we ain't goin' anywhere for a while," he said, changing the subject. You followed his gaze and nodded.

"What about Ellie? Is she okay back there?"

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She could make it up to the house if she got too cold," he assured you.

So, you were essentially snowed in. All alone.

You could feel his eyes on you as you watched the fire and you wondered if he was thinking about an alternate reality. One where you didn't have an accident. Where you remembered everything. One where you loved him the way he so obviously loved you, and what you might be doing differently in that very moment. You had a feeling your hunch was correct because he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and subtly inched a little closer towards you, the worn cushions dipping from his weight and causing your leg to bob.

Your body stiffened and your heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed in your throat. He was so patient, you had to give him credit. It couldn't be easy for him, and although you could finally admit to yourself that you found him attractive, you still didn't think you trusted him enough to take things any further. Not yet. Not when you still had so many questions. Your eyes drifted up to meet his and as you expected, he was watching you closely. Carefully. Trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. The problem was, every time he looked at you that way, with his eyes all soft and filled with adoration, you could only think about what he was hiding. What did he lie about? And why was he so hesitant for you to meet Ben and Lisa?

Joel leaned in a fraction and his fingers tightened their hold on the back of the couch. He wanted to kiss you. He's wanted to kiss you ever since that day in the field right before that clicker ruined the moment. And with the soft glow from the fire and the snow falling silently outside, it felt like the perfect moment. He was terrified of making things worse after he finally felt like he made some progress, but it was killing him. He missed having you so fucking much, sometimes it felt like it actually caused him physical pain. Like his chest would explode one day.

He swallowed nervously and inched a little closer and you panicked. Just as he was about to say something, you cut him off.

"Do you wanna play a board game?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you gave him a nervous smile.

"Sure," he replied, watching as you jumped off the couch to look through the games stacked on the bookcase. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his chin when you bent over and he had to force himself to look away before his body reacted, praying you didn't pick Twister.

It took two days but the snow finally stopped. Ellie did eventually make her way to the house by the second day, simply because she was bored, so you helped Joel make a vegetable soup while Ellie set up the Monopoly board in the living room. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough, and what you didn't have you supplemented with buttons.

You didn't realize it; too caught up in cooking and the joy it used to bring you, but you and Joel worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He chopped up zucchini while you diced onion and watched the pot on the stove that was cooking up noodles, slipping past each other to get to the sink and the cupboards and it all just felt so fucking normal that it made his chest ache. He wanted to draw your attention to it. He wanted to take you by the shoulders and say See? See how good we are together? But he didn't. He bit his tongue and bided his time until you came to that conclusion on your own, just like the first time.

But the first time was different. At least back then, you showed him affection. You kissed him and held him and shared your body with him and although you didn't want much more, not at first, eventually you did. And those moments in his bed were enough to hold him over until you opened your eyes and saw what was right in front of you.

He was selfish. He knew it was wrong to want you like that right now, but he wanted all of you, not just physically. He yearned to know what was going on behind your eyes, what you were thinking and feeling. What you thought of him. But if you would maybe just let yourself fall asleep in his arms on the couch while you read in front of the fire, or let him kiss you, just once, then maybe you would see it again. Feel it again.

"What the hell does a purple button mean?" you asked with a giggle, holding up the smooth, round plastic between your fingers.

"It's a hotel, duh!" Ellie said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Wait, why am I goin' to jail?"

"You rolled doubles three times in a row!" you told him, and you and Ellie bent over laughing at the confused expression on his face.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved his token to the corner of the board as he watched you and Ellie giggling and wiping tears from your eyes and fuck, it was nice. In another world, he would have made some joke about you being the one in handcuffs and maybe later he would have followed through with it and tied your wrists to the headboard, burying his face between your thighs until you couldn't take it anymore.

But instead, he just watched two of the people he loved most in the world have fun, the orange glow from the fire flickering over your smiling faces while the snow finally came to a stop outside.

Ellie had trekked back to the garage once the game was over. It was late, you looked tired, but he still suggested putting a movie on. He wasn't ready to let you go. He hated going to bed all alone. You seemed to consider his offer for a moment before you shook your head and yawned, and although he knew that would likely be your answer, he still felt his heart sink.

He walked you to your bedroom and as he was about to say goodnight, hoping to minimize the hurt by making it quick, you did something that surprised him. You pulled him into a hug, standing on your tiptoes, your chin resting on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed firmly against his and just as quickly as it happened, you pulled away. Joel was so stunned he wasn't sure he hugged you back, even though he stood cemented to the floor well after you went to bed, replaying the hug over and over, all he could remember was how he felt. And he went to bed that night with renewed hope blooming in his chest. Maybe you were finally coming around.

So the next morning when you asked him out of the blue if you could visit Ben and Lisa once the streets cleared of snow, he had a hard time finding a reason to say no. He should have known you wouldn't let it go, but he did hold out hope that maybe you moved on from the idea since it had been a few weeks when you last mentioned them.

He agreed, of course, not wanting to ruin the delicate foundation of your relationship. Besides, he already decided he would go with you and make sure they didn't tell you anything you weren't ready to hear.

The snow had melted enough where the road was visible again, but the snowbanks still piled high around the buildings and houses and you felt strangely nervous as you followed Joel down the street. He had finally agreed to take you to meet Ben and Lisa, and while you were grateful he didn't have the reaction he had the first time you mentioned them, you still wondered what caused that outburst.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe he was just tired and cranky that day, having just gotten back from patrol for the fourth day in a row. But something still felt... off.

"Wow, when Ellie said they lived on the outskirts, she wasn't kidding," you said, realizing you were reaching an edge of Jackson you had yet to explore.

"Yeah, they tend to keep to themselves," he replied without further explanation. He didn't seem agitated, but he definitely wasn't happy about going to see them. He seemed more quiet and subdued than usual.

Finally, you arrived at a quaint looking cottage tucked back from the road a ways. Like Ellie had said, it was small, but it looked cozy. You could see the smoke pluming from the chimney and you couldn't wait to warm up again.

There was no porch. Just a small roof over the front door and a folding chair that looked like it had seen better days. He knocked firmly on the door and after a moment, you heard light shuffling on the other side.

The door cracked open and you were greeted by a short woman around your age with dull, brown hair and bright green eyes. She saw Joel first and, like most people in town, she hesitated. But then she noticed you next to him and her expression changed. A wide smile stretched across her face and she said your name softly, then held her arms out for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze before turning around and ushering you both inside. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out there. Ben! You'll never guess who's here!"

You both stepped inside and as you were slipping off your outerwear, you glanced around the small space. It was tight, but it was filled with warmth. The living room had two small, mismatched loveseats on either side of the stone fireplace. Two large bookshelves that were filled with so many books that the shelves were sagging stood on either side of the fire, and curiously you didn't notice a television anywhere in the room.

You heard a man's deep voice behind you say your name and you jumped in surprise. Turning around, you were pulled into another hug by who you could only assume was Ben. He was tall - taller than Joel - and you wondered how on earth such a small house could fit such a large man. He stepped away, his dark eyes glittering with his hands still on your shoulders, taking in your appearance as if you haven't seen them in years.

Maybe you haven't.

You were so focused on absorbing every little detail about the house and its residents that you didn't notice Joel's body stiffen next to you, his eyes glued to Ben's hands. And while Lisa seemed to have the same reaction to Joel that everyone else in town did, Ben, on the other hand, did not seem phased by his presence. In fact, he appeared pleased to see him. Once he dropped his hands from your shoulders, he stretched out a lanky arm and shook Joel's hand, giving him a kind smile which Joel had a hard time returning.

"What a wonderful surprise. Come, let's sit. Do you want coffee or tea?" Ben asked, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. You both shook your heads and Ben smiled warmly at you once again. Even though the living room was just a few feet away from the front door, Ben still rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to one of the loveseats as if you might lose your way, only dropping his hold on you when he sat down across from you on the other one.

Joel eased himself down on the couch beside you, the space so small that he had no choice but to rest his leg against yours, and Lisa went to join Ben, the crackling fire between both loveseats warming you up right away.

"We heard you had an accident. How are you feeling?" Lisa asked, her voice so small and gentle compared to Ben's booming baritone.

"Better, thanks. But it's kind of why I'm here," you said, glancing over at Joel nervously, but he was staring silently at Ben, who still seemed unaffected.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and wrapped a hand around Ben's forearm, leaning into him a bit as she got more comfortable on the couch. You noticed for the first time a basket on the floor next to her feet filled with different colored yarn and half knitted projects tucked inside. "Oh?" she asked, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Is it... is it true? Do you really have memory loss?"

When you nodded, you noticed the flicker of pity across both their faces as they exchanged a somber look.

"I can only remember my life before the outbreak. My mom, dad and brother. I don't even remember what happened or how they died or how I managed to survive," you began, feeling yourself growing a little emotional. Joel must have sensed it in your tone because he squeezed your knee reassuringly, and when you glanced over at him, he had finally torn his eyes away from Ben to look at you with concern.

"It's been hard," Joel said, finally speaking up, addressing Ben and Lisa. "Lots of confusion, lots of missin' pieces. But she kept a journal. Turns out, she wrote 'bout you two, so that's why we're here," he finished, narrowing his eyes a bit at them.

"You wrote about us? How sweet," Ben said cheerily, running a hand through his dark blonde curls.

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't anythin' that detailed," Joel said quickly, and you frowned at him. He sat back into the sofa and glanced over at you. "Right?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, dragging your eyes away from Joel and back to your hosts. "Just that we went fishing and it felt like old times," you continued, and they both smiled at the memory. The only sound in the room was the fire next to you, the wood popping loudly under the flames as you weighed your next question. "So I was hoping you might help tell me about myself before we arrived in Jackson. Is that... okay?"

Lisa shifted in her seat, a small smile still twitching at her lips as she gazed up at Ben, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated a moment and you thought you saw his eyes flicker to Joel before responding.

"Of course," Ben said, slapping the tops of his thighs, jostling loose Lisa's grip on his arm. He quickly picked her hand back up and brought her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar symbol tattooed on the inside of her wrist, only made visible when Ben picked up her arm and her sleeve hung down.

"Can you tell me about when we first met?" you asked, figuring you should start at the beginning.

"Oh, what was it? Six or eight months after the outbreak, yeah?" Ben wondered aloud, looking to Lisa to confirm. She nodded and scratched her neck.

"Sounds about right."

You allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of excitement. There were two people right in front of you that could help fill in the blanks for the first five years after the outbreak, and you couldn't wait to hear more.

"We met in the Atlanta QZ," he began, but you quickly stopped him.

"QZ?"

"Quarantine Zone. All the major cities had 'em. Was meant to keep people safe from infected but the military ran most of 'em into the ground," Joel explained. "Treated people like cattle. Strict curfews. Barely enough rations to survive."

"It was awful," Lisa added solemnly.

"Was I alone?" you asked them, and Ben nodded. "Did I tell you anything about my family? How they died?"

Their eyes shifted to Joel for a moment before looking at one another.

"I thought you had said the infected got your mom on the first day. But your dad and brother..." Ben trailed off, looking down at his hands sadly. "They got caught out after curfew. It happened before we got there. They... were punished."

You frowned a little, looking to Joel to help shed some light on what Ben meant, but he was staring down at his feet.

"Punished?" you squeaked as your heart began to pound faster in your chest.

"Punishment for bein' out after curfew was death," Joel spoke up softly next to you.

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Death? The military were killing people?"

"It was horrible. It's why we escaped," Lisa replied with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, then what?" you pressed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought of your father and brother being murdered by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

"After we escaped?" Ben clarified, and you nodded. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "We survived. Did what we had to do."

There it was again. Did what we had to do. The same thing Joel said when you brought up Lisa and Ben the first time.

You waited for him to elaborate but when it became apparent Ben had finished talking, you pushed him further. "Like what? What does that mean?"

"We laid low. Found some secluded spots in the wilderness and stuck it out for as long as we could," Lisa said, her eyes casually drifting between the two men. You looked at Joel, who was holding a steady glare at Ben and Lisa, but otherwise he was perfectly silent.

"For five years we just laid low? In the woods? The three of us?" you asked, and they could tell you knew they weren't telling you the whole truth. "What aren't you telling me? Did we do something bad? Did something happen?"

Joel shifted in his seat next to you but you kept your eyes pinned on Lisa and Ben, trying to read the expressions on their faces.

Ben was the first to fold. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and gave you a half smile and shrug. "Yeah. I mean, everyone did bad things one time or another. It's impossible not to-"

"Like what?" you demanded. You could feel your anger building up now. "I'm not a child. Just tell me."

Ben sighed and looked at Joel once again, and this time you had enough.

"Why do you keep looking at him?"

Ben's eyes snapped back to you and he forced out a small chuckle, trying in vain to diffuse the tension in the room.

"You're our guests, so I'm looking at you both."

You weren't going to argue with him when it was clear he was looking at Joel for direction on what to say. It all made sense now. No wonder Joel didn't fight you on coming to visit them. He had planned all along to control the conversation and keep you in the dark and something inside you snapped.

Standing up from the couch suddenly, you looked down at Ben and Lisa, anger brimming in your eyes.

"Thanks," you spat, heading towards the front door. "Sorry to bother you both."

"It's no bother," Lisa said, her voice wavering as she followed you to the door. "Really. Stop by any time, it was nice to see you."

You scoffed and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you shoved your boots and coat back on, doing your best to finish before Joel so you could get a head start back home.

Flinging open the door without another word, you took a deep breath and stormed down the street, the chilly winter air filling your lungs, trying to cool your anger from the inside out. But then you heard Joel's heavy footsteps crunching in the snow, hurrying to catch up to you, and your rage peaked again.

"You alright?" he asked when he found his place back by your side.

"No, I'm not alright," you seethed, staring straight ahead with your arms wrapped around your middle. "What was that back there?"

"What'dya mean?"

You skidded to a stop and glared at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and his chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual.

"You know what I mean. I'm not stupid, Joel. What don't you want me to know?"

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"I'm not-"

"Don't bullshit me!" you yelled, and when you remembered you were in the middle of the street, you lowered your voice. "They were clearly scared of you. You didn't want them to tell me something. It was so obvious, Joel! I hit my head but I'm not fucking blind."

"I didn't ask them to say or not say anythin'," he said truthfully.

You stared at one another, both watching as your exhale mixed together, little clouds swirling in between you before rising above your heads and disappearing, each waiting for the other to break first.

"Maybe I should move out," you finally said, voice filled with sadness. His face fell instantly.

"Why?"

"You know why. I don't think I can trust you. How can I, when I can't even get a simple answer out of you?" What did he lie about?

If you had stabbed him in the chest, it would have hurt less. His gaze fell to the ground and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He had to do something. He couldn't lose you. So he told you a half truth.

"You and Ben used to be a thing," he said, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. "Before you came to Jackson. You and him were a couple."

You looked away from him, taking a minute to wrap your mind around what he just told you. You supposed it would make sense. It would explain why Joel was so weird about bringing you to see them. Maybe you misread the tension in the room. Maybe the tension was about something else entirely.

"That's why you were acting so strange? That's why you were staring him down?" you asked. His answer was still difficult to believe. It explained Joel's behavior, but it didn't explain what bad things you had done and why nobody seemed willing to tell you what they were.

He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "Can we talk about this at home? I'm freezin'," he said.

The walk afforded you more time to think now that you had this new piece of the puzzle. Ben did seem like your type: he was handsome and kind, but if you and Ben were together in the past, where did that leave Lisa? They were clearly an item now. Wouldn't that have made for a strange relationship between the three of you? Perhaps that's why you didn't see them often.

Joel let you stew in silence for the walk home, fucking praying what he told you would be enough to keep you from following through with your threat. Why did it feel like every time he made some progress with you, something happened that fucked everything up?

Maybe he should have just let them tell you the whole truth.

No, that would have been bad. You didn't trust him enough yet. You said it yourself. And if you were willing to move out over something like this, you certainly would never speak to him again if you knew the whole story.

He needed to earn your trust first but it was so fucking hard when you wouldn't let him in. When you found out the truth the first time, you were already months into a relationship with him. You were already sleeping together, and while it didn't evolve into anything more until later, it still helped build your trust in him when he finally told you the truth.

He didn't have that with you now, and for the first time he began to doubt his ability to make you fall in love with him again.

You huddled in front of the fire after the long walk home, the two of you remaining silent the entire way. Joel was in the kitchen, most likely avoiding you and your questions while you warmed up. You weren't even going to bother bringing up the topic again, but Joel surprised you by doing it himself.

"I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier," he said from the entryway. You turned from the fire to look at him. He looked worried. His eyes were wide and his brow was knit while his hands fidgeted at his sides.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, and he sighed.

"Dunno. Guess I was hopin' you'd let it go or change your mind," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

"What would it have even mattered? I don't remember him, I don't remember what we had together. I certainly don't have feelings for him," you told him, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs underneath you.

He looked around the room nervously as you waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "If this is going to work, you need to be honest with me-"

"I was scared, alright?" he said abruptly. You watched him hang his head between his shoulders and take a deep breath before collapsing into the arm chair next to the couch. "I was scared you'd maybe remember him or..." he trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words what he was thinking. And although it wasn't the whole truth, it still was the truth. He was afraid this version of you would want someone like Ben and not like him.

He was afraid of losing you.

You seemed to understand because you didn't ask him to finish his thought. Instead, since he was opening up, you asked him something else that was bothering you.

"What did I do?"

He looked at you curiously, not following at first until you continued.

"Ben said I did bad things. We all did bad things to survive. What did he mean?"

Joel swallowed and thought about his answer for a moment. You sighed, growing impatient.

"You can't keep the truth from me forever. I'll find out one day, just tell -"

"You killed people," he told you, and you completely lost your train of thought. You searched his face as all of the air rushed out of your lungs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I killed people?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, and he nodded slowly. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes but you blinked them away. What kind of monster did you become?

"Innocent people?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said right away, almost as if he expected that question.

"What does that mean?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stared into the fire. "I told you. Everyone did what they had to do in order to survive. I know it's hard for you to understand what it was like, but there were a lot of bad people out there. A lot of bad fuckin' people. The military was outta control. There were revolutions and raiders and slavers." He paused and sniffed a bit, continuing to stare into the flames while you hung on his every word. "When I say you killed people... it ain't black and white. I killed people, too. Alotta people. When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em. D'you understand?" he asked, finally dragging his eyes up to look at you.

You blinked, thinking about what he said, his words rolling around your head like pinballs.

"I think so," you said quietly.

He nodded, still pinning you with his stare. "We all made decisions. We made choices based on what we knew at the time and we did our best."

You nodded, your voice wavering a bit when you asked "Am I a bad person, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together and he leaned forward in his chair, wanting to reach out to you, comfort you and pull you into his arms, but he refrained. "No, baby. You ain't a bad person," he told you softly.

And you weren't sure why, but you believed him.

The streets were quiet as you slowly made your way to the infirmary. You didn't start your shift until late in the morning and you didn't feel like joining Ellie at the dining hall for breakfast, so you stayed home, only getting out of bed when you heard Joel leave for patrol. He had already warned you the night before that he would be back later than usual due to the storm. Trails would likely be difficult to pass and nobody could predict if there would be damage at any of the outposts, but it was highly likely.

You didn't move out like you had threatened to. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you said that. Where would you have gone? The garage with Ellie? You didn't know anybody else. Not really. But even if you had, you saw the look in Joel's face when you said those words and even though you were so fucking angry with him, you still felt terrible for causing him pain.

On one hand, it seemed like he was just looking out for you, but on the other, his actions often came off as selfish. You had every right to know your past and what you did, and you were growing sick of Joel treating you like a child. Like you were too fragile to understand.

But at least you got it out of him. Even though you had to take extreme measures, you finally got him to tell you something truthful, and that was a positive step forward.

Lost in your thoughts, you weren't even paying attention when a man's voice called your name from across the street. You looked up after the third try and were surprised to find Ben waving to you from the tailor. You raised your hand in greeting and made your way over to the building.

"Hey," you said a little sheepishly, "about the other day, I'm sorry for how I acted-"

He shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. All of this has to be so confusing for you. We understand."

You dropped your gaze to the frozen ground and dug your boot into the snow. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's very frustrating, actually. I'm just trying to learn about myself and what's happened in the past ten years and I guess I took out my anger on you guys."

He waved you off and leaned against the doorframe of the tailor. "Don't worry about it. We were just happy to see you again."

And even though Ben was absolving you of your guilt, you somehow felt even worse. He was being so nice and you hardly felt like you deserved it. "Joel explained it to me, by the way. After we left your house he told me about us," you said, waving your finger back and forth between you.

"Ah," Ben said with a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wondered as much. It was a very long time ago but Joel can be..." Ben trailed off and scratched his chin, "he can be a little protective, I suppose. He never really understood the nature our relationship."

You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It was just casual. He always thought there was something more," Ben said, meeting your eye. "But I promise you, there wasn't. At the time, we were just lonely and scared and looking for comfort. Neither of us was looking for anything more than that."

You nodded thoughtfully. "He did say we were a couple," you said, and Ben chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't even call it that. Truly. There were no hurt feelings. We just never had a connection past... y'know," he said with a shrug. You felt yourself flush a bit at the words he left unspoken and looked away. "But I'm glad he told you."

"Yeah, me too. I know his heart is in the right place, I just wish he would have told me about us and all the shit we did before I came to see you. Probably would have made the visit a little more pleasant," you said with a laugh, but Ben's face fell.

"He told you about what we did?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. You sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he told me I've killed people. It's been really hard to wrap my head around, but I'm trying to come to terms with it. He explained the world we live in now is not like the one I remember."

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and unfolded his arms. "Wow. I'm kind of shocked he told you about us and the Fireflies. That must have been really hard for you both."

You frowned and searched his face. "Fireflies?"

His body stiffened and his face paled when he realized his mistake. "Yeah. He told you about the Fireflies, right?"

You shook your head. "What are the Fireflies?"

"Shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall abruptly and clearing his throat. "I should get back to work. Just please forget I said anything, okay?"

"Ben, wait," you tried, but he disappeared back inside the tailor, leaving you standing in front of the door while more questions piled up.

There seemed to be a bad flu being spread around town because the infirmary was busier than usual. You were grateful for the distraction, especially after your conversation with Ben. You had spent the better part of the afternoon rushing from exam room to exam room, cleaning up after each patient as quickly as you could so Nick could continue treating the revolving door of people coughing and sneezing in the waiting room. Nick had recommended you wear a bandana around your mouth and nose to hopefully keep you healthy, but you had a feeling it would just be a matter of time before you caught the same bug as everyone else. Still, you kept the bandana tied around your neck as you worked diligently. What you didn't expect, however, was the bit of anonymity the mask afforded you.

You were cleaning up exam room six when you heard a woman's familiar voice in the room across the hall. Nick had left the door cracked open after he ushered her inside, and she apparently had another woman in there waiting with her as you started to pick up on hushed pieces of their conversation.

You didn't intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of you when you tried to place her voice, and when you realized it was Angie, your hands froze and your body stilled, doing your best to not make any noise so you could listen.

"... going down there almost every night... matter of time... him."

"But what about... freak out."

You frowned, inching closer to the door as you tried to fill in the gaps in their conversation.

Then you heard Angie say your name clear as day and your eyebrows shot up. You pressed your back against the wall and held your breath.

"She doesn't even like him. That relationship is a ticking time bomb."

You silently gasped when you realized they were most certainly talking about you and Joel.

It wasn't even true. You liked Joel. You were attracted to Joel. You were even starting to trust Joel a little more, although you definitely had plans to ask him about the Fireflies. But you were still getting to know him and it was taking time. Was this girl talking about trying to steal Joel away from you? The idea made your stomach turn and anger flare deep in your chest.

You shocked yourself with your reaction. Steal Joel away? Since when did you begin to feel some sense of ownership over him? Were you jealous?

You heard Nick's voice leaving an exam room a few doors down and you quickly made yourself look busy. He sighed tiredly in the hallway as he flipped through some papers before pushing open the door to Angie's room. You were changing the bedding on the mattress when you heard Nick call your name and you quickly dropped the sheets to cross the hall.

When your eyes locked with Angie's, giving her a hardened stare, you swore you saw a flicker of fear before she forced a fake smile and coughed into her fist while her friend, one you recognized from the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison, nervously shifted her weight and looked away. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction when it became clear to the two girls that you had heard everything they said, and you were grateful you had your mask on so they couldn't see the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Would you mind grabbing a bag of cough drops and a jar of menthol from the supply cabinet?" Nick asked, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.

"Sure thing," you told him, turning on your heel to leave and allowing yourself to finally smile.

Joel might scare the rest of the town, but you sure as hell scared the shit out of Angie.

Your shift at the infirmary went longer than expected. By the time you arrived home, you were exhausted and the sun was almost setting. So far you weren't feeling sick, but from what you had overheard all day, the symptoms came on quick, so you had already decided to call it an early night and get some rest. When you swung open the front door and found Joel hunched over the kitchen table, your plans went flying out the window.

He looked like he was on death's door. You had never seen him look so run down and pale. He didn't even open his eyes to look at you, he just kept them shut while he rubbed his temples and tried to stifle a cough, his backpack abandoned at his feet.

"Joel?" you called, toeing off your boots and hurrying over to him. You crouched down on the floor and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He groaned and cracked open one eye. "Feel like shit. Dunno what happened."

"There's a bad virus spreading around, the infirmary was slammed today," you said, pushing yourself up onto your aching feet to get him a glass of water. "Drink this and I'll heat you up some soup," you told him before heading towards the stove.

"You don't gotta-"

"Drink," you said firmly, cutting him off. He winced before picking up the glass and forcing down the cool liquid. Once you got the gas going on the stove, you grabbed an empty bowl and shoved your boots back on. "I'll be right back," you told him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, about to ask where you were going but you already disappeared through the front door, returning seconds later with the bowl filled with snow.

"Lean back," you instructed, placing the bowl on the table. He did as he was told and closed his eyes, the lights from the kitchen ceiling making his head ache but when you pressed a handful of packed snow against his forehead, he groaned with relief.

"Oh shit, that feels good," he whispered as you tried to ignore the twinge between your legs at his low tone. He released a shaky breath and you watched as the snow began to melt, little trails of water dripping from his hair and down his scruffy cheeks. When it was nearly melted, you took your hand away and dumped the remnants in the sink, grabbing a towel and drying your hands on the way back. You pinched his stubbly chin delicately in your fingers and tipped his head towards you while slowly and gently wiping away the water from his face. When you finished, your eyes found his already boring into you and you felt a tingle shoot down your spine.

"Better?"

His gaze softened as he continued to stare up at you, searching your face quietly, making your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. You swallowed nervously and forced yourself to look away, and it was then he finally realized you had asked him a question.

"Yes," he murmured, "thank you."

You dragged your eyes back to his and gave him a small smile. "More?"

He didn't trust himself to speak. He just slowly nodded and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you scooped up another handful of snow. With your free hand, you slid your fingers behind his neck and through his hair, cupping the back of his head in your small hand before pressing the snow gently against his forehead once again. And even though he wanted to keep looking at you, he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering shut at the cooling sensation, earning you another deep groan from his throat and causing your breath to stutter.

He heard it and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other, lips parted as the air began to thicken with tension. His eyes flickered over your face, noticing the way your pupils appeared bigger as you gazed down at him. He took a risk and slowly brought his hand up to rest on your side, watching you carefully for any sign that he should stop. He pressed his fingertips lightly into your hip, the fabric of your shirt bunching up slightly from the pressure.

You dropped your eyes to his hand and blinked rapidly, then opened your mouth to speak when you heard sizzling at the stove. You whipped your head around just as his soup began to boil over the pot.

"Shit!" you yelped, dropping the half melted snow onto the towel and racing over to the range. You twisted the knob off and put the pot on one of the unused burners and the liquid immediately simmered back down. "Sorry," you said, refusing to look at him as you started to gather a bowl and spoon, embarrassment burning your cheeks.

"Don't be," he replied, still leaning back in his chair in the same position you left him. He watched you fumble nervously in the kitchen and he had to suppress a smile.

Maybe he still had a chance, after all.

Joel's temperature was a little high but nothing too concerning, so you pushed the fluids and he ate all of his soup and it helped put your mind at ease. You really didn't want to have to ask for ibuprofen unless it was absolutely necessary, especially considering how the same virus was hitting almost every house at the same time. You made sure to check on Ellie from her doorway, not wanting to risk her catching anything since she appeared to be fine, before helping Joel up to bed.

Once you followed him into the room and he turned on the light next to his bed, you realized you hadn't actually ever entered his bedroom before. Sure, you've walked past it when the door was open and glanced inside, but you never really looked. As he gathered some fresh pajamas and began to unbutton his flannel, you turned your back to him to give him some privacy and examined his bookshelf. Your eyes drifted over the titles on the spines of a handful of books, most of which you hadn't heard of before noticing a framed photograph sharing a shelf with his books. It was faded and a little torn, but you could still make out their faces. It was Joel - a far younger version of Joel - with his arm around a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes and a stunning smile. You felt your throat tighten when you realized who it was, and if you had any doubt, Joel's voice piped up behind you.

"That's Sarah."

You heard him shuffling his bedding around so you figured he was dressed.

"She's beautiful, Joel," you said, walking over to his side of the bed and popping the thermometer under his tongue one more time. "It's wonderful that you were able to find a picture of her. I wish I had some pictures of my family," you said sadly, watching the hands of the clock on top of his bookshelf tick, counting down the seconds until you could check the thermometer. "I would have loved for you to at least see them. I think you would have gotten along with my brother really well. Maybe too well," you added with a soft laugh, not realizing he was silently hanging on your every word as you continued to stare at the clock. "He was always looking out for me. Always protecting me, trying to shield me and it drove me nuts when I was younger, but as time went on, I understood it a bit more."

You pulled the thermometer out and checked the number. "Still the same," you told him, resting it on his nightstand.

"How much time?" he asked, and you gave him a confused look. "How much time did it take 'til you started to understand?" he clarified, and you realized what he was really asking.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "But I'm starting to... understand," you said, giving him a sideways glance. You really wanted to ask him about the Fireflies but seeing how sick he was, you decided to bring it up another time. His hand slipped out from underneath the covers and gently squeezed your knee.

"That's good," he said softly before furrowing his brow and turning his head to cough loudly into his pillow. You winced at how bad it sounded and rubbed his upper back. When the coughing fit passed, you handed him his water and he took a grateful sip.

"Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

"Could you stay here?" he found himself asking before he could even think. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you struggled to answer. "Just 'til I fall asleep?"

"Oh," you replied, looking awkwardly around his rather sparse room. "Sure, let me just go wash up," you said, standing up from his bed. You were dead on your feet from your shift at work and you knew the next day wouldn't be any better, but you felt bad saying no, so you changed your clothes and grabbed one of the books Joel had found for you before dragging the chair from the corner of his room to the side of his bed.

"You can stretch out over there," he told you, pointing weakly to the other side of the bed before coughing into his closed fist. "I won't bite."

You smiled as you settled into the chair. "I'm alright, thanks," you said, opening your book and leaning back, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of reading, you looked up just to find him still watching you. You laughed and said "you need to get some rest if you want to kick this thing," then he grinned and finally closed his eyes.

You may not have been in bed with him, but you were close enough to help him relax and for the first time in months, he fell fast asleep within minutes.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[pearl-tarotist]

* ༺ Your beauty ༻ *

In this tarot reading I will describe the beauty that you have and I will mixed it with some poems, things, feelings and situations that remind me of you.

Disclaimer: I do not consider beauty only as physical attributes.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes...

PILE 1

Dear Pile 1,

Your beauty is sweeping and easily strikes the eyes of others at first glance. Your presence is strong as a furious river, people enjoy the scene and they are in awe at it. But the strength that the river has dissolves when they try to cage the water.

Your beauty is natural and pure as the liquid that gives us life; it cannot be replicated or forced at the will of others, it just comes from you, your presence and your soul. It's not the material but the energy that shapes it.

You are passionate, energetic and pure, what in the words of Sylvia Plath would be translated as “I am too pure for you or anyone", from the poem "Fever 103°.

In the same way as the damsel in distress when sad or overwhelmed, you hide yourself in the highest tower or in the lowest cave. Your beauty can just be encased by your own hand...and you do. Your fear that the show of your real self to the world will end in a lose of stability. You hide because you feel that showing your true nature and sweet but passionate soul will destroy your own world and the relationship that you have with others.

You hide under the presence of a basic person, fashion-like or behaviourally-like, but you beauty shines in the unconsciously curves of your cheeks and lips. There's something pleasuring and round about your lips that make your words sweeter and gentler than average. There's something about your back and position that could be beautiful too, stand straight and let other see you.

Your passionate and in that passion you are sweet and cute, just like the childish heroine of a story that never gives up.

Long legs, baby-like face, pouty lips, soft skin, limitless strength, adventures that you want to live and the passion when you speak half-baked of them. I'm not going to lie, for some, your beauty resides in your bad states, when they can take care of you as if you were something to fix or defend, but I do not think that's your beauty but what others find themselves attracted to.

Your beauty is not equalled to their attraction.

Stuff that reminds me of your beauty:

A Poem: My head a moon /Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin / Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive. (Poem fever 103).

The flowing of a mighty river surrounded by grass.

The shaking pale hand of someone that has fought and won.

The elegant makeup of the Geishas.

The warm caresses of a loved one.

Knight of wands/5oW/The Chariot/10oC/5oP/4oS

PILE 2

Dear Pile 2,

You get things done. You are full and complete on your own, independent and capable. There's nothing that you can not resolve, you are efficient, strong and powerful. A scopio, pluto dominant or 8th house energy on your natal chart?

You are so beautiful on your own, so successful and victorious. Your willpower and your resistance towards adversity have created the most polished part of yourself, just like a diamond. If I have to be honest, it's not just your resistance but also your search of fights for truth and new adventures. The need to discover new things.

You are openminded and know that with a simple and small discovery, the perception of your reality can change in seconds, that's why, often, you feel that you do not belong to places or "homes" but that you are your own home. Your ideas and mental world is the only place you should be comfortable with.

There's also a characteristic of foreigner to your beauty, you could travel a lot or be "exotic" to others, in the sense of being different from them, physically and mentally. You are not a copy of the current societies but a mix of everything (past, present and future) and that's why others are intrigued by you, they want to learn about this composition. I would bet for a little bit of aquarius is in your natal chart, I guess.

You are clever and curios about everything what makes other being intrigued by you as they do not know what to expect. They can not tag you in one social group, you are way more than just that.

You do things with security, your hands do not shake in front of others and I would say that you are also quite social as you want to learn about everything, like a bee that goes from flower to flower, you go from person to person.

Piercing eyes, beautiful eyebrows, a nice chest, some of you could have a voluptuous body, an accent when speaking, and knowledge that extends for miles.

Stuff that reminds me of your beauty:

The sword of Arthur Pendragon, Excalibur.

The satisfaction after a job well-done.

The mist of the forest before the faes appear.

“For she had eyes and chose me.” (William Shakespeare, Othello)

"fuck it I love you" by Lana del Rey.

The World/ The Chariot/ The Fool/ Knight and king of Wands/ King of Swords

PILE 3

Dear Pile 3,

I fear that some of you are unable to see your own beauty. The cards that I got are unpeaceful and represent fights and loses.

Nevertheless, let's start with the reading. Your beauty is different from the rest, I like the way that you do not want to be exactly like the others. I applause you for not following the trends, the viral products and the fast-clothing industry. Your best quality is the uniqueness and respect for your natural state. Somehow, I believe that this is also one point of hurt for you, because you are not like the others, so you feel less...but, in my opinion, it lifts you higher than others.

To have an opinion of your own under a society that push us more often to have a single mindset is of respect and admiration.

Following the last idea, you are someone with spark, with cleverness, someone that has great ideas and potential that you can develop endlessly. You are a pool of ideas full of different points of views that need growing and development, a little bit of Gemini/ Sagittarius energy on your natal chart, no?

These ideas are not developed to the end, I think you jump around and start a lot of ideas that do not end up in a solid project, but that does not stop you from enjoying it nevertheless. I feel that there's two types of people: the ones that focus on just one thing and the ones that know a bit about everything. You are the second one, and in it resides your beauty.

Curious, fighter, powerful, with potential and creativity. Soft and uniform skin, probably short height but with a good posture, hands that are warm and search for the touch of others, lover of animals, young but wise. You may decorate your hair with caps, bows or similar. That's your beauty.

Stuff that remind me of your beauty:

Jeanne d'arc - Albert Lynch

The soft fur of animals like a horse or a deer.

The coldness of a knife close to the neck of the main character carried by their "enemy". (Enemy to lovers AU fr).

The endless routine of the sun (sunrise and sunset).

The smell of an old book.

5oS/2oW/The Tower/ 8oS/7oW/Page of Pentacles

This reading belongs in exclusivity to @pearl-tarotist.

[girlkisser13]

labyrinth

"uh-oh, i'm falling in love" "oh no, i'm falling in love again" "oh, i'm falling in love"

pairings: klaus mikaelson x vampire fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. purely fluff.

summary: a certain original hybrid fancies you.

mystic falls was as serene as ever, the quiet streets lined with quaint houses and lush greenery. the town held a charm that masked the supernatural undercurrent simmering beneath its surface. klaus found himself drawn to this place once again, a mix of nostalgia and unfinished business pulling him back. he hadn’t planned on staying long— until he met you.

at the mystic grill, the familiar clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversation filled the air. klaus settled into a corner booth, his gaze sweeping over the patrons until it landed on you.

you were sitting alone at the bar, your hair framing your face, your expression distant. there was a sadness about you that intrigued him, a pain he recognized all too well.

you felt his gaze on you before you saw him. you turned, and your eyes locked. for a moment, the world fell away. klaus mikaelson, the infamous hybrid, was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart clench. you turned back to your drink, willing yourself to remain unaffected.

klaus approached you with a confident stride, taking the seat next to you. "i couldn't help but notice you from across the room," he said, his voice a smooth blend of charm and danger.

you arched an eyebrow, your guard up. "and now you've come to make your move?" you asked, your tone icy.

klaus chuckled softly. "i assure you, love, my intentions are not what you think. i merely wanted to introduce myself. my name is klaus."

"i know who you are," you replied. "and i'm not interested."

"fair enough," he said, unperturbed. "but perhaps you'd allow me to buy you another drink?"

you hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "one drink," you agreed. "and then you leave me alone."

as the evening wore on, klaus found himself more and more intrigued by you. you were a mystery wrapped in pain, and he was determined to uncover your secrets.

you found yourself reluctantly drawn to klaus. there was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn't expected, a depth that spoke of centuries of experiences.

days turned into weeks, and klaus' persistence never wavered. he showed up at the mystic grill every evening, always with a new story about his siblings or a small gesture that chipped away at your defenses. he took you on walks through the town, shared the secrets of his past, and listened when you spoke of your own heartbreak.

you had been hurt before, abandoned by a lover who had promised you eternity but left when the weight of forever became too much. you had sworn never to open your heart again, but klaus was different. he saw you for who you were, broken pieces and all, and he didn't flinch.

one evening, as the two of you walked through the deserted streets of mystic falls, klaus turned to you. "y/n, i know that you are afraid. but i am not him. i'm not going anywhere."

you stopped, looking at him with tears shimmering in your eyes. "how can i believe you, klaus? how do i know you won't leave?"

he took your hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. "because i've lived a thousand years searching for something real. and now that i've found you, i'm not letting go. i promise you, y/n, my intentions are pure. i will spend the rest of eternity proving it to you if i must."

your heart ached at the weight of his words. you wanted to believe him, more than anything. "you're saying you fancy me?" you asked in a teasing manner, your tone hiding the vulnerability in your heart.

klaus's eyes softened. "more than fancy, love. i care for you deeply. and i think, despite everything, you feel the same."

you hesitated, your walls wavering. "i do," you admitted, your voice trembling. "but i'm scared."

klaus leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss. "we'll face that fear together," he vowed. "you have my word."

in that moment, you let yourself believe. for the first time in a long time, you felt hope. and as you both stood together under the moonlit sky of mystic falls, you knew that maybe, just maybe, you had found your forever in klaus mikaelson.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hello! Can you do a yandere Hephaestus with 🦄?

❝🦄❞ - ‘’I... I really can't let you go.’’

❝tw: mention of kidnapping, obsessive behavior, loneliness, self-loathing.

Was he really that bad? Hephaestus wondered, as he watched you hesitantly. Was he really the monster everyone said he was?

The forge god clenched his hands, feeling his body go numb with pure agony. He had been in agony for days, your refusal to recognize him, to talk to him, to accept him made him furious and sad at the same time.

Why couldn't you see that you belonged together? He may not be the most beautiful of the gods or the most powerful, but Hephaestus loved you. He had a lot of love to give and he wanted to give it all to you. It wasn't right to bring you here without your consent, but he couldn't stay away from you any longer.

Hephaestus approached cautiously, trying to contain the emotions that were roiling his being. His eyes reflected the pain of being constantly ignored and rejected by the one he loved most. But something inside him persisted, a spark of hope that urged him to keep trying.

With a heavy sigh, he approached you, seeking the courage to explain his side of the story. "I'm not the monster they say I am", he murmured, his voice choked with sadness. "I made mistakes, yes, but my love for you is genuine. I tried to create something unique for us, something special..."

The god of the forge reached out his hand, trying to touch yours, begging for a moment of understanding, but you just shrank away, afraid of the god's touch.

"I know my approach was misguided, but my heart belongs to you. Please allow me to show you that I can be more than the label I was given. I love you more than words can express."

The agony in Hephaestus' eyes was evident, a mixture of pain and longing to be understood. He hoped that maybe you could see through the stories and legends, and find the truth behind the mask the world had imposed on him. Slowly, you looked into the god's black eyes, your stern face and your lips pressed tightly together.

With your voice slightly shaking, you found the courage to speak, "Please... Let me go."

The once gentle and warm gaze quickly turned cold and filled with suppressed fury, Hephaestus growled, "No." You flinched at his angry voice. These mood swings were something that terrified you. One moment he was being kind and another he acted in an explosive and hateful way.

The tension in the environment increased abruptly, and you found yourself caught between the desire to get out of that situation and Hephaestus' intense reaction. Your heart accelerated when you noticed the change in his behavior, and the feeling of fear intensified. If fear had a smell, it would be emanating from you right now.

With a lump in your throat, you tried again, begging more firmly, "Please, I need to go. I can't stay here against my will." Every word was filled with anguish and determination.

But Hephaestus, still in a volatile mix of emotions, seemed determined not to give in. His eyes sparkled with stubborn determination and an authoritative tone crept into his voice, "You can't leave me now. I can't bear the loneliness any longer. I need you here with me."

Silent tears began to fall and your cheeks became hot and clammy. The god's hard gaze softened and he gently crouched down to you and carefully wiped away your tears.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Hephaestus whispered, "I... I really can't let you go."

You closed your eyes, trying desperately to stop the tears that threatened to continue falling. Hephaestus was either too caught up in his obsession to notice, or he just didn't care. For all he did was pull you into his crushing grip and try to calm you down in a rough way.

You would never leave him.

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER VII - mágoa

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, violence, bloodshed, history class on lacrimosa yall, nudity, blood, manhandling, slapping, mentions of suicide, gun use, genitalia cupping, gaslighting, anxiety, strong language, threats, misogyny, old social norms, lies-lies-lies, bone crunching, physical violence, suicide attempt

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 12K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VIII

mágoa (n.) a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions

A pinch of sadness went through Y/N when she heard his words. She gave herself to him. Without any fight, simply accepting that this had to be done for her to build a strong base where he would trust her enough to let his guard down. After this day, her mind was barely holding up, therefore she went down the hill willingly rather than by force.

Her eyes were about to close slowly when he was taking the white sheet on which they consummated their marriage. Although her eyes were narrowed, she saw a significant portion of it being painted red with her blood. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she laid there, boring her eyes to the ceiling of the room rather than perceiving the reality.

The flames of the fire danced and flickered, casting a warm glow upon their entwined bodies. They laid there — he basked in the afterglow, and she in her own sorrow. He was caressing her hair while she laid on top of his naked torso where he moved her to rest just a moment ago, trying to not think about what had happened. She cared no more. Her mind and body were exhausted. Yoongi put a soft kiss on her forehead before he broke the serene silence.

“A bath, shall we?” Her body felt the mix of exhaustion and vulnerability as she went to get up, a soreness radiated in between her legs. Y/N could not wait till she would spread her limbs in the hot spring water. Yoongi gently swept her to his arms and carried her out of the room.

The corridor was softly lit by lanterns, their warm glow casting a gentle illumination. Paper windows filtered the moonlight, creating patterns of soft shadows on the wooden floor as he was taking her to the spring. He hoped it would ease her pain and relax her muscles so he could be a little more selfish and take her again and again until dusk.

Her naked nipples stiffened and reacted to the sudden change of temperature. Yoongi was yet again trying to control his urges to press her against the wall and take her from behind. But he knew better. She was sore, vulnerable, and he knew the time was ticking and soon a bigger wave of realisation would hit her.

The steam from the heated water mingled with the crisp air, creating a comforting atmosphere that embraced them. She could feel the cold wind hitting her body before Yoongi stepped inside the natural bath surrounded by ancient rocks, swiftly setting their bodies into the hot water. Y/N breathed out from the sensation of the water balming her sore muscles. She took a moment to embrace the peacefulness of her surroundings, momentarily forgetting the true nature of her situation and to whom is her naked body pressed to.

Her eyes snapped open when the nerve hit her senses, breath hitching in her throat, tears still struggling to dry on her cheeks. An epiphany. She tried to pull herself away from him, covering her chest when he pushed her against him even tighter.

“None of that, my love,” he whispered into her ear, nabbing at it and pecking her head. “You are finally doing so well, baby,” he spoke, his lips still pressed to her hair.

The soothing warmth of the water against her skin and the unsettling reality of her vulnerability in Yoongi’s embrace — it overwhelmed her from every perspective. His words, though tender, served as a reminder of the power dynamics that governed their relationship. She felt a surge of frustration and sadness, a silent plea for autonomy in a world that seemed determined to deny it and her resilience was coming back to life again.

“Yoongi,-” she said urgently, her voice carrying over the soothing sounds of flowing water. “When is it going to happen?” Y/N inquired, lifting her head up, her eyes searching for answers.

“It is already happening.”

The night had unfolded in shadows and whispers, and as the moon’s soft glow seeped into the bath, reality grew more elusive.

The infamous Yakuza, believing themselves five steps ahead of the Min clan, found their fortunes turned by the cunning moves of the young Kkangpae. The cards he tossed when luring out the enemy’s leader were not in their favour. Cut the snake’s head and it will die; Yoongi wished to see them all perish.

The headquarters of the Japanese clan, once a fortress of power, now stood vulnerable in the absence of its leader. Yoongi’s calculated manoeuvres had left them exposed, ripe for his seizing. From Japan to the north of Korea, with Hong Kong looming as the next conquest, the throne beckoned to him now.

The Kkangpae had played a dangerous game, and the stakes had never been higher. He realised this when the enemy held his beloved, poised to snuff out her life with vengeance. That urgency drove him to expedite matters. Within an hour, united soldiers of the Min and Wang houses moved to three different locations, armed and prepared for the Yakuza’s onslaught.

Yoongi knew the moment they set foot on his territorial grounds their intentions were not congratulatory. But one of the decoy. On that note, another three units secured warehouses, guarding the ammunition and the snow, as they called it, to maintain prosperity.

Y/N had underestimated him and the measures he would take to ascend the ladder. No man had dared challenge the Yakuza and lived to tell the tale, let alone dismantle the cruel syndicate over the span of a single lifetime.

The last of them were already en route to join infiltrators in Fukuoka, where all of Yamamoto’s warehouses lay, along with Tokyo’s headquarters. The command was clear: at the stroke of midnight — fire.

“Is Mother with Bó Chéng and Xiaoli, safe?” Her voice trembled. Y/N is no fool; her gut warned of temporary alliances and impending bloodshed once the Yakuza descended the stairs. This time, between Wangs and Mins. Yoongi never confirmed such a cruel assumption, yet, she knew.

He nodded solemnly, understanding her concern. “They are safe, love. I made sure of it,” he reassured, his voice a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. Yoongi’s eyes held a mysterious depth as he spoke, and the weight of his words lingered in the air.

The Kkangpae had unleashed a force that even he hadn’t fully anticipated, and the consequences were now playing out in real time. His vision was clear — The Min clan, a rising phoenix from the ashes, disrupting the status quo, plunging the city into disarray.

For years, no Korean clan had dared confront Japan’s Yakuza, the threat of annihilation keeping them in check. Hence, Korea’s underworld always stood divided until the former Kkangpae Min initiated revolutionary acts against both southern and northern enemies.

As the First World War unfolded, Yoongi’s father saw an opportunity to cover the blood traces left behind by the clans on the battlefield. The alliances formed, the battles fought—all of it became obscured by the larger narrative of global conflict. The revolution against both parties became a rallying cry for those long oppressed by the Yakuza.

The clan of Min knew if they wanted to succeed in this power play, attacking the northern foes was first in order before they could stand a chance over Yakuza and their international allies.

The war with its sweeping chaos and diversion, became a canvas for the Mins to redraw the lines of power. The world may be at peace now, the syndicate clans were nowhere near the fine line. A Cold War between the fighting clans arose and took its place now that they could not horrendously murder each other without drawing the attention of the upper world.

Not today.

His father’s revolutionary act set the stage, and Yoongi intended to finish it. With satisfaction, he watched as the wheels of change turned, irreversible.

The war ended over two decades ago and yet Yoongi still expected the unexpected. Hong Kong sought alliance with Tokyo. A marriage would seal it. Lineage was sacred, heavily valued. The syndicate, with its watchful eyes and ears attuned to the pulse of the underworld, murmured in speculation. Rumour was spread of Wang Zemo’s eldest daughter to be betrothed to Yamamoto Itsuki, the Yakuza’s heir.

Yoongi had just celebrated his 18th birthday when the murmur began. The girl, barely a decade old, promised to the Yakuza. No official betrothal could happen as she was still too young to be wedded.

Years went by and when she reached the 18th year of her life, Yoongi anticipated another bloodthirsty war to begin now that the arrangement could take place. But nothing happened. Holding her portrait in his hand, looking at the black and white photograph with a fresh cut on his eye, imagining how cherry red her lips must be and how he is going to drown in her eyes once he sees them for real. He saw opportunity, a golden ticket in this dangerous game.

Therefore, before her twenty-first birthday, Yoongi was already ahead of Yakuza, sipping tea with Wang Xiaoqing, the Triad leader’s older sister. His intention was clear from the beginning — the young gal in the portrait, undyingly beautiful.

Instead of wielding guns and knives at the northern enemy in China he was resolute in overthrowing the Triad by this calculated move of taking her and creating a powerful alliance in order to end Yakuza’s reign. He could have had any woman from his clan, but no woman ever spiked his interest as much as Wang Y/N.

He settled his mind on the path God presented him. He played his pieces, aiming for the Triad’s allegiance. The men of the Wang Triad, fiercely loyal to their established traditions, would not willingly follow an outsider — with or without war. To secure his grip on the Triad’s allegiance, Yoongi needed more than a coup; he needed a legitimate claim to leadership.

He played his pieces, aiming for the Triad’s allegiance. The young Kkangpae began his cockiness by taking the young woman to keep at his premises right before Yakuza would announce the engagement and followed the union.

Yoongi, the architect of this narrative, understood the power of perception. A move that seemed personal had far-reaching implications in the complex web of alliances that governed the criminal underworld.

The elderly woman was the smartest human he ever met. As she also held a mutual disdain for the house of Yamamoto that ran deep, an animosity fuelled by years of oppression and subjugation. The Yakuza’s supremacy over other clans, their unabashed acquisition of shares, land, and women, irked her. It was a political dominance that had cast a shadow over both Seoul and Hong Kong’s criminal underworld for far too long.

A shrewd strategist that Wang Xiaoqing was, recognised the potential for a successful revolution in Yoongi’s carefully laid steps — the blockade of docks, the seamless integration into the Yakuza’s business affairs, the subtle theft of opportunities, and the meticulous infiltration into their other operations—it was a game of chess played with finesse. Lastly, his determination on not letting Wang’s oldest daughter marry into Yakuza and form an alliance that could be a threat to his own kin.

Taking her niece would be a move that went beyond the surface, resonating with the desire to break free from the chains that bound them to the Yakuza’s dominance. Nobody dared to take what Yakuza claimed as theirs. Until him.

In the dimly lit warehouse where he was solely because the Luen’s shipment of ammunition to Taiwan got rampaged by Yakuza soldiers. Their attack on the shipment had disrupted his plans, leading him to intervene personally.

The captured Yakuza soldier, now a pawn in this unexpected confrontation, was brought before Yoongi for interrogation. The improvised setup within the warehouse served as the backdrop for the intense questioning that aimed to unveil the motives behind the Yakuza’s brazen attack that Yoongi already knew. It was their way of sending a message, a warning to the clans to not climb the ladder too high.

However, that’s not what aches Yoongi’s heart whenever he remembers that night. It was her, clad in her signature red qipao, in a dishevelled state, most likely chilled to the bone, lip split open.

The date on which Yoongi would arrive to collect her was settled two weeks from that day, but there she was, standing in the warehouse, most likely looking for a shelter from the cold.

In the silent exchange, Yoongi saw a glimpse of vulnerability and strength, a combination that both intrigued and captivated him. She looked straight to his eyes for what felt like hours without flinching away. The spark he felt that ignited between them in that warehouse would become the member of an unspoken understanding—a realisation that love, in its rawest form, had found its way to his heart.

He recalls how his breath stammered when he saw her for the first time. No matter how long she’s been running, no matter how the chilly wind ruffled her hair — she looked magnificent. All the love letters scribbled down that he had never sent to her were hidden in the drawer of his desk. He might give them to her one day once she will be ready to reciprocate his love.

Yoongi was convinced that it was destiny that she came upon the warehouse, as if God was leading her to his arms, where she belongs. At least according to the young leader of the clan. Y/N’s arrival to his land was unexpected and it certainly changed the whole trajectory. And that was one of the pivotal moments when he decided to rethink his steps.

This unforeseen encounter planted the seeds of a different kind of connection, one that deviated from the cold calculations of alliances and power and dark intentions loomed over the young Kkangpae Min.

Yoongi used to see marriage as a means to an end, a pragmatic choice made in the pursuit of power and influence. The emotions that typically accompanied such unions were to be set aside in favour of the greater goal at hand.

But her presence started to overshadow the original intentions of the alliance. How she fought him, stood her ground — all just made him want her more. As he found himself captivated by her company, the cold calculations of the former plan began to waver and he was decided.

The Yakuza’s move was thought-through, he did not expect any less—a challenge issued with violence and bloodshed and in the midst of celebration, chaos erupted. Min with his bride long gone to safety. Masked assailants, clad in the insignia of the Yakuza, stormed the hotel and one would think this is the end. But this conflict was nowhere near the grand finale.

At the time of the awaited attack of Yakuza men, echoes of screams of agony and crackling fire were far too loud. A clear symbol of the arising power of the Min clan. The two generations of Yamamoto's men, father and son, now lay as nothing more than ashes.

The night, which should have been a tender moment of intimacy, became the stage for a chilling chess move. As Yoongi and Y/N shared the vulnerability of their union, the Min clan, under his orders, descended upon the Yakuza with a relentless fury.

The sound of gunfire and explosions echoed in the night, a symphony of retribution that played out against the backdrop far away from their marital chamber. While Yoongi claimed the innocence of his wife, he orchestrated the downfall of those who dared to challenge his dominion.

The puppeteer of this grim performance, ensured that their legacy was erased, their power dismantled, and their grip on the criminal underworld shattered. In just one night, the war that lasted years ended.

Infiltrating the Yakuza was a meticulous plan, and his true intentions were hidden even from those closest to him. As the Min clan annihilated the Yakuza in cold blood, the night drew to a close and only those who would bend the knee and pledge loyalty were spared.

The night had witnessed the birth of a new order and the song of the dead echoed whilst the former empire shattered into pieces.

Morning arrived with a soft glow, painting the room in shades of muted light where Yoongi’s fingers traced gentle patterns on her naked back.

“Breakfast is ready,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead. She nodded, wordless.

The table boasted an array of dishes, their enticing aroma filling the air. Yet Y/N could not eat yesterday nor today, the food simply did not go down her system.

Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on her from time to time, while he was reading today’s paper the maid delivered together with the breakfast. His eyes, like a silent observer, bore witness to the aftermath of a night. Y/N’s eyes were bloodshot, cheeks stained with dried tears, her neck bearing bruises. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, yet he held onto the hope that all would settle now.

Yoongi sighed and reached into the pocket of his black vest.

“I have not read it,” said he once they finished eating breakfast and sat down in the lounge room. Y/N’s eyes moved to meet him, anticipating his next step. She did not want to speak to him. She did not want to look at him nor she did not want him to look at her.

“I appreciate that,” said Y/N, avoiding his eyes. Yoongi sighed again, reluctant to relinquish leverage over her, yet compelled to address the matter at hand. Deep down, he hoped the contents of the letter would bring her solace, perhaps even warmth towards him. Now, he stood as a fool in the pouring rain.

He carefully handed the letter, urging her to open it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tearing open the envelope and extracting the yellowed paper within.

She looked at Yoongi one more time, and when she saw him spreading out the newspapers, she was glad he gave her at least some degree of privacy. Her eyes fell upon the cursive symbols of her beloved aunt’s handwriting.

The memories flooded back as Y/N read the words on the aged paper, transporting her to a time when life was less complicated. Yet, she remembers clearly the moment when the complications started to appear. She read the words, screaming at her whilst detailing Wang Xiaoqing’s declining health, her world halted.

The air grew heavy with a mix of medicinal scents and the weight of impending loss. Her aunt, a pillar of strength, lay frail on the bed, and Y/N’s heart ached at the sight.

As she recalls her last moments with her while reading the neatness of her handwriting Y/N finally sees the truth. Her breath caught in her throat, vision blurred by tears. Clutching the paper tightly, she read the words repeatedly, struggling to accept their meaning.

“I need you to understand, my dear,” her aunt’s voice, weakened but filled with determination, echoed in the room. 

“There are things, things I have kept from you to protect your mind and soul.”

Her aunt reached for her hand, the warmth of their connection grounding them in that vulnerable moment. The intricate dance between clans, the bloodshed, and the sacrifice her aunt had made to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But it seems that my judgement was clouded—” In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if bracing for the revelation that would reshape the very foundation of her understanding. The vulnerability in her voice resonated with the unspoken sacrifices made for the sake of protection. Or at least that is what she thought she was doing by allowing Min Yoongi to take her into custody and use her as a leverage over the clans in negotiation of dominance.

“We do not have much time I fear,” her aunt continued, urgency etched into her every word. Y/N held her hand tightly, afraid to let her go.

“Once you burn me to ashes, I need you to run and not look back, Kai will help you get away—” a strong cough interrupted her speech and Y/N rushed to get her some tea to ease her throat. A bony hand landed on her forearm, stopping her in motion. Her eyes watered again at the sight of the state God let her aunt get in. Her fingers were turning purple and Y/N knew what that means. Oxygen was leaving her body and the end was near.

“Auntie—” she went to protest, at the time not understanding why she needed to run in the first place. But she listened carefully to her aunt closely when her sore and painful voice mapped out her next steps.

Back then Y/N wanted to believe it was a sacrifice born out of love and the desire to break free from the cycle of violence that had ensnared their family for too long. And her aunt presented her a chance to not be in the middle of the fire.

Peace was a fragile illusion. Min Yoongi may be a titan among the outside world, yet within the confines of his own home, his dominion was about to face its greatest challenge.

Yoongi, engrossed in his reading, spared his wife the intrusion of his gaze, allowing her the solitude to grapple with the weight of her aunt’s revelations. Not having a clue what the dying woman could write.

The revelations echoed in the silence of the room, and when Y/N finally looked up from the letter, her eyes met Yoongi’s. The vulnerability in that moment transcended the complexities of their current situation, forging an unspoken false connection on his side rooted in pain and the unravelling of hidden truths. In a burst of fury, she lashed out.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

An anger radiated from her, the heat rushing to her head. Yoongi’s eyes locked onto hers; he didn’t flinch at the sudden eruption of anger — it was nothing he didn’t already get used to. Instead, he folded the paper with deliberate care, setting it aside.

“Am I?” His response was laced with a hint of amusement, a calculated provocation that stoked the flames of her anger.

The contents of the letter, as it seems, are not what he hoped for. Nonetheless, he wondered whether he would fight this battle. Sooner or later she would learn the truth. It’s the timing that was not perfect and he knew it’s going to be hard to put the fire out.

“You manipulated her into agreeing—” Yoongi sucked the inner side of his mouth and released it with a loud click of his tongue, trying to compose himself for what is to come as she now knows.

“—with a choice, dove. A difficult one, yes, but she made the decision on her own accord,” Yoongi interjected, his voice maintaining a disconcerting calmness.

“You lied to her!” A wry smile played on Yoongi’s lips as he met her accusing gaze. Y/N was hanging on the farthest end of the branch and soon enough she would fall. Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her.

“She would not have approved if she knew of your intentions!” Yoongi leaned against a nearby table after he stood up, his gaze unwavering. He realised that what she is implying is true. But he also knew that this is not the world where Wang Xiaoqing would be stupid enough to give him her hand. She knew what it would mean.

“Power comes with a price. Your aunt understood that and made the necessary sacrifice.” Y/N scoffed at his words, incredulous. Yoongi’s response was a wry smile, a silent admission of guilt that he would never voice out.

“And what of my sacrifice? What about the life I wanted, the choices I never got to make? You took them from me!” He reached out to her, his fingers gently tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Yoongi looked at her trembling lips and caught himself thinking how good they felt against his last night.

Y/N, caught between anger and grief, searched Yoongi’s eyes for any sign of remorse. Yet, all she found was the unwavering resolve of a leader who had chosen duty over sentiment.

Her patience was wearing thin, her anger boiling over like a cauldron on the verge of eruption.

“I did what I had to do for the survival of our clan—” she struck out, her hand connecting with his cheek in a resounding slap. Her whole body was shaking with grief, anger and hatred.

Yoongi’s head pivoted slightly at the sudden intrusion he did not expect. Yet, even as she railed against him, hitting him repeatedly, Yoongi remained steadfast. All the curse words she sent his way were only bypassing him. He knows she wouldn’t do this in normal circumstances. But to stop and think for a second — there were never normal circumstances to begin with.

“You took everything from me!” Her voice was a plaintive cry, a desperate plea for justice in a world gone mad.

“I gave myself to you!” She screamed furiously. Yoongi’s eyes, usually calm and collected, flickered with rage. She glared back at him, tears streaming down her face. The reality of her situation sunk in, and Y/N felt a profound sense of betrayal.

“You’re fucking liar Min Yoongi. You never fucking needed to-” Yoongi’s jaw tensed, the anger in his gaze burning like a smouldering ember. His calm façade cracked, revealing the storm of emotions within while she aimed to hit his face again.

“Are you done?” He forcefully grabbed her wrists, stopping her, holding them tightly while he pulled her towards him. She shook her head, trying to break free from his grasp to make more damage. Y/N refused to yield.

“Fucking listen to me, Y/N,” he spoke through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.

“Yes, I lied to your aunt because I knew where your ambitions lay and where she wanted you to be.” His grip tightened as he continued, his words cutting through the charged air. She shook her head in disbelief, struggling to break free from his hold as he violently pulled her back.

“I knew she would never give me her blessing to marry you!” Y/N’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and realisation of his confession, confirming the contents of the letter.

“So you fucking tricked her,” she gritted through her teeth. Min Yoongi never intended to send her overseas, just like he promised the dying woman. All this time, she blamed her aunt for choosing her path, unaware of Yoongi’s manipulations.

“I could have slaughtered the whole Triad. Think of this as me being merciful.”

The weight of his words settled in the room, a heavy silence following his chilling revelation.

“You even fooled my father into thinking this is all my aunt’s doing,-” she whispered unbelievably, her voice laced with a bitter realisation. Yoongi’s expression remained impassive, but the truth lingered in the air like a haunting melody.

“You made a promise to her that I will be safe overseas, so why am I here, Yoongi?!”

“Because I fucking fell in love with you!” he exclaimed, his voice rising, his eyes searching for any kind of emotion that would show that she understands his doings. Of course she does not understand, after all, he does not understand how much damage he has done either. He is selfish and he always will be.

“You betrayed her trust!” Y/N’s eyes, on the other hand, searched for any sign of remorse, any glimmer of the man she thought she knew. He exhaled heavily, the weight of their tangled destinies pressing down on him.

“It was either marrying you and having a legitimate claim or bloodshed. Would you rather the worse option?” Y/N’s gaze wavered between anger and hurt, her surroundings fading away.

“You justify cruelty with some deluded sense of righteousness,” she said, her voice strained from the last vestiges of her strength.

“You’re part of this world, part of my world, whether you like it or not—”

“This was never about Yamamotos right?—” She looked right into his eyes, scanning the angry red scar that ran up in his brow that he now raised at her remark.

“—you are going to break the alliance with my father the first chance you get. That is what you mean by legitimate claim, am I fucking right Yoongi?!” He clenched his jaw, frustration etched on his face. Y/N had seen through his carefully constructed façade.

“You only fucking love yourself and your fucking clan!” He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words but whence she decided that getting physical with him again is the answer — he snapped.

His hand forcefully clutched her jaw in a tight grip, just like when she first opened her eyes under his imprisonment. The wall met her back and she gave out a painful yelp. He closed the proximity to her face and spoke the words right to her ear while watching her struggle to get out of his grip.

“One of the things I love about you, dove, is your cleverness. But this little clever girl needs to finally learn her place,” he said, his words seething with control. She was whimpering in his grip that got tighter and tighter with each word he uttered.

“I took you for a wife so when I blow the brains out of your Sire’s head and take over his Triad, I will be unopposed, that is the truth, now—” Y/N’s eyes widened in both shock and fear as Yoongi’s words penetrated the air around her.

The force of his grip on her jaw made her gasp, the pain radiating through her face. The cold, unyielding wall at her back provided no escape, and she felt a surge of helplessness as his words sank in.

“Yet, out of the love I have for you, I have ensured your lovely sister will have her place within our clan and your mother will be taken care of. It’s the little boy you are afraid I might hurt, innit?” The mention of her family sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes flickered with a mix of dread and anger.

“Well let us say, if you shall not force my hand by your shenanigans, I shall spare him.”

“You are a psychopathic monster,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice barely audible as his grip was not allowing her to speak properly. He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“You were not saying that when I spilled all my love inside of your cunt, claiming you” his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, cupping her womanhood with his free hand.

“You have no choice in this, dove. You are mine, bound by vows and blood. And when the time comes, you shall see I am the only one who can protect you—” his lips dangerously close to her ear now moved, laying a small peck on her wet cheek, right under her eye.

“—to provide for you,” his lips brushed upon her skin moving to lay another peck to her forehead. Tears streamed down her face.

“—to love you.” He finished, pressing his lips to hers.

“I wanted you from the very beginning. It was always you,—” She narrowed her eyes, a fire igniting within her despite the fear. The taste of his lips lingered on hers as Yoongi pulled away, his eyes fixed on her tear-stained face.

“—even if I would slaughter every member of your Triad, I would have spared you, my love.”

“I would rather die,” she spat at him, a small act of defiance in the face of his cruelty.

“Death is easy, dove. It’s the living hell I can create for you and those you love that should terrify you—” He traced a finger along her jaw, a sickening smile playing on his lips.

“Even the strongest wills can be broken, I still have some ways to make you obey and be a dutiful loving wife.”

“I will not become the submissive wife you fantasise about.”

But the scarred leader had a trick up his sleeve that only time will show whether she will need that kind of fixing.

“You are a challenging one, and I do love a good challenge. However, your defiance is only temporary,” he smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Y/N recoiled, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his plans, something insidious lurking beneath the surface. The scarred leader had shown a glimpse of a darker side, a side that made her shudder with apprehension. The voices in her head never left and now they were louder than ever.

“In the end, you will crave me,” his words echoed, each syllable dripping with a sinister certainty. “—And what a good life I can offer. I have all the time in the world to make you mine. Soul and mind.” He continued his monologue. She clenched her fists, steeling herself against the onslaught of doubt and fear.

“If my mind does not betray me, I told you what will happen once you disobey me again, did I not, dove?” her heart pounding in her chest as Yoongi’s words sent waves of revulsion through her. She fought against the oppressive grip on her jaw, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of defiance and fury.

“How exactly did I disobey you, hm?” she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

His chuckle resonated in the room, and he released his hold on her jaw. Y/N slumped against the wall, gasping for a deep inhale of air. The tears blurred her vision and her head seemed too heavy. Yoongi took the little bell on the side table, turning to Y/N, a cold glint in his eyes.

“I assume, the last time I disciplined you, was not simply enough.” He carried on without taking her comment to notice. She struggled to regain her composure, wiping away the tears that clouded her vision.

His fingers toyed with the small bell in his hand, and the room seemed to constrict around her.

The sound of the bell echoed, a disconcerting prelude to what awaited her. Yoongi’s gaze bore into her, a chilling determination evident in his demeanour.

“It seems you need a little reminder.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, her mind racing with the fear of the unknown. She heard footsteps approaching the room and her head swiftly turned to follow the sound.

“Yoongi—” she pleaded. He remained unmoved. The approaching footsteps grew louder, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

“I hope this will be the final lesson, dove,” Yoongi said, the edge of cruelty evident in his voice. When she saw him reach for the walther in his holster, her pleas became more urgent.

“I am sorry, that’s what you want to hear right, Yoongi? I am sorry!” she implored, her voice shaky with a blend of terror and disbelief. “I will do whatever you want, just don’t—”

But her words were cut short as Yoongi’s hand gripped the handle of the walther. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls similarly closing in on the remnants of her hope. His gaze remained cold, his resolve unyielding as extended hand with the gun in his grip aiming for the incomer sliding the hanji paper door open.

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward the figure entering the room, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Panic surged through her as she redirected her plea, desperately trying to avert the impending danger. His finger hovered over the trigger. He patiently waited till the door slid all the way in before loading the gun that alarmed Y/N even more.

“Yoongi stop, let us talk—” he had to laugh at how quickly he can have her on chokehold, smothering the fire in her. He was having none of it this time.

But before she could act, Yoongi’s grip tightened on the gun, his finger inching closer to the trigger. The figure in the doorway froze, sensing the danger that lurked in the scarred leader’s cold gaze.

Y/N needed to think quickly, her gaze momentarily meeting the poor made, stopping to look her over, she gulped down. It was her. The young girl’s tears were already falling to the wooden floor once she slumped down to her knees and begged for her life, just like she did months ago near the koi pond that she almost drowned in.

“I told you the Lord has a plan—” Y/N closed her eyes shut tightly, trying to think of a way to save the girl’s life. She owes her so much already and she certainly does not deserve to die because the man cannot handle being rejected each time there’s progress within the messed up relationship he formed in his deluded head.

Her palms pressed to her eyes she breathed the air in. With a surge of determination, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Yoongi’s gaze bore into her, his cold eyes reflecting the twisted depths of his obsession.

With a deep breath, Y/N made her move. Ignoring the fear that threatened to paralyse her, she closed the distance between them in a swift motion. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, her touch gentle yet calculated. His gaze locked with hers in a silent battle of wills. It confused him. What does she think she is doing? The scarred leader was too selfish to stop her. Feeling her warm hand on his cheek made him lose his hardened features.

If he could rule with fear and violence, she can rule with the love he desperately wants her to reciprocate, even if it will be pretended. And pretend she planned to.

Y/N was not stupid, she knew he would not believe her one bit that she is going to be a pitch-perfect mafia wife overnight. But gradually, till she can think of a way to leave. A plan was already writing itself in her conflicted mind. For now, she needed to get the girl out of danger, and if she had to forget about where she was standing and with whom, she would. For a life that can be spared.

And then, without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his in a desperate kiss. It was a gamble, a risky move born out of necessity. But in that fleeting moment, as their lips met in a deceitful embrace, Y/N prayed it would be enough to distract him.

Her heart raced with adrenaline as she poured every ounce of determination into the kiss, willing him to succumb to the illusion of affection. She could feel the tension in his body, his grip on the gun momentarily faltering as she moved her lips against his.

Yoongi was too taken aback to react differently than kissing her back as if this was the last time he was. She used his own tactics against him, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed to pay off. Winning this round with flying colours as the gun with a swift motion was sent clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the room.

When Y/N finally parted from him, her eyes filled with determination, Yoongi chuckled softly, the façade of affection slipping away. Yoongi took an estranged string of hair and tugged it behind her ear.

“I told you your defiance is only temporary.”

���And you just proved your threats are empty.”

She refused to let his words intimidate her, to succumb to the fear that threatened to consume her. She knew Min Yoongi’s weakness all too well.

Her — it was her greatest advantage now, and she planned to use it to its fullest extent. Her defiance was far from being temporary. One step at a time; she planned to win.

Y/N watched the falling snow from the Cadillac’s window, her mind swirling with the events that had transpired. Min Yoongi sat beside her in stony silence, still seething from their confrontation. He dragged her to the car kicking. His pride was wounded by her defiance. Again. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, of breaking under the weight of his control.

This was not the right time for her shell to crack. He needed her composed and Y/N was not feeling like a puppet he has had made of her these past months. He overstepped the line with the knowledge that and in their world, truth can kill.

He dusted his coat and hat from snow once they stepped inside of the hotel they vacated not even a day ago. Y/N felt small once she walked by his side, not because he would intimidate her, that was never the case — her eyes creeped at the hallway where her body was pressed to the wall, strong hand on her neck.

A sense of unease settled over her. She raised her own hand to touch the still sore space covered by the neckline of her qipao, white fur coat draped around her shoulders.

His sharp eyes noticed it and for a fleeting moment he paused, his gaze softening imperceptibly as it fell upon Y/N’s form. Despite the coldness that often characterised his demeanour, there was a flicker of something akin to remorse in his eyes.

That is where Min Yoongi’s remorse lies. He did not regret taking her as wife, he did not regret all the lies, damage and deception he employed to achieve so, what he did regret was her getting physically hurt. He regretted listening to her sister when she said he should stay with the guests instead of attending to you. But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, and Yoongi’s expression hardened once more.

She followed him into the dining hall, her steps hesitant as they walked side by side. The room erupted into applause once they stepped in. The sound echoing off the walls in a cacophony of celebration of the genocide they just performed.

The celebration was a mockery of the destruction they had caused, the lives they had taken in the name of power. Y/N scanned the faces in the room, searching for her family among the crowd. Relief washed over her when she saw Xiaoli, hanged on the arm of Kim Taehyung; she nodded, a silent reassurance that they were safe.

There is never a guarantee that ordinary civilians won’t be harmed as that’s how clan’s limit the possibility of attacking the headquarters which were strategically located in the heart of the city. Therefore, no assurances that innocent lives would be spared.

Her steps remained hesitant as they made their way through the crowded room. Number of men and women patted him on his back, congratulating him on the plan he orchestrated worked just right. And as she cast a glance at Yoongi, she couldn’t help but wonder whether they all would ever find redemption for the sins they had committed.

Yoongi raised his hand once they got in the middle of the dining hall, attempting to silence everyone. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him expectantly.

But Y/N paid him no mind, her thoughts consumed by the dark undercurrents that lurked beneath the surface. She did not bother to pay attention to her so-called husband’s propagandic words to his blind worshipers. The voices in her head would outcry him or anyone else. For what little her ears caught, there was a sense of pride in his words, a conviction that they had done what needed to be done to protect their interests.

“We must remain vigilant,” he concluded, his voice a warning. “Our enemies may have been vanquished, but new threats will always emerge. We must stand together, united in our resolve to protect what is ours.” Yoongi’s gaze lingered on Y/N possessively. When his gaze fell back to the crowd, he saw his right hand man making a way to the centre, rather urgently.

“Excuse me,-” Yoongi murmured to those around him, his tone clipped as he stepped away from the crowd. He had little time for idle chatter, especially in the midst of their celebrations.

Namjoon’s expression was grave as he spoke, his words measured and deliberate. “There’s been a development,-” he began, his voice becoming too low to understand what he was saying. Y/N’s eyes flickered to all of them before they landed back on Yoongi and still whispering Namjoon.

Yoongi’s expression remained unreadable as he listened to Namjoon, his features schooled into a mask of stoicism. But as Namjoon’s words sank in, a flicker of something dark and dangerous glinted in his eyes. As Yoongi turned to face her, his gaze piercing and intense, she could not predict what was going to happen.

The scarred leader encouraged everyone to continue with celebrations with a big smile plastered on his face, his voice ringing out with false warmth and cheer. But the persona was long gone once he turned to face the group of his most trusted man.

“Tae, take Xiaoli to her room and come back, the rest, office now—” Yoongi ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

“I’m going to see Bó Chéng and Ma, Yoongi.” She announced, interrupting the stream of his command. Yoongi’s gaze snapped to Y/N, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before his expression hardened once more. He attempted to make a reasonable argument why she cannot go, but there was none, only his selfishness remained. Clutching his fist tightly, he spoke.

“Thirty minutes, then I need you downstairs.” Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his frustration. Y/N nodded curtly, she knew that this is a rare occasion that he would agree without a fight.

“Dove?” Yoongi called when she turned to walk away. He hesitated for a moment, his thoughts racing as he searched for the right words. The darkness and possessiveness that loomed over him overshadowed any kind of sincerity he wished he would say instead.

“Do not make me come and get you.”

The atmosphere was heavy with tension as Yoongi sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he listened to the reports from his subordinates. The news of Chanyeol’s demise lingered in the air like a dark omen, casting a shadow over the room.

“Are you certain it was a suicide?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tense silence of the room.

“They found him hanging in his cell,” Namjoon replied, his tone cautious. “No signs of foul play.”

Yoongi’s mind raced with questions. The absence of a trial meant that Chan-yeol’s fate had been sealed, his sins catching up to him in the most final of ways.

“His death was inevitable,” Yoongi murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “But it serves as a reminder to all who dare to betray us.”

“He fucking deserved to have his balls cut off, Hyung.” The youngest member of the board spoke with venom in his voice. The sentiment was shared by many in the room, but Yoongi knew that dwelling on revenge would only serve to distract them from their true objectives. Nonetheless, he silently nodded in agreement.

“Are all our goods secured, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi shifted the conversation to more practical matters, his focus unwavering despite the weight of recent events. Their operations could not afford to falter.

“They’re secured, Hyung,” Jimin replied, his tone confident. “We’ve taken the necessary precautions to ensure our assets remain protected.”

“Good,” Yoongi said, his voice firm. “We can’t afford any mistakes. Keep a close eye on everything, and report any unusual activity immediately—”

“What is it, Yoongi?” The doctor’s voice resonated throughout the room. He was sitting near the fireplace, nursing a glass of liquor in his hand, his eyes sharp and thin while looking at his brother and leader.

The moment he stepped inside of the hotel, Seokjin knew something had happened that got under Yoongi’s skin. The only reason is still absent in this room, her time slowly waning.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards Seokjin, his brother’s interruption breaking the flow of their conversation.

“We have matters to attend to, Seokjin,” Yoongi replied, his tone clipped but not unkind. “Important ones.”

“Rumour has it—” he stood up, ignoring the scarred boy’s dismissal he had known forever, Seokjin’s eyes bore into Yoongi’s, a silent challenge passing between them.

“That while you celebrate the victory, your own household is on fire.” Yoongi’s jaw tightened, a silent acknowledgement of the truth in Seokjin’s words.

“So tell us what is bothering you.” Despite his efforts to maintain his composure, he couldn’t entirely mask the unease that gnawed at him. Reaching the spot where his bride imprinted her hand earlier, he spoke.

“She knows Wang Xiaqing did not give me any blessing to marry her.” He could visibly see his right-hand man pressing his fingers to the root of his notes and sighing loudly. The youngest could not help but chuckle at his leader’s words as he sympathised with Y/N to most. Not enough to help her out of this situation though.

Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking onto Yoongi’s with intensity. The revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

“And how did she come to know this?” Seokjin’s voice was low, a mixture of concern and curiosity. Yoongi’s jaw tensed, his expression clouding over with frustration.

“I gave her the letter without reading it first.”

“Yoongi why the actual fuck you would do that?!” Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension in the room, his anger palpable. Yoongi’s gaze hardened as he turned to face Namjoon, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Because she was making good progress, and I couldn’t deny it any longer,” Yoongi replied. Namjoon’s expression softened his features, reflecting a mix of sympathy and understanding.

“It does not matter, Hyung, she is your wife and that cannot be undone, right?” Hoseok’s voice carried a note of reassurance when he softly smiled at him.

Seokjin held up a hand, silencing the room. His pointing finger aimed at Yoongi next. “Yes, whatever happens, she is still your wife.”

“Yeah, well, go and tell her that, see if she listens.” Yoongi muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration, sinking back to his armchair. Namjoon exchanged a knowing glance with Seokjin.

“Does she know about your plans for her father’s Triad?” Namjoon’s question hung in the air, injecting a new layer of tension into the room.

Yoongi’s hand was pinching his lip when the question was raised. His eyes on neither of the men questioning him.

“She figured,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Seokjin’s expression tightened, his gaze narrowing as he processed Yoongi’s words. Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, his brows furrowing with concern and the rest of the man reflected the same kind of emotions.

“Hyung, but you just said she made progress, right? All will be good.” Namjoon’s question hung in the air, injecting a note of uncertainty into the conversation. Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his mind racing as he considered Namjoon’s words. He had believed that Y/N understood her role in their world, but recent events had shaken that belief to its core.

“I thought she did,” Yoongi murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “But now, I’m not so sure.” The remaining six were staring at their leader, expecting them to fill him in. They needed to know the situation in case little Mrs Min attempted to ruin every ongoing operation by running away.

“Well then, humble her like you always do—” Namjoon began, his tone suggesting a ruthless solution to the problem. The rest of them were not as right with their brother’s drastic intentions. Apart from Seokjin, he knew the young gal enough to know that being soft wouldn’t move her. But Yoongi’s interruption cut through the air like a knife.

“She said my threats are empty.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Yoongi’s words hanging in the air.

“Fucking show her they are not, Yoongi. You’re the Kkangpae, and she is your wife, goddammit.” Namjoon’s frustration boiled over, his voice laced with urgency. They needed her well, alive and here as an obedient and loyal wife.

Yoongi had given her the chance to do so willingly, he had even gone against his trusted men’s words when he suggested she be involved in the business however she liked. He tried to play nice numerous times. In his mind. Not in hers.

Yoongi shall never fully scope how much he took from her. He is selfish enough to never even accept the possibility of letting her go for the better course in their damaged relationship. He always ruled with fear and kindness was only recently added to his vocabulary once he fell in love with her. Deeply, quickly and too hard. Whether he was willing to make that sacrifice, to truly change the way he ruled his empire, remained to be seen.

He wanted to mould her into the perfect wife for a Kkangpae. But he also wished that she would reciprocate his love. He had demanded too much of her, without ever truly understanding the cost. And as he looked around the room at the faces of his most trusted allies, he realised that he was not the only one who had underestimated the strength of her will.

Every one of them thought this matter would be solved after the wedding and she would slowly succumb to what life they offered her. But if there was one thing he was certain of, it was this: he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side, even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of himself in the process.

“I can always fix her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s jaw clenched as he processed the implication behind Seokjin’s statement.

“That shall be the very last option, aight?” Yoongi finally replied, his voice firm despite the doubt that gnawed at him.

They may not have agreed with his decision, but they recognized the weight of his words. And in that moment, Yoongi thought that he had taken the first step towards redemption. Only to fall back down for what he is going to do.

“You underestimate the power of discontent, brother,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It festers, grows until it consumes everything in its path. You would do well not to ignore it.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice filled with determination.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway. Fashionably late, she at least arrived after she made sure that her little brother and mother were safe and sound. She has put him down for his afternoon nap, promising him to make a snowman when he wakes up.

The men’s looks met her eyes with a hint of little something Y/N could not interpret.

“What is it?” She asked carefully, scanning their faces.

“We were just discussing some matters concerning the recent events.” Seokjin steadied his voice and fixed his tie.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the tension in the air, but she forced herself to maintain a calm façade. She stepped further into the room, her eyes flickering between the faces of the men gathered around the table.

“Is there something I need to be aware of?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Chan-yeol’s dead,” said Yoongi coldly. She swallowed hard, trying to process the information.

The tension in the room seemed to thicken as the men exchanged guarded glances. Yoongi’s gaze bore into hers, searching for any hint of vulnerability. But Y/N held his stare, refusing to show any weakness in front of him or his associates.

Truth to be told, she did not know how to feel. The man was an accomplice in an act not worthy of heaven’s gate after death. The numbness that was creeping in her brain was spreading further and further.

“Does Daiyu know?” She gulped down the question, avoiding direct eye contact with any of the men.

“She knows. There will not be any funeral as he was a traitor to our clan.”

In their world, traitors were dealt with swiftly and without mercy. There would be no mourning for Chan-yeol, no funeral to honour his memory. He had chosen his path, and now he would face the consequences.

Y/N breathed the thick air of the room deeply in and licked her lips, her teeth scraping the bottom lip, a subconscious gesture of anxiety. The world of the Kkangpae was unforgiving, its rules and consequences absolute.

“Well, if you excuse us Buin, we shall take our leave.” Hoseok sensed that it was the right time to flee this room before more private and intense conversations could start between the man and his wife.

“Of course,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She watched silently as the men filed out of the room one by one, their expressions unreadable as they passed her by. Alone in the room with Yoongi, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that they will not have a pleasant conversation.

She turned to face him, searching his expression for any sign of what was to come. Their inner problems were never concluded, rather set on pause and Y/N had a hunch that Yoongi would not let her earlier shenanigans go.

“I want to speak to her, Yoongi.” She knew that asking to speak with Dayiu was a bold move, especially given the recent events and the strained dynamics between them.

“Why?” he asked, his tone betraying none of his thoughts or emotions.

“I want to express my condolences.”

“Condolences?-” he echoed, the scepticism evident in his tone. What kind of condolence she wanted to express when the very same man was an accomplice of such a sinistrous act.

“She lost a husband and the little boy lost his dad—” He knew Y/N well enough to recognise when she was being genuine and when she was attempting to manipulate the situation to her advantage. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of guardedness, perhaps even suspicion.

“Do you want to perchance tell her to run, dove?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the directness of his question.

“I want to offer my condolences sincerely,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Whatever may have transpired between us should not affect her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, assessing her words and the sincerity behind them. She meant to say that whatever happens in their messed up relationship, Daiyu should never be used as bargain anymore.

“I agree. But you just won’t ever learn, will you?” Their eyes locked, each of them holding their ground in the midst of their complex emotions.

“Yoongi, you ruined my goddamn life. Please don’t expect me to play house with you.”

“I’m offering you the life of a queen and all I ask for in return is obedience, perhaps love in time.” She heard this kind of proclamation way too many times for it to waver her.

“Well, I certainly did not ask for it.” She clasped her hands together, aiming to leave the room and find her cousin.

“Sit your ass back down. I’m not done.”

Y/N froze at Yoongi’s command, her muscles tensing as she slowly turned back to face him. Despite her inner turmoil, she complied, sinking back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

“You needn’t tell her to run. I have no intention to hurt her in particular. She played her part.”

“What else do you want from me, Yoongi?” she asked, her voice laced with frustration and exhaustion, not believing a word he was saying. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

“You needn’t concern yourself with her fate. Focus on your own.” Y/N’s heart sank at his words.

“I want you to see that everything I do, I do for us. For our future.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his frustration palpable.

“I won’t be a part of your game anymore, Yoongi,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “I won’t—” a knock on the double door echoed, interrupting her.

Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards the door, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his features before he composed himself.

“Come in,” he called out, his voice firm. The siblings came just in time. Afterall, the Kkangpae requested their presence.

Dayiu’s eyes were red and swollen, a testament to the grief she carried, while Kai’s expression was hardened, unknowingly walking to a trap.

She greeted the young Kkangpae with a respectful bow. Kai remained silent, his eyes darting between Yoongi and Y/N.

Y/N watched the interaction, her earlier confrontation with Yoongi momentarily set aside in the face of a new development.

The room teetered on the edge of chaos she obviously did not see coming, and the consequences of this confrontation were poised to reshape the dynamics in their relationship. For good, he hoped.

They exchanged small talk with their leader while Y/N sat there silently. Only now and then did she raise a sympathetic look Daiyu’s way. She did not have a chance to speak with her since Chan-yeol drugged her and sold her out just to betray the very same man months later.

Y/N wished to apologise for every single unpleasant discontent she caused to her because of the fire she burnt Yoongi with.

Leaning in close to Daiyu, Y/N whispered her apologies, her words a quiet admission of remorse for the pain she had inadvertently caused.

She reached out, squeezing Y/N’s hand in a gesture of understanding her desire to live her life the way she wants. Daiyu shares the same ambition now that her husband is no longer in the picture. But that is, of course, not going to be granted.

As she was not paying attention to what Yoongi and Kai are further discussing, a mistake on her part. The next shocked her to the core.

Kai went to stand up just to be sent flying to the ground by Yoongi knocking him down. Y/N’s heart lurched with horror.

“Yoongi, what the fuck!” Y/N yelled, shielding Daiyu with her body.

“Missus Park?” Yoongi called. “I would rather you not stay for the next couple of moments.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Yoongi’s words.

“You see, Missus Park. I need to show my wife just how much my threats are not empty.” His voice was full of violence and Y/N’s heart pounded too loud and hard. She shot a concerned look at Daiyu, silently communicating her support and urging her to leave the room.

“Both of you. Leave, right now!” With a nod of understanding, Dayiu rose from her seat, casting a final glance at Y/N before quietly exiting the room. Panic surged through her veins as she watched Daiyu leave the room, her gaze fixing on Kai, struggling to stand up and run, his eyes reflecting fear.

Yoongi’s gaze locked onto hers, his expression dark and foreboding. She knew she couldn’t escape his wrath, not now.

“Yoongi, stop!” Her palms blunt against his torso, trying to stop him from proceeding further, just to be pushed back to the armchair, little too hard than Yoongi intended to. His mind and fists aimed at the younger boy’s face. Her words fell on deaf ears as Yoongi continued his assault, his rage unchecked and his fury unleashed.

The sickening sound of bone crunching beneath his blows and painful cries from Kai’s mouth was haunting the room. Yoongi dragged him to the nearest wall and pressed his head tightly to the concrete with his hand. The skin of his knuckles was torn and full of blood. Not as much blood as Kai’s face produced after being beaten numerous times. Kai’s painful cry got louder once Yoongi kept pressing his cheek to the wall.

With each crunch of bone and each agonised cry that echoed through the room, Y/N’s desperation grew. She knew she had to act, to do something to protect Kai from further harm.

“Yoongi, this is all me. Punish me!” She scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking with fear and adrenaline as she desperately tried to intervene, to stop Yoongi from inflicting any more harm on Kai. She did not expect him to take a hit on Kai, he followed his orders thoroughly, the younger boy even pledged his loyalty to him. Y/N's mind scratched his name from the list, another mistake on her part.

Y/N’s voice cracked with emotion as she made her desperate plea, hoping to redirect Yoongi’s rage away from Kai and onto herself. She knew she was risking everything by putting herself in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bear to see Kai suffer any longer.

“I was thinking you know—” said the scarred leader. With each passing moment, the weight of their situation pressed down on her, threatening to suffocate her with its overwhelming intensity.

“Forbidding you from this and that won’t work on you nor killing a worthless maid—”

Yoongi’s voice trailed off, his gaze turning back to Kai, whose head was battered and bloodied pressed to the wall, so painful that his consciousness was waning. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for Yoongi’s next move, unsure of what to expect.

“—but hurting someone you care about...” His voice was chilling, the threat implicit in his words. Y/N’s blood ran cold as she realised the full extent of Yoongi’s intentions. He was using Kai as a pawn in his twisted game, manipulating her emotions to bend her to his will.

“His life and blood are on your hands, love.”

She looked into Kai’s eyes, seeing the pain and terror reflected in them, knowing that his fate now rested in her hands. Yoongi did not plan to kill him altogether, he just wanted her to succumb to submission and obedience.

“No, Yoongi, please!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. But Yoongi’s expression remained cold and impassive, his resolve unyielding. She felt as though her soul was being torn apart, torn between her love for Kai and her desperate need to protect him.

She had had enough. She had seen enough. And she was ready to give up her life to save his. Y/N thought about this option way too often lately. Whether her sacrifice would be enough to save Kai from further harm remained to be seen.

In that moment of desperation and despair, Y/N’s mind raced as she weighed her options. The thought of sacrificing herself to protect Kai from further harm consumed her thoughts, and with a sense of grim determination, she reached for the same unfortunate knife that saved her from her father’s wrath before.

With a steady hand, she withdrew the weapon, its cold metal glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Y/N…” he had to look back at her twice before he realised what was going on. Yoongi’s gaze flickered toward her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes as he realised her intentions. But before he could react, Y/N pressed the blade against her own throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and resolve.

“Let him go Yoongi, or I swear I will do it,” she declared, her voice quavering but firm. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they all grappled with the gravity of the situation. Y/N waited, her hand steady against her throat, her gaze unwavering as she dared Yoongi to make his next move.

Yoongi’s hand left the already fractured skull of his wife’s cousin, and Kai slumped down by the wall, grunting loudly. The scarred leader who thought is holding the young gal in chess mate was taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

“I let him go, baby, now put the blade away.” Y/N hesitated, her grip on the sharp letter opener tightening involuntarily.

The rush of adrenaline had drowned out her fear momentarily, leaving her with a fierce determination to stand her ground.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice tinged with defiance. Yoongi took a step towards her small form. Her eyes crimson red, tears streaming down as she said that.

“We can talk—”

“It always starts with a talk, Yoongi, doesn't it?” Y/N interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion but her resolve unwavering. She held the knife steady, its blade gleaming in the dim light of the room.

Yoongi’s expression darkened, a mixture of frustration and anger flashing across his features. He took another step closer, his gaze locked on Y/N’s determined face. He was afraid and the young leader was only afraid of one thing. Losing her.

“Love, fuck, please I beg you to put it down, baby.” Y/N shook her head again.

“I told you I am your weakness, Yoongi, now you see for yourself.”

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi felt truly afraid. Not for himself, but for Y/N. He knew that he had pushed her too far, that his actions had driven her to this desperate act. And as he stood before her, pleading to put down the knife, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he had already lost her.

He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control in any situation, but now, faced with the prospect of losing Y/N, he felt powerless. He made her go mad.

As Yoongi reached out his hand towards her, a silent plea in his eyes, Y/N knew she couldn’t back down. It is him who will never learn, not her. Pressing the knife tighter, piercing the first layer of the skin, painting the blade red. A thin crimson line trickled down her neck making Yoongi’s eyes widen in panic. She could not feel a thing through the adrenaline and post traumatic experience from the events that led her to close her mind and not feel, her eyes were still fixated on him and how terrified he looked.

“Y/N, please,-” he begged, his voice raw with emotion. Now it was her who remained unmoved, her eyes blazing with defiance as she held her ground.

“Say it, Yoongi.” She declared. Giving him the taste of his own medicine. And the dark sickening part of Yoongi knew that he had finally met his match. She wanted him to suffer just as much as he made her suffer.

“I’m so sorry, love,-” what he always forced her to say, thinking he is teaching her of accountability, now left his lips. Yet, he could never be accountable for his own actions, could he?

“You’ve taken my life from me!” her voice filled with bitterness and resentment.

“I know,-” he whispered, gulping down the lump in his throat. His voice was heavy with remorse that did not reach sincerity. “And I will spend the rest of my life trying—”

“Fuck you! You are like a broken record, a lying one!” She had seen through his façade, seen the darkness that lurked beneath his composed exterior, and she refused to let him off the hook so easily. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of his life haunted by the memories of what he had done.

“I will do everythi—”

“But you will never let me go.”

For a moment, Yoongi was speechless, his mind racing as he grappled with the realisation that he had pushed her too far. There were no words he could say to make her put the blade down from her neck. The absence of words only confirmed hers.

“The only blood I shall have on my hands shall be mine.”

He immediately crossed the distance to reach out - to stop her - to tell her that he would do anything to make things right, but he knew it was too late for that.

“NO!”

With a desperate scream from his mouth, Yoongi watched as Y/N swiftly swiped the blade against her own skin, cutting deeper, painting the qipao embroidered with pink roses and green leaves she was clad in crimson red with her hot blood.

.

.

.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

author's note: sheesh, here we go, i thought that no chapter will be hard for me to write since the last one, but this one did a number on me tbh. But more importantly for yall my beautiful chummers, if you feel like this is the end you imagined for lacrimosa and y/n, I strongly encourage you to not proceed to read the following chapters. Not every piece of media is meant for everybody and I totally respect if the way in which will lacrimosa continue won't be everyone's cup of tea or simply not the trope they wanted. I hold the pen and I love yall, I won't change the outline of lacrimosa I planned because of relativity tho. Therefore, those who are satisfied with this kind of ending - I love you, I'm grateful, and I thank you hundred times that you took the time to read this fic. Those who wants to follow the "couple" a bit more, stay tuned and patient for other chapters. I love you 🫧♡ ︎

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

[herstoryheaven]

Pedro Gonzalez x Reader: When The Stars Align

Prompt: A quiet night shared between Pedro and the reader, where Pedro offers unlimited support and love to the reader during a challenging time.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1037

Average reading time: 3 min 45 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of emotional distress, including references to job loss, heartbreak, and feelings of failure. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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It is a quiet night, with stars twinkling brightly against the dark colored sky. You sat on the grassy hill overlooking the town, knees hugged to your chest. It had been a tough week, filled with crushing disappointment and heartache. The loss of a job, a breakup, and an overwhelming sense of failure loomed large in your mind.

Pedro arrived silently, as he often did, sensing your need for some quiet time. He didn't say anything at first, just sat down beside you, offering a comforting presence. For a while, the only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant buzzling of the city below.

"Hola, mi amor," Pedro finally said, his voice soft, filled with unspoken understanding.

You sighed, not lifting your gaze from the horizon. "Hola, Pedro."

Pedro wanted to reach out, to hold you and make all the pain disappear. Instead, he started talking about the stars, pointing out constellations and sharing childhood memories. It was his way of bringing a bit of light into the darkness surrounding you.

"Remember when we used to come here as kids?" Pedro asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "We'd lie on the grass, making up stories about the stars."

A faint smile touched your lips, the memory slightly warming your aching heart. "Yeah, you always had the best stories."

Pedro took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what he'd been holding back for years. "Princesa, I know things are really hard right now. And it feels like everything's falling apart. But I need you to know something... you're not alone in this. You have never been alone."

You turned to Pedro, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Pedro reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hand. "I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I've watched you go through so much, and it breaks my heart to see you hurting. But I'll be here, always, no matter what. You don’t have to do everything by yourself."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment breaking through the walls you've built around your heart. "Pedro, I... I don't know what to say."

Pedro’s hand was warm against yours, a gentle haven in the swirling storm of your emotions. He moved closer, his other hand softly brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered, pulling you into a tender embrace. "Just let me be here for you."

The dam finally broke, and you flung your arms around Pedro, sobbing into his shoulder. All the pain, all the fear, poured out in waves, but Pedro held you close, offering comfort and a safe harbor. The warmth of Pedro's arms, the steady beat of his heart, was a lifeline you hadn't realized you needed.

You felt conflicting emotions surge within you. Part of you wanted to push him away, convinced that you didn't deserve his kindness or his love. But another part of you, a part that had long been buried under layers of self-doubt and fear, craved his affection and his unwavering support.

Pedro’s hands moved in soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle yet firm. "It is alright, mi amor," he murmured against your hair. "I’m here and I won’t go anywhere."

As you cried, Pedro continued to hold you, his fingers trailing lightly over your shoulders and back. The sensation was calming, and gradually, your sobs turned into quiet sniffles. Pedro pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his touch tender and full of care.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care so much about me?"

Pedro's eyes softened, his gaze unwavering. "Because you mean everything to me, Y/N. You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. You deserve to be loved and cared for, especially now."

Your heart ached at his words, a mix of gratitude and fear swirling within you. "But I'm a mess, Pedro. How can you love someone like me?"

Pedro's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. "Everyone has their moments, princesa. We all have times when we feel like we're falling apart. But it's in those moments that we need to lean on the people who love us. And I love you, more than you can imagine."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you absorbed his words. The warmth of his hand, the sincerity in his voice, all of it felt like a comforting blanket being draped over your wounded soul. "I don't know if I can do this alone," you admitted, your voice trembling.

"You're not alone," Pedro said firmly. "You have me. And together, we'll get through this. One step at a time."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The gesture was intimate, filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Pedro smiled, his fingers brushing against your jawline. "You're stronger than you think, Y/N. And I'm here to remind you of that every day."

You nodded, the weight of your burdens feeling just a bit lighter. "Thank you, Pedro. For everything."

Pedro's smile widened, his eyes shining with affection. "Always princesa."

As the night wore on, for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

Pedro's hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining, and together you lay back on the grass, looking up at the glimmering night sky. His presence was a comforting weight beside you, and as you listened to his steady breathing, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

The future was uncertain, but with Pedro by your side, you knew you could face whatever came your way. In the quiet moments, under the watchful gaze of the stars, you began to heal, one gentle touch at a time.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

[devilishchaos]

Rings | Rúben Dias Imagine

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Y/N is pregnant and her rings don't fit anymore.

Warnings: just fluff that made me cry; use of pet names "babe", "baby"; mentions of struggling during pregnancy; soft Rúben (I had to)

Word Count: 1 319 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

“Babe, what are you doing?” you hear Rúben’s voice, mixed with curiosity and amusement, as he walks into your shared bedroom and finds you in a position that’s more than questionable. Lying on the bed with your legs up in the air, feet against the wall and one single sock miserably hanging off your left foot. 

“What does it look like I’m doing Dias?” you manage to mumble, totally out of breath. Your full-time job as a watermelon, aka a pregnant woman, is kicking in now at only six months pregnant, and being this huge now makes the easiest thing seem like rocket science. 

“Are you doing some kind of yoga?” he guesses walking over to you as you keep trying to get your way around with that damn sock. He sits beside you, watching you completely amused by your stunt as you struggle to see anything from your belly. 

“I’ve been trying to put on this fucking sock for about twenty minutes now, but I can’t!” you cry out, feeling the frustration bursting out of you, tears dwelling in your eyes. Both of you are aware that it’s just the hormones messing with your head, but it still makes you feel like a loser, not able to put on your own socks. 

“Hey, hey, no!” Rúben softly coos as he gently grabs your ankles and places your legs on his lap. Grabbing the sock that’s hanging from your foot and he easily rolls it all the way up your foot before reaching for the other one on the nightstand and putting it on as well. 

“Talk to me baby, what’s wrong exactly?” he murmurs, his magical fingers working on your feet, massaging the swollen limbs with ease. 

“You won’t get it..” you sob, throwing your arms to the side, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I want to try. Please, talk to me.” he pleads and you can’t hold a soft moan back when he hits a spot on your sole that’s been in pain for days. 

“I just..” You let out a shaky breath blinking the tears away, not wanting to cry again in front of Rúben. “..I don’t feel like myself and I feel huge, like, humongous..bending is not an option for me anymore. It’s really hard, I keep reminding myself of the blessing that’s gonna happen once this pregnancy is over, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been feeling miserable in my own skin for months.”

You can’t stop yourself from talking, the most absurd thoughts have been stirring in your mind lately and even though it’s for sure because of the baby, you still found yourself judging your own thoughts. 

“I don’t feel comfortable in anything, I am itchy all over and that drives me crazy. My feet and hands are so swollen, it’s almost scary..” you continue holding your hands up as you take a look at your sausage-like fingers. “..and today I’m afraid I reached the point where my rings aren’t ringing anymore. I couldn’t put them on, they just would not go on my finger. And it made me really sad, because I love wearing my wedding stack so much and it means so much to me..I feel like I’m the worst pregnant woman on Earth.” you moan covering your eyes with your hands. 

“Babe, look at me.” he pleads, gently squeezing your feet, but you shake your head 'no'. Your eyes are probably red already. “Baby, please look at me.” he tries again and this time you peek at him. 

A warm, kind smile sits on his soft lips and his eyes shine so bright like the most expensive diamonds on the planet. Your heart is flooded with love just by one look from him and you could cry over how much you love this man.

“You’re not big, you’re pregnant. There is another human inside you which is just mind-blowing and your body is amazing for doing what it’s been doing for these past months. I know pregnancy has been hard and I can only imagine what you're going through. It’s okay to be sad, I know you can’t help it. And as for the rings - Meu amor, It’s okay, you will wear them again after the baby is born, just because you can’t wear your rings, doesn’t mean we love each other any less.” 

“But I wanna wear them.” you said with a pout.

“Here..let’s try this.” he took your hand in his and tried to put his wedding band as a replacement of yours, but his one was too big for your fingers so it didn’t stay on. 

A heavy sigh blows through your lips as you close your eyes for a few seconds. 

“It’s okay. I will be fine..I’m just emotional, I wasn’t prepared for this day to come - where my rings no longer fit..” you gave him your best smile and suggested that you go through your guy’s day, because you knew he will have a tough training and had to leave soon. 

*

It was now close to 7 p.m. and Rúben had returned not long ago. You two were chilling on the couch in the living room after having a quick dinner, a random movie playing on the TV. 

“So how did training go?” you asked, glancing over at him. 

“It went well. Better than I thought it would.” he responded “How was your day?” 

“It was okay. Not different from yesterday or the day before..same as always.” you mumble with a grimace as he starts massaging your legs again. 

“I have something for you.” your husband stated, a mischievous look on his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box that he handed to you. 

“What is it?” you curiously asked, as you took the box from him. 

As you opened it your eyes started tearing up. Inside was placed a plain gold band. 

“Baby..” you looked up at Rúben, he leaned over to kiss you softly. 

“You were pretty devastated this morning about your rings, so I went to the jeweler after training and got you this as a substitute. He said that he could re-size yours but I thought it would take longer, so I just bought you this one. And it is just temporary so it should be good. Do you like it?” 

“Oh, I love it, Rúbes. Thank you. I love you.” you said, wiping a few tears that had fallen down your face, before leaning in to kiss him again. 

“I love you. Both of you, so much.” Rúben replied after breaking the kiss. “Put it on. Let’s see if it fits.”

“You put it on me, please.” 

He took the gold band out of the box, took your left hand and placed the band on your ring finger. 

“How does that feel? Is it okay, did I get the right size?” he wanted to make sure. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” you wrapped your arms around him so you could give him a hug. 

“Ouch!” you gasp and Rúben immediately launches closer, worry placed all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, frantically checking your body, looking for something that might be wrong with it. 

“Nothing, just..baby Dias is playing football again.” you groan as you grab Rúben’s hand and place it to the spot where you felt the movement. The baby kicks again and Rúben gasps in awe, eyes glued to your huge belly. He has received all kinds of movements from the baby with so much amusement and adoration, you just know he will dedicate his whole existence to this child. 

“I’m so sure this kid is going to be a football player like his daddy.” you sigh as you feel more movements. 

He shifts, brings his head closer to your bump and presses a soft kiss to the spot where your baby kicked last.

[mrs-snape5984]

“There is no other love, it's only yours…”

“You're all I want, all I love…” (“You’re all I want” by Cigarettes after Sex)

Yesterday I had a really rough day. It didn’t just feel like one of my regular “PEM-Crash-Days” (PEM = post-exertional malaise = the worsening of symptoms after crossing the boundaries of my condition, due to my disease ME/CFS). The whole day was also coated in a thick layer of sadness and grief…an emotional turmoil, which I could only barely endure. Well…mixing these feelings with another wave of fever and pain, seasoned with the incapacity of tolerating screen time, adding the suffocating sensation of loneliness….et voilà! The perfect recipe for a day in hell was created! 🙄

In order to cope with my emotions, I found myself drowning in my fantasies of teenage Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules…rewriting one of their short fictional scenes. Again, Severus was tormented by his own insecurities, getting carried away in self-loathing. I don’t know, how many times I’ve already written scenes like these. Jules encourages Severus to stay resilient, praising him for all those traits, which he only identifies as his flaws and weaknesses. But for Jules, there’s so much beauty, so much strength in his imperfections. She’s making his blemishes look like the most loveable attributes of Severus’ personality with her passionate speech.

When I wrote this little scene, I recognised something: I already knew, that I’m identifying myself a lot with Severus…but Jules’ words of encouragement and consolation to her beloved friend Sevy…well, they’re are also things, I would crave to hear for myself (how pathetic, huh?!). But since I’m struggling immensely with the acceptance of my own insecurities and fears, I’m not able to reassure myself of my own worth. It’s just not on the table for me!

So…I’ll just keep on telling Severus in my stories, that he deserves nothing less than the whole world…and that Jules will always try to make him feel loved and cared for. She will never stop to compare his flaws with her own weaknesses by explaining to him, how perfectly they’re matching. Jules will never grow tired to assure Severus, that his cynicism is the perfect complement to her sense of sarcasm. For the Slytherin girl, it's a clear sign for Sevy’s extremely high intellect, which is also something, that she adores about her friend. In Jules’ eyes, his bitterness mirrors a form of hypersensitivity, a characteristic, which she knows so well from herself. That’s why she’s acting so empathetically with Severus, whenever he’s suffering with his life…and Jules is convinced, that sharing those feelings will make them less unbearable! The girl even praises Severus’ stubbornness by telling him, that she’s enjoying every good and intelligent argument with him to clear the air between them. All together, Severus’ imperfections are pure perfection to the hopelessly devoted (and obviously love-struck 😅) girl.

I’m aware of the overdramatic nature and the unnecessary fluffiness of my short stories, but that’s the reason, why I’m writing them for my eyes only. It’s my form of a coping mechanism…the only way of allowing myself some kind of self-assurance and comfort…through Severus!

Some time ago, I found an artist here on tumblr, who made me fall head over heels for her tender style of drawing my beloved dungeon bat. Especially an artwork of her interpretation of the younger Snape made my heart ache with longing for him, so of course, I just had to commission @pssherri for an illustration of Severus and my OC Jules in their teenage years.

Sonja, you did an amazing job with this project and I can’t express, how grateful I am for your kindness and the dedication to your profession! It was a pleasure to cooperate with you on this idea of mine and I hope, you’ll be open to work on more of my requests some day. Thank you for everything, my dear!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[xndrexcruz]

Love On The Line

✮- pairing: marc guiu x fem!reader

✮- summary: when a girl and a rising football star meet at an empty stadium to confront their troubling relationship, ultimately deciding to take a step back in hopes that their love will endure time and distance

✮- warnings: this story includes themes about relationship struggles and emotional stress

✮- author’s note: this is my first time writing angst, hope you like it

You stand near the edge of the pitch, the cool night air brushing against your cheeks making them a soft pink. The floodlights of the stadium cast long shadows, creating a surreal atmosphere around you. The stands are now completely empty, contrast to the roaring crowds that cheered loudly earlier. Your heart felt heavy as you stood waiting for him, trying to muster up enough courage to face him, to say what needed to be said.

Marc Guiu steps out of the tunnel, his silhouette familiar yet distant at the same time. He walks towards you with a confident stride, the same one that makes him such a force on the field. But tonight, there is something different in his eyes, a mix of concern and confusion filling his eyes. He’s always been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and tonight was no exception to that rule.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly, stopping just a few feet away from where you had been standing. “What’s going on? Why did you want to meet me here?”

You took a deep breath in, trying to steady all your racing thoughts for once. “Marc, we need to talk.” You had paused before speaking again, “About us.”

He nods slowly at your words, his expression unreadable. “Okay. Talk to me then.”

You looked away from his eyes, struggling to meet his gaze. “It’s just been so complicated between us. One moment we’re together, and in the next, we’re pulling away from one another. I can’t figure out how to do this anymore.”

Marc runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you know all too well. “I know it’s been hard lately, but we can figure this out, Y/n, together. We always do in the end.”

You shook your head, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “But at what cost, Marc? Every single time we fight, it feels like we’re tearing apart little by little. I love you, I’m sorry… I don’t think I can keep doing this over and over again, I’m just so tired of it.”

He steps closer to you, his voice slightly trembling. “Don’t say that, please, Y/n. We can make this work, I know we can. We just need to talk this through, to really listen to each other.”

You swallow hard, the memories of your rollercoaster relationship flooding your mind. The late night arguments, the moments of pure happiness, the painful goodbyes that were followed by passionate reconciliations. You know he means everything he said, that he really believes in you both. But you’re not so sure if that’s enough anymore.

“I wish it were that simple, I really do,” you whisper. “But every time we try and fix things, somehow it gets messier than it already was. I don’t want to keep hurting you Marc. And I also don’t was to continue getting hurt all over again.”

Marc’s eyes are filled with a mix of sadness yet determination. “Y/n, I love you, so much. And I’m sorry for every time I’ve ever hurt you. But I’m not ready to give up on us. Not just yet.”

“You feel a tear escape down your cheek, and he reaches out to gently wipe it away for you. His touch is so familiar, comforting, loving, yet it also brings a fresh wave of pain. “Marc, I… I don’t know if lobe is enough anymore.”

He takes your cold hands into his warm ones, holding them tightly not letting go. “I know I’ve made a ton of mistakes. And trust me I know we’ve been through so much. But you mean everything and more to me. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work for us, just name it. Please, Y/n, please. Just don’t walk away.”

You close your eyes, struggling to come to a decision, you were hesitating. It was a mantra, a confession, a plea. And as much as you wanted to believe that things could possibly change, a part of you wonders if it’s too late to save your relationship.

When your eyes finally open, you see raw emotions in Marc’s face. You see the vulnerability, the hope he held. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself believe in the rare possibility of having a happy future together.

“Marc,” you say softly, “I love you too. I want you to know that. But we both need to take a step back, to really figure things out separately. Maybe some time part will help us see everything more clearly.”

You see that he looks like he’s about to protest, to try and change your mind, but he just nods slowly, feeling defeated, his eyes are understanding though. “If that’s really what you need, Y/n, then I’ll respect your wishes.” He took a breath before continuing, “But promise me one thing, just one.”

“Anything,” you whispered.

“Promise me that this isn’t goodbye. That we’ll find our way back to each other when we’re both ready.”

You nod, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness surrounding you. “I promise.”

As you make your way out of the stadium, the weight of your decision finally settles over you. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that you’re doing what was best for not just you but him as well. And as the night air wraps around you once again, you hold on to the hole that someday, somehow, you will both find your way back to one another.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Black Wedding: The True Vow For A Jet-Black Bride - Victor

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. What I obtain is what will be translated. If other blogs have translated the stories before I do, I will notate their blogs. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

I had a secret longing for a wedding.

Many may have dreamed of being blessed by many people and wearing a pure white wedding dress as you make vows of eternity.

(I was one of them.)

The peak of happiness dreamed of as a child does not always come true in the same form.

An old church that is no longer in use.

The candlelight flickers and illuminates the interior, which is as good as abandoned.

I slowly raised my eyes and saw through the veil my beloved who was standing at the altar.

Kate: Victor.

He looked at me happily as I stepped forward to meet him as quickly as I could, but -

Victor: Take your time, it’s okay, just be careful.

Struggling with the unfamiliar dress, I approached him step by step.

The dress is the exact opposite of what he longed for, the color of night, just like his hair.

When I came to a halt and faced him, Victor gave a soft laugh.

Victor: William has cleared the place, so no one will come here.

A wedding ceremony for just two people in an abandoned church in the middle of night, with not a single sign of life.

As I lowered my eyes down in the quiet space, I heard a voice with a mixed with sadness about what I’ve misunderstood.

Victor: Sorry.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: You’re only able to have a ceremony like this.

Kate: Victor, it’s not your fault…..

Victor: No, it’s my fault that you’re here, not clad in pure white, smiling with the blessings of so many.

Victor: It’s no one else’s fault…..but mine.

I grip his hand tightly as he lets out a depressed sigh.

Kate: When I was a child, I always wanted to go to a wedding.

Kate: I thought that the moment I wore a pure white dress, and was celebrated by many people must be a happy one.

Seeing him slightly shaken, I continued to speak.

Kate: But, now I like this better.

Kate: If there were a lot of people around, I might be too nervous to do this.

Kate: I’d rather wear a dress the same color as your hair than pure white.

Victor narrows his eyes as his gaze meets mine through the veil.

Kate: I don’t care where I am. You’re more than enough for me.

He blinked several time, smiled softly and then lifted the veil.

Victor: Kate?

Kate: Yes.

Victor: I……I am the man who will take away your freedom and make you unhappy.

Victor: After this, I will continue to make you feel uncomfortable .

Kate: That’s not true.

Victor: But,

He interrupts me, and I’m so struck by what he says, so I instinctively close my mouth.

Victor: The choice to let you go no longer exists in me.

The strong words pierced my heart and brought joy to my whole body.

Then he fits the silver piece he took from his pocket onto my left ring finger and drops his lips there.

Victor: I don’t swear to God, I swear to you.

The kiss, like a knight’s vow of loyalty, was something like out of a painting,

It makes me feel like I’m a princess of some country.

(But that’s not the reality.)

Because our vow is much heavier than that of a knight who swears loyalty.

Victor: I love you, Kate.

He removes his lips from my ring finger, takes my hand and places it on his left breast.

Then he puts his hand on my left breast in the same way.

(I can hear your heartbeat…..)

Our slight beats of our hearts is evidence that we are here,

Victor: Even if death snatches us away and our bodies rot, please let us live in hell together.

Kate: ….Yes. I vow to live with you even after death.

When I closed my eyes, I could sense each other’s heartbeats more strongly.

Kate: Because I want to be with you, even if it means destruction.

A vow that no one can touch, it’s ours alone.

Even if my heart stops beating, I will walk the path to hell with him.

(But as long as Victor is there, I don’t care if I end up in hell.)

Because I can truly say, that’s it is much better than being in heaven with out him.

The hand that’d been resting on my heart, now slides to my cheek.

Victor: …Even if I lose everything, I won’t let you go.

I look up and wait for his lips.

It was much happier than the wedding I dreamed of as a child.

Their private vow, unknown to anyone else, was sealed forever in the British night.

[Black Wedding Master List] Tag list: @theimaginativelyreticent

Screams: VIVIIIIIIIIIII! Mildly tempted to do another story dissection like Jude's wedding story.

[midlandslady]

Today I have 2 things to discuss and it's all about Daemyra:

On the "Daemon groomed Rhaenyra." I can see where it comes from but it is such a lie. I cannot even hear these words anymore. Why did he groom her? Because he gave her a necklace when she was 14 and there was sexual tension in the scene? First, it's Matt Smith, he can have sexual tension with a rock. Second, the same could be said for Milly Alcock. Third. They are Targaryens! Daemon always wished that his grandmother had found a wife for him like Rhaenyra, a true Targaryen bride. And Rhaenyra grew up admiring his rebellious spirit, which was very similar to hers. In a way, it was like how Daenerys always expected to marry Viserys one day. This is their tradition: to find a pure Targaryen match. But nothing happened when she was 14 and I don't believe he thought of her in a sexual way back then at all! Rhaenyra, on the other hand, already had a crush on him by then. Then he returns from the Stepstones, she was 18-19 years old and about to be married to someone she didn't care for. She was a woman then and of course he desired her, she was everything he liked mixed with the fondness he always had for her. Was it that bad for him to have taken her to a brothel to clarify all the mysteries of lovemaking that she had no clue about? I think it was progressive of him, and very feminist to be honest. Did he plan to ruin her reputation so that he could marry her? Maybe yes, maybe not. Perhaps he just wanted to marry her. Or he simply wished to show her that there was nothing to be afraid of and that pleasure could exist within the marriage or out of it. Or maybe both things. But in my vision, he didn't plan it that far, he wasn't even aware of the intensity of his feelings for her until that moment in the brothel. And it scared him in a way that all plans flew his mind. The role of uncle and lover so twisted in his mind that he had to get away from her. The entire story would have been different if he hadn't but I wouldn't have had the same love for their romance. And then how can you say that he groomed her when she always had the upper hand when it came to him? He had the entire realm fooled by his lies of marrying Mysaria and having a child with her, he was ready to die facing Otto on that bridge and then she comes, she calls him out on his lies, and immediately his farse is gone, he surrenders the egg and leaves. She had such an influence over him that one might say he was the one being groomed XD Being older does not mean anything. And Rhaenyra was always stronger than him, more decisive, more sure of herself, and she always saw him exactly for what he was, with all his flaws. She was not naive or molded by him. To say so is very diminishing of her character and I hate it. And unlike the books, Daemon and Rhaenyra only got sexually involved when she was much older, already with 3 kids and lovers, and very experienced in the act of love. And again, it was her choice, he didn't pursue her, she did!

On the "Poor Rhaenyra, she was in love with an evil man her entire life and he doesn't care for her as much." Another huge lie. Daemon loves Rhaenyra so much more than she loves him and that is very evident. He needs her more than she needs him. Him wanting to admit that or not is another story but it is the truth. During their 10 years apart, Rhaenyra was miserable because she kept being humiliated by Alicent, she had "bastard" children and a husband who didn't support her as she wished. I can see why she was not happy. But Daemon? Daemon had a fantastic wife, who believed in him, loved him, and was fierce as him. She had all the qualities he loved. They had two legitimate daughters, they traveled the world together. Then why was he so defeated? As Laena said "He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he spent his days in a library reading books about the Targaryen ancestry". And now people may say that he was sad because he didn't have the throne. Wrong. He had already lost the throne from the moment Viserys had other children, it didn't matter anymore. Or people will say that it is because he missed his brother. Also wrong, he had been away from his brother many times over, but it never stopped him from returning as he pleased. At Rhaenyra's wedding, he didn't even fight with Viserys, so he was not exiled. No, he stayed away for so long because he didn't trust himself if he saw Rhaenyra again. He was heartbroken because she was not in his life and appeared to be faring well without him, with 3 children and a stable relationship with Harwin. From the moment Viserys died, Rhaenyra distrusted him. Outside of their happy bubble, she doubted he would accept her as queen and would try to rule over her. She believes he was not there with her at the birth of Visenya because he was already mad planning his war. But was he? Or was he making sure that the people around them were loyal and would not stab them in their backs? At the funeral of Visenya, she was partially blaming him, she wouldn't even look at him and he was just there wanting to be part of her grief, their grief, but she wouldn't let him. At the war council table, he was proud of calling her his queen, his grace, he thought they would "rule together" and yet all the proposals he makes at that table are refuted coldly by her. And he is confused. In his mind he doesn't understand why she is pushing him away, why she is so explicitly ruling out everything he says. And then Luke dies and she disappears and he is angry at everyone. But mostly he is worried because she went alone and she is exposed to Vhagar and Aemond so he wants to take down Vhagar and the threat that she represents. Finally, when Rhaenyra returns he is so relieved and, despite his harsh words before that she was straying in her duties as queen, he doesn't say any of the sort. He simply asks if she found what she needed. This is such a nice touch. At the end, he just wants to console her but doesn't know how and she doesn't let him near. And being Daemon he reacts to this feeling of being pushed away and rejected with violence as the only way he knows how to deal with his emotions. When she says "I want Aemond" he immediately goes into action because if this is the only thing he can do for her, to comfort her, then he will. And it goes terribly wrong. Overall what I mean to say is: that before Daemon started calling himself king, before he started to feel that he was better suited to rule, Rhaenyra was already blaming him and distrusting him for what he hadn't thought of doing yet. Hence, despite all of his mistakes, and he makes a lot of them, loving Rhaenyra less has never been one of them.

[himbeereule]

Орлёнок Demo Release

Finally, the demo is here! It's not exactly January anymore, but better late than never, right?

You can play it right here!

I also made a post on the CoG forums, if you want to check it out: Link

Features include:

Meeting your family! And getting bullied.

Getting executed!

Rising from the dead!

Celebrating life by slaughtering some rebels!

(Being extremely miserable!)

Feedback:

This is, quite obviously, a work in progress. It is made available so that you, the reader, can give feedback that improves the game.

So, while you can - and should - obviously tell me whatever you want, a specific list of what I need most in terms of feedback can be found here:

Language. English is not my first language (actually, not even my second one), and I mostly read non-fiction academic works when I read in English, so my writing is certainly not at the level it should be. If you have any concrete issues, please tell me, and I'll try to learn how it can be improved.

Spelling. I don't expect much in the way of outright errors, but I do know that I mix up British and American English all the time. The intended style is American English, so please point out spellings that are wrong in that regard.

Inconsistencies. There are a lot of variations between scenes, and I'd like to make the story as immersive as possible; so, if a phrasing, a character's behaviour etc. feel like they don't fit into the choices you previously made, please tell me. In detail, if possible, otherwise I won't be able to amend it.

Sensory descriptions. AuDHD makes my brain process sensations, including visual impressions, very differently, which means I often end up forgetting those exist. Please tell me about scenes that lack description in that regard. (My first grade elementary school report card called my writing 'efficient and devoid of feelings', and I'd very much like to move past that.)

Technical problems. The code should be pretty solid, but with how complicated it is, it'd be weird if there weren't at least some problems. If you find them, please try to include as much detail as possible when telling me about it. (CS Quicktest and Randomtest are not usable due to the complexity of the code, lol.)

You liking the story. I remain thoroughly convinced that I am a worthless person who isn't able to, nor deserves to create anything, and currently my only motivation to continue this project is derived from pure stubbornness. So, if you, for some reason, actually like this demo, please tell me. It won't change my mind about how bad I think it is, but it will force me to continue in order to avoid being even more of a disappointment.

Additions. If I like your idea, I'll probably add it right away; if I'm unsure, I'll do a poll. You can get me to do almost anything if you say you're sad if I don't do it.

Formatting. Although I try to playtest as much as possible, it's not that easy with how many variations there are, and in VS Code it's sometimes hard to see how well or badly readable text passages actually are.

CWs/TWs (v0.0.1):

Graphic violence and gore

Attempted sexual assault (against the player, avoidable, f!MC only; also against an NPC if massacre route is chosen (is dealt with quickly))

Suicide attempt (by the player, avoidable; f!MC only)

Loss of loved ones

Massacre of civilians and/or PoWs (avoidable)

General misery

(please let me know if you think this needs additions)

As of yet unfinished content:

Autistic variations do not exist yet for the latter part of the demo

Only one of three locations for taking a walk available for now

Tooltips are incomplete

Asexual is not available yet, as it requires a lot of additional scene variation text

Special (psychopath) routes are missing from some scenes as they were added late in development

Choices that are locked and marked as (WIP) are unfinished

Interaction routes for Semyon/Selena, Mikhail/Marina and Leon/Leah. They are top priority for the first set of updates

It is recommended that you play this with a stable state of mind. If you choose the suffering paths because it's relatable and/or as a coping strategy, please make sure you have support available and avoid triggering yourself too much.

The whole point of this game (apart from the dress-up part) is that, no matter how bad things get, you shouldn't stop fighting. It's your enemies who deserve destruction, not you.

Please keep in mind that I am both literally insane and pretty reasonable, so: if there is anything you find grossly offensive, don't assume I meant anything bad by it. Just explain to me why you think it shouldn't exist, and if I am convinced, I will amend it.

[bamboozledbird]

HOWLING: TST Rewrite // Chapter 1

Characters: Thomas, fem!reader, Newt Pairing(s): Thomas x Reader (the slowest of burns) Word Count: 3.2k Tags: Mix of book and movie canon, newt!sister!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, sad times are head my friends

A/N: I honestly do not know where this came from. Mostly from my middle school love of Newt probably. Purely maternal. I thought that boy was gay way before Dashner. So here is newt!sibling!reader, and of course, the angst of being in love with your brother's 'killer' :( I think this will be more like snapshots of instead of a full story, mostly due to my schedule, but I do have a lot of moments in mind.

This place is full of bad omens. Broken mirrors, red skies, night terrors that bleed into daylight. They say you’re safe here, but you felt more at ease inside the Spring’s looming walls than you do in this quiet bunker. The concrete is cold, and the steel surfaces gleam menacingly, even in the dark. You always tuck your fork from lunch into the waistband of your sweats, just in case something jumps out from the other side of the funhouse mirror. 

You count 13 new immunes today. You should’ve known then that there was something wicked brewing in the wind. 

None of them stand out to you at first; they look just as dirty and shell-shocked as all the others did when they first arrived. You’re sure you looked the same on your first day at the compound. 

You poke at your apple with your fork, chin drooping onto your knuckles as your eyes lazily trail over a boy with spiky hair. A few tufts are clumped together with sweat, and he somehow looks unimpressed and exhausted at the same time. Your gaze shifts to a tall girl with messy black curls. Her face is delicate, pretty, even through the dirt and scrapes on her cheeks. She appears to be the only girl in the group—poor thing.

Sighing, you roll the ache out of your neck until it pops, and your eyelids start to wilt with your alertness. New arrivals stopped being exciting after you realized they were all going to disappear, one right after the other. It was just a matter of time. 

Your eyes are almost entirely closed when they land on a boy in the center of the pack. His Henley is torn, soiled like everything else, and his eyes are wide—calculating in the way he studies his surroundings. You don’t know him, and yet you’ve never wanted to strangle someone more. 

It’s striking, the anger, and it suddenly occurs to you that you’ve been angry for so long there might be nothing left in you but this rage. How odd, you think distantly. How odd how something can build in an instant; how you can remember a feeling from a void of nothing. 

You don’t know the why, but you stare at the boy and you know he’s the who. 

You’re on your feet before your brain can catch up to your legs. The boy turns to you, and his mouth parts—most likely to ask why the hell your gaze is so murderous—but you hit him before he can utter a single word. A solid jab to his eye socket that sends a jolt of pain through your thumb to your wrist. The grinding of your snapped bone makes your empty stomach churn, and you feel a little woozy with adrenaline and low blood sugar. 

It’s a good punch, but you’re the one who ends up on the ground. The guard escorting the new group drops you with ease and pins your arms behind your back. A few kids come to the boy’s aid, gripping his shoulder like they’re afraid he’ll jump on you, but he doesn’t look angry. He holds a hand over his eye and stares at you, dumbfounded and confused, but not angry. Somehow, that just makes your scowl even more bitter. 

You’re dragged away from the cluster of new immunes and directly deposited in a sterile examination room before anyone has the chance to say anything. It’s hauntingly silent in the room, and your thin tank top does little against the chill in the room. 

You should be more worried about what your punishment will be—if they’ll send you away to where all the missing children go—but you aren’t. It’s just so…loud inside your mind, a million ravenous locusts buzzing, feasting on your ear canal. You can’t make out what they’re saying, what they’re trying to tell you—what you’re supposed to remember about the boy with the bambi eyes and a dark cloud casting a shadow over his face. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this much. For as long as you can remember, literally, dread consumed every one of your thoughts—no room for things like anger, hate, betrayal. You’re spilling over the missing pieces of yourself WCKD chipped away with their mindwipe. It would be fascinating if it wasn’t so awful.

Anger is a nasty feeling and so is weakness. They're bitter, poisonous, and you're afraid you might leak onto the rest of the kids in the compound. This feeling, this bright burning you’re trying to swallow, it's an epidemic of its own. 

A pair of guards with ridiculously large guns flank a mouse of a woman in a stark white lab coat. They’re there to protect her from you, you realize, and you feel like laughing. Two hulking men equipped with high-powered grenade launchers just in case you try to backhand someone else. They must be bored; there really isn’t much guarding for them to do in the middle of nowhere. 

You watch the doctor examine your thumb with mild interest. You’ve gotten used to the pain, mostly. You curse under your breath when she moves it, and the woman flinches like she’s been struck. You grin a little. You probably shouldn’t be so amused, but it feels kind of nice being on the other end of scary, even if it means being stared at like you’re a wild animal. 

The doctor mumbles something to someone in her earpiece, and they all move to leave. “What—that’s it?” you sit up on the examination chair and hold your injured hand to your chest. No one responds. They leave the room without looking back, and the groan that’s ripped from your throat sounds a lot like a growl. “So, I’m good? Nothing’s broken?” The steel door doesn’t answer your question, but the awkward angle of your thumb certainly does. Evidently, they just need you in one place, not one piece. 

The doctor could be coming back, but you’re impatient by nature; sitting around doing nothing after years of running for your life does that to a person. Besides, you’ve done this before. There were no white coats and examination rooms in the Spring; there were only your hands and a stick to bite on. A broken thumb couldn’t be that different from a dislocated shoulder and a sprained ankle, right? 

There aren’t any sticks in the room, so your shirt will have to do. You bunch the hem into a thick wad and shove it between your molars so that you don’t chip a tooth—and then you pull on your thumb until a sickening pop fills the silence like a gunshot. Your eyes water, and the fabric of your tank top is soaked through by the time you’re certain that you won’t make any noise. You release the material from your mouth and examine your work; the digit is certainly straighter, but the color and swelling are decidedly nasty. 

The whoosh of a door sliding open distracts you from bluing skin, and, for the second time today, you see a stranger and feel an overwhelming wave of familiarity. This time, however, it’s warm. You stare at him and feel the strangest urge to ruffle his floppy hair and crush him into your arms so that he can’t slip away from you. Again. The foreign thought strikes you in the heart, and it hurts. 

He sits down next to you, limbs loose and lax, and his head crooks down like a swan to examine your bloated thumb, “That doesn’t look too good.” 

“I haven’t ever punched someone before,” you mumble and lift a shoulder, “guess my form isn’t the best.”

Humming, he cradles your injured hand in his palm like a baby bird and looks around the room, “All this tech, and they don’t have a single bandage.” 

Your teeth catch against your bottom lip, and the constant gnawing starts to hurt almost as badly as your thumb, “Or the good drugs.”

He smiles at you, lopsided and familiar, and you feel like you’re home. “Surely they have some ice somewhere.”

It finally registers that he sounds different than the rest. You suppose that’s probably the first thing most people notice about him, but it’s a distant thought for you. You sound different too, after all. Your cadence isn’t quite as thick as his. You probably sounded more like him before your strong-voweled, mush-mouthed friends infected your inflection. You wish, strangely, that they hadn’t now.  

The corner of your mouth ticks up, “And to think, I never wanted to see another speck of ice again.”

He looks equally confused and amused. 

“Our maze,” you wave your good hand in the air, pulling a face as the phantom frost creeps up your spine, “it snowed all the damn time. Hated it.”

He lets out a low whistle, “I suppose sweating is better than freezing in hindsight.”

You give him the same look, and his face twists in a grimace that rivals your own, “The Glade was sweltering. Dreadful really, almost worse than the Grievers.”

“I imagine.” You nod sagely, face solemn, “All those boys and such a limited supply of soap.”

The boy’s head cocks back with his laugh, and it’s so heart-wrenchingly familiar you could cry. You really could. At least, you can blame any bizarre behavior on your broken thumb. 

“So,” he tilts his head, “Tommy.”

Your face wrinkles in confusion, and he nods towards your injured hand. Ah. So, the black eye had a name. 

“Tommy,” you repeat, far more glumly.

He smiles a little crooked thing, “I know he can be a pesky little shank, but thirty seconds hardly seems like a fair shot.”

“I don’t know what happened,” you say quietly, keeping your eyes on your lap and the ballooned, bruised proof of your guilt. “I saw him, and then everything went red.”

He hums softly in his throat, “Think you knew each other?”

“I don’t know.” Your cheek takes the brunt of your teeth’s abuse this time, “I don’t think I want to.” 

“Whoever he was before, whatever he did…he’s not the same,” he catches your eye, and the flash of hickory feels like an echo, “none of us are.”

You swallow and nod stiffly. He’s right. You know he’s right, but there’s still a little irrational twinge of anger when burnt umber clouds the back of your lids. “Why are you here,” you finally say. Your voice is small, like a lost little girl, and his arm wraps around your shoulders in an easy, fluid motion. You sink into it, still feeling small, but it’s not so terrible now. He’s a comforting weight, a shield you turn into reflexively. “I socked your friend in the eye,” you mumble towards your lap, “think that entitles you to a little hostility.” 

He laughs again, and his chest rumbles with it, “I can’t quite blame you. I’ve wanted to do it a time or two before.”

“Hmm.” You’re unconvinced, and he tugs on your hair a little. 

“Come on, let’s get you that ice.”

You follow him, your hand in his, and feel a little dizzy. There’s a hazy scene layered over the present. A much smaller boy flickers over his long frame; they have the same sandy hair, the same sweet smile. The little boy tugs at your arm, pulling you down the dark hall of a different facility, just as cold. Just as scary. The concrete walls don't loom so largely in your peripherals when he clutches your hand. 

It feels like a fever dream, that place between consciousness and sleep, the lingering brightness when you squeeze your eyes shut—so real for something cloaked in so many shadows. 

There are two faces looking back at you when he turns over his shoulder, the soft cheeks of a child overlapping with the hard lines of a young man. “Newt.”

It’s an odd thing to say, seemingly unrelated to anything around you, but somehow you know that’s his name. You give your own without a moment of hesitation.

Newt looks at you, still and sure, “Had a feeling.”

**************

One bag of ice and lengthy lecture later, you figure you should find Thomas and apologize—for Newt’s sake, not his and certainly not WCKD’S. You eventually find him sitting on a bunk. His face is clean, and his hair is wet, curling at the nape of his neck and over his forehead. Without all the dirt and blood, the purple under his eyes is stark against his pale skin. He looks like he hasn’t slept since he was dropped in his maze, maybe even longer.

You feel a little guilty when you see his black eye.

His head tips up from his hands when you step into the room, and his shoulders immediately tense. You hold up your hands and lean against the opposite wall, as far away from him as you possibly can be in the same room. “I’m not gonna hit you. Promise.”

His shoulders don’t relax, but his fingers uncurl and fall flat against his thighs. His jaw is tight, and you can’t help but notice how it sharpens all the lines of his face. He looks like he’s made of granite, a sculpture from a different time, a time before all this ugliness. There isn’t a lot of room for art in this place, this world; beautiful things don’t last long in the Maze, the Scorch, a society rotten with the Flare—but he has. You hate to admit it, but Thomas is striking. The bruising just makes him look more like a Greek antiquity, a tragic hero with a pretty face.

Thomas looks restless, looking at a spot on the wall just left of your head, and you realize that you’ve been staring for too long. Gritting your teeth, you glance at him and then look down at your shoes, “I’m…I probably shouldn’t have hit you.”

Thomas blinks at you, eyes big and brown…and bruised. You wince a little and fold your arms over your chest, shrinking into the wall, “I definitely shouldn’t have. Sorry.” There’s a part of you, one you don’t understand, that thinks this is more than he deserves. Another part wonders how the hell that’s possible.

He lifts a shoulder and looks to your right now. You aren’t sure if that means he’s forgiven you. You aren’t even sure if he heard you. He looks like he’s in another dimension, a glaze of isolation. You wonder where he’s gone; if it’s nicer there than it is here, or if it’s a bad place. A night terror leaking through the cracks.

Thomas licks his lip and finally looks at you. His face is grim, somber, like you’re visiting your own wake. “I saw you,” his voice is scratchy when he speaks. You’re curious if it’s from disuse or too much use. You’re curious about a lot of things; what exactly is this boy like? This boy who introduced you to the sin of wrath. 

You lick over your teeth and push yourself off the wall, “I figured.” He watches you cautiously until you sit down on the bunk across from him. “Question is, can you still see me?” You hold up three fingers to his swollen eye and hum, “How many?” 

His face remains solemn, not even a hint of a smile, and you sigh, “So you saw me?”

He nods and digs his elbows into his thighs, “In a memory.”

That gets your attention. “You remember things?”

Thomas gestures to his purpling eye, “Don’t you?”

“Feelings,” you pull your knees to your chest tightly, nosing into your kneecap, “just feelings. Not all the time, but sometimes I get that annoying itch you get when you can’t think of the name of a book, but you know you know it.”

He nods, “I get those too; this was different.” He pauses, and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth like he’s waiting for the right words to roll onto the tip. He doesn’t look entirely content when he speaks again, but his struggle is valiant, “Griever venom...it made me see things—memories, like…a movie I’ve seen before, but I forgot the ending."

Your brow pinches, “Griever?”

Thomas hums a little, “WCKD’s cyborg guardspiders.”

Ah. You pick at some lint on your sweats, and a kittenish whine vibrates through your throat, “Lucky.” He tilts his head and studies you so seriously that a small grin slips through your stoic exterior, “Ours had wings.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Thomas’s face, and it’s nice enough you’re curious what a real one would look like. It fades once he starts talking again, “I know why you hit me. The mazes…they were mine—that’s what I saw. I watched so many of them…” His eyes fade, and you know he’s in the bad place. The place you go when you think about that day. The day half your friends were ripped apart by WCKD’s pets. 

Clearing your throat, you pull him back to the present with a quiet voice, "And then you saw me.”

He nods, and his throat bobs as he swallows, “And then I saw you.” 

The corner of your mouth tugs into a sad little smile, and his responds in kind. “I think I knew you.” Thomas chews on his lip and picks at his nails, doing his best to tear himself apart, “Not well…you were in a different group, but I knew you…because of Newt.”

Your eyes widen, “Newt?”

“I think…he was your brother—is, is your brother. You were close. Like twins.”

The fever dream is back. There’s sun-drenched flashes of a boy reading to you, pelting you with snowballs and laughing, eyes bright, nose pink. They’re too bright to see everything clearly, but it’s enough to wind you. 

Your eyes flutter open, and you see that Thomas is watching you carefully. Concerned. Odd, considering you broke your thumb against his face a few hours ago. “It could be a plant. Who knows what they put in our heads when they took everything away.”

Thomas tilts his head and then shakes it, “This is a good thing. WCKD doesn’t give us good things.”

Your eyes burn, and you aren’t quite sure why. “Is it?”

Thomas looks confused. It’s a common expression on the munies, confusion. Tends to happen when you don’t know who you are or where you came from. For some reason, it makes you sadder than it usually does.

“Come on,” you curl in on yourself, squeeze your shins tightly and peek at him over your knees, “why’d you tell me before you told your best friend?” 

Thomas looks down at his hands. Caught.  

You answer for him, “You and I both know the last thing that kid needs is one more person he’d die for.”

The solemn look is back on Thomas’s face, and you sigh, “You want me to trust you?”

He nods sharply.

“Don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone.”

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART EIGHTEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: You and the cowboy spend some time alone, talking about your lives and having an intimate moment. Then, Jack has a heartfelt conversation with his son and asks for his help in order to do something really special for his sugar

(This is the eighteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO SEVENTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: angst, hurt, sad!cowboy, mentions of death, brief mentions of suicide attempt, fluff, smut (oral sex m!receiving and unprotected piv), mom!reader

A/N: besties, I know it's been quite a while, but I seem to have lost the inspiration to write in the past couple of weeks but it's finally back and so is our cowboy! Also, this chapter ended up a lot longer and smuttier than I expected and I hope you all enjoyed it as well! Feedback is life, so let me know what you besties think of this story!

5.5k words

Silver Star rested quietly on the green field, feeling tired after playing with Wyatt the whole day; the small animal was warm and felt when their best friend wrapped his small arms around their body, resting against the soft fur and closed his eyes.

If Jack had seen that scene any other day, he would be in a mix of happiness and affection, he loved his son so much sometimes he thought it would open a hole into his chest, right through his heart, as the love was so intense and overwhelming, and it was because of that love Jack felt like dying at that moment, he couldn't accept the pure, genuine love he felt from his son could end like that, not after what that witch he was forced to call a mother-in-law. It was so cruel to have done that to an innocent, sweet child like Wyatt. The older woman could have done anything she wanted to Whiskey himself, she could've said any words that came to her mind, it didn't matter, but she had no right to do that to his son. Wyatt refused to talk to him, the memory of his beautiful face red with tears falling down as he sniffed and looked between his mommy and his daddy, needing support and assurance, but the painful words his grandma told him stung so heavily into his chest it was hard to breathe, he could only feel a little better when he ran into his beautiful friend: Silver Star.

Jack watched his son dozing off next to his pony from his home office's window. He downed a second glass of whiskey as he sighed and dried the stubborn tears that insisted on running down his cheek. Jack had learned from a young age from his pa that men weren't supposed to cry, that crying was something done by weak people and that real men needed to hide their feelings, even better if they acted as if they didn't have any, that would be the right thing.

But unfortunately, from a younger age, he learned that things weren't like that; tragedies happened every day to good people and it was just so hard not to cry, to hold things back, Jack learned the hard way that pretending not to have feelings could destroy a man, it nearly destroyed him, his relationship with the woman he loved the most in the world and prevented him from building a beautiful father and son relationship, to which he was grateful to no end; his sugar and their baby boy Wyatt was the best thing he could have ever had, the way it changed his life that was once shallow and empty into something worth living. The cowboy just had to do something about it, but he didn't know what or how to. If he didn't feel so bad about the entire situation, it would've been quite funny to see a senior agent like himself, who was able to take a group of men down with a lasso without much effort, was just so anxious about dealing with a four-year-old. You, on the other hand, stood right outside Jack's office, not sure if you should enter it or not. You wanted to talk to him, touch him, look into his warm, heart-warming eyes, kiss his perfect soft lips and remind him everything was alright, that your family was a beautiful and strong one, that your son would walk into the door with his tummy howling in hunger and the three of you would have a delicious dinner together, but you didn't know until that extent it would happen; you didn't know how hurt Jack was, but you knew it was a lot, maybe he was somehow blaming it on you, and you couldn't even argue with that, as it was your mom who did it, who made that scene and angered you to no end. It wasn't your fault, but you felt guilty because you had never imagined your mom would be that low towards you and your son. Jack had made so many mistakes, but he was a good man, he was kind and sweet and he would never hurt you and your son ever again. It was unfair and heartbreaking to say the least.

After thinking to yourself way too many times, you decided to enter, seeing he hadn't locked himself in, but he was sitting on his chair, watching out the window as Wyatt spent time with Silver Pony.

"Jack?" You called him in a soft, low voice, hoping he wouldn't bark at you. Overall, Jack was a gentleman, but you'd seen his ugly side and you really hoped it wouldn't be the case at that moment. You were silent as you approached him, your fingers tangling into his stubborn curls that tried to make an appearance, they were messy from his usage of the hat and it had given him a boyish look. You smiled at him, as he looked up at you, his face was serious and his eyes were red from crying; it broke your heart, your mom had no right to cause that much trouble to your family. Taking another step, you stood in front of him, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arm around his shoulder. Jack let out a sigh and hid his face into your neck, nuzzling your skin softly and taking in your scent, there was nothing he loved more in the world than your body, your weight, your scent on him. You could feel his lips on your skin, his mustache tickling you softly as his arms formed a tight grip, his big hands groping your body in a way it moved your body as closely to his as possible.

"Sugar, I-"

"Shh, don't say anything cowboy, I know it" she said and kissed his temple, right where Harry's bullet had broken the skin and killed your man for a couple of hours. That story always made shivers run down your spine, you couldn't believe he had died and Ginger had managed to bring him back to life and to you, but you never wanted him to leave again.

"Don't leave me again, Jack, please, I beg you, my heart won't take another disappointment from you" you said and his lips trailed their way down your neck

"I ain't never leaving you, sugar… I need you as much as you need me, we're meant to be and no matter what happened, that witch ain't breaking us apart" his voice was serious and firm, he was never leaving his son nor his sugar, that was a fact, Jack's heart was only beating because of his family, that was the only thing that has kept him alive after the last disastrous events of his life. He was sure that if it weren't the love he felt for his beloved son and sugar he would've just been gone, either when he tried doing it through his own hands or when he nearly found his fate inside the meat grinder.

"I'm so sorry sugar, your mom is a horrible person, you are so different from her, and the things she said, about you and Wyatt being a replacement… it isn't true, I love you both with all my heart, it was this love that kept me alive for so long, otherwise I wouldn't have-"

"Don't go on missions anymore, Jack. Please. You have a great position at Statesman, both the agency and the company, you don't need the money, nor the thrill, you don't have to risk not coming home anymore, I know you won't be reckless, but Wyatt and I need you, what happened today was just a bump on the way, our son is crazy for you and if you just go and talk to him, with patience, I'm sure he will understand, he's small, but he's as smart as his handsome daddy" you smiled at your cowboy and pecked his lips gently. He looked at you with his sad eyes and it felt like your heart was pierced through

"I know what's going through this thick skull of yours cowboy, I know exactly how you are torturing yourself and before you go further into it, remember that my mom is a bitter woman, she's someone who doesn't accept I take my own decisions, if she got angry because of what happened between us it would be understandable, but we both know it isn't because of that, it's just because she simply can't accept I love you and we have a family together"

"But sugar, the things she said there's some truth to it… I made you go away as if you meant nothing and -" his voice broke and Jack's eyes filled with tears once more, he had hurt you so much and he already suffered his punishment, which was carrying that guilt for the rest of his life.

"You did, Jack Daniels. And it was the worst thing you could have ever done to someone who only loved you, to an innocent baby who grew up in my womb without even knowing what was happening, but Jack…" you held his head between your hands and looked into his eyes "you regret it so bad, I'm sure the pain and the guilt you feel now is worse than the pain you caused me, and I'm not going to lie, I think you'll suffer with it for a long time, cowboy, but what I can offer you now is my forgiveness and my love and a second chance so we can start over, it will never erase what happened between us, so if something similar ever happens again, you can be sure you will never see me or Wyatt again" you told him seriously, but you expression softened up immediately as you leaned towards him and pecked his lips once more, longer this time, your hand touching his smooth cheek, as you deepened it, a soft muffled sound of pleasure coming from you, so you broke the kiss and nibbled his lower lip

"That ain't never happening, sugar, I promise you with my life, that I will never disappoint you and Wyatt ever again, all I want is to be the best husband and father in the world, I love you so much, sugar… You are the love of my life; I tried fighting that off for so long, I tried running away from this feeling, even before our son, I already knew it but couldn't accept it, but you had always been the one, I know I don't deserve it, but if you just give me one chance, one simple chance, I can make you my wife and maybe one day, we could give our son a little brother or a little sister-"

You kissed the cowboy in order to shut him up. Jack often talked too much, sometimes it was something good, and sometimes it was something bad, at that moment, after you both opened your hearts, you didn't want to discuss the future, not that you didn't want it with him, you were certain you did, you wanted to marry that stupid cowboy, not so sure about another Daniels baby, not yet, but you definitely wanted your family together for good; however, at that moment you both needed something else, you needed to be close, to show each other you were there physically rather than using just words. You looked outside the window and smiled sadly at the sight of Wyatt dozing off next to his pony, but you knew that was something only Jack could fix later, so you closed the blinders and turned to him, lowering yourself and kissing him "let me take care of my cowboy, mm? Let me show him how much I love and appreciate him, make him close his eyes and relax and forget about his problems and sorrows" you whispered against his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin in an affectionate way, nibbling his flesh at the same time your hands roamed around his torso, unbuttoning his shirt and finding his warmth underneath it, the cowboy was experienced and knew exactly where that was going, his eyes darkened with lust at the same time his right hand tangled into your hair, bringing it into a messy ponytail while you got on your knees in front of him.

"Fuck sugar, what are you doing to me? You wanna kill your old cowboy like that?" He bit his lips and looked down at you, loving how you smiled at him and undid his belt. You rested your arms on his thick thighs, undoing his pants at the same time you could see his bulge getting bigger and bigger, the tent forming in his pants could be amusing if you weren't so needy of him. The thought of taking his cock into your mouth was causing you to feel as if you were on fire for your cowboy. Senior Agent Whiskey would never fail in turning you into a cock slut for him.

He stared into your eyes, giving you a consenting nod and showing he was ready for his treat

"Don't be sad my cowboy, let me show you your worth" you purred with innocent eyes at the same time you freed his cock. Wrapped your hands around his length, feeling it pulsating under your touch, his warm skin, his popping veins and that glistening tip, filled with pre cum, it all made you lick your lips before finally taking your cowboy into your mouth. You left hand gripped the side of his thigh, nails sinking softly into his skin as you went deeper down onto him, taking his length as far as you could, feeling the cowboy pulsating in the back of your throat. The right hand holding him by the base, and then going to his heavy balls, it always made them quiver and the cowboy whimpered whenever you touched, massaged and gently squeezed them. You turned your attention back to his needy tip, suckling on it, and felt how tight his grip was on your hair. It made you even more turned on, your inner walls clenching as you felt the pooling arousal at the same time your hard clit throbbed, needing some attention from that cowboy's rough hands or soft, devilish tongue. His breathing got heavier, he panted and his dirty words lost among obscene sounds coming from his mouth and you knew he was close, it was just a matter of seconds for you to taste his hot load.

"Sugar, stop" he groaned and held you by the hair, stopping you from continuing tasting him, just as he licked his lips "come on, sit on my cock, ride your fucking cowboy" he demanded in a serious tone which was more than enough evidence he was in charge again. You nodded obediently, leaving a soft, chaste kiss on his tip, causing his cock to throb some more and stood in front of him.

Jack's hands were sloppy as he undressed you, he wasn't too careful, the urge and the rush to get you naked, the way he stripped you off your jeans and thumbed your sensitive clit over your thin panties. He wasn't a patient man, not at that moment, so he used his index finger to move your panties to the side by its string. He let out another low groan the moment the fabric brushed against your soaked lips and he could see the wet puddle it formed, he loved to see how wet you were for him, you were his perfect slut, and he wouldn't trade that for any other cunt in the world. His fingers spread your pussy lips apart just enough for him to take a good look at your wetness and how hard your clit was. He chuckled seeing it throbbed at nothing but air and he knew you were perfect for him, you took his cock so well, all your holes were his and no one would touch you but that goddamn cowboy.

"Come here, sugar, your cowboy needs you, be a good fucking slut and ride me" he said and pulled you to his lap, helping you straddle him as he gripped the base of his cock, using his own tip to slap it against your clit. You moved your hips without any words, letting his tip rub against your clit slowly at first but fastening the pace as his length ran through your wet folds, just enough to have your honey spread all over his shaft

"Mm don't tease me cowboy, please, I need it as much as you do" you whimpered and in response Jack kissed you once more. His hands went for your hips, sustaining your weight and helping you sink down onto him. You slippery cunt stretching at the size of him and sliding so quickly, making you feel full and whole because of him; it was a feeling you never wanted to let go, you knew you belonged to him, that damn cowboy would be your owner, your master forever. As you moved slightly on top of him, you took both of his hands and placed it on your breasts, Jack fucking loved your tits, how soft they were, your pretty nipples pearking hard. He squeezed them, massaging gently while his thumbs ghosted over your nipples, at the same time you moved faster on top of him, riding the cowboy at your own pace, not getting enough of him, ever.

Jack pulled your torso forward, taking his hungry mouth to your nipples, suckling on each of them while his hands traveled to your ass cheeks, squeezing them and sustaining your weight so you could ride him faster and more safely. You frowned as he ignored your clit on purpose, you didn't understand why he was such a tease sometimes, but even if avoided your sensitive spot, your walls didn't fail in tightening and contracting and he felt that knot in his lower belly. He knew he wouldn't hold back any longer, so he stopped you and pulled you for another kiss

"Get off me, sugar" he commanded as you felt a little confused at first, not understanding exactly why he told you to stop riding him, but it all made sense when he stood up right behind you and told you to sit on his desk with your legs spread, which you gladly obeyed your cowboy, biting your lips as he took his time watching your body at full display for him.

"You like it, cowboy?"

"You know I fucking do, my beautiful sugar, you are always so sweet to me, only when you are being a filthy dirty slut, then you are my best girl, baby girl" he groaned and slapped your cunt without a warning, smirking at the whimper you let out. Then, Jack lowered himself, hovering over you, using his right hand to spread your pussy lips wide, making your clit so exposed to him, at his mercy, before he just lapped at it, he didn't touch the rest of your pussy though, only his tongue flicked your needy clit, the cowboy's left hand was strong enough to hold you in place the moment he began suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy hole wouldn't stop clenching and gaping so softly at the cowboy's ministrations, you gushed wetness, as it dropped down your asshole and it made him savor every passing second of having you as he pleased. He knew your body just as well as you knew his and the moment he focused on how your legs were shaking, how burning hot your skin felt against his own, he just knew you were close to your orgasm.

But Whiskey wasn't letting you cum just yet, not while he didn't fuck you exactly the way he wanted to. So Jack gave your clit one last lick and smirked at you, his hands flipping you over his desk "spread these beautiful legs, sugar, take my cock like you love it, baby" he whispered into your ear, kissing your neck and using his teeth to nibble at it at the same time he slid his cock once more inside of you. Whiskey's hands were on your hips, holding you by your sides as he adjusted the pace and then went for your hair, gripping at it as he fucked you. The cowboy knew he couldn't hold it any longer and the moment he felt your cunt clenching around him, your clit rubbing against the cool wood of his desk at the same he railed you was enough to set you to your very needed orgasm. You moaned your cowboy's name as loud as you could, his cock was ball deep inside of you at the same time you felt that characteristic throbbing and your Whiskey couldn't hold it anymore, cumming hard, with a loud groan while his thick load flooded into you.

•••

Jack rubbed your arms as you snuggled towards him as tight as you could, while the two of you shared the small couch he kept in his home office. You were still in your orgasm haze, wrapping your head around everything that happened between you and your cowboy, thinking of how intense your wave of lust had been; one moment you two were having a heartfelt, serious and emotional conversation and the next, you were riding your cowboy. However, it felt just so good, so carefree, so loved and desired. Jack Daniels knew how to touch a woman and make her feel like a goddess, that you had to give into your cowboy. As your eyes were getting heavy, you felt him nuzzling your neck, his hand resting on your stomach as he rubbed your belly gently and looked into your eyes

"Funny how I wanted another child so bad and yet I can't even get our son to talk to me after what happened" he sighed and you shook your head, pecking his lips

"Wyatt loves you like crazy, he's a little hurt and he needed his space, go talk to him in a while and he will be the sweetest child we both know" you assured him, taking his hand and entwining your fingers together.

Your cowboy kissed your lips gently, stroking your cheek with his gentle touch under rough hands and stared into your eyes with his warm brown ones, a soft frown appearing on his face

"What made you change your mind about me… well, us?"

You licked your lips and stared at him, would he be mad if he knew the real reason? Would Jack consider it a lack of privacy? Perhaps he would even find it offensive? You weren't very sure… visiting his first wife's grave seemed so personal, something he had always done and openly talked about it but never really invited you to do so, which you understood perfectly and felt quite relieved because you didn't know how you would do so, however, you decided you wouldn't keep any secrets from your cowboy, you two were starting your relationship once more and building it up over a bunch of lies wouldn't work at all.

"I-I went to Gabriella's grave, Jack… yesterday, when you took our son to Statesman with you, I hadn't planned on it, but while I was riding Silver Pony I ended up going too far from the property and accidentally stopped by the cemetery, then I thought I should just walk in, I'm sorry if you don't like it for whatever reason or if you think it was an invasion to your privacy, I just wanted to pay my respect to someone who was so important to you, and while I was there, I realized life is too short, and it's not fair wasting our time playing hard to get. We love each other, we want to be together, we have a beautiful son, a small but gorgeous family and our whole future ahead of us, I mean… Why not?!" You poured your heart out, being as honest as someone could be, showing him how much you meant it, and in return, Jack leaned towards you, kissing you again, his heart was a puddle of love and affection, he couldn't even imagine you had gone to Gabriella's grave, not even in his wildest dreams, but he wasn't mad, quite the opposite, it brought peace within him, to know you had acknowledged her story with him in a physical way, instead of just having heard about it, it comforted him and it made him feel better about himself.

"I love you, sugar, with my whole heart"

•••

After taking you to his master bedroom so you could shower and relax, Jack decided to go after Wyatt. He had given his son enough time but he wanted to make things clear, talk to his son honestly and explain to him that everything that old witch had said was filled with poison. While you were in the shower, he managed to take something he wanted from his nightstand drawer and headed to the kitchen, knowing exactly what could possibly cheer his son up. Cutting up a generous slice of the peach pie you'd made and a huge spoon of vanilla ice cream, Jack had a safe guess the way to his son's pure little heart was a good dessert, just as his own, when Jack Daniels was nothing but a little boy as well. He chuckled at himself and hoped that would work for them. Walking through the green fields, he didn't take long to spot his son and his beloved pony. Silver Star seemed exhausted after spending the whole day playing, lying on the grass as Wyatt caressed its fur gently, he wouldn't stop talking and giggling, certainly telling his friend all about a fascinating story that inhabited his creative mind. Jack's heart warmed with how sweet he truly was, sitting down next to him and gently rubbing his son's back. Wyatt wasn't expecting and jumped a little startled.

"Daddy?!"

"I thought you'd like some sugar, cowboy," Jack said, offering his son a plate with the pie and ice cream, Wyatt watching it with wide eyes as his tummy growled. Only at that moment he remembered he hadn't eaten anything the whole day and that pie looked and smelled so yummy when his mommy was making it. The little boy extended his small hands and took the plate carefully, taking a big bite and moaning in approval at the taste of it. He chewed up his dessert calmly and giggled as Silver Star leaned towards Jack's touch while the cowboy rubbed her face gently.

"She likes you daddy!" Wyatt said sweetly and stared at Whiskey, who tried organizing his thoughts in order to know the right thing to say and above all, trying to hide the nervousness. One could think it was actually quite funny to see senior Agent Whiskey acting that way, but a conversation with his son was much more important than any high profile meeting he could ever have with Champ or another member of the agency. He cleared his throat softly

"Wyatt, daddy wants to talk to you… Mommy and I are very sorry about the things grandma said, she had no right to say those mean things. Some people are so sad and bitter they can't handle seeing other people like you, your beautiful mama and me happy, and unfortunately grandma is one of these people, do you understand?"

Wyatt nodded softly and wouldn't break eye contact with his daddy, he was tiny yes, but so smart and attentive, and the cowboy's heart weighed heavily with pride at how similar his son was to his beautiful sugar.

"So… what grandma said isn't true, I love you and your beautiful mama so much, my boy. You and her are my world, I will always love and cherish you both, daddy had another family, yeah. We, uh-" his voice broke as Jack was still getting used to talking about them so frequently, they spent so long it his memory it was kind of odd to mention them so often, especially to his son, who was only a child, but showed great emotional intelligence, just by the way he placed his tiny little hand on top of his daddy, in a silent way to reassure him and tell him to go on.

"Well, we, uh.. I mean, I had a family, a long time ago, way before I met your beautiful mama, I was married to another girl, she was also beautiful and kind, and we had a little boy too, but he was still very tiny and he lived in her belly, like one day you lived in your Mama's belly…"

"What happened, daddy?" Wyatt couldn't hold back his curiosity and wanted to know more about it.

"Well, they went to live in heaven and daddy was all alone for a very long time. Until one day I met your mom, my sugar and my life changed for good. Your mommy was and she still is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and for the first time in years I had a reason to smile, to feel happy, but the fact that my first family had to go live in heaven still scared me a lot, and when I found out your mommy was carrying you in her belly" Jack brushed his thumb over his son's cheek in a gentle caress "... I was terrified that one day you and mommy would be gone too, so I made her go away, but I regret this every single day because there's nothing in the world that I love more than you and her, and I will never be away from the two of you, ever again. I promise you, my son, we will always be a family. All I'm trying to say is that no matter what grandma says, I love you and your mommy and I hope one day you can forgive me for what happened"

Jack looked down, trying to hide the annoying, insisting tears that ran down his cheek. He sniffed and wiped his face, being surprised by how fast Wyatt climbed up his lap and hugged him.

"I love you daddy" he said not understanding why his dad had tears in his eyes, but he knew that whenever he cried, his mommy would always hold him, so he figured it would work out with his daddy too.

Whiskey wrapped his arms around his son's small frame, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back gently, that cowboy knew he didn't deserve that much love, forgiveness and affection from his son and you, he'd been too bad for the two of you, but he was going to get down on his knees every single day and thank the Lord for being so blessed like he was.

He kept his son in a tight embrace, not many words were needed, just the two of them, the big cowboy and the little one, in each other's company silently proving nothing could come between their bond.

It took them a few minutes to calm down their emotions and finally be able to talk about other things, just as if nothing had happened, Wyatt finished his dessert and told his dad about his fun afternoon with Silver Star. Jack listened to it intently, as if it was the most interesting piece of information in the world, and well, to him it was, because he loved his son and he was fascinated by him on a daily basis, still being a little shocked at how a child could be so smart and precious like he was. Only when Jack patted his pocket, was that he remembered one thing he needed to discuss with his son.

"Wyatt, I know you love your mommy as much as I love her, right? So I need your help to do something really nice for her, but it gotta be a cowboy secret okay? So you can't tell mommy"

And Wyatt was sold at that moment; he loved his mommy and he loved doing nice things for his mommy and above all, he was so excited to be a part of a cowboy secret, which meant only his daddy and him could know what it was, after all, Wyatt was already a cowboy and he liked it. He nodded eagerly and Jack laughed, getting the small box out of his pocket and opened it, showing his son the gorgeous engagement ring he had bought

"I need your cowboy help to make mommy a surprise so I can give her this, alright?!"

____

[puffcap-factory]

Raindrop (Neuvillette x reader)

Neuvillette x gn!reader; Angst, pure angst in a somewhat established relationship, reader’s implied death.

The story is set when the reader’s time is running out (of whatever cause you can imagine), and Neuvillette is sad. The reader is implied to be Fontainian. 

Words: 1k

Notes:  Finally, a genshin fic other than Wriothesley! I literally wrote this when I was listening to Pluie sur la ville (definitely recommended on listening the ost while reading this one!!!!! I recommend this music box version for this fic tho, it fits so well) and imagined Neuvillette brooding over something. That’s why this fic is short, cos I basically just wanted a story of Neuvillette basically feeling angsty heheheh

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

•~•~•~•

Swish. Swish.

With each pull of the oar, the water responded in kind flow, sending out delicate ripples that painted the pond's surface. Pink flower petals twirled to the movement of the waves, a graceful accompaniment to the wooden paddle's gentle strokes. 

The boat drifted leisurely through the clear water, its movement smooth and serene, like a dream on liquid glass. The rustling of the wind added its voice to the nature, tousling your hair as you reached to fix it. 

The man seated across from you returned your gaze with a warm, genuine smile. His eyes seemed to hold a depth that mirrored the tranquil pond, and his smile filled the space between you. In this secluded forest of Erinnyes, it felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving just the two of you to share the moment.

As the boat reached the center of the pond, he gently set down the oar. You took the moment to reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

But your eyes wandered to the water rippling near the pond's edge, fed by a nearby creek. The question escaped your lips as you voiced your curiosity, as you held his hands in yours.

"Do you think that… water possesses the will to flow freely?"

Neuvillette met your gaze, his expression thoughtful as he pondered your unexpected question. After a moment, he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of contemplation.

“I would like to believe that they do, why?”

His answer brought a bittersweet smile to your lips as you kept your gaze to the creek. You brought his hand to your cheek, savoring the warmth of his touch. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, as if to capture this fleeting moment, knowing it might be the last time you two would have such a peaceful interlude together.

“I just want to know…,” you paused, the words catching in your throat before you continued, “so when the time comes, I can… find you.”

As you opened your eyes, you found Neuvillette still, his expression hiding a mix of fear and sadness beneath his composed facade. You already knew him well enough to see the emotions hidden behind his eyes. 

Neuvillette sighed heavily, lowering his head and letting his hand fall to his side. His gaze shifted to the side, facing the waters of the pond. He knew full well what the future held, as much as he dreaded it, it was inevitable.

“One day, Neuvillette, once I become the water itself, I’d be happy to visit you anytime,” you said softly.

The cloudy skies overhead seemed to mirror the heaviness in your heart. As much as you dreaded broaching this topic, especially at this tranquil moment, you felt the pressing weight of your impending fate. The time left for the both of you to enjoy each other’s company had grown short, each passing moment a reminder like of the ticking clock.

“Promise me, love, that you would move on. Just as water finds its way, no matter how many obstacles it faces, no matter how lost it may seem,” you whispered, your voice sweet and tender, as if to ease his pain, just as your own.

Neuvillette’s heart clenched at your words, the reality of your mortality weighing heavily on his shoulders. As the hydro dragon sovereign, he knew all too well that your time with him was fleeting, a mere fraction of his own eternity. 

“I haven’t got to say this before, but,” you paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I really do cherish the time with you. The years we've spent together have been everything to me,” you mustered the strength to speak, pouring your heart out, as your voice began to tremble.

Pitter. Patter. 

The sound of raindrops began to fill the air, as light rain fell upon the surface of the pond. Neuvillette remained still, his head turned away, keeping the emotions stirring within him as his brows furrowed. 

But you already knew him well enough to understand what he was feeling, what the rain meant. You immediately leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands as you gently caressed his cheeks. “Oh, my Hydro Dragon, please don’t weep…”

Neuvillette met your gaze, pain evident in his eyes. He understood your attempt to comfort him, to ease his sorrow, as the warmth of your hand seeped into him.

But why could he see tears rolling down your cheeks? 

•~•~•~•

Swish. Swish.

Neuvillette stood at the water's edge, his gaze fixed on the waves, ebbing and flowing gently. The rhythm of their motion seemed to echo the gentle beating of his own heart. The sky above was serene, a canvas of quietude painted by the sound of the crashing waves. 

Despite his busy days, there were moments like these when Neuvillette couldn't help but feel swept away by a wave of nostalgia. It was as if the water itself was reaching out to him, whispering memories of days gone by.

As if you had come to visit him every now and then.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to fully embrace the tranquility of the scene before him. The rhythmic swish of the waves, the soft caress of the sea breeze on his skin – it all felt like a familiar embrace. Exhaling slowly, Neuvillette savored this fleeting sense of peace, letting go of the weight of his responsibilities for just a moment longer…

However, the role of Iudex remained. With a reluctant sigh, he opened his eyes and gazed out to the horizon. It was time to step back from the shore, to leave behind this moment of solace and return to the duties that awaited him.

A man of few words – Neuvillette carried the memory of you deep within his heart, a cherished treasure that he held onto tightly. As he made his way back, the gentle lull of the waves behind him seemed to bid him farewell. No matter how busy his days became, your presence would always linger in the depths of his soul.